Chapter Ten

Hannah speared a piece of romaine lettuce with her fork and managed to glance at her watch. Only five minutes had passed since she’d closed the door of Norman’s private office and he’d already told her all about his appointment with Ron.

Norman’s account hadn’t held any surprises. Ron had come in complaining of pain and Norman had given him a shot of Xylocaine. Ron hadn’t wanted to take the time to repair the tooth right then, but he’d promised to come back to Norman’s office right after he’d finished his deliveries. Of course he hadn’t come back. Ron had been killed before the shot had even begun to wear off.

“Did Ron seem nervous about anything?” Hannah asked another question from the mental list she’d prepared.

Norman chewed and swallowed. “Not really. He was anxious about getting back to work, but that was all.”

“Did he tell you how he cracked his tooth?”

“He said he’d been in a fight, but I didn’t press him for the details. Now I wish I had.”

“That’s okay, Norman.” Hannah gave him her friendliest smile. “You didn’t have any way of knowing that Ron was going to leave here and get himself shot.”

“I guess not. I wish I’d paid more attention, though. I could have asked him more questions about it when I examined him. He was in the chair for at least twenty minutes.”

“I don’t think that would have done much good. With his mouth propped open and that little rubber sheet covering his tongue, he couldn’t have told you very much.”

“It’s called a rubber dam,” Norman corrected her, and there was a gleam of humor in his eyes. “You’ve got a point, Hannah. They taught us about conversing with patients in Dental Procedures 101. Never ask a question that can’t be answered by Gghhh, or Gghhh-Gghhh.”

Hannah laughed. Norman’s sense of humor was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad, after all. And he’d certainly spruced up his father’s clinic. The institutional green walls in the waiting room had been freshly painted with a coat of sunshine yellow, the dusty and faded venetian blinds had been replaced with tieback curtains in a sunflower print, and the old gray couch and hard-backed chairs had given way to a new set of matched furniture that would have looked good in any Lake Eden living room. The only things that hadn’t changed were the copies of outdated magazines that were stacked in the new wooden magazine holder on the wall.

“You’ve done a lot with this place, Norman.” Hannah glanced around Norman’s office appreciatively. He’d kept his father’s old desk, but it had been refinished with a light oak stain and there was a fresh coat of pale blue paint on the walls. She looked down at the darker blue wall-to-wall carpeting and asked a question that had nothing to do with Ron’s murder. “Did you install this same carpeting in the examining rooms?”

Norman shook his head. “I couldn’t. The floors in there have to be washable. I replaced the linoleum and painted the walls, but that’s about it.”