Comic Book Mystery (3 page)

“Grandfather had our boxcar moved to his house,” Henry concluded. “We use it as a clubhouse now.”

“We keep our Captain Fantastic collection there,” Violet added. “We have every single issue now. Even number nine. It took us a long time to find that one.”

“We brought it with us,” Jessie said. “If it’s not too much trouble, we’d really like you to autograph it.”

While the children were talking, Sid had been doodling his superhero character on paper napkins.

“A souvenir,” he said, passing one to each of them. “And it will be a pleasure to sign your comic.”

“I’ll go get it.” Benny ran into the living room where Jessie had left her backpack and raced back to the table with the comic in its plastic bag.

Sid carefully removed the comic from the bag. Then he leafed through the issue.

He put the comic on the table and looked at them with a frown.

“I can’t sign this,” he said flatly.

“But why?” asked Benny, shocked. Sid had been so nice, giving them lunch and everything. Why would he refuse to sign their comic book?

“Because,” stated Sid Hoyt, “your comic is a fake. I didn’t draw it.”

Jessie gasped. “A fake! Are you sure?”

“Positive. Wait here a moment.” Sid went over to his studio and opened a cabinet. He took out a comic and came back to the dining table.

“This is one of the original printed copies of issue number nine,” he said. “In every issue I create, I hide a secret signature in addition to the one on the splash page. It’s just a fun thing I do. The signature is hidden on page two in this comic. Can you find it?”

The kids gathered around, trying to spot the signature.

Violet shook her head. “I don’t see it.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” Sid pointed to the third panel. “It’s hidden in the fold of Captain Fantastic’s cape in that panel. Now can you find it?”

Henry spied it immediately. “There! Those lines in the folds of the cape by his knee are really your name. But it’s really hard to see.”

“Many fans know about my hidden signature,” Sid said. “But they haven’t been able to figure out where it is. I always hide it in Captain Fantastic’s cape. And I put it in a different place in each issue.”

Jessie was comparing Sid’s copy of number nine with theirs. “Ours doesn’t have the secret signature! Just lines.”

“I’m afraid the comic you bought is counterfeit,” Sid told them sadly.

“Who made the fake comic?” asked Violet. “And why?”

“I don’t know who is making the fakes,” Sid replied. “But let me explain what happened with the original number nine. After I make my final pencil drawings, I write down what the colors are supposed to be. Kind of like a paint-by-numbers chart. Then I take the comic to the publisher. A person there, called a colorist, colors in the original drawings, using my notes.”

“Did that person make the mistake on number nine?” Benny guessed.

“Yes, but only because I wrote the wrong color on the chart,” Sid replied. “Instead of putting the number for green on Captain Fantastic’s suit in the second story, I accidentally wrote the number for orange. The colorist didn’t catch the slip, so number nine was printed with Captain Fantastic wearing an orange cape.”

“I still don’t see why that makes the comic so hard to find,” Jessie said.

“Collectors think the mistake makes the comic a curiosity,” said Sid. “They either hang on to their copies or sell them at high prices. The comic is becoming scarce. I believe someone thought they could make a lot of money if they printed a fake version of number nine.”

“We paid twenty dollars for ours,” said Henry.

“I’m sorry,” said Sid. “Where did you buy it?”

The kids told him about Al Conrad’s booth at the antiques show. They also told him about the note that was stolen at the library.

“What did it say?” asked Sid, interested.

Violet replied, “It said, ‘I’ll try to get orig. of number nine. Sid.’ Your name had quotation marks around it.”

There was something else about the note that was strange, but she couldn’t remember. They hadn’t had the note long before it was stolen.

“Maybe ‘orig.’ is short for ‘original,’ ” said Jessie. “And the quotation marks must mean it was someone
pretending
to be you.”

“Like when you see a sign at a restaurant that says ‘homemade cooking,’ ? Violet explained. “The quotation marks mean the food is
like
homemade cooking, but really it’s cooked at a restaurant.”

“The person who wrote the note must be the counterfeit artist,” Henry concluded.

“Counterfeiting is wrong,” Sid said sternly. “If other fans bought the phony number nine, they were cheated, just like you. I don’t know who made the fake comic, but I want to catch him.”

The Aldens looked at one another.

“This is your lucky day!” Benny said.

“How so?” Sid asked.

“We’re detectives!” replied Benny. “We’ll find the fake comic book artist for you!”

Sid smiled. “This
is
my lucky day! You’re hired.”

The children shook his hand to seal the deal.

“You bought the comic from a dealer named Al Conrad,” said Sid. “Maybe he is part of the counterfeiting scheme. I’ve been to lots of conventions, but I’ve never heard of Al Conrad.”

“There’s a big comic book convention this Friday in Hartford,” Henry remarked. “I bet he’ll be there.”

“I bet so, too,” said Sid. “I’m going to the convention to give a talk about my work. I’m also auctioning off a piece of original Captain Fantastic art for charity. I really want this case solved. If my young fans find out they own a fake comic, they might think I’m behind the scam.”

“Maybe only one fake comic was made,” Violet suggested.

Sid shook his head. “Not very likely. It’s expensive to produce a comic book and only print one or two copies.”

“Do you think Al Conrad is involved?” Henry asked.

“I suppose he could be, but there’s no way to tell right now,” said Sid. “Besides,” he added, “all of us in the comic book world—artists, dealers, fans—try to get along as much as possible. I can’t very well point the finger at Al if I don’t have evidence.”

Finishing his lunch, Sid changed the subject. “I’m delivering the new issue of Captain Fantastic to my publisher tomorrow. Would you like to see it?”

“Oh, boy!” Benny said eagerly. “Would we!”

Sid Hoyt showed them the final illustrations, including the last page still taped to his drawing table. Notes in the margins referred to colors.

“It looks like a neat story,” Benny told Sid. “It’ll be even better in color.”

“The drawings are great,” Violet said admiringly.

“Violet’s an artist, too,” said Henry.

“We’ll have to chat sometime,” Sid said to her. “I’d like to know what kind of art you like to do best.”

Violet blushed. A real artist was interested in her work!

Sid unzipped a big leather case and slipped the drawings inside plastic pockets on either side of the case.

“Why don’t you come with me to the publishing house tomorrow when I deliver the new comic. I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

“Would you really?” breathed Benny.

“You live in Greenfield. It’s on the way to ABC Comics,” said Sid. “I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll write down our address,” Jessie said, fishing for paper in her purse. “You don’t know how much this means to us. It’s just—”

“Fantastic!” Benny finished for her.

Everyone laughed.

Henry checked his watch. “We’d better be leaving if we’re going to catch the afternoon bus back to Greenfield.”

“Would you like me to give you a lift to the bus station?” Sid offered. “It’s no trouble.”

“No, thanks,” Henry said. “We have plenty of time and we enjoy walking. Thanks again for everything.”

“I’ll be at your house tomorrow at ten,” Sid said.

“We’ll be ready,” Violet told him.

The children said good-bye, then left Sid’s house. The cats, Batman and Robin, were napping under an azalea bush in the garden.

“Isn’t he a nice man?” Violet said. “I liked his wife, too.”

“I hope we can help catch the comic book counterfeiter,” said Henry.

Jessie, who was walking behind the others, kept glancing over her shoulder. The trees grew close to the sidewalk. Their long branches reached out like giants’ arms.

She shivered, even though it was warm outside.

Violet noticed. “What is it?”

“I feel like we’re being watched,” Jessie said nervously.

“Do you see anybody?” asked Benny, looking around.

Jessie shook her head. “Not with all these trees— ”

A loud
boom
interrupted her. The children jumped.

“It’s just a car backfiring,” Henry reassured them. “Probably that old clunker there.”

A beat-up blue station wagon drove slowly along the road, causing traffic to back up. A white pickup passed the station wagon with a roar of impatience.

Benny watched the white pickup go by. He paid attention to cars. Where had he seen that white pickup before?

“Whew!” Jessie said, fanning her face. “One of those cars is blowing a lot of smoke.”

“It must have a hole in its muffler,” Henry said knowledgeably. “That’s why it’s so noisy. Hey guys, we’d better hurry or we’ll miss the bus.”

They got to the bus station just in time. After settling into some seats across from each other, they discussed their new case.

“The note said the fake Sid is trying to get the original of number nine,” Henry said. “Only, I’m not sure about the word
original.
Are the counterfeiters trying to find a real copy of number nine?”

Jessie shook her head. “I don’t think so. The counterfeit artist has one already. He needed something to copy, after all, while he was drawing the fake comic book.”

Violet spoke up. “Remember when Sid showed us the pieces of art he was going to bring to the comic book convention? He called it ‘original art.’ It was the very piece that he drew and painted himself, not just a copy of it.”

“And that’s why the counterfeiter wants it!” Jessie said suddenly.

“Wants what?” said Benny.

“The drawings that Sid showed us—the
originals.
They’re the only evidence that the fake Sid copied the comic book and copied it wrong,” said Jessie. “The secret signature is the proof.”

“And if they get rid of the drawings, nobody will be able to prove that the counterfeiters did anything wrong,” said Henry.

“When will the counterfeiter try to steal it from Sid?” Violet wondered.

“We’ll have to stay on alert,” said Jessie.

“We’ll be ready for anything! Just like Captain Fantastic!” said Benny.

“He’s here!” Benny said excitedly, letting the curtain drop back from the living room window. He had been watching for Sid to arrive since breakfast.

“Benny,” said Mrs. McGregor. “It’s not polite to press your nose against the window.” The housekeeper straightened the drape.

“I know, but I couldn’t wait for Sid to get here,” said Benny.

When the doorbell rang, Mrs. McGregor answered it.

“Nice to see you again, Sid,” she said. “Please come in.”

Grandfather and the children entered the living room to greet their guest.

James Alden introduced himself. “It’s very nice of you to take my grandchildren to the publishing house today. They have talked of nothing else.”

“I’m glad to have such enthusiastic fans,” said Sid. He turned to the children. “Are we ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready for
hours
!” said Benny, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door first.

After everyone was buckled into Sid’s dark green van, Sid pulled out of the driveway and onto the main road.

“How far is it to the comic book place?” Benny asked.

“About forty-five minutes,” Sid replied.

“We were wondering how you became a comic book artist,” Henry said.

“I used to doodle as a kid,” said Sid. “I drew cartoons about a funny little character I made up. Then I put the cartoons in a book. Other kids saw it and wanted copies.”

The long drive passed quickly as Sid told the Aldens about how he kept drawing as a teenager and later went to art school.