Sammy Keyes and the Kiss Goodbye by Wendelin Van Draanen

vehicle.
    “Justice Jack is
back
,” Billy squealed, and took off running toward the hospital.
    “Oh, Officer Borsch is going to love this,” Marissa grumbled as they all hurried after Billy.
    Marissa’s sarcasm wasn’t without cause. From his Golden Gloves of Justice to his Pellets of Pain … 
t
, Jack Wesley—known to his regional fans as the red-and-gold-spandex-clad Justice Jack—was one do-gooder that Sergeant Borsch had been happy to see relocate to a town far, far away.
    Billy, on the other hand, had missed him. Having done a stint as the Deuce alongside the wannabe superhero, Billy had found an escape from the darker aspects of his life. Justice Jack had served as a mentor. Someone who held high ideals, expressed a courageous optimism, and could uncover a silver lining in even the most thunderous clouds.
    Someone Billy embraced for being very much
not
like his father.
    “Jack!” Billy cried as he charged into the ICU waiting room and spotted Jack Wesley in full regalia. “I thought you’d hung up the mask for good!”
    “Some things in life are worth a reboot,” Jack boomed, stomping one of his thickly leathered (and heavily buckled) feet. “And capturing the culprit who did this despicable deed is just such a thing!”
    “But … how’d you hear? I thought you’d moved to Reno!”
    Jack didn’t want to let on that, although his training at the police academy in Reno was going fairly well, he still monitored law enforcement activities in Santa Martina because, let’s face it, change is hard, and hanging up the Golden Gloves of Justice and the red-and-gold bodysuit for a conservative blue uniform with a few staid patcheswas even harder. (And don’t even bring up how he’d had to cut off his long hair.)
    So he simply boomed, “It was a long trip, little shaver, but worth every mile!” as he punched his fists against the sides of his superhero-inspired utility belt.
    It was at this point that Billy noticed the hair. On a regular long-haired Joe, it would have been the first thing anyone would notice, but with Jack it took a few minutes to process past the black mask and Roman centurion helmet. And Billy was about to exclaim, “Dude, you cut your hair!” only in that brief period of processing it also occurred to him that they were on camera. Although set up in a side room, a large news camera was pointed directly at them, and the red light was definitely on.
    “Cut!” Zelda Quinn instructed her cameraman because Billy was now glowering in her direction. And then three other individuals charged into the waiting room, completely pulling the reporter’s focus away from Justice Jack and the glowering teen.
    First there was a woman whose hair was ratted and shellacked to unbelievable heights. She was flowing with silk (and synthetic) scarves and wearing lots of dangling, jangling jewelry (all costume, save one silver-plated watch).
    Right behind her was a man wearing ridiculously tight shorts, sky-blue wrestling boots, and a tank top that barely covered his bulging chest. And following
him
was a stout man with greased-back hair and a cigar stub clamped between his teeth, looking for all the world like he’d just stepped off the set of a 1930s gangster movie.
    And when the trio all skidded to a halt and gasped,“What’s the news on Sammy?” Zelda Quinn knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had hit the mother lode. Whoever this girl was (besides the daughter of a legendary rock star, of course) and whatever she’d been doing on the fire escape of the Senior Highrise, there was a story here.
    A big, big story.
    Full of weird, weird people.
    It was a reporter’s dream!
    But she had to be careful. Unobtrusive. To get permission to be there at all, she’d had to plead her case to a hospital administrator, citing a desire to rally the community and capture a (maybe) kid killer. Still, it was only after making a host of confining promises (which included stringent stipulations involving