Another Word for Murder by Nero Blanc Page B

called?”
    â€œEr … no, but Doctor—” She stopped and glanced down at the appointment book, although it was plain that she wasn’t really focusing on anything. “I’m sorry.” She then reached for the intercom button. “Let me buzz Doctor Wagner for you, Mr…. ?”
    â€œPolycrates. Rosco Polycrates. My wife is a friend of Karen Tacete’s.”
    But before Bonnie could convey this information, Jack Wagner himself came barreling through the door that led to the examining rooms in the back.
    â€œWhere the hell is Dan?” he barked. He then glanced briefly at Rosco before leveling an indignant gaze on Bonnie, as if blaming her for his partner’s tardiness. Wagner’s perfect teeth were clenched, and the jaw that looked surgically enhanced quivered. It was clear that the dentist was barely containing a considerable amount of anger. Rosco studied the man—his hair was black and wavy, his eyes almost as dark, and his complexion the color of opals. As a Greek American in a city full of people of Portuguese, Italian, Russian, and Armenian descent, Rosco wondered if “Jack Wagner” was the name he’d been born with; in fact, Wagner looked a lot like Rosco’s second cousin Ari.
    â€œDoctor Wagner, this is Mr. Polycrates. His wife is a friend of Mrs. Tacete’s.”
    Jack Wagner didn’t extend his hand. A look of something approximating outrage passed briefly across his face, then it morphed into what Rosco assumed was an effort at empathy. “Is Dan all right? I mean, he hasn’t been in a car accident or anything like that, has he?”
    â€œIs there somewhere private we can talk, Doctor Wagner?”
    The co-owner of Smile! turned without speaking and led Rosco back to his office.
    What do you mean, ‘missing’?” Wagner demanded, flipping Rosco’s business card back and forth between his manicured fingers. He was seated at a mahogany desk whose surface was so meticulously ordered it looked as though every object on it had been lined up with a ruler. Three life-size replicas of the human jaw, pink gums and pearly white teeth gleaming, rested on a Plexiglass shelf on the wall behind him. Above them were picture frames displaying the requisite medical degrees and scholarly accolades from Harvard and the University of Pennsylvania medical school. Ensconced in one of the two chairs reserved for patients, Rosco let his eyes drift to the signatures of the university big-wigs. He was having a difficult time overcoming his initial dislike of Dan Tacete’s partner.
    â€œMissing means missing. That’s the word we’re using at the moment.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, we’re ?”
    â€œHis family. The police. Doctor Tacete has been officially listed as a missing person. Maybe there’s another word that you feel might better apply to the situation?”
    Wagner eyed Rosco coldly. “What are you trying to imply?”
    â€œI’m implying that you, as Doctor Tacete’s partner, may have been privy to information he might not have wished to share with his wife. In circumstances like these, there are generally three probable scenarios. One: there’s another woman or man; two: the person in question may have manifested signs of depression—not being able to work, showing up late, and so forth. As a result—”
    â€œOh, yeah, he’s showed up late, all right. But that’s because he’s such a damn goody-two-shoes. It had nothing to do with depression.” Wagner leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “So, my partner’s flown the coop, is that what you’re telling me?”
    â€œWell, there’s the third option, which is foul play.” Rosco watched Wagner’s face to see what secrets it might reveal. The doctor only clenched his chiseled jaw.
    â€œLook, I don’t know what you’re suspecting me of, or why you’re poking