Supercop 2: The Black Knight -- 9/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Henderson was entering the side door or the Precinct when his cell phone rang. He unhooked the little object from his belt and flipped it open. "Henderson."
"It's Cindy," the familiar voice at the other end said. "You said you wanted the information on that license as soon as we had it."
"Right," Henderson said. "What have you got?"
"It belongs to a Robert Owens, last known address: Albany, New York," Cindy said. "I just faxed the report over to you."
"Thanks," Henderson said. "Any background on this guy?"
"Not yet. The address is an old one."
"How old?"
There was a pause as Cindy apparently checked her information. "Three and a half months old. He apparently moved out and left no forwarding address."
**********
And now, Part 9:
When Lois Lane walked into the Daily Planet less than a full minute after speaking to Henderson, Jimmy Olsen jumped to his feet, a sheet of fax paper in his hand. "Lois!"
The urgency in his voice made her hurry down the steps to reach him. "Is that what I hope it is?"
Jimmy nodded vigorously. "We've got a ninety percent probability on the prints." He lowered his voice. "Robert Owens from Albany, New York."
Lois raised her eyebrows, recalling the information Bobby had imparted earlier. "Albany?"
"Yeah. I've got a friend on the police force there. He hunted up the guy's records for me. He's got three arrests for domestic abuse -- put his wife in the hospital, but she refused to press charges. Then about three and a half months ago, right after the last incident, he just disappeared. Didn't leave any forwarding address or anything."
"Anything else?" Lois asked.
"Yeah. He's being sought in connection with the beating death of his mother, Elizabeth Owens, in her home at approximately the same time. They haven't said he's a suspect -- just a 'person of interest'."
Lois grimaced. "I suppose I should give him the benefit of the doubt, but I'm not going to," she said. "If this Owens character really is the Midtown Rapist, then the chances are good that he was the one that beat his mother to death, too. The guy hates women. That's pretty obvious. Give Henderson a call. The sooner he's on this, the better. Here's his number." She thrust a slip of paper into his hand. "I told him I'd have you call him if you got any results."
"Yeah." Jimmy reached for the phone on his desk.
The beep of the fax machine at that second made him pause, and he went to pick up several sheets of paper that slipped into the tray, one after the other. Lois saw him frown suddenly.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Jose got back to me with the other stuff." He got to his feet, glancing in the direction of the new gofer, who was just entering the editor's office with a cup of coffee and a donut in her hands. "Come into the conference room a minute, would you?"
"Sure." Lois followed her younger colleague into the room and shut the door. "What is it?"
"Look at this." Jimmy handed her the fax.
Lois blinked at the papers. The first two consisted of the police report on Robert Owens, and a photo. Lois frowned at the image of a small man with a pleasant face and the beginning of male pattern baldness. But the last ones ...
Lois met Jimmy's eyes and she knew the appalled feeling in her gut was mirrored on her face. They were photos of Perry White's niece, bruised and bloodied, and the medical report that detailed three severe beatings. "Oh, my god," she whispered. "Jim, you call Henderson. I've got to talk to Perry."
**********
Henderson was reaching for his desk phone with the intention of putting in a call to the Albany Police Department when his cell phone rang. He unsnapped it from his belt and flipped it open. "Henderson."
"Mr. Henderson?" It was Jim Olsen's voice, and there was a note in it that he hadn't heard before. "It's Jim Olsen. I think we have a hit."
"You've matched the print?" Henderson was conscious of a feeling of excitement in his middle -- a feeling he thought he'd gotten past years ago. Cops were supposed to regard this kind of thing as routine, but that was before he'd become the Black Knight: someone who had the ability to stop criminals before they hurt innocent people. Of course, this guy had hurt a number of innocent people, but maybe, just maybe they could stop him from hurting anyone else.
"Yes sir. It's a 90% probability of a match. The guy's name is Robert Owens, from --"
"Albany, New York," Henderson said.
"You knew?" Olsen sounded surprised.
"Not exactly. The name came up in relation to a different investigation," Henderson said. "What have you got?"
"Uh -- a couple of things," Olsen said. "I'm going to fax what I have over to you. But --" He paused.
"Is there something else?" Henderson asked.
"Uh -- yeah." Olsen's voice dropped. "I don't know if I should tell you this way, but --"
Clearly there was something more here. "Something you don't want to discuss over the phone?"
"Uh -- yes sir."
"All right. I'll tell you what: I'm going to be in the vicinity of the Daily Planet in about half an hour. Why don't I drop by and we can talk, then."
"Uh -- yeah. That would probably be better, sir."
"Fine. I'll be there." And in the meantime, he thought, it would give him a chance to contact the Albany Police Department. It looked as if they might finally have a break.
**********
Lois knocked vigorously on the door of Perry's office and opened the door without waiting for permission to enter. "Perry, can I talk to you?"
Her editor was just removing his heels from his desk as she stepped inside. "Geez Louise, Lois, don't be in such an all-fired hurry!"
"It's important." She shut the door firmly behind her and turned the lock.
At her tone, Perry sat up straight. "What's goin' on?"
"Jimmy thinks we may have identified the Midtown Rapist."
"*What*?"
"He's identified the print -- or he's pretty sure he has. He's calling Bill Henderson right now. Henderson'll be able to verify it one way or the other, but we've got a problem."
"What problem?"
Lois hesitated. "That's why I need to talk to you. Maybe you can handle it better than I can. My style is a bit too direct."
"You're not bein' very direct right now," Perry pointed out. "In fact, you're doin' a lot of beating around the bush."
"I know." Lois hesitated. In the other room, she heard Jimmy end his call to Henderson. "It's about Mary Owens. She's Alice's niece, isn't she?"
Perry eyed her with what she could swear was a calculating expression. "Clark and his lip-reading again?"
"Uh -- no." She wouldn't compromise Clark's reputation for integrity. "I've been working on it, myself. Clark's been teaching me. Never mind that. I'm not trying to hurt Mary. It's just that the guy whose print they identified is named Robert Owens. From Albany. And Jimmy's friend sent him the police report -- with pictures." She couldn't help a small shudder. "I saw what he did to her."
Perry's jaw set. "I was afraid of that. *What* did he do to her?"
"You don't know?" Lois was aware of a mild sensation of surprise.
Her editor pushed his chair back sharply. "I suspected ... but I didn't know for sure. Mary said it wasn't bad -- that he'd slapped her around a little. I didn't like it, but there wasn't much I could do -- but I guess she wasn't real candid, huh?"
"No," Lois said. "Jimmy has the pictures."
Perry got to his feet. "I want to see them."
"Chief --"
"Call him in here." Perry looked surprisingly grim. "I want to see for myself."
"Okay. Just a minute." Lois didn't wait for permission. She exited her boss's office and beckoned to Jimmy, who was just emerging from the conference room.
Jimmy looked slightly surprised. Lois beckoned again. "Bring the stuff in here. Perry wants to talk to you."
**********
The fax sent by Olsen from the Planet was very enlightening, Henderson thought, although the pictures of Robert Owens' wife almost made him shudder. He was a cop, to be sure, and had seen plenty of ugliness during his career, but it still astounded him that a man could do to his wife what this man had done. Even the thought of something like that happening to Sue was enough to make a chill crawl down his back.
And then there was the report of the beating death of the guy's mother. Of course they didn't have any proof but, given the pattern, it wouldn't surprise Henderson in the slightest if Owens turned out to be the guilty party there as well. The picture of Owens was the final piece of evidence. It was the man he had seen the night before. Robert Owens was here in Metropolis -- or he had been last night, at least -- and for some reason he appeared to be watching Norma Randall. The pieces were starting to come together.
He got to his feet. Jim Wolfe was in his office -- Henderson could hear him speaking on the phone. The other detective could take care of verifying the fingerprint and get as much background on Owens as was available. Henderson needed to get over to the Daily Planet. As far as he was concerned, Olsen had given him enough reason to pay attention to what he said -- in fact, he thought it might be a good idea to have him listed as a police consultant in the future. He'd certainly been plenty of use in the last couple of months. Admittedly, the kid was young and people tended not to notice him, but it was often the quiet ones that surprised you, he thought. He grabbed his jacket as he went through the door into the hall and rapped on the open door of Wolfe's office. "Can I have a word with you?"
Wolfe was just putting down the receiver. "Sure. What's up?"
"Could be we've got a line on the Rapist. Jim Olsen just sent me some information --"
"Oh?" Wolfe extended a hand for the sheets of fax paper that Henderson handed him.
"Yeah. One of his friends apparently thinks he's identified the print. We're going to need to confirm through official channels but it's a strong probable. The guy was in Metropolis last night. I talked to the Knight a little while ago and he identified the photo. And the license plate matches."
"I'll get on it right away." Wolfe glanced at the picture of Mary Owens and Henderson saw him grimace slightly. "Looks like a nice guy."
"Yeah," Henderson said. "If anybody asks, I'm heading for the Daily Planet. Olsen had some information he didn't want to discuss over the phone." He turned his head slightly as his super-hearing picked up a familiar voice. "See you later."
As he left Wolfe's office, Henderson lowered his glasses and glanced toward the desk in the lobby of the station. His jaw hardened slightly.
Superman was standing at the desk, speaking to John Braxton. The young man was shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Superman, but Inspector Henderson is busy. You'll have to wait. Just take a seat over there --"
Henderson headed for the lobby. Johnny was a nice kid in most ways, and was going to make a good police officer someday, but one thing he was going to have to get over first was his dislike of the super heroes. A few years before, they had had an assistant DA who had felt similarly about Superman -- what had her name been? Drake, that was it. Henderson had suspected at the time that the young woman's deep-seated dislike of Superman had come from the knowledge that if he chose, she couldn't control him. The fact that he wasn't human might or might not have entered into it; Henderson hadn't been close enough to the situation to draw any conclusions about that but the objections that she had raised had certainly lacked any validity. He recalled her complaint that the superhero was a vigilante, and had personally disagreed at the time, although it hadn't been necessary for him to defend Superman. Drake's own superior had summarily dismissed her objections, but Johnny's, yesterday, had been similar, when Henderson had spoken to him. Obviously, the talk hadn't done much good and Henderson hadn't had the time to go more deeply into the argument.
"Superman," he said, stepping into the lobby, "just the man I wanted to see." He glanced sharply at Braxton, but pointedly made no comment.
"Inspector," Superman said. "I wanted to let you know that I delivered Officer Randall safely to her -- destination. You said you wanted to speak to me when I had the time?"
"Yes, I did." Henderson slipped on his jacket. "I'm sure you're busy, so why don't you walk out to my car with me. It won't take long."
Superman nodded, and together they exited the Precinct. Clark glanced briefly over his shoulder as he followed Henderson out and the door swung shut behind them. "Young Braxton doesn't like me very much."
"You picked up on that, huh?"
"It was a little hard to miss," Clark said. "What's his problem?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm going to make time for a talk with him when I can. Having a cop that seems to have the goal of obstructing Superman isn't exactly a plus for the Department."
"It isn't just me," Clark said.
"Yeah, I know." Henderson led the way toward the Precinct's parking lot. "I think he's a little afraid of us. Could be he's trying to prove that he's in charge. I don't think he's figured out yet that it isn't a power trip." Henderson shrugged. "I'll have to deal with him later. This is more urgent. Olsen may have identified our boy."
Clark's stride faltered just slightly. "He has?"
"We think he may have. Remember the guy that the Knight ran into last night? The report on the license plate says the car belongs to a Robert Owens of Albany, New York. The print that Olsen was checking out may be his -- 90% probability. Wolfe's having the Albany police do a more complete verification, right now."
Clark bit his lip. "You said the car last night was blue. Something just occurred to me."
"What?"
"This morning, while I was taking Officer Randall to your place. There was a blue car parked on her block, part way down the street. I noticed it from the air. I didn't think much about it, but it's possible that he was watching her, then. He'd have seen me fly her away."
"Could have been somebody that lives there," Henderson said. "I don't suppose you happened to notice the license, did you?"
Clark frowned. "I'm thinking."
Sometimes a photographic memory could be a very good thing, Henderson thought, watching the other man. If Clark had noted the license, even subconsciously --
"I only saw it from an angle," Clark said finally. "The license was a New York plate, I'm certain of that -- an older plate. And the first two numbers were 46. That's all I saw."
"The first two numbers on the plate last night were 46," Henderson said. "If that's a coincidence, I'm Mayor Kelley's Great Aunt Mary."
"No. He's getting pretty bold," Clark said.
"Yeah." Henderson unlocked the driver's door of his car. "Well, so far he's managed to avoid the cops. The only real trouble he ran into was the boyfriend, the other night. He might be getting a bit cocky. That could turn out to be a mistake. We'll just have to be sure not to give him any reason to think we might have figured out who he is."
Superman nodded. Henderson got into the driver's seat and rolled down the window. "Look, I'm not going to try to give you all the information here. When you get back to the Planet, get Olsen to give you the stuff he has and read it. We've been saying that it's only a matter of time before our boy kills somebody. We may be wrong." He started up the car's engine.
"What do you mean?"
"He may already be a murderer," Henderson said. "See you at the Planet."
**********
tbc
