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  But it did get me wondering about the motives behind the forgery.

  “So,” I heard Frank say, “you think Julia’s idea is going to take off?”

  “Without a doubt,” Ian said. “Julia is at the forefront of a lucrative new market just opening up. Always good to be ahead of the pack.”

  “If I’m too far ahead,” said Julia ruefully, “I’ll be out there all alone. Not everyone is as enthusiastic about it as you are. It’s a big gamble.”

  “But a worthwhile one.” Ian patted her cheek in a fatherly way. “Now I have to dash. I need to register for the ComicCon.”

  “I’m sorry the Rodriguez didn’t work out for you,” Julia told him. “Would you like cash or a store credit?”

  Ian shrugged. “Store credit is fine—as long as you keep repping the comic art.”

  “I’ll do my very best!” Julia assured him.

  Once Ian left, Julia took the framed P. J. Rodriguez drawing and leaned it against the wall. “I’ll have to find a good place to hang it,” she said. “P. J. comes in all the time. I hope he won’t be disappointed about the return.”

  “Does that happen a lot?” Frank asked. “Returns?”

  “Occasionally,” Julia said. “Sometimes it’s hard to know if the art will work for you until you get it home. Ian is pretty finicky. He once returned a poster because he thought it clashed with a rug.”

  The door chimes jangled again and a tall young guy wearing a worn leather jacket strode in. He flipped his sunglasses up to the top of his head, pushing his dark floppy curls away from his face. “Hi, Julia.”

  “P. J.!” Julia brightened. It was easy to see she liked him. “We were just talking about you.”

  “All good, I hope.”

  Julia introduced us and then pointed to the drawing leaning against the wall. “Sorry, but your lovely Gremlin and Centaur came back.”

  P. J. strode to the wall and picked up the picture. “This is a lovely gremlin and centaur,” he said. “But it isn’t mine.”

  He turned to face us. “This is a fake.”

  4

  Cartoon Criminal

  “A fake?” Julia repeated, incredulous. “But—but that’s not possible.”

  P. J. placed the drawing on the glass table in the corner. We all crowded around.

  “See those really light lines?” P. J. pointed at the picture. “That’s the sketch before it was inked. You’ll find these ghost lines in most pictures—spots where the original hasn’t been completely erased or covered by ink. But I always draw in blue. These ghosts are in black.”

  Julia’s draw dropped. “I—can’t believe it. Not another one!”

  “What do you mean, another one? You have another forged picture of mine?” P. J. asked.

  “Not yours,” Julia said miserably. “Jeff Cohen’s Dark Hawk.”

  “You’re kidding!” P. J. exclaimed. “It’s a fake? Man, that’s rough.”

  Joe and I exchanged a look. P. J. must be an awfully close friend if she was telling him about the forgeries. Her whole reason for bringing us in rather than going to the police was so that as few people as possible would know about it.

  P. J. must have been thinking the same thing. He raised an eyebrow and then glanced quickly at Joe and me.

  “It’s okay,” Julia told him. “Frank and Joe are here to help get to the bottom of this.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good.”

  I could tell he was a little dubious about us. He wouldn’t be for long. I had a cool thought—once we solved the case, maybe he’d make us characters in one of his comics!

  Julia rubbed her temples, as if this whole thing was giving her a wicked migraine. “Thank goodness Ian brought the drawing back. If he knew that I had sold him a forgery . . .”

  “By accident,” P. J. pointed out.

  She shook her head. “It wouldn’t matter. My reputation would be ruined. And he’s one of my best buyers—he’s encouraged me all along about repping comic art.” She sighed. “At least it’s back at the gallery. I don’t have to feel guilty that I cheated him!”

  “By accident,” P. J. repeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But it’s my responsibility,” Julia argued. “Collectors trust the gallery to make sure everything is legit.”

  I could see this wasn’t just business for Julia. This was a matter of honor. Doing the right thing. It made me like her even more—and the forger even less.

  “Do you have any theories on how this happened?” I asked P. J.

  P. J. scratched his head. “I suppose with Dark Hawk—well, that’s been sold and resold so many times a forgery could have been introduced anywhere along the chain. But my own piece?” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “The boards they’re drawn on aren’t very big,” Joe pointed out. “It would be pretty easy to sneak one in or out of a storeroom.”

  “True,” said Julia. “We have had a fair amount of traffic in and out of here getting ready for the comic-book convention.”

  I studied the drawing of the mythical creatures. “This one was in and out and back in again,” I said.

  Joe caught my meaning right away. “Ian could have bought it, swapped it for the fake, and then brought it back,” he said.

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Ian Huntington

  Hometown: San Francisco, California

  Physical description: early fifties, 5’ 7”, 185 lbs., bald.

  Occupation: Semi-retired

  Background: Went to top business schools and worked in the financial world until he made a mint in several Internet investments. Works as a consultant to Internet start-up companies. Once he made his first million, he began to indulge in his passion for all things comics—began collecting in the last few years and has amassed a significant and valuable collection.

  Suspicious behavior: Bought an original but returned a fake.

  Suspected of: Forgery.

  Possible motive: ?????? He has money, so that couldn’t be it—so what could it be?

  “Ian?” said Julia Her expression told me that he was not high on her suspect list. “I don’t really see him doing something like that. He’s a huge supporter of mine. And he isn’t the only collector who returns art. It happens fairly frequently in this business.” She scanned the walls and pointed at another P. J. Rodriquez. “Geoff Carter bought that one a few weeks ago and returned it yesterday.”

  P. J. sighed. “Is it something about my work?”

  “Not at all,” Julia quickly reassured him. “You’ll find your buyers. I promise you.”

  “Still . . . ,” I pressed.

  Julia laughed. “I’ve seen Ian’s sketches. He can’t draw at all! There’s no way he could pull off a forgery.”

  Despite my persistence, Julia seemed able to counter every one of my suspicions.

  “The guy is famous for being loaded,” P. J. added. “He can buy these—or sell them. Why get involved in forgeries that will only devalue his own collection?”

  Okay. That clinched it. There didn’t seem any way to come up with a motive for Ian. Time to move on.

  “A lot of comics drawings are online,” I reasoned. “Could a forger work from those?”

  “Maybe . . . ,” said Julia.

  “That might explain how the forger made the mistake of the color of my sketches,” P. J. said. “Even up close you have to look really hard to realize my ghost lines are blue.”

  “Why would someone forge comic-book art?” I asked. I always like to start with the motive. If you know why someone might commit a crime, it’s a lot easier to try to figure out who.

  “Same reason anyone would make a copy of any art,” Julia said. “Greed.”

  “Or obsession,” suggested P. J. “If someone was totally nuts about a piece of art, they could keep the original and sell the fake.”

  “Why anyone would be that obsessed over such childish material is beyond me,” a voice said behind me.

  I turned and saw a slim blond man, probably in his thirties, standing in the doorway. He had on a fashionable suit and tie.

  He strode into the room. “Really, Julia,” he said with a sneer. “This silly sideline of yours is going to make us a joke in the art world.”

  P. J. stiffened. Julia’s eyes flicked to P. J., and her face tinged slightly pink. “Jasper, you know that’s not true. We’ve already—”

  Jasper cut her off. “I can’t believe you actually think these babyish cartoons are art.”

  Whoa. This guy makes Simon on Idol seem like Paula.

  “These kids will probably be your only customers,” Jasper said, with a wave at Joe and me. “Not exactly a group with massive amounts of disposable income.” He smirked at us. “Shouldn’t you have outgrown comic books by now?”

  This guy was really ticking me off.

  “Graphic novels are now being reviewed in all the major papers,” argued P.J. “There are graduate school courses in this art form, people write papers on their importance—”

  “Oh please.” Jasper rolled his eyes. “Talk to me when you can paint or draw like a true master, not just make silly sketches of superheroes and fairies.” He strode away, went into his office, and slammed the door.

  P. J. was so angry he was sputtering. He took a few steps toward Jasper’s office.

  “You wait and see!” he shouted at the closed door. “When I take my work to Monsters and Heroes you’ll be sorry. Clyde Fanelli will be thrilled when I drop PopCulture for his gallery. He’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.”

  He spun on his heels and headed for the door.

  “P. J.! Please,” Julia begged. “You know I don’t feel that way! It’s just Jasper—”

  “That snob is going to be sorry,” P. J. fumed. He raised his voice again so that Jasper would hear it through the door. “At least at Monsters and Heroes my work won’t be stolen and copied.”

  Julia took a few stunned steps away from P. J. I guess she didn’t think her friend would use her problems against her.

  I couldn’t totally blame the dude. He’d just found out his own work—an awesome drawing that must have taken forever to get perfect—had been stolen and copied. The gallery he trusted it to hadn’t been able to prevent it. Then, on top of that, while he was being as gracious as possible about the theft, he gets totally dissed by Julia’s partner. If it was me, I’d have popped Jasper one.

  “P. J.,” Julia said weakly.

  P. J. just shook his head and stormed out the door.

  Julia sank onto one of the little chairs at the table and covered her face with her hands. “This is awful,” she moaned.

  “You know, if this forgery just happened,” Joe said, “it could happen again. The forger is still at it.”

  Julia’s head snapped up. “Scotty Milner’s drawings!” She raced to the two drawings of Frank “Fierce” Stone. She planted herself in front of them as if she were protecting them. “This forger has to be stopped before another piece of art is stolen and copied.”

  “And before word gets out,” added Joe.

  “Do you think P. J. will tell anyone?” I asked.

  Julia let out a long slow sigh. “I don’t know. In this mood . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “Who’s Clyde Fanelli?” I asked. “P. J. mentioned him.”

  Julia made a face. “He owns Monsters and Heroes. As soon as he heard that I was trying this new thing—representing comic-book art—he claimed he had the idea ages ago.”

  “Is that possible?” Joe wondered.

  Julia snorted. “Anything’s possible. But he certainly never mentioned it before—or approached any artists to represent.”

  “Sounds like he’s just jumping on your bandwagon,” I said.

  “And he’s trying to grab the artists who have already agreed to go with me. I don’t have very many—I think artists are waiting to see how it works out.”

  “So you’re the first gallery doing this?” I asked. “I’m surprised. It does seem like a great idea.”

  Julia nodded. “Usually the artists sell their originals directly, often at the conventions. It’s why Jasper is so down on it. If this venture fails, the gallery will look really bad—you know, following the wrong trend.”

  “It will look even worse if it’s known for selling forgeries,” I pointed out.

  I wish I hadn’t. Julia looked as if I’d kicked her in the stomach.

  Joe checked his watch. “We need to go. Chet’s waiting.”

  “Okay.” I turned to Julia. “I think our investigation will really begin at the convention. We’ll learn a lot there. In the meantime, if you could write up a list of anyone you think might benefit from selling the forgeries, that would be great.”

  “Thanks so much for doing this,” said Julia.

  “See you tomorrow morning,” Joe said, and then we left.

  “P. J. went pretty ballistic,” I noted as we hurried to Union Square. “I hope he doesn’t go to that other gallery. Julia really needs him.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said thoughtfully. “And that would make Clyde Fanelli very happy. I wonder if Clyde would stoop to something like this to undermine Julia’s new business. He’d know that P. J. would immediately see that the piece was a forgery.”

  “Only because Ian brought it back,” I pointed out. “It’s a good thing it didn’t match his sofa or whatever. Otherwise we wouldn’t know that the Dark Hawk forgery isn’t an isolated incident.”

  “And we wouldn’t have been alerted that the forger is still at it,” said Joe.

  “It does sound like Julia is onto something big with this new sideline.”

  “Jasper doesn’t think so,” Joe noted. “In fact, he’d be thrilled if these forgeries tanked her business before it could really get started.”

  “But wouldn’t that ruin him, too?” I asked.

  “Not if he put all the blame on Julia,” Joe reasoned. “It’s really obvious that he has no interest in the comic art, so no one would think the art he handles is fake.”

  “So we have two suspects to start with,” I said. “The rival owner and Julia’s partner.”

  “And then there are all the other suspects we haven’t thought of yet.”

  Chet was sitting on a bench in Union Square. He was surrounded by shopping bags and guide books, and he was studying a brochure.

  “Hey, Chet!” I called. We jogged over. He was beaming.

  “I got you your registration kits,” he said, handing us each a plastic bag with SF COMICCON blazed across it. I pulled open the drawstring and saw schedules, little goodies like keychains and pencils, and even a mini comic book.

  “This is going to be so awesome,” Chet declared. “All my favorite artists are here! I signed up for the P. J. Rodriguez and Eloise Winston signings. Scotty Milner tickets were already snapped up.”

  I scanned the program. The organizers promised raffles, panel discussions, signings, movies, and many, many surprises.

  I hoped one of the surprises would be how quickly we solved the case.

  5.

  Wild Ride

  The whole jet lag, time difference, and nearly being offed by a clown had finally taken its toll. I was beat. Judging by how deflated Chet and Frank looked, I wasn’t the only one.

  “How about we grab a bite back near the hotel and then turn in?” I said as we walked to the cable car stop.

  Frank grabbed my arm and pressed his palm against my forehead.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, swatting away his hand.

  “Checking to see if you have a fever,” he teased. “I think this is the first time I ever heard you suggesting an early bedtime!”

  “Ha, ha.” My brother, the jokester.

  We climbed aboard the crowded cable car. The conductor rang the bell, the middle guy pushed on the lever, and we lurched uphill. Cable cars took a lot of effort to run.

  “Most of these kids were registering at the convention today,” Chet observed.

  I glanced around. You didn’t have to be an expert detective to figure out that a lot of these passengers were into comics. I spotted four T-shirts advertising the upcoming comic-based move Millennium, two T-shirts with comic strips on the back, and comic-book characters staring out at me from five others.

  The big clue? All those plastic bags with SF COMICCON printed on them.

  “No way,” a guy behind me said. “Scotty Milner is totally tired. P. J. has it all over him.”

  “Are you crazy or are you stupid?” another kid responded. “If you think P. J. tops Scotty, you’re one or the other.”

  “I heard that Scotty just wants to make movies now,” said a girl.

  “No way!” someone gasped. “What about the books?”

  “His movies aren’t anywhere near as good as his books. Why does he let them make them so bad?”

  I kept listening, hoping to overhear something that could be useful for the case. Mostly I learned that gossip ruled the comic-book world.

  One good thing: No one was talking about the forgery. With the way rumors spread in this scene, that meant no one had heard about it.

  Yet.

  The cable car chugged its way up and down the famous San Francisco hills. There were times when I seriously thought we were pointing straight up or straight down. I was surprised we didn’t have seat belts. If these things moved faster, a cable ride would be as wild a ride as a roller coaster.

  “No way is Glintz going to turn out to be bad,” Chet said beside me. He had joined one of the debates. “That would be too obvious.”

  “But that’s the beauty,” a girl argued. “It’s so obvious, no one will suspect it!”

  Glintz was a demon type in a comic I didn’t really follow. But clearly most of the people on this cable car had an opinion.

  We lurched to a stop in Chinatown. To make room for a lady with a little kid, Frank and I stood and clung to the poles on the outside of the cable car. I just hoped we didn’t pass anything with side mirrors. I’d get clipped!