Beth, sitting next to me, grimaced at the sight. Mia Dalton leaned over her desk to get a better view. “It’s gone, all right,” said Mia Dalton. “What’s the brown gunk in the hole?” “A dressing. I accidentally removed the scab and exposed the bone.” “Does it hurt?” “It did, like someone jabbing a red-hot knife into my chops. But not anymore. My dentist took care of that.” “He any good?” said Detective Torricelli, standing behind Dalton’s desk. “I might be in the market for a molar masher.” Detective Torricelli was short and round, with the pug nose and swollen eyes of an angry porker. He had looked at my display with enough interest, and he was running his tongue along the inside of his cheek with enough determination to indicate that he might indeed have dental problems of his own. “Oh, he’s terrific, Detective, absolutely,”
