Suspicions: 7/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"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."
**********
And now, Part 7:
Sam Lane glanced up at the flash of blue overhead as he approached the Daily Planet. There was nothing in sight, now, but he was pretty sure that he'd caught a glimpse of Superman. Hopefully, he was on his way back to the newsroom after the business in Argentina. He wanted to speak to his son-in-law in hopes of heading off a confrontation between Lois and her mother. Clark would almost certainly cooperate. The last thing he wanted right now was anything that might upset Lois unnecessarily and precipitate an early labor.
"Sam!" Clark's voice behind him almost made him jump. He turned to see his son-in-law jogging toward him down the sidewalk. For a second, Sam was assailed by doubt, and then he caught himself. Considering the speed at which Superman could move, Clark would have no difficulty in appearing to be virtually in two places at once, should he choose to do so.
He lifted a hand in greeting. Clark arrived beside him, not even breathing hard. Naturally. Looking at him now, Sam could see Superman's face behind the glasses and hairstyle that Clark affected, but it was easy to see how he had fooled everyone for so long. A great deal of the disguise was the differences in mannerisms between the two personas: all the unconscious visual signals that communicate a person's identity to others. One would never have believed, looking at Clark Kent, that he was capable of such a complete alteration in not only his appearance but his body language as well. His son-in-law had to be one of the most accomplished actors of all time, at least in this area.
"Hello, Clark," he said. "I was hoping I'd find you. I'm looking for Ellen."
"That makes two of us," Clark said. "You have no idea where she might be?"
Sam discovered that even at his age, he had not forgotten how to be embarrassed. "Maybe. I think she may be somewhere around the Daily Planet."
Clark was looking at him oddly, but he merely said, "She was, earlier, but I haven't been able to find her. Even Superman's been looking, and he can't locate her, either."
"What do you want her for?" Sam asked.
Clark hesitated. "Come up to the newsroom and I'll explain. Lois and I are afraid that she might be in danger."
"Danger!" Sam stopped in his tracks, aware of a jolt of apprehension at the thought that Ellen could be in trouble. "Why? What's wrong?"
"We have a situation with one of our people. Ellen may have witnessed something that she shouldn't have ..."
By the time that they arrived in the newsroom, Clark had finished explaining, and Sam found that his heart had begun to pound. "So, you're afraid that a serial killer may be after Ellen?"
"Sam, it's just a possibility. She's probably all right. It's just that Lois and I want to be sure she's safe while we figure out who this guy is. Can you think of anywhere she might be?"
Sam shook his head. "I came over here because I had a hunch she was in the area," he said.
He saw a slight smile cross Clark's face. "Oh?"
"Um ... yeah. I'm pretty sure she was trying to follow you."
"Yeah, I kind of figured that out, myself."
Sam glanced quickly at him. He probably shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. "How ..."
"Never mind. I'll explain later. Right now, we need to focus on finding her."
"Clark!" The hail came from a tall, slender blond woman wearing an outfit that opened his eyes a little. That had to be Candy Valenzuela, Sam thought: the stalker's target. If Ellen had seen her with Clark when he had driven her to work this morning, he could understand his wife's suspicions. Candy had to be in her mid-forties, but she carried her age well. Oddly enough, though, Sam found his wife more attractive, even if he couldn't say why. She was certainly less glamorous than the society columnist, and had acquired some padding in places that distressed her, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. The fact that Ellen might be in danger overrode all other considerations in his mind.
Clark led the way down to the main floor of the newsroom, to Candy's desk. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
Candy was holding up a digital camera that Sam recognized immediately as belonging to Ellen. "Lois's mother was here a little while ago," she said. "After she left, I found her camera sitting on my desk. She must have forgotten it."
"Oh, thanks." Clark took the camera. "This is Dr. Lane, Lois's father, Candy. He's looking for Ellen. By any chance, did she say where she was going when she left?"
"I'm afraid not," Candy said. "Detective Wolff called, though. He wanted you to call him back."
"Did he say what he wanted?"
"He was checking on the name of that shop that the flowers came from. He wanted to be sure he had the right name."
"Oh. Wasn't it on the card?"
Candy shook her head. "I looked. It's just a plain card. There wasn't any label on the vase, either."
"I'd better call him," Clark said, handing the camera to Sam. "Just a minute."
Sam nodded, checking the camera. Ellen had taken only three shots, by the reading on the counter. Maybe this would tell him where she had been, or give him some idea of where she would go next. He fiddled for several seconds with the unfamiliar controls.
"Hi, Dr. Lane." Jim Olsen had approached while he wrestled with the buttons. "Having a problem?"
"Sort of." He held out the camera. "Do you know how to work this thing?"
"What do you want to do with it?" Jim asked, taking it from him.
"You're supposed to be able to see the pictures on this screen," Sam said, "but I can't make it work. You're the expert. Can you fix it?"
"Sure." Jim did something and the screen lit obediently. "Here you go."
It appeared to be a picture of Candy Valenzuela and an unidentified man leaving the Daily Planet via the front door. Evidently, he had been right in his guess about Ellen's activities this morning, but somehow that no longer mattered.
Candy Valenzuela glanced at the picture. "That was taken directly across the street from the Planet."
"Looks like it," Jim said. "This is a nice camera. Look at the picture quality."
Indeed, the image was clear and sharp. He took the camera back. "How do I see the others?"
"Just push this button," Jim said. He demonstrated, and the picture shifted. "See?"
The photo showed Clark Kent, obviously headed for the main door of the Planet Building, his figure half obscured by a man in a security guard's uniform.
"What?" Clark's voice was suddenly sharp, drawing their attention. "Are you certain?"
People turned to look at him. He listened a few seconds more. "All right, Detective. Thanks." He put down the phone.
"What is it?" Candy asked. "What did Wolff say?"
"There *is* no business in town called 'Myrtle's Florist and Hardware'. There isn't even one within at least fifty miles of Metropolis."
"What?" Sam said.
"The stalker," Clark said. "He sent Candy a bouquet of flowers. The delivery boy said they were from 'Myrtle's Florist and Hardware'. I asked him if he'd seen the man who ordered them, and he said no. But, there isn't any such place. He lied."
"Why would he lie about something like that?" Candy asked, looking slightly bewildered. Then, her face changed. "Ohmigod."
"He's the stalker," Jim said.
"Lois said his pattern is to scare his victims first," Clark said. "I guess he wants to see it."
"What do you mean?" Candy asked. "Have you found out something, Clark?"
He nodded. "Lois did," he said. His eye fell on the camera Sam was holding in one hand, the second picture Ellen had taken still showing on the small screen. "What's this?" he asked, his voice suddenly tense. He took the camera from Sam's hand and looked at the picture closely, then lowered his glasses.
"I'm nearsighted," he said absently to Candy, examining the picture. He pushed the glasses back up his nose and held the camera out to Jim Olsen. "Can you enlarge this as much as possible and still get a clear picture?"
"Sure." Jim took the camera. "I'll download the software for the camera from the home site and have it for you in fifteen minutes."
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"The security guard passing me in the picture. It's the delivery boy."
"The one who brought the flowers?" Candy asked.
"I'm pretty sure it is," Clark said. "If I'm right, we've got a picture of our stalker."
**********
Ellen closed the door of the penthouse behind her and locked it. Security had produced a spare key for her, and she felt safer with a locked door between her and the outside world. She fastened the chain lock as well as the sliding bolt and leaned back against the door, closing her eyes.
The realization that the man whom she had seen vandalizing the Kent Cherokee had a way to identify her, and perhaps track her down, had been terrifying at first. She had been almost certain for some moments there in the elevator that it must have happened that way, that the person in the apartment's parking structure had been him. Finally, however, common sense prevailed and she had managed to reason with her more primitive instincts.
Why on Earth would he be so stupid as to track her down and do her some kind of harm for something so minor as vandalism? It wasn't as if he'd committed murder or something. Even if he was the stalker that Clark and Jim were trying so hard to identify, why should the fact that she, Ellen, had seen him, matter? It wasn't as if she knew who he was, after all. Coming after her would be the very worst in stupidity.
No, the person in the parking garage was undoubtedly simply a transient who hadn't wanted to be caught. There was no connection to her. There couldn't be.
But, the locked door certainly made her feel better.
After a few moments, her heart ceased its heavy thumping and she took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. There was no reason to be afraid. If she didn't watch it, she'd be heading into the bathroom for her tranquilizers, which she was trying very hard to learn to live without. Not only were they expensive, but they made her feel dependent on them, apprehensive when they weren't within reach. They reminded her unpleasantly of the time, years ago now, when the bottle of vodka, or any other alcoholic beverage, had been her constant companion, and it didn't matter that her doctor and Sam both had tried to tell her that it wasn't the same. To her, they were a sign of weakness: a crutch. She didn't want or need a crutch, ever again.
'Come on, Ellen,' she told herself. 'Lois deals with muggers and car thieves and psychopathic killers all the time. Surely, you can cope with a trespasser in the parking garage!"
The thought made her stiffen her backbone. With a decisive motion, she pushed herself away from the door and stood upright. The sooner she got her cellular phone, the sooner she could leave and go back to the Daily Planet. The report on the car radio that she'd heard on the way home told her that Superman had saved the day again and headed back to the United States, so Clark was almost certainly back by this time. She'd hoped to get back before he did, but she should have known that Superman wouldn't waste any time with the mudslide.
It wasn't really important, she decided. The important thing, now, was to find out what Clark was really doing if he wasn't chasing skirts. Once she knew for sure, she could drop the matter. She hadn't really wanted to prove that he was cheating on Lois, after all. Except for her suspicions about his extra-curricular activities, she liked her son-in-law. He was pretty hard to dislike, really. He had the kind of personality that attracted people, which was one of the things that had made her suspicious. Too often, a charming personality masked a darker secret, as Lex Luthor's had. She had never equated Clark with Lex, but it had made her wary.
The bedroom door was open, which wasn't the way she usually left it. For a moment a thrill of alarm ran down her spine. Again, common sense prevailed. She had been in a hurry this morning, and had undoubtedly forgotten to close the door, just as she had forgotten her phone. Firmly squashing down her apprehension, Ellen walked into the bedroom.
Her phone sat in its charger, just where she had put it last night. She crossed the rug quickly and picked it up. No more pay phones, she told herself, triumphantly. How she'd ever managed before Sam had made her a present of the phone, she had no idea. The little item was amazingly convenient. Thrusting it into her purse, she clicked the catch, making sure this time that it was completely closed, and turned to retrace her steps.
But, to go back to the Daily Planet, she was going to have to go back into the parking lot to get the Taurus.
The thought gave her pause for a moment, then she took a firm grip on her courage. This whole thing was silly. Forget it, Ellen! You're not in any danger at all. Still, she hesitated. Would it hurt to take along a little something for self-defense? Sam had been after her to do so, ever since they had nearly been mugged last year by a druggie looking for more funds to purchase his substance of choice. Superman had saved them then, but Superman couldn't always be around, as Sam had pointed out later. He'd bought her a canister of tear gas that had gone into her bottom dresser drawer, never to be thought of again.
It was silly, she assured herself once more, but after a second's pause, she opened the drawer and fumbled around among her night clothing and various odds and ends until she located the little cylinder. With it safely tucked in the pocket of her smart, designer suit, she turned again toward the living room.
As she left the bedroom, her heel caught on the place in the rug where the seam between the bedroom and living room carpet had begun to fray. She really had to have that repaired, but it reminded her that she had intended to change her heels for more sensible footwear. She made a quick trip back to the bedroom for flat shoes. Ready, at last, she left the penthouse, unaware of the living room phone that began to ring seconds after she closed the door.
**********
"Nobody answers at the penthouse," Clark said, putting down the phone. "Can you think of any other place that she might go?"
Sam bit his thumbnail, wracking his brain to come up with some kind of an idea. "I don't know! She was obviously here, earlier, but I don't have any idea where she might have gone, now! She had her hair done on Friday, so I don't think she'd be at her beauty parlor. I doubt she went shopping -- not with this other project on her mind."
"Probably not," Clark said. "And you say, she left her cell phone at home?" At Sam's nod, he lifted a hand to fiddle with his glasses. "I'm going to look around."
"Here you go, CK." Jim Olsen appeared with a sheet of printer paper in his hand. "I like that camera," he added, to Sam. "The picture quality is really good. I may get one of my own." He laid the picture on Candy's desk and Clark, Sam and Candy leaned forward to study it.
Sam blinked. The face in the printout was familiar. "Clark, I've seen this guy before."
"It's the delivery boy, all right" Clark said. "Wearing a Planet Security outfit, this time. Do you remember where you saw him, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. "Recently, but I don't know where."
"So, he's hanging around the Planet for some reason," Clark said.
"To keep an eye on me," Candy said.
"Probably. And that would make it pretty easy to slash the Jeep's tires, too," Clark said. He glanced at Candy. "I'm going to take a quick look around for Ellen. Don't leave, Candy. I don't want you to go to your apartment right now. This guy isn't just a random nut. He's a serial killer. If what Lois found out is right, and it sounds like it is, he's setting you up for a murder. All the killings happened in the last week of April, and that's this week. Let's not take chances, all right?"
Candy nodded. "You don't have to tell me twice," she said. "I'll stay right here."
"I'll be back in a little while and we'll figure out what to do," Clark assured her. "Jim, can you fax this picture to Wolff? Call him for me and tell him what we've figured out."
"You got it." Jim picked up the photo. "Maybe you could get Superman to look for Ellen. If that fax from Lois's friend is right, it sounds as if she could be in trouble."
"I may do that," Clark said. "I'll be back, shortly." He headed for the elevator at a half-run.
**********
(tbc)
