What Makes A Detective.

Chapter 10

Toby was sitting reading Snow White on the floor when the librarian returned, a pile of books and papers in her hands.

"These are all the copies we have" she said briskly. Toby decided in that second that playing dumb was probably his best option, since he reckoned he had stumbled upon something very useful here.

"Why are there pages ripped out of books, Mrs. Horton?" he asked, taking the pile from her. The librarian paused, as if trying to think of an excuse.

"Is that the thing you've not been telling them policemen, Mrs. Horton?" Toby carried on, although he knew he was rather pushing his luck. "Cos I think it's that child killer that's been doing it."

That was, in hindsight, Toby realized later, a very stupid thing to say at that time. If he'd been wrong in his judge of character, he could have then landed himself in a whole heap of trouble, trouble which probably he wouldn't have got out of alive. But as it stood, his judgment was correct, and Mrs. Horton only looked very sad, and sighed again.

"The killer hasn't been ripping up those books, Toby" she told the young boy, who dumped his pile of books on a side to listen to her.

"So who did?" Toby asked innocently.

Mrs. Horton sighed for a third time, looking dejected.

"I have" she admitted.

Nodding slowly, Toby put the pile of books on the side, on top of Snow White.

"Why?" he said skeptically. "And why haven't you admitted to that?"

"You wouldn't understand..."

"I can try."

Toby folded his arms, blocking the old woman's path as she tried to pass him. Frustrated, the librarian moved to her left. Toby moved to his right, to block her again.

"You don't know what this is, young man!" Mrs. Horton snapped. "It's dangerous..."

"Who's next?" Toby demanded, still determinedly getting in the way. "You know who's next, don't you? Tell me, and we can try and save their life!"

"I don't know who's next!" the librarian shouted, plunging the whole, already quiet library into instant silence. Toby stood, iron-faced, solid and determined, as Mrs. Horton seemed to lose all motivation.

"But I can tell you which fairytale it'll be" she admitted.

"Which one?" Toby asked curtly, cocking his head to one side. "Tell me."

"Snow White."

"How do you know?" was Toby's next question. The librarian seemed to gather herself, in order to stand against him, but a freezing cold glare from the boy reduced her to a shaking, crying mess.

"Because that's the story I gave her to read next" she sniffed. "She's harmless really. She doesn't know what she's doing..."

"Oh, I think she does" Toby cut in derisively, with a snort. "Who is she?"

The baleful eyes that turned on him told that he had pushed it a little far.

"Fine" he sighed. "Where can I find her?"

"In...Harper Woods" the librarian eventually stammered. "In the old woodcutter's cottage, up on the hill."

Toby nodded firmly.

"Go and find Barnes and Carmen" he ordered. "Tell them everything you know."

He glared her down until she left. When she did, he began to brainstorm. Snow White. How could people die in Snow White?

He then mentally slapped himself for even asking that question. There was only one way anyone was ever going to die in Snow White.

Which meant right now, he needed to be back outside, at the fête, where the apples were.

He passed Mrs. Horton in the street, at a dead sprint. Running up to the fête and ducking in a back way under the tent poles, Toby began to search for the apple bobbing stall that he knew was always run by the McKinnons every year.

But as he reached it, he suddenly stopped. Casually, but with his heart beating fast, he walked up to Maisie McKinnon, the younger of the two McKinnon sisters at eleven years old.

"Maisie" he said slowly. "Where's your sister?"

The little ginger speck of a girl shrugged loosely at him.

"I dunno, Toby" she replied brightly, smiling. "She went off a little while ago. Said she'd be back soon..."

Toby slammed his fist on the table, making Maisie squeal and jump back, whimpering.

"Sorry" Toby apologized briskly, as the little girl began to cry. "Sorry, sorry..."

Moving away, Toby tried desperately to work out where Bridget could have got to. He was worried, there was no denying that, but he wasn't sure whether it was due to paranoia or good instinct. This was a problem, as the two different theories could have very different outcomes, depending on whether he was right or wrong...

Toby mentally slapped himself again. Time to be practical. He'd call in at the McKinnons' house first, then run out to Harper Woods and work his way back to the fête from there...

"Toby?" Quinne asked. Toby jumped. His brother had sneaked up behind him, without a word.

"Can't find Bridge" he explained quickly, mind still whirring. "And Snow White's the next fairytale on the list."

"What?" Quinne gasped. "How do you..."

"Shut up, Quinne!" Toby cut him off, a little frantically. "We've got to find her!"

"Snow White was only fifteen or sixteen in the original story" Tarquin realized aloud. Toby rolled his eyes frustratedly.

"Quinne, I KNOW. That's why we've got to find her!" he snapped, fighting down the flush of emotions now soaring round his body. "We'll go down to her house first, check she's not at home. Come on!"

The two of them instantly spun and pelted out of the fête ground, across the road and down the lane to where Bridget lived. She lived in a pretty little cottage, red brick, two storeys, with roses climbing up the walls and a perfect little garden with a white picket gate.

Quinne, who had the longer legs of the two brothers, leapt that gate with ease, before banging hard on the white front door, setting off the seven (Toby always thought seven was a bit excessive) dogs that lived around the back.

Toby stopped at the gate as Tarquin rapped sharply on the door, before shouting Bridget's name over the cacophony of barks erupting from behind the house. Toby shouted too, but both boys knew really that Bridget wasn't home.

"Go get Carmen and Barnes" he ordered his older brother firmly. "I'll start a search from Harper Woods and back into the village-"

"Toby!" Quinne sighed. "I'm not leaving you on your own..."

"I'm safe for now" Toby snapped back. "But Bridge isn't, and I know more about this case than you do. We've a better chance of both getting out if I go to find her."

Quinne shook his head, and for a moment, things got a little sentimental.

"If you go missing..." the elder Smart brother began.

"Look for me up in the old woodcutter's cottage, up on the hill" Toby finished briskly. "Now run."

Reluctantly on the latter's part, Toby and Quinne separated. The younger Smart brother arrived at the outskirts of Harper Woods, out of breath, and gasping heavily. There was nobody in sight, but Toby had hardly expected there to be anyone. He shrugged, changing his mind. Originally, he had been planning on working back into the village, but mentioning the woodcutter's cottage to Quinne had made Toby all the more sure that Bridget would actually be there.

It was still daylight, Toby shrugged, as he trod slowly over broken branches and leaves, walking towards the edge of Harper Woods. And plus, he knew how to get to where he wanted to go.

What could possibly go wrong?