Detective Comics 14

The Case of the Joker

The day had come and gone. As the city shifted over to the night, countless families gathered around their radios, each one spinning the dial until they came to their favorite programs. Comedy, horror, and news were being broadcast into the homes of Gotham City. At seven o'clock on the dot, every show was interrupted by a burst of static.

"Greetings Gotham!" a voice echoed. Even when the dial was moved, the voice continued. "This is your friend the Joker speaking. At midnight tonight I will kill Henry Claridge and steal the Claridge Diamond." A mad burst of laughter ended the interruption.

Phone lines were quickly overwhelmed with over half the city calling the police and all the radio stations directly. As for Mr. Claridge, he took it in stride.

Sitting at his desk, he held the Claridge Diamond in his hand as he talked to Commissioner Gordon. "Of course I'm not worried. Oh, the radio bit was new I'll give that lunatic that but if it makes you feel better feel free to send over a few of your plainclothes. Wouldn't want to alarm the neighbors, you know." Claridge chuckled and hung up the phone before putting the diamond inside the massive safe in his office's wall.

Four hours later, Claridge was seated by his fireplace as the policemen mulled around his living room. He checked his pocket watch against the large grandfather clock. "A few seconds to midnight. See? Nothing to worry about."

Chief O'Hara, who had personally picked the men patrolling the house and grounds, shook his head. "I'll feel confident after the deadline passes, if it's all the same to you."

Claridge smiled and laughed. His hand seized up as he started laughing harder. "Sir?" O'Hara moved to the man's side as the laughter increased. Claridge's eyes bugged out of their sockets as the man struggled to stand up. The laughter grew louder.

"Send for a doc, hurry!" O'Hara had to shout over the laughing. Claridge launched himself from his seat, wobbling on two unsteady legs before he collapsed dead. O'Hara rolled him over and instantly wished he hadn't; Claridge's face was chalk white. His lips, now bloody red, were hideously pulled back in a rictus grin. O'Hara crossed himself as the officers rushed into the living room. "You two, stay with the body. The rest follow me!"

O'Hara rushed to the now dead man's office. He spun the combination lock (having been told by Claridge a few hours before) to the right numbers and pulled open the door. He sighed with relief when he spotted the large diamond. "At least that madman fail-…wait." He noticed the odd way the light reflected off the diamond. He picked it and gave it a squeeze. The Claridge Diamond, an apple sized hunk that scores of men had died for, collapsed into a mushed pile of glass and paste in the chief's hand. Under the fake was a single playing card. O'Hara recoiled at the sight. "The Joker!"

-B

"So, how did he pull it off?" Dick Grayson was balanced perfectly on the balancing beam.

"Poison, a very rare type. Claridge must have been injected some time in the last twenty-four hours." Elizabeth Wayne busied herself with a copy of the corner's report. "Poor devil was already dead and he didn't even know it."

"Well, what are the cops doing?" Dick did a front flip into a handstand.

"Everything they can, but this is clearly no ordinary thief. To be able to jam that many radio signals would require a massive set up. What could he hope to gain? The diamond is too well known to fence and cutting it would decrease the value."

"Sounds like he just pulled a real boner."

"Maybe, but I think we should keep our eyes open on this one."

-One week later

The entire city had been on edge. Radio stations posted guards around their broadcast towers while countless ears listened to each program. That Friday, the Joker's voice broke into a popular dance program.

"Greetings Gotham! Your pal Joker here! I had so much fun taking the Claridge Diamond, I've decided to add to my collection! In twelve hours I will kill Jay Wilde and steal the priceless Ronker's Ruby!" Mad laughter punctuated the interruption before the program resumed.

By three, Jay was pacing his massive living room. Commissioner Gordon took over the case personally. A doctor had been summoned and Wilde's food had been examined, as well as the nervous man himself. "Everything checks out, as best as we can tell." The police surgeon put his instruments back in his black bag.

"But what if he used some weird poison?" Wilde was almost hysterical. "He can have the ruby!" He gestured to the large red stone on the coffee table.

"That won't be necessary. We'll stay here the whole night." Gordon pointed to the armed men stationed at the windows. "We have the entire ground covered and several blocks. You're as safe here as you would be in the vault of your own bank."

The hours dragged on. Daylight broke across skyline as the clock stuck seven. A thick black gas started pouring out of the fireplace, flooding the room. "Gas!" Gordon smashed a window as he struggled to breathe.

Unseen by all, a suit of armor near the front hall collapsed as the gas flooded the entire lower section of the house. Gordon spun at the sound, but the unmistakable scream followed by a thud made him lower his gun. "Check on Wilde!" He shouted as his men rushed the house.

Gordon stared down at the corpse of Jay Wilde. A garish dart was sticking out of the man's neck. The flesh was a bleached white and the mouth was drawn back in a grotesque grin. "How?" Gordon was talking to himself more than anything.

O'Hara patted him on the shoulder. "We finally got the place aired out. Seems someone planted a large smoke bomb inside the chimney. The heat from the fire loosened the glue and caused it to fall. Our killer must have been hiding inside that suit of armor the whole time."

"That madman was watching us the whole time!" Gordon swore. "Clancy, I want this fiend stopped. Pull every man, woman, hell, get the dogcatchers too if you have to; I want county and state brought in on this too."

"So, any idea where we start looking?"

"No, but if the criminals of this city want a war then by God we'll give them one!"

-Two weeks later

Brute Nelson was aptly named. He was currently sitting in his corner booth at the Broken Wharf and stewing. Ever since the Joker had made the scene the police had declared war, or at the least started actually doing their job. Boss Maroni had made some concessions with the boys at the City Hall and left town, telling his operations to take some time off. The rest of the gangs had followed suit, leaving middle managers like Brute out to dry.

Not to say he had not been industrious. No, Brute had put the word out: 300 grand to anyone who could bring him the Joker, dead or alive. In that time not one of his men had succeeded. The thing that was driving him crazy was the information his sources were finding, or rather what they weren't finding.

"He ain't fencing the stuff. Maybe he's a collector? And where'd he serve time? A guy like this must have some kind of record. He couldn't have never picked pinched by the cops, could he?" Brute's thoughts were running a full clip when a dark clad figure crashed through the skylight. "The Bat! Waste him!" Brute drew his .45 and fired off a few rounds before slipping out the side door as a full-scale brawl broke out.

Brute holstered his gun and made his way towards his car when he became aware of someone else before him. "Alright you long eared freak, I'll-!" Brute spun around, pistol in hand when he saw a lanky figure step into the light.

"Brute Nelson" the figure's chalk white skin and ruby red lips contrasted with the slicked back bright green hair. "Hear you wanted a meeting. I rarely do private sessions, but for a fan I'll make this quick."

"Joker?" Brute took aim. "Alright you little punk, if you think you can just waltz in here-" The Joker laughed, but it sounded like nothing he heard before.

"I'm more of a Lindy hop man myself." Joker's smile increased but it never reached his eyes. Before Brute could question, the Joker's hands moved in a blinding flash. Before Brute could question, there was already a gun in the Joker's hand and it was smoking.

Brute barely had the brains left to blink before he pitched forward. Fishing the keys from the now dead man's pocket, the Joker was heading towards his new car when the side door burst open and a dark figure emerged from the chaos.

The Joker stopped before he climbed into the car. "Well, aren't you a sight!"

"You're not going anywhere." The Bat readied a batarang. The Joker laughed, louder than with the late Brute before starting the car and peeling out of the alley. The Bat leaped onto the car's trunk and held tight as the car picked up speed.

The Joker drove wildly, narrowly missing oncoming cars. He leaned back in the seat and adjusted the rearview mirror. "Don't you know hitchhiking is illegal in this state?" He drew his gun and broke the driver side window. Much to the Bat's shock, he ignored her and aimed at the front wheel. The Joker fired one shot, blowing the tire apart as he slammed on the brake as they crossed the Cobblepot Bridge.

The car, skidding on the already slick street, flipped over. The Bat managed to fire off her grappling gun to the bridge's underbelly in time as the car plunged into the river. The Joker walked to the railing. "Lucky I never do two shows a night, eh Batsy? Keep your radio ready for my next show, it'll be a killer!" the Joker laughed as he walked off.

The Bat, her shoulder screaming in protest, lowered herself to the ground. "You won this round Joker, but the curtain hasn't been called yet."

True to his word, the following Friday saw another broadcast. "Greetings Gotham! Your humble pal Joker here, and let me tell you folks it is hard out there. Why, here I am simply collecting some lovely gemstones and it appears that everyone has it in for me. So I've decided to stop with the collecting and get straight to the murder. Judge Drake will die within six hours! You know what you did to me Drake, and when you deal with the Joker, always expect to be dealt from the bottom of the deck!"

The police mobilized in record time. Drake was moved to a small cabin out in the country, surrounded by police. Some officers suggested going through Drake's cases to try and figure out the Joker's identity, but Gordon squashed their hopes. "Drake's been a judge almost as long as I've been on the force. You'd never narrow it down in time."

As for the judge himself, he sat nervously in the den. A new officer relieved the one currently napping at a card table. At length, Drake sat across from the man. The cabin lacked wiring, so light was provided by a small fire and a few lamps. "Ever handled work like this before?"

The officer, a grinning chap with the tag of J. Napier on his jacket, shook his head and took out a deck of cards. "Care for a game of rummy?"

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Drake eagerly took the cards, but as he took them from the table he saw them in the light. "Aces and eights?"

"The Dead Man's hand judge!" Napier snatched up a lamp and broke it over his head. Before Drake could shout, a razor-sharp playing card embedded itself in his neck. "Like I said, when you deal with the Joker, always expect a hand dealt from the bottom of the deck!"

Staggering away from the table, the Joker flung open the window. Seconds later, the door burst in as the rest of the police responded. "J-joker, went out the window!" the Joker wheezed as he stumbled towards them. "T-too fast, couldn't stop him in time!"

He limped out of the room as the officers rushed out of the cabin and into the woods. Giving a few salutes on his way out, he slipped into the woods. Removing his jacket, he wiped the makeup from his face, revealing the chalk white skin underneath. Whistling a jaunty tune, he made his way towards the path and walked a brisk pace.

He stopped suddenly as a batarang sailed through the air and embedded itself into the dirt before him. "Batsy? Up and about? I'm impressed."

Another one struck him in the back of the knees, forcing him down. A red and green clad figure leaped from the trees above. "The jig is up!" Robin folded his arms and glared at the clown.

"An opening act? Well kid, you caught me fair and square." The Joker held up his hands. Before Robin could react, he grabbed his side. In the Joker's palm was a joy buzzer, albeit a special one. This one sent enough electrical current through the Boy Wonder's body to immobilize him completely. The Joker climbed to his feet, laughing all the way. "I admit, I didn't see you coming, but I think I can improvise something special."

Elizabeth would never forgive herself. She had an idea where the now late judge would be hidden, but she didn't tell Dick. She had enough faith in Gordon while she would focus on tracking down the Joker. When Alfred told her Dick's bed hadn't been slept in, she rushed upstairs to find a simple note with a map detailing the woods near the judge's cabin.

It would be an odd sight, seeing the Bat in daylight, but she didn't dare waste time. The roadster raced through the city as she monitored a screen in the backseat. Fearing a similar situation, she had installed a small transmitter inside Robin's belt buckle, along with a set sewn into his cape and tunic. The signals gave her a good idea where he was being held.

"Are you sure we shouldn't inform Gordon and his men?" Alfred slowed the car down as the signals increased.

"He'd never make it in time. No, if anyone is going to stop this madman, it has to be me."

Alfred nodded in silence as the Bat emerged from the car and approached the construction site. A half demolished building was the only thing there, surrounded by piles of ignored equipment. A dead night watchman was the only thing to witness as the sun's lights slowly started to creep over the macabre scene.

"Hey Batsy, glad you could make it!" The Joker shouted from the ruined building. "I'd be stepping a bit faster though. Your junior sidekick only has so much air left you know." She rushed towards the building, but she focused on everything around her.

"A perfect place for a trap!"

She entered the door but stopped short. She kicked the door, which was slightly ajar. A bucket, fill with hardened cement, dropped to the floor and crashed through the rotting wood. She carefully stepped inside.

Making her way towards the stairs, she moved as fast as she could, her back to the wall. The Joker's laugh echoed down. As she neared the top of the stairs, she tossed a batarang to where her head would normally be. It bounced off a thin piece of wire. A nail studded 2X4 swung out and embedded itself in the wall above her.

"Bats? Are you dead or did you figure out my little jokes?"

A trunk skidded into the hall. The Joker stepped out, pistol in hand. "I admit not my best work, but I think for the audience my improvising was killer, wouldn't you agree?"

The Bat eyed the trunk. She ran the numbers on how much air would be inside when the Joker cocked his hammer. "Oh, yeah, the brat wonder's air. Well, if you're concerned about his ventilation…" He took aim.

"No!" A batarang sail through the air as the gun fired. The Joker's hand jerked as the blade struck his wrist. He stumbled back as she dashed towards him and leaped, both feet connecting with his chest.

The Joker flew backwards, the gun clattering to the floor. The Bat briefly looked at the trunk, but her horror gave way to confusion as she saw gray powder pouring out through the hole. "Concrete?"

The Joker clambered to his feet, his wrist at an odd angle. "Classic misdirection. Your brat's inside one of the closets." He straightened his lapels and walked towards her. "I guess I've had my fun enough for one day, but perhaps I could stop and smell the roses before I go to cold gray prison yard?" She noticed the large flower in his buttonhole.

She reacted in a second. Steam began to pour out of the flower before the acid sprayed. She ducked under the stream and gripped the madman in a judo hold. She flipped him over her shoulder, sending him into the railing. He hit the rotten wood, but it broke. The Joker went over the side, crashing to the ground below.

Hearing a muffled cry, the Bat searched the nearby rooms first, finally finding Robin bound and gagged inside a closet. Tearing the gag away, the Bat crushed Robin to her. When the tears stopped, she almost shook him. "Never go off on your own!"

Robin nodded silently. They went downstairs. The Joker had tried to hobble away, but was passed out in front of the door. Binding his hands as best they could with his injuries, they called for an ambulance.

Half of the Gotham Police arrived and took him into custody. The Bat and Robin watched carefully from a distance as the now silent murder was loaded into an ambulance. "I think we just saw the future." The Bat, exhaustion now creeping into her voice, made her way back to the car. Robin followed behind. He knew he was going to get punished for his actions, and he knew he deserved it, but at the moment all he wanted to do was go home.

The trial of the Joker was already dubbed the 'Crime of the Century'. Experts from all over weighed in, but in the end the Clown Prince of Crime was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. The Joker, silent throughout the trial, broke into mad laughter as he hauled off to Blackgate.

From inside his cell, the Joker never stopped laughing. "A good joke, Batsy, but it will be the Joker who gets the last laugh!"

The end

Based on the untitled story in the Batman I#1 (Spring 1940) with credits to Bill Finger (story) and Bob Kane (art)

Next time, tune in for Professor Hugo Strange's Monster Men

From Wolvmbm

Intriguing take on one of the earlier adventures of Batman ad Robin. I do wonder what will happen when he reach the infamous Rogues gallery of Batman villains of this world? Would things be different than before if Batman was Batwoman from the start? Please do keep up the good work on this wonderful series of stories retelling because it's fun reading these tales from a different point of view

Be on the lookout for the upcoming tales

Action Comics#14-Superwoman at the World's Fair

All-American Comics#2-The Sign of the Green Lantern

Sensation Comics#16-Mission to Planet Eros