Notes: I'm starting to run out of photos for the character gallery, but there'll still be a few more updates

The Black Dog Man was named for the mysterious silhouette seen in several pictures taken at Daley Plaza the day of the JFK assassination. Researchers are almost certain that Black Dog Man fired the shots that killed President Kennedy

Now, on with the story...

Silence greeted Batman as he descended to his inner sanctum via Batpole. Upon returning home and finding no sign of Robin, he had stripped off the Gary Allen disguise and headed straight to bed. After getting a sensible eight hours of sleep, he was anxious to get to work in the Batcave.

He was cross-referencing data from the Batcomputer when Alfred The Butler descended with a tray containing breakfast.

"Good morning, sir. I am glad to find you unharmed this fine morning."

"I had it in my hands, Alfred - Cranek's insidious hypno-therapy transmitter! But the weight of the contraption slowed me, and I was forced to abandon it to escape my antagonists. Fortunately, it was already damaged, so recovering it will likely provide him little consolation. Still, it would have been nice to be able to rule it out as a threat."

"One does what one can, sir. Was the evening's investigation otherwise fruitful?"

"Very. For some reason, District Attorney Dent has been using the alternate surname 'Kent.' It wasn't the newspaper reporter mixed up in this after all."

Alfred lowered his head before replying. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you may wish to view the morning paper before continuing with your task." He laid the morning edition next to Batman's glass of orange juice.

'DAILY PLANET STAR REPORTER KILLS HIMSELF,' read the headline.

Batman snatched up the paper and absorbed all the information from the front page article. His mouth fell open as he read.

"Great…Scott! I'd been focused on tracking Kent down to arrest him, and all the while, the poor devil was watching his life crumble before his eyes."

"It is true, sir, your initial hypothesis was incorrect. However, you could hardly be accused of contributing to the deceased's state of mind, since you never actually came into contact with him."

"I must accept responsibility for my intentions, Alfred, regardless of my failure to carry them out."

"Mmm. The morning edition is already several hours old. Perhaps the television news will contain further developments?"

Turning on the television, Batman flipped channels several times before stopping at a close-up of Barry Brown's face. Brown's trademark smirk was absent as he addressed his viewing audience.

"And all of us here at WGIV hope Mister Kent has found peace, wherever he is now. While there's little doubt this was a suicide, some pieces of the puzzle still don't fit.

"Exhibit A: Lois Lane maintains the indignity that pushed Kent over the edge was being forced to step into the ring for an expected pummeling at the hands of ringmaster Everett Banister. A cruel publicity stunt at Clark's expense, she said. Only problem is, the story is a complete hoax. Calls to Gotham City boxing rings and Banister's manager revealed no such planned exhibition bout.

"Why would someone make up a story like that, you ask? It turns out Lois was shut out of some nice publicity when Kellogg's cereal company hired several male Daily Planet employees to promote their product.

"That casting decision didn't sit well with Ms. Lane, who's been scooped on many a story since Mr. Kent arrived in Metropolis. The Kellogg's publicity department had plans for more action-oriented ads, and had their hopes for lantern-jawed manliness pinned on Kent. But they realized that with his baggy suits, glasses, and dull haircuts, they had their work cut out for them.

"Could it be that an enterprising girl reporter promised to whip Clark into shape in return for inclusion in their ad campaign? That would help explain Lane's presence during some test footage of the 'new, manly Clark Kent.' On the tape, Lane can be heard egging the clumsy Kent along as he tries to perform an acceptable judo roll for the camera. One can almost hear the wheels turning in her head, cooking up a boxing exhibition story to frighten her co-worker into getting in shape."

The camera shot switched to an unflattering photo of Lois as Brown's voice-over continued. "She probably told herself it was for Clark's own good. I wonder if she still feels that way?"

The screen image now changed to an old mug shot of Laura Lime. "And that's not all. There's one more mystery to mull over: why isn't there a wedding license on file for Clark Kent and his reported wife-to-be, Laura Lime?"

Batman turned from the television. "Any news from Dick yet?"

"Master Robin left late last night on a mission. I have not received word from him since."

Batman frowned and stroked his chin. "I ordered him to track our dual-identitied District Attorney. I pray I haven't made two fatal blunders in the same night!"

(Bat Spin)

In his closet-turned-darkroom, Jimmy Olsen worked industriously on his photos. This latest batch was the quickest he'd ever completed. He hoped he hadn't messed something up.

"Come on..come onnn," he urged the developing fluid.

He'd completed larger versions of half a dozen pictures, but this shot was the best one of the protesters in the crowd. Gradually, their faces began to take shape and the fuzzy blur on their signs gelled into letters.

Jimmy returned to the lights of the apartment dining table to inspect his find. He pulled out a magnifying glass and studied the lettering on the protesters' signs.

"One…day….only," he read. "Huge…mattress….sale."

"Mattress sale!?" he cried, flinging the magnifying glass across the room. "This doesn't get me anywhere!"

He pounded the table. Looking down, he noticed a detail in the picture where his fist had landed. "Wait a minute!"

He hurried over to the fallen magnifying glass, and took several long looks at the center of the picture. Jimmy was able to make out the faint, but unmistakable, outline of a black dog on top of a retaining wall at the edge of the leafy thicket.

"The Black Dog Man - that old fellow holed up in the shed where the vagrant trio was spotted. He told us he'd just arrived in Gotham City the night after the assassination!"

He compared the profile in the picture to his memory of the codger's canine companion. "That's about the right size! And his position there, just peeking out of the thicket, would only be twenty, twenty-five yards away from the spot Governor Klintody's limousine reached when the shots rang out!"

The pieces were all falling into place for Jimmy. "I better get this to Lois quick! But…will she agree that this looks like a dog?" Squinting some more at the nine dark pixels, he began to have doubts.

"Heck, I'll figure this out before I show it to her. I can get to the bottom of it myself. I'm not afraid of any old man and his dog. Dogs listen to me."