Wednesday again and I think this part is a little longer. There is quite a lot plot investigation in this scene, but also a fair amount of family stuff ... and definitely no Thomas.
Feedback would be very welcome.
Previously in My Wife The Boss:
“Don't exaggerate!” Lois threw a narrow-eyed look at Clark. “People were just grateful she was there to help. Besides, Ultrawoman wasn't real.”
“She was real to me, honey.”
“Yes, but you knew the woman behind the costume. Those others were just dazzled by the powers.”
Clark laughed again. “I doubt it was the powers that attracted them.”
“Mom looked hot?” Matt had seen the pink suit, and while he thought it was cool, it was clear by his wide eyed stare that he had difficulty imagining his mother wearing it.
Clark flashed his wife a broad grin. “Yes she did!”
Walking quickly toward the elevator, Lois decided to put an end to this inappropriate conversation. “Would you two stop? In case you've forgotten, we're here to work.” She hid her smile. “I'm glad you got here on time, Matt. Let's go see if the others have arrived.”
*****
Continued ...
Chapter Eight
Puzzle Pieces
James' apartment lived up to Lois' description, but it was more comfortable than pristine, with sports memorabilia displayed around the room, while a large desk with a high-tech computer sat near the window and computer-science magazines were stacked on the coffee table. Clark found himself agreeing with Lois' theory that Jim actually preferred being single.
“Hi, guys. Come on in and sit down.” James gestured to the various chairs and couches. “Bill and I just got back from the park and Jed called from his cellphone to say he was on his way. Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee? Beer?”
“Beer would be good,” Matt said, perking up, clearly forgetting who was listening.
“Coffee, thanks,” Lois said at the same time as her son, then turned her head as she glared at Matt. “What? Have you been drinking?”
Matt's complexion reddened, but his chin set in a firm line. “No! I've had a pizza and a milkshake. That's it. And what's the big deal anyway? Beer doesn't affect me!”
Lois' brow wrinkled in a frown. “And how would you know that?”
“You told me it doesn't affect Dad,” Matt said, busily trying to explain, yet there was a mulish sound to his voice.
“I don't remember mentioning that.” Lois was looking skeptical and glanced at Clark, as if inviting him to jump into the conversation.
Clark's lips quirked as he tried to stifle a chuckle. Lois would not be amused, but he was remembering a time when he was fourteen years old and he and Billy Irig had sneaked into Billy's father's stash of beer which they'd found in a cooler in one of the outhouses. They'd watched their fathers sit in the yard and quench their thirst many times on a summer evening, and like all adventurous boys, they'd decided to sample the forbidden fruit. Billy quickly became inebriated, but even then, alcohol had little effect on him – except a slight headache the next day.
Playing the outraged father would seem a bit hypocritical now, and Matt was right -- it wasn't like he'd get drunk. Lois, however, wouldn't see things that way. She had a thing about alcohol, and knowing her upbringing, Clark didn't blame her. She might have a glass or two of wine, but she didn't indulge in drinking sprees, and would certainly not encourage her children to do so.
Meanwhile, Matt was still defending himself.
“Come on, Mom. You've told us so many stories about Dad, you have to have mentioned that sometime. You've just forgotten.”
Lois looked over at Clark again, her stare becoming more irritated and he decided that cooperation was the best course of action for now.
“Matt, that's not the point. Answer your mother's question. Have you been drinking beer ... now or at any time in the past?”
Matt shifted from one leg to the other, quite aware that lying to his father wasn't exactly an option. “Not tonight. I might have had one or two before ... but I don't drink, Mom. Not often. My friends do it from time to time, but I don't ... there's no need to worry about me.”
Lois wasn't giving up easily. “It's illegal to sell alcohol to minors.”
Matt looked horrified. “We didn't buy it, Mom. Mostly I just had a beer at ... my friends' houses.”
Clark couldn't help but notice the furtive glance that passed between Matt and Jimmy, or Jimmy's blanched face, giving him a fair idea which 'friend' Matt was not mentioning. He'd have to have a word with their longtime friend to make sure he wasn't leading Matt astray, though Jimmy was surely a more responsible teacher than some of Matt's school friends.
“I think I need to speak to your friend's parents ...” Lois remarked dangerously, making it clear to Clark that she'd missed the nuances. He would hate to be in Jim's shoes once she found out, so perhaps it was better that he dealt with this particular problem.
“Lois, come on.” Henderson joined in the conversation, preempting Clark. “If it's only the odd occasion, Matt isn't doing anything more than most of his peers. They're kids, and kids experiment. Believe me, there are worse things they could be doing.”
“Honey,” Clark said, laying a soothing hand on her arm. “Bill's right. Besides, this isn't the place to hash this out.”
Lois nodded, but didn't look totally convinced, and Matt swallowed, guessing he'd only dodged his mother's bullet for a time. At least the vibe he was getting from his father didn't seem too threatening.
“OK,” James said, a tentative grin hovering on his mouth. “Coffees all round, or would you like Pepsi, Matt?”
“Pepsi ... if Mom approves ...”
Clark's shoulders tensed at his son's show of defiance. He was happy to give Matt some slack. After all, the boy hadn't been in the best of places since the bombing, but he wasn't prepared to see him mouth off to his mother. “Matt, don't push your luck.” He was mollified to see Matt blush guiltily.
“Sorry. Pepsi will be good, Uncle Jim.”
Thankfully, while James was playing host, the buzzer on his intercom sounded. Jed Peterson had arrived, and Matt's transgressions were pushed aside for more pressing matters.
Sergeant Peterson strolled into the room, his loping stride at odds with his quick gaze as he scanned the people in the room. Over the last few weeks, Clark had learned there was a very intelligent mind behind the policeman's easy manner.
He tensed, and it was clear he wasn't totally pleased.
“OK, I don't mind talking in front of Inspector Henderson. If we've never met, at least his reputation preceded him, but who's this?” Jed nodded in the direction of Matt, who was moodily staring into his Pepsi.
Lois rose, bridling at Peterson's tone. She'd called this meeting and clearly felt it was her prerogative to invite who she chose, but then, it was Jed's privilege to leave. Clark decided to jump in before matters got out of hand.
“Jed, this is our son Matt.” With a slight shift of his head, Clark gestured for Matt to stand. “He was present at the ceremony when the bomb went off, and Lois and I felt another pair of eyes would be useful. He's a responsible kid, and you can trust him to treat everything he hears as confidential.” Clark was praying that Matt would drop the sullen teenager mode.
<Come on, Matt. Work with me here. This is too important to mess up.> He added through the mind link and was thankful when Matt stood up and held out his hand to the detective.
There was a slight shrug of Jed's shoulders as he shook hands with the boy, but he wasn't ready to give up his suspicious attitude so easily. “You do realize that I'm way out on a limb here? If my bosses knew I was talking to the press, and particularly you, Kent, I'd be on suspension quicker than you could blink. I can't afford to have anyone blabbing about this meeting.”
Matt offered Jed his most trusting smile. “Sergeant Peterson, I might just be a kid to you, but I've lived all my life with Lane and Kent. Believe me, I know how and when to keep a secret.”
Clark relaxed as Peterson seemed to accept his son's word. Like his mother, Matt could be very persuasive when he chose, and even Lois looked satisfied as she sat back down.
“OK, if we're all agreed,” Lois said, checking everyone's response, “Let's get this meeting on the road.” And without any more preamble, she turned her stare on Peterson. “What have the police discovered?”
“I'm not sure I can divulge anything, Ms. Lane,” Jed replied woodenly, sitting down in the nearest chair and staring out the window. His long frame appeared hunched in the spindly seat.
“No?” Lois' eyebrows rose and her mouth tightened in the firm line Clark recognized as foreshadowing a tirade. Yet she held herself back. “Then why are you here, if not to help find out who is bombing our city?”
“My bosses think they've already done that.” The policeman still didn't look Lois in the eye.
But Lois was sharp as a tack. “Oh? That means they've identified the street vendor. That was quick ... for the police.”
Those words brought Jed's head round to Lois, and irritation, edged with grudging admiration for her quick understanding, glinted in his eyes. But still he didn't answer.
“Jed, would you tell us what you can?” Clark mediated, keeping his voice calm, though neither did he relish the idea of dragging information out of Jed like pulling teeth.
Bill Henderson sat forward in his seat, his hands clasped loosely. “Look, Peterson, I know this is against most of what you've learned in the force, but you said you're aware of my reputation, and I tell you I would never have had such a good closure record if it hadn't been for these two.” He pointed at Lois and Clark. “Lane and Kent are trustworthy. Everyone in this room is, and more than that, they're very good at their jobs ... the best.” Bill grinned at his old friends. “That's something I wouldn't have admitted when I was in the MPD, but it's true ... and I think you know that, Jed, or you wouldn't have come.”
“Thank you, Bill.” Lois had the grace to smile generously, confirming to Clark that her relationship with the former police chief had changed over the years he'd been gone. “Jed, I promise this conversation is off the record. I might be a hard-bitten reporter, but I know when situations are more important than getting the scoop. Yes, even me!” Lois reiterated at James' snort. “Jed, you can speak freely here, and I guarantee it won't be repeated in print ... not until we solve this case. We'd be very grateful for any help you can give us.”
There was a tense moment or two before Jed visibly eased up. “We got lucky with the guy's identity. There was enough left of him to get a DNA sample and he's on record. It turned out he'd been arrested for harassing a female a few years ago. Nothing like rape or anything. He was drunk at the time, so he pleaded guilty to drunken and disorderly conduct and sexual misconduct. The female in question actually dropped the charge, but his details were never removed from the sex-offenders' register. He was one Robert Tanner, a down and out who frequented some of the many slum areas around Metropolis.”
“You got an address for him?” Henderson asked, his voice and manner reverting to laconic.
Jed shook his head. “No fixed abode, that we could find ... unless you count a couple of homeless shelters.”
“What about motive?” This time it was James who took up the questioning. “For blowing up the hospital, I mean.”
“We're still looking into that,” Jed answered. “This investigation is ongoing.”
“Do the police believe he had an accomplice?” Henderson asked, drawing Jed's attention back to himself.
“Hey, what is this? Good cop, bad cop?” Jed tried to chuckle, but failed miserably. “Because you don't have it down right, you know. One of you is supposed to be sympathetic.” He turned his head away, his glance searching the moving shadows outside the window where the wind buffeted the trees, then he heaved an audible sigh. “My bosses believe he was working alone ...”
There was another long silence, during which Clark felt Lois' eyes bore into him. He cleared his throat and then pressed on. “If he was such a bum, where did he get the concession stand from? Or his merchandise?” Clark clenched his hands to keep them still, not wanting to advertise his tension. “According to what I've managed to pick up from witnesses, he was selling food and wasn't dressed like a bum. And where did he get the explosives from?” Finishing his run of questions, he paused to breathe deeply. “Jed, I'm not interested in what your bosses believe, but I'd like to know what you think.”
“A fanatic with a grievance can acquire whatever he needs ... one way or another,” Jed explained, struggling to keep his tone even.
“Have there been any reports of these things being stolen?” Clark followed up quickly. He was aware Jed was feeling intimidated, but couldn't afford to ease off. This bomber was still out there ... he was certain of it.
“No,” Jed replied curtly. “As for the explosives, you can buy the ingredients cheaply in many stores. He could have stolen money, or even got himself a casual job. We're checking that out, but this is a big city.”
Henderson stretched out his legs, allowing his body to settle in his chair, and when he spoke, his tone was moderated. “True, about the explosives, but would this guy have had the know-how to put the explosives together?”
“I think so,” Jed said, sounding on more solid ground. “He wasn't always a bum. He taught engineering at New Troy Tech before the booze got to him. I think he'd have had the brains.”
Clark carefully placed his coffee mug on an end table and leaned forward. “Jed, if you know that much about him, then you're bound to have discovered if he had some sort of motive to go on a bombing spree ... assuming that he did.”
“Bombing spree?” Jed tipped his head to the side. “We haven't linked him with the letter bombs, though it's possible he is the perp. We're still searching into his background for a motive, but getting fired from his job and his wife running off with his best friend might have made him a little sore. Add in the drink, and that's quite a cocktail for him going off the rails.”
“Going totally loco, more like,” Jimmy interjected with a grunt.
“True, though I wouldn't quite use those terms. When did all this happen?” Clark persisted, still not convinced, though he had no firm reason to doubt what Jed was saying.
“About fifteen years ago. The guy has been going downhill slowly for years and has been on the skids for about ten of those years, as far as we can trace.”
“So what set him off after all this time?” Henderson spoke up again. “If I remember my profiling courses correctly, there's usually some sort of trigger.”
“That we don't know yet.” Jed gave Henderson a long stare. “Look, we don't have all the answers yet, but my bosses are being pushed to wrap this thing up quickly and it seems Tanner might fit the bill. The mayor's office doesn't want a panic ...”
“But you're not so sure?” Clark asked, intuitively. He smiled briefly at the young policeman. “I don't mean to give you a hard time, Jed. Yet I doubt you're completely happy with the direction the commissioner is going. I can also understand the mayor wanting results, but this is much too dangerous a case to get railroaded onto the wrong track. Wouldn't you agree?”
“Yes!” The one word burst from Jed, almost of its own accord. He looked around abashed, but then continued, as if once started, he couldn't stem the tide. “I'm not saying the force has got it wrong, but apart from that one incident of groping a woman, Tanner's never been in trouble. Not that that means anything, but, like you say, there are too many questions left unanswered,” he concluded quietly.
“Like, if he has no permanent address, where did he make the bombs? He'd had to have some sort of cover, and privacy ... and, if the concession stand belonged to someone else, which employer would hire a homeless man?” Henderson wondered speculatively, then broke the intensity of the moment by asking, “James, you got anymore of that lethal liquid you pass off as coffee? I need a drink, and I'm sure Jed could use one.”
“Right. Coffees all round.” James said, standing and heading for the kitchen, where he'd prepared a large pot of coffee. He knew how much Lois loved her java when on a hot investigation, and this evening ought to have been a chance for her to be a crime reporter again. Yet, surprisingly, after her first input, she'd kept silent.
The coffee break and the inconsequential chat that went with it had the effect Henderson, the experienced interrogator, had sought. When the group returned to brainstorming ideas about the case, Jed was no longer hostile, but had become part of the team.
Draining his cup and sending a silent thank you to Bill for his insight, Clark once more opened up the questioning. “Have there been any developments on what type of detonator was used, Jed?”
“We found traces of a cellphone ...”
“So the bomb could have been detonated remotely?” James interrupted eagerly.
“I guess, or Tanner could have used it. There's just not enough of it left to pick up any traces, though the forensic team is still working on it ... checking for any DNA or even prints,” Jed replied, relaxing his height into his chair as best he could.
“Do down and outs use cellphones?” Lois said at last.
“Some do. They pick them up second-or thirdhand at the shelters. The charity workers try to persuade them to carry one, just in case they get in trouble. You'd be surprised how many of them get beaten up,” Matt explained, blushing a little at butting into the adults' conversation. “Not all of them want one, though. Most of them like their privacy, and they don't trust the authorities.”
Jed craned his head to check over the teenager who had chosen to sit near the door, a little way back from the rest of the group. “He's right. But how would a kid know so much about vagrants?”
Matt's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red and he threw an apologetic look toward his parents. “Actually, I've worked at a couple of the shelters. Mom and Dad encourage me to help others less fortunate than myself.”
Again Jed's brows quirked in surprise as he directed a question at the Kents. “That's commendable, but aren't you afraid to let your son loose in such dangerous parts of the city?”
Lois chose to answer and, at least, she could stick vaguely to the truth. Matt's rescues were still being monitored. “Sergeant, we'd never wittingly expose our children to danger, as I'm sure you know. Mostly, Clark or some other adult is with Matt when he's helping out.”
“Sorry. I didn't think,” Jed admitted sheepishly in the face of Lois' indignation. He quickly changed the subject back to the business in hand. “So, Matt, have you heard any gossip about Bob Tanner and the bombings when you've been working at those shelters? We've tried to ask questions but you know what it's like. These homeless people clam up whenever the police come around. We could try going undercover, but they seem to have second sight when it comes to cops ... not to mention, my bosses think it's a waste of police time. They believe they've got their bomber.”
Clark groaned internally. He was hoping the police would be keeping an open mind, yet he wasn't totally surprised. “Matt's been busy with school exams, so hasn't been down at the shelters, but if you give me the names of the places Tanner frequented, I could check them out. I do some charity work myself, so perhaps they'll open up to me.”
“Be my guest, Kent. The shelters he used regularly are the St. Andrews Mission and The Rest and Be Thankful, near the old Steelworks. You might be wasting your time, but it's worth a shot.”
Matt had been deep in thought, but he suddenly spoke up again. “There was someone used their cellphone when I touch ... when I saw Jor-El touch down ... and the bomb went off almost immediately.” He ducked his head, hoping to hide his agitation at his near mistake, but he went on regardless, believing he could be onto something important. “Remember, I told you about it, Dad ... Uncle Jimmy, when we got back home from helping out.”
“I'm sure there were a lot of people using their cells,” Jed remarked, but not unkindly.
“I know, that's what Uncle Jimmy said! But there was something about this guy ... only I'm not sure what. He looked uptight. Then all hell broke loose and I forgot about him.” Matt looked somewhat crestfallen, however, his father wasn't so ready to ignore his point this time.
“But it could be a clue,” Clark said thoughtfully. “It's important we rule nothing out at this time. Can you remember what the guy looked like?” he asked, looking pointedly at Matt, reminding him that he'd have to hedge a little. He just hoped Matt remembered the ethos: stick as close to the truth as possible.
Furrowing his brows, Matt seemed to search the floor for inspiration. “I only saw him for a second ... before I was distracted by the explosion.”
“Concentrate, Matt. Cast your mind back,” Clark said softly, helping his son as much as was possible. Matt had inherited his power of recall, but hadn't explored it fully -- yet.
Matt looked up into his dad's steady gaze. “The guy was kinda' ordinary, I think. Medium height, but pretty thin. Narrow face, but I didn't see his hair, 'cause he was wearing a hood. Yeah, a dark jacket with a hood ...”
“Do you remember what color?” Clark prompted.
“I'm not sure ... Maybe black, or gray ... with another color, I think ...”
A picture of a man popped into Clark's head ... a stranger he'd met by chance only this evening. Could it be the same guy? There was no reason why it should be ... and yet, his gut instinct was screaming out.
“What other color?” Clark prodded again.
“I don't know. I can't remember.” Matt's voice was flustered and his eyes bleak.
“Hey, Kent, give the kid a break,” Jed suggested, clearly shocked by Clark's tactics. “He only saw the guy for a second. I'd say Matt did pretty well remembering that much ... and it probably has no connection to our bomber.”
Clark's face paled. He hadn't meant to bully Matt, but he sensed this was important. But Jed was right -- he had crossed the line. He was letting his interest in this case evolve into an obsession, and knowing his reasons didn't absolve his coercion of his son.
“I'm sorry, son,” Clark said, his expression full of contrition, and not only for Jed's benefit. “You're doing your best and I had no right to sound so harsh,” he added aloud, then changed to telepathy. <I am sorry ... but I think you are onto something. Jed wouldn't understand, but your description could fit the stranger who bumped into me in the park tonight; the guy I'm fairly sure was watching Mom, the girls and me get into the car.>
<Someone was watching you, Dad?> Matt asked.
Inside Clark's head, Matt's young voice cracked with emotion, and something akin to fear.
<Matt, we'll go into this later at home.> Reverting to speech, Clark announced for public consumption, “You know, I think we've pretty much covered everything we need to for now. Matt and I will check out those shelters. Jim, perhaps you could call on your sources ... see if the name Bob Tanner means anything to them.”
“Sure thing, CK.” James answered quickly, a tiny, awed smile turning up the corner of his mouth. He was still getting used to this special link that Clark had with Matt and was pretty certain that he'd just witnessed its use.
Henderson, on the other hand, had no doubt that some unspoken exchange had taken place and was anxious to know just what it might be. “Lois, I came back here with James, and Sheila has the car, so do you think you could give me a lift home?” He looked pointedly at his sometime adversary, now turned friend.
Lois smiled knowingly in return. She too was eager to find out what had gone on between father and son. Judging by the way Clark had interrogated Matt, she was sure he was onto something, but she had no idea what. Other than the name of the alleged bomber, Jed hadn't given them many leads. There was only one way to find out.
“Sure, Bill. OK, I guess that wraps up the meeting for now.” Lois gathered her things together and stood. “Jed, thanks for the information. You might not think it's much, but it does give us some clues to follow ...”
“True, Jed,” Henderson added. “You'd be surprised how much Lane and Kent can find out from next to nothing. James here isn't such a slouch either.”
“Thanks, Bill, but I learned from the best,” James said, grinning. “Lane and Kent, the hottest team in town.”
Lois joined in the laughter, but was secretly thankful to Henderson for remembering a time when she and Clark had been the pair everyone wanted to scoop ... and not just for Clark's sake. She'd decided to take a backseat during the questioning, giving Clark the lead, but she'd felt her investigative juices flow, and couldn't wait to get home to confer with Clark. And Bill clearly shared her curiosity.
Peterson stood to take his leave, but he appeared a little agitated. Everyone waited, and finally he spoke. “You all know it's important to keep quiet about my involvement with you .” When everyone nodded in assent, he relaxed. “Please, don't get in touch with me ... or no more than you would for a quote. No one at the precinct will let you speak with me, but I will get back to you.”
“Sure thing, Jed. We do understand,” Clark assured him. “We might have come on a bit heavy, but you have helped.”
Clark held out his hand to Jed, and was happy when the young policeman took it.
“I'll be in touch,” Jed said, shaking Clark's hand. “Oh, and I think you'll be able to print Tanner's name soon. I'm sure the commissioner will be issuing a statement any day now. I'll try to warn you before it happens.” With those final words, he left the apartment, quickly followed by the others.
Lois turned at the door. “Hey, James. Flattering the boss will buy you a lot of slack, but I still need your story on the memorial service. You are duty reporter on the city desk tonight,” Lois reminded him. Checking her watch, she added, “There's still time for you to make the online deadline.”
“Sure thing, Chief,” James said with a wink. “I won't forget.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, James.”
The door closed.
*****
To Be Continued ...
