The Vampire Murders: conclusion Part 2
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"Look at their throats!" The man's voice held a note that Clark hadn't heard in it before. He knew why, but he looked at Lois, who met his eyes for an instant, and then looked down. She said nothing.
Henderson looked, and Clark thought his expression grew a little grimmer. Clark didn't blame him.
On every throat were two small, telltale punctures -- each just over a carotid artery.
Henderson was silent for a long moment, and then he spoke into the microphone of his head set again, summoning police paramedics and others to transport the four men to the nearest hospital. He looked at Clark and Lois who now stood side by side, watching the scene. "I take it there's an explanation for this."
"We didn't actually see what happened," Lois said. "We were hiding in the crypt."
Henderson looked at Lois and Clark without expression. "When the paramedics get here," he said, "the three of you are coming upstairs with me, and you're not leaving until I've heard everything that happened to you. Is that clear?"
Somehow, Clark suspected that now was not a good time to argue. He nodded without speaking. And for once, Lois didn't argue, either.
**********
And now the Conclusion, Part 2:
Eventually, Henderson let them go. By that time the mop-up was well underway, and both Lois and Clark spent their remaining time at Cost Mart conducting interviews with anyone who could be persuaded to answer questions, no matter how trivial. Henderson sent Al back to the station under escort, but forbore to arrest him, at least for the present.
"No," he replied to Lois's inquiry. "Unless I find out something incriminating about him, I won't hold him after tomorrow. It's not a crime to be naïve."
"You mean dumb as a rock," Lois said, earning her a pained look from Henderson.
"I'm holding him for his protection," Henderson said. "I don't want his bosses to decide to eliminate him. Once I have his signed statement, I'm going to ask Superman to get him and his wife out of town as quietly as possible. He thinks he's in danger from his boss, and from what you told me, I tend to agree."
"Yeah, he probably is," Lois admitted. "But I still haven't completely forgiven him for that trick in my apartment."
Henderson snorted, but chose to drop the subject. "What do you plan on writing about the crypt?" he inquired. "I'm including the discovery as a footnote in my report, but no one will be allowed near it until we're sure we've got all the evidence we need."
"Clark and I decided to do a preliminary story on it," Lois said. "He's filling in the background and I'm writing about what we found in it, just to get people interested. After all, it's a local historical artifact. We figured we could do a series about the native inhabitants and some of their legends. I imagine you'll have people from the Metro Museum of Natural History wanting to get a look at it as soon as possible."
"Probably," Henderson agreed. "I'll be interested in what they find, myself." He removed his helmet with a faint sigh of relief and scratched his scalp thoroughly. "I'm glad to get that off," he remarked. "We're just about through here, for now. Can I give you and Clark a ride home?"
"As a matter of fact, we have a ride," Lois said. "I borrowed it from a friend."
The police inspector gave her a searching look. "Lois, even I wouldn't be crazy enough to lend you my car," he remarked. "The last time you borrowed someone's car, if I remember correctly, somebody planted a bomb in it."
"That was last year," Lois said. "And a lot of the cars I've borrowed have been returned without a mark on them!"
He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't reply. Instead, he said, "You can pick up your car at the station whenever you like. We finished with it last night."
"Why didn't you tell me this morning?" Lois demanded.
Henderson didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his gear and started toward his car which was parked in the lot some distance away. Lois glared after him.
Clark laughed softly. "Never mind," he said. "Let's go home and write the story."
**********
The major story about the police raid on Cost Mart broke in the morning edition of the Daily Planet, with plenty of follow-ups coming in by the minute for the evening edition. Lois and Clark spent a large portion of their time on the phone or rushing in and out from interviews with "anonymous sources." In between that, Clark had Jimmy researching as much of the information that he could find on the local Native Americans that had been New Troy's first residents, in preparation for the story about the hidden crypt that was set to break that evening.
"Brr!" Lois pulled off her coat, shook it vigorously and hung it on the coat rack. Ralph, just passing by, ducked to avoid the spatter of drops from the melting snowflakes that liberally peppered him. "Hey, watch it, Lane! This is a new sports jacket!"
"Then why did you wear it on a day like this?" she inquired with a wave of her hand at the window that showed that the snowfall outside had not abated one jot from this morning.
"I didn't plan on going out in the snow with it," Ralph grumbled.
"Ralph!" Perry's bellow cut across the racket in the newsroom on cue. "The dog show starts in twenty minutes! You're supposed to be across town right now! Get goin'!"
"Uh -- I thought I'd handle it by phone," Ralph replied. "I've got the phone number of one of the contestants."
"What, you're gonna interview a French poodle?" Perry demanded.
"Well, one of the owners," Ralph amended.
"Yeah, that'll make for dramatic journalism," Perry said ironically. "Get yourself over there. And don't forget a photographer!"
"Chief, it's snowing!"
"All of a sudden you're gonna dissolve in a little snowstorm? Get a move on, or you're fired!"
Ralph threw Lois a dirty look, grabbed his overcoat off the rack and started for the elevator. "You're with me, Pielke! Let's go!"
The photographer who usually worked with Ralph picked up his camera and followed, taking his coat from the rack as he passed.
"They'll probably cancel the show with all this snow," Lois remarked to Jimmy Olsen, who arrived at her desk at that moment. "Perry's going to want a few things to fill up space if they do."
"Maybe you and CK could do the one on the Blood Spirits," Jimmy suggested, dropping a stack of printer paper on her desk. "I found some more stuff on the legend. Some local anthropologist wrote a whole book on them."
"On the Blood Spirits?" Lois asked, startled.
"Well, no, on the legends. But the whole legend of Night Eagle was there. Kind of romantic in a sad sort of way. I felt kind of sorry for him."
"Oh? What happened to him?"
"Well, Night Eagle loved this girl, Laughing Bird, but he didn't know if she loved him. She was the chief's daughter. Anyhow, her younger sister was lured away from the camp by the Blood Spirits and Laughing Bird went after her. Night Eagle discovered it and went charging to the rescue. They were already drinking Laughing Bird's blood when he arrived, and he had to challenge the Blood Spirit chief to win her freedom. He destroyed them, but he was hurt in the fight, and then, in order to save her, he was forced to absorb her curse. After that she was okay, but he was only corporeal by night, and by day he was just a shade."
"Sounds like a hero to me," Lois said, thinking of the mysterious man who had saved her from the Cost Mart gang. Was it possible -- no, definitely not. Vampires -- even benevolent ones -- didn't exist. "So what finally happened to him?"
"Well, evidently, after he'd saved her and taken her curse, he and she were tied together, destined to live, never aging and never changing, until the curse was broken. Because of the curse, sometimes he was overcome by the blood thirst and fed on the worst of the tribe, and, of course, he was afraid to tell Laughing Bird the truth. One day she ran away, and nobody ever saw her again. Anyhow, after that Night Eagle closed himself off in a dark place, but promised his people that if the land was ever threatened again, he would return to defend it. Then he went to sleep to await her return, since they can only be freed from the curse by true love. Kind of sappy, really."
"Sounds like the poor guy was in a real bind," Lois said.
"I'll say. Anyway, that's the story, more or less. Maybe CK and you could put it in the article about the crypt. Besides, it sort of fits into the smuggling story. They were using the vampire shtick to try to scare people away, weren't they?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Lois said.
"I guess you're not worried about vampires anymore, anyhow."
"I never was," Lois said.
"I guess not. What happened to your crucifix, though?"
Lois scowled. "I got home last night and it was gone. I guess I lost it while all the things were happening yesterday. I couldn't go back at two in the morning in a snow storm to look for it: I wouldn't even know where to start looking. But I put an ad in the paper this morning. Maybe somebody will find it and give me a call."
"I hope so," Jimmy said. "That's a real shame."
"What is?" Clark asked, looking up from his computer screen. He had arrived only minutes before and had been typing furiously ever since.
"Lois lost her grandmother's crucifix yesterday," Jimmy said.
"That's too bad," Clark said. "Maybe somebody will find it, though."
"I hope so, but I'm not counting on it," Lois said. "Anyway, here's the stuff on the local legends Jimmy found for you." She indicated the stack of printer paper. "Better get busy. We've only got an hour to deadline."
Clark picked it up. "Right after I finish writing up the info I got from my source," he promised. "And the Superman rescue I happened to come across on the way back. He stopped a pile up at Fourth and Main when a dog ran into the street. Somebody slammed on his brakes to avoid it, and skidded into a fire hydrant. Cars were sliding all over the place, but fortunately, Superman was able to save the day, again. It'll make good filler."
"Was the dog all right?" Jimmy inquired.
"Yeah. His owner showed up in the middle of everything and took him away," Clark said. "Thanks for the research, Jimmy."
"No sweat," Jimmy said. He turned his head at a shout from the sports desk. "Oops. Gotta go."
"What did your informant have to say?" Lois asked.
"Several things," Clark said, typing as he spoke. "I wanted to know what happened to Bill Church Jr. and his friends after that business in the smuggling tunnel, for one."
"And?"
"They were examined last night at Metro General's emergency department," Clark said. "Bill Church was showing signs of shock and wasn't making much sense, and today he claims he doesn't remember any of it."
"I guess that figures," Lois said. "Even if he did remember, he'd never admit it. 'I don't recall' is one defense nobody can disprove."
"True," Clark agreed. "Anyway, they're in the prison ward for now. Charges are pending, but nobody knows exactly what they're going to be. On the other hand, several of the prisoners from the raid last night have fingered Clarence Brunner as the one that ordered the deaths of Henderson's men, and his two personal muscle men as the ones that carried it out. Apparently those would be the two who tried to pick you up the other night in your apartment parking lot and ended up dead."
"Convenient," Lois said.
"That's what Henderson said. On the other hand, it's been corroborated independently by three different people, so it might even be true. I guess we'll find out as the investigation goes forward, but it will take a while. Bill Jr. has lawyered up and Intergang's apparently got an army of lawyers on the case, and nobody's talking anymore."
"Figures," Lois said philosophically. "I don't suppose anybody's been arrested for Brunner's death."
"Nope. But remember, all three of the men involved, including Brunner, wound up dead, and so did the two who tried to kidnap you. It almost looks like you had a guardian angel during this whole affair."
"I suppose it does." Lois was silent for a long minute and then she shook her head. "I don't believe in vampires," she said firmly. "Not even in friendly Native American ones with a Superman complex."
"Neither does Henderson," Clark said. "Let me just finish this up and LAN it to Perry, and then I'll get started on that piece about the crypt. Jimmy's research about Night Eagle should help with the background, and at the same time tie it to the smuggling ring."
Lois nodded. "Perry will like it," she said. "The Legend of Night Eagle as a tragic hero, sort of a Superman for his people, and Intergang, which tried to use his legend to smuggle guns and drugs into Metropolis. You don't suppose that really is Night Eagle's cave, do you?" She stopped. "What am I saying? He was probably nothing but a legend. Better hurry up and finish."
**********
The sun was setting when Lois finally shut off her computer and began to tidy up her desk. Clark's desk, characteristically, was organized and tidy, and her partner waited while she cleaned her computer screen and put a notebook pad into a bottom drawer of her desk. A considerable number of small, miscellaneous items had collected on the desk top and rather than pick them up individually, she swept them into the top drawer and pushed it shut.
"Ready," she announced.
Clark retrieved her coat and held it for her. Ready at last, they ascended to the upper level of the newsroom and Clark rang for the elevator, which arrived almost immediately.
Lois leaned her shoulders back against the wall of the car and blew out her breath. "What a day!" she said.
Her partner grinned. "You wouldn't have missed a minute of it," he pointed out.
She pretended to consider that for a moment and then laughed. "You're right. I just wish I knew who our mysterious friend really was, and how he was connected with this -- and how Bill Church and his goons really got those marks on their throats."
Clark didn't answer, and Lois continued, not noticing the expression on his face, "I don't buy the vampire explanation for a minute. There has to be a rational explanation for the so-called 'vampire' deaths that we can't account for via Intergang."
"Henderson may get the whole story yet," Clark said. "He doesn't buy the vampire angle either, even though Church is now claiming that he and his men were attacked by something in the tunnel."
Lois snorted. "Interesting how his story has changed since this afternoon. I think he's fishing for an insanity defense."
"Probably," Clark said.
The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors creaked open. Clark stood back, letting her exit first.
The sun had set, Lois noted as they went through the revolving doors into the chilly night air, and the twilight was deepening into night. To the west, the mass of storm clouds was colored a deep old rose that shaded upward into darker red-purple to purple that merged slowly into layers of somber gray-black snow clouds that hid the sky and from which descended with unwearied persistence the steady rain of flakes. Lois pulled the collar of her coat about her throat against the bite of the chilly air and turned left toward the lot, four blocks away where she had left her newly-returned Jeep. The sidewalk beneath her feet had been freshly swept, but already the feet of passing pedestrians were beginning to turn the new, light coating of snow into a trampled, muddy mess.
"I feel like a pizza tonight," she said.
"You don't look like one," Clark pointed out.
"Don't push your luck," she said. "Shall we go to Philippi's and have his special for dinner?"
"Sure," Clark said. "It sounds good."
They turned at the corner and came unexpectedly face to face with Inspector William Henderson. Lois stopped short. The Police Inspector didn't even blink.
"Lane and Kent," he remarked blandly. "What a pleasant surprise. I was on my way to the Daily Planet, hoping to catch you before you left. I saw your car in the lot near where I parked, so I'll walk along with you if you don't mind."
"What do you want, Henderson?" Lois inquired, bluntly.
"I've just come from Cost Mart and have some disturbing news for you," he said, matching his stride to theirs as they resumed their progress. "I was wondering if you might know something about it."
"Cut the cr --" Lois glanced at Clark. "Quit beating around the bush," she substituted. "What disturbing news?"
"Surely you remember the coffin you found in the Sleeper's chamber."
"What about it?"
Henderson shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "I went to look around the crypt, in a general way, since it's obvious somebody's been digging around the entrance. The coffin is gone. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"It's gone?" Lois repeated, slightly dismayed.
"Who took it?" Clark asked.
"If we knew that, we might have some chance of getting it back," Henderson said. "It's a valuable historical artifact. You're sure you don't know anything about it?"
"Of course not!" Lois said. "Why on Earth would we steal a coffin?"
"I didn't say you did. But I keep thinking about your mysterious friend," Henderson said slowly. "Where did he come from -- and where did he go? You say he was there in the tunnel with you and I believe you, but he vanished, all the same. We had every possible exit covered. Nobody could have smuggled that coffin out without being seen, either, but it's gone." He scowled darkly at Lois. "I don't believe in vampires," he said with unwonted emphasis, "but I'd sure like some answers."
"So would we," Lois said. "Did any of your people have a look at the basement door that enters the tunnel? Could it have been taken out that way?"
Henderson shook his head. "We had a guard on it after Clark came to find me, but we had every outer exit under surveillance from the previous night onward. Everyone that came and went was accounted for, and no one took a coffin out. Period."
"It probably won't help, but I'll let Superman know," Clark said.
"You do that. And ask him if he knows what happened to the lock on the basement door while you're at it."
"What was the matter with it?" Lois asked.
"The mechanism was melted solid," Henderson said. "Like Superman had used his heat vision on it."
Lois paused momentarily. "Melted? It was fine when we went through the door."
"Well, it was melted when we saw it," Henderson said. "The parts were completely fused."
Lois looked at her partner. "The mystery guy did something to delay Bill Church and his men, remember?"
"Yeah," Clark said. "They had trouble opening the door. It took them several minutes to get through."
"You think he did it?" Henderson asked.
"I guess it's possible," Clark said, "but I don't know how."
"Well, that's one more question to add to the list," Henderson said dryly.
Lois glanced uneasily toward the west. The last traces of sunset were barely visible amid the masses of layered clouds shrouding the western sky and snowflakes fell steadily and unceasingly, visible in the circles of light from the streetlamps. The lot where she had parked her car this morning was only a short distance away, and was only sparsely populated with vehicles at this hour of the evening. Traffic moved slowly down the street, their headlights reflecting off the snow and ice, and people huddled in coats went past them on the sidewalk.
The lot, when they arrived, had not benefitted, if that was the word, from the passage of hundreds of passersby, for snow coated the pavement with a thick layer of pristine white all around the spot where the Jeep sat, illuminated by the light on the pole directly in front of its fender. The snow on the front windshield and hood was sharp and clear, and letters, written by a human finger, stood out starkly.
Lois stopped, carefully examining the unmarked snow all around the vehicle. The message could not have been written more than a few minutes before, for they were just now beginning to fill with a light coating of flakes.
"Farewell. I resume my vigil. Tell your flying friend, do not forget."
The message was unsigned, but on the hood, directly beneath the message, lay a familiar silver chain with its little, silver crucifix.
**********
Clark looked wordlessly at the message and the expanse of unmarked snow all around the Cherokee.
While he had stood in the crypt, shielding Al and Lois from the danger of flying bullets, the same phenomenon that had occurred when he had looked through the bathroom door in the vacation cottage had been apparent. In the dim illumination of the penlight held by Bill Church Jr, he had seen the four men, but of the dark man there had been no sign, except for the odd dance they seemed to perform on the stone floor of the tunnel. The only conclusion he had been able to draw from that had been as much of a blow to his view of the world as the discovery that he had come from another planet. It was something that he would have to consider carefully before he made up his mind, but if the ancient, half-blood-spirit medicine man had emerged into the modern world to defend Metropolis -- and Lois --from Intergang ….
He'd seen stranger things. Or almost. A few, anyway. Maybe.
"Somebody has a weird sense of humor," Henderson said flatly.
"Probably," he heard himself say. "But either way, I think we're done with vampires in Metropolis, at least for now. Can we give you a ride anywhere, Bill?"
Henderson glanced again at the letters on the Jeep's hood, scowled deeply, and shook his head. "No. My car's only another block over."
"Come on," Lois said, "we'll give you a ride," She fastened the chain of her pendent around her neck once more. "It's getting darker by the minute."
Clark slid into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt while Henderson got into the back and Lois took the driver's seat.
He wouldn't forget. And their strange friend had left him with a big decision to make. He had no wish to be a tragic hero, no matter how romantic it sounded, and there was no doubt in his mind that he could wait too long to tell Lois the truth. He didn't want that, either. Maybe it was time for Superman to come clean.
"There's my car," Henderson said, pointing. Lois obligingly pulled to the side of the street.
"Thanks for the lift," Henderson said, opening the door. "Oh, I almost forgot."
"What?" Lois asked.
"Just one more small mystery for the Hottest Team in Town to chew on," Henderson said. "Remember the first body found in the park? The homeless man that was a former NASA engineer?"
"What about him?"
"He's disappeared."
"What?"
"The body was scheduled for cremation, but it vanished from the morgue two days after he was found."
"Two days?"
"Well," Henderson amended, "it might have been the next day, but nobody checked until the next morning. Maybe Intergang goes in for body snatching."
"Yuck," Lois said. "I wouldn't put it past them."
"Just thought I'd let you know," Henderson said mildly. "If you happen to figure it out, you'll save the Metro PD a minor headache."
"Is that why you told us?" Lois demanded.
Henderson grinned sardonically, but didn't answer. "Thanks for the ride," he said, stepping out of the Jeep and shutting the door with a decisive slam.
"Every time I start to like him, he pulls something like that," Lois said, sounding half annoyed and half amused to Clark's experienced ear.
"You do the same to him," he said, wondering if he was inserting his foot into his mouth.
"Oh, I know," Lois said, dismissing the matter. "Do you think there's anything to it?"
"Probably not," Clark said. "Of course, there's the old legend about the victims of vampires rising from the dead to stalk the living."
"Not again," Lois said, throwing him a half-exasperated look. "Besides, nobody mentioned that in the legend of the blood spirits."
"That's true," Clark agreed. "But we don't know it doesn't work that way."
Lois turned in the direction of Philippe's Pizza Grotto. "I've had enough of vampires," she stated flatly. "I don't want to hear anything more about them. Got it, Kent?"
"Yes ma'am," Clark said obediently. "No more vampires in Metropolis."
"If they know what's good for them," Lois added.
Slowly, the silver Cherokee bearing Lois and Clark moved down the street in the gathering dusk, toward the main drag.
It was still snowing.
**********
Stay tuned for the Epilogue after I get back from the Navy's Tiger Cruise on the Nimitz.
Nan
