A PREMOLAR?” SAID Bogart. “Seriously?”
He and Decker were standing in the musty warehouse where old police records were kept.
“That’s what he said. The maxillary second premolar. Something was not right with it.”
They stared at the shelves full of haphazardly stacked boxes.
Bogart said, “The sergeant I talked to said the records were a little—”
“Unorganized?” finished Decker. “I’d say he was seeing the glass half full.” He took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “Well, let’s get to it.”
The files were indeed in a shambles. The years were sometimes mixed up and the boxes themselves were not well inventoried. On more than one occasion the filing papers inside were just blank.
Six hours went past without any success.
Decker’s phone rang. It was Jamison and she was not happy.
“I took a cab back to the motel. When you said stay here and see if I could get something more out of him, I didn’t think you meant forever.”
“I’m sorry, Alex, I got distracted.”
“Gee, what a shock!”
“Did he say anything else that might be helpful?”
“Only that something wasn’t right. He just kept repeating that.”
“No clue on whether we’re talking about Roy or Lucinda?”
“No. Then he just fell asleep. I’ve been calling you for the last three hours, by the way.”
“I took my coat off. I heard this call because I had picked up my coat when you phoned.”
“Where are you?”
He told her. “But we’re not having much success.”
“Until now,” called out Bogart. He had lifted a box off the shelf and opened it.
“I gotta go,” said Decker, and he clicked off.
They pulled all the items out of the box and laid them on a table. Decker found it first. He pulled up the X-ray sheets for the two Marses that were labeled with their respective names.
“I Googled ‘premolar’ before I got here,” Decker said. He pulled out his phone and brought up an image of a mouth full of teeth. “These are second premolars.” He pointed at spots on the X-rays. “They help with mastication or chewing. The one on the right is the four and the left is the thirteen, in dentist numbering vernacular.”
“All fascinating,” said Bogart sarcastically. “But what was wrong, according to Fisher? The dental records for the Marses from Fisher’s office matched the dental records taken from the bodies at the crime scene.”
“Alex couldn’t find out. The guy has dementia. But he just blurted out ‘maxillary second premolar’—” He stopped, pulled out his phone, and punched in a number.
“Alex, did Fisher mention any numbers?”
“Numbers?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Okay,” said Decker, obviously disappointed.
“But it was weird, he held up four fingers a couple of times.”
“Four, you’re sure?”
“Yes. And he kept looking at them like they meant something.”
“Thanks.”
“De—”
Decker clicked off and turned to Bogart.
“Okay, it was the right premolar.”
They studied the X-rays.
“I don’t see anything on Lucinda’s X-ray,” said Bogart. “But Roy’s number four has a filling.”
Decker looked at it. “You’re right.”
“So was Fisher saying that Roy Mars didn’t have a filling in number four? That’s why something was wrong? But if so, why wouldn’t he have pointed that out back then?”
Decker picked up his phone again, called Fisher’s office, and a minute later was talking to the dentist.
“Your grandfather was very helpful,” he said. “But I have a question for you.”
“Okay, shoot,” said Fisher.
“Tell me the procedure for when the police want to get copies of your records.”
“They send in a court order and we answer it.”
“How so? Do you personally pull the records?”
“Not always. But if not me then someone on my staff does.”
“Who checks for accuracy?”
“Well, all of our files are carefully organized, cross-checked, and labeled seven ways from Sunday. We also have electronic copies of everything. Nature of a medical practice these days. No room for error.”
“But twenty years ago?”
“Well, it was different. My grandfather still kept excellent records. But they were stored manually and labeled with the patient’s information. Name, address, Social Security number, and individual patient file number.”
“Do you have anyone on your staff who worked with your grandfather twenty years ago?”
“Yes, Melissa Dowd.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“Where is all this going?”
“Please, time is of the essence.”
“Hold on while I get her.”
A minute later a woman answered the phone. “This is Melissa.”
“Melissa, Amos Decker with the FBI. I was wondering about your filing system twenty years ago.”
“Yes, Dr. Fisher told me. Well, lots of practices had transitioned to some sort of computer system by then, but Fisher Sr. was old school, so our operation was still manual. We used a typewriter. Labels were made up for all patient files. It was all very organized. We never made any mistakes with recordkeeping.”
“Do you remember getting the court order to turn over the Marses’ records?”
“I didn’t personally pull those files, but I do remember the request. We’d never had such a request before, for a murder anyway.”
“Did someone have to authenticate the records during the trial?”
“Yes. I was the one who did that, because I was the one who really maintained the records.”
“So Dr. Fisher wasn’t involved in that?”
“No, he was very busy and couldn’t take time off to come to the trial. It was the only time I was called on to do that. It was kind of exciting.”
“Did Dr. Fisher ever mention to you that there might be something wrong with the records?”
“No, not that I recall. Was there something wrong?” she asked anxiously.
Decker ignored this question and said, “Do you remember who cleaned your office building back then?”
“Cleaned our office building?”
“Yes.”
“Um, well, it’s the same firm that does it now. Quality Commercial Cleaners. They do all the offices here.”
“And so they had keys to your office?”
“Well, yes, that’s normal practice, but we’ve never had any problems.”
“Thanks.”
Decker clicked off and looked at Bogart.
The FBI agent was studying him. “Is this going where I think it’s going?”
“I don’t think Roy Mars died in the bedroom that night. I think a nurse or technician pulled those records and sent them to the police and then Dowd authenticated them at trial. But she would just be looking at the names and other file criteria in order to do that. Maybe sometime later, maybe a lot later, Fisher Sr. looked at the records and saw a filling in the number four premolar where he hadn’t put one.”
“Well, we can’t assume it wasn’t the other way around. It might be he was referring to Lucinda’s records. She didn’t have a filling, but maybe Fisher had put one in there.”
“Agreed. And why he didn’t come forward then I don’t know. Maybe he was starting to feel the effects of the dementia by then.” He sighed and added, “Well, this opens up a lot of questions.”
Bogart nodded. “Well, the big one for me is, if it wasn’t Roy’s or Lucinda’s body, whose was it?”