Killer Sweet Tooth - By Gayle Trent Page 0,1

island with the two stools set on opposite sides. The cashew brittle and chocolate-covered raisins were plated and on a tray to the right side of the board along with a large bowl of popcorn. The Scrabble tiles were to the left.

“What would you like to drink?” I asked.

“Something hot. That wind chilled me to the bone on my walk over,” she said. “How about a decaf café au lait?”

I smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

Myra sat down and began choosing her tiles. “Great. Nearly all vowels. How am I supposed to make a word out of this mess?”

“Just put those back and draw some new letters.” I have a single-cup coffeemaker, so I began making Myra’s café au lait.

“No, now, you know I don’t cheat,” she said. “I’ll make do with the letters I have. Maybe some of this cashew brittle will help me think.”

The next sound I heard was a howl of pain.

“Myra? What is it?”

“Owwww, my tooth . . . my filling . . . fell out!” She shoved her fingers in her mouth, trying to retrieve the metal filling.

I turned the coffeemaker off. “Who’s your dentist? I’ll call him and ask if he can meet you in his office.” Don’t think I was being sexist when I said “him.” There were only two dentists in Brea Ridge, and they were both men.

“Bainworf.”

I got “Bainsworth” out of the mumbled word and rushed into the living room to retrieve my phone book from the end table. I called the dentist’s office first and then dialed the emergency number that was on his answering machine. Dr. Bains-worth answered the call immediately.

“Hi, Dr. Bainsworth. I’m Daphne Martin. My friend Myra Jenkins is a patient of yours. She is here at my house and she just bit into a piece of cashew brittle and lost a huge filling. She’s in terrible pain.”

“Ah, yes, I know Myra well.” His voice was deep and rich and contained just a hint of amusement. “Tell her I’ll meet her at my office in three quarters of an hour. In the meantime, do you have any clove oil?”

“I believe so.”

“Then apply a little of the oil to the tooth with a cotton swab,” he said. “It’ll help dull the pain until you can get her here.” He chuckled. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Apparently, he did know Myra well.

I returned to the kitchen. “Dr. Bainsworth will see you in his office in forty-five minutes.”

“It’s gonna be almost an hour?” she asked. “I’ll be dead by then, or at least passed out from the pain.”

I opened the cabinet where I keep my spices and got the clove oil. “He told me to apply a little of this to your tooth. He said it will help dull the pain.”

“Eashy for him to shay.” She continued moaning as I went to the bathroom for a cotton swab.

“Come on,” I said when I had returned. “Dr. Bainsworth says this will help. Take your hand down, open your mouth, and show me which tooth.”

She opened her mouth. “It’s this toot.” She pointed to her second bicuspid on the left. “The one drobbing wit pain.”

I dabbed clove oil on the tooth. “There. Feel better?”

“No.”

“Well, just give it a minute,” I said. “Go ahead and slip your boots back on, and we’ll head on over to the dentist’s office.”

She got down from the stool, went into the living room, and put on her boots. It took a laborious effort, but she managed somehow. Myra should have been an actress. She was a regular drama queen.

I took my coat from the closet, grabbed my purse and car keys, and off we went.

Myra gasped and covered her mouth when the cold air hit her tooth.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, “but the dentist is meeting us, and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

She nodded as I opened the passenger-side door of my red Mini Cooper and helped her get in. I hurried around to the driver’s side, started the engine, turned on the lights, and backed out of the driveway. The traffic was surprisingly heavy for a Friday winter’s night in Brea Ridge.

When we got there, I was relieved to see lights blazing in the back of the office. Dr. Bainsworth was already there and, presumably, had everything ready to fix Myra’s tooth.

Myra pulled her scarf up over the lower portion of her face before stepping out into the cold air. I walked ahead so I could hold the heavy door open.

We stepped inside and looked around the