A .22 caliber pistol with the serial number filed off. Eleven shiny metal shell casings. A broken baby pacifier. And a colorful red-and-blue cornucopia on the table.
The turkey remained uncarved. Delicious dishes overturned. High-end red wine spilled across the floor, mixing with sticky blood to create an even brighter crimson.
Finally, five cold bodies in expensive suits sprawled around the table.
The same method. The same signature. The same murder weapon. The same death.
Looking at the five men staring with wild, frozen eyes in the crime scene photographs, Gordon fell into long contemplation.
"Harvey? Where are you?"
"Gordon?" Harvey's voice came through the phone. "I'm at the hospital right now. Gilda just woke up this morning."
"You stayed there all night? Well—thank God. At least there's some good news this morning."
Harvey detected something strange in Gordon's tone. "Did something happen?"
"Five members of the Irish Gang were celebrating in a private room at the Astoria Tower Hotel last night. They were shot in the head by what the press is calling the 'Holiday Killer.'"
"Holiday Killer." Harvey's eyes suddenly froze. He was looking at Gilda's smooth neck.
The cross necklace was gone.
"Those five had money to celebrate at the Astoria Tower and party like kings. Which means they got paid probably by Falcone, and since they are Falcone men, you're suspecting me, like on the Halloween Vitti murder."
"That's right."
"That's why you're asking where I was last night."
"Harvey, I'm just trying to eliminate you as a possibility."
"Gordon, we're old friends. I won't get angry about this, but honestly? I can't help wanting to cheer for whoever did this—"
"Harvey Dent." Gordon's voice hardened. "You are the District Attorney of Gotham City. You represent law and justice."
Powerless justice. Harvey couldn't help the thought. He immediately shook his head vigorously, pushing the idea away.
I am the District Attorney of Gotham City. I must represent law and justice.
"Gordon, I can only tell you I stayed by Gilda's side all night. She didn't wake up. I slept at her bedside in the hospital the entire time. And you can check the CCTV surveillance."
"I'm sorry, Harvey. Get some rest. If you need me to, I'll take the day off to watch Gilda for you. You can find somewhere to sleep properly."
"No, Gordon. Go do your job." Harvey rejected the offer. "I still have some things to check."
He hung up, confirmed Gilda was still sleeping, then drew back the curtains and examined the neighboring beds.
A patient and family member had been there last night. But that bed was now cleared. Obviously discharged this morning or last night.
Could it have been that patient? He considered for a moment, then found a nurse.
"Hello, I'm Harvey Dent, Gotham City District Attorney. I need hospital administration to retrieve surveillance footage from my wife's room. Yes, it may be related to an important case."
Jude had been living pretty well recently.
Thanks to the Horn of Plenty, his living expenses had dropped dramatically. He only needed to buy meat for meals—even going vegetarian was fine. The ingredients produced by the Horn were exceptionally high quality. Even eaten raw, they tasted better than many poorly cooked dishes. Now he grabbed fruit constantly and showed off because it was genuinely delicious.
The term "poor cooking" had no relevance to him anymore. After completing the mission "Better to Redirect Than to Block," Advanced Culinary Mastery had become his only advanced-level skill. Combined with the Horn of Plenty, he'd never tire of eating even if every meal was vegetarian.
"With my cooking skills, maybe I could apply directly to become the Falcone family's head chef? That salary would skyrocket."
Contemplating his bright future, he hummed while chewing fruit.
"Oh wait. I just remembered there's one thing I haven't explained yet."
The moment Harvey saw the surveillance screen turn to static snow, his fists clenched involuntarily.
The whole process lasted only about ten seconds. But he was certain this was the only window during the entire night when someone could have entered his room and taken the necklace from Gilda's neck. He'd been awake when everyone else entered and approached the bed.
Only those dozen seconds were missing. And the patient and family member in the neighboring bed had been sleeping soundly in the footage—they hadn't seen anything at all.
This person has hacking skills, Harvey thought. They'd accurately blocked out the exact seconds they appeared on camera. They also knew the hospital corridor surveillance didn't cover the area outside his ward.
His phone rang again. No caller ID. Harvey raised his eyebrows, immediately alert.
"Prosecutor Harvey. Congratulations on your survival."
"What exactly do you want?"
"Mr. Harvey, it's time to divide the spoils. Falcone's bounty was quite substantial. Rather than letting the Irish Gang profit from it, why not use it as compensation for your losses? What do you think?"
"You stole their bounty?"
"Yes. And I've already used it anonymously to pay for repairs to your house. But it's clear Falcone really wants you dead, so there's still a considerable amount remaining."
"You can do whatever you want with it. It's not even legal to confiscate through proper procedures. And if you follow my suggestion—since it's compensation for your ordeal, it's perfectly legitimate for you to keep it. Leaving money with someone like Falcone only turns them into criminal funds, right?"
"Very convincing argument." Harvey's tone remained neutral.
"Anyway, I spent nine thousand dollars helping you, so I only took nine thousand dollars. The rest is buried in your basement. What you do with it is up to you."
A pause.
"One more thing. I didn't kill the Irish Gang members."
"If we're lucky, we'll never speak again, Prosecutor Harvey."
Click.
Harvey Dent lowered his phone, mind churning with conflicting thoughts.
This person had shown no ill will toward him. No greed for money. And seemed to have no reason to lie—they could have simply not made contact at all.
So if it wasn't them, who killed the five Irish Gang members? Who was the Holiday Killer? And what should he do with the bounty money in his basement?
Morning light streamed through the window onto the hospital bed. Gilda's eyelids fluttered. Then she slowly opened her eyes and saw Harvey with furrowed brow beside her bed.
She reached out and held his hand.
His expression softened slightly.