Conduct in Question

Chapter 13

Now you'll meet Gerry Deighton, the dentist, brother of Katharine Rowe and nephew of Marjorie Deighton. Soon you'll meet his other sister, Suzzanah Deighton. With his dental practice over-extended, Gerry is always in need of cash. He is a beneficiary, along with his two sisters of Marjorie Deighton's estate. He also has a troubled fifteen year old son, Donnie. 

The next morning, Katharine’s brother, Gerry, slipped up the back stairs of his dental clinic with a cup of black coffee. Struggling with his briefcase through the heavy fire door, he sloshed the scalding coffee on his hand and jacket.

Making vague excuses to his staff, he closeted himself in his office in order to make his lists. Gerry was good at making lists—all kinds of lists. He made lists of bills to pay, lists of problem patients, and lists of various coping strategies and of how to get from one hour to the next. At the end of his list-making, he would lapse into exhaustion and stare at the squiggles on the scraps of paper without comprehension. He needed an index of his lists.

Gerry was under a lot of pressure. Sometimes he couldn’t remember things. He was often terrified that he might be blacking out.

He could not bear to look at the financial statements for the clinic. One glance at his bookkeeper’s worried face was more powerful than any computer-generated graph. One word from the dreary accountant told him more than he ever wished to know about the bottom line.

“Am I insolvent?” Gerry recently asked his accountant, who looked uncomfortable and hastily prepared the check for his fees.

At first, Gerry loved his gleaming dental clinic, choosing to work long hours into the evening. Slowly, he would move from one examining room to another, each equipped with at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of equipment and fixtures—nothing but the best for Dr. Gerald Deighton. At first, his gentle touch had brought the patients in droves. He would tell them, “If it hurts, just take this mask and breathe deeply through your nose.” At the first whiff of nitrous oxide, most  patients usually became agreeable.

But their satisfaction did not last. Only months after he had shouldered the sky-high rent and signed the equipment leases, the practice turned sour. Larger premises and more equipment added to his staggering debt load. His monthly costs had risen to over seventy thousand dollars—more than he had paid last year for his new Mercedes. Under pressure, Peter grew abrupt with his patients. Of course, they began to complain. The patients missed the personal touch. In such grand quarters, they felt reduced to computer entries. And. of course, the fees were too high.

Just too much financial pressure, he thought. It might be starting to make him crazy. He shuddered. Sometimes he forgot really important things, like where he had been or what he had been doing. Maybe he should see a doctor—get something to reduce the stress.

Gerry’s telephone rang. “Harold Jenkins on line one. Says it’s urgent, Dr. Deighton.”

“Who in Christ is he?” He snatched up the phone. “Yes, Mr. Jenkins?”

Although surprised at the abrupt tone, Harry strove for the right note of sympathy. “Dr. Deighton? I’m your aunt’s solicitor. Have the police been in touch with you?”

“What?” Gerry sounded as if he were being strangled. “The police?”

“I have unfortunate news.” Harry paused to clear his throat. “Your aunt Marjorie passed away yesterday afternoon.”

Gerry choked. Again the coffee spilled. “No! What happened?”

“I found her at home. The coroner thinks she died peacefully in her sleep.”