A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing this fic!

Chapter 4: The Beginnings of Inquests

It was just as Gavroche was about to reach for a third portfolio in the shelf when he suddenly heard the archives' door creak open. "Uncle Gavroche!" a high pitched voice chirped.

Gavroche stepped back just in time to catch Laure as she sprang on him. "Now who's turned you loose, mome?" he laughed as he swung her by her arms to set her back on her feet.

The little girl giggled as she regained her footing. "Papa said I could come along with him today," she replied in a matter of fact tone. "Me and Julien didn't have to go to school in the morning since our teachers are sick. Maman said that I could go with Papa to his meetings because I can be quieter than Julien and Tienne."

Gavroche chuckled at the idea of his brother in law being unable to work for longer than a few minutes at a stretch, owing to this little girl's endless queries. He quickly picked up his pocketbook and stashed it in his coat pocket upon hearing footsteps in the corridor. "Looks like you've misplaced this imp!" he called to Enjolras, who was now swiftly walking to the entrance of the archives room.

Laure ran up to her father and tugged on the hem of his coat. "Uncle Gavroche is here! He could help you look for the papers!" she exclaimed

"He might have work of his own to do," Enjolras said as he scooped her up. "As for you though, you shouldn't just run off without telling someone you're leaving."

Laure wrinkled her nose. "I don't see any bad people, Papa."

"That's not the only thing to worry about, petite," Enjolras pointed out. He nodded apologetically to Gavroche. "I hope she was not disturbing you."

"She's doing me a good turn," Gavroche quipped. "What business brings you here?"

"Searching for a certain precedent," Enjolras answered, stopping to wipe some dust off Laure's face. "Bahorel gave me permission to go through the archives for a report."

'No doubt for some case of his,' Gavroche thought even as he caught sight of Bahorel hurriedly walking up to this scene. He quickly saluted the senior detective before hurriedly snatching up the papers he had been working on earlier. "Here, saved from being tinder."

Bahorel snorted as he began perusing the documents. "These are lacking a signatory."

"Who you have to reel in from the Invalides," Gavroche remarked gleefully before saluting again and walking off before Bahorel could ask any more questions about the documents. He had only gone a few steps when he suddenly felt a tug on his arm. "Now what are you hopping about?" he asked Laure.

"Papa said I should ask you if you're busy," Laure chirped as she bounced up and down. "You're just walking. I want to see this place."

"You be careful there little mouse, you might poke into a hole that's too large," Gavroche warned. Although he considered his fellow agents as far better than most scoundrels, he was still aware of the impression their manners could make on little Laure. "I'm sure you've had some grub already, but there's a place with good cakes nearby, just round the corner," he suggested.

"You can have just one, Laure. It's almost the hour for lunch," Enjolras called from inside the archives room. "I'll see you both there in a while."

Laure grinned as she began skipping in an attempt to keep up with Gavroche. "Papa didn't say how big the cake could be," she whispered conspiratorially.

"What you'll need next is a giant to split the cake with," Gavroche remarked as they headed downstairs and out onto the street. They headed down to the corner of the Rue de Pontoise and the Rue Saint Victor, where there was a small confectioner's shop that always displayed delicately iced cakes and pastries in the window. On this day the baker had chosen to make a tower of puffs filled with cream and garnished with stripes of fruit glazes. Gavroche laughed when he saw his niece's eyes go wide at the sight. "Four or five of those should count for one cake," he said.

Laure put her fists together, as if making some sort of estimation. "Can I have the ones covered in oranges?" she asked. "I don't like the red ones; they might be raspberries."

"Picky!" Gavroche said. Yet just as he was about to step into the shop he noticed a lady about to step into the Rue de Pontoise. He tipped his hat to her. "Good day to you Citizenness Debault."

Minette stopped in her tracks, nearly dropping her shawl in the process. "To you to Citizen...Thenardier, isn't it?" she asked with a bemused, slightly embarrassed smile.

"You have named me well," Gavroche replied with a grin. "This isn't a place for strolling."

"It's a matter of taste," Minette said. Her voice was velvety but a little soft, as if she was somewhat tired from the previous evening. "Is Citizen Tolbert at the Prefecture right now?" she asked in a lower tone.

"He is out on an assignment," Gavroche answered. "Who knows when he'll be back?"

The lady sighed until she noticed Laure hopping impatiently beside Gavroche. "Now what is your name, little girl?" she cooed.

"I'm Laure," the child replied with a smile. "Are you just Citizenness Debault?"

"Some people call me Minette," the woman replied candidly. "How old are you?"

"I turned six last summer," Laure said proudly. "How do you know my Uncle Gavroche?"

Minette's eyes widened with surprise as color flooded her cheeks. "Your uncle? How so-"

"Laure is the oldest child of my oldest sister," Gavroche managed to say, even if he could not quite meet the discomfited young woman's eyes. "I'm only old enough to be Laure's eldest brother."

"That would be quite a stretch," Minette laughed as she looked at Laure again. "She looks so much like you though-but I see it now. Your sister is Citizenness Enjolras."

'It sounds so dignified but she's always going to be Ponine to a lot of us,' Gavroche thought with a mirthful smile. "Nothing is preventing you from stepping in with us to get some sweets," he said after a few moments.

Minette peered curiously at the shop display. "If you mean to get those bits of air, then you're better off getting fruit tarts or something with more filling. That pastry is mostly spun sugar," she pronounced after a few moments.

Laure looked up; clearly catching Minette's disapproving tone. "I told Papa I was getting cake, not those," she finally said. "That might be nicer."

"Cake? What do you mean?" Minette asked.

"I saw the baker bringing out some when we were walking up here," Laure said thoughtfully. "They smelled really good too."

Minette chuckled as she patted the top of Laure's head. "Then I shan't say anything if your uncle wants to get you those."

Laure smiled widely. "You're a pretty lady, and really nice. My uncle should like you."

Gavroche froze on hearing Minette laugh at this observation. "Now that's a fancy thought!" he muttered as he opened the patisserie door and motioned for Minette and Laure to step in. Yet before he could set one foot across the threshold he caught sight of a fiacre swiftly turning into the Rue de Pontoise; in another moment he realized that Tolbert and Frassin were in the carriage, deep in discussion. 'They've found some picking, for certain,' he thought as he rushed into the shop and over to where Minette was helping Laure pick out a small strawberry cake. "Come now, we have to hurry!"

Minette nearly dropped her purse on seeing Gavroche's troubled mien. "Now what's the matter?"

"Your friend," Gavroche answered before quickly putting several sous down on the counter. "The raspberry pastry for me, and also wrap up that one with citrons, if you please," he said to the surprised baker at the counter. He looked to Minette. "Anything you would like?"

"I've already paid for it," the woman replied, gesturing to another wrapped cake on the counter. "It's to share, if you must ask."

'Not with me though,' Gavroche could not help thinking even as he gathered up his purchases. In a few minutes they were back at the Prefecture's headquarters, in time to see Tolbert at the door, regaling a whole circle of agents with a story. "Good day Citizen Roadblock!" Gavroche greeted.

Tolbert's eyes narrowed for a moment with fury before an expression of pure scorn passed across his face. "You have fallen far behind, Thenardier. We almost have our man in the Invalides case."

"What and you still cannot get your foot in the door!" Gavroche retorted, gesturing to the threshold.

Tolbert gritted his teeth at the snickers that rippled throughout his audience, but he squared his shoulders and went over to Minette. "Do you need anything, Citizenness?" he asked.

Minette put one hand akimbo. "Is that any sort of proper greeting, Citizen Tolbert?"

"As you can see, I am at work, Citizenness Debault," Tolbert said, making a bow.

Minette swatted his arm. "As a town crier? Has the Prefecture got nothing better for its agents to do?"

Gavroche laughed even as he ushered Laure past this confusion and into the building. "There goes the luncheon!" he said to himself before nodding to Enjolras, who was headed down the stairs. "The ink clearly has not stuck to you," he said.

"The news has," Enjolras replied ruefully. He smiled however when he made eye contact with his child. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Laure nodded happily as she wiped some icing off her face. "It's strawberry, Papa. Did you know that Uncle Gavroche also met a nice lady-"

"She is an acquaintance," Gavroche cut in. He handed the citron cake to Enjolras. "A splash of flour for the end of summer. You won't find any other in Paris."

"Thank you for this," Enjolras said as he put the wrapped cake in his satchel. He clapped Gavroche's back. "You're needed at the commissaire's office, now," he added in an undertone.

Gavroche just managed to keep a straight face as he walked to the commissaire's office. The office door was locked, prompting him to knock twice. "Here I am," he greeted when Bahorel opened the door.

Bahorel signed for him to enter and shut the door. "First off, the news. You may have heard that our perpetrator at the Invalides is a prowler, who had been observing his victim. He will be caught shortly since traces of him were seen too in the Rue de Cygnes."

"That's good for Tolbert," Gavroche muttered in a surly tone.

"Let him dine on that. As for us though, we have another problem." Bahorel brought out a newspaper and handed it to Gavroche. "You brought me a Brujon this morning. Now I bring you this."

Gavroche only had to find the word Toulouse in the article for him to know the story it told. Nevertheless he found himself riveted by the lurid details of what seemed to be a well planned attack on a cottage at the outskirts of the town. 'No wonder that only Montparnasse escaped with his life,' he thought as he came across a line about the wounds found on Babet and Defarge. "What do the police in Toulouse say?" he asked.

"They are still poking about," Bahorel said, wiggling his fingers on the tabletop akin to the manner of a snail. "The attack was not a burglary since the assailant left their possessions untouched."

'Not that they would have many pickings since they aren't supposed to be reaching about,' Gavroche thought. "Where is Montparnasse?"

"Alive-that much we know from the letter to your sister. Enjolras mentioned the missive sent to the Rue Guisarde yesterday," Bahorel replied. He took a deep breath as he sat down. "There have been no other attacks of a similar nature in Toulouse. They were specifically hunted; perhaps by someone from outside of the town."

"Someone in Paris, or rather Pantin," Gavroche muttered. "It's a long way to go."

Bahorel nodded slowly. "How closely did young Brujon's father work with them?"

"He could be counted on, more than Mangedentelle." The younger detective swallowed hard on seeing the pensive look crossing Bahorel's face. "Something's a trouble in the belfry?"

"Our present network of informants is hardly concerned with this old web." Bahorel got to his feet and went to a map that was taped on the wall. "The departments of the Seine have been rather tranquil. Our inquiry would be best begun in the prisons."

"Who do we have in the keeps?"

"A heap of Magnons, then the prowlers Panchaud, Deux-Millards, and the giant Gueuleumer," Bahorel jabbed his thumb on the location of La Force and another finger on Saint-Lazare. "Some of the women have been released, but I hardly doubt they would be in active commission."

Gavroche scoffed at this. "Hopefully they haven't mouldered away between the stones."

"That will be your task to find out." The older inspector handed a sealed note to Gavroche. "This is your passport into La Force. The warden will expect you to present this. Make sure you talk to the prisoners alone, and not in concert."

"What of young Brujon?" Gavroche asked.

"I've sent Frassin to watch him," Bahorel replied. He clasped Gavroche's arm. "You're the only man we have here who can see through this mire. We're counting on you for this."

The young man took a deep breath, now feeling the weight of his pocketbook in his coat. 'No need to say what's between my ears just yet,' he decided after a moment before making a snappy salute. "You'll have your answer in a blink, Citizen."