Photo Finished

Photo Finished

"These are awesome, Grandpa Mark!" exclaimed Stevie, as he absorbed every detail of each photograph before carefully laying it aside and taking the next one from the stack.  "A Bentley Cabriolet... a Rolls-Royce Phantom II... and a Duesenberg Model A - wow!"

Mark Thomas smiled, pleased that the boy enjoyed vintage cars so much; not many eight-year olds did.

"I wish I could have seen them, Grandpa. Where was the parade again?"

"It went right down Center Avenue from Founder's Park to the college.  I was at the edge of the sidewalk in front of Abe's Cafe with my camera and tripod, and was able to shoot straight across the street.  Yes, it was quite a sight.  It's too bad you were sick that day and......"  He broke off, as the boy brought two of the pictures up closer to his face.

"What is it, Stevie?"

"I thought maybe a man was sitting facing backwards in the front seat of this convertible, but it's just one of those optical tricks.  He's really near the window of the store on the other side of the street; it just looks like he's in the car.  See?" the boy said, handing the photos to his grandfather.

Mark studied both pictures, then pulled a magnifying glass from his desk drawer and looked at them even more closely.  The boy's sharp eyes had, indeed, caught some previously unnoticed details.  They were very disturbing.

In the first snapshot, the man 'facing backward' was right in front of the storefront window, his right hand and arm extended upward and almost ready to grasp the window shade.  A little behind him and to the left, another man also had his right hand and arm extended, but he was already holding something.  It was a gun, and it was pointed at an elderly man behind the store's counter.  Although the gunman's face was only visible in partial profile, the face of the man at the window was completely unobscured.  Mark looked at the other photo.  The shade had been pulled and you could no longer see into the store.

He glanced at the date and time stamps his camera had placed on the photos: last Saturday, five minutes after six for the first photo, six minutes after for the second.  The headline from the Sunday paper came back to him in a rush.  There had been a robbery at around six o'clock the day of the parade.  The till of a store on Central Avenue had been emptied and the shopkeeper had been savagely beaten.  His injuries had been so serious, he had only been able to tell the police that there had been two dark-haired men who may have been somewhere in their twenties.

Mark opened the telephone book to the government pages, found the non-emergency number for the police and dialed.

"Shepperton Police Department.  How may we help you?"

"Yes, well... This is Mark Thomas of 417 Astor Court."

"How can we help you, Mr. Thomas?"

"I was at the Vintage Car Parade last Saturday, and I think I may have some pictures of that robbery.  Should I bring them down?"

"Yes, sir.  We would very much appreciate it.  When you get here, ask for Detective Beckwith.  Thank you, Mr. Thomas."

"I'll be along, right after I drop my grandson off at his house."  Mark placed the phone back on the cradle, then began collecting up the photographs.

"Okay Stevie," he said, "get your things.  It looks like I'm going to be busy for awhile."

Down at the police station, Detective Beckwith scanned the first picture and then projected the image onto a wall.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't our old buddy, Dennis Porter," he said of the man at the window.  "Dollars to donuts the guy with the gun is Dennis' pal, Pete Sanders.  What do you think, Lou?" he asked his partner.

"Oh, yeah - it's them," replied the other detective.  He turned to Mark.

"We really appreciate your bringing this to our attention, Mr. Thomas.  By a happy coincidence, these gentlemen happen to be our 'guests' at the moment - a drunk and disorderly charge, as I recall.  One of Pete's cousins is working on scraping up bail money for them.  This will put the kibosh on that, but good."


[717 words]