Previously...
Her lips still tingled from his kiss, and combined with his confession, her mind reeled. Too many feelings were tumbling through her, fighting for recognition and control. And one in particular stunned her. One that repeated. One that she was scared to say out loud.
I think I’m falling in love with you too.
She sank into the cushions and closed her eyes against her battling emotions. Minutes later she was vaguely aware of Clark pulling a light afghan over her as he brushed a light kiss across her forehead.
And now to continue our story...
Lois had no idea how long she’d slept when the shrill ring of Clark’s telephone woke her. He jerked the receiver from its cradle, spoke briefly and hung up.
“Was that Cat?”
Clark shook his head. Lois threw off the afghan, sat up and looked at the wall clock.
“She’s not going to find her.” Lois’s throat squeezed shut and her stomach began to churn from dread. “I feel so helpless just sitting here, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Clark slid onto the couch next to her and banded one arm around her shoulder. “Cat’s going to come through on this. I’ve seen that woman in action and she’s got sources the CIA would love to have.”
He grasped her chin, tilted her face upward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Lois parted her lips in invitation and whimpered when his slick tongue invaded her mouth. A spark ran through her veins and ignited a fire deep inside her. One hand wrapped around Clark’s nape and fingered the hair curling around his collar. The other pressed against his chest and felt his heart pounding as if he’d just run a four-minute mile. He leaned her back against the bank of cushions and stretched out beside her, their lips never parting.
The telephone shrilled again, forcing a groan of dissatisfaction from Clark. He broke the connection between them and in three strides was by the phone.
“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver. Lois held her breath as he carried on a one-syllable conversation with the person on the other end. “Uh huh. Yeah. Right. Sure thing.”
Lois quickly moved to his side. “Is it Cat?” she asked in a loud whisper.
Clark gave her the thumbs-up sign. “All right. I’ll tell her.”
“She’s found Francesca?” Lois’s voice was filled with optimism.
Clark nodded. “Come on. We’re meeting Cat in front of the Planet.”
Lois let out a whoop that could be heard across town. Clark pulled her into his arms and effortlessly twirled her round and round. She could stay in Clark’s arms like this forever, but business came first. Maybe after the photo situation was resolved…? She could only hope.
Lois shrugged into her coat and pulled her keys from her purse.
Here’s your chance to show that you trust him.
“Would you like to drive, Clark?”
She saw the brief expression of surprise that flitted across his face. She’d be surprised too if the biggest control freak in town had suddenly let loose of the reins.
“Sure,” he answered and caught the keys when she lobbed them in his direction.
Traffic seemed to conspire against them and by the time Clark angled the vehicle into a parking spot beside the Planet, Lois’s nerves were jangling. She yanked the door open and exited the car as Cat rounded the corner, walking as fast as her four-inch stilettos would allow.
“I just spoke with Francesca,” Cat said. “When I described the photo she knew just what it was. She had some boudoir photos taken for her boyfriend a few years back and it sounds like one of those with a little PhotoShop work added.”
“Great! Now all we have to do is find out who took the—”
Cat waved a slip of paper. “I’m way ahead of you, Lois. When I told her what had happened, she gave me the name of the photographer along with the name of her lawyer. She said she plans to sue the, and I quote, rat bastard and said if you want to join her, you’re more than welcome.”
“Oh no. I get first dibs on him for libel and if there’s anything left after the courts get through with him, she can have at it. Come on. We have a case to solve.” Lois plucked the paper from Cat’s hand. “Just how did you find Francesca anyway?”
Cat held both hands up, palms outward. “I have to protect my sources.”
Lois opened her mouth to argue that gossipmongers hardly qualified as sources to be protected under the First Amendment, but thought better of it since this tattletale might very well save her career.
“Thanks, Cat.” Lois held out her hand toward her colleague, who took it and delivered a firm handshake. “Oh what the heck,” Lois said and pulled Cat into a hug.
“I’m glad to help, Lois. There are depths to which even I won’t sink. We gals have to look out for each other, you know.”
“We do, don’t we?”
“You guys better get going before the shop closes. Be careful and let me know what happens.” Cat turned to walk back to the building.
“Aren’t you coming with us, Cat?” Clark asked. “You’re part of the team.”
Cat was stunned by Clark’s invitation. Her gaze shifted to Lois and when she nodded her agreement, Cat broke into a wide grin. “Let’s go get that slimeball.”
Cat turned the map one way and then another before throwing up her hands in defeat.
“Okay, I admit it. I failed map reading in geography class. The address that Francesca gave me is around here somewhere but I can’t figure it out on this map.” She shoved the paper toward Clark, who sat in the passenger seat.
“Where did you get this map?” Clark asked, examining the item carefully.
“I found it in the storage room at the Planet. Why?”
Clark chuckled. “The reason you can’t find Rivers Street is that it’s in a relatively new area of town and this map was printed in 1963.” He shook his head. “Perry really needs to clean out that storage room.”
“We should be close, though. Francesca said it was just a block or two from Five Points Plaza and we just passed that.”
The jeep swerved suddenly and veered left. Clark was thrown against his seat belt and Cat slid across the back seat and hit the door with a thud.
“Watch it, Lois! I’m going to have a bruise the size of Iceland on my hip.”
“Sorry. But I saw it. Rivers Street. We’re here. Now what’s the street number?”
Moments later the car pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building with faded shutters. An even more faded sign that read Creative Photography hung over the entrance.
“That’s it,” Cat said. “And the name is certainly apropos.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Lois said, sliding out of the car and hitching her purse over one shoulder. “Whoever he is, he’s gonna regret the day he crossed Lois Lane.”
Lois marched toward the building with Clark and Cat behind her. Her stride was purposeful and steady. I’m going to make mincemeat out of this guy.
She placed both palms on the door and shoved it open, startling the balding man who sat behind the counter making entries into a ledger.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Nelson Gallimore,” Lois replied.
“That would be me,” the man said, standing and offering his hand. “What can I do for ya?”
Lois reached into her purse, retrieved the magazine that was folded back to the photo in question and slammed it onto the counter.
“This is what you did for me, Mr. Gallimore. You took a picture of my head, put it on a photograph you took of someone else and sold it to this sleazy magazine. Now I’m the laughingstock of Metropolis and I may lose my job.” She pointed her finger toward the man in accusation. “All I want to know is who paid you to do it and why.”
Gallimore snickered. “Don’t ya wanna know how? And what? And where? Ain’t that what you reporters always ask?”
“I think we know how you did it,” Clark said. “What and where don’t really matter at this point.”
“Don’t none of it matter really because I don’t know nothing about that picture.”
“Don’t play games with me, Mr. Gallimore, because I’m not in the mood for games. I’m much more in the mood for a good lynching,” she threatened. “I’ll ask you again. Who and why?”
“And I’m tellin’ ya lady, I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”
“Then why did you say that we were reporters?” Cat asked. “We never mentioned anything about that.”
The man sputtered and turned pale, struggling for an explanation.
Lois leaned across the counter and fisted her hand in the fabric of his shirt. “I think you do know what I’m talking about. Do you see that tattoo?” Lois pointed to the distinctive marking on the photograph.
“That tattoo belongs to a friend of mine,” Cat said. “And she’s more than willing to testify in court that you took this picture of her.”
Gallimore swallowed and turned a shade whiter. Then he twisted and bolted toward a back room. He was quick, but Clark was quicker and he forcibly sat the photographer in a folding chair, holding him in place. Lois bent forward and put herself at eye level with Clark’s captive.
“Do you still want to plead innocent, Mr. Gallimore? Or can I call you Nelson?”
Lois sensed the moment when Nelson realized he’d been caught. His shoulders drooped but his eyes still held the last hint of overconfidence. “What’s in it for me? If I give ya information, what do I get out of it?”
Lois locked her dark brown eyes on his, her death-ray stare set at full-stun level. She laughed at his audacity and then her mood shifted. But before she could speak, Clark interrupted.
“Mr. Gallimore, my friend here takes this whole matter quite personally. And I have no doubt whatsoever that unless you give her the information she wants, she’ll make you wish that you’d been attacked by a grizzly bear instead of her.”
Nelson sat motionless, looking first at Clark and next at Lois who drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter. He gave Cat a look that could best be described as a mental undressing in an apparent attempt to win points with her. But he’d misjudged the curvaceous woman.
“I’d spill my guts if I were you, buster. I’ve seen her in action and it isn’t pretty.” Cat gave an exaggerated shudder before placing her index fingers in the sign of a cross and backing away from Lois.
Lois wrote herself a mental memo to treat Cat to a manicure for that performance. What the heck. If they solved this within the twenty-four hour window, she’d treat Cat to a day at the spa.
“What’ll it be, Nelson?” Lois’s eyes narrowed. “Cooperate or….” She left the consequences to his imagination.
Clark tightened his grip on the man’s shoulder, exerting just enough pressure to hurt yet not enough to leave a mark.
“Huh, Nelson? I can’t hear you,” she prodded.
Sweat trickled down the side of the man’s face and his eyelid twitched nervously.
“Clark, do you think we should call the big guy in on this one?” Lois was grasping at straws. Anything to get the man to crack.
“If you think it would help, maybe—”
“Please, you gotta protect me. If Langford finds out I squealed on him—”
“Walter Langford? Of Metro Fidelity?” That wasn’t the “big guy” she’d been thinking of, but suddenly the situation had taken an interesting turn.
“Yeah. That’s the guy. He called me last week and said he needed a favor. Said he wanted to get even with some broad and could I do some PhotoShop work for him,” Nelson explained. “When he told me what he needed I pulled some stuff from my files and fixed him up.”
“How much did he pay you?” Lois asked, still wincing from the broad comment.
“He didn’t pay me nothing. He owns this building and he kinda let it be known that if I wanted to keep my lease I’d better do what he wanted.”
“Wait a minute.” Cat stepped closer to Gallimore. “I know where you got the body for that fake centerfold. But where did the head come from?”
“Simple,” he explained. “I used to work at the Metro Club as a photographer. I did souvenir photos for folks. And I took publicity photos of the entertainers. See that gal there? In the picture over the cash register? That’s my sister, Edwina. She got me that gig.”
Lois inspected the photo in question and nodded. Case solved.
“Toots is your sister?”
@~@~@~@~@~@
“Cheers.” Perry lifted a champagne flute and four other glasses joined his in a toast. “To good reporting and teamwork.” He lifted the glass to his mouth and sipped the bubbly liquid. “When I explained everything to the board of directors and explained the Metro Fidelity connection, they were so happy that we were going to scoop the other papers on the story that they never questioned Lois’s innocence. Good job, kids.”
“Thanks, Perry. Not everyone would go to bat for an employee like you did for me.”
“You’re the best damned investigative reporter I’ve got. I wasn’t about to lose you.” Perry tipped his champagne glass up and emptied it. “And congratulations on your first by-line, Cat. I understand you played a key role in cracking this case.”
“Thank you, Perry. I was happy to help. Journalism is a team sport.” Cat took another sip and continued. “Besides, we women need to stick together.”
Lois and Francesca affirmed Cat’s statement in unison with a nod.
“I’m just sorry you had to be dragged into this, Miss Dellatorre,” Perry apologized. “But on behalf of the Daily Planet, please accept my sincerest appreciation for your assistance. Without your help in finding Gallimore, he’d have never testified against Walter Langford.”
“And thousands of folks would have had a very bleak retirement outlook,” Clark continued. “Between his testimony and the information we got from Martin Collins, every dime of the Metro Fidelity funds was recovered and returned to its rightful owners and Walter Langford is going to have a long stay at the state prison.” Clark lifted his glass in Francesca’s direction.
“I was very happy to help an old friend,” she said, smiling in Cat’s direction. “I’m afraid that I must leave your celebration and get back to my work. And if you’ve a back entrance, I’d certainly like to use it. One of your employees approached me earlier and asked if I’d like to… what did he say? Get jiggy with it?”
“Ralph.” Four voices uttered his name simultaneously.
“I’ll show you out, Miss Dellatorre,” Perry offered and led her from the room.
“And I have a follow-up piece to write about the grateful customers of Metro Fidelity Funds.” Cat drained her glass and then scurried from Perry’s office.
Clark set his nearly-full glass on Perry’s desk. “Relieved?” He’d made note earlier of the dark circles under her eyes.
“You have no idea. I know that this job brings its share of personal attacks, but this one was just… just…”
“Too private?” he suggested.
“Precisely. Just thinking about Ralph doing heaven knows what with that picture….” The look of disgust on her face told Clark everything he needed to know.
“For what it’s worth, Ralph told me to thank you for ruining his social life.”
“Should I ask?”
“He and Billy have been signed up for special sensitivity training classes. According to Ralph, they’ll interfere with his dating schedule.”
“The man dates?” Lois’s eyes widened in horror. “Who? Or maybe I should ask what? Don’t answer that. I simply want to put the whole thing behind me and get back to some real work.”
“Sounds good to me,” Clark said, taking her delicate hands in his. “But since all work and no play makes Lois a dull girl, how about dinner at my place tonight to celebrate another Lane and Kent success? Lamb chops with mint jelly, new potatoes—”
“Stop! You’ve convinced me. What time do we eat?”
“How does seven o’clock sound?”
Lois glanced over her shoulder before giving Clark a gentle kiss. “It sounds delicious. I can’t wait,” she murmured against his lips and then stepped back.
Their relationship was still too tenuous for any overt public displays and after the humiliation Lois had suffered at the hands of Ralph and company the previous day, Clark sure didn’t want to indicate anything less than the utmost respect for her. He could wait, oh geez, ten hours.
@~@~@~@~@~@
“More wine Lois?” Clark turned from the sink where he’d dried and put away the last of their dinner dishes. “Lois?” he asked again. “Lois?”
He heard the rattle of paper from the living room followed by a muffled gasp.
You’re busted, pal.
“I can explain, Lois.” He looked as sheepish as a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“You’d better,” she said, her face strangely void of emotion. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were as bad as Ralph and Billy.”
“When we found out the whole story last night, Superman rounded up all the copies of the magazine and destroyed them, along with the computer files from Nelson’s shop.”
“Apparently one was missed in the round-up.” She held out a copy of Hot Chick dot Com, opened to the center. “What do you have to say for yourself, cowboy?”
“I… you… it’s like this….” He sighed heavily, resigned to his fate. “Guilty as charged, ma’am.”
The grin Lois had been holding back suddenly broke loose and a wave of relief flooded through him. If she was smiling, she couldn’t be too mad. Could she? Of course this was Lois. With her, anything was possible.
“Stop worrying, Clark. In a strange sort of way I’m a little flattered that you’d want to keep this,” she admitted. “I’m not quite as self-confident as most people think.”
“No!” Clark feigned shock. “Seriously, anyone would be hard-pressed to deal with something like that photo. I still get the creeps over that calendar I posed for.”
“Ah, yes. Mister December.” A fearful look filled her eyes. “What if Cat recruits me in her search for the mystery man? We’re practically blood sisters now.”
Clark took her hand and tugged her closer. “Tell her you’re busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“This,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers as he pulled her flush against him.
The magazine slipped from Lois’s hand and dropped to the floor. “I could enjoy being this busy.”
“Me too, Lois. Me too.”
The End
