Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 39 Haha, it’s over!

While Ma Zhaodi was working his third job, Prosecutor Harvey Dent had already returned home early.

Tonight was different from what he had imagined. The fire was serious, but not urgent. He didn't even need to stay at the scene for long. He could just turn around and go home because there was no work for him to do for the time being.

As for Johnny Vitti's murder, that was Sheriff Gordon's concern. As for himself, he had made an appointment with Greda to give candy to the little ghosts in the neighbor's house.

If I go back late, she might be sad again.

Harvey drove back home. It was still early, so he opened the door happily.

"Hey, Harvey, you came home so punctually today?"

"Hah, I've made an appointment with you, Mrs. Dent."

At this moment, the doorbell suddenly rang outside.

"Guess who's here?" Greda said, turning and walking to the door of her house.

"How should I know? Wait, let me open the—"

A sense of alertness rose in Harvey's heart at this moment. It was not because he had any strange premonition, but because he realized that if someone wanted to attack on Halloween, this would be a perfect opportunity.

All it takes is paying off a child to drop off a carefully packaged bomb as a Halloween surprise, and few will be prepared.

But before he could finish his words, Greda had already opened the door.

"trick or treat!"

A few "ghosts" suddenly jumped out and interrupted his delusion. There were no bombs, no attacks, no retaliation from gangs, just a peaceful and happy Halloween.

After all, what reason did Falcone have to seek revenge on a small-time prosecutor like me? I went to the parking lot of his nephew's party to check the license plate number and was beaten up. Such a person had no motivation to attack me.

He laughed at himself, thinking that he was being a little too pessimistic, and then walked to the door and handed out candy to the little ghosts with his wife.

"Happy Halloween, little ones."

"Happy Halloween, Mr. Harvey!"

"Happy Halloween, Mrs. Dent."

On the other side, at the Gotham Police Department in the center of Gotham City.

Gordon flipped through the mountain of files and glanced at his watch. It was already late at night, so he put out his cigarette in the Halloween-themed ashtray on the table.

"Happy Halloween, Batman, and thank you for the gift."

"Happy Halloween, Chief Gordon—go home to your family."

Halloween in Gotham has passed, and except for a bizarre murder, the night was as peaceful as a dream.

But for some, what happened in Gotham tonight was like a nightmare.
-
Today is a peaceful morning, and Ma Zhaodi drives his beloved little wheelchair to work as usual.

He was in a good mood. He finished all three jobs in one night and gained a lot. Even if he ignored the little pumpkin lantern and only looked at the $20,000 in assets, the intermediate cooking skills and the friendship with Solomon Grandy, these three things made him feel that it was quite worthwhile. When he left, Grandy even shook hands with him in a friendly manner.

"Pumpkin Man, scary, good guy."

"Pumpkin Man, friends, burgers, delicious."

Ma Zhaodi decided to bring Grandi delicious food every day. Although Grandi wouldn't starve to death, he would definitely remember him as a friend. Maybe one day, if Ma Zhaodi encountered a super criminal or assassin organization again, he could yell "Grandi, save me!" at the sewer entrance, and then see the big guy squeeze open the sewer entrance and climb up to help him.

Of course, if possible, Ma Zhaodi would rather this scenario never happen.

"Good morning, Santos, Rick, Castro, how was your day last night?"

He greeted his colleagues happily, but strangely, the three people who usually talked and laughed did not respond to him at this time, but looked at him with a weird look.

"What's wrong? You don't look right?"

"Ah? Ah, good morning, Ma Zhaodi."

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Ma Zhaodi, did you go to do odd jobs last night?"

"Huh? Yeah, I went to do some odd jobs."

"Oh, you're not home?"

"You can't work by staying at home, Castro." Ma Zhaodi looked at the three people with some confusion. They didn't speak as fluently as usual today, but seemed a little hesitant.

"Um. I want to confirm, you are a recent arrival in Gotham, right? Have you ever joined any gang?"

"Oh my god, what are you talking about? Of course I've never been in a gang, can't you see? I don't even know how to use a gun, and I'm still training every day at the shooting range my supervisor introduced me to—Wait, something's wrong with you guys today, is there something wrong?"

"Um, have you seen today's Gotham Daily?"

"I haven't bought it yet—what's wrong?"

"What about today's Gotham morning news? Didn't watch it either?"

"What are you talking about?" Ma Zhaodi frowned. Seeing several colleagues hesitating, he suddenly had a strange ominous premonition in his heart.

"What happened to the news?"

"See for yourself."

Santos handed over a newspaper, and Ma Zhaodi took it. He glanced at it casually, and the headline that caught his eye made his pupils widen.

"Johnny Vitti was assassinated, leaving behind an ugly pumpkin!"

"Last night on Halloween, Johnny Vitti, nephew of Gotham City's godfather Falcone, was found dead in the bathtub of his villa. According to forensic examination, Johnny suffered two fatal gunshot wounds to the head."

"The murderer left the murder weapon at the crime scene: a .22 Clipper pistol with the serial number worn off. No fingerprints were left on the gun. Also left at the scene were two items: a makeshift silencer made from a baby pacifier and a pumpkin lantern."

"No cash was missing from the villa. Police speculate that this is a vendetta. Sheriff Gordon stated that the key clue lies in the uniquely shaped pumpkin lantern left at the scene."

Stunned, Ma Zhaodi turned the page of the newspaper with trembling hands. On the back of the newspaper was printed the image of the pumpkin lantern left at the crime scene.

The twisted and painful expression seemed to be mixed with a different artistic atmosphere, with some shadows of Millet's classicism, a little bit of Monet's impressionism, Matisse's Fauvism, Munch's expressionism, Balla's futurism, Picasso's cubism, and Dali's surrealism. It seemed that all of them were reflected in this small pumpkin. In a word -

"Haha, it's over!"

(End of this chapter)