Free Batman 1 - Batman by Craig Shaw Gardner Page B

the corner and took a step back. The alley was a dead end. Bruce stood there, staring at the three brick walls that enclosed him. He looked up at the sky, then over at the alley’s far corner. Stepping over torn trash bags and broken boxes, he walked over to that corner. He kicked some cans out of the way to clear a space.
    Vicki raised her camera. She’d need the telephoto to get a closer look.
    Bruce unwrapped his package. He pulled something out—something hidden by his back. He turned slightly. Vicki saw he was holding two long-stemmed roses.
    Vicki clicked the camera shutter.
    Bruce knelt, facing the corner, and placed the two roses, side by side, on the dirt and broken asphalt, almost as if he was making an offering to a shrine. He held his hand over his eyes.
    Vicki clicked the shutter again.
    He stood, and kicked one of the cans toward the mouth of the alley. He was walking back out! It was time for her to vanish.
    He didn’t see her, hiding in the shadows behind the dumpster. He was still lost in whatever private world had brought him here. He turned down Broad Street, heading for City Square. Vicki resumed her chase, the usual three quarters of a block behind.
    When she caught sight of Bruce again, someone was walking next to him. A street mime, with white painted face and outlandish striped costume. Vicki frowned. He was doing one of those mime things—feeling his way along an imaginary wall, she guessed. He wasn’t very good at it. She had never much cared for street mimes anyway.
    There was a crowd ahead on the steps of City Hall. Bruce hesitated, staring at the commotion. Vicki hurried forward to get a better look, trying to determine what was happening while still keeping an eye on her prey.
    The crowd shifted enough so that she could see what was going on in the middle. One of the local ganglords was there—Ricorso, Vicki thought. He was flanked by a couple of overmuscled bodyguard types and a smooth, well-dressed fellow who had to be a lawyer. Most of the rest of the crowd, she realized, were reporters, including Allie Knox.
    She looked back at where Bruce had been a second ago, but he was gone.
    “So what is this affidavit you’ve filed?” a reporter was asking. “Grissom gave you all his businesses?”
    Ricorso glanced at his lawyer before answering. “Mr. Grissom asked me, as a personal favor, to take over the operation of his business until he returned.”
    “Jeezus,” Knox chimed in, “that’s a pretty big gift. You must have been very close. Did you do a little time together as children?”
    Ricorso sneered as the others laughed.
    “I smell fresh ink, guys,” Knox added. “I’m sure you can prove all this. Why am I asking? Of course you can!”
    Vicki looked around. She had taken her eyes off of Bruce for only a second. She couldn’t see him anywhere in the bustling square. She did see an awful lot of street mimes, though. There were at least half a dozen, climbing invisible stairs, walking against the wind, doing all those things that street mimes did. Vicki wondered if she’d wandered into some sort of special event.
    She walked over to Knox. There were other photographers here, too. She saw one of them take their picture. Allie nodded to her as she approached. The lawyer was talking now.
    “We have witnesses,” he said in an official-sounding monotone. “Grissom’s signature is perfectly legitimate.”
    “It’s legitimate!” a new voice shrieked over the reporter’s questions. “I saw him! I was there!”
    Yet another mime pushed his way through the crowd of reporters. This one not only had a chalk-white face, he had added bloodred lips.
    “I saw it all,” the new mime said. “He raised his dead hand and signed the paper in his own blood. And he did it with this pen!” He reached inside his suit pocket to pull out a quill pen that must have been four feet long. He smiled over at Ricorso as he ripped off his top hat. The hair underneath was green!
    “Hello,