A Negotiable Instrument

Chapter Twelve - Wednesday

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Dolmatov sat in a padded oversized chair at an unnatural angle. It made him feel like a child, and he felt a wave of panic begin to swell. He was not a man accustomed to panic. An image of a large spiteful cat playing with a terrified mouse, eyes narrowed and gleaming, danced in his imagination. He felt unmanned in a way he had never experienced before.

There were many grades of dental practitioner in Petersburg. Some were surgeons who practised dentistry as a speciality, many more were chemists who had undertaken some supplementary training. There were others, such as goldsmiths or watch-repairers, who were mechanically trained. They could readily construct the appliances and instruments necessary for surgery or laboratory, but had very little actual surgical knowledge. Others, and their number according to common folklore were legion, were pure charlatans. Dolmatov had made his choice. He couldn't afford the first, and could only pray that he hadn't chosen the last. Sitting in the wrought-iron mechanical chair, heart pounding, clammy with sweat, his thoughts naturally turned to murder.

'Now, my dear Dolmatov, please try to relax.' Susloparov sat on his stool and adjusted Dolmatov's chair. 'I know this is the first time you have honoured my establishment, and you are understandably concerned, but, believe me, it will be much easier for us both if you can relax.' He made another slight adjustment to the chair, tilted Dolmatov's head to one side, checked the instruments laid out on the bench next to him, and turned his beaming face back to Dolmatov. 'Now, if it was my first time, you would have every right to be concerned!'

Before Dolmatov had a chance to let out the anguished cry that was riding the cresting wave of his panic Susloparov pounced. He forced Dolmatov's jaws apart and peered with a look of predatory fascination at the jagged landscape of teeth.

'Yes, yes, I can see exactly where the problem lies, my dear Dolmatov. I am surprised that you didn't come to see me sooner. You must have gone through a great deal of pain. You policemen, you are all babies. Babies, I say! Shame on you, frightened of what a little bit of investigation might uncover.' Susloparov chuckled, gave a small tut, and shook his head. 'The decay is difficult to see on the surface. It is only when we penetrate beneath the superficial veneer that we can expose the full extent of the corruption that festers beneath.' An inner glow lit up his eyes. 'Now hold still while we indulge ourselves in a little exploratory excavation.'

Susloparov turned to his rack of instruments and selected the necessary implement. It was all Dolmatov could do to stop himself from bolting for the door. His eyes widened, his eyebrows achieved an altitude they could usually only aspire to, and a tremor ran through his body as every muscle tensed in anticipation. Susloparov turned back, a slender length of steel probe in one hand, and used the other to clamp Dolmatov's jaw as wide open as it would go. He prodded various teeth with the probe, humming softly to himself as he went, and worked his way around to the site of the pain. Dolmatov unclenched his muscles one by one as the anticipated agony failed to materialise. He had screwed his eyes shut at the sight of the probe, and as he opened them he found himself looking at the painting of a young woman that hung on the opposite wall. She was holding a palm leaf in one hand, and in the other a fearsome looking extraction tool. Dolmatov's eyes were held by her enigmatic smile. The longer he looked the more unsettling he found it.

'Ah! So you have been captivated by the beautiful Apollonia!' Susloparov exclaimed. 'You are not the first. The patron saint of dentistry, you know. Had all her teeth pulled out when she was martyred. Which might explain the wistful look, don't you think?'

Dolmatov had his attention ripped from the painting as the probe finally hit the spot it had been groping for. His head shot back into the chair's head rest, his hands clutched at the arms, and an incoherent squeak escaped from his throat.