Once upon a crime.
Death's intime
Cold. All is cold and dark. Once you lay there, that is the end of the trip. The end of you as a whole. They have to study you to know what occurred, why suddenly you stop being someone to now being a corpse. They think you can talk. They will make you talk. Only, with me, it was different. I was too young to have a voice. I was too young to have a name without the help of Mother. But I had to respect the promise I made to Haley. And so, I was there in part, but I was still with Mother. We were all with her. That body was empty, I wished not to linger near it. I had to stay, to still be me, the time it will take so the replacement and the taming will stop being mandatory. I promise Haley.
All is dark and cold, and I felled asleep for a time till I found a way to still linger somewhere in the mind of my executioner. I would have to play the game, once more. That time it will be impossible to fail because all will be fake: The pain, the bruise and the blood. All will be what I want her to see. All will be to rescue my sisters. All will be so I am the last one.
The last one.
There is some bold clicks. All the neon open with a constant buzz slowly fading, though still present and filling the room background. There is something else in the environment, as strong and as well addictive then the neon purring: a stench that they call formaillin.
A man enters in the vicinity with a toque on his head, mitt and a scarf covering all his mien. It is a man, definitely, unless this is a woman preferring hiding her features with a big beige parka. As he pulled on the pompon, then dishevels himself with both hands, it is obvious that this is indeed a male of our species. Emerging from under the scarf, two sideburns. The gear are place in a locker, one of a row. The boot follows soon after, with the civil sweater and pant.
Once in that state, he put on a green cotton uniform, a lot resembling the one of a nurse. He yawns, puts one similar shoes' covers doing like pouches around his feet.
He walks and seizes, while passing by, a wooden writing tablet. He flips the papers and peruse them up. Just as he finishes taking knowledge upon it, the principal entrance burst open. The cause of it : a stretcher pushed by an emaciated wardmaster .
"Hello Dante…" He greets. "I brought you visitors." He places a new wooden tablet over the covered corpse.
"Visitors?" repeats the prior man while blinking." I…"
He has no time to ask about the plural form that he sees what his co-worker meant.
Two men in priestly tuxedo like clothes are walking on a hasten pace.
"That is my client!"
"No mine…I am positive."
And before he can even move the stretcher from the entrance, they almost climb over it to get into the morgue and continue arguing.
"This one need no autopsy, banal natural death." Adds the lean wardmaster, "But what you do with the two others is up to you." He grins then leaves.
The flapping doors swivel back and forth, unsynchronized.
Dante ignores as far as he can the two funeral agents. He places his own wooden tablet over the one the wardmaster left aside.
"You can take him there." One says, placing himself in front of the wheeled bed.
"Just watch me." Retorts quixotically the diener . He pushes like the gray suited man would have not been there.
This one had to run inside the autopsy chamber , in order to not be squeezed.
That movement infuriated the other that follow, despite the difference of temperature already noticeable from the anti-chamber with the reception desk and the locker to that cozy place filled by one porcelain table, a suspended scale(like the one for the meat at the supermarket) and three drawer.
The hospital is not a big one, though it deserve a vast area. It is not the one of the big city, some hours away. But dead body can't just be left at room temperature. Can they?
The side aperture, by where the toque man entered before, welcomes an other man, smaller. He enters back first, with a long case. The middle-Easter is talking at his cellular phone.
"Of course, Graham. My diener today?" He takes a brief glance toward the window overlooking the autopsy arena. "Oh, that will be Dante, the incorruptible."
The long case is left on a high table joining the window sill with a view on the autopsy area. Normally, students in post-mortem analysis are hoisting their bags there, with tone of papers and pencils. Some left, even, some small graffiti.
He laughs at the declaration he made about the diener, but more when he lays his eyes on the scene acting up in the autopsy section. He holds still to the cellular phone, but whit the shoulder, dressing up more appropriately for the duty to accomplish. Soon, he looks totally alike Dante. Just less bulked then the man still arbitrating, although unwillingly, the match between the two funeral agents.
"No. No journalists here. But I wonder if funeral agents are a worst or a better plague?"
He listens a moment to his interlocutor.
"Oh, certainly, I understand perfectly why you transfer her here. That is very unbearable, we do need to do our job. No, journalist here would have only been interested if she was more 'angelic' looking." He pauses again.
"Definitively. But since her mother works here, if you could keep them if there is other popping up. Could you?"
Graham said something to him before he replies. "Till I got a formal identification…"
He lift a wooden pad and flip the sheets of paper. "Yes, I got them.
Name:Unknown
Approximate Age: 8 years
Sex:Female
We'll have to check up that age thing. That bothers me. Haley was seven." He confirms.
"Yes, I am able to read what you did. Lets see:
As we remarked, facial skin and palm skin remains largely intact.
Extensive cranial fractures are present, particularly the left temporal and parietal. Fragments of desiccated brain substance are protuberant on the edge of the more important fracture. General directionality of the wound track is anterior to posterior. There are too many overlapping streaks to get more on that subject. The rest of the body is swollen and presenting a lot of bruises. The brain is already exposed. Teeth are missing.
Oh? Burn forearms and arms, is it what you wrote?…
You should have used a typewriter or a computer at least."
The answer Graham gives to the man, now placing the transparent plastic mask on the upper part of his face, makes him smirks. "I do. We all have to learn it at some point. Don't be such an old ass." He teases, a big laugh rumbling out the speaker of the phone.
Then it ceases.
"What are they doing? Oh, arguing over one body in particular. Dante is managing the situation. We won't have two bodies more from them. All the cutting object are well hidden, though, I am going to give them some fear of my own." He declares.
He takes the casing from the table, and flip it on the side. He open it, and there is a big knife with the tool to sharpen it.
"I have to go, I need my two hands so no one gets injured from this." He chortles.
"Yes, that would be nice. No, simpler than this: Sef is S, E and F." He waits a bit, looking from the case to the trio putting on that show."North Africa, Egypt, to be more precise. .. No, I never saw the pyramids. I don't plan to go see them neither. Alright. Have a nice day." And he hangs out.
He takes some deep breathes to erase any traces of laugh from his prior face.
The prosector takes the tools of his trade, and he shoves the doors open whit his back. He is making it clear that he is sharpening his knife up.
Dante has enough of the two men quarrel in his attention that he notices not Sef coming behind him.
One of the funeral agent's face, thought, betrays this. He turns white, suddenly, taping on his compeer arm with an unbelieving gaze. The type a kid will get upon meeting an adult disguised to distribute candies on Halloween night.
"Vultures! " shout Dante, taking back a control that he lost, or gave up."Get out immediately or I lock you too in a freezer and I forgot in what slit I placed you in."
Then, the sound of metal rubbing metal comes to his hear, and he crack a smile. He turns to the one coming. "Unless you prefer that way."
He points to Sef.
" What is going on here?" He makes with a very authoritative tone. That is not his normal way to talk, but it seems authentic enough to thrust their decision toward ending this discussion elsewhere, like far away from this place. At any rate, they dust themselves, looking confused. They gasps and look at each others. One starts stammering something, but his wind is cut short.
"I don't want to hear anything. Go fight outside my 'workshop'."
They are not waiting for more praise, they scampers out.
"I cant believe the competition out there is that hard." Affirms Dante.
"That is sad that the respect from the decease went that low, indeed." Replies Sef. He leaves the knife and the sharpener on the side table."We had a especial delivery overnight. And we have to modify a bit the orders of things. The parents are coming at the end of this morning, to identify her."
Dante open the drawer, and upon seeing the little girl, he suddenly grasp what is going on.
"Sef! We are all close. Why didn’t you asked for a forensic dentist to ascertained her identity ?"
"I did ask for one, they are not around till in two days. So Caithless insisted to come and see by himself. And that, despite all my advice against it."
"Hum.Alright! Then how do we proceed?" The diener asks while taking the corpse to the porcelain autopsy table. The care he gave to her is exemplary .
"Thanks. Hum. We'll do the external part only. Collecting what ever Graham could have forget. He was having an horde of journalist watching over his shoulder in the City. Too much pressure and no director to stood up for him and put all that crap out."
The prosector took some plastic bags."Then we make her look as pretty as we can without make-up." He takes a good look over to the child. "My, though that would be hard. It is like if a train tow you on the rail. Poor short one." He brushes the side of her cheek with the double rubbed gloves. Then he clears his throat.
"Hard to stay objective with those cases, huh?"
"Specially since I consider they botched the scene investigation." grumbles Dante.
"How so?" Sef says, honestly surprised by this declaration.
"Takes the doll, for example. How can you miss an endlessly talking doll?" the dianter makes, positioning himself over to take some pictures.
"Lets try to repair the damage they could have done by making our works better than. Otherwise, my dear Dante, your complain would be sterile. Criticize them all you want with me, but be sure to not miss a spot."
Flash!
"That is my intent. So , what do we have on that paper, so far."
He places the Polaroid aside, perusing the folder while sitting on a stool near the knife on the table.
"Graham did a great job so far. He mentioned " No Decomposition and no regidis when they found the body". That could help." Comments Dante, very enthusiastically.
"Indeed, and here is the " external evidence of burnt". What does he wrote about it?" Asks over Sef, pointing to the little girl 's arms.
"J…can't he use computer. I am having a hard time reading him back, but it looks like: On the fore-arm and arms portions of the body.
The event is prior to the death by at least one day.
Numerous blisters lets suppose that the cause is more of a steamed than an open flame." He reads out loud.
"Recent. Hum, you know. We should take x-ray. That would advance our work tremendously. Lets go on the other side."
Dante nods and jumps of the stool to gather the x-ray plate. The works is done fast, but with precision. All the plaque are laid under the body. The overhead machine for the x-rays is posted and they left the room.
"Oh, nice. They updated this. We can do the x-ray, but look at the bones without having to wait for the plates to be reveal. You know how this stuff works? Sef inquiries to the dienter that nods.
"I had a formation on it last week, but that will be the first time I ever use it in the normal schedule."He admits.
After, he twaps some buttons and a faint, but good image of the body squeleton appears on a black and white screen.
"Oh!Nice!That would be easy. Not impeccable. But that will do."
A sheet with a chart of human bone is brought up from a drawer. Sef looks over at the table and start drawing over with a red pencil. Then he switches for a purple ink one.
Dante look over his shoulder. "Doing an art project?" He mentions, more to distend the atmosphere that could have been cut with a butter knife than really to know.
"Hum? Oh, I just thought it will be easier to understand which bone is actually fractured and which one was and healed back."
The dietre nods."It is your report. I am totally confident you will do your best. WE don't want that brute to get on other children." And he takes the little body with the shroud.
"I hope she has family." he whispers.
"Me too. I can't wait to see if it is the family we know. Although…" the tone gets shakier. "I would better like to preserve them from such an end. I wish that story will finish positively. More fear than anything. I hope, but I doubt. I just doubt."
Word Count=2362