Mothers

By: Aviantei

Chapter 8: Body


August 23, 2003, 9:36 AM

Marisa Kaleigh's Apartment, Bedroom


Talking with Akemi proved near impossible as the next few weeks passed in a blur. The end of summer prompted an increase in crime rates, nearly tripling the already frantic workload of Itami Hospital's Autopsy Department. Akemi had started to look into returning to the workforce, dubbing Yumihiko old enough to enter daycare (though his tendency to break down in tears when separated from his mother for more than an hour was making things difficult). On Heather's front, she had reached an age old enough to be accepted into preschool. While it made babysitting easier to manage, the registration sucked away Marisa's free time like a starving leech.

While unorthodox, Itami-sensei had granted Marisa weekends off for the time being until she could pull up an alternate care situation besides mooching off her best mate. The opportunity to sleep in had not been lost on her. Heather was set to start pre-school the following Monday. The mother-daughter pair were slated on an outing to go to the nearby zoo, though the plans were rough at their best.

Marisa checked on Heather (still asleep, the little rascal) before stepping into the shower. Akemi used Saturdays as her errand catch up day, so meeting up with her was out. Maybe they could make a plan in the evening, spend Sunday taking the kids to the park and catch up.

After hearing about the missing evidence issue, Marisa had asked her other coworkers if they had heard anything. Most hadn't, but Wyman was close friends with a police detective and had heard there had been a number of small incidents through the years, most occurring after the trials had been completed and guilty verdicts had been given.

And no one's been able to find any evidence? They could just set up a trap. What in the world is the police force doing?

Marisa shook the thoughts from her head by roughly toweling the water from her hair. A few streaks of color were faded, and she'd have to touch them up soon, if she ever got the chance to breathe. Maybe she could kidnap Akemi on the premise of helping out with the hair dye. All of that mess could wait until the next day.

I'm going to enjoy my day with Heather, even if it kills me.

The phone rang.

"Of fucking course."

Her first instinct was to ignore it, but she knew better. If Itami-sensei were on the other line, Marisa would get an earful for not answering. Of course, she could just be paranoid, too. Maybe Akemi had found some spare time in her schedule and was making the connection first…

Marisa tugged the bath towel around her chest and headed for the phone, making sure not to slip on the bathroom tiles. Carpet padded the rest of her journey, and Marisa shoved her wet tangles of hair away from her ear and picked up the phone. "Kaleigh residence."

"Marisa," Bansai's deep voice crackled through the phone. Marisa scowled, wishing her animosity would pass through the phone. "I'm sorry to interrupt your day off, but I think you need to know what's going on. Are you sitting down?"

Marisa rolled her eyes at the comment. "If this is about a case, Bansai, so help me…"

"Yes and no." Marisa clicked her tongue at the vagaries. Bansai's gravel-filled voice almost cracked. "Akemi's dead."


August 23, 2003, 10:21 AM

Itami Hospital, Director's Office


"What do you mean I can't go down there?"

Marisa hated the volume in her voice, but there wasn't any stopping her now. The details that Bansai had given her didn't matter. He was out late investigating a case? Yumihiko had slept through the whole thing? The trial was in two days? The only useful information the man had given her was Akemi's corpse had been taken to Itami Hospital's Autopsy Department.

If you want to work on this case, I know you'd be the best fit for the job. No one else would handle it with the…delicacy you exhibit.

"I mean what I said," Itami retorted, her voice not yet shooting up in volume but not lacking in power. Marisa felt like she was being scolded for trying to dissect the dead bird she had found outside during late secondary school. "Not only are you not scheduled today, but Wyman has already taken to the body. There's no benefit in scrapping her work to supplement your own."

Itami had a point. Naturally, she had a point. On the sidelines, her granddaughter, Mutō Tōkō, roughly age six and decked out in a candy striper uniform almost too big for her, kicked her legs back and forth from the edge of the couch. Heather, unable to sit still, looked around the office, but remained quiet. Marisa clenched her fists into her pant legs, resisting the urge to scream.

It halfway worked, her next words bordering on a shout. "But her husband said—"

"As influential as Ichiyanagi Bansai may be, that man remains as a prosecutor." Itami rapped her knuckles to the desk behind her. Marisa jumped—Tōkō didn't even flinch. "This is my hospital, and you are my employee, Marisa. What I say goes."

Marisa should have fallen back, should have stopped herself. She knew a number of things, and one of them was pissing off Itami Otome was something you shouldn't ever do. But she also knew it was her friend downstairs, that Ichiyanagi Akemi was more than a corpse, and, skilled as Wyman was, she deserved something more than being treated as a statistic.

"Itami-sensei," Marisa pleaded, stunned by her own tone. Itami's hard gaze only shifted as her eyes widened the tiniest amount. "You know I'm not just doing this because I'm being nosy this time. Forget Bansai. I don't care what he said, either. But Akemi is—" No "was," not yet, too final, too far gone "—my friend. My best friend. I—I have to know what happened to her, at the very least!"

Itami looked over the younger coroner, her gaze hidden by the reflection across her glasses. Stern. But not unbreakable. There was a twitch across her shoulders before they slumped, and Itami sighed. "You may ask Wyman about the details," she allowed. "But you will not perform the examination. You will stay out of the room until it's cleared. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Marisa ducked her head in a bow. It wasn't perfect, but she had to take it. She stood up straight as her heart clenched—from sadness or nerves, she couldn't tell. "And thank you. So much."

Itami waved Marisa off, crossing the room to her granddaughter. Tōkō hopped from the couch, hands folded behind her back in attention. "Don't go thanking me," the hospital director huffed. "You're not going to like what you see, anyway."


August 23, 2003, 12:35 PM

Itami Hospital, Autopsy Room 3


Several hours passed before Wyman finished her paperwork—meaning Marisa had spent several boring hours in the Autopsy offices, only broken by an excursion to pick up lunch for Heather. Marisa didn't feel like eating. Leaving her daughter with some animal crackers as a distraction, Marisa headed to the autopsy room.

Letting Heather see a corpse wasn't something Marisa was opposed to. Before meeting Akemi, the coroner had often brought her daughter to work for lack of a babysitter. Considering Itami was training her own granddaughter to be a nurse in a similar fashion, there hadn't been any complaints. Heather knew how to sit still and not get in the way when told to. She understood death more than most kids twice, even three times her age.

But it had never been the death of someone she knew.

Of someone her mother knew.

Her mother's best friend…

I can't let Heather see me cry. Not yet.

Like all autopsy rooms, the smell of disinfectants did little to cover the ever present smell of death. Marisa was used to it, but that didn't stop the nausea at the sight of the body on the table. Akemi had been covered with a sheet. It wasn't enough to keep Marisa in denial.

She closed the door behind her. Locked it. Tottered to the autopsy table. Lowered the sheet from Akemi's face with shaking hands. The tears surfaced, and Marisa covered her face to keep them from falling. She stepped back, legs wobbling at every movement, at every lack of movement.

"Ake…!"

The passage of time was irrelevant. Wyman had delivered her verdict before letting Marisa in: a natural cause of death. An unexpected heart failure. It was genetic, and recessive. It would have been impossible to see it coming. Marisa pulled her glasses off to clean the tear stains with the corner of her shirt. Akemi's skin had turned pale, not even the lights able to bring color to her.

Dead.

You never looked like…you were suffering.

Marisa pulled the sheet back further, finding the incisions and stitches across Akemi's chest. Wyman had checked into her heart, without a doubt. Wyman was also Marisa's senior, and had plenty of practice. There had never been any issues in the woman's diagnostic work.

So why don't I believe this?

It could have been simple denial. Marisa knew that. Itami-sensei had forbidden her from conducting the autopsy because she knew how Marisa would take it. Marisa took a few deep breaths. There wasn't any reason to look into it. Finding the answer wouldn't bring Akemi back, no matter how hard she wished for it. Telling the story of a woman who had died a natural death wouldn't do anyone any good, not even Marisa herself.

She crossed the room, washed her hands, pulled on gloves and a protective apron, and picked up a scalpel, bringing the rest of the instruments tray with her.

Marisa pulled off the sheet, finally settling for covering Akemi's face. Even if her expression didn't change, Marisa didn't want to see it. Psyching herself up, the coroner focused on the process. She cut open Wyman's careful stitching, allowing herself into Akemi's chest cavity. She undid Wyman's careful arrangement of the ribs, too, and went straight for the heart.

Most of the cold blood had been drained out in Wyman's work, but fresh leaks splashed across Marisa's hands and up her arms. The coppery smell brought on a similar taste in her mouth. Marisa could conduct an examination of the heart with her eyes closed. She mentally recounted the textbook steps she had memorized in her training to keep her focus.

She had to put the scalpel down from her hands shaking. She refused to damage Akemi's heart any more. Not when there wasn't anything wrong with it. No atherosclerosis. No valve deformities—missed parts or incorrect sizes. No infection. Akemi had never been involved with drugs, let alone had a problem with them. Even looking for more abnormal causes yielded nothing.

Then how in the world…

Even with her newest examination, there was a lot of blood left behind. It would have to be drained for the funeral—Ake wanted to be cremated, right? It was too much blood for this stage. Besides heart failure, there had to be something else. Internal bleeding?

At this stage, it was impossible to assess how much of the blood had existed before the autopsy, and how much had come from it. Marisa resisted the urge to start the incisions down Akemi's stomach. It was going to be hard enough to get away with her little investigation without infuriating Itami-sensei. Almost impossible, at that.

Marisa scowled and changed her gloves, then worked on putting Akemi back together. Finishing the painstaking process of attempting to match Wyman's stitch sizes, Marisa tidied up the stray splatters of blood on the table before returning the sheet across Akemi.

This time, she made sure to look at her face. It hadn't moved, as was to be expected. But without an external injury to account for the internal bleeding, there had to be another way to cause such an injury. Ingestion was most likely.

Marisa took a deep breath and pried open Akemi's jaw.

Not enough time had passed for any substantial decomposition to occur. That didn't make the rush of mint off Akemi's toothpaste any less jarring. Marisa inspected the teeth first, but nothing usual—fillings from a few cavities, the faint traces of wisdom teeth surgery. Her own shadow was in the way. Keeping two fingers between the tips of Akemi's teeth, Marisa's free hand retrieved the miniature flashlight.

The light could cause blindness, and Marisa squinted first in defense, then in focus. The cavern of Akemi's throat was too dry to shine, but a dark red rash stretched farther back than Marisa could see. The tonsils—Akemi's tonsils, don't start dehumanizing now—lacked any white patches, but that didn't rule out a sore throat quite yet. Unlike the woman's chest cavity, there were no pools of blood.

Blunt force trauma? Poison?

If I could just look through her organs without getting fired… The only other option is to test her blood sample, but the lab should have already done that…

The door rattled as someone tried to open it from the outside. Marisa cursed, closed and covered up Akemi, and bundled her apron and gloves. They swished into a heap in a far corner of the room as the coroner tried to compose herself en route to the door.

Ready excuses for Wyman died on her tongue; Bansai stood in the hallway. Marisa couldn't feel relieved. She clenched onto the doorknob to stop her trembling. Bansai looked morose, his eyes not quite blank as they found the hidden form of his wife. Marisa stepped back to allow him into the room, despite her gut protests.

Don't let him in—

I can't keep him out without it seeming suspicious.

"Sorry," Marisa apologized, letting Bansai in. The door fell shut. The silence of mourning, of peace, of concentration, became thick. Marisa hated the distance it put between her and Akemi, especially as Bansai crossed over to her side. "I just wanted some privacy." Even her whisper didn't have the power to carry.

"I understand." The gravel in Bansai's voice dragged in grief. Marisa stepped closer, but not up to his side. Bansai pulled the sheet away from Akemi's face. Marisa breathed out slowly in relief. Her hasty throat examination wouldn't have left any signs, but paranoia overrode any common sense in the moment. "I'm sorry you weren't allowed to do the examination. I knew it would be important to you."

Marisa glanced to her impromptu autopsy gear, still visible behind a half-loaded cart. "It's not like I could argue with Itami-sensei," she supplied. That much was the truth. "And I don't think Ake would be very happy if I had to determine her cause of death."

"Hmmn." Marisa realized she had been rambling without giving Bansai any time to grieve. The polite thing to do would be to offer him time alone, but Marisa wouldn't. Keeping watch was the only way to compromise with her gut. "I still don't know how something like this could have happened. Nothing triggered the security system, Yumihiko was left alone…and yet Akemi…"

A sob triggered in Bansai's throat, but Marisa paid no mind. She had watched enough trials to know this was the part where the defense would raise an objection, but that wasn't her position. Wyman's autopsy reported natural causes—even if she was absolutely wrong.

So then why are you talking like this was a murder? Why do you know more than you should? Ichiyanagi Bansai…

What the hell did you do to Ake?

Marisa scanned over the autopsy tools. Wyman had taken her recorder with her, and there wasn't a spare. Audio evidence would have been ideal, but Marisa would have to hope testimony would do enough. She gripped hard to her pant leg, enough until the muscles in her fingers protested, then let go.

"You're full of shit."

Bansai's widened eyes didn't stop Marisa from approaching him. She glared up their height difference, holding back from punching him in the chest. "Wyman's autopsy report says Ake died from a heart condition—one that she didn't have," Marisa said, keeping her tone even. "But you weren't expecting that. You thought they'd find another cause, because you made it happen. Am I wrong?"

Bansai barked out a laugh. "It's a good thing you chose to be a coroner," he said. "I'm afraid that joke wouldn't even earn a laugh in a courtroom." He put on a sympathetic smile. Marisa wanted to hurl, but didn't want to make a mess. "This is a stressful day for both of us. Perhaps we should rest…" He reached towards her shoulder, as if he planned to guide her from the room. Marisa smacked it away.

"I know there's too much blood in her for this to be a 'natural death.'" Bansai's expression morphed into his courtroom poker face. Marisa felt too much anger, too much sorrow to be scared. "I don't understand, Bansai. What were you even trying to accomplish with… with this?"

"What was I trying to accomplish?" Bansai pulled a lighter from his pocket. He flicked the cap open and shut, but didn't light it. The squeak of metal grated at Marisa's last nerve. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"My best friend is dead!" Marisa exploded with a stomp of her foot. She didn't know who Akemi had married, but this man wasn't him. Rage held back any traces of tears, though her eyes still stung. "Your wife is dead! How can you just expect me to sit here and not do anything about it?!"

"You shouldn't get so hysterical, Marisa." Oh, the use of her name wasn't helping him any. "And I don't intend for you to not do anything."

What's with that self-righteous attitude? "Damn right, I won't! This was murder, and I intend to make you take responsibility for it!" Even if it took a punishment from Itami-sensei, Marisa wouldn't let this stand. She had failed to stand by Akemi's side when she needed it—at least now she could stand up, before something else happened.

Bansai held up a hand in a stop motion, lighter idle in his free fingers. "There is another option. One that doesn't have to end that way."

Marisa scowled. She wished her gaze could set the man on fire, put an end to his farce. "Well, I sure as hell don't see one."

"It's simple, really. If you just conceal the truth, then we can continue like this never happened…"

His words hung in the air. A fake solution. A pretty ending.

An absolute load of crock.

"I refuse," Marisa said, jabbing her finger into Bansai's chest. It didn't do much damage, but the point still stood. "Demand a retake on the autopsy. If you don't, you won't like what happens next."


[Avi's Coincidence Observing Notes]

Funny enough that I managed to end on this cliffhanger point before slipping off to other stories. Considering that this is where the whole concept for this story came from, it's nice to have to written out. I did my best with the autopsy details given what research I could do, and the story tension is up and rolling.

As such, thanks again to everyone that's read this story in the past week. I've said it before, but I'll say it again: it's nice to see some attention on such a self-indulgent little project. Thanks everyone. Each little number added to this story's views and visitor count makes my happy.

In any event, this is gonna be the last chapter for a while. The plan for this story changed several times while I was writing this chunk, and I need some time to sort out the next chunk of arc. Plus my brain gets antsy after working on one project for so long. So I've hopped around and written some other updates to try and get my updates back in line.

Never again shall I start so many projects at once and expect people to put up with me. Never.

Be sure to keep an eye on Plot_K_Bunny via Twitter for news on upcoming projects, some original writing, updates on [Twelve Shots of Summer], and just general rambling about my work process.

Anyway, this time we had some conflict, and entire chapter made of flashback. But the story doesn't end there. Oh, no. Marisa has a lot to do, Yumi has to open his mouth, and Heather needs some closure as well. The story will continue, in both Britain and the States, when I return to it. So until that point, please look forward to it!

[05.22.2017]