"Oh, yes. Occlusion was pronounced and her upper left cuspid was pointed anteriorly and slightly outward. That's this one right here," he said, pointing to his eyetooth. "Left third .molar hadn't yet erupted and I warned her she might have a problem with it II it didn't come through shortly. She had considerable plaque, of course, and her gums tended to bleed. Teeth spoiled her looks. Pleasant-looking girl otherwise, though if I remember rightly, she had behavioral problems."

"Like what?"

"Not sure. Something off about her. She'd been taken from her natural parents and placed in foster care. Must've had their hands full with her. Boisterous. Inappropriate. I believe she had a tendency to take things that weren't hers. She'd come in for an appointment and the next thing we knew, the stapler'd be missing or the paper clip dispenser. I took care of her fillings and then referred her to Dr. Spears for orthodontic evaluation. Don't know what happened to her after that. Doubt she had the work done. Didn't seem the type. Pity, if you ask me."

"Can you remember the name of the foster family?"

His focus shifted to the wall. "Not offhand. They weren't patients of mine. I forget now who they went to."

"What about the girl? Do you remember her name –first, last? Anything that might help?"

He gave his head a shake like a horse irritated by a fly. "I had to sedate her to get the work done and that affected her badly. Sometimes happens. Made her wild. I did one quadrant at a time, but she fought me every step. Novocaine didn't seem to take either. I must have stuck her four times for every tooth I filled."

I wiped my damp palm casually against my jeans, my dental phobia and my needle phobia having collided midair. "Did she attend the local high school?"

"Must have. State law. Pretty girl I'd say until she opened her mouth. Bad teeth spoil your looks and I told her so. Uncooperative. Missed two appointments and she came late for the ones she made. My hygienist could have told you the name, but she died. Can't believe I outlived her. Fit as a fiddle; worked for me thirty-two years and never took a sick day."

"What'd she die of?" I said, sidetracked.

"Heart. Weeding a pansy bed and toppled over sideways. She was out like a light. Yard work'll do that. Wretched way to spend time. I prefer indoors. Always have."

"Anything else about the girl?"

He squinted at me, shifting in his chair. "What's that?"

I said, "Anything else about the girl?"