Free Breaking Point by Jon Demartino

negative in the file with Charlie's name on it and we always keep the negative." Back at the counter, he opened a long file drawer behind him and went through the alphabetical cards. “I don't think I'll find anything in here."
                  "No. There's no receipt either. That's not so strange, though. Matt probably didn't charge him for it. But I don't know why there's no negative."
                  "Do you know what the job was that Barr did for Charlie?"
                  "I think he made a negative from a photo that Charlie had. We have a little darkroom where we do some black-and-white work from time to time. Then we put the negative in a glassine envelope and write the person's name and address or at least the phone number on it."
                  "Would it have been a color photo, do you know, or a black-and-white?"
                  "We only make black-and-white prints here, but we can do it from either a color or a black-and-white photo. I remember though, that Charlie brought in a glossy black-and-white picture, an eight-by-ten.
                  Well," I ventured, "If Matt made the negative, he'd have given it to Charlie, right? So there wouldn't be one here."
                  "No, there'd still be some here. He takes a couple of shots of the picture and then develops them and prints from the best negative. But all the negatives, maybe three of them, would be filed here in case the customer wants more copies later."
                  "But if Charlie wanted all the copies, would Matt have given them to him?"
                  "We usually don't, but for Charlie, maybe he did. You'll have to ask Matt next week. What exactly are you looking for anyway?"
                  I was already halfway through the door as I answered back over my shoulder,               "You were a big help. Thanks." I waved on the way to my car.

Chapter 8
     
                  I checked my watch and figured this might be a good time to catch Charlie Wilson's parents at home and ask them about that missing photograph. I'd set the framed picture that was taken on their porch last Christmas on top of my desk and pasted their phone number to the glass. I peeled the note free and carried it over to the living room where I could be comfortable.
                  "Hello, Mrs. Wilson?" I inquired when an older woman answered.
                  "Yes."
                  I identified myself and told her that her daughter-in-law had hired me to investigate Charlie's death. She seemed somewhat relieved to hear it.
                  "His father and I can't believe it's possible that Charlie could have just fallen in that water. And we certainly don't think he would take his own life," she said in a wavering voice. "I guess anything would be easier to accept than that, even if he was murdered. Is that what you think? That he was murdered?"
                  "No, no. Nothing definite yet, Mrs. Wilson. I'm just looking at all the information and we'll have to see where that leads us. Right now I'm wondering about the photograph that's missing from your home. Can you tell me something about it? Was it an eight by ten?"
                  "Well, I think it was. It was pasted in an album that Charlie was looking through it when he and Iris were here last. It would have been at Christmas. Then, after we heard about his," she paused, "his death...well...I was looking back at some of the old albums. The picture of him getting that citizenship award was missing. I'm pretty sure it was there before Charlie had the album. If Charlie or Iris didn't take it home, I don't know what else could have happened to it."
                  "Iris said there is a similar one?" I made it a question.
                  "Oh yes. The newspaper man was there and everything. It was