The headlines about yet another murder Batman could have prevented, if he only could remember the details in time, stared up at Bruce from the Gotham Gazette when he opened it at the breakfast table. John Grant had been murdered the day before, bitten by a deadly cobra in his home.
John Grant, a sportsman who had been declared dead some years ago – after a cobra bite. He had been revived and became one of the members of the Death-cheaters; a club whose members were going to be murdered, one by one. Unless Batman could prevent it.
He and Robin had been there when it started, in a way – not long before he came to this time. They had witnessed a shoot-out between the gang-leaders "Joey the Rod" and "Little Dougy" where Dougy had been shot before they could intervene. They apprehended Joey, but Dougy was declared dead at the hospital; however, one of the doctors had refused to give up and had managed to revive the man.
Bruce had read about the case those first days when he was catching up on what had happened recently, and he had thought about what he ought to do. He remembered that in the not too distant future, Dougy would apply for membership in the newly formed Death-cheaters club since the club members were offered a substantial sum for the movie rights to their histories. But Dougy was refused because of his criminal record; when someone tried to murder the members, by methods that mimicked how they had once died, the gangster was a natural suspect.
Batman and Robin had, however, been suspicious. It had soon become obvious that the murderer knew the club members' personal habits in a way that Dougy, who had only met them briefly, could hardly do.
The crimefighting duo had been able to save several members in the nick of time, but they couldn't find the murderer. Eventually, Bruce had decided the best way was for him to join the club and set a trap for the murderer. He had "accidentally" swallowed a deadly poison while they had arranged to have a doctor in the house, answering a call from Alfred. Once the doctor had proclaimed him dead, Dick had given him artificial respiration that had revived him. The plan had worked out, in the end.
He had never got around to look into the case since he came here. Once he had decided to stay and use his knowledge in whatever way he could, there were so many things that he wanted to get started on. But now it had begun all over again – it was time for Batman to act.
He didn't intend to repeat his death; it was a huge risk to take, and much as he knew that Dick would do anything in his power to resuscitate him, the boy's injury might make it difficult for him to succeed in reviving his guardian.
He remembered Dick's anxious face, just as he swallowed the poison. And how he had been pale and trembling, once Bruce drifted back into consciousness. Even disregarding the danger to himself, he really didn't want to put the boy through that ordeal again. And since he knew who was responsible, there was no reason for him to put either of them through the "accidental" death of Bruce Wayne.
Accidentally swallow a deadly poison, Bruce thought with a small grimace. It was a good thing that Bruce Wayne of this time had a reputation as not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but still… It was a wonder that anyone bought it.
"Why are you making faces, Bruce?" Dick asked, calling him back to reality.
"… Just thinking about the murder, chum."
"Will Batman get involved? Can I come down to the cave and help?" the boy asked, leaning forward over the table.
The fact was that Robin could do nothing to help; Bruce couldn't recall everything about the case, but he did remember who the murderer was. Jeff Sievers, personal accountant of most of the rest of the club members, who had used his position to embezzle large sums. Dougy's threats had given him the idea to murder the men and hence keep his theft from being discovered, counting on that the gang leader would be the prime suspect.
Sievers' ticket into the club had been an attack of epilepsy. He had faked a new attack and left a threatening note, to give the impression that he had been a victim of the murderer.
But when had he done that… And had he gone after somebody else before that? Batman couldn't even remember if someone else had died, before Robin and he got involved in the case.
He had better keep Sievers under constant surveillance until the man made his next move. He would be able to prove that the man was not dead and thus the likely murderer.
Dick had been reading the newspaper article, while Bruce had been contemplating; the boy pushed the paper back over the table, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.
"Honestly, Bruce – a club called Death-cheaters? Only on Gotham…"
"… Hnh."
"And only a few months ago, we had that case with The Maskers, where every member wears a mask to work."
"… Yes."
"Are there many more clubs for weirdos in Gotham?"
"Don't say that – it's impolite."
"Okay. Are there many more clubs for eccentrics?"
"… I suppose you could count The Danger club. For people with jobs so dangerous that they can't get life insurance."
"Oh… At least that makes sense – like a trade union for dangerous occupations."
"Hm."
"What are you going to do? What can I do?"
"I don't think there is anything for Robin to do, at least not at the moment."
"Come on, Bruce, I'm dying of boredom here! At least you can let me try to do some research on the Batcomputer."
If it weren't for the mannequin with the first parts of a future Robin costume standing in the middle of the Batcave, Bruce would have let the boy have his way. As it were, he intended to keep Dick out of the cave a while longer. He wasn't ready to have that particular conversation, yet.
"Not today, chum. Tell you what – this article has a list of all the club members. Why don't you use the computer in your room to look up information about how they cheated death, where they live and so on."
Dick narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to one side.
"… Why do you want me to do it up here? Normally, you don't want me to do any Robin work upstairs, in case someone accidentally breaks into my room and sees that I'm doing other stuff than homework…"
Yet another of those questions he didn't have a good answer for.
"I'm… concerned about your health, chum. The cave is chilly, and you're not fully recuperated."
He ignored Dick's protest that he was perfectly fine and that Bruce was being ridiculous, and continued, "Being curious about the club members will seem normal enough if anyone should happen to find your browsing history."
"M-hm…"
"Of course, since you're going to delete the history as soon as you're finished, that's not going to be a problem. You can compile a file for me for this evening. Now, I'm going to head out."
"Already? In broad daylight?"
"Mhm."
"If you're not careful, the rumour that Batman is, in fact, a vampire is going to dissipate…"
"I'll have to take that risk," he chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair before he left for the Batcave.
Batman intended to keep an eye on Jeff Sievers until the man made a move that gave him away. If that meant tailing the man all over Gotham for a week, so be it. Several of the club members had come extremely close to getting killed, and he might not be so successful in saving them this time as he and Robin had been the first time.
The truck driver Hack Dawes had been seconds away from being hit by artificial lightning when the Dynamic Duo called for him to jump out of his truck and the actor Gregory Orrick had been ready to start chewing on his new, poisoned glasses when Batman and Robin burst into his room.
No, staying on Sievers' tail would be a simpler way to stop the murders. But Robin was correct, in so far as Batman was seldom seen in daylight and would attract unwanted attention in the city. It was easier to hide in the shadows when there were, in fact, shadows pretty much everywhere.
But working as Batman didn't necessarily mean that he had to dress as Batman, and Bruce went past the Batsuit and headed for a large dressing table, filled with makeup, wigs and everything he needed to transform his appearance.
Shortly after he looked sufficiently unlike Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy; with longish, cendré hair, rounder face contours and brown eyes, and dressed in blue jeans, white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. It wasn't until he looked himself in the full-length mirror that he realised that he had chosen to dress just as Dick would do in a few years time when he wanted to look proper but still Dick Grayson rather than a Wayne heir.
If Bruce didn't know that he was not the sentimental type, he could almost believe he had subconsciously chosen those clothes because he missed the older version of the child upstairs.
He couldn't go out in the Batmobile, and even if Bruce Wayne had more cars than anyone could keep up with, he wasn't going to take any risks. But he had seen just the vehicle, standing behind the little collection of cars in the cave. A black, sleek motorbike; it would fit perfectly for his outfit and was fast and flexible, to boot.
The disguised Batman headed straight to Jeff Sievers' home, a house in the Gotham suburb on the far side of Brown Bridge, where he stashed the bike out of sight and started looking around. It would seem he was in luck; Sievers' car was parked outside the building.
However, he could see no sign of movement from the house. No shadows passing the windows, no light being turned on or off and not a single ruffle in the curtains. At this time of the day, and with the car still outside, there really should be some sign of life.
Batman kept vigil for almost an hour, without seeing any sign that the villa was inhabited before he decided to get a closer look. He walked around the house, looking in through windows and listening. When he still could not pick up any signs of life, he went to the front door, knocked and tried the doorbell. When nothing happened, after several tries, he quickly picked the lock and sneaked inside.
It was completely still, and Batman quietly made his way through the house. No breakfast on the table, no clothes or briefcase lying about, ready to be picked up when the owner left for work.
The door to what was probably the bedroom was slightly ajar, and as soon as he peeked inside, Batman knew what was going on.
Jeff Sievers was lying lifeless on his bed, dressed in his pyjamas, and surrounded by pillows and sheets in disarray. Beside him on the bed was a note, presumably of the threatening kind.
Sievers had already made his next move – by staging his own second "death" by an epileptic fit. Possibly an accomplice was already on the way, to produce a death certificate and make sure that his "body" was taken to a safe place.
Fortunately, Batman was prepared for that; he had brought a drug that would counter the effects of what Sievers hade taken. He hesitated for a moment, considering what to do. He could revive Sievers, call an ambulance and the police and take his chances that he could uncover evidence while the man was still at the hospital. Or he could let Sievers' plan work out and tail the man until he made his first attempt on another club members' life.
The latter would be a surer way to get the evidence he needed – but it would also mean endangering lives, even if one of the persons in danger were a murderer. Batman had learned his lesson; there were no guarantees that everything would play out as they once had.
He took out a syringe and a vial of the drug, filled the syringe and injected Sievers. It would make the man's heartbeat pick up so that it would be impossible to pass him off as dead to the police, as the man's plan had been. The murderer wouldn't wake up for a few hours, however, and Batman decided to take a look around the house before he called the police and ambulance.
He knew that Sievers had embezzled money, and he could probably get a confession out of the man with a combination of scare and bluff. But the case would be tighter if he could find solid evidence.
Since Sievers was planning to play dead, and leave his home and everything in it, he had to assume that the man had tried to remove all evidence and move incriminating material to his hideout. If he could only remember where that was… Perhaps he would find a map, a photo or a document that would help him remember.
But the man was no fool – Batman had had to resort to pretty desperate measures to catch him, after all. He wasn't likely to leave incriminating documents in plain sight.
Batman rubbed the back of his head with his knuckles; he really should know where the hideout was. How had he and Robin managed to locate it… He couldn't remember pouring over any detective work, once they had deduced whom the murderer was…
They had fooled the man that Bruce Wayne was sitting in a canoe in a park in the city. Sievers had used a blow-pipe for a poisoned dart; it had in fact been a dummy in the canoe, and Batman and Robin had jumped the man. Batman had got in a hit, but when Sievers had stumbled backwards Robin, who had jumped from a tree, missed and knocked himself unconscious on the rocks that lined the shore of the lake. Sievers had got away when Batman went to help the boy, but when the crimefighting duo saw that Batman had got red ink on his hand, they realised that Sievers was their man. Few people use red ink, but accountants do, and his pen had leaked.
They had gone back to Sievers' house to look for clues, and…
He almost laughed out loud – Batman wasn't the only one to take advantage of a place hidden underground, after all. Oliver Queen had a cavern under his home for his Arrowcave, the League had a cave for headquarter, and Jeff Sievers simply used the hidden cellar under his house.
All he had to do was drive home and change into his suit, call the police, and come back and pick up the evidence.
Jeff Sievers woke up, several hours later, in a hospital bed. As soon as his eyes were open enough, Commissioner Gordon rose from a chair by the wall and went over to the bed.
"Good day, Mister Sievers. I suppose this isn't where you expected to find yourself, but while you've been unconscious, Batman found your hideout and exposed your crimes."
Sievers stared with wide eyes and mouth at the commissioner and flinched when Batman seemed to materialise out of the shadow in the far corner of the room.
"You have embezzled money. Murdered John Grant. And you have made notes on the personal habits of the club members that you intended to take advantage of to kill them," Batman stated.
"What..? No… I wouldn't….," the man protested, his eyes shifting between Gordon, Batman and the Police Sergeant that stood on guard beside the door.
"I might not be able to prove that you intended to murder the other club members to cover up for your embezzlement. But I can promise that you will go down for the murder of John Grant," Batman continued.
He stared at Sievers for a few seconds, to let his words sink in, before he turned on his heel, nodded curtly to Jim Gordon and walked out of the room. The only task left for Batman was to find an excuse to give Robin about how he had found the murderer straight away. He would have to blame it on dumb luck, probably…
On his way out, he heard the Sergeant clear his throat and start talking:
"Jeff Sievers. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…"
I admit; I wrote this chapter mostly so I could highlight the absurd clubs of Gotham.
The Death-cheaters of Gotham City. Batman # 72. By David Vern Reed, art by Jim Mooney.
The Maskers, "The Legion of Faceless men", Batman # 72. Art by Dick Sprang and Charles Paris.
The Danger Club, Batman # 74. By Edmond Hamilton, art by Bob Kane and Charles Paris.
The Frolickers, "Robin – boy acrobat", art by Jim Mooney. In Star Spangled Comics # 114.
Some panels:
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