What Makes A Detective.

Chapter 6

The following morning, Toby came down to breakfast in a decidedly good mood. Quinne staggered down a few minutes later, dark circles under his eyes and hands red raw. Toby tried not to laugh despite himself. The previous night, it had turned out that it was Tarquin who had missed his bakery shift, which had resulted in a severe telling off from their mother and a pile of dirty dishes the size of a large greyhound.

"Don't laugh" Quinne said sourly, slumping down at the table with a bowl of porridge. Toby allowed a small smile to stretch across his lips, but he did try to hide it behind his spoon.

"Where's Mother?" Toby then asked curiously, looking around, and at the pot of abandoned porridge on the stove.

"How should I know, blockhead?" Quinne grumbled. Toby scowled at him. Obviously today wasn't a good day to antagonize his brother. Shame.

Quinne was still looking thunderous, so Toby got up quickly and left. His mother had pinned a list to his bedroom door that morning, and it was a list of everything she expected to be on the bakery shelves by lunchtime. He was going to be very busy.

In fact, Toby was just putting a tray of blueberry and white chocolate chip cookies in the oven when his mother came bustling through the door.

"Tobias, I'm expecting you here all day" she snapped firmly. "Bake whatever you want, ice them however you want, just stay here."

"What...what do you mean, Mother?" Toby asked confusedly, flicking off the oven gloves and pausing for a second, leaning on the worktop.

"I mean, stay here" his mother repeated firmly, but Toby heard the catch in her voice.

"Mother?" he asked again, biting his lip worriedly.

His mother sighed heavily, sweeping her son up into a crushing hug.

"Pippa Nevison, at number 14" she murmured. "Her little baby girl was found dead this morning in her crib. Little Ruby. Poisoned."

Toby bit his lip so hard he nearly drew blood, taking a deep breath and hugging his mother back tightly. There was a silence, both of them, it seemed, comforting the other.

"I know what you're thinking, Mother" Toby said quietly.

"Of course you do" his mother fussed, stroking his hair and messing it up. "You're a Smart. You know far too much about everything."

"You think there's someone out to get all the children" Toby carried on. His mother let him go quite abruptly, guiding him back to the worksurface and planting a wooden spoon in his hand.

"Don't ask questions" she snapped, all traces of tenderness gone in an instant. "And don't leave the bakery."

"Do we need another consolatory cake, Mother?" Toby sighed heavily, putting down the spoon. He wouldn't need that just yet.

"Don't you go delivering it on your own!" his mother warned, as she disappeared out of the door. Toby took that as a no and got back to work. His head was spinning. Another child's death? Ruby Nevison had been born eight or nine months ago, and the village had practically exploded with the excitement, partly because Ruby had been such a beautiful little girl and secondly because her mother, Pippa Nevison, had struggled to have a child before Ruby.

Toby shook his head, wiping his eyes with his wrist as his hands were covered in bread batter. Mrs. Nevison must have been heartbroken. Struggling to control his emotions, Toby ended up taking most of his confusion and anger out on the unfortunate dough ball he was supposed to be kneading. If anything, this made him want to get more involved, but then at the same time, he was now half-scared to death.