Tall Dark Handsome Stranger
Lois’ eyes opened of their own accord and refused to close again. Her mind was fully engaged and ready to go. She sat up in bed, awake and alert and ready to face the day.
And that just wasn’t typical of Lois Lane to be awake and alert at eight-ten in the morning, whether they’d been off the night before or not.
She glanced at Lucy, who was still out cold in the other bed, so she slipped into the bathroom as quietly as she could. When she came out, Lucy hadn’t moved, so Lois silently turned a chair to face the window and sat down.
The curtain blocked her view, but she knew what was outside, and she didn’t want to wake her sister by letting in the morning sunlight. Lucy was going to have a stressful day, and the later she slept the better she’d feel.
Besides, Lois needed to think about Clark.
She noticed how easy it was to refer to him by his real name. “Charlie King” hadn’t ever fit him, just as his cover story had never really fit him. Lois had no doubt that Clark could be a sailor, could probably do just about whatever he put his mind to, but somehow being a reporter suited him better than any other occupation. It was as if he’d been made to tell people about themselves and the things they did to each other.
She’d have to make the time to look up his older stories. Something told her that he wasn’t just a crime reporter or an investigator, that he cared deeply about people and did his best to help them by correcting as many of society’s inequities as he could. He just felt like that kind of guy. He wouldn’t stand by idly and allow the strong to dominate the weak just because they could. He’d try to do something about it.
Just as she was trying to do something about it.
I could love him, she thought.
Her body jerked in place. Where had that thought come from?
She knew that they couldn’t build a relationship while she was on the road with the Mountaintops. She’d heard of or seen too many such relationships go down in flames because one person refused to give up the business for the other. At one time Lucy had been infatuated with Tim, the singer who’d deserted them in Denver, and before that she’d tried to keep a long-distance relationship going with a young man in Cincinnati, but nothing had stuck. Connie had been engaged to a man who’d given her the choice to either stay with the band or quit and marry him. Their last meeting had not been pleasant. Ramona had seen a relationship end in the same way, too, and even though she hid them well, her scars went deep.
Guys who dated traveling musicians wanted their girls to be around for dates and phone calls and walks in the park and Lois couldn’t take that path, couldn’t give up the road. Not yet. And not anytime soon.
She’d heard all the road songs and had sung a number of them, from Willie Nelson’s bouncy “On The Road Again” to Bob Seger’s melancholy “Turn The Page” and all the ones in between. They all had one thing in common – musicians were vagabonds and drifters and adventurers who either would not or could not put down roots, were unable or unwilling to connect to others except through their art, and who were incapable of making and keeping personal commitments. She knew that was how Clark saw her – saw all of the women in the band. Nice people, maybe, talented, fun to be around, but not the kind of girl you’d take home to mom and dad, because she had another gig or rehearsal or audition that night that she couldn’t miss.
There was no future for her with Clark Kent, insisted her mind. There could never be one for them.
Too bad her heart refused to listen.
*****
Clark walked off the elevator to the newsroom floor at ten before seven the next morning and strode directly to Perry’s office. He opened the door and stuck his head in. He stopped when he saw a stranger standing by the outside window.
“Sorry, Chief, should I come back later?”
Perry waved him in. “Naw, you need to meet this fella anyway. Inspector Henderson, this is one of my best young reporters, Clark Kent.”
Henderson turned and put out his hand to Clark. As Clark raised his own hand, both of their faces changed and their hands stopped inches from one another. Perry was watching them, of course, but he didn’t even change the rhythm of his rocking.
After a moment more, they completed the greeting. Henderson nodded once and said, “Good to meet you again, Kent. Thought you seemed a little too bright to be a bartender.”
Clark lifted one eyebrow. “Thanks, I think.”
Perry glanced from one man to the other as they released the handshake. “You two – know each other?”
Henderson tilted his head without smiling. “Indirectly. Kent was there the night I told the band at the Metro Club that their featured soloist had been killed.”
“Christie was never part of the band, Inspector. She was Johnny Taylor’s girlfriend. That’s the only reason she was on stage with them.”
“I know. By the way, that was a very good fake beard you were wearing when you started work there. Had me fooled.”
Clark nodded. “I’ll pass along the compliment to our makeup department.”
Perry leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. “Now that you boys know each other – formally, that is – how’s about we figure out what to do about Linda?”
Clark frowned at his boss. “How much have you told him?”
“Just what you told me last night. When is her flight supposed to land?”
“I called the airline. They said that it was overbooked and seven passengers were bumped and were coming in about noon. I don’t know if Linda is one of those, but it seems likely. At any rate, I plan to meet the plane when it lands.”
Henderson cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Kent?”
Clark turned his frown to the policeman. “Are you telling me what I should and should not do?”
“No, not at all. But I think that if Johnny or one of his goons sees his new bartender talking with one of his new waitresses, the one who’s just finished a courier run for him, he might get the wrong idea about your relationship. He’s liable to come to the reasonable but completely false conclusion that you two are trying to horn in on the gang’s action, either for yourselves or for one of his competitors.”
“Oh.” Clark nodded slowly. “Yeah, that actually makes sense, especially if Johnny sends a car to pick her up.”
“He did. The doorman, George, is already waiting at the gate.”
Perry asked, “This George isn’t likely to hurt Linda, is he?”
Henderson shook his head. “Not unless something spooks him. Or unless Johnny told him to hurt her. George McDermott is a known mobster with at least three killings to his credit. He’s got a rap sheet that goes back to his juvenile days. We just haven’t been able to convict him of any of those serious felonies.” At Clark’s wide-eyed look of shock, he added, “What, did you think he was just a harmless little old doorman? George has been with the Metro Gang since before old man Taylor earned his long vacation at the State penitentiary, and he’ll do anything Johnny tells him to do. He’s getting older now and his endurance isn’t what it was, but anyone who underestimates him is in for a shock. He’s still as tough as a fifty-cent steak.”
Perry leaned back in his chair. “So Linda’s safe for now?”
“I think so. Of course, with the FBI checking up on the gang, we’ll know it if he does try anything.”
“What about Christie’s death?” asked Clark. “Have you seen the evidence I brought in?”
Henderson frowned. Since his normal expression was a frown, the difference wasn’t all that startling. “I saw it. And I know where you got it. I don’t like being played by the FBI, Kent, and I don’t like being their stalking horse. They don’t like it when we play games with them, and I don’t like it when they play games with me.” He sighed. “On the other hand, they’re all but handing me a finished murder case on a silver platter, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too upset.”
“So you’re going to arrest Johnny Taylor?”
“Slow down, Kent, you’ll hurt yourself. The wheels of justice grind exceedingly slow sometimes.”
“That’s a misquote.”
Henderson shrugged. “What can I say? I’m not as literate as you guardians of the fourth estate. Anyway, I still have some people to talk to about what they were doing that night. That folder you say you got from the FBI – “
“I did get it from the FBI!” snapped Clark.
“Easy, Kent. I’m just saying the same thing a good defense attorney would say. At this point, the evidence we have against Johnny is substantial, but it’s also circumstantial and inconclusive. I can give you something else if you promise not to print it yet.”
Both men looked at Perry, who nodded slowly. “We’ll play ball, Inspector. We always do. Just remember that when it’s time to print the whole story.”
“You know I will, Perry. The murder weapon was a heavy glass vase about fifteen inches tall and which weighs about four pounds. There are a number of smeared prints on it, ones that look old, but there are at least two sets of clear ones, too. One set is Christie Baldwin’s, and another is Johnny Taylor’s. We have his on file from previous arrests.”
Clark lifted his hands to either side. “There you go, Inspector! There’s your proof!”
Henderson shook his head. “Johnny paid for that apartment and bought almost everything in it. All he’d have to say is that he handled it when he purchased it, or that he picked it up when he was visiting her one night. It’s also circumstantial evidence.”
Frustrated, Clark blew a breath out through his nose and spun around helplessly. Perry played with a pencil and said, “I thought that cases were usually decided on circumstantial evidence.”
Henderson nodded. “They are, but we have to do our due diligence and eliminate any other reasonable suspect first. Your undercover girl reporter would be a very good suspect if she were just a waitress who set her cap for Johnny and wanted to get Christie out of the way.”
Perry chuckled. “I haven’t heard anyone say ‘set her cap’ in years. That’s a really old phrase.”
“I read Westerns. Sue me. Anyway, the women in the band have to be eliminated as suspects too. Every one of them had a motive to get Christie off the stage and out of the way. By all accounts – including yours, Kent – the deceased was more of a hindrance to them than a help. Musically, I mean.”
Clark folded his arms and stared at the inspector. “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean that any of those women killed her. Wanting her off the stage with them is a long way from one of them clubbing her to death.”
“You’re right, it is. But if I don’t investigate everyone connected with this case, I’m not doing my job. And I wouldn’t want my boss to pick up his morning paper and read that one of his detectives was a slacker. It might ruin his breakfast, and I’d hate to have that on my conscience.”
Perry chuckled. “That’s a noble sentiment if I ever heard one.”
Clark turned to his boss. “I don’t like the way this is going, Chief. We should – “
“Hang on, Clark. I think we should do what the inspector suggests. We stay out of the way and let him do his job. We will also wait for Linda to contact us. There’s no reason to put her in danger by breaking her cover. You agree?”
“But Linda could be in some real trouble!”
“That’s true, son, but she’s dug her own ditch this time and we have to let her work her way out. Besides, if we pull her out now, we guarantee that Johnny will come looking for her, and when he finds her he won’t be a happy man. Best thing to do for now is to let things happen as they will, okay?”
Clark’s lips thinned in irritation, but he nodded sharply. “Yes. I don’t like it, but I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Good. Inspector, is there anything else you need from us?”
“Just those photos and that transcript.”
Perry picked up another folder from his desk. “Here’s everything we have on the gang so far. I made sure we kept copies for our files. And I expect that the Daily Planet will get an exclusive on all of this, plus full credit for assisting the police in this investigation.”
“I can promise you that I’ll mention your name when the Chief of Police holds the news conference taking the lion’s share of the glory.”
Perry chuckled again. “That’s good enough for me. See you at Johnny’s sentencing.”
“That’s what I like about you, Perry, you’re such an optimist.” He slapped the folder against his leg. “I have to get going. I have two interviews concerning this very case already set up. Hopefully I’ll be able to eliminate a couple of suspects by noon.”
*****
When the alarm woke Lucy that morning, Lois was sitting in one of the chairs and staring at the window curtains. And Lois awake and alert early in the morning was not something Lucy saw very often unless they’d pulled an all-nighter. “Lois?” she called out. “You okay?”
“Sure,” Lois replied without turning. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re up early today. And you’ve never been much of a morning person.”
“I’m better than Connie is.”
Lucy grunted. “Connie is a zombie before ten-thirty. And you are too, usually. One of the funniest things I’ve ever seen was you and Connie on the bus that morning in Wisconsin trying to talk about the Presidential election when you’d both just gotten up.”
Lois snorted. “I still say that conversation never happened.”
“Connie says the same thing, but the rest of us saw and heard it. I thought Shamika was going to bust a gut laughing so hard. And it was a good thing we’d stopped for fuel or Ramona might have driven us off the road.” She sat up and pushed back the covers. “But that was then, this is now. Why are you up so early?”
“No real reason. I just felt like getting up.”
“Well, we’re each going to talk to the police about Christie today. That’s wearing on my mind a bit.”
Lois nodded. “I hear you, Punky. But I think you’ll be fine.” She finally turned to face her sister. “You have time for a quick breakfast?”
Lucy glanced at the clock and shook her head. “Love to, but I’m meeting my attorney in forty-five minutes.” She stopped and made a face. “Eww. That sounds so weird.” She shook her head and started moving again. “Anyway, I’m going to hop in the shower and head downstairs to find some granola bars and orange juice. Rain check?”
“You got it. Hey, if we see each other at the police station, don’t look me in the eye.”
Lucy frowned. “Why not?”
Lois almost grinned. “Prison inmates don’t look directly at each other. It’s supposed to be a challenge of some kind.”
“Ha. And another ha. I suppose you want me to get a head start on my incarceration experiences.”
This time Lois did grin. “It’ll make a great song once you get out. Johnny Cash got his big start from that song about Folsom Prison.”
“Oh, double-ha with a bonus chuckle.” She stood and hid her own smile. “I’m going to see if I can shower without bending over. It’ll be good practice.”
“I think that’s just the men’s prisons, but it’s good to be prepared.”
Lucy closed the bathroom door and started the water. As she undressed, she mused that if Lois was joking with her about prison, she must feel that they weren’t in any real danger of being sent there. Or even being arrested.
Lucy stepped in the shower and pulled the curtain shut as the hot water flowed over her. Of course, she thought, Lois might joke about it just to keep me from being too nervous. And Lucy didn’t think she needed that kind of help.
What were big sisters for, except to interfere in the lives of their little sisters?
*****
Lucy had told her story to Inspector Henderson five times now, and even she was getting tired of hearing it. The inspector hadn’t been rude, hadn’t ever said that he didn’t believe her, hadn’t hinted that he thought she’d killed Christie, but he wouldn’t stop asking her the same questions over and over. Angela had warned her that this would happen, that the police would try to catch her contradicting herself, and that she needed to keep her answers short and to the point. But it was getting harder to do with each inane repetition.
Henderson stood and stretched. “Miss Lane, would you like something to drink? I’m sure you must be thirsty by now.”
Lucy lifted one eyebrow at the inspector. “No. I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?”
Angela lifted her hand and pointed at him. “Inspector, are you trying to get my client’s fingerprints in a very sneaky and subtle manner?”
Henderson’s expression cleared. “Why, no, Counselor, we’d never try such a transparent and underhanded trick like that.”
“Uh-huh. Would you like to get a copy of my client’s fingerprints?”
For a moment he looked as if he’d been slapped. “Well, if you have no objections, yes, we’d like to do that.”
Angela nodded. “Fine. If that will get my client out of here, let’s get it done.”
“Thank you. If you ladies will just go with Officer Jones, he’ll take care of it.”
Lucy fixed the uniformed officer with a glare. “Just make sure you don’t smash my fingers. I have a gig to play tonight.”
Jones nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure your hands are in top shape when I’m done.”
*****
Linda flipped the magazine closed and sat back in her seat. The unyielding plastic of the terminal waiting area chairs was beginning to bruise her tailbone, but she knew if she stood up again that Juan would pop up next to her like a huge, brooding shadow.
Her original flight had been overbooked and she’d been bumped. Inter-Coastal Airlines had a policy of honoring the oldest tickets first, and Linda’s ticket was the next to last one purchased for that flight. The next opening they had was on a flight departing at ten-fifty, and since Linda hadn’t checked any baggage they told her she was sure to get on that flight.
Juan hadn’t left her side except when she’d gone to the ladies’ room, and he’d haunted the entrance until she’d come out. The airport had plenty of restaurants and fast food kiosks, but at first Linda wasn’t hungry. She’d been convinced that the overbooking story was a ploy to keep her in Miami so the police could arrest her, but she hadn’t been approached by anyone.
And Juan hadn’t said a word to her. The only time he’d spoken was when he’d called Carlos to tell him about the delay, and apparently Carlos had told Juan to stick with Linda until she left. And Linda had only inferred that, since Juan had spoken in the machine-gun Spanish typical of Hispanics in Florida. Linda had taken three semesters of Spanish in college, but she hadn’t understood a single word of Juan’s grating mumbles over the phone.
She was hungry and tired and sore from sitting in those torture buckets disguised as chairs, so she decided to risk speaking to Juan. “Juan, is it okay if I go get something to eat?”
His immense head slowly pivoted towards her. His flat eyes bore into hers for a long moment, then he nodded and said, “Yes.”
She tried not to look too relieved. “Do you want anything? Like a sandwich or something to drink?”
His expression didn’t flicker. “Thank you, but no.” Then stood and offered her his hand.
She took it and stood up. She felt like a child next to his bulk. He reminded her of the huge man who’d played the zombie-looking butler in the old Addams Family TV show, but with less human warmth.
As she walked towards a sandwich shop with Juan looming two steps behind her, she thought again about what she’d tell Clark and Perry about this little adventure she was on. The best course was probably to insist that she’d been chasing the story and had overstepped her boundaries a little. She knew Perry wouldn’t buy that, not completely, but maybe he’d give her the benefit of the doubt.
Again.
And maybe the police would buy her story, as long as she didn’t talk to that same officer who’d taken her statement about Johnny. That woman hadn’t wanted to believe Linda two days ago, and if they met again she wouldn’t take Linda’s word for whether or not the sun was up.
She was treading water in the deep end of the shark tank, no doubt about it. And there were no lifeguards around to help her. She’d have to manage this on her own.
*****
Clark wasn’t sure why he was hanging around outside the police station. He’d told himself that he wanted to make sure Lucy came out again, but even he didn’t believe that. Of course, if Lucy saw him, that’s what he planned to tell her.
He heard Lucy before he saw her. And she sounded angry, which surely meant that she wasn’t under arrest.
“ – won’t hurt my fingers? He all but crushed them on that pad! And now I can’t get this stupid ink off! Does he not know how expensive my guitars are? I can’t get this ink on them! It’ll ruin the finish and make them worth about, I don’t know, about thirty dollars each! And he complained about my calluses, can you believe it? Every guitar player in the world has calluses on the fingertips of the fretting hand and he gripes about mine! How would he like to catch the index finger callus on the high E string and slice it right off during rehearsal? And then have to super-glue it back on so he can play that night? Does he care? Does he understand? No! He’s never – oh, hey, Charlie, what are you doing here?”
Clark gave her his best let’s-be-friends grin. “I just wanted to see if they believed your story like I do. I guess you’re not under arrest, huh?”
She glowered at him. “No! But I can’t leave town! Can you believe it? It’s like some old John Wayne western! ‘Don’t leave town until we tell you that you can leave town, little lady.’ Grrr! I’d like to – “
“Excuse me, Lucy,” interrupted Angela, “but I’d like to meet this handsome young man. Would you introduce us?”
“What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Angela Winters, my attorney, this is Charlie King, our new soundman. He’s also a bartender at the club.”
Clark took Angela’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Me too, Charlie. I’ve heard some good things about you.”
He smiled wider. “Thanks.”
Angela held Clark’s hand a moment longer than necessary, and suddenly Clark was aware of her searching gaze sweeping over him, probing him as if she were looking for something hidden.
Then she let go. “It’s good to meet you. Lucy, we’re done for the day. I have some work to do this afternoon, but if you need me just call the office. Business has been picking up lately, so we’re getting a full-time secretary who starts next week. No more temporaries for us.”
“Thanks for everything, Angela. I’ve got a rehearsal at two, so I’m going to grab some lunch and head over to the club.” Lucy turned to Clark. “You are going to be at rehearsal, aren’t you, Charlie?”
“I plan on it. But I don’t think Malcolm is too happy with me.”
Lucy grinned. “You let us worry about Malcolm. We’ll just turn Connie loose on him. She can charm any guy into agreeing to almost anything.” She tilted her head to one side and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Except maybe you. You like girls, I can tell, but I don’t think you’d fall for any of us.” Her grin slowly returned. “Except – except maybe for Lois.”
That was too close to the truth. “Look, Lucy, I don’t think – “
Lucy clapped her hands. “Ha! Lois has a secret admirer! Wait till I tell her!”
Angela leaned in. “As your attorney, I advise you not to interfere with your sister’s relationship with this man, whatever it is. It might be detrimental to your health.”
Lucy laughed. “You know, you might be right about that. I’ll see you two later. I’m going to catch a cab.”
She jogged to the street and lifted her hand. A cab swerved to the curb almost immediately and Angela shook her head. “I never get a cab that easily. That girl’s got something that men really like.”
Clark nodded. “She’s very attractive. And she’s extremely talented. She has a really nice stage presence, too. You should hear the band play, if you haven’t already.”
She looked directly at him. “I plan to. And I plan to find out what else is going on at the club, Mr. King. I know the Metro’s reputation, and you don’t fit in there.”
Uh-oh, he thought, now she’s too close to the truth. “I just got off a tramp steamer and I’m waiting for my final paycheck. I’ve only been there a little more than a week. Guy’s gotta eat, you know.”
“I know.” She looked at him appraisingly again. “But I think your story is more complicated than that. I don’t think you’re one of the bad guys.” Her head tilted to one side. “I’m just not sure who you really are.”
“What makes you think I’m not who you see?”
“I’m an attorney. I have lots of experience at reading people.”
“Really? What do you read in me?”
She gave him a one-sided grin. “For one thing, you asked me that question instead of loudly declaiming your innocence. It’s a sign that you don’t want to lie, even to a stranger. For another, if you were keeping an eye on Lucy for the club, you would have gone with her on one pretext or another. And if you were just a plain old sailor turned bartender, you would have had to work to figure out what ‘declaiming’ meant. I can tell from your lack of reaction that it’s a word in your working vocabulary.” She shook her index finger at him mockingly. “You are not what you appear to be, Mr. King.”
Too late, he realized that his best defense against this perceptive woman was to just shut up. She smiled knowingly at him. “Upon reflection, I think that you’ll actually turn out to be one of the good guys, Mr. King. Either way, I think we’ll be seeing each other again. Ta-ta for now.”
She turned and strode to the cab stand. Clark shook his head as she successfully hailed a cab. Just what he needed in his life, another intelligent and determined woman. At least this one wasn’t going after him personally.
“Clark?”
The woman’s voice calling his name was low and musical. He turned to see who –
Lois had stopped at the top of the steps leading into the station. She slowly descended, and as she got closer her smile grew. “What are you doing here?”
“I – I wanted to make sure that Lucy wasn’t in too much trouble.”
The cant of her eyebrows told him that she didn’t quite believe him. “Uh-huh. How is old Lucy doing, anyway?”
“She and her lawyer just left in separate cabs. She also reminded me of our two o’clock rehearsal.” He tilted his head. “How did your interview with the police go?”
Lois shrugged. “Okay, I guess. They only went over my story twice before they let me go. They didn’t even tell me not to leave town, but maybe they figured I wouldn’t leave without Lucy anyway.”
“Good,” he said. “Uh – do you have any plans for before rehearsal?”
She frowned slightly. “No. Why?”
He hesitated, then plunged ahead. “How does lunch sound to you?”
“Sounds like food, people eating and drinking, that kind of thing.”
“No, I meant lunch with me.”
“With you?” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “What would people say if they saw us having lunch together? Doesn’t the club have those pesky non-fraternization rules? Aren’t we supposed to stay away from each other except for work?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. But I was thinking about having lunch at my place.”
She frowned slightly. “That dump? I’m not sure I’d want to eat anything in that room.”
“No. My real place. It’s not that far from here. We could walk.”
A smile slowly grew and enveloped her entire upper body. “Thank you, Clark. I think I’d like that very much.”
