Set around the first episode, when Jordan just moved to Boston again.
Garret hung up the phone and sighed. The district attorney had already called three times this morning, then he had a call from the funeral home and one directly from the workers on the cemetery in one of the poorest Boston suburbs.
His secretary, of course, thought that these were normal calls, he was the chief medical examiner in Boston, after all; but Garret knew these were anything but ordinary calls. And the questions! So many and he had no answers.
He moved the sheet of paper closer to himself and took a pen into his hand. The hand was shaking.
Garret sighed again. He wasn't God, he was fallible, he admonished himself. "Yes, but this kind of mistake?" he asked himself in his mind. "This is hardly a mistake, this can't be a mistake. That's like Agatha Christie's stuff! A man dies of heart failure, the insurance company is of course suspecting something and Poirot finds out he was in fact shot in his mouth."
Garret pondered with whom he could talk about it. He could talk to Jordan; she returned a bit unexpectedly. But uh hmm maybe he shouldn't talk with Jordan about that. And he also should talk to her about the other thing. But that could wait, he decided. He didn't need any more stress right at that moment. She wouldn't take it well. He takes the plush puppet out of the drawer.
x-x-x
"Is he there?" Jordan asked Bug.
"Eh, I don't know. I think so. Yes, he's there, I think," Bug replied distractedly.
"But he is," he whispered and stepped closer to Jordan "you know, so distracted. Looks strange. Acts weird, he talks to himself…"
"Hmm, it's Garret, so you know how he is," Jordan pondered noncommittedly, left Bug and knocked on the door.
She entered the room when Garret wasn't responding and found him deeply in thought, nervously fidgeting with his fingers and whispering "But what if… well yes, then it could be. But this can't..."
Jordan cleared her throat and he looked up at her.
"Oh, Jordan hi. What are you doing here? What do you want here?"
"I just wanted to say hi and also sign some papers, Lily told me you were trying to get hold of me all day yesterday, but you know, have just moved in, so I'm quite behind on some things."
"What would you do if you made a mistake," he asked her, looking miserable.
Jordan laughed. "Ah, Garret, I've made so many mistakes, we both know that. Relationships, so many punches, fights, quarrels," she laughed even more.
"I thought more of a professional mistake," he said and tried to crack a smile.
"Professional? Is this a test as you are my boss again? Already regretting your choices?"
Garret remained silent.
"Hmm, if I take anything seriously, it's my work. And you know that I listened to you when you had some advice for me. And I don't usually listen to people. So… if I make a mistake I try not to do it again."
Garret nodded his head. He'd decided.
"As the references say, you are a brilliant diagnostician. Here, take it. It's the official order from the U.S. Attorney's office requesting a second autopsy of Mr. Newmark. Died two years ago, autopsy done on the 14th September. By me."
Jorden nodded.
"I mean 14th September two years ago, of course," Garret laughed nervously.
"Sure."
He was still silent.
"But why a second autopsy? Did the Attorney's office say anything?"
"There were some … uhm… uncertainties," Garret said and very carefully studied his hands.
Jordan skimmed through the order and the protocols.
"Ruptured aorta. What uncertainties there can be about ruptured aorta, Garret? And why would the State Attorney be involved at all?"
"Just do the second autopsy, Jordan, please. I ask you as a colleague."
"Of course, I'll do it. But that's so strange. And unnecessary. But what's new. We do whatever the prosecutor wishes for," Jordan shrugged.
x-x-x
Jordan carefully looked at the body. At first, from afar. Then she put on the gown and face shield; she wasn't a newbie and knew that a body after two years in the coffin, buried under the ground wouldn't look like it did just a few days after the death, when Garret first performed the autopsy.
She read the protocol first, was a bit surprised that there wasn't a recording available that Garret certainly made during the autopsy; also all photos were missing. However, the protocol was clear enough and the second inspection of the body should clearly confirm the cause of death because ruptured aorta is unmistakably a ruptured aorta. It's not that common occurrence but in nine of ten cases leads quickly to death. There's usually no time to do anything.
Jordan squinted. There was a hole in the man's chest. She raised her eyebrows. A bullet hole?
"Garret! There's a bullet hole in Mr. Newmark!" she shouted.
"Sssshhh, I shouldn't be even here," he said standing in the door. "That's what I was afraid of," he lamented.
"Garret, what is going on, you gotta tell me. Preferably right now!"
"Well, one of Mr. Newmark's relatives thinks that Mr. Newmark didn't die of ruptured aorta but a gun shot wound and that I missed that. The district attorney ordered the second autopsy you are just doing. May I remind you you are not supposed to talk to me about this case?"
"Garret, calm down. Do you have eyes? There's a bullet hole, small but still a bullet hole even a first year medic would classify correctly. You would have never missed that. There must be something else behind this."
"So just write the report. Very factually please."
"Yes? That's what I do! Reports without inserting my feelings, suspicion and anger in there as I was told by the psychiatrist!"
"I mean just write the report. No investigation, no meddling, no insisting on accompanying the detectives. Please."
She winked at him and mumbled under her breath: "Well, considering you are not even supposed to talk to me about this case, you might not be able to stop me."
"I've heard you," he said, already retreating back.
x-x-x
After finishing the autopsy, Jordan went to Garret's office immediately. "Hey, calm down. Of course I'll write the report, but you can add the photos and recordings of the first autopsy and everything will be fine," Jordan said and squeezed Garret's shoulder.
"I wish I had your hopefulness. This is part of the documents that were destroyed in the archive a year and a half ago during the huge flood."
"But Garret, don't you see that this must be some kind of twisted plan? Documents were destroyed, so you can't prove 100 % the bullet hole wasn't there at first, even though we both know it wasn't.
I can't prove 100 % that it happened later. The wound is certainly not very new, happened at least one year ago, at least being the crucial word. And we know how quickly it can get twisted to 'well could be as well two years'."
"Still suspecting the whole world, I see," Garret mumbled.
Jordan glared at him.
"It must have happened after Newmark's death and after the autopsy you did."
"Who would manipulate with the body after the autopsy and funeral? And an even more absurd question: why would someone do that?" he asked in disbelief.
"I don't know maybe because of insurance or inheritance…"
Jordan again skimmed through the papers. "Maybe a certain Miss Rebecca Ambrosini would know. She filed the request to the State Attorney's office."
"Haven't heard of her."
"It's about time to meet her," Jordan said and went to the door.
x-x-x
"Jordan you can't go there. You are not supposed to meet with other parties of the case just like this."
"I'm not going alone. We are gonna take a look at Rebecca. We can stay away, look from afar. She's a receptionist in a hotel the paper says."
"No, Jordan, I protes-"
She took him by the arm and literally pushed him to the door.
"I can't go there, this is insane!"
"That's what I'm known for! Doing insane things," Jordan winked.
"Come on, we'll just walk in the hotel. There certainly will be more people and she probably won't be alone at the counter, we may talk with some other person and may ask some unsuspicious questions. And we'll try to keep an eye on Rebecca. After a few minutes we'll leave the hotel. Simple and easy."
"Indeed," Garret shrugged. "Simple and easy… Anything but that. What if she recognizes me, maybe it was her identifying the body in the morgue," he kept talking.
"Garret, it was Newmark's brother. No Rebecca is mentioned in the file. Well, until the complaint."
x-x-x
Garret looked around uncertainly. "Are you sure it's the right address of the hotel?"
"That's what the papers say."
"But this is just a very old building very much in need of reconstruction…"
"At least we can walk around it, maybe it looks better on the other side and it's actually functioning."
Garret walked, deep in thoughts, towards one of the columns standing on the shorter side of the building.
"Careful! There's a puddle," Jordan yelled and pushed Garret out of the way.
"My new shoes would like to express-"
They both jumped when they heard a loud noise. A big planter made out of stone fell directly into the puddle. It also scratched Garret's shoulder.
x-x-x
"Oh my god, I'm taking you to the hospital."
Garret rolled his shoulder a bit. "I don't need a hospital because of such a silly thing as a fallen flowerpot."
Jordan didn't say anything just looked up – to the window from where the flowerpot probably fell.
In the car, Garret looked into the mirror and pressed a tissue to his eyebrow because it was bleeding.
"Still no hospital?"
"Nope, let's go back to work. You can sew it together. We are all doctors…"
"If you think so."
"And besides, what would I say in the hospital. Hey, so a big flowerpot fell a few centimetres from me and scratched my shoulder?"
"Accidents happen," Jordan quipped. "I'm sure the doctors at emergency are used to it."
"Yeah, but it's only me with such silly and stupid accidents. I'll gladly spare me the doctors' laughter," Garret said sullenly.
"Ok, but you don't think that it's a weird coincidence? Someone might have thrown the flowerpot deliberately," Jordan suggested.
"Nonsense. If the police comes to this conclusion, then sure, I'll accept that but not right now."
"But you won't call the police."
"Exactly."
"Yup, makes perfect sense," Jordan said and aggressively pressed the gas pedal.
x-x-x
Garret cleared his throat.
"Ehm, there's the other thing I need to talk to you about. I was allowed to employ you again but I had to agree that you'd continue your group sessions about strategies for better management of your anger issues."
Jordan smashed the car horn. "Dammit, Garret. You are just purposefully ignoring the fact that someone might have thrown it!"
"And you are unable to let go! Some say that it's trust and confidence issues behind all the anger."
After a moment Garret added more peacefully: "I had no arguments to counter it."
Jordan just threw him an unamused look.
"Jordan, you always feel you have to control everything. You want to be the pathologist and also the detective. They know how to do their job, let them be," he admonished and massaged the shoulder with his left hand.
"The flowerpot is not your case."
When they left the car she offered Garret her shoulder to lean on. Once inside, they closed the door to Garret's office and Jordan took out a sewing kit. She used lidocaine to numb the eyebrow and the shoulder and added some stitches on both wounds and then applied ice.
"You don't want us to do it? Fine. You don't want me to do it personally? Ok, fine. But I will tell the police, whoever will listen, to look into this Rebecca and find out why she's trying to make us do the second autopsy of a man who clearly died of ruptured aorta, why is she manipulating evidence and why is she throwing hard, stone-made things on people when they want to visit her."
"That's a bit melodramatic," he grumbled weekly.
"So, ehm, I'm detective Martin Fox from the Boston police and would like to tell you that Miss Rebecca Ambrosini was arrested this morning for several breaches of law. Some kind of personal vendetta against you, dr. Macy.
Planned it quite long-term. At first nothing was suspicious but she changed her name back to her maiden name. She was married to Fred Underhill though, you helped convict him of murder. When she heard, and she did, because at that time she was employed at an insurance company, that some of the documents of the city services and offices were destroyed, she made a plan. She hired someone to manipulate with Newmark's body. That is to shoot him, even though he was more than six months buried.
By the way, Newmark was indeed her relative. Something like a distant cousin of a cousin of a cousin. Nobody was interested in his death.
And then after she waited long enough she complained at the State Attorney's office. That he was shot and you missed evidence.
And when it seemed to her, that your downfall was taking a bit too long, she just couldn't resist and when you went to visit her, she threw the flowerpot," the police officer recited.
"Unbelievable. I would have never believed…"
"Yeah, you did not believe when I told you more or less the same thing."
Garret looked at her and smiled resignedly.
"I'm a brilliant diagnostician after all, all the summaries say that," she winked.
"Yeah, a brilliant diagnostician, specializing in treatment of crimes."