Peter saw the smoke from a few blocks away, but when he realized it was coming from the bakery, he broke into a run. He circled to the back and nearly ran into Mr. Glockenhuber, who was coming out the back door. He was coughing violently and his eyes widened when he saw Peter.
"Peter, you're early."
"What happened?"
"I-I don't know," the bakery owner stuttered, his eyes darting around. "When I got here the window was broken and the oven was on fire! I tried t-to stop it but it was out of my control!"
Peter pulled his shirt up over his mouth and quickly stepped into the kitchen, despite Mr. Glockenhuber's protests. The oven was indeed on fire, with the flames traveling over to the adjoining counter, but there seemed to be much more smoke than fire. He crouched down and crawled over to the supply cabinet, rummaging around until he found the sack of baking soda. He ripped open the bag and poured it all out on the oven. The flames lessened significantly, but there was still a fair amount of burning. Peter rushed to the sink and filled a bucket of water, then crossed the kitchen and poured it on the fire. He repeated this three more times before he was satisfied that the fire was completely extinguished. He went back outside to report to an astonished Mr. Glockenhuber.
"The oven and countertop will have to be replaced, but I think the rest of the kitchen is fine. Let's keep this door open to help air out the smoke."
"But... but how... ?" The dumbfounded owner couldn't seem to make a complete sentence.
The fire department arrived a few minutes later, but they had little to do since Peter had already stopped the damage. They checked on a few things and finally opened the oven, extracting the remains of three or four firecrackers.
"Aha!" Mr. Glockenhuber exclaimed when they showed him the rubble. "It must have been those teenagers that are always hanging around! They broke the window and set off the firecrackers in the oven!"
The fire fighters were leaving when Susan came running around the corner.
"Daddy! Are you okay?" She blubbered, alternately hugging her father and looking around at the mess. "What happened? You told me to come in late this morning...?"
"And I'm glad I did!" Mr. Glockenhuber cried, cutting her off. "Otherwise you might have gotten hurt!"
She disentangled herself from her father and ran to Peter, throwing her arms around him. "Are you alright, Peter? I don't know what I would do with myself if you died! I don't think I'd be able to go on!"
"Susan, you've known me for three days," Peter said flatly, stiffening as she buried her head into his chest.
"I know, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime."
She began to sob, and Peter gently pulled her arms away from himself.
"Don't worry, my darling," Mr. Glockenhuber said, coming to his daughter's side. "Peter went in and put out the fire, and now we're all safe."
Susan looked gratefully up at Peter, smiling through her tears.
"But we're going to have to close the bakery until this is all figured out," he added.
Peter frowned. "What do you mean? Most of the building is just fine."
"No, my lad, everything is ruined!" Mr. Glockenhuber said emphatically. "We're a bakery and we can't bake! We'll have to be closed for days, maybe weeks!"
"What about the fireplace?"
"The fireplace? That hasn't been used in years! And you can't bake bread and pastries over fire."
"But I bet you can over coals. Hey Susan, will you run over to the hardware store and buy a couple bags of coals?"
"I'd do anything you ask me and so much more," Susan gushed, already heading down the street.
"Wait, Susan! Don't go!" Mr. Glockenhuber cried, but Susan had already disappeared around the corner. He turned back to Peter, looking surprisingly frustrated. Peter shrugged and went back into the kitchen. He cleared the debris out of the fireplace and looked up the chimney to make sure it was all clear. He carefully hammered a few nails into the brick walls and transferred the racks from the oven into the fireplace. Susan came back with the coals and in an hour or so they were baking bread.
"Peter, you are so marvelous!" Exclaimed Susan, looking as if she would attach herself to him if she could.
"Yes, it seems as though there's nothing that boy can't do," Mr. Glockenhuber grumbled.
*****
"How long was the fire burning before you put it out?"
"I don't know. The oven was on fire when I arrived."
"And what did you use to extinguish the fire?"
"Baking soda and water."
"Hm. Inventive."
Peter rubbed his temples. He was having a hard time focusing on the detective's questions because he was distracted by the man's impossibly thin mustache. It was so sparse that he could actually count all the hairs. It had also been unusually busy that day. Apparently word had spread about the new smoky flavor of the bread and people were coming to try it out. The detective had come in to investigate the fire, be he had had to wait until after the lunch rush to ask his questions, and Peter had been answering most of them. Mr. Glockenhuber had given his statement and filled out some paperwork and then he had left the bakery, saying he needed to buy some more cleaning supplies.
"Had you noticed anything suspicious or out of the ordinary?" The detective asked. "Angry customers? Unruly kids hanging about? Pesky reporters trying to ruin your life?"
Peter raised his eyebrows. He was a little surprised at the sudden surliness of the detective. "Ah, no sir. But I've only worked here for a few days."
The detective rolled his eyes and grumbled something about how he had more important things to do. Susan walked in from the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries and looked curiously at the detective.
"I think I recognize you," she said with an amused smile. "Weren't you on the news?"
The detective flushed red. "That was my brother!" He nearly shouted. "People confuse us all the time!"
Susan stifled a giggle as she placed the pastries in the display.
The detective took a few deep breaths and then pulled a form from his folder. "I'll just need to get some information from you in case I need to ask you more questions. What is your address?"
Peter hesitated. "My address?"
"Yes," the detective said irritably. "The place where you live."
Peter frowned. He couldn't very well say 'Neverland,' but he felt that saying, 'the park' wouldn't be a suitable answer either.
In the midst of his dilemma a young man with thick red hair ran into the shop. Susan planted herself in front of him.
"Hello," she said in her most provocative voice. "Can I help you?"
The young man looked at her for a second, then shook his head and walked towards the detective.
"Sir, I think you should come back to the station."
"Mr. Baker, what are you doing here? Can't you see that I'm busy?"
The young man lowered his voice. "It seems our calculations were off," he said meaningfully. "We were on the wrong street."
The detective's eyes widened and he snapped his folder shut.
"I'm sorry," he said to Peter. "I'll have to collect your information another time." Then he turned and swiftly followed the young man out the door.