“Please do. I’ve seen you without, and it’s not a pretty sight.”
Twenty minutes later Kevin and our potential client were in my office.
“Walt, this is Melissa James. She’s Victoria’s friend. Melissa and my wife both work out at Planet Fitness.”
“Pleased to meet you, Melissa. How may we help you?”
“Well,” she said, turning red, “it’s really embarrassing, and I’m not even sure it’s true.”
“Nothing you say will shock us,” Kevin said, patting her hand. “We’re both in our seventies and have seen just about everything. Just tell us what’s bothering you.”
“Okay,” she replied, taking a deep breath. “I think I might have been assaulted by my dentist. I went in for a simple filling. It was no big deal. I’ve had fillings before. When he started to put that mask thing over my nose, I told him that wouldn’t be necessary, but he insisted. He said it was common practice these days. I also noticed something else. Most dentists have an assistant with that little sucky thing, but he was alone. Anyway, he put the mask over my nose, and the next thing I knew, I was awake and it was all over.”
“What made you think you’d been assaulted?” I asked.
“I didn’t realize until later that my blouse was buttoned crooked. Also, there are three hooks on my bra. I always use the third hook. When I got home, it was hooked in the middle one. I think he undressed me while I was asleep.”
“I can see why you’re concerned,” I said, sympathetically. “What is the dentist’s name and what is it you want to do?”
“His name is Morris Driller and I want to find out if this actually happened. If he did it to me, he’s undoubtedly done it to other women and will continue to do so, but I need to be sure. I don’t want to falsely accuse, but if it’s true, then he needs to be exposed and face the consequences. Do you think you can help me?”
Kevin thought for a moment. “I think we can but I need to discuss it with Walt. Let us have a pow wow and I’ll get back to you.”
“Sounds fair,” she replied. “I’ll be expecting your call.”
When she was gone, I turned to Kevin. “Okay, you can laugh now.”
He grinned, “A dentist named Driller? What are the odds?”
“Anyway, back to the case. It sounded like you have something in mind.”
“I do,” he replied with a smile. “As I recall, you’ve had some undercover experience in a dentist’s chair.”
He was right. A few years ago, an enterprising dentist intent on taking advantage of high gold prices, was putting his patients out with nitrous oxide and while they were sleeping, removed their gold fillings, replacing them with an acrylic resin.
I had a reputation in the precinct as the go-to undercover guy. That, and the fact that I actually had a gold filling, made me the logical candidate to smoke out the greedy dentist.
Everything went like clockwork. I was put under and relieved of my gold tooth. That one molar was enough to put the creep behind bars.
“I don’t see how that case applies,” I replied. “I don’t wear a bra, and I doubt the guy would be interested in fondling my breasts.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but that’s not what I have in mind. We need to get you in that chair. Once you’re there, I’ll create a distraction. That will give you time to plant a mini cam in his office.”
“Plant a mini cam? That will take time and Driller will surely see it.”
“I appreciate that you’re technologically challenged, but I’ve got this covered. I have a Mini WiFi surveillance DVR camera that’s no bigger than your thumb. There’s no wires to connect. We’ll put some double-sided tape on the back and all you’ll have to do is find an obscure place on the wall to stick it so it focuses on the chair. I have an app on my phone that connects to the camera. We can watch what’s going on in the office anywhere, anytime, right on my phone. If the guy is diddling his patients, we’ll have him.”
As much as I hate going to the dentist, Kevin’s plan just might work.
I made an appointment to see Doc Driller.
His office was located on 39th Street, a single door sandwiched between a pizza joint and a massage parlor. I knew I’d found the right place. M. Driller D.D.S. was stenciled on the front door in faded letters.
Those particular buildings were probably built in the forties, and it wasn’t unreasonable to assume his office had the original paint.
My dentist has a modern facility, spotlessly clean, with multiple treatment rooms occupied by a staff of dental assistants cleaning and polishing teeth while he does the more complicated procedures.
Driller was obviously a one-man show, except for the grey-haired lady at the reception desk who could have been his grandmother.
When I entered, she handed me a clip board. “Please have a seat and fill out this form. The doctor will be with you shortly.”
The form basically wanted to know two things --- what hurt, and could I afford to pay for treatment.
I finished the form and had just picked up a two-year-old copy of Field and Stream when the doctor appeared.
He was in his late forties or early fifties. He was balding with a comb-over and had a salt and pepper mustache that looked like a caterpillar had crawled up on his lip and died. All that, along with his paunchy belly, made his chances of attracting women with his good looks slim and none.
“Mr. Williams, please come in.”
Just as Melissa said, there was no assistant, just Driller.
Once seated, he put one of those napkin things around my neck to catch the drool and blood spatter.
“What brings you in today?” he asked.
“Tooth ache,” I replied, stating the obvious.
“Which one?”
“Dish one,” I replied, opening my mouth and pointing with my finger.
He bent close, tapped the tooth, and poked around with the little gizmo that looks like a nut pick.
“Hmmmm, I see what you mean. Looks like the tooth is dying. You’ll probably need a root canal. I’ll take an x-ray to be sure.”
At that moment, I heard a commotion in the waiting room. Kevin had arrived.
A moment later, his geriatric receptionist popped her head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, Doctor, but there’s a man in the waiting room I think you should see.”
“I have a patient,” he replied, annoyed. “Can’t it wait?”
“I don’t think so. He says he’s from the State Board of Dentistry.” Then she whispered as if I couldn’t hear, “He says they have received a complaint about overcharging a customer and wants to see our billing records.”
Diller rolled his eyes. “I’m so sorry Mr. Williams. I need to take a moment. I’ll be right back.”
“Not a problem. I’ll be right here.”
I had been eyeballing his office. On the wall directly across from the dental chair, a ghastly vase containing a faded flower of some kind sat on a small shelf. I quietly crept out of the chair and stuck the camera on the wall underneath the lip of the shelf. I returned to the chair. Perfect!
Ten minutes later, Driller returned. I heard him mumble, “Damned bureaucrats!” under his breath.
“Okay Mr. Williams, where were we? Ah yes, an x-ray.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Driller,” I said, unhooking the spit rag from around my neck. “While you were away, I received a text from my office. Something important that requires my attention has come up. I’m afraid I’ll have to reschedule.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he replied, obviously disappointed. “We need to take care of that tooth before the infection spreads through your body.”
While we had yet to prove that Driller was a groper, there was no doubt he was a crook. There was nothing wrong with my tooth.
“I’ll call,” I said, hurrying out the door.
I joined Kevin in his car a block away.
“Well, let’s see how you did.”
He punched a button on his phone and there was Dr. Dril
ler’s dental chair in living color.
Now came the boring part. We might be sitting for hours waiting for the right woman to trip the switch on Driller’s libido. In the meantime, we’d have a front-row seat watching Dr. Driller drill.
Jan needed a jolt of caffeine and had just taken a seat in the break room. Two female staffers were seated two tables away. She was close enough to overhear their hushed conversation.
“Rachel, you’ve seemed upset today. Is something wrong?”
She nodded. “You know how sometimes you wake up from a dream and it was so real you would swear it had actually happened?”
“Of course. That happens to all of us. What kind of dream was it?”
“Well, I’m not so sure it was actually a dream. That’s what’s frightening me. I was at the dentist. He put me out with nitrous oxide. I sort of woke up --- not all the way --- and everything was hazy. I would swear that his hand was under my blouse fondling my breasts. Then I was out again. When I awoke the second time, the procedure was over and everything seemed fine. I didn’t want to actually accuse the man, so I just said I’d had a weird dream while I was under. He said not to worry, that was a common occurrence, but I swear it seemed so real.”
“Rachel, that’s serious business. I think you should contact the American Dental Association and see if there have been complaints filed against him. What’s this creep’s name?”
“Morris Driller, and you’re right. I think I will give them a call.”
Don’t bother, Jan thought. This is a job for the Black Widow.
Jan looked up Morris Driller on Google, located his office, and read his résumé. She also found an old photo. The information said his office hours were from nine to five Monday through Friday.
Stocked with her usual provisions, she parked on 39th, a block from his office. At four-fifty, she left her car and sauntered down 39th toward his office.
Right at five, an elderly, grey-haired lady left his office, probably his receptionist.
Ten minutes later, Driller came out, and when he turned to lock the door, Jan slipped up behind him and pressed the taser into his back.
“Dr. Driller, let’s go back inside.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? If you want an appointment, come back tomorrow.”
“No, I’m afraid tomorrow will be too late. Feel the gun in your back? Now get inside so we can talk.”
“Okay, okay, don’t shoot. I’m going.”
Jan locked the door and pushed Driller into the treatment room. “Have a seat, Doctor.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Doctor Driller, I hear you’ve been a very bad boy.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh really? Does a patient named Rachel ring a bell? She was sitting right where you are now when you put her to sleep and fondled her breasts.”
She could see the fear in his face. “Look, I can explain.”
“No need. The fear in your eyes tells me everything I need to know.”
She pulled the trigger and the probes shot into his chest. As soon as he was still, she administered the poison.
After arranging the body just so, and placing her calling card on the body, she looked around the office. Satisfied that she had left nothing incriminating, she took Driller’s keys and smiled. “Doctor, your drilling and fondling days are over.”
She locked the door, and as she headed back to her car, tossed the keys into the storm drain.
The next morning, Kevin and I found a parking spot close to Driller’s office.
“Well, let’s tune in to the Dr. Driller show,” Kevin said, pulling out his phone. He punched the app button. “Holy crap!”
He handed me the phone. Driller was sitting in his treatment chair, obviously quite dead. His shirt was open exposing his breasts, and on his paunch belly was a card.
The Black Widow had struck again!
CHAPTER 9
I called Detective Blaylock. “Derek, Walt Williams here. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but the Black Widow has claimed another victim, Dr. Morris Driller. He’s in his office on 39th.”
“How ---? Never mind. I’ll be right there.”
Fifteen minutes later, 39th was cordoned off and cops were everywhere.
Blaylock arrived on the scene and tried the office door. It was locked. Then he spotted us.
“Didn’t you say Driller was killed in his office?”
I nodded.
“How did you know that? The door’s locked.”
Kevin held up his phone. “How’s this for evidence?”
“Oh, for chrissakes! I suppose you were investigating the guy.”
“Yep, a client came to us two days ago. She claimed that Driller put her out with nitrous oxide and undressed her while she was asleep. She wanted to be sure before she filed a complaint, so she asked us to check him out. Walt planted a mini cam in his office yesterday. Everything was fine when we left yesterday afternoon, then this morning --- bingo!”
Blaylock shook his head. “Unbelievable. The two of you found the senator, the Independence Avenue serial killer, and now this. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in cahoots with the Black Widow.”
“Not likely,” I replied. “I hate spiders of any kind. Ask Maggie.”
It was true. Tarzan was one of my boyhood heroes. When I was eight, I went to a Saturday afternoon matinee. The title of the movie was Tarzan and the Web of Arrack. A giant spider captured Tarzan and wrapped him in its silken web. Ever since, spiders creep me out. Snakes --- no problem, but spiders give me the willies.
At that moment, a grey-haired lady approached the door.
“That’s Driller’s receptionist,” I said, pointing. “She’s about to find out she’s unemployed.”
“I can’t have her mucking up my crime scene,” Blaylock said. “You two stay put. I still have a lot of questions.”
Later that morning we gave our complete statement. Naturally, Blaylock questioned Melissa James who, of course, confirmed our story.
As in the previous Black Widow murders, somehow the press learned all the gory details. Once the story hit the front page, five more women came forward acknowledging that they suspected they had been molested by the dentist but were either too ashamed or too uncertain to press the issue.
Once again, a myriad of posts on social media declared that there was one less pervert roaming the streets of Kansas City thanks to the Black Widow.
Jan was reading an article in the Star about ‘revenge porn,’ where a former partner shares a nude, semi-nude, or compromising photo online.
The article quoted MaryAnne Metheny, the CEO of Hope House, the domestic violence shelter for women. “It can be devastating, absolutely devastating to a victim. It’s one of the most common forms that abusers use to maintain control over their victims.”
It went on to quote Amanda Lenhart, a researcher at the Data & Society Research Institute. “Nonconsensual pornography can have a devastating and lasting impact on victims, so it’s vital that we understand how common this is and who is affected.”
The Research Institute released a study stating that one in 25 Americans are either threatened with or victims of nonconsensual image sharing, or "revenge porn" as it's more commonly known. That equates to roughly 10 million Americans.
Just over two years ago, actresses Jennifer Lawrence and Kate Upton found their private images had been stolen and posted on the Internet for all to see.
This information was still fresh in Jan’s mind at the morning briefing.
Chris Carnes gave an assignment to one of the government affairs reporters that drew her attention. “I’m sure we’ve all heard about the revenge porn controversy. So far, 38 states, including Kansas, have passed a law against revenge porn. Missouri lawmakers in the house have given initial approval to a similar proposal for the Show-Me-State. Missouri House Bill 1558 would make it a class D felony for a former partner to share a compro
mising photo of an ex online or with a smartphone. An amendment to the bill would also make it a felony to also threaten someone with sharing a nude or partially clothed photo. Willa, a young woman from Kansas City, Gloria Hancock, is going to testify before a house committee. I’d like you to contact her. I think it’d make a great human-interest story and focus attention on this problem.”
Jan could only imagine the humiliation of seeing compromising photos of herself on the Internet. How embarrassing it must be to face family, friends and co-workers knowing they had seen them too. What kind of man would stoop so low? She answered her own question. One that would deserve a visit from the Black Widow.
Two days later, Willa’s story appeared in the paper.
Gloria Hancock stated that the relationship with her tormentor had started off quite well, but after a few months she heard from friends that in spite of his proclamations of monogamy, he had been seeing other women. She confirmed their suspicions and terminated the relationship. He did not take it well. He called repeatedly, harassed her at her job, and stalked her in the evenings. She began to fear for her safety and was granted a restraining order. It was shortly after he was served with the order that compromising photos appeared online.
Jan’s anger grew as she read the story. What an ass! Time to pay him a visit. The man’s name was not printed in the story. She needed more information.
She found Gloria’s number and gave her a call. “Miss Hancock, my name is Gretchen Steele. I’m a reporter from the Kansas City Star. I read about what you’ve been going through and I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Let me tell you why I’m calling. You wouldn’t believe the response we’ve had to your story. Our readers have been asking for information about your ex. They’d love to hear his side of the story --- what possessed him to retaliate as he did. I know this may sound far-fetched, but I’ve been given the assignment of interviewing him. With all the bad press, I doubt he’ll even talk to me, but I have to try. I wonder if you could help me out with a little background information --- his name, phone number, where he hangs out --- that kind of thing. I think it’s important to keep this issue in the spotlight until House Bill 1558 is passed, don’t you?”
Lady Justice and the Black Widow Page 5
