Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

A Temporary Setback I Assure You

   Mrs. Cobblepot and I laugh over the stale biscuits and tea she’s set up for us. She shows me a picture of Oswald in his high school years, his hair combed back and his protruding nose even more noticeable than it is now.

“He has always been so innocent, but he’s very clever,” she places down the photo, “oh, I should’ve known this would happen. He’s...he’s not prepared for the world. I should’ve waited longer but, but we needed the money…”

“Mrs. Kabelput, if I may say so, you would’ve never been ready to let your son go. It just...happens, it’s part of growing up. All you can do is...let it happen, and trust his judgement. You raised him well, now it’s time to let him make his own decisions.”

She stares down at her teacup, and slowly begins nodding, “Thank you, young lady. You’re….you’re not as bad, as I’d thought.”

I take a sip of the weak tea in my cup, “Mrs. Kabelput, I’ve been wondering, why the confusion over your last name? Oswald and everyone else seems to pronounce it Cobblepot.”

“The name was changed, when I was young, just before the persecutions started. I hated it, so when we came here, I said, why still use it? But...poor Ozzy was made fun of for it at school. Those bullies! They, they changed him…”

There’s a knocking at the door, and Mrs. Cobblepot gets up and looks through the spyhole.

“Huh! Police officers, looks like,” she turns around, “you best be leaving. I’ll handle these smups.”

I nod, smiling. Placing my cup in the sink, I scurry into Oswald’s room to reach the fire escape. It’s true, it’s easier to reach it from Mrs. Cobblepot’s room, but that’s not why I’m here.

Closing the door, I make my way to his closet. Sliding in between the piano, I pull out a small flashlight and begin searching within the depths of his secret dwelling area. If he hid it anywhere, it’d be here.

“Good morning ma’am. I’m Detective Allen, and this is my partner Detective Montoya,” a deep voice greets from the other room.

Shining my flashlight towards the floor, I immediately spot a large duffel bag shoved into the corner. That wasn’t there last time. I get down on my knees and carefully unzip the bag, revealing large bundles of neatly stacked money. So Morgan was telling the truth, he didn’t steal any of that money, Oswald did. But, why frame Morgan? Was he afraid of getting caught? Or did he have another motive?

“Never, never in his life my son is away this long. Nightclubs is his business, such hours. But always, he comes home to his mother,” Mrs. Cobblepot gushes in the family room.

I roll my eyes as I zip up the bag. Even for her, that’s a little much. Why are the cops investigating so soon anyway? It doesn’t seem like they’ve found a body...maybe...maybe these are the cops that Oswald snitched to. Out of everyone, they’d know what’s going on.

“Mrs. Cobblepot-”

“Kabelput.”

Allen chuckles, “...Mrs. Kabelput, do you know anyone who might want to do your son harm?”

I’m just about to leave the room when my flashlight shines upon a new picture hanging from the wall. Unlike the others, this one features a man and a woman, and it’s not a drawing or a sketch. Instead, it appears to be made of paper and melted wax. A black paper cutout of a man and a woman standing under an umbrella serving as the focus while they’re surrounded by melting wax in vivid black and blue colors, sort of simulating rain. The man undoubtedly looks like Oswald, with his mangled hair and pointed shoes, and the woman...looks like me. She has my long hair, the low heels I often wear, and my less-than-desirable short, wide figure. No wonder Oswald liked me, I must’ve made him feel tall and slim.