mtl008 Chapter 3850 The Nameless Bat (2)
Chapter 3850 The Nameless Bat (2)
Chapter 3850 The Nameless Bat (Part 20)
As dusk fell, rain began to fall again in Gotham. The golden ripples on the Gotham River added a rare touch of gentle vibrancy to the city. Fine raindrops seeped into the cracks of the riverbank's brickwork, the water trickling towards the houses along the shore. The address 125 Katzsovo reflected the dim light of the streetlights in the rain.
Schiller stood at the telephone counter on the first floor, holding the phone in one hand and gently stroking the telephone cord with the other, and said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Padilla, I need to cancel your appointment tonight. Would you please come again tomorrow afternoon?"
“I’m sorry, it happened rather suddenly. A colleague of mine who works in the police department had some urgent matters to discuss with me. I don’t believe I can provide you with psychological treatment immediately after offering advice on a homicide case. That would be irresponsible for both of us.”
“Thank you so much for your understanding.” Schiller switched the phone and said, “Your next therapy session is free; I won’t put it on the bill as a token of my appreciation for your understanding and generosity.”
There was some noise coming from the stairs behind him. A girl's voice called Schiller's name. He turned around, gestured to stop her, and said, "Yes, she's a victim of a case, currently staying at my clinic as my assistant. Perhaps you'll see her tomorrow afternoon. God bless you, ma'am."
“Put the package on the coffee table, Nimosini,” Schiller said, turning to the girl standing on the stairs. She looked about thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing a blue plaid pinafore dress, with long, flowing orange-red hair and large black-rimmed glasses. Through the lenses, one could see a slightly indifferent and neurotic look in her eyes.
The girl came down the stairs and placed the package on the coffee table. Schiller turned and went to the cabinet next to him to get a letter opener.
“You should know that preventing me from accessing sharp objects this way is useless, right?” the girl said. She spoke very quickly, her voice was pleasant, but her tone was too flat, sounding somewhat like a rhythmic, noisy typewriter.
Schiller, holding a letter opener, walked over, cut open the package, and said, "Given that you threatened seven adoptive families with sixteen different knives over five years, I think such management is necessary."
“I didn’t threaten them.” Nimosini frowned, still speaking in that rapid tone, “They’re just too stupid to understand what I’m saying. This is the only way I can calm them down.”
“Okay, Nemo. You’re back with your first adoptive family, and Sheriff Gordon sent you here because of concerns about your mental state.”
"I hate psychologists."
Schiller didn't continue speaking. The package he opened contained some personal belongings. He handed it to Nemosini and said, "Has your adoptive father been very busy lately?"
"Yes. He brought me here not because of my mental condition, not because he really believed you could cure me, but because he didn't want me to keep bothering him with questions about the details of that serial murder case."
"A series of murders?"
“Yes.” Nimosini’s eyes finally lit up. She became excited, took off her glasses, and tore at the package with some violent movements, saying, “James said it was the most difficult serial murder case he had ever encountered. He called him the ‘Eden Killer’.”
"This is a very interesting case. Although he didn't show me the case files at all, I knew from his descriptions alone that this killer was no ordinary person. He murdered seven prostitutes and five clients in the past three weeks, all while they were having sex. The crime scenes are said to be quite peculiar. Unfortunately, that idiot Gordon won't show me anything."
"Do you think you can see anything?" Schiller asked.
Nimosini seemed somewhat surprised. She looked up at Schiller and said, "I thought you would be like him, telling me not to touch these things, saying some nonsense like 'it's not good for my mental health,' or simply thinking I'm a pervert."
“I wouldn’t think so,” Schiller said. “Whatever your reasons for being drawn to the case, I would rather praise you as a diligent and inquisitive detective.”
“It’s obviously fake.” Nemosini completely unwrapped the package. “I just went to see my room. This house is just as strange as you. You couldn’t have bought it; it must have been a gift from a friend. You weren’t that close to him when he gave it to you. I found stun gun marks on every doorknob. Did James know that?”
Nimosini's thoughts and words were disjointed, but Schiller remained calm as he looked at her and asked, "Why are you interested in the Eden Killer?"
"Because he is indeed an interesting person. He is very intelligent, unlike other serial killers, whose identities I can identify with just a glance at the files. I am not confident in this guy, so of course I want to understand him."
“I see. A strong thirst for knowledge is a good thing,” Schiller said, then went to the kitchen to make tea. Nemosini went upstairs and tidied her personal belongings. When she came downstairs, she saw Schiller flipping through the Yellow Pages.
“I don’t understand you,” she said. “You’re as enigmatic as that Eden Killer. Labels that shouldn’t be attached to you are always flashing before my eyes. Can you explain them to me?”
“Don’t rush, miss. Judging from how busy Sheriff Gordon is, you’ll probably have to stay here for at least a week. Getting to know each other is a necessary part of the therapy process, and we have plenty of time.”
Nimosini suddenly rushed down and grabbed a letter opener from beside the coffee table. She walked toward Schiller, knife in hand, but Schiller didn't move, merely watching her movements.
Nemosini slammed a knife into the high chair in front of the island. "I'm like a carbonated soda bottle about to explode," she said. "You have to give me something to do. James trusts you so much, you must have heard him talk about many different cases, right?"
"While I have some acquaintance with Sheriff Gordon, we don't interact very frequently. However, another friend of mine often discusses cases with me."
"The person who gave you this house?" Nemosini looked the house over and said, "About six feet tall, very strong, showing some avoidant personality traits. Never wears a suit here. Tactical boots? Is he a secret agent? Oh, my God, that bat-like guy in the bodysuit? How did you become friends with him?"
“It was all a series of coincidences,” Schiller said. “I didn’t know him much before I knew you. By the way, you don’t know the truth about that case involving Lincoln March, do you? I can tell you about it.”
“I don’t want to hear any boring bedtime stories. I’m not lying to you, doctor, I really feel awful. My mind is a mess. The medications they’ve prescribed aren’t working, and sleeping pills can’t calm my nerves. Will your story help?”
“I’ll only know after I hear it.” Schiller placed the tea on the coffee table and gestured for Nimosini to sit opposite him. He began to recount his encounter with the main universe’s Batman and how they teamed up to fight Lincoln March.
The story wasn't long, and Schiller wasn't particularly skilled at storytelling, but fortunately, the story itself had its share of twists and turns. Just as Schiller was reaching the climax, there was a sudden knock on the door.
Schiller stood up to open the door. Nemosini jumped up as if possessed and began pacing rapidly around the room. Schiller had to quickly return to stop her from smashing things.
“Oh God. I forgot I’ve brought you some trouble.” Gordon, soaking wet, walked in and said, “Sorry, Nemo, I didn’t mean you were trouble. Unless you threatened Professor Rodriguez with a kitchen knife again. Did you?”
Gordon took off his raincoat and hung it up, wiped the water off his shoes on the carpet, and gently stomped his feet. Seeing the letter opener stuck in the high stool, he couldn't help but sigh.
“Don’t worry about it,” Schiller said. “She’s just a child with spectrum disorder. High functioning and hyperactivity are always closely linked. Her aggressive behavior doesn’t hurt me, and you don’t need to feel sorry for it.”
Nemosini suddenly calmed down, standing there coldly watching the two of them, as if observing a rainstorm from the sidelines. Then she sat down in a chair at the nearby table, began swaying back and forth, and started playing with her fingers.
“You’ve interrupted our story time,” Schiller said. “I was telling her about March’s case from back then. I heard you’ve been busy lately with an Eden Killer?”
"Yes. I was so busy that I asked Batman to bring you here to help me take care of Nimosini. There isn't a single orphanage or special school in all of Gotham that would send her, and we can't find a foster family. If this case weren't so complicated, I wouldn't have bothered you."
Schiller shook his head and said, "When Batman wrote to me saying he needed my help, I imagined far more trouble than this. Luckily, it was just taking care of an autistic child."
“Nimosini, she…”
“She’s a typical high-functioning spectrum patient. She’s capable of taking care of herself, which is good news, although she can be a bit aggressive when she has an episode. I can calm her down, so it’s not a big problem.”
“Okay, thank you so much.” Gordon said with a sigh of relief. “It’s all my fault. I really didn’t expect the first foster family I picked for her to be like that. Otherwise, her situation would definitely be much better now. Anyway, let’s not talk about that. I came to see you because of the Eden Killer.”
Nemosini, who was standing nearby, seemed to be suddenly awakened. She charged at Gordon like a raging hunting dog, nearly knocking him off the porch.
"Oh, please don't say that, miss. You're not seven or eight years old anymore."
“Tell me everything about the Eden Killer!” she told Gordon. “I can help you catch him, I’ve said it so many times! I’m much more useful than your bunch of stupid cops!”
Gordon was about to refuse when Schiller said, "Whether Nimosini becomes you or the next Eden Killer is up to you, James. Why not let her try?"
“Those things are too advanced for a 14-year-old and seriously violate child protection laws,” Gordon said. “It should be considered shameful to involve a child in a murder case, especially since she is a sick child undergoing treatment.”
“This will help alleviate her condition,” Schiller said. “I hope you will take my professional advice into full consideration.”
Gordon was clearly skeptical, but he still pulled a file folder from his briefcase. They went to the dining table and sat down.
“You look at them first,” Gordon said. “Make sure these photos won’t upset her before giving them to her.”
Schiller nodded, took the photos out of the file folder, glanced at them, and said, "They're definitely not suitable for children, James. Get me a marker; you'll need to manually add some mosaic to these photos."
"No!" Nimosini said. "I told you I'm not afraid of blood!"
“It’s not about covering up the blood,” Schiller explained patiently. “It’s about covering up the erotic elements. You know when the Eden Killer did it; that’s not a scene for a kid your age.”
Nimosini turned and glared at Gordon, seemingly asking why he was so slow. Gordon brought over a marker and a photograph, colored in the areas that needed coloring, and then handed it to Nimosini.
The little girl fell silent the moment she saw the photos. She examined each one carefully and then said, "No, this isn't a serial murder case."