THROWAWAY CARD

Chapter 11

Author's Note: I think this story has about two more chapters left to run, and you've now been kind enough to give me over 100 reviews. I'm so happy. Thankyou! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Lower Hart Boulevard, 6.54 am.

The little shop on the corner still had "Kerr, Assizes and Wright" painted above the door in faded gilt lettering, but the sandwich boards outside looked newer, and had the name Rubenstein printed in blue caps. There was scaffolding covering the left window, Batman noted, and half of the red paintwork had been covered with blue.

All it needs is a - there it is…

The small yellow cardboard square was tacked carefully to the glass panel in the door, and read "Under New Mannagement!" in careful marker pen lettering. It was slightly faded by the sun, indicating that the new owner, however lax his spelling, had been in possession for some time.

Batman folded his arms and watched as the roller blind inside the shop was drawn up: waited patiently as the protective metal mesh covering the window displays was rolled back. A hand flipped the sign on the door over from "Closed" to "Open ". The windows were a glittering array of glass jars. Like many tobacconists, the shop also sold old-fashioned sweets. Humbugs, sherbet packets, liquorice…Batman narrowed his eyes at the small pile of "Hilarious Joke Sweets! Make Your Friends Froth At The Mouth! Turn Your Tonge Black!" in one corner of the window.

The door opened with a chime from the inside, and a young man came out, carrying a stand of walking sticks and umbrellas, which he placed carefully against the right-hand window.

"Mr Rubenstein?"

The sticks overbalanced with a clatter, and the young man yelped as the voice spoke seemingly just behind his left ear.

"N-no. That'd be my father. He's sick today - flu." His shock over, Mr Rubenstein Junior seemed enthralled rather than terrified by his visitor. "Hey, he'll be sorry he missed this!"

"How long has your father owned this business?" Batman asked, mentally preparing himself to dodge questions like "So, where's the Batmobile? Does it have a Bat-cup holder? Do you make all those cool gadgets yourself?" that normal people seemed to feel obliged to ask on these occasions.

"Oh, about a year. People sure smoke a lot - we've just got enough profit to start on the refurbishment."

"Did you know anything about the previous owner?"

Rubenstein Junior mused over this for a moment, biting his lip. "Not much. Dad said we were lucky to get it, even though it was expensive. Came on the market just after we moved here."

"Did you ever meet the previous owner?" Batman pursued. He reprimanded himself internally for chasing this hopeless lead at all, when the Joker was still at large on the streets of his city. But the little shop had been within the network of streets that a weakened madman might possibly have reached…

"I didn't. Dad did. Once. When they were signing all the legal papers and everything? He said she was a nice quiet lady - hey, what's this about, anyway?" He stopped biting his lip and grinned, revealing a missing tooth. "Is our shop gonna be on TV? Am I a witness or something? Hey -"

Batman left the excited shouting behind him as he stalked back along the boulevard.

A nice quiet lady…

"Alfred," he said, stabbing the transmitter as he swung himself into the driver's seat.

"Sir?"

"The dead shopkeeper. Did he have any family?"

Moreston Block, 7.16am

Selina Kyle ducked, and the knife neatly clipped the pointed tips of the ears on her cowl.

Innocent of the bombings or not, the Joker was not taking kindly to her suggestion that he would be kept with her until Batman could be contacted to claim him. His injury did not seem to hamper him: he had already used the broken arm to hit her with (they had both given a two-second yowl of pain over that one) and Selina was continually cursing her decision to try and snare him with the whip. The end of the flailing leather cord had wrapped smartly around the arm in the sling, which the Joker had looked at in annoyance and then grabbed hold of the whip. His first pull had come as a surprise, and had lost her the advantage of balance. His second pull left her only two options: lose the whip and keep her feet, or vice versa. She had abandoned the whip. "Whoops! Pussy nearly fell down the well!" her opponent had laughed, as he unwrapped it from his arm and cracked it, but after two failed tries and managing to bloody his own lip with it, he had used it to snare the knife-block in the kitchen before hurling it into the fridge.

Now he stood in front of her, breathing hard and raggedly, with her biggest carving knife in one hand and, for some reason, a pastry brush held limply in the fingers poking out of the sling.

Selina found herself feeling oddly more threatened by the pastry brush. She feinted left, and he dodged backwards, not forwards, so her whirling kick missed him by a clear foot. There wasn't a great deal of room to move in the kitchen of her apartment, and she caught her calf a glancing blow on the work surface as she drew back from the kick.

"Give it up, idiot, even I can tell you're sick."

"I am not," came the affronted reply. "They call it 'psychiatrically challenged' these days. I've got a file and everything with it written on. My lawyer says if they use the "s" word I can sue them for mental trauma and discriminatory behaviour."

"I meant "ill" , dumbass." She sidestepped warily, trying to figure out the best way to get past him. He sidestepped too, aping her with an ease that irritated her. He'd certainly recovered in a hurry. From the near-coma state he'd been in when she dragged him here, he'd made practically a miracle…

…recovery.

I dragged him here. I took him off the street. Had to carry him over some of the way because he was unconscious. Brought him here, where no-one would ever think of looking for him, especially Batman.

He grinned at her and beckoned with the knife. Light spilt along the blade and gleamed from the point. "Penny for 'em, sweet thing."

"You bastard," she hissed, for one impossible moment angrier at herself than she was at him.

He knew what he was doing all along. I thought I was helping the people of this city - all I was doing was buying him some time.

"Oh," said the Joker, flapping the green hankerchief about like a maiden aunt with the vapours. "Oh my. I do feel quite weak. Nurse! Nurse! My smelling salts!" The maiden aunt persisted for another moment: then he turned a dazzling, vicious grin on her, foolishness fled and replaced by perverted intensity. "Why the world are you looking all cutely shocked and appalled? Don't worry, you're not the first one who fell for it. Batsy did too, and he did end up in the well." A slow lascivious widening of the grin. "And honey, you can rifle my pockets anytime."

He started to move, backing slowly towards the main door of her apartment with the knife held out before him. Selina tensed, her gut still clenched in disgust at his words and her own stupidity. She prepared to use one of her two foolproof methods of disarming a knife-man, now that she had a little more space than her tiny, cramped kitchen in which to move.

One: kick to the wrist. Numb the nerves, he drops the knife. Two: go for the wrist while kicking him in the groin.

"Don't even think about it," the Joker warned, still backing up. He was almost within reach of the door handle. Just as Selina was expecting him to half-turn and undo the latch - the perfect moment, she thought, to launch her attack - he didn't. Instead, the hand holding the knife whipped up to hug his own throat, shining blade pressed into the jumping bulge of his adam's apple. "If you try anything, I swear I'll kill myself!."

The unexpectedness of it stopped her in mid-thought - enough time for her brain to say huh? He's crazy! Before following it up with well, naturally, and he's crazy enough that he might just do it…

"I'll do it!" the Joker shouted, the fingers of his wounded arm already cleverly at work behind his back, tinkering with the latch. "Don't come near me, Officer! Think of the children!" He paused, grinning, his mouth a wide red gash above the shining steel of the carving knife. "Or at very least, think of the cleaning bill."

The hell with this.

Selina's moment of confusion passed in the blink of an eye: she leapt as the latch clicked open. The Joker, giggling, sprang out nimbly into the hall, inches ahead of her.

His purple shoulder slammed into another: a pale, thin woman in a tatty woollen coat had been walking up to her own apartment, 17, which was just across from Selina's.

Finishing her pointless leap, Catwoman stopped dead, all her desire to continue the fight drained at the sight of that innocent, startled face as her neighbour backed away from the Joker.

"Well, looky here," grinned the Joker. "Someone new for the party! Come on down, lady, your numbers have come up."

Alison. Alison, run! Selina urged silently.

Streets of Gotham, 7.16 a.m.

"Sam Wright, deceased," Alfred's voice recited patiently as Batman listened. "Parents still alive, located in Ohio. Survived by his widow, Alison Wright (thirty-one), and one child, Josephine Wright, six. One dedication in the Globe, the week before the funeral."

Batman closed his eyes briefly: the sound of the butler's voice had the air of a church sermon. "Samuel Richard Wright, loving father and pillar of the community. Cruelly taken from us before his time. Jo misses her daddy. No flowers by request. 10.00 a.m. service."

An everyday tragedy.

Batman couldn't claim he remembered it, although a dozen similar memorials came clearly to mind. There were just too many. Too many faces, surrounded by the words ordinary people come to dread: cruelly, tragedy, widow, accident, shooting, mindless…

The words my life is never without. The words….Batman opened his eyes and glared at the windscreen as the rain coursed down. The words I wouldn't be living this life without.

"Sir?"

Alfred's tone had that slightly worried edge that Batman recognised from his younger days.

Survived by his widow…survived…

"I'm all right, Alfred."

Maybe I'm not the only one whose life was never the same after it was touched by those words. The Batmobile's engine roared back into life. "Get me Mrs Wright's address."

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Review Responses:

First of all another big thankyou to Shimotsuki for another lovely fanmail. I'm sorry I didn't have the time to e-mail you in reply.

LexLuthor13 – Heh, that's OK. Most people tend to assume I'm a man until they find out otherwise. I'm glad you picked out that line – it was one of his I was most pleased with from that chapter. I could almost hear his voice as I was writing. I hope this chapter answered a few of your questions about Sam Wright…and the whip! (plus, I see you're a Star Wars fan too – C3PO always amused me…)

Robster72 – Thankyou, I worry about my detail. I always enjoy writing dia,logue more so the fact I'm getting enough detail in is great to hear. The Joker always needs to amaintain his menace. It's part of what makes him such a lovely paradox. Hope you lied this chapter!

Dark-Lady-Devinity – hee, well, I hope the mystery is starting to unfold now. "An innocent Joker tops the weird list.." yeah, that's why it's so much fun to write! Thankyou for reading, it means a lot.

Cyn Wraith – Here ya go, you got some revelations. And no, as you can see, Joker's starting to feel suddenly a lot better (look out Gotham…) It's wonderful that my very first try at a mystery story has managed to intrigue even a non-mystery fan. Hope you enjoy!

Nightmare1 – Yes indeed. If she wasn't before, she sure is now!

giveGodtheglory – Hah::KJ giggles: Duct tape. It has many and varied uses, but I can see many uses for it in Joker's case…

killinjoke – Glad to hear it, I love that one very much too. Apart from drawing the J-man, I love writing for him the best.

SpiderFreak – You're too kind, thankyou! No, I'm not a professional, and I never formally learn to write anywhere. I read a lot when I was young, and I still do. I think I started writing when I was about 12. I guess any small skill I may have must just be practice.

Farthingale - :KJ grins and hugs: I loves my acute state of ruling, I do. I want that phrase put on a T-shirt. Of course Bats is an extra in this story! How could he not be, when Joker's on the stage?

You were right to be suspicious about that name, weren't'cha? More about that to come in later chapters. Second guess all you like – half the time I didn't know myself where this was going, so anything you might think is clever is probably just a happy co-inkydink. :grin: and I have to admit to having made myself laugh over that caption. Sad, aren't I?

Wiley21 – thankyou very, very much! That's a wonderful compliment. I'll have to go read some of your stuff sometime, too.

Meow – Alfred is just fabulous for sarcasm. Understated where Joker is marvelously overstated, Alfred is a writer's dream. Plus, my beta-reader told me off for telling a booby joke. :snigger:

Chewie-2006 – Thankyou! The flashback was a lot of fun to write, as it gave me a crack at more classic Joker dialogue. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too.