Mystery Busters, The Curse of the Monster's Tooth

by R L Wagner

  ‘Mr. Friendly’, the attendant, was tougher than I expected. Benny and I walked to the closest column and sat down.

  “So, how do we get in?” Benny asked, determined.

  “Ah . . .” I thought. “We need a diversion. Can you bark like a big dog Benny?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sure I can. But why?” he asked, puzzled.

  “This column is closest to Mr. Friendly’s door. Go behind the column where he can hear you, but don’t let him see you. Then bark five times really loud. Wait.” I thought it through in my head. “Yeah, five times. Stop and do it again, stop, and then again,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  “You want me to bark loud five times for three times. Then what?” Benny said, chuckling.

  “Then, we run through his door and into the museum. If we get split up I’ll meet you at the bookshop,” I explained. Our laughter gave me confidence.

  “At the bookshop? Are you sure they have one?” Benny was laughing.

  “Yes, all museums sell stuff. Let me get back to the door and then start barking like a big dog,” I said, holding a grin. We were both nervous and giddy.

  When I reached the door, Benny waved to me, ducked out of sight, and barked really loud. I started laughing but then turned around acting worried, and rushed up to Mr. Friendly.

  “Oh what? You again? I said beat it, missy!” The attendant stepped outside of the door with his hands clenched on his hips.

  “Do you hear that? You gotta come quickly! There’s a big dog over there, and I think he’s gonna bite some people and my brother!”

  Benny barked five more times and stopped. The attendant heard it and his eyes got large and nervous while searching in Benny’s direction.

  “William! Pauly! Come quick! And fetch a broom!” The attendant ran to the column with two other attendants running fast behind him.

  “Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof!” Benny barked the last five times, ran past the three attendants, and sprinted toward me.

  I took his hand, and we ran through the museum’s front doors. I looked over my shoulder, but the attendants were still looking for the dog. We both started laughing and walked briskly into the crowd.

  “Come on, Sis!” Benny was now leading me by the hand.

  “Where are you going, Ben?” I asked.

  “They must have dinosaurs in here somewhere. Remember the teeth?” he said.

  Benny led us through the crowd of elegant museum donors. It was like wandering through a movie set where every detail of costumes, props, and sets was absolutely perfect. Everyone was eating off small, white plates and drinking champagne from crystal or tea from fine china. Chatter and laughter turned into awkward stares as we passed. Comments about our clothes became a popular topic.

  “They must be from abroad with such odd shoes. What do they call them, cowboys?” Several elegant patrons muttered.

  We turned the corner into a geology exhibit. Unexpectedly, Mr. Friendly and two policemen, Bobbies, had caught up with us.

  “Now it’s an arrest for you two ‘ooligans! A dog barking indeed!” The crowd stopped when Mr. Friendly shouted the news.

  “This way, children.” The Bobbies jingled handcuff in front of us. I reached for the satchel and our travel camera but there wasn’t enough time.

  “Now really, officers…” Some voices spoke up for us in the crowd. “Is this really necessary? This is hardly the place,” they grumbled.

  “Good evening, officers. James, please tell me what is going on here?” A man wearing a three-piece gray suit with lots of pockets intervened. He was rather portly, about 50 years old, with a full head of noticeably gray and copper hair. He wore his half-glasses on the point of his nose.

  “Oh, yes, Dr. O’Malley. Well, these two youngsters are gatecrashers and real rascals that fancy themselves rather foxy. It is, um, simple really. We will show them the door and press charges, ah, with your permission of course.” Mr. Friendly sounded very intimidated.

  “Dr. O’Malley, you are the curator here, right?” I asked. Mr. Friendly cringed as I spoke.

  “Yes, dear, I am curator here at the museum, Dr. Laurence O’Malley. Have we met?” the curator asked very politely as he shook my hand.

  I turned on the charm as I explained our situation. “No Doctor. I’m Sally Drake-Marshall and this is my brother Ben. We have something of yours, I think. We’d like to give it back to you.”

  Benny took the lead in our charm contest. “But that would be kind of hard, sir, if we were in jail.” Benny gave the doctor one of his big sweetie smiles.

  Dr. O’Malley smiled back. “No, officers, we’ll have no arrests tonight. I will take it from here. Thank you all. Please carry on. Children, shall we?” he said leading us to the right. He didn’t see Mr. Friendly shoot us an evil eye that was so intense and awkward-looking that it made Benny and I hold back fierce giggles.

  “Frankly, children, I’m uncomfortable with these gala fundraising events. I’m not much of a handwringer I’m afraid, so this moment is a welcomed change of events,” the curator confessed.

  We found a bench along the side of Geology Hall and sat down. Dr. O’Malley sat in the middle. I opened the satchel and took out the two big teeth.

  “Dr. O’Malley, we think these might be yours,” I said.

  The doctor’s eyes opened wide. He pursed his lips and took a magnifying glass from one of his pockets.

  “May I?” Dr. O’Malley said. He carefully took each tooth from me one at a time.

  Benny and I held back our giggles when we saw the doctor’s eyes grow to giant

  proportions in his magnifying glass. Clearly his big eyes found what he expected as he examined the first tooth. However a giant puzzled brow filled the magnifying glass when he examined the second tooth. For some time, enormous worrisome crow’s feet grew bigger and bigger on the good doctor’s concerned face. Benny and I looked at each other. Something was wrong about this second tooth. Suddenly, arching his eyebrows, the doctor put down his magnifying glass, handed me the second tooth, and stood up.

  “Well, Sally, please take the teeth and follow me.” As we walked, Curator O’Malley explained. “Five years ago, two teeth were removed from our plesiosaurus display case. We never had such a robbery, before or since.” The curator said, walking and holding his tummy with his hands half tucked into his vest pockets.

  “Did you find out who took the teeth?” I felt like Uncle Scott, asking questions and searching for clues.

  “No, not even a suspect though we all recalled an old harpooner, a whaler, who seemed most fascinated by the exhibit. He asked many questions and visited our library frequently over a month’s time. Then one day, he didn’t come back. It was more than a month later when the teeth on display came up missing. Perhaps his interest was a mere coincidence,” O’Malley said.

  The yellow pad on the living room table in Clayton had “the Harpooner” written on it, along with dinosaur books and European maps. I looked at Benny, and he gave me a nod.

  We turned the corner into another hall much to Benny’s delight.

  “You do have dinosaurs! They’re way cool!” Benny said excitedly.

  Benny had always been crazy about Brontosauruses, or TRexes, or any ‘Whatever- as aurous’. And here they were – four, large, skeletal displays under a fifty-foot dome. Informational exhibits and display cases filled the room. The director walked us directly to one in particular. A large, thirty-foot, long-necked skeleton hung directly over us. It looked like it was swimming.

  “This is Plato, our plesiosaurus.” The curator pointed up. “And here is the display case in question.” From another pocket, Dr. O’Malley produced a ring of small keys. The first key he tried unlocked the display. “This case contains the fin and jaw bones of one of Plato’s relatives. You can see here the gap between his teeth. Your recovery will complete the exhibit.” Curator O’Malley sounded delighted.

  I pulled out the teeth and offered them to him. The curator took the smaller of the two teeth and
placed it into the exhibit.

  “This one should do it nicely. There, now we are complete!” he said smiling.

  “But Doctor, what about this second tooth?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Doctor, don’t you want the other tooth too?” Benny looked a little worried.

  “Benjamin, the first tooth you brought was the last of two missing teeth from our collection. Its age is approximately 80 million years old. The other missing tooth came back to us in a recovery made nearly three years ago from a gentleman whom I presume is a relative of yours, a Mr. Scott Drake. You do know him, yes?” There was a smile and a bit of whimsy in the curator’s voice.

  “Yes we do, we very much do! He’s our great-Uncle Scott! Might you know where we can find him?” Benny and I were noticeably thrilled. And I was pleased with my choice of time period sounding words.

  “First, let’s address the question of this second, or should I say, third tooth. It is yours to keep. The museum’s collection is fully restored now with two missing dinosaur teeth recovered by the Drake family.” Dr. O’Malley pointed to a tooth next to the one we gave him. “However, your additional tooth was also brought to us by your great-Uncle Scott when he restored the first missing dinosaur tooth. Your third tooth is quite a puzzle. Its actual age remains a mystery, but it is not more than ten years old I imagine.”

  We were shocked.

  “You mean there are still dinosaurs alive today, Doctor?” Benny said.

  It was a crazy question, but I was thinking the same thing. How could the dinosaur tooth be only ten years old?

  “No, I am not aware of any living dinosaurs, Benjamin!” O’Malley said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “At least, no scientist acknowledges the existence of any living dinosaur,” Dr. O’Malley said in an uneasy voice and smile. “Nor can I identify what species of animal that tooth of yours comes from other than it is not a reptile tooth, rather it is the tooth of a mammal.”

  Benny leaned forward past the curator’s round belly shooting me a look of confusion. We were both thinking it – 10 years old? This is dinosaur tooth that doesn’t belong to a dinosaur? How could O’Malley be so sure so quickly? He had seen this particular tooth when Uncle Scott brought it to the museum. Had he seen others like it before? Dr. O’Malley had chosen his words carefully. After all, he couldn’t just admit that dinosaurs still walked the earth, not a man in his position. I didn’t quite know what to say, but by the look on Benny’s face, I knew I needed to ask something.

  I started to talk, but then, shockingly, it happened. For a split second, the familiar green light flashed over us. My brain panicked. Had we done something wrong? Was the camera malfunctioning? Or was it doing something right that wasn’t in the camera’s journal? Maybe it was my imagination. The curator didn’t notice.

  I blinked and saw that Benny was no longer looking at me. He was looking to my immediate left at a man standing uncomfortably close to me. I hadn’t noticed him before, nor the direction he had come from. The stranger looked almost lost, staring slowly around the room and taking it all in. Everything seemed to be a mystery for him. He was tall, thin with long black hair. He was dressed in a black, highcollared suit, black appliquéd shirt, and a long overcoat that almost resembled an artist’s smock. His hat looked like a large beret. His clothing resembled something more like a period costume rather than this time’s traditional clothing.

  Guessing his age was difficult. Perhaps he was in his early forties or so. For sure, he was not British. I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help it. His eyes were very blue and uncomfortably judging. His movements were awkward and unusual. Then I recognized it and shivered. I immediately felt it and knew.

  Like us, he did not belong here.

  A black, leather bag, on a long, leather strap, hung off his left shoulder. Without thinking, I grabbed my satchel strap. The man’s attention shifted, and he abruptly turned, watching carefully as the curator locked the exhibit case. He rotated his head and leaned as if he were moving a movie camera slowly about, swiveling it on a tripod.

  He turned and looked at Benny. He shifted his eyes to me without moving his head. He peered directly into my eyes. With his open, left palm and long, bony fingers, he gestured to the plesiosaurus skeleton hanging above and over his shoulder.

  “Il passato,” he said in a high-pitched heavy accent. He then put his right hand on the glass top of the display case.

  “Il presente,” he seemed to explain. He never changed his gaze, but again tilted his head to the left and raised both of his palms: one to Benny and one to me.

  “Che cosa arrivera a me,” he loudly whispered, deep in his throat. I think he was speaking Italian, but the way he said it was definitely monster creepy. If he were a vampire, I think we would have just been sucked dry.

  ‘Il, passato, Il presente, che cosa arrivera a me . . .’ I repeated his words over and over in my head, hoping for a moment to write them down. I broke the man’s stare and looked at his outstretched hands. He wore a gold ring with the familiar green and red stones. I looked back, directly at his face. Clearly, Benny and I held his interest. Slowly, a full, crooked, yellow-toothed smile grew on his face. What a creeper! Benny moved back a step, positioning himself slightly behind Curator O’Malley.

  Dr. O’Malley noticed it all too. “Come along, children. I think I can help you out with your other question.” With a brief, firm touch to our shoulders, the curator whisked us away, putting himself between the stranger and us. A short walk past a door and down a hallway led us to the museum offices. Benny and I looked back. The man in black didn’t follow.

  Surprisingly the green traveling light went unmentioned.

  7 The Man in Black

  “Museum Curator, Dr. Laurence

  O’Malley.” Benny read the writing on the glass office door aloud.

  “Yes that’s right, guilty as charged. Ple ase come in,” the curator said.

  We entered an office where a modern-day Merlin would feel at home. From floor to ceiling dark wooden furniture, small bulging drawers, and cluttered shelves, displayed jars of shells, feathers, floating specimens of fish, snakes, spiders, and things I just couldn’t identify. Displays of animal skulls and various sized bones rested next to taxidermy subjects – mammals, reptiles, and birds. The walls were crowded with numerous framed etchings of fauna, fish, and insects. Maps of historical expeditions hung on the wall squeezed in wherever there was space. A small mummy and Egyptian relics filled shelves next to displays of Central American masks and a feathered head bonnet. Laboratory equipment and books were everywhere. We sat on hard wood lab chairs facing the doctor who stood behind his desk. In fact I think my chair had a spot of dried blood that I guess was left over from a past dissection.

  “Your office is amazing, Dr. O’Malley,” I said. Benny and I struggled to take it all in.

  “Yes, it does grow with extra unneeded exhibit pieces. Bear with me, just a moment longer.” The curator pulled out several card file drawers.

  I reached into the satchel, grabbed the journal and pencil, and quickly jotted down the words the stranger in black had said as best as I could remember.

  “Excuse me, but I’m kind of hungry.” Benny reached for his backpack.

  “Well Benjamin, our kitchen is offering a full buffet of cheeses, pâtés, meats, drinks, and wonderful desserts,” the doctor said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Please, both of you be my guests.” He stopped his search to make the invitation. He looked quite hungry himself.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” we both said politely.

  “I really have a sweet tooth for candy right now.” Benny opened his backpack and pulled out a yellow and red wrapped, two-piece candy bar. “Want to try one?” he asked, licking his upper lip.

  “Children,” the curator’s eyes lit up, “my first love is science, but my true love is confections, which I enjoy and make myself. As a matter a fact, I have toyed with marketing my own brand of candy, naming it after my mother; ‘Mrs. O’Malley’s Sweets’.�
�� He paused and smiled to himself. “Yes, thank you, Benjamin. I would be most delighted.”

  Dr. O’Malley halted his search through his files, and sat on the edge of his swivel, desk armchair eagerly reaching out. Benny used his fingers when passing the candy bar to the doctor, but it seemed to go cheerfully unnoticed.

  “Mmm, mmm! I never imagined a nugget cracker could be so delicious.” The curator spoke with his mouth full and so did Benny.

  “They’re my favorite,” Benny said, reaching back into his bag. “Here, take these two candy bars, I’ll get more.” Benny started to pass them to the doctor.

  “Candy bars, imagine!”

  The doctor extended his hand again. I panicked; concerned that he might notice the ingredients list and expiration date.

  “Excuse us Dr. O’Malley, can we keep the wrappers? We’re sort of entering an

  advertisement contest for toys!” I said.

  “Of course, by all means. Imagine, a contest for prizes. Clever marketing technique that is!” The curator pulled a glass petri dish out of his desk and handed it to Benny. “Just put them in there if you don’t mind Benjamin,” the curator said with an enthusiastic smile.

  Benny tossed me a ‘nice going wink’ and quickly unwrapped the bars, kept the wrappers, and passed the candy dish back to the curator.

  “Ah Doctor, perhaps we can meet another time for a dessert or lunch, but it’s getting late. Do you think you have our uncle’s address?” I was pleased he put down the candy bars when continuing his search.

  Dr. O’Malley produced a card from the long box of 3X5 card files. “Here we are, ‘Mr. Scott Louis Drake’. My files are really quite the envy of the museum you know; quite specific!” For a noticeable moment, he stared joyfully at the card. “Yes, quite specific!” He said it a second time, making a clicking sound with his mouth and winking at the card.

  “Cool! So you do have Uncle Scott’s address then?” Benny shifted around anxiously.