Chapter 15
Catwoman silently opened the back window to Brian Anders apartment. The putrid smell of rancid milk and stale beer hit her in the face, making her stomach twist. Foul. That was the only word for it.
Once inside, they waded through a sea of empty beer cans and wine bottles, gingerly stepping around a bare mattress lying on the floor like a filthy island. Unopened mail and racing pamphlets were scattered across a cheap card table marred by cigarette burns. Her jaw tightened. Her father used to live like this. Most hopeless alcoholics did.
"Gambling," she said, gesturing to the racing pamphlets.
"A lot of that going around," Batman said as he searched the dirty bathroom. She searched the kitchen, rifling through cracked cupboards and sticky drawers. Most were empty save old packets of ketchup and coffee stirrers.
"Anything?" she asked.
"He didn't live here alone. There are two toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet and an open box of tampons under the sink." He ran a gloved finger along the counter, leaving a neat path through the dust. "No one's been here in weeks."
"Or days," she said, sorting through a stack of unopened mail. He looked at her and she almost laughed. "Alcoholics with gambling problems aren't usually the best housekeepers."
She handed him an unopened envelope with the words "FINAL NOTICE" stamped on the front in angry red ink.
"Jamie Nguyen," he read. "Must be the girlfriend."
Catwoman planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the apartment. No couch, no recliner, just that old mattress and the sea of crushed Genesee brand beer cans. Her eyes narrowed and she crouched down near the refrigerator, getting her face as close to the floor as she could without actually touching it. Pulling her head up, she reached in the space between the fridge and the cabinets.
"Never fails," she said as she pulled an old cell phone covered in grime from its hiding place. She rubbed it on a piece of junk mail, trying to clean off the gunk, a grimace of mild disgust marring her features. "Gross."
"How?" he asked. She smiled sadly, raw pain in her eyes just long enough for him to see it.
"My father was a drunk. Whenever he lost anything important, which was all the time, it always ended up under the fridge. It makes sense - that's where the cold beer is." Her tone was light, almost jokey, as she tried to make it no big deal.
She turned away from him and focused on turning the phone on.
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Batman was quiet as she pressed buttons on the ancient phone. His dossier on Catwoman/Selina Kyle stated she lost both her parents at a young age. He didn't have a lot of information about her childhood. Her mother had died (suicide) when she was 7, her father gone by the time she was 10 (drank himself to death). Then Selina herself disappeared from the public record. No school transcripts, no arrest records, no records from Child Protective Services. The only other record of anyone connected to the Kyle family he'd been able to find was for Magdalena Kyle, an orphan at The St. Jerome Emiliani Home for Children. Magdalena started living there at the age of 8. According to his records, Selina would have been 11 at the time.
The urge to tell her that he understood what it was like to be an orphan was overwhelming. She'd hate that he'd seen a moment of vulnerability in her practiced demeanor. So he said nothing.
"Here's the real Brian Anders," she said, holding up the phone. On the screen was a picture of a bald man with his face pressed close to a dark haired woman's. Both were smiling broadly as the blue sea sparkled behind them. They looked happy. One thing was clear - this was not the man from the surveillance footage.
"Bring that with you," he said, gesturing to the phone.
"Where are we going?"
"The morgue."
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Her gloved hand cupped her nose and mouth as she focused on holding back the wave of nausea threatening to overtake her.
"Where to next? The sewer? I hear that smells great this time of year," she said. Even in the sanitized environment of the morgue, the scent of death wafting off the real Brian Anders was about to knock her over.
"Here," Batman said, handing her a small jar of Vicks Vapo-Rub. "Put some under your nose. It'll help."
"How did you know we'd find him here? He's a John Doe." she asked, handing the jar back to him. He pulled open another cold locker and Jamie Nguyen slid into sight. The stiff white tag on her toe read; "Jane Doe - 239-2014".
"I heard about them a few days ago. According to the reports, these two were found on a private beach just north of the city. The cops think they tried to sneak onto the beach after sunset, but due to poor visibility and their blood alcohol levels, they didn't see the cliff before falling to their deaths."
"A poetic way for romantically inclined drunks to die."
"Too poetic. That's why I remembered them."
"They were murdered," she said, a note of sadness in her voice.
He studied the corpses as they stood in the darkened room.
"Why kill both of them if only Anders's ID was compromised?"
"She knew too much?" Catwoman ventured, though she didn't believe it for a second.
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"How do you know the fake Brian Anders?" he asked as they drove back towards the Batcave, a blindfold tied securely around her eyes.
"He was the...let's say boyfriend...one of my Italian business associates. We never spoke."
"Yet you remember him?" he asked skeptically. He watched her grin out of the corner of his eye.
"The few times I saw him he was laying out by the pool wearing nothing but a smile, so, yes, I remember him. Quite well," she said, her voice nothing but a sultry purr.
"But you never spoke?" he asked, his voice betraying his smile. She smiled back and shifted her body in the bucket seat.
"My associate goes through boys like most people go through tissues. None of his little boy toys ever stuck around long."
"But long enough to make you."
Silently, she turned her face toward the window.
"The involvement of your associate's former boyfriend is too much of a coincidence to ignore, Selina. Did they know you were going after the ruby?"
She sighed and he imagined her rolling her emerald eyes under the blindfold.
"The fewer people who know what you're doing, the less chance you'll get sold out to the highest bidder. It's rule number one in the outlaw handbook."
"And where does one buy the outlaw handbook?" he quipped, still unable to stop from flirting with her.
"You're adorable for thinking its something you buy," she quipped back. He smiled, but only because she couldn't see him.
"Penny-One to Batman." the speaker crackled to life as Alfred's accented voice filled the car.
"Go ahead, Penny-One."
"Sir, will you be back soon? There's something here you may want to see."
"What is it?" Batman snapped as his foot slammed down on the accelerator.
"Results are back on the sample of the substance that ate through the wires on the gem case. It's chemical makeup is unique."
"That's good news," Catwoman said.
"Perhaps. However, this particular residue has extremely high traces of..." Alfred trailed off.
"Spit it out," Batman growled as the city fell away behind them.
"...It has extremely high traces of a compound found only in Lazarus pits."