A Treat
But all of that could wait...
Five o'clock finally struck. Thank the beautiful stars. All the visitors were politely rushed out and the glass doors shut behind them.
Barbara and Jerome exhaled similar sighs of relief. They made eye contact across the room and smiled warmly. Before they could met each other in the middle of the room however, Mr. Denbrough stepped in between.
"Another spectacular day, wouldn't you say, Ms. Kean?" His voice ran like silk and his eyelashes fluttered behind his dark frames.
"I would say, indeed," Barbara purred as she moved past him and onto Jerome. Although a certain little something stopped her from actually jumping on him.
A warm freckled hand cupped her stomach gently.
"How's he doin today?," Jerome asked only loud enough for Barbara to hear. She smiled.
"Hungry," she answered just as soft.
"Well, let's fix that, shall we?" Jerome purred and lifted her up bridal style without hesitation. He started his waltz towards the exit before the third presence in the room cleared his throat.
"And where do you think you're going? We're not fully closed for the day yet."
"Tell that to Junior!" Jerome called over his shoulder. Barbara helped kick the door open so they walked out smoothly. Both of them had the beginnings of a date night on the mind.
"Harv, quit hogging the binoculars," Jim grumbled to his partner.
"You ain't gonna believe this, Jimbo," Harvey muttered off-handedly. He still had the binoculars, sticking himself halfway out the window.
"Well, seeing is believing, Harvey," Jim snarked as he tried another grab at the exaggerated glasses. It was another minute before Harvey sighed and gave the pair of eyes to his partner.
Judging by the growl, Jim found the exact predicament troubling Harvey.
"I can't believe this-"
"Told ya," Harvey snorted. Jim glared.
"Is this some big joke to you? Two murderers are dating and working together. We've got another Bonnie and Clyde on our hands."
"Those two are not coordinated enough to be like that. They're too crazy. Besides, an art gallery? What the hell are they gonna do there?"
"...Steal something," Jim mumbled, his resolve softening. Harvey snorted again.
"Yeah, cuz a couple of ex-murderers decided to get a job and THEN get into theft instead. Look, I know you don't trust them- hell, I don't trust 'em neither- but sometimes, ya gotta let it go. I don't think they would write a riddle and send it all the way to the GCPD."
"Oh yeah," Jim said to himself. Unfortunately for him, his partner heard it.
"What, did you just think this was an excuse to see how much better off Barbara is without you? Get your head in the game, ya pansy," and with that Harvey hopped out of the car and started down the hill towards the gallery.
"Harv, wait!" Jim called in vane and looked around, borderline frantic.
"They're not comin, Jim. Give it up already," Harvey called over his shoulder in return. Jim's shoulders sagged slightly and he trucked along a few steps behind Harvey. "I don't even understand why they were supposed to tag along in the first place."
"I trust Cat," Jim defended weakly. "She's real good at sneaking into places she shouldn't be."
Harvey turned to him with a raised brow. "Ooookayyy, and is there a seemingly normal reason you know that?" When Jim failed to respond in time, Harvey continued, "that's what I thought."
"She visits me, in my apartment-"
"And ya see that's already WAY too much information that I never wanted to know," the bearded man flailed his arms as he talked.
"Jesus, Harv, she's a kid! She just...," Jim sighed heavily, never really wanting to tell anyone about Selina's surprise visits and actually-helpful advice, but he was NOT about to have his partner think of him in that way. "She helped me with Lee. And she calmed me down. It's more insightful to get advice from another woman than a man."
"But Jim," Harvey turned around and stopped halfway through the parking lot. He stared into Jim's face for a moment, the awkwardness of the conversation turning into more serious apprehension.
"You are a woman." Harvey turned back to the building, a smirk stretching his features as he continued his waltz to the doors.
"Aha aha, you're so funny. You should quit your day job."
"Oh but, Jim, where would you be without me?" Before Jim could come up with a snarky comeback, a sudden weight on his shoulders nearly knocked him down to the pavement.
"Were you guys gonna start without us?" the weight pouted. Jim sighed, chancing a glance at Oswald. He seemed a bit tense.
"There's actually not much you can-"
"Shhh," Harvey put an index finger in front of his lips. Selina slipped off of Jim's back and tiptoed closer to the large glass doors.
There was a toothpick of a man inside with a clipboard and a pair of glasses on the edge of his long nose.
"I thought you wanted to sneak in after hours," Selina commented with her eyebrows drawn together.
"That was the plan," Harvey mumbled.
Jim turned to Oswald, "I thought you said that Barbara was the curator."
"She should be." Oswald stepped closer to the doors and recognized the man. He smiled gracefully, "that's the owner." He tapped on the glass with his cane.
The man looked toward the door and as soon as he saw The Penguin he sped-walked to the door. He opened it welcoming.
"Good evening, Mr. Penguin. In for a stroll around?"
"I'm afraid not today, Mr. Denbrough." He gestured to Jim and Harvey. "My detective friends are investigating... oh, what was it, Jim?"
Jim flashed his badge reflexively, "GCPD, we'd like to ask you some questions."
"Oh, yes, of course. Come in, come in." The detectives stepped in first followed by the Penguin and Selina.
"What is this? I signed up for snooping around, not talking," Selina hissed to her boss.
He leaned closer ever so slightly, "then go snoop." Her eyes lit up with realization. She slipped away from the group and darted into the adjacent room.
"What can I do for you, Detectives?" the owner asked politely.
Before Jim could think to ask about his ex-fiancée, Harvey took to the lead.
"Yes, uh, have you been receiving any threats lately? Or maybe a random, unsettling letters in general?"
"Letters?" Mr. Denbrough asked cautiously.
"Riddles," Jim offered flatly. The man laughed, mostly out of surprise. Soon the incredulity left and a grim expression washed over him.
"No, I haven't." He rubbed his temple with long, bony fingers. "Another psychopath in Gotham. Just what we need," he mumbled.
"You're tellin me," Harvey related. Jim looked around and found the long hidden hallway at the far end of the lobby.
"Have you looked in your office recently?" He pointed down the hall and ventured a guess. The owner followed his gaze then stood straighter.
"Only to grab this," he held up the clipboard. "I neglected to check my desk," he admitted.
Jim flashed a quick half-smile. "Let's go check."
Boss gave me a curt nod before I heard their footsteps echo down the hallway and he followed.
I'll admit, it was pretty cool to be in a gallery all by myself. I didn't really have to sneak in either, and the cops were on my side. Kinda. If I wrecked anything then obviously they'd have a field day.
I didn't really understand why we were there anyway. Weren't those two homicide detectives? But we're investigating a riddle?
Of course I knew the real reason. Jim wanted to check up on his ex, which is never a good thing. Although, Boss is here so...
Yeah, right. Like either of them saw this as a date. What would have to happen is me and Buttock leaving them alone somehow.
Even though I'd really really prefer not to talk to that hobo-cop, I guess it'd be worth the chance of those two numskulls being happy together.
Jim and I really needed to talk.
I examined each painting carefully, but I didn't get any of them. A majority of them were obtuse... wait no, absent? Abstract? Abstract! That one. I dunno, but they looked weird. Some of them were landscapes. One in particular caught my eye.
It was of an Arctic scene, the green and purple Northern lights lighting up penguins down on the pure white snow. It was small and hung crooked.
Looking around the room, still finding myself alone, I tried to fix the frame myself. As soon as I lifted the frame, a piece of paper slipped out from behind it and hit the floor.
I froze, staring at the folded up paper. I carefully set the painting back against the wall and picked up the clue.
I unfolded it and mouthed the words:
I am a merry creature,
In pleasant time of year,
As in but certain seasons,
I sing that you can hear:
And yet I'm made a by-word,
A very perfect mock;
Compared to foolish persons,
And silliest of all folk.
"Huh?" I asked aloud, my brow furrowed. I folded it back up and walked down the hallway to the supposed office. "Boss, what the hell is this?" I called.
Boss stepped out of the room and saw the paper in my hand. He took it from me and read it himself. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Whatever it is, I don't like it," he admitted. Jim stepped out then and took it from him. He looked at me.
"Where did you find this?" He asked, rather snappishly.
"It was under a painting." I saw the hobo raise an eyebrow. "I wasn't stealing it," I sneered.
"Sure you weren't, kid," he said in that I'm-better-than-you-because-I'm-an-adult way. I clenched my fist but kept my cool.
"Whatever, I don't have to explain myself to a fake cop," I snarked. He looked about ready to bark at me like a dog.
"Which painting, Selina?" Jim cut in.
"The small one with the penguins," I said while pointing to the room I was in. Then I realized, "...the penguins." The men around me seemed to pick that up as well.
I led the way and showed them the piece in question. The detectives read over the note again.
"Mocking bird?" Bullock offered.
"I believe it is a cuckoo bird, sir," the old guy corrected.
"But it says 'mock'," the detective argued childishly.
"Yes, but it says 'made by-word' which means it is named after what it sings," the old guy was patient enough, but there was an underlying superiority to his tone.
"Whatever," the scruffy man relented.
"Obviously it's not a penguin," Jim took over. He looked to Boss, the wheels turning in his head. "And it was found under the penguins."
"Therefore, it is a threat to me," Boss sighed. "I don't know what coward would play games rather than confronting me himself." Boss forced a smile over the clear irritation.
"Yeah, but why a cuckoo bird?" I spoke up. I stepped closer to Jim to see the riddle again. "I'm pretty sure they are no 'merry creatures' like that in Gotham so what are we supposed to do with this?"
"Not real ones anyway," Jim considered, then the light bulb went off. "Cuckoo clock." He turned to Bullock. "This could be a bomb threat, Harv."
"Woah, woah, where'd you get that from?"
"What, you don't see it?"
Bullock blinked and looked around at the people around him. "No," he raised his eyebrow at his partner. "How does clock equal bomb? And why wouldn't the guy just give it to the Penguin himself? Why would he get us involved?"
A new determination took over Jim. "Because he's taunting us," he turned to Boss, "both of us. With... whatever this means."
Boss scoffed, "Then he's in for quite a treat, isn't he?"
AN: Thought I was gone like a year? Fear not! I have not forgotten about this story... yet. Truthfully, I haven't even made it past the second season. Fear of the future you see. Oh well, but anyway I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Lmk what y'all think.