Dungeons & Detectives

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “It’s incomplete just like the others,” he spat. “Now we’ll never get to see what’s on that map.”

  He dropped the partially chewed-up document on the desk in disgust. Apparently, Sir Robert’s “pristine” prized comic wasn’t in any better condition than the letter once you flipped the cover.

  11 THE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT

  FRANK

  AN IMPRESSIVE EXTERIOR WITH A mess of dirt and missing information hiding under the surface. Turns out the condition of Robert’s copy of S&S #1 was about as deceptive as its owner.

  The discovery that pages were missing from the stolen comic hit me hard. I know it’s usually best to stay emotionally detached when investigating a case, but I was more than just a detective on this one; I was also a huge RPG and comic book fan. I’d gotten almost as excited as Murph about discovering what was on the missing page, especially after Angus confirmed it was a copy of an ancient map he’d found in the castle. Sure, Angus had also said the Gaelic words were gibberish, but we’d already established that the Bayport McGalliards weren’t the most trustworthy sources of accurate information. And even if the original map really was of a place that didn’t exist, it was still part of a historical mystery with ripple effects spanning three centuries! It could provide insight into transatlantic Colonial trade, it might hold the key to why Filmore sabotaged his own business, and it filled in one of the biggest blanks in comic and gaming lore.

  So, yeah, as a fantasy RPG player and a comic book fan and a history buff and a detective (which also made me a mystery buff), this investigation had me excited on all kinds of levels. And Robert’s lie about the comic containing the missing page turned a potentially hot historical case ice-cold again.

  I wasn’t about to let him squirm off the hook this time.

  We called the cab back and headed straight from the castle to Comic Kingdom. Xephyr was behind the counter when we stalked in.

  “Hail fellow adventurers!” she greeted us cheerily, looking up from the miniature fantasy figures she was painting. “How goeseth the detecting? Have you cracked the case?”

  “Working on it,” Joe said noncommittally.

  “If I don’t crack Robert first,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Not going so good, huh?” She frowned when she noticed my expression. “Any exciting leads at least?”

  “We were hoping to talk to Robert about that, actually,” I said, thinking that it was curious Robert hadn’t told Xephyr he’d technically fired us after we found out the auction appraisal was a scam.

  “Sorry, guys, it’s just me holding the fort until he comes back to close at nine. He’s running the show all day tomorrow, though. Want me to give him a message for you when he comes in?” she asked.

  “That’s okay, Xeph, we can just try to catch him later,” I replied.

  Robert’s cell phone was going straight to voice mail, and Joe and I both had tests at school the next day, so hanging out until nine waiting for him wasn’t an option. Studying for my math test probably wasn’t going to help us find Robert’s comic or discover what was on that map, but things I’d learned in class had cracked cases for us before, so it might still come in handy on another mystery someday. As for our current mystery, we’d have to come back the next afternoon after school let out.

  “Definitely doesn’t look like the theft has hurt business any,” Joe commented, looking around the small shop that was still busy close to dinnertime. People were milling around, flipping through comics. A bunch of kids were at the gaming tables, and from the looks of it, they were all playing Sabers & Serpents.

  “It’s wild how much publicity it has gotten,” Xephyr said. “It’s all over social media, and Robert’s been working the podcast circuit, giving interviews and hyping it up in online forums. It’s really driving interest in the Sabers and Serpents revival and the store, too. We’ve been busier than ever the past couple days, and the web server can barely keep up with the traffic the website’s been getting from all the people trying to download the S and S rules and character sheets since the original manuals are out of print.”

  I scowled. Another way Robert was benefitting from the theft. I wondered if he had the rights to post his uncle’s game online or if he’d taken that without asking too.

  I looked up at the no-longer-empty space over the counter where the stolen glass case containing Sabers & Serpents #1 had been. In its place was a large, glossy poster.

  By Invitation Of

  Sir Robert’s Comic Kingdom

  Hear ye! Hear ye! Come one, come all, to the most spooktacular party of the century!

  Sir Robert’s Royal Halloween Masquerade Ball

  This Friday, October 31 • Castle McGalliard

  Where the Sabers & Serpents legend was born and heads are sure to roll,

  chilling secrets will be revealed!

  COSTUMES REQUIRED

  Live entertainment, light refreshments, and unimaginable fear provided.

  See you there—if you dare!

  “So he really is going through with the party even without the comic to reveal,” I observed, wondering what kind of “chilling secrets” he had in mind.

  “Doesn’t it look awesome?!” Xephyr gushed over the poster.

  “You know, it really does,” Joe conceded, and I had to agree. As annoyed as I was with the host, it was hard not to be excited about a huge Halloween costume party at a real castle.

  “He’s still going to do the webcast at midnight too,” Xephyr informed us. “He’s been telling everyone he’s going to reveal a major hint about what was on the missing page. It’s not as cool as being able to show the real comic, I guess, but everybody is still super stoked about it. It’s kind of even more mysterious, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I said, not telling her it was a mystery her boastful boss didn’t actually have a clue how to solve.

  * * *

  My math test on Thursday was thankfully fairly easy, because the case had kept my brain tied in knots all that night and the next day at school. Joe and I were both stumped trying to figure out what else Comic Kingdom’s head of state had up his sleeve.

  To make matters worse, Charlene gave me the cold shoulder when I tried to ask her at lunch if she wanted to trade information. Joe had shared his suspicions with me about her being our saboteur, and maybe even worse. Not that it hadn’t occurred to me, too, but I was kind of in denial about it. I really liked Charlene and wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. I knew how seriously she took the profession of journalism. We’d even had conversations about how investigative journalism’s ability to expose corruption and reveal the truth was one of the very foundations of a healthy democracy. I also knew how competitive she was, and I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t resort to dirty tactics to be the first to break a story.

  I decided not to think about her motives and turned back to the mystery itself. I went over what we’d learned.

  Angus had told us that Sir Robert had been totally broke and in debt back in Scotland. The file Lucky led us to showed that Robert had lied about the condition—and value—of his copy of S&S #1.

  We’d originally suspected that Robert staged the theft of the comic to try to collect the insurance money and then sabotaged our car to warn us off the case. But the comic was only worth $10,000, which was a lot less than Sir Robert had led everyone to believe. Ten thousand dollars was still a lot of money, but it wasn’t the type of windfall that could make you rich, and committing a major crime like insurance fraud seemed like a huge risk to take. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t want the police involved, and you can’t make an insurance claim without a valid police report. So that theory was out the window.

  Then there was the fake Butterby’s appraiser, and we couldn’t make heads or tails of how Robert could profit from a fake auction. Plus, he had seemed genuinely surprised when we told him the appraiser who contacted him was an imposter.

  Finally, there was the theft of the comic book. Sir Robert had seemed deva
stated by that, too. He even pleaded with us to investigate right after the robbery. Why would he do that if he had stolen the comic himself?

  Robert had proven himself a pretty good actor, and I didn’t put it past him to fake being upset to sell the crime. But as tall and over-the-top as his tales could be, they seemed calculated to achieve an effect. Robert was logical, and there didn’t seem to be anything logical about any of this.

  One thing was for sure, though. We weren’t going to figure it out without more information. We were short on facts, and it looked like there was only one way we were going to get them. Not that pinning Robert down on the real story would be easy.

  Robert could make up all the bogus stories he wanted and claim they were true, but that didn’t change the fact that facts are facts and you can’t ignore them or make up “alternatives,” no matter how much they might incriminate you or make you look bad. We had our work cut out trying to parse fact from fiction when it came to Sir Rob. But it didn’t matter if you were the make-believe ruler of a “Comic Kingdom” or president of the United States—there was only one truth, and no one was powerful enough to change it. As detectives, it was our job to find it and make sure justice was done.

  * * *

  We were back at Comic Kingdom to take it up with the man himself as soon as school let out. The shop was hopping, and Sir Robert was holding court at the counter, regaling a rapt crowd of elementary school kids with tall tales. He was so engrossed in his own story, he didn’t even bother to look up when the door chimed, so we hung back and listened in, and I nearly broke my eye sockets from eye-roll strain.

  “The thief was dressed from head to toe in black like a ninja, and he might well have been one, for I’ve never seen a man move with such stealth and agility, not even on my undercover spy fighting missions for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. But I was undeterred. I chased the dastardly comic swindler through the darkened alley, armed with nothing but my wits and a burning desire for justice. I dodged out of the way of every dart and dagger he threw at me and was nearly upon him when—POOF! He vanished like a ghost into the fog. Had I been wearing better arch supports, you can bet I would have had him!”

  The kids oohed and aahed. I shook my head.

  “Wow, sounds like you’ve been busy since we last saw you, Rob,” Joe quipped as we stepped up to the counter.

  Robert’s face sagged with apprehension when he saw us, but he quickly replaced the look with a gleaming smile.

  “Ah, if it isn’t the Hardy lads! No hard feelings about the other day, yeah? Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands. I’m sure you understand.” He turned back to the elementary school kids. “These young men are fine detectives, fine. If you ever need a master crime solver and ol’ Rob isn’t around, you give them a call.” He winked at his young audience.

  “Thanks for the reference, Rob,” Joe deadpanned.

  “Don’t mention it. Always happy to help a friend,” he replied merrily.

  “We heard you’re still planning a big reveal at the party to tell everyone more about that missing page,” I said casually.

  “That crook may have robbed me of my comic, but they can’t rob me of my memory.” He tapped his bald head. “Every detail of that page is etched in my brain with precision. I made a promise to the comic book world, and Sir Rob is always good for his word!”

  “I’m sure the insurance company will be happy to hear it when they write you that record-breaking ten-thousand-dollar check,” I said, sliding Lucky’s former chew toy from my jacket and dropping it on the counter in front of him.

  A momentary look of confusion gave way to one of full panic when he saw the Well State Insurance Company letterhead atop the slightly mauled letter. He quickly snatched it off the counter and clutched it to his chest, hiding the real revelation about the comic’s still-missing page from the prying eyes of the elementary school kids.

  “I guess your uncle Angus didn’t mention our visit to the castle,” Joe said. “We took this away from Lucky on the way out. Didn’t think you’d want papers as important as this to get, ahem, damaged.”

  Robert glanced at the door like he might make a run for it, but looked around the crowded shop and thought better of it.

  “Perhaps we can chat later,” he pleaded. “After business hours? Lots of loyal customers depending on ol’ Rob, and we wouldn’t want to inconvenience them.”

  “Perhaps not,” Joe replied.

  “We can have this discussion in front of your friends here and the rest of your customers, or you can kick everyone out again if you want, but we’ve got questions and we’re not leaving until we get some answers,” I said bluntly.

  Robert sighed and hit a button on the register, popping open the cash drawer. He reached inside, and for a second I thought he was going to try and bribe us, but he pulled out a five-dollar bill and slapped it on the counter in front of a small, curly-haired kid with thick glasses.

  “Percy, you’re in charge while I step outside for a top secret Halloween party conference with the Hardys.”

  “But I don’t know how to work the register,” Percy objected, still eyeing the bill hopefully.

  “I have faith in you, lad,” Robert replied, reaching over the counter, physically lifting Percy up, and setting him on the stool on the other side. “Anybody wants to buy anything, tell them I’ll be right back. Anybody steals anything while I’m gone and I’ll hang you from the rack in the castle’s dungeon.”

  Robert marched confidently through his kingdom, past Dennis and a bunch of other kids at the game tables, through the back room, and out the rear door of the shop, with us right behind. The second we were in the alley and out of sight, he dropped down to his knees and started begging.

  “Please, have mercy on me—you can’t tell anybody,” he pleaded.

  “Tell us the real deal with the comic and we’ll think about it,” Joe said.

  “And the auction scam,” I added.

  “And being broke,” Joe included.

  “Basically, stop lying and start talking straight,” I said.

  “Or we’re going straight to the cops,” Joe said.

  “And the press,” I said. “I know someone who’s itching to print the real scoop.”

  “If she hasn’t gotten it already,” Joe said. “We weren’t the only ones to pay a visit to Uncle Angus.”

  Joe and I tag-teamed him with the bad-cop/bad-cop routine, and he shrank with every blow.

  “You two are worse than back-alley leg breakers back home,” he said.

  “All we want is the truth,” I said.

  “Now spill,” Joe concluded.

  Robert sighed deeply and sat down on a stack of wooden crates. “Figures Lucky would be the one to out me. A mate got him for me from a rescue shelter for police dogs, ironically. Poor Lucky didn’t make the cut. Apparently, the undisciplined beast had a tip-top nose but wasn’t very good at following protocol.”

  “I don’t know about your nose, but the not-following-protocol part sounds like a good match. You were supposed to be telling us the truth about the comic,” Joe reminded him.

  “You’ve got the letter, so you know the page is missing,” he said. “I nearly collapsed from excitement when I first found it buried amid the junk in the castle. And then I opened the cover. Flipped past the first few pages and an entire fistful of pages were torn right out, and what was left was soaked through with ink stains and brown blotches. It’s a miracle the cover looked as good as it did, and lucky that. Least it was at the time. Figured as long as I kept it under glass, no one would be the wiser.”

  “And you could trick everyone into thinking it was the world’s only complete copy and Sir Rob was the only person on earth who knew the secret of what was inside,” I stated accusingly.

  “A good myth is worth more in free marketing than the money the insurance company said it was worth. Not that I couldn’t have used the money. I sank the last of my savings into the shop after I moved. A boyhood d
ream to own a comic shop, you know? Sure, ten grand could have helped pay the bills in the short term, but I figured having that bad boy behind the counter gave me the fighting edge I needed to make a go of it. And it did at that. Until that blasted con artist Leadbetter—or whoever he really was—called.”

  Joe chuckled.

  “You find my misery funny, do you?” Robert asked, looking genuinely hurt.

  “Sorry, dude, just found it a little comical you calling someone else a con artist,” Joe explained.

  “Point taken,” Robert conceded with a sigh. “I suppose I wasn’t entirely honest with everyone.”

  I cleared my throat conspicuously.

  “Fine, I’ve more hot air in me than the Hindenburg, but that doesn’t make me a bad person. I’ve got hopes and dreams too. And a little white lie about the comic didn’t hurt anyone. I’d say the mystery of it even gave folks a bit of joy. And I doubt anyone would be playing Sabers and Serpents again after all these years if I hadn’t made a to-do of it.”

  “I’ll give you that,” I said. The missing page may have been a myth, but Robert’s salesmanship of that mythology had managed to breathe new life into a classic RPG that had given me hours of entertainment. “But what were you going to do when you actually had to show the comic to Leadbetter if he had been a real auction appraiser? Everyone would have known you were a liar as soon as you opened the cover on that webcast.”

  “Or was the phony Butterby appraisal just another part of your scam?” Joe asked.

  “It wasn’t a scam!” he insisted, but then he paused to think about it for a second. “Okay, it was a scam, but not the way you think! I thought the call from Butterby’s was real! It was them I was trying to scam, only the blasted scammer scammed me first!”

  “Come again?” I said, my head spinning with trying to figure out all the permutations of who was scamming whom.

  “I’d planned to keep that comic under glass forever until Wendell Leadbetter called and guaranteed me a hundred large sight unseen if I’d give them exclusive rights to sell my copy of S and S at auction,” he said, shoulders slumping.