Part 5 (1/2)

About ten minutes later, I switched the lights back on and gazed happily at the dosed tank sitting on the counter. Mission accomplished. Now all I had to do was develop the film. That routine is second nature to me by now, and I went through it easily, singing along to the radio as I worked.

Without going into too much detail, here's how film developing works: The tank, which doesn't let any light in, has a small hole in the center of the lid. That hole leads to a little tube that goes down into the tank, so you can pour chemicals in and out without any light getting in. So. First, you pour developer into the tank, and start the timer. You tap the tank a couple of times to get rid of air bubbles. While the film is developing, you have to ”agitate” the tank (that means move it around) every so often. Then, when the timer rings, you pour out the developer and right away you put in this stuff called stop bath, which (dun) stops the developing. You agitate that for a little while - only about thirty seconds - and pour it out. Then you pour in the fixer, which makes the images on the negative permanent, and helps to harden the negative. The fixer stays in for about five minutes, and you agitate the tank once in a while. And finally, you pour out the fixer and, while the film is still in the tank, rinse the film (my dad helped me attach a little hose to the water faucet). -Once that's done, you put in a wetting agent to help keep water spots off the film. Then you take the film out of the tank and hang it up to dry. That's all there is to it!

As soon as I pulled the film out of the tank I could see that Mary Anne's pictures had come out very well. The images were dear and the contrast (the difference between blacks and whites) was good. But before I could make a contact sheet and take a closer look, I had to wait for the negatives to dry.

I cleaned up my equipment and put everything away, still singing along to the radio. Then I unplugged the radio and brought it back into my room, so I could listen to it while I did my math homework. I sat down at my desk, pulled out my negative file, and took a longing glance at the contact sheet of my portrait series. I still wanted to work on that project, but it would have to wait. When I'm involved in a mystery, it's hard for me to think about anything else until the mystery is solved.

A few hours later - long after my mom had stopped in to tell me it was time for bed - I snuck back into the darkroom and checked to see if the film was dry. It was, so I made a contact print as quickly and as quietly as I could. Then I went straight to bed. I was totally exhausted, and I knew there was no point in looking over Mary Anne's pictures until I'd had a good night's sleep.

I woke up early the next morning and sat right down at my desk with the contact print and my loupe. Here's what I saw: first there were a whole bunch of shots of Buddy, Suzi, Charlotte, and Becca fooling around. There were also a few pictures of the kids taking pictures. With a red grease pencil, I circled some of the best shots, thinking they'd look great in Dawn's alb.u.m.

Then, finally, I found what I had been looking for. The pictures of me taking pictures of the bank. Mary Anne must have thought I looked pretty funny, because she took quite a few pictures: me, squatting to frame a low shot; me, squinting as I focused; me, turning the camera practically upside-down to snap a shot of the carvings next to one of the pillars. But guess what? None of the shots showed anything suspicious at all. Mr. Zibreski was in a couple of them, but he wasn't doing anything different from what he'd been doing in the other pictures. Same for the lady with the baby carriage.

I put down my loupe and sighed. No new dues. Not one.

”Claudia!” called my mother from downstairs. ”Time to get going!”

”Coming!” I called. But I couldn't resist. I picked up the loupe and took one more look. Then I saw something. Something important. In three of the pictures, where I was standing alone in front of the bank, there were windows behind me. And one of the windows looked different from the others. I squinted and screwed my eye into the loupe for a better look. It was unmistakable! One of the windows was lit up.

I sat back and thought. Why would one of the rooms in the bank be lit up - on a Sunday, when the bank was dosed? Of course, it was possible that somebody had left the light on accidentally. But it seemed much more likely to me that somebody had been inside the bank at the time those pictures were taken. Somebody who was involved in the bank robbery.

”Claudia!” my mom called again.

”I'll be right down,” I yelled. Then I reached for the phone and called Mary Anne.

”h.e.l.lo?” she said sleepily.

”Mary Anne, It's me, Claud. I think I found a clue in one of your pictures.”

”Really?” She sounded alert now.

”Can you meet me at the bank at one o'clock?” I asked. ”I'll head down there right after school. I'll bring the pictures for you to see. There's something I want to check out.”

”I'll be there,” said Mary Anne.

After I hung up, I grabbed a few things from my desk: the contact sheet, the loupe, and a roll of quarters I'd been meaning to bring down to the bank. I threw them into my knapsack and headed downstairs for breakfast.

At one o'clock sharp, I met Mary Anne in front of the bank. ”Check it out,” I said, showing her the contact sheet.

”What is it?” she asked. ”I don't see anything funny. Unless you count that picture of Buddy making a face,”

I pointed to the three pictures I'd found that morning. ”See how this window is lit up?” I asked.

”Whoa!” she said. ”What do you think it means?”

”I don't know for sure,” I said. I turned to look at the bank. ”We'll have to go inside to figure out which room that window is in. I brought this roll of quarters, so we have an excuse to go in.” I started toward the main door of the bank.

”Hold on,” whispered Mary Anne, grabbing my arm. ”Look!”

I followed her gaze, and saw the woman with the baby carriage walking toward us. ”It's her!” I hissed. ”Let's make sure to get a look at that so-called baby this time.”

We walked toward the carriage, smiling. But the woman turned it sharply and pushed it past us. I thought quickly. Could I distract her for a minute - just long enough to check under that yellow blanket inside the carriage?

Suddenly, I threw my quarter roll to the ground, and it split open, spilling all the coins.

”Oh, no!” cried Mary Anne.

”Oh, dear!” cried the woman with the baby carriage. She and Mary Anne bent to pick up the quarters. Quickly, I stepped forward and reached into the baby carriage. I flipped down the blanket and looked inside.

There was a baby in there.

A cute, red-haired, smiling baby, dressed in a little white sleeper with blue stars and moons all over it. As I gazed at the baby, the mother straightened up and glared at me. ”Adorable baby,” I said sheepishly.

The woman covered the baby up again and strode off, pus.h.i.+ng the carriage quickly.

”Protective mom,” I said to Mary Anne, shrugging. ”At least we know she's innocent, though.”

”You're right,” said Mary Anne. ”And that means - ”

”That means Mr. Zibreski must be the thief!” I said, knowing as I said it that my reasoning was full of holes. ”He's our only suspect now,” I continued, trying to convince myself. I glanced at the bank, checking that window again. Just then, I saw somebody staring out of the window, looking straight at me. ”Oh. My. Lord.” I said, under my breath.

It was Mr. Zibreski himself.

”Mary Anne!” I said. ”He's staring right at us! Wait! Don't panic! Just act normal!” I felt frozen into place.

”Let's get out of here!” said Mary Anne. She tugged at my arm.

We ran all the way home, checking over our shoulders at every corner. I was sure I saw him behind us a couple of times. For the rest of that afternoon I watched out my windows, sure that Mr. Zibreski had followed us. Detective work had always seemed fun, before. This time, it seemed dangerous. This time, we were mixed up with somebody who was stalking MS while we were stalking him.

Chapter 11.

”Sergeant Johnson, please.” It was the next day, Friday, and Mary Anne, Stacey, and I were standing in front of the main desk at the police station.

The night before, Mary Anne had called me and we'd had a long talk. She was really worried about my safety, if there was ”even a possibility” that Mr. Zibreski was following me. ”I think we should go to the police again,” she said. ”Remember, Sergeant Johnson said to let him know if we found out anything more.”

”But we still don't have any proof,” I said.

”I know,” she answered. ”But he might be interested in those pictures that show a light on in the bank. And it just seems to me that it couldn't hurt to have the police kind of looking out for you - for us. Know what I mean?”

Mary Anne had been pretty convincing, so as soon as I was done with my summer school cla.s.ses the next day, I met her and Stacey in front of the station. Of course, I'd brought the most recent pictures with me. (I'd made enlargements of the most interesting ones.) We marched right in.

”I'll see if he's here,” said the officer at the desk. It was a woman this time. She punched a b.u.t.ton on the intercom, and spoke into the phone in a whisper, looking at us over her gla.s.ses as she talked. I had a feeling she was wondering what business three teenage girls would have with Sergeant Johnson. When she finished speaking, she listened for a second, and then, looking surprised, she hung up. ”He says he'll be right but,” she told us. ”Please have a seat.”

The three of us crowded onto a bench. While we waited, I dug the pictures out of my backpack. I flipped through them again, and my heart sank a little. Sergeant Johnson probably wouldn't think much of them as evidence.