Part Five

Conclusion

"Dick, is something wrong? You look, I don't know, annoyed or something."

"Who were you talking to?"

The phone was still in her hand. "Oh. My sister. You know Holly, don't you? She was two years behind us, anyway she lost her...engagement ring and I was trying to calm her down."

She waited for Dick to say something. He didn't, just looked at her.

"She probably just took it off to wash her hands or something, she's always doing that. It's probably just sitting on a shelf or something."

Nothing.

"I guess everyone's up, right? I should get ready to go—do you mind if I jump in the shower?"

Nothing.

"In fact..." Her demeanor changed from nervous to semi-sultry. "...if you wash my back I'll wash yours."

He pulled a pair of socks out a drawer then bent to get his sneakers, sitting in the desk chair to put them on.

"So, that would be a 'no', I'm guessing." Emily got out of the bed, naked and angry, looking for her cloths and probably thinking about the cliched walk of shame home in last night's party clothes. "Y'know, I didn't think you'd be like this—I wouldn't have stayed if I thought you'd pull this kind of bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"Slam bam, thank you ma'am, that's what I mean."

"That's not quite what this is."

"Oh no? Last night you couldn't have been nicer or more charming—'you learn that from Bruce? Wine and dine then thanks for dessert and don't let the door hit you on the way out." She was pulling on her underwear and the dress she'd worn to the dinner. "Don't bother, I can find my own way home."

"I didn't offer to drive you."

"No kidding. Y'know something, Dick? You really don't have to live up to your name." She was just about to slam the door when he stopped it mid-swing.

"Come back inside and sit down."

"Go to hell."

"You weren't talking to your sister."

"To quote you, 'Excuse me'?"

"My wallet was stolen last night and someone, in all likelihood someone who was at the reunion has it and managed to charge a car on one of my cards. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"How would I know anything about that? I was with you, remember?"

"Um-hmm. And so you wouldn't mind talking to the local police, then?"

She threw him a professional grade glare. "Bring it on."

"Mist..yeah, sorry, Sergeant Grayson? We have an update about that car which was purchased with your credit card. If you wouldn't mind coming down to the station house, we'd like to explain what's happening."

Twenty minutes later Dick with Emily in reluctant tow, was at the local police station to get the full report in person and see if he could add anything to what was known. He was briefed by the local Captain.

"The car was lo-jacked, standard from that dealer on cars that expensive. It's been located in Atlantic City at one of the casinos and the ACPD expects to apprehend the men who were driving it shortly. I just got word that they've been singled out at a high-stakes blackjack table."

He showed Dick some grainy security camera images which had been transmitted to the Brixton police station, possibly in violation of some privacy laws. "'They look familiar?"

"Dave Benson and Brian Lightner, they were both in my high school class and both were at Wayne Manor last night for the reunion dinner."

"'You sure?"

"Yes, positive ID."

"'Friends of yours?"

"Not really, no, just old classmates."

"Do you know if they were ever inside the house before last night, have any reason to know their way around?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Okay, according to the casino's security people, they're playing with chips they purchased using a platinum MasterCard with your name on it. I thought you said that you cancelled your cards."

"I did; maybe they got the chips before I made the call."

"Yeah, maybe. You might wanna check and see what else was put on your tab before it was stopped, 'let us see what else these boys were up to."

A quick phone call later and they had the answer. "They bought the car after having an early breakfast at Starbucks then went clothes shopping at Neiman's where they each picked up some Gucci leather jackets to wear at the casino. 'Probably the jackets they were wearing when you picked them up. All in all, they racked up just under three hundred thousand dollars in a little over nine hours."

"And the card security people didn't check on unusual spending habits? I thought those guys made a big deal about how they're watching to make sure this stuff doesn't happen."

Dick knew what happened, or thought he did. "The car dealer allowed the car purchase and once that went through the rest, the relative small change items, barely made a blip on the screen."

Three hundred thousand dollars and it was like—okay? Crap, they knew Wayne, and by extension, his son, were rich, but damn...Brixton wasn't the real world.

"Yeah, well, since almost everything will be returned, and I did report the card missing as soon as I found out, I'm in the clear but, excuse me, but has anyone looked at the car?"

"...You're kidding."

"Left front fender, yeah."

"How do you know? It's parked in AC."

"I made a call." Dick had to Wally who'd checked it out for him. Flash then asked some questions; the parking attendant was as defensive as anyone he'd ever heard, swearing that the thing was messed up when it was brought in, he swore to God and on his mother's grave.

The captain just shook his head. "Dumb and ambitious, not one of your best combinations." And In Brixton there was a fair to middling chance that these idiots rich parents would buy their kids out of trouble, happened all the time. "'You planning on pressing charges, Sergeant?"

Dick was distracted and hadn't really thought that far. ""Don't know yet. We'll see." He was thinking about Emily and what he was going to do about that part of the puzzle. "'You mind if I use an office to question someone who might have some answers to this mess?"

"Nah, be our guest but we'll have to tape it—make sure it's all by the book, y'know."

"I know." Boy, did he know.

"So did you target me specifically or just sort of saw an opportunity and went for it?"

"It wasn't like that, honest. I swear."

"Emily, don't waste my time. Tell me what was going on and I might—might—decline to press charges."

She went from contrite to anger in a nanosecond. "Like it would make any difference to you, you're worth millions, this is pocket change to you—if the police hadn't called you, you wouldn't have even noticed."

There were about a dozen things Dick was tempted to say, everything from mentioning that she'd just confessed to the stupidity of her argument for ripping him off but he didn't. He stopped himself, watching her. A minute passed, then two.

"Okay, so call the police in or arrest me yourself, since you're a cop."

"This isn't my jurisdiction."

"Call your friends to do it, then. You know the locals."

"Why did you do it?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "The money." 'Like, duh' remained unsaid but hung in the air.

"Your family's rich and I know that there are some trusts you have income from."

"Gone." She was almost pouting, like a child who's eaten an entire bag of candy and is annoyed because there isn't another one.

"What did you need the money for or was it just because you wanted it."

"Are you serious? Why does anyone want money?—unless you have more than you could spend in twenty lifetimes which would explain why you're asking stupid questions."

He was unruffled; he'd been insulted and taunted by the best, she was strictly amateur. "Why? For your mother, to go back to school, buy out Tiffany's?" Medical bills could swamp anyone, force then into bankruptcy and Emily didn't strike him as someone who just wanted a spending spree—though it wouldn't be the first time he'd been wrong about things.

Fine, whatever. "I knew it, rich or poor, anyone with a Y chromosome is the same; you don't care about the money, you're just bent out of shape because you're thinking I used you last night and didn't fall into bed with you because of how fabulous you are." She shook her head. "Poor you."

"Emily, let's get back on track here. First of all, I didn't tie you up and make you stay last night and, secondly, I don't believe that you and these morons planned this. For starters, they were too drunk to plan anything and, from what I've gathered, they were just looking for a bathroom, took a few wrong turns and somehow ended up in my room then picked up what was in plain sight."

"Sure, whatever."

He was tired of this back and forth. Maybe it was just a crime of opportunity and maybe her trust fund really was empty. It didn't matter. The security cameras had caught Brian and Dave about as red handed as it got and Emily was being implicated by the moron twins.

He had better things to do and had wasted more than enough time on this.

But—he really had liked her and last night had been more than just a roll in the hay, at least a little, anyway.

"Are you going to press charges?" She was scared, reality seemed to have finally dawned.

"Do I get my money back?"

"I don't have it, the guys do." Her chin was trembling. Tough.

He shook his head, "Okay, whatever you say. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Hey...!"

He closed the door behind him and accepted the cup of bad coffee the local Lieutenant handed him.

"Now what, Sergeant?"

"Let her think for a while."

Twenty minutes went by, thirty-five, fifty, an hour and a quarter and Emily was left to sit by herself. Finally. "'Sorry, I had some things to do. 'You have anything to add?"

"It was because of my mom, the cancer."

"The medical bills?"

She shook her head, annoyed. "Have you ever taken care of someone who's sick like that? No? It sucks—no life of my own, can't go anywhere, can't take a vacation, can't have fiends over—it really sucks."

Uh...okay. "If it's so bad why not hire professionals?"

"Yeah, right, five hundred or a thousand a week, plus room and board? Good luck with that. My stupid brother is in the Midwest, my sister is a college student ad lives out of state—it's me. Period. I needed a break."

"...You're serious."

"Of course I'm fucking serious. We don't have hot and cold running servants like you do, Sergeant. Wake up, Dick; you don't live in the same world real people do, okay? I needed a break."

Incredible. Sure, care giving was hard, it was but—Christ. Incredible.

"That's it, you're leaving?"

"Who's watching your mother now?"

"...She's okay."

He opened the door. "Lieutenant? Send a car over to 87 Bradford, Lane, check on the woman living there and I'll swear out that complaint if someone can do the paperwork."

Inside the small questioning cubicle Emily stared in disbelief. "I don't believe this, you have no idea what it's like, not a clue. Spoiled assho..."

Dick pulled the door shut behind him.

6/4/10

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