PREVIOUSLY FROM THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE...
“What do you need to get him for Angelina’s murder?” Lois asked.
“A confession would be great. Otherwise... Well, assuming his D.N.A. is a match with the semen we found on Wesley’s body, we’ve got a circumstantial case, and I’ll certainly be pressing the D.A. to prosecute. We might get lucky.”
“I think I know how to get a confession,” Lois said, directing the men’s attention to her. “Here’s my idea...”AND NOW...
* * * * * * * * *
Clark was enjoying the show as Lois took a seat at her desk at the Ink and Quill and put a piece of paper in her typewriter.
Walking over, he sat down in the chair next to her desk. It was late and, other than someone working on the far side of the room, the main part of the newsroom was empty. There were lights coming from Paul’s office, however. A quick look over his glasses informed Clark that Paul was still there.
“Charlie, would you mind seeing if there is any coffee in the coffee room?” Lois asked loudly.
Clark smiled, rising to his feet. “Sure.”
“I doubt there’s anything fresh, but there’s a microwave in there that you could use to heat a cup if there is still some in the pot. I’m going to need some caffeine if I’m going to get this story typed up.”
In the empty room, her voice carried and a brief look towards Paul’s office told Clark that they had, indeed, been noticed.
Winking at Lois, he walked towards the coffee room as Lois turned her attention to the typewriter.
“What are you doing here?” Paul asked, storming out of the office, obviously not expecting her there after what had happened earlier in the day.
Clark forced himself to stay in the coffee room, although with his glasses half way down his nose, he kept a close eye on the situation. He knew what Lois was doing, but if Paul touched her...
“I’m typing up my story,” Lois said as if confused that he’d even ask.
“I didn’t assign you any story.”
“Sure you did. Some fluff piece about an art exhibit if I recall correctly.”
“If you think...”
“Oh, I’m not working on that,” Lois said, interrupting him. “But I did think you’d want the story on Bob Stafford’s arrest.”
“What?” Paul gasped.
Lois turned towards him. “I was surprised too. But according to the police, he was running some huge drug operation. They took him into custody tonight so...”
Her voice trailed off when she was suddenly talking to herself, Paul having rushed back into his office. He took no more than a moment to grab his jacket, before striding past her in his efforts to leave the newsroom.
“I’ll just leave the story on your desk,” Lois yelled after him.
Smiling, Clark came back over, taking a seat in the chair next to her desk. Her smile met his.
“You don’t have to look like you enjoyed that quite so much,” Clark said.
“Me? Enjoy setting Paul up? How could you even think such a thing?”
“Let’s just hope Henderson can be as convincing on his end,” Clark said to which Lois nodded.
* * * * * * * * *
“I need to speak to Bob Stafford,” Paul said to the duty officer at the front counter of the police station. “I understand he was arrested tonight.”
“Just a moment, sir,” Constable Gates responded, picking up the phone immediately. “Someone is here to see Bob Stafford.”
Paul drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited.
“If you would like to have a seat, sir, I’m sure someone will be with you shortly.”
“I’m fine,” Paul responded, continuing to stand at the counter, becoming more and more agitated as the seconds ticked past into minutes. He was jostled and hassled by the continual procession of people coming into the police station as officers and their prisoners settled into their usual Friday night ritual.
The place smelled of unwashed bodies, stale cigarette smoke and beer. Bodies brushed past him. Someone did brief battle with a police officer, until the officer laid him out on the counter in front of Paul.
“Sorry,” the officer muttered as he pulled the stunned man off the counter, causing Paul to stumble back in the process.
Paul was just about to give up, deciding to return in the morning when it wasn’t so busy, when a plain-clothed officer stepped from the back and asked the duty officer who was wanting to speak to Stafford.
“That would be me,” Paul said, stepping up closer to the counter.
“Detective Henderson,” the other man answered. “I’m sorry. But Stafford has just been processed. He can’t have visitors until morning.”
“Can’t you make an exception?” Paul asked. “I’m Paul Benson. I’m... with the Ink and Quill. I really need to see if I can get a quote for my story tonight.” He pulled out his Ink and Quill press pass which Henderson examined.
“Sorry. It’s against police policy to allow reporters to talk to prisoners.”
Henderson turned back towards the doors he’d only come through moments before.
“Detective, please,” Paul said, stopping Henderson’s retreat. “Look... I’m only a student reporter. And... this is my big break. Couldn’t you bend the rules just this once? It is a NTU story after all. It should be reported first by the NTU paper. And by tomorrow, all the big papers will be crawling all over this. Please. It would be really great if we could say we got the story first.”
Henderson stared at him for a long moment. “I’d like to help,” he finally said. “Seeing you cut the legs out from under the Daily Planet would be great - given the hassle they give us on a regular basis... But even if I were inclined to help, we don’t have any interview rooms available.” He gestured around at the crowd. “Busy night.”
“Surely something...”
“Detective?” interrupted Constable Gates.
“Hmm?” Henderson responded, moving closer to the officer.
“What about interview room four?” she whispered.
“Nothing doing,” Henderson whispered back. “All the recording equipment in interview room four is down. Hell, we can’t even hear what’s going on in there. If we put him in there with Stafford and something goes wrong, we wouldn’t be able to react quickly enough. What if something happened to him? I’m not going to be the officer who’s dragged across the front page of some paper for letting a reporter get hurt.”
“I’ll take that risk, Detective,” Paul said. Henderson looked up at him in surprise. He must not have realized he was listening into the conversation. “I’ll sign a waiver. Whatever you need me to sign,” Paul continued.
When he could see Henderson vacillating, he continued. “It would really help me out to get this quote for my story tonight. Come on, Detective. Please. If I could scoop the Daily Planet... have this story make it into the Ink and Quill before they even know there’s a story to be had... Come on. How about it? Bend the rules a little. Just this once.” He could only hope Henderson didn’t know that the Ink and Quill was a weekly paper, or that it had already come out for this week, or that any story he did decide to write couldn’t be published until next Friday.
Finally, Henderson let out a breath. “Okay.” He held up a finger. “If Stafford agrees, we’ll set it up. But if anything happens...”
“I’ll take full responsibility.”
* * * * * * * * *
Talk about luck. Not only was he going to get a chance to talk to Bob, but he was actually going to get to do it without fear of the police listening in.
Paul quickly signed the waiver without even bothering to read it in spite of Henderson’s instructions that he read through it carefully and ask for clarification if he had any questions. What mattered now was talking to Bob.
“Okay, if you just want to come this way, Mr. Benson,” Henderson said.
“So how exactly did you catch Stafford, Detective?” Paul asked as he followed Henderson down the hall.
“Apparently, he spiked some girl’s drink with GHB at a party last Friday. She came to see us about it. Turned out to be a great tip. Could hardly believe the amount of drugs we found when we executed the warrant.”
“I didn’t think GHB was illegal.”
“It isn’t. But spiking some girl’s drink with it is. It’s called administering a noxious substance. And then when we executed the warrant... Like raiding a candy store for junkies.”
“What was the girl’s name?” Paul asked, flipping open his notebook as if to write it down for his story. “You know... the one who gave you the original tip.”
“Uhh... Damn. What was it again? Lois... Lois...”
“Lois Lane?”
“Yeah. That’s it. A bit pushy. But turned out to be a good tip so... Well, here we are.”
The detective opened the door to interview room four and Paul stepped inside. “If you just want to wait here,” Henderson said. “It will take us a few minutes to get Stafford.”
Paul sat down at the table, a smirk making its way onto his lips. Henderson had obviously bought his story hook, line and sinker. And boy, was he good. Getting Henderson to agree to this... How many other reporters could have talked their way in to interview a suspect they way he had?
He quickly wiped the smirk off his face when the door opened again and Bob was brought into the room and taken around to a chair on the other side of the table.
“Maybe it would be best if I stayed in here with you,” Henderson said as the officer got Bob settled.
“It’s okay, Detective,” Paul responded. “I have a number of questions I want to ask and I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
For a moment, Henderson looked torn. “If you’re sure,” he finally said. “Just pound on the door when you want out. There will be an officer just outside, ready to come in at a moment’s notice. And...” He pointed to the glass mirrors. “...we’ll have someone watching at all times.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Paul said before watching as Henderson stepped out of the room and closed the door. He made certain he heard the door click shut before turning towards Bob, who was watching him carefully.
* * * * * * * * *
Henderson patted his vest pocket, assuring himself that the warrant he’d obtained to record this conversation between Stafford and Benson was there before sitting down in the recording booth to see what this might turn up. If Lane was right about this, and he’d yet to see her wrong, this conversation should be very, very interesting.
* * * * * * * * *
“What the hell did you think you were doing spiking Lane’s drink?” Paul demanded immediately. “You didn’t think she’d figure it out and start snooping around.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t spike Lane’s drink?” With that, Bob glanced around meaningfully.
“Would you relax! Their recording equipment is down. They can’t hear a word we say.”
“Are you sure?”
Paul rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m sure. Do you think I would risk it if I wasn’t? So what the hell did you think you were doing putting GHB in Lane’s drink? You told me you gave up that nonsense after Wesley’s death..”
“Who are you? My mother now?”
“It was bad enough that you killed Wesley...”
“You know why Wesley had to die!” Bob responded. “She was going to report my activities to the police.”
“And you couldn’t buy her off?” Paul asked. “You had to kill her!”
“Of course I killed her. It solved the problem didn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah. It solved the problem... Or might have except for your little fetish for screwing strong women when they can’t fight back. Or did you forget that little ‘sample’ you left behind? That was fine when they didn’t have a suspect. But have you ever heard of DNA testing? They can now positively identify a person’s semen.”
“Of course I’ve heard of DNA testing,” Bob said. “I know my science.”
“Well, then, you tell me. How long do you think it will be before they get a warrant to compare your DNA with the DNA from the semen they found on Wesley’s body? Why do you think I tried to kill Lane’s story? To keep the police from realizing the connection between Wesley’s death and other... incidents on campus!
“And now... Because you spiked Lane’s drink, she came to police and they got a search warrant and found your drug supply. And now look at you! You and your stupid fetish. And what about Carol? I thought you were serious about her.”
“One has nothing to do with the other. And for your information, I didn’t touch Lane. Not with a ten foot pole. I just... put the GHB in her drink and pointed a couple of ticked off football players in her direction. Even managed to sweeten the pot by hinting that Lane was telling the truth about the cheating scandal being her story. Said we were planning to print a correction in next week’s edition of the Ink and Quill.” He smirked. “Last I saw, Lane was off to have the party of her life. She should thank me. Probably the only fun she’ll ever have.”
“You idiot!” Paul said, rising to his feet. “You just couldn’t let it go, could you? Couldn’t stand it that Lane didn’t worship the ground you walk on. Just had to teach her a lesson.”
“Yes, I taught her a lesson! It was a lesson she needed to learn! No one messes with us and gets away with it!” Bob said.
“Us?” Paul asked in disbelief.
“Yes! Of course, us!” Bob said, jumping to his feet so that they were facing each other across the narrow table. “Lane needed to be put in her place! And I figured that if I pointed a couple football players in her direction, Lane would end up just like Mayson last year and drop out of school. Then you and your little girlfriend wouldn’t have to worry about her muddying the waters with her claim that the football story was hers.”
“You idiot! How dare you blame this on me? I’m not the one who has a problem with strong women! And I’m certainly not the one who gets his kicks from having sex with nearly comatose women!”
“Well, at least I can complete the act. How’s Linda doing these days anyway? Any... frustration showing?”
* * * * * * * * *
“Okay, get the men in there,” Henderson said. “I think we’ve got what we need and we don’t want...” His instructions were cut off when Paul Benson lunged across the table at Stafford. “Get the men in there now!” Henderson yelled, running towards the door to the interview room.
The door opened as the scuffle continued. Henderson rushed into the room only to be hit when Stafford pushed Benson backwards into him. Both of them were knocked off their feet. Henderson’s head hit the wall and everything went black.
What happened after that, Henderson didn’t know - at least from first hand knowledge. All he did know was that when he regained consciousness, Stafford had managed to escape. And in the process, had snagged himself a gun.
Holding a cloth to his forehead to staunch the bleeding from the cut on his brow, Henderson picked up the phone and took a deep breath before dialing Lane’s number. Given Stafford’s threats when he’d been arrested, it seemed the prudent thing to do.
“So what do we do with him?” one of the officers asked, directing Henderson’s attention to where the officer was standing with Paul Benson.
“Arrest him,” Henderson said without batting an eye.
“Arrest me?” Benson asked in disbelief. “On what charge?”
“Assault, facilitating an escape, accessory to murder after the fact... and I’m sure I’ll think of a few more before the night is out.”
“I didn’t facilitate Bob’s escape. That was your incompetence. And... how exactly do you get accessory to murder? I didn’t help murder anyone,” Paul objected, as the officer grabbed his arm, pulled his hands behind his back and fastened the cuffs on him. “How could you think...”
“You don’t think we were listening in? Recording everything you and that bastard said?” Henderson asked in disbelief as he continued to listen to Lane’s phone ring. “Remember that waver you signed? In it, you gave us permission to do exactly that. Between that and the warrant we obtained, I doubt we’ll have any problem getting that information admitted in court - against either of you. And during that conversation, you admitted that you killed Lane’s story to keep Stafford from being connected to Wesley’s murder. How is that not accessory after the fact?”
“So I killed a story I thought was light on facts. That’s my job,” Paul objected.
Henderson shrugged. “We’ll let the D.A. sort it all out. In the mean time... diving across the table at Stafford is definitely assault.” He looked at the officer holding Benson. “Get him the hell out of here.”
As Paul Benson was manhandled out of the room, Henderson slammed down the phone. Where was Lane anyway? He’d said he’d give her a call at her dorm after they found out if their little rouse to get Stafford to talk worked. Well, what were the chances that Stafford would really go after her, anyway? Surely a college kid like him would know his best chance of escape was to go far and hide deep.
* * * * * * * * *
“So you’re not going to write up the story tonight?” Charlie asked as they approached her dorm.
Lois shook her head. “The Ink and Quill doesn’t come out until next Friday. I do need to write it up for the Daily Planet, but I can’t really do that until I know exactly what the story is going to be. Since Henderson said he’d call as soon as he knew if our little deception works, I’ll wait until then.”
She stopped outside her door. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come in... wait with me for Henderson’s call?”
“I don’t think so. We don’t know when he’ll call. And it’s late. I figure I’ll just go back to my room, maybe get a little sleep. I take it you’re not going to be leaving your room again tonight?”
Lois shook her head. “I’ll make a call to Molly... bring her up to speed... but...” She hesitated. She really didn’t want him leaving until they had a chance to talk. On the other hand, it had been a really long day and she was exhausted. She could use a nap too while she waited for Henderson’s call. “Promise me that I’ll see you in the morning?” she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment and she thought she understood his struggle. Part of him was obviously tempted to jump into his time machine now that they’d solved the case and she was safe. But then he broke eye contact, and she knew she had won.
“I promise,” he said softly.
She gave him a smile that she hoped he would read as gratitude. He seemed to. His hand came out and he lightly touched her arm.
“Good night, Lois,” he said softly before turning and walking back down the hall.
She watched until he disappeared into the stairwell before turning towards the door to her room.
* * * * * * * * *
Lois tossed her jacket on a chair as she walked across her room to the telephone. Picking it up, she quickly punched in the number to the Alpha Nu Rho sorority house to bring Molly up to speed. As she did, she glanced at the clock. No wonder she was tired. It was after one a.m. She just hoped that it wasn’t too late to call...
“Hang up the phone, Lane.”
The voice sent a chill through her. Spinning around, she found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. She had to drag her eyes away to focus on the man pointing it at her. Bob.
“Hello.”
She heard the sleepy voice on the other end of the line.
“You won’t get away with this, Bob,” Lois said. “The first place the police will think to look for you after your escape is my dorm room. Your only hope...”
“Hang up the phone!” Bob repeated, firing a shot into the floor in front of her.
“Okay, okay,” she said, quickly doing as directed.
“Now...” Bob said, giving her an evil smile. “You and I are going to have a little fun before I kill you. It’s time you learned exactly what it means to be a woman.”
* * * * * * * * *
Clark was half asleep when the sound of police cars driving past the motel woke him up again. Groggily, he sat up in bed. Great. Just what he needed. Another emergency to attend to.
Wait a minute! There was no Superman here, so this wasn’t his problem... whatever it was. He would just let the police handle it.
That decided, he lay back down, only to hear the distinctive sound of an ambulance.
“Not my problem,” he told himself again, closing his eyes.
But for some reason, he could no longer make himself relax. Throwing back the covers in frustration, he finally sat up. Well, he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he knew what was going on so... Pulling on his clothes, he headed for the door. He wouldn’t do anything super, though. Just a walk by to see what was going on and then he’d come back to bed.
* * * * * * * * *
His pace was casual. He found it almost relaxing strolling down the deserted city streets. The sound of sirens had ended quite some time ago. Obviously, whatever the problem was, the police had solved it without help from the man in red and blue. His decision not to get involved had been the right one.
He had no destination in mind. But from force of habit, he found himself turning the corner onto the New Troy University campus, and suddenly his footsteps faltered.
The sirens were gone, but there was no mistaking the flashing red and blue lights up ahead.
Suddenly, his heart was pounding painfully as he realized where he was. His feet picked up their pace - stroll to march to jog to run.
He saw Stafford being brought out of the building, hair messed up, clothing skewed, blood on his face and hands and soaking the front of his shirt.
No!
“Lois!” he yelled, not bothering to pause to look at Stafford being folded into a police car. Not noticing the crowd of students gawking at the spectacle, in whispered voices trying to figure out what was happening.
Instead, his eyes were focused on the door to the building. Running up the front steps. Pushing through the doors. How fast was he moving? He really couldn’t have said. But he didn’t stop on the first floor. Instead, he was in the stairway almost immediately, taking the steps two at a time as he bounded up the stairs and onto Lois’ floor.
He’d changed the future. What if as a result of that, Lois had been killed in 1987? Had his decision to come into the past resulted in Lois dying six years earlier than she would have otherwise?
Oh, god. Not his problem. When he’d heard sirens so close to the university, how could he have ever thought it was not his problem?
TO BE CONTINUED...
ML
