Paris, France - 1946
"What did you say you were doing with the technology again, Jonathan?"
"Improving it." A laser beam fired toward a thin target mounted on the far wall. Sparks flew from the monocle and it abruptly exploded in its owners' hand. Jonathan Cheval recoiled in pain, grabbing his burnt hand. "Owww!! Dammit!!"
His partner suppressed a sly grin, but decided sarcasm wasn't the best approach. "Jonathan, maybe you'd be better off focusing on some other aspect of this project."
"Like what?" Cheval shook his hand in pain.
"Maybe the marketing end of the business. You've got a real eye for running a business, no pun intended. Maybe your…talents would be best served on that end."
"Ernest, are you saying you don't think I can contribute to R&D? Do you think me some sort of buffoon?"
Ernest put up his hands in mock surrender. "That's not what I'm saying at all. All I meant was…"
"What?"
"All I meant was, that your experiments aren't going as you- as we hoped. But we've got the baseline technology. Why not spend some time marketing it?"
"You're patronizing me, and I don't like it."
Ernest stared at Cheval, rage boiling inside him. "Fine." He turned and left the room, calling behind him, "Don't let me hear of that monocle being used on the streets again without my say-so. Prick."
Now
"Well well, the boy wonder finally shows his face at the office." The turn of phrase from Amy Rohrbach caught Dick off guard.
"Oh, uh, hi Amy." He managed a smile. Given the amount of time he'd been spending running down leads on the Cheval case, Dick hadn't had much of a chance to catch up with administrative matters. This was definitely a part of the job he was still getting used to. "What's new around here?"
"Not much." Amy kept stride with Dick as he headed down the hall to his office. "We're in overdrive gearing up for the consolidation with Finger PD. Shay really wants as many cases closed as possible."
"Hear anything from Redhorn?"
"Nah. I think he's still freaked out over the assassination attempt. (See NIGHTWING #19-20 - SK). Still holed up in his office, far as I know. ANYway, to stay on task, what're the chances of you wrapping up this Monocle thing soon?"
Dick entered his office, began thumbing through the pile of pink phone messages on his messy desk. "I've got some leads, but everytime I interview someone they give me a new piece of info that doesn't fit. Cheval seems to have given a lot of different people very different impressions of his character."
Dick's eye was caught by a phone message dated two days prior. Edith Mays had called, left a message for Dick to call her. Now he wished he'd checked in. "Hangonasec, ok Amy?" He reached for his phone, dialed Edith's number. After two rings her answering machine picked up. Dick left a message for Edith to call him when she got in, then returned his attention to Amy.
"Edith, huh? Hot little chickie?"
"Umm… no. She's a witness. Or a suspect. Or something; I'm not really sure right now. Besides, I'm engaged."
"You're WHAT?!?" Amy almost dropped her coffee cup. "For real? To who? When did this happen?"
"To Babs, my girlfriend. Haven't I told you about this?"
"No!! I've never even heard of Babs. Dish, Grayson." Dick was amazed sometimes at how compartmentalized his life had become since moving to Bludhaven. He hadn't intended to keep Babs or the engagement a secret from Amy; it had apparently just happened that way.
He had just begun to relay the story when his phone rang. Holding up the pause finger to Amy, he answered. "Grayson."
"Detective Grayson, this is Officer Drebbin." Dick winced at hearing the overeager rookie's name. "Did you just leave a message for Edith Mays?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I'm at her apartment. We got a missing person's report in on her this morning. She didn't show up for choir practice two nights ago; lights were out in her place; neighbor got concerned."
"Are you at the apartment or in the apartment?"
"In. Lots of old folks here; landlord's used to having to let folks in when they…uh…die and stuff. No sign of Mays. Does she have some connection to a case?"
"I'm on my way." Damn.
So now I've got two mysteries to solve, Dick thought as he paced Edith's empty home. There were a million reasons she might leave home, he knew. Vacation. Visiting a relative. Maybe even staying with her boyfriend, the guy in the pictures at her apartment, and who was with her at Cheval's funeral. Million places she could be.
Except that she was one of Jonathan Cheval's few contacts in Bludhaven who wasn't an S&M freak. Except that she'd been holding something back when he'd questioned her about Cheval. Except that she'd tried to call him two days before. Something was really, really wrong. Dick fingered the picture of Edith and her beau, handed it to Drebbin. "Here. Canvass the neighbors. Find out who this guy is. I want an address and phone number."
"Yes sir."
"Who reported her missing?"
"Neighbor. Harriet Reese. She goes to church with Ms. Mays."
"Point me to her."
SPECTROGRAPHIC ANALYSIS: ITEM #27-1A23
Subject: monocle retrieved from body of Jonathan Cheval, f/k/a The Monocle.
Conclusion: Item is composed of normal glass, no unusual properties.
Unfortunately the interview with Reese was uneventful. She'd gotten concerned when Edith missed choir practice. It wasn't like her to miss even one session. But she hadn't thought much of it until she'd returned home and saw Edith's lights out. She'd tossed and turned all night, then called the cops two days later. Under any other circumstances she'd be a nosy, and overly dramatic, neighbor. But in this case, Dick was afraid, Harriet's instincts had been spot-on. But they got him no closer to finding Edith Mays.
They had, however, gotten an ID on her beau, after some doing. Ernest Waters. Dick grabbed his coat, thanked Harriet for her time, and headed to Waters' residence, a pay-by-the-week hotel off Land Boulevard. Nowhere near as upscale as Edith's apartment, Dick thought. He'd called Amy on the way over and she met him at the hotel. At this point Waters was a suspect, and Dick believed there was a possibility that Edith was in the hotel, maybe against her will. It could get ugly.
But it didn't. Waters was surprised to see the two detectives, but offered no resistance as they entered his room. He consented to a brief search, which was clean. "Sorry officers, but I haven't heard from Edith in a few days. We went to a funeral together a few days ago, but that was the last time I saw her. Surely she's not in any trouble?"
"We'd just like to find her, sir." replied Dick as he completed his cursory search. Nightwing can do a more thorough job after-hours, he thought. "Are you…Ms. Mays' boyfriend?"
Waters grinned. "No. Sorry, young man, but no. I'm her brother."
Her brother. He should have picked up on the subtle nuances of their body language together. "Ah, sorry. Do you know of any acquaintances she may be staying with?" Kicking himself for being sloppy.
"Sorry, but I've only lived here about a month. I don't really know that many people here. I'm just visiting, really. Leaving tomorrow."
"For where?"
"Denver. My home. But I'll stay if Edith's in some danger."
"That might be helpful, sir. Would you mind extending your stay?" Wheels were in motion in Dick's brain. How convenient, he thought, that Ernest Waters' month-long stay in Bludhaven coincided with Jonathan Cheval's murder.
September 10, 1949: Quarco, Colorado
"Will the Defendant please rise?" He stood, along with his court-appointed attorney. "I understand a plea agreement has been reached with the district attorney?"
The DA nodded, stood and addressed the judge. "Yes, your honor. The Defendant has agreed to plead guilty to the charges of assault, reckless endangerment, false imprisonment, and assault with a deadly weapon. In return, the State will dismiss the charges of attempted manslaughter, attempted murder and felonious use of a firearm."
The judge turned to him. "Is this correct?"
He nodded, no trace of remorse in his voice. "Yes, your honor."
"So accepted. Defendant is sentenced to ten years in the Quarco County Correctional Facility, with eligibility for parole in five years and credit for time served." He banged his gavel. "Next case."
Dick didn't like Ernest Waters any further than he could throw him. The timing of his appearance in Bludhaven, Cheval's murder and now Edith's apparent disappearance stunk. With a phone call, he assigned a uniform to stake out Waters' hotel room. Shay would probably raise hell that he was authorizing this sort of expense without even knowing that Edith's disappearance was suspect, but hopefully the department was in enough chaos for this to slip through the cracks.
He almost didn't hear his cell ring he was so lost in thought. "Grayson."
"Hi, Dick. It's Traci." Traci Greene was the BPD's current receptionist. She was about nineteen, talked like a valley girl and had a huge crush on Dick. "Sorry to bother you, but we thought you'd want to know. Edith Mays called for you."
Relief flooded Dick's veins. Edith was alive, wherever she was. "Ok. Did she leave a number or say where she was?"
"No. It was really weird, Dick. I took the call. She asked for you. I told her you were out, offered her voice mail, but she got really agitated. I was about to try to get her to talk to someone else when she hung up. It was so weird, I thought you ought to know."
"We didn't happen to get a trace on the call, did we?"
"Oh. No, sorry. I didn't know to trace the call. I mean, you didn't tell me to, did you?"
"No. No. There's no way you could have known. It's Ok. Listen, if she calls back, please give her my cell number, ok?" He had asked Traci to do that previously, but the message obviously hadn't taken. She agreed - again - and Dick hung up, slamming the steering wheel of his car with his palm.
Edith Mays was still alive. But she was in trouble. He was sure of it. Someone was after her and he needed to get to her first.
BLUDHAVEN COURIER - ITEM
Following his recent visit to Bludhaven, Heywood Industries CEO Dale Gunn is reportedly set to recommend to the company's Board of Directors that they expand into the city. According to sources close to Gunn, he was very impressed with his visit to Bludhaven, and was presented with an attractive expansion package by Mayor Marlowe.
Heywood's Board of Directors has previously signed off on expansion talks, and is reportedly committed to expanding the company's operations. It is widely speculated that the Board will defer to Gunn's recommendations regarding location of expansion plants.
Paris, France - May 1962
"Xavier, have you given any thought to our re-entering the research and development field?"
Xavier Cordonbleu regarded Jonathan Cheval over a glass of fine wine. The two friends ate at this particular restaurant, one of Paris' finest, every Tuesday night. Tonight they were seated outside, enjoying a crisp night out. "Pardon my asking, Jonathan, but…why?"
"I just thought…maybe we could improve the monocle technology, make it better. We'd have a new product to market."
Cordonbleu put down his glass, rubbed his eyes. "Jonathan, is this about this litigation business?" Cheval looked offended. "Jonathan, you don't have to prove anything to anyone."
"It's not about proving anything. It's about…succeeding. Scratching an itch."
"You are already a success. You are one of the most successful businessmen in Europe. Trust me. I say this as your friend - this is not an itch you need to scratch."
Cheval looked at the table, slowly nodded his head. "I suppose you are right." He felt empty as he said it. He just needed one more opportunity. He knew he could do it, with one more chance. But for now, at least, that was to be denied him.
Now
Nightwing had just completed his check of Ernest Waters' apartment. Again, there had been no trace of Edith Mays. Waters was parked on the couch in his tighty-whities, watching Joe Millionaire, hadn't budged an inch while Nightwing had been watching.
Surveillance was often dull, but it was a good opportunity to clear out the cobwebs and get some thinking done. Nightwing pieced together his Jonathan Cheval timeline:
mid-1940's: Cheval becomes the Monocle, fights Hawkman, loses. Goes to jail.
1947-1948: Cheval released from jail.
1949: Tarantula is abducted and tortured by the Monocle, rescued by Commander Steel.
1950-1980: Cheval lives in Paris, running a legitimate business.
1980's: Cheval becomes the Monocle again, fights the JLA and Infinity, Inc., again gets arrested.
recently: Cheval released from prison, moves to Bludhaven to work with new branch of Heywood Industries.
Now the things that did not fit:
- Cheval and Steel become long-time friends, even though Steel fought him in 1949, following the Monocle's most brutal crime.
- Cheval apparently does no jail time despite his capture by Steel.
- Cheval never makes significant profit off of his monocle laser technology, despite it being decades ahead of its time.
- Despite reforming, Cheval frequents an S&M bar in Bludhaven.
- Cheval is murdered using his own technology.
- Edith Mays disappears within a few days of Cheval's funeral, apparently on the run from someone or something connected with Cheval's death.
As he rearranged the pieces in his mind, they suddenly fell into place.
Cheval possessed the monocle technology for decades, but never improved on it. According to Xavier Cordonbleu, Cheval's business in Paris thrived when he abandoned R&D and focused on more traditional, and stodgy, business ventures. Cheval was murdered using his own technology. His own monocle, found at the scene, was ordinary glass.
Jon Law's story. He got reports that the Monocle had returned to crime. They set a trap for him. But he eluded the trap, sneaked up on the Tarantula - from behind - and attacked him with the monocle technology. Knocked him unconscious - from behind.
Law was abandoned in a basement, tied to a radiator, deprived of food water or light for a week. Left to die in total blackness. Was rescued by Commander Steel. Heard fighting above, then saw a victorious Steel enter the basement - alone. Passed out in Steel's arms.
Commander Steel was a good man, a patriot. The kind of man who valued loyalty, who had a very strong sense of right and wrong. Not the kind of man who would befriend a savage criminal. He could not have fought the Monocle in 1949, witnessed the cruelty he inflicted on the Tarantula, and then become friends with Cheval. Law and Gunn's stories were contradictory.
Law got reports that the Monocle had returned to crime. They set a trap for him. But he eluded the trap, sneaked up on the Tarantula - from behind - and attacked him with the monocle technology. Knocked him unconscious - from behind.
It wasn't what Law had said that resolved the conflict. It was what he hadn't said.
Dick pulled out his cell phone, activated his caller ID block, and dialed Jon Law's number. "Yes?" came the old voice through the phone.
"Mr. Law? This is Nightwing? We spoke a few days ago at Jonathan Cheval's grave?"
"Yes. Yes, I remember. Can I help you?"
"Maybe. How vividly do you remember your encounter with the Monocle in 1949?"
"A lot more vividly than I wish I did."
"Then can you tell me - did you ever actually see Cheval?"
Gunn and Law's stories only contradicted one another if an assumption was made, an assumption Law had made for more than fifty years.
Commander Steel would never befriend the man who tortured the Tarantula. So he'd never befriend Jonathan Cheval - unless it hadn't been Cheval who'd attacked Law.
Nightwing could almost hear Law thinking over the phone. "No," he finally answered. "You know, I never actually laid eyes on him. Had to be him, though, with that monocle eyepiece - don't you think?"
How could Cheval have run a business in Paris if he'd been arrested - again - in Colorado in 1949? Nightwing thanked Law, then hung up. Suddenly, his mind was reeling with possibilities.
He was snapped from his reverie by movement. Ernest Waters was leaving his apartment. He'd dressed and slipped out the back. The official surveillance had been pulled after Edith called in, since she was no longer technically a missing person, and there was no crime to connect Waters to. So Nightwing was on his own. Which was fine with him.
Waters trudged out to his beat-up Chevy. The engine kicked as it turned over, and the car pulled out of the parking lot onto Land Boulevard. Nightwing followed the vehicle over the rooftops as it trudged through town toward Edith's apartment.
Again, there was no surveillance at Edith's apartment. Waters proceeded up to the apartment as if he had been there many times before. He had a key, apparently, and entered the apartment easily. Nightwing saw lights come on inside. A good ten minutes passed.
He was just getting ready to go inside and confront Waters when his cell phone rang again. His annoyance evaporated once he answered.
"Detective Grayson?"
"Edith?"
"Your office gave me your number."
"Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I need to meet with you. I may have some information for you."
His alarm bells went off. This was convenient. Way too convenient. It smelled like a trap. "Where do you want to meet, Edith?"
"Pier 13, near the river? Do you know where it is?"
A clandestine meeting with a septuagenarian at a pier? You've got to be kidding me, he thought. "Sure, Edith. I can meet you. When?"
"An hour? I need time to get there."
"An hour. I'll see you then. But listen, Edith, why don't you stay on the…" Phone went dead. "…line. Dammit."
About two minutes later, the lights went out in Edith's apartment. Waters emerged and returned to his car. He pulled away, headed in the general direction of the river. Nightwing tossed his grapnel and swung away toward - at last - some answers.
To Be Continued...
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