Free Stage Fright by Gabrielle Holly Page A

definitely had an eye,” Mike said, “great composition.”
    Toni chuckled at the jack-of-all-trades. Don’t tell me, you’re a photographer too?”
    Mike grinned, “Two years as editor of my high school newspaper.”
    The photographs were in chronological order with notations in Priscilla’s neat hand. They’d reviewed pictures of parades and politicians and garden club shows before Thomas said, “Skip ahead to ’55 Toni.” Toni flipped through the leaves and paused at a certificate from 1955. She read the inscription, “‘Award of Excellence from the Midwest Chapter of the Continental Photojournalism Society for Best Breaking News Image.’” On the facing page was an enlarged photo of a theatre engulfed in fire. The flames framed the Rialto marquee and the words, ‘Grand Opening Tonight’.
    Toni pinched the lower right corner of the leaf. A vibration travelled up her arm. “Here we go,” she muttered. She took two gulps from her beer then turned the page.
    The first images showed the façade of the Rialto at dusk with the sign unlit. The visual story progressed with the lighting of the marquee, the arrival of the first patrons and the line forming on the sidewalk. There were shots of the theatre at full dark and close-ups of the sign, followed by a panicked crowd rushing out of the front doors silhouetted by plumes of smoke. Next was a smaller version of Priscilla’s award-winning shot and images of the fire trucks. A portrait of an exhausted fire-fighter, his face weary and smudged, was the last in the series. Toni lifted the page and found the rest of the book empty. She let the page fall and stared again at the images of the theatre. She felt the corners of her eyes sting with impending tears. “I was so sure,” she whispered.
    Thomas laid his hand on hers. “It’s dark in here, Tone. Obviously you found Priscilla’s album for a reason. Maybe we could scan the photos, do some digital enhancement…”
    “There’s nothing here, Thomas!” Toni whispered. Her voice barely registered above the din.
    Thomas slid his arms across her shoulder blades and pulled her into him. He kissed her on the temple. The tenderness of it touched her and the tears that had been threatening began to flow. She blinked to clear her vision when the waiter appeared with their food. He looked awkwardly at Toni. “Uh, should I come back?”
    Toni shook her head and fumbled to close the album. Her thumbnail caught on the edge of a photo, and she felt it spring free from one of the black mounting corners. She stuffed the album in the space between her hip and the wall.
    “You dropped something,” the waiter said, holding the plate of nachos a few inches above the table. Toni looked down at her lap. “No,” the waiter corrected, indicating a spot with a nod of his head. “It’s on the table.”
    Bridget was the first to locate the little brown strip of acetate. She picked it up by the edges and the waiter laid out the food. “Anything else right away, folks?” the waiter asked. Toni couldn’t answer. She could only stare at the Bridget’s hand. When no one at the table spoke up, the waiter said he’d check back.
    “Is that—?” Thomas began.
    “Film negative,” Bridget said nodding.
    Mike held out his hand and Bridget passed him the strip. He held it up to the dim light hanging above the table. “There are three images,” he said. “Let’s go get this developed.” He handed it back to Bridget and she slipped it into a file folder in her bag.
    Thomas motioned for the waiter and asked him to pack up the food to go. The four grabbed their Styrofoam containers and slid out of the booth. Thomas glanced at the cheque, fished a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table.
    They were out on the street before Thomas said what the others were likely thinking. “We don’t even know what’s on it, Mike. We can’t just hand it over to some kid at the photo counter. Even if we could, who the hell is