Amon had been told this case was bad. Zaizen mentioned it on the phone, in passing.
"The police say this is the worst case we've seen in a long time." We, like Zaizen ever looked at bodies anymore.
The forensic specialist determined there were three people killed in the living room of that small house. In the end, he determined that by counting the ribcages. But for all the skin and blood and shit and gore on that floor, it could have been 30 people.
Three people were killed. Thus, with about two gallons of blood in each body, there were six gallons of blood splattered on the floor, on the walls, all the way up to the ceiling. Three people meant 30 fingers and toes, six legs, six arms, three heads. Count the ribs, count the teeth, count the vertebrae. Lay the intestines out in a row and marvel how many tubes three bodies can hold. A night ago these were people with memories, with fears, with hopes and dreams and all those other things people create their lives with. In the morning, they were meat scattered on the living room floor, a heap of flesh and coagulated blood and drying fat stacked on the coach were they had once sat together watching TV. That morning was a riot of anatomy, an orgy of body parts, twisted and writhing silently against a backdrop of blood drying reddish-brown on the wallpaper. That morning was the copper-sweet smell of too much blood, the harsh smell of excrement, stomachs ripped open. That morning was errant strands of hair stuck to the wall with a paste of blood and gray matter. That morning knew no animation, no breath of life, no body as a temple. That morning was made for meat.
Amon had seen bad crime scenes, but nothing like this.
Ryuhei Tsukioka, the police's forensic genius, was standing by Amon holding an arm. He waited patiently for Amon to get over the initial shock of seeing three people dismantled and scattered across the room. After a few moments, Amon turned to the man with the appendage.
"This was done by a witch?" Amon asked Tsukioka.
"Well, that's the best explanation anyone can come up with so far," Tsukioka replied, holding the arm up for Amon to examine. "I've been wading through this stuff all morning, and every piece I've looked at has the same pattern. The bones broke cleanly; the skin is stretched, but ripped cleanly. These people were pulled apart. A human could pull a bone out of its socket, could break the smaller ones like this. But a tibia? No human could pull apart a leg, but there are pieces of one by the end-table that have indeed been torn apart."
"Did the neighbors see anyone go in?" Amon asked. "Hear anyone screaming?"
"That's the scary part," said Tsukioka, laying down the arm. "No one saw or heard anything."
"So, someone broke in, killed them, and then dismembered them?"
Tsukioka's face darkened.
"Judging by what I've seen, the mutilation was not postmortem," the snapped off his gloves and started to leave the room, Amon trailing behind him. "I can't be one-hundred percent sure, since I haven't examined any pieces in the lab, but that's what I'd bet on. Cause of death hasn't been accurately determined yet. We're going to take the pieces down to the morgue and try to reassemble them, see if anything strange pops out." Tsukioka gave a weak grin, "As if this isn't strange enough."
Amon stopped, and Tsukioka turned to face him. They had walked to the backyard, where several policemen and the rest of the STN-J's team were milling around, waiting to get as far away from this place as they could. One of the shrubs by the kitchen door smelled very strongly of vomit, and quite a few of the policemen, as well as Haruto Sakaki, were wiping their mouths absently, skin paler than usual. They were all shivering, pulling their coats closer to their bodies, but all would rather stand outside in the middle of winter than go back in that house.
"How much do we know about the victims?" Amon asked, signaling for his team to come closer. They all trudged forward, obviously disgusted at the thought of having to listen to this.
"We haven't had an official identification yet," Tsukioka explained. "But it's safe to assume that the victims are the Inada family. It's their house, they were home, no one has seen them … the paperwork just hasn't been filled out yet." Tsukioka paused. "The police want to get as far away from this one as they can. No one has even interviewed the guy who first spotted the body. They decided to leave it all up to you guys."
Amon nodded, looking displeased. He thanked Tsukioka, and then turned to his team.
"Since we won't be getting the lab results until at least this afternoon, we can try finding out more about the victims this morning." Amon spoke into his communicator, "Michael, have you got the names of the victims?"
"Yes," announced Michael's tinny voice. "Kazuo Inada, Kayoko Inada, and their thirteen-year-old daughter Mitsuko Inada. I have the addresses of the parents' workplaces and the daughter's school, too."
"Very good," Amon hung up, turning back to the group, who were waiting solemnly for their assignments. "Karasuma, I want you to interview the neighbor who found the body. Sakaki, get an official statement from the police officer who made the discovery, and then talk to the other neighbors. Doujima, I want you to go to Kayoko Inada's workplace and find out as much about her as you can. If you have time, find out who her friends were and track them down. Robin, I'll drop you off at Mitsuko Inada's school, so you can do the same thing." Amon paused for a moment. "This is going to be a big case. There's a lot to do, so be efficient. We'll meet at the office this afternoon. Any questions?"
There were none. The team disbanded, quiet and businesslike.
Robin followed Amon to his car, where she settled in beside him in the passenger's seat. She looked a bit pale; a bit tired, but had voiced no objections about her assignment.
"Amon?" she said his name softly, as always, like it was an incantation that would loose its power if voiced over a whisper.
"Yes?"
"Have you ever seen a crime scene that bad before?" she looked at him from the corner of her eyes.
Amon almost sighed. He had told the three youngest, most inexperienced members of the team that it wasn't necessary to look at the intact crime scene itself, since there would be police photographs. He had, though, encouraged them to try, for the sake of professionalism. As he had expected, Sakaki had barely been able to tolerate the sight. Doujima had given up a minute after him, with Robin holding out the longest. Amon remembered it was the first time he had ever seen her flinch at the sight of a body.
"No, never quite that bad," he answered her. "But I've seen similar before." He looked at the girl beside him, who was obviously dealing with shock. "Try to focus on investigating Mitsuko Inada," he told her, "get inside her head. It'll be a distraction, something else to think about."
Robin nodded, her eyes turning to the road ahead. Amon wished he had better advice, that he could offer this stunned, innocent creature something more.
But he knew you don't just get over seeing something like that.
Pulling up to Mitsuko Inada's school, Amon watched Robin get out of his car, gathering her long black skirts around her. Her hands went to her shoulders, curling herself up against the weather.
"Call me when you need a ride back to the office," she told her.
He stayed parked until she had made it into the school, and then he shifted the car to drive and returned to the road.
Amon tried to think about Kazuo Inada, the man that he would have to investigate to solve this crime. Instead, all he could picture was that room, the blood, crimson on pale shrunken skin.
How are any of us going to sleep tonight? he wondered.
