The next day, I headed to Canterlot on my mission. I just hoped I wasn't cutting it close--Hearts and Hooves Day was around the corner, according to the calendars around town, and everypony seemed to be quite gung-ho about holidays. I wouldn't be surprised if snack trucks got reserved.
I was soon strolling down Restaurant Row, taking in my options. I knew Rivershine wanted a 'Bitalian' place (I figured I'd know the place when I saw it), but I wanted a plan B.
Knowing my luck, I'd be down to plan Z.
I peered through the windows as I passed, and I couldn't help but notice how... same-y a lot of restaurants were. Similar décor, similar wait staff uniforms, even similar, small, unappetising dishes that River had warned me about. A gnat would feel ripped off eating at these places.
Thankfully, they weren't the only options. A lot of other places were throwing out their own flavours. But therein laid the rub--they were the places with the longest lines of desperate boyfriends and husbands trying to make reservations. The sheer number of lip biting and hold tapping told me they were thinking what I was thinking: finding a table would be slim pickings.
I got into one such line, leading into a place named Sapore di Casa. It certainly sounded Bitalian, as far as I could deduce. The amazing smell of cheese sauce and herbs from inside gave me a big hint as to why it was a hot spot for dinner dates in Canterlot, though my position in line made me... less enthusiastic.
Still, no harm in asking, right?
I eventually got inside and had a glance around while I waited for the stallion in front of me to finish his business with the head waiter. Even on a normal day at lunchtime, the place was packed with customers. And I could see why--the pasta dishes some were eating looked absolutely phenomenal, and smelled even better. I even saw a family digging into a pizza that was almost as big as the table. I definitely saw why River wanted to come here. If I were a mare with a stallion desperate to impress me, I'd pick this place too.
"Hey, buddy." I looked ahead and noticed I was next in line. "Gonna guess youse lookin' for a table for Hearts and Hooves Day?"
"That's definitely the hope," I said, stepping forward.
"Well, 'fraid it's gonna stay a hope, pal," he said with the slightest hint of regret in his voice. "Guy in front'a ya just took our last table."
Even though I suspected it would happen, my heart sank all the same. "Just my luck." I watched the stallions behind me groan and wander off to look for another eatery.
"Sorry 'bout dat. Hearts and Hooves Day's one of our busiest nights, with stallions chompin' at da bit ta take their special somepony someplace nice, y'know? Even our al fresco tables are taken, and we're supposed ta get a chill dat week."
"Equestrians don't mess around with their holidays, huh?"
"You're tellin' me." He looked down at his reservation book. "Hey, if it's any help, we got some free tables tonight if ya wanna bring your lady friend anyway. Or guy friend, we don't judge."
I bit my lip as I weighed the option. "Well, she said she wanted to come here, so I guess earlier is better than never."
His horn lit up and he was about to quill me in, when a sudden voice from inside the restaurant made me jump.
"Aw, Tartarus!" a mare snarled. "Cap, where's that rigatoni?!"
"I'm workin' on it!" a younger stallion called. "We're runnin' outta dough here!"
"Again?! We're in the middle of a buckin' lunch rush here!"
"Cipolla!" an older mare snapped. "I told you about swearin' in da buckin' restaurant!"
The stallion looked at me with a sympathetic gaze. No doubt he read my 'deer in the headlights' eyes that I had gotten quite good at.
"Sorry 'bout dat," he said.
"It's fine," I said, once I'd calmed down enough to get words out. "Having problems back there?"
"Usually the chef's always on toppa things, even durin' a rush, but lately... I dunno. Somethin' ain't right." I noted how he lowered his voice.
"Really?" I had to admit, my curiosity was peaked now. And considering the other notable eateries around here were probably being bothered by desperate husbands and boyfriends, I didn't exactly have any other plans. "Well, I dabble in investigating, if you'd like me to look into something."
One of his eyebrows raised. "You a cop?"
"Nah, more a freelancer. I hooved this Sven-guy for robbery and trying to frame an innocent Pony for it."
His other eyebrow joined its friend. "Da Svengallop thing? You showed up dat up-his-own-flanks detective?"
"Yup." I tried not to sound too proud about it. "I've got a few hours to kill, anyway."
"Guess it couldn't hurt to let ya sniff around." He rubbed his chin, then shouted into the dining room, "Yo, Oliva!"
A rather pretty Unicorn mare trotted over. She wore the same fancy black shirt as the stallion. "Dis better be good, Panna. I'm up to my eyeballs in there."
"Dis guy thinks he can look into our shortages." He looked back to me. "Dis is my sister, Oliva Caponata. She runs the tables. Oh, and I'm Panna Cotta."
I nodded. "Sharp Sight. So, what's this about a shortage?"
"Follow me," said Oliva. "Da chef knows the most about it."
I walked with Oliva through the dining room, watching her apologise for any meals or sides some customers were waiting for while simultaneously listening to some heated arguing coming from the back.
The arguing went completely silent the moment the three Unicorns in the kitchen saw me. The young mare in a dirty chef's jacket stomped up to me. I wasn't sure what I was more scared of--the look of murder in her eyes, or the pasta knife she was swinging in her magical grip.
"You got a complaint, buddy?!" she growled, getting in my face. "I'll tell ya where you can stick it! Comin' inta my kitchen like some kinda big shot!"
"Cipo, he ain't a customer!" said Oliva, pushing her back. "He's gonna look into your shortage problem!"
What felt like an eternity passed before she finally lowered the blade and her glare softened. "Oh, my bad. Hey, uh, I got da hayballs ready."
"On it." Oliva's horn lit up and she took a plate in her magic. "Good luck, Mr. Sight."
"You really gotta put a lid on that temper, girl," the older mare lectured. "This is exactly what I'm talkin' about."
"Oh, I'm not going," I assured her. "I've been through a lot worse than having a knife pointed at me."
"What could be worse than my sister's wrath?" the stallion in a similar white jacket asked flatly.
"I'm real sorry about my daughter," the older mare said to me with a softer tone. "I'm Panelle di Ceci, da manager. Dis rage monster is my daughter, Cipolla Panzanella."
"How ya doin'?" murmured the mare in question, who had gone to kneading dough.
The stallion walked up to me. "I'm Capellini Primavera, da sous chef. In trainin'," he added quietly.
Suitably very Bitalian names, I was sure. "I'm Sharp Sight. So, I heard you've been having some problems?"
"Yeah," said Capellini. "See, we get wheat and stuff to make our dough from a farm out near Ponyville, but lately dey've been... doin' us dirty."
"Dirty how?"
"Dirty like dey barely send us any of the stuff," growled Cipolla. "We ain't had a problem before, but for da last month, we been gettin' short-changed. If we're dis low on Hearts and Hooves Day, we're done. I'm dis close to goin' over dere myself to see what da buck's goin' on."
"Cipolla..." warned Panelle.
"Sorry, Ma."
I tilted my head thoughtfully. This farm certainly didn't sound like it'd be a chore to get to, and I feel like I'd get a favour out of these Unicorns if I at least snooped around for them.
"I live in Ponyville," I said, "so I can check the place out for you."
Cipolla raised an eyebrow. "What's your game here, pal? You just doin' this outta the good'a your heart?"
"Isn't that a thing in Equestria?"
"Yeah, but we just met. Why do you wanna help us all of a sudden?"
"Let me guess," Panelle spoke up, "we're all booked up and you were lookin' for a Hearts and Hooves dinner for your special somepony?"
I opened my mouth, but no denial of that claim left my mouth. "Well, I'd hate to see a family business go under without doing something about it. And well, yes, that's a minor reason."
I expected the manager, the matriarch of this family, to cuss me out in Bitalian and give her daughter the go ahead to come at me with that pasta knife. But instead, she nodded with a soft smile. "You're doin' this for your sweetheart, huh? I can respect that. We're closin' 'til dinner in a little while, and Cipolla was gonna head to Ponyville to check things out. Why don't ya go with her and see what's goin' on?"
"Not a problem, ma'am."
Cipolla whipped her head up hard enough to nearly cause her red mane to fly off her head. "I don't need a bodyguard, Ma."
"No, but you do need somepony to do the talkin'."
"But Ma--"
"Cipolla, you're goin' with the nice stallion and that's final. Me and Capellini will take care of the kitchen if ya get back late."
The younger mare's upper lip curled irritably. "Fine. Stick around, wise guy, but don't get in the way. I got work to do here."
"You haven't stopped doing your job once since you nearly stabbed me," I pointed out.
"I only stop when it's closin' time. And don't forget it."
"Want some breadsticks while ya wait?" asked Capellini, floating a small basket toward me.
It wasn't long before Cipolla and I were on the next train to Ponyville. Despite being next to each other, I could barely get a peep out of her while she scowled out the window. I couldn't yet tell if I'd offended her with my mere presence, or if she just had a very serious case of RBF.
"We might've gotten off on the wrong hoof," I tried. "Sorry if I did anything to upset you."
A moment passed before she let out a sigh. "Nah, it's my bad. Dis whole thing's got me wound up, is all. I don't wanna see Pop's business get shut down because we're gettin' screwed outta product, y'know?"
"Pop?" I repeated. "Your mom doesn't own the place?"
"She runs the place," she explained, "but my Pop, Zuppa di Pesce, owns it. We used ta have a place in Manehattan but, well, it's Manehattan. They got a pizza place on every street. But out in Canterlot? Sapore di Casa is one of a kind. We're the only Bitalian bistro on Restaurant Row, and we kinda wanna keep it that way."
"Are you facing competition?"
"Dat's what I think. Some wise guy's tryin' ta muscle in on our turf and push us out. But I ain't gonna let 'em." She punched her hooves together.
"Well, we'll get the full picture when we arrive, I hope."
She turned to look at me, her glare softening. "Panna told me about you. Da guy from da papers before Hearth's Warmin', right?"
"Depends on what the story was."
"Said you helped your friend clear her name and showed up dis fancy-flank detective." She smirked. "Gotta say I respect that, Sharp. Between you and me, I never liked dat guy."
"Thanks." I didn't admit it out loud, but it did feel good getting one up on Detective Hawkshaw. I wondered what he was up to at the moment. Probably dealing with a more serious crime than pasta embezzlement.
"By the way," she went on, "I saw you starin' at my flanks."
"Y-you wha-?" I yelped. "I was just... looking at your cutie mark, is all! Besides, I have a marefriend."
"Relax, I know you ain't checkin' me out," she assured me. "I just got the kinda body that comes with bein' raised on carbs, y'know?"
I breathed probably the biggest sigh of relief I've ever done. I certainly wasn't checking her out, but I certainly wouldn't complain if River had a butt like that.
"And if you are curious," she went on, nodding toward her cutie mark--a wooden spoon and a pasta ladle crossed over a bowl, "got it when I made my first perfect batch of carbonara. Ma and Pop were really proud."
I caught the slightest smile on her face when she turned her head back to the window, but I had the wisdom not to comment on it.
We soon arrived in Ponyville, and I followed Cipolla out of the station. I kept an eye out for Rivershine, mostly because I didn't want her to see me slinking out of town with another mare. She didn't strike me as the jealous type, but I didn't want to take any chances. I had a good thing going and the last thing I needed was an excuse to go back to the human world.
Luckily, the wheat farm wasn't too far out of town, but when the farmer tending the field saw us coming, he had a look like we were about to beat him up and take his lunch money. Or more fittingly, his lunch. Clearly, this wasn't Cipolla's first visit.
"I want answers, pal," she snarled, getting right in his face. "why're you messin' with our deal?!"
The poor guy looked ready to keel over and scream for his mother, so I decided to step in, pushing her behind me. "Um, we're from the Bitalian restaurant in Canterlot, and we were hoping you could set a few things straight."
"Look, I know what it looks like," he said, "but I'm not trying to mess with you. It's just that these two businessponies are demanding most of my harvest."
"And you didn't tell them you already got a deal with us?" growled Cipolla.
"I did!" he insisted. "But they said if I didn't comply, they'd buy out my land and turn my farm into a canning factory! And they've got the bits to do it!"
"Who are these businessponies?" I asked.
"They run a travelling pasta shop," he said, "I think they're in town today. They wanted almost the whole crop this time because 'they're a local business for the next few hours'."
"They WHAT?!" Steam was practically shooting out of Cipolla's nostrils. "So they're the ones tryin' ta shut down my restaurant?! I swear ta Celestia, I'm gonna--!"
"Let's! Look into this place first, shall we?" I interrupted.
"You'll know it when you see it," said the farmer. "Gaudiest travelling food shop I've ever seen."
Cipolla almost left imprints on the path as she stomped back to Ponyville. I followed as quickly as my legs let me, before the guards threw me in a cell for being an accomplice to public assault.
It didn't take long for us to find the pasta shop. A crowd had gathered in the town square, in front of... something that looked like it'd been dragged out of an antique roadshow. And around it were creatures digging into small cups of noodles and pasta, looking less than satisfied. But not enough to ask for a refund, which was the worst kind of unsatisfied.
"Come one, come all!" a stallion's voice rose from the cart. He sounded a bit like an old-timey news reader. "Enjoy some of the finest cuisine Bitaly has to offer!"
"Only at the Flim Flam Brothers' Travelling Pasta-Resistance!" another yelled out.
"Luscious linguini!"
"Riveting rigatoni!"
"Fabulous fettuccini!"
"And more tortellini than you can shake a breadstick at!"
I got a look at the two barkers. A pair of tall, skinny Unicorns, one with a curly moustache, dressed like barbershop singers. That, combined with their sales pitch and silly cart, made a smirk cross my muzzle. And then I thought of the name of their business, and a few creatures looked in mine and Cipolla's direction as I burst into hysterics.
"They can't be serious! That's what they're calling themselves?!"
"You haven't heard of the Flim Flam Brothers?" I looked up and quickly composed myself as Rivershine trotted over. "They're a couple of conponies who pop up every now and then to try and shill some form of snake oil."
"They've been here before?" I asked.
"At least twice, as far as I know. And they've been found out every time."
"And the locals are still throwing their bits at them?"
"For some reason, everyone forgets being scammed a few minutes after they leave."
Cipolla snatched a cup from a passing mare and took a bite of its contents, and proceeded to spit it out. "Ugh. Dis is a joke, and it ain't buckin' funny." She stomped around to do the same to some more hapless customers.
We both looked at her, and Rivershine began to ask, "Isn't that-"
"I'm not cheating on you!" I yelped.
She blinked. "Say what?"
"Um, context," I said, then let out a sigh. "I wanted to surprise you, but... I was gonna reserve a table for Hearts and Hooves Day at that Bitalian place you told me about, but they were all filled up when I got there. And I heard the chef was having a problem getting ingredients so I offered to help her out because I thought it might earn us a favour."
"You're helping a stranger just for me?" she summed up.
"Basically, yes."
"Aw, you big-hearted dweeb," she giggled, giving me a peck on the cheek which caused a dorky grin to creep on my muzzle. "Well, let me lend a hoof."
"What can you do?" I asked, then my eyes widened. "Wow, I couldn't have worded that worse if I tried."
She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Chill, I know what you meant."
Cipolla stomped back over with that trademark murderous fire in her eyes. "No doubt about it, Sharp--dese clowns are da ones movin' in on my racket." She looked at River and blinked. "Who's dis?"
"Oh, this is Rivershine," I said, smiling. "My marefriend."
"How's it goin'?" she said, her voice just a little less violent. "Cipolla Panzanella."
"You're the chef up at Sapore di Casa, right?" said River. "I love your calzones."
That actually got a smile out of the fiery redhead. "Heh, thanks."
"Well, I'm not gonna sit back and let those bozos mess with your place," said River firmly. "I have an idea: You two keep them busy, and I'll sniff around that eyesore of theirs for anything weird."
Cipolla punched her hooves together. "Oh, I got some words for dem."
I couldn't help but smile at my marefriend. "You're amazing, you know that?" I blurted out.
"Yes, I do," she grinned. "Alright, get to distractin'."
And with that, the three of us got to work. Cipolla and I pushed through the crowd while River slunk around the side.
"Don't be shy!" the non-moustached barbershop stallion said. "Come and try some authentic Bitalian cuisine!"
"Dis stuff's about as Bitalian as a burrito!" roared Cipolla, causing a few gasps from the crowd who dispersed to reveal us. I darted my eyes, suddenly feeling exposed.
"Oh, now that stings, young missy," said the moustached one, putting a hoof to his chest with a flourish. "We come from a Bitalian family, you know."
"Youse call yourselves Bitalian chefs and youse don't know pici from vermicelli!"
"Now now, my good mare," said the clean-shaven one, "making up words does not help your argument."
I almost heard a snap inside Cipolla's head and I quickly stepped in. "Gentlecolts, my name is Sharp Sight. I just wanted to ask some questions about your enterprise here."
"That's the Pony who caught Svengallop," a stallion whispered.
"He saved Winter Wrap-Up!" a filly gasped excitedly.
I tried not to smile too much at the thought of growing my own legend around town. Even if I was just taking care of local issues.
"Well, you certainly seem a bit more agreeable than your friend," said the mustachio stallion. "Wouldn't you agree, Flim?"
"I would agree, Flam," the other stallion agreed. "Perhaps we can come to an agreement, good sir?"
"I'd agree to that," I agreed.
Stop it.
I cleared my throat. "Anyway, my first question: Have you been experiencing a stock shortage lately?"
"Well, take a look, my friend," said Flim, waving a hoof to the crowd. "The amount of pasta cups we're selling should answer that for you."
"It's just strange," I said. "See, my... passionate friend here is the chef at a professional Bitalian bistro on Restaurant Row, and for a while now, they've been experiencing a shortage."
"Oh, I've been there," a stallion murmured. "The food is amazing."
"They make the best pizza in Equestria, hooves down," a mare agreed.
"Well, that's certainly unfortunate," said Flam, "but it has nothing to do with us. We've only been running this modest little business for a month."
"See, that's the funny thing," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Sapore di Casa has been suffering a shortage for a month."
"Quite the funny coincidence indeed," said Flim. I caught his eyes darting for a split second.
"In any case, we're a couple of honest Bitalian pastatiers," said Flam.
"And yet, you need this?" they heard from behind them. Rivershine emerged from the cart with something in her magical grip.
A book, titled Pasta Crafting for Beginners.
She tossed it to me and I managed to catch it. Go me. "Now what's this? Authentic Bitalian pasta makers need a cook book?"
"That's not ours!" yelped Flam. Sweat trickled down his face and his moustache flopped down.
"You shouldn't be snooping through our things!" snapped Flim as River trotted past them. "W-Which that isn't! Clearly that was planted! We don't need a book to make pasta!"
"How about you put your bits where your mouths are?" dared River. "How about you face Cipolla in a cook-off?"
"A... cook-off?" Flim and Flam repeated, swallowing.
I put on the same smirk as River. "Surely a pair of experts like you should have no problem against her?"
"Two against one, huh?" Cipolla stretched her neck at each side. "I've done worse. Let's go, wise guys."
"I'll be the referee," said River, "and the crowd here can be the judge."
The gathered creatures seemed to like the sound of that, according to the raising "Cook-off! Cook-off!" chants. A pair of tables were quickly set up and Rivershine made sure each had the same amount of ingredients and equipment. Cipolla stood at one table, cleaning her hooves, while the Flim Flam Brothers looked ready to hightail it from their own table any second.
"Okay, the rules are simple," called River. "Each side has to make as much carbonara as possible. Members of the crowd will decide which one is the best, and therefore, the winner. No kneading dough below the belt. Are both sides ready?"
"I got an hour 'til the dinner shift starts," said Cipolla, "so I'll make dis quick and painful."
Flim raised a hoof. "I, uh, don't suppose we could take a peek at that book really qui-"
"GO!" yelled River.
The crowd whipped into a frenzy as the cook-off got underway. Though, it was less a competition and more a merciless curbstomping. Cipolla worked her station like a conductor leading an orchestra, melting cheese into sauce and using her hooves to knead the pasta dough and cut it into long strands. She was even doing it with her eyes closed. Last time I tried to do something with my eyes shut, I nearly knocked myself out for an hour.
The brothers, meanwhile, clearly had no idea what they were doing. Without that book to guide them, they were throwing globs of dough all over the place while they squabbled and tried to remember what carbonara looked like. I honestly nearly felt bad for them, being publicly embarrassed like this. Though, according to River, being humiliated in front of an audience was the one thing they were good at.
And after the very obvious winner was chosen at the end (I wasn't sure if the dish Cipolla was competing with could even be qualified as an edible substance), the brothers announced a conveniently timed "conflict of interest" and announced the closure of their Pasta-Resistance.
"I suppose the life of pastatiers is not for us, dear brother," lamented Flim as they strapped themselves to their cart.
"Da word is pastaio!" roared Cipolla, causing them to make tracks sooner than expected. "Minchione!"
Hearts and Hooves Day had finally come, and the staff of Sapore di Casa certainly did me a solid for helping them. Now that their stock was replenished, their Hearts and Hooves dinner rush went down without a hitch. Naturally, they couldn't kick out any of the couples that had reserved tables, but they managed to do something almost better.
"I kinda like this, actually," said Rivershine. "It's nice and quiet, and it's private."
"I'm glad," I said, "because it was either this or Hay Burger."
"I'd be down for Hay Burger," she said with a shrug.
"Oh, now you tell me," I chuckled.
The staff had allowed River and I to come in after closing to enjoy a quiet meal all to ourselves. The lights were turned down, leaving the candles on our table to illuminate the delicious calzones and gelato we'd been digging into. She wasn't kidding about the food here--Cipolla was an amazing cook. Even the breadsticks were great!
"So, uh," I said after Oliva cleared the table, "Happy Hearts and Hooves Day."
"You too." She smiled. "You didn't have to go through all that trouble for me."
I smiled back. "Well, I did it anyway."
"And I did something for you." Her horn glowed and a sizeable wrapped gift floated onto the table before me.
"For me?" I asked with genuine surprise, and I started tearing it open. I lifted and beheld my gift--a dark, wool-lined coat. Dark, pale blue, according to the candlelight. I wasted no time in trying it on, and finding it was a perfect fit and really comfortable.
"Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, Detective Sharp," chirped River. "I asked Rarity to put that together for you. We both thought the 'brooding trenchcoat and fedora' thing wasn't really you, so we went with that."
It was hard to see it properly in the dim, but I already knew for certain that I loved it. I wasn't a licensed investigator, but wearing this already made me feel so professional. "It's... it's perfect! Thanks so much."
"Make sure you wear it when you go around detecting," she said with a cheeky smirk. "I put a lot of bits into that."
"This didn't put you out of pocket, did it?" I asked, frowning.
"Nah, I'm kidding," she assured me. "I make enough to cover it."
I tilted my head. "Y'know, you never told me what your job is. You know I'm an amateur detective, but... what about you?"
River's smile quickly evaporated, and her eyes darted. "Um, not here," she said in a hushed voice. "Let's go out and talk about it."
Curious, I obliged and paid for the meal (leaving a tip for the great food and service, naturally) and the two of us walked out. Now that the eateries were closed, Restaurant Row was barren, leaving us only with the street lanterns to guide us around.
"Okay, we're alone by the looks of it," I said. "So what's the big secret?"
"I wanna put all my cards on the table before we get further into this relationship," she said, surprisingly gravely. "I need you to promise that what I'm about to tell you stays between us."
"Okay, I promise." My ears flopped. "You're not a serial killer, are you?"
"No! No!" she yelped, waving her hooves. "Nothing like that! Just, I've been on strict NDA for a while. I only recently got clearance to tell you what I've been doing."
"NDA? Clearance?" I repeated. "River, what's going on?"
Rivershine took a deep breath and looked me square in the eyes. "Sharp, have you heard of S.M.I.L.E.?"