***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
"It's six a.m. on Saturday morning at Gotham's hit oldies station, WGHO. I'm Patti King, your hostess with the mostest, here with you till noon." Yawning, I fought the temptation to pull the blankets around me again, rolled over and slapped the button and sat up. Stretching, I shivered then padded into the bathroom.
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
I pulled into St. Andrew's parking lot at seven thirty. Popping the trunk, I slung my purse on my shoulder, and grabbed the box with the casserole. As I struggled with the box, my purse decided to keep sliding off my shoulder. I managed to sling it into the trunk, and slammed the lid with my elbow. I got about thirty feet away, when I realized I had locked my wallet and costume with my lockpicks in the trunk, and the keys in the ignition. "Ah … fudge." I cursed myself. "No purse, no costume, and no lockpicks. Maybe I can borrow a coat hanger, if someone doesn't steal the car."
I followed a couple other people inside, and saw Father Tim. He was talking on a cell phone, but paused long enough to smile and say, "Glad you could make it! We're setting up the pot-luck in there." I went where he pointed, and found four other women, chatting and heating up soups. One came over and took the box with the casserole.
"Hello, I'm Bertha. Glad you could make it! What do you have?" A very large lady asked.
"This is what I call my seven-eleven casserole. Seven meats and eleven different vegetables and cheeses." I said with a smile.
"Sounds wonderful! Is this your first time here?" I nodded, and she continued. "Susan is organizing this party. She's got a camelhair coat on. Got any special skills?" I grinned, and shook my head. Bertha smiled, and said, "She'll find you something to do. Lunchtime's at twelve." Someone else came in, and I smiled and left.
Father Tim had finished his conversation, and I smiled at him, and asked, "Father, I seem to have locked my keys in my car. Do you know anyone that can help me?"
"Certainly. Ralph can get them out for you. He's a good sort, but he's had a bit of a shady past. He's just the fellow for you. He's tall, thin, silver hair, and wearing a red checked shirt and overalls. I last saw him on the third floor." I nodded my thanks, and headed up the stairs.
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Ralph was nowhere to be found. I traveled up and down the stairs, always one or two steps behind him. I finally gave up when I found Sheila, who dragged me into a room.
"I found our fourth person!" She gleefully announced. I looked, and Mary and Josephine were stripping old wallpaper off the walls. I took a breath, then said, "Hello. I'm Selina. This is my first time here. Where do I start?"
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Mary had been sent on an errand to get us all something to drink. Josephine finally put down her scraper, and said, "Selina, you look very familiar. Would you happen to … be … um …"
"One of those people that run around the rooftops wearing spandex and fighting each other?" I asked. Sheila put down her sandpaper, and leaned against the wall, regarding me. I looked at each of them, and then asked, "What if I am? What if I'm not?" I smiled, and asked, "Would a certain … um, gray-clad burglar have locked her keys in her car?" Sheila laughed, and Josephine smiled, and returned to scraping wallpaper.
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
I heard a car alarm, and hurried to the window. Sheila looked down, and muttered a soft curse. "My car! Those … they've broken into my car!" She ran out the door, followed by the three of us.
We caught up to Sheila, who was waving her fist in the air after some departing punks. "You bums! I'll see you all locked up!" The only answer was their laughter. She turned and regarded her Mercedes. They had smashed the windshield and two of the windows, shot through the rear window, put a round through Sheila's custom GC_LAW plate, pried open her trunk, and knifed two tires. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she twitched away from me. Josephine brought over her purse; they had grabbed the wallet and tossed the rest of the bag. Sheila nodded her thanks, and muttered, "Great. Now they know where I live." She glared at me, and said, "I hope you've been on the straight and narrow, Selina."
I nodded, and said, "I never did cars."
She took a deep breath, then nodded, and said, "I know. I'm sorry. It's just that …"
"I'll do what I can to help, Sheila." I told her.
"I know, Selina. I know."
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
The elusive Ralph was attracted by the commotion, and Father Tim managed to steer him over to me before he could vanish again. With a shrug, he used his magic fingers to pop the lock on my car, handing me my keys with a flourish. I smiled at him, popped my trunk open to check it, and he had vanished again. I blinked, then said to myself "Naaa."
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
After the police had filed their report, and Sheila's car had been towed, I approached her as she stood, staring in the direction of the departed punks. I quietly said, "Sheila?" and she started, then looked at me.
"Would you like a lift back to your place?" I asked. "Maybe some company to see if anything's been …"
"Stolen?" She took a breath, then nodded. "I'd appreciate that. Right now, if I find those little punks, I don't know what I'd do."
I smiled, then said, "Why don't you stay at the manor for a couple nights? I don't think Bruce would mind, he's got entire floors that haven't been used in years." Sheila smiled, and I walked to my car to extract my cell phone from the purse in the trunk. I lifted my eyebrow, and Sheila sighed and nodded.
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Sheila's apartment was trashed. She sobbed when she picked up photos that had been ripped and torn. While she poked through the wreckage, I checked the security, noting only a single deadbolt and cheap locks on the balcony doors. I helped her pack up some clothes and things, and carried them down to the car.
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
"Ms. Hawking, how nice to see you again. I just wish it was under better circumstances." Bruce said as he walked down the steps to the garage entrance.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I appreciate your generosity." Sheila smiled, and Bruce said, "In that case, I'd appreciate it if you'd call me Bruce. Let me help you get settled. We're pretty casual here, and if you'd like to borrow a car until yours is repaired, I don't mind. We've set up a suite of rooms for you on the fourth floor in the east wing, just down the hall from Selina's."
### Chapter 16: Of Casseroles and Counselors