The Inconveniences of Doing Superman's Laundry: 2/?
by Nan Smith
Bobby Bigmouth was waiting in an alcove near the rear entrance to Joe's Mandarin Express, a Chinese fast-food all-you-could-eat buffet, not far from the border of Suicide Slum.
Surprisingly, the place had a relatively decent clientele, and Bobby worked here three days a week. Privately, Clark wondered how long the place would continue in business, now that their always ravenous snitch had discovered that it gave a 40% discount for employees at whichever mealtime fell within their respective shifts.
The day had turned drizzly, and Bobby, never one to voluntarily endure the elements for long, had found a sheltered spot to await their coming. Apparently, to kill the time, he was eating some sort of Chinese dish out of a cardboard carton, utilizing his chopsticks with the expertise of a Chinese chef, and as they approached he tossed the now-empty carton into the big garbage can that sat next to the building's rear entrance.
"Got my snack?" he inquired.
Lois patted the paper sack that she had brought from Angelo's Italian Smorgy. "Got it right here," she said, "but you don't get a bite until we hear what you have to say."
"Geez, Lois, don't you trust me?" Bobby asked in a pained tone. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"
"Shall I give you a list?" Lois inquired. "How about last month, when you directed me to a 'gun-running operation' that turned out to be a perfectly legal Chinese laundry?"
"Everybody makes mistakes," Bobby said, a little defensively.
"Never mind that," Clark said quickly. "What have you got for us?"
Bobby cast a longing glance at the bag. "I got the word that the robbery was an inside job," he said. "Somebody cut off the security cameras during the robbery."
"We've seen the police report," Lois said. "What makes you think it was an inside job?"
"I heard from a source of mine," Bobby said, "that a member of the Mazik family hired the guy that cracked the safe."
"Who did crack the safe?" Lois asked.
"I can't give names," Bobby said patiently. "If I did, nobody would tell me anything. The word is, though, that one of the Mazik brothers is in hock up to his eyebrows to certain illegal gambling interests in Metropolis. The rest is your business."
Lois's eyes met Clark's.
"That sounds like a decent lead," Clark said.
"Yeah." Lois appeared to think a minute and then reluctantly handed Bobby the sack. The snitch opened it and inspected the contents.
"Not bad," he said, with a hint of enthusiasm. "Baked lasagna and all the trimmings! Did you get me something to drink?"
Clark presented him with an insulated container of Angelo's Cappuccino and the snitch inhaled ecstatically. "You know," he confided to Clark, "Lois's stuff has really improved in quality since you got to be her partner." He took a long sniff. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Lois told him, starting to turn away. "Come on, Clark."
"Got a question for you, Clark," Bobby interrupted. "What brand of detergent do you use for washing Superman's outfit?"
"Uh --" Clark closed his eyes in near despair. Lois hadn't said anything about the infamous press conference on the way over and he'd begun to have the faint hope that she was going to drop the subject. "Whichever one happens to be on sale."
Bobby shook his head in disapproval. "Spandex is hard to get bomb stains out of," he informed Clark. "You should try Olef's Color Brite for the best results. Then you don't have to pre-treat spots and stains."
"Thanks," Clark muttered, glancing surreptitiously at Lois from the corner of his eye.
"And," Bobby continued, "it'll keep the Spandex from stretching out prematurely. Considering the way Superman must beat up his clothes, that'll make a difference."
"I'll remember," Clark told him, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Thanks, Bobby. We have to go now, though. Enjoy your lasagna."
"Figured you might not know," Bobby said. "Lots of guys don't understand the finer points of washing clothes. Try it and you'll see the improvement. See you later, guys." He took a swig of the Cappuccino. "This stuff is great!"
**********
"I hadn't thought of that," Lois said as they got back into Lois's Jeep. "Didn't you look up how to wash Spandex when Superman asked you to help with his laundry?"
"He hasn't had any complaints so far," Clark said. "Can we just drop the subject for now and concentrate on Bobby's tip? How many illegal gambling joints do we know about in Metropolis?"
"I've got a list on my computer," Lois told him. "For starters, we're going to have to check them out and see if we can find out which Mazik brother frequents which one."
"Jimmy can probably help," Clark offered. "We should ask him to look into their recent backgrounds."
Lois nodded, inserting the key into the ignition. "Which days do you do laundry on?" she inquired.
"Lois!"
"And where do you do the laundry? I didn't notice a washing machine in your apartment. I'd think people would notice if you put Superman's suits into the machines at the laundromat."
"The apartment house has a washer and dryer," Clark said.
"But you don't leave Superman's suits in there, do you?"
"Of course not," Clark said. "I wash and dry them and take them back upstairs."
"And no one has ever seen them?"
"No."
"I hope you don't have the National Inquisitor staking out your laundry room tonight," Lois said.
Clark covered his eyes with one hand.
**********
"The Mazik brothers are Jason and Robert," Jimmy said. "Jason T. Mazik is the older brother, but Robert owns 51 percent of the business and is the senior partner. Jason has 49 percent -- or did. According to this --" He gestured to the document displayed on his computer screen. "Their father founded Mazik's Jewelers and when he died his will gave Robert a controlling interest. Jason originally had the remaining 49 percent, but he's sold nearly half of that to various other persons in the last couple of years."
Lois and Clark looked at each other.
"Interesting," Lois said.
"Yeah," Jimmy said. "If you want, I can go further into his background."
"Good idea," Lois said. "I wonder if the people who bought from him had any connections with the illegal gambling operations in Metropolis. I don't suppose that would show up in the records, would it?"
"Maybe," Jimmy said. "I'll see what I can dig up."
"Do that," Lois said.
The sound of sirens made Clark lift his head. He set down his café latte. "Be right back."
"Where are you going?" Lois asked.
"I just had an idea," he said. "I need to check on something." Before his partner could reply, he headed briskly for the elevator.
**********
The fire was in an apartment house across the city. Superman arrived moments after the first of the fire services and was immediately co-opted by the fire chief to help evacuate victims on the upper floor. Predictably, news cameras showed up within minutes and each time he set an evacuee on the ground it seemed that a reporter shoved a microphone into his face. He avoided the media until he had completed his rescues and landed by the fire chief.
"What else do you need me to do?" he asked.
"Superman!" It was the reporter from the Star. "How long has Clark Kent been doing your laundry?"
Clark turned his head, completely shocked. "What?"
"How long has Clark Kent been doing your laundry?" the woman repeated.
"I don't have time for this right now," Clark said. He turned back to the fire chief.
There was a sudden yell, and he spun around to see one of the firefighters, perched high on one of the ladders, grab frantically for the big hose that he had apparently been directing through a second story window. The object was already out of his reach, and falling toward the ground. Clark whisked toward it and captured it before it could strike any of the firefighters below and returned it at once to the man who had lost it. Smoke was belching from the opening before him, and from inside he could hear the pathetic mew of a kitten. Instantly, he drew in his breath and exhaled, quenching the flames in the room, and then whisked inside to rescue a small, terrified, struggling feline. From somewhere, he could hear the hoarse breaths of a larger life form, and, glaring around with his X-ray vision, instantly located a boy of about four beneath the room's bed.
Clark tilted the bed up against the wall, scooped up the child, and, holding him against his side, exited the room once more.
As he touched down, a woman, her face streaked with soot, ran forward. "Jerry! Oh, thank God! Is he all right?"
Jerry was crying and coughing, and reaching for the kitten.
"I think so," Clark said.
"I want Miffy!" the boy announced, between sobs.
Clark handed him the kitten, which had abruptly ceased its attempts to escape once Clark's feet had hit the ground.
"He went back for the cat," the woman said. "They wouldn't let me go after him."
"Children do," Clark said. "Come on. Let's have the paramedics check him over."
Fortunately, that was the last rescue. Clark assisted the fire services for another twenty minutes, making sure the flames were thoroughly quenched, before he flew away, to return an instant later as Clark Kent, to interview the fire chief.
**********
"Mr. Kent!" Tucking his notebook which now contained the notes from the interview into his pocket, Clark turned involuntarily at the sound of his name. The young man hurrying toward him was a complete stranger.
"Can I help you?" he inquired.
"My name is Ernest Gillingsford," the newcomer introduced himself. "I'm a sales representative of the Olef's Color Brite Detergent division of New Troy General Products Ltd. I took a chance that I'd find you here, since Superman was helping to put out the fire."
"Yes?" Clark said, a faint sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Why did you want me?"
"It came to our attention that you're in charge of doing Superman's laundry," Gillingsford said. "Being that our company is an enthusiastic supporter of Superman, we felt it would be appropriate to ask you to try our products when you wash Superman's suits. Your opinion, as the expert in cleaning Superman's uniform, of our line of detergent, would be much appreciated, as we always strive for the highest quality in laundry products."
"I'll be glad to let you know how it works out the next time I wash Superman's suit," Clark said. "Excuse me. I'm expected back at my office --"
"Absolutely," Gillingsford said. "I was asked to present you with these sample packages of Color Brite Detergent, Color Brite Pre-Soak, Color Brite Fabric Softener and Color Brite Chlorine Free Bleach." He extended a large, white paper bag, emblazoned with the logo of the company on one side. Clark found himself clutching the bulky object as Gillingsford smiled professionally at him. "This particular product is formulated to be particularly gentle on all stretch fabrics, and to help prevent premature stretching or damage to the fabric. Would it be all right if we contacted you in a month to ask for your opinion of our product?"
"I guess so," Clark said. "Now, if you'll excuse me --"
**********
"What's all that stuff?" Lois was inquiring, five minutes later as he set the bag on the floor beside his desk.
"You don't want to know." Clark sank into his chair and pulled up a blank Word document. "Hold on, Lois. I've got time to get this written up and sent to Perry before the deadline if I hurry."
"Okay." His partner eyed the bag curiously. "You have a message on your desk."
"I'll look at it in a minute." Clark's fingers were flying over the keys as he wrote up the story that he had composed on the way back to the office. Done in less than five minutes, he pressed the key to transmit it to his editor. As he did so, the phone rang. Clark picked it up. "Kent."
"Mr. Clark Kent?" The voice sounded smoothly professional.
"Yes," Clark said.
"This is Walter Brigham, managing supervisor of the E-Z Fit Tailoring Service. Since you are the man who launders Superman's uniforms, we have a special offer that we'd like to present to you ...."
**********
tbc
