Chapter 22 - Gotham City Mortuary
Contrary to what one might assume, Gotham City Morgue was a popular place to work. Well, possibly "popular" is not the right word to use, but certainly the staff who worked there were highly regarded in their field, and many a PhD was earned based on work that had been carried out there.
Doctors who had served time in Gotham were much sought by other cities. Perhaps due to the clinical nature of the job, they were less likely to be burned out by their experiences than their contemporaries in the Police Force. Doctors who worked in Arkham were, of course, another matter altogether.
Dr Steven Temple was a time-served coroner with over fifteen years experience in Gotham. In that time he had examined more bodies than any two coroners in any other similarly sized city might expect to deal with.
He had examined those who had literally laughed themselves to death, and those who had died of absolute terror, bodies that had been reduced to protoplasmic fluid and those that had been reduced to pieces with a hacksaw. He had written papers on causes of death that made, in his own words, "Clive Barker read like the Sunday Funnies". And that was on top of the ordinary workload a City Coroners Office might expect to have to deal with.
He could also walk into a teaching position with the FBI at Quantico any time he chose, or gain tenure at any University in the country. But he never did, nor did he show any sign of wanting to. When asked why this was the case he simply stated that those he worked with deserved the best attention available, and if that was to be his lot, so be it.
When Gotham Homicide Detectives said that "their body was a Temple" it meant something different from the "civilian" cliché, and was an implicit statement of confidence in the Coroners findings.
He assigned his longevity in the role to an almost supernatural ability to distance himself from her work, and a deeply morbid sense of humour, that very few outside his chosen profession ever understood. This is a skill many people in such roles develop, but his was greater than most. As such, he was a natural to be assigned the children from the Corinthians latest crime scene.
He was pleased with the replacement assistant that he had been assigned, he'd seen him a round a few times, a PhD student on rotation, so he hadn't had much chance to get to know him socially, Still, he was efficient, had an iron constitution, followed his instructions to the absolute letter, and was insightful when he did speak, which was not often, another trait he deeply appreciated.
He'd carried out two of the autopsies before his original assistant had been called away, and he'd looked so relieved he couldn't blame him. He'd carried out one of the remainder with the student, but was in need of a break himself before he had to continue with the last one.
As he indulged in his one true weakness, decent hot chocolate, not the saccharined slurry the machines produced, but proper cocoa he prepared himself at home and taken in in a flask, he looked through the preliminary findings, depressed at the sheer predictability of it.
Cause of death was the same in each case, as he had expected: Shock, trauma and blood loss due to their eyes being removed. They had already been in appalling condition, malnourished, abused, and having been sexually assaulted in the recent past, though he could find no evidence of anything immediately prior to their deaths. Someone else might have thanked heaven for that small mercy, but Dr Temple's defences would not allow him to think such things, there was no aspect of heaven involved in this case except, he hoped, for the dead.
"Anything strike you as odd about the damage to the eyes Doctor?"
He tried not to jump, managing not to spill hot chocolate down his surgical gear. Unshockable as he was, the assistant, what _was_ his name again? "Thomas" definitely, but was that his first name or his last name? At any rate he always seemed to materialise from thin air. He could have been reading his notes over his shoulder for ages and he probably wouldn't have ever noticed, not that he thought he would.
"Lots Thomas, lots. Clearly you think there was something special though, or you wouldn't bring it up."
"Well, there are clearly bite marks, but the arc of… well, if they had been in someone's mouth… surely…" The nurse paused for a second and turned a little green, "Sorry, that's not a phrase I ever thought I'd have to say out loud."
"It's okay son, just take your time…. I could say you get used to it, but that'd be a damn lie. Now, you were saying?"
"Thank you Doctor. Well, the arc of the bite marks is... wrong or, if it's right, then the mouth is a lot smaller than it should be…."
He sighed, he should have known that he'd spot something, he usually did.
"Well, Thomas, now you know a piece of evidence that only the FBI and the Coroners Offices in the States involved are truly aware of. It's always the same pattern with this freak. The arc of the teeth indicates a smaller mouth than seems to be natural for a grown man, some even indicate there are two mouths involved, though that's inconclusive so far. It's one of the best methods of identifying the genuine from the false. It's not even stored on the mainframes in case of their database is hacked. I trust I can rely on your discretion?"
"Of course Dr Temple"
"Good. Remember, I'm the Senior Coroner for this whole city and a whole lot of cops owe me a whole lot of favours. If they found you with a five-foot sword between your shoulder blades, and I were to say it was natural causes no one would doubt me, but _no-one_. So don't make me regret trusting you. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes Dr Temple."
"Don't look so worried man. That was medical humour."
"Yes Dr Temple, I'm laughing on the inside as we speak."
"Good man. Now to business." He took a deep breath. "Final subject in this batch is a juvenile male Hispanic, aged approximately 13 years. Poor physical condition, evidence of recent contusions around upper arms…"
Their grim work continued.
It was another four hours before the work was done and preliminary notes in a condition to type up.
"Do you mind if I leave now Dr Temple? I have to get back to my son."
"You're married Thomas?"
"No, I raise him alone. It's.., complicated. And he hasn't well last night."
"Must be tough for you."
"No more so than for you."
"Too tru… Hey, wait a minute. How did you know I have children? Or that I raise them alone? I never discuss things like that at work."
"An educated guess. I've seen you work before, your reputation is well earned, but today you were different. No one who wasn't a parent could treat the children you had to deal with today in the way you did. You probably weren't even aware you were doing it, too. The same with your wedding band, the look on your face when you put it back on after the surgery, whoever gave it to you isn't in your life any more."
"You're very observant. That's a good trait to have in this line of work."
Thomas sounded slightly embarrassed. "Sherlock Holmes was always a hero of mine."
"Mine too. Well, him and Kermit the Frog. I'm not sure what that says about me."
"You're an eternal optimist?"
"Maybe, I hope so. I said it was a useful skill, but I'd advise against using it in casual conversation though,. No offence, but it's creepy. And I might have been a widower who lost his children along with his wife. Very dangerous territory to show off on."
"None taken. You're right, I'm sorry, I don't always think about that sort of thing, my social skills are a little rusty."
"Just keep an eye on that kid of yours. That's a good start, it keeps you human."
"So I've been told. You too Doctor. Goodnight."
"Good night? Is it night time already?"
"Near enough."
"Time flies when you'd rather be anywhere else but here I guess. Well, I look forward to working with you again Dr Thomas."
"Thank you."
With that he was gone.
As he left the building and headed towards where he had parked the modest car that was Dr Alfred Thomas' means of transport, the posture of Thomas changed, he seemed to grow at least an inch and his shoulders seemed to become broader. With a barely repressed sigh he stretched, muscled popping as he did so.
Dr Temple was growing too interested in him, or in Dr Thomas at any rate. He wouldn't use him for a while, possibly never again. He'd need to make sure he had a new ID available for next time. A pity, Thomas had proven useful on many occasions, and "he" had been an interesting stretch of his acting skills. That was all he was of course, nothing more than that, no more real than "'Matches' Malone" was, or "John Smith" had been many years before, or how Bruce Wayne sometimes seemed to be now.
He pulled into the small car park that was entirely owned by a subsidiary of WayneCorps but rarely appeared on the books. Here Batman stored the variety of vehicles he sometimes needed to use when using the Car was not appropriate.
It had been Dr Alfred Thomas who had got in to the car, but it was Batman who emerged from it.
He had learned little from the autopsies that he didn't already know, although the information about the bite marks was new, it really wasn't stored on any computer he had accessed. It simply confirmed some of his own suspicions. The Corinthian hadn't forced himself on these children, there hadn't been time, but a great deal of skill had been used, Dr Temple had confirmed that. Minimal defensive
He made a note to check on the statements the girls from the house might have made, he didn't expect anything to come from it, but it was worthwhile checking.
Something had been bothering him all day, something that Pulaski had said during her speech had been nagging at him, some comment that should be making a causal link in his head. He's spent part of his time with Temple replaying the tape he'd made of her speech on his earphones. And he'd finally remembered what it was.
He had a phone call to make, after he'd checked on Dick too. Time to go home for a while.
Contrary to what one might assume, Gotham City Morgue was a popular place to work. Well, possibly "popular" is not the right word to use, but certainly the staff who worked there were highly regarded in their field, and many a PhD was earned based on work that had been carried out there.
Doctors who had served time in Gotham were much sought by other cities. Perhaps due to the clinical nature of the job, they were less likely to be burned out by their experiences than their contemporaries in the Police Force. Doctors who worked in Arkham were, of course, another matter altogether.
Dr Steven Temple was a time-served coroner with over fifteen years experience in Gotham. In that time he had examined more bodies than any two coroners in any other similarly sized city might expect to deal with.
He had examined those who had literally laughed themselves to death, and those who had died of absolute terror, bodies that had been reduced to protoplasmic fluid and those that had been reduced to pieces with a hacksaw. He had written papers on causes of death that made, in his own words, "Clive Barker read like the Sunday Funnies". And that was on top of the ordinary workload a City Coroners Office might expect to have to deal with.
He could also walk into a teaching position with the FBI at Quantico any time he chose, or gain tenure at any University in the country. But he never did, nor did he show any sign of wanting to. When asked why this was the case he simply stated that those he worked with deserved the best attention available, and if that was to be his lot, so be it.
When Gotham Homicide Detectives said that "their body was a Temple" it meant something different from the "civilian" cliché, and was an implicit statement of confidence in the Coroners findings.
He assigned his longevity in the role to an almost supernatural ability to distance himself from her work, and a deeply morbid sense of humour, that very few outside his chosen profession ever understood. This is a skill many people in such roles develop, but his was greater than most. As such, he was a natural to be assigned the children from the Corinthians latest crime scene.
He was pleased with the replacement assistant that he had been assigned, he'd seen him a round a few times, a PhD student on rotation, so he hadn't had much chance to get to know him socially, Still, he was efficient, had an iron constitution, followed his instructions to the absolute letter, and was insightful when he did speak, which was not often, another trait he deeply appreciated.
He'd carried out two of the autopsies before his original assistant had been called away, and he'd looked so relieved he couldn't blame him. He'd carried out one of the remainder with the student, but was in need of a break himself before he had to continue with the last one.
As he indulged in his one true weakness, decent hot chocolate, not the saccharined slurry the machines produced, but proper cocoa he prepared himself at home and taken in in a flask, he looked through the preliminary findings, depressed at the sheer predictability of it.
Cause of death was the same in each case, as he had expected: Shock, trauma and blood loss due to their eyes being removed. They had already been in appalling condition, malnourished, abused, and having been sexually assaulted in the recent past, though he could find no evidence of anything immediately prior to their deaths. Someone else might have thanked heaven for that small mercy, but Dr Temple's defences would not allow him to think such things, there was no aspect of heaven involved in this case except, he hoped, for the dead.
"Anything strike you as odd about the damage to the eyes Doctor?"
He tried not to jump, managing not to spill hot chocolate down his surgical gear. Unshockable as he was, the assistant, what _was_ his name again? "Thomas" definitely, but was that his first name or his last name? At any rate he always seemed to materialise from thin air. He could have been reading his notes over his shoulder for ages and he probably wouldn't have ever noticed, not that he thought he would.
"Lots Thomas, lots. Clearly you think there was something special though, or you wouldn't bring it up."
"Well, there are clearly bite marks, but the arc of… well, if they had been in someone's mouth… surely…" The nurse paused for a second and turned a little green, "Sorry, that's not a phrase I ever thought I'd have to say out loud."
"It's okay son, just take your time…. I could say you get used to it, but that'd be a damn lie. Now, you were saying?"
"Thank you Doctor. Well, the arc of the bite marks is... wrong or, if it's right, then the mouth is a lot smaller than it should be…."
He sighed, he should have known that he'd spot something, he usually did.
"Well, Thomas, now you know a piece of evidence that only the FBI and the Coroners Offices in the States involved are truly aware of. It's always the same pattern with this freak. The arc of the teeth indicates a smaller mouth than seems to be natural for a grown man, some even indicate there are two mouths involved, though that's inconclusive so far. It's one of the best methods of identifying the genuine from the false. It's not even stored on the mainframes in case of their database is hacked. I trust I can rely on your discretion?"
"Of course Dr Temple"
"Good. Remember, I'm the Senior Coroner for this whole city and a whole lot of cops owe me a whole lot of favours. If they found you with a five-foot sword between your shoulder blades, and I were to say it was natural causes no one would doubt me, but _no-one_. So don't make me regret trusting you. Are we clear on that?"
"Yes Dr Temple."
"Don't look so worried man. That was medical humour."
"Yes Dr Temple, I'm laughing on the inside as we speak."
"Good man. Now to business." He took a deep breath. "Final subject in this batch is a juvenile male Hispanic, aged approximately 13 years. Poor physical condition, evidence of recent contusions around upper arms…"
Their grim work continued.
It was another four hours before the work was done and preliminary notes in a condition to type up.
"Do you mind if I leave now Dr Temple? I have to get back to my son."
"You're married Thomas?"
"No, I raise him alone. It's.., complicated. And he hasn't well last night."
"Must be tough for you."
"No more so than for you."
"Too tru… Hey, wait a minute. How did you know I have children? Or that I raise them alone? I never discuss things like that at work."
"An educated guess. I've seen you work before, your reputation is well earned, but today you were different. No one who wasn't a parent could treat the children you had to deal with today in the way you did. You probably weren't even aware you were doing it, too. The same with your wedding band, the look on your face when you put it back on after the surgery, whoever gave it to you isn't in your life any more."
"You're very observant. That's a good trait to have in this line of work."
Thomas sounded slightly embarrassed. "Sherlock Holmes was always a hero of mine."
"Mine too. Well, him and Kermit the Frog. I'm not sure what that says about me."
"You're an eternal optimist?"
"Maybe, I hope so. I said it was a useful skill, but I'd advise against using it in casual conversation though,. No offence, but it's creepy. And I might have been a widower who lost his children along with his wife. Very dangerous territory to show off on."
"None taken. You're right, I'm sorry, I don't always think about that sort of thing, my social skills are a little rusty."
"Just keep an eye on that kid of yours. That's a good start, it keeps you human."
"So I've been told. You too Doctor. Goodnight."
"Good night? Is it night time already?"
"Near enough."
"Time flies when you'd rather be anywhere else but here I guess. Well, I look forward to working with you again Dr Thomas."
"Thank you."
With that he was gone.
As he left the building and headed towards where he had parked the modest car that was Dr Alfred Thomas' means of transport, the posture of Thomas changed, he seemed to grow at least an inch and his shoulders seemed to become broader. With a barely repressed sigh he stretched, muscled popping as he did so.
Dr Temple was growing too interested in him, or in Dr Thomas at any rate. He wouldn't use him for a while, possibly never again. He'd need to make sure he had a new ID available for next time. A pity, Thomas had proven useful on many occasions, and "he" had been an interesting stretch of his acting skills. That was all he was of course, nothing more than that, no more real than "'Matches' Malone" was, or "John Smith" had been many years before, or how Bruce Wayne sometimes seemed to be now.
He pulled into the small car park that was entirely owned by a subsidiary of WayneCorps but rarely appeared on the books. Here Batman stored the variety of vehicles he sometimes needed to use when using the Car was not appropriate.
It had been Dr Alfred Thomas who had got in to the car, but it was Batman who emerged from it.
He had learned little from the autopsies that he didn't already know, although the information about the bite marks was new, it really wasn't stored on any computer he had accessed. It simply confirmed some of his own suspicions. The Corinthian hadn't forced himself on these children, there hadn't been time, but a great deal of skill had been used, Dr Temple had confirmed that. Minimal defensive
He made a note to check on the statements the girls from the house might have made, he didn't expect anything to come from it, but it was worthwhile checking.
Something had been bothering him all day, something that Pulaski had said during her speech had been nagging at him, some comment that should be making a causal link in his head. He's spent part of his time with Temple replaying the tape he'd made of her speech on his earphones. And he'd finally remembered what it was.
He had a phone call to make, after he'd checked on Dick too. Time to go home for a while.