The Comic Book Mystery

  “That someone knocked those books out so we would leave the table?” he said. “Yes, I think that’s possible.”

  “Who took our note?” Benny asked. “And why?”

  They looked around for clues.

  Violet got down on her hands and knees. “Look at this.” She brushed some yellowish powder near the table leg.

  “That might be a clue,” said Jessie. “But lots of people come in the library, so the powder may not have been left by the person who took the note. At least we have Mr. Hoyt’s address and phone number. Let’s go home and call him.”

  The Aldens rode straight home, not even stopping to see the progress on the new house.

  They ran upstairs to use the phone in the hall.

  “Who wants to call?” said Violet. “Not me!” She was shy and sometimes had trouble talking to strangers.

  “I’ll do it!” Benny offered.

  “I’m sure Mr. Hoyt would love to talk to you, Benny, but maybe I should call him the first time,” said Henry.

  Jessie gave him the paper with the information.

  Henry dialed the number, then waited. “I got his answering machine,” he told the others. Henry left a message with the Aldens’ phone number and the reason he called.

  “Now we have to wait for him to call back,” Benny said.

  They didn’t have to wait long. A short while later, Grandfather came out to the boxcar, where the kids were playing.

  Benny jumped up. “Did Mr. Hoyt call us back?” he asked.

  “No, but Mrs. Hoyt did.” Grandfather grinned. “Nancy Hoyt is an old friend of Mrs. McGregor. They sometimes play bridge together. She invited you over to meet her husband—and they’d like you to stay for lunch!”

  CHAPTER 3

  The Barn in the Woods

  The next morning the Alden children caught the first bus to Putnam. Thirty minutes later, they climbed off in Putnam’s bus station.

  Henry had brought a map. After consulting it, he said, “Oak Tree Circle isn’t too far from here. We can walk.”

  It had rained the night before, but the day was freshly washed and pleasant. As the children walked away from the center of town, the houses became farther apart, with stretches of fields and woods in between.

  “Here it is,” said Jessie, pointing to a green street sign.

  Violet felt a tingle of excitement. “I can’t believe we’re having lunch with a real cartoonist!”

  The kids used a stepping-stone path to Mr. Hoyt’s house. The house had a red roof and double front doors with iron hinges.

  Benny stared. “What kind of a house is that? It looks more like a barn to me.”

  “Maybe it was a barn that Mr. Hoyt turned into a house,” said Henry. “Some people do that.”

  The kids approached the front door as a big man rounded the corner.

  “You must be the Aldens,” he said in a hearty voice. “I’m Sid Hoyt. You may call me Sid. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “Not a bit,” said Henry. “I’m Henry, and this is Jessie, Violet, and that’s Benny. He’s your biggest fan.”

  Sid laughed as he opened the door.

  “Please, come in,” he said, opening the door wide.

  As Jessie entered the foyer, she studied their host.

  Sid Hoyt had thinning gray hair and blue eyes. Although he was tall and broad-shouldered, his movements were gentle. He reminded Jessie of a big teddy bear.

  She looked around. The bottom floor was one huge room that contained a sitting area with a granite fireplace, kitchen, dining area, and the artist’s studio. A wrought-iron spiral staircase led to a sleeping loft. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a backyard with a well-kept garden and several large trees. Skylights brightened the workspace, which was on the far side of the living area.

  A plump, gray-haired woman stepped forward to greet them. “You must be the Aldens,” she said. “I’m Nancy, Sid’s wife.”

  “I like your house,” said Benny. “It’s kind of like the boxcar we used to live in.”

  Sid raised his thick eyebrows. “You once lived in a boxcar? I’d like to hear that story over lunch. First, meet Batman and Robin.”

  Two sleepy cats uncurled themselves from a leather reclining chair. The large black cat yawned, while the smaller gray tabby blinked yellow eyes.

  “You named your cats after superheroes!” said Benny delighted.

  “The black one is Batman,” said Sid. “The tabby is his sidekick, Robin.”

  Benny bent to scratch Batman under his chin. “Can we get a cat?”

  “We already have a dog,” Jessie reminded him. “Watch might be jealous if we got a cat.”

  “Let me show you around,” Sid offered.

  “You have a lot of windows,” Violet observed.

  “Artists need lots of light,” said Nancy. “And I like the way I can see my garden and the trees.”

  “It feels like the woods are inside,” Violet said appreciatively.

  They walked over to the studio area.

  “This is where I work,” Sid told them. “Sometimes the rest of the house might get messy, but I always keep my studio tidy.”

  An enormous slanted drawing table stood by the window, with hooded metal lamps clamped to the edge. Racks of bottled inks hung on one wall. Stoneware jugs held brushes, pens, and pencils.

  “Wow! I never knew an artist would need so many cabinets,” said Benny.

  Sid pulled open a drawer of a metal filing cabinet. Inside were folders of pictures cut from magazines, photographs, and drawings.

  “These are my picture files,” he explained. “Artists need to look at objects when they draw them. Most of us aren’t able to draw just from our imaginations. If I am drawing a car, for instance, it helps to refer to a picture of a car to make sure I have the details right.”

  “What is this?” Jessie pointed to a large white box with a glass cover.

  “That’s a light table.” Sid turned a switch and the frosted glass top glowed. “It’s used for tracing.” He put a drawing on the glass and laid a sheet of blank paper on top. “See how the drawing shows through? Now you can trace it.”

  Henry noticed all the crayon pictures and clay models of Captain Fantastic on the file cabinets.

  “Who did these?” he asked.

  “Fans,” said Sid. “Kids send me drawings and comics they have made. Sometimes they build models of Captain Fantastic. Some are quite good.”

  Benny stood on tiptoe to get a better view of some penciled drawings taped to a drawing board.

  “A new Captain Fantastic story!” he said, awestruck.

  “Yes, that’s the very latest issue,” said Sid, smiling. “I’m putting the finishing touches on the black and white drawings so I can deliver it to my publisher tomorrow. There, other people will ink the drawings, add color, and letter in the words I’ve written.”

  “We just got a sneak peek,” said Henry. “Before anyone else!”

  Sid grinned. “You are definitely Captain Fantastic fans. Since you’ve come all the way from Greenfield, you must be hungry.”

  “I know you’ll enjoy Sid’s excellent cooking,” said Nancy. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment in town, so I can’t stay to eat with you. But it’s always a pleasure to meet Sid’s fans.” She said good-bye to each of them, kissed her husband on the cheek, and hurried out the door.

  The table was already set with cheery red, white, and blue place mats, blue stoneware dishes, and a vase of zinnias. Red glasses threw ruby rays of sunlight.

  The children sat down as Sid came in with a tray holding a large bowl of chicken salad, warm blueberry muffins, and a platter of carrot sticks with yogurt dip.

  Benny giggled as Batman stood on his hind legs and reached a black furry paw toward his plate.

  “You have dreadful manners,” the artist scolded the big cat. He put the cats outdoors, then returned to the table.

  “Now tell me about your boxcar,” Sid said.

  Henry relat
ed the story of how they had found the abandoned boxcar in the woods and lived in it until their grandfather found them.

  “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.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Secret Signature

  “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 chec
ked 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?”