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The tension was thick in Dr. Smirkowitz’s office. So thick, it stifled Mic when she entered with Angel. Dr. Dude rose and greeted her respectfully, keeping as far away from the dog as possible. He offered her a seat on the couch opposite his desk. Angel sat next to Mic fully alert as he listened to the conversation.
“Would you like some coffee or a beverage, Ms. McPherson? I am sure my office manager would be happy to bring in anything you’d like. Mic shook her head. She seriously doubted the office staff would bring her anything that wasn’t laced with poison. “No, thank you, Dr. Smirkowitz. I’m fine, but you do have a wonderful assortment of beverages out there on the table.”
Dr. Dude beamed as Michaela studied him. He was probably in his early fifties, hair cut in the style of the 1970s, parted and combed to one side. Yuppie and clean cut. He had one of those coffin bed suntans, or he got sprayed a few times a week. Mic wasn’t sure. He had on his trademark island shirt with a parrot embroidered on the back. He had taken off his white dental coat. She noticed it hanging on a hook behind his door. All in all, Dr. Dude looked the picture of success as he smiled at them from behind his magnificent walnut desk. His thick gold wedding ring gleamed in the lamplight. A pair of khaki pants and a pair of New Balance tennis shoes completed his outfit. Mic wondered if he knew it was the twenty-first century and that 9/11 had occurred. He seemed stuck in the 1980s.
Slade had adopted his usual interrogation posture, which fluctuated between boredom, arrogance, and apathy. He glanced at Mic with hooded eyes.
Dr. Dude smiled graciously at Mic. “Ah, I don’t believe I’ve seen you in the office for a while, Ms. McPherson. Aren’t you a patient of mine?”
Mic smiled, “Was a patient. I stopped coming when your office manager, Tilda, called and harassed me about an overdue bill a few years ago. So, I now get my dental care elsewhere.”
Dr. Dude remained silent.
“Perhaps I’ll change back to you and make an appointment soon.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. Dr. Dude broke it by saying, “I was telling Officer McKane how sorry I was to hear that Allison didn’t return home last night. She was here in the afternoon yesterday.”
“Detective McKane,” Slade corrected, a snarl on his handsome face.
“Oh, duh, excuse me, Detective. I didn’t know,” Dr. Dude said officiously.
Mic watched the flicker of anger dance across Slade’s face followed by the resolve to nail Dr. Dude’s skinny, affluent ass. She smiled pleasantly at Smirkowitz and said, “Yes, her parents are very worried. It’s not like Allison to disappear like this. Particularly without her medicine.”
Smirkowitz nodded and offered her a sympathetic look. “Yes, I’d be very worried if she were my daughter. I don’t possibly know what else I can do or say to help you.” He paused for a second. “I had planned to hire her... just so you know. She was very qualified.”
Slade’s phone signaled a text. He checked the display and passed it to Mic.
“Dr. Smirkowitz, did you walk Allison to the door?” Mic asked as she noted the pained look on Dude’s face as she passed the phone to Slade.
He nodded. “Yeah, I walked her to the side door and shook her hand. Told her I’d be in touch and she left. That’s it. That’s all I know,” he said, a touch of defiance in his voice. Angel growled softly. Mic reached down and scratched his ears. He stared at Dr. Dude, his eyes never leaving his face.
“Did you see her get into her car?” Mic asked.
He shook his head. “No. I went back to my office.”
Slade gestured toward the back window in Dr. Dude’s office and repeated the question. “You sure you didn’t see her get in her car? You have a perfect view of the parking lot.”
Smirkowitz hesitated. “Uh, no. I was working.”
“We have her car on a traffic cam two blocks away from here on Main Street, and she’s not driving.” Slade’s dark eyes locked with Dude’s eyes.
“How could that be?” Smirkowitz asked with a look of surprise that Mic thought he faked. She wanted to strangle him but kept her cool.
“You tell me, Smirkowitz, I’ve no idea,” Slade challenged, his voice abrasive and sharp with accusation.
Dr. Dude shrugged his shoulders. “No idea, Detective, but I don’t like your tone or the implication.” Smirkowitz’s voice was haughty and angry. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“Do you?” Slade challenged him.
Mic intervened. She smiled to herself. She and Slade had fallen right back into their good cop, bad cop routine. “Dr. Smirkowitz, anything you can tell us about Allison’s behavior while she was here? Did she appear uneasy, frightened, anything at all that could help us?”
Dude scratched his perfectly coiffed head. “No, nothing. She was a lovely young lady.”
Slade jumped to his feet, his voice loud and angry. “What the hell do you mean, ‘was’ a lovely young lady? Did you kill her?”
Angel growled loudly and barked. Mic thought Dude was more frightened of Angel than Slade.
Dude’s pupils dilated. “No, of course not. Allison was well qualified for the job and I planned to check her references and hire her. That’s all I know.” He finished with a half-smile. “That’s what I know, regardless of what your colleague thinks,” he snarled as he looked at Slade. Dr. Dude stood as his hand swept through the air towards the door. “Is there anything else?”
Mic had never seen such a blatant dismissal.
“I’m sorry, but I must cut this short. I have a patient,” Smirkowitz said as he walked to the door and opened it.
“Really, I don’t see any cars in the parking lot,” Michaela noted as she looked out the window.
Dude was silent for an instant. “It’s a staff member. Free veneers are a job benefit here.” He grinned broadly.
Slade was seething as he stood, asking again, his voice angry and accusatory. “What did you mean ‘was’ a lovely young lady. Is she dead? Did you kill her?”
Dr. Dude paled under his fake tan. He stuttered as he looked at Angel out of the corner of his eye. “I simply meant she was lovely. She ‘is’ a lovely young woman. I noticed that when she was here yesterday. That’s all I meant.”
Michaela watched him carefully as she checked his body language. He was upset and frightened.
Slade pushed his business card at Dr. Dude. “We’ll probably need to talk with you again since you were one of the last people to see her. Are you planning to be in town for the next week or so, Smirkowitz?”
Dr. Dude nodded, and Mic could swear she saw smoke pouring out of Smirkowitz’s pointy, elf-like ears.
Mic interjected, “By the way, Dr. Smirkowitz, I saw a man with dark hair and scrubs in your parking lot behind the office. Do you know him?”
Dr. Dude looked out the window and said, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Um, that’s strange,” Michaela lamented. “Your staff seems to think he works for you.” She paused for a moment and added, “Are you sure?”
Mic saw a flicker of fear dance across Dr. Dude’s face but he answered, “Of course not. There are nurses around here who provide special duty for the elderly residents in the apartments. He was probably from over across the street.”
Mic nodded, tossed her short dark curls and left the office without offering her hand. This guy’s bad news. He’s up to his eyeballs in deep poop on this one. Mic knew he didn’t stand a chance with Dottie, Slade, Angel, and her on the case.