Ann Martin - Claudia And the Clue in the Photograph

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.

Chapter 8.

"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 dues. 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 dose 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 dose 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 1" 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.