Chapter Eleven: Suspicious Spaces

Commissioner Gordon and Detective Harvey Bullock waited outside the large, iron-wrought gate of Briarcliffe Asylum. Detective Bullock had taken up smoking, lighting up a cigarette while he and Jim waited for the new proprietor to meet them.

Moira Briarcliffe emerged from the front double doors of the asylum, clad in a dashing black, white, and green-trimmed pantsuit. Her white heels clicked the concrete as she strode with her hands clasped together in front of her torso, a calm and settling demeanor of one who ran quite an establishment. She was flanked on either side by her superintendent Delbert Gray and Dr. Arden, both in their appropriate work attire.

Coming within five feet of the gate, Patrolman Dally West pulled the lever in the highest watch tower to allow the gate to slowly and creakily part the gate to allow Gordon and Bullock to walk within the perimeter. Moira greeted Commissioner Gordon with a sincere handshake, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Morning, Commissioner."

"Good morning, Miss Briarcliffe."

"Please, call me Moira."

"Excellent."

Harvey held a hand out to her, and Moira shook his hand as well.

"Morning, Moira."

"Morning."

She glanced at his cigarette.

"You can put that out when you're done. We don't allow guests to smoke on the premises." Moira said coolly.

"Guests." Harvey muttered.

"Families do come visit the patients," Moira said.

"I imagine that's a gloomy occasion," said Jim.

"Not necessarily," intercepted Delbert Gray. "The families are allowed to partake in some activities such as group therapy; Sister Mary Margaret takes confessions for the female patients and Father Day Copper, the males. They talk to the families and give them weekly updates."

Moira glanced at Delbert with a sly smile, and then turned back to Jim and Harvey.

"He's my superintendent. He acts in my stead should I become occupied," she said. "Bella Donna is the entertainment provider; she organizes movie night and she and my psychiatrist on sight, Dr. Thredson, allow the capable patients to play games that nurture communication and understanding so can they return to society. But we make very sure that there won't be a relapse, as it happened when Hugo Strange released Penguin and Barbara Kean."

Jim nodded.

"Sounds like a very appropriate regime," he approved. "You helped Barbara, and I can't thank you enough."

Moira nodded appreciatively.

"Nice to be recognized. Barbara was actually the most well-behaved. Of course, she was sane in the end, having the ultimatum and so forth before reunification happened." Moira made a soft smile. "How's your little girl?"

"Sprouting," Jim atoned cheerfully.

"Lovely."

Harvey glanced between the two of them and made a finger gesture that pulled them back to the matter at hand, and then asked Moira pointedly,

"What do you mean by 'capable patients'?"

"Obviously the ones who won't try to stab you in the eye with a pencil," said Moira sarcastically. "The East and North Wings participate in activities like that. The South Wing is restricted to one-hour of visitation, heavily secured, and always through a glass...The violent ward," Moira clarified for Harvey Bullock.

"And the West Wing?" Gordon inquired.

"The West Wing can't participate," said Moira. "And families don't come to visit. The patients in the West Wing are tenderly looked after due to their specific needs in order to stay as clients. Victor Fries is probably our best example for the West Wing," she added with a sympathetic look. "The man kept even step into the hallway to go to the bathroom. My maintenance crew had to install a restroom of his own. Ironically, he's gotten fond of warm food. But the West Wing stays out of the affairs of the entertainment."

She tossed her hands up and explained, "It is for the safety of the other patients."

Gordon made a small smile, "That's why we're here, you know that, right?"

Moira's sympathetic gaze disappeared.

"Yeessss." She drawled. "I suppose we should skip the niceties and get right to business, eh, Commissioner?"

"I don't intend to be push," Gordon said, noticing the change of the asylum owner's disposition. "I do have a busy schedule, and yours is just a well to-do. If your asylum is as in orderly structure as you say—"

"It is." Moira interrupted curtly. Gordon glanced at her cautiously.

"Then," Gordon continued, "You have nothing to worry about. So...could we...?"

"Of course," Moira drawled with a forceful smile. "Of course you can interview all whom you see fit. However, I do have to forbid any interrogations with my patients."

"Something to hide?" Harvey suggested.

"Amazing you're still on the force, Harvey, Darling," retorted Moira with an unimpressed, annoyed frown. "No, not because I have something to hide. Everyone behind a steel door is mentally incompetent. You won't be able to trust a single word they say. And, if you did," she added carefully, "it wouldn't hold up in court."

Gordon and Harvey glanced at each other for a minute then Gordon stepped forward.

"Do you think Edward Nygma would be competent enough to talk to us?"

"What makes you think he would, to you?" Moira replied. "You're the one who threw him here for ten years."

"Do I detect a hint of distaste?" Harvey suggested.

"Why don't you let your boss do the talking?" Moira said to Harvey waspishly, growing irritated. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but inhaled sharply to gather herself. As she had done before, Moira flattened her pantsuit along her waist, and exhaled to regain her composure.

"Fine, if you deem it necessary," permitted Moira in her normalized tone, "you may speak to Edward. But I'm telling you, he won't say much. And if he does, he'll open his mouth long enough to insult you and then he'll turn to stone."

"Maybe you should come with us?" Harvey, once again, suggested.

Jim Gordon seemed to be courteous; but Harvey Bullock was really riding Moira's back with a suspicious tone that she really didn't much care for. Had Annie Goodman gotten word to the GCPD about her abuse and corruption in her domicile before Moira could dispose of her? Had the EMTs reported how Moira had acted when the paramedics tried to whisk away her patients? And, what was more daunting, did Gordon suspect that Moira had something to do with the slaughter in the courtyard? And did Gordon think that Edward, rather incapable of telling whole lies, would tell them what happened?

Moira made a surreptitious chuckle, kindling the idea that her having immoral issues in her work place was ludicrous. The laugh itself seemed to put Harvey off curiously.

"I'll have my staff escort you both to Edward's cell."

Dr. Arden and Delbert Gray, both of whom had been standing silently while their warden spoke to the police department, moved to gesture for the two officers to follow them.

Moira pulled Dr. Arden away as Gordon and Harvey followed the monotonous superintendent. Her grip on her doctor's arm was tight.

"Listen to me—" Moira had begun to instruct him, but Arden nodded his head and patted Moira's tight fingers on his forearm.

"It's fine, Moira. I know what to do."

"If Edward says anything, if any of them say anything—"

"I'll take care of it, dear." Arden said in his elderly, gentleman's voice. "Don't I always take care of the wreckage?"

"I'm serious," she said gravely. "For all they know, Bae went fucking nuts and disarmed Foil and started shooting. They don't need to know about the love letters, or Ed's gifts to me—Not about Annie Goodman, nothing about what I've done—Noth—"

"Moira." Dr. Arden soothed her anxious instructions, smoothing a hand under her chin for a quick second. "This is fine. I'll make sure that the policemen think that you're the best proprietor of Briarcliffe in her throne. I don't believe Edward will say anything. How much he is enamored with you, I imagine he'll say very little. Besides, didn't you speak to him last night?"

Moira straightened suddenly.

"Of course, I did."

"Does your late-night conversation with him give you any hunch that he'd say something bad about you?"

We kissed, I'm pretty sure he'd say nothing bad about me, Moira thought. But would he tell Gordon that he's been giving me gifts?

"No," Moira answered Dr. Arden and herself simultaneously.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about, sweet pea," Dr. Arden said, patting her hand once more. "I'll have them see the patients in the infirmary, Edward next, and we'll take them to speak to Dr. Thredson."

"Sounds good."

"I better chase after them or they'll think something is wrong."

"Of course."

"Uh, could you let me go?"

"Oh!"

Moira released Dr. Arden's forearm, swiftly apologizing. Then the good doctor went to follow the tails of the policemen. Moira looked up to the window to where she knew Edward was surveying her. Not that she could see him, but she definitely could feel eyes on her.

If anybody fucks this up, I'll be having massive turnover for employees again...