<><><>
Part 2/?
<><><>
Lois takes the picture back, her hand shaking just a little as she looks at it. “Tell me again, how well do you know Josh?” she asks.
“It’s not Josh.”
“Really? How do you know? I mean, you always think you know someone, but how can you be certain?”
“I’m certain it’s not Josh.”
She looks at me skeptically. “Whose idea was it for us to come out here?”
“Mine. It was my idea. When Josh called he wasn’t asking me to come out here. I volunteered to come. And you weren’t part of the equation when I told him I was coming.”
“We’re a team, right? Isn’t that what it says on all those billboards? And on that by-line that we share? If you’re on a story, so am I.” Her hands have stopped shaking, which is good. She’s decided to be angry instead of unnerved.
“Lois, they don’t have Daily Planet billboards out here. You were never mentioned until last night when I called Josh to let him know what time to come pick us up at the airport.”
“How do you know that Josh didn’t tell everyone else here that there were going to be two more for dinner tonight?”
“I’m sure he did, but how would they have had to have time to find someone in Metropolis to follow us and send this picture back to them?”
“It’s a print-out, Clark. Somebody e-mailed them the picture. Maybe they called a private detective and had them follow us and send it?”
“So it’s just a coincidence that somebody else took pictures of you last week and left them on your desk?”
“I don’t know. What if I’m not the only being stalked?”
“You’re saying we each have a stalker?”
“Why not? At least mine is still in Metropolis.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Hey, I’m not the only one in this picture.” She holds it up, pointing at me holding the door of the cab open for her.
“That’s a pretty big leap to take.”
“Okay then, how well do you know Marty or Emily?”
“I don’t. I only just met them, the same as you.”
“Then let’s take this downstairs and see what their reactions are.” Lois waves the picture over her shoulder as she heads towards the stairs.
Marty is just closing the oven door as we walk into the kitchen. “Did you get that window fixed?” he asks.
Lois skips the niceties. “Did you put this on my door?”
“What?” Marty looks bewildered. “Did I what?”
“Put this,” Lois holds the picture up inches from his face, “on the back of my door?”
Marty takes the picture from her, his expression still confused He shakes his head. “I don’t understand…” He looks up at both of us and then back to the picture. “Why would I put this on the back of your door?”
“You tell me.” Lois takes the picture away. “Is there a computer in this house?”
“Yeah.” Marty gestures in the direction of the sitting room. “In there. But it’s not connected to the internet or anything.”
Lois turns, bumping into me as she hurries towards the next room. I step backwards to let her pass and give Marty an apologetic smile. He shrugs and shakes his head.
“She’s not usually like this,” I lie.
“For your sake, I hope not.” He winks and turns back to the oven, adjusting the temperature dial. I leave to follow Lois into the next room.
The sitting room runs the length of the house. Three long folding tables sit end-to-end, covered in small cardboard boxes and index cards. Five-gallon buckets are stacked along the interior wall, some of them appear to be filled with dirt. There’s a desk at the far end of the room with a computer on top of it. Emily sits at the computer, her back to us, entering data from a stack of index cards into the machine.
Lois is ahead of me, although Emily ignores her right up until Lois holds the picture over the computer’s monitor. “Did you put this on the back of my door?”
Emily flips to the next card. “Nope,” she says without looking.
“Are you sure? Why don’t you at least take a look before you answer?”
Emily sighs and looks at the paper, then at Lois. “It’s not mine.” Her words are slow and distinct.
They stare at each other for a few seconds and then Emily clears her throat. “Do you mind? I’d like to finish this before dinner. I had to go pick people up at the airport so that’s put me behind today.”
Lois grudgingly withdraws the picture. Emily shakes her head and goes back to typing with a sigh. Lois turns to me and gives me a disapproving look. What does she want me to do? Beat a confession out of someone?
“Hey, you two,” Marty says from behind me. “Did you still want to take a look at the dig site? We have some time before dinner – I can take you down there.”
Lois folds up the picture and puts it in her pocket. She sends one last disgruntled glance in Emily’s direction and then we both follow Marty through the kitchen and onto the back porch of the house. The back yard is choked with knee-high grass. There’s an old shed to one side of the yard. A two-foot wide dirt path starts at the base of the porch stairs and then disappears in the trees about fifty feet away.
Marty starts down the path, gesturing for us to follow him. We reach the trees and cross a small wooden bridge over a rushing creek. The path continues on through the trees.
“We’re on state land now,” Marty tells us. “Everything on this side of the creek is land that once belonged to Lucas Peregrine.”
We come into a hillside meadow that slopes down to a large lake. Halfway down the hill is an old cabin sagging at a gravity-defying angle. A canvas tent stands about twenty feet away. "Doc wants to do some excavation inside the house, but we needed more muscle first. Maybe now that you're here we can shore it up and explore the inside," Marty says as we approach the house.
We stop when we reach the house. The trail continues past the house and down the hill to a pier jutting into the lake. It seems to be much sturdier than the house.
“This is it, the old Peregrine homestead. And that’s Lucas Lake, named after old Luke. Doc’s father built the pier for fishing.”
The grass around the house has been trampled into submission. Marty leads us around the corner of the house to an open trench, about ten feet in length and six feet wide. The trench slopes into the hill, the deepest end is about four feet below the surface. The tent is set up near the shallow end of the trench.
"That's my tent, and the dig headquarters."
"You sleep out here?" Lois asks.
"We need someone to keep an eye on things, plus I like camping better than being shut up in the house."
"Keep an eye on things? Where were you when the silver was stolen?"
"Right here," Marty grins at her obvious question. "But the artifacts were in the house."
"Let me guess, the doors weren't locked."
"No, they weren't. We're all the way out here in the country, why would we lock the door?"
Lois rolls her eyes and shrugs. I touch her arm to caution her against insulting Marty any further. "I take it you haven’t had problems with items going missing before?" I ask.
"No, although we hadn't really found anything that valuable before."
"Who do you think took it?" I ask.
"Don't know." Marty turns to look out over the lake. "There's a YMCA camp on the far side of the lake. It's possible it was kids from the camp just playing a prank."
"You don't really believe that, do you?" Lois asks.
"No," Marty shakes his head. "I think it was someone from town. Everyone there knows that we're excavating the cabin. There was one family who threatened to sue from the very beginning if we found the silver. They claim that it rightfully belongs to them. And they're probably right. Maybe they just decided to skip all the legal red tape and take it home."
"I assume that this family was checked after the silver disappeared?" I put in.
"Yep. The sheriff went over with a warrant and looked through their house but didn't find a thing. Truthfully, they seemed more upset that the silver was missing than the fact that they were suspects. I can't decide if they're being cagey or genuine."
Marty looks at his watch. "I ought to get back. You two can look around here for a few minutes if you want. Just don't touch anything and don't go in the trench or inside the cabin." He waves at us and starts back up the trail.
“What do you think?” I ask as soon as Marty disappears into the trees.
Lois sighs. “I think it wouldn’t take a genius to steal anything from these people. They don't even lock the door at night. They might as well have left a huge sign saying 'free stuff!' on the porch.”
"It had to be someone who knew what they had found. We should look at the locals who were helping out and at that family who claims ownership."
"What if it was one of the people here?" Lois speculates.
"That's a possibility, too."
"I bet it was Emily," she says with a faint hint of glee.
"What makes you think that?"
"Gut instinct."
I laugh. "Are you sure that's what it is?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Kent." She flounces back up the trail towards the house.
I watch her stalk away and grin. I am flattered. She wouldn't be this prickly unless she was jealous. Lois has great instincts, except when it comes to the obvious. Like me, for example. Or Lex Luthor. Emily, on the other hand, kinda deserves what's coming to her. I shouldn't take sides, I know, but she was rude to Lois first.
As we re-enter the kitchen a tall, dark-skinned man is setting the table. "Josh!" I say, happy to see that the years have treated him kindly. He doesn't look much different than when played college football together.
We shake hands and slap shoulders. "Lois, this is Joshua Grey."
Josh looks at Lois and I see his eyebrows twitch in amusement. "So this is Lois?"
I close my eyes, knowing that Josh is about to embarrass me. "I…"
"It's nice to meet you," Lois says as she shakes his hand.
"No, it's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
"Really? Like what?" Lois looks over at me. I shake my head and look away.
"I think it was something along the lines of 'beautiful' and 'headstrong'."
"Headstrong?" Leave it to Lois to ignore the compliment in favor of the not-so-complimentary. "You told him I was headstrong? Is that what you think of me?"
"Actually, I think he said 'independent', I was just reading between the lines." Josh isn't correcting so much as stirring the pot.
"Nice try," Lois says. Then she smiles. "Did he really say beautiful?"
Josh opens his mouth to answer but I'm saved because an older man with white hair and a neatly trimmed beard enters the room along with Marty.
"This is Dr. Hanover. We all just call him 'Doc'. I assume you've already met Marty." Josh introduces us. Lois and I both shake hands with Doc and he gestures for us to sit at the table. As we're sitting down Emily shows up and sits in the chair across from me. Marty pulls dinner from the oven as Josh and Doc take their seats at opposite ends of the table.
Marty sets a casserole dish on the table and sits in the remaining chair next to Emily.
"So did Marty tell you his specialty?" Josh asks as he passes a bag of store-bought rolls to Lois. She looks over at Marty and shakes her head.
"Anthropology is my specialty. Re-enactment is my hobby," Marty corrects.
"Whatever," Josh says with a grin. "You know what I'm asking."
"I'm quite certain he hasn't shown them the freak show," Emily chimes in. "Go on, Marty. Show them how hardcore you really are."
Lois and I both look at Marty. He shakes his head. "It's not a freak show, I'll have you know. It's a talent, and I'm in high demand for my talent."
"Okay, I'll bite," Lois says. "What's your talent?"
"I'm a Civil War re-enactor," Marty explains. "I started about ten years ago and just got addicted. About five years ago I found out that I had a specific talent. You've seen the Civil War pictures taken by Matthew Brady?"
Lois and I both nod.
"Well, there are some re-enactors who specialize in recreating those pictures. I'm a bloater."
"A bloater?" Lois repeats.
"Yeah, I can bloat just like a corpse."
There's a moment of silence and then Lois laughs. "You can bloat like a corpse?"
"Show them," Emily eggs Marty on.
He pushes back his chair and then lies down on the floor. As we watch in stunned astonishment his cheeks puff out and his belly distends. His eyes turn glassy and appear sightless. His hands and limbs go stiff. He looks like he's been dead for hours under a hot sun.
Lois glances over at me with a smile. "There's your story," she tells me, "or at least the human interest angle is covered."
Marty grins and de-bloats. "Everyone has a talent," he says as he sits back down.
"You're a freak," Emily says with a smile. There is a trace of affection in the way she says it. I bet her earlier inhospitality really was due to the fact that they are understaffed and she drew the short straw to come pick us up at the airport.
Doc grimaces and reaches for the salt. "This is what happens when you only get a shoestring operating budget."
"Yes," Emily agrees with him. "As you can see, they spared every expense in setting us up here."
Doc sends her a reproving look and shakes his head. "After today we're just lucky we'll be allowed to continue tomorrow."
"Was it that bad, really?" Marty asks.
Josh nods. "It was that bad. The state and the federal governments are arguing with each other over who has jurisdiction."
"But isn't that state-owned land?" I ask, confused why the federal government would even be involved.
"That's what everyone is arguing about. Doc's father owed back taxes to both the state and the federal government when he lost the land. Since we're a middle party with no declared loyalty they've agreed to let us continue digging, so long as we submit to random unannounced visits from a regulator."
"It wasn't until we found something big that anyone showed the least bit of interest," Emily puts in bitterly.
"It's not even what we were looking for," Josh agrees.
"What are you looking for?" I ask.
There's a small silence as Marty, Josh and Emily look at Doc. Finally, Josh speaks. "We're looking for Lucas Peregrine. Doc's grandfather said he was buried on the property, near the corner of the house where our trench is."
"Why would you want to disturb his grave?" Lois looks just as baffled as I feel.
“Tell them your theory,” Marty winks at Lois. “Doc has a theory about Lucas Peregrine.”
Emily and Josh both look vaguely embarrassed. Doc pushes the food around on his plate and then sets his silverware down.
“I’m sure they’ve told you that my grandfather was born and raised in this house. His father, my great-grandfather, built it in 1858 with the help of his neighbor, Lucas Peregrine. My grandpa spent most of his boyhood down at Lucas’ house. When I was child he told me countless stories about this area and about Lucas himself. Those stories were part of the reason I chose archaeology as my life's work. But there was one story he only told me once, just before he died. At the time I thought maybe he was just turning senile. And then Superman showed up and it made me wonder if there really was some truth to the story.”
“Superman?” Lois asks, echoing my thoughts exactly.
"Yes, you see, my grandfather swore that he saw Lucas Peregrine fly."
<><><>
End part 2/?
