It was another week before the first victim was found. Her neighbors had heard shrieking and, when the police finally broke down the door, they found her with her upper body embedded in her mirror.
She died-blood loss-less than twenty minutes later.
"Toxicity tests came back negative." Gordon reported. "Do you think maybe she fell?"
"No. Look at the size of her-she'd have needed a good running start to break the mirror the way she did."
"There was no sign of an intruder."
"There wouldn't be." He examined the woman-about sixty-five, no more than one hundred pounds-and wondered what about her was so special.
"What was in her reading collection?"
Gordon shook his head.
"Romance novels, all of which were tested and came back negative."
He hadn't really expected her to poison the books-they'd done that before-but it was worth a try.
"Any more tapes?"
"No. We haven't heard from her."
That wouldn't last for long.
"I need to examine her apartment for evidence."
What little evidence would remain, anyway, now that the police were through. It wasn't entirely their fault-most of them had families, after all-but still.
There was nothing unusual here-a bottle of perfume, which he took to check, a collection of nail polish, an untouched jewelry box…and no sign of an intruder.
"Did anyone see anybody answering Richardson's description?"
"No. We checked. Maybe this is just a coincidence."
Yeah. Maybe. But the universe was rarely so lazy.
"I don't believe in coincidence." he said gruffly. "I'll be in touch."
He ran the perfume through every test he could think of and came up with nothing. It had to be it! Other people would have been affected if it was the air conditioner.
He ran the woman's name through the computer, expecting her to be an Arkham nurse or something, anyone that Richardson would have in contact with and despised, and it came up blank.
It wasn't the perfume, there was no motive that he could see…maybe Jim was right. Maybe this was just…another Gotham death.
But oh, he really didn't believe that.
THE END