Lois heard Clark’s chair creak and she looked over to see him stretching. His face was pulled into a grimace.
“Any luck?” Lois asked. Her own calls had gotten nowhere. Not one of the spouses or former patients had been willing to talk to her, not even off the record. The last woman had been positively rude, claiming Lois was out to get a ‘good man’ – and this was the woman who had filed a multi-million dollar suit against the Center, naming Deter’s advances as the reason behind the complaint.
“Two are willing to talk, but off the record,” Clark told her. “Missus Smith is wants to meet us at a coffee shop near her house in an hour. Missus Maier promised to call me back Monday morning.”
“And the others?” Lois asked.
“How dare I intrude on their grief. Doctor Deter is a ‘good man’ and the whole thing was just a huge misunderstanding,” Clark told her. There was more than a touch of snarkiness in his voice. Then his shoulders slumped and she realized he was as at least as discouraged as she was.
“Do you think they got paid off?” Lois wondered aloud.
“Well, some of the suits against Deter and the Center were dismissed for lack of evidence,” Clark reminded her. “But the others were simply dropped. It’s possible they reached an out-of-court settlement that included a gag order.”
“So, where are we meeting Missus Smith?”
Clark gave her the address – a coffee shop in the Lafayette neighborhood. With the afternoon traffic, it would take most of the hour to get there.
“Let’s get going, otherwise we’ll never make it,” Lois said.
-o-o-o-
The coffee shop was on the corner of a quaint building in a part of town undergoing a renaissance. There were few customers inside but an attractive woman with dark hair was sitting in the far corner. She was dressed in black and looked up as they entered.
Lois led the way across the room. Clark stopped and ordered two coffees then joined Lois at the table.
“Missus Smith?” Clark asked.
“Mister Kent?” the woman responded.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Clark said. Mrs. Smith smiled sadly at him.
“I’m not sure what good it will do,” she said. “You said you wanted to know about Roger.”
“Yes,” Clark said simply but his expression was full of sympathy.
Mrs. Smith sighed. “There’s not a lot to tell. My husband killed himself. We had hopes that Doctor Deter’s treatment would help bring him back to normal, but when Roger realized he wasn’t going to get better he found a way to end his life.”
“You filed a complaint against Doctor Deter,” Lois reminded her. “You stated that Doctor Deter had made improper advances toward you and when you refused, your husband’s condition deteriorated.”
Mrs. Smith was looking around the shop, nervously twisting her wedding band around her finger. “That was a mistake. Doctor Mendenhall explained everything. Doctor Deter was simply trying to break the bad news to me gently, that Roger wasn’t going to get better, and in his frustration he was going to become a danger to me and the children. After Roger died, Doctor Mendenhall convinced the insurance company to pay on Roger’s life insurance policy. He’s been so very helpful. The man’s a saint. He’s even been paying for my own therapy.”
“Missus Smith, if you don’t mind, what was Roger’s initial diagnosis?” Clark asked.
“Disassociative retrograde amnesia,” Mrs. Smith said. “Roger had been having trouble at work, and it wasn’t helping things at home… one day he simply disappeared. I filed a missing person’s report, and he was eventually found in San Diego, after he maxed out our credit cards. When I flew out to bring him home, he didn’t know me or the kids.”
“And Doctor Deter promised to help bring his memory back?” Lois asked.
Mrs. Smith nodded. “At first it looked like Roger would be fine, then he got worse. A lot worse. Doctor Deter tried, but there was little he could do.”
Lois tried to keep the disappointment out of her face. Mrs. Smith’s information wasn’t going to help their investigation. She wasn’t going to support their claims of Deter’s malfeasance.
“I’m so sorry, Missus Smith,” Clark said. He sounded sincere. Clark always made people feel like they could talk to him, that he cared. And Lois knew he did care. That was why he could do the touchy-feely stories, the human interest pieces that Lois found so difficult to get into.
“But thank you for talking to us,” Clark continued.
“You were hoping I could help you prove something against Doctor Deter and the Center, weren’t you?” Mrs. Smith asked.
“Frankly, yes,” Clark told her. “If you’re worried that what you tell us could get back to Deter, we don’t have to use your name. We can keep this strictly confidential. And you should know you’re not the first person to accuse Deter of impropriety.”
“When I made those accusations, I was blaming everyone else for Roger’s death. I couldn’t see the pain he was in. I couldn’t see how much pain I’d brought him by demanding he return to being the man he was before when it wasn’t possible. I blamed Deter because I refused to blame myself. Doctor Mendenhall made me see that, made me see that I had misunderstood Doctor Deter’s actions, his concern.”
Lois heard the words, but the whole tone of Mrs. Smith’s statement rang false.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you," Mrs. Smith said as she stood to leave. Lois watched as she crossed the floor and went out the door.
“She’s scared to death,” Clark commented.
“What makes you say that?” Lois asked. She knew what her own instincts told her but she as curious as to Clark’s reasoning.
“The way she was sweating, and twisting her ring,” Clark went on. “Her whole body language. I don’t know if she really believes she caused her husband’s suicide, but she’s scared.”
“Maybe I bailed on Deter too soon,” Lois said. “Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer of dinner.”
“Why didn’t you?” Clark asked. He was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup.
“He was giving me the creeps,” Lois admitted. “Starting out with crazy claims about why you blocked your memories of Superman. I just… I’m not a trained psychologist but I really did pay attention to my psych classes back in college. And I know you a damn sight better than Deter. What he was saying was complete bull. And I’m betting what he told Roger’s wife was complete bull, too.”
“But how do we prove it? Assuming we can,” Clark asked. “I doubt Deter would have kept real records about what was going on with Roger Smith, or the other suicides.” Clark’s expression turned thoughtful. “On the other hand, he may be arrogant enough to keep some sort of records on how well his brainwashing was going.”
Lois felt her eyebrows climbing to her hairline. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” She put a hand to his forehead in mock disbelief. “No fever… So, who are you and what did you do with my Boy Scout partner?”
“Very funny, Lois,” Clark responded, brushing her hand away. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing.”
“I think there’s a lot more going on at the Center than they want people to know about,” Lois admitted. Then she grinned. “And I know a way onto the grounds.” She checked her watch. “Friskin’s office is down by the OCME. And I’m sure we’ll need to be there early to fill out the paperwork… again.”
-o-o-o-
The Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (OCME) was a six story brick building tucked in between Metropolis General Hospital and University of Metropolis Medical Center. Friskin’s office was on the tenth floor of the very modern steel and glass New Troy Medical Arts Building, directly across the street.
Lois caught Clark chuckling as they entered the elevator.
“What?” she demanded.
“I’m just wondering how many people in Metropolis use the central morgue as a landmark over either of the hospitals,” Clark said.
“I visit the morgue a lot more than I visit the hospitals,” Lois retorted. The elevator doors opened onto a carpeted hallway. Arrows on the wall in front of them pointed both ways – 1001-1020 to the left, 1021-1040 to the right. Friskin’s office was in 1039. Lois led the way.
The reception area was business-like – all noncommittal beige, a few landscapes. The young woman at the reception desk smiled brightly as Lois and Clark walked up to her.
“You must be Miss Lane and Mister Kent,” she said cheerily. “We’ll need you to fill out these forms.” She handed Clark a clipboard with papers to be filled out. Lois sat and watched as he filled out the forms.
“At least now I remember enough that I can fill these out,” Clark commented, although Lois thought he was more speaking to himself than to her. After a few minutes, he took the clipboard back to the receptionist.
She looked over the paperwork.
“You don’t have a regular doctor in Metropolis?” she asked him.
“I’ve never needed one, till now,” Clark replied.
“No clinic visits, no urgent care facilities?”
Clark shook his head. “I’ve been real healthy all my life.”
The receptionist gave him another bright smile and Lois found herself resenting the other woman’s attention on him.
‘I am not jealous,’ Lois repeated to herself under her breath. She watched as the receptionist handed Clark one more piece of paper to sign.
“This gives us permission to have access to whatever records the Neuroscience Center has on you,” the receptionist explained.
Clark nodded and went back to the sofa to sit down.
“Nervous?” Lois asked. He was picking at the gauze on his hand.
“A little,” Clark admitted.
A door beside the reception desk opened and a tall middle-aged woman with light brown hair stepped out. She smiled at them. “Miss Lane and Mister Kent, I presume? I’m Barbara Friskin.” She held her hand out to be shaken and Clark hurried to his feet to oblige.
“Clark Kent and Lois Lane,” he said, indicating Lois. Lois got to her feet as the receptionist handed Friskin the file containing Clark’s forms. Friskin glanced over the papers then tucked the file under her arm. She turned to the receptionist. “Sandy, tell the Neuroscience Center I want those records faxed to me stat, and buzz me when they come in.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Friskin gestured for Lois and Clark to enter the inner office.
The inner office was a sharp contrast to the blandness of the reception area. The walls were paneled in maple and flowered drapes framed the sheer-covered floor-to-ceiling windows. One wall was covered in built-in bookshelves. There were plants in heavy ceramic pots and flowers in Oriental looking vases. The desk and tables looked antique. A black leather analytic couch stood at one end of the room. A flowered wing chair was situated near the head of the couch. Except for the chair at the desk, the rest of the chairs didn’t look nearly as comfortable.
Friskin closed the office door behind them and indicated they should sit in the chairs in front of her desk. She settled in behind the desk.
“So, Clark, according to our phone conversation,” Friskin began conversationally, “you are recovering from global retrograde amnesia that apparently began sometime last Wednesday. You’ve had two sessions with Max Deter over at the Neurosciences Center, and I gather those didn’t go very well.”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Clark said.
“So, if your memory has come back – and from what you told me, it has – what’s the problem?”
“Not all of it’s come back,” Clark explained. “I seem to have blocked out everything about Superman.”
Friskin made a note on the pad in front of her then looked up at him. “Is it important that you remember him?”
“I’m a reporter. I wrote about him. Apparently I knew as much, if not more, about him as anyone but it’s gone… he’s gone.”
“So, why do you think you’ve blocked those memories?” Friskin asked.
“Doctor Deter said it was because I hated Superman and then felt guilty when he died,” Clark told her.
Lois tried to keep from squirming in her seat. She wasn’t used to simply sitting and listening. And hearing Clark relate Deter’s statements about him simply made her annoyed.
Friskin smiled at her discomfiture then turned her attention back to Clark. “I asked you what you thought about it, not what Max Deter said.”
Clark sat back in his chair, a sadly thoughtful look coming into his face. “I think… I know it sounds crazy, but I think I felt him die.” There was a tremor in Clark’s voice.
“Where were you when this happened?”
“I was someplace dark and cold, and I heard him scream… he was falling, burning up and then… nothing. He was gone. Everything was gone,” Clark said softly. “The next thing I remember is this old homeless guy standing over me, telling me I was going to catch my death if I didn’t get some clothes on.”
“Do you remember where you were when he found you?”
“In an alley about a block from the Fifth Street Mission,” Clark said.
“Do you know why you were in that alley?”
Clark shook his head. “The last thing I clearly remember before that was telling Lois that I was planning to do some man-on-the-street interviews while Superman was out taking care of the asteroid.”
“And if I asked you to guess why you were there?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say I’d gotten mugged. I certainly felt like I’d been through the wringer,” Clark told her. “I don’t remember ever feeling that beat up in my life. And I played football in high school and college.”
“But you’re feeling okay now?” Friskin asked.
“Except for my hand, yeah,” Clark said. “I grabbed a hot skillet without grabbing a potholder first,” he explained.
“What were you thinking when you grabbed the handle?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Clark admitted. “Then it was a few choice four letter words that my Mom wouldn’t approve of. Damn but that hurt.” There was an embarrassed chuckle in Clark’s voice.
Friskin smiled and took down more notes.
“Clark, if I were to ask Superman how it felt to be out in space trying to deal with that asteroid, what would he tell me?” Friskin asked.
Lois watched Clark swallow hard. “You want me to answer for him?” he asked.
Friskin nodded.
“He would tell you that space was cold. Even with his invulnerability, it was bitterly cold. And the asteroid was big, bigger than anything he’d had to move before. He felt like an ant trying to move a boulder. But if he didn’t do it, didn’t divert it, everyone would die. Everyone. So he tried to shove it aside. He had to. Failure was not an option. But he ran out of time, ran out of oxygen, ran out of strength.”
Lois found herself shaking at his description. Even Friskin seemed stunned at the anguish in his words. After a moment the psychiatrist nodded and made a few more notations on her pad. The intercom on Friskin’s desk buzzed and she pressed the key to turn on the speaker.
“The records from the Center just came over the fax,” Sandy said. “And Doctor Max Deter is on the line demanding to speak to you.”
“Tell Doctor Deter I’m with a patient and I’ll get back to him. Then bring me the records, please.”
After a moment, the office door opened and Sandy walked in carrying a sheaf of papers. She placed them on Friskin’s desk then hurried out. Friskin took a moment to read through the papers. She took out a fresh pad of paper from her desk and took a few notes. Then she looked up at Clark. “Doctor Deter didn’t like you very much,” Friskin said. “He indicates you were a ‘difficult’ patient.”
“I’m afraid Doctor Deter seemed more interested in taking Lois to dinner than in helping me recover my memory,” Clark told her.
She turned to Lois. “Did you agree to go to dinner with him?”
“No,” Lois told her. “And when I confronted him about that, and the things he was saying about Clark, he decided Clark’s condition was a hoax and we were out to get him.”
“Are you out to get him?” Friskin asked. Lois couldn’t read her expression behind her large glasses.
“We would need a lot more evidence that just the fact that he thought I was difficult and he wanted to take Lois out to dinner,” Clark told her. “Although I’m sure there’s some sort of ethical issue there.”
“He indicated you refused the treatment he recommended,” Friskin said.
“I did agree to be hypnotized,” Clark told her. “But I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of using drugs.”
“Deter’s published work indicates he’s gotten good results with that technique,” Friskin said. “But I agree it may be a bit aggressive in your case.” She looked at another page. “He noted that you two are engaged?”
Lois hung her head. “I told him that so he’d be more open with me about Clark’s condition.”
“He did tell you that legally, a fiancée has no more rights than a stranger?” Friskin asked.
“Actually, he didn’t,” Lois told her.
“It’s a popular misconception since hospitals will generally allow fiancées and very close friends to have access to a patient. But that’s for the patient’s peace of mind, not any legal requirement. Only legal next-of-kin has any rights when it comes to medical records and treatment decisions, and that’s only in the event the patient is so incapacitated he can’t make those decisions himself. A fiancée doesn’t even have a legal say in the disposition of the remains in the event of death.”
She turned another page and skimmed though it. “How’s your back?” she asked without looking up.
“Fine, why?” Clark said. He sounded surprised at the change in subject.
“Did Doctor Coundar ask you about the bruising and the burns on your back?”
“She asked me about the bruising,” Clark said. “I figure it must have happened when I landed in that alley. I don’t recall that she asked about burns. I don’t feel anything... well maybe a little itching.”
“Like sunburn?” Friskin asked.
“I guess so,” Clark said. “I haven’t had a sunburn since I was real little.”
“Lucky you.” Friskin took a deep breath as she closed the file folder on her desk. “I don’t know how much Doctor Deter told you about psychogenic amnesia…”
“Deter said it was a weak personality’s defense against something that did, or maybe will, happen that is so traumatic they’d rather lock away their own identity than deal with it outright,” Lois said.
“Some people would describe it that way,” Friskin said. “But the term ‘weak personality’ is highly misleading and not at all helpful. Anyone can suffer from a trauma so overwhelming, so devastating, that they can’t process it immediately or in any outwardly rational manner. That’s what’s called post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Is that what happened to him?” Lois asked.
“Possibly,” Friskin said. “In your case, Clark, I wouldn’t even rule out the possibility that there is some physical reason for your memory loss. And if it is psychogenic, I don’t know if we’ll ever find out what exactly happened that was so traumatic for you. Superman was an alien. It could well be that you did feel his last moments and that was a severe enough shock for you to block everything out until you were somewhere safe and you could process what happened. It could even have caused physical damage that didn’t show up on any of the tests Coundar did. You told me everything has come back to you, except for your memories of Superman?”
“That’s right,” Clark agreed.
“Tell me truthfully, does it bother you that you can’t remember details about him?” Friskin asked.
“It’s a little annoying,” Clark said. “But I think it bothers my parents a lot more. I mean, I would like to remember but it won’t affect my work or my life much if I don’t. But my mom and dad are really worried, even though they say they aren’t.”
“May I have your permission to contact your parents about this?”
“Sure,” Clark said. “But why?”
“I have a theory I would like to run past them,” Friskin said. “In the meantime, I want you to stop trying so hard to remember Superman. I don’t mean for you to avoid the subject, but I want you to stop worrying about the fact that you don’t remember. I’m fairly certain the information is there and you’ll be able to access it if it becomes necessary.”
“You’re sure?” Clark asked.
“There are no guarantees,” Friskin said. “But I’m fairly certain. I’d like to arrange another appointment with you early next week, to see how everything’s coming together for you. Say five o’clock next Monday?”
“Sure,” Clark agreed.
-o-o-o-
“At least she didn’t make a pass at either of us,” Lois quipped when they were well away from Friskin’s office.
“I like her,” Clark said. “I think she actually wants to help. I didn’t get that feeling with Deter.”
“So, what theory do you think she wants to run past your parents?” Lois asked.
“I have no idea,” Clark told her. “But we can ask them when we get to my place. I’m sure Mom has fixed enough to feed an army, so you’re welcome to stay for supper.”
“You’re on.”
Traffic had cleared out early so it didn’t take long until Lois was able to pull the jeep up to Clark’s apartment building. The door to Clark’s apartment was open almost before they were to the door.
“Lois, Perry’s been trying to get hold of you,” Martha announced.
“Did he say why?” Lois asked.
“Something about Luthor trying to get in touch with you,” Martha answered.
“You know where the phone is,” Clark told her.
Clark’s apartment smelled of wonderful food and her stomach had started growling in response. At the moment Lois didn’t really care why Perry was trying to get in touch with her. Besides, she had a pager. Why hadn’t he called that? Then she remembered turning it off when they went to the coffee shop to meet with Mrs. Smith.
She dialed Perry’s direct number from memory. With any luck Perry was still in his office. His relationship with his wife was rocky at best and Lois didn’t want to make things more difficult for him by calling him at home. The phone on the other end picked up.
“Lois? Where in the Sam Hill have you been?” Perry nearly bellowed when she identified herself.
“Clark and I met with a possible source and then he had an appointment with another doctor,” Lois explained. She wasn’t about to tell him she had turned her pager off and forgotten to turn it back on.
“Did the source pan out?” Perry asked.
“No,” Lois admitted.
She heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. Then, “Deter and the Center are threatening to sue if we so much as print a word against him.”
Lois’s gut clenched. She wasn’t surprised that Deter would make threats, only that he’d gotten to it so quickly. “Perry, relax,” she said, trying to get her own body to follow her advice. “Clark and I don’t have anything but a bad feeling about him personally and some hunches. Certainly nothing worth printing right now.”
“Are you planning to drop it?” he asked.
“I think it needs to cook a while,” Lois told him. She knew he wasn’t likely to order her to drop the investigation for now, but he was warning her to be extra careful of the legalities. She knew she had a tendency to leap into situations before looking.
“Okay, we’ll let it simmer for a bit,” Perry agreed. “I figure you two must have come up with something big otherwise he wouldn’t be so nervous.”
“Maybe so… Mrs. Kent said Luthor was looking for me?”
“He’s called half a dozen times, or I should say his people have called four times and he’s called personally twice.”
“What about?”
“Superman’s memorial is tomorrow at ten. I guess he’s been having some trouble putting together a list of speakers for the shindig. Nobody wants to talk to him. I think he was hoping you could change their minds.”
“He wants me to put together the speakers for tomorrow?” Lois asked. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Perry told her with a chuckle. “I handled it myself, but I guarantee Luthor’s not going to like my choices. I know he didn’t like that the Police Guild and the Firemen’s Guild took over the arrangements for the service. They’re both claiming him as one of theirs.”
“I think he would have liked that,” Lois remarked. Then she realized what she had said. ‘He would have liked that…’ He’s gone. He’s really gone.
“Do I need to call Luthor?” Lois asked. She didn’t want to talk to him. She had managed to put aside her anger at his cavalier attitude toward her and her privacy for a while, but now it threatened to bubble over into rage again.
“He’s not your boss, hon’, and he’s not your father,” Perry said. “How about we all meet here at nine and we go to the service together?”
“Sounds good. I’ll let Clark know,” Lois promised, hanging up the phone. She momentarily considered giving Luthor a call then decided against it. Perry was right, Luthor may have been the third wealthiest man in the world, but he wasn’t her employer, nor was he her father. He was a story, nothing more, and she had no intention for him to become more.
“Lois, what did Perry want?” Martha asked.
“Superman’s memorial is tomorrow morning at ten. Perry wants Clark and me at the Planet at nine and we’ll go down to the ceremony together,” Lois said. “Unless you want to come with us?”
Martha and Jonathan exchanged one of their glances. “No, that’s okay. Neither of us do crowds very well any more,” Jonathan told her.
“We’ll catch it on TV,” Martha added. Clark and his parents were already seated at the table and a place setting had been set for her. Martha had fixed spaghetti and crusty bread and it smelled marvelous. Her stomach growled again and she joined them at the table.
“Doctor Friskin called just before you got here,” Martha said. “She sounds like a nice woman.”
“I liked her, and I think she wants to help,” Clark said. “But what was the theory she wanted to run past you? She wouldn’t tell me or Lois.”
“Nothing, really,” Jonathan said. “She was just worried that we might be pressing you too hard to remember things.”
“She thinks that the pieces that are still missing will come back when you’re ready,” Martha said. “And if they don’t… well maybe it’s for the best.”
“But it’s Superman he’s not remembering,” Lois protested.
“We know, Lois,” Martha assured her. “We know.”
Lois and Clark quietly filled his parents in on the rest of their day, only briefly mentioning the issues with Deter and the Neuroscience Center. She didn’t want to worry them more than they already were.
“By the way, Deter and his lawyers were threatening Perry if we say anything,” Lois told them.
“You must have hit a raw nerve,” Jonathan commented, taking more salad.
“We must have,” Clark agreed. “So, when do we break into his office?” He seemed positively cheery about the prospect.
“Clark!” Martha sounded astonished.
“I figure they’ll be watching for something like that,” Lois told them. “And they do say that discretion is the better part of valor. So we should probably let them cool off a little before we go after them again.”
Clark’s eyes widened and he reached over to press a hand against her forehead. “No fever… Who are you and where is my knows-no-fear partner, Lois Lane?”
As Clark had done earlier, she smiled and brushed away the hand on her forehead. Then she let her expression turn more solemn. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve know I’ve gotten a little reckless, knowing Superman was around to save the day. But he’s gone…” He’s gone. “And we’re on our own.”
