The Catman in: The Case of the Unofficial Tontine.
From the Journals of The Deacon.
Part 2.2
An interview with Mr Peccary.
The account that follows has been entirely reconstructed from talks with Merryweather following the conclusion of the affair. My friend and I had journeyed from the house in Quinlain Heights to the very heart of Commercial Holyoke where, travelling through the always crowded Americo Lane, we entered Black’s Department Store by the tea shop entrance on the south western face of the building.
A few steps took us into Ladies Haberdashery in the store proper and on through Millinery, Perfumes and past the small florists concession to the quieter realms of the Gentlemen’s Clothing department. Locating the manager of this section, Merryweather took the fellow aside and presented his card, which was promptly sent upstairs to the owner by way of a gangly youth in the store’s employ.
Presently the youth returned to inform us that Mr Peccary would see Captain Merryweather in his offices on the 5th floor at once. I however was obliged to wait downstairs and at Merryweather’s suggestion took afternoon tea in the Tea Room.
Before I commence this part of the narrative, a word or two concerning the background of the man we had come to visit. Older readers will no doubt be familiar with the name of Peccary - Merryweather’s oldest, most insidious foe … a master of intrigue and deception; a man whose podgy fingers could be found in every slice of every pie that made up the darker business dealings of the Holyoke underworld … and yet Peccary’s public reputation was impeccable. Honoured member of the Chamber of Commerce, leading businessman and citizen of our town. He played golf with the Mayor, belonged to all of the most dully upstanding of the cities' clubs and committees and was held in high esteem by the highest of the morally righteous. For years, on and off Peccary and Merryweather had secretly contended in a series of machiavellian intrigues and always to a state of deadlock. My friend had foiled the grand machinations of Mr Peccary more often than not, but always the fat man had wriggled off the hook without so much as a hint of scandal attached to his name. This then was the man Merryweather now turned to!
Peccary
Mr Peccary was seated behind a large oak desk as Merryweather entered the office. A man of impressive bulk, he was nonetheless surprisingly swift when he chose to move, which this time he did not. Mr Peccary remained behind his desk, shifting only to flick the ash from his cigar into an ornate ashtray
"Ah, my feline friend,’ he said at last, a minute or so after the door had closed leaving the two of them alone in the large office "To what do I owe the honour of your visit?" Peccary inquired as he indicated that his guest should be seated and continued to speak, not giving Merryweather a chance to answer the initial question.
"It has been some time if memory serves. Well over a year," Merryweather’s corpulent host stated as he offered my friend a well stacked cigar box.
Merryweather inclined his head slightly, taking a cigar and slipping the band from the thick tobacco, and replied "14 months to be exact, although I did run into a mutual acquaintance some eight months ago. I gather you had asked him to pass on a message."
The folds of flesh in Peccary’s neck wobbled slightly as he leaned forward to clip and light the end of Merryweather’s cigar "Ah yes. My Italian friend, Count Udonatti. I believe he failed to deliver my point."
Merryweather sat back, cross legged and blew out a plume of smoke with a wry smile. "He certainly tried."
"Indeed … and what became of our friend?"
"Deported. Duelling is still illegal in this country!"
"He challenged your honour, Captain? What may I ask was the dispute?"
"The Count contended that I had cheated at a hand of baccarat and demanded instant satisfaction. Fortunately I too had a cane … though mine was solid wood and did not conceal a blade."
Peccary shrugged, "You know these European Noblemen and their honour."
"Yes … quite, but I haven’t come here to discuss old enmities."
"Indeed?" Mr Peccary poured two tumblers of port from a crystal decanter "What HAVE you come here to discuss?"
Merryweather accepted his glass and swirled it round thoughtfully for a moment before turning to a chess board set to one side of Peccary’s desk. Studying it, he moved one emerald knight forward in front of the emerald pawns "I’ve been hearing rumours," he began as he leant his cats head cane on the desk so that the cats head rested gently against the side of the chess set as if its eyes were scanning the middle of the board.
Peccary waited, saying nothing.
Merryweather picked up the crystalline ruby figure of the opposing forces central pawn and moved it one place forward "Rumours of a new player. No one seems to know quite who he is though." He moved the emerald knight to the centre of the board.
Peccary clasped his hands together "There’s always someone new. A businessman such as myself tends to attract competitors. Such is the way of … commerce and indeed more so with my political dabblings."
Merryweather still hadn’t taken his eyes from the board. He now pushed the ruby pawn forward. "True and a good businessman or politician can always curtail the advances of small players … known opponents and the like." Reaching over, Merryweather advanced the emerald knight to take the pawn.
Peccary’s eyes flicked to the gap in the ruby back line a second before Merryweather proceeded to sweep the red queen forward to take the emerald knight.
"An apt metaphor Captain. Your suggestion is I take it that should I encounter a bigger player …" He picked up the red queen and examined it briefly before returning it to its place "An opponent with unfamiliar moves," he continued, picking up the discarded emerald knight, "This presupposes I cannot anticipate …" Moving the queen back into place, he replaced the red pawn on its old spot and put the emerald knight back to ruby king five "… an obvious lure." Peccary pushed the emerald pawn in front of his king forward and said"… but suppose I refuse to be baited and instead choose to develop other avenues of attack?"
Merryweather’s right hand moved to his cane "Suppose you do? Suppose you play a more tactical game, developing supported pawn advances, probe your opponents’ defences with your knights and bring forth your other pieces in readiness for an assault at your own pace. Sooner or later a confrontation will inevitably take place and even the best of players will lose assets before a win."
"I see … and a defensive game would just delay the confrontation?"
"Precisely. Your opponent can only grow stronger given time to prepare as well. OR he might just force a confrontation before you are ready."
"Your knowledge of chess is most diverting Captain. You have a solution to this scenario I take it?"
"Yes. Don’t play the game." Slowly and deliberately Merryweather lowered his cane into the middle of the chess board, separating the emerald crystal figurines from the ruby. The eyes of the cat faced the red king and queen.
Peccary studied the board for a minute, his balding head lowered. Then he looked up into the eyes of the man seated opposite him "Suppose there was such an individual … an individual whose interests may someday clash with mine. Suppose such a person existed …" the big man let the end of the thought dangle.
Merryweather leaned closer "I believe this individual does exist and I believe I am very close to knowing all I need to know about him. The last piece of knowledge I lack is a name … an alias."
Mr Peccary smiled "Ah and then the cat will prowl. Very well. As you know Captain, in the pursuit of my … legitimate business I am obliged to broker knowledge in ah order to serve the interests of this fair city. To that end I employ all manner of … information collectors … hard facts, hearsay, rumour and the like. The great majority of tidbits that my agents report to me are generally useless shreds of no importance to my political and business aspirations. However they make for amusing diversions … and one fragment that sticks to the subconscious could well, now that I choose to recall it, be the nom de guerre of our individual. The name sir is … Macabre!"
The Net Closes.
While Merryweather was conducting his extraordinary interview with Mr Peccary, I was seated by the window of Black’s Tea Room consuming another round of scones and a fifth cup of tea. A slight tapping beside me aroused my attention and I was surprised to see a young urchin staring in at me, his grubby hands smearing the window pane. I hastened outside to talk to the young scrub … for I had recognised him as Monk, a scrawny underfed 13 year old sometimes employed by Merryweather in various capacities such as messenger or even spy.
"Beggin yer pardon Mr Deacon, sir," he addressed me, pulling his ragged cap off "… but the Cap’n sez I was to give youse these telegrams at once sir. Dead urgent e sez they was an I’ve been awaitin down the exchange all morning sir."
"Well don’t just stand there boy. Let me see them," I cried.
Young Monk continued to hold the sheaf of telegrams to his chest. "Cap’n’s eyes only sir. E sez youse was to wait fer im."
"Confound it you young wretch. If they’re so urgent, I must open them at once, Merryweather or no."
Stubbornly the wretched snipe refused to part with them, but fortunately at that moment Merryweather reappeared and took matters in hand. Glancing rapidly through the telegrams he flipped a half dollar at the wide eyed boy "Good work young Paulie. Don’t spend it all on gin and come by Saturday. I may have more work for you."
The dirty urchin bit the coin, grinned and said "Thank yer Cap’n sir," before running off into the crowd.
We Brave The Hasen District.
Following our brief encounter with young Paulie, Merryweather hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take us to the Tem where we were to meet the Colonel. Again he refused to enlighten me as to his recent findings and infuriatingly would only say "All shall soon be revealed Deacon," and capped his pronunciation with the most unbecoming of knowing smiles.
On our return to the club, Beard the day porter conducted us to the Gun Room (A rule of the club was that gentlemen should check all firearms at the entrance. The gentleman would receive a receipt on surrendering his weapon to the care of the day or night porter, who would place it in a cabinet in the Gun Room. Access to the room was permitted in the company of either the steward or one of the club porters and viewings were allowed between the hours of six and seven thirty pm on Tuesdays as the Tem did not only keep weapons for its members, but boasted a fine collection of antique and contemporary firearms).
It was while we were selecting our weaponry - for Merryweather had over the years donated a large quantity of pieces that were available to him at any time; that Colonel Preston Danforth finally arrived in a state of some agitation.
Sensing something was amiss, my friend enjoined the elder gentleman to speak without preamble. The brief tale he told rapidly extinguished the light anticipatory look that Merryweather had, had about him for the last few hours.
"Trickery, Sir!" roared the Colonel, waving a note wildly in the air "As I mentioned when last we parted, I had an engagement with my physician that I could not avoid. The appointment itself lasted under an hour but as I was leaving a young ruffian barged into me and I felt him lift my wallet from my coat. I gave chase and caught up to him just as a policeman blocked his path. My wallet was returned and I was obliged to accompany the constable to the station across town to swear out a complaint."
"When we arrived he showed me to a waiting room and left to process the prisoner. On his prompt return I was interviewed in the waiting room and asked to sign my name to documents which he purported to be a form asserting my willingness to press charges. All in all I was delayed a full two hours and shortly after taking my leave I became suspicious of the manner in which the officer had processed my complaint. I returned and spoke to the duty officer and was informed that no Constable Manton existed within the precinct - nor was any pick pocket charged within the last few hours!"
"On my return home I was informed that a young woman had called for Katherine not twenty minutes before and my niece had left with her in a hurry shortly thereafter and LOOK gentlemen - Katherine left the note behind. It bears my signature but is not from me!"
All colour drained from Merryweather’s face as he turned to me "Curse my over confidence. Macabre has Miss Conn, Deacon. I daresay we have been under observation both at the Colonel’s house and when I visited Peccary. This note purports to be from Colonel Danforth, exhorting his niece to meet us urgently at an address in the Hasen District. An address plainly marked and left for us to discover. Macabre wants us to know he holds the girl and where to find her so we can exchange the map for Miss Conn’s safety!"
As if to punctuate the point, at that moment a note was delivered into Merryweather’s hands. It simply said "Bring the map." M.
After choosing our firearms we set off at once to first secure the map and then travel by hansom cab to the edges of the infamous Hasen District - It was to Holyoke what Whitechapel was to London. We were accompanied by the Colonel and the stalwart James Beard, who had offered his assistance and was gratefully accepted. It should be noted that Beard was another of Captain David Merryweather’s old associates and no stranger to his nocturnal activities.
As we neared the address Merryweather grew more and more tense. A girl’s life was at stake and he took that fact extremely seriously.
Macabre
The address we had been given turned out to be the entrance to a building which appeared to house some sort of drinking establishment. A closer inspection revealed that the large noisy frontage concealed access to back rooms and the presence of rouged women and gentlemen in states of either agitation or a partial stupor, revealed that the building catered to opium addicts as well as those addicted to the temptations of the flesh.
Three of us entered and stood looking around at the bacchanal like merriment occurring within. The occupants a mixture of thrill seeking gentlemen and the lower orders - a den of iniquity with a music hall atmosphere.
At once a young lady approached us. She was attired as a slattern but with an accent and bearing that marked her as a cut above the low women around us. A fallen woman from the educated classes, no doubt acting as a hostess was my assumption. We followed her up the stairs at the back of the bar to a quiet antechamber where she turned to us "Colonel Danforth, Mr Deacon and Captain Merryweather." She stated and we could no longer doubt we were anywhere but in the right place.
"Where is my niece?" spluttered the enraged Colonel taking a step forward, prompting me to place a restraining hand on his arm.
Without a word the woman opened a far door and picking up a lantern stepped through into a darkened corridor and beckoned us to follow. We did so as a drunk staggered out of a nearby room off the corridor, bent double as in the act of regurgitation. She led us along the corridor to the far end and through a door which opened into a suite of rooms where two men awaited us. Just beyond the main sitting room we glimpsed the stricken figure of Katherine lying on a bed within guarded by an old crone who was seated by the bed.
"Fiends!!" cried Colonel Preston Danforth "If you’ve harmed one hair on her head, I’ll …"
"You’ll do nothing Colonel," the thinner of the men broke in "Your niece is in perfect health and sleeping of a dose of chloroform. If you remain quiet and don’t misbehave, she will remain unharmed. Do we understand each other?"
The Colonel nodded, "Macabre I presume?" The dark haired man returned the nod, "The map please. Place it carefully on the table."
The Colonel moved to comply, ever aware of the eyes of the two other men upon him. The second he recognised as the large bald thug who had accosted him.
The dark haired man smiled "Now, who do we have here? The Colonel of course and you gentlemen must be Captain Merryweather and the Deacon. How does it feel to have been outsmarted and outwitted at every turn? He stared directly at my companion who answered.
"I don’t know. Why not ask the man with the gun to your head?"
There was a click of a pistol cocking and a dark cloaked figure stepped forward. The masked man’s voice was low, "Not a movement and you, old woman, keep your hands where my associates can see them or your boss will require a new forehead."
"The Catman!!" exclaimed Tobias Jenks. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"Through a carelessly unlocked upper floor window. I was able to follow while your pretty friend thought I was throwing up in the hallway."
"Dash it," I cried looking round for the woman "She’s gone! At least we have Macabre though."
"Not quite!" The lady in question was aiming a pistol at my head from the cover of a small closet door I had failed to notice "Now Mr Catman, if you please, drop the pistol before I drop the Deacon." She covered the few steps and I felt her gun on the back of my head.
Merryweather however, didn’t falter "Madame if you pull that trigger I’ll pull mine and then turn this gun on you. We might both die in the exchange or we might both leap aside. Either way the Colonel and Captain Merryweather," he looked at Beard, his stand in "… would easily take care of Mr Jenks, leaving two perhaps three of us to oppose you should you have survived and I can guarantee you’ll not leave this room alive."
"You’re forgetting old Agnes who will surely kill the girl."
"Old Agnes can be assured of hastily following Miss Conn to the afterworld if she does anything other than sit peacefully until the outcome."
"It appears we have a standoff," the girl stated.
Ever aware of the gun to my head, I nevertheless spoke "She’ll dare nothing while we have Macabre."
My friend smiled grimly "I believed I would find a Dr Macabre here tonight but this fellow is too young to be him … is that not so Miss Macabre or do you prefer Miss Madeleine Macomb?"
If the Colonel’s face was anything to go by, my duplicate expression was one of sheer shock, surprise and to use a bastardisation of my own coinage - agogness.
I felt rather than saw my captor smile. "That is so Captain Merryweather … Yes, I know a secret about you as well." I heard the gun click and a shot rang out deafening me. Surprised to find myself still alive I again virtually instantaneously felt the gun barrel at my head. This time it was hot against my skin. Merryweather’s hostage lay dead - a bullet had passed directly through his skull!
Miss Macomb or Macabre was speaking again "That’s much better Captain. I would have hated to reveal your secret to Peccary’s spy. I’m almost certain the big man knows but it wouldn’t be knowledge he’d care to share amongst his lower ranks. Please put the gun down Captain. You have nobody to threaten but Mr Jenks and although he is a loyal, trusted member of my organisation, be under no misapprehension that I value his life enough to capitulate. Ah I see Mr Jenks has already acted in his own self interest and is even now covering you with his own pistol!"
Merryweather inclined his head slightly "Congratulations Madame. You have the upper hand."
"Captain, I have the only hand," Miss Macabre replied.
"I must confess I am not used to being outmanoeuvred thus and while I would be prepared to take a bullet in the chest myself, you can be assured I will do nothing while you threaten my friend."
His eyes had flicked briefly to mine during this speech and I fancied I had heard a slight inflection in his tone as he spoke "prepared". My friend had given me a coded message in plain English and now the outcome was in my hands. I decided to act and several things occurred at once.
Miss Macabre was taken unawares, her attention being firmly riveted on the masked figure before her; when I abruptly dropped to the floor and kicked backwards with both my legs to knock her off balance. Two shots rang out and I saw the Catman crumple - but already Beard was racing forwards to strike Jenks firmly in the jaw whilst the Colonel leaped over me to snatch the female mastermind’s pistol from her grip as she struggled to rise.
Jenks was a big man and seemingly impervious to Beard’s valiant efforts but the stalwart porter soon received aid when Merryweather rose up, seemingly unaffected by the blast to his chest. Between the pair of them the large thug was felled like a stricken oak. For my own part I was still sprawled on the floor witness to our sudden reversal, for not only had Beard and Merryweather triumphed, but Colonel Preston Danforth had secured Madeline Macomb’s pistol and was covering her.
Then barely a second later the lights went out, there was a huge crash and I felt someone brush past me. When order and lighting were restored, the situation stood as follows:
Merryweather and Beard stood over the prone form of the fallen Jenks - the Colonel was down and the female architect of the whole business was gone … as was the Kolobad map, vanished from the upturned table.
Merryweather immediately raced into the next room and emerged with a half conscious Katherine "Thank God she is unharmed," he assured himself and her anxious uncle "but Macabre is gone … and he has taken his daughter and the map with him!"
"HIS daughter?" I asked non comprehendingly. "Yes Deacon … Dr Macabre has escaped," Merryweather announced, holding up a grotesque, frighteningly realistic rubber mask - the face and hair of the old woman Agnes!
Epilogue. Dinner at the house in Quinlain Heights.
That evening we returned for a very late supper at the Danforth residence. The Colonel himself presided with Miss Con acting as hostess between exchanging adoring glances with my good friend and man of the hour, Captain David Merryweather. James Beard and myself made up the rest of the party.
"What I don’t understand my boy," the retired military man was saying "Is how you knew Malcolm Macomb was behind the whole plot to relieve me of my map? How the deuce could he have been when all four of my fellow tontines had to be dead to fulfil the supernatural requirements needed to produce the complete map!?"
Merryweather took a sip from his glass of Madeira before answering "Colonel, I had asked you for a full account of your story. From that I devised a short list of exactly who stood to benefit from the Kolobad map. It then fell to me to cross names from that list until I found the most likely suspect. To that end I sent out telegrams designed to discern information about each of the principals and their immediate family. It was apparent from the start that the secret of the Kolobad map, by its nature was a closely kept one and unlikely that it would have been made known to any outsiders."
"The first of the tontine to perish, mere months later, was Lawrence Delaney, an orphaned private soldier in his early twenties. Delaney died without family or issue. A decade or so later my own father died of a tropical disease, leaving me his only child. Five years ago the death of Dr Malcolm Macomb was reported at sea. He left behind one daughter, a fifteen year old named Madeline who had not seen her father since she was an infant. Madeline’s mother had died in childbirth and the girl had been raised by nuns. This left only the Colonel and his niece and the recently deceased Adam Randall. Randall had become a successful businessman but had never married."
"Could he have fathered a child in secret?" Beard asked.
"My inquiries tell me otherwise," Merryweather replied "Randall shared a house with a … gentleman companion. He did however have a brother and a sister. The brother was a banker’s clerk with a wife and three adult children. My sources lead me to suspect that in no way had Randall divulged any information to his family, nor would they be inclined to give such matters any credence. All in all, simple, respectable middle class people. The sister incidentally is a vicar’s wife most noted for her charitable works."
I glanced quickly over at Miss Conn. Merryweather could be tactless at times, especially when outlining the details of a case, but fortunately the young lady seemed to have totally overlooked the "gentleman companion" remark.
Merryweather continued, "Having met Miss Conn, I could not suspect her of any duplicity towards her uncle and so I returned to Madeline Macomb. It seemed unlikely given the circumstances that she should be aware of the secret of Kolobad or that she would have the resources of a criminal leader … unless she had joined her father at a point AFTER his supposed death. That Macomb had died; I cannot dispute for his death was vital to the maps completion. However he need not remain dead!"
At these words the Colonel, Beard and myself began to ask the same question that was on all our minds. Merryweather waited patiently until he had all our attention and explained
"I had gathered from the Colonel’s story and other questions I had put to him that Dr. Malcolm Macomb had a deep interest in the spiritual, fanned by his time in Kolobad and his desire for the secret of immortality. Further inquiries told me that Macomb had spent time travelling in India and Tibet where I deduced he picked up a fabled ancient yogic secret. The possessor of this knowledge could then slow his heart beat to the point of death occurring and then subsequently revive from this state. In my readings on the subject, I discovered claims that an adept can remain in such a state for anything from thirty seconds to five minutes. Macomb knew his gamble had paid off when his own map crumbled to dust within his leather pouch, just as Delaney’s and my father’s had done!"
"Astounding!" I exclaimed.
"Indeed, Deacon. Macomb was then free to fake his death, return to England to be secretly reunited with Madeline, and wait for one of the two remaining holders of the map to die. Then the Macombs travelled here to Holyoke, started a criminal organisation within the city - and, incidentally, I believe they had already built a powerful criminal syndicate elsewhere before relocating. Therefore with the map complete, they were able to start their plan to coerce Colonel Danforth to relinquish it to them."
"Yes!" I cried "… and at that point WE became involved and you deduced the underworld connection due to the presence of Varney, a known felon!"
"Precisely. However the Macombs had secrecy and a large network of spies going for them. No one in their organisation knew the identity of 'Macabre' except their top men and even they believed Madeline was in charge."
Beard interjected at this point, "Somehow they discovered you were the Catman."
"True. I had been careless and underestimated the opposition. Peccary’s spy - the Macabre stand in, threw me and I was completely unaware that Dr Macabre was present disguised as the old woman. I was slightly more prepared in my choice of a protective vest and fortunately Deacon picked up on my signal to act and we were able to salvage victory."
"If only we had prevented the loss of the map," I lamented.
Merryweather smiled and reached into his pocket "A fake old fellow!" he declared "but I daresay it will take Dr. and Miss Macabre a few months to discover that."
Miss Conn smiled "Then they’ll be wandering around India looking for a needle in a haystack! How poetic such a fate is, if we can’t bring them to justice."
My friend raised his glass and smiled wryly "An inconvenience richly deserved my dear Katherine, but I daresay we haven’t heard the last of them."
I raised my own glass "A toast then. To the Catman, his return engagement with the diabolical Dr Macabre, and the eventual imprisonment of the fiend!"
… and so the affair concluded. But what then of Macabre and his daughter Madeline? Merryweather’s remarks were indeed prescient for they did return to contend with us once more, but as for the outcome … I shall leave you dear reader with Merryweather’s own words:
"THAT is a tale for another day." Adieu
Story Notes.
The Catman was published in Catman Comics but debuted in Crash Comics from a different publisher. Altogether Catman appeared under three publishing banners, all of which are mentioned in homage. In order of appearance in the story:
Holyoke City was named for Catman’s major publisher "Holyoke."
The Tem St Gentleman’s club is named for "Tem Publishing" the initial company name for the Holyoke line when Catman appeared in Crash.
Major John Helnitt was named for "Helnitt" the company name in initial issues of Catman before the Holyoke name became the staple. It was not unusual for comic companies to have several names such as Nedor/Better/Standard or Timely/Atlas/Marvel depending on sub divisions or name changes or characters moving companies.
The Deacon - A Golden Age Holyoke character who occupied a berth as a back up strip in Catman Comics. The Deacon and the Catman once shared a crossover story which established the pair as old friends. The first name Nathaniel is my own invention and his appearance in this story marks his first post Golden Age story.
The Case of the 9 Cent Adventure - Had a little fun with this reference. Do I really need to explain it to comics fans!
Quinlain Heights is named for Charles Quinlan, one of the premier artists on Catman. I simply added an I for my homage.
Katherine Conn is Katie Conn, aka the Kitten, Catman’s partner and later wife.
Mr Peccary - The first of Catman’s two arch enemies. Artistically he was said to have been modelled on the actor Sidney Greenstreet. I have adhered my description to the original.
Americo Lane - Named for Americomics the long version of AC Comics.
Blacks Department Store - Named for AC publisher and founder Bill Black.
Paulie Monk - Named for Paul Monsky, the founder of the Femfans page and the gent who asked me to write the story which would develop into the Unofficial Tontine. The character of Paulie also follows my loose Sherlock Holmes/Watson story analogy and is of course meant to resemble a Baker Street boy.
James Beard - A thinly veiled disguise for up and coming DC writer Jim Beard, a fellow poster and sometime correspondent of mine from the DCBoards. Jim has worked on a few JSA and Hawkman projects with more to come I’m sure.
The Hasen District - Named for Irwin Hasen, Golden Age great and the creator of Catman.
Miss Macabre - Madeline Macomb, daughter of Dr Macabre.
Dr Macabre - Malcolm Macomb, the later and most unrelenting of Catman’s two arch enemies. Both Macabre’s can occasionally be seen in the pages of AC’s Femforce.