I leafed through the photos, past wattle-free necks, chin implants, and chiseled noses. After a while I began to notice a similarity among the noses. All of them were straight and skinny with a little bump at the end. Wait a minute. That was Julia Roberts’ nose. Good heavens. There was a whole army of women walking around Los Angeles with Julia Roberts’ nose.

Just when I was thinking that Hal should be paying Julia royalties, I heard my name called out.

“Jaine Austen?”

The other two patients looked over at me, curious.

“No relation,” I told them.

A buxom blonde nurse stood in the doorway. I knew right away it was Denise. Mainly because she was wearing a name tag that said “Denise.”

She had the hardened look of a truck stop waitress. Definitely a notch below SueEllen and Larkspur. Maybe Hal was tired of Ice Queens and New Agers. Maybe he was entering The Floozy Years.

“Right this way,” she said, smiling stiffly. I wondered if her impressive set of boobs were part of her employee benefits package.

I followed her down a carpeted hallway. She wore her bushy blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. Heidi said the blonde in the hallway had straight hair like Larkspur. But as I knew so well from years of personal experience, even the curliest of hair can be tamed with a hair dryer.

She led me into a wood-paneled office, furnished with an imposing antique desk and leather club chairs. Hal was clearly going for the Lord of the Manor look.

There were two things that struck me about Hal’s office. Number One, there were no photos of his wife and kids, the standard doctor’s ploy to keep flirtatious female patients at bay. Perhaps Hal Kingsley didn’t mind flirtatious patients.

The second thing I noticed was a door in the paneling behind Hal’s desk. I wondered where it led.

“Have a seat,” Denise said, “and the doctor will be right with you.”

“I really appreciate your seeing me on such short notice. I know it must be a difficult time for the doctor.”

For a minute, she looked as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

“You know,” I prompted. “What with his wife’s tragic death.”

“Oh, right,” she said, finally remembering. Clearly SueEllen’s death wasn’t tops on her tragedy priority list.

“Yes,” she said, as if reading from a prepared script, “we’re all in a state of shock.”

If she was in a state of shock, I was in the state of Hawaii.

“I guess Dr. Kingsley must be burying his sorrow in his work,” I said.

“Right,” she nodded, no doubt making a mental note to add “burying his sorrow in his work” to her script.

At which point, Hal Kingsley came striding into the room.

“Ms. Austen,” he said. “Good to see you.”

Then he glanced at Denise who lingered in the doorway.

“That’ll be all, Denise.”

“Yes, doctor,” she said with a worshipful smile.