Gotham's Discontent
Chapter Thirteen: The Tabby Cat
Deedee had been institutionalized in Arkham Asylum for a year, and it was the longest that she had ever stayed in a city at one time. The carnies at Haley's Circus, as Galavan had called them, were nomads; so, it was uncommon for them to remain in a setting any longer than a couple of months. It was uncommon for carnies to wander into a city they didn't know. Anything they ever needed could be found within a mile of walking distance. Lila Valeska only ever traveled into the cities to find a possible suitor (many possibilities, actually, Deedee thought irritably) and her children didn't accompany her into town.
So, when Deedee was given permission to seek out Laura Greenburg, she was eager; however, she didn't know the how-to to actually find her without stalking Arkham's parking lot. Deedee—showered, fed, quenched, and rested—lounged in a luxurious couch in front of a open, bay window that overlooked the twinkling city lights and the open river. She stared across the way at the haunting impression of the Victorian building of Arkham, pondered waiting in the parking lot if she could find Greenburg's vehicle, only realizing that she was easily recognizable from her days in the Circus—that, and the fact that she didn't know what she drove in the first place.
"Lost in thought, pigeon?"
Deedee glanced behind her. Tabitha—the tabby cat—sauntered across the living room floor wearing a dark, silk robe, holding a drink in her hand, wearing that smile on her face that made Deedee's stomach turn not from unpleasantness, but a curious affection.
"You could say that," said Deedee.
"What's your beef with the officer's daughter?" Tabitha asked, taking a seat beside her, a smooth leg crossed over the other.
"Daddy issues," Deedee answered.
"Mommy and Daddy issues?" Tabitha drawled.
Deedee frowned. "I'm glad you find it amusing."
"I don't poke fun," said Tabitha, dropping the teasing tone. "You killed her dad."
"He deserved it."
"Killing Laura would be out of cold blood."
"Everyone's gotta start somewhere," said Deedee.
"What did Laura do?"
Deedee stared at Tabitha suspiciously. "You ask a lot of questions."
"I have a curious personality." Tabitha remarked.
Deedee had the inclination that she was being taunted, but she also had an idea that it was simply Tabitha's way of making friends. Or not. Who cared? Deedee cleared her throat, passed a hand through her hair, and then pointed out the window with a voice of resignation, "Laura works at Arkham; Arkham is right there. But I imagine that simply sitting in the parking lot, waiting for her to come out of the building would be stupid; and it wouldn't feel…right. Right? There's a right way and a wrong way of killing someone. And whacking her in front of her work just isn't…"
She searched for the word, but couldn't find the appropriate description for what it wouldn't be. Tabitha leaned forward with that familiar cheek-to-cheek grin, revealing her white teeth and her eyes flashed,
"Poetic?" Tabitha suggested.
"It lacks the appropriate start to a killing spree," said Deedee.
"Why do you want her dead?" Tabitha asked again.
"She's so…ehh," Deedee mocked an impression of a girl who had everything: a loving dad, a great job, an easy life—
"She's had it easy," said Tabitha with a shrug. "So?"
"That," said Deedee, "and the fact that she acted so tough when there was a metal gate in between us but the moment—" Deedee bared her teeth, suddenly furious— "that there was nothing stopping me from hurting her, she'd cower. So bold in front of her co-workers, the little twerp. I just want to…" Deedee smacked her hand into her first repeatedly, imagining brutalizing Laura's sweet little face into a bloody pulp—smack, smack, smack, smack—
Tabitha, seemingly have been given exactly what she had been waiting for, grinned widely and handed Deedee the drink from her own hand. Deedee took it, looking at her with slighted confusion. The only people who shared her sadism were her friends at Arkham; it was strange, albeit quite nice, to see another soul connect outside of the asylum. There was something that Deedee liked about her; Tabitha had some darkness in her. She oozed a particular macabre streak, though she hadn't seen Tabitha at work.
"What," said Deedee, "exactly do you do for your brother? Are you the muscle, or…?"
"What are you to yours?" asked Tabitha.
Deedee shrugged, sharing an embarrassed smile, "Jerome tames my impulse control problem. I have a temper, and sometimes he makes more sense to me than anyone else. I explode and somehow, he's…" Deedee snorted through her nose— "He makes me laugh."
"What do you do for him?" Tabitha asked.
"Well…" Deedee began, but hesitated, considering their past. "I run when he says 'fetch'."
Tabitha nodded; interest piqued. "You're a mad dog that Jerome lets off the leash when your lives are threatened…" A silent pause between them and then, "You held down your mom when he killed her; you killed the officer: what did Officer Greenburg threaten to do to you when you decided he should eat a baton?"
He was going to sneak into Jerome's cell in the middle of the night, Deedee recalled. She didn't have to say it. Tabitha's eyes widened in disgust.
"Oh." Tabitha grabbed a wine bottle and poured it into Deedee's empty glass. "You're right; that fucker deserved it."
"It's nice to be validated." Deedee said.
"You try to kill anyone else while in Arkham?" said Tabitha, leaning forward to grab a second glass for herself.
"Robert Greenwood." Deedee said.
"What did he do?"
"He tried to touch me. I stabbed him," said Deedee casually. "But the medics in the hospital are actually quite punctual. They're really great at their jobs. Unfortunately," she added, though with a smile.
"Got a problem with being touched?"
"I have trust issues," said Deedee.
"With men." Tabitha said.
"With anyone, but, yes," said Deedee. "Mostly men. Except Jerome."
"Do you trust me?"
"Not as far as I can throw you," said Deedee flippantly.
"But you like me, don't you?" Tabitha said, flashing her impish grin.
Deedee shrugged. "You're good company."
Tabitha nodded. "I can help you find her, pigeon. It's a talent of mine, finding people."
"Galavan makes the rules," Deedee surmised, "and you enforce them. That's the relationship between you and your brother?"
"That's also the relationship between you and Jerome." Tabitha said, one of her fingers coming off her glass to point at Deedee. "That, we have in common. And isn't that nice?"
"Except for the fucking, huh?" Deedee said with a grin.
"You are right," said Tabitha. "I'm curious: whose idea was that? To become intimate?"
"Mine," said Deedee, and she knocked back the glass of wine like it had been a shot of vodka.
Tabitha gazed out the window. "So, what about it, pigeon? Want my help to find the little twerp?"
Deedee nodded. "It would make me very happy," she said, "if you can find out where she lives."
Tabitha nodded. "Oh, I will."