Comic Book Mystery (4 page)

“After art school, I got a job at ABC Comics, the comic book publishing house we’re going to,” he said. “I was hired as a ‘cleanup’ person.”

“You mopped floors and took out the trash?” Benny asked.

Sid laughed. “The cleanup person erases stray lines. It makes the artist’s job a little easier.”

“How did you go from being a cleanup person to making your own comic?” asked Jessie.

“That’s quite a story,” Sid began. “I made a couple of friends at this place. One was the letterer and the other did the inking. You’ll learn all about those jobs when we get to ABC Comics.”

Sid told the Aldens that he and his two friends decided to create their own comic. They made up a superhero character and wrote and drew a sample comic book.

“But the idea was rejected,” Sid said.

“You must have been really disappointed,” said Violet.

“We were, but I didn’t want to give up,” Sid told them. “I created my own superhero, Captain Fantastic, and did another sample comic book by myself. This time, when I showed it to my boss, he bought it.”

“Your friends must have been excited,” said Henry.

Sid maneuvered the van onto another highway. “Actually, they weren’t very happy, especially when Captain Fantastic was a hit. I was able to buy my house and work at home.”

“Are you still friends with them?” Benny wanted to know.

Sid shook his head. “They both left ABC Comics. The letterer is now working for another comic book company. And the inker quit. I think she’s doing something really different from art. I lost track of her.”

“That’s too bad,” said Violet. “Friends should stay friends.”

“I agree,” said Sid, turning the van into a parking lot.

“Are we here?” asked Jessie. She looked at the one-story brick building in front of her.

Sid switched off the engine. “This is it. ABC Comics is a small operation. There are lots of little companies publishing comic books these days. Comics are popular, so it’s a big business.”

They got out and went into the building. Sid carried his leather case.

A pretty blond woman sitting behind the front desk greeted them with a smile.

“Sid! I’m so anxious to see the new comic!” she said.

Sid set his case on her desk. “I hope everyone likes it. Cindy, these are my friends Henry, Jessie, Violet, and Benny. They want to see how comics are made.”

Cindy asked the children to sign the guest book. “Enjoy!” she said.

They began the tour.

“This is John,” Sid said, introducing them to a young man sitting at a tilted drawing table. “He’s the cleanup man here.”

“That was your job once,” Benny said.

John grinned at Benny. “I replaced Sid Hoyt when he left. He’s famous now! Maybe one day I will be, too. As the cleanup person, I use this special eraser to erase smudges so the page is nice and clean.”

Next they visited another young artist at a drawing table.

“This is Gus,” Sid said. “He’s the inker. Tell the kids what you do, Gus.”

Leaning back in his chair, Gus explained that he inks over penciled drawings. Then he showed them his special pen and let them try it out on scrap paper.

In the back, the children met Lily, who was the colorist.

“You color in the comic,” Henry said.

“That’s right,” Lily told them. “I use a key, or chart, that the artist has written out for me. Right now I’m painting the sky on this panel. It’s supposed to look like night, so I’m using a dark blue watercolor.”

On the walls, Lily had hung oil paintings of her dog.

“I like to do other kinds of art, too,” she explained. “I’d like to paint people’s pets for a living, but this job pays the bills.”

The last stop was a desk in the corner. A young man named Chris stopped working to explain his job.

“I’m the letterer,” he said. “I write the letters in the dialogue balloons.”

“How did you learn to write like that?” Benny wondered.

“Practice,” Chris said. “I learned from copybooks. Now I write like this all the time,” he said with a laugh.

Violet studied the comic page he was lettering. Where had she seen that kind of writing before? Suddenly she remembered.

The note that fell out of their fake comic had been written in that style! The person who wrote the note was the one who made the fake comic, since it was signed “Sid.” Could that person be a professional letterer, too?

Before Violet could mention this to the others, Sid took them around to see the rest of the company.

Benny had a question. “But where do you
make
the comics?”

“You mean, where are they printed?” Sid asked. “The publisher doesn’t print comics. We send them to a printing company in another state and they print the copies. Will you all excuse me a moment? I have to let my boss know I’m dropping off the original art for the new Captain Fantastic.”

The kids went back to the reception area. As they did, they saw Cindy zipping up Sid’s leather case.

She flushed with embarrassment.

“I thought I saw a piece of paper sticking out,” she said. “I didn’t want it to get soiled.” She hustled the case to a glass-windowed office in the back.

“I think she was peeking inside Sid’s case,” Jessie whispered.

“Maybe she’s just nosy,” Henry whispered back. “She said she was anxious to see Sid’s new comic.”

“Maybe she’s a spy,” Jessie said. “Sid said the counterfeiter needed help to print and sell the fake comic. Somebody who works in a comic publishing house. Why not this one?”

Just then Sid returned.

“How about lunch,” he suggested. “Talking about comic books makes me hungry!”

“Me, too!” Benny agreed heartily

Sid Hoyt took them to a little restaurant nearby. Framed drawings by comic book artists decorated the walls. The sandwiches and desserts were named after comic characters.

When their Captain Fantastic platters arrived, Sid asked the children if they’d had a chance to work on the mystery.

Violet told him about the lettering in the note. “It’s just like the writing Chris uses.”

Sid put down a french fry. “Most comic book artists can letter. But probably only a professional letterer, someone who writes that way so often that it becomes their normal handwriting, would use that style to jot a quick note. The counterfeiter may well be someone in the comic book business.”

“There’s something else,” Jessie brought up. “We caught Cindy peeking in your case. She made up an excuse, but she acted guilty.”

“Cindy
is
kind of nosy,” Sid said.

Henry had been thinking. Everyone at ABC Comics acted as if they wished they had another job or were successful like Sid Hoyt.

“It’s possible the person who made the fake number nine comic isn’t a stranger,” he said. “It could be someone you know.”

“I’ve never thought of that,” Sid said. “I just figured it’s somebody out to make money.”

Because it was late, they skipped dessert and headed home.

Benny, who was sitting in the backseat of the van, noticed a car behind them. It was a beat-up blue station wagon.

The station wagon followed them almost to the Aldens’ house before turning off onto another street.

Was it the same station wagon they saw yesterday as they walked from Sid’s house to the bus station?

If it
was,
their spy had returned.

By the time Sid dropped the children off, dark clouds had gathered and it had begun to rain.

The kids dashed into the house and straight into the kitchen, laughing and shaking off raindrops.

Mrs. McGregor was waiting for them with a napkin-covered basket.

“I thought you might want a little snack,” she said. “There’s a thermos of milk and oatmeal-raisin cookies still warm from the oven in here.”

“Oh, boy, thanks!” said Benny. “I’m starving!”

Jessie gave him a towel to dry his hair. “We just came back from lunch!”

“Yeah, but we didn’t get dessert,” Benny pointed out.

“Let’s go out to the boxcar,” Violet suggested. “I thought of something we can do.”

Henry handed out umbrellas from the rack in the laundry room, then they ran across the backyard to the boxcar.

“What’s your idea, Violet?” Jessie asked, setting Mrs. McGregor’s basket on the table.

“Why don’t we make our own comic book,” Violet said. “Sid Hoyt drew comics when he was a kid. We can, too!”

“That’s a great idea!” said Henry. “We can all work on it. Benny and I will make up the story.”

“And Violet will draw the pictures because she’s the artist,” said Jessie, pouring the milk into mugs.

“You do the lettering,” Violet said to her. “You have the neatest handwriting.”

“What’s it going to be about?” Henry asked, biting into a chewy cookie.

“Us!” Benny exclaimed. “We’ll be superhero kids!” He jumped up from the table to “fly” around the room, nearly upsetting his milk.

“Benny, that’s perfect!” Violet clapped her hands. “Our comic will be about four ordinary kids— ”

“Who have special powers,” Jessie said, picking up the story.

“The Super-Aldens each have a different special power,” Henry said.

“And the Super-Aldens work together as a team to help save the world from evil,” added Jessie.

Benny cleared the table so Violet could spread out their supplies: pencils, pens, markers, a ruler, and paper.

“What will our story be about?” Violet wondered, sharpening the pencils.

Henry thought a moment. “I think it should be our story. You know, how we found the boxcar in the woods. Only instead of us staying ordinary, the boxcar gives us superpowers.”

“Grandfather can look for us like he really did,” added Jessie.

“And he and all the people in Greenfield will hear about these superhero kids who fly and do neat things. But Grandfather won’t know it’s us until the end.”

The children got busy. Henry and Benny wrote a story with lots of help from Jessie. Violet drew the splash page. When she was finished, she passed it to Jessie, who wrote the dialogue in balloons coming from the characters’ mouths. They all colored the pictures.

Two hours later, they had completed an eight-page comic book called
The Super-Aldens.

“This is so cool,” Benny said, flipping through the pages. “I wish we had more than one copy.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Violet. “Let’s make a couple and give one to Grandfather.”

“The library has a color copy machine,” Jessie said.

Henry checked his watch. “We’ll have to wait until after dinner.”

For once, the children ate in a hurry. Benny didn’t even ask for second helpings. Grandfather excused them so they could ride their bikes to the library.

Benny rode ahead of the others, dodging puddles. “The workers are still at the new house. Can we watch them a few minutes?” he said, hoping the man with the bulldozer would shovel some dirt.

The Aldens braked their bikes.

Benny looked at the cars and trucks parked around the site. When he saw a white pickup truck and a blue station wagon, he remembered the spy.

“I forgot to tell you,” he said to the others. “An old blue car like that one followed us today.”

“Are you sure it was following us?” Henry asked.

Benny nodded. “I think it was the same car we saw when we left Mr. Hoyt’s house.”

“There are lots of old blue station wagons,” Henry said. “But I’m writing down the license-plate number of this one just in case.”

Jessie noticed the woman construction worker putting tools in a metal box. Today the woman wore overalls, with her braided hair tucked under her hard hat. Her boots were muddy.

“It feels good to rest a minute,” Violet said, stretching. “We worked hard on our comic book.”

“The pictures you drew are terrific,” Jessie praised. “You could be a real comic book artist, Violet.”

Violet polished her bike lamp with the hem of her shirt. “I’d love that,” she said. “It would be hard work, but also fun.”

“That lady is watching us,” Benny said suddenly.

“The construction worker?” Henry looked across the road.

“Benny’s right,” Jessie said, lowering her voice. “She was putting tools away, but she stopped. I think she heard us talking.”

Just then the woman turned and ducked into the new house.

“That was weird,” Violet said. “She acts like we’re bothering her.”

“Maybe not,” Henry said reasonably. “She could have forgotten one of her tools.”

Or maybe,
Jessie thought,
she didn’t want us watching her anymore.

The kids got back on their bikes and rode the rest of the way to the library.

Henry got change from the reference librarian, then led the others to the color copy machine in one corner. He fed the machine coins while Jessie made the copies.

Violet studied the bulletin board above the whirring machine.

“There’s a good children’s program coming up Saturday,” she said. Just then another flyer caught her eye. “Hey! The Captain Fantastic Fan Club is meeting here tonight!”

“Can we go?” Benny pleaded.

“What time is the meeting?” asked Henry. They weren’t allowed to ride their bikes on the streets too late.