A/N Make certain you've read the chapter before this one. I posted it Wednesday, but because I was just replacing the delay explanation, it didn't register as a new chapter.

MERRY, MERRY, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Disclaimer See all previous chapters.

Acknowledgement Thank you to my little brother, who loves jumping on me whether I'm asleep or not.

Chapter 11

For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.

The First Epistle of the Apostle Paul to Timothy

"I have to go into the office today," Somerville announced, as she pushed back her plate and stood up. "I expect to be back around dinnertime."

A flash of excitement crossed Dick's face, but his mouth was crammed with bacon, and Somerville had left the room before he could speak. "Hey, no Miss Somerville! That means Bruce and I can work out!" Bruce and Alfred had agreed that Dick's unusual martial arts lessons were better suspended during the social worker's visit. "I've been practicing spinning and…" He broke off, suddenly disappointed. "Oh. School."

"Not today," Alfred informed him. "Miss Tracy won't be coming in."

"Woohoo!" Dick jumped up and down, excitedly punching the air. His victory dance continued until another thought occurred to him. "Does Bruce have any pointers?"

"Appointments," Alfred corrected. "He has a meeting this afternoon with Mr. Fox."

Dick wrinkled his nose, then turned his biggest eyes on Alfred. "Do you think I could wake him up? Just for today."

Private amusement flickered through the butler's eyes. "I think that would be quite all right."

"Yes!" Dick punched the air once more before running out of the room.

Bruce lay soundly asleep, one arm dangling over the side of the bed, only the top of his head visible above the blankets. Dick pounded down the hall and slammed open the door. Bruce didn't stir. Without hesitation, Dick hit the blanketed form with all the force of a sixty-five pound canon ball. "Hey, Bruce!"

Bruce bolted out of bed, sending Dick tumbling to the floor. "What's wrong!"

"Nothing," Dick answered, picking himself up.

Bruce stared at him for a moment, then fell back onto the bed with a groan, pulling the pillow over his face. Dick pulled it back off. "Miss Somerville's gone."

Bruce blinked blearily. "That's nice."

"She's not coming back until dinner. So we could work out in the gym. Please? Pleeeeease!"

Bruce yawned. "Dick we discussed…Did you just say Somerville was gone?"

"For the whole day."

"I guess that's worth getting up for." Bruce dragged himself out of bed and rummaged through his drawers for a t-shirt and shorts. When he was dressed, he slowly followed his bouncing ward to the gym.

"Watch, Bruce, I can do a spinning jump thing like Yoda!"

Bruce was smothering another yawn. "That's…" The rest of his sentence was lost in a grunt as Dick's foot slammed into his kidneys.

"I got you, Bruce, I got you!"

"Yeah," gasped Bruce, finally awake, "you got me."

- - - - - -

Cecilia was trying to untangle her scarf fringe from her coat zipper when a voice spoke behind her. "Cecy? Cecy, is that you?"

She turned to see a slender man with pale skin and white blond hair grinning at her. "Simon?" she exclaimed, a pleased smile breaking over her face. "I can't believe you're still here."

"I'm like a bad penny," he laughed. "No one else would take me."

"Untrue," a voice boomed. Henry Judas approached and clapped a hand on Simon's shoulder with enough force to make the smaller man wince. "Hearts and Homes only gets his super-accountant services on the side. Wayne Enterprises gets them the rest. And they couldn't do without him anymore than we could."

Cecilia, once again grave-faced in Judas' presence, nodded. "I'm certain that's true."

Simon's fair skin reddened, and Judas laughed. "That's my boy, humble to the bone." Giving Simon's shoulder one more pat, he said, "If you'd come to my office, Cecilia, you can tell me how things are going."

It was amazing how much stuff could be crammed into one small room. Cecilia shifted a pile of orange fundraising fliers off the decrepit folding chair and sat down, then examined the handmade cards tacked up like wallpaper.

"From the kids," Judas said, waving his hand expansively. "I've got eight years of Christmases up there." Folding his hands before him, he gave an encouraging smile. "How goes it?"

"From what I've observed, Richard Grayson is a very lucky little boy. His physical needs are, of course, more than met, but it seems that he is cared about as well as cared for."

"Wayne doesn't dump him on the servants?"

"The butler, Pennyworth, is a major caretaker, and Wayne has plenty of his own pursuits, but he deliberately sets aside time to spend with the boy."

"Could it be he's doing that only to impress you?"

She shrugged. "It's possible, but it has the feel of a set routine. Of course, this is only my fifth day. I'll have a more definite opinion at the end of the next week."

"And you've found nothing to suggest that Wayne is…putting his own interests ahead of the boy's?"

"Not yet."

Judas leaned forward earnestly. "We have to get this right, for Richard's sake. Look hard, Cecilia."

She settled back in her chair, arms folded across her stomach. "That's what I'm paid for."

Judas watched her steadily. "We were very concerned when we heard about your adventure Wednesday."

"A most unfortunate accident," she said calmly.

He shook his head. "All I can say is, the boy was lucky that you were with him, Cecilia. Very lucky."

- - - - - -

"Thanks, Gladys," Bruce said, as Dick flopped down by the desk and opened his box of colored pencils.

"Oh, he's never any trouble, Mr. Wayne." The matronly blue-haired secretary bent down and peered at Dick's notebook. "What story are you drawing now, honey?"

"See, these giant aliens that look like horseshoes are attacking this planet…"

Bruce walked into Fox's office and shut the door behind him. "Somebody should tell Gladys that blue rinses went out years ago."

Fox snorted. "Don't you dare interfere with my secretary, Mr. Wayne. She's the best I've ever had, and I don't care if she colors her skin blue."

"No, Mr. Fox, I wouldn't dare." Bruce dropped into the chair across the desk.

"Have you had a chance to read through those files?"

Bruce sighed. "No. To be honest, this thing with Dick made me forget. I wouldn't have even shown up today had Alfred not reminded me."

"I'll put it in a nutshell for you." Fox shoved a piece of paper across the desk. "Here's a list of some of Wayne Enterprises' sources of revenue during the last five years Earle was in charge."

Bruce frowned, scanning the list. "I don't recognize any of these. We have an emerald mine in Kenya?"

"Oh, we have a mine, but there's no emeralds in it. Everything on that list has some basis in reality, and none of it should have made anywhere near the profits recorded."

Bruce pushed out a long, slow breath. "He was laundering money."

"Looks that way."

"Where did it go?"

"Don't know. Yet."

Bruce ran his eyes down the long list. "How much?"

"Close to a hundred million a year. Just a ripple in the overall scheme of the company."

"Five years," muttered Bruce, "and he'd still be getting away with it if I hadn't fired him. What are we going to do?"

"Report it and request an audit. If we're real cooperative, maybe we can escape publicity and avoid upsetting the shareholders. I mean…the other shareholders."

"Earle couldn't have done this all by himself."

"Nope."

"So what do you suggest?"

"What do all good housewives do when there are rats in the cellar?"

- - - - - -

Cecilia sat in her new cubicle, staring at a stack of files.

"Hard at work, I see."

She looked over and saw the white blond head peeking through the door. "Simon! I thought you'd left."

"No, I'm having lunch with Henry. We meet twice a week to talk business." Simon edged his way into the small space. "Cecy, it's really good to see you again. You look…"

"Old," she laughed, "I know. But doesn't my horrible respectability inspire great confidence?" Privately she thought that she couldn't compliment Simon on his appearance either. He had always been skinny and pale, but he had diminished to skeletal thinness, and there were deep shadows around his eyes. He had also picked up the habit of twitching his hands inside his pockets. "And how are things at old H&H?"

"Good, good, really good." His face relaxed in a smile, and he stopped twitching. "They're good kids, you know. We had an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in the summer."

"That sounds like fun."

"Yeah. They're good kids," he repeated, "they just got dealt a bad hand." His face resumed its pinched look, and his eyes wandered vaguely. "Look, Cecy, I was hoping we could maybe have dinner some time, talk about things?"

"Of course," she agreed.

A curious expression crossed his face. She couldn't decide whether it was panic or relief. "How about next Tuesday night? I should have…that is, I should have some free time."

"Next Tuesday," she agreed.

He backed away nervously. "I'm glad you're here, Cecy. Henry's waiting for me. I'll see you on Tuesday." He disappeared, leaving Cecilia frowning after him.

She worked steadily until five on the files that would make up her regular workload once the Grayson case was finished. Then she bundled up and drove back to the manor. Passing the open door of the library, she glimpsed Richard on the floor, engrossed in a comic book. In a nearby, oversized chair slumped Bruce Wayne, dead to the world.

Asleep at this time of day? I swear the man's nocturnal. Shaking her head disapprovingly, she started up the stairs.

To Be Continued…

A/N Looking back over previous chapters, I realized I may have been a little unclear about the timing of what's happened so far, so here's a little timetable in terms of Somerville's actions:

Monday: Somerville arrives at Wayne Manor

Tuesday: Somerville sits in on Dick's tutoring session (referred to in Chapter 10)

Wednesday: Somerville and Dick are kidnapped by the Joker

Thursday: Somerville steals Bruce's files and gets Miss Tracy fired

Friday: Somerville goes in to the social services office and meets an old friend