"Me, too," said Stacey. "It reminds me of Robert."

"Oh; Robert, Robert, Robert," I said, grabbing a pillow and bopping her with it. We giggled some more.

"Order!" said Kristy, suddenly.

"Is it five-thirty already?" I asked. I glanced at the dock on my night table. Sure enough, it was time for our BSC meeting. It was a Wednesday, three days after we'd done all that picture-taking, and my friends were gathered in my room for our meeting. I still hadn't had a chance to develop the photos I'd taken on Sunday, mostly because I'd been working on my portrait series. The pictures of my friends were almost ready, and I could hardly wait.

Kristy reached over and snapped the radio off.

"No!" I cried, snapping it back on. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" she asked. "It's time for our meeting."

"I know," I said. "But WSTO is playing a whole hour of Billy Blue right now. There's no way I'm missing that."

"Who's Billy Blue?" asked Kristy.

"WHO'S BILLY BLUE?" Stacey and I shouted together.

"Kristy, I don't believe you," Stacey said. "Sometimes I think you live under a rock or something. Billy Blue is only the best singer since - since - "

"We're wasting time here," said Kristy impatiently. "How about this? We can leave the radio on, but you'll have to turn it down."

"Cool," I said. I reached over and inched the volume control down, just the tiniest bit.

"Lower," said Kristy, giving me a Look.

"Okay, okay," I said, turning it way down. I could still hear Billy Blue, but just barely. Still, it was better than nothing. Right then he was singing another song I love, called "Your Sweet Kiss." Stacey and I grinned at each other as we mouthed the words silently. Kristy pretended to ignore us.

"Any new business?" she asked.

n.o.body said anything. Stacey and I started to sing very softly along with Billy. Kristy reached over as if to turn the radio off again, and we broke off in mid-song. "Sorry! Sorry!" I said. "We'll stop, I promise."

Kristy just gave me another Look and turned to ask Stacey about the state of the treasury. "My Kid-Kit is almost due for some new stickers and markers," she said. "Do we have enough money?"

"Sure," said Stacey, instantly serious. She always knows exactly - and I mean to the last penny - how much is in the Treasury. "I need some stickers, too."

"We should plan a shopping trip," said Mary Anne. "I'm all out of those little coloring books, and Suzi Barrett has a fit if I show up without one."

"Do you have a job with them soon?" asked Shannon.

"With the Barretts and the DeWitts," said Mary Anne. "Kristy and I are sitting for both families together next week."

"Whoa!" said Jessi. "That should be a challenge."

Just then, Billy Blue stopped singing, and this time Kristy wasn't responsible. "We interrupt this program for a special bulletin," I heard an announcer say. I held up my hand. "Hey, listen, you guys!" I said.

"This is exactly why I don't want the radio playing during - " Kristy began, but Stacey shushed her. She had just heard the same thing I had heard - a mention of the Stoneybrook Bank.

"Hold on, Kristy," she said. "This could be important."

I turned up the volume, and we all listened.

"A recent surprise audit has uncovered a major deficit in the bank's holdings," the reporter said, sounding very serious. I wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that, but as she kept 'talking, it became pretty dear. There was a ton of money missing from the bank, and no way to explain why.

"Hundreds of thousands of dollars," Mallory whispered, echoing the reporter's words. "I can't even imagine what that much money looks like."

The reporter went on to say that the police had already ruled out the possibility of "transaction error" (Stacey said that meant, like, if a clerk had put ten too many zeros after a number or something), and that the bank's video cameras showed no signs of a robbery or forcible entry. Then she said that the bank was asking for anybody with information or tips to call a special number. Then the bulletin ended, and Billy Blue came back on, in the middle of singing "I'm Lost Without You."

This time, I was the one to reach over and turn the radio off. Kristy looked at me in amazement. "That was big news," I said. "I mean, that could be our money that's missing."

"Do you have an account at that bank?" asked Shannon.

"Well, no," I admitted. "But I might have opened one, if I ever decided to save my money. Anyway, I was just thinking - wouldn't it be wild if there was a due to the crime in one of those pictures I took on Sunday? I mean, I must have shot a zillion pictures of that bank."

"Oh, Claud, you've been watching too many late-night movies," said Stacey.

"There is a movie about something like that happening," Mary Anne said thoughtfully. "I can't think of the t.i.tle, but it's about this photographer who takes a picture of a murder - by mistake, I mean. He only finds out about it later, when he develops the pictures."

"See?" I said. "It could happen."

"Sure it could," said Kristy. "But it doesn't seem too likely. I mean, we don't even know when the crime took place. If d be a major coincidence if it happened last Sunday."

"Kristy's right," said Stacey. "I mean, this isn't Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Bank." She poked me in the side and giggled. The rest of my friends joined in the teasing, but I tried not to pay attention.

"I don't care what you all say, I'm going to develop that film - tonight," I said.

And that's exactly what I did, right after dinner that evening. Janine was out with Jerry, and she wasn't due home until pretty late that evening, so even though I hadn't gotten around to making that Darkroom in Use sign for the bathroom, I knew it would be safe to develop film in there. I set everything up, stuck the towel under the door, and turned out the lights. I was only developing one roll of film. The other roll, which only had a few bank pictures, was still in my camera. It didn't take long to load the film in the tank, and once that was done I turned the lights back on and got to work with the chemicals.

When the film was finished, I hung it up to dry. I could tell that the pictures were all clear and that the developing had gone well, but I wouldn't be able to get a good look at them until the film was dry and I could make a contact print. I left the darkroom and got to work on my math homework. Then I had a snack (some Fritos, with a Three Musketeers bar for dessert) and read a few chapters of The Clue of the Tapping Heels, one of my all-time favorite Nancy Drew books. I think I must have read that one about four times, but I still love it.

Finally, at around ten-thirty, I figured the film must be dry. I knew my parents wouldn't be crazy about my working in the darkroom that late, but I couldn't resist going in to make a quick contact print.

A contact print is a great way to look at negatives. Here's how you make it: You just lay the negatives down on a piece of photographic paper, s.h.i.+ne some light on them, and then develop the paper. In order to see what you're doing during this kind of work you use a "safelight" - a red light that doesn't ruin pictures. I just replace the bulb in the bathroom light with a special red one. When you're finished, what you have is a print of the negatives that you can look at with a loupe, so you can tell which shots might be worth enlarging.

My heart was beating fast as I made the contact print and developed it. Then I hung it up to dry - but I was too impatient to wait. Even though it was still damp, I brought it out to my desk and started to peer at each picture through the loupe. I examined them one by one, and by the time I finished, my heart wasn't beating so fast anymore.

The pictures didn't show a thing.

Oh, there were some great shots of the bank's facade, with its columns and carvings. And there were a few people in the pictures, too: a mother pus.h.i.+ng a baby carriage appeared in a lot of them, and so did a man in a suit. But that was it. What a let-down.

The funny thing was this: During our meeting, my friends had been teasing me about the slim possibility of dues turning up in my pictures. But guess who showed up at my house as soon as I got home from summer school the next day? Kristy, Mary Anne, and Stacey. They couldn't wait to see what I'd found on the roll of film. "Not much," I told them, showing them the contact print. One by one, they peered at the pictures through the loupe.

"You're right," Kristy said, after her turn. "Not much at all."

"I wonder how old the baby is," said Mary Anne, after she'd looked.

"That guy must be a banker," joked Stacey when she was done. "He has one of those banker's pocket watches. You know, the kind that fastens to your belt with a chain?"

"If he's a banker, why isn't he in the bank?" asked Kristy.

"I was only kidding," said Stacey.

Kristy took one last look at the pictures, and shook her head. "Drat! I was really hoping we'd get some dues," she said, smacking her fist into her palm.

"Oh, well," I said. I tried not to show how funny I thought it was that my friends had gotten all excited about the pictures, after teasing me for my interest. Instead, I decided to distract them. "Weren't we going to buy some new stuff for our Kid-Kits?" I asked. "Why don't we head downtown right now?" And that was that. We left about three minutes later, without a backward glance at that disappointing contact print lying on my desk.

Chapter 6.

It was an absolutely gorgeous Friday afternoon. Blue sky, white puffy clouds, the whole bit. Hot, but not muggy. Just a perfect summer day.

Stacey was sitting for Jamie Newton and his baby sister Lucy while Mrs. Newton visited with an aunt who had just gotten home from the hospital.

"I have something for you," Jamie said to Stacey. She was sitting on the front porch, keeping an eye on Lucy, who was bouncing in her baby seat. Jamie stood on the bottom step, his hands behind his back.

"You do?" asked Stacey, smiling. Jamie is one of our favorite charges. He's four, and he's as cute as a puppy. In fact, at that moment Stacey couldn't help but think of puppies when she looked at Jamie. He had this sweet, hopeful look in his eyes, just like a puppy who's angling for a treat. "What is it?" Stacey asked.

Jamie pulled a bunch of flowers from behind his back. "These!" he said. "I picked them myself!"

Stacey stared at the flowers, horrified. This was not a handful of dandelions or clover blossoms. This was a big bunch of flowers - with roots still attached!

"Jamie!" said Stacey. ''Where did you get those?"

"From the flower patch, over there," Jamie said, pointing toward the huge, colorful flower bed that Mrs. Newton is so proud of.

"Oh, Jamie," said Stacey. "I love the flowers, I really do. But flowers need to stay in the ground."

Jamie looked crestfallen.

"Come on," said Stacey, giving him a hug. I'll help you tuck them in." She lifted Lucy out of the baby seat, carried her over near the flower beds, and put her down to crawl in the gra.s.s. Then she got to work replanting the flowers Jamie had pulled up. She stuck each one back into the ground, hoping that they would live. Then she watered them carefully and sat back to look. If Mrs. Newton didn't check too closely, she might not notice the few wilted blooms amid her thriving plants.

"I'm sorry, Stacey," said Jamie. "I just wanted to give you a present." He frowned and rubbed at the chicken pox scar on his cheek. Jamie and Lucy both had chicken pox not that long ago.

"That's okay, Jamie," said Stacey. She glanced over at Lucy, who was busy pulling up gra.s.s. Lucy peered back with an innocent, "who, me?" look in her eyes. Stacey sighed.

The Newton children seemed to be determined to destroy their yard that day. "How about if we take Miss Lucy Jane for a walk in her stroller?" Stacey asked Jamie. "We'll go visit Claudia. She's baby-sitting for Charlotte Johanssen, around the corner."

"Yea!" said Jamie. "Claudee!" Jamie's always called me that.

Lucy smiled broadly, showing all four of her teeth. She knows what "walk" means, and she loves her stroller.

Stacey grabbed her backpack, stuck an extra bottle and a diaper in it, and left a note for Mrs. Newton. Then they were off. At first they went slowly, since Jamie insisted on pus.h.i.+ng the stroller. "Lucy only likes it when I push,". he said. After a half-block, though, he was distracted by a beetle crawling on the sidewalk, and Stacey took over.

When the three of them arrived at the Johanssens', they found Charlotte and me out in the driveway, along with Becca, who had come over to visit. We were taking turns bouncing a little red rubber ball and playing this game I had taught them.

"A my name is Alice and my husband's name is Al," said Charlotte, bouncing the ball.

"We come from Alabama, and we sell - uh - apples?'

Then Becca took over. "B my name is Bertha and my husband's name is Bart. We come from - from Bermuda and we sell baseball bats."

"My turn!" I said. I was having a great time. "C my name is Claudia," I said, grinning while I bounced the ball. "And my husband's name is Carl. We come from California and we sell cardigans!"

"Good job, Claud," said Stacey, applauding. She had snuck up on us, and now she and Jamie stood clapping while Lucy grinned from her stroller. "But couldn't you have thought of something more creative to sell? Like canaries, maybe? Or cannonb.a.l.l.s?"

"Cats!" shouted Jamie.

"Chipmunks!" yelled Becca, giggling.

"Clarinets!" said Charlotte. "Clouds! Cocoa Puffs!" She and Becca shrieked with laughter.

I laughed and bent to give Jamie, who was also doubled over with giggles, a hug. "Good to see you guys," I said. "What are you up to?"

"We're taking a walk!" said Jamie.

"Great idea," I said.

"We want to walk, too," said Becca. "Let's go somewhere."

Stacey and I exchanged looks and shrugs. Both of us were sitting for the whole day, so it didn't matter much what we did. "I've been carrying around some penny rolls," she said, "and I'm tired of my backpack being so heavy. We could drop them off at the bank, and then maybe walk around town a little."

"Let's go! We can window-shop," said Becca.

"Shop for windows?" asked Jamie. "I don't want to buy any windows."

Giggling again, Becca explained what she'd meant.

"We could get ice cream, too," said Charlotte, licking her lips.

Stacey checked to make sure Lucy's diaper was dry and that she was comfortable in her stroller. I went inside and left a note for Dr. Johanssen, Charlotte's mother. (We always leave notes, even if we don't expect the parents back for hours.) We set off for town, with each of the three kids taking turns pus.h.i.+ng Lucy's stroller. Lucy dozed off immediately, and Jamie kept himself busy counting everything - cracks in the sidewalk, cars in driveways - everything. As we walked, Stacey and the girls and I played the "A my name is Alice" game some more. We were getting sillier and sillier.

"G my name is Gertrude," I said, "and my husband's name is Gus. We come from Germany, and we sell giraffes."

"H my name is - is - is Heather," said Becca, "and my husband's name is Harry. We come from Honolulu, and we sell hangers."

By the time we reached downtown Stoneybrook, we'd been all the way through the alphabet and we were back at B again. Charlotte and Becca really lost it when Charlotte said her name was Bettina and that she and her husband Bob, who were from Baltimore, sold boogers.

"Okay, okay," said Stacey, trying to calm them down. "That's enough now. It's time to go into the bank, so let's quiet down a little, okay?"

Charlotte and Becca had one more explosion of giggles, but then they grew serious. "Is this the bank all the money is missing from?" Charlotte asked, looking up at the fancy facade. I nodded. Charlotte is a smart little girl, and she doesn't miss much. I realized she must have overheard Stacey and me when we mentioned the bank mystery during the walk downtown. Charlotte turned to Becca. "Let's be detectives," she said, "Quick, put on your disguise." She turned the baseball cap she was wearing backward and grinned at Becca. Becca pulled a pair of sungla.s.ses out of her pocket and stuck them on.

The three kids went through the revolving door - pus.h.i.+ng it around and around until a guard gave them a sharp look - while Stacey and I maneuvered Lucy's stroller through the regular doors. Then I waited with the kids while Stacey stood on line to turn in her penny rolls. I looked around, wondering how it could be possible for such a well-guarded bank to be robbed.