Harvey Dent stood on the courthouse steps at nine in the morning and announced that the prosecution would reopen the Holiday Killer investigation.
At seven that evening, he placed the folder containing the investigation files on Bruce Wayne's desk.
The reporters had already dispersed.
His statement outside the courthouse-"Every family had better be prepared to answer questions in broad daylight"-was still playing on a loop on the news, while Harvey himself had already taken a seat on the top floor of Wayne Enterprises, ready to make one of those families answer first.
Bruce, the legendary fall guy whose round-the-clock schedule had successfully evolved away his need for sleep, opened the folder.
The first page was the Falcone Family's wedding guest list.
The second was a loan the bank president had refused.
The third, Johnny Viti.
A red stamp marked the upper-right corner of the photograph.
Deceased.
"The Falcone Family contacted Wayne around the wedding," Harvey said. "They wanted to move some money through your channels. You refused."
"The records have already been handed over to the prosecution."
Bruce thought his recent bad mood might have been caused by hormonal imbalances from his recent lack of sleep.
Otherwise, why did the mere sight of Harvey annoy him so much?
"What you handed over were meeting records." Harvey slid a bank statement toward him. "Companies affiliated with Falcone applied for loans. The bank president refused. Johnny received orders to deal with him. On Halloween night, the Holiday Killer dealt with Johnny first."
Bruce scanned the names of the companies.
Logistics, laundromats, warehousing, temp staffing.
The company names were all perfectly ordinary, ordinary enough to print on contracts, stamp, issue invoices under, and then hire a few accountants to move money from one spreadsheet to another.
How nice. Ordinary and familiar.
He seemed