Table of contents is here.

Note: I don't say it often enough, but I just want to remind people how fantastic beta readers are and to give a very heartfelt wave to, most particularly, Jenni. (I have a feeling that two or three other people have seen various drafts of this section, too.) Thanks guys!


LAST TIME ON EMII:

CJ asked eagerly, "What is it? What have you found?"

Thoughtfully, Lois said, "Maybe nothing. But one of the names here..." She frowned then shook her head. "Nah, it's just a coincidence. I thought for a moment that this one – Judith Myerson – might be Clive Myerson's wife."

"Myerson? As in the guy who shot at you?" CJ sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. But I just remembered: his wife is called Hannah, so it has to be a coincidence." She shrugged, then tapped the list for emphasis and said, "I'll look into it for you, anyway."

"Thank you, Lois. Now, I'd better get a move on. Corrupt jury or not, I'm expected in court in a couple of hours and I need to do some preparation first."

NOW READ ON...


CHAPTER SIX

Lois found her thoughts turning towards CJ as she hurried to work. In part, this was because, thanks to CJ's visit, she was running late. Mostly, however, it was because she was concerned about the ramifications of everything he'd told her. To begin with, she thought about what he had found out. She was wryly amused at the idea that the Nigel St Johns from the two worlds could be so different; at the same time, she felt a nebulous sense of regret that their investigations apparently were not going to be resolved easily. Beyond that, there was little for her to dwell on, and her thoughts quickly turned towards the favour he had asked her to do.

She wasn't bothered by the thought of snooping into the backgrounds of yet more people – it was what she did on a daily basis, after all. She was, however, astounded that CJ had been prepared to ask her to do it. Clearly, after their... discussion... he must have given some thought to the position she'd taken and decided that she had a point. If he had not done so, he would not have taken this step.

Lois found herself approving of his behaviour, not only because she liked to be right, but because it showed that CJ, for all his moral rectitude, was capable of being flexible and of listening to – and learning from – points of view other than his own. CJ, then, was a person who would talk with her, not just to her. She liked that; in Lois's opinion there was nothing worse than a wilfully stubborn person who believed in the rightness of their own opinions at the cost of anyone else's.

Finally and inevitably, her thoughts turned towards CJ, himself. She'd been wrong-footed by his visit; she would never had chosen to let him see her dressed in what she could only describe as a shlumpy robe. Clearly, he had not been entirely comfortable with the situation, either; he'd seemed almost as uncomfortable about seeing her dressed like that as she had been about being seen.

However, once they'd navigated around the awkward moment, she'd found herself relaxing in his presence. The rapport they'd shared – not just this morning, but also last night – had been unexpected. Lois had never chosen to work with anyone before, but she was enjoying working with CJ. What was it about him, she wondered, that disarmed her usual impatience? There was something about bouncing ideas around with him that felt right, but she had no idea why that should be. After all, she hardly knew the man. Besides, why had she never before noticed any sense of connection when she'd bumped into him?

Because, she realised, she'd never given herself the chance to notice it before.

She glanced down at her watch. Perry would forgive her for being late if he thought she was working on a hot story, but she knew she couldn't tell him about Luthor – not yet, anyway. Maybe she could drop a few hints about the jury, though. She just hoped that would be enough to satisfy him.

And thinking about the jury... Lois remembered the rueful way CJ had talked about having to spend the day in court. How would she feel, she asked herself, if she had to waste precious time pretending to see that justice was being done, while knowing full well that it wasn't? Frustrated, angry and impatient, she guessed. She found herself hoping fervently that she would find some way of helping him.

Lois was still thinking about CJ as she sidled through the conference-room door. Although Perry didn't say anything, his stern and disapproving glare told her than her tardy entrance had not gone unnoticed.

As she made her way to a vacant seat, she heard Jack say, "... and the police investigators said that there were signs of damage to the engine and bonnet of the car, but somehow the fire had failed to spread. It was as though it had been put out, but there were no signs of an extinguisher having been used. No foam. Nothing. It was really weird." Lois wondered vaguely what Jack was talking about.

"There was another weird rescue last night, Chief," said Jimmy. "Fire in a downtown apartment block. A child and her dog were rescued by a flying man. Apparently he went into the burning building and flew them to safety. I was wondering... could they both be the work of Lois's rescuer from yesterday?"

Lois glanced across at him sharply. Then, worried that her interest might be noted, she turned her eyes downwards towards the table top.

So, CJ, you were busy last night! she thought.

Why hadn't he bothered to mention his nocturnal activities to her when they'd talked this morning? Surely he must have known that she would be interested! She resented being kept in the dark... and it wasn't, she was disconcerted to realise, mere curiosity that made her feel that way. No matter that she told herself sternly she had no right to be so upset, the fact that he hadn't said anything rankled.

She quickly pushed the unsettling train of thought away, just in time to hear Perry protest. "Aw, Jimmy... Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Well, do you have any better ideas?"

Perry nodded, not because he did, but because he was conceding the fact that Jimmy might actually have a point. "Okay," he said thoughtfully. "Got any witnesses, either of you?"

Jack simply shook his head.

In the face of Perry's question, Jimmy suddenly looked a little reluctant. "Only the little girl, Chief."

Lois recognised the expression on his face and the tentative tone in his voice; she'd experienced them enough times in the past, herself. Jimmy was venturing well beyond publishable facts and into the realm of speculation, and he knew Perry wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

"And she's how old?" Perry asked.

"Five."

"Not credible. Anything else, Jimmy?"

Jimmy shook his head and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "A few people said that there was a man hanging about when the little girl turned up outside the building, but no one could give any description of him, beyond the fact that he was wearing dark clothing. Nobody paid him any attention until later, by which time he'd vanished."

"Or maybe he was never there in the first place. Or maybe he had nothing to do with any of this.... Your material's not usable, Jimmy – you know that – but keep an eye out in case our 'friend' tries anything else. Meanwhile, I want you working on the Portman Electronics story."

"Okay, Chief."

"Rodriguez?" said Perry. Then he did a double-take. "Where's Rodriguez?"

"Sick," answered Jack.

"What? Again?"

"Uh, huh. Called in about half an hour ago."

Perry's eyes narrowed. "I swear that man has had more sick days since he bought that new house over in Arcadia than the rest of the staff combined! What is it this time? Headache, vomiting or unexplained rash?"

"He didn't say," answered Jack.

Lois could hear Jimmy whisper something to his neighbour that sounded like, "Let's hope he finishes decorating the new place soon!"

Perry, too, had heard Jimmy's joke. At least, Lois thought it was a joke; Perry didn't seem to think it was funny. "He'd better, else he'll be the next to go. This paper can't afford to carry freeloaders. Y'all know that."

Then Perry abruptly turned his attention towards Lois, making her jump as she suddenly found herself at the centre of everyone's attention. "So what do you have planned for today?"

She shrugged infinitesimally and said, "The Allen trial. I got an interesting lead yesterday."

"This have anything to do with the jury?" Then, when Lois looked askance at him, Perry said, "Jack told me already you had him looking into their backgrounds. You think you might be on to something there?"

"Yeah, Perry. I think so. I hope so, anyway."

Perry grunted something, which Lois gratefully took to be approval, then, to her relief, he said, "That's it, folks. Meeting adjourned. Go get me those stories, guys and gals!"

Lois led the stampede out of the door.

*****

CJ plonked his briefcase down on the coffee table, shucked off his jacket and flung it across the arm of the sofa, and padded into the kitchen. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. It hadn't, he supposed, been a bad day, but it hadn't been a good day, either. He knew that he hadn't really achieved much in the court room. His performance had been polished and professional; if he hadn't recognised the futility of it all, he might have believed he'd done a good job. The spectators in the gallery had hung onto his every word, leaning forward in their seats, knuckled fists resting against their cheeks in poses that specialists in human behaviour always claimed indicated interest in and evaluation of what was being said.

The jury, though, had been quite a different matter. He'd paid careful attention to the jury. Like most lawyers, CJ had developed the skill of being able to tell when a witness was lying or when his audience was engaged with whatever he was talking about. Today the jury had been far from engaged. Its members had tried to look as though they were paying attention, but the way they had slumped back in their seats, the way they – albeit discreetly – had propped their heads up in their hands and the way their eyelids had fluttered as they struggled to stay awake... They had, to a person, been bored. CJ knew their boredom had stemmed from the fact that they didn't have to be there or to pay attention to know what decision they would eventually make.

He hoped Lois would find something out that would help him.

Just as the steam began to pour out of the kettle's spout, there was an imperious rapping against the glass of his front door. Curious, he jogged across the sunken living area, up the few steps that took him to the door level and the door itself. He pulled the lace curtain aside a few inches so that he could see who his visitor was, then smiled as he recognised the object of his thoughts.

How, he wondered, had she managed to track him down? In all the excitement of last night and this morning, he'd not thought to give her his address, only his phone number. Clearly, though, her sources had come through for her again.

He opened the door, his smile broadening into a delighted grin and said, "Come in, come in! I've only just got in myself, and I've put the kettle on, if you want a cup of tea."

He turned back, expecting her to follow. The brief curious glance she cast over his apartment was not lost on him, but she made no comment to indicate whether or not she approved of what he'd done with it. "We don't have time for tea," she said, all business. "I need you to come with me."

CJ turned around, his expression a question. "Where to?"

"I'll explain on the way."

CJ shrugged, but didn't protest. Instead, he swept up his jacket from where he'd left it hanging over the banisters and, pausing only to lock his front door after him, he followed her back down to the street.

He didn't know what he would have expected her to drive, but the navy blue Jeep Cherokee, which she'd parked illegally immediately in front of his building, wasn't it. Something smaller, sportier and more ostentatious, perhaps? He was less surprised to notice, however, that the Jeep sported a set of vanity plates bearing the legend "LL". He fleetingly wondered what Lois and Clark drove in the other world; he'd never had the opportunity to find out.

Although she had promised to explain things en route to wherever it was that they were going, CJ found that he had to wait for her to volunteer any information, her conversation restricted to muttering disparagingly about other drivers. He found, however, that he didn't mind; he was perfectly content to watch the road and occasionally glance across so that he could see her profile as she drove. She hunched slightly over the wheel, her chin thrust forward almost aggressively. Despite her preferred posture, CJ quickly concluded that Lois drove well, if a trifle impatiently.

They'd reached the suburbs before the congestion on the roads had eased enough for Lois to relax back in her seat and decide to give him the explanation she'd promised. As he listened, he had to admit it had been worth waiting for.

"I've had a pretty productive day," she said. "Jack ran your list through several databases; of the first twenty names, thirteen of them have had lump sums added to their bank accounts in the last week."

"Interesting," said CJ. He twisted slightly in his seat so that he was sitting at an angle, making it easier to watch her as she talked.

"Not half as interesting as the seven who haven't. Of those, three refused point-blank to talk to me and four have had... Well, one of them called it 'spectacularly bad luck'."

"All of them?" asked CJ.

"Yep."

"What kind of bad luck?"

Lois flashed a grin, clearly finding satisfaction in the discoveries she had made during the last few hours. "The kind where a woman and a man come to your house late at night and offer you a choice between making some easy money or having something unfortunate happen to you."

"Unfortunate, how?"

"Unfortunate like, maybe, your husband, who is a LexCorp employee, suddenly being made redundant. Or LexBank decides to call in all its loans, just when your new business venture needs the money most. Or where your boss tells you that you're being fired because you've been misusing your office computer and you find that someone – and you swear it's not you – has filled your hard drive with porn."

CJ silently whistled his astonishment. "You're right. You have been productive, haven't you?"

"Oh, it gets better," crowed Lois. "Everyone who has spoken to me says that they are prepared to go on the record with this. I've got tomorrow's front page and you, CJ, will most definitely get your mistrial."

CJ shook his head in disbelief. "Lois, I don't know what to say, except that you are a genius!"

"Oh, I know," she said in a self-mocking tone and she laughed.

"I mean it," he said sincerely. There was a brief pause before he said thoughtfully, "You said that there were seven people who hadn't received payments, but you've only told me about six of them."

CJ watched as Lois's expression suddenly changed to something more sombre. She took a deep breath, appearing to gather courage for whatever was about to come. "We're going to see the seventh person now. She didn't want to speak to me, either – in fact, she put the phone down before I had a chance to even tell her what I was after. I can't say that I blame her for that, though. You see, I have a nasty feeling that I might be part of her bad luck story."

"So, she's not expecting us?"

"No."

"And you think you're involved somehow? How?"

"This morning, when I told you I thought I recognised one of the names...?"

"Yes? You said it was just a coincidence."

"Yes... Well... I thought it was a coincidence. You see, Clive Myerson's wife is called Hannah, so I didn't think they were connected in any way. However, Judith Myerson is his sister. I can't help worrying that all the evidence that so conveniently came my way this week might have been falsified. I think I might have been used."

"You think Myerson was framed and you were duped into helping set that up?"

"Something like that, yeah. And I have to tell you that I don't feel very good about it, particularly because..." She broke off, her throat closing around the words.

"Because...?" CJ prodded gently.

Lois tried to be discreet about it, but CJ could hear her sniffle. "I heard earlier that Myerson's wife tried to kill herself yesterday morning. Apparently she's always been a bit... unbalanced... and it sounds as if my story pushed her over the edge."

"And that's why Myerson saw the need to come after you with a gun?" asked CJ. "Because his wife couldn't cope with what you wrote?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Lois... I'm sorry."

"Not half as sorry as I am. Anyway, if I was used, I've got, somehow, to make things right."

CJ watched the way Lois's hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, her knuckles showing white. He wanted desperately to reassure her, to tell her that everything would work out. But he was too much of a realist to tell her such falsehoods; all too often things didn't work out, and they weren't likely to this time. Even if Lois could clear Myerson of all the corruption charges, the murder charge would still remain. Nothing could change the fact that he had taken the trouble to find a gun, to secret himself in an empty flat and aim it at Lois. That smacked of premeditation – no less than first degree murder, even if he had done it within mere hours of his wife's suicide attempt. The best Myerson could realistically hope for was a lenient sentence.

Rather than dwell on the subject, he turned the conversation slightly. "You said that there were two people going around to visit the victims?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Do we have a description for either of them?"

Lois calmed noticeably at the more neutral topic of conversation. "Not one that is of any real use. I got the impression that people were only prepared to go on record so far. Actually, I'm pretty sure that one of the people I talked to might actually have known one or other of them, but there was no way I could persuade him to ID anyone. He was pretty scared, and, given what had already happened to him, I can't say that I blame him. In fact, I'm pretty amazed he told me as much as he did." She shrugged lightly. "That's the power of righteous indignation, I guess." She paused for a moment, then she added, "As far as I can make out, they were using a black car with heavily tinted windows. One of the woman said that her car-mad ten year old had seen a Lincoln Town Car parked on the street outside the house. That kind of car doesn’t go with the neighbourhood; I doubt its presence was any kind of coincidence."

"A Lincoln, huh?" CJ stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Luthor has a Lincoln. I've seen pictures of it in the Sunday papers."

"Sure he does," said Lois. "But he also has a Mercedes, a Lexus, a couple of sports cars, a couple of stretch limos and undoubtedly several other vehicles. It doesn't prove anything. Anyway, would he do his dirty work himself?"

"I don't know," answered CJ. "It seems a little unnecessary for him to do so. But equally, I think he did on the other world."

Lois grunted something unintelligible by way of reply, then pulled the Jeep in tight against the kerb and said, "We're here."

*****

As soon as Lois switched off the engine, CJ moved to climb out of the Jeep. However, when she didn't follow suit, he paused, his hand poised on the door handle. "What is it?" he asked, already guessing the answer.

She stared straight ahead, through the windscreen and along the street beyond. CJ doubted that she was taking in any of the details, however. "I don't think I can do this," she whispered flatly.

Lois's sudden loss of self-confidence struck CJ forcibly. He'd had never before seen Lois less than self-assured about anything, and her current lack of poise affected him deep down. He let go of the door handle, twisted around in his seat and reached towards her. He brushed his fingers lightly over her right hand, prising it effortlessly away from the steering wheel. To his surprise, he felt her turn her hand over and lace her fingers through his. His skin tingled pleasantly where it touched hers. "Yes," he said. His voice sounded unnaturally quiet and hoarse to his own ears, as though it had caught somewhere in the back of his throat. "You can do it. You can do anything you want, Lois."

She shook her head, denying the truth of his words. "She must hate me for what I've done."

"You made a mistake. Actually, we don't even know that for sure. Not yet. If you explain, she'll forgive you."

"Will she?" Lois sounded in need of reassurance.

"Maybe not immediately, but she will eventually. Besides, I'll be with you. It'll be okay, Lois."

"I hope so, CJ. I really do." Her fingers tightened around his for a moment before she let go, a wordless gesture of thanks for his support. "Well... Here goes nothing, I guess."

They exited the vehicle. CJ waited patiently on the pavement while Lois locked it up and walked around from the driver's side. She didn't protest when he laid his hand lightly against her upper back, again offering her what support he could. Indeed, she turned her head towards him a fraction and smiled weakly at him.

Together they walked up to the house. It was slightly more rundown than the others in the street, but CJ thought it only needed a lick of paint to brighten it up.

There was no answer when CJ leaned on the doorbell, but lights were on, windows were open and the sound of a television blared away somewhere towards the back of the house; they had to conclude that someone was home.

CJ watched as Lois reluctantly walked along the porch and began to peer through all the windows. He knew instinctively that her hesitancy stemmed not from his presence or from a distaste for snooping around more generally, but from the circumstances surrounding this particular visit. After a moment or two, he joined her and together they looked into the living room. There was no sign of life in the room, unless life was a couple of opened wine bottles, several mugs and an ash-tray of barely touched cigarettes. The furniture was drab brown, the television and radio old and the curtains faded. The only touches of colour came from the paintings hung on the wall. They were bright, cheerful landscapes which depicted a wooded landscape – New England perhaps? thought CJ – through the changing seasons.

"Well, she can't be far away. Come on," he said. "Let's try round the back." Then, glancing behind him once or twice to check that Lois was following, he led the way down the narrow footpath that separated this house from its neighbour.

As soon as he went through the gate and into the back yard, he spotted Judith Myerson. She was sitting out on the deck, staring at nothing. Her face was blank, but he could see that the skin beneath her eyes was bruised with worry or fatigue and that she hadn't bothered with make-up. In fact, looking at the state of her hair, he wasn't sure that she'd bothered with much of anything for several days. What bothered him most of all, however, was her lack of response at his intrusion; he doubted that she'd even noticed that he was there.

He waved silently at Lois, indicating that she should come alongside to see what he had seen. Then he pointed in Judith's direction. He exchanged mute glances with Lois, whose mouth had opened in an unconscious expression of sympathy for the woman's plight.

They approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her. They called out her name softly, but it wasn't until they began to climb the decking's steps that she gave any indication that she was even capable of responding to them. She turned her head slowly in their direction and said incuriously, "Who are you?"

CJ pointed to himself and said, "I'm Assistant District Attorney Kent. And this is Lois Lane."

Judith's eyes slid past him and narrowed slightly as they came to rest upon Lois. When she spoke again, it was to CJ. Without rancour, or indeed, any noticeable emotion at all, she said, "I told her I didn't want to see her."

"I know you did," Lois said, speaking up on her own behalf. "But I'm hoping you'll change your mind when you hear why we've come."

Judith shook her head without conviction.

"We want to talk to you about the jury selection for the Allen trial," CJ said.

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, CJ could tell that it wasn't that. Judith's eyes slid back towards him and regarded him carefully for several seconds before she said, "Not out here. You'd better come in." Then, moving as though every movement was an effort, she levered herself up out of her chair and led the way indoors.

There were dishes stacked in and around the sink and garbage waiting to be taken out to the dustbin. A jam jar of upended paint brushes and a palette on the windowsill made CJ wonder again about the pictures in the living room. He glanced around and noted several portraits hung around the kitchen. Surreptitiously, he lowered his glasses so that he could read the signatures. Sure enough, his suspicions were confirmed. Judith Myerson had talent.

As if sensing her visitors' scrutiny, she said, "I'm sorry the house is such a mess," but she didn't sound as if she actually cared much one way or the other.

Lois and CJ both tried to make soothing comments in an effort to show that it was unimportant, but she talked across them, heedless of their reassurances. "Trouble is, the house is the last thing on my mind at the moment. All I can think of is Clive and the business and the shooting and how it's all my fault."

CJ raised his eyebrows. "Your fault?" he asked sceptically. How could someone else's criminal actions possibly be her fault?

"Oh, yes. All my fault." She began to cry, showing the first signs of any real emotion since they'd arrived. "If only I'd done what he'd asked, none of this would have happened. If only..." She sniffed loudly, then continued. "All I want is for the pain to go away, or at least to ease a little, you know?" She looked at CJ and he nodded. "I want to take the edge off," she said. "Calm my nerves. I tried drinking, but I don't like the taste. Cigarettes make me want to throw up... What am I supposed to do to make myself feel better?"

There was an uncomfortable pause during which all three of them stood frozen, unsure what to do next. Lois looked slightly helplessly and CJ and mouthed, "Do something!"

Galvanised by her prompt, CJ nodded an acknowledgement to her. Then he gently took Judith Myerson by her elbow and guided her over to the kitchen table. CJ noted the way that Judith groped blindly for one of the chairs, pulled it out and collapsed into it. Then she rested her elbows on the table and hid her head in her hands. Her shoulders twitched as she sobbed.

Lois perched herself on the chair next to Judith's and reached into her purse. She pulled out a lacy scrap of cotton, almost certainly too small to be of any real use. "Here," she murmured, shaking out the handkerchief and dangling it in front of Judith. "Use this." Her voice was gentle and compassionate, so much so, in fact, that it took CJ by surprise. If, he thought fleetingly, she could show that much caring for a stranger, what might she show for someone she was close to? He pushed the thought away and coaxed Judith into relaxing just enough to tell him where she kept the tea things.

By the time he'd made them all a drink, he'd managed to focus his thoughts back on the case in hand, and Judith had begun to hiccup, having sobbed herself dry.

CJ sat opposite Judith, reached across the table and lightly touched her left hand with the fingers of his right to attract her attention. She jumped, as if stung, and stared at him, wild-eyed. Gently he said, as though she were a skittish witness about to take the stand, "Do you think you could tell us what happened to you from the beginning?"

"What makes you think there's anything to tell?" Judith muttered defensively.

"Because," said CJ, "you've already hinted as much yourself. And because similar things have happened to other people."

Judith's only response was a fragile-sounding, "Oh..." Her voice was high-pitched and small, a timid mouse-like squeak.

"Besides," added Lois, "you had to refuse to see me for a reason."

"Isn't the fact that you got my brother into trouble reason enough?" This time her voice sounded almost forceful, at odds with the way she'd spoken just moments before. Lois's involvement, CJ realised, didn't frighten her. It angered her. The cause of her fear lay somewhere else.

Lois looked away, uncomfortable, and CJ knew that she had just had her worst fears confirmed. As much to comfort Lois as to placate Judith, he said, "Ms Myerson, we know that something is seriously wrong with the Allen case, and we've already got enough evidence to get a mistrial, even if you don't want to talk to us. But we'd like to try to put things right for you – and your brother – if we can. But in order for us to do that, you'll have to tell us what happened."

Judith's resolve to keep quiet was wavering, but the lingering fear in her eyes was echoed in her voice as she said, "What happens if they find out?"

"You stood up to them before," said Lois, not answering the question. "You must have done for them to go after Clive. Can't you find it in yourself to stand up to them again?"

Judith turned her head in Lois's direction and stared at her for what seemed like an age to CJ. When she finally spoke, it was in a low thoughtful tone. "So you now believe that Clive is innocent?"

"I don't know," said Lois softly. "But maybe. I have a terrible suspicion that I was used and, if I was, I want to make things right."

"Even though he tried to kill you?"

Lois nodded. "Even though. He wouldn't have done that if not for..." She let the thought trail off into silence.

Another few seconds passed. Then Judith said, "What did happen to you, anyway?" CJ recognised the tactic. The question was born more from a desire to buy more time while she made up her mind what to do for the best than from any real curiosity.

Lois flicked a glance towards CJ then shook her head fractionally. "Nobody really knows."

"Oh," said Judith. She jiggled her mug between her hands. It scratched against the table top, an irritating sound that set CJ's nerves on edge. He resisted the urge to ask her to stop, knowing that she needed to release some of her tension somehow, and waited for her to say something more.

Finally, she sighed and, committed, said, "All right. I'll tell you."


TBC