Double Down (Lois Lane)

by Gwenda Bond

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “My mom doesn’t.” Devin removed his phone and snapped a photo of the document I held. “Remember, she’s a public defender—director of the office actually.”

  “I didn’t realize she ran it. Impressive,” I said.

  “Yeah. And over the years, she’s had to represent a lot of people Moxie has forced to do things they wouldn’t have done otherwise. The feds and the DA have gone after him a few times, but he manages to always come out clean.”

  This situation smelled so newsy my nose ached, but I couldn’t figure it out. “Why would a mobster have a property being used as a lab for shady research purposes?”

  “A lab located in Suicide Slum, no less,” Devin said.

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  I handed him back the document and he replaced it in the binder.

  “We should check out the business registry too, make sure Ismenios isn’t similarly buried in their documents.” I climbed to my feet.

  He followed suit, slipping the binder back into its hidden row. “This isn’t looking good for Melody. Mixed up with Moxie Mannheim?”

  “She’s going to be fine,” I assured him—and, perhaps even more importantly, reassured myself. “She has to be. She’s Maddy’s sister.”

  Maddy’s sister, who had managed to cross the tracks once and end up at a secret business in a building owned by an untouchable mobster. Her luck was as bad as mine. We still didn’t know what had made her answer that ad in the first place, not with Maddy insisting it couldn’t have been for the money.

  “You have any idea what the story between those sisters is?” Devin asked as we started to wind our way back out of the file maze.

  “Not yet.” But I wanted to know. It would help me understand Maddy. “Melody and her popularity thing—what’s that about? You’re my expert resource on that. Explain it.”

  “Me?” he asked. “Why?”

  “Maddy always says you’re a cool kid. You must get it, why Melody’s so attached to it,” I said.

  “Not really.” Devin hesitated, and then gently said, “But maybe more than you. So, there are two kinds of popularity. The kind that comes naturally, and so you just do what you do and people take notice of you and that’s about it. I guess that’s me? But I don’t think of myself that way. If I did, I would not be cool.”

  “That’s you,” I confirmed with a wink. “What’s the second kind?”

  “The kind where you work hard to maintain a status, because it seems like everything will be easier if you have it. It’s not mean girls and queen bees and bullies and jocks in charge these days, not like it used to be, but there are still hierarchies. A lot less likely to come in for criticism if you’re at the top of one,” he said. “But if you do, the claws will come out. So you have to work hard to stay where you are.”

  “Sounds exhausting. I still don’t get it.”

  “Clearly.” Devin grinned, and I knew he was sort of making fun of me, sort of not.

  I deserved it, after my teasing earlier. And with Devin, I felt more sure than I did with my other new friends that I wasn’t going to put my foot down wrong and mess up.

  We went from the property stacks to the business registry office further up the hall. I told the clerk, a thin boy who must have been barely out of high school, “We’re looking for information on a business named Ismenios Labs.” I spelled it, and then added, “Or any variation of that name.”

  He disappeared for a few minutes and then came back, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

  “You’re sure? Could we look—”

  “I know the alphabet.” He shook his head again. “There’s nothing.”

  I prepared to argue, but I was interrupted by the blaring of an alarm. It shrieked again and again, punctuated by a robotic recording that said: “Evacuate the building in an orderly manner. There has been a reported threat. Evacuate the building in an orderly manner.”

  “Sorry,” the registry kid said. “We have to go now.”

  I assumed the alarm was nothing. Well, not nothing. It was inconvenient, because it would prevent me from poking around more in the files. But Devin and I did as we were told anyway.

  In the hallway, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I’d forgotten to sign out of the messaging app.

  SmallvilleGuy: Did you end up going to City Hall? Daily Planet breaking news popped up with a security alert there.

  I pulled Devin to the side of the hall as the clerk and other people streamed by so I could tap a response back. He might have left me hanging the day before, but I wouldn’t do it to him.

  SkepticGirl1: I’m sure it’s nothing. We’re leaving now.

  I replaced my phone in my bag and stood in place for a moment. Devin said, “What is it?”

  “There was already a news alert posted about this alarm. That’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Even I couldn’t have posted it that fast.”

  “Which means someone must have tipped off the Planet,” I said.

  Some uniformed security guards appeared at the end of the hall and bellowed: “Everybody out. Come on.”

  At the end of the hall, who should we meet emerging from an office but the peeved-looking current mayor, accompanied by a woman in a pantsuit, and an earpiece-wearing security detail? The guards made us stop again, waiting as they ushered Mayor Ellis past. He had thinning blond hair and a tan he’d probably picked up on a golf course somewhere. And he was in a low-voiced conversation with the woman, but they were too far away for me to make out any of it except a stray expletive or three.

  “They should nickname him Mayor F-word,” I told Devin.

  We followed the detail out, the mayor cursing to the person beside him the whole time. He didn’t look frightened or worried, more in a bad mood.

  We passed through the front doors, and I glanced down the steps. Wait a second.

  I grabbed Devin’s arm and pointed down the stairs, not quite able to speak.

  On the sidewalk below, about to disappear into the regular sidewalk traffic, was a man in an anonymous-looking gray suit. He stopped, fidgeting with a wristband on his left hand. A gray wristband. With some spots that might be lights.

  I raised my phone and snapped a photo of him.

  “What are you doing?” Devin asked, frowning. Someone beside him was pointing. “Was that the old mayor?” he asked.

  The other people were murmuring the same thing.

  Because the man who was disappearing—fast—up the sidewalk? It was James’s dad.

  A dark-haired woman stopped to chat with one of her colleagues. “Did I hear this alert was a possible threat from Mayor Worthington? That he was spotted around the building?” she asked.

  A man among the murmuring people said, “I think we just saw him,” and hurried down the steps to where some security guards were clearing people back from the sidewalk, presumably to tell them.

  Security guards who’d shown up on the scene just in time to miss the man in the gray suit.

  A City Hall guy in a button-down and loafers told someone, “I don’t know if it was him. Isn’t he on house arrest? I thought everyone liked him. Until, you know.”

  “Everyone except Mayor Ellis, who said he shouldn’t be released early,” the woman replied. “He may have been right.”

  The other person joked, “For once.”

  Speaking of which, the current mayor and his detail were setting up camp on the sidewalk, about ten feet from the bottom of the stairs, in the opposite direction of the way the man in the suit had gone.

  The man with the gray wristband like Melody had described. Reporters were already gathering around the mayor and his goons.

  Hmmm.

  Devin was squinting at me. “What?” he asked.

  “Shhh,” I said, and steered us
down to where the press corps was lining up to listen to the mayor speak.

  Our boss at the Scoop, Perry White, rushed up, his tie loose around his neck and a question on his face when he spotted us. But before he could ask what we were doing, I said, “How’d you get here so fast?”

  Perry was our boss, but his main job was as a reporter at the Planet. He shrugged. “When someone calls in and tells you the former mayor, who’s supposed to be on house arrest, may have just been spotted at City Hall, you get moving.”

  Everyone quieted, and we turned toward the mayor. “Mayor Ellis will give a brief statement about the alarm and take a few questions,” said the woman he’d been cursing at.

  Perry fished out a recorder and a notepad. I could tell he was done talking to us. After all, he was here to cover the security alert story.

  I stepped away and pulled up the photo I’d taken on my phone, squinting to see it better in the sun. Was it possible? There was the way he’d stroked his wrist… and the way the wristband was exactly as Melody had described. His fingers on it had eerily evoked how she circled her own wrist.

  I pulled Devin away as Mayor Ellis began to speak. The mayor now seemed visibly shaken, as opposed to his furious nonchalance when we’d seen him on the way out.

  “The building has been evacuated without incident after a troubling report from security that someone on a classified list was seen near the premises and reported to security,” said Mayor Ellis. “No name will be released unless more information is confirmed. At this point, the incident should be treated as potential only. Questions?”

  Perry called out, “The rumor mill says it was Mayor Worthington. Care to comment?”

  “I think you mean ex-Mayor Worthington,” said the new mayor, earning a laugh. “No name will be released unless the identity of the person is confirmed. But I think he’s otherwise occupied.”

  Oh, really. Easy enough to find out.

  But I had another hunch to check out first. I looked back down at my phone and called Maddy.

  She picked up right away. “It’s happening,” she said. “Right now.”

  “For the last ten minutes or so?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, shaken. “She seems to be coming out of it.”

  “Put her on,” I said.

  I heard two brief, shaky puffs of inhale and exhale, and then a breathless, “Yes?” from Melody.

  “What did you see this time?” I asked her.

  A pause. “I was outside. I mean, he was outside. Stairs and… a sidewalk. A blaring noise. I was… I mean, he was excited.”

  “And you touched your wrist?” I said. “Like you’d seen before?”

  “He did,” she said, her voice becoming more stable. “He was touching that wristband, like he always does.”

  “I’ll have more for you later,” I said.

  I hung up, then texted James: Are you at home? Is your dad there?

  He texted back: Yes. And the cops are here too.

  I responded: Send your address. Devin and I are on our way.

  CHAPTER 9

  If City Hall was a palace, so was Worthington Manor. When Devin and I climbed out of the taxi and stared up at its looming edifice, there was no question from either of us that we were in the right place.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Devin shaded his eyes to get a better view of the three-story brownstone manse in front of us.

  The houses on either side were also incredible real estate showpieces. But there was something about the gothic architecture of this one. Ivy tendrils crawled along the front of it, and fearsome gargoyles gaped down at us.

  James had told me that part of the reason his dad had been embezzling was because they were short on funds. But the family home had to be worth millions, and they’d held on to it. So they must not be experiencing fund shortness on anything like the scale of normal people.

  I rang the doorbell and we heard its echo inside. I half-expected a butler to appear, but James opened the door. He admitted us with a soft, “Come in.”

  His movements as he led us into the showplace he called home were slow and deliberate, not infused with his usual relaxed confidence.

  But it was easy to see why. Two police officers in uniforms, along with a detective in a suit, occupied the formal parlor, where James’s dad was being questioned.

  The ex-Mayor Worthington sat on a straight-backed leather chair, the left sleeve of his pristine white shirt rolled up to reveal a thick black band around his forearm, which the detective was peering at closely. The ex-mayor was stiff, his cheeks a little red. Embarrassed, if I was reading him right.

  The detective punched a series of digits on a panel along the wristband’s top and waited for the result. It wasn’t the wristband I’d seen earlier. Besides the difference in color, this one was far more substantial. Mayor Worthington wasn’t in a gray suit, either; his white shirt was paired with ironed khakis and a pair of leather loafers—or maybe they were fancy slippers. He wouldn’t have had time to run home and change after leaving City Hall.

  The man I’d seen hadn’t been Mayor Worthington. But it had been his exact double.

  I inched closer to James. “How long have they been here?”

  “Since about five minutes before you texted me.”

  So they’d been dispatched as soon as City Hall was evacuated.

  One of the officers glanced up. “Social calls can probably wait,” he said to James.

  “It looks like you’re finishing up,” I said. “James, have you been home with your dad the whole afternoon since school?”

  Lines emerged on James’s forehead, but he answered me. “Yes, I came home right after school. Mom had to go out. She and I—we’ve been taking shifts. We didn’t want him to have to be home alone yet.”

  “Good,” I murmured, thinking.

  I was pretty sure James was telling the truth.

  “Do you have any evidence the ex-mayor hasn’t been here all afternoon?” I asked the cops.

  “Who’s she?” the detective asked, shooting a skeptical expression my way. Funny that he hadn’t asked me directly. I’d noticed that there were some men who treated girls and women like they were invisible. He must be one of those.

  James’s dad tilted his head at me in curiosity. “We already told the police all this. James has been with me for the last two hours.” He turned to the officers. “Do you have anything else?”

  “Okay, Mayor Worthington, settle down, just doing our jobs. Your monitor seems to support your story,” said the detective, rising from his seat. “But please be aware that if you violate your release terms, you will be back in jail before you can pass go. If you think you can get away with any infractions or attempts to bend the rules, let alone any threats against the current occupant of your old office, I assure you that you are incorrect.”

  James’s dad lowered his chin. “Understood.”

  There was shame in the reaction. And suddenly I got it. This whole episode was orchestrated purely to rattle James’s dad. But… why?

  The detective and one of the cops left. The other officer lingered until they were gone, then said, “It was a real shame what happened to you, Mayor. But he’s right. The people who don’t remember working for you will throw the book your way. Be careful.”

  Maybe everyone did love him before.

  The ex-mayor responded to the officer’s kindness. “I promise I did not leave the premises,” he said. “I’m too grateful to be home with my family.”

  The cop nodded to him and left too. James followed to show them out—and lock the manse door behind them. We needed to have a private conversation.

  Mayor Worthington turned toward Devin and me with a frown. I knew he wanted us to explain who we were, but I wanted to let him wonder. I wanted to observe him for these stolen moments before we were in
troduced.

  He and James were obviously related to each other. He had the same brown hair as James; his was shorter, but just as glossy. He had dark brown eyes; a few wrinkles, but not so many for a man in his late forties; and a sense of poise in his posture that likely came from being accustomed to respect. To being in charge. To having people watching him.

  James returned, and I looked away from his father. “Were you telling the truth about being home with your dad for the past two hours?” I asked.

  “Yes.” There was no hint of hesitation or lying in the answer or his face.

  “Who are your friends, James?” his dad asked.

  “We’re his colleagues from the Scoop,” I said, still watching James. “I’m Lois Lane and this is Devin Harris. We came by here because we have something to show James.”

  James waited while I pulled out my phone and found the photograph I’d taken. I held it up where he could see. His mouth dropped as wide as the gargoyles’ out front.

  Only then did I pivot to show the photo to his dad.

  “Devin and I were at City Hall earlier, looking into some documents for a friend,” I said, to cover the silence of their reaction. “We happened to be there during the evacuation. It was pretty crazy.”

  James’s dad reached out and took the phone from my grip. He gawked at the photo of the man. If he’d looked into the mirror and seen the man from the sidewalk staring back, he likely wouldn’t have known the difference either.

  “I know,” I said.

  James’s dad leapt to his feet and grabbed my arm. He pressed my phone back into my palm. Then he lifted his hand, the tracking device snug around the bottom three inches of his forearm above his wrist, and placed his index finger in front of his lips.

  He wasn’t going to speak. He didn’t want me to either.

  I’d figured that much. And I thought I knew why.

  “Sorry we’re here with such bad timing,” I said, as casually as possible. “We didn’t want to be late for our study date with James. You still have that music you were telling me about? Could we maybe listen to it while I get your notes? And I think you and Devin have some Scoop stuff to discuss, don’t you?”