"Just checking," Manisha said.
"Sure, sure. Anyway, after the equipment spot is the hygienist's office and then Operatory 4. That's where it happened."
"I should go in and see it for myself, really," Manisha said. It's hard to picture."
"Just think of it as an oval shaped hallway with rooms to the right and left of it.
"So, you were probably the person closest to Operatory 4, from what you're saying."
"Well, I guess I was, except when I was chasing that darn dog. Cheryl would have been as close, though, because she was working on a patient in her room."
"So that patient could vouch for Cheryl's whereabouts?"
"Whereabouts? You sound like a T.V. show. You mean you think that I might be considered a suspect because I was close by?"
"Don't have a hissy fit! I'm not saying it was you. I know that. We're just going through everything. We can stop if it makes you upset."
Jaswinder took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. This is just so creepy but we have to keep going." She started sketching a diagram of the clinic. "Does that help? I think that's pretty close to what the layout is although I guess there are blueprints somewhere. Humph! Detective Osborne probably has a copy."
"How about if you put an x for where you think each person was. And put their name beside it."
"That's a good idea, Manisha. Lucky I'm writing in pencil. Okay, so I was at reception, except for when I was chasing the dog. So I"ll just put a dotted line between two x's to show where I was. Then the protester, Mr. Buckle, was in the washroom. Marnie was at Operatory 3 with a braces girl, Krystal."
"Is that how you describe your patients, by their problem? I mean do you say cavity boy and root canal woman?"
Jaswinder had to laugh. "Well, no, not usually. I'm just telling you so you have an idea. But I remember that my mother told me that when she was in the hospital having her gall bladder removed, the resident doctor described her as the gallbladder in Room 10. She told me she almost said to him that she does have a name."
"That sounds like your mother. How come she didn't?"
"She thought he might cut back her pain medication. I think she was kidding. I hope so, anyway." They both laughed.
"I've got to be going, Jaswinder. I told my Mom I'd be back by 10 o'clock."
"Oh, that's too bad. Well, we'll just have to finish this another time. Maybe I'll get a chance to work on it tomorrow so I can have it ready for you if you come over tomorrow after dinner."
"Aren't you going out with Jovan?"
"Oh, that's right, of course. I don't think he'll want to talk about it, though. He's a bit freaked out by the whole thing."
"Maybe he'll start to take things, you know, your relationship, a little more seriously. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. I mean, Jovan's not perfect, but neither am I. You know, he rushed right over after I phoned to tell him. He was definitely worried about the thought of anything happening to me. He even wants me to quit working for Dr. Parker. And I'll be twenty-seven this summer. I don't really have time any more for long, going nowhere relationships that don't work out. So, hopefully Jovan's the one and he will start to feel that way, too."
Manisha shrugged on her coat. "My mom likes to say that a man doesn't know what he wants until a woman tells him."
"I'll bet she doesn't say that in front of your father."
Manisha laughed as they walked upstairs to the front door together. "Now that I think about it, she doesn't!"
Chapter 9
Going out with Jovan on Saturday evening was an established habit. Usually, they went out to dinner and then took in a movie. Sometimes they would go skating instead and then just get something to eat at the concession stand. Jovan was still in school so they didn't spend too much money and Jaswinder would usually pay part herself. Tonight he was going to bring over Herbie. Jaswinder had written down Mrs. Harrington's address and telephone number after she gave Herbie to Joven on Thursday afternoon and then called on Saturday morning to check if she was out of the hospital. Hopefully, it hadn't been a heart attack; that would be too terrible. Mrs. Harrington was home, though, 'just the shock, dear,' was how she put it. She had just been released that morning and was effusive in her gratitude that Herbie was in good hands. She'd been calling the local animal shelters to try to track him down. Jaswinder felt guilty; maybe she should have tried to call her earlier. She arranged to bring Herbie over that evening.
But before that, Jovan was going to have dinner with her family. Last time he did, it had been to meet her family. Her mother had cooked then. This time, Jaswinder had decided that Jovan should see that she could cook, too. Maybe not as well as her mother, but well enough. She did help her mother with dinner sometimes and had talked her mother into letting her take over the kitchen, with help, of course. But not so much help that she wouldn't be able to say that she made the dinner herself.
Her father had raised his eyebrows a little when he'd heard of the plan. Jovan probably wasn't his first choice as a future son-in-law, not earning enough money from his part-time job but Jovan could tell him about his engineering plans. Her father was in construction, a foreman now, and he talked a lot about bottom lines. Jaswinder had decided to make butter chicken with rice, cooked carrots. Ice cream for dessert. She couldn't tackle making dessert as well.
She and her mother had fun preparing the dinner together. There were a few glitches. First, the meal was late. Her younger brother and sister giggled a lot. Jaswinder worried that the chicken was overcooked. But after an awkward start, Jovan and her father found out they both liked football. Jovan had played in the local league until he was 18. The talk became more relaxed, heated even, as they talked about the local professional team's merits. But Jovan had a few inside stories to tell that made her father throw back his head and laugh. Jovan had gone up in his estimation, Jaswinder was pleased to note. And her father and Jovan even praised the chicken. Her mother smiled and said she would take care of the cleanup since Jaswinder had done all the cooking. Thanks, Mom.
Jovan and Jaswinder left to drop off Herbie at Mrs. Harrington's house. It had been too cold to leave Herbie in Jovan's car. And since he used it for his pizza delivery job, Jovan had been afraid that the dog's smell or his hair, or worse his pee might somehow permeate the car and affect the pizza. So Herbie had been tucked into his tote bag and left in the living room and thankfully he had been quiet during dinner. Jovan told Jaswinder that he had fed him shortly before he'd come over so they decided they should take Herbie for a walk around the block before heading over to his owner's.
It was a cool, crisp evening, for once not raining as was usual in March. Jovan took her hand and she kept an eye on Herbie as he stopped to sniff every tree and shrub. He probably enjoyed a new neighbourhood with a new supply of smells.
"So, what's happening at work with the murder investigation? Are you allowed to talk about it?"
Since she'd talked in detail to Manisha, Jaswinder decided she could hardly exclude Jovan. He was at least as important, more important if she thought of him as her future husband. "I go back to work on Monday. It's been nice to have this time off. I hardly slept on Thursday night." Jovan squeezed her hand. She would have said something romantic but Herbie decided to poo right then. Just her luck. She knew, of course, that she had to pick it up and had a plastic shopping bag ready.
"Hey, let me do that. I already know how. My mom showed me."
Wow, that definitely qualified as nice, almost chivalrous. "Thanks, Jovan. You're great." Gratitude had made the words pop out but Jovan didn't seem perturbed by the compliment. "Detective Osborne said it was most likely a targeted hit. That means someone was after the guy, Plinsky. Someone had a reason to kill him."
"But you said he had a scalpel in his eye. Why didn't the murderer just shoot him? Someone with a scalpel in his eye wouldn't die right away, would he? I guess a gun would be noisier, unless a silencer was used. But why would a gang member follow him into the de
ntist?"
Jaswinder hadn't considered that. "It gives me the creeps to think of it. But I guess you're right. You'd be blind in that eye, for sure, but there's still the other eye. And blind people aren't dead. I mean, being made blind doesn't kill you."
"I suppose he could bleed to death,” Jovan offered. “It would be something that someone who really hated you would do. 'Targeted hit' sounds like a hit man did it and they don't care about what they're doing; it's all about the money for them."
"You're right. And a stab to the eye would take a little time, for death to occur, I mean." Jaswinder thought about her high school biology class. "There aren’t any major arteries in the eye and besides I don't think there was a lot of blood. I should ask Dr. Parker, he's the only one of us who saw the body.”
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk about it."
"I wouldn't blame him. I could try asking Dr. Parker even though we were told not to discuss it. Maybe I could ask him in a roundabout way. I could ask if he wants me to sterilize the operatory to get off every trace of blood or is he going to get a service in to do that."
"Jaswinder, you are very clever." Jovan looked impressed.
They'd worked their way back to the front of Jaswinder's home and Jovan tucked Herbie back into the tote bag, handling the pooch very competently, Jaswinder thought. Jovan said he knew exactly where Mrs. Harrington lived. He'd drive everywhere on his pizza delivery rounds and her home was only a few kilometers away.
Mrs. Harrington was grateful almost beyond belief. It was touching, really, Jaswinder decided, how much that little dog meant to her. It was fortunate that nothing had happened to him.
Mrs. Harrington insisted they come in. She lived in a small yellow house and the inside was tidy but full of furniture and paintings. Jaswinder couldn't help but notice that there wasn't really much purple and red in here. Must be just her wardrobe. Over in one corner was what looked like a small shrine with a photograph of a man in uniform who was quite good looking in an older man sort of way. A large medal was draped over the side of the picture frame. Was Mrs. Harrington was a widow? The older woman had followed her gaze.
“Was that your husband, Mrs. Harrington?”
“Oh, no, dear. I never found ‘Mr. Right’. Isn’t that what you young girls call it? That was my father. He died in World War II. Battle of Stalingrad. That’s the medal he was given, posthumously.”
“ I’m sorry.”
“Oh, that was a long time ago, my dear.”
They sat down on the flowered sofa. Herbie ran to a plaid cushion in front of the lit gas fireplace as soon as Mrs. Harrington released him from the obligatory smothering of kisses. He'd missed her, Jaswinder thought, and the old lady had missed her dog. Mrs. Harrington was dressed more conservatively than usual in brown pants and a flower print top. She launched into further thanks for everything they'd done.
Jaswinder figured she'd take a chance and ask a few delicate questions and back off immediately if Mrs. H. started to get upset.
"Mrs. Harrington, have the police been around to see you?'
"No, why would they want to? I did already speak a bit to the policeman who went to the hospital with me. Such a lot of fuss. But they were very good in he hospital, especially when I told them what I . . . what I had seen."
"Well . . . you were the first to see . . . the person. But the police are interviewing everyone who was there. I'm sorry, but that includes you. I wouldn't be surprised if you hear from them very soon."
"Oh, dear. I don't think I'd like that. I'm trying to forget about that terrible day. Oh, I know I over-reacted but it's just not the type of thing you expect to see at the dentist."
"Don't worry about that; I'm sure I would have been the same. Do you think it would help if we talk about it a little so then you'll have an idea of what the police will want to know." Jaswinder felt a little guilty at the deception but, after all, it was all about finding the guilty person . . . and quickly.
"If you think it will help, dear."
Herbie had now settled on the sofa beside Mrs. Harrington with his head in her lap. At first he looked up, adoringly, Jaswinder thought, but soon he was nodding off. "Maybe tell me you saw, in order, I mean. Was the man sitting in the treatment chair when you first saw him?"
"Which man, dear? There was a man going out the back door and then the man with the knife in his . . . "
"You saw two men?"
"I just saw the back of one disappearing out the back door. It did look like that disagreeable man that walks around out front carrying a sign. The same green army jacket and baseball cap. But that's not the man you're asking about, is it?"
Jaswinder tried to keep her face calm. So Jim Buckle had gone out the back door. But would he have had time to stab Mr. Plinsky in the eye? Would Mr. Plinsky have let him get close enough? Jaswinder remembered that Mr. Plinsky had leaned back and closed his eyes after he sat down in the dental chair. But Mr. Buckle certainly didn't look like anyone who worked at a dental clinic. Mr. Plinsky had mentioned the protester when he first came in, hadn't he?
"I just wondered about the man in Operatory 4, the one sitting in the dental chair. First of all, was the door to the operatory, the treatment room, closed?"
"Let me think. Oh, yes, it was closed. I had to turn the doorknob and open it. I'd never have done that if I hadn't been worried about Herbie. Then, well, I couldn't miss it could I? A man in an black jacket, I think, with a dark purple shirt underneath, was sitting in the dentist chair there."
"You didn't know the man, did you?"
"Certainly, not. He looked foreign. I didn't look at him very closely, of course, because my eyes were immediately drawn to the knife, a scalpel I think you call it, that was stuck in his eye, in his left eye, it would be."
"Was there very much blood? Sorry, Mrs. Harrington."
"I don't think there was any. That sounds strange doesn't it? Of course, it was difficult to tell with that mask over his nose."
"What? I mean, he had a mask over his nose?"
"He certainly did and the hose was attached to the machine that was next to the chair, on his, on his left. Same side as the knife."
That was something new. The police hadn't said anything about that. Neither had Dr. Parker. It could only have been the sedation machine that was kept in the recess in the hallway outside. Come to think of it, Jaswinder thought, Dr. Parker must have seen it and he hadn't said anything about it. Why hadn't he? It couldn't have been Dr. P? Why would he do something like that? He couldn't have known the patient.
"Uhmm, did you notice anything about the machine. You haven't seen one like it before, have you?"
"Well, I think I might have, Jaswinder. You know I had my wisdom teeth out a few years ago, well maybe more than a few. So that was before your time and at another dental clinic across town. It put me to sleep or something like that because I didn't remember a thing when I woke up or came to or whatever. The machine looked different. The one that was used on me was red and bigger, than the one Dr. Parker has, but it had the same hose and mask."
Sure sounded like a sedation machine. Was that used to put Mr. Plinsky under so that he wouldn't react to the stab to his eye? The sedation machine worked within seconds.
Mrs. Harrington started to look a little worried. "Do you think you could let the police know what I've just told you? It really isn't very much and it would be quite distressing to have constables in my home. What would the neighbours say? My Red Hat Club might find out and perhaps they would rescind my membership. And if my pastor finds out, well, he might start to think I'm unsuitable for some of the church committees I work on . . . Oh, this is just terrible. My life would be ruined. Do you think it would be in the newspapers?"
"Please don't make yourself upset, Mrs. Harrington. We all know you have done nothing wrong and had nothing to do with all of this. The police know that." Did they? "It has been on the news but you were taken away right at the beginning, remember? The reporters and camera crews came later."
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"But maybe it would be best not to mention we talked about it, in case they do come around. They might think we are colluding or something, isn't that what they call it on T.V., Jovan?"
"Yeah, that's right, collusion. Maybe we should go, Jaswinder. They might have surveillance on everybody's house."
"You think so?" Jaswinder hadn't thought of that.
"You mean, someone is watching my house, taking pictures of it?" Mrs. Harrington arose from the sofa and Herbie woke up and barked.
"They probably just set up some cameras pointing at your house." Jovan thought he was being helpful.
Mrs. Harrington walked around to the back of the sofa and pulled the drapes shut all the way. "I'm not having young men, even if they are police officers, gawking in my front window."
"We'd better be going, Mrs. Harrington." Jaswinder got up and they took their leave quickly. Herbie was looking a little suspiciously at them as they left and got back in Jovan's car.
Operatory of Death: A Jaswinder Mystery Page 6