April Showers

A Chapter by Dc Luder

Another small collection of random deaths leads Batman to begin his investigation.

Batman and all recognizable characters belong to DC Comics, not DC Luder.

^V^

“Society’s had their chance. I’m going hunting. Hunting for humans.”

James Oliver Huberty

^V^

Haven View Apartments, May 2nd, 1:45 a.m.

She usually never brought anyone home after just meeting them.

Actually, Amy’s last romantic interest had been Cory, a suave third year student at GSU with coal black hair and icy eyes. His voice had always reminded her of that news broadcaster on Live at Eleven on channel three. They had dated for nearly six months, but the more serious she wanted the relationship to get; the more he seemed to drift away. The week before, he had dumped her for some trashy freshman with a bust the size of the Andes Mountains.

Well, if he could move on, so could she.

“Nice place,” he said as he stared about the dim living room. She had moved in at the beginning of the Spring semester, longing to be on her own. It was a two bedroom flat, with a nice view of the campus that sprawled a mile away. Amy took his distraction as an opportunity to look him over once more. He was tall, over six feet, and had sculpted muscles that begged to be touched. He had worn a pair of dark slacks and a silk blue short-sleeved shirt to the club, which had shimmered beneath the lights and had snagged her attention. She had sauntered over to him, pulling her skirt up a bit and flashing a seductive grin.

And then he bought her a drink.

They had been together for nearly two hours and she still couldn’t get over how nice he looked. His strong jaw was clean of stubble and his smile was genuine and amiable. He was older, sure, but he was still hot.

“Can I get you a drink?” Amy offered as she waved to get his attention.

He nodded, “Water would be fine. Think I had a bit too much at the bar.”

Amy laughed out loud for no reason other than being rather tipsy herself, “Sure thing.”

While she was in the kitchen fetching two glasses of water, she unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse. Although they had just met, the chemistry was unbelievable and every time they had made physical contact at the bar, she could feel the electricity shoot through her. Had she been sober, she may have asked a few more questions about the sexy tall man with the curly brown hair and quiet hazel eyes, but Amy was her own woman and she could do whatever she damn well pleased.

When she returned to the living room, the light had been turned off. She giggled to herself, thinking how he was already setting the mood. As she scanned the room, she wondered if he had found her bedroom and if he was already waiting for her. Amy set the glasses down on her counter top and then slowly made her way to the rear hall, careful to not stumble in the dark.

“Where’d you go?” she called out, a grin breaking on her lips.

“In here, Amy,” he replied calmly.

God, his voice was much sexier than stupid Cory’s ever was.

The door to her bedroom was open and she noticed that the light beside her bed had been turned on. As she stepped into the room, she leaned against the doorframe and finished removing her blouse. “Ready when you are,” she sighed, her eyes closed.

But as her eyes opened, she was surprised not to see the man she had brought home from the bar. Only the bed, the covers pulled down and pillows on the floor.

She was about to coo something to her missing acquaintance, but was interrupted as a strong forearm wrapped around her throat as another hand shoved a towel into her wide-open mouth. The man she had admired for most of the evening shoved her down on the bed with such a force that her breath gave out. The lamp’s light suddenly vanished and her only source of illumination was a fraction of the moonlight that slipped through her window. The face Amy had kissed twice that night was tight with anger, lips pulled back in a sneer.

In an instant, she felt his weight upon hers and felt his breath on her neck.

He whispered roughly, “You can’t hurt him now, w***e.”

As she felt something sharp and slick stab into her side repeatedly, she wished she could call for help. She wished that she hadn’t had so much to drink.

She wished that Cory was there.

^V^

GCPD Headquarters, May 2nd, 2:34 a.m.

”So much for April showers,” Gordon sighed.

The forecast had called for a forty percent chance of light rain. Instead, Gotham had seen off and on torrential downpours that had waned by midnight, only to return unexpectedly in the early morning hours. I watched as Commissioner James Gordon stood next to the Bat-signal, shivering in his trench coat and soaked rain hat. He had tried to light his pipe, but the precipitation had prevented him from any sort of success.

Not wanting to torture him any further, I landed soundlessly from my perch twelve feet above and spoke, "Wonderful weather we're having, Jim."

As Gordon's heart rate doubled he cursed under his breath, "Might as well get inside out of this,” he motioned to the cloudy sky.He shut the signal off and proceeded to make his way towards the stairs that led to his office. I advanced in an alternate manner, jumping off the edge of the roof and landing on the stone ledge of his window. Within seconds, I passed through the window and took to standing near the rear corner of the room. While I waited for him, I looked about the room, intrigued that the office had hardly changed in his years in Gotham. New furniture, but still arranged as it had always been.

After closing the door behind him, Gordon removed his soaked outerwear and hung them up on an old coat rack next to his filing cabinet. Even though he was mere inches away, he was unable to see me.

He began, "I've got a bit of bad news for you." Silence. Gordon sat at his desk and picked up a fairly thin folder, "Another one was found. Apartment near GSU.” As he wiped off his glasses, Gordon missed my sudden frown.

I spoke quietly and deeply, "Third one in three months."Gordon shifted in his chair, "So far no witnesses, but Special Crimes is calling all the clubs over on that side of town, see if any of them saw her or have her on camera leaving with anybody. Neighbor reported to the building manager that she heard ‘disturbing sounds’ a little before two. Neighbor’s an old lady, has complained numerous times about the girl’s bedroom Olympics that broadcast through the walls. But she was persistent and after an hour of calls, the manager got up, went in and found her.”

He paused and moved the thin file towards me, “The forensic group should be finishing up over there. You might be able to get a look before the sun comes up.”

I reached out with a gloved hand and took it before quickly stashing it beneath my cape. I then moved silently to the window and turned to face Gordon, feeling that I should say something. Instead, I shot a line to an adjacent building and slipped out unnoticed."Get out of this rain," Gordon said to thin air.

^V^

Haven View Apartments, May 2nd, 3:52 a.m.

Before I had made it to meet with Gordon, I had already dealt with numerous other altercations. A few muggings in the Theatre District, not to mention several attempted burglaries and other property crimes along the way to the northern end of the city. Nothing too bad, however. Not even the criminals liked being out in the rain.

As I cruised across town, I scanned the file Gordon had given me. Preliminary reports from the medical examiner revealed that the victim had died of exsanguination from severe stab wounds to her side. Several photographs brought his words to life. A nude woman, dark haired and fairly pretty, sprawled on a bed, her once youthful form reduced to gore.

Haven View Apartments was settled on a three-acre plot of arbor filled land and safe, quiet trails for joggers and dog-walkers alike. The residents were neighborly and comprised of the industrious commuters of Gotham coming home to three bedroom, two-car garage and two and a half kid homes as well as the more well off students enrolled at Gotham State University.

Ordinary people.

So much for normalcy.

In the last three months, three young women had been found dead, their bodies found in various locations ranging from their homes to their cars. Each were characteristically marked with vicious bruises to the throat and visceral stab wounds in addition to evident sexual assault. Their ages had been eighteen, twenty-three and now twenty. All had been enrolled in separate schools in Gotham, one still in high school while the others had been in college. Each had been of average intelligence and had no previous history with trouble.

That was until they were strangled, raped and stabbed to death.

I sighed as I parked the 'Mobile in the rear of the surprisingly secluded lot across from the apartment complex. A nice, dark, quiet place for any sort of monster to lurk and await its prey. As I sat and stared out through the bullet-proof windshield, my mind pictured the killer, parked in a unremarkable vehicle, watching as people came home from work, from dinner, from a night of partying. Did he pick her because she was stumbling drunk? Because of her curvaceous form? Or had he already known her?

It was perhaps that exact uncertainty that bothered me the most. There was no face to this killer, nothing at all. For years, I had developed my deductive intellect to be able to reason and dissect the minds of criminals in order to bring them to justice. Even the most twisted minds were readily unraveled once I began investigating them. But this one was different. And different was never good in this business.Within the parking area, there was a unmarked patrol car, its inhabitants talking quietly and hardly paying any attention to their task of protecting the crime scene. The Forensic Investigation crew had left before I had arrived, of which I was grateful. Leaving the apartment empty for me to study.

After activating the night lenses within the cowl, I stepped out of the vehicle and made my way towards the southern fence of the parking area, opting for the concealment of the large oak trees. After clearing the fence and a careful crossing of the street, all that stood between the crime scene and my path was a squat brick fence and a lazy security camera. I timed its rotations and waited until it shifted to the left sweep before making an unnoticeable bound over the fence and onto the property. The caution had been out of habit and was completely unnecessary. The police had already asked to see the tapes, and according to the file, had been informed by a very embarrassed manager that all they had was a camera that swung back and forth, didn’t even take a picture.

Each of the apartment buildings housed over a thirty residents and were all the same shape, size and hue of beige stucco. The first one on the left had been the final address and resting place of Amy Bennett. No security camera was at the door, which would provide no image of the man who had slain her.

Entering the building involved a line shot up to the third floor window ledge and then carefully unlocking and opening it. No alarm. For a single woman living by herself, she had no real sense of personal security. I stepped inside quietly and gazed about the room that I had entered. It was practically barren, hard wood floor scuffed and completely visible. Several cardboard boxes had been stacked neatly in the corner and had been written on in black marker: Amy’s Stuff.

As I moved towards the hall, I looked in both directions and decided to investigate the kitchen and living room before moving on to the actual focus of the visit. Everything was in perfect order, plush carpet meticulously vacuumed and clean. An over-stuffed sofa and couch set the color of pine trees was decorated with silk pillows of varying shades of green. A coffee stand held several magazines, featuring various methods of weight loss and men baiting on the covers.

I walked further on, entering a small yet comfortable kitchen area. The table was no larger than a card table and was only paired with two chairs. The refrigerator was surprisingly full considering she lived alone. Juice, beer, fresh vegetables, a loaf of wheat bread as well as a small cheese cake with only one slice missing.

When I about-faced to return to the hall, I noticed two glasses filled halfway with water, sitting on the counter top next to the doorway of which I had just passed through. As I looked closer, no saliva marks were present, not even a smudge of lipstick.

There were more pressing issues to tend to.As I reached the bedroom door, I switched off the night lenses and proceeded to take a deep breath before stepping in. When my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I looked over the wall and found the light switch before reaching and flipping it on. As with the rest of the house, the bedroom was well decorated and probably would have seemed to be well taken care of before that night.

The bed’s sheets and blankets had been removed as evidence and only the blood soaked mattress remained. Spatters of rouge flecked the wall above the headboard and could be seen on the bedside lamp. My eyes diverted from the bed and moved to the floor, where nearly invisible dots of blood could be seen on the dark carpet. However, despite all of the spatter and macabre, there had been no fingerprints or foot prints left behind. And like the others, the only evidence left behind was a sample of semen within the victim, but with nothing to match it with, it was useless.

As I walked over to the attached bathroom, I mused that this one was careful. And very controlled.

The blue tiled room was in order, a wide porcelain sink held several unlit candles and soaps in small dishes. The towel rack to the side of the sink held one folded hand towel. The other had been used to gag the victim, as was depicted in the photographs.

After another ten minutes, I decided that time would be better spent elsewhere, for the scene, as with the others, held no new evidence. With weeks of effort, there was no hint of a lead. All that I had been able to generate was a bland profile that would have fit a quarter of the population in Gotham City. And with a fresh victim and no answersâ€.

I returned to the 'Mobile quickly, shaking off the water before getting in. When I started the engine, I also adjusted the fan and heat system to help me dry quicker. The last thing I needed was a cold to get in the way of my work. Although I brushed off Alfred's meals regularly, I did have a bit of self-awareness when it came to my health. Somewhat.

"Don't we look lovely," a voice registered on the comm. link. A female voice.

I pressed a small button next to the LCD display screen on the main dash panel. Barbara's image quickly formed, her red hair pulled back in a bun with her glasses resting on the top of her head. My mind flashed to the pictures of the latest victim and then went further to revisit images of Barbara, wounded and near dead herself. All in the past, I reminded myself.

I looked at the screen, which had a small camera adjacent to it, sending my own image to her, "What?"

"I heard about the third vic."

I nodded in reply as I shifted into gear and allowed the car to prowl onto the street.

After a silent minute, she continued, "Tim called. He finished up his classes this week. He’ll be home tomorrow at the earliest.”

I replied, "Fine. What have you found?”

"So much for small talk. Amy Marie Bennett, daughter of Jon and Margie Bennett. Had a founder’s scholarship to GSU, 3.1 GPA, second year major in sociology. Clean license, yadda, yadda. ”

Not much, I thought to myself as I sped onto an exit for the freeway.

"No obvious relation to others, either. Different ages, different schools, different everything. Hardly even look alike. So different--.”

"But the same,” I interrupted, “He has a method of choosing them. We just have to find it."

"Easier said than done," she replied, without an ounce of humor in her voice or on her face. "You heading in for the night?”

I nodded slightly.

"Okay, boss, if anything comes my way, I’ll send it to the crays,” and then after a beat, “Goodnight."

After a sigh, I shut the display off and was left alone with my thoughts. As I moved along the freeway, I took advantage of the view to look down on my city. Even with the late hour, it still was bright and alive. But a few miles later, the city lights faded as I crossed the bridge to Bristol. To my home.

At five-thirty five, the Batmobile pulled to a stop in the Cave, and after cutting the engine, I exited the vehicle. Most nights, when I arrived home, Alfred would greet me in the Cave. Although Alfred hid his concern by force-feeding me sandwiches and coffee, I knew that the older man was uneasy until the Batman had returned in one piece.

However, Alfred had his limits.

The Cave was empty at the late hour and I was on my own. After a quick shower and change into dry clothes, I passed the computer bay and made my way to the granite steps. I would review the file in the morning, after a few hours of rest. Thankfully, it was a Saturday and I would be able to focus on the case extensively without interruption.

Upon entering the third floor bedroom, I noticed a small white piece of paper on the bedside table. After I picked it up, I read it: Master Bruce, seeing as how you have probably forgotten, I have left for Buxton with Dr. Thompkins for the weekend. I shall return Sunday midday and hope to find the Manor still standing. Prepared meals have been frozen and are in the deep freezer for your use. To prepare them to eat, I have left instructions on the refrigerator. Please follow the directions carefully, and when in doubt, do order out. In the event of an emergency please contact me via Dr. Thompkins’ cellular telephone. Do try to avoid any dire situation while we are away. Alfred.

I smiled and then placed the note back onto the table.

I mumbled, “Yes, sir,” and then got into bed, wishing daylight would never come.

^V^

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