The Bombshell
Chapter Four
Lois pulled into the parking lot of the motel at eight-forty and picked up her cell phone. On the off chance that the girl from Krypton might be trying to listen in, she left the radio on to keep Robin from hearing the conversation. Jimmy answered on the second ring.
“Daily Planet newsroom, Olsen speaking.”
“Jimmy, it’s Lois. What did you get on that assignment?”
“The general question or the specific question?”
“Let’s cover the general one first.”
“You be careful, Lois,” he said. “The psych professor I spoke to at Metropolis U said that adults who were sexually abused as kids grow up expecting to be betrayed. They have serious trust issues, especially with anyone in any kind of position of authority. They also suffer from extreme lack of self-esteem, so either they can’t form long-term relationships or they tend to bounce from one relationship to another, and they tend to get real close real fast. And no matter which end of the reaction spectrum they’re at, they don’t take rejection well. That was the doctor’s description, not mine. Most of them eventually learn to cope with their problems, but they can’t resolve them without professional help.”
“What about violent reactions? Can they be provoked easily?”
“Sometimes they act like whipped puppies and sometimes they act like rattlesnakes who’ve been poked once too often. And there’s no reliable way to tell which way they’re going to go. The puppies can lash out without warning and the rattlers can cower like frightened mice, and they can flip from one extreme to the other in two seconds. Their target is the person they think is causing their immediate problem, and they don’t think through their actions like an adult. They can be either very intimidated or really scary.”
“Thanks, Jim. What about the specific item?”
“The woman you asked me to check on?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “She’s a ghost.”
“A what?”
“Sorry. That’s my dad’s term for someone who doesn’t exist.”
“So there’s no such person as who I asked about?”
“No birth certificate or registration that I can find under that name, not in any of the Southeast states from 1962 through 1972. And because I don’t have a name I can track down, there’s no Social Security number for her either. No current driver’s license, no bank records, no purchase of real property or securities, nothing. But if she’s from way far back in the woods, where they don’t have all that many government reporting agencies, there might not be much documentation on her life and she might be legit. Sometimes people just don’t have leave a paper trail.”
“You’re telling me you don’t have anything?”
“I didn’t say that. I found a Robin McGyver answering your description who showed up about three years ago in Tennessee. She had several credits as a background singer in some Nashville recording sessions, but she tore up a studio when a drunken piano player tried to put some moves on her between takes. Broke his arm pretty badly, too, and he lost about two months worth of work, so no other studio would hire her. She was lucky there were no charges filed.”
“Where’d you get that info?”
She heard paper rattle through the phone. “The paper has old copies of the Music City News down in the morgue. Perry’s idea, I think. I got a quick summary from the Nashville Gazette, and the details from the News. Looks like Robin’s temper tantrum put a stop to a promising vocal career. The article said she wasn’t quite star quality, but she had a wide range and a powerful voice, plus she could blend with almost anyone in almost any style. Some people thought she could make a good living in the studio or as a backing singer on the road for a long time. But reading between the lines, I get the impression that she scared some other people and it didn’t exactly work out for her.”
“So she’s kind of touchy.”
He guffawed. “That’s one way to put it, I guess. After that incident, she apparently moved to Kentucky and worked as an office temp in Lexington until some time last month.”
“Who got beat up this time?”
“Nobody, as far as I can tell. The woman at the temp agency told me that Robin said she was moving to the East Coast. I can’t find any Robin McGyver on any bus or airline passenger lists, but a woman named Loren Glass, who matches the McGyver woman’s description, was on that commuter plane that crashed yesterday morning.”
“Hmm. Have they identified the victims yet?”
“Yes, but they’re missing one body.”
“Let me guess.”
“If you’re thinking Loren Glass, you’re right. I checked backwards on her because she’s the missing body. That’s how I found out about Robin McGyver. Oh, and get this. One of the other victims in the plane crash was the bass player at the session where Robin went ballistic.”
“And what was that guy’s name?”
“Interesting that you assume it was a man. After all, Carol Kaye played on a lot of Beach Boys recordings, and she did that great bass line intro for the Barney Miller TV show theme.”
“So I’m a closet masculinist. Give me the bass player’s name.”
”Um, lemme see, the guy’s name is Marshall Pippen.”
“A guy, huh? You’re just too funny for your own good.”
Jimmy chuckled. “Sometimes you just hang your chain out there with a ‘Yank Me’ sign on it.”
Lois huffed at him, then softened. “Thanks, Jim. You’re a big help.”
“I aim to please.”
“Good. Can you keep looking? I think there’s more to find. But be careful, okay?”
“I will. And I agree with you. This gal may be a ghost, but she’s left tracks somewhere. If it’s anywhere on the Web, I’ll find it.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. I appreciate it.”
“Take care, Lois. I’d hate to deal with CK if you got hurt.”
She closed the phone and sat back, letting the music bounce around the inside of the Jeep. If this Pippen guy had recognized Robin, what difference did it make? What link, if any, existed between Robin and the plane crash? What possible motive could she have to kill all those people? Or had she made a mistake with her powers and accidentally caused the crash? Surely she wasn’t as familiar with them as Clark was with his.
She didn’t have enough information, and the only one who could give it to her was in room 217. She sighed and got out of the car.
*****
Lois knocked at the motel room at four minutes before nine, not expecting the girl to be ready early. Sure enough, the door popped opened as if by magic, and Lois heard the ‘whoosh’ of super-speed movement in the room.
She glanced in either direction down the hallway, then stepped in and closed the door. “Robin, you really shouldn’t move that fast in public. Someone might notice.”
The girl stopped to put on her shoes. “Already checked. Ain’t nobody in the rooms on either side and the rest of ‘em on this floor either sleepin’ in or they’s already gone.”
Despite the fact that they were close to the same age, Lois couldn’t help but think of Robin as a girl. Even though she was physically mature, her emotional and intellectual development was more like a young teenager’s. She’d have to be careful not to upset her.
Hopefully a large helping of carbohydrates would keep her smiling. “I thought we’d head over to the International House of Breakfast. How does that sound to you?”
Robin’s face lit up like a traffic light. “IHOB? Ah love that place! They still got them all-you-can-eat stacks o’ silver dollar pancakes?”
Lois relaxed and returned the smile. “Let’s go find out.”
*****
They got a corner booth away from the thinning breakfast crowd. Robin was thrilled to learn that her desired meal was available, so as soon as they waitress brought the first plate, she dug in with gusto. Lois decided to get into the spirit of things and ordered a Western omelet without onions.
As Robin began drowning her third plate of pancakes in syrup, Lois leaned close and whispered, “I think they’re starting to wonder where you’re putting all that food.”
Robin glanced up. “In mah belly. Why?”
Lois considered the best way to tell her she was drawing attention to herself. “You know, Clark doesn’t have to eat very often, as long as he gets enough sunlight on a regular basis. He and I were out West on an assignment not long ago and went to a steak place in the Texas panhandle, the one that advertises the seventy-two ounce steak that’s free if you can eat it with all the side dishes, and I asked him if he could finish it in the two hours they give you.”
Robin speared a mound of pancake and stuffed it in her mouth. “Love them little things. So, did Clark eat the steak?”
Lois smiled. “He said he could do it easily, except that they pay special attention to anyone who accomplishes that feat, and he didn’t want the publicity.”
“Too bad.” She gulped down her third glass of milk. “They woulda paid a bunch o’ money to say that Superman ate there.”
Lois glanced around to make sure no one had heard them. “Robin, please don’t mention that in public. It’s supposed to be a secret.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry.”
“Anyway, what I was trying to say was that if you keep eating like that, these people are going to remember you.”
Robin suddenly stopped eating and sat back. She seemed to seemed to shrink in on herself. “Gotcha. I guess I’m ‘bout full now.”
Lois tried to sound sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but we don’t want you in the news any more than you want to be there.”
“Huh. Funny, since y’all are both reporters.”
Lois sipped her tea. “We report the news, Robin, but we try not to make it.”
The girl slowly nodded. Just then, the perky waitress materialized beside their table. “Oh! Looks like we finally filled you up, huh?”
Robin smiled and rubbed her stomach. “Yeah, guess so.”
“Great! Would either of you ladies like a little something to top off your meal?”
Robin groaned theatrically. Lois smiled and shook her head. “No dessert, thank you. If we could just have the check, please?”
The waitress dug into her apron. “Sure! You can pay at the front door as you go out. You ladies have a good day!”
Robin watched her walk to another table. “She’s pretty good. Not too perky, keeps the drink glasses full, and smiles at the customers. You give her a real nice tip, y’hear?”
Lois dropped a five-dollar bill flanked by three ones on the table. “I’m on it. What would you like to do now?”
A cunning expression stole over the girl’s face. “Let’s go see Superman.”
“Robin!” Lois sighed. The girl just wouldn’t learn not to mention that name in public. “Can we talk about it in the Jeep?”
Robin must have realized that Lois was irritated. She looked like a nine-year-old who’d just been forcibly corrected in church. “Fine! We’ll talk in the freakin’ Jeep.”
Lois stopped at the register to pay the breakfast bill, but Robin slammed out through the restaurant’s double doors and clomped to the passenger side to wait. Lois smiled and accepted her change and hurried to unlock the Jeep before Robin wrenched the door off.
As Lois approached, she heard Robin muttering to herself. There was a sudden lull in the freeway traffic and she understood the words “…snap her stupid neck like a dry stick if she don’t quit talkin’ to me like I was some idiot kid who…”
The rest of it was covered by background noise. But what she’d heard had been chilling enough.
If the girl were thwarted or felt sufficiently insulted, Robin might kill someone. And at the moment, the person thwarting her and patronizing her was Lois.
*****
Martha stopped and put her hands on her hips, satisfied with the vacuuming. “Clark? Do you need any help with the laundry?”
“No thanks, Mom. I’ve got it.”
“Do you have room for a couple of your father’s things?”
“Dress clothes?”
Martha grinned. “Your father hasn’t worn anything approaching formal since you and Lois got married. No, this is a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and two pairs of socks.”
Clark walked into the living area from the bedroom carrying a clothes basket. “Sure. Where are they?”
She wadded up the aforementioned garments in a large ball and fired a jump shot at the basket. Clark leaned forward and to his left to catch them. “Good shot, Mom! That’s two more points for you.”
She shook her head. “Are you kidding? That was no layup, that was three from downtown!”
They shared a laugh as the front door opened to admit Robin and Lois. Martha beamed at the tall blonde. “Oh, hello, Robin! Have you had breakfast yet?”
Robin nodded cautiously. “Yes, ma’am, Lois done already fed me.” The girl turned to Clark and said, “You got time to chat, Clark?”
Martha understood immediately. “Clark, I’ll take those clothes down and get them started. You and Robin just sit down and have that conversation.”
Clark protested. “Mom, I’ll do it. They’re mostly mine anyway.”
“Nonsense! I’ll just take them down to the basement laundry room. If your father comes back before I do, just tell him where I am.”
Robin turned and stared at the wall for a moment, then said, “He’s comin’ in the front entrance right now.”
Martha hid her negative reaction to Robin’s blatant use of her powers. She might be wrong, but it seemed the girl had little regard for the privacy of others.
“Thank you, Robin. I’ll let him carry the heavy stuff, then.”
Robin grinned warily. “That’s a right good idea, ma’am.”
Huh, thought Martha. She’s a lot more polite today than she was yesterday. Maybe she was just having a bad day. A plane crash could do that to a person.
Martha picked up the basket and headed towards the front door, but Robin beat everyone to it and pulled it open. Martha beamed at the girl. “Thank you, Robin. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
The girl nodded ever so slightly. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Kent.”
Very polite, and very thoughtful. The girl had come a long way in less than twenty-four hours.
Martha wondered what she really wanted.
*****
Clark was very pleased at Robin’s apparent change of attitude. Hopefully she wouldn’t be stripping naked in front of him again any time soon.
Make that never, not ever, not at any time whatsoever.
The blonde girl shut the door and grinned at him. “Now that the three of us’re alone, can we talk?”
“Of course. Would you like something to drink?”
Robin shook her head. “Naw. Ah mean, no thanks. Just wanna talk to you.”
Clark gestured at the easy chair across from the sofa. “Then let’s talk.”
Lois sat on the sofa as Robin arranged herself in the chair. Clark smiled at her and sat down beside his wife. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions about Krypton.”
The girl shrugged. “Maybe later. What I wanna ask you is, can you help me be a superhero like you?”
Clark felt Lois stiffen beside him. He could tell at once that she was stunned by the question. And he wasn’t far behind her. Of all the things he’d imagined Robin asking, this wasn’t one of them.
He blinked and took control of his thoughts. “That’s – an interesting question. May I ask how you came to this decision?”
She shrugged. “I seen you out there on the runway when the plane went down, and I watched when you was talking to folks afterwards. They look up t’you, don’t they?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose they do.”
She smiled and nodded back. “I want that too. I wanna be somebody. I wanna be looked up to instead o’ bein’ invisible or looked down on.” She leaned forward. “Can you help me?”
Clark felt a hand on his arm, so he turned to look at Lois. Her eyes were trying to tell him something. Although he couldn’t decipher it, he understood that Lois thought it was important.
Whatever it was, it would have to wait a few moments. He turned back to Robin. “You know, that’s a very important decision, Robin, and it’s something you should really think about.”
“Have thought about it. Most all last night.”
“Okay, but yesterday you told my parents and me that you didn’t want to be super in front of people.”
“Yeah, but that was afore I knowed who you was ‘n’ how y’all live. If you can be Superman part of the time and Clark Kent the rest, how come I can’t be Superwoman or whatever just when I want?”
Clark frowned in thought. “Tell you what, Robin. Why don’t you and I go somewhere we won’t be disturbed and do some super-powered evaluation on you?”
She frowned in confusion. “Come again?”
Clark smiled. The idea made more and more sense as he considered it. “You and I will go somewhere and test your control over your powers. I’d like to know how strong you are in contrast to me, and whether or not you have some abilities I don’t have.”
Her face cleared and she smiled. “Y’know, that ain’t a half-bad idea.” She rose fluidly. “How’s about we go right now?”
Clark stood also. “In a minute.” He turned to his wife, who was still seated. “Lois, do you mind? This is pretty important.”
She stood and nodded. “I know. You two go ahead. I’ve got some errands to run anyway.” She leaned in and kissed him lightly, then smiled. “Have a good time. And don’t break anything that people will miss.”
Robin laughed. “Thanks, Lois. See ya for supper.”
“Actually, Robin, I have an errand to run, so supper will likely be a bit late tonight unless Clark cooks it when he gets back. Clark, could you meet me at Bernie’s office when you’re done working with Robin?”
“Sure thing, hon.”
Clark pushed his trepidation down. Maybe Lois was just tired. Surely that was why she looked pale and her eyes were so tight.
Had to be that.
