eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

Tex was seated at the edge of his desk, chatting amiably with a very beautiful young lady, who was dressed in a rather provocative dress, leaning forward and obviously enjoying the doctor’s attentions and ministrations a great deal.

“And so I told Randy I’m too young to have a baby, you know,” she was saying.

“I think you’re absolutely right,” said Tex. “So you tell Randy to relax. Cause once that baby arrives, things are gonna change. And I speak from experience!”

They both laughed, and then laughed some more, and I truly wondered what exactly ailed her, since she didn’t look sick at all, if you know what I mean. Of course it was entirely possible that she had been sick when she walked in, and Tex had already cured her, through his extensive knowledge of medicine.

“I can’t believe you have a kid of your own, who already has a kid herself!”

“Yes, I’m a grandpa now,” said Tex, nodding.

“You don’t look like a grandpa to me!” said the girl.

“Gee, thanks,” said Tex. Then he laughed some more.

“A sexy grandpa,” said the girl, then also laughed some more.

“What are they laughing about, Max?” asked Dooley as we studied the scene.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe she was sick and he cured her and now they’re both very happy?”

Suddenly Tex caught sight of Dooley and me and almost fell from his desk. He quickly hurried back to his chair, cleared his throat, put his glasses on his nose and said,“So, Miss Burnett, I think that takes care of that, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, it certainly does,” said Miss Burnett with a coy smile. Then she saw us and cooed, “Oh, look at those two little pussies! Are they yours, Doctor Poole?”

“No, they’re my wife’s,” said Tex, now looking thoroughly uncomfortable.

Miss Burnett didn’t seem to like this answer one bit, for she gave me a cold sort of look, checked her cleavage, and said, “Well, I guess we’re done here, then?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Tex, and moved straight into the monetary aspects of the transaction. Moments later, Miss Burnett had cleared off, and after Tex had carefully closed the door, he crouched down next to us, his knees slightly creaking in the process, and said earnestly, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but nothing happened between me and Sue Burnett, all right? Absolutely nothing.”

“I know, Tex,” I said. “The only thing that happened is that you took away Miss Burnett’s pain, and she was very happy about it and not shy to tell you.”

“Sometimes patients just need a little more… personal attention,” he continued.

“Oh, I know,” I said. “And she seemed to need a lot of it, your Miss Burnett.”

“Sue and Randy are in a difficult place right now, and she looks on me as a, um, well, as a father figure. Since her own dad died when she was very little.”

“Father figure. Gotcha,” I said.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” said Tex as he patted my head and tickled Dooley under the chin. “I’d give you some candy if I had any. Or is that dogs? Or kids?”

“I think it’s kids,” I said. “Though the days of giving candy to kids are probably long gone, Tex.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, getting up again and opening the door. “I have other patients to attend to.”

“I know, and they all look as eager as Sue Burnett,” I assured the doctor.

But then we took our leave and the next patient walked in, giving the doctor a big smile, which he returned in his own avuncular way.

Once outside, Dooley turned to me.“Why didn’t you ask him about true love?”

“For one thing, Tex can’t understand us, Dooley. And for another, I don’t think Tex has found true love yet. Or else he wouldn’t be flirting with Sue Burnett.”

“What’s flirting, Max?”

“It’s talking in a slightly frivolous manner to a member of the other sex, letting them know you’re interested in getting to know them a little better—or a lot.”

“But… Tex is married, Max.”

“I know, Dooley. Which is why this is all very confusing, wouldn’t you agree?”

He shook his head sadly.“Everything is confusing to me, Max. All the time.”

CHAPTER 8

[Êàðòèíêà: img_1]

We’d arrived in town, and found ourselves ending up at Fido Siniawksi’s shop. Fido is a hairstylist, and his cat Buster one of our closest friends. When we arrived, the mayor of Hampton Cove had just taken place in one of Fido’s chairs, and was entrusting her hirsute needs to the man’s extremely capable hands.

“Hey, Buster,” I said as we strolled in.

“Max, Dooley,” said Buster, who was lying on the windowsill, from where he liked to watch the world go by. Buster is always a fount of information about the goings-on in our town, since at some point every person needs to have their hair cut—except for the people who have no hair, of course.

“You don’t look so happy,” said Buster, after subjecting us to a closer scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”