The lawyer was dowdy, black hair twisted into a messy bun, reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck, dull grey suit making her body blocky and thick. A few of them had seen her before, but no one connected the middle-aged frump with the semi-respectable-looking young thing with the great rack who was inexplicably married to Jonathan Crane and had shown up to make out with him in full view of the hidden camera.

She had never had much respect for the security in places like this, and today they didn't disappoint. They let her in without a fuss.

She sat down across from Harley Quinn without a hint of a smile. Harley didn't smile back.

"Good afternoon, Miss Quinzel. I'm Melanie Brooks, representing the law firm of Dewey, Cheatham, and Howe. Were you aware that your--uh--employer called upon our services from time to time?"

"Can't say that I was," Harley said suspiciously, peering at her visitor's face and trying to decide whether or not she really recognized the woman under all that makeup.

"Well, he did, Miss Quinn. And because he did, there are a few things I need to discuss with you today. Do you realize that, under certain laws, you can be regarded as his common-law wife?"

Harley's expression went dreamy.

"Wife?" she repeated. "Like in man and wife, you may now kiss the bride?"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm here."

Harley refocused, serious again.

" i Why /i are you here?"

The lawyer cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"You're the only beneficiary named in the Joker's will."

" i Will /i ? No." Harley pushed herself back from the table. The guards tensed. "No. My Puddin' isn't dead. And I don't know who you are, lady, but you ain't his lawyer. Mistah J has a type, and you ain't it."

"I realize that, of course, Miss Quinn. Mister J," she said, enunciating sharply, "didn't limit himself to just one lawyer or just one firm. And the gentleman he used from our office fled the country when he got the news. You see, the Joker's will specified that he wanted to be buried like a Pharaoh, with all his servants. Including the executor of his estate. Mr. Logan was all too willing to believe that he might be forced to carry out his duties by some of the Joker's more zealous former associates."

Harley was, of course, sputtering with laughter.

"That's my Puddin'! You know, when Abbott and Costello met the Mummy, he--" Her eyes widened. "He's really i dead /i ?!"

"So they say." She offered a comforting smile. "But you know how it is. They didn't find a body. There's no need to give up hope. But until we know more, let's talk about that will."