It was a cold, dreary February day in Metropolis, the kind of day very few people liked to see. It had been preceded by a number of similar cold and dreary days. The snow, which continued to fall even after five of those dreary days, and the ice, which re-formed every night after the sun’s meager heat vanished, had snarled traffic for days. Despite their continuing best efforts, the city’s weather response teams had simply been overwhelmed by the Arctic blast.
The hospital emergency rooms were filled with people who’d gotten hurt in minor traffic accidents caused by the weather or who had simply slipped and fallen. The only real positive was that the city’s blue-collar criminals seemed to be iced in just like the law-abiding citizens were, so Superman hadn’t done much crime-fighting in the past week. He’d been quite busy at the many vehicle incidents for the first two days, but even that workload had been reduced to a trickle lately, and the police seemed to be on top of things in that area. It almost seemed as if the entire population of the city had decided to hide their heads under their blankets and wait out the long spate of winter weather. Even the Broncos beating the Falcons in the Super Bowl, played on the first Sunday of the month, failed to arouse the city from its hibernation.
Clark had deliberately walked close to Lois for several days, expecting her to slip, but she’d fooled him and hadn’t taken a single misstep since the storms had buried the city under the frozen precipitation. Her decision to wear flats and rubber boots had helped, of course, but Lois was young and athletic, strong and agile, and she never wobbled one time. And it was indicative of her awareness of the dangerous weather conditions that she never once complained about him hovering over her.
The Planet had printed a full slate of stories since the weather had hit, but the only local item which had received much play was the weather itself. The clogged-up city seemed to be stuck in neutral when it came to local news. Nobody’s snitches could come up with anything worth working on. Even Bobby Bigmouth had come up dry for three days in a row, a record for him, and Clark – over Lois’ objections – had bought him a pity Chinese dinner from Shanghai Express.
So Clark wasn’t too surprised that Thursday morning when Perry leaned out of his office and called for him.
“What’s up, Chief?”
Perry sat down behind his desk and leaned back in his chair. “It’s been slow, news-wise, for a few days now, even though we’ve been short-staffed because of the people who haven’t been able to get in to the office. There’s a lot of sitting around and being unproductive out there right now.”
Clark frowned. “And you want me to do something about that?”
“Yes, I do.” Perry turned the chair sideways and handed Clark a folder. “I want you and Lois to go to New Orleans on a working vacation. I want you two to soak up the sights and sounds of the city, get a feel for what’s going on with the people, and give me some quality reporting on Mardi Gras and Fat Tuesday and Ash Wednesday and Lent and how the people there feel about it. You know what I mean. And you need to leave today, if possible, since Fat Tuesday is just five days away.”
Clark frowned and tilted his head. “We can do that, Perry, but wouldn’t this usually be something the travel department would do? It sounds like you’re asking us to do a standard tourist piece.”
“You’re right. What I just handed you is a standard travel piece, one that either of you could knock out in half an hour without breaking a sweat.”
Clark waited for a moment, then said, “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
Perry fixed Clark with a gimlet stare. “Close the door, son, then sit down.”
Clark did so. “What’s really going on here?”
Perry leaned back again. “Do you know what I was doing in nineteen seventy-two?”
“No, not specifically. I know you were reporting instead of editing, but that’s about it. Why?”
“Well, part of that time I was in Southeast Asia. Part of the time I was Beirut.” He swiveled his chair to one side and looked at the wall. “And part of the time I was in south Louisiana, right in the heart of Cajun bayou country.”
Clark nodded. “Okay, but I still don’t understand.”
“Read what’s in that file. And don’t tell anyone what it says.”
“What? Why not?”
“Read it now. You’ll understand why before you’re finished.”
Perry stood and closed the blinds to his office, both on the inside windows and the outside ones. Clark began reading.
And he couldn’t stop.
*****
Clark lifted wide, horror-stricken eyes to his boss. “This can’t be true! I mean, I know you’re not lying to me or even kidding me, but – Perry, this is sickening!”
Perry sighed. “I wish you were right and I was kidding you. But I was there, son, and I took some of those pictures. The five of us – me, the chief of police, the coroner, the editor of the Picayune Times, and a young lady cop – all took an oath to keep this a secret amongst us and to contact everyone in the group if it ever happened again.”
Clark looked down at the file for a moment, then the import of Perry’s words penetrated his mind. His head came up again and his voice quivered. “You mean – it’s started again?”
“I don’t know for sure. But Evelyn Carstairs – she was the lady cop – is still down there. She’s – sorry, she was the official New Orleans police department liaison to the governor’s office in Baton Rouge, and an accomplished immunologist associated with the Center for Disease Control.” Perry’s expression hardened. “She was found two mornings ago, murdered just like those folks in the file you read.”
“Oh.” Clark leaned forward and put the file on Perry’s desk. “This almost sounds personal. Your reaction, I mean.”
“In some ways it is. I was just a little bit in love with Evelyn back then. Of course, I was already married to Alice, and – well, nothing happened between us, and I think it worked out well. But we’ve kept in touch over the years – professionally, of course.” His voice hardened. “And having an old friend of mine ripped to shreds and left to rot in a bayou gets me riled up.”
Clark blinked, then asked softly, “And her killer used the same MO?”
“Identical. Far as anyone can tell, it’s the same person or group of people.”
“That’s hard to believe, Chief. Twenty-seven years is a long time between killings.”
“I know. But that’s what it looks like.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “Evelyn was a good cop, a good scientist, and an honest person. She deserved a lot better than – than what happened to her.”
Clark was silent for a long moment, then he asked, “Has anyone ever figured out just what killed those people back then?”
Perry fixed Clark with a firm stare. “The locals call it Rougarou. That’s a slang Cajun word for werewolf.”
Clark’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise. “Werewolf? Can I ask now if you’re kidding me?”
“I know it’s hard to believe. Shucks, I’m not sure I believe it myself. But even after nearly three decades, I haven’t been able to come up with another explanation that fits the facts.”
“Yeah, Perry, but – werewolves? Come on!”
“How many things have you seen just since you came to Metropolis that you can’t explain without resorting to some kind of supernatural justification? There was Lois’ old boyfriend from Ireland who had those magic emeralds and tried to turn himself into a Druid priest. Almost did it, too. There was Baron Sunday and his voodoo hoodoo. There was that murdered woman whose ghost you thought possessed Lois for a short time. And don’t forget those Yi Chi bracelets that girl used against Superman. So how hard is it to believe in werewolves?”
Clark’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He didn’t want to agree with his boss on this subject, but it was hard not to see the man’s point. And that didn’t take into account all the weirdness Clark had seen during the years he’d been a world traveler prior to his arrival in Metropolis.
He finally nodded. “Okay, say I buy werewolves as a possible explanation. Is this the real reason you want to send us to Louisiana?”
“Yes. But I don’t want to alarm any civilians down there. This information is just between you, me, and the desk.”
“And Lois.”
Perry shook his head. “For her own sake, I’d rather she not know about this just yet.”
Now Clark shook his head. “No. If she goes, she gets the same background as I do. I refuse to put my wife and partner in a potentially dangerous situation without giving her all the information she needs to have.”
“Now, son, wait a—”
“I’m not bending on this one, Perry. Either she gets all the background or we don’t go as a team.”
The two men stared at one another for a long moment, then Perry sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I wouldn’t want to walk into that – that slaughterhouse without knowing about it beforehand, and I won’t do it to one of my reporters.” He stood. “You get with travel and set up the flight as soon as you can get there. Rent a car and drive to an open airport out of town if you have to, but get down there fast. I’ll brief Lois while you’re doing that. And touch base with Jimmy before you go. He’s got a couple of electronic gizmos to give you.”
“Will do, Chief.”
“And Clark?”
Clark stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”
Perry hesitated, then said, “I want to make sure that Superman goes with you as backup.”
Clark frowned at his boss, but Perry’s face gave nothing away. “I’ll make sure he meets us there, Chief,” Clark finally replied.
*****
Perry had expected Lois’ reaction to be on a par with her husband’s, but she fooled him by sitting and thinking about the information he’d given her for a full two minutes. Finally she took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to accept what you’ve told me as a working hypothesis, Perry. I know you wouldn’t come up with ‘werewolves’ as a reason for all this without going through all the more reasonable alternate explanations.”
“Just because I haven’t come up with something else doesn’t mean there isn’t something else,” he responded. “I want the two of you to have all the available information, but I also know that the people who put boots on the ground learn a lot more than what’s in the initial briefing real quick.”
She frowned. “That’s kind of a military way of putting it, don’t you think? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to make me extra cautious.”
His eyebrow twitched. “If it’s not what I’m afraid it might be, all it’ll do is make you a little more cautious than normal. And as impulsive as you are, that won’t hurt you. If you’re actually going up against Rougarou, though, it’s not nearly enough.”
Her head tilted to one side and her eyes twinkled slightly. “I haven’t failed to come back from a mission yet, oh wise and mighty Captain.”
Perry’s voice hardened. “This isn’t like investigating Intergang, Lois. This is more like infiltrating a terrorist organization, where one tiny slip kills you instantly and there’s not enough body left to find, let alone enough to bury.”
Her expression sobered. “I know. We’ll be exceptionally careful.” She lifted the folder and put it back on his desk. “Do you have anything more recent than this?”
“Not really. Your contact will be the parish coroner, Dr. Walter Smith. Your cover story is that you met his son in Metropolis and he recommended his dad as a local guide. I’ll give you some info on his son Wayne Smith when Clark comes back. And it’s all real, since Wayne is cooperating with us and will back you up all the way. The doctor has everything for you down in New Orleans. Just remember to look like travel writers instead of criminal investigators. That way you’ll be less likely to draw the wrong kind of attention.”
She nodded. “I understand. When do we leave?”
“Clark will have that info when he gets back from Travel Services. Pack for warmer temperatures and try to enjoy yourselves while you’re down there.”
She stood and smiled. “We will, Perry. I’ve never been to New Orleans before. What’s it really like?”
He sighed. “At her best, the Big Easy is beautiful and lively and fun all around the clock. At her worst, she makes Suicide Slum look like Centennial Park.” He pointed a stubby index finger at her. “So you two be extra careful down there.”
*****
As it turned out, they had to take an icy and fairly scary cab ride to the railroad station to catch a southbound passenger train. They rode it until almost midnight as far as Maryland to get a scheduled flight out, and the overnight layover in Birmingham to catch the morning flight took another six hours.
There were, of course, no rooms to rent anywhere near the airport at that time of the night, and their Planet budget didn’t cover an extra motel stay.
As much as Clark disliked riding in an airborne metal tube, he disliked far more being trapped in an airline terminal with Lois Lane where the only things open were a dirty pizza shop and a bar with its insipid prerecorded lounge music turned up too loud. He debated calling Perry to tell them that Superman had “happened by” and flown them to New Orleans, but his good sense won the argument and he didn’t.
When the wheels finally came up on the airliner and the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign flicked off, Lois immediately leaned her seat back and whacked the knees of the man behind her. “Hey!” he snapped. “I’m sitting here, lady!”
She spun in the seat and glared at him over the headrest. “Look, mister, I’ve just spent the night in the terminal sitting on hard plastic chairs with sharp edges while waiting for this plane to board. I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours. I’m frazzled, cranky, and I think I may be PMSing. I’m a black belt in Tai-Kwon-Do and I’m studying another fighting discipline you’ve never heard of. Now do you want to sit back and enjoy the flight or do you want your next of kin to collect on your life insurance?”
Clark watched the man’s eyes fall open in shock. “Uh, no, lady, no problem, just let me know next time, okay?” As Lois continued to glare at him, he shrank back into his seat and whimpered, “Please?”
Clark tapped his wife on the shoulder and she grunted, then slowly turned around and settled herself into her reclined seat. After a few moments her breathing evened out and she seemed to be asleep, so Clark leaned over his seat and quietly said, “I want to apologize for my wife, sir. Sometimes she goes a little overboard.”
The man pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I feel for ya, buddy. My ex was a lot like that, except it was all the time instead of just once a month.”
Clark suppressed a laugh and turned to face forward again. This trip was starting off on some very interesting notes, he mused.
*****
The landing was smooth and they picked up their luggage without incident. As they exited the terminal, they saw a middle-aged man holding up a cardboard sign that had “C. L. Kent” printed on it with a Sharpie. They waved to him across the tiled meeting area and he waved back with surprising enthusiasm.
Lois suppressed a sigh and muttered, “I was so hoping for a shower and some sleep in a bed.”
“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll take us right to the hotel.”
The man smiled and waved. “Mr. and Mrs. Kent! Welcome to New Orleans!”
Clark offered his hand. “I assume that you’re Dr. Smith.”
The man took it and shook enthusiastically. “Oh, call me Walter, please! Any friends of Wayne are friends of mine! Is this all of your luggage?”
“That’s it,” Lois agreed. “And call me Lois and him Clark. From everything Wayne told us, we feel like we already know you.”
“Fine! That’s just fine! Let’s get you two settled in your hotel. I hope you don’t mind being close to the action downtown.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” said Clark.
Smith tipped the skycap who loaded the luggage and helped Lois into the back of the car. It wasn’t quite a limousine, but it was more than a taxi, with one bench seat facing forward where she and Clark sat, and one facing to the rear. He climbed in, closed the door behind him, sat in the rear-facing seat, and tapped on the glass partition. “Take these good folks to the Omni Royal, please.”
“Very good, sir,” the driver responded.
Lois frowned. “I thought we were booked into the Quality Inn downtown. The Omni sounds more expensive than the suits at the Planet want to pay for a couple of reporters.”
“Nonsense!” Smith boomed. “The Omni has several excellent restaurants on site, many more amenities, and is close to nearly everything worth seeing in the Crescent City.” He leaned forward and grinned. “I’ll take care of the cost differential. The manager owes me some big favors. Your ‘suits’ need not be concerned.” He leaned back again. “Besides, I’m a typical New Orleans transplant who hasn’t seen a third of what’s best to see, and I’ve been here for sixteen years. It’ll do me good to show you around. I’ll learn almost as much about the city as you will.”
Lois gave him her best incandescent smile. “Thank you, Doctor. If you knew what we’ve been through these past twenty-four hours—”
“Ha! Think nothing of it. Except for enjoying the comfort of one of the city’s finest hotels, the pleasure is all mine.”
Clark smiled at him. “We still want to thank you, Dr. Smith.”
“You’re quite welcome, my young friend, you’re quite welcome. And do call me Walter. Calling me ‘Doctor Smith’ makes me think of the old ‘Lost In Space’ television show from the sixties, and I hate to be associated with a villain. Oh, look, we’re already on I-10. You’ll be relaxing in your rooms in no time. Now I want the two of you to rest this afternoon. You’re going to need it.”
“Oh? Where are you taking us tonight?”
Smith’s grin nearly split his face. “Tonight, Mr. Kent – excuse me, Clark – we will dine at Nola’s, just a short walk from your hotel. I hope you packed your appetites!”
*****
The good doctor continued in his tour guide persona until the bellboy – who was tipped generously but not extravagantly – closed the door to their top-floor room. Smith then walked to the window and pulled the curtains apart as Clark pulled one of Jimmy’s devices out and surreptitiously scanned for hidden microphones and cameras. And he supplemented the scan with his own senses.
Doctor Smith was waxing eloquent about the upcoming Mardi Gras parade when Clark put the small box back in his pocket. “All clear,” he said.
The doctor stood by the window and waved once more as if emphasizing a particular item of interest, then closed the curtains with a flourish.
His smile vanished like a donut at a cop convention. “What did your Monsieur LeBlanc tell you?”
Lois frowned. “LeBlanc? Who’s that?”
Clark leaned close and almost whispered, “Translate French to English. Mr. White.”
After a moment, Lois nodded. “Should have picked up on that. I guess I’m really tired.”
“My apologies,” said Smith. “I suppose I’ve internalized more Cajun culture than I thought. You’ll have the rest of the morning and this afternoon to catch up on your sleep. Now please bring me up to speed.”
Lois glanced at Clark, who nodded and began briefing Smith on the meager info they already had as Lois checked out the extravagant bathroom. When she finished washing her hands in the marble sink fed by gold-plated fixtures, she shook her head at the opulence and rejoined the two men.
“And that’s all we have,” said Clark. “Do you have anything to add?”
Smith shook his head. “No more murders – at least, none like Ms. Carstairs’ death. But we have had an upswing of disappearances from the homeless population. They might simply be relocating to take advantage of the upcoming festivities, but they might not.” He suddenly looked surprised. “I almost forgot to tell you. If you need any official police assistance, please contact Robert Gautreaux in the homicide division.” He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a business card. “This is his contact info. His first name is pronounced Row-bear, like the French say it, with the emphasis on the second syllable. He plans to stay out of the official picture as long as possible, but he said that you are to call him if you need any help or if you can’t get in touch with me for any reason.”
Lois took the card and read it, then handed it to Clark. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, since we’re exhausted travel writers who intend to be fed lavishly at dinner, how about you let us get some sleep?”
Smith smiled and his good-time tour guide persona re-emerged. “Of course! You two should lie down and rest. I’ll call for you at seven-fifteen. Our reservations are for eight, so that should give us plenty of time for a leisurely stroll to the restaurant.” He turned and headed for the door. “Oh, the dress code is essentially business casual, so sneakers are out but you needn’t dress formally unless you wish to do so. Until tonight!”
And he was gone.
Lois turned to Clark and said, “Am I really that tired or is he a bit overbearing?”
He smiled back and tugged her close so she could lean against him. “A little of both, I think. Do you want to take a shower before you lie down?”
“Yes! That shower stall is big enough to bathe an entire jazz trio with their instruments.”
He grinned wider. “Does that mean that you want to save water and share?”
She shook her head. “Tomorrow, probably. Right now, no. I need to get to sleep as soon as possible or I won’t be a very good dinner companion tonight.”
He turned her gently towards the bathroom and gave her a soft shove. “In that case, my lady, you get first dibs. I’ll put away our clothes while you’re in there.”
“Thanks, darling. You’re just so super sometimes.”
Clark gave her a mock frown. “Just sometimes?”
She paused in the doorway and smiled softly. “At all the best times, my love.”
