Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits (23 page)

Judge Ambrose stepped off the train and waited for Connie and Ty, joined at the ankles with their own handcuffs. I couldn’t help smiling to myself as they stumbled across the platform, bickering and cursing at one another.

“Stop stepping on my feet, you moron,” said Connie.

“Maybe if your feet weren’t so big, I wouldn’t keep doing it,” answered Ty.

“Maybe if your IQ was bigger than my shoe size, you might actually learn to walk properly.”

“And they lived happily ever after,” said Clarence, watching Judge Ambrose lead them into the station. “Thanks to you, we’ve all seen the last of those two for a long, long time.”

“I hope it’s the last I see of all
three
of them,” I said.

“I agree.” He checked his pocket watch, as I’d seen him do a dozen times since New York City. “Three minutes behind schedule. Tsk, tsk. Maybe we can make it up west of Cleveland. Now remember what I said—I want to hear from you, Henry.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do it. I’ll send you a picture of the
Point Pelee
.”

“That would be very nice. I’ll look forward to it. Now go on … and take care of your mother and your little sister, you hear?”

“I will; I promise. Before I go, I have one more question:
back when Sam was … well, right before he … did you hear him say anything? Because I thought I heard him say …”

“Something about the judge … and Connie? I didn’t catch the rest of it. Sorry, but I really have to get going, Henry. You take care of that wrist, okay?” He hurried to the train, stepping aboard just as it started to pull away from the platform.

Mother and Jessica were waiting for me near the entrance to the station, and I began to walk toward them.

“Henry! Hurry!” cried a voice behind me. I turned around to see Clarence waving madly and motioning to me to run as the Shoreliner slowly picked up speed.

As I ran along the edge of the platform, Clarence leaned out of the open door to talk to me. “Something Judge Ambrose said doesn’t fit,” he said. “The knock I got on my head when they locked me in the mail room—remember, the judge mentioned it. He
knew
what had happened. But Sam’s the only one I told.”

I was running out of platform. “I don’t understand,” I shouted as the train, and Clarence, slipped away into the darkness.

Inside the train station at Erie, Judge Ambrose and Mrs. Strasbourg talked to a deputy from the local sheriff’s office, who then led Connie and Ty out to his car and drove them away. Another deputy stayed behind to interview Ellie and me, but after only a couple of questions, Mrs. Strasbourg put her foot down.

“It’s just going to have to wait until tomorrow,” she said. “My daughter has been through a very traumatic experience, and she needs to sleep. And this young man—the one who saved my daughter’s life—has a broken wrist and must be in absolute agony.
You
are going to make yourself useful by driving him to the local hospital or the nearest doctor. I don’t care if you have to wake
somebody up—do whatever it takes to ensure that he gets the best possible care. You do have an automobile, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, flustered at being told what to do by this no-nonsense woman. “Right this way.” We followed him out into the parking area.

“Perfect,” she said. “Henry, you ride with the officer. We’ll follow you.” She held up a white-gloved hand, and less than ten seconds later, a long black car pulled up to the curb and the driver hopped out.

“Evening, Mrs. Strasbourg,” he said, tipping his cap. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not at all, Billings. Your timing is perfect, as usual. We have some extra passengers. Our new friends, Mrs. Shipley and Jessica, will be joining us for a day or two.”

Billings tipped his cap at Mother. “Glad to have you aboard, Mrs. Shipley. Make yourself comfortable. We’ll be at the Conneaut Hotel in no time at all.”

“Julia, do you mind riding up front with Billings? I don’t think we’ll all fit in the back.”

“No, ma’am. I like it up there. He’s teaching me how to drive.”

“Not tonight, I hope,” said Mrs. Strasbourg. “Billings, we’ll be making a stop along the way. Follow that car.”

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when we left the hospital, and well after three when we pulled into the driveway at the Hotel Conneaut—a place I’d heard about all my life but had never seen. As the headlights of the Strasbourgs’ car swung through the park, my heart raced when I caught a glimpse of the curving, skeletal spine of a massive sleeping dinosaur—actually, the towering wooden framework of the Blue Streak. When I closed my eyes, I imagined the wind whooshing through my hair and the sound of screaming riders as we plummeted from the summit at over sixty miles per hour! I quickly came back to reality as Billings pulled up to the door of the hotel and set the emergency brake, and we all stumbled sleepily from the car.

Mrs. Strasbourg led the way inside as two porters whisked my bag away before I had a chance to pick it up. Despite the lateness of the hour, the lobby bustled with activity.

“Welcome back to the Hotel Conneaut, Mrs. Strasbourg,” said the clerk, a cheerful, pink-cheeked man. “Tomorrow’s a very big day for us, but of course you know that already. Your rooms are ready—the presidential suite and one standard room—so I won’t keep you. It’s a good thing you called when you did. Not five minutes later, I had to turn away a nice young couple. I hated to do it—she’s expecting a baby, and the poor thing looked exhausted. I felt
like the innkeeper in Bethlehem!” He laughed at his own little joke; he was the only one who did. Then he leaned over the desk, lowering his voice. “But the real excitement happened about an hour ago. You’ll never guess who checked in. Madeline Parker, that’s who! She’s even more beautiful in person. I thought I was going to
die
!”

“Goodness,” said Mrs. Strasbourg, not nearly as impressed as the clerk had hoped she’d be. “Will she be at the Dreamland Ballroom for the gala tomorrow night?”

“She’s going to
sing
,” said the clerk, hopping up and down excitedly. “It’s a dream come true for me.”

“Yes, well, how nice for you. May we have our keys, please?”

“My gosh! Of course!” he exclaimed, taking the keys from the rack behind him and handing them to Mrs. Strasbourg and Mother. “Pleasant dreams!”

Lucky for us, the opening ceremony for the Blue Streak was scheduled for one o’clock in the afternoon. Even though my arm ached, and I conked myself in the head with the cast at least twice, I managed to sleep until after ten o’clock, the latest I had ever slept in. (Growing up with a ship’s captain for a father meant following ship’s watches, and the “forenoon” watch started at eight o’clock
sharp
.)

Mother, her hair and makeup done and wearing her
“second-best dress,” was sitting beside my bed when I opened my eyes.

“How’s my son the hero this morning?” she asked, gently touching my plaster-encased wrist.

“My arm hurts. It itches, too.”

“Your father is going to be so proud of you. Not prouder than I am, though. Just promise me one thing: no more adventures, all right?”

“I … uh, sure. This cast is going to make it hard … for a while, at least.”

“The doctor said you were lucky. It’s a clean break. The cast will be off in six weeks.”

“That’s all of June,” I said glumly. “And some of July. No baseball. No swimming. That stinks.”

“Come on, lazybones,” Mother teased. “Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up and into some nice clothes, and then let’s find you something to eat. You must be
starving
. Jessica and I will meet you downstairs in the lobby in a few minutes. It looks like a perfect day.”

When she was gone, I climbed out of bed, stopping when my eyes landed on something that must have fallen from my pants pocket when I undressed the night before: the sardine can key.

Those final few seconds on the bridge came flooding back to me as I bent down to pick it up.

“Sam,” I whispered, dropping into a chair next to the bed and squeezing the key between my fingers. Whatever appetite I’d had moments earlier was gone. It all just felt
wrong;
I was at Conneaut Lake Park for the grand opening of the fastest, scariest roller coaster in the whole world, but I couldn’t enjoy it—not really, not the way I’d always imagined it.

In Mother’s suitcase, I found the sewing kit that she took with her wherever she went, and I unrolled several inches of strong black thread, which I used to hang the sardine key around my neck. I stood in front of the mirror, admiring my work.

“I’ll wear it forever,” I swore to myself.

By the time I entered the dining room and found Mother and Mrs. Strasbourg finishing their coffees and Ellie looking bored, my appetite had returned. In a matter of seconds I demolished a plate heaped with eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast, and downed two glasses of orange juice.

“Are you finished
yet
?” Ellie asked. “What is taking you so long? Don’t you
want
to see the Blue Streak?”

“Slow down, Ellie,” warned her mother. “Let the poor boy enjoy his breakfast. You’ll have plenty of time to show him around before the big opening.”

“Did I miss anything … about Connie and Ty?” I asked. “Are they in jail? Did anybody find the … your necklace … or … Sam?”

“Now that you mention it, no. We haven’t heard anything yet,” said Mrs. Strasbourg. “It must have been too late to make the morning newspaper, but I would have thought it would be all over the radio by now. Quite a feather in Judge Ambrose’s cap, I’d think, bringing in those two. I have no doubt that he’ll take all the credit. He’ll probably run for governor.”

“Governor! He didn’t do anything!” I protested. “He didn’t even believe me when I … he told everyone it was
me
who did it! If it was all up to him, they would have gotten away with it. It’s his fault that your necklace … and Sam … are gone.”

“Easy, honey,” said Mother, patting down my cowlick. “The only important thing right now is that you and Ellie are both safe and those awful people are in jail.”

“Your mother’s right, Henry,” said Mrs. Strasbourg. “Ellie, why don’t you take Henry on a tour of the park. You can ride those—what do you call them?—crash cars.”