It was the last day of school before the summer holidays, and while Luke Blake enjoyed learning and being with his mates, the prospect of spending so much time doing as he wished, sleeping as late as he wanted, and not having to wear his school uniform was something to look forward to.
To mark the occasion Luke's mother had sent a cake for the class to enjoy. Typically, Edward Tyneman, Jr., known as Neddy, had not only managed to wrangle the largest piece, but also a second piece when he thought no one was looking. But Luke had seen.
The teacher bade them goodbye and wished them all a pleasant summer. Luke and his best mates made their way outside. The smallest of them, Arthur Willis, glanced over at Neddy. The Tyneman boy was a year older and consequently much larger than anyone else in the class, and he never hesitated to use both his size and his family's position to intimidate others.
"I sure won't miss seeing him every day," said Arthur.
Luke silently agreed, but thought it unkind to say so. Instead, he said, "There's my mum. I've got to go. Bye."
Jean stood at the schoolyard gate watching her son run toward her. The sight of him never failed to lift her spirits. He threw his arms around her waist, and she hugged him back with equal fervour.
"Did you have a good last day?" she asked him.
He nodded.
"I'm glad. And in honour of it being the last day, I made your favourite biscuits for you."
"Shortbread?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course," she told him, and he hugged her again.
"Thanks, mum. Let's go!"
"Yes, let's go," said Jean, as they hurried toward home. "Your father has a waiting room full of patients to see, so I need to help him out."
Luke held her hand, practically dragging her the whole way, but Jean didn't mind in the least. When they reached home, he held the door for her. Lucien had been teaching him the finer points to being a gentleman.
He led the way to the kitchen, stopping only to greet his dog Nugget, who leapt in joy at the return of his young master. Luke accepted the licks from the puppy then slid into his chair at the table, waiting expectantly as Jean reached up into the cupboard to take down the biscuit tin and a glass for his milk.
"I made an extra large batch of shortbread, since your dad has several young patients scheduled for today," she told him. "A couple of your schoolmates, I believe." She handed him the biscuits and milk, then began to arrange more on a plate to take into the waiting room.
"Not all of them?" asked Luke, raising an eyebrow in the expression that Lucien always insisted was identical to her own.
"No, not all of them. I'm saving some for your father and for you tomorrow," she assured him.
Luke grinned, his eyes sparkling just like his father's. He finished his biscuits quickly and drained the glass of milk. "Thanks, mum," he said, as placed the glass and plate in the sink.
"Would you like to help me?" Jean asked.
He nodded, always eager to assist.
"Will you carry the plate of biscuits for me, please? I'll bring your father his cuppa."
"Okay," said Luke. He turned to Nugget. "Stay!" The puppy was very curious about the surgery and would bound into the area every chance he got unless Luke ordered him not to.
Very carefully Luke lifted the plate and walked toward the surgery. When he reached the door, he had to balance the plate in one hand while using the other to turn the knob. For a moment he felt the plate tipping, but he managed to grab it with the other hand and right it just in time.
"Almost," said his mother, smiling down at him. "You know, there's nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. It isn't childish, it's very mature to realize when you could use a hand and accept it."
Luke felt a bit embarrassed. He knew his father and mother accepted help all the time, so there was no reason he couldn't as well. "Sorry," he said softly.
"No harm done," his mum told him.
He held the door open with his shoulder so she could enter, then followed her inside.
Everyone in the waiting room looked up at them. Luke recognized the younger Mrs. Tyneman, with Neddy sitting beside her. Inwardly he groaned, having thought he'd be shed of the Tyneman boy's company for the duration of the holidays. He wondered what was wrong with Neddy, that he needed to see a doctor, but he knew better than to ask. His father's patients had a right to privacy, he'd been told solemnly by both parents.
Jean disappeared into the examination room with the cup of tea, and just as she emerged another patient arrived at the front door. She went to let them in.
Neddy was munching on his second square of shortbread when he announced. "I need something to drink."
His mother frowned at him. "Please may I have a drink?" she prompted him.
The boy frowned peevishly. "Please."
Luke was not happy, but he knew what his parents expected of him. "I'll get you some water," he said to Neddy.
Neddy followed him, lumbering behind Luke like a somewhat malevolent shade. When they reached the kitchen, Luke was tempted for just a moment to sic his dog on the bully, but knew that was wrong. Instead he reminded Nugget once again to "Stay". He had to pull a chair over in front of the sink to reach the cupboard where the glasses were kept.
He was climbing down with the glass when he heard the voice of another of his classmates.
"Hi Luke..." began Arthur Willis, but he trailed off when he spotted the Tyneman boy. "Oh."
Neddy glared at Arthur, who seemed to become even smaller under the gaze.
Trying to stave off a confrontation, Luke quickly filled the glass with water and handed it to Neddy, who turned to glare at Luke, too, before snatching the drink from him and heading back to the waiting room.
Behind his back, Arthur mimicked Neddy's glare, causing Luke to stifle a giggle of laughter.
When the door had closed behind Neddy, Arthur explained why he was in the kitchen. "Your mum has biscuits, but my little brother needs a glass of water to go with them. She said I could help myself. But since you're in here anyway…"
Luke pulled the chair back over so he could get down another glass while Arthur watched, turning away only to pet Nugget. While standing on the chair, Luke glanced up at the biscuit tin on the shelf above the glasses, but refrained from taking any more. Mum had said they were for his dad and for tomorrow.
Feeling virtuous for resisting temptation, Luke filled the glass and handed it to Arthur, then returned the chair to its place beside the table.
"Thanks," said Arthur, and the two boys headed back toward the waiting room, with Arthur carrying the water for his brother.
Spotting Luke as he entered, Jean said, "Please change out of your uniform, sweetheart. Put it in the laundry hamper. At the rate you're growing, it won't fit you by the time school starts up again, but we'll want it clean in any case."
"Yes, mum," Luke said dutifully. He went up to his room to change, then after depositing the uniform in the laundry as requested, he and Nugget went out to play in the back garden.
Lucien finished updating the last of his patient files for the day and stacked them neatly on his desk. He was tempted to file them back into the cabinet himself, since Jean was always so busy with Luke, her responsibilities for City Council, the wonderful care she took of their home, as well as managing his practice. But early in their relationship she had made it clear to him that she took pride in her duties, and she considered any attempt to preempt them as a slight to her abilities. Charlie Davis had somehow managed to avoid her wrath when he dared to help with the cooking, but Lucien himself was allowed to do nothing more than dry the dishes.
With a short sigh he left the files for her and left the surgery to spend some time with his son. After changing out of his three-piece suit (Jean had finally convinced him to leave off the armour when he wasn't working) he went out to the back garden where Luke was busy tossing a tennis ball for Nugget to chase.
When Luke spotted Lucien he raced over to give him a hug, Nugget trailing in his wake. Lucien returned the hug and scratched behind Nugget's ears until the golden retriever puppy was wriggling all over in appreciation.
Lucien sat down on the porch step. Luke sat beside him and looked up in anticipation. Just as he did every day, Lucien asked, "What did you learn today?"
After thinking a moment, Luke replied, "I learned that rich people sometimes don't have very good manners."
Smiling down at him, Lucien said, "Young Master Tyneman was rude to you, eh?"
"If you mean Neddy, yes."
"I see. You know, of course, that some rich people are very polite, and some people who don't have much can also be rude."
"I guess so," Luke said slowly.
"You're going to find that it's not a very good idea to make generalisations when it comes to people."
"Generals…" Luke began, confused.
"Making statements about large groups of people," Lucien explained. "You're going to find that the only thing all rich people have in common is that they're rich." He paused to look down at his son. "You know, there are a lot of people in this town who would say that we're rich."
"Really?" asked Luke. "Are we rich, Dad?"
Lucien smiled. "Compared to your mother's family when she was growing up, yes, we're quite rich. Compared to the Tynemans, however, or your cousin Catherine, then, no, not really." When he saw that Luke wasn't quite following the comparisons, he tried to clarify. "We're fortunate to have more than many people. We needn't worry about having enough food to eat or a place to live or buying new shoes when you need them. Even some of your classmates can't say that."
"Oh." Luke looked thoughtful and concerned to think his mates might not have enough to eat. "What can we do to help?"
Lucien was proud of their son, that his first thought was how to help those less fortunate. "That's a very good question, but a sensitive one. Many people are very proud, and they would be offended if we gave them a handout. They don't want to accept charity, but they still need things like medical care, for instance. Your mother, being the clever woman that she is, knows exactly who needs help, so she adjusts their doctor bills accordingly."
"So poor people don't have to pay as much when they come to see you?"
"That's right."
"Is that why she makes cakes and biscuits for me to take into school for my class?"
"And why she packs you such a big lunch, because she knows you like to share it with your friends."
"I wondered about that," Luke said slowly. "After I told her I gave my extra sandwich to Arthur, she started giving me two sandwiches every day."
"As I said, your mother is a clever woman."
Luke frowned in thought. "When I share with Arthur, he gives whatever his mum sent for him to his little brothers. Is Arthur's family poor, Dad?"
Lucien considered how to explain it so that Luke wouldn't pity his friend or see him differently. He knew Jean would do it so much better, but he had to try to answer his son's question. "The Willis family are farmers, just like your mother's family when she was a girl. Sometimes they have a very good harvest, which means they have enough money, but other times, usually through no fault of their own, the harvest isn't quite so good, and they struggle. Your mother would say that's the way it's always been for farmers, but where we would all be without them, eh?"
"Nobody would have anything to eat without famers," Luke said decisively.
"Quite," said Lucien. He stood up, causing Nugget to look up at him and wag his tail in expectation. With a smile, he tossed the tennis ball to the far end of the garden, and the young dog took off like a shot to chase it.
After a few more tosses, he handed the ball back to Luke and told him, "Matthew and Alice are coming for dinner tonight, so be sure to come in early and get cleaned up, won't you?"
He watched as Luke's eyes lit up. The lad enjoyed the discussions when Matthew and Alice came around, especially since they answered any questions he had without talking down to him. Just as Lucien and Jean did, they encouraged his curiosity.
"Okay, Dad."
Jean was busy deciding how to stretch the meal she had planned to include two extra people. She was an old hand at it by this time, with Lucien's tendency to invite last-minute guests. Not that she minded now - she always enjoyed having a full dinner table. At least Lucien was giving her notice these days, rather than having them show up with no warning.
Luke walked into the kitchen with Nugget close on his heels. "I'm just going upstairs to wash up," he announced.
"Good idea," she told him, seeing the grass stains on his clothes and the smudges of dirt on his hands and face. "Now, what kind of pudding shall I make?"
"Uncle Matthew loves your biscuits," Luke pointed out.
"He does, doesn't he? Let's see if we have enough left to just put out a plate of them after dinner." She reached up for the tin and as she took it down she noted that the lid wasn't fastened properly. She lifted up the lid to find only a single broken biscuit and some crumbs inside.
Frowning, she turned to her son as he was about to leave the kitchen to go upstairs. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked him, although it wasn't like him to do something underhanded, unless possibly his schoolmates had put him up to it.
"About what?" he asked, and his look of innocence seemed genuine.
"The rest of the biscuits are gone," she told him.
"You said there were enough for tomorrow. And for Dad."
Lucien walked in at that moment. "Enough what?"
"Mum's biscuits."
Lucien glanced toward the nearly empty tin Jean held. "You made shortbread and didn't save me any?"
"I had plenty saved for you," Jean insisted. She narrowed her eyes. "You haven't been at them, have you?"
Lucien held up his hands. "Didn't know they were there or I might have," he admitted.
"Then what happened to them?" Jean looked between the two of them. "If neither of you took them, then who did?"
"Hmm, a mystery," said Lucien.
Luke perked up at that. "Maybe we should report it to Uncle Matthew."
Jean shook her head. "Matthew has much more important things to investigate than some missing biscuits."
"Then someone else needs to investigate the missing biscuits," said Lucien, looking toward his son.
Jean saw a gleam in Luke's eye that was very similar to the look Lucien wore when he was intrigued by a case. She was about to nip it in the bud when she saw Lucien give a slight shake of his head. She held her tongue.
Apparently Luke didn't see the silent exchange. "I'll just wash up," he said as he walked from the kitchen, still wearing the thoughtful look.
When Luke was out of hearing range, Jean turned to her husband for an explanation.
"Why not, eh?" he said. "He'll have a chance to use his brain while on school holidays. And it's not as though it really matters whether he finds the culprit."
"I suppose," said Jean. "As long as he doesn't do anything rash, like his father's been known to do." She kissed him to show she was just teasing, although God knew, there was more than a grain of truth in it.
Over dinner, talk inevitably turned to the latest cases presented to the Ballarat Police. Luke listened attentively to it all, keeping his own case in the back of his mind. None of the discussions involved a robbery, though, so nothing they suggested could be put to use by Investigator Luke.
After dinner was over, he sought out his "uncle" Matthew for advice. "When you get a new case, how do you start investigating?" he asked the veteran policeman.
"When there's no obvious suspect, you mean?" Matthew clarified.
"Yes, or after you know the obvious ones didn't do it," said Luke, thinking of his mother's questioning of him and his father.
"Means, motive, opportunity," Matthew told him. When Luke scrunched up his nose in confusion, Matthew explained. "Means is the necessary tools or ingredients to commit the crime. If someone's been shot, you look for people who had access to the type of gun used."
Luke nodded his understanding. To take the biscuits someone would have had to be able to reach the tin. That didn't help much, since the kitchen chairs were readily available so that anyone, no matter their height, would have been able to get at it.
Matthew continued, "Motive is a reason to commit the crime, like who would have wanted the man dead."
That didn't help Luke much either. Everyone loved his mum's biscuits so wouldn't anyone want to take them?
"Opportunity is, well, who could have been in the right place at the right time to do it. Who didn't have an alibi. Does that help?"
Luke nodded. Opportunity meant it had to be someone in the house at the time. Aside from his mum and dad, that meant the people who had come to the surgery that afternoon. "Thank you, Uncle Matthew."
"Any time. If you have any more questions about police work I'm always available," he told the boy.
Luke headed for his room.
"Where are you off to?" his mother asked as he was halfway up the stairs.
"Homework," he called back.
"I thought school was finished," said Alice.
"I don't think this work is for school," said Jean.
Luke was upstairs for nearly an hour while downstairs the adults enjoyed drinks and conversation. Matthew had just finished updating Lucien on the status of a trial in Melbourne when the boy appeared again, frustration evident on his face.
"What's wrong?" Lucien asked him.
Luke held up a sheet of paper covered in his sprawling handwriting. "My paper isn't big enough," he moaned. "I need more room to figure it all out."
"How about the chalkboard in the study?" Lucien suggested.
"Can I?" Luke had been told in no uncertain terms not to touch the board where Lucien often laid out clues for current police cases, but since he had nothing open at the moment, there was nothing to disturb.
"Just this once," Jean said firmly, wanted to emphasize it was not a plaything for Luke.
"Do you want some help figuring things out?" asked Lucien. "A fresh perspective or two?"
Clearly Luke wasn't quite sure what 'fresh perspective' meant, but he could use some help. "Yes, please."
"Right you are. Shall we take this to the study?" he suggested to the others.
Additional chairs were brought into the study so that the adults could sit down and Luke could stand on one at the board, chalk in hand. The others watched with some amusement as he drew a rough sketch of the house's layout, in particular the surgery waiting area, the front hall, and the kitchen.
"Uncle Matthew said I need to know about opportunity," said Luke.
"That's right," said Matthew. "Who could have been in the right place at the right time to commit the crime."
Jean spoke up, somewhat disapprovingly. "I'd hardly call swiping a handful of shortbread a 'crime'," she insisted. She glanced over at Lucien, who was already as engrossed in solving the mystery as Luke was. His eyes were narrowed, and he stared at what Luke had drawn.
"Go on," Alice encouraged Luke.
Luke turned his attention back to the board. "Dad was in his surgery, back here," he said, circling a space beyond the waiting room.
"Until he wasn't," Jean pointed out. "After all the patients left."
Lucien turned to look at her, his eyebrow raised. "But you, my dear, were already in the kitchen preparing dinner when I finished updating patient files," he said.
"Maybe you're the culprit," Matthew teased her.
Luke shook his head decisively. "Mum wouldn't need to swipe them. She could just make more biscuits if she wanted them."
"Very good. No motive," Matthew complimented Luke.
Alice noted, "Given how much everyone enjoys Jean's shortbread, she's probably the only one in Ballarat without a motive."
"True," said Lucien, smiling at Jean.
"It's a relief to know I'm not a suspect," she said with a mock frown toward Matthew, "but that still leaves a lot of other people who could have done it."
"Yes, it was a busy day," said Lucien. "Quite a few patients, and in some cases family members accompanied them."
"But it had to be someone who went in the kitchen," said Luke. "Opportunity," he reminded them all.
"Apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Matthew said quietly, glancing at Lucien and Jean.
Jean merely smiled with pride in how bright their son was.
"How many people went into the kitchen?" asked Alice. "Surely not that many."
"I escorted Mister Adams in there for some water to take his medication," Jean recalled.
"Were you with him the whole time?" Matthew asked.
"No, but Mister Adams is in his eighties, and barely five feet tall," Jean explained. "He couldn't reach the tin without standing on a chair."
Lucien added, "And he has acute rheumatoid arthritis, which means he couldn't have climbed on a chair in any case."
Jean remembered someone else who'd been in the kitchen. "Luke, I sent your friend, the Willis boy, to get some water. Arthur, is it? But you were in the kitchen then, weren't you?"
"Yes," Luke said very slowly. "Neddy Tyneman wanted something to drink, so we went together, then Arthur came in, too. Neddy and Arthur, well, they don't really get along very well."
Jean knew that young Ned Tyneman was a bully, much as his late father Edward had been. "That's interesting, because later, while you were outside playing with Nugget, Ned told me he was thirsty but he could get his own drink of water. That must be why Arthur returned so quickly from getting his own water."
"So they both needed a drink twice within, what an hour?" asked Alice.
"Even less than that," Jean confirmed. "Forty-five minutes, at most."
Luke seemed to think that over for a while. "Mum, when you went to the kitchen after all the patients were gone, was a chair pulled out near where the tin is kept?"
Jean closed her eyes, trying to remember. "No, as I recall one was pushed in a bit crooked that I straightened out, but there wasn't one near the shelf." She then watched her son think some more until his eyes brightened and took on a certain shine she recognized from when his father put all the pieces together to solve a mystery.
She exchanged a look with Lucien, who nodded. He'd seen it, too, and he also knew the identity of the biscuit thief.
"Well?" said Jean to Luke.
The boy thought some more, looked at his father, then thought even further. Then he climbed down from the chair he'd been standing on and set the chalk on the ledge below the board before heading out of the room.
"Wait," called Alice. "Aren't you going to tell us who did it?"
"Sorry, I can't," he said. "Excuse me."
When he had gone, Matthew said, "He knows, doesn't he? Why won't he say? Protecting one of his friends?"
"Yes," said Lucien, "but not exactly in the way you think he is."
Lucien stopped to pick up the book he was currently reading with Luke, figuring it was as good an excuse as any for initiating a talk with his son.
He found Luke just sitting on his bed, holding the model of an airplane the two of them had assembled.
"We had fun building that, didn't we?" Lucien said as he sat down beside the boy.
Luke nodded. "Did you know Arthur's dad doesn't have time to do things like this with him?"
"Yes, his father works very hard," said Lucien. He paused. "You think Arthur took the biscuits, don't you?"
Again Luke nodded.
"Not Ned?"
"No. If Ned used a chair to reach the tin, he wouldn't have pushed the chair back in," Luke said.
Lucien was impressed with his reasoning. "That's very clever of you. And why do you think it was Arthur? Why would he take them?"
"Arthur isn't bad, Dad."
"I'm sure he isn't," said Lucien. He knew Luke would never be friends with anyone he thought was bad.
"Mum told Arthur to help himself," Luke said slowly. "I think she was talking about water, but maybe Arthur thought she meant the biscuits, too."
"That's certainly possible," said Lucien.
"Dad, he wouldn't take them for himself," Luke insisted. "He took them for his little brothers, I'm sure. When I give him my extra sandwich he always gives it to them."
"I see," said Lucien. "What do you think we should do about it then?"
"I don't know." Luke was conflicted, and Lucien couldn't bear that.
"Maybe we should think about how we can help Arthur and his brothers," he suggested. "His mother will be visiting the surgery regularly for the next month, so Arthur will be here quite a bit."
"Oh. Should I tell him he can't keep taking biscuits every time he comes?" Luke asked in a tiny voice. He was clearly distraught at the very thought of it.
Lucien hugged his son. "No, you don't need to do that. It's not your responsibility to do something like that."
"But..."
"What?" Lucien asked gently.
"I don't want Arthur to get his feelings hurt if you or Mum talks to him," said Luke looking up to him.
"I promise you Arthur won't get his feelings hurt," said Lucien. "I'll talk it over with your mother to make sure we handle it with proper care, all right?"
Luke nodded. "Thanks, Dad." He paused, then continued. "You said you do things to help people who need help, right?"
Lucien smiled with pride in his son. "That's right, and I'll think about what we can do to help your friend, Arthur."
After Luke was in bed and they had seen Matthew and Alice out, Jean and Lucien went to the kitchen to finish the washing up.
"Luke really figured out the mystery by himself?" Jean asked.
"He did. He's very clever, just like his mother," said Lucien. "And what's more, he has her compassion for others as well."
"How so?"
"He was concerned that we would make his mate feel bad, when Luke is certain he only took the biscuits for his brothers."
"Is that right?" said Jean. "Well, we'll have to see what we can do to help them out." She thought about it. "I think we should keep a fruit bowl in the waiting room. Much healthier than biscuits, and everyone can help themselves to as much as they'd like."
"An excellent idea," said Lucien, kissing her cheek. "I knew you'd think of something we could do for Arthur and his brothers."
"It's little enough," said Jean. "I know just how difficult it is for families like Arthur's in the lean years."
"If you can think of anything else we might do without embarrassing them..."
"I'll let you know," Jean promised. "But maybe it's time we thought about how to keep patients away from the rest of the house. The safety gate we used to keep Luke out of the surgery when he was little might be a start. It's stored in the garage," she informed him, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes, of course, Jean. I'll see to it in the morning."
Her gentle reminder sent Lucien out to the garage immediately after breakfast. It took him a while, but he finally located the baby gate behind an old folding card table. He used the garden hose to rinse off the years of accumulated dust and grime and wiped it with a rag from the basket Jean kept in the sunroom. Then he carried it into the house.
He was installing it when Luke came over to see what he was doing.
"Is that because of what Arthur did?" the boy asked, frowning.
"In part, but your mother and I have discussed before that we wanted the surgery separated from the rest of the house. What happened with your mate Arthur was just the impetus, er, reason to do something about it."
"Okay," said Luke.
"Speaking of what Arthur did, your mother and I are both very proud of how you figured out that he was the one who took the biscuits."
That brought a smile to Luke's face. "It was fun, Dad. Now I understand why you like to work with Uncle Matthew and the police. Do you think I could do that some day?"
"I don't see why not."
Jean, who had been setting out the day's patient files, stepped out of the surgery and nodded her approval as Lucien finished affixing the gate to the doorway. She had heard Luke's question and now she could see the look on his face, the same look she saw all too often on Lucien's.
"I can tell you won't wait until you're grown, but if you have to solve mysteries, then you need to promise me that you'll think before you act," she said, crouching down to look Luke in the eye. "It took a very long time to get your father to understand just how important he is to me."
Lucien nodded. "Much too long," he admitted ruefully. "And no matter how important the mystery seems, it's never more important than the people who love you. That's why you need to promise your mother and me you'll be careful."
"I'll be careful, I promise," Luke said solemnly.
Jean couldn't help thinking how many times Lucien had made just such a promise until he finally remembered to start keeping it. "For the time being maybe you should just stick to solving mysteries around the house, hmmm?"
Luke wasn't pleased at the restriction but nodded his agreement.
The telephone rang, and Lucien answered it. "That was Matthew. I'm needed down it the station," he announced. "Now, where did I leave my keys?"
Jean smiled. "Now there's a mystery just for you, Luke."
A/N: I may add future chapters as I come up with ideas for more mysteries.