Many of you have been wondering who the new police commissioner is, if your reviews are any indication. Well, sit in suspense no longer lol.
The case was as high-profile as they came without resorting to Arkham's worst. It was quite telling when the Mayor called not once, but twice to ascertain what was going on.
As the newly-appointed Police Commissioner, Maggie Sawyer gave a standard answer, and high-tailed it to Wayne Enterprises.
Were this any other murder, she would have assigned it and that would be that. Unfortunately, the Wayne name was involved, so that already required a visit from her. It was only political rather than out of necessity. The press was already surrounding Wayne Tower, demanding answers, only to get stonewalled by the police presence that barricaded the building.
"Vultures," a nearby officer groused as he eyed the press mob. "Must be a slow news day."
"We've already caught a couple trying to sneak into the building," another one remarked. "You would think they were trying to ruin this case for us."
Maggie just kept a straight face as she passed by the men, entering the building. She heard several voices calling out to her, asking rapid-fire questions, but the cacophony of voices drowned out what they were exactly. She didn't pay them any mind as she strolled into and through the lobby, heading for the elevators.
Standing at the door were two of her detectives, Cris Allen and Renee Montoya. They were just the people she wanted to see. "Detectives," she greeted as she came to stand next to them.
"Commissioner," Montoya replied, a professional look on her face. It was still a little strange to outrank a fellow officer. While Maggie had transferred in as a lieutenant, she still held great respect for the Hispanic woman. She had been one of the people in her predecessor's inner circle and she wanted to keep the same people, even Bullock. It helped with the transition from a legend in James Gordon to her.
Detective Allen just nodded in acknowledgement. Allen had been an up-and-comer when she first arrived and had really taken over when she had been promoted. He was developing a reputation for being hard-nosed and getting to the heart of the case, which was what they were going to need here.
The elevator doors opened and the three boarded the lift. Montoya punched the button to the top floor, the doors closing shortly after. Once they were shut, the blonde woman ordered, "Tell me what we've got."
"A big ol' mess," Allen replied. "The whole thing went down in Wayne's office. We've got signs of a struggle all over the office."
"The vic's name is Vesper Fairchild," Montoya added, holding up a notepad. "She's a columnist and radio jockey. As Cris said, she was assaulted and shot dead."
Oh great, a reporter was killed. No wonder the press was hot on this. Though it was completely expected with Wayne being involved, with the victim being a fellow press member, there would be louder demands for answers. It wasn't often a reporter became the news they reported, but when they did…
"Go on," she said.
"Our current timeline is Mr. Wayne arriving at his office. He claims he opened the door and found Fairchild lying in the middle of his office. He checked for a pulse, found none, and called out for an ambulance. Calls were made and here we are."
As if that were a cue, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. A small reception area appeared with the doors to Bruce Wayne's office flung wide open. Maggie walked right up to the office, seeing a veritable army of the GCPD's finest. In the reception area, a handful of officers stood, guarding entry to the crime scene. Inside of the office was Forensics, collecting and labeling every clue they could possibly find.
Allen hadn't been kidding when he said the office was a mess. The office itself was massive, perhaps half the size of the bullpen back at the precinct, and that room was large itself. It had room for designated areas, like Wayne's desk, a sitting area just to the left of the door, and…another one to the right, though that one had access to what looked like a liquor cart. The furniture was overturned, as if the chairs and couches had been knocked over. Papers were scattered everywhere, clearly knocked off of Wayne's desk, along with a desk lamp, telephone, and whatever else had been kept on the desk. Surprisingly, the computer was still standing untouched.
And right in the middle of it all was Fairchild's body, lying in a puddle of her own blood.
"Welcome to how the other half lives," Allen declared. "We haven't established a timeline for what went down in the office yet, but so far we've been able to tell that Fairchild got the snot beat out of her. There's not a part of the room where she wasn't thrown against based off of the blood smears we've found. At one point, we think she took refuge in the bathroom since the frame is busted and the lock is still in use. Her face was used to break the mirror in there and she was then dragged out."
Maggie spared a glance to an open door, seeing the door frame splintered where the lock would be. That backed up what Allen was telling her.
"It all ends with Fairchild here. Ballistics believe the killer was standing behind her and shot her as she laid on the floor. We'll have confirmation when they complete their report."
"How long ago did this just happen?" Maggie asked, hand shoved into her coat pockets. She was wearing a trench coat, much like Gordon had on the job. She was starting to see why.
"First responders reported that her body had just gone cold when they arrived, so we're looking at about the last two or three hours," Montoya answered. "CPR wasn't given for that reason."
"Did Wayne try?"
Montoya shook her head. "He claims he didn't."
That was…odd. Usually when someone found a body, they either kept their distance, or they tried CPR. Wayne had done something in-between, confirming death without resuscitation. While it was good that he didn't move the body, it just didn't make sense.
"Strange, ain't it?" Allen echoed her thoughts. "It gets better. The security cameras for the whole building went out when this went down."
You've got to be kidding me. Of course there wouldn't be any security footage. That would make this too easy. "What do you have?" she inquired instead.
"Whoever turned them off was an amateur," Allen reported. "Originally, they tried turning off the cameras for this one area, but a few minutes later they went out building-wide. So this was clearly premeditated."
Yeah, she got that premonition too. Someone wanted to use this particular place for the crime and had the foresight to try and prevent evidence from being created. They just left the main piece, that being the body.
"Alright, this has only just begun." Maggie looked right to Allen. "I want you as primary, Allen. That okay, Renee?"
"No problem," Montoya replied.
"Not sure if I should thank you, or start swearing," Allen muttered.
"Start with swearing, it'll save you some time," Maggie said. "I'm going to be upfront with you: there's a lot of pressure on this. You've seen the press and I have no doubt at least one of them has learned that Fairchild is the vic—and if they haven't yet, they will soon. That's going to spread like a wildfire if it hasn't already. On top of that, Wayne is connected—well-connected. The Mayor has already called me twice for updates and that was before I even got out of the door this morning. We need to be fast and efficient on this. No mistakes either—there won't be time to correct them."
"I'm surprised you're not involving Bullock on this one," Montoya pointed out.
"If you need a bulldog, you have him," the blonde woman responded. "But Bullock has little patience for the circus that is coming down on our doorstep. You two will be better able to handle that. Brush them off, but do it professionally. Use them if you need to; Lord knows any and all of them would kill to receive a leak from us."
"Anything else, Com'mish?" Allen asked, doing his best impression of Bullock.
"Keep me informed of any progress. I'll try and keep the heat off of you as best as I can, but just know we don't have a lot of breathing room. Do this by the book and do it quickly. The sooner we wrap this up, the better."
Naturally, the moment she said that, a member of Forensics popped their head out of the bathroom. "Detectives," he called out before his eyes fell onto Maggie. "Commissioner," he added, "you're gonna want to see this."
"You are watching WGKX, Gotham's most trusted news source for all of today's headline stories! You are watching the Jerri Prudence Hour; I'm Jerri Prudence and welcome to the show!
A woman with short blonde hair stared right into the camera. Its entire focus was her as the anchor.
"Our top story of the hour: Murder at Wayne Tower! That's right, you did not mishear that. There has been a murder at Wayne Tower! Police are on the scene right now, keeping the press locked out of the building as they conduct their investigation.
"Sources indicate that the murder was discovered by C.E.O. and owner of Wayne Enterprises himself, playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne! Emergency vehicles and first responders were immediately dispatched, but unfortunately they were unable to revive the victim. The victim's name is unknown at this moment, but we at WGKX are working around the clock to get that vital information for all of our viewers.
"And now, we go out to the field with our on-the-scene reporter, Summer Gleeson! Summer? Can you hear us?"
The image changed to that of a younger woman with red hair. She held a microphone in front of her and seemed to be waiting expectantly. Then, "Yes, Jerri, I can hear you."
"What can you tell us about this horrific event? Have the police said anything?"
"Currently, the police are not commenting on this tragic event. They're still conducting their initial investigation. Just earlier, newly-appointed Police Commissioner, Maggie Sawyer, was seen entering the building. You can expect that if the brass is taking an interest, then all of the GCPD is taking this seriously."
"Curious that a murder in one of the most recognizable buildings in Gotham gets the V.I.P. treatment from the police," Jerri remarked. "Goes to show you what your money can buy when you have it. Now, do we know anything about the victim? Who it is?"
There was a short pause, then, "The GCPD is refusing to report the identity of the victim at this time, which leads us to believe that we are dealing with a Jane Doe at this time."
"This just gets more interesting with every second. Do we know what state the victim was in when she was found?"
"Not at this time, but with the reputation of Bruce Wayne, one cannot rule out that they were in a compromising position. We will update this story as we learn them."
"Please do so, Summer. For now, we will go into commercial break, but when we return, our panel will be discussing this tragedy at length. Please stay tuned for the Jerri Prudence Hour!"
Alright, this bathroom was nuts. As in it was a very nice bathroom, nicer than anything the GCPD had, and it was only for one person's use.
Of course, that would have been the takeaway if it weren't such a mess. From the outside, all anyone could see was the door frame damage from where it was most likely kicked. On the inside, fragments of wood were scattered across the floor and sink. It was like looking at bullet wounds: the entry wound was neater, but the exit wound was messy.
The mirror above the sink was broken, cracks running in every which direction. There were a few cracks that seemed to circle around each other before spreading out, making them impact sites. There were small drops of blood on the broken glass, most likely a match for the vic. A forensic tech was already collecting evidence as they used a very long Q-tip to clean off some of the blood and then place it in a vial.
This wasn't what Detective Allen had been brought in for. The forensic tech that called him and the Commissioner in here was standing by the toilet, his back to a built-in shower. Allen spared a glance at the shower, noting that there was still some moisture in there, as if it had been used. That was worth noting.
The tech reached for the lid on the tank of the toilet, removing it. "While doing a search of the bathroom, we found this," he informed them.
Taking a step to the toilet, Allen looked into the tank and saw a plastic bag inside, one that contained a gun. "That's an unusual place to store a gun," he remarked. "Not nearly as good as a gun safe."
"Has anyone touched it?" Montoya asked as she viewed the gun herself.
"No one," the tech informed them. "I wanted you to see it first before we moved it."
Good man. "Check for fingerprints on the bag, assuming the water hasn't washed it away," Allen ordered. "Then I want Ballistics to check it against the wounds in the vic. We'll see if there are any bullets worth recovering for a better ID."
Not waiting, Allen turned around and left the bathroom, heading for the body. There were a couple of techs surrounding the woman, taking pictures, standard protocol. "Gentlemen, if you would," Allen called out to them as he closed in. "Can we turn the body over?"
"Two seconds," one of the techs responded as he took about seven pictures in that same time frame. The other tech was checking the body, specifically her fingers. Considering the mess here, if Allen had been Fairchild, he would have fought back. Hopefully she scratched her attacker, so they could pull something out from beneath her fingernails.
Patiently, he waited for the techs to complete their tasks. Then the two of them positioned themselves on either side of Fairchild, placing their hands on her shoulders and hips. "Turning the body," one of them announced. "Three…two…one…"
They tilted Fairchild onto her side, the sound of congealed blood pulling against the body and floor being made. It was a wet, nausea-inducing sound for the uninitiated. Seeing as there were bullet wounds in the vic's back, Allen checked for exit wounds on the front, counting the same number of entry wounds as there were exit. That was disappointing. If there had been one less, that meant a bullet was lodged in the vic's body and they could retrieve it.
So each bullet passed right through the vic. Looking to the floor, Allen tried to pick out any holes in the floor and found them. "Have someone try to dig the bullets out," he told the techs. "Hopefully we can get one for testing."
"Have you seen anything else?" Montoya asked from Allen's side.
"We've got bruising, hematomas," one of the techs rattled off. "Cuts on her face and bruises there as well. Nothing beneath the fingernails, so she didn't scratch her attacker at the very least. This woman went through hell before she was killed." The tech tore his eyes away from the body and stared at a spot around her feet. "The perp was standing a foot, maybe two behind the vic when they shot her. The bullet wounds form an even line, so the shooter at least has some training with a gun. They weren't frantic either, otherwise the bullet wounds would be spread out differently."
"How do you mean?" Allen questioned.
"If you were shooting a gun, and you were panicked, you're not worried about bullet placement. You'd get a wound in the chest, the abdomen, the neck, even flat out miss the target entirely. The shooter took their time, lined up their sights, and fired."
So this was cold-blooded murder. Allen looked around the room, his mind beginning to formulate a scenario. Fairchild gets brought to Wayne's office. The perp is waiting for her, or they brought her in willingly. There's a fight. Fairchild tries to hide in the bathroom, the perp kicks the door down, bashes her face against the mirror, then tosses her around the office. It ends with her on the floor, the perp with a gun in hand, and then shoots her dead. He then stashes the gun in the tank of the toilet and leaves…
Something about that wasn't adding up.
The killer brought the gun with them, no question on that, unless the gun was stored here. During the fight, they would have pulled the gun out and used it. "Has anyone seen any other bullet holes in the room?" he called out.
All around him, Forensics began doing a search. Considering no one had already volunteered the discovery of other bullet holes, Allen took that to mean one hadn't been seen on the initial search. This was just to be thorough.
Then, one-by-one, each tech began announcing in the negative, there weren't any other bullet holes outside of the ones beneath the vic. So that definitely ruled out a crime of passion in his eyes. If the fight was unexpected and the killer was frantic, he would have tried shooting Fairchild when she was on her feet, and then finished her off on the floor. So that meant the gun was only used at the end.
So then why stash it in the toilet?
Perhaps everything leading up to the shooting had been planned. But then something unexpected happened at the end, something that surprised the killer and they stashed the gun in the toilet for safekeeping. The killer would return to pick it up when the coast was clear.
So if this was planned, that meant the killer had access to Wayne's office. That limited the number of people it could be right there. "Montoya, see if we can't get a list of people that have access to Wayne's office," he told her.
"On it," the Hispanic woman replied as she jotted it down on her notepad. "I'll also check to see who the gun is registered to as well. We may be able to cross-check the gun's owner and whoever has access."
Allen nodded. This whole thing stunk. He had worked on the force long enough to know when things weren't what they seemed. The best way to approach this was to suspect everyone until proven otherwise. That way they didn't rule out a perp because they didn't fit a profile.
And considering all the pressure that was coming down on this case, they couldn't afford to let the perp escape.
"Detective!" one of the tech's called out, pulling Allen out of his thoughts. "I found something!"
Allen walked around the body as the two techs returned Fairchild to her previous position. He made a beeline for the other tech, who was kneeling on the floor, holding up something in a latex-gloved hand. Montoya was right behind him, as was the Commissioner. Sawyer had been keeping her distance, but was making certain she heard everything that was going on.
As Allen closed in, he immediately identified the object he was holding was a phone. "Whose is it?" he asked as he came to a stop.
The tech pressed the power button and the phone's screen lit up. Miraculously, it still had a charge. The main screen had a picture of what looked like Fairchild when she was alive. She was sitting in some sort of recording booth, animated in whatever she was talking about.
The picture then faded to reveal a fingerprint security protocol. "We're not getting anywhere without the right fingerprint," Allen observed before he turned his head back around to the vic. As morbid as this was going to sound, they really only had one clear option. "Test it against the vic's prints."
It was a credit to the tech that he didn't bat an eye at the order. Instead, he stood up and walked over to the body, kneeling down next to it. Picking up one of her hands, he started with the thumb and pressed it against the screen. Lo and behold, that was the right thumb as the phone gave clearance. The tech lowered the hand down and stared at the phone, then he held it out towards the detective. "A recording app is still on," he reported.
"Oh, tell me it was video," Allen said eagerly.
Unfortunately, the tech shook his head. "Looks like it was just audio."
Hell, audio was better than nothing. Points to Fairchild that she was able to get the app open before she was beaten. Considering it was on one side of the room, it was likely it had been knocked out of her hand. "Someone get a charger," he ordered. "When we play this, I want to make certain it doesn't turn off in mid-reveal."
It felt wrong. It felt like someone was playing a sick joke. Vesper's body was on full display, beaten, bloody, and broken; he had seen bodies before, far too many for any sane person, but this…in his own office.
Someone was sending him a message.
Bruce stewed in his own thoughts as he sat in Lucius' office. It was the only place he felt he could go. The police were naturally wanting every piece of evidence they could get, including eyewitness reports. Him staying in Lucius' office ensured they could get ahold of him at a moment's notice if there were any inconsistencies with the others' stories.
Not that there was going to be.
All Lucius, Cassandra, and Stephen were going to be able to say is that Bruce called for them the moment he discovered Vesper's body, that they called 911 as soon as possible. Each would corroborate the other and thus him. His statement would be the only one with more details.
How did Vesper get into his office, he wondered. Based off of the warmth of her body, she couldn't have been dead for very long. He would have done more examining, but Stephen had been present, so he couldn't be as thorough as he wanted. So he was forced to go off of memory, which wasn't exactly a good idea.
He remembered the blood; he remembered the bullet holes in Vesper's back. At the very least, she had been shot. He recalled seeing bruises on her skin, so she was also beaten. That was about all he could go on. The rest of his office was a wreck, as if Vesper had been thrown around before being shot dead.
However, that could have been staged. It was entirely possible Vesper was kidnapped, beaten, and brought to Wayne Enterprises, where she was shot dead. His office could then be ransacked, made to appear as if there were a struggle. He would need to see what was missing, if anything. What a way to disguise a theft than with a bigger crime?
Yet, he didn't know how Vesper got here. Was it a kidnapping? Did she come here herself? Was she invited under the pretext of a message from him? These were all strong possibilities, though the last one could not have been done by him. He had checked his phone and the last message he received was of her saying she would meet him at the gala last night.
One she never showed up for…
Did Vesper have every intent on showing? Was she going to show, but was side-tracked? Or had she been kidnapped before then and the kidnapper sent the message? That was entirely possible. So many damn unknowns and he couldn't get answers that were thirty feet away.
It was driving him crazy.
The door to the office opened and Lucius entered, Cassandra right behind him. "I doubt we're going to get much work up here today," Lucius announced. "And you're not going to have access to your office for weeks, if not months."
"It's going to take awhile to get any important documents out," Bruce concurred. "The police are going to go through them all to make certain none of them have any relevance and that will take time. We're stuck at a standstill."
"I can't imagine why this is happening." Lucius walked around his desk so that he could sit in the chair behind it. Cassandra joined Bruce in the chair next to him. "This is straight forward murder, right? I hate to bring up corporate espionage at a time like this, but I can't help but consider it."
"It occurred to me too," Bruce agreed. "And we won't know if that's what happened until the police allow us to see if anything is missing, or if there was any irregular access."
"We can at least check on that," Lucius said before he picked up his phone. He punched a couple buttons and then waited. "James, it's Lucius. Can you do me a favor and check all the logs for last night. I want anything from five p.m. last night to seven this morning. I know this…you can? Great. Get it done as soon as possible."
He then hung up the phone. "That's at least one way we can do our own investigation. Now, what do you intend on doing?"
"As of right now, nothing." Bruce glanced to his daughter, who was looking at him expectantly. "Tonight, on the other hand…"
Lucius nodded his understanding. Then he sighed. "That poor girl. Who could have wanted to do something like this to her?"
Considering Vesper's occupation, that made for a long list. Bruce was reminded of Vicki Vale and the fate she had suffered. Her last days had been lived in terror as a hitman tracked her down and killed her. If Vesper had stepped on the wrong toes—and from experience, he knew she very well could have—then she had someone gunning for her.
"We're going to need to look into Vesper, which the police will also do, no doubt," Bruce said then. Staring right at Cassandra, he asked, "Can you look over her place while I take care of things here?"
The dark-haired girl nodded sharply. "Consider it done."
"I'll leave it to your discretion on how to proceed. I don't know if you want to involve your team, but only do so if they can help."
"And while you two handle your side of things, I'll handle Wayne Enterprises," Lucius volunteered. "I'll be informing PR about what's going on and get a press release worked on. The sooner we get ahead of this, the better."
Bruce nodded absently. Then, "I know you have your own press sources, the same as me, Lucius. Let's see if we can't learn something from them as well, see if Vesper was working on anything that she could have gotten in over her head. The last time I spoke to her, she was telling me how she was getting a reputation for being a Wayne apologist. Maybe that ruffled someone's feathers."
"Maybe," Lucius replied dubious. "Though I wouldn't put too much stock into it."
"I'm not, but we need to turn over every stone we can. Vesper was killed for a reason and the sooner we learn it, the sooner we can catch her murderer."
Jerri Prudence is an OC created for this story. Say her name fast enough and you'll catch the pun being made, because you know some public figure would call themselves this based off of their background. There is a model for the character, which should become apparent as the story goes on.
