What Makes A Detective.

Chapter 2

It was evening on the same day, and Toby was sitting with a book of fairytales on his lap, trying to find Hansel and Gretel. His brother Tarquin, now back from extra tuition, was with him, and they were both in their shared study room, lovingly labelled The Snug.

"Toby, let it rest" Tarquin sighed, for the third time.

"But I am right!" Toby replied, still flicking through the book. "I know I am!"

"And I say you're wrong!" Tarquin argued, pulling the book out of Toby's hands, and putting it up on a shelf where he couldn't reach. "Now, for heaven's sake shut up about it!"

Toby scowled at his brother, sitting down in his usual armchair and folding his arms sulkily. Tarquin took up his usual position, up on a big old oak trunk with cushions on the top, leaning against the wall. There was a pause.

"Nope!" Tarquin snapped, as Toby made a sudden bid for the book on the shelf. The elder brother leapt off the trunk, tackling his younger sibling as he reached for the offending book. They both went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and Toby actually got a good elbow to Tarquin's nose before his much taller, stronger brother sat on him, pinning him to the floor and holding his wrists above his head.

"Good hit, but not necessary" Tarquin pointed out, voice thickened by the blood streaming from his nose where Toby's elbow had connected. "Now, are you going to let this drop, or am I going to have to burn Mother's book?"

Toby scowled again as a few drips of Tarquin's blood landed on his shirt. Mother was going to be upset.

"I'll let it drop" he lied, as convincingly as he could manage. What he really meant was 'I'll drop it while I'm in the house, but the second it's Saturday I'm heading straight down to the library to find out for certain.'

Tarquin let him up, still watching his brother keenly in order to see if he would make a bid for the book again. But Toby had set the date for the library, so by then, wasn't interested.

"You might want to clean up your face, Quinne" he pointed out smugly, sitting back down in his armchair. Now it was Tarquin's turn to scowl.

"Do you want a matching one?" he threatened, pointing at his bust nose. Toby put his hands up pacifyingly and shook his head. Tarquin stalked out, and despite his frustration over being wrong, Toby cracked a smile.

But half a second later, Quinne was back, with a handkerchief over his nose and a worried expression on his face. Toby sat up, confused.

"Come" his brother ordered, as the two of them hurried to the window.

"Quinne, what's..." Toby began.

"Shhhh!" Tarquin shushed him, as he fiddled with the latch. "Mother'll kill us if she catches us!"

"Quinne! What are we..." Toby started again, before Tarquin clamped a firm hand over his little brother's mouth.

"There's a body on the pavement. I saw it out the window" he explained, in a hushed whisper. Toby's eyes opened wide behind his brother's fingers. He struggled, eventually freeing his mouth.

"We have to get Mother!" he told his elder brother.

"Yeah, but we need someone out there first!" Tarquin pointed out firmly. "Keep an eye on the body. Who knows how long Mother'll be!"

"Alright" Toby agreed.

"Well, out you go" Tarquin ordered. Toby started.

"Why me?"

"Cos I can't fit through the window. Go on, little brother. Scram."

With that, Tarquin grabbed ahold of Toby and shoved him bodily out of the window, Toby himself landing hard in his mother's hydrangea patch. Whoops.