Batman : Well Is It? Or Isn't It?
Gordon reached for another tum, "all I needs an ulcer on top of a heart condition," he thought. Across the room Bullock looked expectantly at the Commisioner. Between them a mound of paperwork the size of a mountain mediated from the desk. Top of the pile was the coroner's report for Roland Marks.
"I thought The Marks thing was a suicide," Gordon grumbled.
It had been nice and tidy, and straightforward for once.
"Well Commish, it was, but now it looks like it could be murder." Explained Bullock. "Or then again it could be suicide," he added after a pause.
Gordon glared at him in disbelief, "well which is it?"
"Well I ain't sure," began Bullock.
"Is there a reason why we are taking time out from a manhunt for Mr Szaasz, to talk about this"?
Bullock was about to reply but decided it was better to flinch, he then tried a shrug, but the Commisioner's steely gaze remained in place.
Bullock decided that a sigh was the next best course of action, the whole Marks thing had been a simple open and shut, the coroner's conclusion had been that Roland Marks died from a shotgun wound to the head. But the deceased had jumped from the top of a twelve-story building intending to commit suicide. A note to that effect was later found in his jacket, indicating his despondency. But as he fell past the tenth floor he was grabbed from behind by Batman also in freefall. And whilst Batman was using his free arm to shoot a grappling cable onto the buildings roof Roland's newly saved life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a ninth floor window, killing him instantly.
"Bullock, I'm waiting," the Commisioner's impatience was stifling.
"Well you see Commish we have a witness..."
"Batman's testimony is not admissible" Gordon sighed with exasperation.
"No not the Bat, we have another witness who..." Whatever Bullock was about to say trailed off as Montoya burst through the door.
"Sir he's struck again, we have him cornered in a diner near tricorner!"
The Beacon light shone against the stars, in direct opposition to the moon. "Thank you for that help with Szaasz today," Gordon said to the shadowy figure looming in front of him.
"No problem" replied the steely voice.
There was an awkward silence.
"Well isn't this the part where you pull your disappearing act?"
"I get the impression there is something else on your mind."
"Do you remember the Marks case?"
"You mean the suicide I saved from death only to see him accidentally shot by a man who was threatening his wife, that Marks." The Batman's teeth were gritted.
"The very same," confirmed Gordon.
"Did you bring in the man who pulled the trigger?"
"No, the wife doesn't want to press charges, according to the coroner, "a person who sets out to commit suicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not be what he intended" is still defined as committing suicide."
"But Marks was shot on the way to his death twelve stories below!"
"Exactly," agreed the Commisioner, "even though his suicide attempt would not have been successful due to your intercedence. So originally this caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands."
"So what's the problem?"
"Will you just humour me for a moment, and give me your version of events."
It was hard to tell as first of all it was dark, and you could never quite see Batman's eyes behind those white filters in his cowl, but Gordon got the distinct impression that he was being glared at.
"The blast came from a window on the ninth floor," The Batman began after a long and awkward pause, "from an apartment occupied by an elderly couple".
"A Mr and Mrs Van Hooten," the Commisioner confirmed.
"Right, when I entered the apartment I found them in the middle of a blazing row. Vanhooten was threatening his wife with a shotgun. They were evidently both unaware of the damage the shot had caused. Vanhooten was so upset that when he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife..."
"And the bullet went through the window striking Roland Marks." finished Gordon.
"Surely the fact that he opened fire, that he threatened his wife with a weapon, indicates that Vanhooten fully intended to commit murder, the fact that someone else other than the intended victim took the hit shouldn't deter a prosecution. As you recall I was on my way to The Guggenheim at the time to follow up on that clue Riddler left behind."
"The Diamond heist, I know..."
"Vanhooten did not present a threat, he dropped the gun and sat down to await the police. I left as Mrs Vanhooten was opening the door to your men..."
"Okay, and you arrived at the Guggenheim in time to apprehend The Riddler."
"Correct," agreed the dark knight, "so why wasn't Vanhooten charged?"
Gordon remembered the Coroners words in the report on his desk, "When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B."
"Well Bullock read Vanhooten his rights but the old man and his wife were both adamant. They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded. Vanhooten said it was his long-standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. That he had no intention to murder her. Therefore the killing of Roland Marks appeared to be an accident, that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded. In light of this the DA felt she was unable to prosecute, she tried to persuade Mrs Vanhooten to change her testimony, to the effect that her life was in danger, but Mrs Vanhooten refused."
"So the case collapsed, and the coroner ruled suicide," Batman shook his head in disbelief.
"That is until today," Gordon beamed, "A woman came in to see Bullock today, she's the girlfriend of one Rolly Vanhooten, the Vanhooten's son. She say's she saw Rolly loading the shotgun about six weeks prior to the night of the fatal accident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother."
Gordon paused, "The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Roland Marks. I've put out an APB on Rolly Vanhooten but he hasn't been seen since..."
Gordon's voice trailed off he was alone on the roof.
"I swear one day I'm gonna find out exactly how you do that," he muttered as he fished around his coat for another tum.
"Batman are you there?" Oracles voice crackled through his cowl.
Somewhere in the background was an alarm.
"Talk to me," she heard Batman hiss, and then another confused voice "uh?"
This was followed by a crunch, and what sounded like the body belonging to the confused voice, being slammed into a wall.
"not you," a perfect one liner were it to have come from either Robin or Nightwing but there was no trace of humour in the Bats delivery just irritation.
"Are you done?" enquired Oracle.
"Yeah, just the one perp attempting a smash and grab." The sound of the alarm was more distant Batman had obviously returned to the car.
"I did that check on Rolly Vanhooten you asked for..."
"What did you find?"
"Nothing, Airlines, trains, and coaches, all drew blank, no one in or out of Gotham under that name. No credit card activity either Rolly's not bought anything since before Marks' death."
"So he's still in Gotham."
"I guess, his apartment is unnoccupied."
"How can you be certain?"
"Both the electric and water meters in his apartment have been static since the murder."
Batman could feel Oracle's triumphant smile through his com.
Sometimes Batman had to ask himself which one of them was the more scary?
"Oh and his car was towed away sometime ago listed as abandoned."
"Abandoned where?" Batman asked but instinctively he already knew.
"From outside his apartment."
Mr Vanhooten was by nature a deep sleeper, his wife had always been the one to wake him up in the middle of the night, he would then prowl wearily around the apartment with his unloaded shotgun knowing perfectly well that "the noise" would turn out to be nothing.
This was not one of those times. For starters his wife was still asleep, she had been taking tablets every night since the shooting. If Gotham had another quake she would sleep right through. Secondly, there had been no noise but Mr Vanhooten instinctively knew they were not alone. He knew from the luminous display of the bedside clock that it was just after three am. Too early for the maid, Vanhooten shuddered this was not a drill, this was the real deal, but what to do? The shotgun was unloaded he had checked it umpteen times since, thereby rendering it useless in a confrontation. And in the event that said confrontation turned violent Mr Vanhooten didn't think he could cope with another night of the GCPD. Especially the fat scruffy one, but what else could he do?
Mrs Vanhooten was still asleep, he felt rather than heard that the presence was at the opposite end of the room.
"Who's there..? Who? R-Rolly is that you?" He gasped sensing that the presence had drawn nearer, and in the dark he could make out a tall shape something flickered, he caught a glimpse of a yellow oval shape just as an arm reached out to grab the collar of his jammies, which he now knew to be soiled further down south. The yellow oval shape was right in front of him now, inside the oval was the pattern of a bat.
"Rolly's not here," an icy voice growled, "where is he?"
"P-please I don't know I swear to god!"
"Batman stop!" It was Oracle again, "there's something you should know!"
It was just coming up to three thirty am when Jim Gordon got the call. For the first time he could remember he had got to bed at a reasonable hour, and not the makeshift cot in his office either, he had actually gone home.
He glared in the direction of the screaming phone. He then decided that the glare would be more effective if he could see, he snapped on the bedside light and fumbled for his glasses. All the while the phone continued its assault.
"You had better be urgent!" He realised his teeth were gritted, he picked up the phone. "Gordon here."
"Jim, I'm with the Vanhootens."
"Batman have you any idea what time...? Never mind." Gordon sighed, he knew these things were meaningless to the Bat. "Have you found Rolly?"
"Not exactly."
"So the murderers still at large!"
"No Jim you can call off the APB."
"What do you mean?" Gordon was rapidly arriving at the end of what little patience he had. "Is it a murder or isn't it?"
"Well I'm not sure..." came the distant reply.
"Is there a reason why you are interrupting my sleep for this?"
"Did anyone formerly identify Marks' body?" Batman asked.
"No, we were unable to trace any next of kin, Marks was identified by what was in his wallet, why?"
"That's because Marks was an orphan," Batman explained, "unlike Rolly Vanhooten."
"What's your point Batman?"
"Rolly, or rather Roland Vanhooten is Roland Marks."
Gordon was wide awake now, and could sense the beginnings of a major headache.
"I just learned that the Vanhootens adopted on the black market, the paperwork will be on your desk tomorrow. Roland recently learned the truth and unknown to everyone had reverted to using his original name. Mrs Vanhooten confirmed that she quarrelled with her son, he has some sizeable debts in Vegas, she cut off his allowance, whereupon Rolly loaded the shotgun in an attempt to engineer her murder. Rolly had credit cards and ID made out in the name of Marks, it looks like he was planning to disappear following the murder."
Batman paused, "What follows is largely conjecture but I think it's as close to the truth as we'll ever get. Rolly became increasingly despondent over both the loss of his financial support, the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder, and the pressure to repay his debtors. This led him to jump off the building, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth-story window."
Gordon was lost for words.
"So in a way Rolly Vanhooten or Roland Marks murdered himself," Batman concluded, "or commited suicide, I'll leave you to decide."
The phone went dead, but Gordon still held it to his ear, after a long moment he replaced the reciever, his stomach began it's usual war dance, that had him out of bed searching his coat for the tums.
"Murder or Suicide?" he muttered, "Hell I'll let the DA decide."
He heard the flip of a quarter as it spilled out of his pocket onto the floor. For a moment it reminded Jim of the old days when Harvey Dent had been District Attorney, long before his dreadful transformation to Two Face at the hands of the mob.
Harvey and his coin, always flipping.
Murder or suicide?
One thing was for sure, Jim mused, if Harvey was still DA he would know how to decide.
THE END