“Can I get you anything Sir?” The waitress asked.
“Dry Martini Please.” Clark replied.
“Anything else Sir?”
“No Thanks, except, perhaps you could please tell me when I can expect floor show? I'm hoping to see Bea Carroll doing some numbers?”
“Bea's due in soon, she usually comes on after ten.”
“For how long?”
“Well about an hour, depends, I'll just get you that drink.”
The waitress returned, placed the distinctive shaped tall stemmed glass before Kent. “You know you've a kind face kiddo, you're from the mid west right?”
“That's right Miss, I'm from Kansas.” The Waitress was a quite a bit older than Clark. “You too, I'm guessing are from Pan Handle, Texas – I'd say.”
“Rrrrrright,” She laughed. “Takes one to know one I guess, though I thought I'd left that accent behind long ago.”
“You have pretty much, but I've this great ear for voices.”
“Look Mister, don't take this the wrong way, but Bea she isn't all sweetness and light.”
“What do you mean Miss?”
“Just don't go there, take it from me, let me be a big sister here ok?”
“Thanks for the advice, really - but unfortunately I've got business with Miss Carroll. Worse she's proving a hard lady to find – so I got to ask; are you sure she'll show?”
“Well she gets around if you get my drift, but you can count on her doing her turn here; that's a certainty.”
Clark looked at his watch. “Good because I'm working against the clock on this one.”
“Honey that's another thing altogether; she's never on time – but don't fret she always shows up.”
Bea swanned in late, and with a short introduction from the clubs band leader she began her first number. She sang well enough; she was a smoker, Clark could tell, the descriptions he'd been given were all pretty accurate. Bea was a fox – maybe that should be a wolf Kent decided.
Bea sang her songs, working through her set - before indicating she would sing just one more before taking a five minute break. Clark determined now was the time to act.
Carroll entered her dressing room, she made a bee line for the bottle of gin on the table; only to be startled by the stranger waiting for her.
“Say! What are you doing in here?”
“Waiting for you naturally.”
“I thought people ran away to the circus - not from it.”
She turned her back on him and poured herself a drink. “So your my special fan – right? I've a few of those. Some are just down the hall - so don't get any ideas.
“That said, you look kinda good in all that blue and red; you must be some sort of athlete right?”
Bea turned to look at him. “All those muscles. You look keen; and those eyes of your are just the best.” She chugged the gin.
“Okay buster I have to make a costume change; so vamoose we can talk later maybe - if your lucky.”
“I thought you might be interested in learning I know you killed Jack Kennedy.”
Bea's manner changed from a confident cocky swagger, to anger, her eyes wide.
“What! I don't know what kind of nut you are but you better get out before I call the management.”
“Sims told me everything. How you shot Kennedy, and how you framed him and Evelyn Curry.”
“Sims! You believe a pack of lies from a fella like that!”
The Man of Steel folded his impressive arms. He was unmoved by Carroll's outburst.
She was a consummate actress; switching tack she turned on the charming body language once more, but the Man of Tomorrow saw through her illusion of confidence; he could hear her racing pulse, and smell her fear.
“Come on Sugar.” Bea purred. “Think this over. You're an attractive guy – I'm a attractive gal, I'm sure we can become friends, forget this little misunderstanding; that's why you're hear isn't it?
“Y' know - couldn't we just 'talk' this over?”
“Lose the act. You're wasting your time; you're not going to charm me - I live to see justice done.
“I'm only interested in seeing you get what's coming to you.”
“You see I know Sims telling the truth Miss Carroll – just like I know your standing with a gun behind your back. It's been in hidden close to hand since you made that drink.”
Bea shrugged, and raised and aimed the pistol with a steady practised hand. “You'll regret butting into my business Mr Circus Man, or whoever you are.”
“You'd shoot me dead right here, right now – just like Kennedy?”
“A stranger in a crazy get up?
“Come on fella – think about it; a gal shoots a mad bad rapist - who'd question that I acted in self defence.”
“Miss Carroll honestly you're a danger to yourself not to me.”
The Man of Steel confidence was overwhelming.
Bea snapped. “Fool! You really are crazy, I'll give you what's coming to you!
“Yeah, I killed Jack Kennedy and he deserved it, asked for it - just like you buster; but you're not going to tell anyone anything, ever, because you'll never leave this room alive!”
Bea snatches up a cushion.
“So that's how you silenced the gunshot last time!” The man of tomorrow's hand shot forward at great speed crushing the barrel of the automatic out of shape. “You little vixen!
“Here look at your gun now.”
“How... “
Bea tried to run, but she felt a steely grip hold her fast.
“Are you ready to sign a confession? Or shall I give you a taste of how the gun felt the when I applied the pressure?”
“You wouldn't... You're hurting me.”
Bea was right – he wouldn't do her lasting harm, but she didn't know that. “No Miss - you're hurting yourself. If you stopped trying struggle free, then you'd be fine.”
Bea relaxed. She looked deflated.
“But if I confess I'll get the chair for sure.”
“You should have thought about the consequences of your actions before you took a human life.
“But then again perhaps you did.”
The Man of steel lifted the woman across to her chair and dressing table.
“Didn't you Bea?” He asked. “Which is why you are letting a innocent woman die in your place.”
Bea struggled again, then with fire in here eyes she growled. “Go ahead you monster – kill me! Go on! I'm dead if I confess – dead if I don't - what's the point?”
The man of tomorrow's blue steel eyes pierced hers. “There are worse things than death.”
“Think about it. “
Bea sat down. He let go of her arm and directed her to the dressing table.“Make me a written confession now. There's paper in the drawer.
“Confess and tomorrow you'll be able to get yourself a good lawyer, and who knows - you might just get away with doing time, that's for the Court to decide.
“But I swear; if that poor girl dies for your crime, nothing on earth will protect you from me.”
Bea cried a little. “There isn't time to save Evie... barely half an hour... they'll throw the switch at midnight and she'll be dead.”
“All the more reason to stop stalling and start writing. Let me worry about the details.”
Bea Carroll took the pencil he offered and began to write.
“Be sure to explain how you framed Curry and Sims.” He demanded.
Finally satisfied the Man of Steel declared. “The Governor will be interested to hear what you have to say. You are coming with me.”
Taking the struggling Carroll easily in his arms he jumps clear - diving through her dressing room window somersaulting into the street beyond.
“What are you doing!” Bea cries; her tears and screams of protest suddenly silenced as the Man of Tomorrow powers skyward. Far above the ground, this terrible agent of justice powers forward - leaping tall buildings in a single bound - relentlessly charging in the direction of the Governor's grand residence that lay outside of Metropolis uglier urban sprawl.
-'s'-
Lois Lane had her contacts on the ground to thank for the tip off, Clark Kent was looking for Bea Carroll.
Having interviewed Carroll Lois knew how she was connected to Sims, and the word on the street was that when the Cops found Sims hiding out in Bakers, he'd be adamant that he was innocent and had been stitched up.
It didn't take a genius to see that the Hilow's canary had to be connected. The best angle from the trial had been the love triangle, both Curry and Carroll claiming that Kennedy loved them. Curry had been a nervous wreck throughout her trial, and her lawyer hadn't let her take the stand. Lois interviewing Bea Carroll after the trial, had found herself having second thoughts about the justice of the guilty verdict, as damning as the evidence against Evelyn Curry had seemed in Court.
Lane had taken an instant dislike to the singer, seeing her up close Lois recognised an actress at work – her performance on the stand as a witness for the prosecution had been exactly that; an act. Was her story exactly that too – a make believe play for the jury?
Now this Kent character wanted to get to Carroll after beating Lane to News desk with the Baker County Jail lynching story – it all added up to the Okie knowing something new, and given Curry was a good as dead; this could be a big scoop – State executes innocent woman.
Lois checked her watch, elven thirty and Hilow club was pretty busy. It was the kind of dive Lois liked, not too flashy with atmosphere and a good band.
“Hey... I'm looking for a fella, six foot maybe, kinda chunky, dark blue suit, dark hair, glasses.” Lois asked one of girls working the club's tables.
“Sorry can't say I have sister - we see lots of fellas in here.”
Lois cursed Kent's blandness. She racked her memory for something that distinguished him from the rest.
“He's from Kansas.” It was a lame shot, but it that was all that she remembered about him.
A older woman passed by, her tray full of collected glasses.
“A Kansas boy? You looking for a sweet kid with big ole' thick spectacles.”
“Yeah that sounds like Kent.”
“Well if it was you just missed him lady.” The waitress shook her head and chuckled. “You his girl friend?”
“No.” Lois replied. “He's.. a colleague.”
“My Ma always said you should watch the quiet ones.”
“Meaning?”
“Nothing sister, just well... First he's got business with our infamous canary Bea, and then you says he's working with a fox like you.” The older woman winked.
“You say Kent had business with Bea Carroll? Is she here?”
“Sure. Well at least she should be.
“She should be doing a number on stage now. She took five – that was about ten minutes – no... maybe more like twenty minutes ago.”
“And Kent?”
“Left before she finished the last song of her first set.”
Lois thanked the Waitress for her help and hustled towards the back of the club, she had been here before in daylight and interviewed Carroll in her dressing room. Walking brazenly through the staff only door she made her way to where she remembered the Singer would be.
Throwing the door open Lane saw the room was empty, it's window open, no she corrected herself it was missing, the frame had been pushed out of the wall.
Her practised eye roamed the room. It was as she remembered, the pistol however caught her eye.
Lois picked the automatic up without a second thought, gloves were fashionable and practical, they meant no prints. There was something wrong - the gun was clearly misshapen, it's barrel twisted out of shape. Finger marks? It seemed impossible – incredible. She stretched her fingers, a hand bigger than hers, a man's hand – appeared to have left a clear impression in the forged steel. Was this some kind of comedy prop?
Lois stuck the gun in her purse.
Kent and the Carroll woman must have split. She looked out of the window, big jump, she couldn't see either of them wanting to take this route.. and then there was the fact it was really a gaping hole – with the debris below in the street; meaning the window had been kicked out from the inside.
Noisy fluttering caught her attention. The wind was catching the leaves of a pad of writing paper on the dressing table.
There was a pencil too, and Lois could see the impression of the last letter written left pressed into the top page of the pad.
It was an old trick, but a useful one that she employed, rubbing the pencil over the paper she could the read a copy of what had been written on missing sheet.
Lois gasped. Bea Carroll's signature sealed it, this was her confession to the Kennedy murder, and the framing of Curry and Sims. This was dynamite.
Carroll had a phone in her room. Lois wasted no time – she could have called the Star, but a woman's life was a stake, with the minutes ticking away.
“Metro' PD please, and hurry.” She told the operator.
“Meropolis PD – How may we help you?”
“Put me through Detective McBrodie Please – extension 34.”
“McBrodie here.”
“Steven! Thank God your there. Remember the Kennedy shooting?”
“Lois? Yes I'm fine thank you, nice of you to ask.”
“Steve, this is serious.”
“So am I darling – we need to have dinner again,..”
“Steve! Evelyn Curry is about to go the chair, and I've got a copy of a signed confession by Bea Carroll to the Kennedy murder – get it! - Curry is innocent.”
The Detective let slip an expletive.
“Let me try and get the Governor, the Commissioner – somebody. You're sure about this Lois?”
“This is Lois Lane Steven, of course I sure – that Carroll woman was never genuine; I told you that I didn't rate her.”
“Okay I'll try. But don't hold your breath, dammit.”
“Steve?”
“Honestly darling the last headline I want read is that we've sent an innocent woman to her death, but getting hold of our beloved Governor at this late hour; believe me given his rules - that's going to be impossible.”
-'S'-
The tireless figure races through the night, seconds count, delay means the forfeit of an innocent life.
Finally at the Governors estate, The red and blue Man of tomorrow ensures that Bea Carroll is suitably restrained. “Make yourself comfortable, I've an appointment to attend to.”
The Governor's Butler is alarmed by the heavy pounding that shakes him awake. He hears the commotion downstairs at the front door. Rising grumpily he makes his way in his night clothes to investigate; reluctantly he opens up. “What do mean knocking on this door - at this hour of the night? How did you get past the security gate?”
The Man of Steel is in no mood for a lecture on manners. “I must see the Governor immediately. It's a matter of life or death.”
“See him in the morning - if you can!” The angry and tired the Governor's man shuts the door in the brightly dressed stranger's face.
The locked door explodes as the Man of Tomorrow pushes it open again.
“I'll see him now! This is a matter of life and death!”
Terrified the the Butler cowers. “This is illegal entry – I'll have you arrested.”
“Answer me my question; are you going to take me to the Governor?”
“No. No I won't.”
The Man of Tomorrow's supernatural vision determines immediately where the Governor lays sleeping. He has a good reason for wanting the butlers help – and he acts decisively. “All right – then I'll take you to him.”
Lifting the startled man above his head, single handedly the Man of Steel bounds up the stairs, and across the upper hall stopping outside an imposing metal door. “I know this room is secured with a combination lock; and I'd rather you to open it.”
The Butler composed himself quickly once his feet were back on the floor. “Yes this is the Governor's sleeping room; but I'm not opening it for you. Now come on man, you really don't think you're getting away with this outrage!”
“Last chance before I use force!”
“You fool! This room is locked shut behind high grade steel.” The butler laughed gleefully. “Your clearly some kind of vaudeville strongman, impressive as you are against wood and all - I'd like to see you try and knock this door down!”
The Man of Tomorrow's mighty fingers thrust explosively between the heavy steel door and it's frame grasping the metal, he pulls decidedly twisting and wrenching the buckling steel free.
While turning to the stunned man saying with a wry smile. “Well it was your idea.”
Rising from his bed the Governor was unsurprisingly now bolt awake. “What's going on!” he demanded. Using a bedside switch he illuminated the room.
“What in God's name are you! And what have you done to my door?”
The Man of Tomorrow walked over and offered up the signed confession of Bea Carroll to the senior man. “Evelyn Curry is due to be executed in 15 minutes for a murder she didn't commit. I have proof here of her innocence – a signed confession by the guilty party – explaining how she framed Curry and Sims for the shooting of Jack Kennedy.”
Behind them as the Man of Tomorrow explained his actions the alarmed butler opened a specific drawer in search of a weapon.
“Reach for the ceiling quick you whacko!” The Butler aimed a pistol at the man of steel. “You're a menace, and I'm not going to let you harm the Governor!”
Turning to face him the Man of Steel wasn't impressed. “Put that toy away. You're more likely to hurt the Governor or yourself.”
“I warn you step back or I'll shoot.”
Panicked, the butler let rip with the gun, shooting the caped man at point blank range.
The bullet ricocheted of the invulnerable Man of Steel, and in the same moment, the butler finds his gun is wrenched from his grasp. “Stop playing around, and sit down.” The caped man orders.
The Governor coughs loudly.
The Man of Tomorrow turns around passes him the bent and misshapen gun. “Sir, don't you realise I have proof of this woman's innocence – and only your word can save her!”
“Let me see that paper.” The older man demands. “I need to read this evidence for myself.
Examining the detailed confession, the politician comes to a quick conclusion. “Ye gods, you weren't lying. I recognise this name. This is the woman that testified against Curry.
“You are a remarkable fellow, and you've convinced me this is grounds for a stay of execution.”
Moment's later the Governor makes the all important call, with only minutes to spare.
Across at the State Penitentiary a cry goes up “Stop! The Governor has pardoned Evelyn Curry!”
And a desperate relieved woman weeps uncontrollable tears of joy; declaring again her innocence - happy in the knowledge she is to live another day.
-'S'-
The Taxi delivers Lois Lane to the gates of the Governor's Estate. Headlights and spot lamps illuminate the night; a collection of Patrol cars have assembled by the Road side.
Lois approaches.
“Hey Miss Lane, how do you do it?” The Police Officer asked, leaning on his open Patrol car door.
“Hi Curly, you know me, never miss a story.”
“You must have hustled it from the City to get here so soon. I didn't even know they'd made the Governor's decision to save the Curry girl public.”
“She's alive?” Lois gasped.
Curly looked upset. “Shoot Miss Lane you do it to me every time. I thought you must already know all about what's been going – you turning up here so soon and all.”
“Don't sweat Curly, I knew she was innocent. I saw a copy of the real murder's confession about fifteen minutes before Evelyn Curry was due to go the chair. What I don't understand is how Governor Anders learned that it wasn't Curry that shot Kennedy.”
“Beats me Miss Lane. All I know is that Carroll woman that did it was tied up in the Governor's house when we got here; we just sent her down town to get processed.”
“Curly, button it.”
“Detective.” Lois smiled a warm greeting for the tall blond and ruggedly handsome cop.
“Sorry Steve. But it is Miss Lane...” Curly blurted.
“Lois leave the poor schmuck alone.” McBrodie said with a smile; saying to her, “I thought I told you to go home, and specifically not to come out here.”
“Oh, is that what you said. The line couldn't have been very good. I mean I thought you said that your Commissioner wasn't to be found; and that you couldn't raise the Governor, on account of his do not disturb after hours policy; but low and behold someone did it – Curry's alive, and Carroll in custody!
“So was it you? Or maybe it was Kent?” Lois demanded.
“Whose Kent?”
“Would-be Reporter, you not seen him – chunky guy with specs?”
“Can't say I've seen any reporters, save of course you - and before you start on me - again, I told you the truth on the phone. I didn't get hold of the Governor, and while the Commissioner was found - that was after the event, as it happens, because Anders had already made the call.”
“How? If it wasn't you that told him, and it wasn't Kent then...”
“It was somebody else Lois. Now I'm sorry Doll you know how it goes – no comment at this stage – right?”
“One question Steve.”
“Lois!”
“Well Okay – there's a bunch of them.
“How is that Bea Carroll was seen still singing on stage at 11:15pm in the HiLow Club; was seen entering her dressing room a little after that – and yet ends up here?
“How is that she manages to get across town so fast? What she do - fly?
“Then there is this confession that's saves Curry, and implicates Carroll. How is it that Governor Anders – who famously doesn't permit his precious sleep to be disturbed – is persuaded to look into this?
“And biggie is - all this has to happen in no time at all. See Steve there was only about maybe thirty minutes left before midnight and yet all this happens – it doesn't add up.”
“Let's just say we're looking into that.”
Lois countered. “Let's just say I might already have an idea.”
McBrodie looked at his sometimes girlfriend with an exasperated expression. “Fine – What do you know.”
“Maybe you'd like to read all about in the Star.”
“Lois this isn't a game. The State Governor's had his house broken into, the Commissioner of Police is up there now getting a dressing down over the Curry business; we'd have all looked like fools if an innocent woman had got the chair - and if you know something about this...”
“The Mansion's security was breached? That's interesting.”
“Dammit Lois – your taking advantage of our friendship.
“Look I've orders from the Governor, from the Commissioner, to find out about...”
“About what?”
“Lois – if you know something spill. This is official, withholding information is a crime.”
“Steven McBrodie! You'd arrest me?”
The cop folded his arms and stared.
“Okay buster. Earlier today I was over at the Baker County Jail, I talked to some people.”
McBrodie nodded. “Yeah I heard there was ruccus – some sort of a mob making trouble. Last I heard the Jail reckoned it had all blown over.”
“Yeah right, something blew something over for sure.”
“And?”
“And if the Governor wants to know what I know; then I want to be the one to tell him.”
“You got to be kidding, it's the middle of the night – and you want to do an interview?”
“Either I get to see the big man, or you can cuff me, take me down town and wait for the Star's legal department to come and get me, and we can argue about journalistic integrity and my right to protect my sources in court.”
Lois entered the Governor's Mansion. It was straightforward enough there wasn't a door to interrupt her progress; that lay in pieces on the tiled floor of the spacious entrance hall. Uniformed Police were standing around looking at it.
“Officer.”
“Yes Sir?”
“Where's the Governor?”
“He's still on the first floor Detective, with the Commissioner.”
Lois followed McBrodie up the broad staircase. He led her along the landing and towards a gaping hole in a damaged wall.
“That's a metal door!” She exclaimed pointing at the twisted steel on the floor. Mentally pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
McBrodie stuck his head into the room beyond.
“Excuse me sir, but I have a Lady, a Reporter who claims to have information about tonight; but she refuses to divulge this to anyone but the Governor.”
Lois heard the familiar baritone of the senior politician. “Detective - I'm not accustomed to inviting strange ladies into my bedchamber in the the middle of the night, but in the circumstances, I think I can take the risk.
“Come on in - although I would warn your lady reporter that while I am appropriately clothed for sleeping, I am however not really dressed to receive visitors.”
The moustached Anders smiled when he saw Lois.
“Miss Lane of the Daily Star. Always a pleasure to see you young lady, how is it I am not surprised that you'd be the Reporter in the know.
“As you see – please excuse my Pyjamas and dressing gown.”
The rotund Police Chief was as abrupt as ever. “What can you tell us about this vigilante Lane?”
“Now Commissioner, let's not insult the man, he really hasn't broken any laws.” Governor Anders interrupted.
“Excuse me Governor but I see illegal entry, and property damage for starters.”
“Well Chief, wearing my lawyers hat, I'd say you'd never make that stick, just like a fire fighter can break into a house to put out a fire, his actions, driven as they were, to save an innocent woman's life, were justifiable under law.
“But, that said – What do you know Miss Lane about our mystery man?”
Lois swallowed, this was it, her gamble better pay off. “We're talking about a man in blue costume with a red cape, and this big S on his chest.”
The Governor nodded. “Yes – you've seen him too I take it.”
Lois side stepped. “What I know is that this mob over a Bakers, got it into there heads to lynch Sims.
“Sims as I'm sure you know was identified by Carroll as the gunman who shot Kennedy. Sims had been on the run until early yesterday, when he was finally arrested out in Bakers. The word on the street was he'd also been carrying on an affair with Curry; this rumour and the courts saying it was a murder of white by a black man got the mob riled.
“The beef is this, the mob got their man, I don't know what the Guards were doing, but any way the Mob was ready to string Sims up when this super-man appears out of nowhere...”
“Supeman!” The Governor siezed on Lane's words. “Is that his name Miss Lane?”
Lois thought for a second, she remembered the bartenders at Baker boy club saying 'the S?.. your guess, is a good as mine'.
“I haven't confirmed that Sir, but given the S symbol he sports - it seems to fit the bill.”
The Senior man nodded. She continued.
“So ok, errm... Superman wades into the middle of the mob, and in a matter of moments there isn't man among them left standing. He saves Sims life. From what I hear Sims names Bea Carroll as the murderer, and I'm guessing he told big and blue and red.
“Next thing is after some leg work, I'm standing in Carrolls dressing room at the Hilow club looking at a bust window, and then there's this.”
Lois reached into her purse and brought out the twisted automatic pistol.
“I wasn't sure what to make of this, until I saw that security door; and then it made sense, if Superman is super enough to tear that down, super strong to bend it like that, he could sure do this to a gun.”
The Governor reached into the generous pocket of his dressing gown. He drew out similarly warped iron.
“Snap Miss Lane. My Butler – Smith, he pulled this revolver on Superman, obviously thinking the worst of him, now what happened I'm not sure, but Smith swears he shot this Superman a point blank range. Hit or miss – either way Superman wasn't harmed. Taking the gun from Smith he bent this barrel in much the same way as the one you have there.”
McBrodie touched her arm. “Tell them about the timing problem.”
“Ok Steven.
“The other thing Sir, is that I'm sure I just missed meeting Carroll and Superman, because I was in the Hilow club at around eleven thirty; Bea Carroll was overdue returning to the stage after taking a short break during her performance – so we're still talking minutes here.
“That means I think that this Superman somehow transported Carroll across town, and open country in a matter of maybe ten, or twenty minutes, getting here in time for you to stop the execution.”
“Well Commissioner that seals it doesn't it. Carroll isn't mad when she claims Superman flew her from the Hilow club, all the way over here.”
“I still find it hard to believe Sir.”
“As unbelievable as it seems, the facts speak for themselves – and we now have no reason to question Carroll's sanity nor the veracity of her confession.
“Tomorrow I'll have to tell my staff that I'm left thinking I can't believe my senses! Bent steel, leaving Metropolis and getting here in minutes – I tell you Miss Lane I wish I could fly between here and City Hall!”
Anders looked more serious. “Clearly Superman isn't human – rather he's super human; and thank God he's apparently on the side of law and order and justice.
“Now Miss Lane. How is the Star going to handle this incredible story?”
“That'll be the Editor's call Sir. All I do is write the news as it happens.”
“And you do Miss Lane, you surely do.”
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