Cobblepot, hearing this, froze. He glanced back at the obese man and said, "But he confessed."
Shiller furrowed his brow, walked over, and took a detailed look at the overweight man held down on the floor. Like any other mob member, he was clad in a tight suit, sweating profusely and trembling with fear, his chubby face jiggling as if ready to drip oil.
"He's Farnas's nephew," Cobblepot turned to glance at the overweight man, then clicked his tongue, "Farnas had a bad relationship with his sister, but when she struck out on her own and got murdered, Farnas, in the interest of family honor, took in young Frank. However, he didn't really care about him."
Shiller sat on a nearby sofa, frowning at the man known as Frank. He looked almost thirty but lacked the menacing look of other mob members. Even in gangster-type black attire, he looked more like an insurance seller.
"Farnas isn't very authoritarian. His distaste for his nephew isn't because of his sister; it's because his nephew is too timid. Even hearing gunshots in the estate would make him cry. Farnas sees this as a disgrace to the Farnas family."
"No wonder," Shiller rubbed the handle of his umbrella, retracing his conclusion, "It might be considered a miracle in Gotham, but he indeed never killed anyone."
"How do you determine that?" An intrigued Cobblepot asked.
Ignorning the question, Shiller raised his head at the standing Cobblepot and asked, "You said he confessed. Confessed what?"
"He had a grudge against Little Farnas and Old Lady Spencer, he wanted to murder them," Cobblepot moved to Shiller's side, disgustedly looked at Frank and said, "The Farnas family loathes his physique. Little Farnas threatened him several times, warning him not to disgrace the Farnas family."
"Old Lady Spencer loved Farnas's sister, who was Frank's mother and after her passing, loved Frank as well. But, she similarly did not want Frank to be overweight and arranged a strict tutor for him to supervise his exercises and diet."
Shiller nodded, indicating that he understood the situation. He observed Frank's physique once again. The man was not tall, barely 5'7" and had average-sized bones. But he seemed corpulent, weighing at least 220 lbs, with no visible muscle.
Human fat is a natural shield. Hence, many mob members intentionally train to be muscularly fat, which isn't purely overweight and doesn't appear as bulky.
The mob often contains many near 6-feet strong men, resembling double-door fridges. The problem isn't with their stature, as suits can be tailored. Frank's biggest issue lay with his high body fat percentage. His lack of muscle mass made him look like a Michelin man.
The twelve families of Gotham are traditional Italian mobs, who, influenced by the Godfathers, care deeply about their appearances. Different families do have varying dress styles, but overall they are unified.
The appalling contrast of having a purely fat man amongst robust gangsters needs no elaboration. If the situation barely passed previously, the tension between Frank and other family members will undoubtedly escalate this summer, as summers are rough for obese people.
Their heavyweight makes it hard to move, and they perspire more, making it easier for body odour to appear. Additionally, the gangsters always have to dress up, further exacerbating the problem. It's highly possible that Frank, even with his timidness, had homicidal thoughts due to being bombarded with harsh words this summer.
Shiller shook his head, saying, "He likely didn't follow through with it. Have you asked him?"
"He said he had prepared poison."
"What type of poison?"
Cobblepot gestured at Frank who, shaking, replied, "I...I had someone get me some cyanide."
"Incorrect." Victor interjected, "If it was Potassium cyanide, the body wouldn't be extremely bloated. I've seen cyanide poisoned bodies, they do not look like that."
"The autopsy report does not reveal any potent toxin," Cobblepot sighed and said, "But among the twelve families, he's the only one this overweight. While Farnas spared him for his sister, other family heirs would be locked and starved till they were thin."
"That won't work." Shiller shook his head, "Let him go to Gotham Technology Institute. They're short of people to install air conditioning. Working the whole summer will certainly make him lose weight."
The farce ended there. Shiller had enough experience, and Frank was just overly ambitious but too timid to act. Furthermore, Frank's size was too conspicuous, making any covert poisoning attempt impossible, and his status amongst the Farnas family ensured he couldn't instruct others.
Frank was escorted out, but Shiller didn't leave Cobblepot's estate immediately. He began inquiring about the state of the twelve families, sticking to his judgement that the murderer must have had dealings with the family members.
Cobblepot mentioned some of the major events happening within the twelve families, mostly small matters or related to Gotham Music Festival. There weren't any notable individuals.
As it got darker, Shiller gave a few instructions for Cobblepot to keep an eye on the twelve families' situation. He returned to Rordriguez Manor, where Barry was reading on a sofa by the window.
"Ah, Professor, you're back." Barry put down the book, greeted him. Shiller, handing his coat to Merkel, said, "How do you feel? Is your head still spinning?"
Barry shook his head and said, "No, I'm alright now, Professor, my parents …"
"I've called them. They may be able to pick you up next week. Do you miss them?"
"A little, I guess. Harley and Little Bruce …"
"They've all gone home. Little Bruce has returned to his cosmos. Harley is bumming the air conditioning at Gordon Manor. If you want, I can send you to Wayne Manor. Alfred would be thrilled."
Barry sighed softly and shook his head, "No, no need. I'd like to wait here until my parents come to pick me up. The things that happened earlier were shocking. I need some time to digest them."
"It's better they come later, otherwise, I'm afraid I might blurt everything out and scare them."
"The reason I want you to stay here longer is because your power is unique. If it goes out of control, it could cause serious trouble. It's best to stay in a safe environment when things are unstable."
"Of course, professor." Barry looked up at Shiller and said, "In the future, I seemed to be very close to you. That means we should get along fine, right?"
Shiller smiled and nodded, turning to head for the bedroom. But Barry darted in front of him and said, "Um, Professor, is there anything I can help with? I don't really have anything to do …"
Shiller turned back to Merkel and asked, "Is the garden sorted out? You could take Barry along with you to mow the lawn."
Merkel made a troubled face. Shiller let out a sigh and said, "Don't tell me that my garden has been destroyed again."
"It hasn't been completely destroyed." Merkel explained with a worried look on his face, "The plants we recently transplanted into the garden were all expensive, able to adapt to Gotham's gloomy and sunless weather. But the sunlight in Gotham recently has been too fierce, it burned up more than half of the plants."
Shiller rubbed his forehead. He beckoned Barry, who promptly followed him. Shiller then headed to the garden with Barry and Merkel.
The overall structure of the garden hadn't changed much and you could see traces of its former thrive, but now most of the plants in the flower beds had collapsed, looking as if they were about to die.
From the water traces next to the flower bed, it's clear that Merkel was watering a lot. But Shiller always thought that his butler was good at everything, except the management of this mansion's garden. He lacked the most basic knowledge of gardening.
It's not right to assume that when a plant looks like it's drying up, you should water it ceaselessly. Large amounts of water mixed with the scorching sun at noon are a disaster. Merkel should take at least 30% of the responsibility for the garden's current state.
However, Shiller didn't say much, because other than managing the garden, Merkel was doing well. Shiller believed that it wasn't just Merkel struggling with the garden's terrible state, so he didn't blame him much.
He then tapped on the glass of the greenhouse, saying, "Invite Miss Pamela over tomorrow. Forget the rest, but we can't let the tree we used to hang Batman die."
After Shiller returned to his bedroom to sleep, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he found Barry in his pajamas.
"What is it, Barry?"
"Um, nothing." Barry looked conflicted. His lips moved as if to say something, then he said, "I know it's late to disturb you. But I feel uncomfortable alone in my room."
Barry looked like he wanted to explain more, and his sidelong stance conveyed he was ready to bolt. Shiller cut him off, opened the door and said, "Come in."
The unusually bright moonlight draped the manor's garden in a thin, cold layer. Shiller didn't step out of his bedroom until the round moon was high in the sky.
Merkel was waiting outside. He peeped through a crack in the door. Barry was sound asleep in the master bed. Shiller quietly closed the door. Merkel pointed inside the room and made a gesture. Shiller nodded and took the iced tea from his hand.
As Shiller slowly descended the stairs, he said, "Barry has some symptoms of panic attacks and separation anxiety. He's uneasy about his new powerful ability, but there's no need for prescription medication right now. He should improve soon."
"Merkel, call Chief Gordon in the morning and invite him to the private dinner I prepared to celebrate his promotion. Ask him if he could bring Miss Harley Quinn along and have her stay here as a guest after the party."
The following morning, Harley hurried into Rodrix Manor. She hugged Barry, who was enjoying his coffee, making him nearly spit it out.
"Long time no see, Barry! I heard you're super fast now. Could you help retrieve the money I left in the bank vault?"