What Makes A Detective.

Chapter 3

Toby was almost dropping asleep when Quinne returned with the police. It seemed his brother, too, was shattered, having cycled the whole five miles to Richmond in under an hour. Toby guided him down to the wall he had been sitting on for the last forty or so minutes.

"How do you feel?" he asked his older brother, who shrugged loosely.

"My legs hurt" he admitted. "So do my arms. I have a thumping pain in my nose, and it's spreading across my face. I wonder whose fault that was?"

Toby winced guiltily.

"Sorry, Quinne. If it helps, I haven't half got a bruise from when you pushed me out that window" he apologised. His brother rolled his eyes at him.

"That's why I did it, you clot."

Toby glowered at his brother, and tried to push him off the wall. Sadly Tarquin, being bigger and stronger, shoved him to the pavement in one go. Toby rubbed his elbows and sat up.

"Quinne, have you noticed there's no blood on the pavement?" he then asked. Tarquin looked strangely at him for a second, before turning to inspect the body, which was now surrounded by a gaggle of policemen.

"You're right, Toby" he mused. "There is a distinct lacking in the blood department."

"Which means she was dumped here, right?" Toby carried on keenly. Tarquin's usually sarcastic face creased into a mix of disbelief, worry and confusion.

"I suppose..." he sighed.

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Toby persisted, shuffling across the pavement and looking up at his brother, who seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

"Yeah" he agreed. "I suppose you are."

"And she's been hit over the head with a mirror, I think" Toby added, climbing back up onto the wall excitedly. "Those little sparks of light-they look like metal, but there's no way metal would have shattered like that."

"But why hit her over the head with a mirror?" Tarquin asked disbelievingly.

"I don't know" Toby admitted. "But I'd give anything to find out."

There was a meaningful cough from above them. Both boys looked up. Above them, doing his best to look more imposing than he actually was, stood a decidedly broad, rather sleepy-looking young man of about twenty-eight, Toby guessed. He had a broad mop of striking ginger hair, rather terrifying matching eyebrows, and he was holding a notepad and pencil.

"Detective Sargeant Barnes" he introduced himself promptly. "I've been informed you two boys were the pair that found the body."

"Yeah" Tarquin answered, shooting his little brother a warning glance.

"Names?" the Detective Sargeant asked.

"Tarquin and Tobias Smart" the elder brother replied, standing up, and Toby followed.

"So, what exactly happened?" was the next question.

"Toby-Tobias-was sitting in our study, there" Tarquin began to explain. "I'd just left him, and I came into the sitting room, which is that window there." He pointed. "I saw the body, and went to get Tobias. He stayed guard here while I went to fetch my mother."

"I'll need to speak to your mother later, young man." Barnes informed Tarquin. "But first, I'll need to speak to your younger brother. Would you give us a moment's privacy and fetch your mother?"

Tarquin looked like he was going to protest, but the Detective Sargeant stared him down until he gave up and sidled away.

"So" Barnes asked. "You came out of the house on your brother's orders..."