Home V: Obsession -- 18/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Clark nodded as he backed out of the parking space. The snow was still coming down, albeit more lightly than it had been earlier. Traffic was still heavy but they made good time and pulled into the security parking lot for their apartment building barely forty-five minutes later. Clark scanned the immediate area of the parking structure before he opened the door for his wife, and hustled her quickly into the elevator.
"I was going to ask," Lori said, making no comment about the haste in Clark's transfer of her from car to elevator, "did you find out about the car?"
Clark nodded. "It belongs to Marcella's roommate. Marcella borrows it regularly, according to her."
"I see. Doesn't the roommate need it?"
"Evidently not," Clark said. "She didn't seem too eager to talk about it."
"Oh." The elevator doors opened on the top floor, and Clark checked their apartment beyond before signaling the door to open. He heard his wife give the faintest of sighs as it closed behind them. She pushed back the hood of her jacket. "I'm going to get changed."
**********
And now, Part 18:
As usual the MetroPAC was well-attended in spite of the light snow that still fell. Clark led the small party to the Kleins' box and saw to it that they were comfortably settled well before the performance began. Mariann looked around, suitably impressed. "I didn't know you had a private box," she said. "Isn't it terribly expensive?"
"It's not ours," Clark said with a smile. "Bill and Lara Klein loaned it to us for the evening. You remember. The Christmas party was at their place."
"I remember. They seemed to be very well-off."
"Bill is retired now, but he's both a scientist and engineer. He used to work for STAR Labs. You've probably heard of it."
"Who hasn't?" Rob said. "I didn't realize that its employees retired with such large pensions, though."
"They don't," Clark said. "Bill's an inventor. Since he retired, he's patented an unbelievable number of inventions that most of us use in daily life. It's made him very well off in his retirement years." He winked at Lori. "Lori and I were just talking about one of them today -- in connection with our current investigation."
"We were?" Lori said.
"We certainly were. Bill developed and patented the 'invisible drain'."
Lori raised her eyebrows at him in a perfect imitation of his own mannerism. "You're kidding. That's what the WBK Inc. stands for?"
Clark nodded. "He also has a sizeable share in the company that markets his inventions."
"Sounds like he's a pretty good businessman, too," Rob said.
"No, the business part is Lara's end of the enterprise," Clark said. "My ... cousin is a sharp businesswoman."
"It sounds like it," Rob said. "I remember her from the Christmas party. She's a very charming woman."
"I think so," Clark said.
"Considerably younger than her husband."
Clark didn't answer.
"Well," Mariann said, "since she's so generously given us the use of the box for this evening, we should certainly take advantage of such a perfect spot to watch the play." She smiled at Lori. "You're looking particularly well tonight, Lori. Are those new earrings? They're very attractive."
"Yes," Lori said. "Clark gave them to me."
Mariann nodded. "Very appropriate. Elegant but not overstated."
"Thank you," Lori said.
Clark turned his head to scan the people nearest them in the surrounding crowd of theater devotees, but there was no sign of Marcella Evans. In fact, no one was paying them much attention except for Elizabeth Samson, the society columnist from the Metropolis Star. She was looking at his guests and he could tell by the expression on her face that given half an excuse, or none, she would soon be over here asking questions about them.
Sure enough, at five minutes to curtain time, the society columnist arrived at the box. "Hi Clark," she began.
"Hello," he said, noncommittally.
"I see you're in the Klein box tonight. Big occasion?"
"My cousin loaned it to us for the evening," Clark said.
"Business for the Daily Planet?" She eyed Rob and Mariann hungrily.
"Not exactly."
"Come on, Clark. You don't borrow your cousin's theater box for a minor event. What's going on?"
Lori leaned over. "Elizabeth, you're wasting your time. These are my parents."
The woman's face fell. "Parents?"
"That's right. They're visiting Metropolis for the Valentine Festival, and we're out for a family evening. Elizabeth Samson, Robert and Mariann Lyons. Mom and Dad, Elizabeth Samson."
The columnist smiled briefly at the older couple. "Pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," Rob said.
"The curtain's about to go up," Lori said. "Nice to see you again, Liz."
Elizabeth glanced at her, then took a second look. "I didn't know you were expecting."
"We didn't exactly take out a full-page ad," Lori said.
"Well, congratulations."
"Thank you."
The lights dimmed, and Elizabeth moved away. Mariann leaned toward her daughter. "Who was that?"
"The Star's gossip columnist. Tomorrow the whole town's going to know Clark and I are going to be parents. I guess it was inevitable."
"It was," Clark said. "We have a certain amount of name recognition, and that's all it takes."
"I suppose so," Mariann said.
The first notes of the opening theme began, and the curtains twitched and then started to roll open. The murmur of conversation in the huge room died as the first scene of "Cats" began.
Clark had seen the production several times and knew it by heart. With a part of his mind, he listened to the dialogue and music, but most of his attention was occupied watching their surroundings. A dark theater would be a good place for a potential assassin to hide, and if Marcella had managed to get hold of one of the more deadly weapons circulating in the less-reputable parts of the city, Lori and everyone with her could be in danger. The world's crime rate had dropped measurably over the last century and no doubt would continue to do so for some time, but there was still plenty of crime around and probably always would be. He had always suspected that the "Utopia" of the future had been a bit over-hyped by HG Wells. Future technology and Superman's principles notwithstanding, the kind of perfect society that Wells had talked about was really possible only if everyone behaved. Given the normal cussedness of the human race, that wasn't very likely, barring a situation where everyone's actions were stringently controlled -- which was something that he would personally oppose. He had no doubt that the little man had been telling the truth about what he had seen, but Clark suspected that Wells might have been just a little over-awed by the wonders of the Twenty Second Century.
There was no sign of Marcella, however, or of anyone else paying undue attention to them. Intermission arrived, and Lori stood up. "I'm going to visit the Ladies' room, Clark."
He also stood up. "I'll walk you down."
Mariann also got to her feet. "That sounds like a good idea."
In the end, all four of them walked down to the main floor of the theater and Clark and Rob stood outside, waiting while Mariann and Lori disappeared into the Ladies' room.
He scanned the crowd unobtrusively. There was no sign of Marcella. Of course she could be in the Ladies' room, but it seemed unlikely that she would try to commit a murder with the number of witnesses that were undoubtedly in there right now. She -- or someone -- had followed them before, though, and could be following right now, waiting for the opportunity to strike. He had no intention of letting his guard down until their killer was in custody, and if that meant sticking by his wife's side for the next year, so be it.
Hopefully, however, it wouldn't take that long. Marcella, if she was indeed the murderer and not another victim, hadn't been seen all day, although her car had been parked in the health club's lot. Judging by the attempt on Lori this morning and the attacks on Deirdre and Jake, something had changed in their killer's behavior. He hoped that Connor was following Lori's instructions to stay with other people. He could as easily be a victim now as any of the women with whom he associated. Just before they had left work, Clark had contacted his telepathic relatives and asked them to warn the others, so hopefully all the supermen in the city were now on alert.
"Clark," Rob said quietly after a few moments, "what's going on?"
Lori's father was more observant than he'd hoped, Clark thought. He glanced at Rob. "What do you mean?"
"You've been watching the crowd like a hawk ever since we got here. Even during the performance, you weren't watching the stage. You were watching the audience. You're still watching everyone nearby. What's the matter?"
Clark glanced unobtrusively around again. "I didn't realize it was that obvious."
Rob also glanced around. "So I was right. It actually isn't obvious, but you've been doing it since we got out of the car, and you haven't stopped. What is it?"
"Now I know where Lori gets her talent for observation," he remarked. "We didn't want to spoil the evening for you and Mariann. We've had a stalker following Lori recently. I'm just being careful."
"A stalker?" Rob looked appalled.
"Yes. It's a story we're working on. This person has stalked a friend of hers for nearly three years. Apparently Lori has attracted the stalker's attention, too. The police are on it."
"Oh." Lori's father shook his head. "Does this happen a lot?"
Clark gave a faint grin. "More than I'd like."
"What has this person done?"
Clark glanced at the door of the Ladies' room as Lori and Mariann emerged. "I don't think now's the time to go into it. If you'd like to help, keep an eye out for anyone paying unusual attention to Lori. It's only a precaution. Let's not ruin the evening for Mariann. If you like, I can fill you in later."
Rob nodded. "You're right." He smiled as the two women arrived beside them. "Everyone ready to go back to the box? Intermission is almost over."
They returned to the box just as the lights dimmed and the music started up again. Clark leaned sideways and put his lips to Rob's ear.
"Go ahead and enjoy the play. I'll have plenty of warning if anyone tries to get into the box."
Rob nodded slightly, but Clark was aware that only half of Rob's attention was on the play for the second half. At last the lights came up again and the cast stepped out on stage to bow to their audience. Clark glanced at his wrist talker.
"If we wait for the crowd to clear a bit we'll still have plenty of time. Let's just stay here for a few minutes."
No one had any objection to the suggestion. Rob glanced questioningly at Clark, who smiled back and continued to watch the persons nearest to them with as casual a manner as he could.
When they eventually made it out to the Jeep, Clark scanned the vehicle quickly but thoroughly. No more of this missing stuff just because it hadn't been there before, he thought. He was still kicking himself for missing the drain where Carla's assailant had dumped the knife. It should have occurred to him to look for it, but he hadn't even thought of the possibility. Well, he'd better get his thinking up to date, he told himself. Just because the parking tier hadn't had a drain years ago didn't mean it couldn't have had one installed since and it would be reasonable to think that the contractors who did the job would use the newest technology. Okay, the installation had taken place the year before he and Lori had come to work at the Planet, and even Velma Chow hadn't thought of it. Or maybe she had, but if so, she apparently hadn't found the updated blueprints. So what? 'Get with it, Superman!' he told himself. 'This isn't the Twentieth Century any longer! If you don't want your descendents to think of you as an out-of-date fossil, you'll have to think like a modern man!'
The Jeep was clear. He unlocked the doors with his remote key and opened the front passenger door for Lori while Rob and Mariann took their places in the rear seat.
"I must say, I like this Jeep of yours," Rob said.
"Thanks," Clark said, pulling his safety harness across his chest. "I thought Lori needed a heavy car for protection when she's on her own. Jeep Predators have a good reputation for reliability."
"You're right," Rob said. "They're nearly top of the line groundcars."
"I kind of wanted an aircar," Lori admitted, "but none of them are as sturdy as this one. I always figured my first car would be a subcompact."
"Not if I have to ride in it," Clark said firmly. "Subcompacts give me claustrophobia."
"I can't argue there," Rob said. "I get a cramp in my back whenever I get into one. And," he added, "you can't say its old age. They did the same thing to me when I was twenty, and owned one."
"Dad, you're not old," Lori said. "You're only sixty-two."
"Never said I was," Rob said. "I still don't like subcompacts."
The snowfall, Clark noted, had continued to lighten, but snow still fell. The big street cleaner bots were still busy clearing the avenues of the newly collected stuff, but aircars had at least been allowed back in the air and the traffic had become considerably lighter. In the distance the lighted Metropolis Star Tower glowed against the skyline like the star it was named for, hazy through the mist of tiny flakes still twinkling down.
The soft bleep of his wrist talker startled him momentarily.
"Who would be calling now?" Mariann asked.
"You never know when you work for a news service," Lori said.
Clark unsnapped his harness and opened the door. "Just a moment," he said and stepped out into the snow. He closed the door and lifted the talker to his wrist. "Kent."
"I thought you'd like to know, Kent," Velma Chow's voice said without preliminary, "Forensics picked a partial print off the blade of that knife that Lori helped find."
"Have they identified it?" he asked, resisting the temptation to hold his breath.
"I wouldn't be calling you otherwise," Velma's voice said dryly. "I don't make a point of informing the Press of every step in an investigation. I hope I don't need to tell you, this isn't for publication."
"Naturally. So they *have* identified it?"
"They did," Velma said. "I take it you know Superman dropped by to tell me about a certain sealed record?"
"Yes."
"The print matches," Velma said. "I'm tempted to haul Lori in as a material witness, just to protect her, but I have the feeling she'd be kind of unhappy with me if I did."
"I'll protect her, Lieutenant," Clark said, surprising himself at how Supermanish his voice sounded, even to him. "You can count on it."
"Yes, I suspect you will," Velma's voice said. "That's all I had to tell you, except there's been no sign of the chief suspect all day. She may suspect that we're onto her. If what we think is true, that won't stop her from going after your wife, though. Don't leave her alone."
"Not a chance," Clark said. "Thanks, Velma."
"You're welcome," she said, and signed off.
**********
tbc
