Title: Man on the Bench-part nine
Author: Simon
Characters: Dick Grayson and Manor crew, plus OC
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A trip to the Bahamas and the truth starts to come out.
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Thank you, Syl.
The Man on the Bench
Chapter NinePhilip called James as soon as he left the office. "I want you to stop what you're doing. There's been a change of plans."
"But I thought that…"
"I said to forget it. Did you hear me?"
Something was really wrong. "Yeah sure, I heard you, whatever you say. I'll pull the plug on this. Phil, are you positive you want to do this?"
"I'm positive. And, if anyone asks? This never happened and we never even considered anything, do you understand me?"
"It never happened."
Hanging up the pay phone, Philip got back in his car and drove himself home. That was it. There was no way he could go forward with this, not now. Not knowing what Batman had found out and would probably not hesitate to hand over to either Wayne or the police.
He was through either way.
If he went forward with it, he'd be ruined. If he stopped, he was ruined anyway.
The game was up.
On Bruce's island the kids were spending their last night on the beach in a tent, with light sleeping bags and a campfire. The water was lapping about twenty feet away; they were safely above the high tide line. Alfred had managed to produce a bag of marshmallows, and Bruce had taken Pat across the strait for a final dinner at one of the surf side restaurants that featured local fish.
"So, you can like come here anytime you want? You just get on a private jet and two hours later you're here, right? God—how do I get to be you, Dude?"
"It's not like that." His cousins gave Dick a collective look. "It really isn't most of the time. I mean, this is only the second time we've even been here since Bruce bought the place and that was like three years ago."
"No way. Man, if I owned this place I'd like live here. You'd have to pry me off with a spatula or something."
"…Bruce is really busy, you know. He's just, he's really busy most of the time."
The cousins had gathered that.
Too serious, Peter thought; time for a mood lightener. "Hey, Dick, can we swim?"
"Huh?"
"Sharp comeback, Dude. You know, can we go swimming here at night or will we die?"
"You swam here all day and you didn't die." Dick caught on to what Peter was doing and was suddenly happier than he'd been in a long time—even happier than after finding that he had family. They cared about him. They actually cared if he was sad or upset—it was a novel thought. God, he really liked it.
"Yeah, but now it's dark…"
"And the boogeyman will swim up and bite off our 'nads…"
God, if only Garth was here, it would be really funny. "Yeah, well, if that happens, Bruce will have you medivaced somewhere."
"Ride on a chopper in exchange for nads? Do it, Peter!"
"Steve—you would. Man, I'm not trading away anything before I get a chance to use 'em…"
"So by that reasoning, the next time you'll try night swimming will be, maybe two thousand and seventy-five? At least I don't come from the wuss side of the family."
"Bite me, Cuz."
"That an offer?"
Peter smiled really large, throwing a raw marshmallow at Dick. "Dude! You managed gross—Dick, you're learning. Two years with us and you'll develop some serious snark."
Dick shoved his cousin's shoulder. "Peter; go swim. Jerk." Laughing and throwing the rest of the marshmallows at each other, the four of them headed for the water.
"But, Philip, what I don't understand is why Batman gives a rat's ass about the boy? This seems like pretty small fish for someone who hangs his cowl in the Justice League."
"I've been wondering that myself, and I've come up with a couple of possibilities." Philip had driven over to James' house, knowing no one would be there and they could talk alone. Carolyn was home, and he didn't want her to hear any of this.
"Such as?"
"Think, James, think. We know that he bases himself around Gotham so he probably lives around the city, right?"
"Okay."
"And he's got to have some resources, financial resources to do what he does. Face it—all that equipment he uses doesn't come cheap. He seems to have custom everything from his costume to his car to his weapons. That's costing him some serious money, so we know he either has a lot on his own or has some major benefactor paying the bills."
"Makes sense, sure."
"Now Dick lives with Wayne, the second richest man in the country."
"And…?"
"And that's the crowd they hang out with. Money, serious money, and people who want to make sure that what they have is protected."
James wasn't a stupid man, but this wasn't the kind of thing he was good at. "So, you're saying that Wayne is Batman?"
Philip breathed out in some exasperation. "Pay attention, James. Who came to visit me, twice?"
"Batman." He hated when Philip patronized him. Really hated it.
"Right. And where are Pat and the kids right now?"
"On Wayne's island in the Bahamas."
"And Wayne is acting as host. I spoke to Pat twenty minutes ago, and they're, as we speak, eating chocolate mousse by the beach in some obscenely expensive restaurant down there. Wayne probably either has Batman on his payroll or has some shit on him to keep him under control."
"So that's why Batman is leaning on you? You really think that? Well, stay with me here, Phil. How do we know that Wayne isn't Batman himself? Huh? I mean he's richer than God, and he has Dick with him, and Batman has Robin. Seems like a pretty good fit, don't you think?"
"James. You're not paying attention. Wayne is in the Bahamas. Batman was here. Two and two, they equal four."
He really, really hated being patronized. Really hated it. "But I think that maybe someone else could have been playing Batman; that could happen, right?"
Another long-suffering sigh. "The man who was standing in my office was the real deal. Wayne is on an island. Period."
"But what about Dick being Robin? I mean, think about it, Phil. Really—listen to me. He's about the same age, he's athletic, he's a real smart kid and he travels in the circles Batman would have to know about. So, he could be…"
"Thinking, James. You're not thinking. Dick is Wayne's ward, not his son. The boy is an orphan and Wayne is a single man with a questionable reputation. They're checked up on regularly. They have to answer to Child Protective Services all the time. Robin is some kid who spends all his time doing police and vigilante stuff, right? Dick is an honor roll student who spends all his time either studying or being paraded as the heir apparent around Wayne Corp or those society things Wayne is always being seen at. How the hell would he be able to do both, you want to tell me that? On top of that, Robin has to be older. No fourteen, fifteen year old kid could pull off the stuff he does. Robin has to be a young looking twenty, maybe twenty-one. Besides, do you really think Batman would give the Robin all those weekends off to go skiing? He needs the kid to watch his back, for Chrissake."
"But, Phil…"
"You don't think, James."
God, he hated being patronized. "So what was it he found on you? What was in those papers tonight?"
"James, I've told you about this before. You keep your nose out of things that don't concern you." Philip drained the third glass of scotch he'd been working on. "Pat and the kids get back tonight, don't they?"
"They're on the road now, should be here in half an hour or so."
Philip nodded. "They have a good time with Wayne?"
"I guess they had a great time. Pat says he invited them back for Spring Break."
Something about Lloyd's expression softened and he nodded. "Good. I like to hear they're having fun, and I'm glad we have Dick in the family now; that kid's a pistol, isn't he? You know? I still can't get over how much he looks like Mary, can you?"
"She was a beauty and he's a handsome boy."
"He's going to be all right." Philip got on his coat. "You take care, James. You hear me?"
"You can stay a while if you want. You could see Pat and the boys when they pull in."
Philip had his hand on the knob. "I'm good, James. You say hello to them for me. Look, if Carolyn calls looking for me, tell her I have to go out of town for a few days; tell her I had to see Rodney Greaves in London about a case."
"Where are you really going?"
"To clean up some things, and I don't want my wife or daughter asking a lot of questions so help me out with this, will you?"
"You know I will. You be careful, Philip, all right?"
"I'll be fine. Look, I'll call you in a few days, a week, tops."
"Okay. You drive carefully. Get there safe."
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, this has been totally awesome."
"You're welcome, Steve. You'll all have to come back, all right? Maybe your next school break would be good for everyone?"
"Did you hear that, Mom? Can we? Do you think we could go back there for Spring Break?"
They were loading the Simpson's' bags into their SUV at the private airport outside of Gotham following their flight home. The temperature was a good sixty degrees colder than the one they'd just left. Snow was on the ground and the sky looked like more would be falling any minute. Talk about a change of scene.
"We'll see, honey. Bruce, thank you so much, this has been such a treat for all of us." She hugged him goodbye and kissed Dick on the cheek. "And you; next week we're back up at the condo, so if it's all right with Bruce, you plan on coming, all right?"
"Bruce?" Dick looked over.
"I guess so, as long as your homework gets done."
"I'll call you guys, okay?"
"Later, Dick—thank you, Mr. Wayne." The SUV's doors slammed, they kids waved through the windows, and Alfred had the Jaguar retrieved from the private garage where it was kept safe and out of the weather.
"So, you had a good time, chum?" Bruce was in the back. Dick, as was his preference was up front with Alfred, insisting that he hated the whole 'chauffeur thing'.
"It was great, Bruce; thank you for doing that, and it was terrific to have you with us this time. Do you think you can come skiing with us next week? Maybe?"
"Well, we'll see. Now, I assume you'll have homework to do when we get back?"
Vacation was over, back to normal. "…Some, yes."
"Hey, Dick? I had a good time, too. We'll make sure we do this again soon."
Dick's smile, the one that lit up a room, broke through.
"Pat. It's Mom, let me speak to your Dad, will you?"
Pat and the kids had been home about two hours when the phone rang. "He's not here, Mom. When did he come over?"
"I've no idea, sometime this evening I thought, but he told me he had a business dinner so I'm not sure. I just got a message on the machine saying he was stopping at your place on the way home."
"Well, I guess he's come and gone and James is at the club playing tennis now, but I can ask him when he gets home. Everything okay? Your voice sounds a little funny."
"Oh, you know your father; just some more of his overworking himself and not telling me a thing about it. I'm sure he's just stuck with some boring client or something. Did you have a nice trip, dear?"
"It was incredible, Mom. I tell you, my next husband is going to be a multi-billionaire playboy."
"Make sure he has a father or uncle for me, sweetie. It's a shame that as soon as you come back it starts snowing again. Well, I'll see you for lunch on Wednesday?"
"Of course. If I see Dad, I'll tell him that you're looking for him."
"James, did Dad stop in here earlier this evening?"
"No, but he called. Why do you ask?" James had just carried Pat's suitcase up to the bedroom for her.
She was taking off her travel clothes so she could take a shower. There's nothing worse than getting back from a trip and having beach sand still stuck places it shouldn't be. "My mother seemed to think he was headed this way. What did he have to say for himself?"
"He wanted to welcome you back, that's all. Oh, and he mentioned that he had to see that client of his in London. I think he was headed for the airport." He followed her into the bathroom while she got the water started. "Did he forget to tell your mother about one of his trip again?"
"Probably. You're all tanned; good trip?"
"Fabulous trip. White beaches, blue sky, clear water and servants to do everything." She had her thick terry robe around her.
"Ah, so the rich are different."
"Yes, they have lots more money." She started the water, adjusting the temperature. "Help me wash my back?"
"It's the least I can do…"
Alfred handed Bruce the morning newspaper as he was about to sit down for his breakfast.
"Where's Dick this morning? Did he oversleep?"
"Quite the opposite. He was up and out by six-thirty this morning. He said that he had to attend some special study session in preparation for a government test, I believe."
Bruce nodded and started to scan the front page.
"Master Bruce?"
"Yes?" He didn't look up.
"Forgive my curiosity, but may I ask what it was it that you found about Master Dick's grandfather which could prove embarrassing for the man?"
Bruce put down the paper. As long as Dick wasn't here, he could talk and Alfred had a right to know what and whom they were dealing with. "He's in serious trouble with the IRS. He hasn't even filed for the last three years and he was delinquent making his payments for three years before that; in fact he's been in and out of trouble with his taxes for over twenty years. It was about to blow up against him. I learned that he's about to be charged with tax evasion and will probably serve time for it. He'll also probably lose his house."
"Oh, dear. No wonder he's looking towards the young master to help him out of his troubles."
"From what I gathered, he's been keeping his financial problems from his wife and daughter, though I have a feeling the son-in-law knows more than he's letting on." He sipped some of his coffee. "Then I started doing some digging and found out that he's still involved with Zucco as more than just a lawyer." Alfred looked shocked at that bit of news. "Evidently Philip has been borrowing money from Zucco's holdings and, reasonably, Zucco wants it back. I suspect Lloyd took the money without bothering to ask first. In addition to that, Tony has been running his 'family' from his jail cell, and Philip is the go-between for a lot of the orders." Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Not exactly smart."
"Why on earth…?"
"Lawyer/client confidentiality. He's a relatively safe messenger."
"But that's the man who murdered his own daughter. It's beyond my understanding how any father could even consider such actions." It took a lot to shock Alfred.
"I talked with Tony Zucco myself last week. He told me, after some encouragement, that the plan was to just kill John Grayson, but the ropes broke early and Mary fell with him. That wasn't supposed to happen. That way, if just John had been killed, Mary would have been almost forced to go back to her family with Dick for reconciliation, and Zucco still would have made his point of Haley needing protection. It was a win-win solution for both problems, both Zucco's and Lloyd's."
"Despicable."
Bruce nodded. "Then a few days before we went to the Bahamas, I managed to get some new pictures of Philip with both of his mistresses. Rather graphic pictures. I gather that his wife and daughter don't know about that, either."
"Good Lord."
"I dropped off enough of the evidence I have to make Philip hopefully back off, and since we haven't heard from him in a week, I think the hint was taken."
"So, if all of this was to come out and he were to be prosecuted, he'd be facing the loss of his homes, likely his marriage, his family, his livelihood and his reputation, in addition to facing incarceration. Master Bruce, I'm afraid I can't feel sorry for the man after what his actions caused the young master to suffer."
"Neither can I." Bruce heard the clock in the hallway chime the time. "I've got to get going. When Dick comes in later, please tell him I want to go out early this evening; there's a rumor Catwoman may be looking for a jewelry store to rob tonight."
"I'll be sure to tell him, sir."
"Mom? Is Dad back from London yet?"
"No, honey, not yet. Did you want to talk to him about something in particular?"
"No, not really. I was just going to ask you both over for dinner Saturday; Dick is coming for the weekend, and I thought you'd like to see him."
"How are all the boys getting along? Still going well, is it?"
"Peter and Dick seem like they're becoming best friends, I can hardly get them off the phone at night. I think they're worse than Mary and I used to be when we were talking to boys in high school."
"That's lovely, dear. I'd love to come and if your Dad is back, he'll be there, too. Thanks, Pat."
Bruce was in his office, looking over the annual financial report and pretending not to understand it, when in fact, he did, of course.
"But, Lucius, if we're making a profit, shouldn't we order the Dom instead of the Cook's for the stockholder's meeting?"
"I think the stockholders would prefer to actually see their profits instead of drinking them, Bruce."
"You think so? Well, I suppose you know best, but I'd think they'd appreciate some good champagne for a change."
"Uh, Bruce, have you heard anything new from Philip Lloyd?"
"Goodness, no and good riddance. I simply didn't like that man at all. His wife told Dick—she's Dick's grandmother, you know. She's a lovely woman. Anyway, she told Dick that he's in London with some client."
They'd hear something when he got back, no doubt. "Fine, let sleeping dogs lie."
"…? Well, whatever you say. Are you sure about the Cook's, Lucius? I really think the Moet is much nicer…"
"Mom? Isn't Dad back yet? It's been two weeks, what did he say when you spoke to him?"
"Pat, honey, I haven't heard a word."
Oh, God. Dad had a new girlfriend. It was always the same; he'd go on a 'business trip' for a few weeks, not call, and they'd know. God, poor Mom. "Well, I'm sure he'll be home soon."
"I suppose."
"Master Bruce?" Alfred walked into the large bedroom only slightly earlier than normal.
Bruce sat up, instantly awake.
"Forgive my barging in like this, but I'm afraid that a report came over the police radio, and you need to be made aware before Master Dick learns from another source."
"What is it?" Alfred's demeanor was all wrong. He was used to bringing police reports to Bruce, local or JLA. This was nothing unless it was personal somehow.
"The police have responded to a report from a jogger who happened upon a wrecked car on the lower part of the valley trail. You know the path, sir; it's closed during winter because of the ice and all, but with the warm weather we've had, it seems to now be open. There were still remains in the vehicle. I ran a check on the license plate and…"
"Alfred, tell me whose car it is." This wasn't like Alfred at all.
"It's Mister Lloyd's car, Master Bruce. It's too soon for a positive identification, but from the description it can only be him, sir."
Oh, Jesus. The man was dishonest, amoral, desperate and whatever else he was, but he was still Dick's grandfather, and the boy would be devastated by another loss. "Is Dick still asleep?"
"Yes, sir."
"This won't be in the paper until tomorrow, but his cousins will probably call. I'll have to break it to him first." God, no. What time was it? Almost seven, Dick would be up any minute. Standing and putting on the robe Alfred held for him, Bruce walked down the long hallway to Dick's room.
TBC
1/30/05
12