"Yezbudnotonpurbussthaswhyoohavtohuwwy!"
"How many times have I stressed the importance of not speaking with your dentures out? How many times have I told you it will weaken all the jaw muscles and affect the way the teeth fit? Really, Mrs. Valentine-"
"Pleazldowbutthisissadebergedtzy!"
"An emergency?" Dr. Pulham somehow managed to make out what she was saying. "Very well. Give me the address."
It wasn't easy with Arch dancing around and howling in the background, but somehow Olivia managed to get the address across to Dr. Pelham. She hung up and tried to soothe Arch. It was to no avail. Fortunately, Dr. Pel-ham arrived quickly.
"You still have your dentures out," he observed critically as he entered. Then he noticed Arch and his jaw fell open. "How-?"
"Never mind how! Ow-ow-ow!" Arch wailed. "Do something! You're a doctor, aren't you?"
"I'm a dentist." Dr. Pulham continued to stare.
"Well, I can't stand this! Do something! Get me loose from these infernal things." '
Dr. Pulham scratched his head. "All right," he said soothingly. "Come inside. We'll see what we can do." He followed Arch into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.
There was a loud yowl, and a moment later Dr. Pulham emerged. Olivia looked at him questioningly.
"I believe these belong to you, my dear." He held Olivia's plates gingerly between two fingers.
"Oh. Yes." She flushed. She took them from him and started to put them in her mouth.
"Don't you think you should wash them first?" He asked disapprovingly.
"Oh, yes." Her flush deepened. "I forgot." She started for the kitchen sink.
"Do they lock like that frequently?" Dr. Pulham inquired when she'd fitted them onto Yier gums.
"It never happened before."
"I see. Well, perhaps a bite to which they weren't accustomed- Too bad for the young man. It must have been excruciating for him."
"Is he all right?"
"I believe so. But he should see his doctor to check the extent of the damage." Dr. Pulham picked up his bag and started for the door. "Umm, about the bill," he said straightfaced. "Shall I send it to your husband?"
"No!" Olivia exclaimed. "Don't do that! I'll send you a check in the morning."
"Fifty dollars," Dr. Pulham told her.
"Isn't that kind of high?"
"Is it?" He stared her down. "A house visit. An emergency call. Dental surgery of the most delicate nature. No, Mrs. Valentine. I don't think it's high at all. Do you?"
"No. Of course not. I'll send you a check."
"Good." Dr. Pulham smiled knowingly and left.
Olivia went inside to Arch then. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "How are you feeling?"
"Sorry? What good is sorry? You may have ruined me for life. Do me a favor, will you? Get out of here and go home to Mortimer. Don't say anything." He held up his hand. "Do not stay! Do not pass 'Go'! Go directly home. And remain there. Never darken my door again!"
"But it was so wonderful before-"
"Out! Out, you toothless witch! I never want to see you again!"
"If you'd only give me a chance-"
'"Never! This close is too close. Just get out and never come back."
"Will you- Will you come to dinner next Thursday?" Olivia asked sorrowfully.
"Absolutely not!"
"But-"
"Out!"
Olivia left sorrowfully, like a beaten dog with its tail between its legs. It was still dragging when she reached home. Later that evening, during dinner, Mortimer noticed her crestfallen demeanor.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked.
"Just depressed, I guess." "About what?"
"I don't know. Maybe I ate something that disagreed with me."
'"Italian food!" Mortimer pounded his fist on the table. "I'll bet you had Italian food while you were downtown shopping today. Those stinkin' wops! They'll poison the whole goddamn population before they're through!"
"But I didn't have any-"
Working himself up, Mortimer was beyond hearing. "Guinea bastards! Everyone of 'em's a lousy Mafia hood. Spaghetti! Ravioli! Lasagna! Hah! Poison, that's what it is! The way to cut out the white man's heart is through his stomach! That's their motto! Black guinea sonsof-bitches!"
"But they're Caucasian and-"
"Asian! That's right! They're part of the whole Asian conspiracy. No good Italian Jew bastards! Papist kikes!"
"Yes, dear." Olivia gave up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go make a phone call."
"Oriental wop sheenies!" His voice kept right on ranting in Olivia's wake as she left the room.
She shut it out by closing the kitchen door behind her before she picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hello." Llona answered.
"Olivia Valentine here," she identified herself. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the dinner's off for next week. Mortimer's cousin Archer can't make it."
"Oh, no!" Llona was very disappointed, and it showed in her voice. "Why not?"
"He's going out of town on business," Olivia improvised.
"Damn! I was so anxious to meet him."
"Why?" Olivia asked.
"Well, the truth is that I think we've met before. Only I'm not sure. But if he's the man I think he is, I simply have to get in touch with him."
The breathless note in Llona's voice made Olivia suspicious. And the suspicion made her cautious. "Sounds like there's some romance involved," she ventured, her voice even.
"Well, frankly there is," Llona admitted.
Olivia thought fast. The one thing she didn't want where Arch was concerned was competition from a beautiful young widow like Llona. Even if she couldn't have him herself, Olivia was damned if she was going to open any doors for another woman. Instead, she shut this one firmly and quickly, and right in Llona's face. "I can't imagine you having a romantic interest in Mortimer's cousin Arch," she said, managing a giggle. "He's not exactly the type."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't know. Some women might go for short fat men, but I didn't think that was your speed."
"Fat? Short? How short?" Llona wanted to know.
"Five foot nothing. And that hooked nose he talks through. Gosh, Llona, he may be my husband's cousin, but you can do better than that."
"I don't think he's the man I'm looking for," Llona sighed.
"I doubt it. Too bad."
"Yes. It is too bad. Well, I'll see you at the massage parlor." Llona hung up the phone.
Damn! Llona flung herself down on her bed and pounded the pillow with her fists. She'd been so sure Olivia's husband's cousin was the Archer she was seeking! But obviously, from the description, he wasn't. Damn! Was she fated to never again meet her lover? No! She wouldn't accept that! She'd take steps to find him. That's what she'd do!
And that's what she did. The very next day.
Chapter Five
Had anybody been in the vicinity of George Rutherford's grave that day, they wouldn't have needed a seismograph to detect the churning earth. The restless churning was the result of George's turning over. Not surprising, for George had very good reason to turn over in his grave.
The reason was the use to which Llona was putting the insurance money bequeathed to her by George. She'd only received it a day or two before the call from Olivia Valentine cancelling the dinner invitation. Now, the day after the call, Llona was investing it in a project of which George could hardly have been expected to approve. She was writing out a check for a goodly portion of it to the Confidential Detective Agency.
Sammy Spayed, head of the organization (and also its total personnel, a fact he saw no reason to impart to Llona), sat across the desk from her. Llona had just finished telling him all the meager data she'd memorized about the man she knew only as "Archer." The only thing she'd omitted was what actually took place between her and Archer. She hadn't been able to bring herself to tell Spayed about that. Still, he might have guessed at some intimacy from the thoroughness of the physical description which Llona supplied him. But Spayed was too busy thanking his lucky stars for the sudden windfall Llona represented to bother with such conjectures. Why she wanted the man was her business; Sammy's business was only to find him for her.