The Camera Never Lies
By Linda Seton
Dresses at high end shops seem to float -- maybe borne up by fabric that every salesgirl tells you breaths? Chloe's hand lingers at the shoulder of the orange and blue swirl of silk but decides against physical contact. No, proximity is enough in a shop where a pair of socks will run you three hundred dollars.
Chloe glances at her watch. It has been about an hour since she negotiated the buzzered entrance to this place and she still waits. Lionel's "friend" at the Daily Planet had told Chloe to return a dress and wait for the credit voucher. The dress, all $5800 of it, had obviously been worn and smelled of perspiration and sex and Lionel Luther.
Chloe really didn't care about this little game and didn't feel even vaguely uncomfortable. After all, the only thing the salesgirls know about her is the name she had given at the door -- Lana Lang.
Chloe steps aside to let a slender blonde woman pass. For Chloe this place seems sort of like a hive with dozens of women appearing from behind spa and dressing room door and disappearing again through another doorway. Chloe shifts and wishes she had a place to sit down. Or a sandwich.
Chloe decides that sitting is out of the question but there is an unbaroqued corner of wall perfect for leaning near a cascading series of mirrors. She eases back just as woman wearing a floor length ermine coat glides into the reflecting mirrors. It is Helen Bryce-Luthor times six.
Chloe hesitates for a second but cannot let the chance pass. She clears her throat, "Imagine what had to die for you to get that coat."
Helen looks at her and the creasing of her brow is the only acknowledgement.
Chloe moves around and behind Helen. After Lex had gone missing, Chloe had done some investigating about the good doctor. She had found that she was definitely not good and only marginally a doctor. Rich parents can buy you everything including the veneer of class.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Dr. Luthor? Or is it still Dr. Bryce?" Chloe asks.
Helen makes eye contact through the mirror. "I'm using my late husband's name." She shifts a little in the coat and reveals a red dress under the fur.
"So, that's what widows are wearing this year? I guess crimson is appropriate given the circumstances."
"You're Lionel's little Nancy Drew aren't you? He sent you after me?" Helen smiles but cannot seem to muster the energy to laugh.
"This is actually freelance Nancy Drewing. Lionel thinks you killed Lex and well, I know you killed Lex."
"Really, you 'know'."
Chloe crosses behind Helen. "Have you ever heard of 8:12 subsection 312 of the Homeland Securities Act of 2002? I'm guessing not or you'd look a lot more worried right now."
Helen turns up the collar of the coat. "Please enlighten me."
"In towns and cities where there is a large chemical concern all publicly or privately owned air strips have to have 24/7 camera surveillance." Chloe smiles, "So, say, a plane taxis down a runway, turns, comes back and a certain passenger disembarks. All that is caught in remarkably clear black and white. And it is pretty easy to acquire if you know the right people."
Helen turns and with surprising speed grasps Chloe's wrist.
Chloe smiles. "Cold hands. People with anemia or poor circulation have real problems surviving cold water emersion. But you're a doctor. You probably already knew that."
"What do you want?"
"I'm good." Chloe pulls free and turns to go.
Helen lunges and grabs the other woman's arm. She shoves Chloe into one of the dressing rooms and shuts the door.
In the mirrored six foot by six foot space Chloe jerks loose and takes a step back.
"I want that film!" Helen closes in.
"What? You think I have it with me?"
"What do you want?"
"I've already got what I want." Chloe brushes her hair behind her ear. "There's not really any ordinance demanding cameras at airports. And there isn't any film. And while I don't claim to be half as good as you at manipulating people I think I just called your bluff."
Helen goes very still. She looks to the floor and then launches herself at Chloe. The force sends the other woman crashing back into one of the mirrors. The glass spider webs out but does not shatter.
Chloe's eyes widen. Genuinely shocked, Chloe shoves Helen back. "Are you crazy?"
Helen brings her arm under Chloe's throat but cannot get a foothold with the stiletto heels and dragging coat. Chloe breaks free and sends Helen sprawling to the floor.
Chloe tries to step around the downed woman but Helen claws at her leg and pulls her off balance. She slides to one knee and Helen is on her in a biting and scratching frenzy. Chloe tries to catch her hands and glances up at the ceiling of the dressing room. "You do know that dressing rooms do have cameras, right?!"
Helen looks up and Chloe socks her in the jaw. "I can't believe you fell for that!"
A stunned Helen screams, "Bitch!"
Half-sliding out of the heavy fur coat Helen shoves it against Chloe's face and strains to keep the fur over her mouth. She realizes she needs something to subdue the girl. She slides out of her stiletto heels and begins to plunge the razor heels through the fur into Chloe's face and skull.
Chloe flattens out and slips under Helen's arm. Using all her upper body strength, a badly scratched Chloe flips the other woman over and wrenches the shoe from her hand. She hauls back and delivers a punch that leaves Helen motionless.
Chloe staggers up and spits blood. "You fight like a girl! A crazy girl!"
Chloe shoves open the door and emerges from the dressing room carrying Helen's shoe. Slamming the door, she takes a breath and notices all the staring salesgirls and customers. She opens the door, chucks the shoe back inside and strides over to the reception counter.
Pressing a sleeve against a bleeding lip, Chloe takes the credit voucher from a gaping clerk and strolls out of the shop as Helen begins to wail.
Dresses at high end shops seem to float -- maybe borne up by fabric that every salesgirl tells you breaths? Chloe's hand lingers at the shoulder of the orange and blue swirl of silk but decides against physical contact. No, proximity is enough in a shop where a pair of socks will run you three hundred dollars.
Chloe glances at her watch. It has been about an hour since she negotiated the buzzered entrance to this place and she still waits. Lionel's "friend" at the Daily Planet had told Chloe to return a dress and wait for the credit voucher. The dress, all $5800 of it, had obviously been worn and smelled of perspiration and sex and Lionel Luther.
Chloe really didn't care about this little game and didn't feel even vaguely uncomfortable. After all, the only thing the salesgirls know about her is the name she had given at the door -- Lana Lang.
Chloe steps aside to let a slender blonde woman pass. For Chloe this place seems sort of like a hive with dozens of women appearing from behind spa and dressing room door and disappearing again through another doorway. Chloe shifts and wishes she had a place to sit down. Or a sandwich.
Chloe decides that sitting is out of the question but there is an unbaroqued corner of wall perfect for leaning near a cascading series of mirrors. She eases back just as woman wearing a floor length ermine coat glides into the reflecting mirrors. It is Helen Bryce-Luthor times six.
Chloe hesitates for a second but cannot let the chance pass. She clears her throat, "Imagine what had to die for you to get that coat."
Helen looks at her and the creasing of her brow is the only acknowledgement.
Chloe moves around and behind Helen. After Lex had gone missing, Chloe had done some investigating about the good doctor. She had found that she was definitely not good and only marginally a doctor. Rich parents can buy you everything including the veneer of class.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Dr. Luthor? Or is it still Dr. Bryce?" Chloe asks.
Helen makes eye contact through the mirror. "I'm using my late husband's name." She shifts a little in the coat and reveals a red dress under the fur.
"So, that's what widows are wearing this year? I guess crimson is appropriate given the circumstances."
"You're Lionel's little Nancy Drew aren't you? He sent you after me?" Helen smiles but cannot seem to muster the energy to laugh.
"This is actually freelance Nancy Drewing. Lionel thinks you killed Lex and well, I know you killed Lex."
"Really, you 'know'."
Chloe crosses behind Helen. "Have you ever heard of 8:12 subsection 312 of the Homeland Securities Act of 2002? I'm guessing not or you'd look a lot more worried right now."
Helen turns up the collar of the coat. "Please enlighten me."
"In towns and cities where there is a large chemical concern all publicly or privately owned air strips have to have 24/7 camera surveillance." Chloe smiles, "So, say, a plane taxis down a runway, turns, comes back and a certain passenger disembarks. All that is caught in remarkably clear black and white. And it is pretty easy to acquire if you know the right people."
Helen turns and with surprising speed grasps Chloe's wrist.
Chloe smiles. "Cold hands. People with anemia or poor circulation have real problems surviving cold water emersion. But you're a doctor. You probably already knew that."
"What do you want?"
"I'm good." Chloe pulls free and turns to go.
Helen lunges and grabs the other woman's arm. She shoves Chloe into one of the dressing rooms and shuts the door.
In the mirrored six foot by six foot space Chloe jerks loose and takes a step back.
"I want that film!" Helen closes in.
"What? You think I have it with me?"
"What do you want?"
"I've already got what I want." Chloe brushes her hair behind her ear. "There's not really any ordinance demanding cameras at airports. And there isn't any film. And while I don't claim to be half as good as you at manipulating people I think I just called your bluff."
Helen goes very still. She looks to the floor and then launches herself at Chloe. The force sends the other woman crashing back into one of the mirrors. The glass spider webs out but does not shatter.
Chloe's eyes widen. Genuinely shocked, Chloe shoves Helen back. "Are you crazy?"
Helen brings her arm under Chloe's throat but cannot get a foothold with the stiletto heels and dragging coat. Chloe breaks free and sends Helen sprawling to the floor.
Chloe tries to step around the downed woman but Helen claws at her leg and pulls her off balance. She slides to one knee and Helen is on her in a biting and scratching frenzy. Chloe tries to catch her hands and glances up at the ceiling of the dressing room. "You do know that dressing rooms do have cameras, right?!"
Helen looks up and Chloe socks her in the jaw. "I can't believe you fell for that!"
A stunned Helen screams, "Bitch!"
Half-sliding out of the heavy fur coat Helen shoves it against Chloe's face and strains to keep the fur over her mouth. She realizes she needs something to subdue the girl. She slides out of her stiletto heels and begins to plunge the razor heels through the fur into Chloe's face and skull.
Chloe flattens out and slips under Helen's arm. Using all her upper body strength, a badly scratched Chloe flips the other woman over and wrenches the shoe from her hand. She hauls back and delivers a punch that leaves Helen motionless.
Chloe staggers up and spits blood. "You fight like a girl! A crazy girl!"
Chloe shoves open the door and emerges from the dressing room carrying Helen's shoe. Slamming the door, she takes a breath and notices all the staring salesgirls and customers. She opens the door, chucks the shoe back inside and strides over to the reception counter.
Pressing a sleeve against a bleeding lip, Chloe takes the credit voucher from a gaping clerk and strolls out of the shop as Helen begins to wail.