What a waste.
He sees the closet door partially open and, being a cop, curious and all, edges it open with a pencil (you’ve got to be extra careful at a crime scene; evidence can be destroyed so easily).
He looks inside.
“What the hell,” he says.
His partner, who has been directing the lab man and the man from the coroner’s office and the ambulance attendants, walks over next to him. “What?”
“Look inside.”
So the second cop looks inside. And whistles. “All these costumes. They’re just like—”
“Just like the guy he tried to kill.”
“But if he had all these costumes you’d think he would have respected the guy, not wanted to kill him.”
The first cop shakes his head. “It’s a strange old world. A strange old world.”
Same Afternoon (Later)
“Hey. Look at this,” the first cop says.
“What?”
“Some kind of diary.”
“Let’s see.”
They flip through pages. Open at a spot and read.
“it is no longer tolerable, the impostor must be killed because there can’t be two of us. one is real, one is false, and after today, the real one will assume the throne of power.”
“Now what the hell could he have meant by that?”
The second cop shrugs. “You got me, partner. You sure got me.”
The Further Adventures of Batman Page 35