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We’ll just see who’s the boss in this town.”
    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Pauline,” I said quietly.
    She straightened her shoulders and shot me a look like the one Harry Truman must have worn when he signed General MacArthur’s walking papers. “And why not? If there’s anything I hate, it’s insubordination.”
    Pauline isn’t dumb, but sometimes she’s like the old Texas mule—it’s next to impossible to get her attention. “McQuaid isn’t being insubordinate,” I said. “He’s being careful. Don’t you get it, Pauline? Coleman’s attempt to blackmail you has given you a motive for murder.”
    She stared at me as if I’d whacked her with a two-by-four. “A motive!” she gasped. “But I had nothing whatever to do with—”
    I checked her denials. “Now that he’s heard about the blackmail, McQuaid has no choice. Like it or not, he has to treat you as a suspect, which means advising you of your right to legal representation before saying anything— anything at all, Pauline—that might relate to the crime.”
    “He has to—” She stared at me for a long moment. “Oh, God,” she whispered.
    “God won’t be much help, I’m afraid,” I said ruefully. “If I were in your shoes, I’d call Charlie Lipman instead. And I’d do it tonight.”
    Her lower lip was trembling and her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. “But I ... I can’t tell Charlie. Darryl might find out.” She gave me a pleading look. “You’re a lawyer, China. Couldn’t you—”
    Darryl? What did Darryl have to do with this? “Sorry,” I said. “I sleep with the enemy.”
    She frowned. “I don’t—Oh, yes, I see.” She sighed. “Well, in that case, I suppose I’d better ...”
    She stood and picked up her purse, her face drawn and sagging. Pauline has so much stamina and energy that I’d never thought of her as being any age at all. Now, I realized that she was probably closer to sixty than to fifty and was feeling every year of it. I put my hand on her shoulder.
    “Tonight,” I repeated urgently. “Call Charlie tonight. You’ll probably be hearing from McQuaid first thing in the morning.”
    “All right,” she said numbly. She turned toward the door. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “What have I done? What have I done?”

CHAPTER THREE
    Farther south around Arkansas and Texas a prickly ash grows that was more familiarly known as the toothache tree, Zanthoxylum clavaherculis. The bumpy bark is hot to taste and will help a toothache. So deeply entrenched in the affections of the people has this weird tree become that it has accumulated several other names, including the sting tongue, the tear blanket, and pepperwood. For a toothache, dry the inner bark, powder it, and apply in the aching tooth cavity.
    Plant Medicine and Folklore
Mildred Fielder
     
     
     
    I don’t know about you, but going to the dentist ranks at the bottom of my list of preferred activities, right along with doing my income tax return and getting my tonsils out. For a long time, I put off even the most necessary dental work until there was absolutely no escape. My attitude improved, however, when Dr. Carl Jackson moved here a year or so ago and took over old Dr. Smelser’s practice. Dr. Jackson is the only dentist I know who has mastered the technique of administering Novacain so painlessly that you never even feel the needle. And while you’re waiting to get numb, he hands you a headset and points to a rack of cassettes. You choose the music and when he starts to drill, you turn up the volume to drown out the noise. I usually pick Wagner, because he’s so loud— The Ride of the Valkyries is good. The Valkyries thunder around the heavens while Dr. Jackson messes around in my mouth.
    I showed up in the clinic’s waiting room before nine, as I had been instructed, but I was not Dr. Jackson’s first appointment. That honor belonged to Melissa, who in addition to being Brian’s girlfriend, is my dentist’s