Murder of a Royal Pain

Then again, maybe Quirk was innocent, and Dr. Paine had set up his wife’s “accidental” death. If that were the case, he might let something slip to Skye—they usually carried on a friendly banter during her appointments. Now that she thought about it, he was rather flirtatious.

Besides, Dr. Paine was her regular dentist. Even if he or Roy Quirk was the killer, neither man would have cause to think she was going to the dentist for any reason other than a toothache. Having justified the visit to herself, Skye turned right on Basin Street, and a few minutes later pulled into the dentist’s parking lot.

As she walked across the blacktop, she noticed the vehicle parked in the spot marked RESERVED FOR DR. PAINE. The older sedan looked very much like the car that had nearly run her down after church. It was the same color and general shape. Too bad she hadn’t noticed the license last Sunday, because Dr. Paine’s plates read 2THDOX.

Skye paused outside the front door. Was it foolish to put herself in the hands of a man who might have tried to run her over? No, it would look more suspicious if she didn’t show up after making an appointment.

Once inside, Skye turned right and went through another door that led into a small waiting room. She stepped over to the window to check in with the receptionist, but there was no one at the desk, so she wrote her name on the sign-in sheet and took a seat.

Skye glanced at her watch. It was exactly four o’clock. Where was everyone? There was no bell or buzzer. After a few minutes she picked up a copy of Good Housekeeping and paged through it. When she checked the time again, fifteen minutes had passed.

Uncertain what to do, she stood, pushed open the inner door, and called, “Anybody here?”

No one answered, even after she repeated her question in a louder voice. Surely the staff wouldn’t have left the office unlocked. Maybe, since she was the last appointment of the day, Dr. Paine had let the receptionist leave and Skye was supposed to go straight in. You would think, though, that someone would have left a note to that effect.

Annoyed, Skye eased through the door. The moment she was inside the hallway, anxiety spurted through her. It wasn’t the pain that made her hate to go to the dentist; it was the noise and the smell. Today the office was as silent as a tomb; unfortunately, the odor of antiseptic and fear remained.

The first two alcoves on her right were empty, as was the small office to her left, but now that she had moved farther down the short corridor, she could hear groans coming from the treatment room at the end of the hall—the only one with a door.

Skye hesitated. It sounded as if Dr. Paine was working on a patient. Should she go back and sit in the waiting area? But with the receptionist gone, how would he know she was there? Maybe she should leave. No. She had come this far. She’d let the dentist know she had arrived.

“Dr. Paine.” She knocked on the door, opened it a fraction, and said, “It’s Skye Denison. I have a four-o’clock appointment.”

No answer. She raised her voice, “Uh, Dr. Paine.” She inched the door a little wider, stuck her head around the edge, and whispered, “Holy crap!”

Blond hair flowed over the headrest of the dental chair, and long pink nails clawed at a white butt going up and down like an oil derrick. The dentist wasn’t filling a tooth; he was filling a much lower cavity.

Skye eased the door shut. Obviously Dylan Paine wouldn’t be very cooperative if she interrupted him in the middle of his crowning achievement. But this, along with the incident at the grocery store, confirmed that Dr. Paine was indeed the Romeo of the rinse sink, and thus had a motive for doing away with his wife.

During her short ride home, Skye figured out who the dentist had been drilling that afternoon. The hair and nails had looked familiar, and she connected the dots. Dr. Paine’s little afternoon delight was none other than Evie Harrison. Hmm. That gave Evie an even stronger motive for killing Annette.

Skye smirked. Clearly Evie had found some spare time in her busy schedule as Promfest chair. A talk with the blonde was way overdue, and now that Skye knew about Evie and Dr. Paine, no way could the woman get Skye fired or complain to Quirk about Skye harassing her.

Bingo met Skye as she stepped into the foyer, rubbing against her ankles and purring. She scooped him up and nuzzled his soft fur. “Were you a good boy today?” He bumped her hand with his head, demanding that she scratch under his chin. “Of course you were. Unlike some males in this town, you’ve been fixed.”

Skye continued petting the cat until he tired of the attention, wiggled out of her arms, and herded her into the kitchen, where he stood looking meaningfully at his empty food bowl. She fetched the open can of Fancy Feast and gave him another third of the contents—he’d gotten the first third that morning.