Cornucopia by Melanie Jackson Page B

decided to take a day off work?”
    “I find it odd that she didn’t call in.”
    “And now you’re obsessed.”
    “I’m concerned about my friend.”
    “And what about me? Am I acting oddly?”
    “You are now,” I admitted.
    “Come now. To hear you talk, everyone you meet must be a closet murderer,” the dentist teased as he toyed with his tools.
    “Honestly, to hear you talk you must have Margie’s dead body hidden in your office closet,” I countered with little thought.
    I was shocked by my own words. The dentist flinched, almost knocking over his tool tray. His face snapped back in my direction. Our eyes met. His were wide open in dismay. Mine were equally wide open but from budding fear. This time it seemed that I had touched a nerve with my flippant statement.
    “What an awful thing to say,” he announced, quickly looking away.
    Remembering the shock in his eyes, I still felt bad for what I had said. I’m normally not that rude, so I could only assume that it was the drugs that had been talking. But at the same time that I bemoaned my words, I had an uneasy feeling inside. A bright red warning light was flashing inside my mind.
    “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said such a thing,” I apologized.
    He didn’t immediately turn back to face me. When he did, the shock was gone from his eyes and I even thought that I sensed a smile beneath his mask and in his voice.
    “That’s alright. It was probably just the drugs speaking.”
    “That must have been it.”
    I caught his eyes darting across the room. I followed his gaze and saw the closet door standing shut. And wouldn’t you know it, as we were both gazing at the door a loud clunking sound came from within as if something had fallen off a shelf. Our eyes snapped back to each other and locked.
    “What was that?” I asked.
    “Nothing, I’m sure,” the dentist assured me.
    “Is there something in the closet, Dr. Bester?”
    “Nothing you need concern yourself over. Now calm down, you’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”
    He was probably right, I told myself as I settled down deeper into the chair.
    The dentist rose to walk across his office. I could hear him as he rummaged in a drawer in the far corner of the room. When he returned, he was holding something I couldn’t see in his hands. He remained standing, looking down at me as he addressed me.
    “Now, Ms. Boston, the next part of the procedure is very delicate. To aid me in my work I’m going to have to make sure that you don’t move.”
    “I won’t,” I lied.
    “But I need to make sure. This may seem a bit odd, but I have these restraints which I’m going to use to bind you to the chair.”
    “Restraints?”
    My mind was still a bit cloudy and preoccupied but the mention of restraints struck me as very odd.
    “Yes. They’ll only be temporary and I’ll remove them when the procedure is over.”
    I felt the doctor grab my nearest wrist and heard a distinctive sound as the restraint was ratcheted closed on my wrist before being attached to the chair. The dentist then leaned across my reclined body to secure my other wrist. Had I really heard a ratcheting sound? My mind sent off alarms which were confirmed when I finally managed to look down and see that the restraint he had chosen to use on my right wrist was none other than a pair of handcuffs. When I felt the second set of cuffs close around my other wrist I reacted instinctively and with great vigor.
    With my upper body effectively pinned between the doctor’s chest and the chair, I exercised my limited freedom of action to pull my legs up into a deep crunch. I was hoping that such a movement would knock Dr. Bester’s body off of mine but ended up accomplishing a great deal more through the powerful action. Flying up to my chest and lifting my ass and lower back from the chair, my right knee made contact with the doctor’s chin so fiercely that his head spun around nearly backward on his shoulders. The