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#1
NOV 13 |
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“Fly in the Ointment”
Three Years Ago
Brian O’Brien looked out the window of his new office to discover rain pelting against the window pane. He sighed. It appeared as if his date with law student Betty Bates would have to wait.
He looked up when the door opened and Betty walked in with rain dripping from her closed umbrella. “Are you ready?” she asked.
“It’s raining,” O’Brien replied. “Surely they’re going to call this off.”
“Hardly,” she said as she smirked. “I just called to check. It looks like the grand opening of the new Tembroke Theater’s going on as scheduled.”
“I suppose they do say that the show has to go on,” O’Brien said as he picked up his suit jacket and pulled it on. “But you were interested in seeing this Human Fly character climb the building. Surely they’re not going to try that.”
Betty’s smile didn’t change. “They are. Apparently he’s good enough that the rain won’t stop him.”
O’Brien donned his hat and walked around his desk, extending his arm to Betty. “Shall we, then?” he asked. She smiled again and they left the office.
Backstage at the Tembroke Theater, Ted Tembroke was pacing back and forth when his partner, John Duke, came rushing up. “What’s wrong?” Duke asked. “The usher sounded frantic when he found me.”
“He won’t do it,” Tembroke said. “Says it’s too dangerous.”
“Deddo?” Duke asked. “I thought he’d said he was the best.”
“That’s what I told him,” Tembroke replied, “but now he’s wanting to back out. After he took our money, I might add.” Tembroke smiled a sick smile. “That’s why I wanted you here. I’m going to teach him a little lesson about welching. I need you to watch the door and make sure that our discussion isn’t interrupted.”
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Duke said.
“I don’t care what you are and aren’t comfortable with,” Tembroke said. “Just watch the door and don’t let anyone in.” Duke moved to block the door as Tembroke entered and slammed the door behind him. A slight click followed as the door was locked. The sounds of blows being landed were barely muffled by the door and left no question as to what the ‘discussion’ entailed.
Duke stayed by the door, nervously keeping anyone else away.
O’Brien and Betty melted into the crowd outside the theater as Tembroke, Duke and the mayor cut the somewhat-soggy ribbon. O’Brien noticed that despite the weather a respectable crowd had shown up for the opening. He joined the crowd in applauding as the ribbon was cut. His eyes joined the others when Tembroke gestured and the costumed Human Fly waved from the side of the building.
Deddo took a deep breath as he began his ascent. Making the climb would normally be simple, but the rain, coupled with the bruises left by Tembroke’s ‘discussion’, made it much more difficult. He reached up, grabbed a brick and grunted as he hauled himself up. He didn’t dwell on the pain – instead looking up to determine his next handhold.
“Isn’t it incredible?” Betty asked as the Fly passed the halfway point on the theater.
O’Brien nodded. “You wouldn’t find me trying this,” he said. “I can’t imagine how dangerous this is.”
Deddo breathed a sigh of relief. He was nearly at the roof. He reached up again and his hand closed on a brick. His eyes shot open wide as he started to pull himself up and his fingers slipped free.
Women screamed as Deddo plummeted from the wall of the theater. Betty, unable to watch, buried her head in O’Brien’s jacket as Deddo slammed into the ground with a sickening thud.
Today
Brian O’Brien looked out the window of his new office to discover a beautiful, sun-filled day on the other side of his window pane. His black judge’s robe hung on the back of the door. The newspaper that had triggered his memories lay on the top of his desk. The headline screamed of murder. Tom Tembroke had been killed by being thrown from the roof of his theater. A note had been left that pointed the blame to Deddo.
He sat down in his leather chair and leaned back, drawing creaks from the hinges underneath. He steepled his fingers and thought. He’d followed the ensuing court case from Deddo’s fall with interest, considering that he’d been present for the incident.
He recalled that Deddo had won the case, but legal maneuvering by Tembroke and Duke’s lawyers had prevented him from receiving any damages. All they had agreed to was to cover Deddo’s medical expenses.
O’Brien stood. He knew what his first stop would be, but first he needed to stop by the file room in the basement of the courthouse. There were a few specifics he needed to refresh his memory on.
“It’s so wonderful that Mr. Deddo has a guest!” O’Brien forced a smile on his face as the chatty nurse walked him through the halls of the care facility where Deddo lived. The smile was harder to maintain considering the foul bouquet of aromas that assaulted him with every step. She led him to a room and stopped at the door. “He’s asleep,” she whispered.
“That’s too bad,” O’Brien said. “Mind if I just peek inside the room? I’d hate to come all this way and not at least see him.”
“Of course,” the nurse said. “Just don’t wake him. He’s been having some long days lately.”
“Really?” O’Brien asked. “What do you mean?”
“That nice Mr. Duke from the theater came in and offered him a job a few weeks ago!” the nurse said. Her smile grew wider until her eyes seemed to disappear behind her fleshy cheeks. “Mr. Deddo’s been so happy to get out and start working again!” Her smile faded. “And then those policemen came today after that story in the newspapers. I know that poor Mr. Deddo could never hurt anyone!”
“I know, it’s a terrible thing that happened,” O’Brien said as he looked inside the room. He frowned as he saw the wheelchair sitting beside the bed where Deddo slept. He turned back to the nurse. “He’s still in the wheelchair?” he asked.
The nurse’s smile faltered and turned sympathetic. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “Poor Mr. Deddo’s never regained full use of his legs after his accident. It’s so sad. I saw him climb a building once. He was so strong then and now his poor legs are so weak and twisted. All he can do now is take tickets at the theater.”
O’Brien nodded. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I know you have other patients who need you as well so I’d better be going.”
The nurse’s smile returned to its full brilliance. “Of course, sir,” she said. “Please stop by any time.”
O’Brien was already planning his next stop as she led him toward the exit door. It wasn’t going to be back at this facility.
After nightfall, the Clock climbed the theater’s fire escape and reached the roof. He looked around before looking down to get his bearings. The chalk outline far below confirmed his location. “So he went down from here,” the Clock mused. “But was he thrown or did he jump?” He studied the gravel on the roof and knelt down. He followed two parallel trails through the gravel with his gloved fingers. He looked and saw that the trails ended just before the roof’s edge.
“So Tembroke was dragged and thrown,” the Clock muttered. Images of Deddo’s chair flashed through his mind. “Or was carried in a wheelchair.” He carefully avoided the marks and hurried to the roof’s entrance door. A moment later he’d picked the lock and had it open. He looked down to discover a stairwell. “So either Deddo’s lying about his legs being damaged or someone else is involved in this.” The Clock quietly descended the stairs into the empty backstage area.
He made his way through the empty theater without finding anything incriminating. He entered the lobby and found a table in the center of the room with a box on top of it. The Clock looked inside to discover the box contained ticket stubs. A check of the table showed that the legs had been sawed off to lower it. The Clock thought a moment, then pulled a chair over and sat down. The tabletop was at the perfect height for someone sitting in a chair.
“Looks like that part of the nurse’s story is true,” the Clock mused. His head snapped around as he heard a voice echoing through the empty theater. He quietly replaced the chair in its original position and hid behind the concession stand in the shadow of a popcorn machine.
“I’ll have the money,” Duke said as he walked into the lobby with another man that the Clock recognized as a member of a local crime family.
“See that you do,” the criminal said. “The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and you’ve run up quite a tab with your bad bets on the ponies.”
“Piece of cake,” Duke said. “Thank him for his patience and tell him that he’ll have every penny next Saturday.”
“That’s what he likes to hear,” the criminal said. “One word of advice, though. Don’t even think about welshing on this…because if you do he will find you.”
The warning delivered, the criminal walked out. Duke locked the door behind him and his confident smile vanished once he was alone.
“Now what am I going to do?” Duke asked.
“Try telling the truth.” Duke turned to the concession stand to discover the Clock standing there.
“Who are you?” Duke demanded. “How’d you get in here?”
“That does not matter,” the Clock said. “Simply look into my eyes.” As Duke obeyed, he found himself being pulled into the Clock’s hypnotic spell. “You will tell me everything,” the Clock said. “Who killed your partner?”
“Yes,” Duke said in a dreamy tone of voice. “I will tell you everything.”
Days Before
“This doesn’t add up!” Tembroke threw his pen across the room and glared at the open ledger on his desk, trying to make the numbers make sense.
“What’s wrong?” Duke asked. He looked up from his own desk.
“The theater’s take doesn’t match the amount of tickets we’re selling,” Tembroke explained. “I’ve tried everything to find the problem. Ticket sellers and concession workers have been switched out, but the problem’s still going on and it’s even across the board. I just don’t understand how this could be happening unless…” Tembroke’s voice trailed away as he realized the truth. He glared at Duke. “It was you.”
“I had to,” Duke admitted.
“I should kill you,” Tembroke said as he stood. He turned to the telephone. “But I’m going to have you locked up instead. Maybe that way I can get some of my money back.” Tembroke began dialing.
The telephone dropped as a crack was heard. Tembroke, the back of his head bloody, fell to the ground. Duke held the marble sculpture that he’d used to strike down his partner in his hand.
“I can’t go to jail,” Duke said. He set the sculpture down and turned back. “Maybe you’ll be more reasonable when you wake up.” He paused as he noticed that Tembroke was extremely still. “Tembroke?” he asked. He knelt and took Tembroke’s wrist in his hand, checking for a pulse.
He dropped the arm in horror as he realized that Tembroke was dead.
From there he went on automatic. He’d dragged Tembroke to the roof and thrown him off, gambling that his impact on the pavement would obliterate any trace of the murder. He’d then scrubbed the floors and sculpture to eradicate any other evidence.
“An interesting story,” the Clock said. “And now you will pay the price for your crimes.”
Duke’s eyes shot wide as he broke free of his hypnotic state. “I can’t go to jail!” he yelled. “No police!” He flailed wildly and his arm struck the Clock, sending the mystery man backward.
The Clock’s eyes narrowed as he picked himself up. “You can’t get away,” he warned as he started chasing Duke.
He followed the crazed theater owner and grew concerned as they ran up a staircase toward the roof.
“Stop, you fool!” the Clock yelled as he saw Duke running toward the edge of the building.
“No jail!” Duke yelled as he reached the edge of the roof and jumped, his arms reaching for the next building. The Clock watched as Duke’s fingers fell short and he fell, screaming, toward the pavement below. The Clock didn’t even look over the edge. The final thud below left no doubt as to what had happened.
He paused a moment as he noticed that Duke had taken the same route to the point where he’d thrown Tembroke’s body off. “A fitting end,” the Clock mused as he headed back into the theater.
Police Chief Hardy Moore stormed into the theater. “I’m getting tired of coming back here,” he said. “What is it with this place?”
“Sir!” A policeman came running up that Moore recognized.
“Lieutenant Moore,” Hardy greeted. It was telling of the gravity of the situation that Barry Moore hadn’t made his normal ‘we’re not related’ joke. “What have you got?”
“This, sir,” Barry said. He handed over a note.
Hardy’s face hardened as he read it. It said simply, “The murder of Ted Tembroke has met his end. The Human Fly is an innocent man. The Clock has struck.”
Hardy handed over the note before he crumpled it up in anger. “The Clock again. Aren’t there enough vigilante mystery men running around this town?” He turned and stormed out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to stop by Brenda’s for a nightcap. He needed something to stop his blood from boiling.
Behind him, his men were searching for any clues to the Clock’s identity. He knew there wouldn’t be any. There never were.
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Next Issue: In Quality Comics #2: A date for Brenda Banks and Hardy Moore doesn’t go as intended – but will Lady Luck find new allies to be a help or a hindrance?
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