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The Case of the Secret Handshake

Lead: Connie Chase. Present day. Panels 1–4 are one afternoon; panels 5–6 are the week that follows. Entirely present tense — no flashback, no time tags, no double frames anywhere on this page. Panels 2 and 3 are one telephone call.

The wordplay stays on the radio. The runaround over the men's names is a sustained spoken bit that needs five minutes and an ear; drawn, it reads as a joke somebody had to explain. This page gets its entertainment from the plot and from Connie's diction instead.

Radio script at radio-secret-handshake.md; radio show at radio-secret-handshake.html.

Source: comic-secret-handshake.md

The Secret Handshake

6 panels · 3 across × 2 down · LEAD: CONNIE CHASE · panels 2–3 are one phone call

Row 1 — the case (full noir · one afternoon, one telephone call)

1
Halfway through a study you sit down with every sheet you got and square it against the schedule. Coordinators gotta coordinate.
45 minutes in and a cold sweat hits my brow. A weekly survey from a man with an alibi: he was getting his appendix out at Belleville that week.
2
Somebody wasn't who they claimed to be. I need to do some investigatin'. Trouble is I can't tell a soul out there what my business is. Makes for a short conversation with the foreman.
I'm after Ray Auer.
Ray's out. Had his appendix took.
I know he's out. Somebody answered for him Tuesday.
And what's that got to do with me?
3
Then who did I talk to?
Whoever picked up.
He wasn't giving me the runaround. That's what made me sweat even harder. This could be way worse than I thought.
One telephone bolted to that wall, and every man on the floor with a right to it. Problem is it's hard to pick a man's voice out of a lineup when the line is scratchier than my old '45's.

Row 2 — the break (hinge, then the product)

4
⚠  SHARED CONTACT NUMBER · 3 PARTICIPANTS
Now I knew what happened. Thoughts of the study going up in smoke filled my head. I quit dialing and put one plain question to the system: anybody else on any of my studies sharing a telephone with somebody?
Second and a half. Kirkwood, like I figured. Three consent signatures. One phone number. The consent was informed. The telephone calls weren't. A recipe for perjury, forgery, or both.
5
So Thursday I drove out to Kirkwood with the sheets on the seat beside me and set up at the same folding table we signed 'em on.
Ray was laid up. That phone rang and rang. Somebody had to answer it.
…Was that wrong?
No, sir. It wasn't wrong. It just wasn't Ray.
Turns out everyone was just trying to be helpful. Nobody lied to me. Nobody had to.
6
Give me your word.
…Buttercup.
Morning, Walter.
Software can see that three men have the same number. It can't see the face at the other end when I call. That takes a tank of gas and a folding table.