But still, it was amazing how many wonderful pictures there were. The whole series of the triplets’ haircuts, for example. And Suzi’s shot of a beautiful, glowing bride. There was Jamie’s picture of Bart and Kristy at the ballfield, and Nicky’s close-up of Pow’s nose. Matt and Haley had taken some great pictures at their picnic, of a bunch of kids signing a mile a minute. And Charlotte’s shots of the window of Polly’s Fine Candy were so good they could make your mouth water.
In fact, seeing those pictures made me crave chocolate, so I went on a frantic search for a bag of Hershey’s Kisses I’d hidden two weeks ago. I finally found them, tucked into a box of pastels. As the clock clicked over to five-twenty-nine, I helped myself to a couple of Kisses and tossed the bag to Jessi. Then I reached over to turn the radio off, since I knew Kristy was about to start the meeting.
“Leave it on,” Kristy said.
“What?” I asked. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Leave it on,” she repeated. “Who knows? We might hear some more news about the bank.”
“There wasn’t anything in the paper yesterday,” said Mal. “I checked.”
“So did I,” said Stacey. “All the police said was ‘no new leads.’ I don’t know if they’re ever going to solve that case.”
“Order,” said Kristy. “We can talk about the bank mystery later. First we have club business to take care of.” She turned to Stacey and raised her eyebrows.
“Right,” said Stacey. “It is dues day.” She grinned and held up the manila envelope.
We all groaned and rolled our eyes. We like to give Stacey a hard time about collecting dues. She passed the envelope around, and we stuck our dues money into it. Then the phone started ringing, and we set to work lining up jobs. Stacey landed one with Jamie and Lucy Newton, Mal and Jessi were scheduled to sit for the Pike kids, and I took a job with the Barretts.
Kristy had just hung up the phone after arranging the job with Mrs. Barrett when we heard the “beep-a-deep-deep” that news stations use to introduce a special bulletin. Kristy and I both reached for the radio’s volume control, almost clunking heads as we dove for it. I grabbed it first, and turned it way up.
“Stoneybrook Police, working in conjunction with security officers at the Stoneybrook Bank, have announced a break in the bank robbery case,” said the announcer.
We leaned forward and listened as hard as we could. This was exciting!
“According to videotape records, the disappearance of large amounts of cash could only have taken place between the hours of one and four P.M. on the Sunday before the cash was reported missing. During that time, the bank’s video cameras were disabled and no footage exists. Police are speculating that the crime might have been an ‘inside job.’ ”
The announcer went on, but by then we had stopped listening. Instead, we were sitting there openmouthed. “Oh, my lord,” I whispered.
“Do you believe it?” asked Mary Anne.
“It can’t be true!” said Shannon. “Do you realize what this means?”
“It means,” said Mallory slowly, “that the robbery really did happen while you guys,” she looked at me and Mary Anne, “were there taking pictures.”
“This is too, too wild,” said Jessi.
“Claudia, where are those pictures?” asked Kristy, sounding very serious. “Get them out!”
I jumped up and pulled open one of my desk drawers. As slobby as I am usually, I can be very neat when it comes to certain things. My negatives are stored carefully in a three-ring notebook, with the contact sheet for each set tucked into a plastic envelope. They’re all in order, and they’re all dated. I even have notes about exposure times and film types. I found the contact sheet with the bank pictures on it right away. Then I took out my loupe and began to look over the pictures.
“Let me see,” said Kristy, after I’d looked for a few seconds. I passed her the loupe and the contact print, and she scanned the pictures. Then, one by one, all my friends looked them over. When everybody had taken a turn, we sat quietly for a minute, thinking.
“It has to be the guy in the suit,” said Mal.
“Definitely,” I agreed. “Just what I was thinking.”
“He works at the bank,” said Shannon, “so he’d know how to turn off the security cameras.”
“And he was near the bank on Sunday afternoon,” finished Jessi triumphantly.
“And I bet he wasn’t just outside it, either,” said Mary Anne. “I bet he went in. Look how he was dressed, in that dark suit.”
“Even though it was a hot, sunny day!” said Kristy. “He must have been planning to go into the bank. Maybe he was pretending to do some work there.”
“And the police said it was an inside job!” I added, suddenly remembering.
“Guilty, guilty, guilty!” said Stacey. I gave her the high five.
“Just one moment, girls!”
We turned to see who had spoken. It was Janine, who was leaning against the doorframe, looking into my room. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” she said. “And I must point out that there are some serious deficiencies in your reasoning. Most, if not all, of your evidence is purely and unequivocally circumstantial.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. As I’ve said, there are times when what Janine is saying goes straight over my head. I mean, I knew what some of those words meant — even the big ones, like ‘circumstantial.’ I’ve done detective work before, and that word has come up. But when she strings a whole bunch of big words together like that, sometimes I lose track.
“I think what Janine means,” said Shannon, “is that we don’t really have any hard evidence. Just because that guy was near the bank on Sunday afternoon, doesn’t mean he’s a criminal.”
“That is true,” said Mary Anne. “After all, he could have been wearing a suit because he was going to church.”
“Exactly,” said Janine, nodding at Mary Anne.
“But what about ‘gut feelings’?” I asked. “What about hunches? I have a definite hunch about this guy.”
“Intuition has been established as having a place in criminal procedures,” Janine said, nodding. “However, in no way can it substitute for authentic and valid evidence that can be presented to the judge and jury.”
Whoops. She’d lost me again. But I didn’t care. A hunch was a hunch, and suddenly I had a strong one. Strong enough to make me want to follow up on it.
“Hey, Mary Anne,” I said as soon as Janine had left the doorway. “Did you write down that special number they gave out over the radio last week? The one you’re supposed to call if you have any information or tips on the bank robbery?”
She checked her notebook. “It’s right here,” she said, tearing out a piece of paper and handing it to me. “But you’re not really going to call, are you, Claud? I mean, we’re not sure of anything.”
“Oh, you’re being too cautious,” I said. “After all, they didn’t say to call if you had proof. They said to call if you had tips or information. And that’s what we have.” I grabbed the phone and dialed. When a man answered, I spilled out the whole story, starting with, “See, my friends and I were making this book — well, not really a book, but an album — for another friend of ours. Her name’s Dawn, and she lives in California. Well, she doesn’t actually live there…. Anyway,” I went on, noticing that Kristy was giving me the “hurry up” sign, “we took these pictures, and they all show this guy in a dark suit, and …” I went on and on. I guess I was a little nervous. The man on the other end just listened. Finally, I finished. “So, what do you think?” I asked him.
“I think this is a particularly unfunny prank phone call, and I’m asking you now not to tie up this line again, young lady.” He hung up before I could say another word. I stared at the receiver, shocked.
My friends were shocked, too, when I told them what had happened. “That’s not fair,” said Jessi.
“She’s right,” said Kristy. “And here’s what I think we should do next.”
* * *
Tuesday, as soon as my classes were over, we put Kristy’s plan into action. After Monday’s meeting, I had printed up a set of pictures, each one showing the man in the dark suit. I took them down to the police station, where Kristy and Stacey were waiting for me. We went in together. This time, we decided, we’d tell our story with illustrations. I showed the pictures to the officer behind the desk, while Kristy explained why we thought they might be important evidence.
“Nice pictures,” said the officer, waving them away. “But I’m afraid they wouldn’t mean much in court. Why don’t you —”
“Hold on there, Sauter.” A tall sergeant with black hair and clear blue eyes had just come up to the desk. I’d seen him before, when we’d talked to the police about other mysteries the BSC had been looking into. I couldn’t remember his name, though. “These girls have been helpful before, you know,” he said. Then he turned to me. “Let’s see those photos.” I handed them over, and he looked at them carefully. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, girls,” he said, “but I guess Sauter’s right. This man may just live near the bank, and there’s nothing illegal about taking a stroll on a Sunday afternoon. These pictures probably would be classed as circumstantial evidence. We’ll follow up the lead, but it doesn’t look too promising. If you come up with anything else, let me know. Just ask for Sergeant Johnson if you call or come in.”
And that was that. But as we walked out of the police station, I realized that, like it or not, we really were involved in this mystery now. “Okay,” I said to my friends, “so the pictures don’t prove anything. All that means is that we have to find some more evidence. Some better evidence. Then they’ll believe us.” Suddenly I was sure that if we tried hard enough, we could crack this case.
“So, what do we do next?” asked Stacey. We’d just left the police station, and were now sprawled out on a couple of park benches outside the municipal building. It was hot by then, and the sun was directly overhead. I was trying to sit on the one little patch of my bench that was in the shade.
“Good question,” said Kristy. “But I sure don’t have an answer. Seems to me we’re stuck.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s frustrating.”
The three of us sat silently for a few minutes, just thinking. As I’ve mentioned, we have done a little detective work in the past. I tried to think over some of the other cases we’ve solved, just to get some ideas. But you know what? Every case is so different. What works on one case may not be right for another. Plus, this case was really special, because we had those photographs. I felt a little like a private detective, this time. You know, one of those guys in a trenchcoat who lurks in dark alleys, keeping his camera ready just in case Mr. Criminal shows his face.
Waiting and watching. Those seem to be the two things that all detectives need to be good at. I thought about that for a second, and suddenly I had it. “A stakeout!” I cried.
My friends jumped. “What did you say?” asked Kristy.
“Let’s stake out the bank,” I said. “Maybe, just maybe, if we watch closely enough, we might find some more clues. Maybe we can even prove that the guy in the suit was involved in the robbery.”
“Great idea,” said Kristy, frowning a little. I think she’s always just a little disappointed when somebody else has great ideas. She likes to be the one who comes up with them.
“When should we do it?” I asked.
“How about right now?” Stacey said, jumping to her feet.
“Why not?” asked Kristy. “As Watson always says, ‘There’s no time like the present.’ You know what, though? I should call Shannon. I know she’d want to help out. Too bad Jessi and Mal and Mary Anne are all on sitting jobs. They’d probably like to come, too.”
“It’s just as well,” I said. “We don’t want to have too big a crowd. If we were all there, it might look a little suspicious.”
We headed for the bank, stopping along the way to call Shannon and tell her to meet us there. As we walked, we argued about the best way to handle a stakeout. Well, maybe argued is too strong a word. But we did disagree. Kristy thought we should post ourselves behind the bank’s columns and take notes on every single person who went into or out of the bank. Me? I thought that sounded like too much work. I thought we should just hang out across from the bank, act like a normal bunch of teenagers (whatever that means), and watch to see if anything suspicious happened.
Stacey sort of agreed with me, except she thought we could be a little more organized. “Like, maybe one of us should be inside the bank,” she said. “And the others could each be paying attention to different things. One person could watch people going in, and somebody else could watch people going out. And maybe we could also watch to see if anybody’s just hanging out around the bank.”
“Other than us ‘normal teenagers’?” Kristy asked, teasing.
When we reached the bank, Shannon waved to us from across the street. We crossed to join her and filled her in on our plans. “How about if I go into the bank?” she suggested. “I’ve been thinking about opening a savings account there, anyway. I can ask about it today, and that’ll give me a reason to be in there.”
“Sounds okay to me,” I said. The others agreed, too. So Shannon crossed the street again, and disappeared inside the bank, while the rest of us took up our positions. Kristy leaned against a mailbox while Stacey and I stood nearby, trying hard to look casual. We chatted about our project for Dawn, and about our clients and how their summers were going. Meanwhile, all three of us were keeping a close eye on the bank. People walked in and out of the building, but none of them looked at all suspicious.
Then, suddenly, Stacey’s eyes lit up. “Hey! Look who’s about to go in.” She started to wave. “Hi, Lo —” she began to call, but Kristy grabbed her arm.
“Shh!” she said. “Don’t blow our cover. Besides, who knows? Logan could be a suspect.”
“Are you nuts?” I asked. “That’s Logan Bruno. Mary Anne’s boyfriend. Our pal. Associate member of the BSC. How could he be a suspect?”
“Everybody’s a suspect,” said Kristy. “And speaking of suspects, look who else is about to go into the bank.” She pointed to the revolving door.
“Officer Sauter?” I asked. “But he’s a policeman.”
“You never know,” said Kristy darkly. “Haven’t you ever seen headlines about crooked cops?”
We kept a close eye on the doors, and soon enough both Logan and Officer Sauter walked out, looking totally innocent. If either one of them was the criminal, it was clear that he hadn’t engineered a bank robbery that day. Personally, I thought Kristy was nuts. Logan and Officer Sauter, like everyone else going into and out of the bank, were probably just there to make deposits or check their balances. For a minute, I wondered whether this stakeout idea was really worth it, after all.
“Aha!” Kristy said, just then. She held up a finger.
“What?” I asked.
Kristy just nodded, looking mysterious.
“What?” asked Stacey. “Did you just figure something out?”
“I sure did,” said Kristy. “I figured out where that delicious pizza smell is coming from.” She pointed down the block, to Pizza Express. “I’m starving,” she said.
“Me, too,” I said. “Maybe we should go get Shannon and find something to eat.”
“Hey, look,” said Stacey, nudging me. “Isn’t that the woman from the pictures? The one with the baby carriage?”
I turned to see. The woman was on the other side of the street, just down the block from the bank’s main doors. “It sure is,” I said. “And if we’re going to pick up Shannon anyway, maybe we can take a closer look at her.”
We crossed the street, keeping the baby carriage in sight. The woman pushing it was a young mother, with curly red hair and tons of freckles. She rolled the carriage along, leaning down once in a while to coo to the baby and rearrange its blankets.
I smiled at her as we approached the car
riage. “Nice day for a walk,” I said, trying to lean toward the carriage in order to see the baby.
“Isn’t it?” she asked, turning the carriage to the right so that I couldn’t see a thing.
“How old is your baby?” asked Stacey, trying to peek over the front of the carriage.
“Just two months,” said the woman, turning the carriage to the left.
“Girl or boy?” asked Kristy.
“Girl,” said the woman. Then she wheeled the carriage away at a pretty steady clip.
“Hmmm,” said Kristy, as we watched her walk away. “That was suspicious. I wonder why she didn’t want us to see the baby.”
“Maybe there isn’t a baby,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe the carriage is actually full of money bags.”
“That’s kind of far-fetched,” said Stacey. “But who knows? Stranger things have happened.” We all watched as the woman disappeared around a corner. Just as we lost sight of her, Shannon flew out of the bank’s front door.
“VP!” she said. “He’s the vice-president!”
“Who? What?” I asked.
“That man in the pictures,” she said. “The one in the suit. I’ve been watching him. He’s vice-president of the bank.”
“He is?” I asked. “Hmm …”
“I found out his name, too,” she said, “but come on. He’s going to lunch, and we have to follow him.” She pulled us behind the pillar, and we all watched as the man in the suit walked out of the bank and down the street.
“It looks like he’s wearing the same suit,” said Stacey under her breath, as we followed him down the sidewalk. “And he’s definitely wearing that watch, again too.”
“His name’s Mr. Zibreski,” whispered Shannon. “I saw his name tag.”
“And right now,” I said, “Mr. Zibreski’s going into that coffee shop.” I watched as he disappeared into Thelma’s Café.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Kristy, as we paused outside. “Let’s go in. I mean, we’re hungry, too, right?”
We looked at each other, shrugged, and went in. I’d never been to Thelma’s before, but it seemed like a nice enough place, with turquoise leather booths and waiters and waitresses who wore turquoise-and-white uniforms. Kristy headed straight for the booth behind the one Mr. Zibreski chose. Stacey and I exchanged a panicked glance, but we followed her, and so did Shannon. Just as we sat down, a man in a navy-blue suit approached Mr. Zibreski’s booth and Mr. Zibreski stood up. “Frank!” he said, sticking out his hand for a shake. “Good to see you. How’s Lillian?”