“I’m thirsty,” said Benny. “Can we get something to drink?”
The kids walked over to the table. As Henry poured Benny a lemon-lime soda, the man stared at him.
“I know you,” he said. “You’re the lucky kids that found number nine at the antiques show.”
“That’s right,” Violet replied. “Did you find another copy of the comic?”
He laughed bitterly. “Are you kidding? Number nines are really scarce. Change your mind about selling yours? I’ll pay sixty dollars.”
Henry shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“You sure?” the man pressed. “How about sixty-five? Seventy?” He poured a cup of soda and gave it to Jessie. “Okay, seventy-five, but that’s my final offer. You could buy a lot of comics for seventy-five dollars.”
Jessie looked at Henry. They couldn’t possibly sell their fake comic. That would be cheating this man, who would believe he was paying for the real thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But our comic isn’t for sale.”
The young man sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot. I’m Marvin Peabody, president of this Captain Fantastic Fan Club.” He pointed to the dark-haired girl. “This is Irene. She’s the club secretary.”
Irene had short black hair and wore pink ballet shoes with her jeans.
She fixed drinks for Violet and Henry. “Are you interested in joining?”
“We really came by accident,” Henry told her. “What time does the meeting end?”
“Usually by eight,” Irene said.
“I’ve got to go start.” Marvin turned back to the children. “I could go as high as eighty dollars for your comic.”
“Sorry,” Violet told him.
Marvin wheeled abruptly and headed for the front of the room.
The Aldens found chairs near the back and sat down.
“Is he mad because we won’t sell him our comic?” Benny asked.
Henry gave a low whistle. “Eighty dollars is a lot of money! If he’s willing to pay that much, I can’t see why he hasn’t found a copy. He’s the president of the fan club.”
Jessie nodded in agreement. “He must have had a chance to buy number nine before now. It seems like he really wants to buy our comic.”
“All right, everybody! Welcome to our monthly meeting.” Marvin shuffled through some papers. “Last month we began the contest to see who could find the secret signature Sid Hoyt hides in each of his comics.”
The Alden children glanced at one another.
“The secret signature is the one clue the counterfeit comic book artist doesn’t know about,” Violet whispered. “Because it wasn’t in the phony number nine.”
Jessie nodded. “Let’s hope nobody figures out the secret signature is always hidden somewhere in Captain Fantastic’s cape.”
A thought occurred to her. What if the counterfeiter is a member of this fan club? He could be in the room this minute!
Irene raised her hand. “I think the signature might be on the last page of each issue. There’s a funny little box in the lower left-hand corner. It doesn’t really look like a signature, though.”
“I know the little box you mean,” said Marvin. “That’s something the publisher puts in. Anybody else?”
Several people made guesses, but when everyone flipped through their Captain Fantastic comics, they realized each guess was wrong.
“We’ll keep looking,” said Marvin. “I talked to Mr. Hoyt about this some time ago. He just laughed and said it wouldn’t be any fun if he told us where it was.”
The meeting moved on to other business.
Henry turned toward Violet and pretended to wipe his forehead.
“That was close,” he whispered to the others. “Until we solve this case, Sid’s secret signature must stay a secret.”
“I have a surprise,” Marvin was telling the audience. “Our club will have a private reception with Sid Hoyt at the convention this weekend!”
Cheers went up.
“As you know,” Marvin continued, “Sid Hoyt is giving a presentation and will be auctioning off a piece of original art. And he will meet with us.”
“Mr. Hoyt lives right in our area,” said one of the members. “I wish he’d invite us to his studio sometime.”
“We’ve been there,” Benny blurted.
Everyone swiveled to stare at him.
“You’ve been to Sid Hoyt’s house?” Marvin said in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Benny said. “It’s really cool. It looks like a barn.”
“How did you get to see Mr. Hoyt’s house?” Marvin demanded.
Henry spoke up. “We called him on the phone and he invited us.”
“And then he took us to the place where the Captain Fantastic comics are made,” Benny added.
Marvin put his hands on his hips. “I’ve been president of this fan club for three years and he’s never invited me to his home or to ABC Comics.”
Irene laughed. “Oh, Marvin. Give the kids a break!”
The group discussed the upcoming convention a few more minutes, then Marvin ended the meeting.
As the Alden children were leaving the room, he caught up to them.
“I want to ask you guys something,” Marvin said. “Have you known Sid Hoyt long?”
“We only met him this week,” Jessie replied. “He’s been really nice to us.”
“I guess I have rotten luck, then,” Marvin said with a tight smile.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Violet reassured him. “Maybe we called him when he wasn’t busy. He had just finished the newest Captain Fantastic comic.”
“And he took you to ABC Comics to deliver it,” Marvin said.
“We really need to go,” Henry said, pushing the library’s glass door, “We’re not allowed to ride our bikes after dark.”
In the parking lot, the members were getting into their cars.
As the kids unlocked their bikes from the rack, they saw Marvin come outside with Irene. Both carried boxes of leftover refreshments and paper goods.
“My comic book hobby is getting so expensive,” Marvin said to her.
“At least you can buy what you want,” Irene said, then walked across the parking lot to her car.
“Marvin’s getting in that car,” Jessie said, as they rolled their bikes onto the blacktop.
She nodded toward an old station wagon parked under a big oak tree. With the sun setting, the trees cast purplish shadows.
“It’s too dark to see if it’s blue or what the license plate says,” Jessie said.
“Wait till he starts it,” Henry said. “If it has a noisy muffler, we’ll know it was Marvin who followed us from Sid’s house the other day.”
Marvin stowed the box and cooler in his trunk, then climbed into the driver’s seat. But just after he closed the door, a motorcycle roared to life.
Both the motorcycle and the station wagon left at the same time. The kids couldn’t hear if Marvin’s car had a faulty muffler.
“We still don’t know if Marvin is a suspect or not,” Jessie said. “But we’d better head home or Grandfather will be worried.”
As they pedaled out of the lot, Violet spied a small white card where Marvin’s car had been parked.
“It’s a business card,” she said. “For Rollins Construction.”
“That’s the company that’s building the new house,” said Jessie. “I wonder if Marvin works for them.”
“How come we’ve never seen him at the site?” Henry asked.
“We’ve seen a car like his there,” Benny said. “I think it is Marvin’s car. Maybe he hides when he sees us!”
CHAPTER 8
Scaredy Cats
Grandfather on the open door of the boxcar. “You have a visitor,” he announced.
Violet looked up from her drawing. “Hi, Grandfather. Who is it?”
Grandfather came inside, allowing Sid Hoyt to step into the boxcar behind him.
Sid Hoyt greeted the children and glanced aro
und the room. “So this is the famous boxcar where you kids once lived. It’s fixed up nice.”
“The children drew a comic book,” said James Alden proudly. He held out the copy the kids had made at the library the night before. “I think it’s quite good.”
Sid paged through the comic. “It’s very good,” he praised. “I like the way you used the boxcar as the place where the Super-Aldens get their powers. You kids have great imaginations.”
“Violet drew the pictures,” said Henry.
“We’re working on the second issue now,” Jessie added.
Sid checked out the new panels on their table. “You kids may put me out of business!”
Everyone laughed.
“I came here for a reason,” Sid told them. “I want to invite you to the comic book convention in Hartford on Saturday.” He turned to Grandfather. “The invitation includes you, Mr. Alden.”
“Oh, boy!” Benny shouted.
James Alden considered. “I have business in Hartford I’ve been putting off. Where is the convention?”
“Hartford Century Hotel,” Sid replied.
Grandfather nodded. “I think that would work out fine. I’ll drive to Hartford, and while you all are attending the convention, I’ll take care of my business downtown. We’ll stay at the hotel overnight and come back on Sunday. How does that sound?”
“Yay!” Benny cheered. “This is going to be fun!”
“I have another favor to ask,” Sid said to Grandfather. “May I borrow your grandchildren this afternoon? You see, I am giving a presentation tomorrow. I have a lot of material to sort out and pack. My wife usually helps me, but she’s working on a big project.”
“We’d love to help,” Jessie answered for them.
“I’ll give them supper,” Sid told Grandfather. “And bring them home before too late. We’ll all need an early start tomorrow.”
The kids climbed into Sid’s green van parked out front and they drove off.
On the drive to Sid’s house, they all discussed the mystery.
“We haven’t found the counterfeiter yet,” Henry admitted. “But some strange things have happened. Do you know Marvin Peabody?”
“The president of the Connecticut Captain Fantastic Fan Club?” Sid replied. “I know him. Why?”
“We saw him at the library last night,” Jessie explained. “And he was at the antiques show where we bought issue number nine. He tried to buy it from us. When he saw us last night, he tried to buy the comic again. He offered us a lot of money.”
“Not only that,” Violet put in, “but he seemed kind of jealous that we’re friends with you.”
Sid sighed. “Marvin used to call me a lot and interrupt my work. I’m grateful for my fans. If nobody bought my comics, where would I be? But Marvin can be demanding.”
“Why does he want to buy our comic so much?” Violet wondered.
“Good question,” Sid said. “Marvin Peabody has a whole set of Captain Fantastic comics in mint condition. That means they are in Mylar bags and the covers have never been creased. I autographed a copy of his issue number nine at last year’s Hartford convention.”
Henry nodded. “It’s like we suspected. Marvin just wants our number nine.”
“But why?” Benny asked.
“Because he knows it’s counterfeit?” Jessie guessed.
“Or,” said Violet, “because he was supposed to get something from that particular comic.”
“The note!” the others chimed in.
Sid pulled the van into the garage behind his barn-house. “I can see why you kids are detectives. You figure every angle.”
As soon as Sid unlocked the door, Batman and Robin ran over, meowing. They weaved in and out of the children’s legs, making the Aldens giggle.
“I think they’re hungry,” Benny said as Robin licked his fingers.
“Those two are always hungry,” said Sid. “They’ll just have to wait till suppertime.”
Benny petted the cats, “I know how you feel,” he told them. “I’m always hungry, too.”
The Aldens followed Sid into the studio area. Sid opened the narrow, flat drawers of a long metal file cabinet.
“This is where I store my original art,” he said. “I’m doing a presentation on issue number nine, since it’s such a curiosity. People are interested in how I made the mistake on Captain Fantastic’s costume.”
Finding the right drawer, he pulled out several long sheets of white cardboard and laid them on the drawing table.
“Is that the original art for number nine?” asked Violet. The cardboard sheets were covered with tissue paper.
Sid handed one of the boards to her. “Raise the tissue—it’s only hinged at the top.”
Violet lifted the tissue cover, revealing bright drawings beneath of Captain Fantastic leaping across a river.
“I thought you did the drawings in pencil and wrote down the colors for the colorist at the comic book house,” she remarked.
“You’re right,” Sid answered. “But I make full-color drawings for myself and for presentations. I also have the rough sketches, cover drawings, and the pencil finishes for each comic. They are all jumbled up, though. That’s why I need your help.”
The children sorted drawings and sketches for issue number nine. Sid chose the panels he wanted to use in his presentation. He set aside the splash page as the piece to auction off for charity.
“It should sell for a good price,” he said.
They packed the art carefully in two portfolio cases, along with slides of the rest of the art that Sid would show using a projector.
“Do you keep the art for all your comics?” Henry asked the cartoonist.
Sid nodded. “ABC Comics sends the final pencil art back. My originals are probably the most valuable things I own. Art galleries frame these pieces and sell them.”
“The counterfeiter wants the originals to number nine,” said Jessie. “Maybe he will try to steal the art at the convention.”
“I’ve thought of that,” Sid said. “I’m going to be really busy tomorrow. Will you help guard my art?”
The kids agreed.
Jessie thought, I hope the counterfeiter does try to take the art. Then we can catch him!
Sid heated some pork barbecue and the children set the table. While they ate supper, Batman and Robin gazed pleadingly at their plates.
“Shoo!” Sid said in mock anger. “You have cat food in your dishes.”
Suddenly the cats scurried into the living room, eyes round with fear, tails fluffed twice their normal size.
“They don’t act like that unless they are really spooked,” Sid said, concerned.
Henry stared out the window. “They were looking this way. Somebody—or something—out there scared them.”
Immediately everyone ran outside. They saw no one.
“Look at this!” Jessie called.
Under the dining area window, footprints marked the moist earth. A sprinkling of yellow powder edged one heel.
“That’s the same stuff we found in the library when the note was stolen,” Benny observed. He put some on his finger and sniffed. “It smells like the place where they are building the new house.”
“Fresh-cut lumber,” Henry agreed. “It’s sawdust.”
“So now we know the prowler and the person who stole our note are the same,” Jessie concluded. “And that person works where wood is cut.”
Violet placed her foot beside one of the prints. “Look how small these prints are. And not very deep. I think they were made by a woman.”
“Or a small man,” Sid added.
“Like Marvin Peabody,” Henry said.
CHAPTER 9
Who Turned Out the Lights?
The sun was barely over the rooftops when the Aldens set out for Hartford. Mrs. McGregor sent them off with a goody bag filled with on-the-road snacks.
Two and a half hours later, Grandfather pulled their car into the entrance to the Century Hotel. The parking
lot was packed. Vendors unloaded vans along the curb.
“Wow!” said Violet, peering out the window. “Look at all the people.”
“This comic book convention is a pretty big deal,” Henry said.
They all entered the plush lobby. At the busy front desk, Grandfather checked in and received room keys and a map of the convention floor.
They put their bags in their rooms, then Grandfather left for his meeting downtown.
The excited Alden children took the escalator to the second level, where the convention was being held.
Jessie gripped the handrail as they descended into a huge ballroom of glittering chandeliers, colorful booths, jostling crowds, and strange sights.
A man on stilts stalked by carrying a sign that read, WONDER COMICS—BOOTH 319. Balloons and streamers marked vendors’ booths. Costumed superheroes mingled with aliens.
“We should take a picture!” said Violet, who had brought her camera. “Stand next to that cardboard cutout of Captain Fantastic.”
“What’ll we do first?” Benny asked when the picture had been taken.
“Sid asked us to guard his art,” Henry said. “This map says his presentation will be in the Minuteman Room. Let’s check it out.”
Inside the Minuteman Room, chairs stood in rows. A slide projector waited on a cart in the center aisle. In the front of the room were easels on a stage. A sign tacked to the end easel said, RESERVED FOR AUCTION ART.
“The easels are empty,” Jessie noted. “Sid probably has his things locked up.”
As the kids turned to leave, they heard a noise.
“What was that?” asked Benny.
“It came from behind the screen,” said Jessie.
The kids cautiously approached the stage. Suddenly, the room went black!
But before the lights went out, Violet glimpsed shoes beneath the screen—red shoes with bows on the toes.
Just as suddenly, the lights came back on. Henry stood by the light switches at the back of the room. But whoever had switched off the lights had slipped away under the cover of darkness.
“Did anybody see anything?” he asked.