From Part 8
One by one, they trudged through the front door. Clark was the last to leave. He gazed at Lois for a moment without speaking. “Thanks,” he said softly.
Lois smiled.
Clark smiled back.
Her heart leapt.
“I’ll be back soon,” Clark said.
Lois moved into the kitchen – a kitchen that, despite the efforts of the kids, looked like it had hosted a wild party that evening. A kitchen, if she were honest, that had more appeal now than when it was display-home perfect.
Because now, it looked like a home, not just a house.
With a happy sigh, Lois began to sweep the remaining flour from the floor.
Half an hour later, the kitchen was completely restored to order, but Clark still wasn’t home. Lois went upstairs to the study and turned on the computer.
Something Vivienne had said was stuck fast in her mind and Lois knew she would not be able to rest until she had checked it out.
Part 9
Clark came into the house and went to the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean.
He tuned his hearing to her heartbeat. Awake, he estimated. Then he heard the tap-tapping on the computer keyboard. And working.
He took the steps two at a time and went into the study. Lois turned, already smiling.
“You didn’t have to clean the kitchen,” he said. ”But, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Lois said. “It was a fun night.”
Clark stepped closer to her. “Really?” he said.
“Really,” she assured him. “Were there any problems? You took longer than I expected.”
“No problems,” Clark said. “I dropped off Boston last. He wanted to chat for awhile. He doesn’t have anyone else he can talk to.”
“He seems nice,” Lois said. “They all do.”
“They are. They’re good kids.” Clark gestured to her computer. “I should ...” Recognising the page from the Caribbean resort Lois had booked, he paused as a veil of trepidation settled around his heart. “... let you continue your work.”
He turned and walked away without waiting for her reply.
In their bedroom, Clark sat on the bed, put his elbows on his knees and sank his face into his palms.
He loved Lois so much.
He didn’t want to lose her.
He would do *anything* to stay with her.
These past few days, being with her more, seeing her smile, feeling her hands on his chest, his shoulder, his arm – it had been sweet agony.
She was preparing the way for their vacation ... the vacation that she hoped would result in a pregnancy.
The inevitability of her pain pounded him like a physical assault.
Clark rubbed his hands down his face and stood as he exhaled a tortured breath.
What now?
What now?
Was it kinder to warn her before they left? Or kinder to let things take their course and try to be there for her when she had to face that not even the magic of a Caribbean paradise could achieve the impossible.
From the far distance, Clark heard the wail of an emergency siren. He was flooded with an equal mix of relief that he didn't have to face this now and disappointment that he had to leave Lois.
He spun into the suit and stuck his head into the study. “Siren, honey,” he said. “Gotta go.”
Clark flew away, his heart aching with indecision.
||_||
When Clark awoke the next morning, Lois’s side of the bed was empty. He lifted his head enough to see the clock. It was just after six. She had probably gone to the Planet early to make up for last night.
The memory of the pizza party brought a smile. The kids had loved Lois. Driving home last night, they had raved about her. They thought he was the luckiest guy in the world.
He was.
But tomorrow he and Lois were booked into a romantic made-for-two villa in a Caribbean resort. Sometime today, they were going to have to discuss it – and there was every chance it would shatter the closeness that had been building between them the past few days.
A small rattle sounded from below and Clark looked through the floor to the kitchen. He watched as Lois picked up an overfull tray and carried it to the bottom of the stairs.
Just a few seconds later, she swung into their bedroom, grinning. She deposited the tray on the blanket box, straightened and pointed directly at him. “Don’t move,” she ordered.
Clark felt the pull of his smile. With a smooth movement, he sat up and leant against the bed-head.
He heard her footsteps skip lightly down the stairs. When she returned moments later, she carried two cups of steaming coffee.
“Did I forget something?” Clark asked. “The anniversary of our engagement? The anniversary of the day we met?”
“No, you didn’t forget anything,” Lois said as she sat cross-legged on the bed and positioned the tray between them.
Clark couldn’t drag his eyes from her. “You still look pretty decent first thing in the morning,” he said quietly.
She smiled. “You look decent too,” she said.
He wanted to grant freedom to his smile. He wanted to banish the whole stupid idea of separating. It was just too difficult to maintain the pretence that he wasn’t totally, completely, absolutely, breathtakingly in love with this woman.
“Want a bagel?” she said.
He examined the plate she held towards him. “Did you cook it?” he asked.
She grinned at his tone. “I put them in the griller,” she said.
“They aren’t burnt,” he noted evenly. Lois’s laughter burst from her. Clark gave in to the compulsion to grin like a love-struck teenager. “I miss your laugh,” he said quietly.
Their eyes remained locked for a long moment. Then Clark eased away and he piled cream cheese on a bagel, topped it generously with jam and offered it to his wife.
She took it from him. “Thank you,” she said with a smile that infused warmth through every part of him.
Clark mustered enough dexterity to manage a repeat performance on a second bagel. He took a bite and Lois giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m not going to tell you,” she said, giggling again.
“What?” he pressed.
“I’m not going to tell you,” Lois repeated. “But if you come here, I’ll fix it for you.”
Clark’s heart thundered as he contemplated her, taking the time to relish the wonder of being with her like this again. Very slowly he eased away from the bed-head and leant towards her.
Lois pitched forward to meet him and when the distance between them had closed, she used the tip of her tongue to lick the cheese and jam from the corner of his mouth.
A torrent of desire scorched through him. He was with Lois, alone, she was relaxed and looking incredibly sexy in her satiny pyjamas. He wanted her. With an intensity that shook him.
But last time ...
Last time he had made her cry.
His desire crumbled and he took refuge in another bite of his bagel.
“I’ve been thinking about the luxury goods burglaries,” Lois said. “I agree with you – there is more to it. There is definitely someone orchestrating this – someone else.”
“Vivienne is sure it’s not about luxury goods as such, but the rare vases.”
“I agree with her,” Lois said. “She sent me her notes. I think the more generic pieces were to camouflage the real motive. Have you followed through on that line of thinking?”
“I made lists of dealers and known collectors – but nothing seemed to link with what we already had.” Clark shrugged slightly. “Some of the stolen pieces reminded me of Luthor’s collection. Remember the -.”
“The White Orchid Ball,” Lois said dreamily. “Our first date.”
“Date?” he spluttered, trying to control the impulse to smile. “Date? I had to wait outside for you. Then you walked straight past me with only a cursory glance to make sure I was dressed to your standards. Then when I tried to dance with you, you hit me and said you preferred to dance with Luthor.”
As his words had tumbled out, her smile had grown, as if she too were enjoying this taste of their shared memories. “You can dance with me any time you want to,” she said.
Clark was tempted to tell her he wanted to – now, here in their bedroom, dressed in their sleepwear on this Sunday morning, but he quelled the image by shifting his concentration to adding an extra dollop of jam to his bagel.
“I did some digging last night,” Lois said nonchalantly.
His attention snapped back to her. “Is that what you were working on?”
She nodded. “We know all four homes were hit when the owners were away. I decided to follow up where the couples went. Vivienne’s parents are staying at the Riviera Resort in Mexico and another couple went to the Chateau Chicago. The Riviera is owned by Martin Marelli and the Chicago is owned by Lisa Lancaster.”
“Yeah, I checked that,” Clark said.
“Did you also discover that Marelli and Lancaster are married?”
Clark felt the oh-so-familiar surge of his admiration. How many times had he watched Lois find links where others didn’t even look for connections? “No,” he said. “Do they also own the hotels where the others stayed?”
“No,” Lois said. “One stayed at the Dar-Jamai in Morocco and the other at Spa Kea in Hawaii.”
“Owned by?” Clark asked.
“Different people,” Lois said. “Carlos Bernhardt and Liam McAvoy.”
“Any links to Marelli and Lancaster?”
“None that I could find,” Lois said. “Other than they are all in the business of luxurious accommodation. I did a search on several genealogy sites and could find no family link. I couldn’t find any connections at all.”
Clark gave her a look of empathy. “Dead end?”
Lois grinned. “Not at all,” she said brightly. “Not for two people willing to do some legwork.”
“Two?” Clark questioned.
Lois nodded, still grinning. “Perry’s going to help Ian while I’m away and he suggested I stay out of the office today so they can have a trial run.” She put her hand on Clark’s arm. “So I thought you and I could chase down this story together and see if we can share a byline again.”
At that moment, Clark fell in love with her.
Not that he had ever been out of love with her, but he felt just as he had in Perry’s office when he’d had the overpowering revelation that this woman completed him. Would always complete him.
Her touch, her smile, her vitality, the way her eyes shone with enthusiasm – he loved everything about her.
He couldn’t rectify their inability to have children, but maybe they could solve the case and write the story. And right now, Clark couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than spend the day with Lois, tracking down leads. He forcibly cleared his mind of the things that haunted him and decided to simply enjoy being with his beautiful wife. “Where do we begin, Ms Lane?” he asked.
She grinned. “Martin Marelli,” she said. “His office is in downtown Metropolis.”
“Convenient,” Clark noted.
“I think we should look beyond the owners,” Lois said. “Huge places like this must employ a lot of people. If we find nothing there, we could try the booking agents.”
Clark nodded his agreement. “The owners might be willing to divulge the names of their employees if they think it will shift the suspicion from them.”
Lois squeezed his arm. “That’s what I was thinking, partner.”
“Lane and Kent,” he said. “The hottest team in town.”
She squealed and leapt into his arms.
And kissed him. Just once. But it was brimming with feeling and warmth and meaning.
When she backed away, their bedding was smeared with cream cheese and strawberry jam.
“Oops,” Lois said as she tried ineffectually to wipe away the damage.
Clark wasn’t looking at the mess, he was captivated by his wife. His words spilled out. “I love you,” he said. “I will always love you, Lois Lane.”
Her laughter died and her eyes turned serious and her hand stroked the length of his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Lois,” he began. “Lois, you need to accept that we can’t -.”
She kissed him. Fully and wonderfully, but there was an innocence to it – something that reminded him of their early kisses. Kisses that held wonder and tentative exploration. Kisses that were an end in themselves. Then she moved away and he saw the flash of her smile. “Do you want first use of the shower?” she asked.
“You have it,” he said. “I’ll clean up this mess.”
“I should do it,” she said.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I owe you for the kitchen last night.”
“OK,” she agreed.
As she entered the bathroom, Lois turned to him, one hand on the door jamb, hair delectably mussed, pink pyjamas rumpled. “I love you, Clark,” she said.
||_||
Despite it being Sunday, Martin Marelli was in his office. He stood as they entered. “Mr Kent, Ms Lane,” he greeted.
They shook his hand and sat.
“Are you here on my business or your business?” he asked cordially.
“Our business,” Lois replied. “But it involves your business.”
Marelli leant back in his expensive-looking chair and his fingers met in an arch in front of his chin.
“Do you collect luxury goods?” Lois asked.
“I have some that could be considered luxury,” he answered. “But I don’t *collect* them per se.”
“Do you have any interest in rare pieces?”
Marelli straightened. “This is about the recent burglaries, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Clark said. “Our investigations lead to you.”
Marelli sighed. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Mr Kent. When I read about the failed attempt on Mr and Mrs de Wolde’s house, I knew it was possible someone would realise that the Stephensons were staying at the Chateau Chicago at the time of the earlier unfortunate incident.”
“And the Chateau Chicago is owned by your wife,” Lois said.
Marelli nodded. “Hence the connection.”
“And the suspicion coming to rest with you.”
Marelli didn’t react to the underlying accusation in her words. “How can I help you?” he said.
“Why would you be willing to help us?” Lois asked sceptically.
“Because the very nature of my business is ultra-competitive. There’s always another hotel, usually just down the road. We need every advantage to stay ahead. The slightest whiff of trouble will result in vacant rooms.”
Clark slid his glasses down his nose and scanned Marelli’s room, beginning with his desk.
“So you are very keen to avoid potential guests realising that staying at one of your hotels could increase the chances of being the next victim of a burglary?” Lois said.
“Exactly,” Marelli agreed. “If I can do anything to help you find who is behind these robberies, it is in my interest to assist you.”
“Unless you’ve cultivated a lucrative side-business,” Lois said.
Again, Marelli didn’t respond to her implication. “Ms Lane,” he said patiently. “I have already explained that reputation is everything in my business. I understand that the value of the stolen goods is considerable, but they would not compensate for even a few weeks of reduced patronage should this become known. Frankly, it would be economic suicide.”
“Would you give us a list of your employees? And your wife’s employees?”
“Of course, although I should warn you the list will be extensive – reaching into the thousands.”
“Thank you.”
“Paper copy?” he asked. “Or electronic?”
“Electronic,” Lois said.
Marelli picked up the phone and directed that the copy be made.
When he replaced the phone, Clark asked, “Do you know anything about any of your employees that could be helpful? Anything that strikes you as suspicious?”
“Other than the managers of each hotel, I don’t know any of the staff personally,” Marelli said.
“Do you trust the managers?”
“Yes. If I didn’t, they wouldn’t be managing one of my hotels.”
Lois cut in. “That doesn’t mean they have never been tempted to misuse their position for their own benefit.”
Marelli nodded sadly. “I know,” he said. “I hope you are wrong ... but if you aren’t, I want this resolved as quickly as possible.”
Five minutes later, the disks were delivered to his office. He held them out to Lois. “Would you like to check these now?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “You can be assured we will be back if we need further information.”
Marelli smiled. “Please do,” he said.
They again shook hands and left his office.
“Do you believe him?” Clark asked when they were on the sidewalk outside Marelli’s building.
“I think so,” Lois said. “Did you see anything in his office?”
“Nothing,” Clark said. “There are some paintings in the next office that look like they come with a high price tag, but that is hardly unexpected.”
Lois smiled up at him, slipped her hand under his jacket and rested it on his hip. “Bernhardt’s office is in San Francisco and McAvoy’s office is in Miami,” she told him.
Clark grinned. “What are you suggesting?”
“Do you think Superman would mind giving up his Sunday to help out our investigation?”
“He would want something in return.”
Her eyebrows shot up and a delighted grin spread across her face. “Surely, Mr Kent, you’re not suggesting Superman would require favours from a married woman?”
Clark brushed back a lock of dark hair that had strayed onto her forehead. “I was suggesting that Superman would want you to have lunch with your husband.”
Lois smiled. “Sounds good,” she said.
“Lois,” Clark said solemnly. “We need to talk. Really talk.”
Her hand lifted to his cheek. “I know,” she said. “We will – meanwhile we have some bad guys to nail.”
Clark surveyed the street. “I’ll look for somewhere a little less public and ... your ride will be here, madam.”
||_||
Two hours later, Lois and Clark walked into a little cafe in the Bahamas. Bernhardt and McAvoy had responded similarly to Marelli. Any link with these robberies would alienate their businesses from their very wealthy clientele.
Clark pulled back the seat for Lois to sit at a table in the alfresco area. They perused the menu and then placed their orders with the waitress.
“I guess the next step is to go home and start cross-referencing all of those names,” Clark said.
“No, the next step is to enjoy lunch with your wife,” Lois said. She gazed out to the ocean. “This is so beautiful.”
“Yes,” Clark said. But he wasn’t looking at the scenery. Not the Bahamian scenery.
Perhaps Lois caught something of his meaning, because she turned back to him with a soft smile. “Tell me about the kids,” she said. “With Vivienne’s parents away, who looks after her?”
“She has a nanny and a tutor and there is a live-in housekeeper.”
“She doesn’t go to school?”
“No. Her mother is very protective. She worries that because of their wealth, Vivienne could be kidnapped, so until recently, Viv wasn’t allowed to leave home without a security guard.”
“Is that somewhat excessive?” Lois asked.
“It seems excessive,” Clark agreed. “Until you know the rest of the story. The de Woldes had a child who was kidnapped before Viv was born – a son.”
“Oh, Clark," Lois said. "That is terrible.”
“The police found his body two weeks later.”
“What happened?”
“Case unsolved. That’s why Viv wants to be a detective.”
“Oh, Clark,” Lois repeated and he could see the compassion in her beautiful eyes. He slid his hand across the table, palm up. Lois put her hand in his with a little smile. “How did Vivienne come to the after-school program?”
“She had started leaving the house when her parents weren’t home – which is most of the time. She saw the hall lights on and heard the noise and came in. She kept coming – we didn’t know she had snuck away - until one day the housekeeper discovered her missing and called the police in a panic.” Clark smiled. “I think I came close to being arrested that day. Viv’s parents rushed home to be met with a defiant daughter who threatened to keep escaping if they didn’t allow her to continue coming to the hall.”
“Wow,” Lois said. “So she really is a poor little rich girl?”
“Yes.”
“What about the rest? Boston?”
“Boston comes from a family who lives in Suicide Slum. They had four kids of their own and it was a struggle. Then Boston’s uncle and aunt were killed in a gang raid and their four kids moved in with Boston’s family.”
“Eight kids,” Lois breathed.
Clark nodded. “Boston wants to change his world. Yesterday. One day he wants to be a doctor and improve their healthcare and the next day he wants to be a lawyer and fight for justice and the day after that he wants to be a counsellor who can help them see their potential and worth.”
“Big plans for one so young.”
Clark smiled ruefully. “And it hasn’t helped that his hormones have kicked in and he’s realised that Miss Vivienne ‘I never want to be married’ de Wolde is a very attractive young lady.”
“You think Vivienne is attractive?” Lois asked quickly.
Clark stared steadily at her. “I think Viv has some qualities that remind me of the woman I have always found supremely attractive.”
Lois grinned. “Tell me about Maddie.”
Clark gently stroked his thumb across the back of Lois’s hand. “Maddie’s father left the moment he discovered her mother was pregnant. She has never met him.”
“How sad for her.”
“Yeah. She’s a sweet little kid. Sometimes ...”
“Sometimes what?”
“Sometimes I wish I could find her father and force him to see how much his little girl needs him.”
“Maddie’s life wouldn’t necessarily be better with him in it.”
“I know that,” Clark said.
Lois squeezed his hand and smiled into his eyes. “You are doing an amazing job, Clark,” she said. “I could tell how much they think of you. They respect you and look up to you.”
“I enjoy being able to make a difference as Clark,” he said.
“Never underestimate Clark Kent,” she said gravely. “He is a man who doesn’t need superpowers to make a difference.”
Clark’s grip on her hand tightened. “Thank you,” he said.
||_||
They arrived home mid-afternoon. Lois went into the study to download the lists of employee names onto the computer. A few minutes later, Clark came in.
“Honey?” he said. “Are you going to be all right with those names?”
“Sure,” she said. “I have a whiz-bang program that Jimmy gave me before he left. It will do most of the cross-referencing for me. Why? Do you have something you need to do?”
“I just called my folks and they’re not answering,” Clark said. “I tried their cells and still couldn’t reach them. I’d like to check that they’re all right.”
Lois stood and put her arms around his neck. “Are you worried?” she asked.
“No. It’s probably nothing. It’s just unusual that they aren’t home and don’t have either of their cells with them.”
“Do you want me to come?” Lois asked.
Clark smiled. “No, you follow up those leads. I’m sure I’ll find my parents in the barn, or doing the chores or something. I’ll have a quick cup of tea with them and be home for dinner.”
“OK. Give your parents my love.” She leant up and kissed him. “Tell them I will visit them soon.”
Clark kissed her, spun into the suit and flew away.
