“Neither,” Sandy told him. “Just some information. Did you sell a roll of thirty-five millimeter this morning?”
The clerk’s eyebrows rose. “Are you crazy? I must have sold at least fifty. In case you don’t know it, chum, tomorrow is Christmas and quite a few people seem to want to take pictures that day.”
“I know,” Sandy said, “but—”
“Wait,” Ken interrupted. “Let’s put it this way. Did you sell any to a man who either didn’t seem to know anything about film, or who didn’t care what kind he bought?”
The clerk’s eyebrows rose another fraction of an inch. “Of all the idiotic—” he began, and then stopped. He looked at the boys sharply for an instant, and then called over his shoulder to a fellow clerk. “Rick! Got a second?”
Rick left his customer who was examining a small camera and joined them. “What’s up?”
“Didn’t you tell me about some queer duck who came in this morning to buy film and didn’t know what size he wanted or what speed or anything?”
Rick nodded. “Sure. He just asked for film. When I asked what size, he said it didn’t matter. And then when I kind of stared at him he said it was for a little camera. I figured he meant a miniature job, so I suggested a cartridge of thirty-five millimeter and he said that would be fine. But he didn’t know whether he wanted color film or black and white, and he didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned high-speed stuff. I finally gave him a spool of the cheapest film we have, just to get rid of him.”
Ken made an effort to keep his voice calm. “Do you remember what he looked like?”
“I probably wouldn’t remember my own mother if she came in here today,” Rick said with a grin. “But I do recall one more funny thing about that guy,” he added suddenly. “Right after he left I had to reach into the front window for a camera some customer wanted to see, and I noticed him crossing the street. The dumb cluck was opening the cartridge box and exposing the film to the light! He’s sure going to be in for a surprise when he tries to take pictures with it.”