Chief O’Hara stood and roared a rousing chorus of “For he’s a jolly good fellow . . .”
The others at the table raised their glasses and joined in the Chief’s lusty singing, “. . . for he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny.”
The Chief concluded with a flourish, “. . . which nobody can deny!”
Commissioner Gordon was his usual humble self. “Oh, thank you, Chief O’Hara, I . . . I really don’t think I deserve all this.”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re too modest,” Barbara good-naturedly protested.
“Sure’n that he is,” said Chief O’Hara. He turned to Bruce, “Right, Mr. Wayne?”
“The Commissioner deserves far more than we can ever repay. He’s given the best years of his life to Gotham City.”
O’Hara cast a worried look toward Linseed’s empty chair. He turned to Bruce and murmured, “Where the devil is Mayor Linseed? He’s supposed to present a special award to the Commissioner.”
Dick looked off to the side of the room. “There he is now, with Mrs. Linseed.”
All three turned to look. The Mayor and his wife were obviously embroiled in a roiling argument . . . and Mrs. Linseed seemed to be winning.
“They seem to be arguing about something, Dick,” Bruce said, stating the obvious.
Standing with her arms akimbo and face set, Mrs. Linseed carried the day. She pointed imperiously toward the head table. Reluctant, disconsolate, the Mayor accepted his fate, and moved toward the dias.
The Mayor took his place, standing behind and between the seated Commissioner and Barbara. Carrying a jewelry box, the Mayor addressed the assemblage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as a token of our appreciation for Commissioner Gordon’s long service, I wish to present him with this twenty-four carat gold watch. Commissioner . . .”
The Mayor reached down between them and handed the pocket watch to the Commissioner, who accepted it graciously. Then the Mayor continued, “And now . . . due to circumstances beyond my control . . .” Mrs. Linseed shot him an evil look. “That is . . . um . . . due to overwhelming considerations . . . I hereby discharge Commissioner Gordon . . .”
Shock immediately registered upon the Commissioner and Barbara’s faces, not to mention on the countenances of almost everyone in the room. Barbara was torn between consoling her father and glaring at the man behind her. Family triumph had turned to tragedy.
Completely befuddled by the unexpected announcement, the Commissioner looked from the gold watch in his hand to the Mayor. The Mayor tried not to look at his old friend as he concluded his speech, “. . . and in his stead . . .” The Mayor swallowed, choked, and looked toward his wife. She was solid as granite. “. . . I appoint – as the new Police Commissioner of Gotham City – Miss Nora Clavicle!”
Dick, Bruce, Chief O’Hara, Commissioner Gordon and Barbara were a picture of outrage, confusion and perplexity. “I’m confused, Chief O’Hara,” the Commissioner finally managed to say.
“And I’m boilin’ mad, Commissioner.”
Suddenly, the booming of a drum was heard. Nora, followed by Angelina and Evelina, entered the banquet hall. Angelina was beating a bass drum, one side of which was inscribed “WOMAN POWER.” Evelina brandished what looked like a baton, but was in actuality the rolled-up sign.
“Holy Halftime Ceremonies!” Dick said quietly to Bruce in response to the splashy entrance.
“The famous Nora Clavicle . . .” Bruce mused.
Although not an active supporter of Clavicle’s, Barbara had generally approved of the activist’s agenda . . . until now. “I didn’t realize her Crusade for Women had gone this far,” Barbara observed.
A very downcast Commissioner muttered, “I’d say she’s won that crusade.”
Chief O’Hara, his world ended, looked to the heavens and declared, “Saints preserve us. Saints preserve us all!”
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