Nightwing

Roch Cemetery, outside Quarco, Colorado: 3 months ago

The grave was covered with grass and weeds. The cemetery was very poorly maintained, the victim of county budget cuts a decade earlier. Waters could barely make out the name on the grave as he approached. He cursed himself for going so long without visiting, even though he’d been a continent away. The dead deserved better, he thought, than to be left forgotten in a junkyard of a cemetery.

He pushed the obstructions away from the grave as best he could, wiping the surface of the cheap headstone clean with his bare hands. He always felt silly talking out loud to a grave, as if the deceased could hear him. But despite the embarrassment, the exercise usually left him feeling cleansed. So after looking left and right to make sure there was no one else around, he began:

“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you sooner. There’s been a lot going on, but my absence is unforgivable. I’m sorry.

“Even though I haven’t always been here, I’ve never forgotten you. You’ve never been far from my thoughts. Your fate was one of the greatest injustices I’ve ever encountered. OUR fate. It wasn’t right.

“Paul, I’ve found him. It’s been almost twenty years, but I’ve found him. He’s out of prison. I think he was tied up with some sort of government cabal for awhile, but now he’s on his own. You’ll never believe where he is. Bludhaven. Can you believe that? Bludhaven.

“I’ve done some thinking. I’ve talked to Edith. And this is how I think we should handle this situation.”

Now

Waters drove like an old man, Nightwing thought as he canvassed the rooftops behind him. Of course, Waters was an old man, so maybe that made sense. Still, Nightwing was anxious for Waters to reach the Pier 13. And he was convinced that was where Waters was heading. Nightwing had been summoned to the pier by Edith Waters, who was Waters’ sister. The current relationship between them was somewhat unclear, but the circumstances tonight reeked of a trap.

Deciding it was best to beat Waters to the pier, Nightwing swung ahead of him, careful not to be seen. The trap, of course, had been set for Detective Dick Grayson, not Nightwing, and there were secret identity considerations in play.

Pier 13 appeared deserted when Nightwing arrived. There were three houseboats docked, however, and one had its lights on. No good way to tell how many people were in any of the boats, including the darkened ones, or what those people’s intentions might be. This was a bad spot for a showdown, he thought. Too many innocent people around. Maybe it’d be best to just call in the BPD, have both Waters and Mays arrested, sort it all out back at the station.

The problem with that was that Nightwing still had no solid evidence against either of them. BPD couldn’t hold them very long; they’d probably both be out by morning, without even enough evidence to charge them. And it was still possible that Edith was on the run from someone or something, maybe even Waters. She had disappeared, after all. Arresting them both would just let Waters know exactly where she was. No, best to play the game for a little longer.

A cab pulled up slowly to the pier and Nightwing saw an elderly woman exit. Edith. She paid the cab driver and the cab drove away. Very trusting of her, Nightwing thought. Not like someone afraid for her life.

Edith walked slowly toward the pier, stood looking out over the river. She made no move toward any of the houseboats. Did that mean she had no connection to anyone in the boats, or that someone in the boat was waiting to pounce when Dick joined her? Or, could there be someone in the houseboat ready to pounce on Edith, perhaps with fatal results. Nightwing couldn’t let that happen, even if Edith was guilty of something. He thought of swinging in, grabbing her, and swinging to safety, but he was concerned about the effect that might have on the seventy-year-old woman.

Instead, he unhooked the package strapped to his back containing his civilian clothes, and within minutes Nightwing was replaced by Officer Grayson. Edith had called him earlier on his cell phone, and he’d been trying to call her back using the number stored in his memory, to no avail. After one last unsuccessful try, Dick climbed down from the roof and headed over toward Edith. He hadn’t brought his gun, and almost wished he had. With every step, he wondered if a gunman had him in his sights. Although he had a Kevlar-reinforced vest under his clothes, his head was totally unprotected. A well-placed shot would end his life, and he knew it.

“Edith?” he asked as he approached her. She spun quickly, startled by the sound of his voice, then relaxed when she recognized him.

“Detective Grayson. Thank you for coming. I know it’s late.”

Dick wasn’t sure whether to hug her, shake her hand, or arrest her. “What’s this all about, Edith? Where have you been?”

Edith looked around the pier, her eyes searching for something that wasn’t there. “Do you have your car? Can you take me away from here?”

Dick realized he couldn’t get to his car, which was still parked outside his hotel. “No. No, sorry. I took a cab over here.”

“Really? I didn’t hear a cab.”

“Edith. What’s. Going. On.”

“I’m just – I don’t know; maybe I’m just being silly. But I just – I mean”

“Edith, enough! I want some answers, and I mean now.”

She started to cry and Dick immediately felt shame. He always felt shame when a woman cried and he was responsible, even if he’d done nothing wrong. Dick took off his overcoat and wrapped it around Edith in a conciliatory gesture. He took out his cell phone and started to call.

“Who are you calling?” Edith asked.

“My partner Amy. She’ll pick us up and take us somewhere we can talk.”

“No! No. Please don’t call any more police. Isn’t there someone else you can call?”

Dick sighed, exasperated. Edith had called him specifically, but didn’t want any other cops involved? Nonsense. Groaning, he dialed another familiar number instead. “Babs? Are you awake? Can you do me a big favor?”

Of course Babs agreed. After Dick hung up with her, he led Edith away from the pier. “It’ll take her a half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes to get here.” Edith was clearly still anxious, looking this way and that. Dick assumed she was looking for Waters and knew Waters would arrive before Babs. He had little time to waste. “Edith. Why did you disappear?”

She drew his overcoat tight around her, even though it wasn’t all that cold. Her head hung in shame. “I was afraid. I thought I might be in danger.”

“From who?”

“I think I was just being silly. I don’t think I was really in any danger. It’s just – after Jonathan died, I was worried, you know, that maybe – someone might come after me too.”

She was lying. Poorly. Dick hated playing hardball with a septuagenarian, but his patience was exhausted. He pulled his cell phone back out. “Ok, then. If you were mistaken, I guess all’s well that ends well. I’ll call you a cab and you can go on home.”

Panic filled Edith’s eyes. She grabbed the phone away from Dick. “No, no please. I…uh.. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Dick just looked at her, telling her without saying a word that he saw through her. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Just as she finally opened her mouth to speak, they heard a car pulling up to the pier. The glare of headlights flashed across the river. The panic returned to Edith’s eyes. “Is that…is that your friend?” she asked.

“No.” Dick shook his head. “She hasn’t had time to get here. I assume it’s your brother.” Again the panic. So she was afraid of Waters. “Is he going to hurt you? Did he kill the Monocle?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” she stammered. “He called me, told me to meet him here. I thought it was a good idea at the time, but now…”

Dick pulled out a set of cuffs. “Edith Mays, you are under arrest for the murder of Jonathan Cheval. You have the right to remain silent.” As he cuffed her hands behind her back, Edith started to protest. Dick whispered in her ear. “Stay quiet. Let me deal with Waters.”

Dick steered Edith into the shadows and left her standing, out of sight. He could only hope she wouldn’t try to take off, especially cuffed. He wasn’t through with her, but the only way he could keep her there and deal with Waters was to incapacitate her, and he’d already been rougher with her than he liked.

Footsteps creaked across the pier as Waters arrived.

The events of the last week tossed around in Dick’s brain. And suddenly, they all made sense. He made one last call, whispering into his phone, then turned it off.

Waters walked past Dick and Edith’s hiding place, headed out toward the spot Edith had previously been standing. Dick was gambling that Edith wouldn’t cry out. It seemed a reasonable gamble, as he could tell her fear of her brother was genuine. Waters looked around, just as Edith had before.

Dick slowly walked out toward Waters. “Ernest Waters?” he called to him. Waters spun around, as surprised as Edith had been, but not as jumpy.

“Yes?” Waters squinted to see Dick in the poor lighting.

Dick pulled out his badge and ID. “Detective Dick Grayson, Bludhaven PD. Can I have a word?”

Waters’ eyes said hell no, but he seemed reluctant to refuse an officer. His composure won out. “Certainly, Detective. Is there a problem?” Waters was wearing a trench coat, and it was difficult to tell whether he was carrying a weapon. Dick hadn’t seen him pack one when he left his house, but he could have had one stored in the coat, or in his car.

Dick extended his arm as he approached, and Waters met his handshake. “Possibly, sir. I was looking for your sister, Edith Mays. I got a call from her asking me to meet her here, but I haven’t seen her.”

“Ah. Yes, we spoke earlier. Well, Detective, I’m afraid I can’t be much help. I did hear from Edith after you left me earlier. She asked me to come here as well, but I don’t see her either. Either she hasn’t arrived, or we’ve both been had.”

“Still planning to head back to Colorado tomorrow?”

“What? I’m not sure. Edith didn’t sound as if she was in particular distress, so probably so.”

Dick looked at Waters, locked in a deadly stalemate. He still had nothing, no evidence upon which he could move. He could search Waters’ apartment (or Nightwing could), but any evidence discovered, if there was any, would likely be inadmissible in court. At this point he had no probable cause for a search. He had to break the stalemate.

Dick looked around the pier. “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s going to show. I’ve been here for twenty minutes without any sign on her. I think I’ll head out. If she does show, though, would you ask her to call me?”

Waters nodded and Dick began to walk away. “By the way,” he added, turning back toward Waters, “I know you killed Jonathan Cheval. And I can prove it.”

Waters quickly composed himself, but Dick saw that brief instant of guilt. Still, Waters feigned outrage. “What? What sort of nonsense is that?”

“You heard me. You killed Jonathan Cheval.”

“That’s madness. I didn’t even know Cheval. I only went to his funeral to be with Edith.”

“Really? Then why did you sue him? Twice.” Thanks Babs., he thought. Crack research was the gift that kept on giving. “You sued him twice in Colorado in the 1960’s, claiming he’d stolen your technology. You lost. Both times. And the second time you were sanctioned by the Court, for filing a frivolous lawsuit. Must have been quite annoying, being shown up in Court like that.”

Waters’ mouth formed the syllables of ‘frivolous’, but no sound came out. Finally, he spoke. “OK. I knew him, a long time ago. It has nothing to do with today.”

“Doesn’t it? How did it feel to spend your whole life as the tagger-along? He was the scientist, the inventor. He developed the monocle technology, made a successful career for himself in France, while your company crashed and burned. You tried to steal his invention. And even in that, you failed.”

Waters’ face was bright red. “That’s…that’s not what happened,” he stammered through clenched teeth. “He didn’t invent anything. He couldn’t invent anything. The only way he became successful was to stop trying to invent things. I invented the monocle technology. With my partner. We did all the work. That…fraud…stole what we had done. He stole it!”

“Your partner?”

“Paul. Paul Mays.”

“Edith’s husband. She’s married?”

“He’s…passed on. Died in 1986. He got…HIV. In prison. They didn’t call it that back then, but that’s what it was.”

The final pieces fell into place for Dick. “He went to prison in 1950. And Cheval helped send him there.”

“That bastard,” Waters spat. Dick could see Waters was coming unglued, revealing unsolicited the background behind his crime. Dick couldn’t tell if he’d really bluffed Waters into believing he already knew the whole story, or if Waters had just lost all control. Still, he wanted to keep Waters talking.

“Paul used the monocle technology in 1949, didn’t he? He robbed banks. He kidnapped the Tarantula and tortured him. He was a bad man.”

“He did…EXACTLY…the same thing Cheval did a few years earlier. They even thought it was Cheval, the crimes were so similar. And there was Cheval, his own hands dirty as sin, helping that costumed clown Commander Steel arrest Paul and haul him off to prison.”

So that was how Steel and Cheval had become friends. Jon Law had made the same assumption as the rest of them, that Cheval was committing the crimes. And because he’d been hospitalized after the fact, he’d never learned the truth. But Steel knew.

“Why do you think,” continued Waters, “that Cheval couldn’t ever improve the monocle technology? It was because he didn’t invent it in the first place. He didn’t have the know-how to improve it. All he had was what he stole.

“I tried to get it back through the courts and they scoffed at me. My company fell apart. My best friend grew ill and died. And that strutting…peacock ran around acting like he was some kind of born-again Christian. Ridiculous.”

“Edith was in on it with you.”

“Not at first. It was pure dumb luck that Cheval moved to Bludhaven where she lived. Pure luck. I hadn’t been able to locate Cheval for twenty years. When Paul died, I looked for him, but he was running around being a villain again. And then he got caught, of course – he was such a buffoon. So I lost track of him. But he couldn’t avoid me forever.

“Edith befriended him, so we could learn about his current life. What he did, where he lived, what his routine was, that sort of thing. The bastard never connected her with me or with Paul. She has a picture of the three of us together in her house and he never noticed.”

“But Edith got nervous. She didn’t know you were going to kill him.”

“Edith liked the sonofabitch. Told me couldn’t we just let bygones be bygones. I thought if Cheval just disappeared, she might suspect me for awhile, but eventually she’d forget and we’d move on. After all, I’m family. But she was more suspicious than I thought. She confronted me. I lied, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. I knew she’d call the police. So I was going to take care of her. But she disappeared.

“Then tonight, she called me. Told me she wanted to talk about things. I couldn’t believe my good luck.” Waters sneered slightly. Dick was appalled that the man could, in one breath, talk of the importance of family, and in the next discuss his plans to kill his sister.

“You’re sick, Waters. Did you ever stop to think maybe you, or Paul, should have taken responsibility for your own lives? You’ve blamed Cheval for every bad thing that ever happened to you. Maybe he stole from you, but no one made Paul use the monocle technology to commit crimes. No one made him kidnap and torture a man. It doesn’t matter if Cheval did it, too, it’s still wrong.

“You killed a man. You murdered Jonathan Cheval. That makes you wrong. It wouldn’t matter if he was the worst person on Earth. You had no right to kill him.

“If you were such a great inventor, why did your business fail? Even if Cheval stole your technology, you knew how to replicate it, presumably. Why didn’t you ever improve the monocle technology?”

A sly grin crossed Waters’ face. “Actually,” he said as he raised his arm in the air, “I did.”

Dick saw the gleam of light on Waters’ watch, knew what was coming and tried to dive out of the way. A laser beam fired from the watch in his direction, clipping his right shoulder as he dove. Dick rolled onto his back and scrambled for cover.

“You idiot!!” barked Waters. “You just stood there and listened to me. Do you really think I would tell you all this if I was going to let you live?!? How stupid do you think I am?”

Two more beams shot in Dick’s direction. He scampered behind a crate, only to feel it explode in front of him. Waters’ beams were clearly more powerful than Cheval’s had ever been. Dick could disarm Waters with a shuriken, if he had his Nightwing gear, but he’d left it on the roof when he’d changed.

Waters pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and flipped it open, revealing another laser. He fired beams from both watches in Dick’s direction. Dick dodged with a flurry of acrobatic maneuvers, but felt a blast clip his left foot.

Ignoring the pain, Dick raced from the pier, trying to run in a zigzag direction to avoid the blasts. Steering clear of Edith’s hiding place, he ducked into the shadows.

Waters was giving chase, but was slow due to his age. Still, he followed Dick off the pier, into the shadows. To his horror, Dick saw Waters was heading for Edith’s hiding place. He knew if Waters got to her, she had no chance of survival.

Dick spotted a nearby trash can and quickly removed the lid. The noise caused Waters to jerk his head in Dick’s direction. The lid went spiraling through space as Dick heaved it at Waters, striking him in the face. Waters staggered backward, the pocket watch dropping from his hand and smashing against the dock. Without hesitation, Dick sprinted over the distance between them. Waters raised his arm and fired at the last second before Dick crashed on top of him. A burning pain seared through Dick’s right arm as he punched Waters with his left. Another punch and Waters lapsed into unconsciousness.

Dick rolled off in pain. His arm was smoking from the blast. An ugly wound burned on his forearm. Suddenly he was very cold and the sounds of the pier seemed very far away. Dick had the presence of mind to remove Waters’ watch before the world went black.

Amy poked her head into the hospital room tenuously, as if she thought she was overstepping some social boundary. “Knock knock?” she asked as he tapped the door.

Dick and Babs turned as she entered. “Hi Amy,” Dick called from his bed. “Nice of you to come by. I don’t think you’ve met my fiancée, Barbara Gordon.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Amy, walking over to Babs’ chair and extending her hand. Babs met her handshake with a smile and returned the greeting. “So, when they letting you out of here, Grayson? I understand there are a few old people in Bludhaven you haven’t beaten up yet?”

Dick laughed. “Maybe a few. But I’m retiring from that business.”

Babs chimed in. “What’s the story with Waters?”

“He was arraigned this morning,” replied Amy. “We had him for trying to kill Dick, anyway, but with everything Dick told us when he woke up, there seems to be a pretty strong case for Cheval’s murder, too. There’s only one thing I don’t get, though.”

“What’s that?” asked Dick.

“The S&M stuff. What was that all about?”

“I guess we’ll never really know for sure,” said Dick. “But my suspicion is that Waters planted the paraphernalia in Cheval’s apartment. It was a pretty major diversion from the true motive for the killing; something like that’s a pretty big red herring. But there wasn’t any connection between the NON and Cheval’s death.”

“Or,” grinned Babs. “It wasn’t planted, and Cheval was just coincidentally a pervert.”

“Or that,” nodded Dick.

“I guess you never really know everything about someone,” offered Babs. “You never know what secrets they’re keeping. The Monocle was a lot of different things to a lot of different people. Who’s to say what’s the fiction and what’s the reality? Maybe he was all those things, and also an S&M maniac.”

“Maybe,” said Amy. “Sounds like the sort of mystery even our Junior Sherlock over here can’t solve.” She pointed at Dick with her thumb. “So anyway,” she turned to Babs. “Tell me about the wedding plans.”

Jon Law stood over the grave, feeling the first drizzles of an impending rain. Just a few days ago he’d hated Jonathan Cheval. He’d spent most of his life hating Jonathan Cheval, not obsessed with him the way Waters had been, but never able to get past the indignities foisted upon him fifty years earlier.

Now he didn’t know what to think. Cheval hadn’t been his kidnapper. In fact, Cheval had helped Commander Steel rescue him. Instead of hating Cheval, he should have been grateful to him for helping to save his life.

But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He couldn’t hate someone for fifty years and then suddenly like them. It wasn’t in him.

But he didn’t hate Cheval any more. He’d finally made his peace with what happened. Some people defied labels like ‘good guy’ or ‘bad guy’. Cheval had been both, at various times, and where did that leave him in the end? On which side of the ledger did he ultimately fall?

Law didn’t know, couldn’t decide. All he could know was that Jonathan Cheval had done some good things and some bad things in his life, and that he shouldn’t have died the way he did. That was the best eulogy Law could give.

The rain started to pick up and Law turned and headed back for the bus stop.

The End...

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