Part 21
There's Always Something
By Xanabee
*****
“Good grief, Kent,” Inspector Bill Henderson stared at Clark in amazement. “Is that the real reason you went to see Bermuda? To hear him say he’d been conned by Mrs. Church that time? I don’t buy that - we know that already. He’s always said so - it’s on record!”
Clark stared back at Henderson, thinking vaguely he’d never seen Bill so annoyed. Why was it so important for him to know why he’d visited Bermuda?
“Bill, you’re just frustrated because we can’t pin anything on Mindy Church yet. Why would I hold anything back from you? That makes no sense!”
“I told you already - I don’t buy that, Kent. There must be another reason, one you’re not telling me. Either you tell me now or I’ll find out myself. I can’t work with you on this case if you’re keeping things from me.”
Abruptly, Henderson rose from his chair. “Wanna know what I think? I think it’s got something to do with Superman.”
Startled, Clark also stood up. “Superman? Why would you think that?”
“I’ll tell him myself, “ Bill said sourly, “You tell the Big Guy I wanna talk to him - here, in my office, as soon as possible. Think you could do that? Now get out of here so I can get back to work. You give that list to Perry White – maybe that clever little researcher of his can figure out what it means. We’re working on it at this end too but so far we haven’t a clue what it means.”
Clark walked to the door, hesitating before opening it. “Bill, I’m sorry – “
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sorry – but you’re not telling. Save it, Kent.” Henderson sat down with an air of finality. He started to shuffle the papers lying on his desk, indicating that as far as he was concerned the discussion was closed.
“Why do you think Superman will tell you anything?” Clark asked curiously.
“Superman doesn’t lie, Kent. He’ll tell me the truth.”
“I didn’t lie to you!” Clark said hotly.
“But you didn’t tell the truth either, now did you?”
“Bill, you’re being paranoid – Superman’s not obliged to tell you anything he doesn’t want you to know! Even if my seeing Bermuda has anything to do with Superman, it wasn’t a crime.”
“Oh, I know that. I also know that you’re covering something up – or someone.“
Henderson looked up and regarded Clark with a malicious little smile.
“Kent, you know I’m a law abiding policeman, right?“
“Bill, it’s not that I don’t trust – “
“But what you don’t know,” Henderson continued, “is that I’ve repeatedly turned down promotion opportunities because I don’t want to deal with just paperwork. I wanna be where the action is, as corny as that may sound. I like being a policeman - I like being a detective - I like solving puzzles. And I will solve this one, Kent, make no mistake about it.”
*****
“Lois, he was really angry; he kept calling me ‘Kent’!”
Frustrated, Clark paced the floor of the conference room where he and Lois had retreated into as soon as he’d come back to the Planet.
“Well,” Lois said calmly, “Then tell him, Clark. Tell him the truth.”
Astonished, Clark whirled around to face her. “Lois! I thought that we’d agreed I wouldn’t tell any more people about Superman. Not right now, anyway. Why would I tell Bill?”
“I don’t mean the secret, Clark – just the truth about the virus and what happened to Superman that time. You know very well Bill isn’t going to rush out to buy a virus from the bad guys to infect you - he knows he’ll have to keep this to himself.”
Clark sighed deeply. “I suppose… Superman could ask him not to put anything about that on record. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand. And I think it’s best that Superman tells him – not Clark Kent”
Clark’s face brightened a bit. He finally stopped his restless pacing and came to sit down beside Lois. “Superman could tell him he’d made Clark Kent swore to never tell anyone.”
“That’s right, honey,” Lois hid a little smile. When Clark was upset he always talked about himself in the third person. After a couple of frustrating years of trying to make him quit doing that she’d finally given up. At least now she knew something was bothering him whenever he started to talk separately about ‘Clark Kent’ and ‘Superman.’
“You go take care of it right now – no need to put it off, Clark, but before you leave you’ll have to give me that piece of paper you’re clutching like some lifeline… is that the list Bill was talking about when he called you?”
“Yeah… the list he used to lure me into his office – to give me the third degree.” A reluctant grin formed on Clark’s lips when he saw the amused twinkle in Lois’s eyes.
Lois smiled. “He’s a devious man… now, let’s see what’s on this list.” She smoothed the piece of paper while Clark looked on and said apologetically, “Sorry, honey, I creased it a bit. Bill says Jenny Hudson was able to intercept this list. She told Bill she’s sure Mike Costanza faxed it to St. Cyr.”
“This Mike Costanza’s probably a very dangerous man. I hope Jenny Hudson doesn’t blow her cover.”
“No,” Clark agreed, “We wouldn’t want to find an undercover agent in a burning boat. Bill says she can handle it - she’s had tougher assignments than being a PA to Mindy Church’s henchman.”
“Well, let’s hope Detective Hudson knows what she’s doing then.”
“Bill says she came up with a plan to get Costanza to trust her. I’m to apply for an interview with Costanza to talk with him about Beddington, who’s still missing. Jenny Hudson, as Costanza’s PA, will try to detain me and she’ll tell Costanza how much she dislikes reporters. Of course, I’ll insist, she’ll get furious while trying to protect her boss, that kind of thing.”
Lois looked pensively. “It might work… you know, Clark, this Costanza guy might be dangerous but he’s not very clever. Why in the world is he calling Mindy on his phone at work and faxes information to her at a machine at work? Does he want to be caught? Is he really that stupid?”
“Good point, Lois. He could just as easily do these things at home. Who knows - it might be his way to smoke out anyone who intercepts these messages. It might be a trap. Wonder if Bill or Jenny have thought about that?”
“Probably… I’ll call Bill and tell him he’d better warn Jenny. Now, let’s take a look at this – it’s a list with names and addresses; there’s Martin Hopkins… Lester Lamarr… Peter T. Somers…and there’s Will, Superman’s friend William B. Caldwell… Gordon Keyes, Gareth’s father… John Cross… Grant Gendell…”
“Lois, this is a list of Metropolis’ richest men! Honey… are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That Mindy’s looking for her next target? She’s a Black Widow, Clark. I’ll bet she’s planning to marry one of these guys, kill him, get richer, marry the next one, kill him, get richer still, marry – “
“Okay, Lois, you’ve made your point. But most of these men are already married. So what does that mean? She’ll kill their wives first?”
Lois snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Now, take your friend Will Caldwell - he’s a bachelor. And Gareth’s father isn’t married either but Grant Gendell is. Maybe she’ll only pick out the bachelors on this list, I don’t know. I think we’ll have to look for something that connects these guys. So far, the only thing I see that they have in common is their wealth.”
“I don’t like this, Lois, I don’t like this one bit.”
“Me neither. Know what – you go talk to Bill before he starts hatching out any more weird theories about your visit to Joey Bermuda and I’ll look over this list with Perry and Anna.”
“Okay – and we’ll have to warn them… the people we know personally. I’m sure Will Caldwell and Grant Gendell have nothing to do with Intergang, so they won’t tip off Mindy Church.”
“What about Gareth’s father? We don’t know him personally but I’m sure Gareth would want to know if his father’s in any danger.”
“We’ll have to warn him too – as soon as we find out what Mindy really wants from them.” Clark stood up and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on Lois’s lips. “I’m off to see Bill Henderson … again! See you later, honey.”
“Clark, wait … I’m not so sure about the marriage theory anymore. Take a look… there are women on this list, too. Here’s Lucinda Blythe, fashion designer, in her fifties, unmarried… Susan Rodgers, owner of those health clubs, also in her fifties and unmarried… and here’s Adrienne Brown Langley, owner of a chain of motels. I know for a fact that she’s married, to a doctor… isn’t he a plastic surgeon?”
Clark, who’d already reached the door, stood still and frowned. “I guess we can kiss our marriage theory goodbye then. So far, the only thing these people have in common then is that they’re filthy rich.”
“But that’s too obvious, Clark, there must be another reason why they’re on this list.”
“Well, let’s try and find that out then.”
*****
“My, my, my… !” Mindy Church looked at the list with raised eyebrows, “So… these people in Metropolis all have a butler on their payroll, hmm?”
“According to Mike Costanza – yes, they do.”
“Well, Bertram, one of these men or women will become your new employer. Tell Costanza to check which of these people socialize with Lane and Kent. And to scratch out foreigners, especially British people. They might spot your phony accent a mile away and we can’t take that risk. It’s good, but probably not that good. I’m sure the average American family won’t have a clue that their new butler Bertram Bates from London is really Billy Bob Travis from Nowheresville.”
“I have always been exceptionally good with accents, Madam,” Bertram said, looking smug.
Mindy threw him a warning glance. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bertram. That’s when you start making mistakes. Don’t underestimate those reporters – you’ll probably get only one chance to get rid of them and you can’t afford to blow it.”
“Not to worry, Madam, I never make mistakes.”
“Lane and Kent are formidable opponents and don’t you forget that, Bertram. Killing Superman might not be so easy either. You never know when you might meet him, so you’ll have to keep that chunk of Kryptonite on you at all times.”
“I will, Madam.”
“Good. Let’s go over the plan one more time. As soon as Costanza lets us know which of these people are chummy with Lane and Kent you leave for Metropolis and you get rid of their butler. These people are always throwing parties and they’ll need a new butler. Getting you hired… that’s the tricky part, Bertram. I haven’t lived in Metropolis that long to know where people get their butlers from.”
“Madam, I’m sure there’s a special agency one might call if one wanted to hire a butler,” Bertram answered, trying to sound as British as possible. It wouldn’t do to have the Madam think that he wouldn’t be able to pull this scam.
“I guess… ask Costanza to find that out too, Bertram.”
“Right away, Madam.”
“Good. You can go now, Bertram. Tell Cornell to get the plane ready. I have a meeting with my lawyers in Miami this afternoon. Those Lachapelles and their lawyers want to have a face to face confrontation with me and it seems I can’t back out of it.”
The butler bowed respectfully and quietly left the room. While he went in search of the pilot he thought about his new assignment in Metropolis. Getting rid of a butler was easy and he was confident he’d be able to dispose of Lane and Kent in no time too. Three unsuspecting targets… a piece of cake, as far as Bertram was concerned. However, killing Superman… now that was a challenge he was looking forward to!
Bertram took a small, lead-lined box from his pocket and opened it. He carefully extracted the glowing green rock from the box and stared at it for a long moment.
Kryptonite… hard to believe that this small piece of space rubble could kill the Man of Steel. And he would be the one to do it! Suddenly, Bertram felt quite excited about going to Metropolis.
*****
“So… Joey Bermuda tried to kill you with a virus. Superman, why did you send Clark Kent to find out how and why he did it? Why didn’t you go talk to Bermuda yourself?”
“I didn’t want him to suspect that I’d almost died. I didn’t want him to think that maybe it might actually work if he tried it again someday.”
“I see… do you think Mindy Church still has some of that concoction?”
“I hope not, inspector, but I’m not willing to find that out.”
“I understand, Superman, if you got sick on St. Cyr you wouldn’t be able to fly back. And we don’t know if the people there would provide sanctuary or turn you over to Mrs. Church – er – Lachapelle.”
“Perry White and Lois Lane have also advised me to stay away from St. Cyr, inspector. They’ve filled me in on this case and believe me, after that burning boat incident the other night, I want nothing more than to go and take a look over there, but – “
Henderson stared thoughtfully at Superman. The super hero looked formidable and aloof as he stood with his arms folded across his chest, his back turned to the light streaming through the open window in Henderson’s office.
The inspector had never personally witnessed the effect Kryptonite had on Superman. He still found it hard to believe that something as innocent looking as a glowing green rock could kill this powerful being. But he’d heard the stories – from the super hero himself and from Lois Lane and Clark Kent. He’d even seen a piece of the rock at STAR Labs and been lectured by Dr. Bernard Klein on the danger it posed to Superman.
“Okay, I understand why you asked Clark Kent not to tell anyone why and how the ‘Handy Man’ and Mindy Church tried to kill you, Superman. I know you’re not obliged to tell the police everything that’s going on in your life, but don’t you think it’s a good thing that I also know about this? I was planning to ask you to check out Mindy Church’s estate on St. Cyr for me.”
Superman opened his mouth to answer but Henderson didn’t wait and continued, “I agree with Perry White and Lois Lane. You should stay away from that island, Superman. It’s too bad that I can’t ask the St. Cyr authorities for information on Mrs. Church – it’s too risky. If I happened to get in touch with corrupt civil servants they could tip her off. So I’ll have to come up with another plan.”
“Can’t you send one of your undercover agents?”
“No – too many people would have to know about that, Superman. That’s an out-of-the-country assignment and I’d have to clear that with the bosses. As much as I hate the thought I can’t rule out that Intergang might also have infiltrated into this department. And I’m not going to pay for a return ticket to St. Cyr out of my own pocket.”
Superman looked thoughtful. “Inspector, I have an idea. Give me some time to explore that and if it pans out I’ll come back to inform you.”
“Well, tell me what you have in mind, Superman, and I’ll – “ But Henderson was talking to an empty room. Superman had already flown out the window.
*****
Lois was angry and hurt when he told her what he’d done. In hindsight Clark realized she was right – he should have discussed it with her first.
When he’d left Henderson he’d flown straight to the Sentinel building, changed into his work clothes and entered the lobby as Clark Kent, asking to see Editor-in-Chief Gareth Keyes.
“Clark, you know I’m very happy that you and Gareth are such good friends now. But when it comes to work, I’m your partner. Any decision we make, especially on this case, we make together!”
Now it was Lois who was pacing up and down the floor of the conference room.
“If we feel that we need to involve other people we have to discuss it with each other first. We’ve always worked that way, Clark; I really don’t understand why you couldn’t come back here first. How are you going to explain this to Perry?”
That hadn’t been easy. When Clark told the Chief that he’d involved Gareth in the case Perry had been furious. He didn’t care whether Keyes had sworn not to use any of the information in his newspaper - the man was a competitor!
It had taken Clark at least an hour to convince Perry that what Gareth had agreed to do was the only option they had of getting on St. Cyr and close to Mindy Church.
Just a few days ago Gareth had told Clark that he and his father had grown much closer since the premature birth of his daughter. One night, when he’d been particularly worried about the baby’s chance of survival, Gareth had finally been able to tell his father that he wasn’t happy being Editor-in-Chief of ‘The Sentinel’.
After some lengthy discussions his father had agreed to let Gareth convert the daily newspaper into a weekly journal. Instead of chasing headlines and reporting local news, the stories he’d publish would deal with the follow up of news items worthy of further exploration, Gareth had told Clark. He’d jokingly offered Clark a job as a columnist and had been surprised and delighted when Clark said he might one day take him up on that offer.
Clark had then told him about his own tentative plans to become a freelance reporter and how he was already trying to adjust to the idea that, in the near future, he wouldn’t write exclusively for “The Daily Planet’.
Suddenly, stepping out of the safe and secure fulltime contract with ‘The Daily Planet’ hadn’t seemed so scary to Clark anymore.
The two men had immediately and enthusiastically begun to explore the possibilities their career changes would open up to them. Gareth had told Clark that he was almost ready to launch an extensive worldwide publicity campaign to promote the journal and that’s what Clark had been thinking about when he went to see Gareth after he’d spoken to Bill Henderson.
Gareth had been fascinated and appalled when Clark had told him about Mindy Church. He’d agreed to include a special feature on rich and famous Americans living in luxury on Caribbean islands in the first issue of his new publication. A reporter from his New York office would travel the islands with a photographer and their first destination would be St. Cyr.
“Perry, Gareth knows that Mindy Church can’t be included in this feature. He knows we can’t afford to have her bolt at this point. So he’ll fly to St. Cyr to prepare the way for his reporting team, talk to the authorities and learn as much as he can about the island and its people and hopefully about Mindy too. St. Cyr relies heavily on the tourist trade and they will welcome this kind of free publicity. Everybody there walks around with a camera – Mindy must be used to that by now.”
“Well, if you think this Keyes fellow can be trusted, ” Perry had finally, grudgingly, agreed with the plan.
“Clark, you can’t ask him to do that,” Lois had objected, “Gareth can’t leave his wife at a time like this. He’d be gone for days!”
“No, Lois, just one day. Superman will fly him to San Palito, one of those small islands south of St. Cyr. He’ll board the first flight from there to St. Cyr. It leaves at 6:00 a.m. and arrives in St. Cyr forty minutes later. Gareth will be just in time to enjoy breakfast with the Minister of Tourism. He’ll arrange to have a guide to show him the island and he’ll probably have lunch and dinner with prominent St. Cyrians. At midnight he’ll board the last flight to San Palito where Superman will pick him up and fly him back to Metropolis.”
“Well, you two have thought about everything, haven’t you?” Lois had said waspishly.
Clark had looked unhappy and Perry had just stared at them over the rim of his reading glasses, knowing that Clark wouldn’t be spending a peaceful evening alone with Lois at home.
“I’m sorry, Lois… Perry… I wasn’t thinking straight. I was just so glad to have thought about this possibility. And Gareth and I were suddenly bouncing off ideas…” At that point Clark had refrained, wisely but belatedly, to say anything else when Lois’s angry expression had suddenly changed into a hurt puppy dog look.
Eventually, between an uncomfortable dinner and getting ready for bed, Lois had decided to forgive him. Lying on his back, his arms wrapped around his sleeping wife, Clark had thought about the amazing changes that had already happened in their lives since Lois got pregnant. And how he and Gareth had become fast friends in just a couple of weeks.
Encouraged by Lois, Clark had finally called Gareth and asked him to shoot some hoops with him. After that first vigorous workout he and the tall, sandy haired Australian met as often as they could to play squash or basket ball while having heated discussions on politics, sports and journalism.
On one subject the two men agreed completely with each other – their families were the most important factors in their lives. Both were deeply in love with their respective wives and Gareth completely understood how happy Clark was with his impending fatherhood.
As much as he loved his Glenda, Gareth had confessed, he just couldn’t imagine his life without his children in it. Including baby Charlotte, still fighting for her fragile life in an incubator at the hospital. Gareth had told Clark how helpless he felt whenever he went to look in on his newborn daughter.
“The worst thing is not being able to hold her. I go crazy sometimes, thinking about her lying in that box, with nobody around to hold her close and talk to her. I remember when the boys were born how great it felt to hold those small bodies against my chest, to feel their tiny fingers grip my finger… to comfort them when they cried. I can’t do that for Charlotte and the doctors expect she’ll have to stay at the hospital for at least three months before we can take her home.”
Frustrated, Gareth had broken off a dry twig from a thorny shrub growing on the border of the park near the track where he and Clark had run a good number of lapses before they’d flopped down on the grass, panting and sweating and feeling thoroughly rejuvenated.
Gareth had poked into the ground with the twig until Clark had commented drily, “You won’t get to China that way, buddy. C’mon, let’s run another few miles. You need to get rid of all that pent up frustration before you go home to have breakfast with your boys.”
When Clark went jogging with Gareth early in the morning he took care to be back at the house in time to kiss Lois awake. She’d invariably ask, “Honey, you didn’t forget the water bottle, did you?” and Clark would assure her he knew how important it was to look as tired and as sweaty as Gareth. He always made sure he was standing behind his friend when he splashed water under his armpits and on his head and chest.
Lois had been very happy to see her husband so animated.
“They get on like a house on fire,” she’d told Martha the day Clark brought his new friend home to meet his Mom and Dad. “This is just what he needed, Martha. It’s amazing - I haven’t seen Clark so carefree in a very long time.”
“Boys need boys to play with, honey,” Martha had pointed at her husband, “Look at Jonathan - he looks ten years younger, playing with those two little boys. That’s just how he was when Clark was about their age.”
When Clark had told Gareth he and Lois were helping his parents to settle down in the house next-door Gareth had offered to help. That, of course, hadn’t been necessary but Clark had insisted that Gareth bring his sons over on Sunday after they’d visited their mommy at the hospital.
It had taken Jonathan less than a minute to succeed in charming those two little boys. He’d squatted down and smiled at the five year old staring wide-eyed at him while he clutched his father’s hand.
“Hi there! I’m Jonathan. What’s your name?”
“Eric.”
“Nice to meet you, Eric. And who’s the little munchkin over there… is he the cookie monster?”
“Nooo! He’s my little brother,” Eric had giggled while his three year old brother had stated indignantly, “I’m Simon! I’m not a cookie monster.”
“Well, Simon, that’s too bad, because we have lots and lots of yummy cookies waiting for us on the table in the porch. And there’s an extra helping for cookie monsters too! You boys want to come and take a look?”
Lois had grinned at her mother-in-law while they’d watched the boys eagerly follow Jonathan through the back door, their father and Clark in tow.
“Well, Martha, this is only your first week in Metropolis and you’ve already managed to have more visitors over at your house than Clark and I have seen in ours in the past five years. I’ve heard that my mother and Bertha Avery pop in constantly and you’ve already had Alice White over for coffee. How do you country people do that?”
“Lois, honey – you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Wait till you hear my plans for next Sunday!”
*****
(Tbc)
