Formaldehyde and Lilies - A Lois & Clark Story

Formaldehyde and Lilies - A Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman Story by BillA1

Disclaimer: Superman and all related characters and elements are owned by DC Comics. Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman is owned by December 3rd Productions. This story is intended for my own pleasure and is not for profit. It has been posted to this site for others to read. Places and characters not own by DC Comics are my own creation. This story is based on characters from the Lois & Clark episode "Contact" written by Chris Ruppenthal.

Note: This is NOT a Smallville futurefic. This story is based on Lois & Clark: TNAOS characters. Familiarization with that series is suggested, but it's not required. Thanks to Merlin Missy for her beta on this story.

Formaldehyde and Lilies -A Lois & Clark Story

Rating: (PG-13)

Synopsis: Clark speaks to a Gala and Lois attends a roast while investigating a murder. Spoilers up through Contact.

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Chapter One - Clark Speaks to a Gala

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Superman -"Lois, I love you too much to ever let something like this happen to you again. I know I can't control everything, but I can control people not using you to get to me. That's why I came here. To tell you ... I don't think this is going to work out. I'm sorry." - Contact

(The following Tuesday after that conversation)

The quiet of the neighborhood was broken by the siren of a police car speeding down the cross street. The sound wasn't unusual for this part of the city or this time of night. The only people on the street tonight were either heading to the safety of their homes or were at home on the street. The neighborhood had seen better economic times, but no one currently in business could remember when.

Paul Blair had just turned out the lights in his little shop and was preparing to walk out the door when he noticed the black sports car pulling up in front of his store. He stared through his store's glass door for a moment as a man, wearing a dark trenchcoat and a fedora pulled down over his eyes, hurriedly got out of the vehicle and walked down the street toward the pay phone at the alleyway. Blair thought to himself that it was too bad that most men nowadays didn't wear hats like that anymore.

"Oh, well," Blair said aloud. At least it wasn't a potential customer. Not that he discouraged business, but he needed to leave the store right now or he was going to be late for his meeting down at the Metropolis harbor. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and nodded to himself. Maybe tomorrow he'd buy a hat like that man wore. He'd probably look good in it. He patted his sports jacket breast pocket one last time to make sure he had his wallet.

Blair looked back into the store, mentally confirming everything was secured, then pushed the door open to leave. He heard a noise in the storeroom in the back. Probably another damn mouse.

As he set foot in the back room to check, someone stepped out of the shadows and shot him twice.

(Wednesday afternoon)

The mid-day edition of the Daily Planet had gone to press on time and Clark was pleased with himself. Today's paper carried two stories with his byline. As he sat at his desk, reading the paper and deciding if he should send a copy of his articles to his parents for their scrapbook, he noticed Lois yawning. She sat at her desk, across from his, looking over the photos Jimmy had taken of Mindy Church at a museum art event.

"They're not that bad, are they Lois?" Jimmy asked.

Lois looked up and covered her mouth with her hand as she yawned again. Glancing over to Clark, she said, "Sorry, Jimmy. Your photos are fine. I had a late night. My informant was supposed to meet me down at the docks last night at ten. I waited 'til midnight, but he was a no show. And now he's not answering his phone."

Clark frowned and folded his newspaper. He stood, tucked the paper under his arm, walked over to her desk and asked, "You went out last night? On a story?"

"Yes," she answered, leaning back in her chair, giving him the 'I'm not giving you the look' look.

Jimmy's face lit up in a smile as he gathered his photos from Lois' desk. "I'll give you two a moment alone."

"What happened to 'we're partners'," Clark said after Jimmy walked away. "You know, Lane and Kent." He adjusted his glasses as he added, "Investigative reporters."

She held up the page of the newspaper with his articles on it. "What happened to my name on the byline for your two stories in today's edition?"

"Perry did that - not me!" He paused, lowering his head. "This is still about the other night, isn't it?" He looked around making sure no one could overhear him. "When I said we shouldn't be --"

"Together because the bad guys will use me to get to you," she interrupted, standing. "I know. It's like a bad soap opera: breaking up with me for my own good." Her tone sharpened. "No, Clark, this isn't about that." She turned away then turned rapidly back to face him and pointed her finger in his chest. "You know what, Clark? I was a star reporter on this newspaper before anyone heard of you or Superman. If you wanted to partner with someone else, you should have told me first." She put her hands on her hips. "Oh wait. I forgot I was talking to Mister 'we shouldn't be together because you love me too much.' Well, I didn't think you meant professionally as well. Let me tell you something. I don't need you to --"

"Now, you two aren't fighting because I gave Clark a shared byline on two of Mark Eastman's stories, are you?"

Both Clark and Lois looked up as Perry White stepped between them. He turned to Clark, "Fine work on those articles, Clark, real nice job of filling in." He turned to Lois. "Lois, Mark Eastman had a family emergency come up. So I had him give his notes to Clark and the boy whipped out two fine stories in no time flat."

Lois looked at Clark, giving him a weak smile. Clark shrugged his shoulders. Perry put his arms around them both. "You two are still a team, right?"

Clark flashed a glance at Lois before answering. "Right, chief."

Lois lowered her head. "Still a team."

"Good." Perry said he turned to walk away. "That's what I want hear because I'd be mighty upset if I had to make personnel moves because of personality conflicts."

The fact that Perry started humming "Heartbreak Hotel" wasn't lost on Clark as both he and Lois watched their editor walk back to his office.

They turned to each other.

Lois sighed loudly. "All right. Say it. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

"It's okay. I might have done the same thing," Clark smiled. He thought she would say, 'really?' and then he would answer, 'no,' and they'd both laugh or at least maybe she'd smile at him again.

But instead she said, "Damn right you would have." She sat down, picked up her phone, and hit the redial button. After a few seconds she mumbled, "Why doesn't he pick up?"

"That would be your informant?"

She looked up. "Yeah. All I know is his name, Paul Blair, and his phone number."

"Did you say Paul Blair?"

Lois' eyes narrowed as she straightened up. "Yeah. Why?"

Clark shrugged. "Don't shoot the messenger, but I think you're about to get bad news." He handed her his paper. "Read the crime watch section, fifth paragraph."

Lois read aloud. "Paul Blair, owner of Permanent Memories, was found dead today in his store. An employee discovered the body and called the police. The store specialized in cremation urns and other memorial products. The cause of death is under investigation."

Lois sighed loudly as she slammed the paper down on her desk before muttering under her breath, "Dammit."

Clark took the paper and placed it back under his arm. "What were you working on with him?" Maybe the person who killed Blair knew he was supposed to meet Lois last night, Clark thought. Maybe he or Superman should keep an eye on Lois until he was sure she was in no danger or at least, knowing Lois, in her typical 'probably-upset-someone-somewhere-or-getting-stalked-by-some-supervillian' danger.

If Lois sensed his concern, she pretended otherwise. "It probably wasn't much of a story anyway," she said throwing her arms in the air. "I don't know what he wanted. He said it involved a theft of some sort, but wouldn't say anything else over the phone."

Clark took his car keys out of his pocket. "Come on. I'll drive you over to his store. We can talk to that employee and see what he knew."

Lois' eyes widened then sharply narrowed. "We?"

Clark twirled his keys on his finger. "You heard Perry. We're still partners, remember?"

Lois stood and shook her head. "He said 'team.'"

Clark suppressed a grin. "Okay, a team -- but I still like the sound of 'partner' better. Don't you? "

Lois smiled weakly, took her keys out of her purse and headed for the elevator. "We'll take my car and I'll ask the questions."

Gala stepped back behind the glass counter, turned and faced the two reporters. "Yes, you heard me right. My name is Gala Party." She paused. "And please. No jokes. I've heard them all and I'm sure any you can think of won't be funny."

Both reporters nodded, but Gala noticed they both smiled as if suppressing a laugh.

"Like I told the police, Miss Lane," she continued. "The door was open and I found Mister Blair on the floor near the storeroom." She glanced toward the storeroom and then at Mister Kent. "The police told me not to talk about the cause of death or anything like that so I can't tell you anything else." She paused again trying to convey non-verbally that she was sorry she couldn't be more helpful. "Why would anyone want to hurt Mister Blair? He was such a nice man."

Miss Lane didn't answer, but continued to make notes in her red notebook while Mister Kent looked around the store. He didn't touch anything, but every now and then he'd lower his glasses down the bridge of his nose and look over the top of them. Too vain for bifocals, she guessed.

Mister Kent said, "This is an unusual store. I mean, you didn't get many customers, did you? It was just you and Mister Blair, right?"

Gala frowned. "Yes, it was just me and Mister Blair. And as I told the police our relationship was purely professional - nothing on the side. I am or I was just an employee. As for the business, we're not that unusual, Mister Kent," she said flatly. "People and their pets die every day. There are quite a few places that sell grave markers, urns and other memory pieces, but they generally sell to funeral homes and crematoriums. Those places in turn sell the items to the grieving families at a huge mark up. We sell only to the public."

She paused and wiped a tear from her eye. "Mister Blair always said that we made grieving less expensive. I think that's a lovely philosophy, don't you?"

Miss Lane looked up but said nothing and continued to write in her little book.

Mister Kent walked over to a display shelf and picked up a bronze urn. He turned it over to read the price and gently set it down again. "It is a nice philosophy."

Gala approached the display shelf, repositioned the urn and then said, "It sure is, Mister Kent. I've worked for Mister Blair for five years and I know he wasn't a maverick and he certainly wasn't a threat to anyone. In fact, he was so well liked, he was the treasurer of Forever Loved."

Miss Lane walked up to Mister Kent and positioned herself between Mister Kent and Gala. "Forever Loved?" she parroted.

Gala pursed her lips into a tight line and walked back to the counter. "Yes, it's some sort of business organization he belonged to. A small group of merchants banded together to get discount pricing for themselves on the items they sell."

Mister Kent followed Gala back to the counter. "Sort of like a Co-Op?"

Gala smiled, "More like an association except in this case one of the member stores manufacturers everything the rest sells." She paused, leaned forward on the counter and smiled broadly at Mister Kent. "Are you married?"

Mister Kent stepped back and cleared his throat. "No, not married. How about an address? I mean, the address of Forever Loved?"

Gala smiled as she took a business card from the counter and wrote the address of Forever Loved on the back. Then she offered the card to Mister Kent, but before he could take it, Miss Lane snatched the card out of her hand and said, "I'll take that."

Mister Kent seemed surprised as he stuttered, "Now, Lois."

Miss Lane pointed the card in Mister Kent's face. "Partners, remember?" Miss Lane put the card in her purse.

Mister Kent took a deep breath, reached into his coat pocket and gave his business card to Gala. "Here. Take my card and forgive my ... teammate's manners," he smiled and then his brow suddenly furrowed. "Something's been bothering me, Gala. Why are you even open today? Your boss just died. Who owns this place now? You?"

Gala laughed as she put Mister Kent's card in her purse. "Not me. The new owners called this morning while the police were still here and said for me to open the store as normal today to finish up current sales, then to close for the next two days and conduct an inventory. I'm supposed to transmit the inventory listing to them and they will pay me five months' salary while they determine if they will keep the store open."

Mister Kent flashed a grin at Miss Lane, who frowned. He turned back to Gala. "My. That's certainly a very generous gesture on their part. Would you give me the name of the new owners?"

Gala grinned. "Certainly, Mister Kent." She reached in her purse, withdrew a business card and wrote on both sides of the card. "Not married, huh? Are you seeing anyone?"

Mister Kent shrugged his shoulders and Gala noticed Miss Lane fold her arms across her chest and rapidly tap her foot on the floor. "Here," Gala said, first glaring at Miss Lane then winking at Mister Kent. "My phone number is on the front of the card and the address of the new owners, Forever Loved, is on the other side."

Lois was driving too fast on the freeway and she knew it. She'd noticed Clark occasionally glancing over at the speedometer and clearing his throat. "Don't you think you should slow down a bit, Lois?" he said. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly and at the same time slowed the car down.

"I can't believe you," she snapped. She glanced at Clark. "Were you flirting with her?" She paused. "You were flirting with her, weren't you?"

Clark smirked. "Why Lois, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were jealous. Anyway, she was flirting with me.

"You were flirting back. All three of us knew that, Clark. You weren't just trying to worm some more information out of her about this story with your 'Here take my card' and it was a wonder she could see anything the way she kept batting her blue eyes at you. "

Clark looked straight ahead and after a long silence said, "This is about the other night, isn't it?" He adjusted his glasses again.

"Not everything has to do with the other night, Clark." She took a deep breath. "Okay, so yes, this does have to do with the other night. It's just that ..." She stopped short.

Wait a minute, she thought recalling Clark's gesture. She softened her expression as she glanced over. She cleared her throat to get him to look at her. "So," she said with a fake lightness in her voice. "Did you see anything when you ... ah." She imitated his motion of pulling his glasses down on his nose to look over them.

"Huh?"

"You know." She made the motion of pulling glasses down her nose. "Your vision thingy."

Clark's grin widened, "Vision thingy?"

"You did see something, didn't you?"

Clark said nothing. That sly cat, self-amused grin of his was really irritating her now.

"All right, then don't share," she fumed. "You see. This is so typical of you."

"Lois, the only thing I saw was ... wait a minute." His expression suddenly became serious as his smile flattened and he looked over his shoulder.

"What? Did you hear something?" She asked. She hated this most of all. She could understand that he could hear cries for help, that he felt an obligation to answer every one he heard, but they always seem to come at the most inopportune moment.

Clark, his face hardened, looked at Lois. "Yeah, I need you to find a place to pull over. There's a bank alarm going off twelve blocks from here."

Lois nodded and within a minute had pulled off the freeway and on to a side street. Clark jumped out of her car and disappeared down a nearby alley. Moments later, Lois watched as Superman streaked away over head. As she pulled her car back onto the freeway, she cursed out loud with the realization that Clark didn't tell her what he saw.

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Chapter Two - Show Miss Lane Out

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Lois wheeled her car into a parking spot outside the round white stone building located in an industrial park on the outskirts of Metropolis. On top of the building, a large sign in script letters read: "Forever Loved."

Lois entered the glass double doors and flashed her press pass to a young looking man dressed in a dark blue three piece suit. The man looked up from the reception desk as Lois said, "Hi. I'm Lois Lane with the Daily Planet. I'd like to speak to someone concerning the death of your treasurer last night. Is there someone who can give me a statement?"

The young man had a slightly amused look on his face as he said, "I'll ask Mister Franklin to speak with you." He picked up the phone on his desk and pressed two buttons. After a brief pause he said, "Mister Franklin, there's a reporter here wanting to talk to someone about Mister Blair's passing."

"Thank you," Lois said as she put away her press pass.

"You're welcome," said the young man. "It was a terrible thing, him getting shot in his own store. But what else can you expect in a bad neighborhood like that?"

Lois said she didn't know, and took a seat in one of the five chairs in the waiting area. She noticed a small display area with urns, brass plates, and other memorial items similar to what she'd seen at Permanent Memories. She'd been seated only few moments when an older man in a dark blue suit came out through the heavy wooden double doors.

She stood as he said, "I'm Robert Franklin, Vice-president of Forever Loved. And you are?"

"Lois Lane of the Daily Planet. I was hoping to get a quote from an officer of the company concerning the death of Mister Blair last night."

Lois thought she saw a look of contempt flash across Franklin's face, then his expression flattened. He stuck his right hand in his trouser pocket and lowered his head as he said, "Yes, that was very sad news. Extremely tragic. A great loss. He'll be missed."

Lois nodded in acknowledgement. "I thought I would write a small article about his business and stuff. You know ... to show what the community lost. What could you tell me about Mister Blair?"

Franklin gestured in the air with his left hand. "Fine upstanding gentlemen ... cared about people ... will truly be missed."

Lois jotted down a note or two, then pointed at Franklin with her pen. "Did he have any family?"

Franklin shrugged his shoulders. "None that I know of, Miss Lane."

Lois smirked. "Is that how you became the new owners of the store?"

Franklin's face froze. "Ah ... now the truth of why you're here comes to light. You reporters are all the same, looking for dirt where there is none. You want to know if we killed Mr. Blair to take over his store." He started to walk away from her, took three steps and said, "Miss Lane, follow me." He led her past the double doors. The wooden doors had glass windows cut in them so one could see who was approaching from the other side. Franklin led her to the second office on the right side of the hallway.

He walked behind a large redwood desk and motioned for her to have a seat in front of the desk. As she sat down, he handed her a paper from his in-basket. "Miss Lane, have your lawyers read this," he said as he sat down behind his desk. "This says that once a member of our co-operative becomes unable or unwilling to conduct business, he agrees that his assets will be inventoried and any items purchased through Forever Loved will be returned to the organization headquarters for re-distribution to other association members. The store owner will be paid his original purchase price minus a small handling fee for the inventory removed."

He paused. "This helps us keep our costs down. You see, Miss Lane, we don't own the store ... just the inventory. It's all perfectly legal."

Lois glanced at the document, folded it and stuck it in her purse. She smiled demurely. "Sorry. I guess that came off a little sharper than I intended. Who is going to be the new treasurer now that Mister Blair is gone?"

Franklin pushed a button on his phone and stood. "I imagine I'll temporarily assume those duties until our next board meeting." He looked at his watch, then took another sheet of paper off his desk and handed it to Lois. "Here. This press release tells you all about our association, who our officers are and so on. I'm sure it will answer all of your questions. Now Miss Lane, you must excuse me. I have pressing matters to attend to."

As Lois took the paper, she heard the office door behind her open. A heavyset woman entered rapidly and came next to her chair. Lois stood as Franklin said, "Mattie, show Miss Lane out." Then Franklin turned his back to her as he said, "Good day, Miss Lane." The large woman said nothing as she signaled Lois with her fingers to follow her. Lois quickly sized up the woman, sighed, and followed her out of the building.

(2 A.M. Thursday morning)

Clark had been in his apartment about ten minutes. He'd caught the criminals who'd set off the bank alarm and turned them over to the police. Then he responded to a six point two earthquake outside of Mexico City. He'd stayed long enough to ensure that local Government personnel had a handle on the recovery before he departed.

He glanced at the clock, noting that it was too late to call his parents, but he made a mental note to call them this weekend. It took him less than thirty seconds to change into his pajamas, brush his teeth (some things he couldn't do at the speed of light), make sure the apartment door and all the windows were locked, place his glasses on his night table, turn the light out and slip under the bedcovers.

He'd just drifted off to sleep when his phone rang. He yawned as he answered, "Hello."

"Mister Kent?"

It was a woman's voice. Clark sat up. "Yes?"

"This is Gala Party from Permanent Memories. We talked earlier today, I mean yesterday, remember?"

"I remember, Gala." He paused and looked at his alarm clock. "It's two in the morning. How did you get my home phone number?"

I called the number on the card you gave me and told the operator that I had important information about a story you were working on and he connected me to you."

Clark looked at the clock again. "I hope this is important."

"I think so. Mister Jones showed up at the store tonight, I mean last night, with a court order just as I was closing the store. He took the store keys and told me I could pick up my check for two months' salary tomorrow at ten o'clock at his place. He told me he would inventory the store and told me to go home because I was fired. He said the store was closing permanently."

Clark heard considerable bitterness in her voice. "I'm sorry you lost your job, but I thought you expected that," he said.

He heard her breath catch before she answered. "No. I didn't expect it. First off, I was supposed to get five, not two months' salary." He heard her take a deep breath before she continued. "Secondly, you're a reporter. You tell me, why would the President of Forever Loved show up here and personally close the only really profitable store in the ten store association?"

Clark nodded to himself. "Okay. Good question," he replied. "I guess it deserves a good answer."

(Skyline Motel - outside Metropolis)

"You'll help me, Mister Kent? That's wonderful ... Look, could you maybe show up before ten? If you're there like at nine then maybe he'll think about possible bad publicity and pay me the five months he promised. Can you do that? ... Oh you are such a darling ... Thank you, Good night, Mister Kent." Gala hung up the phone on the night stand and slid under the bedcovers.

"Do you think he brought it?" the man asked as he got into bed next to her.

"Hook, line and sinker, Frank," she replied as she turned to face him. "He'll be there tomorrow at nine and you'll be running everything in two days."

Frank smiled. "If Blair hadn't got so nosey looking at the association's books, we might have been able to embezzle money for years." Frank paused. "I know you liked him, but he was going to tell Jones - and I couldn't let that happen. When you told me about those reporters showing up at Blair's place, it gave me an idea how to take over the company."

Gala inched a little closer to Frank and ran her fingers along the side of his face. "So tell me, kind sir, is this the kind of conversation that most newlyweds have on their honeymoon? Do they talk about murder and business takeovers?" She batted her eyes at him.

"I doubt it," Frank snorted. "I believe, dear lady, that most honeymoon conversations are of the: 'You have too many clothes on' variety. But I'm pleased to say you are wonderfully underdressed, Mrs. Howard."

"Your choice in apparel pleases me as well, Mister Howard," she said as she kissed him. "And I think if Mister Kent does his part, that will please us both."

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Chapter Three - Nice of you to finally show up Mister Kent

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(9 AM Thursday Morning)

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," Clark said as he stood in front of the receptionist's desk at Forever Loved. "I'd like to speak to Mister Jones please."

The receptionist was an extraordinarily well-dressed man, too well-dressed to be a receptionist, Clark thought.

"Another reporter? Do you have an appointment?" the man asked.

"No, but would you let Mister Jones know I wanted a quote about him being at Permanent Memories last night? I'm sure he'll speak to me."

The receptionist looked hard at Clark. "Hold on a moment," he finally said as he picked up the phone. He pressed a button. "There's a reporter here who says he wishes to speak to you about being at Permanent Memories last night." He paused and looked at Clark. "Yes, I'll tell him." He turned to Clark and said, "Mister Jones is in a meeting now. He wanted me to tell you that he has no statement. Good day, Mister Kent."

Clark stepped back from the receptionist's desk and bumped into a short, squat older man with thinning hair in an ill-fitting gray suit. "Watch where you're going, young man," the older man said. Then he looked at the receptionist. "Any messages for me, Frank?"

Clark noticed that the receptionist's eyes widened then very quickly narrowed as he shook his head at the short man.

Clark played a hunch. "You tell Mister Jones that if I don't get a quote from him within the next two minutes there will be a story in the Daily Planet tomorrow about Forever Loved closing the only profitable store in the association."

The man in the gray suit tapped Clark on the shoulder. "I'm Randall Jones. What's this business about store closings and needing a quote?"

"You're Jones? I thought you were in a meeting." Clark looked at the frowning receptionist.

"Just walked through the door," Jones answered. "What's this about a quote?"

Clark flashed his press pass at Jones. "I'm Clark Kent with the Daily Planet. Is there a place we can talk?"

"My office," Jones said as he turned to the receptionist. "Hold my calls, Frank."

Clark glared at the receptionist. "Nice tie. It lies well ... on you." Then he followed Jones through the double wooden doors down the hall and into a small office. While they were walking, Clark slid his glasses down the bridge of his nose and used his x-ray vision. There were six small offices down the hallway and behind the door at the end of the hall was a warehouse area that held a large blast furnace and what looked to be pottery molds, probably the manufacturing area. The furnace was cold and there were two workers packaging ceramic urns in boxes.

When they entered Jones' office, Clark repositioned his glasses. Jones tossed his briefcase in the visitor's chair in front of his desk. Clark smiled to himself. This guy wasn't dumb.

Jones sat down behind his desk. "Now, what's this all about? What quote?"

Clark took out his pencil and notepad. "Last night you closed down the only profitable store in your association? Why?"

"We closed Permanent Memories to do inventory. We don't know if it will re-open yet."

"How do you stay in business if you only have one store in your group making a profit?"

Jones laughed and stood. "I think you misunderstand the principles of our Association, Mister Kent. Two years ago, a few of us in this business got together to get better pricing for the items we sell. But the member stores don't work for Forever Loved. We don't share profits or losses - only inventory. Forever Loved is my store and just happens to be the name of the association."

Clark nodded. "The name of the store and the association, huh? So was Blair the treasurer of your store or your association?"

The smile faded from Jones' face. "Don't be stupid, man - the Association, of course. Blair was a business competitor. And as such, it would be to my financial advantage to put him out of business." He paused. "But the loss of his business would hurt the Association's ability to buy from me in volume. You see the dilemma, right?"

"I do. So how do you fund your group? There must be some overhead. Who pays that? You?"

Jones shook his head. "Each member agrees to buy all of their merchandise from Forever Loved, the Association. The Association adds a ten percent markup to my manufacturing cost and that's the price the members pay. They pay my manufacturing cost plus forty percent of the mark-up. The other sixty percent pays all of the Association's overhead. Because I do the Association manufacturing, I don't pay the mark-up."

Clark stopped writing. "Sounds like a good deal for you. So with Blair's business gone I would imagine that the ten percent mark up will rise. Fewer members equals higher prices, right?"

Jones shook his head again and then a wisp of smile crossed his lips. "No. Bob planned for that possibility and so far it has turned out well. The Association takes out a million dollar life insurance policy on each principal member and that money is used to offset the difference if a member dies."

"Bob?"

"Robert Franklin. He's in charge of the Association."

(Thursday - Mid-afternoon)

Lois sat at her desk gnawing on a pencil while she studied the information sheet Franklin had given her before he threw her out of his office. She wasn't going to admit it to Clark, but there might not be a story with Blair's death beyond a random homicide after all. She looked up just as Clark sat down at his desk.

"Well! Nice of you to finally show up Mister Kent. Did you oversleep?" she said as she returned her attention back to the information sheet.

"As a matter of fact, no, Miss Lane. I've been very busy."

Lois smirked. "Oh, do tell."

Clark yawned. "I got a tip this morning that I had to follow up on."

Lois looked at her chewed up pencil, threw it in the trashcan and took another one from her desk. "Any bet that the tipster had blue eyes?"

Clark grinned. "No bet." Then he stood, moved over to her desk and proceeded to tell her about his phone call from Gala Party and his visit this morning to Forever Loved. She told him of her conversation with Robert Franklin.

Lois leaned back in her chair. "So Blair had a million dollar life insurance policy?"

"Yeah. The Association gets his store inventory and a million dollars. How is the police investigation going?"

Lois frowned. "Well, the police aren't giving out any info, but based on what we know --" She stopped as Kent's phone rang.

He moved back to his desk, sat down and answered the phone. "Clark Kent speaking ... Sure I can meet you at five." He glanced at his watch then looked back at Lois, puzzled. "Where?" he said into the phone. "Okay, I'll meet you there, instead. Can you tell me what's it about?"

Clark looked at the phone and then over to Lois. "He hung up," he said to her.

"Who hung up?" She stood and walked over to his desk.

"Randall Jones. He said he just looked at his books and he thought he found something. He was at Blair's store and wanted me to meet him there at five o'clock."

Lois looked at her watch. It was two-thirty.

Clark shook his head as he frowned. "Something bothers me, Lois." He took the information sheet from her desk and returned to his seat. "How could Jones, who isn't the President of the Association, get a court order to close the store?"

Lois smirked. "I think your blue-eyed tipper has led you astray. I thought I saw a Jones on that sheet as the Chief Financial Officer of the Association. Maybe the court order was to inventory the store and he told your new girlfriend the store was closed so she'd find another job and the store couldn't reopen, eliminating his competition."

Clark shook his head. "Do the math. It's to his advantage to have more stores in the Association." He paused. "Look, how about if you talk to Jones while I do a little more research on the memorial business?"

"Lois! Clark! Where's that story about Heaven's Doves?" Perry shouted as he rapidly walked out of his office and stopped at Lois' desk. "And how come one of you isn't typing?"

"Working on it, Chief," Lois said. "And it's Forever Loved."

Perry's eyes narrowed. "Judas Priest! I don't care what's it's called. When am I going to get the story?"

"Soon. Very soon," Clark said clearing his throat. "Lois has an appointment with the Company President, don't you, Lois?"

Lois' eyes widened. "Yes. Yes I do," she answered recovering. "Also an appointment with the association Chief Financial Officer." Clark's eyes flashed wide for a second. Lois did a quick head bob in Perry's direction.

"Good! Now that's what I want to hear, but what I want to see is a story on my desk by tomorrow morning." Perry turned toward the newsroom. "Olson, where are the wire photos from the mudslide in Chile? Make sure we use the one of Superman saving those kids in the orphanage before the hillside collapsed!" He didn't wait for Jimmy's answer as he turned back toward Lois and Clark. "Nice to seeing you two working together on this."

Lois watched Perry retreat back to his office followed by Jimmy with a handful of photographs.

"Nice save with Perry," Clark grinned.

"Back at you," she smiled back.

Lois pulled up in front of Permanent Memories at five P.M., turned off her car and walked up to the store entrance. Other than a man using the pay phone on the corner near the alleyway, the street was deserted. The lights were out in the store and the sign on the door read: "Closed." Figuring that perhaps Jones was inside waiting for Clark, Lois knocked. The door swung open.

"Hello," she called out as she cautiously entered the store. "Mister Jones? Lois Lane here. I know you were expecting Clark Kent, but he couldn't ...." The store looked like it'd been ransacked. Everything was on the floor and broken.

There was no answer from within the store. "Hello!" she called out again. "Mister Jones?" Since Clark still hadn't shared what he saw in the backroom, Lois thought, this would be her chance to find out for herself.

She moved toward the stockroom and stumbled over what she initially thought was a tipped over display case leg. She caught herself in time to keep from falling.

There was a shoe attached to one end of the leg and a man's body attached to the other end. Lois knew she wasn't going to get an interview from this man.

She cautiously looked around her immediate surroundings, making sure there were no other dead bodies for her to stumble over. Then she walked out of the store to the corner pay phone and dialed Clark.

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet." he answered.

"Clark. Lois. Can you describe Randall Jones?"

"Sure. About fifty. Shorter than you. Heavyset. He was wearing a gray suit when I saw him a couple of hours ago. Why? Didn't he show?"

"No. He showed. I saw him just a moment ago. He's dead. Looks like he's been shot, at least once, maybe -" Suddenly there was a swoosh and a strong breeze as Superman stood in front of the store. "Twice in the back," she said as she hung up the phone.

She joined him in front of the store as Superman rapidly scanned the store. He shook his head. "There's no one here. The door in the back of the store is opened, but there's no one within sight. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but the police are going to want me to stay and answer questions. And I don't have a lot of answers."

"Just tell them what you know: Clark Kent took the call and you showed up to do an interview. You found Jones dead and called the police. I'll stay until they arrive."

She went back to the pay phone and called Detective Stahl of Metropolis Homicide.

Superman accompanied her as she went back into the building after finishing her call. "I wonder what he wanted to tell us," Superman said as he knelt next to the body. Lois walked around the body and stood behind the cash register counter. There she noticed the phone next to the cash register was off the hook, dangling to the floor. "Didn't you say he hung up on you?" she asked.

Superman moved behind the counter to stand next to Lois. "See," she said pointing to the phone. There was a notepad by the phone. The top sheet was blank. "Wonder if he used the pad." She leaned over until she was eyelevel with the notepad, hoping for impressions from previous pages.

She couldn't see anything. Shaking her head, she straightened up and frowned. "There's always a clue on the notepad on television."

"I wonder," Superman said. He moved back to the body and stared at it and then turned back to Lois. "He has a sheet of paper from that notepad folded in his coat pocket. The sheet has writing on it. It looks like the word "shrink" and the letter F.

Lois shook her head. "Any idea what it means?"

"None."

A few minutes later Detective Stahl and his partner arrived. Superman stayed long enough to ensure that the detectives understood that Lois reported the crime, but was not a witness to the murder. Then Superman excused himself and flew off.

The police questioned her for about fifteen more minutes before Stahl said, "Well, Miss Lane, I don't think we'll need anything else from you at the moment. I'll ask that you not report the cause of death or anything else about this until we give you the say so. Obviously, don't leave town and we'll call when we're ready for you to sign your statement."

A uniformed patrolman approached the detective and said, "Detective, looks someone cut the phone wires in the back of the store." Stahl turned, noticing Lois writing in her pad what she overheard. "You report none of this, understand?" he barked at her.

Lois frowned. "Come on, Detective, don't do this to me. At least, let me at least report the cause of death." She stopped and put her pen to her lips. "Wait a minute. Didn't you say the same thing to Gala Party when she reported that Blair been shot?"

Stahl's frown deepened. "Who told you he was shot?"

Lois was silent for a moment, then she started backing up toward the door. "Oh, you know we reporters hear things on the street. Gotta go. You've been a big help."

Detective Stahl looked momentarily confused, then snapped. "Lane, you report the circumstances of these two deaths and I'll personally throw you under the jail. Got it?"

Lois smiled as she walked past the officers. "Got it, Detective," she called back as she got in her car. She checked her notebook and then headed to Forever Loved.

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Chapter Four - Lois Attends a Roast

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It was dusk when Lois arrived at Forever Loved. Parking her car in a space next to a black sports car, she rushed past the double glass doors and made a beeline for the receptionist's desk. The man looked surprised as Lois approached. He stood and said, "Guess I forgot to lock the door." He pressed a button on his phone as he continued. "Sorry lady, but we're closed."

"Oh. I see," she said as she whipped out her notebook and pen. "I was hoping I could speak to Mister Jones."

The man shook his head. "The store is closed. Mister Jones is gone for the day and I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Oh. Okay." Lois put her notebook and pen away and then checked her watch. "You're working kinda late, aren't you?"

"It happens sometimes. Mister Jones called a little before closing time at six and asked me to take care of some last minute bookkeeping issues before I went home. And home isn't getting any closer for me, lady, with you here. Now, if you will please leave."

Lois smiled and turned toward the door. Then she turned back to the man and frowned. "Look, you don't know my editor, but he's a real bear. I have to get a quote from Jones tonight. Did he say where he was when he called you at six? Maybe I can hunt him down."

"No! No, he didn't." The man said sharply as he moved from behind his desk. "I'll let him know you called on him tomorrow."

"Well, actually I can talk to you," Lois said as she glanced around the room to make sure they were alone.

"Me?"

"Yes," Lois said as she looked toward the wooden double doors. "My editor yelled me because I wrote down a quote from you the other day, but I didn't get your name."

The man frowned. "Me? You wrote down something I said?" He glanced toward the wooden double doors, then said hesitantly, "The name is Howard. Frank Howard."

Lois flashed a quick smile. "Howard? Your name rings a bell. Aren't you an officer of the Association or something? The Assistant Treasurer, perhaps?"

Howard shook his head. "You'd better go now. I'll tell Mister Jones you called."

Lois glanced at the wooden double doors and recognized the face of the person coming through them. She hurriedly moved to the exit. "You're right. I'd better be going. I'll see Mister Jones tomorrow."

Howard moved to the door and was about to open it for her when a woman yelled, "Stop her, Frank. Don't let her leave."

It was Gala Party. "She knows Jones is dead. She and Superman called the police."

Howard stepped in front of Lois and blocked the door.

"Frank switched on the intercom when you entered the room. I was in Franklin's office and heard you ask about Jones." She walked up to Lois and turned to Howard. "You idiot, why'd you say you just heard from Jones?"

Howard shrugged. "I was trying to get rid of her. I panicked. Okay? It happens." He turned back to Lois. "Looks like you're going to learn the urn making business from the inside." He grabbed Lois' left arm and grinned at Gala. "Gonna fire up the furnace!"

"Let go!" Lois yelled as she spun on the ball of her right foot and kicked Howard on the inside left knee with her left foot. As he buckled, she thrust the flattened palm of her right hand under his chin knocking him backwards into the door. Lois was about to step over him and run to her car when Gala hit her in the head with a ceramic urn. The urn shattered and so did Lois' consciousness.

Sitting at his desk, Clark frowned as he scribbled the word "shrink" and the letter "F" on his notepad. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Shrink could mean anything. Clark brought his hands to his lips. What did it mean? Was Jones reminding himself of something?

Wait a minute. Clark leaned forward in his chair. Jones was a business man. Shrink was a business term for the loss of inventory between manufacture and sales, generally because of theft or fraud. Had Jones looked at his books and discovered he was a victim of theft? Had Blair discovered the theft first?

And who or what was "F?" Was "F" the reason for the shrink? Where's that sheet Lois had? Clark retrieved the Forever Loved information Board of Directors sheet from Lois' desk and scanned it. There weren't many names on the sheet. He stopped at the name: Robert Franklin. Of course, Clark thought, Jones must have found out that his vice-president was stealing from his company.

Clark smiled to himself, satisfied that he had the solution to the murder within his grasp. The smile faded from his face when he noticed the name of Frank Howard on the sheet as the Assistant Treasurer. He frowned in confusion. Was "F" a last name or a first name? Or was it even a person's name at all?

He glanced at his watch, then to Lois' empty desk. She should have been back by now or at least called.

Unless ... she was still with the police.

He looked up Detective Stahl's number in Lois' rolodex and called.

"Detective, Clark Kent with the Daily Planet. Is Lois Lane still there?"

"Lois Lane? We let her go more than a hour ago. And don't call me again unless you've got police business to conduct. I'm not your personal tracking service." The phone went dead with a click.

"No. No, you're not, Detective," Clark said aloud to himself as he dialed Lois' pager.

Gala stared at the tied up Lane woman lying on the furnace conveyor belt. The woman was regaining consciousness and becoming aware of her situation. It pleased Gala to see the reporter struggling against her ropes. Those Girl Scout knot tying classes finally had been put to a good use, Gala thought.

The heat from the blast furnace was intense. Frank had cranked up the device much higher than it normally ran and Gala could see the beads of sweat starting to form on the reporter's brow as she lay about ten feet away from the open furnace door. The reporter's purse started beeping. Gala ignored it.

She looked at Frank. "I think those ropes will hold long enough." She turned to the reporter. "You know, I might have allowed you to die unconscious except you really hurt Frank back there. He wanted you to suffer for that and you know what? I agree with him. But one question before you ... depart us, Miss Lane," she smirked. "Why'd you come here if you knew Jones was dead?"

The Lane woman's eyes narrowed. "Why'd you kill him?"

"Because he figured out what was going on," Gala answered nonchalantly. "He found out that Frank was skimming money off the top of each association transaction. He called me and said he wanted to see Blair's books, to see what prices Blair had actually paid. He was on the phone with your reporter friend Kent when I came in the back door. So, I cut the phone line, shot him and then trashed the store to make it look like a robbery and left by the back door."

Gala frowned as she continued. "I wasn't sure I heard what time he told Kent to meet him so I watched the store from across the street, planning to enter the store with Kent and then we'd both find Jones and I'd make sure he'd be the one to call the police. But you showed up instead, then Superman appeared and I decided to leave before the police got there."

"That fake robbery didn't fool the police. I'm sure they're on to you by now."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure they'll bust through the door any minute now," Gala smiled, then frowned. "Now you stop playing us for fools. Why'd you come here?"

Lane cleared her throat. "Because I figured your boyfriend over there killed Blair or knew who did."

Frank bumped Gala aside to ask Lane, "What tipped you off?"

"When you called Franklin to see me at our first meeting, you mentioned that Blair had been shot. The news report said Blair was dead, but didn't say how he died. Miss Blue Eyes over there was told not to discuss the cause of death. Only the killer or someone who knew him could have known he was shot. And you knew."

Frank frowned and Gala put her arm around his waist. "Don't worry about it, dear," she said. "Late tonight, I'll call Kent, and tell him that I just remembered I heard Blair on the phone to Franklin, telling him that he knew Franklin was stealing from Jones' company and was going to report it. I'll ask him if it's important enough to tell the police. Naturally, he'll say yes. And I'll step forward because a reporter from a great metropolitan newspaper told me to and, as if by magic, the police will find Blair's books and the gun that killed Jones in Franklin's safe because ... I just put them there."

"You know you'll never get away with this, don't you?" the reporter said. "Clark Kent isn't that stupid. He'll see right through your ruse."

Frank limped over to the furnace one more time and then nodded at Gala. "Please! That's the kind of crap the hero spouts in the movies. We've already gotten away with it. Kent was so desperate for a story, he did exactly what we expected him to do when Gala pointed him to Jones. Franklin will be blamed for killing Blair and Jones so he could get control of the Association. It was quite a money maker for Jones."

Gala walked over to the sink counter against the wall, opened a first aid kit and removed a large wadding of cotton. "Naturally," she said turning back to the reporter, "with Blair and Jones gone and Franklin in jail, poor Mister Howard will have to run both companies, as best he can, all by himself. I guess he'll have to hire someone to help him. Any idea who that might be, Frank darling?"

"You did all of this for a job?" the reporter said incredulously.

Gala sneered. "No, you stupid cow. I did all of this for my husband and a million dollars."

"You two are married?"

Frank walked back to Gala and kissed her on the cheek. "Last night." He paused. "You know, we make some very fine urns here, Miss Lane. This beauty," he said pointing to the furnace. "Can turn out thirty urns an hour. We've never used it as a crematorium, but there is a first time for everything, isn't there? At the minimum, I figure you'll be burned beyond recognition, but if it's any consolidation to you, all the metal and plastic on you and in your purse will probably ruin the furnace. But I can't take any chances. I need to sure there is as little left of you as possible." He sighed. "Might have to use part of our first million to replace the furnace." He smiled as he ran his finger down the side of Lane's face, then he slapped her. "Just thought you should know how inconvenient you've been."

Gala shook her head and then stood next to Lane. "You know, as one woman to another, it would pain me if I had to hear you suffering ... so..." The reporter screamed, "Superman!" as Gala shoved the cotton wadding in the woman's mouth.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Gala put the woman's purse on the conveyor belt next to the struggling reporter. The woman's pager went off again as she turned to her husband, "Do it, Frank."

Suddenly there was a loud crash as Superman broke through the warehouse roof. He swooped down and took the reporter off the moving conveyor belt and set her down against the far wall. Then at super speed, he knocked out Frank and untied the Lane woman and using the same rope tied up Gala and Frank. Then he shut off the conveyor belt, blew out the flames in the furnace, shut the furnace off and placed Gala and Frank across the belt near the furnace door.

It was all a red and blue blur to the stunned and dazed Gala, who watched as Superman with his back to her stopped to kneel down next to the reporter.

"Lois!" Clark whispered as he gently removed the cotton wadding from her mouth. He'd moved so fast Lois didn't have time to remove the cotton herself.

"Cla ... Superman," Lois stammered. He could see she was trying to get the residual cotton fibers out of her mouth with her fingers, grimacing as she did so. "What took you so long?"

Clark smiled. "Had to find you first. I used the sound of your pager like a tracker."

"Yeah, like you never know where I'm at. Thanks."

"Are you okay?"

Lois nodded, "My head hurts and my throat's dry, but it beats being broiled."

At super speed, Clark rushed to the sink and got Lois a cup of water. He watched her sip the water to wet her mouth, then he helped her stand. "Why don't you call Detective Stahl? He'll be very interested in these two."

She handed the cup back to him and shook her head. "Not until you tell me what you saw in Blair's store. Partners, remember?"

Clark grinned. "I never said I saw anything. You just assumed I did." He paused as Lois looked skeptical. "I didn't see anything unusual and that's the truth, but it seemed to make you happy to think I had, plus it just got you to call me partner again."

Clark didn't have to have super hearing to hear Lois' growl as she glared at him before stomping off in search of a phone.

(Friday Afternoon)

Lois sat at her desk, occasionally glancing over at Clark's empty one. Jimmy stopped at her desk with the final evening edition of the Planet in his hand. "Wow, Lois. This was a great story you and Clark wrote."

"Thanks, Jimmy."

Jimmy looked over to Clark's desk. "Speaking of C.K., wonder where he's at? I haven't seen him all afternoon.

Lois looked up at one of the TV monitors in the newsroom showing Superman rescuing people in a flooded village in China. She stood, shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, who knows where Clark's at, Jimmy?" She grabbed her handbag and headed for the elevator. "You know him. He's probably out somewhere saving the world."

End

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