Mad Love, Part Three
Part Three
The irony struck Chloe immediately as she turned onto Industrial Avenue. The scene resembled a modern day Flint, Michigan: more boarded up houses littered the neighbourhood, and those that weren’t looked equally neglected. Chloe passed the street’s namesake, a dilapidated bottling factory, as she continued towards her destination.
When Chloe pulled over in front of the house, she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was by far the nicest on the block. It was a small bungalow, simply outfitted in grey siding, but what it lacked in curb appeal was overshadowed by the obvious care the owners put into their home. Their lawn was freshly mown, unlike their neighbours’, and a fresh flower basket hung off the porch. Chloe approached the house and knocked. The door immediately swung open and Chloe was greeted by a wide smile.
“Ms. Payne?”
Chloe nodded.
“Come in,” ushered the graying woman, who looked to be in her late forties. Chloe entered, and the woman quickly shut the door behind her, and dead bolted it. The woman chuckled self-consciously when she noticed Chloe’s curious glance.
“Can never be too careful in these parts,” she explained. “I’m Sarah, by the way. Frank’s in the den. Just follow me.”
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Chloe said as she was led through a short hallway.
“No problem. Frank’s been itching to talk to Ms. Vale about what happened. Thinks it’ll help clear his conscience. He never would’ve agreed to the job if he’d known what that man would make him do.”
They passed the kitchen and into a small living room. The room was dark, as all the curtains had been drawn, and Frank sat on the couch with his head in his hands.
“Did anyone see you come in?” he asked, without looking up.
“I’m fairly certain no one saw me,” Chloe replied. “It’s like a ghost town out there, anyway.”
“Been like that ever since the factory shut down,” Sarah supplied. “It was the livelihood of a lot of people around here.”
“It was our livelihood, too,” Frank added. “That’s why I was part of that horrible night.”
“The job paid well?” Chloe asked, as she took a seat opposite Frank.
“It was supposed to, but that Joker guy, he was a piece of work. He never had any intention of paying us.”
“How did you end up working for the Joker?”
“After the factory closed down, a lot of my friends got in deep with the mob. One of them told me this clown had gotten his hands on all of the mob’s money, and he needed guys. I was told I’d get a thousand dollars just for helping out.”
“A tempting offer,” Chloe agreed. “But for that kind of money, you must have known something was up.”
“It smelt fishy, alright, but I was desperate. We were four payments behind on our mortgage, and the bank was threatening to take away our house. It’s the only thing we own. We don’t have a car, we can’t have children, we’re out of work. I wasn’t loosing my house, too.”
“What did the Joker want you to do?”
“He was a crafty bastard, excuse my language. We were to look after the hostages, and make sure the police couldn’t get to him. Only he had us pose as the victims. Even dressed them up in clown masks.”
“Excuse me,” Sarah interrupted. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.”
She gave Chloe a tight smile, and exited the room.
“She doesn’t like to hear the details about that night,” Frank explained. “She’s so disappointed. Sarah’s not like most of the people that live in the narrows. She’s always taken pride in her home, and even when we fell on hard times, she’d always smile and say we’d find a way.”
“She just didn’t expect it would involve any felonies. How did you escape charges, by the way?”
“I have some buddies on the police force. It was so chaotic that night that when they saw what I’d got mixed up in, they gave me a whack on the head and sent me home to Sarah.”
“You’re awfully lucky. If you were anyone else you’d either be dead or in jail,” Chloe pointed out.
‘Don’t remind me,” he exclaimed, and his head dropped to his hands once more.
“One last question. Do you know why the Joker was doing this? What his motivation was?”
“The hell if I know,” Frank responded. “If you ask me, I think the guy was crazy. He wanted to cause trouble for the hell of it. Chaos for the sake of chaos. His only aim was to hurt the people of Gotham.”
Chloe bit her lip. Unfortunately all her interview with Frank had unearthed was a conclusion she had already drawn - the Joker was nuts.
“Thanks for your time,” Chloe said. She approached the man, and extended her hand, which he shook firmly.
Chloe passed the kitchen on her way back to the front of the house, and gave Sarah a little wave. As she approached the front door, the woman called out to her, “Penelope, wait!”
Chloe stopped and turned. She could hear Sarah arguing with her husband in the living room, and then shuffling feet as she dragged him to the front of the house.
“Tell her what you told me,” Sarah ordered her husband.
Frank sighed, and looked between Chloe and his wife. “Maybe she could do something about it,” his wife continued to needle.
Franked nodded, and said to Chloe, “Something’s happening tonight. Some of the Joker’s men escaped jail time, like me, and they were told to meet at the docks, on the Narrows side, eleven o’clock sharp. A guy I know is heading down there, and asked if I was interested. I turned him down.”
“Last I heard, the Joker was still locked up in Arkham Asylum,” Chloe reminded the couple. “How’s he organizing his men?”
“Don’t ask me,” Frank said. “You’re the reporter, you figure it out.”
Chloe smiled. She hadn’t been called a reporter in a long time, but the moniker still evoked a burst of heat in the pit of her belly.
“Thanks again. You’ve been really helpful.”
With that, Chloe unlocked the door, and let herself out.
As she fumbled in her bag for her keys, Chloe’s body hummed in anticipation. Watchtower was finally going to do some field work.
* * *
Chloe had a couple hours before the night’s events, and so headed back to her hotel. A cat nap and a good meal were in order before what promised to be a long night.
Before heading up to her room, Chloe approached the front desk and asked a woman if she had any messages. She hadn’t heard from Andrea since she arrived, and Chloe hoped that the situation in Metropolis hadn’t become worse.
“Room number?” the woman asked, poised and ready in front of her computer monitor.
“821,” Chloe supplied.
A quick clack of the keys. “Name?”
“Penelope Payne.”
“Can I see your key card?”
Chloe pulled it from her purse, and handed it over. The receptionist took the card and slid it down the side of her monitor.
“Your security code?”
Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and asked the receptionist to clarify.
“When the room was booked,” the woman explains, “It was asked that the room be placed under high security. You may not have noticed, but extra security has been placed on your floor, and only visitors who are aware of the code will be allowed up to your room. The code is also necessary for you to obtain any messages left for that room number.”
“Can you tell me who requested this?” Chloe asked, slightly perturbed. Andrea had some explaining to do.
“It was requested when the room was booked, approximately one month ago.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was requested when the room was booked on June 25th, 2009.”
Chloe was taken aback. The room had been booked over a month ago, before the murders in Metropolis had even taken place.
“May I ask who made this request?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give out that information,” the woman said.
“Listen,” Chloe leaned forward and glanced down at the woman’s nametag, “Gina. I don’t feel comfortable staying in a room that is being monitored by some stranger, so give me a name, or the Gazette will run an exclusive on the unorthodox business practices of Gotham’s most elite hotel.”
“Ma’am, we are a quality establishment,” Gina bristled. “We would never let just anyone tamper with the security of our guests. Only the person who makes the booking can make the request. I would recommend you contact whoever made the booking for you, and discuss the matter with them.”
Chloe nodded. Oh, she definitely would.
“Now, there’s a note written on your file that says a package was left for you. I will need the code if you would like to take a look at it.”
Chloe bit her lip. “Is there some kind of hint?”
Gina pursed her lips, and scrolled down the page in front of her.
“It says to tell you that the code is the place that holds your favourite memory.”
Chloe frowned.
“The Watchtower?” Chloe ventured, thinking not only of her loft in Metropolis but also her codename.
“I’m sorry,” the woman shook her head. “That’s not what I have on file.”
No, of course not, Chloe thought. The memories it evoked were painful, and Chloe only loved it for the link it supplied to someone she’d lost.
Chloe tried to remember the last time she was truly happy. The specifics of this past year were fuzzy, at best. After her Brainiac exorcism, Chloe never did recover all of her memories, the most devastating example being the complete lack of memory Chloe had of her wedding day. Besides, she’d spent the majority of this year at the Isis foundation, and that was certainly not her favourite place.
“The Talon?” Chloe guessed, thinking of the apartment she’d shared with Jimmy.
Again, the woman shook her head.
Chloe bit her lip. She thought back further, before Lex’s crusade to stop the Traveler and Grant Gabriel crushed her dreams of ever escaping the basement. She remembered a day she stood trembling in front of Pauline Kahn, her soul laid out on the desk before her.
“The Daily Planet,” Chloe said.
Gina nodded. “I’ll just be a moment,” she informed Chloe before heading to a back room to retrieve the package.
Very sneaky, Andrea, Chloe thought. The woman had never been shy in voicing that Chloe was wasting herself playing den mother to Oliver’s group of wannabe superheroes.
Confronting Chloe with this fact was clearly one of her reasons for asking Chloe to head to Gotham.
“Here it is,” Gina announced and handed Chloe a large manila envelope.
Chloe grabbed it greedily. It was hard won, after all.
She ripped it open, and pulled out a black and white photo. Upon inspection, Chloe realized it was a picture of herself, clutching the girl who’d died the day before. It was a high resolution, close up of the incident that must have been taken with a high quality camera. Scrawled across the bottom, in what Chloe hoped was red paint, was a message: “Why so serious?”
“When was this dropped off?” Chloe asked the receptionist. She checked the computer and answered, “It was logged in at 11 am.”
Chloe nodded. Just minutes after she’d left the hotel that morning.
“Thanks,” Chloe said, and walked over to the bank of elevators. She’d only been in the city for a couple days, and already the Joker was onto her. Clearly the murders were building to something, and Chloe had to figure out what before it was too late. Hopefully whatever was happening tonight would reveal everything.
As she emerged on the eighth floor, noticed a man in a suit with an earpiece. He was clearly one of the security guards that had been watching her room, and Chloe chastised herself for not noticing sooner. All the time she’d spent in front of computer monitors had made her rusty.
More importantly, however, Chloe was pissed off that and Andrea was having her watched.
Chloe got into her room, and threw her things down by the door. Grabbing her cell from her purse, Chloe walked to the bed and sat down. She dialled in Andrea’s number, and hoped 4 pm was too early for the Angel of Vengeance to be out fighting crime.
“Rojas.”
“When were you going to tell me my room was being monitored?” Chloe demanded.
“Chloe?”
“Of course it’s me. What was it? Didn’t think I could take care of myself?”
Andrea sighed. “Chica, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Take it slow, and start from the beginning.”
“I enquired at reception to see if I had any messages, and imagine my surprise when I was informed that I needed a security code. Security code! For my own messages!”
“Chloe . .”
“Wait!” Chloe interrupted. “That’s not even the best part! There are security patrolling my floor to keep an eye on me, because clearly I am a five year old and not a twenty-three year old woman who can take care of herself.”
“He really is a piece of work,” Andrea laughed under her breath, but not so quiet that Chloe didn’t hear.
“What did you say?”
Andrea sighed. “Sullivan, you’ve seen the hotel you’re staying at, right? Obviously it’s a little out of my price range. The truth is I’m not the only person who wanted you in Gotham.”
“What?”
“I was asked by a friend for some help. Now, this isn’t a guy who normally asks, so I wasn’t going to turn him down.”
“What am I doing here, Andrea?”
“Exactly what I told you. You’re there to solve a murder case, before more people are hurt.”
“Then why all the secrecy? Who told you to send me here?” Chloe asked forcefully. She didn’t like being treated as a puppet in someone else’s show.
“I can’t tell you Chloe, I promised.”
Chloe sighed into the receiver. As a secret keeper herself, she knew this part of the conversation was over.
“Is he on our side, at least?”
“Chica! I’m offended. You know I’d never work for the bad guys.”
“Alright, I understand. But tell this guy to back off. I can take care of myself.”
“I’ll let him know, but I can’t guarantee it will change anything. How’s the investigation coming?”
“Hopefully I’ll be able to tie things up after tonight.”
“Very cryptic.”
Chloe smiled. “I don’t want to get into specifics, Big Brother could be watching.”
“Chloe,” Andrea groaned. “I’m sorry, okay? I got you out of that horrible apartment, didn’t I? And I bet you’re loving being back in the bullpen.”
“First of all, the apartment is beautiful¾”
“It still has a blood stain on the floor!” Andrea interjected.
“And secondly . . . Yes, it has been nice. I’m not going to get used to it though, as soon as I figure this thing out, I’m coming home and starting my search for Lois again. Speaking of which, have you heard anything?” Chloe asked, hopefully.
“No, honey. Sorry.”
Chloe deflated. “That’s okay. She’ll turn up eventually. She has to.”
“Was that all you needed?”
“Just one more question, how much does this guy really know about me?” She asked, thinking of the memory he’d evoked earlier.
“Just the basics: journalist, hero and drop dead gorgeous.”
Chloe grinned.
“Thanks. I’ll give you a call when I wrap everything up. Keep Metropolis safe.”
“I always do, even if I’m not as big a media whore as the Blur. Bye, Chloe.”
“Bye.”
Chloe ended the call, and tossed her phone on the nightstand, before lying down on the bed. She curled up onto her side, exhausted. So he hadn’t known for sure the Plant housed her favourite memory, it had just been an educated guess. Chloe drifted to sleep thinking about her mysterious benefactor.
* * *
Chloe’s eyes sprang open, and she looked wildly towards the clock beside the bed. 7:48 pm. Time to start getting ready, Chloe acknowledged. She rolled up in bed, and as a young woman with her priorities straight, reached for the room service menu on the side table.
Glancing over the glossy pages, Chloe decided that she was going to order whatever she felt like tonight, seeing as how she no longer had to feel guilty about infringing on Andrea’s hospitality. Maybe this guy will think twice about monitoring people without their knowledge when he receives this massive room service bill.
After placing her order, Chloe got up and rifled through her bag for her suit. Fashioned after the suits Oliver had commissioned for the other members of the group, it was skin-tight and made of Kevlar developed at Queen Industries. Chloe had never worn it before, mostly because she had never had the occasion to. Chloe’s principal role in the league was often to sit behind a computer, half way across the world from where the action was actually happening. There was also small part of Chloe that was too embarrassed to wear it. The suit left very little to the imagination, and unlike Lois and Lana, Chloe had a real woman’s body. This included an indent between her hips and thighs and a slight-roundness to her lower belly, two attributes that do not favour normal clothing that is too tight, let alone a body suit.
It was nice to look at though. It was a dark shade of violet that looked black in the darkness, and would be perfect for the night’s activities. The protection it added would come in handy if anything went awry. The outfit was not complete, however, without the matching sunglasses Oliver had also provided which, again thanks to Queen Industries, were equipped with a night vision setting. It was an outfit designed for nocturnal sleuthing. Plus, the suit cost a lot of money and Chloe figured she should get some use out of it.
She laid it down carefully on the bed, and then walked out in the sitting room to wait for her food to arrive. After her meal and after a lot of vigorous activity, Chloe managed to wedge herself into the costume. Through a feat of pure gymnastic skill, she even managed to fasten the suit herself, and then walked into the bathroom to survey the damage.
Staring at her reflection, Chloe sighed. She would never be contented with how her body looked stuck in this over priced piece of saran wrap, but she supposed it was the best she could do for tonight. Should she survive this, and once again have a billionaire willing to foot the bill, she was going to design the costume.
The outfit hadn’t come with shoes, sadly, so Chloe selected a pair of well-worn leather boots from her suitcase. She then pulled her trench coat from its hanger in the closet, and pulled it on, securing it tightly. The cover would hopefully avoid any questioning looks from other guests as she made her way from her room to her car. Part of the suit was visible below her knees, but Chloe hoped many would chalk the purple leather up as a flamboyant fashion choice.
It was now 9:37 pm: time to go. She grabbed her purse and made sure to tuck her glasses inside, before exiting the room.
Chloe shut the door carefully, noting that the hallway was empty. She had yet to spot anyone else on her floor during her stay, save for the security guards roaming the hall, of who she was now ridiculously aware. Careful not be seen by the guard sitting and watching the elevators, Chloe decided to take the stairs down to the seventh floor, where she then boarded the elevator unseen. If this guy wanted to keep tabs on her, he would have to hire better men. Chloe smiled in self-satisfaction.
As the doors were closing, a voice called out, “Hold the elevator!”
Chloe made no move to do so, preferring to ride in solitude. This did not deter the voice, however, as suddenly a hand was thrust into the body of the machine. The doors opened, and revealed a slightly dishevelled Bruce Wayne.
Chloe stood up straighter, as a light of recognition shone on the man‘s face. “Ms. Payne, from the Gotham Gazette.”
“Mr. Wayne,” she greeted as he stepped on. He extended his hand out to her, which she shook firmly. Chloe was surprised to feel the distinguished bumps of calluses under her fingertips. Bruce had workers hands. She looked him over, and doubted very much he enjoyed manual labour in his spare time. He was dressed smartly, in a suit and tie.
“What brings you to the Excelsior?” he asked, as he moved to stand beside her.
“I’m staying here for the time being,” Chloe hedged, not willing to give to much away.
“What about you?”
“The same.”
“You mean you don’t have some Gothic mansion to call home?” Chloe quipped.
“It’s under repair at the moment, actually. I’ve found the accommodations here more than satisfactory.”
“Even with all of us plebeians milling about?”
Bruce let out a bark of laughter. Chloe returned his smile. He became serious then.
“I hope you’re feeling alright after yesterday. It’s a horrible tragedy about that girl.”
“I’m fine,” Chloe assured him. “Thanks for asking.”
Chloe looked up at the numbers counting down the floors, willing the machine to move faster. Bruce Wayne had more than lived up to his reputation. He was smooth and charming, and on any other night Chloe would be delighted at the attention, but at this moment he was only a distraction.
“That’s an interesting outfit choice,” Bruce noted companionably, indicating what he could see of the suit. “Going out tonight?”
It was asked lightly, but there was a sharpness about his eyes that betrayed him. Chloe looked at the man suspiciously and answered curtly. “Yes.”
“Not all by yourself, I hope?” He prompted.
“I’d be more than willing to provide some company if that’s the case,” Bruce added with a playboy grin.
You’re over selling it, Chloe thought as the elevator chimed, announcing their arrival at the lobby. As she’d lamented earlier that night, Chloe was not Lois or Lana. Billionaires didn’t fall all over themselves when they met her. In fact, they often barely noticed her existence unless it served their own ends, which begged the question; Why was Bruce laying it on so thick? He wouldn’t be the first rich man with a secret Chloe’s known.
“That’s unnecessary,” Chloe said as she stepped out of the elevator. “I’m meeting a friend.”
“Then you should at least let me escort you,” Bruce insisted, as he followed. “Gotham can be very dangerous at night.”
Overestimating your abilities a little, aren‘t you buddy? Chloe thought, but replied instead, “I’m actually just meeting her out front. So you see? I won’t need a chaperone.”
“Then at least let me escort you to her.”
Chloe turned towards Bruce, exasperated and there was a sparkle in his eye that gave away his game. He didn’t believe her! But how could he know?
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Chloe informed him.
“Really? Because I have two legs, and contrary to popular opinion, am quite capable of using them to propel myself from one point to another.” A smirk accompanied the remark, and Chloe huffed.
“That’s not what I meant,” Chloe defended. He was persistent, Chloe had to give him that. Maybe he was interested in her, but Chloe had never found a smarmy attitude particularly attractive. Billionaire or not, Chloe needed to brush him off.
“My friend insisted that it was a girl’s night, no men allowed. Sorry.” Chloe cringed at the sarcasm that seeped into the last word, but Bruce didn’t seem to notice, as his smile got wider.
“I understand now. I could never tarnish the sanctity of a girl’s night out. It was nice chatting with you, Penelope.”
And before she could stop him, he pulled her in close by the small of her back, and kissed her on either cheek in farewell. “A pleasure,” Bruce reiterated in a whisper before he withdrew.
In a slight stupor Chloe watched as Bruce turned and sauntered over into the Hotel Lounge. Ok, so he was charming, but he was probably off to meet some flighty debutante for a drink, and he’d just used Chloe mercilessly for a little warm up, the bastard.
Forgetting about Bruce Wayne, Chloe marched across the lobby towards the exit. A shiver of anticipation ravished her body as the cool night air hit her skin. Chloe had forgotten how much she loved the thrill of field research. If she ever rounded up the missing members of the Justice League, Chloe would insist upon a more active role.
There was no way she could go back to passively sitting in front of a screen.
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