“Yes.” There was a wealth of nuance in the monosyllable, as Barbara lurribull moved her new acquaintance a few more notches down her social ranking system. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you and I do appreciate your ringing.”
But Jude wasn’t yet ready to have the conversation terminated. “One thing I wanted to ask…”
“Yes?”
“I’m not registered with a dentist down here and I wondered whether your husband – ”
“Rory isn’t taking on any new National Health patients,” his wife asserted quickly.
“No, I wasn’t imagining I could get a National Health dentist down here. I just wondered if you could give me the number of his practice.”
Unable to find any fault with the concept of getting her husband more work, Barbara Turnbull gave the number. Jude, in a spirit of devilment, then brought her own end to the conversation. “And I hope that you’ll let me repay your hospitality and that you’ll come and have coffee here with me at Woodside Cottage one morning.”
“Yes. That’d be delightful. I’ll look forward to it,” said Barbara Turribull, meaning the exact opposite.
? The Body on the Beach ?
Fourteen
It was still office hours, so Jude rang through to the surgery number Barbara Turribull had given her. She explained that she had just moved to the area and was looking for a dentist with whom to register. Once it had been established that she was prepared to pay for her treatment, the woman at the surgery became much more accommodating and asked when Jude would like to make an appointment. As soon as possible. Well, they had actually had a cancellation for the following morning.
Jude said that would be absolutely fine, couldn’t be better. “And that will be Mr Tumbull I’ll be seeing, will it?”
“Sorry?” For the first time the voice sounded a little fazed.
“Mr Turribull. He was the dentist that was recommended to me. My appointment is with him, is it?”
“Possibly.” But the voice was cagey. “It may be one of his partners. We tend to allocate new patients according to who’s free.”
“Surely the appointment is with one dentist or the other?”
But the voice did not wish to pursue this.
“See you in the morning. Thursday the 8th, ten-twenty. Goodbye.”
Bit odd. Still, at least she wasn’t going to have to wait long for her appointment. Jude smiled softly to herself and then keyed in Brad’s familiar number.
¦
The first bit of Carole’s research also went smoothly. J.T. Carpets were listed in the
“My name’s Mrs Seddon and I’m ringing because I found something which I believe is your property.”
“What’s that then?”
“It’s a knife…a Stanley knife…and it says ‘j. T. CARPETS’ on it.”
“If it says ‘j. T. CARPETS’ on it, then there’s a strong chance that it does belong to J.T. Carpets, I’d have said.” The girl’s voice was poised just the right side of insolence. But only just. “Did one of our fitters leave it in your house?”
“No. I found it…on the beach.” No need to be too specific.
“Oh, all right. So why’re you telling me?”
“I just thought you might want it back.”
“Not that bothered,” said the girl. “I mean, it’s only a Stanley knife. Not like it’s the only one in the building.”
“Oh.”
Some residual compassion in the girl responded to the disappointment in Carole’s tone. “I mean, if you’re passing the office, drop it in by all means,” she conceded magnanimously.
“But none of your staff has reported the knife missing?”
“Oh, come on, if they’ve lost company property, they’re hardly going to go shouting to the boss about it, are they?”
“No, I suppose not. So you have no idea which member of your staff might’ve mislaid the – ”
“Listen, lady. You drop it into the office, that’d be very public-spirited of you. If you don’t, the company’s not going to go to the wall – right? And, since it is now after half-past five, I’ll say thank you very much for calling and goodbye!”
The phone was put down with some vigour. Carole felt uncomfortable. The patronizing tone been all too reminiscent of Detective Inspector Brayfield’s. And Carole was also left with the feeling that she had a lot to learn about being a detective.
¦
Jude’s appointment turned out not to be with Rory Turnbull. She was told when she arrived at the smart reception area that she’d be seen by a Mr Frobisher. While she waited, Jude was aware of much toing and froing among the receptionists and dental nurses, as though the impact of some offstage crisis was being minimized for the watching patients.
The man who greeted her when she was ushered into his surgery was about forty and fit-looking, with an unreconstructed Australian accent. He was immaculately clean in white coat and rubber gloves, and his surroundings matched him. All the equipment was shiny and new. Even his dental nurse looked as though she’d been recently delivered and only just removed from her wrappings.
“I was put on to this practice by Barbara Turribull,” said Jude, as she was settled into the chair and floated into a prone position.
“Oh yes?” said Mr Frobisher, without much interest.
“So I thought I might be seen by Mr Turribull.”
“There are three of us in the practice. We tend to share out the new patients. I hope that’s all right with you…”
“Yes, yes. Absolutely fine. So is Mr Turnbull in today?”
“No, he isn’t, as it happens.” Was Jude being hypersensitive in detecting a slight resentment in Mr Frobisher’s reaction to his colleague’s absence? He sat astride his mobile stool and focused the overhead light on her face. “So, Mrs – ”
“Please call me ‘Jude’. Everyone does.”
“Very well then, Jude…any problems with your teeth?”
“No, I just wanted to get registered.”
“Fine. Well, I’ll have a quick look and confirm everything’s OK.”
For the next few minutes, Mr Frobisher’s probing around her mouth made further conversation impossible. He called out a few notes to the dental nurse, who clicked them in on a keyboard.
There was an interruption when one of the receptionists entered with a sheaf of printed papers. Some silent semaphore with Mr Frobisher caused him to break away from his examination of Jude’s teeth. With an ‘Excuse me a moment’, he crossed to look at what the receptionist had brought in.
“No, that has to be wrong.”
“It’s in black and white, Frobie.”
“Must be a misprint. Tell them I’ll come and have a word in a couple of minutes, OK?”
He crossed back to his patient as the receptionist left the surgery. “Sorry about that. We’re having an inspection by the RDO – that’s the Regional Dental Officer. Routine stuff, but they always manage to disrupt the whole place.”
“What is it that they – ”
“Now, open wide again please.”
So Jude was unable to find out more about the workings of Regional Dental Officers. And Mr Frob-isher gave
