“AHHHHHHH-LOO—OO—OO—OO—OO—OO—OO—OO!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It‘s the Tooth, By Gum!
Back in the heyday of Chicago, as reported in Ben Hecht’s memoirs of his days as a reporter, a prominent dentist was arrested and charged with having raped a female patient while she was under the influence of nitrous oxide. The nitrous oxide, more familiarly known as “laughing gas,” had been administered on the pretext of rendering painless the excavation of a seriously decayed tooth. Which prompted one headline writer of the era to caption the news story as follows:
“Dentist Fills Wrong Cavity!”
Dr. Karl Enright practiced well within the dental tradition established by the Windy City Gas-anova. His brand of dentistry was as intimate as a lascivious tailor testing the crotch-fit on the pants-suit on a voluptuously wriggling teeny-bopper. Dr. Enright was just about that subtle. Such was the evaluation by his newest patient, Regina Blue.
Regina had called Dr. Enright’s office the morning after the arrest of Petey-Sweetie—the Rev. Peter Norbert—on suspicion of committing the heresy of anointing his lover’s noggin with a religious relic, otherwise known as a crucifix. She told Dr. Enright’s receptionist she was in agony from a toothache and required an immediate appointment. In answer to the query as to who had recommended her, Regina, on impulse, gave the name of Calvin Cabot.
It cleared the path. Nursey told her to come right on down and “Doctor would squeeze her in.” (Her in, as Regina found out, wasn’t all that “Doctor would squeeze”) When she got there, one of Dr. Enright’s dental assistants X-rayed her mouth from molar to molar and sent her back to the reception room to wait for the toothy snapshots to be developed. Following which, she was told, “Doctor will see you personally.”
(Personally turned out to be the most understated diagnosis of the medical century. As a dentist, “Doctor” would have made a great gynecologist!)
Of course Dr. Enright recognized her immediately. But he didn’t voice any suspicions about her visit; he didn’t question the “coincidence”; indeed, seeing Regina didn't seem to bother him at all. His blasé attitude persisted even after he’d studied the X-rays, which clearly showed him that her toothache story was a canard. Rcgina’s teeth would have done a two-year-old filly proud.
Slowly, the reason for his attitude dawned on her. Dr. Karl Enright, conceited lecher that he was, had all too willingly pogo-sticked to the conclusion that Regina’s visit was a response to his irresistible charm. She realized that he actually thought she’d come because she was attracted to him. The realization so startled her that Regina almost forgot why she had come-—which was to raise certain questions about Faith Venable’s murder.
Making sure by his arch demeanor that she knew he'd seen through her toothache ploy, Dr. Enright played the game. He seated her in the dental chair, arranged her feet so they were propped up on the footrest, sat himself down on a stool in front of her, and went through the motions of studying the X-rays in detail. What he was really doing, Regina quickly perceived, was peering up her mini-skirt. And, thanks to the position he’d arranged, she guessed he had a clear view all the way to her bicuspids. (Ah well, every dentist to his own diagnostic procedures.)
Regina stared back down at him. In the professional white coat which had replaced the previous evening’s Glen plaid, Dr. Karl Enright looked more like what Grandma would have called a lounge lizard than ever. It wouldn’t have surprised Regina to learn that he waxed his moustache. With its sharp, flaring ends, it certainly looked waxed. But if he was aiming at an early David Niven image, he was betrayed by the small, round pot belly not quite hidden by his white jacket. It was particularly noticeable since the rest of him was quite scrawny, including his shoulders and chest. But it was his eyes ,which most bothered Regina. They were yellow, cats eyes, and they conveyed the feeling of drawn claws about to pounce on a helpless pigeon.
“Well, my little Pigeon,” Dr. Enright said, startling the hell out of Regina, “let’s just have a look-see.” He got to his feet and strutted around to the back of the dental chair. He went over the tools of his trade laid out there, selecting those he intended to use and setting them to one side.
Regina took advantage of the interlude to frame a question in her mind. “You were a disciple of Faith Venable’s, weren’t you?” she intended to ask as an opener.
But she didn’t get to ask it. Just as she opened her mouth, he reached around with a wad of cotton and wedged it between her upper gum and her cheek. More cotton quickly followed, as did two clamps to hold it in place. Regina, who had no pain at all before, felt sharp pangs as the clamps bit into her lips.
Dr. Enright came around in front of her and peered into the over-stretched orifice which was her mouth. “The X-rays were sort of inconclusive,” he confided to her. “Can you point to the tooth that bothers you?”
Regina stuck her finger in her mouth and randomly indicated a back tooth.
“Hinmmm.” Dr. Enright poked at it with an instrument that looked like a crochet hook. The hook point skidded off the tooth and into Regina’s gum.
If Regina had been afraid she’d forget which tooth was supposed to be the problem, the sharp probe removed all doubt. Now it hurt!
Dr. Enright was behind her again. “It’s a little difficult to see,” he told her. He pressed a button and the back of the chair reclined. Regina reclined with it. “Let’s just slide up a little,” he suggested. And with the words he reached under her as if to help. His hand squeezed her left buttock greedily. Regina slapped the hand. “Ahh, touched a nerve, did I?” He leered.
Regina glared back at him.
He averted his eyes and stared into her mouth again. “Do you always salivate like that?” he inquired.
Regina, her mouth full of cotton and metal, of course couldn’t answer.
“Over-salivation is the sign of a passionate woman.” He tested the resiliency of her breast with his elbow —-the Enright Version of a nudge in the ribs.
Regina closed her eyes. Behind the lids she took the crochet hook and tatted a garotte for Dr. Enright’s over-ambitious testicles.
“Excessive salivary action indicates erotic arousal,” Dr. Enright added blithely. As if to demonstrate, he rubbed against Regina’s bare thigh where the mini-skirt had ridden up. If “erotic arousal” caused salivation, then Dr. Enright should have been spitting up a typhoon!
Regina’s knee shot out and caught his erection on the upsweep.
Dr. Enright doubled over. When he straightened up, he made an attempt to regain his professional dignity. He removed the clamps and cotton from Reginas mouth. “You can rinse now,” he told her curtly.
Regina sucked in half a cupful of mouthwash and swished it around in her mouth.
“That’s enough,” he told her after a moment. Calmly, he reached out and started to unbutton her blouse. “You can empty your mouth in the basin.”
Regina spit—a geyser!-—right in his eye!
“In the basin!” he spluttered, groping for a paper towel to dry his face. “I said to spit in the basin!”
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Angrily, Regina re-buttoned her blouse.
“My dear girl. There’s no need for alarm. I simply want to check your heartbeat.”
“Since when is a dentist a cardiac specialist?”
“If I’m to examine that tooth properly, I’ll have to administer an anaesthetic. And I never give an anaesthetic without checking the patient’s heart action first.”
“Then where’s your stethoscope?” Regina demanded.
“I don’t really need one. I can feel the heart-pulse perfectly adequately with my hand. Still, if you insist—”