A/N: Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8: A Tale of Officers

If for a moment Gavroche had expected Minette to titter or launch into a litany of platitudes, he found himself more amply rewarded instead with a coy smile from the lady. "A friendly face is always a good thing to have in these parts. Have you suddenly been asked to patrol the Luxembourg?" she asked.

"We call it simply taking in the air," Gavroche replied as he squared his shoulders. "I don't see Citizen Tolbert strutting about."

"He's at work," Minette replied primly, though her cheeks had colored for a moment at the mention of the other officer. "I'm sorry to hear about what happened to Citizen Frassin. Will he make a recovery?"

"Yes. He has an excellent doctor," Gavroche said. "He has a better hand with stitching than many of our seamstresses do with underpinnings."

Minette's eyes widened at Gavroche's nonchalant words. "What a thing to say! I thought you were brought up in a gentleman's household!"

Gavroche could not help but laugh at this exclamation. "No one's nose was too long for them to miss such things." His grin widened at Minette's incredulous expression. "Were you thinking that I'd lived among stuffed shirts?"

"Does your family know what you say when you're not in their hearing?" Minette asked.

"They're not censors," Gavroche replied, remembering many a lively day at the Rue Guisarde. "Freedom of speech is a prime article of our social contract."

Minette was silent for a moment as she regarded him with a thoughtful expression. "So is it true what they say, that you grew up outside of Paris?"

'When she means 'they', she means Tolbert,' Gavroche realized. "I merely started there; I was only a mite when my father decided to flip coins here."

"That's a charming way to say it. I never heard that phrase where I grew up, all the way in Rouen."

"You won't hear it anywhere else."

Minette pursed her lips together but was quite unable to stifle her giggling. "If only all Parisian men could be as witty and helpful! Would you know where I can find some cufflinks?"

"There are always good places in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, but the ladies find some classical pieces on the Rue Saint-Honore," Gavroche suggested.

"Not for me," Minette said in a lower, more confidential tone. "Should I get something simple in gold, or in a fancier metal? I've never seen Tolbert in anything but brass."

Gavroche took a deep breath, if only to hold back a sigh. "He'd shine brighter than a coin if he had any more baubles!"

"I've told him so, but he finds it seemly on him," Minette pointed out. "Maybe you can help me find something that doesn't make him stand out too much."

The very image of his colleague smiling smugly with another glimmer at his belt was enough to have Gavroche shaking his head. "The dandies like a place on the Rue des Cordeliers, near the Sorbonne," he finally said. "Makes them look less like boobies, I think."

"There's nothing wrong with looking quite nice," Minette argued. "You don't sound fond of it."

"Only of things that always get hidden when someone has to keep warm," Gavroche replied, miming pulling down his coatsleeve over his wrist. He managed a smile as he tipped his hat to Minette. "I have been summoned by a case. I hope you find what you're looking for, Citizenness."

A small smile played over Minette's lips. "Thank you very much, Citizen Thenardier. I shan't forget it."

'Nor will I,' Gavroche could not help thinking as he headed down the Luxembourg's main promenade, all the while aware of Minette's footfalls fading towards the west gate of the park. Fortunately the sharp chill in the air had him quickening his steps and buttoning his coat all the way up to his neck, such that he was fully covered yet red in the face by the time he traversed the Rue d'Enfer and passed the Observatorie Royal. From here it was only a short walk to the corner of the Rue de Biron, which in those days was a street that ran between two lines of sedate, comfortable dwellings partially hidden by a canopy of trees that ran the entire length of the lane.

It took a few minutes before Gavroche finally located a rusting carriage gate just past the thickest of the greenery. "Someone's let the weeds grow thick," he muttered as he stepped over the gutter and rattled one of the bars on the gate. Just beyond the shrubbery he could just glimpse a cottage half hidden by overgrown vines. "Good day! Anyone roosting here?"

A window snapped open on the second storey. "Go away! No callers here!" a gruff voice roared.

"It's not a call, it's a rude visit from the Prefecture!" Gavroche called, cupping his hands to his mouth.

The window rattled shut, and a few moments later the front door opened to reveal a tall man with his hands in the air. His head was bare, revealing to the daylight his twisted visage; his nose had clearly been smashed in a long finished dispute, his skin was wrinkled, and his eyes bleary with rheum. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it, Inspector," this man said in a hollow voice. "I was at work all of yesterday and the days before that-you can ask at the Odeon and at Richefu's. I've been at home all morning patching a hole up in my roof."

"Easy now. You've made a deposition before anyone's asked for it, Barrecrosse," Gavroche greeted.

Barrecrosse stopped in his tracks. "I heard talk that there'd be agents about, but I never thought they'd send you, Gavroche Thenardier."

"If they sent someone else they would have asked for Sylvain Laffitte, and it's a bad sobriquet," Gavroche said. "I'm here because of some pinching that's been going on."

"I told you I have nothing to do with it. I haven't seen Mangedentelle since spring."

"It's not only him, but also Mamselle Miss and just last night young Brujon."

Barrecrosse paled at this news. "So the talk is true-we're as good as sent to the scaffold. Did anyone mark my absence today-aside from the foreman?"

"Only the playmaker and the designer of the sets," Gavroche said. "They were the ones who told me about this address."

"At least you younger Thenardiers know how to repay an old friend-better than your father at any rate." Barrecrosse spat on the ground and wiped his mouth. "You will arrest me now?"

"No, merely relocate you." Even as Gavroche said this he already caught sight of a much muffled figure waiting at the corner of the Rue de Biron. "Come now, don't leave my toes to get cold," he cajoled.

Barrecrosse swore as he worked one of the gate's bars loose, just enough to create an opening for Gavroche to slip through. "Then where will that be? A cell in La Force, no doubt?"

"Ah, a judge has to book you for that, and we have none at the ready," Gavroche replied. He cast a glance over his shoulder, just in time to see this ominous figure rushing up to the house. "We'd better run and pack next to nothing for you."

Barrecrosse's eyes widened as he looked past the detective. "You little trickster!"

Out of the corner of his eye Gavroche glimpsed a glimmer of gunmetal, giving him only a split second to tackle the bigger man to the ground before a bullet ricocheted off the top of the gate. "Keep your nut low!" he hissed as they crawled behind an overgrown rosebush.

Barrecrosse glowered at him. "Were you followed? Were you alone?"

"I was, and you can ask at the Odeon too," Gavroche replied. Through the foliage he could see that the gunman had vanished from sight without a trace, save for the single ball of lead now buried in the brick wall. He was not willing to risk another encounter in the street, but on the other hand to take refuge in the house was to risk being shut in. Knowing this, Gavroche then took hold of Barrecrosse's collar before inching towards the house's narrow backyard, hoping to find some concealed gate there.

At length Barrecrosse wrested himself free of Gavroche's grip. "You've ruined your coat, little Thenardier," he growled before pulling himself up to sit on his haunches. He pressed on some places in the wall, paused for a moment and then with several blows of his fist succeeded in tearing down a wooden grille that had been covered in ivy. "From here is the Marche au Charbon."

"A place for parasols only!" Gavroche muttered, looking up at the rapidly darkening skies. They wriggled out of this narrow aperture and onto a pebble-strewn path that wound through the more shadowed reaches of a tiny park. Gavroche looked around for any sign of other prowlers before pulling Barrecrosse to his feet. Even as he did so he wrinkled his nose at the first tang of rain in the air. "I know a place where we can pull our heads in and shake the mud off our feathers."

Barrecrosse scowled at him. "It still ends at the Prefecture."

"Only if one trips up," Gavroche drawled as they passed between the hedges towards a gate opening out onto the Rue de la Sante. The rain had begun to fall as they crossed the Jardin du Luxembourg, thus forcing them to take shelter under an awning at the Palace des Pairs. 'Where's a fiacre when one needs it?' he thought as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

As for Barrecrosse he was silent for a few minutes as he watched the rainfall begin to slow and ease up. "That man's seen you. He'll come after you as well," he said at last. "I see you don't carry a gun or even a billystick."

"Not when I'm knocking on doors," Gavroche said. "You knew he was coming, that's why you were shut up in the house. So who sang?"

"You're not the only one who watches the news," Barrecrosse said gruffly. "When I knew that Mangedentelle was dead, I knew who'd done it. Only one person would have enough bite for it. It was on a job done even before your father put his hands in our business. You were only a mite then."

"Who then?" Gavroche asked.

Barrecrosse laughed hollowly. "Why don't you search the Prefecture first? The answer always lies there, doesn't it?" He sneered as he looked Gavroche over. "I'm sure you salute the man every day. He would be of that sort."

Gavroche felt a pit in his stomach at the brigand's words. "Are you sure?'"

"I remember it clear as crystal, even after all these years."

"If I brought you there, would you know him?"

"I'd rather kill him where he stands. Put me in handcuffs," Barrecrosse threatened.

Gavroche was silent for a moment before he took off the handcuffs he kept at his belt and carefully locked them around Barrecrosse's wrists. "Can't have you going that far though. Lead the way."