the dental business. I tell you what. I'll train you to be a dental assistant. Clean teeth, X rays. A career.'
'What about Mrs. Minck?' Violet said, looking at me.
I shrugged.
'I got it,' said Shelly, snapping his pudgy ringers. 'Toby hires you. You're his idea. I pay my share of your salary, but…'
'You pay all of Mrs. Gonsenelli's salary and she works for both of us,' I said.
'But…'
'And I give you permission to tell Mildred I hired her,' I threw in.
'It's a deal,' said Shelly.
'I don't know,' said Violet.
Violet was cute. Violet could be more than cute. This was probably a rotten idea.
'Forty a month, plus a free white smock,' said Shelly. 'Good pay, career opportunity. Flexible working hours.'
Violet looked at me.
'Can we make it a kind of trial?' she said, looking back at Shelly again. 'Till I can ask Angelo.'
'Angelo?'
'My husband. I'll write to him tonight'
'Angelo Gonsenelli?' Shelly said to himself.
'Middleweight contender,' I said. 'Went six rounds with Tony Zale in '42. Zale couldn't put him down.'
'Angelo has heart,' Violet said, nodding her head.
'And a wonderful nickname,' I added. 'Mad Angelo Gonsenelli.'
'When do I start?' she asked brightly, her bright-red lips parted to show amazingly white and even teeth that would be the envy of any potential patient.
'Start?' said Shelly in a daze.
'Tomorrow will be fine,' I said. 'Dr. Minck will help you get things in shape.'
'Nine?' she asked.
'Perfect,' I said.
And Violet Gonsenelli, wife of Mad Angelo Gonsenelli, was out the door, heels clicking as she headed for the elevator.
'You knew,' Sheldon said, moving to his dental chair and sitting on top of Ms drawings.
'When I heard her name,' I said brightly.
'Cruel, Toby,' he said.
'Sheldon, you were about to give her my office. Where the hell did you think I was going to go?'
Shelly adjusted his glasses, looked at his cigar, and shrugged.
'I like your idea about turning the waiting room into a reception area-office.'
'Thanks,' I said. 'Give Mildred my best tonight.'
'She hates you, Toby,' Shelly said.
'Lucky for you, Shel,' I said. 'I'm mad about her. I'd steal her out from under you and run with her in my arms all the way to Tijuana if she'd have me.' Mildred was odds-on favorite to win the witch-in-the-middle contest, if the May Company sponsored a Halloween event.
'You're being sarcastic,' Shelly said, lighting his cigar.
I took a step toward Shelly and said, 'I want to know about Spelling.'
Shelly blinked at me. 'What's to know? A few rules but mostly memorizing,' he said. 'You got a problem, keep a dictionary on your desk. Sometimes, Toby, you come up with the damndest… what happened to your head?'
He pointed to the small Band-aid on my forehead. I pulled it off and threw it toward the overflowing white trash can near the sink.
'This morning,' I said, 'someone you know tried to kill me.'
'Mildred?'
'Your patient. A guy named Spelling.'
'Good teeth,' said Shelly.
'And good aim,' I went on. 'He shot a man this morning. Stabbed one last night and killed another one three days ago. I think he's also planning to kill me and Clark Gable.'
'Just because I made a little mistake with a novocaine injection?' asked Shelly.
'No, Shel, because he's out of his mind. I think he came here this morning to find me, to follow me. I think he's playing a game.'
'No wonder his teeth were in such good shape,' said Shelly with a stroke of understanding that made no sense to me.
'Shel, I doubt if it win do any good, but I'd like to see your card on Mr. Spelling.'
'That's confidential information, Toby,' Shelly said seriously. 'Patient-doctor, priest-confessional, lawyer- client, that sort of thing.'
'Give me the card, Shel, or I'll call Mildred and tell her about your hiring a receptionist who looks better than Rita Hayworth.'
Shelly leapt from his chair in indignation and stumbled forward, almost falling to the floor.
'Blackmail,' he sputtered.
'The card, Sheldon,' I said.
Shelly gathered his dignity, adjusted his soiled smock, and moved to the file cabinet next to the cluttered, dripping sink. He opened it, looked at me hi the hope that I would change my mind, and then came up with a card.
'Right here on top,' he said. 'Chronological system. Latest patient on top.'
He pushed the drawer shut and came to me with the card held out.
'Thanks, Shel,' I said, looking at the card.
The name he had given was Victor Spelling. There was something vaguely familiar about the address. There was something very familiar about the place of birth. I turned the card to Shelly.
'Read it, Shel.'
'Tara, Twelve Oaks, Georgia,' he read. Then he looked up. 'So?'
I went on reading. According to the card, Spelling was thirty-one, was five-eleven, weighed 190, and had no cavities.
I brushed past Shelly, went to my office.
Behind me Shelly was mumbling, 'What did I do?'
I kicked my door closed and picked up the phone. Sara-son at vehicle registration wasn't in, but Grace Smull was.
'Price is up, Peters,' she said. 'Five bucks. And I haven't got much time.'
'Victor Spelling,' I said.
I gave her the address. I could hear voices in the vehicleregistration office, but I couldn't make out the words. Grace Smull was back on in about two minutes.
'You have my home address?' she asked.
'In my notebook,' I said.
'Read it back to me,' she said.
I dug my notebook out of my pocket, flipped through the pages, and found her name right under Ida Sarason. „'Five bucks,' she said. 'Cash. In the mail today or drop it off.'
'I understand,' I said.
'First, your Victor Spelling's address is the Carlton Arms Hotel,' she said. 'Second, he has a nineteen thirty- eight Ford business coupe registered to nun, license plate four-zero-three-eight.'
'I hate to ask, Grace, but could you check on registrations for any other Spellings?'
'Five bucks more,' she said.
'Five bucks more,' I agreed.
'There are four Spellings with motor vehicles registered in Los Angeles County,' she said.
'That was fast.'
