Keegan 00 Soft Case (14 page)

“Right.”

“What sort of appointment do you have?”

“Interview.”

“Suspect?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

He walked over to the counter, opened up a folder, which was my file, and jotted a few things down. I never saw what was in that file. He never let me see it.

“Yeah, that tooth definitely needs a root canal. We drilled down as far as we could last time. A year and a half ago.”

“Well, let’s get it done.”

“Yes, let’s.”

“And give me the gas.”

“Gas?”

“Yes, gas. It’s easier that way.”

“If that’s what you want.” I knew, in his mind, he was saying, “Sissy.” I didn’t care. I liked the gas, especially for a root canal. I had one a few years before, and the tooth had three nerves going to it, instead of one. Dad had to inject the Novocain directly into the two other nerves. That was pain, and if it was going to happen again, I was going to be high. Very high.

Dad went about preparing for the root canal. His other assistant, a new one, came in. I couldn’t see her, just hear her voice. It sounded sweet.

“Jane,” Dad said, “Bring in the nitrous, and let’s get my son here ready for a root canal.”

“Of course,” she said. “Your son?”

She walked around the chair, in front of me. She sounded better than she looked, but she wasn’t too bad, regardless. And she was a redhead. I had a soft spot for them.

“Jane, that’s my son, John. John, this is my new assistant, Jane.” It sounded like a children’s book.

“Hello,” she said. She was a twenty-something. All of Dad’s assistants were, except for Nancy. It was like that Latin group Menudo; once the assistants got past a certain age they were gone. I think the cutoff was 28. Not bad, Dad.

“Hey,” I said. I felt like a dick sitting there with some gauze hanging out of my mouth, and some dumbass apron on. No way to look cool like that.

“A root canal, huh?”

“Yeah. Hurts like a bitch, too.”

She smiled. Dad sighed. “They usually do,” she said. She walked out of the room, and Dad came over, applying some topical anesthetic to the area where he was going to insert that 10-foot long needle in me.

“Jane is single, by the way, and looking.”

“She into one night stands?”

“I don’t know. She won’t go out with me yet.”

I laughed.

“Maybe you should ask Mom how to go about it.”

No, my parents weren’t divorced, and no, my mother wasn’t a lesbian. It was a wiseass comment. Leave it at that.

“Do me a hell of a lot more good than asking you.”

Another wiseass comment, if you are paying attention.

“She ain’t bad looking.”

“I know how to pick them. You should ask her out. I think she likes cops.”

“Yeah, this is the place to do it. With my mouth being treated like an oil dig, and spit rolling down my chin. Maybe some other time.”

“A good looking girl like her isn’t going to stay single long.” “Neither is a good looking guy like me.”

Dad produced the needle. I know that sounded sexual, but leave your perversions at the door please. It’s my fucking father for Christ’s sake. Anyway, he normally kept the needle out of sight when he injected patients. He didn’t bother doing that with me. Just shoved it into my mouth, and injected me. I could feel the damn thing hitting my bone, but just as the pain struck, it got numbed. That weird sort of numb only Novocain can give you. It just amazed me how much pressure was needed to inject it.

“There. You should be numb in about ten minutes, so if you have something to say, now’s the time to do it.”

“Nah.”

My jaw tingled. I never could get used to that feeling. It felt chemical, almost toxic. Dad always said it was nothing to worry about. Then again, very little fit that category for him.

“Jane will be in here in about five minutes to give you your gas.”

“I already have gas.”

“You might want to get rid of that before you get high. I don’t want you embarrassing me.”

“Aw, don’t worry Pop. I’ll be alright.”

Ten

The Novocain didn’t take long to set in, and the left side of my face felt like it was made of lead in no time. I sat in the chair for a few minutes, thinking about the case, and thinking about Sondra. Could she have been playing me? Was she behind what happened to her husband, and playing seductress with me to avert my attention to other things? It was possible, but not probable, in my opinion. I mean, things certainly did point in her direction, a lot of things, but she just didn’t seem capable. She was just too pretty. Well, actually, that worked more against her than for her. Pretty women were capable of such things even more so than unattractive ones. On top of that, she did inherit the business, which would certainly go to motive, but the making the death look like a suicide didn’t benefit her at all, considering what she had lost on the insurance. Chalk that up to her plus side.

With the Novocain setting in, the toothache went away, and it felt like a tremendous amount of pressure was lifted from my head. I still anticipated the throbbing pain, the same way you anticipate hiccups when they stop, but nothing was there. Relief, beautiful. I knew the worst was yet to come, but I had my good friend, Nitrous Oxide, in my comer. My father could use a jackhammer in my mouth, so long as I had the gas.

Jane walked in, a gas tank on wheels in front of her. “Here’s the sweet air,” she said, hooking the gas up to the contraption on the wall. I heard some hissing. It was almost ready. “You numb yet?”

“Yesh,” I said, dribbling on myself a little.

“I see we’ll need a little suction here,” she said, almost giggling. Damn right we did. I half hoped for her to unzip me and go to town. Didn’t think Dad would mind. He was a man too. She reached for the thing my father used to call, Mr. Slurpee, a white plastic tube with a hole at the end of it. The thing always grossed me out. After all, it collected spit. Lots of it. She took the tube, put it in my mouth, and turned it on. It got caught on my cheek, so she adjusted it, brushing her hand against my face as she did so. Her skin was soft. “Is that better?”

I nodded. It really wasn’t, but there was no use in dribbling all over myself telling her that. She left Mr. Slurpee and me alone, and I waited for Dad to come in.

It took him about five minutes to return.

“Numb?” he asked.

I nodded.

He reached for the gas mask.

“Alright, I’m gonna put this on you. You know the drill.”

Yeah Dad, suck that shit in as deep as you can. Got it.

I nodded.

“Let me check that tooth first.”

He grabbed that poking tool again and pushed hard on the tooth. I didn’t feel a damn thing.

“It’s pretty bad. I hope I can salvage it.”

“Uh,” I said, which meant “I hope so too.”

“You should have let me take care of this sooner.”

“Uh,” I said, which mean, “Yeah, whatever.”

He kept poking. His fingers smelled like hospital soap. They always did. It reminded me of when I was a kid. I didn’t get to see him all that much because he was so busy building his practice. My routine cleanings were really the only opportunity I had to talk to him. So, basically, I got all the lectures about grades and staying out of trouble while getting my teeth scraped. What a pleasure.

He put the mask on. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As soon as he put the thing over my nose, I started inhaling, deeply. Nothing happens right away. It’s not like sucking in Nitrous from a whipped cream can. This stuff is mixed with Oxygen, so it takes a little longer to take effect. After a few minutes, my head felt light, and I didn’t give a crap about anything. Not the case, not Sondra, not my tooth. I was only concerned with the group of people in an ad on the counter, who were smiling at me. They were my friends. One of the women winked at me, I think. I winked back.

Dad and Jane came back in the room, and went to the business of fixing my poor tooth. I really didn’t pay much attention to them. They were inconsequential. All that mattered was the small piece of rubber on my nose, which flowed so sweetly into my nose and lungs.

Dad started with a large drill bit, grinding the tooth down. Smoke and mist came shooting out of my mouth. The smell was horrible, but I couldn’t detect it too much with the mask on. And it didn’t make a difference in the world.

I felt myself floating. My hands felt like they were lifting by themselves. I was pretty sure I had my hand on my own leg, but it could have been on Jane’s. She didn’t seem to mind. Actually, she kept smiling at me. Maybe Dad had said something to her about me. He always did that. He was constantly trying to hook me up with one of his assistants. I never dated any of them, mainly because I didn’t want my romantic affairs being discussed in his office. Not cool.

Dad stopped drilling. I kept drifting. I was investigating the case in my own little world. I saw Ron Mullins’ body, all battered, lying in the morgue. I saw Harold Chapman, ducking and weaving my questions, like a boxer. And I saw Sondra, Roseanna, and Jane, all wearing teddies, beckoning my as they lie on my bed. Nitrous is such a beautiful thing.

After what seemed like five minutes, or a day, I opened my eyes. Dad was by the counter, writing something down in my file. My mouth was still numb, and the Nitrous mask was still on my face, but nothing was coming out.

“How’d it go?” I asked, again spitting all over myself.

“I was able to save it. I didn’t crown it or anything yet. Just a temporary filling, so don’t go and wait another two years to get this finished.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t feel any more pain, that’s for sure.”

“I won’t even be sore afterward?”

“Shouldn’t. You might feel a little pressure. If you do, let me know, I’ll do something with the filling.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Almost three.”

“Shit. I gotta get out of here.”

“Maybe you should wait a few minutes. I only turned off the gas about ten minutes ago.”

I took the apron off, removed Mr. Slurpee from my mouth, and went to get up, carefully. My body didn’t respond as quickly as I wanted it to, something I never got used to. I can’t lie; I liked being high on gas.

“How do you feel?”

My head spun slightly, but other than that, I was okay. “Fine.” I felt like I was a teenager trying to convince my dad I wasn’t drunk.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” A smile came to my lips that I could not prevent. I must have looked the fool. Dad certainly had seen that before.

He didn’t say anything for a second. Instead, putting his hand on my shoulder, perhaps to steady me. He looked at me for a moment. “Be careful with this case,” he said, “Okay?”

“Yeah Dad, I got this.”

“That’s what I am worried about. Keep your head, okay. And watch out for the people around you. Not everyone can be trusted.”

I was the cop. I knew that. Still, I respected his advice. “I will, Dad. I promise.”

I hugged him goodbye, and walked out the room. Being around my father calmed me most times, reminding me of the security of childhood. We lose that too fast, I think, and spend most of our lives hunting for it. Most men won’t admit how scared they really are day to day.

Before I made it out the door, Dad called to me.

“And stop smoking so much, John. If you’re teeth get any more yellow, they’ll be brown. I won’t even comment on what your lungs must look like.”

“Thanks.” So much for security. And my teeth were not that bad. Most people commented on how white they were for a smoker. Talk about sideways compliments.

I said goodbye to Nancy, couldn’t find Jane, so I left. The side of my mouth still felt twice as big as it actually was, and when I ran my tongue over the tooth, I felt that it was shaved down to almost half its size. It felt weird, and sharp.

I got into my car, and raced toward the city.

It took me twenty-five minutes to get back to the station, which wasn’t so bad. It helps when you are in a cop car doing 90 on the parkway. I wove in and out of cars, threw the lights on a few times for emphasis, and made good time. Luckily, there were no reporters at the station, and I made it inside unmolested.

Geiger waited for me downstairs.

“Cutting it close,” he said, looking at his watch.

“Sorry. It had to be done,” I said, careful to pronounce every word correctly.

“You gonna be able to interview Chapman like that?”

I nodded.

“You sure? I don’t want you fucking this up.”

“Don’t worry. Besides, it’s not like you can have Calhill do it,” I said, slowly. It was going to be tough. I don’t know why I didn’t think of such ramifications.

“Alright. What did you get from Mrs. Mullins?”

“She has been getting phone calls similar to the one I got today. She was upset, and I think she just needed to tell someone.” “I don’t like this. I wanted Calhill with you. Now that’s not possible, and I can’t pull anyone else off another case to go with you. Maybe I should send a couple of uniforms with you.”

“Not a good idea.”

He agreed, reluctantly.

“Still want me to wear a wire?”

He thought about that for a moment. “I guess it doesn’t make sense if you don’t have someone listening in.”

“Nothing’s going to happen.”

“When you say that, something usually does.”

“Not now.”

Geiger hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say something to me. It seemed like he knew something I didn’t, but I couldn’t figure out what that was. I decided not to ask about it. I had gotten enough bad news for the day.

I went to go upstairs. He stopped me.

“Don’t go to the department. Agnelli’s been around, looking for you. He wants to take you off the case right now. I stopped him, but if he sees you, and tells you that, there’s nothing I can do. I don’t know if he’s still here, but there’s no use taking the chance.”

What an idiot, Agnelli. I really wanted to know what sort of bug Agnelli had up his ass about the case. It was really starting to piss me off.

“Alright. I gotta get going anyway.”

“Get something for me. Anything. A lot more is riding on this case than you could possibly imagine.”