~ Chapter Twelve: Hiding the Past ~

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Out of everyone Jim thought he and Harvey were going to speak to, the last thing on his mind was them paying a visit to the Gotham State Penitentiary. As they walked into the building and held up their badges, Harvey asked to speak with one of their prisoners. After about three minutes of waiting in visitation, the guard came back with the requested prisoner. As they were about to begin asking questions, Harvey placed two cartons in front of him. Tucked inside were packs of cigarettes, a prisoner's guilty pleasure.


"Two cartons? Must be important!" the man smirked. "We're looking for a hitman," Harvey explained. "Which family does he work for?" Harvey told him their suspect worked for a few, one of those independents. "Not too many of them are still around. Who'd he hit?" the prisoner continued his tirade of questions. "Two city councilmen and an aide," Harvey answered. "Uses some sort of special weapon to kill his victims," Jim mentioned. "Steel spike? About so big?" The man asked, holding his cuffed hands just almost a foot apart. "Possibly," Jim answered. "You know him?" Harvey inquired.


"I heard of him. His name's Gladwell, a real pro," "Word was he works out of the Lansky building in Midtown," With this new lead, Jim and Harvey drove back into the city, right in the heart of Midtown where a tall building, almost made up entirely of glass stood tall and proud. The detectives searched every floor, questioning employees on each level whether they knew who Gladwell was. But for the next twelve floors, no one had a clue who the detectives were looking for.


The elevator dinged as they approached the next floor. Harvey followed close behind as he was growing tired with all the walking around. "You coming or what? We got 12 more floors to check out," Jim called. "What's got you so wound up?" Harvey questioned as he picked up the pace. "Maybe I'm just doing my job and getting it over with," Jim replied. "No, you've been acting weird lately, like you got something to hide," Harvey looked at him suspiciously. But they soon approached a young woman's desk, and she looked up from her work, greeting them.


"GCPD, ma'am. We're looking for someone who may work here. His last name is Gladwell," Jim spoke. "Oh, you mean Richard? He works in Human Resources. He's not in any trouble, is he?" The woman looked nervous. But the detectives didn't answer her question, only asking where his desk was. The woman looked over her shoulder and pointed towards the end of the rows. "Third one from the back," She answered. But the detectives were unaware that their suspect heard them mention his name, and after seeing the gleam of their GCPD badges, he realized he needed to get out of there. And as Jim and Harvey thanked the woman for their time, Gladwell made his escape.


Jim and Harvey approached his desk, only to find his seat empty and his typewriter packed away. "Gladwell. Richard Gladwell... has anyone seen him?" Jim asked around. "You just missed him," Another young woman piped up, suggesting he headed out the back entrance. "I'm gonna go check it out. Stay here in case he comes back?" Jim spoke to Harvey. His partner nodded, and Jim headed towards the back, unaware that was where Gladwell was hiding, putting together the pieces of his weapon. As Jim walked into the darkened room, he could've sworn he saw something move past his left, and he pulled out his gun just in case.


"Jim! I found something!" Harvey called out. Jim tucked his gun away and walked back to Gladwell's desk. Harvey held up a few scraps and photos of Councilmen Zeller and Jenkins and handed them to Jim, confirming he was involved with the homicides. "We got him. Man, I love the easy ones," Harvey smirked. Suddenly, the sound of a door closing caught their attention. Both men slowly approached the back, pulling out their guns as they were about to check around the corner. "Freeze!" Jim yelled out just as they caught movement. But it was just a young woman who instantly dropped a tiny box. "It's-it's just a box of paperclips. I didn't think anyone would mind!" She sobbed as she ran off as Jim tried to ask her if she was okay. But she kept running down the long hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spotted something on the floor. And as he bent down to pick it up, he noticed the markings on the scrap of paper.

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