Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits (19 page)

“I—I, uh—wh-what do you mean?” I stammered.

“Don’t play dumb with me, sonny boy. You know who
that
is?” He pointed at the woman with the dark glasses. She was staring out the window at the dim lights of distant farmhouses while she absentmindedly petted Sam, who was perched on her lap.

“N-no,” I said. “I’ve never seen her before—I mean, before I got on the train.”

Ellie’s face lit up. “You’re Madeline Parker! I almost didn’t recognize you with those glasses. Shouldn’t you be in New York? Don’t you have a show tonight?”

Miss Parker removed the glasses, revealing her improbably blue eyes for the first time, and smiled at Ellie.

In addition to being fascinated by her eyes, I must have looked confused, because Ellie felt the need to tell me
more. “She’s only the most famous actress on Broadway. She’s won just about every award you can win, and—”

Mr. Gray Suit poked me with his finger again. “Don’t act like you don’t know who she is! Do you think I just fell off the turnip truck? Do you?”

“T-turnip truck?” I said, getting more confused by the minute.

“I saw you talking to your friend with the funny hat—Phyllis Finkleman, the
gossip
columnist, as if you didn’t know that already! I have to give that crazy dame credit, though. This time she’s really outdone herself, following us halfway across the country for her little scoop. And by the way, when you see her, tell her I said that hat is the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen. So, how much is she paying you to snoop on us? Where’s your spy camera? Let me see those handcuffs. Are they even real? Or are you just using them to get my sympathy, so I’ll let down my guard? And the next thing you know, Maddy’s on the front page of your paper. Why can’t you people just leave us alone?”

I backed away, utterly bewildered. “Look, mister … are you talking about the lady with the yellow birds on her hat? Because I did talk to her, but it was about—” I cut myself off, remembering that I
had
talked to her about them, although it wasn’t for the reason he thought. “We’re
not working for her, I swear. This is Ellie Strasbourg—the girl who was kidnapped! You
must
have heard about that. I know it sounds crazy, but after the conductor and I figured out that she was still on the train, I thought you two were the kidnappers. But I found her and we used a sardine can key to open one of the cuffs and escape, but if we don’t find the conductor and Judge Ambrose before we get to the next stop, the kidnappers are going to get away!”

“Whoa! Take a breath, kid,”
said Sam.
“Now, go back to the part where you mentioned something about a sardine can. Because I’m thinking if there’s a key, there must be sardines nearby. Are you holding out on me, kid? Because if you are …”

Mr. Gray Suit, still blocking the door, crossed his arms and jutted his chin out at me, and I missed the rest of what Sam said. “If that’s true, and you’re in such a big hurry, how do you explain your taking the time to look for your cat?”

“Ooh, that’s a
really
good question,”
said Sam, chuckling inside my head.
“I can’t wait to hear your answer.”

“We … I … need him,” I said. “He’s … Sam’s just really … important, but I can’t tell you why.… Can I
please
explain later? We need to find the conductor right away. When this train reaches the next stop at Ripley, they’re going to hop off and get away with … with everything.”

A smiling Miss Parker held up her hand to stop me. “Wait. Back up a second. You thought
we
were the kidnappers? What on earth made you think that?”

“I guess you looked guilty. Ellie told me that she recognized two criminals on the train, but before she could point them out to me, somebody nabbed her. Every time I saw you, you were wearing dark glasses, and you were both always looking over your shoulders. And you,” I added, pointing at Mr. Gray Suit, “you couldn’t stop playing with your wedding ring. I thought maybe it was a fake, and you were just pretending to be married. And then that lady in the hat said something about you two and how you were in hiding.…”

“We’re not in hiding!” said Mr. Gray Suit, getting more and more agitated. “When I get my hands on her, I’m going to—”

Miss Parker stood up, holding Sam to her chest. “Darling, relax. The cat’s out of the bag, so to speak. A big ol’ lanky calico cat named Sam, to be precise. By the time we get to Chicago, the whole world is going to know that we’re married. And so what? When we get there, I think we should stand on the roof of the train and announce it to the world. And another thing—so what if your play opened and closed on the same night. It doesn’t mean it’s a bad play; in fact, it’s brilliant. The public just isn’t ready for
Alabama Woodward … yet. But don’t worry, they’ll come around. All the controversy will blow over in a few days, and then no one will care because the Phyllis Finklemans of the world will have found someone else to bother. Now step aside and let this nice young man out of this compartment before he has a heart attack.” She gave Sam a nudge out of her lap. “You too, gorgeous.”

“Alabama Woodward?”
said Sam, suddenly looking up at Mr. Gray Suit with respect.
“Henry, my boy, we are in the presence of one of the truly great playwrights of our time. A true genius. Mark my words: Mr. Woodward will go down in history as the William Shakespeare of the Great Depression. Last summer, I saw a production of his play
Sardines and Sixpence
because—well, I think you can probably guess why I went to see it—and it was brilliant! Mrrraaa. I could go for some sardines right now. I don’t suppose—”

“Sam!” I shouted. “I don’t care if he
is
William Shakespeare! We need to go right
now
, and we’re not stopping for
sardines
!”

There was absolute silence in the compartment as everyone froze. Baffled by my outburst, they stared, mouthing the word
sardines
and thinking, no doubt, that I had lost my mind.

Alabama Woodward stepped aside and opened the door without making a sound.

“We have to hurry,” I said, pulling Ellie toward the dining car and the sounds of Gladys and Gwendolyn.

“What was that about sardines?” she asked.

We burst into the dining car as the final notes of a song I didn’t recognize still hung in the air. On the way in, we almost knocked down Phyllis Finkleman, whose hands were poised to be the first to clap for the Henshaw Sisters.

The crowd parted and we found ourselves in the center of the room, with thirty pairs of eyes on us.

“That’s her!” said one man. “That’s the Strasbourg girl!”

“I thought the kidnappers took her off the train,” a woman remarked.

“Where’s the conductor? Where’s Clarence?” I asked, my eyes scanning the room. “Has anybody seen him?”

The train’s whistle blew as we went around a bend and started down a long, gentle incline.

I spun around, and my eyes landed on Connie and Ty, who shared a nervous look. As Ty slowly stood up, I watched his hand reach inside his jacket where he kept his gun.

“Uh-oh.”

“What’s going on?”
said Sam.
“Pick me up. I can’t see anything from down—mrrraaa! See you later, kid.”

“Wh-what? Where are you going? Find Clarence!” I
twisted my head around to see what had scared him off and found myself face to giant red face with Judge Ambrose.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he boomed. “What’s going on here?”

Ellie and I lifted our handcuffed wrists to show him.

“I found her. This is Ellie. She was still on the train, just like Clarence said. Only
you
didn’t believe him.”

The judge took a step back, and his usually bright pink cheeks and nose lightened a few shades. He was definitely a bit shocked by my success.

“What do you mean, you
found
her? Who gave you permission to even be
looking
for her?
Where
did you find her? And
why
are you two handcuffed together?”

“It was
them
,” I announced, pointing with my free hand across the car at Connie and Ty, still known to everyone else as Reverend and Mrs. Perfiddle. “They did it. They took her. And they did
this
.”

“Who? Who took her?” Judge Ambrose blustered.

“Reverend Perfiddle and his wife,” I said. “They’re big phonies,
and
they’re crooks! Their real names are Connie and Ty, and they’re wanted by the FBI. I
told
you that Ellie recognized two criminals when they got on the train. It was
them
.”

The crowd of passengers who had been enjoying the
music of Gladys and Gwendolyn eyed Connie and Ty suspiciously.

A smile formed in the corner of the judge’s mouth, which then quickly turned into a huge, toothy grin. He threw that basketball-sized head of his back and let loose a roar of laughter so loud that Ellie and I both flinched.

“Haw-haw-haw! Good one, kid. You’re a regular Groucho Marx.” He addressed the crowd: “Folks, we have great news! We found Ellie Strasbourg, and she’s unharmed. We need to get her back to her mother’s compartment right away.”

“What about them?” asked Phyllis Finkleman, pointing at Connie and Ty and then taking two steps toward them. She didn’t seem to be afraid of anything, or anyone. “The boy said that they’re responsible. Are you going to arrest them?”

“Madam, I think you should leave this to the men,” said Judge Ambrose. “It’s obvious that there’s been a mistake made here. The girl is in shock. She doesn’t know what happened. Here’s what I think happened, and it’s what I’ve been saying all along, from the moment she disappeared. I’m still not sure how or why, but this boy has been involved in this little plot from the very beginning, all the way up to his scrawny little neck. Slowly but surely, we’ve been closing in on him, and when he knew we were about to pounce, he handcuffed himself to her and then ran in here
shouting crazy stories about the good Reverend Perfiddle and his poor wife. Folks, take a good look at them. Do they look like criminals to you? Mrs. Perfiddle, I apologize for this inexcusable intrusion, but would you please stand up for a moment?”

Connie put on a performance worthy of a headlining role on Broadway. Slowly, dramatically, she rose to her feet, turning her enormous belly sideways for the full effect. And then, as if that wasn’t theatrical enough, she “fainted,” falling into the outstretched arms of the oh-so-innocent-looking Ty.

Women gasped. Men harrumphed. Both groups clucked disapprovingly at me.

“You see what I mean, my friends?” said Ambrose, puffing himself up. “Now, help me reunite this little girl with her mother. Look at the poor thing. She’s too frightened to speak!”

The crowd started to close in around Ellie and me. Even Phyllis Finkleman looked at me suspiciously.

“She’s faking! Criminy, it’s not even a real baby!” I cried. “It’s just a
pillow
. I saw her put it inside her blouse.”

“Shut up, kid,” said the man who thought I was shushing him in the lounge a few hours earlier.

“Where is his mother?” his wife asked. “She should be ashamed.”

“What he needs is a few lashes with my belt,” chimed in another man.

Ellie and I stood facing each other as hands started to guide us toward the exit. Sam came running through the dining car and flew up onto a table in front of us. Ellie reached out and took him into her arms.

“Clarence is on his way,”
he said.
“I found him locked in the mail room. One of your friends gave him a bump the size of a lemon on the back of his head.”
Sam then looked around the dining car, noticing all the faces staring icy daggers at me.
“Nice going, kid. I see you’re still making lots of friends. I leave you alone for two minutes and suddenly everybody on the train wants your hide.”

Not wanting to appear as if I had completely lost my mind, I whispered, “I can’t help it. Nobody believes me about Connie and Ty, and
she
won’t talk. Say something, Ellie! Tell them what happened!”

But for the first (and, I’m certain, the
only
) time in her life, Ellie Strasbourg was literally speechless. She opened her mouth, and moved her lips, but only a faint, pathetic squeak came out.

“What’s the matter with her?” someone asked.

“That cat’s got her tongue,” someone answered. “They can do that, you know. They’ll steal your breath as soon
as they look at you. My great-aunt Betty’s second cousin’s daughter had a cat that killed a baby that way. You could look it up. It was in all the papers.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,”
said Sam.
“Have we gone through some kind of railroad tunnel to the twelfth century? What’s next—are they going to call me a witch and burn me at the stake?”

As the crowd of angry faces closed in tighter and tighter, I could practically feel the flames lapping up at me.

“Hold it right there, everyone! Nobody move!” shouted Clarence, storming in just in the nick of time. Something about the sound of his voice told the crowd that he was in no mood for foolishness, and everyone stopped dead in their tracks.