Suspicions: 6/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Oh." Ellen felt almost dizzy with relief. Of course, it wasn't proof by a long shot, but as Clark had said to her yesterday afternoon, proving a negative was virtually impossible. Still, the information that she had turned up was a positive sign. Maybe she had been wrong, after all, if Clark's co-worker called him a straight-arrow.
As Sam had pointed out, and she'd had to admit, she'd never seen Clark show any of that kind of interest in any other woman but Lois, and now Candy had independently stated the same thing. Somehow, the testimony from an outside observer was far more convincing than either Sam's or Lois's. The office grapevine usually knew if something of that sort was going on, after all. If anything, it was far more vicious than ordinary gossip. That was how she'd found out about Sam and the receptionist, years ago. She intended to keep on watching him for a while, but maybe there really was another explanation for his strange behavior. She really hoped so.
She stood up. "Thank you," she said. "I needed to hear that from someone besides ..." She broke off. "Anyway, thank you."
"You're welcome," Candy said.
**********
And now, Part 6:
"Here's the stuff on Tyla Richards," Lois said. "It looks like she was a nurse at Metro General."
"Was?" Martha said.
"Yeah. She was found strangled in the hospital parking tier, two years ago," Lois said.
Martha winced. "I guess I'm not surprised. What do you have there?"
Lois shifted her position so that she could reach the keyboard more easily. "Several articles that appeared in the local papers at the time. You'd think the poor woman would have rated more than a three-inch column in the Planet. It says here that a friend said that she'd been receiving notes from a secret admirer for some time ... and the article from the Star mentions that a hidden videocamera was found in her bedroom. The police questioned several people, but no one was ever arrested."
"It sounds awfully familiar," Martha said. "I hope the police are looking at this one in connection with Candy's stalker."
"The case is probably still open," Lois said. "They don't usually close files on unsolved murders, but eventually the trail just gets cold and they're kind of forgotten." She shifted on the couch again and tugged at the pillow, trying to raise her upper body a few inches. "I wish Jim were around right now. He can practically make a computer sit up and beg."
"I'd like to see that," Martha said, but the flash of humor disappeared quickly. "Is there any way we can see the police report? I'd like to know who they questioned, for starters."
"Me, too. And a lot of other things. I'll call the Planet in a few minutes and see what Kelly can get for me. Let's see ... she was forty-five, divorced, a resident of Metropolis since she was born. She lived in the Parkview Apartments. That's on the other side of the city from Candy's place, I think. Wait ... here's a tiny little picture of her. Let's see if I can enlarge it without fuzzing it up too much."
"Grandma!" Jimmy entered the room, dragging his tricycle. "My wheel won't work!"
"Oh dear," Martha said. "Here, let me look at it, Jimmy." She crossed the room to the four-year-old and knelt to examine the wheel. "Honey, the wheel is coming off. I think we're going to have to wait until your daddy gets home to fix it."
Lois looked at her youngest son. His lip was quivering at the unwelcome news. "Jimmy, it won't be too long. Don't you want to go up to the playroom with Jonny and the others?"
"CJ won't let me. He says Wyatt and him hafta finish building a toothpick bridge for school."
Lois sighed. "Why don't they want you there, too?"
Jimmy pouted. "I spilled the toothpicks and the glue, but it was an accident! There was lots left!"
Lois carefully didn't meet Martha's eye. "Well, honey, why don't you get the dinosaur coloring book and the crayons out? You can sit down in here and keep Grandma and me company."
It took a little more persuading, but eventually the child was seated on the floor, industriously coloring the picture of a tyrannosaurus rex a brilliant shade of blue.
Lois turned back to her task. "This is the best I can do," she said, finally. "She looks a little like Candy."
"Let me see." Martha moved around to take a look at the somewhat pixelated photograph. "You know, Lois, this worries me more by the minute. What about the other name that your friend Bobby gave Clark -- Rebecca Bell?"
"Let's see what I can find," Lois said.
The search didn't take long. Lois found herself looking at a news report of the murder of Rebecca Bell, a forty-three year old police dispatcher, found strangled in the basement of her apartment house, four years before.
She reached for the phone. "I want to see those police reports," she said. "I think we may we have a serial killer on our hands."
**********
Ellen Lane left the Daily Planet in a much better mood than when she had entered it. The conversation with Candy Valenzuela had been enlightening, in more ways than one, and she found that she could now look at Clark's odd behavior in a more objective manner.
The things Sam had said the other night came back to her, and she gave them more attention than she had then, when she'd been so unreasonably certain that Clark was cheating.
Really, what actual evidence did she have that there was another woman? In all truth, none. His behavior was odd, but there could be another reason for it. Lois had stated unequivocally that he wasn't cheating. Ellen had dismissed that as denial, and she had to admit that Lois was good at denial, but her daughter was no fool. Sam had been correct when he'd said that Lois wouldn't put up for a minute with Clark cheating on her. He'd also said that Clark didn't show any of the signs of a man who was unfaithful to his wife, and heaven alone knew that Sam should recognize the symptoms. So if he wasn't cheating on Lois, what *was* he doing?
Walking back to the Taurus, she found herself considering that seriously for the first time.
The society columnist's testimony hadn't proven anything, of course, but maybe she should look a little closer at Clark, now that she could do it with somewhat unbiased judgement, and try to figure it out. If it indeed turned out that he had some kind of agreement with Superman, then she could fully relax. Of course, if he really was innocent, she'd also have to apologize to him, and that wasn't something she was good at, but if she knew her son-in-law at all, he'd accept it and never bring up the subject again. Clark didn't hold grudges. It was one of the characteristics about him that she had been forced to acknowledge, even while she had suspected him of the worst possible behavior.
Slowly, she got back into her car and sat still, thinking.
All right, what did she know about Clark's disappearances? She rummaged in her purse for the little notebook she used to write herself reminders, and her gold, monogrammed ballpoint pen.
Well, she knew that he frequently went with Superman to write about disasters in other countries. Perry White had said so. Candy Valenzuela had said that he often ran out of the newsroom with lame excuses, just the way she had seen him do at home, and came back with Superman exclusives, so Superman was a common factor. Her gaze fell on the alley from which Clark had emerged earlier in the day. He couldn't have gotten in there without her seeing him, unless he'd been delivered there by Superman. But, why on Earth would Superman drop him in an alley? It didn't make sense.
If she thought about it, Superman figured in a great deal of Lois and Clark's lives. Lois had had a crush on the hero for two years before she and Clark had finally become a couple, and he remained a close friend of the family, but Clark didn't seem to mind. He'd brought Sam and her to Lois's wedding, for heaven's sake, and Jonathan and Martha as well -- but he hadn't attended the wedding, itself, which was strange. She'd half-expected Superman to be Clark's best man. The two men were obviously close friends. They even looked a little alike, although Clark wasn't as tall, or as muscular.
A slightly scandalous thought occurred to her, and she dismissed it at once. She wasn't going to go *that* route again, unless no other explanation presented itself. There had to be another answer, if she could just see it.
Well, it would probably be a while before Clark and Superman got back from Argentina. She certainly had time to return home and pick up her cellular phone. She'd had enough of hunting around for pay phones for the day, and maybe something would occur to her while she was driving. Security could let her into the penthouse. The thought reminded her that she still needed to check with Lost and Found at the Planet to see if anyone had returned her keys yet, but she could do that later.
She started up the engine and moved carefully out into traffic. The beginning of the afternoon rush hour had begun, but it would be some time before it would become seriously impassable.
The drive to the tall apartment building that housed the penthouse she shared with Sam took just over twenty minutes. Ellen pulled into the entrance to the parking garage, thrust the plastic card that gave her access to the structure into its slot and drove through as the wooden arm lifted automatically. She found the spot reserved for her vehicle, turned off the engine and got out, locking the door behind her.
The parking lot was empty except for rows upon rows of expensive cars, and as usual, it gave her a faint feeling of uneasiness as she walked briskly through the echoing structure. Her footsteps sounded loudly on the cement and she found herself wishing that she hadn't worn heels today. What had she been thinking? If she'd decided to trail after Clark on foot, she wouldn't have been able to do it. Well, that was one other thing she would change when she got upstairs.
She paused in front of the elevator reserved for residents of the building and rang for the car. It was on the fourth floor, but it was heading downward. Ellen waited impatiently. She wanted to get back before Clark returned.
Somebody else was walking in the parking area. She could hear the footsteps of a man, and once, the scrape of a leather sole against cement, echoing through the breezy, concrete structure. There was something odd about the footsteps, however. They were almost furtive, and twice they seemed to stop, and then start up again. And, they were coming toward her.
Ellen looked around, trying to see whoever it was that was approaching her in such a strange fashion. For an instant, she saw motion by one of the supporting pillars, and then whoever it was had vanished behind the big, column of concrete.
A chill ran across her scalp, even as she told herself that she was safe here. All she had to do was to shout for help and Security would be there within moments.
Moments could be too long, she found herself thinking. The silence lengthened, and suddenly there was sound, as a car entered the garage and pulled past her into a nearby spot. Two residents of the building, whom she recognized as a retired lawyer and his wife, got out and strolled in a leisurely fashion toward her. Scott Tighe stopped suddenly and glanced quickly around. Ellen became aware of the irregular sound of retreating footsteps echoing though the structure.
"What was that?" he demanded.
"What was what?" his wife asked.
"Didn't you see him?" He pointed at the pillar. "It looked like somebody ran!"
They were silent for long seconds. Ellen heard the faintest of fading echoes, and then nothing.
"Let's get out of here," Amanda Tighe said. "We can notify Security in the lobby. Did you call the elevator, Ellen?"
Ellen nodded, aware at the same time that her heart had begun to pound and she suddenly felt short of air. "It should be here in a minute."
"I've said before that they should put a guard down here," Amanda said. "Anyone could get into this place."
"It was probably nothing," Ellen said. "A transient, maybe. But I agree."
"We should bring it up at the next tenants' meeting," Amanda said.
The elevator arrived and they boarded. Ellen tried to quiet the jitters that ran along her nerves as the car moved slowly upward. Nothing, really, had happened, and she was probably right that it had been only a transient, but quite suddenly she recalled the man whom she had seen this morning in the Daily Planet parking structure, slashing the tires of the Kent Jeep. The man who had tried to attack her when he realized that she had seen him.
Put in the context of what she had learned at the Daily Planet, it had begun to take on more sinister possibilities than a simple act of vandalism. Could it possibly have had something to do with the person who was apparently stalking Candy Valenzuela?
It was silly, she knew. Even if it were true, the vandal had no idea who she was. There could be no possible connection to the person in the garage, downstairs.
And with that thought, another image flashed through her mind. The whole event earlier had left her shaken enough at the time that she hadn't remembered clearly. She knew suddenly where she had lost her keys.
She'd struck the oncoming assailant with her handbag. The bag's latch had not held and there had been a clink as something flew from her purse and struck the concrete floor outside the elevator, just as the doors had closed.
Her key ring. With her name and phone number on it.
**********
The whoosh of air past the window alerted Lois that her husband had landed in the back yard. A moment later, Clark entered the living room via the kitchen door.
"Daddy!" Jimmy shouted. The four-year-old charged his father and Clark caught him and swung him over his head.
"Hi, sport! How's it going?"
"Daddy, can you fix my trike?" Jimmy demanded. "It's broke."
"Ah, that explains the enthusiasm," Clark said. "Okay, I'll take a look at it in a minute. I can't stay long. I have to get back to the Planet." He set his youngest son on the floor and crossed to Lois. "I needed to take a shower. Hi, Mom."
Martha sniffed and ostentatiously held her nose, but she was smiling.
"You smell funny, Daddy," Jimmy announced, as Lois became aware of a definite odor of decay.
"I guess you ran into something smelly in Argentina?" she said.
"You could say that. The mudslide brought a lot of debris with it," Clark explained. "I rinsed it off in a stream, but I figured I'd better have a shower with soap before I went back to work. How about you? Did you find anything of interest?"
"Yeah. Why don't you go get that shower, and I'll tell you about it while you fix Jimmy's tricycle," Lois said.
"Good idea." He half-ran up the stairs, and an instant later, she heard the shower come on.
True to his word, he was back within five minutes, his hair combed neatly and curling somewhat from the water. "Okay, pal, let's see that trike." He glanced at Lois. "What did you find?"
"Tyla Richards and Rebecca Bell were both murdered," Lois said. "One of them two years ago and one four years ago, in the last week of April. Kelly's trying to get the police reports for me, now. I started looking for similar stuff in Cincinnati -- I have a friend on the Cincinnati Register, there -- since that's where Bobby told you to look, and it turns out that there were four killings that match the pattern -- six, eight, ten and twelve years ago respectively. The police there called him the 'Two Year Killer'. Anyhow, she's faxing the police reports to the Planet for you to read, since I didn't know you were coming home for a bath. He always sends them notes and letters first, and there's always a videocamera in their bedroom. And every one of them has been strangled."
"But this guy tampered with Candy's brakes," Clark said. "That doesn't match."
"She wasn't killed," Lois said. "I think it was just meant to scare her. Apparently that's part of the pattern -- to scare them, first. Oh, yeah -- and a couple of times when the victim was being stalked, she would get someone to go with her places. One of the men was killed, and the other was shot, but survived. He didn't see the guy's face, though."
"Did the police have any clues?" Clark asked. He had lowered his glasses, and Lois saw a tiny tendril of smoke rise from the metal pin that held on the rear wheel of Jimmy's tricycle. The four-year-old craned his neck, trying unsuccessfully to see over his father's shoulder. "There you go, sport. All fixed." He blew gently on the repaired pin. "You take it out on the patio and ride it there, okay?"
"'Kay, Daddy," Jimmy said. He planted a wet kiss on his father's cheek and departed, dragging the tricycle.
Lois shook her head. "They had several possible suspects," she said, "but no physical evidence, and nothing linked any of them with more than one woman. None of the women were physically assaulted before their murder, so there wasn't any DNA evidence."
"How about the notes?"
"Printed via a computer -- the couple that they managed to find. He didn't use the same printer, either, so there's no match, except the technique, itself, and the phrasing of the notes."
"Still," Clark said, "it does sound like the same guy's after Candy. I'd better get back to the Planet. He's going to have a harder job getting rid of her bodyguard, this time."
Lois nodded. "Be careful. And Clark, there was one other thing that bothered me. A woman reported seeing a man hanging around the home of one of the victims, and described him to the police. She was found shot to death a couple of weeks later."
"Did you get the description she gave?"
"Yeah. It's in the fax. You'd better go, Clark. I'm worried about Candy, and Mother. If the person she saw slashing the tires was the stalker --"
"Your mom could be in danger," Clark finished. "The guy does seem to cover his tracks pretty carefully. I'll find her, and bring her here for safety until we nail this character."
"I'll feel better if you do," Lois said. "There are times I'd like to wring her neck, but I don't want her to be murdered."
**********
(tbc)
