The Catcher in the Eye (America's Next Top Assistant Mystery Book 1) (2 page)

Turning my face
away from him, I stuck out my tongue. Very mature, I knew. So far, my job
duties were one part secretary, one part chauffeur, and one part personal chef.
Not to mention being one part-time comic, or rather, laughing stock. Unlike brilliant
detectives in the literatures, Archangel didn’t need much assisting when it
comes to investigation and solving cases. Just like fictional detectives, he
was crazy, and he tended to torment his own precious little assistant, having a
chuckle at my expense.

I was an assistant
extraordinaire who outshine the detective only in my fantasy, and in reality, I
was merely a newbie assistant and a butt of jokes to this huge, cross-dressing
detective.

It really sucked
when the gap between your fancy daydream and the hard, cold, stone-hearted
reality was sooo huge.

When Richard Henderson, Advisory
Special Agent of the FBI, met us in the corridor to the dissection room, he had
deep furrows in the forehead. He was one of Archangel’s regular clients.

“What do we know
about the victim?” Archangel said.

“An unidentified adult
Caucasian woman, age yet to be specified, that’s about it for now.” Henderson
said and gave him a brief synopsis.

According to him,
the dead woman was discovered in a closed campsite preparing to reopen for the
coming summer. It was estimated that the body had been left in the woods for a
while—several weeks, perhaps.

As we went into
the dissection room, two guys in plain clothes and several officers in uniform
were having a heated discussion with a young woman clad in grayish-green scrubs.

“Well,” she said
hesitantly. “I think the body… I mean, her body is missing the eyes?” in a form
sounding more like a question than a statement.

“I can see that,
doctor.” one of the plain clothes with
The Simpsons
tie said.

“I mean, did you
bring them with her?” Doctor said.

“No, doc.” The
other plain clothes, a Latino, shook his head.

“So, the eyes are
really missing? I mean, as in
missing
missing, not misplaced?”

“I believe so.” Simpsons
said in a serious tone but when the doctor turned away, he rolled his eyes.

“She’s a
substitute,” Henderson stage whispered to us. “She used to deal with people who
died of natural causes such as cancer, stroke, and heart attack. The former ME
had suddenly decided to retire in Scottsdale. She happens to the only
pathologist in this district available to work temp for a short notice.”

“I see.” Archangel
shrugged.

“Well, then…” the pinch-hitter
ME tilted her head. “So, where have the eyeballs gone, and what are they doing
right now?”

“I believe
locating the eyeballs is our job,” said Latino.

“Alright,” she
nodded. “Now I’m wondering how they’d gotten out of the orbits.”

“That’s
your
job
to determine that, I’m afraid.”  Simpsons pointed out.

“Oh,” she frowned.
“That’s tricky. Maybe wild animals ate them? Like the rest of missing parts in
her body?”

Considering the background
of the body’s discovery, her reply sounded pretty much plausible to me. My
understanding of camp sites are that they have a wide range of wild animals
including but not limited to hedgehogs, raccoons, squirrels and grizzlies. Oh,
don’t forget the bugs. Lots of them.

“No, animals
didn’t eat the eyeballs,” interrupted Archangel. He didn’t seem to share my
thoughts. He was observing the body over the ME and the officers’ heads, using
his height with a full advantage.

He continued. “Look
at the endings of the optic nerve that the eyeballs used to be attached to. The
edges are sharp and nerve fibers are not wavy, which implies they were cut off
by a sharp object like a scalpel, rather than getting yanked out forcibly with
teeth or claws.”

“Oh really? Let me
see.” She took a magnifying glass and carefully observed the corpse on the
dissecting table.

As the law
enforcement guys who were grilling the temporary coroner had stepped aside, Archangel
moved toward the dissection table for a better view.

“Found any
residues of the eyeballs, like aqueous humor, fragments of cornea, sclera, or
ciliary muscle, for instance?” He asked.

“I have to run some
tests to confirm that, but so far, I don’t think I’m seeing them.” The coroner
replied.

“Okay, so if the tests
come back negative for eyeball components, then that means the eyeballs were cut
out by delicate hands that belongs to human.” Archangel told her. “Generally
speaking, wild animals aren’t crazy about table manners.”

“I see, you have a
point.” She turned to face Archangel. “Are you a forensic medicine expert?”

“No. I received
basic training in forensic sciences back in the old days, but that’s about it. It’s
only that I happen to be genius when it comes to detail orientation and
observation.” Archangel shrugged. In his dictionary, words like
modesty
seemed
to be missing.

“By the way, which
section are you from?” The ME asked curiously, scanning him from head to toe.

Henderson stepped
in and introduced us to her “Dr. Stewart, this is our consultant Michael
Archangel and his associate Ms. Kelly Kinki. Archangel, this is Dr. Stewart,
the medical examiner.”

“Oh,” she gasped
with wide eyes. “It looks like the FBI is more…
avant-garde
than I’d
expected.”

“I guess so.” Archangel
shook off her comment and observed more about the deceased while the officers
in uniforms fed him with more detail.

I took a quick
peek at the deceased and wished I didn’t.
Yikes
was an understatement. On
the table was a chunk of flesh that was barely recognizable as a human. Many
parts of the decaying body seemed to be missing—probably bitten off by critters
in the wild. The victim’s complexion was greenish purple. On top of all that,
in the eye sockets where the eyeballs fit in was nothing but reddish brown
darkness.  

I felt like
vomiting. It was true that I’d seen many corpses before, but this particular
victim was by far the most gruesome.

All of a sudden, it
hit me that I didn’t belong here and I didn’t deserve to be here. Unlike the
assistants of brilliant detectives in fiction, I had no relevant training in
criminal justice or forensic sciences, much less expertise. My areas of
expertise were pretty much limited to cooking, planning and organizing a party,
speaking some French, and breathing fire. I didn’t even know if fire breathing
counted as a skill.

I also realized
that a real-life autopsy involved a
real
corpse, and the aroma of
decomposing human tissues was not lovely. That was a completely different thing
from watching gruesome scenes in TV cop shows. Hell, I was getting
really
sick.

“Are you okay?”
asked Dr. Stewart. Now she had stepped back away from the dissecting table.

“I’m terribly
disturbed, but I think I’ll live. Thanks for asking.” I said, managing not to
puke.

“I know,” she
sighed. “Disturbing is an understatement. You know, I was totally convinced
that the eyeballs were eaten by wild animals. It’s early April and critters
coming out of hibernation are hungry. Maybe a part of me wanted to believe so. Not
that being left in a deserted camp site to die is nice, but it feels better to
imagine raccoons or some animals had feasted on that poor dead woman, rather than
this depressing possibility that some kind of human freak poking the eyeballs
out of her. I know I’m sounding irrational, but it’s just too horrifying to
imagine the latter even though it certainly looks like your friend’s right.”

I thought about
pointing out that he’s not my friend, but it seemed irrelevant. Instead, I
asked. “Does it mean someone killed the deceased and took out the eyeballs from
the victim?”

“Maybe, but I’m
not really sure which of the events—death, or poking out the eyeballs—happened first.
The cause of death is really hard to tell right now because the body had
sustained tremendous damages, not to mention that the corpse is already at a
very advanced stage of decomposition. Looks like she was left in the field for
at least a week. So she might have been murdered, but natural causes of death
such as a heart attack cannot be completely ruled out. I need to cut open the
cadaver to find out more about her. Also, I’d better call someone for backup.”

She shrugged and
continued. “What I can tell now is I’m just a temp substitute medical examiner and
I’m somewhat clueless. And basically, this field called forensic medicine doesn’t
look as good as I had previously anticipated. They said it’s an easy job to
earn extra bucks on an account that it’s a rural area where you’re not likely
to have many bodies to observe and cut open, unlike big cities. Look what
happened, my luck’s really rotten.” She rolled her eyes.

I made some sympathetic
sounds.

I could imagine
her feelings. It was a rare occasion to meet someone feeling as out of league
and confused about criminal investigation as myself. In general, people I
encountered in the job were very confident for what they do and who they are,
and I was the only clueless tourist. Just like that.

“Besides that,”
rubbing her tummy, Dr. Stewart said.  “Encountering this kind of death
doesn’t seem like a good prenatal experience for the little one.”

“Oh my God,” I
gasped. Due to the baggy scrubs, her baby bump was almost unnoticeable but if
you looked closely, she was indeed pregnant. Under the surgical mask, she also sported
this certain glow of a mother-to-be.

“You need a raise.”
I told her. Actually, I wanted one, too. It might be selfish to think so, but I
suppose meeting a decaying, half-eaten cadaver missing eyeballs has that effect
on many people.

“I know!” she
chuckled. “But I guess I’d better say adieu to this job than demanding a pay
increase.”

“Oh, so you’re
taking a time off for a while, that’s nice,” I said.

“Nope, I’m saying
adios muchachos to medicine, as in forever.” She shook her head. “I’m quitting.”

“Oh, wow…” I said,
a little taken aback with the unexpected turn of events. As a woman without
much of a career, I had a hard time grasping a concept of withdrawing from a
challenging albeit lucrative profession for good. Add that little green-eyed
monster raising its head effect. For me, having a serious career that you call
your own alone sounded like a real privilege. Not to mention a profession in
which you get to cut people open with scalpels and everything sounded pretty
cool.

“Yeah, I know my
decision would not be considered a smart one by everyone, but at least I’m
determined to quit and live a little, I’m positive I wouldn’t regret this decision
of mine.”

“Wow,” I nodded,
partly because
“wow”
was the best my clueless self was able to come up
with. “That’s nice.”

“The truth is, it
really bothered that I couldn’t even find the stuffs that the tall guy in a
dress had pointed out so easily.” Dr. Stewart told me.

“Well,” I
interjected. “If that giant transvestite is the reason for your quitting
medicine, I’m afraid you seriously need to reconsider. It’s not you, it’s him. When
it comes to crime-solving, he’s simply special, I’ve seen him beating even the
most seasoned investigators. Please don’t feel bad about missing something he
had found before you do. It happens to anybody, and it does all the time.” I
didn’t get all pushy or bossy, but I didn’t want her to make a big decision
just because of Archangel. He had this special effect of draining confidence out
of people (mostly in law enforcement.)

“No. That’s not
the case,” she chuckled. “It’s just me, no one but me. Actually, I should have
made up my mind more than a decade ago, perhaps when I found myself depressed
and devastated soon as I started visiting the ward as a medical student,” she
grimaced. “But unfortunately, I was a coward. I knew I wanted to quit but at
the same time, when I thought about disappointing my folks, I got completely
horrified. So I ended up chickening out, I simply got scared of changing the
track course of my life. In retrospect, stubbornness factor had practically
aggravated the situation; I was so obsessed with not becoming a quitter and
continued pursuing the field I practically loathed. I knew I hated dealing with
diseases, injuries, miseries and dramas. For me, just visiting the ward was a
living hell. Just standing at the corridor of the ward, I could feel the
bacteria, viruses, demons, and everything that caused catastrophe infesting all
around me. Such thoughts totally drove me crazy and I totally sucked at
providing care. I got kicked out of three clinical residency programs until,
eventually, finishing a pathology program. Which was far better compared to
clinical programs because at least, patients didn’t complain, cough or puke on me.
Still, as you can see, even as a pathologist, I’m not all that good. So far, I’ve
misdiagnosed at least twenty-three cases of cancer as benign and
one-hundred-and-forty-six cases of benign lesions as cancers. So I took this
opportunity to become a substitute ME, in hopes of being needed once in a
while. But nooo, even now I’m as useful as a giant gallstone. So finally, I came
to terms with myself to quit for good.”

Her fair skin
around the eyes turned pink. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you
such a big speech like a Congress candidate. Where’s my manners and what was I
thinking?”

“Don’t worry, the
tale of your journey and your opinion was very compelling.” I reassured her. Phew…it
was true that all happy people are alike; each happy person is unhappy on his
or her own way. Her story had me convinced that I was lucky not to be a medic. Indeed,
the prospect of dealing with germs and bodily fluids sounded icky, not cool.

“Congratulations
on your new life and do send my hug and kiss to your wonderful baby.” I added,
and I meant it sincerely.

“Thank you.” She
smiled a genuine, beautiful smile. In her brown eyes was full of joy and
happiness. “Thank you for your kind words to the baby, and to me.”

I wished her all
the best and she wished me back the same thing. We promised to say hi to each
other if we ever come across.

That was the first
and the last time I had ever talked to her.