I've got two pages of the next part of Smallville done and am slowly progressing. In the meantime, here is a short offering for your Halloween entertainment.
The Vampire Murders
By Nan Smith
Part 1/?
Lois Lane looked up from a study of her handwritten notes for the fourth time in ten minutes and rubbed her eyes. Really, her handwriting was getting worse and worse all the time, she thought, rubbing her neck with one hand. She was going to have to work on her penmanship, she thought.
Across the room, the television was on and she noted that the blonde who co-anchored the local news channel was speaking. The sound was off, and this program didn't use closed captioning, so she couldn't tell what the woman was saying, but her male partner, a young man just as pretty as she was, was laughing, so it couldn't be anything too important.
Her gaze shifted to her apartment window. It was a clear night, a little cold for the season, and she had closed the glass but left the curtains open, just on the off chance that Superman would fly by. She studied the window uneasily. It was almost as if someone were watching her. After a moment, she got up, locked the window and pulled the curtains.
The feeling of observation faded away and she felt her shoulders relax. After a moment, she went into her kitchen, filled the little-used Corningware teapot with water and set it on the burner. Somehow this evening a cup of the Oolong Tea imported from China, that Clark had given her a few months ago when she had been fighting a head cold, sounded good.
While the water heated, she consulted the instructions that Clark had painstakingly written out for her, and at what she judged was the right time, removed the pot from the burner and dropped in the tea leaves, wondering what Clark's thing was for tea leaves instead of tea bags. Maybe that was why the tea he made at his place always seemed so much better than hers. But his coffee was better than hers, too, she reflected. Maybe that was because he ground his own coffee beans, bought from who-knew-where. And maybe it was just because he knew what he was doing. Besides, Instant was usually her coffee of choice, even though she had a coffee maker. It was faster and a lot easier.
She set the timer to allow the tea to steep. Clark evidently had wisely decided that it would be prudent not to leave the timing to her judgment, she thought. She would never admit it, but he was probably right. She resolutely did not look at the plastic tray, which had held her frozen turkey dinner, protruding from the kitchen trash can. Okay, so cooking wasn't her strong point. At least her partner didn't seem to mind.
Again, she glanced at the window, now covered with the curtains. Was it her imagination or had a shadow passed across it? Who would be likely to cast a shadow on her window curtains except Superman? She was on the fifth floor, after all.
She started to cross the room to pull back the curtains when her gaze fell on the television, which was showing a breaking live news report. Superman was engaged in an interview about the robbery that he had apparently just foiled, judging by the print scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Lois reached for the remote that lay on the counter and turned up the sound.
Her window rattled faintly, and her head snapped around toward it. Was that shadow back? If Superman was across town, talking to a reporter, then what was rattling her window?
After a second, reason took over. It was the wind gusting against the side of the building, of course. The weather report had said they were in for thirty mile-an-hour winds tonight and tomorrow, followed by clouds in the afternoon.
Her timer rang, and she turned back to the teapot. Her hand was almost steady as she poured out the tea into an earthenware mug. She added artificial sweetener and blew gently across the surface of the liquid to cool it, but all the time, her ears were straining to hear any other sound coming from beyond the window.
There was nothing, and the faint rattle had ceased.
She sipped the tea, raising her eyebrows at the delicate flavor. Clark evidently had either picked out really good tea, or the directions had worked out right after all -- or both. She sank back against the couch, wincing at the non-yielding piece of furniture. Clark was right. This thing was an instrument of torture. It wasn't designed to relax on.
She turned up the TV's sound.
The newscaster was speaking. "… Body of the unidentified man was found in Centennial Park. The discovery was made late this evening by a couple who, according to their statement, were taking a short cut through the park…."
Lois sipped her tea slowly, savoring the taste. She definitely had to preserve Clark's directions, she thought, as she listened to the report with half her attention. She had phoned in this story to the rewrite desk an hour ago. The victim had been discovered on the main path, and couldn't possibly have been there long. The case was similar to another one, two days before, but the police spokesman had refused to comment on the possibility, raised by Clark, that there might be any connection.
Her gaze was drawn back to the window once more. She didn't see any sign of a shadow now. Probably there had never been one, but the faint uneasiness wouldn't quite go away. Deliberately, she finished her tea and turned off the television. It was high time for her to head for bed before she spooked herself out -- but just in case, she decided that if only for tonight she was going to leave all her lights on and make sure that every window was locked. Fifth floor or not.
**********
The sky was clear the next morning as Lois drove to the Daily Planet, and the wind was gusting enthusiastically, she thought as she maneuvered through the streets. Pedestrians clutched hats that tried to fly away and coats flapped in the vigorous breeze.
A flash of red and blue above and to her left made her look up quickly as she turned into the entrance to the Daily Planet's parking garage, but if it had been Superman, he was already gone. She slid her pass card through the scanner and waited while the bar lifted to allow her into the lot. A few moments later, she was on the elevator and headed for the newsroom.
The car slid to a stop on the first floor and, to her surprise, Clark Kent stepped in. He smiled cheerfully when he saw her. "Good morning!"
"That's a matter of opinion," she said. "I haven't had my coffee yet."
"We can take care of that when we get upstairs," Clark said.
"Depends. Do you actually call that stuff in the coffee machine coffee?"
He chuckled. "Well, maybe just for starters. We can pick you up some real coffee later."
"I guess," she said. "Have you heard any more about that thing last night?"
"What thing? Oh, you mean the murder case. A contact of mine at the station called me this morning with the autopsy results." He scowled. "Weird, really."
She waited impatiently as the doors closed and the elevator resumed its creaky journey upwards, and then prodded, "What do you mean, weird?"
"The cause of death," he said.
"Yeah? So what was so weird about it?"
"The cause of death was blood loss."
"How is that weird? Lots of people die of stab wounds."
"He wasn't stabbed," Clark said. "Or shot. The cause of death was complete blood loss, but the only wounds on the body were two small punctures in the neck, right over the carotid artery."
"You're kidding." Images of the last vampire movie that she had seen popped into her mind, only to be dismissed.
Clark's expressive eyebrows flew up. "I don't kid about murder."
"Sorry," Lois said. "That's strange, all right. What did the medical examiner think?"
"My contact is faxing over the report," Clark said. "It should be waiting for us by the time we get to the newsroom."
As he spoke, the elevator opened and they stepped out into the morning bustle of the Daily Planet newsroom.
The place, as usual, was a madhouse, even this early in the morning. As they descended the ramp into the Pit, Jimmy Olsen waved a piece of fax paper over his head. "Hey, CK! You got a fax in just a minute ago!"
"There it is," Clark said. He speeded up slightly and met Jimmy at the foot of the ramp. "Thanks," he said, beginning to scan the paper at once. Lois waited impatiently.
"Well? I thought you were the speed reader," she said finally as Clark continued to scan the fax.
"Here." He handed her the paper, frowning. "It looks like somebody hit our man over the head before he was killed."
"Well," Lois said, "I don't see a vampire needing to knock somebody out before killing him, do you? It sounds like we have a really twisted killer, though."
"That's putting it mildly. Look at the rest." Clark indicated the information at the bottom of the page. "The guy's name was Frederick de Mint. Employed by Cost Mart for the last four months."
"Aha," Lois said quietly. She turned, looking around for Jimmy, who had departed after handing Clark the fax. "Jimmy!"
Jimmy waved a hand in acknowledgement and dropped a small stack of papers on the desk of the business editor, then turned and made his way to Lois's desk, arriving there just as she sat down and switched on her computer. "You bellowed, ma'am?"
"I did indeed," Lois said. "We need some background on this guy." She handed him Clark's fax. "His name's Frederick DeMint. Everything you can find on him, yesterday, if possible."
"I'll get on it as soon as I can," Jimmy promised. He turned his head at the shout of "Olsen!" from the Editor's office and grimaced. "S'cuse me." He hurried away, nearly running.
"Olsen!" The yell came from across the newsroom, in the general vicinity of the Sports desk. Lois shook her head. It looked like Jimmy was in high demand this morning. It might be a while before she got her information.
Perry's door burst open again and their editor stuck his head out. "Lane! Kent! Get over to the Wishing Well at Centennial Park! They've found another body!"
"Another one? What the heck is going on?" Lois grabbed her shoulder bag that she had kicked under her desk and got to her feet. Clark had already retrieved her jacket from the coat tree and she accepted it without comment. "Let's go, Clark."
**********
Inspector William Henderson, Metropolis Homicide Division, was standing with his hands shoved into the pockets of his light jacket, a dour look on his dark, slightly saturnine face. As usual, he wore his dark glasses, which gave Lois the impulse to shake her head, as clouds were beginning to drift across the sky, dimming the bright sunlight. Around him was the organized chaos of a police investigation.
The area where the victim lay had been roped off, of course, and Lois glanced briefly at the sheet-covered silhouette of the form that sprawled on the grass. She saw Clark fiddling with his glasses, which he did all the time. She thought it must be a nervous habit, and had never mentioned it to him. Her partner lowered the spectacles slightly, apparently looking over the tops of the lenses at the shrouded form; then he shoved them back into place and trod determinedly over to Henderson. Lois followed.
Henderson's dour expression didn't change when he saw them, except to grow a little sourer. "Well, well," he remarked. "Look what the cat dragged in. What can Metropolis's Finest do for the Daily Planet today?"
Lois glanced over her shoulder at the victim. "What happened?"
"He was murdered," Henderson said, laconically.
"No kidding." Lois regarded him with disfavor. "How did he die? Was it anything like what happened to the guy last night?"
Henderson shoved his dark glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Since we aren't sure what killed the other victim, I can't really say," he said.
Clark's hand squeezed her wrist slightly. "The victim last night was drained of blood," he pointed out. "I don't suppose anything like that happened to this fellow?"
Henderson appeared to relent. "We don't know for sure," he admitted, "but it looks a lot like last night's case. There isn't any blood to see, but the victim appears to have been exsanguinated, and there are two small holes on his neck -- right over the carotid artery." He blew out his breath. "Somebody's playing some sick games."
"How about the victim a couple of nights ago?" Lois inquired. "I don't suppose he had any similarity to the last two."
"You know, Lois," Henderson said, "you have all the delicacy of a bull in a China shop."
"I'm a reporter," Lois said. "Did he?"
Henderson shrugged. "Yeah, he did."
"Drained of blood?"
Henderson grunted. "Yeah."
"So that's three," Lois said. "What's going on? Somebody playing vampire?"
"Maybe," Henderson said. "I don't want to draw any conclusions yet."
"Who found this one?" Clark asked.
"Early morning jogger. Guy looks like he's been dead several hours. We'll know more by this afternoon."
"Can you fax us over the report when the medical examiner has finished?" Clark asked. Lois didn't speak. She'd noticed that Henderson was much more likely to cooperate if Clark made the requests.
Henderson sighed gustily. "Sure. Why not?"
"Thanks, Bill, Clark said "We owe you one."
"Don't mention it," Henderson muttered.
**********
tbc
