By Smitty
Part Two: Thanksgiving
Gotham City: All Saint's Cemetary
The rain poured onto and over dozens of black umbrellas, soaking the sky, the ground, and all the mourners in between.
Oliver Queen was dead.
Bruce Wayne had an airtight alibi for the precise time of Queen's murder--he was with Queen's latest girlfriend. The Gotham gossip mills were well-greased and full of chaff. Speculation was heard as near as the gardener and as far as Metropolis.
Bruce stood stolidly next to Alfred, dressed in his black suit and holding his black hat as Oliver Queen was lowered into the ground. They'd instructed Dick to stay in the car, to spare him the whispers as well as the rain.
He could see Dinah standing near the front with her mother. The elder Dinah Lance was still slim and dark-haired, Bruce observed. A fairly large assortment of other women were in attendance, he noted wryly, many whom he recognized as Gotham or Star City socialites. There didn't seem to be any family.
"And so we commit the body of Oliver Queen to this hallowed ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"
Bruce closed his eyes and remembered another day as gray as this, with rain as cold as this plastering his hair to his forehead.
And so we commit the bodies of Thomas and Martha Wayne to this hallowed ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…
"Sir?"
Bruce opened his eyes at Alfred's light touch to his arm and saw Commissioner Gordon and a shorter, dark-haired man in a suit nearly as expensive as his own. They each carried an umbrella, shiny with rain, which did not keep their suits from soaking through.
"Commissioner," he said in a voice roughened by weather and the occasion.
"Wayne," Gordon greeted him, removing a soggy cigarette from his mouth and frowning at it. "This is Aristedes Monroe. He's the new DA in town. Wants a minute of your time."
"I thought this matter had been settled," Bruce asked, his teeth set. His nerves still burned from the memories of his parents' own burial. He didn't trust his guard around this man. "I was across the room when Mr. Queen was murdered. I knew him by reputation but was not close to him. I don't know who would want him dead, and I was too far away to do it myself. And I really don't think a funeral is the appropriate place for another interrogation."
"Actually," said Monroe mildly, "I have something else to discuss. I think they're done here. Perhaps you could step into my car."
Bruce cast a glance over his shoulder to see mourners lining up to throw handfuls of dirt or flowers on the casket as it sat in its grave. He nodded curtly to Monroe and walked with him to one of several black towncars. Gordon stayed behind.
"Do you smoke?" Monroe asked, drawing a cigar from his inner jacket pocket as the door was closed behind them.
"No," Bruce replied stonily.
"Mind if I do?" Monroe stuck the cigar in his mouth and cupped his hands around an expensive silver lighter.
"Yes."
"Oh." Monroe raised heavy dark eyebrows and released the lighter cap. It snapped down to extinguish the flame with a metallic click. "One of those clean air people, eh?"
"Something like that."
"Fine. I'd rather cut to the chase anyway. Dinah Lance came to see me yesterday."
Dinah Lance. He'd been hearing that name all too often lately.
"And?"
"Apparently Queen was working on some deal with the Gazzo family."
"Teresa."
"You know her?"
"I'm meeting with her next week. Wayne Enterprises owns some land she's interested in developing."
"Huh." Monroe rubbed his thumb over a large, ornate pocket watch and checked the time. "Miss Lance said her father was investigating some of Ms. Gazzo's potential business interests. Seems to think they're connected."
"What do you think?"
"I think Dinah Lance is the closest thing connecting those two. Those two and you, at least. Said she came to you for help. What kind of help?"
"She wanted me to find out if there was anything illegal going on with Teresa Gazzo's business."
"And you refused her?"
"Yes."
"Even though it might be in your best interest to know if you were getting mixed up in something shady?"
"I don't muck around in my business partners' personal business. If I don't believe in their integrity or if the investigators hired by the board of directors finds something amiss, I don't do business with them. It's not my place to investigate for the satisfaction of private citizens."
"You know you have an obligation to report any illegal activity you uncover, don't you?"
"Of course I do, Mr. Monroe," Bruce said, his eyes on the window of the car. The attendees were straggling back to their cars. An Asian woman walked by, holding the hand of a little boy, a few years younger than Dick. His complexion matched hers, but the hair on his head was as blond as…Ollie's? Bruce immediately filed away the connection and wondered if Dinah knew about the child. He wondered if Ollie himself had known about the child.
"Mr. Wayne?"
"I'm sorry." Bruce's tone implied that he most certainly was not.
"I heard you had another adventure the night of the murder."
"A mishap."
"You car was detained?"
"For a bit."
"And yet…Batgirl?"
"It certainly wasn't a man."
"I see. And the letter you received?"
"I turned it over to Commissioner Gordon. The fiend called himself Killer Moth. Wanted me to pay a hundred thousand dollars to keep it from happening again. Some sort of protection racket."
"Plan on paying it?"
"I was advised not to."
"Very well then. That's all my questions."
"I can go?"
"You may go."
"Thank you." Bruce found the door opened for him and stepped out into the pouring rain.
"Oh, but before you do?"
"Yes?"
"You might want to be careful. If Dinah Lance actually knows what she's talking about, you might be next in line."
"I'll take it under consideration."
Bruce jammed his hat onto his head and took several long, angry strides back to his own car, where Alfred and Dick were waiting.
"Bruce Wayne!"
He turned to see the younger Ms. Lance walking hurriedly toward him, her black dress plastered to her legs by the rainwater. Her hair was curling in the rain, ringlets falling in her eyes.
"Ms. Lance. May I offer my condolences?"
"Do you believe me now?"
"I believed you before," Bruce said mildly. "But I don't make my business decisions on belief. I make them on hard facts."
"Helping me find out the truth is a business decision?"
"It is when it involves sabotaging deals with potential clients or partners. If you'll excuse me."
"Is all you care about making money?"
A question so implausible, Bruce could almost crack a smile.
"On the contrary, Ms. Lance," he said, one foot in the car as Alfred held the door. "I care about a great deal more than money." He slid smoothly into his seat, allowing Alfred to close the door behind him.
Dinah Lance's expression looked downright stormy as Alfred said a few words to her that Bruce couldn't hear. She turned on one heel and walked back to where he mother was waiting. The seams on the back of her stockings were perfectly straight, Bruce noticed as Alfred pulled away. Not too many women could pull that off in the rain.
Gotham City: Gotham City Library
Barbara Gordon pushed a bookcart through the Gotham City library. Her arms still ached from the exertions of her heroic stint as Batgirl.
Batgirl!
The fact that she'd never made it to Mr. Wayne's party was a minor disappointment in the face of her metamorphosis. Quiet, bookish little Barbara Gordon, actually using her martial arts training, actually saving Mr. Wayne himself, and most exciting, actually meeting Batman! Her father had been out when she got home, investigating that awful murder at Wayne's party. The Batgirl suit was hidden in the back of her closet and she couldn't stop thinking about it. No one had known she was Batgirl that night. And it had sure beat shelving books at the library.
Gotham City: Wayne Towers
"She's late."
As the words left Lucius Fox's mouth, the boardroom doors swung open and the Gazzo entourage entered.
Teresa Gazzo, Bruce realized, was never late. Time stopped and started with this woman, making her 'now' the exact right time.
She might have been forty, but it would have been an outside guess, based on her achievements and poise rather than her toned, curvaceous figure and the lustrous black hair falling halfway down her back. She wore a suit of black wool and an ivory silk blouse, topped by a black and ivory scarf. The skirt fell to her knees revealing long legs in black stockings and black heels. Her face was unlined and her dark eyes were sharp, noting and cataloguing every detail of her surroundings. Her gaze was friendly and open, but far from warm.
"Mr. Wayne." She addressed him directly, snapping black eyes sizing him up as she offered her hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Gazzo," he said formally. "Allow me to introduce you to my Chief Operating Officer, Lucius Fox."
"Yes. Mr. Fox has made quite a name for himself in the business circles," Teresa said graciously when shaking Lucius' hand. "And my brother, Robert Jr."
Bobby Jr.'s gaze was far less friendly than Teresa's as he shook their hands and the additional introductions were made. Although the corporate profile listed him as Teresa's younger brother, he looked a good five years her senior. His suit was tailored large, lending him a look of slovenliness.
Bruce felt the skin around his own eyes tighten as he matched grips with the other man.
"Gaetano Viti," Teresa continued, "my security man."
"A long way from Chicago," Bruce commented, his hand nearly enveloped in Gaetano's meaty fist. Obviously Teresa hadn't meant security in the financial sense.
"I like the East Coast," Gaetano said in an unusually deep voice.
Bruce nodded slowly, noticing that Teresa did not introduce her secretary, a bookish young woman who positioned herself in a chair behind Teresa, stenographer's pad in hand.
"Can I get you anything?" he offered, ostensibly to Teresa, but the offer extended to her guests. "Water?"
"Thank you," Teresa accepted, but the rest merely placed themselves in a quiet circle around her as Bruce's secretary Maggie brought in a pitcher of ice water and several cups. "I'll cut to the chase, Mr. Wayne," she said over the sound of pouring water next to her elbow. "I want to buy the land Wayne Enterprises owns near Dixon Docks."
"We own a lot of land down there," Bruce said mildly.
"Bobby."
Bobby Jr. stood and brought a rolled map from an inner pocket of his suit jacket. He spread it out on the table and sat back down.
Bruce immediately recognized the area highlighted on the city planning chart. A swath a half mile out of the Docks, stretching about seven blocks into downtown Gotham, it was mostly populated by small businesses and churches. Wayne Enterprises owned the western part. The eastern part was owned by money even older than the Waynes'. There was a small Greek deli where Bruce often walked out for lunch when he had meetings at One Gotham Center and a bookstore Alfred took Dick to pick out the nightly bedtime stories. There was an auto repair place owned by a man who had done Bruce more than a few favors with no questions asked. One such favor was parked under the manor, on a hydraulic turntable, awaiting its nightly mission.
"And what are you going to do with a few blocks of real estate?" Bruce asked mildly.
"I'm going to pay you handsomely for them," Teresa told him bluntly. "And then they'll be mine to do with what I please."
"There are people there who have put their entire lives into their homes and their businesses," Bruce pointed out. "Can you guarantee consistent rent and maintenance of living conditions?"
Teresa watched him as she lifted her cup to her mouth and sipped slowly at her water. She seemed to be gauging his intentions as she set the cup back down and leaned forward on the table.
"I won't have to," she said, snapping her fingers over her shoulder.
Bobby immediately stood again, drawing another roll of paper from his jacket. Without a word, he spread that paper over the map of the Docks.
The new map showed a very different Dixon Docks. The old churches, brownstones and tiny shops were gone, lost behind a great white wall claiming to hold the 'Waterfront Shopping District'.
"You want to build a strip mall," Bruce said flatly.
"Not a strip mall," Teresa corrected. "This mall will be entirely self-contained. A single building in which one can wander from merchant to merchant without ever stepping foot outside."
"What about the properties that are privately owned?"
"I'll buy them out. They're little people. They'll jump at the sight of the money I can offer them."
"Some of them live there. Some of those businesses are their homes."
"Then they'll find others."
"I'm not sure I like the way you do business, Ms. Gazzo."
"Let's put it this way." Teresa accepted a creamy envelope from Bobby and slid it across the table to Bruce.
After a moment, Bruce took it, releasing the flap and withdrawing the heavy stationary within. He allowed his eyebrows to climb his forehead as he noted Teresa's generous offer.
"This is a lot of money," he admitted, folding the contract and replacing it in the envelope. "But what's to stop us from just keeping our land and doing the same thing?" He slid the envelope over to Lucius and folded his hands in front of him.
"You have contracts with the renters," Teresa returned. "You don't have the right to break their leases. Wayne Enterprises played softball and now you're going to get beat." The corners of Teresa's mouth turned up. "But I have an offer for you."
She'd done her homework, Bruce thought disgustedly. If Lucius didn't shut this meeting down soon, he might have to drop his unconcerned air and shut it down himself.
"This offer?" he asked, nodding at the paper Lucius was reading.
"I'll sweeten the deal," Teresa offered.
She was giving in too fast, Bruce mused suspiciously. She wanted the land badly, but she wanted to make this offer, too. Why?
"I can't imagine how," Bruce said, accepting the envelope Lucius passed back to him.
"I can write you a check for the amount indicated in the letter," Teresa told him, "or I can draw up a contract regarding a reduced sum and the balance made up in investment certificates. This venture is, if you'll excuse the pun, a ground-breaking opportunity. These malls will be the wave of the future. Don't tell me you can't see yourself pioneering a new sort of enterprise like this?"
"I can't see myself knowingly destroying the lives of two hundred people for a bunch of shiny new chain stores," Bruce returned, standing. "Maybe one day Gotham will lose all the character that makes it a unique city, but I won't be the one to sell it off. This meeting is finished, Ms. Gazzo."
"Think it over," Teresa suggested icily, the corners of her mouth tightening into light lines. "You may change your mind after sleeping on it a few days."
"We'll see, Ms. Gazzo. My office will call you before the holiday."
"Well. It's been a pleasure."
"The pleasure," Bruce countered, "was all mine."
Teresa tilted her chin up, gave Bruce's hand a sharp, brief squeeze, and turned on her heel, Bobby Jr., Vito and the secretary scuttling behind her.
"That was a damn good offer she made, Bruce," Lucius Fox said when the door was closed behind them. "You should really think it over."
"She's a liar, Lucius," Bruce said coldly, turning to look out the window.
"What's she lying about?" Lucius asked.
"I'm not sure about everything," Bruce said, his eyes fixed out on the view of Gotham River. "But I do know one thing. Bobby Gazzo never had any boys."
Gotham City: Wayne Manor
"Now?" Robin asked, crunched down in a corner of the coat closet.
"Not yet," Batman whispered, hunkering down beside him. "We have to wait until he leaves again."
"We can get them for breaking and entering," Robin complained, squirming.
"Wait."
They watched the men in green rubber masks and purple suits march through the house and into Bruce's study. The one in the lead had a large orange collar and seemed to answer to 'Killer Moth'.
A gunshot rang throughout the house.
"You killed Bruce Wayne!"
Batman and Robin exchanged surprised glances as a female voice rang out from the study. They ran to the door and saw Batgirl cracking together the heads of two of the Moth Men. A broken lamp lay on the floor next to a third.
"I bet that's not the first time you've fallen for a woman," she cracked.
Robin's face crumpled. "She's messing up our plans," he complained. "And she makes really awful puns."
"Ready Robin?" Batman asked. At the little boy's nod, he yelled, "Go!"
Batman drove his fist into the closest Moth Man's chin, knocking him out. Robin downed another one with a karate chop to the neck and shoved him back into the room. The falling body hit Batgirl behind the knee and she stumbled. Batman locked an arm around her shoulders and clamped a hand over her mouth, dragging her backward into the hall.
In the study, the Moth Men emptied the room, dragging their fallen comrades out the open window. Batman listened until they were gone, then released Batgirl.
"You let them get away!" she shouted, making a break for the study once again, but found a broad expanse of muscle and Kevlar blocking her way. "Bruce Wayne is dead! They killed him! Why didn't you stop them?"
"No," Batman corrected. "Bruce Wayne is not dead." He moved aside and let her run into the study and kneel beside the lifelike dummy Alfred had mocked up for them. "We had Commissioner Gordon tell Wayne not to pay the ransom. We set up this mock-up so we could follow them back to their hideout."
"Oh." Batgirl winced. "I messed up everything, didn't I?"
"Aw, it's ok," Robin told her, grinning winningly. "We'll find another way to get him. And hi. I'm Robin. You have a really great right hook."
The dark cowl prevented Batgirl and Robin from seeing Batman's eyes roll.
Joliet, Illinois: Statesville Correctional Center
Romano Viti collected his belongings from the guard manning the property return. The guard walking him out turned to spit a wad of chewing tobacco in a potted plant while he waited for Romano to sign the release form.
"Got all your stuff?" he asked, though he didn't care.
"Yeah," Romano answered.
"Got someone to pick you up?"
"Cab."
"Ok, then."
The heavy metal gate creaked loudly as it ground open.
"Whatcha going to do without your buddy Skeevers running all your dirty work for ya?" the guard asked, after another spit on the ground.
"He'll be out in six months," Romano Viti said mildly. "Maybe I'll have a job for him."
Gotham City: Wayne Towers
"I really think you should reconsider, Bruce," Lucius said from behind a roll of map paper. "Look, if you avoided the whole section around the C Building…"
"No, Lucius," Bruce said firmly. "We have an entire downtown area open for growth of this sort."
"But if we put the full weight of Wayne Enterprises behind it…"
"Then we'd be the big bad bullies." Bruce picked up the phone and dialed the number typed in the corner of the cream-colored sheet of paper. "Hello? Yes, this is Bruce Wayne. I'd like to speak to Teresa Gazzo."
"Right away, sir," the harried switchboard operator told him. He waited a moment and then heard another ring.
"Terry Gazzo."
"This is Bruce Wayne."
"Hello, Mr. Wayne. Can I assume this means you've come around?"
"Just the opposite, Ms. Gazzo. I'm calling to reiterate my refusal of last week. I won't let my father's company be party to the deterioration of Gotham's culture."
"Very well," Teresa said, her voice tinged with anger. "But I suspect you'll regret this decision. Have a Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Wayne. It's supposed to be a cold weekend."
"You too, Ms. Gazzo. You too."
Metropolis: Gazzo Estate
"I'm thankful you could all join me tonight for dinner," Teresa Gazzo greeted her guests. "We've been left alone in this world. Our families have been shattered. Our lives have been thrown into confusion. Our birthrights have been forsaken." She looked around the room, letting her gaze rest significantly on each person. "We are all that is left. And we are banding together to create the greatest family ever reckoned with. We are the survivors and we will triumph." She held up her glass. "Omerta."
"Omerta," the others echoed.
Gotham City: Wayne Manor
"And I'm thankful for the Batcave, and for my costume and for Alfred's cookies and…"
Bruce peeked through his eyelashes to see if Alfred was giving Dick a disapproving glance. He wasn't, so Bruce closed his own eyes again and smiled to himself as Dick's small hand squeezed his.
"…and meatloaf and my utility belt and um, Batgirl, and…"
Gotham City: One Gotham Center
Gordon cupped his hands around the tiny flickering flame the match offered, and held it to his cigarette.
"Got an ID?" he asked tiredly, shaking out the match before it singed his fingertips.
"Armand Lydecker," Lopez reported, looking at Gordon's cigarette tiredly. "Your wife's gonna kill you, boss."
"Not if these things do it first," Gordon replied, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "I left a perfectly good table of turkey. I think deserve a smoke. What do we have?"
"Army Lydecker. Rich boy. Inherited Lydecker Ltd. 'bout a year ago. Sits on the board of Gotham City Bank. Stabbed in the back."
"You're kidding." Gordon dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his shoe.
"I'm not."
"Shoot, Lopez."
"You think we have another one, sir?"
"I'm damn sure of it."
TBC on December 25