Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits (13 page)

I tried to miss her, but it was no use. Gravity won the battle, and I landed belly-first with a screeching thud on poor Daisy’s back, then bounced into the grass next to her.

The fall alone should have killed me, and I still can’t explain how Daisy survived the collision, either. A high school physics student could tell us that when ten pounds of cat drops from fifty feet and hits three pounds of Chihuahua, well, it isn’t pretty. I’ve always preferred to think of it the way pilots talk about airplane landings: if you can walk away from it, it was a good one.

In this case, Daisy and I both walked away—but not immediately. The crash knocked the wind out of both of us, and according to Billie, neither of us moved a muscle for a good ten seconds. Finally, I raised my head and made eye contact with Daisy as we lifted ourselves to our paws, testing all of our limbs to make sure they were still attached and working. Then I began to back away, still not taking my eyes off Daisy,
afraid to make any sudden movements. She stood in place, her head cocked to one side, watching my every move.

At the moment I was about to turn and race toward the barn, something miraculous happened: Daisy wagged her tail at me! And not in an I-can’t-wait-to-tear-you-apart way, either. It was the genuine article, a left-left-left wag (which every cat learns to recognize as the friendliest kind), and I froze in my tracks, mesmerized.

I turned to Billie, who had left the safety of the barn to watch. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked. “Has she ever done this before?”

“Never,” said Billie. “She must be dreaming. You’d better get out of there before she wakes up.”

As if she sensed our wariness, Daisy flopped over onto her back, rolling around in the grass—in other words, acting like a completely normal, silly dog. Then she leaped to her feet and ran around the tree four or five times before nudging me playfully with her nose.

“I think she wants you to chase her,” said Billie. “Well, this is a story I’ll tell my grandchildren: the day Sam fell asleep in a tree, dropped fifty feet, and knocked the mean right out of a Chihuahua.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” I said. “I was resting my eyes.
Thinking
.”

Near the back of the train, two cars in front of the observation car, Clarence held open the door to drawing room B as Reverend Perfiddle helped his pregnant wife through the narrow entrance. Sam and I hid at the bend in the corridor where the wider drawing rooms started.

“Lucky for you, we have this one empty drawing room,” said Clarence. “I think she’ll be much more comfortable in here. Do you think she’s going into labor?”

Reverend Perfiddle guided his wife to the bed and helped ease her down on it. “How are you feeling, my dear? Do you think it’s … time?”

Mrs. Perfiddle took several deep breaths through her mouth before attempting to speak. “No … not yet … oh!”

“What is it?”

“Just a little twinge. There, it’s gone,” she said.

“Shall I ask around for a doctor?” Clarence said. “There’s bound to be one aboard.”

“No, not yet,” said Mrs. Perfiddle. “It’s not time. A woman knows these things. Thank you, Mr.… Nockwood. You’ve been most kind. I just need to rest for a while.”

Reverend Perfiddle grasped Clarence’s hand with both of his own and hurried him out the door. “Thank you, thank you, and God bless you. Right now, I think she needs peace and quiet, and rest. We shouldn’t disturb her further, I think.”

“You’ll let me know if you need anything?” said Clarence as the door closed in his face.

“Ellie Strasbourg is still on the Shoreliner,”
announced Sam as Clarence joined us in the corridor.

“What?” I shouted. “How do you know?”

“Oh, I’ve known that for a while,”
he said.
“It’s simple deduction. Clearly she didn’t get off the train. Therefore she’s still on the train.”

“Then come on,” I said. “If she’s on the train, why can’t we just search every room until we find her?”

“Even if Sam is right—which, I have to admit, he usually is—it’s not quite that easy,” said Clarence. “First, there are ninety-six rooms on this train. People pay good money
for those rooms, and they expect to be left alone to sleep or relax or play cards or whatever it is they want to do. There are pregnant women, and children, and elderly passengers aboard—I have a responsibility to them.”

“What about Ellie?” I asked. “Don’t you have a responsibility to her? And her mom?”

Clarence sighed. “I hear you, Henry, and I know how you feel. But the fact is, even if I wanted to, I don’t have the authority to do it—only the police can do things like that, and even they can’t search a room unless they have a reason—and a search warrant.”

“What about Judge Ambrose? Can he do it?”

Clarence shook his head. “He’s a
retired
sheriff, not a cop or a G-man. Even the fact that he’s a judge doesn’t help, either.”

“I’m afraid he’s right,”
said Sam.
“But that doesn’t mean we’re done looking for Ellie—not by a long shot. My brain is just getting warmed up.”

“You see?” said Clarence. “We still have some time before the train gets to Dunkirk and Mrs. Strasbourg has to hand over that necklace, but we have to put our brains together. Now, what were you saying about that barrette when we were interrupted?”

I filled in the missing details for him while he listened, nodding.

“There’s only one problem with your story,” said Clarence, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “No passengers boarded at Albany.”

“Are you sure? I was right behind them. They looked like they just got on board.”

“Where exactly did you see them?”

“One car behind the dormitory car. I first saw them coming out of the space between the cars, the, um …”

“Vestibule,” said Clarence. “Did they have luggage?”

I closed my eyes and re-created the scene in my mind. “I don’t … no. The man was carrying the girl, that’s all.”

“So you didn’t actually see them board the train,”
noted Lantern Sam in his cross-examination.

“No … but … they were …” I was getting flustered as I realized that I couldn’t state for certain that they had boarded the train in Albany.

“Let me see that barrette again,”
said Sam.

“What are you thinking, Sam?” Clarence asked, looking over my shoulder as I held the barrette up for Sam to see.

“More light,”
Sam demanded.
“Over here … stop! Well, well, well. Take another look, boys. I really am getting sloppy; should have seen this before. It’s the engraving. At first, I thought it was just decoration, a floral pattern of some kind. But it’s more than that. It’s initials, a monogram. A big script
S
surrounded by
E
and
M.
The engraving is so light, and the initials all overlap, making it hard to read.”

“The
S
would be the last name. That’s the way monograms usually work. Must be
E.M.S.
,” said Clarence.

“It’s Ellie’s!” I cried. “It has to be. I’ll bet you anything that her middle initial is
M
. Ellie M. Strasbourg.”

“That’s easy enough to find out,” said Clarence. “If this is Ellie’s, her mother will certainly recognize it. Let’s go talk to her.”

“Wait, does this mean that … um, what does this mean?” I asked, one step behind the conductor.

“How sure are you that this barrette came from either the woman or the little girl with red hair?”
Sam asked.
“Give me a number. Ten percent? Fifty? Seventy-five?”

I considered the question for a few seconds, replaying the incident in my mind. “Ninety-nine percent. Either that or it fell from the sky.”

“Then I’d say there’s a one percent chance that the girl being carried was
not
Ellie.”

“B-but she had—”

“Red hair, I know. Easy. A wig. Probably two—one for the mother, too, to make it seem really obvious that they were mother and daughter.”

“They were already on the train,” said Clarence, “just waiting for their chance. When they saw her alone, they
pounced. Bet they followed her to the end of the train and got her with the chloroform. Probably in one of the lavatories. All they had to do was throw a wig and a coat on her and carry her back to their room. They could have walked right past Ellie’s mother and she wouldn’t have known. Then they ditch the wigs and—ta-da!—they blend in with everybody else.”

To the back of the train we hurried, with Sam padding along at our feet, until we reached the observation car. Standing and talking outside the Commodore Perry suite were the handsome young porter, James, and the Strasbourgs’ beautiful maid, Julia. James snapped to attention when he saw Clarence.

“Mr. Nockwood, sir. I was … making sure …”

“I asked James to bring a sandwich from the kitchen … for Mrs. Strasbourg,” said Julia. “I tried to get her to eat something, but she’s too worried. Have you heard anything?”

“That’s why we’re here,” said Clarence. “We have some … is Mrs. Strasbourg alone?”

“Yes, sir.” Julia went inside and closed the door, reopening it a few seconds later. “Come inside.”

Mrs. Strasbourg, violently wringing her hands together, her face stained from tears, moved toward Clarence. “You have news about Ellie, Mr. Nockwood?”

“Yes, ma’am. There have been some developments. You should sit.”

Expecting the worst, she cried out, “Oh … oh, no,” but stopped when Clarence waved his hand back and forth.

“It’s not bad news, ma’am. It may even be good news.” He held out the barrette. “Do you recognize this?”

She burst into tears as she took the barrette. “It’s Ellie’s! I gave it to her for her birthday last year. Where did you find it?”

Clarence pointed at me. “Henry found it in the corridor of the train. There was a man carrying a child, and we think …” He had to stop because Mrs. Strasbourg was sobbing so loudly.

Finally, she composed herself, and she listened as Clarence told her the truth about the salesman and Sam’s theory of how the kidnapping occurred.

“I’m not sure I understand,” she said. “You think …”

“We’re
certain
that she’s still on the train,” said Clarence.

“Still on the train,” repeated Mrs. Strasbourg, collapsing into one of the wing chairs. “Just knowing that makes me feel so much better. The thought of my baby girl locked in that box, being carted around like a piece of luggage—” When she burst into tears again, Julia knelt beside her, comforting her.

“We have an advantage at the moment,” said Clarence. “The kidnappers don’t know that
we
know that Ellie is still on the train. I know every inch of the Shoreliner, and you have to trust me, ma’am. No one is getting off until Ellie is safe and sound. You have my promise. If they think we’re chasing after a marble salesman and a large trunk, they’re going to let their guard down sooner or later. And when they do, we’re going to catch them. I’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, don’t leave this room, and whatever you do,
don’t
let that necklace out of your sight.”

The door to the Commodore Perry suite closed behind us, and our eyes landed on Judge Ambrose and Reverend Perfiddle in the observation car lounge, in the midst of a serious-looking conversation. Smoke from the minister’s cigarette formed a wispy gray cloud around his head, while the judge champed at yet another unlit cigar, like an old cow working her cud.