At the Scene of the Crime (27 page)

I caught a glimpse of the woman next to me staring at my clenched fingers around the armrests.

“Nervous flyer?” she asked.

I smiled. “Just thinking about some dental work.”

“Ooooh, dentists. They’re the worst.” She lowered her tray and set up a laptop. I grinned to myself at her pronouncement, and began to think about the dentist I was going to see.

Edward Turnbaum and I had gone through dental school together. He’d been a perpetual clown when I’d first met him, not seeming serious about anything. How he made it through the rigors of U of I Dental, I wasn’t sure. But upon graduation, his practice took off like a rocket. Putting his gregariousness to work, he quickly began amassing patients at an astounding rate, until he’d reached the point of total saturation. He’d even contacted me about joining him so he could keep up. We’d met again, after ten years, at a party commemorating the anniversary of some mutual friends. Turnbaum, or Dr. Eddie as he liked to be called, came up to me like we were long-lost buddies, pumping my hand and slapping me on the shoulder. I watched from across the room at the reception as he began to work the crowd, going up to each person and introducing himself. Sometime between dinner and the drinks that followed, I saw him leaning over a supine figure on a reclining chair, probing the oral cavities of the dinner guest with his mouth mirror and a small flashlight.

“You’ve definitely got an abscess there,” Dr. Eddie was saying. “Easily fixed with a few visits.” He removed a probe from his pocket. “In fact, I think I see some incipient gingivitis here, too.” He paused long enough to grab a drink from a passing waiter, swirl the probe in the amber liquid, and resume his diagnosis. “Why don’t I just do a bit of preliminary work right away, say, Monday morning? Give me your number and I’ll have my receptionist set up an appointment.”

Amazed at his audacity, I quickly slipped to the other side of the room as the reluctant “patient” made a series of “goos” and “un-huhs” while the probing fingers held his jaw open.

It surprised me when, out of the blue, Dr. Eddie called me and asked me to be his best man at wedding number three. I knew he’d gone through two wives, the last one being a very comely assistant, whom he now described as “the ex from hell.”

“I moved out West,” he’d said over the phone. “Friction, Arizona. It’s great out here. You’ll love it.”

More out of curiosity than residual friendship, I agreed to make the trip. I wanted to see how the gregarious Dr. Eddie was faring in the land west of the Pecos. Plus, I’d gone to Arizona State as an undergrad, so it would be a good excuse to revisit some old haunts.

We touched down at Phoenix about two and a half hours later, and I reset my watch, marveling that the trip had only taken about thirty minutes out of my day. The pilot had said that it was a balmy hundred and ten degrees, and I could feel the oppressive desert heat seeping up through the floor of the portable gate. Since I just had carry-on luggage, I was able to skip the baggage claim and go right to the car rental place. Eddie had volunteered to pick me up, but I’d declined, not wanting to be dependent on the perennial groom for my transportation. Besides, I hoped to find the time to see some of Arizona again. The desert can be stark and cruel, but it had its own beauty. I got to the car rental line at almost the same time as a swarthy-looking guy who looked strangely familiar. A moment later it came to me. After we’d all boarded, I’d seen a couple of people who must have been flying standby amble down the center aisle. This guy had been one of them. He’d stood out to me because of his immense, prognathic jaw. He eyed the line as he stepped in front of me, causing me to almost stumble. Our eyes locked for a moment and he looked away again, mumbling an apology, but still crowding in front of me. This was a guy in a hurry.

I, on the other hand, had nothing but time. Or so I thought.

“Hey, hey, hey, how’s the second best dentist who ever graduated from U of I?”

I knew who it was before I looked.

Eddie Turnbaum was ambling my way, his right arm locked around the waist of a very pretty young girl. She could have been his daughter, but from the placement of his hand low on her ass, I knew she wasn’t. He’d let his hair grow a bit longer than the last time I’d seen him, and it was combed straight in such thick, pompadour fashion that I knew immediately that it wasn’t all his. He had jowls, and the over-sized T-shirt he wore, with “Party Animal” on the front, couldn’t hide the pearlike shape that jiggled under it.

I switched my carryon to my left hand and extended my right, but Eddie wasn’t having any of that. He released the girl, moved forward, and gave me a big hug. I’ve always found the modern custom of men hugging a bit disconcerting, but this was like being grabbed by a bear. I was suddenly afraid he was going to plant a sloppy kiss on my cheek next. But luckily, he didn’t.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I told you we’d pick you up.”

I smiled and went into my standard spiel about not wanting to put him out.

“Awww, hell, Jim. I got plenty of cars.” He flashed a dazzling grin that told me he’d whitened his teeth, and turned to hold his hand out toward the babe next to him. “And this is Alicia.”

He beamed as she and I shook hands. Her grip was strong, her teeth also dazzling white, and up close she looked even younger than she had from twenty feet away.

After a seesaw debate that I thought was going to develop into a wrestling match, I finally broke away from the happy couple and went to the counter to get my car. Resigned, Eddie followed me there and leaned both of his big forearms on the flat surface. The young girl waiting on me made the mistake of smiling, and that was all the opening the Party Animal needed.

“Say, you’ve got a pretty nice smile there, young lady,” he said, flashing his own pearly whites. “Except for that slightly off-key central.”

Her face scrunched up slightly as she tried to ignore him.

“Don’t listen to him,” I said. “Ali McGraw had a smile just like yours, and she did fine.”

“Who’s Ali McGraw?’ the girl asked, looking even more confused.

“Jim, please,” Eddie said, laying a hammy hand on my shoulder. “All I’m saying is, I could straighten that tooth with minimal intrusion. I could fix you up with a transparent orthodontic appliance that would do the job and no one would even notice you were wearing it.” He grinned again. “I mean, how would you like to have a smile like this?” He snapped his fingers and Alicia moved up next to him, pressed her nubile body against his. After canting her head to exactly the right pose, she smiled. “A little touch-up here, and some whitening, and I’ll have you looking like Shania Twain. It’d go good with your dark hair.”

The girl kept watching him as we concluded the rental transaction. As she gave me the keys and the directions to find the car, Eddie snapped a business card on the counter.

“Call my receptionist for an appointment,” he said. “I’m over in Friction.”

I felt a sense of relief as I got into my rental car and exited the parking garage, trying to memorize the way so I’d have a smooth return trip Sunday morning. When I pulled out onto the access road, I heard a horn blaring and, sure enough, there was Eddie, party animal extraordinaire, honking at me with his flashy red Lexus. With his trophy fiancée in the front seat, I could only imagine how cramped I would have been in the back with my suitcase. I followed him to Friction, which proved to be a short, twenty-minute ride. In the background I could see the mountains, their tops covered with the black soot from the recent fires. I silently wondered if it wasn’t some sort of omen for the coming festivities.

 

Luigi, the tailor, was pinning the cuffs of the tuxedo pants when Eddie asked him how his bridge was working out. Luckily, I’d called him with my measurements, so I didn’t anticipate this eleventh-hour fitting would be too radical.

“The bridge is good, Doctor,” Luigi said, smiling to show off the handiwork: a row of perfect central and lateral incisors. He bent to one knee and
tugged on the pants. “If I hem them here, they’ll hang like this.”

I glanced down as Eddie moved in closer.

“That’s perfect,” he said, then turned to Luigi. “Open up. Lemme see.”

Luigi obediently stretched his jaws apart as Eddie took a small penlight and shone it into the tailor’s oral cavity. He grunted a few times, then pulled at Luigi’s right cheek. “Pull your lip back.” Again, the tailor did what he was told. Eddie grunted a few more times, then nodded. “Okay, I’m noticing a bit of excessive wear on the second molar. I’m going to have to make a minor adjustment on that one.”

Luigi, still pulling his cheek away from his teeth, nodded. His eyes looked solemn. Eddie pulled out a palm pilot and pressed a couple of keys. “How about tomorrow, ten-thirty?” he asked.

“Okay, Doctor. I’ll bring over your best man’s tux. How’s that?”

“That,” Eddie said with a grin, “is great.”

I couldn’t believe that he was scheduling a patient on his rehearsal day, but when Eddie saw my expression he only winked and grinned. We’d made plans to go out to dinner, so I went back to the hotel to freshen up and call my wife. Everything was fine, Donna assured me, and asked how I was doing.

“Marvelous. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“I take it Fast Eddie hasn’t changed?”

“Remember that old song, ‘Middle-Aged Crazy’?”

Her laugh sounded musical and I wished I was back next to her.

I went down to the lobby about thirty minutes later, checked the front of the place for any sign of Eddie’s Lexus, and then went back and sat on one of the chairs. A copy of the local paper was folded on the small coffee table so I picked one up and began reading about the recent fires. They were directly attributed to the rainy spring, which caused an excess of mountain vegetation that dried to straw-colored tinder over the hot summer. All it took was one lightning strike, or one carelessly dropped cigarette, to set off a conflagration. A loud voice interrupted my reading and I looked over the rim of the paper.

“I’m expecting a very important package to be overnighted to me,” the voice said. It was harsh-sounding and held the hint of implied malice, with a slight lisping sound due to the prognathic jaw’s malformation. Its owner surprised me. The same guy who’d been on the plane, and then ducked in front of me at the car rental place. “The name’s Marco Fabian. I want to be notified immediately. Got it?”

The mousy little clerk gave his assurance and Mr. Fabian walked away looking like an angry pelican. I went back to reading about the wildfires.

 

Eddie had shown up without his bride-to-be, saying that she needed the time alone to check on her gown and get with her girlfriends. I mentally debated asking him if this upcoming nuptial was in his best interest, but decided to keep my mouth shut. He must have read my mind, though.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a grin. “Out of the frying pan and back into the fire.”

I smiled. “How sure are you this time?”

His grin faded slightly. “Sure? Hell, I knew I had to have Alicia as soon as I saw her.” A wistful look settled over his face. “Why? You think she’s too young for me?”

There was no sense playing Dear Abby at this point. His mind was already made up. “True love conquers all.”

He smirked and looked down at his plate. “Yeah, I just hope that the third time’s the charm.”

Somehow, I didn’t think it would be.

 

As I got ready for bed that night, I made mental plans to get up early on Friday and go for a run. It was good to be in Arizona again and the sights brought back a lot of old college memories, but the aroma of burnt wood that had occasionally engulfed me as I’d walked outside was troubling. The newscaster had assured everyone that the fires were now under control, but I couldn’t help but think they’d only temporarily stopped, waiting for a new flashpoint.

Sleep eluded me as I lay in the strange hotel bed, and I found myself thinking about how I’d present my suspicions to the state’s attorney Monday regarding the likelihood of Montoya’s peg laterals matching up to the bite. It was a situation that required a clear and obvious preponderance of the evidence. Keldon had phone records showing that Montoya had repeatedly called Sandra Tilly, and her roommate had also given a statement that Sandra had confided her revulsion of him. That gave us motive, and his bite, the natural one, would tie him to the crime. I was confident I could persuade the judge, and once I had the original plaster model of his pegs, the jury. I had photos of Sandra Tilly’s body that could be blown up to life size. My most effective methodology was to take a video of myself beside the life-sized photo, running the model of the suspect’s teeth directly over the bite marks. I didn’t use sound. It was more effective to speak directly to the jury, pausing the video if necessary, and playing it back with each opportunity. If I had had the impression while her body was still available, I would have filmed myself using the actual bite wound. But either way, it left an unforgettable impact on the minds of the jury. I remembered seeing Sandra Tilly’s body when I took the photos, and resolved that nothing was going to go wrong with this one. I wanted to see Montoya take the fall.

 

My plans to go for that morning run on the treadmill were cut short by an incessant ringing that stirred me at seven-thirty. It was Eddie.

“Up and at ’em,” his voice said. “I’m on the way over. We got work to do before we pick up your tux.”

“We do?”

“Yeah.” His voice lowered slightly. “I need a favor. I sorta overbooked myself this morning, scheduling Luigi, so I was thinking if you wouldn’t mind helping me out, we could get done in plenty of time to get to the rehearsal.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not licensed to practice in this state.”

“You could help me with the lab stuff,” he said, “unless you’re too used to
working on dead people.” His horselike laugh punctuated the sentence.