Thrill Ride by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

“You guys are so cool!” Little Bernie cried, rushing up to us. “What went wrong with the ride?”

“I’m still not sure,” I admitted.

“I heard an explosion from somewhere behind me after the cord snapped,” Frank said. “Somewhere away from the carousel itself.”

“Let’s go see,” I said. I made my way through the crowd of hugging people and crying children. Then I circled the merry-go-round until I found what I was looking for—the orange cord. It came out from underneath the carousel just as I had suspected. I followed it across the walkway and to a locked utility closet. The cord ran under the door and disappeared inside. “Can you open this door?” I asked Little Bernie.

“No problem. I have a passkey,” he boasted. He pulled a key from a chain around his neck and unlocked the closet. “No way,” he breathed.

Inside, attached to the orange cord, was a power generator.

“Someone hooked a generator to the carousel to make it spin faster,” Frank said. “But who—”

A siren ripped through the air.

We spun around to see an ambulance come screeching into the crowd of people. Two EMTs leaped out of the back and rushed over to a guy lying on his back near the harpooned concession cart.

“Oh, no,” Frank said. “Did he get thrown from the carousel?”

By the time we got through the crowd of gawkers and reached the ambulance, the EMTs were already pulling a sheet over the man’s body.

“What happened?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” the EMT replied. “Looks like a heart attack.”

“Was he on that carousel?” Frank asked.

I peered down at the poor man. Then I kneeled and took a closer look. “This wasn’t caused by the carousel,” I said. “He’s got a bee crushed in his hand.”

The EMT knelt next to me. “Where?”

I pointed it out. The EMT turned the guy’s hand over, revealing a tiny swollen hole. “The bee stung him, he crushed it, and then he died,” the EMT said. “Looks like the bee might be related to his death.”

“He must’ve been allergic to bees,” I guessed. “He went into anaphylactic shock, and nobody noticed in all the hysteria about the out-of-control carousel.”

“Then his death was still caused by the sabotage to the carousel,” Frank said grimly. “At least indirectly. If people hadn’t been distracted by the ride, someone might have noticed that this man needed help.”

“It’s true. If we’d gotten here sooner, we could’ve given him a shot of adrenaline and saved his life,” the EMT said.

“You don’t know that,” Little Bernie put in. “It’s not fair to blame the carousel.”

“It’s yet another example of unsafe rides at this amusement park!” a loud voice broke into our conversation. “This is the second accident in two weeks!”

It was a tall man in a dark suit and tie. His face was bright red and sweaty. That’s what he gets for wearing a suit on a hot summer day, I thought.

“You!” the man shouted, pointing at Little Bernie. “You should be ashamed of your father, allowing this run-down old park to stay open.

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