A/N: Well I owe you all a huge apology! I'm so so so so so sorry that I haven't updated in, well, forever, but here I am, back again. Just been going through some writer's block here, but hopefully I've overcome that now. A huge thank you to my reviewers, and to my beta, Thought! Enjoy!
Chapter Seven - A Date for the Detective
"I'm not sure whether to be offended. Women don't usually forget me so easily."
There was a slightly stunned pause, and when she spoke again her voice was incredulous. "Bruce Wayne?!"
"You're a hard woman to reach, Miss Simmons."
"Well if I'd wanted to be reached I would have left a phone number," she said icily. "Now what exactly can I do for you?"
"You can have dinner with me," I replied.
As soon as the invitation to the mayor's gala had appeared in my mail, I realised I had the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Ilaria Simmons – to work out exactly what it was about her that nagged at me. Alfred's answer had been quite simple: that I found her attractive and hadn't actually spent any time with a woman I genuinely was interested in. I had a horrible feeling he might have a point, but arranged for the flowers to be delivered anyway.
"I think you heard my answer last night," she said. "It hasn't changed."
"Well may I at least know the reason?" I pushed, feeling slightly annoyed, and not knowing why. Maybe Alfred was right – he usually was. It had been too long since I found a woman who didn't want a boost up the fame list, and I wasn't used to it being a challenge.
"I'd rather not be another one-night stand," she answered simply.
Damn reputation. "And if I assured you I had no intention of trying to sleep with you?"
"I'm not sure you could help yourself," she said, a slight smirk in her voice. "And as pleasant as being exposed to a Bruce Wayne charm-offensive might be, I would prefer not to risk it. Though I will say thank you for the flowers."
"Thank you for the flowers, but this will be the last time we have contact with each other?" I summarised.
"That's it."
"Alright, I will admit that I had an ulterior motive for wanting to speak to you," I told her. Though I would still like to buy you dinner...I need a date for something."
Her voice was scathing. "And bimbo-of-the-week won't do?"
"Not in this instance, no. The mayor's gala for the National Federation for the Blind – for once I'd like to take a woman I can hold a conversation with." I frowned slightly as I said that. That hadn't been in the script. As far as she knew, I was just as dim as the women I dated – Bruce Wayne didn't have intelligent conversations. Bruce Wayne was a spoiled playboy who relied on his money to get him through life. No choice but to go along with the bluff. Or the truth, I realised uncomfortably. "And from the discussion we had last night I think you'd fulfil that role rather well."
"And if I don't want to play the game?" she asked, sounding interested for the first time in the phone call.
"Well I can't force you to," I replied. "But I imagine it would be more fun playing it with you than a lot of others."
There was a pause, and when she spoke again, her voice was slightly gentler, but tired of the flirting. "Look, let's cut to the chase here, Mr Wayne-"
"Bruce," I interrupted automatically.
I got the impression she was suppressing the urge to sigh impatiently. "Bruce. You know that I have no interest in dating you, but since, obviously, this is a cause close to my heart, and if you need a date who will look good in the papers, I'll accompany you – on the understanding that my company is going to cost you a substantial donation to the charity."
I smiled. "How substantial?"
"Well normally I'd suggest about ten thousand dollars, but that's really a drop in the ocean for you, isn't it?" she said. "So whatever counts as substantial in a billionaire's books."
I considered. "Agreed."
She wasn't finished. "And for that night only; no dinner, no further dates and definitely no attempts at seducing me, are we clear?"
I forced back a chuckle. "We're clear."
"Excellent. Then you can pick me up at seven," she said crisply.
"Alright," I agreed, feeling that I'd had easier business negotiations than organising this one date had been.
"Goodbye, Mr Wayne."
"Good-" When the dial tone sounded, I couldn't help it, and for the first time in a long time, I surrendered to the urge to really laugh.
---
I snapped the phone closed and then squeezed my eyes shut. "Oh my God. Tell me I did not just do that. Tell me I did not just agree to go on a date with Bruce Wayne."
Charlie's cackles told me everything I needed to know. I groaned and let out a stream of curses. Eventually she calmed down. "I liked the 'ten thousand dollars' line," she mused, amusement still trembling in the background of her voice.
"Well it's true," I pointed out, "he can afford it." I blew my cheeks out and leaned back on the couch. "Why did I just do that?"
"Who knows, it could be because it will bring more publicity to the charity."
I raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Yeah, but that's not what you think, is it?"
She chortled again. "No, I think your subconscious got the better of you and decided it wanted to be a notch on Bruce Wayne's bedpost whether the rest of you did or not."
"I'm not going to sleep with him," I emphasised.
"Yeah ok, ok."
I stuck my tongue out at her.
"And on that mature note, I'm leaving," she said. "I have to do some work I suppose."
I wanted to point out that I'd spent last night working my arse off, but decided against it, and only nodded. "Okay. I have a concert tonight anyway. We're doing the 1812 Overture - complete with cannons, apparently."
"Scavron does realise they just built Symphony Hall, right?"
I shrugged. "No doubt a hole in the wall would just be a sacrifice necessary for his art."
She laughed. "You know sometimes I don't think people like that are on the same planet."
"So says the artist," I commented dryly. "Though you might be right. Scavron certainly doesn't seem to be bound by the same laws of common sense as the rest of us."
"Mmm," Charlie agreed. "Much like the Bruce Waynes of this world."
I smiled. Wayne's habit of spelunking and BASE jumping wasn't exactly a secret, though why anyone would choose to throw themselves voluntarily off rooftops... I chose not to think about the fact that jumping with a parachute was a hell of a lot safer than trusting what was basically a zip-wire to hold you. As I had done... several times last night.
Casting around for a none-Echo related subject, I asked if she'd taken Jasper for a walk. "Yesterday I did, but not this morning."
"Right, I'll take him for a quick stroll around the park before I have to go in." I stood. "Jasper, walk!"
Before we left the apartment, I couldn't resist bending once more to bury my nose in the flowers. There could be no denying that it was a thoughtful gesture, but it was only because he wanted something.
So why in Dio's name had I said yes?
---
I watched as Andrew Bristol shut up shop, bolting the door and sliding the metal shutters closed across the windows. He turned back to the darkened store; from my hiding place I threw a toy soldier at the door. Predictably, he turned to have a look, but seeing nothing, turned back.
I'd already moved silently, and was now standing in front of him. When he faced me, he had the normal reaction; he screamed, leaping back. I was already moving forward, and pinned him against the wall.
"How is the Joker communicating with you?" I demanded.
He gaped wordlessly for a moment. I slammed him against a different wall. "Tell me!"
"I don't- He's not-"
"You're an arms-dealer, supplying the Joker - how is he communicating with you? How is he paying you?"
He finally got a coherent sentence out. "I- I don't know, I swear, the money just appears in my account every time I make a delivery, a company called Metropolis Exports. The last one is due for tomorrow, there's no more-"
From outside, there was the sound of three shots. They were close. Before I could knock Bristol unconscious so he couldn't run away, though, the glass door exploded inward, an out-cold clown crashing through it. The sounds of a fight continued from the street outside. Maintaining a firm grip on Bristol, I looked through the shutters.
Sure enough, there were five more of the Joker's thugs, and one more figure; slender, dressed entirely in black and moving fast. There was a flash of metal in her hand; a nunchaku that, as I watched, she swung at the abdomen of one clown. He bent double, and Echo whipped around him, slamming her weapon into the back of his neck. She was a good fighter, but she might not be good enough; if I wanted to get the rest of the information out of Bristol, I needed to work fast.
"How is the Joker contacting you from Arkham?"
"Comic books!" he blurted. "I-in Superman comic books - there's a code, and on certain lines he circles a word, and then all I have to do is put it together to get the message-"
He must be lying; no way would the Joker be allowed to send mail that hadn't been read, and especially something as innocuous as a comic book. Any psychologist that knew anything about the Joker would know that was exactly the kind of thing he'd use to pass on instructions of violence. Were it not for the fact that anything he sent would be scrutinised, I'd be inclined to think Bristol was telling the truth. "Where's the latest one?"
"I- in my office, I was gonna destroy it later-"
The sounds of the fight outside had died down, but now there was a new sound; sirens. The cops would be here in a matter of minutes, and there wasn't time for more interrogation. One solid punch to Bristol's temple, and he crumpled to the floor. I made my way quickly to the back of the store, vaulting over the counter and into the back office.
There was another exit, and Echo's silhouette stood in it. "Hurry," she said. "Cops'll be here any second."
There was no sign of a comic book on any surface I could see, and no time to investigate more thoroughly. Seeing a piece of paper and pen, I quickly scrawled down the location of the guns for the cops - in the basement, hidden underneath crates of G.I. Joe action figures - and followed Echo out of the back door into the alley behind the store, just as cops burst in the front way.
She'd already fired a grapple-line up to the top of the nearest building, and was being reeled up it. I followed suit, landing a few seconds behind her. She turned to face me, pulling something out of a pocket in the leg of her suit. "Gonna tell me why I'm holding a Superman comic book?"
"I thought I told you not to come out here again," I growled, ignoring her question.
It was disconcerting, looking into blank white lenses. There was no way for me to tell what she was thinking. Perhaps I should incorporate them into my mask. When she spoke her voice was perfectly even. "And I decided not to listen."
"How did you know to investigate Bristol?"
"I didn't. I followed you," she answered with a hint of smugness in her tone. Smugness that was well-deserved; I'd had no idea she was within twenty blocks. Impressed despite myself, I folded my arms and waited. "So you going to tell me why Bristol is so important?"
"Why should I?"
"Because I'm not a thug," she replied. "Beating the shit out of the scum is fun enough, but don't treat me like I don't have the brains to help with the investigations."
I stared at her for at least ten seconds. At no point did she shift or look anything less than quite at her ease. "He's smuggling weapons into the city."
"And you want to find his buyers," she assumed.
"No," I countered, "I know who's buying them. The Joker."
She nodded, but I could feel her surprise. "How is he communicating with his weapons supplier from inside Arkham?"
"That's why I came to see Bristol."
"What did you get out of him?"
"You heard," I said. "Somewhere in that comic book are the messages."
She threw it to me. "Remember what I said. I want to know what you find out."
I studied her again. "We'll see," I said gruffly.
Echo seemed to take that as good enough, since she strode over to the other side of the building and fired a line down. She paused for a moment, smirking. "Don't worry about not being able to find me," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be around, Detective."
---
A/N: Review please!
