The Last Don - Mario Puzo [166]
The problem now was how to get into Kenneth’s office at night and how to figure out how the controls operated. . . .
He made an appointment with Kenneth for a checkup. While Kenneth was studying his X rays, Ernest told him that he was using a dentist as a character in his new novel and asked to be shown how the controls for the sweet air worked.
Kenneth was a natural-born pedagogue and showed him how to work the controls on the tanks of nitrous oxide and oxygen, stressing the safe ratios, lecturing all the while.
“But couldn’t it be dangerous?” Ernest asked. “What if you got drunk and screwed up? You could kill me.”
“No, it’s automatically regulated so that you always get at least thirty percent oxygen,” Kenneth explained.
Ernest hesitated a moment, trying to look embarrassed. “You know I enjoyed that party years ago. Now I have a beautiful girlfriend who is acting a little coy. I need some help. Could you let me have the key to your office so I could bring her here some night? The nitrous would just tip the balance.”
Kenneth studied the X rays carefully. “Your mouth is in terrific shape,” he said. “I’m really a great dentist.”
“The key?” Ernest said.
“A really beautiful girl?” Kenneth asked. “Tell me which night and I’ll come and work the controls.”
“No, no,” Ernest said. “This is a really straight girl. She wouldn’t do even the nitrous if you were around.” He paused for a moment. “She really is old-fashioned.”
“No shit,” Kenneth said and looked directly into Ernest’s eyes. Then he said, “I’ll just be a minute,” and he left the treatment room.
When he returned, he had a key in his hand. “Take this to a hardware store and get it duplicated,” Kenneth said. “Make sure you let them know who you are. Then come back and give me my key.”
Ernest was surprised. “I don’t mean right now.”
Kenneth packed away the X rays and turned to Ernest. For one of the few times since Ernest had known him, the cheerfulness in his face was gone.
“When the cops find you,” Kenneth said, “dead in my chair, I don’t want to be implicated in any way. I don’t want my professional status jeopardized, or my patients deserting me. The cops will find the duplicate and track it down to the store. They will assume trickery on your part. I assume you’re leaving a note?”
Ernest was stunned and then ashamed. He had not thought of harming Kenneth. Kenneth was looking at him with a reproachful smile tinged with sadness. Ernest took the key from Kenneth, then in a rare show of emotion, he gave Kenneth a tentative hug. “So you understand,” he said. “I’m being completely rational.”
“Sure I do,” Kenneth said. “I’ve often thought about it for myself in my old age or if things go bad.” He smiled cheerfully and said, “Death is no competition.” They both laughed.
“You really know why?” Ernest asked.
“Everybody in Hollywood knows,” Kenneth said. “Skippy Deere was at a party and someone asked if he was really going to do the picture. He said, ‘I will try until Hell freezes over or Ernest Vail commits suicide.’ ”
“And you don’t think I’m crazy?” Ernest said. “Doing it for money I can’t spend . . .”
“Why not?” Kenneth said. “It’s smarter than killing yourself for love. But the mechanics are not that simple. You have to disconnect this hose in the wall that supplies the oxygen, that disables the regulator and you can make the mixture more than seventy percent. Do it on Friday night after the cleaning people leave so you won’t be discovered until Monday. There’s always a chance you can be revived. Of course if you use pure nitrous oxide you’ll be gone in thirty minutes.” Again he smiled a little sadly. “All my work on your teeth wasted. What a shame.”
Two days later, on a Saturday morning, Ernest woke very early in his Beverly Hills Hotel room. The sun was just coming up. He showered and shaved and dressed in a T-shirt and comfortable jeans. Over them he wore a tan linen jacket. His room was strewn with clothes and newspapers, but it would be pointless to tidy up.
Kenneth’s office was a half-hour