“The Oz”, as he was derisively called behind his back, was a tall, lanky version of a man with disproportionately long legs who strutted pompously, with his head tilted slightly back and up, causing his nose to lead the way as he walked, as if he were sniffing rarefied air as the head of a marching band.
This nickname, bestowed at a young age, was taken from the wizard in the famous movie beloved by children and adults alike but with Ozbert it was not meant to convey the image of a charming, loveable character. To put it plainly, Ozbert was a pompous empty suit, a charlatan with no redeeming attributes. There was nothing to see behind the curtain. He was, in fact, the supreme egotist and had been trained for this role since birth by his doting yet domineering grandmother.
As the center of attention, young Ozbert had only occasionally revealed his baser instincts since all of his whims were satisfied. He was pampered, coddled, praised and even feted for the most trivial of accomplishments. Everyone was deferential and indulgent or they were quickly banned from the Patchett compound. Nothing occurred which would dissuade Ozbert from the conceit that he was, indeed, the proper center of the universe with a divine right to rule.
Tutored at home, he was spared the unpleasantness of interacting with boys outside the Patchett cocoon. The caretaker’s son, Cecil Ainsworth, was often enlisted as a playmate after being instructed to be docile and accommodating. Cecil seethed but buried his resentment. Other visitors continued to be screened out who might contradict, mock or otherwise upset young Ozbert.
At the age of 15, Ozbert was sent off to what would turn out to be a succession of exclusive boarding schools, all of which failed to adequately adapt to his unique talents and demands. It was at one of these schools where the appellation “The Oz” was assigned to him. It took poor Ozbert a while to appreciate the derogatory nature in which this moniker was applied, believing initially that his classmates recognized in him a young man with magical powers. A sound thrashing by a classmate for one too many supercilious comments started to awaken Ozbert to the possibility that people outside the tight Patchett circle did not view him as special.
As his teenage years passed, Ozbert became embittered and resentful, first toward his classmates and then toward his aging grandmother who still ran the Patchett estate with an iron hand. He realized that he had to put up an indomitable front to survive and, to his credit, his manners were polished and he was always dressed impeccably in the style of the English lords to whom his ancestors had been subservient. To some, he looked like a fop, a dandy who should be transported back to Victorian England. Gen. Patchett would not have been pleased and if, by legerdemain, could have descended from his pedestal in the town square, would have given Ozbert a long overdue thrashing.
Somehow, Ozbert made it through his final year of boarding school and then, with the help of multiple tutors and the purchase of a few friends, graduated from college and law school. On his third try, he passed the bar exam, just squeaking by. In 1955, after a sizeable donation to the gubernatorial campaign of Stewart Traber, funneled through Mayor Adelbert Wattle in Parlor City, Ozbert was appointed an Assistant District Attorney for the area encompassing Parlor Harbor. On sheer talent alone, no one imagined that Ozbert’s career would advance any further and that he would rightfully languish in his mid-level position.
In 1965, when the aging District Attorney died of overexertion in a hotel room in New York City in the arms of a strange young lady, Ozbert’s grandmother acted quickly and made a sizeable donation to the re-election campaign of Gov. Traber’s successor. After a short period of mourning, the Governor announced the appointment of Ozbert as the new District Attorney.
The dowager Patchett, however, was not satisfied. She dreamed of a return to omnipotent glory for the Patchett dynasty. All Ozbert needed to do was win a dramatic case that engendered extensive publicity. Lurid newspaper headlines would help and she could produce them. Then, her dutiful grandson would be in a position to run for governor and burnish the glorious Patchett name.
Once again, the universe seemed to revolve around our anti-hero and Ozbert took it as a sign that his detractors had been wrong. When he first went into public service, he decided to rid himself of the troublesome images connected to his first name. When his gold-embossed business cards were printed, he was reborn as O. Symington Patchett, District Attorney. He even gave up his ostentatious sartorial style in favor of conservative tailoring but everyone who knew him outside the family compound understood that he was, and always would be, “The Oz”.
CHAPTER FIVE
Woody at Thorndyke College
Randall DePue was a distinguished alumnus of Thorndyke College. His widow, forever indebted to Billy Meacham for solving his murder, had written a glowing letter of recommendation for Woodrow Braun Meacham to attend her husband’s highly-selective alma mater.
Now on the cusp of graduation, the 22-year old was just shy of six feet tall with a slim, angular frame and piercing blue eyes. His academic achievements were not exceptional but he had matured during his four-year tenure at Thorndyke into a thoughtful, principled and self-effacing young man.
It was with considerable apprehension that Woody looked beyond the ivy-covered walls of Thorndyke at the chaotic world beyond and sometimes wished he could postpone his departure indefinitely.
***
It was almost the end of the intramural basketball game when Woody Meacham put his patented double pump head fake on his defender and went up for a jump shot. As he elevated to release the ball, he felt Ralph Birdsong’s head smashed into his chin and knew immediately that the sensation inside his mouth was alien. Although the impact was solid, Woody was only momentarily stunned. He worked his jaw sideways several times. While it ached, he was more alarmed by the granular particles forming in the bottom of his mouth.
Play had stopped and Birdsong stared at Woody with his own mouth agape while rubbing the top of his head where a lump was starting to form. Woody dropped the ball and both boys laughed nervously. Then, Woody’s eyes darkened as he ran his tongue over his jagged front teeth. Something was alarmingly wrong.
“Sorry, Woody, you fool me every time with that move. Hey, you okay?” asked Birdsong as Woody squinted while feeling inside his mouth with the tip of a finger. Then, they both looked down at a powdery white substance at Woody’s feet while a ring of players formed around them.
“Let me take a look, Woody. Put your teeth together and open wide. Oh shit, buddy, am I sorry. Damn.” Birdsong was clearly distraught and Woody felt panicky but still managed to pat his friend on the shoulder, as if to say, “Hey, it’s not your fault I’ve got such slick moves.”
“It feels weird, Birdsie. What does it look like? I know they’re chipped,” Woody pleaded, unable to stop running his tongue over the spiky opening in his top front teeth. Birdsong was staring at Woody, fumbling to get words out. “Well, buddy, I gotta tell you straight out, at least the damage is symmetrical. I couldn’t have done a better job on you if I’d used a chisel. Your two front teeth are a perfectly formed inverted V. It’s an isosceles triangle, man. Sorta like miniature shark teeth.”
“Thanks for the geometry lesson, Birdsie. And, don’t act like you’re proud of your handiwork, okay? It’s not a work of art and it’s starting to ache. I need to get to a dentist.” Woody got along well with Ralph Birdsong but was annoyed by his whimsical way of dismissing other people’s misfortunes. He had seen it before.
“I feel horrible, believe me, but you have to admit that it was funny in strange sort of way. Wait until you look in the mirror. Listen, I had a problem with a wisdom tooth a few months ago and went to this “Doc” Sauer. He’s got an office right off campus. C’mon, let’s shower and I’ll take you there.”
As they walked into the locker room, Birdsong draped one arm over Woody’s shoulder. He couldn’t contain himself. “Damn, a perfect upside down V. Take a look in the mirror before the dentist messes with it.” Woody gave his friend a gentle shove and smiled nervously but co
uldn’t help shuddering as he pictured himself supine in the dentist chair.
***
The boys sat in Doctor Luther Sauer’s outer room leafing through magazines when the faint hum of a drill caught Woody’s ears and prompted him to stand up. Gazing at the prints on the walls, he was drawn to one depicting the fatal scene in the Garden of Eden with Eve looking seductively at Adam as he took a bite from the forbidden fruit. Adam was pictured with perfect, gleaming white teeth that he had just pulled out of the succulent apple. It was certainly a capricious rendition of that fatal moment when man’s prelapsarian history ended and sinful life began. The artist had created a halo around Adam’s perfect teeth. The caption underneath asked: ‘Man’s First Cavity?’
“It’s by a dentist friend of mine with an unusual sense of humor. Painting irreverent scenes from history with teeth as the focal point – it’s his hobby. Says it makes him forget what he does all day, probing dark, malodorous caverns.” Woody turned to see a short, stocky man in a rumbled white medical jacket with thickly curled, greyish white hair that had retreated half way to the back of his head. He instantly thought of Dr. Zorba from the Ben Casey television series and barely suppressed a chuckle. The dentist looked at Woody then Birdsie with a gentle, inquisitive smile on his face. “I’m Doctor Sauer. Most people just call me Doc. What seems to be the problem, boys?”
***
“Doc” Sauer loved to talk while he worked and his patients were helpless to stop him. Woody had two hooked tubes hanging from his lower jaw, one blowing in cool air and the other spurting water. He gulped uncomfortably but the dentist didn’t seem to notice. “Eve sure ruined it for the rest of us. Makes you wonder why apples are so popular. Course, there wouldn’t have been a need for the likes of me if Adam had resisted, right? You see, everyone’s teeth would have been perfect. Then again, one of their boys, Cain or Abel, they might’ve taken a bite and Eve would’ve been off the hook.
“Yep, I’ve seen about every kind of tooth you can possibly imagine, kid” Doc Sauer said as if responding to a question posed by Woody. “Show me a man’s teeth and I’ll tell you what kind of person he is. Why, I’ve seen them snaggled, bucked, broken, splintered, chipped – even teeth turned sideways – yep, all manner of gnashers. And, of course, abscesses, gum disease, gingivitis – you name it and I’ve dealt with it. Hey, but you’re in good shape” Doc Sauer concluded on a chipper note as he saw Woody’s eyes start to darken.
As the water dripped and the air swirled inside Woody’s mouth, he hoped Doc Sauer would stop talking and got anxious when he heard the hum of the drill. “You won’t feel anything but a little pressure, son. Not going near any nerves, okay?” Doc Sauer smiled benevolently and Woody gurgled while nodding his head. Proceeding with what was a one-sided conversation, Doc Sauer continued. “That print out front got me thinking one day a few years back about bite marks. Discovered that they’re like fingerprints, everyone is distinct but none was as perfect as Adam’s, I suppose – before the fatal bite, that is. Hey, keep your head still, I’m almost finished. No more fangs for you, son. You’ll have two little stubs, like baby teeth, in another minute or so. Then, I can fit the temporary caps on while we make you some genuine beauties. They’ll be as pretty as the originals and a lot more durable. Last you a lifetime, I dare say.”
When Woody left Doc Sauer’s office thirty minutes later, he was constantly working his tongue over the temporary caps on his front teeth. He glanced down the driveway at an old Chevy jalopy and did a double take on the license plate before bursting out laughing. It read: “2th DR”.
***
A week later, Woody found himself staring at the print of Adam biting the apple as he waited for Doc Sauer to come out. He remembered what the dentist had said on his first visit and, taking a closer look, saw that the artist had left a clear imprint of Adam’s teeth in the apple, sort of man’s first dental signature. Woody looked down at his left arm and swore he could see the faint marking of a bite from years ago – or maybe he was just holding on to the mental image of that incident when he scuffled with Rudy Gantz and was bitten on the arm by the sour, red-headed punk. So many bad childhood memories were associated with Gantz that he wondered if he would ever let them go. Woody was jerked back to the present when he heard Doc Sauer’s voice telling him to climb into the dentist chair.
***
“Hold steady, young man. I need to double check the measurements one last time. We want the permanent caps to fit perfectly, right? Porcelain fused with metal – better than real teeth and durable enough to last a lifetime.” Doc Sauer had taken a liking to Woody and was anxious to see him smile for the first time since he walked into his office.
“My folks are asking when we will see a bill, Doc. We’d like to start making payments now” Woody said almost sheepishly. “Ah, forgot all about it, son. As a matter of fact, it’s all taken care of. When your friend told his parents what happened in the gym, the Birdsongs called me for an estimate and sent me a check right away without even waiting for a final tally. If it makes you feel better, they told me they would be reimbursed by their insurance company. Trust me, though, when I tell you they can afford it. Birdsong married an heiress.”
That was just like Birdsie, Woody said to himself. Sometimes insensitive or rash but always decisive. Took matters into his own hands and solved the problem that he felt he had created. Why couldn’t he be more resolute? Take the damn war – Birdsie was adamantly against it and had even joined some protests on campus. Woody was torn, ambivalent, struggling to take a position but leaning toward a hawkish solution. Didn’t the Communists have to be stopped at all cost?
“That’ll do it, kid. Hang in there a little longer with those temporaries. Heck, they don’t look bad. When you come back, we’ll replace them with the deluxe version.” Doc Sauer stepped back and gave Woody room to get out of the chair.
Back in the reception area, Doc Sauer was completing some forms and Woody found himself staring at the Garden of Eden print.
“Still Intriguing you, son?” asked Doc Sauer. Woody nodded his head and looked down at his left arm where he swore he could see the faint imprint of the bite inflicted on him by Rudy Gantz. “Someone bit me a long time ago. Looking at the painting out front brought it all back to me and got me thinking, like you said, that bite marks are like fingerprints.” Doc Sauer squinted at Woody’s arm but could see nothing. The mind’s eye, he thought, it can play tricks on you.
“Listen, Woody, I don’t have time today but when you come back for your permanent caps, I’ll tell you a story about Paul Revere that they probably don’t teach you over at Thorndyke. It sparked my interest in an area called dental odontology. Whatta you say?” “You’ve definitely grabbed my interest, Doc. Thanks,” Woody said energetically.
***
Another week had passed and Woody sat forward in the dentist chair looking into the hand mirror provided by Doc Sauer. He ran his tongue and then his fingers over the porcelain finish of the caps and a broad, unguarded smile suffused his face. Doc Sauer broke out laughing. “Well, son, you said it all without speaking a word. That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since you started coming here.”
Out in the reception area, Doc Sauer shook Woody’s hand and started to turn away. “Paul Revere?” Woody asked hesitantly as Doc Sauer turned back while looking at his watch. “Ah, yes, I owe you that story. I’ve got a few minutes before my next patient arrives. I have a sitting room in the back. Let’s go there.”
Woody was already a history buff before he even got to Thorndyke and was just shy a few credits of securing a double major. He was curious about what Doc Sauer could add to the legend of Paul Revere that could be more interesting than the ageless story of his midnight ride.
“I believe I mentioned on your last visit that there’s a burgeoning area of science called forensic odontology, Woody, that is already attracting the attention of inquisitive young dentists. Old guys like me delve into the historical side of it just for our ow
n amusement. But I do predict that crimes will even be solved using dental records and tooth indentations – if they are analyzed early enough. It may amaze you but many violent crimes are committed where the victim is bitten for no apparent reason. I leave that perversion to the psychiatrists to figure out. Fortunately for police and the victim, the attacker often leaves evidence in the form of a distinctive bite mark. Anyway, nothing vicious occurred with Paul Revere but his story is quite dramatic. As it happened – oops, sounds like my next patient just arrived” said Doc Sauer as the door buzzer sounded.
“Why don’t you come back tomorrow night, Woody, if you’re free? Mrs. Sauer goes to bridge club at 7:00 and always leaves a peach cobbler or some other sugary delicacy on the counter. I can tell you the Revere story without interruption and you can help me polish off the dessert.”
***
The following evening, Woody was mesmerized as he sat in Doc Sauer’s study and heard the story of Paul Revere – the dentist. It was 1768 and Revere was deep in debt while trying to support a growing family. Desperate, he placed an ad in the Boston Gazette offering to clean and fix teeth. He would even wire false teeth into a patient’s mouth. One of Revere’s patients, also a close friend, was Dr. Joseph Warren, who shared Revere’s revolutionary beliefs. It was Warren who later sent Revere on his famous midnight ride to warn their compatriots that the British were marching toward Lexington and Concord.
Years after that famous skirmish, Warren was killed at the Battle of Bunker Hill and buried in a mass grave without any identifying marker. Nine months later, Revere went to the gravesite with Warren’s brothers but the bodies were unrecognizable and all personal effects had been removed. Then, Revere remembered the walrus tooth that he had wired into Warren’s mouth years earlier. Carefully examining the decayed corpses, Revere recognized his unique dental handiwork and Warren’s remains were removed for a proper family burial.
A Murder In Parlor Harbor Page 4