To Play the Fool

Chapter Fifteen

It's very difficult to not do damage control when my idiot sister's being an idiot. If she wasn't careful, she would get us both killed, but she asked me nicely not to interfere, and so I took out my frustrations on my homework and workload. Mr. Wayne didn't have a whole lot of work for me to do on this particular day, so I was working on some intense chemistry homework at my desk.

"Excuse me Jenny. Are you busy?"

I nearly jumped out of my chair, I was taken so off guard. It was just Star dressed up for a nice, but casual lunch. "Star! No, no I'm not busy. Sorry, these formulas just absorb me."

She peeked at my computer where I was working on the chemical structure of an enzyme. "Yeah, that would confuse me too."

"How are you doing?"

She looked a little annoyed, but not at me. "I'm fine. I'm just looking for another show to audition for. There aren't a whole lot of things for me going in Gotham right now."

"That's true. Not a whole lot of support for the arts around here. I see your neck has healed nicely."

Star touched the scar automatically, and a flash of fear came to her eyes. She was still afraid to talk about that night and probably still blamed me for what happened, even if she said otherwise. "It has. Thanks."

"How can I help you?"

"I'm just waiting for Bruce. Is he …"

I quickly caught on to her apprehension. Mr. Wayne did have a tendency to forget important things, like the lunch he had planned with Star and didn't tell me about. "Let me go see if he's off his conference call just yet." I palmed some eye drops and went into Mr. Wayne's office, closing the door behind me.

True to form, Mr. Wayne was knocked out on the couch in his office. I had learned long ago that Mr. Wayne doesn't sleep in Wayne Manor. He prefers the couch or an office chair. He seems to get all his shut-eye somewhere in Wayne Enterprises. It annoys me, but I work around it. I also learned that I am not to disturb him unless it's a legitimate emergency. This qualified as an emergency, and apart from using a bullhorn, I wasn't sure how to go about this. Is he a light sleeper or a heavy one? Couldn't ask Star, so …

"Mr. Wayne?" I said in a low voice. He didn't stir. I touched his shoulder and said, "Mr. Wayne, Star's here." Still nothing. This time I shook his arm. "Mr. Wayne, wake—"

Pow! He jolted awake, and before he knew it, instinctively punched me in the face. I fell backwards, mostly out of shock, and held my face. "Oh my God, Jenny, I am so sorry!"

I shushed him. "Star's right outside waiting for you. She thinks you're on a conference call."

Mr. Wayne groaned. "Not again. Are you hurt?"

I gave him a 'duh' sort of look. "Of course I'm hurt. Remind me never to wake you up again. Do you destroy your alarm clocks too?"

"Let me see." He took my face in one hand and brushed his thumb over my left cheekbone. I winced where it was tender. "Looks like you'll need some ice."

"And a week and a half of caked-on concealer." He helped me to my feet and I handed him my eye drops. "Anti-redness drops. They'll make you look more awake."

He put the drops in his eyes while I hunted around his desk for a comb. "I'm really sorry. I have never done that before."

"I won't lie. You've got a solid right hook." I traded him the comb for the eye drops and put a few on my face to hopefully keep the swelling down while he fixed his hair.

Star knocked on the door, reminding us that we needed to hurry. "Where's the conference call from?"

"Um, Georgia?"

"The country or the state?"

"Pick one."

Mr. Wayne straightened his shirt and sat at his desk. "Thanks, Jenny. I owe you one."

"I'm not counting." He picked up the phone and struck up a fake conversation with someone from the Balkans and I opened the door. "He's just about done," I told Star. "Would you like to wait inside?"

She stepped into his office as he was finishing his phone call. At this point, I took a look at my face. Nothing visible yet, but Mr. Wayne was right. I would definitely need some ice. I would have to go to the break room to get some. A few moments later, Star and Mr. Wayne exited his office, his arm wrapped around her waist. "I'll be out for the next …" He struggled to find the right amount of time.

"I understand. Have fun, you two." I waved goodbye to them as they left. I couldn't help but notice that Star looked kind of pissed. She has never come to the office to pick him up before, and I don't think she was mad about that exactly. It was 12:30, so maybe he was late. Ah. He's been missing dates and Star's getting fed up with being stood up. That would explain the 'Not again,' comment from Mr. Wayne.

Mr. Wayne has never had a good track record with women. Sure, he's a bit of a playboy, but Star is the first woman he's actually held on to for a reasonable amount of time, according to the tabloids. It would be a shame if this relationship were to crash and burn.

I left work early and skipped class because I was summoned to court. I was needed to testify against Oswald Cobblepot. With any luck, I could get this thing over with today, but there was only one problem. I was kind of the key witness. No one had said that, but I was there when he was arrested, he had tried to kill me, he had tried to hire me, and I was the one who caught his bomb. Admittedly, what I did with the bomb should have killed more people than it did, and it was more dangerous to take it downstairs. The defense would probably catch on to that and would give me a hard time for that.

The trial had already been going on for three days as the police presented their evidence and their side of the story. Now it was time for other witnesses. The first thing I had to do was talk to the District Attorney so he could go over good testimony techniques. Fortunately, having grown up with my Dad and his job, I didn't really need any pointers. What was interesting, though, was one of the other witnesses. The DA had just finished talking to Star Christiansen and was about to get to me.

"Star?" I said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hi Jenny. They just need to know what I was doing at the club." She was speaking a lot softer than normal.

"Probably just to corroborate my story. I hope you go first."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm not getting out of that witness chair until I see that the jury believes me and is going to convict that lying scumbag of a monster."

"Ms. Harkness," said the DA. "Can I see you for a moment?"

"I'll see you in a bit," I told Star, giving her a reassuring squeeze of her hand. Then I followed the DA.

District Attorney Arnold Bartholomew is a tall, imposing man with dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin, and something like a military haircut. He's a charming, schmoosing, people's man, but not in any way corrupt. The least corrupt out of any of the candidates at the time, actually, probably because he was the least experienced. Either way, he got my vote.

Bartholomew took me to a quiet wing of the courthouse and sat on one of the benches without inviting me to take a seat. "You're a lot bigger than I remember."

"Pardon me?"

"Your dad and I used to work in the same office in New York."

"Oh. I didn't know that." I didn't bother to hide my disinterest.

"How is Jacob doing? Is he still doing homicide?"

"Missing Persons, actually. I think he's a Special Agent now."

"Not surprising after what happened to your sister. How's Jackie?"

"She's fine and living with me. Dad was in Missing Persons for at least ten years, long before she went missing. He actually heads his own team."

"Good, good. Your dad used to show us pictures of you all the time. He wouldn't stop talking about how you solved the Mirkwood case. What were you, five?"

"Four and a half. And he read me the FBI's Most Wanted list as a bedtime story every night until I was eight."

He chuckled. "No wonder you got yourself involved with The Penguin."

"That was an accident. He came to me."

"I'll hear it in court. I've done some research on you and your tactics in court. I hear you have a tendency to lead questioning the way you want it to go."

"And in all two cases that happened, the prosecution wasn't asking the right questions. If I hadn't stepped in and led them in the direction that I did, those criminals wouldn't have been convicted. They had the evidence, but they weren't reaching the conclusions that they should have."

"Well we have the right evidence, and enough to keep him in jail for at least 40 years without your help. It sure helps that he threatened over fifty policemen with a bomb. Nobody threatens to kill cops in this town unless they want to be put away for life, not after the Joker attacks."

"But I'm the one that actually put the explosives in a place where they could hurt the police."

"Well don't tell them that." I had to nod in agreement. He had a point. "Did Star know?"

"I didn't tell her. I don't know why she helped me. It was dangerous and stupid to redecorate the place at the time."

"I agree. I won't get into it, but you can bet the prosecution will call her on it."

"You're the one who wanted to use her as a witness. I wouldn't have."

"Are you a law student?" I bit my tongue. It was clear that despite the glowing reviews Dad gave of me, Bartholomew still thought I was nothing more than a gifted kid who was a little bit arrogant at times, and I was getting on his nerves. "Apart from Batman and Tex, you two are the best civilian witnesses I have."

"Cobblepot is a blackmailer who has ruined plenty of other people's lives and their businesses. I can help you find one of them and they can testify against him. You could get him for fraud, extortion, and probably murder – something more than a paltry white collar crime."

"The police already have enough to charge him with murder. The Mayor wants him put away fast, and we've got enough to put him away for a long time. We don't actually need you."

My jaw clenched, but I said nothing. I should be happy that he was being put away, but I couldn't help but feel that my pride was being punched in the gut. If I'm not the key witness, then what the heck am I doing here? I turned and left him without trying to see what he originally wanted and found Star. "Let's go," I said grumpily.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"The DA and I don't exactly see eye-to-eye. How was lunch?" Time to pry into her life.

She barely revealed any of her annoyance; she was an actress for a reason. "It was fine."

"You're mad at him." Star has been brewing for a few weeks, and what happened at the Iceberg Lounge was only the beginning. I'm not sure that she's recovered from that trauma.

"A little bit, yeah," she replied testily, "and I don't need you prying into my life!" I waited a few moments. The thing about boiling pots is that you don't need to look to know that they're ready. Sometimes, they just start whistling. "It's just that I feel like an afterthought to him. Like, 'Oh, yeah, I've got a girlfriend. Guess I should call her or something.' Everything's clockwork. Wednesdays are for roses, Fridays are for dinner, Sundays are for chocolate. None of it's from him because he's got someone else to do the work for him. I just want to see Bruce. Not his gifts, just him. I want to be late to work in the morning because I was up talking to him. I'd like a note to hide in my purse. I'd like to take him someplace, but he's too busy for whatever I have planned. Got plenty of time for whatever he's planned, though!"

"Do you want me to kidnap him for you?"

"A little bit, yes." We reached the courtroom.

Star and I sat in the audience behind the prosecution's table. When we came into the room, Cobblepot turned around and stared at us with a smirk across his face. He had on a black business suit rather than his Victorian one – the old one was probably in evidence storage. His lawyer looked as slimy as anyone hired by the Penguin would be. Brown hair slicked back, pencil mustache, fingerprints on his glasses … I could almost smell him. Her was preparing an argument and was ignoring us. I waved back to the Penguin with a smirk of my own. My goal today was not to match wits with him, but to convince the jury that I was on their side.

"I hope this doesn't take long," said Star.

Star's testimony took around fifteen minutes, and it was mostly just confirming specific details. They didn't spend a whole lot of time on the Poodle Lady's attack. They wanted to know why she helped set the bombs, and her entire reason was that I asked her to. The Defense team probably realized she wasn't a threat. She was only a bystander, after all, and I think Cobblepot told his lawyer to focus on me. I shouldn't feel so special. I was the one that would take the rest of the day.

"I would like to call my next witness, Jenny Harkness, to the stand."

I took my seat facing the rest of the court, swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and smiled at the jury.

"Jenny Harkness, is that your full name?" the D.A. clarified.

"yes. My mother thought giving me a nickname for a given name was a good idea. She fixed that with my sister, who actually goes by her nickname."

"How did you meet the defendant?"

Over the next few minutes, I went over the details of how Mr. Cobblepot came into my life. Most of it was boring and I've already covered that, so I'll just skip that. The DA gave me the easy questions, apart from the fact that I had absolutely no way to prove that he had sent the bomb or was targeting me. In either case, the most physical harm I suffered due to this man was a few cuts and bruises, and my hearing nearly taken away from me. I didn't understand this until later, but my doctors thought that I wouldn't get my hearing back because I have some family history of hearing loss.

No, the difficult part came when Mr. Cobblepot's lawyer took over questioning me. "Ms. Harkness," he began, "did you know who 'the Penguin' was before you met the defendant?"

"I'd heard the name tossed around in the news from time to time, but I didn't connect the two until Tex said she was going to go get the Penguin."

"Ms. Harkness, who do you believe sent the bomb to your office?" he asked me.

I sighed because I couldn't lie about this. "I can tell you who sent the penguin and whose address was on the box and who wrote the note inside, and that is the defendant. I cannot tell you where the bomb came from because I do not have the expertise to conclusively say the bomb and the crystal penguin were one and the same. However, due to the tone of the note and the underlying threat attached, I would say that it was Mr. Cobblepot that sent the bomb. The fact that it only went off when I brought the statue downstairs tells me that the bomb and the crystal penguin are related."

"You said the note had an underlying threat. What do you mean by that?"

"It sounded fake to begin with. The note said that Mr. Cobblepot had given up, which is out of character for him. He doesn't let go of anything except on his terms. Plus it implied that Mr. Cobblepot had forgiven Mr. Wayne for some grievance against him, which was the wrong way around. On top of that, it was an odd gift to give. A pen, a stationary set, a mug would have been fine, but a crystal penguin? That was just so out of the blue that I immediately took it to security because I didn't trust it. I didn't expect it to blow up, but it just could not stay in the office."

"In other words, there was no direct threat to you or Mr. Wayne."

"No."

"Ms. Harkness, this is something that has confused the police. If you suspected the crystal penguins were bombs, why did you go out of your way to collect them?"

"Well, I was suspicious of them. I didn't know exactly what was up, but there was something wrong. It really started when a neighboring company e-mailed me their sympathies and mentioned in passing that they had been given a hideous crystal penguin. I realized that we weren't the only ones to get one of them, nor were we the first to be visited by Mr. Cobblepot. So I started e-mailing other companies around town to see who had been given crystal penguins,and I offered to take them off their hands so I could study them. I ended up collecting 24 penguins."

"Where did you keep them?"

"In an empty field a little outside of town, sort of towards the airport. On the off chance that they were actually bombs, I didn't feel like killing the rest of my neighbors. Mr. Wayne did mention to me later that Wayne Enterprises had experimented with a clear, solid explosive, but never did come up with anything conclusive. They shut down the project after someone stole a prototype, and they realized it was too volatile."

"Why did you put them back in the Iceberg Lounge?"

"I didn't want them anymore. Besides, they fit with the Iceberg Lounge's décor."

"So did you determine that they weren't dangerous?"

"I didn't have the resources to rule either possibility out, but since they were Mr. Cobblepot's, I figured he would know."

"Why not mail them to him? Why did you deliver them personally?"

"Mr. Cobblepot invited me to the Arctic Circle in the Iceberg Lounge. I thought I would kill two birds with one stone."

"Could you tell the jury why you planted explosives in the building, close enough to hurt the police?"

"I didn't expect the police to be there, the building was empty, and I wasn't even sure that they were bombs yet. Furthermore, I let Mr. Cobblepot know that all of the penguins were in the building so he could act accordingly."

"Why did Mr. Cobblepot invite you to the Iceberg Lounge in the first place?"

"First to offer me a job again. Then so he could have me killed."

"Back up."

"Right. Mr. Cobblepot invited me to the VIP room in the Iceberg Lounge. The invitation is in evidence. I found it in my mailbox, but without a post office mark. I went there after telling several people where I would be. He again offered me a job to collect blackmail, but not just on Mr. Wayne. On anyone and everyone."

"Why you?"

"Because I'm smart. My father is an FBI Agent and raised me with a certain set of instincts. I notice things other people don't. For instance, I can tell you that the defendant owns at least eight different kinds of birds and was married at least 20 years ago, but was divorced only recently, maybe five years ago."

"Is this true?" His lawyer turned to his client for confirmation, and Mr. Cobblepot only nodded. The lawyer turned back to me, annoyed that his client hadn't tried to sully my credibility. "I see. What was different about this offer as opposed to his previous one?"

"He was prepared to pay me up front. He had a check for $500,000 ready for me. He was also offering me a job with the opportunity to use my brain even more than I do at Wayne Enterprises."

"Why did you turn him down?"

"I thought of my sister and how she thinks I'm Sherlock Holmes' great-granddaughter or something. Which reminded me of the Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton. In this case, I was Holmes and he was Milverton, except I didn't break into his house, crack his safe, and burn the contents. However, as soon as I told him the story, he had his friends take me into the back to kill me because he thought it was me."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He told his people to take care of me and leave my body in the river."

"Ms. Harkness, could you be so kind as to tell the court where you were when my client's home was broken in to?"

"Of course. I was with my friend Imogen Watson telling her all about the Wayne Party I had just left."

"So you didn't break into his home?"

"No. I believe Bane testified and said it was Batman and Tex."

"So you're not –"

"I'm not Tex."

"But you don't find it odd that you mentioned the story of Charles Augustus Milverton after everything in his safe was burned, just like in the story? Coincidence?"

"Yes. If I was following the story, I would have shot him already. Plus, the police saw Tex and I – two separate people – on the roof of the Iceberg Lounge. Furthermore, she is the one who saved me from the defendant."

"Did you know someone had broken into his house?"

"No. That was the first I had heard of it. If it was me, I wouldn't have burnt anything. I would have just taken the evidence. My guess, though, is that it was Tex because she's the one who came to save me."

"Tex saved you?"

I nodded. "She beat up the hit-men, and woman, and told me to get in my car and leave. Then she left to go do something in the Iceberg Lounge."

"Then what did you do?"

"When the fire alarm went off, I took the 24 crystal penguins out of my car and had my friend Star help me place them around the building. It was deserted as far as I knew. When I was done, I told Star to leave and went upstairs to the roof."

"Why?"

"Because I could hear a helicopter and I knew that's the way Mr. Cobblepot had gone. I thought I would give at least one back to him personally. Judging by his reaction, I would say that he was not at all pleased that I had brought the penguin back to him."

"Was the vigilante known as The Batman there?"

"Yes. He was holding back because the defendant was threatening to detonate the bombs. He stepped in to disable him while he was distracted. Plus when I told Batman that he had tried to kill me, he hit him a couple of times out of some misplaced sense of chivalry. I don't know."

That elicited a couple chuckles out of the audience and jury, most of all from a woman in her fifties with short, strawberry blonde hair and a botox smooth face. I was surprised I hadn't noticed her before because she just didn't belong. She wasn't a journalist or simply a curious onlooker. Somehow she was personally involved, and yet not a witness to any of the crimes the Penguin was being charged with today.

"Are you a so-called 'Batman Supporter'?" Mr. Cobblepot's lawyer continued.

"No. He was nothing but kind to me, but I do not believe in his vigilantism."

"Did you ask The Batman, to assault my client?"

"I did not. I only told him the truth. I have no control over The Batman. No one does."

"What did you say, exactly."

"I said, 'Tried to kill me. Twice.' The first time was with a bomb, the second time was when his goons punched me in the throat and dragged me into the back alley to shoot me and drop me in the river. Batman reacted accordingly by punching the defendant twice."

"You provoked the Batman into attacking my client?"

"I did nothing. Your client did all the work himself. I trusted that Batman would take the necessary precautions to keep me safe. Part of that was knowing why that man was a danger to me."

He was having an effect on the jury. They were eying me with a bit more suspicion now, and seeming to favor him. The Penguin's lawyer was only beginning to paint him as a poor man targeted by the police and society. "One last question, Ms. Harkness. You had your suspicions that the crystal penguins were bombs before you placed them in the club. Were you trying to kill my client?"

A little, yes, but he didn't need to know that. "He was the one with the detonator. As soon as I dropped off all the penguins, I made it very clear to Mr. Cobblepot that if he pushed the button, he would be killing himself."

"I'll take that as a yes. No further questions, your honor." He returned to his table looking quite smug. Not exactly what I wanted, and by the looks of some of the people in the audience, it's not what they had in mind either.

Court was let out soon after that to be resumed the next day. I wasn't needed anymore. Star tried to catch me on my way out, but I ran past her. "Jenny!" she started.

"Sorry, later!" And I ran out of the room after someone specific.

I caught up with the strawberry-blonde woman down an empty hall of the courthouse away from the press and the crowd. She faced away from me and was working on something in her hands. It sounded metallic, and I could hear her crying as well. I cleared my throat noisily, and she spun around, quickly hiding her little project in her pocket. I made a point not to call her out on it.

"It's amazing how much damage one little indiscretion can do," I said gently.

"What would you know?"

"I know that The Penguin hurt you. Bled you dry, squeezed even more out, and then exposed you anyway."

It was an obvious shot in the dark, but it worked anyway. Instead of wondering how I knew, she started spilling. "It was one time! My husband and I were having trouble, and I just wanted to clear my head. I met a guy at a bar, we bonded, one thing led to another ..."

"Cobblepot found out."

"I don't even know how. It was years ago, but somehow he had pictures and evidence. He said that if I didn't pay him $50,000, he would tell my husband. I forked over the money, hoping that was the end of it. Then he just kept coming back for more. I was borrowing from friends, stealing from my husband, embezzling in his company, but when there was no more money ..." She struggled to regain her composure as the memory brought back tears. "There was no reason for what he did! Frank and I were poorer than we had ever been, but we were happier too. It was the strangest thing. Somehow, all this trouble was bringing us closer together. But Cobblepot just ruined everything for no other reason than he liked to see me in pain." This woman full-on started sobbing, unable to stop the emotion.

"Did you press charges?"

She nodded. "But that lawyer of his … he's such a slime. He made it look like the entire thing was all my fault. He got off scott-free. The Penguin has been in court more times than I can count, and he gets away every single time."

"You were the first to press charges."

"Yes. And I've been to every court proceeding he's at, hoping someone will finally put an end to his torture. I thought that this time, we would finally get him. After today … it's just like all the others. He's going to get away and everyone's going to bend over backwards to beg for his forgiveness."

"This time he went too far. The jury's going to find him guilty. They have to."

"Not after his lawyer got through with you. Tomorrow, he's going to say you planted the bombs and then you'll be charged with attempting to kill the police or something."

"Come on, I wasn't that bad."

"There's only one way to make sure he never hurts anyone ever again."

"Please don't mean what I think you mean," I mumbled.

She took the thing she was working on earlier out of her pocket. It was a nearly completed ceramic handgun. "I read The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton a long time ago. I thought it was oddly fitting for me. Even more so now. Right at the end, a ruined woman comes to his house in the middle of the night."

"I've read it. I know. Sherlock Holmes is not real. You do not need to follow this story to the letter because that jury is full of good, ethical people. They are going to find him guilty of everything."

"Even the author knew that this type of man cannot be brought to justice by the law. The only justice that's left is revenge."

"Vengeance is not justice. Even if you manage to kill him, you will be caught or killed. There's no reason for you to suffer even more."

"There's no reason for any of this! There's no reason for either of us to live. You know he deserves this, Harkness. Jail is not enough for him."

"I know this is hard, but we have to trust the legal system to do its job. We have to let an unbiased party be the one that hands out justice."

"Justice? You have too much faith in Gotham. This city and its laws are so corrupt that it lets men like Oswald Cobblepot go free for the worst crimes on minor 'technicalities.'"

"It's supposed to be hard to convict people in this system so we don't send the wrong people to jail. It's a flawed system at times, but it works. We have to put our faith in the prosecution and the defense or else the system doesn't work. If you shoot the Penguin , you'll be breaking that faith and trust and enable more criminals to escape justice. Can you just trust the law a little longer?"

"I'm sorry, but I've waited long enough. Too long for anything resembling justice for me or this man. Just let me do this!"

"No. I can't. I'm not going to let you ruin your life like this."

"How can my life possibly get worse?"

"You may think you've got nothing to lose, but you'd be surprised at how much you've got. Your husband could want you back, but if you kill Cobblepot, you'll be in jail and you'll never see him again, not even in passing. Right now, you see nothing, but from where I stand, you've still got something. That's why I'm not going to let you kill him. You don't deserve to do this to yourself. Give me the gun." I held out my hand, but she only pointed it at me. "I know you don't want to kill me. Just give it to me."

"I will if I can kill the Penguin. You're all that stands in my way." As brave as her words were, the gun was shaking uncontrollably in her hand.

"You'll never make it. There are cameras everywhere. All you will have done is murder me, and he will get away for sure. Give me the gun."

"Please. I need this. I need closure."

"So do I. And for me, that means seeing him rot in a jail cell. Give. Me. The. Gun."

She struggled with it for a few more seconds while I waited patiently with my hand outstretched. Then, slowly, she pushed the gun into my hand. As soon as it left her grasp, she wrapped her arms around herself and fell to the ground, wracked with sobs.

As much as I felt I should stay and comfort her, I needed to get the gun well away from her. I walked down a couple halls, around a corner, set it down in a trash can, and left to go find Star.

"Where did you go?" Star asked me when I finally found her.

"Had to go talk to someone to prevent a tragedy. How are you holding up?"

She shrugged. "Just tired. That was really boring."

"It could be worse." Memories of my previous visits to court made an unwelcome comeback, and I pushed them away before I could reflect on how long and drawn out they were. "Do you have a ride home?"

"Yeah. Bruce is coming to pick me up in a few minutes. I'm sure we'll have room in the car if you need a ride."

"No, it's alright. Thank you, though. I was just going to take the bus."

"Are you sure?"

I was about to tell her that taking the bus home wouldn't kill me when my phone rang. I recognized the number as James Carroll's. "Actually, I think I may have just found my ride home. Excuse me." I stepped away and went outside to answer it. "Hello, James."

"Jenny, hi! I just heard you were testifying against the Penguin today!"

I raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Well, I didn't really hear about it. I just saw that he was being tried today, and I knew you would be testifying one of these days."

"Then how did you know I was here?" I didn't think they listed who would be testifying in the newspaper, no matter how unscrupulous Gotham Chronicle journalists were.

"I tried calling you at work, and they told me you were at court."

"Oh. Well, I just got done with court and I'm on my way home."

"On the bus? Let me give you a ride home."

"I don't know. I think it would just be faster –"

"And we could go get dinner, too. Something low-key, like Chicken Express."

I sighed as my stomach growled. I had been getting used to Jackie making my lunch, despite my objections to the practice. She was up late last night taking care of the Riddler, and didn't have a chance to make lunch for either of us. "I could go for that. Besides, it seems you know a lot more about me than I know about you, and I want to fix that."

"Great! I'll be right there!"