O’Briar, Ishnael and I agreed that our first order of business should be to check out the site our client had told us about; a large warehouse in the middle of the agricultural district. You’d think that the place would be swarming with activity in the middle of the day, but you’d be wrong. The streets were heavy with the sound of our steps, but not much else. It felt like a million eyes were watching us, but there wasn't a pony to be found. It was enough to put a guy on the edge of his nerves.
The trip to the warehouse was uneventful, thankfully. From the look of things, we had the place to ourselves. Now all we had to do was get in.
Anyone in my business will tell you that to reach the truth, and get paid, you sometimes have to do less than savory things. I've picked up a few tricks in my time, and even though some folks might take exception to my methods, they can’t deny that they’re effective.
We stepped inside and had the run of the place. Crates were piled high and deep, and the fluorescent lights painted the inside a stark, clinical white.The air smelled like efficiency and hard labor; time and sweat sold to the highest bidder.
Of course, we weren't alone for very long. Fortune might favor the brave, but her sense of timing is terrible.
One of our marks, a big tank of a stallion, walked in to our little shindig. He didn't say much, but he didn't have to; you learn early on that the quiet ones are the most dangerous.
The big lug wasn’t dumb, and probably wouldn’t have thought twice about turning us into plant food. He was the kind of guy who could smell fear, so we couldn’t let him see us sweat. He was blocking our exit, so beating feet wasn’t an option without taking a beating of our own. Still, I was confident that my silver tongue would see us through this jam. I just had to make sure the big guy wasn’t going to rip it out of my head first.
After some quick thinking, and a little dumb luck, we left the district with our limbs still firmly attached to our bodies. Unfortunately, we still had no solid leads. Judging by what we saw and heard while we were there, something was definitely not square, but we were chasing a ghost trail. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like ghosts.
-S. Mcfang
~~~~~~~~
The sun reached its peak in the sky as the trio of young detectives made their way through Sweet Apple Acres. They kept conversation to a minimum, preferring to stay alert for the farm’s tenants. Spike didn’t think that the Apples would object to their presence on the farm, but they would definitely question the danger music being hummed by the two colts.
Eventually, the boys finally reached their target: a freshly renovated barn, complete with new rolling doors. Unfortunately, those new doors also had a new padlock. Spike could see a faint scorch mark rimming the keyhole. He chuckled softly under his breath.
“It’s just like Applebloom said,” he muttered. He took a moment to study the lock from all angles, careful not to touch it. Living with Twilight had taught the drake not to leave clawprints when he wanted to be discreet.
Meanwhile, Snips and Snails plopped their haunches down on the cool grass. “Whew! That was a long walk,” Snips said, wiggling his forehooves in the air.
Snails nodded in agreement. “Yeah, my hooves hurt.” He looked at the barn, suddenly hesitant. “I’ve never been in there before. It’s so big! How are we gonna get in?”
Spike frowned and waved a claw behind him impatiently. “Shush, I’m figuring this lock out.”
Snips stood up and peered over the drake’s shoulder. “What’s your plan, Mcfang?”
Spike turned his attention to his partner and smiled slyly. “It’s a nice lock, but it’s still just an Earth pony lock.” He tapped it with a claw and listened. "Simple cylinder, three followers, first cam is worn. Weak spring on the second, no bump guard. Most importantly, no magic tricks or nothin' in this lump. I’ll have it open in a moment.” With that, Spike pressed his thumb against his forefinger, causing a slender claw to extend from its sheath. “Stand back, O’Briar. Watch the master at work.” He turned back to the lock and inserted his claw.
Snips watched raptly as the drake concentrated on his task, working the innards of the lock with slow, subtle movements of his claw. “Where did you learn all of that?”
Despite the complexity of his task, Spike couldn’t resist smiling at the colt’s awed tone. “I know a pony who knows a pony,” he replied cryptically. His grimace returned as he renewed his efforts against the lock; despite his cockiness, the damn thing wasn’t giving up without a fight.
While Snips did his best to help Spike with the lock, Snails began to snoop around the outside of the tall, imposing building, looking for any clues. As he rounded a corner, he spotted a detail that he was certain was a major break in the case. He turned and called to his companions, "Uh, guys?"
“Not now, Ishnael!” Spike growled, growing increasingly frustrated with the lock.
Snails glanced behind him, toward the thing he spotted, then back at his friends. “But, guys--”
Snips turned his attention for Spike and looked to his best friend. “What’s up?” His ears flattened against his skull as a new, terrifying thought popped into his head. “Oh, no! Are they on to us?”
The idea that the Apples had seen them caused Spike to pull away from the lock quickly. It was a good thing, too; his claw was starting to hurt. “Where are they? Quick, guys! Act natural!” Spike leaned against the barn and began whistling frantically.
Snails shook his head. “Uhh, no, I haven’t seen anypony. It’s just,” the colt pointed toward the side of the barn with his muzzle, “I think the loft’s open.”
“What do you mean, the loft’s open?” Spike asked incredulously. “Applebloom said that Big Mac and Applejack had this entire operation locked down tight!” He walked to the side of the building, peering around the edge suspiciously.
Sure enough, the door to the loft was ajar; they could see that a misplaced hay bale had kept the loft from shutting properly.
“Well, what do you know?” Snips said as he approached. “This is great news, McFang! We’ve got our way in! now you don’t have to mess with the lock anymore!”
Spike rubbed his sore claw unconsciously. “...Just needed a few more minutes,” he mumbled.
Snails beamed with pride over his contribution to the investigation. “Now all we gotta do is figure out how to get up there.”
The three detectives stood below the loft, contemplating how they might get in. Though there were a few apple crates stacked beneath the loft, it still wasn’t high enough for them to clamber in the open door.
Spike snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him. “O’Briar! Do you still have that grappling hook?”
Snips looked at the drake, confused. “I’ve never had a grappling hook. What are you talking about?”
Spike’s enthusiasm quickly waned at the colt’s words. “Huh. I could’ve sworn--”
Snips shook his head. “Not me.”
The dragon went silent for a moment. Finally, he shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I can climb this wall. After I do, you guys hop up on the crates and jump. I’ll hoist you up.”
The colts looked at each other, then back at Spike. “Um, will that work, Mcfang?” Snails asked apprehensively. “I’m kinda heavy.”
Spike dismissed Snails’ worry with a wave of his claw. “Don’t worry, Ishnael. I’ll get you up there.”
Snails nodded, though his face betrayed his worry. “If you say so.”
With their plan decided, Spike jumped up onto the crates. After a moment of stretching, he jumped into the wall of the barn, latching on with his claws. He climbed steadily toward the open loft, his claws carving furrows into the wood. He frowned as he felt his claws sinking into the wood. There’s no way they’re gonna miss those marks.
He soon forgot his guilt, however, as he made it to the lip of the loft. A quick tug with his arms, and he was in. The dragon took a moment to catch his breath, and set his hat down to the side. The last thing he needed was for it to drop into the dirt below. After a steadying breath, he looked out to his two friends. “Alright, who’s going first?”
Snips carefully climbed onto the crates, and looked up at the dragon. “Are you ready?” He called, a slight tremor in his voice.
Spike nodded confidently. “One good jump, O’Briar, and you’re in.”
Snips swallowed audibly and locked his gaze on Spike, tensing his body for the jump to come. With a grunt, he flung himself upward against the wall of the barn, gasping as Spike’s claws dug into his arms.
Spike grit his teeth and pulled. Snips’ hind legs scrabbled fruitlessly against the wall as he was hoisted into the loft. Once Spike had pulled Snips cleanly over the edge, they both fell to the floor, gasping for air. After several moments filled with groans and wheezing, Spike heard Snails’ voice from below. “Uh, guys? You didn’t forget me, did you?”
They stood and peered over the ledge. “Just… resting for a moment, Ishnael. It’s your turn now,” Snips said breathlessly.
Spike leaned out over the ledge once again in preparation. Snails took Snips’ success as a good sign, and prepared to jump from the crate he was standing on. “Woo!” Snails shouted as he jumped against the barn wall.
Spike grabbed onto Snails’ arms, as he had with Snips, but felt himself being dragged over the edge by the squirming colt’s weight. Panic raced through him, and he cried out to Snips. “Augh! Help me!”
A bolt of pain lanced through Spike’s tail as Snips stepped on it, putting all of his weight down in an effort to keep him from sliding out of the loft. Spike bit back a yelp and concentrated on lifting Snails, who had begun to kick out in fright. “Stop it, Ishnael,” the dragon said through his clenched jaw, “I’ve got you!”
After what felt like an eternity, the gangly colt planted his hind hooves on the outside wall and heaved himself over the edge of the loft, collapsing into a panting heap. “That was… scary.”
Spike breathed a sigh of relief before turning to glare at Snips. He snatched his tail up and began rubbing the sore spot. “What the crap, O’Briar?!”
Snips shrugged apologetically. “I thought you were gonna fall. I panicked!”
Spike growled in annoyance and dropped his tail. “Well, it doesn’t matter. We’re in now.”
Careful not to bump his still-throbbing tail against anything, Spike descended the ladder into the barn proper. He backed away from the ladder to let his partners down, and looked around the barn. “It’s quiet… A little too quiet,” he said to his partners. It felt like the right thing to say; he hadn’t forgotten that the loft was supposed to be secured. “Keep your eyes peeled, boys. We could be walking into a trap.”
The colts nodded in understanding. Snips walked stealthily toward the back of the barn as Snails watched the rafters for signs of movement. He whistled softly, impressed with what he was seeing. “You weren’t lying. This place is huge.” Still, Snips thought the barn felt… cramped. “There are a lot of crates in here.”
Snails walked up to his best friend, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the wooden boxes that were taking up most of the barn. “Yeah… A little too a lot of crates.”
Spike moved to join his companions. “Ishnael’s right, even if he has a strange way of saying it. These aren’t like the crates that Applejack and Big Mac normally use for apples.” Spike scrutinized a nearby crate. After a moment, he could make out a subtle indentation in the wood; the letters “C.T.F.” had been pressed into the crate with almost mechanical precision.
“Now that’s just weird,” Spike mumbled to himself. “Hey guys, take a look at--”
He turned as he spoke, but was confused to see his companions facing the barn door, their faces ashen. “What’s going on?”
“Funny, I was about ta ask the same thing.”
The deep, even tone of the voice caused Spike’s heart to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He turned to face the speaker; a large, crimson stallion. “H-hey, Big Mac… How’s it hangin’?”
Macintosh’s expression remained unchanged, but the straw sticking out of his mouth twitched as he stared down at Spike. “Can I help you boys find somethin’?”
The drake stammered, trying to come up with a suitable reply. “How did you know that we--?”
“Ya’ll weren’t exactly discreet in yer entrance,” the farmer replied evenly. “I could hear ya’ll shoutin’ and bangin’.”
Spike looked over at the colts, who were still frozen in place, their tails tucked between their legs. Even his first instinct was to cave under Macintosh’s impassive gaze and tell him everything. Spike took a deep breath and chased that thought from his mind. He was doing this for Applebloom, and he’d never turned snitch on a client before. Granted, he’d never had a client before, but that was beside the point.
“I…” A plan suddenly sprang to life in the drake’s mind. Luna, please let this work. “This is on me, Big Mac. The boys were just following my lead.”
Macintosh gave a brief nod. Though he kept his eyes locked on Spike, the set of his jaw relaxed slightly. “What is it that y’all were doin’?”
Spike didn’t hear any accusation in Macintosh’s question. So far, so good, he thought.
“The truth is,” the drake began hesitantly, “I… we don’t know much at all about you, Mac.” It wasn’t a lie; Spike had never really spoken to the Apple stallion. Macintosh’s expression turned to one of confusion, and then curiosity. Spike took that as a good sign, and smiled inwardly as the rest of the plan fell into place in his mind. “The guys and I were just curious about you. You don’t say much, and we don’t see you around town much, either.”
Behind Spike, Snips nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! We just wanted to get to know you better!”
The stallion’s brow furrowed. “So ya broke into the barn?”
Spike winced; he had hoped to distract Macintosh from that fact for a bit longer. “Yeah… It was dumb. I figured that since you spend most of your time in the fields and in here, we’d find something that could tell us more about you.”
“If ya had questions, ya could’ve just asked.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Would you have answered?”
Macintosh fell silent, seemingly lost in thought for the moment. “Doesn’t excuse what ya’ll did.”
The drake cast his eyes down at the ground, his expression contrite. “I know, and I’m sorry. Just… When you tell Twilight, can you leave Snips and Snails out of it? It was my idea. I should be the one that’s punished.”
“Spike.”
The young dragon looked up at Macintosh, whose broad face now seemed to show a hint of… amusement? Spike couldn’t tell in the dim light. The stallion shrugged nonchalantly, and nodded in the direction of the trio. “Ask yer questions.”
For the second time, Spike felt his heart drop into his stomach. Oh, crap! Mac’s calling my bluff!
To the surprise of everyone in the barn, Snails was the first to speak. “Do you like dirt, Mr. Macintosh?”
The stallion blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I… Suppose I do. Couldn’t grow crops without it.”
Snails’ grin nearly took in his ears. “I do too! Ah, can I be a farmer?”
Macintosh seemed to think about it for a moment. ”Is that what this is all about? Can’t say I’ve ever recalled a unicorn or dragon interested in apple farming.”
Spike knew an opportunity when he saw one, and seized it. “We want to get to know you better, and you’re out in the fields most of the time. So… Yes?”
Behind him, Snips grimaced. “Why do these adventures with you always seem to end in work, Spike?” Snips’ voice was barely audible, but the young dragon heard him well enough.
Spike ignored his partner’s grumbling, and did his best to flash an innocent smile at Macintosh. “So, what do ya say, Mac?”
Macintosh idly scratched his chin with a hoof for a moment, before nodding. “Alright. Day after tomorrow, I’m fixin’ the irrigation in th’ South field. Lots of dirt, lots of water. Ya’ll need to be here at sunup. I’ll get yer parents’ permission.”
Spike’s eyes widened in horror at the prospect of being up so early. That was, like, a billion hours before he normally got up! “Macintosh, that may a little too-”
The drake’s words died in his throat as Macintosh’s look cut through him. “Ya’ll broke in to our barn. It wasn’t a request.”
Snips, Snails, and Spike all withered under the farmer’s gaze. “Yes, sir,” they said, nearly in unison.
Macintosh nodded again, satisfied. “As thanks fer yer help, I’ll leave that bit out when I get yer folks’ permission,” he said with a smirk. “Now go on, get.”
The trio shuffled quickly out of the cramped barn. As they passed, Macintosh’s smirk grew into a full fledged smile. “Remember, by sunup!”
“Will do, Mac!” Spike shouted over his shoulder. After the trio had gone a fair distance from the barn, his shoulders slumped. “Ugh, dawn…”
Beside him, Snips snorted in irritation. “That could have gone better.”
“Are you kidding me?” Snails could barely contain his excitement. “Working on the farm is gonna be… uh…” Snails trailed off as he tried to think of the right word to describe his glee. “Good?”
Spike rolled his eyes at the dim colt. “It doesn’t surprise me that you would think so, Ishnael. Still, that was some quick thinking in the barn. My hat’s off to--” Spike’s eyes widened and he shot a claw up to the side of his head. The feeling of smooth scales confirmed his fear. “My hat!” His mind raced as he mentally backtracked to the moment he had dropped his prized possession.
The loft.
“Gah! Guys!”
Snips and Snails both flinched, startled by the sudden urgency in the drake’s voice. “What’s wrong?” Snips asked worriedly. “Are we doomed?” He spun around to look at the barn.
“No! I just… I dropped my hat. We have to go back to the barn real quick.”
The stubby colt shook his head fiercely. “Ohhh, no. I’m not going back there. I thought we were dead when Mr. Macintosh caught us. I’m not about to tempt fate a second time today.” Snips put a hoof on Snails’ shoulder. “We’ll wait for you here.”
Spike frowned in exasperation. “Really, guys? Fine. Don’t leave without me.” With that, he turned and trudged back toward the barn.
Sheesh, what a couple of tenderhooves, Spike thought as he reached the barn door. He put out a claw to grab the handle. We’re never going to get anywhere with this investag--wait, what’s that?
Spike thoughts were derailed as his sharp hearing picked up a voice from inside the barn.
“...See you. Good thing, too. Otherwise, the whole town would know.” It was Macintosh’s voice. Spike perked his ears up and leaned closer to the door, careful not to make any sound.
“I don’t understand why I had to hide in the first place. We’re not doing anything wrong.” The second voice carried a slight twang and was distinctly feminine. Spike’s eyes widened. Who’s in there with him? I don’t recognise... A sigh from inside snapped Spike from his musing.
“I ain’t ashamed of what we’re doin’ here, but it’s about perception. If everypony caught wind of this before we’re ready to reveal it, it could spell trouble for you, me, and Applejack. Hell, we’d be done before we ever really got started. I love all of my relatives, but the Apple family can be… stubborn.”
“I know, but all this sneaking around… Why were they here in the first place?”
Spike could almost hear Macintosh’s shrug in the silence that followed. “I have my suspicions, but I’m not about to voice ‘em until I know for sure.” His voice grew stern. “Best not to leave the loft open anymore.”
“But it gets so stuffy in here! I just needed…”
Spike stepped back from the door and turned back toward the path, his mind racing. Is Mac really a spy? Maybe.. An assassin?! The drake shook his head as he began briskly walking back toward his friends, his hat forgotten for the moment. That doesn’t make any sense. Whoever he was talking to said that they weren’t doing anything wrong… His thoughts turned back to the other voice.
Had Mac taken a mistress? No, that didn’t make any sense, either; as far as Spike knew, the stallion was single, so there’d be no reason to sneak around. Applejack was involved, too, so it couldn’t be. At least he hoped…
Spike smacked himself in the head several times, trying to beat that particular line of thinking out of his brain. Nope. Nope! NOPE!
Rubbing his now aching temple, Spike crested the small hill where his partners said they would wait for him. Of course, they were nowhere in sight. Instead, he saw Applejack walking toward him.
Okay, McFang. Play it cool.
The mare smiled brightly as she walked up to Spike, and tipped her hat in greeting. “Howdy, Spike! Where you off to?”
Play it cool!
“Nothin’!”
Spike winced. Smooth.
Applejack raised an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s put a bustle in yer hedgerow there, partner?”
The dragon straightened up and forced a smile. “Hey Applejack! Sorry about that. I guess I got lost in my thoughts for a second.” He scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously. “Have you seen Applebloom? I was supposed to help her with something.”
The mare laughed and patted Spike on the shoulder. “No worries. She’s with the other Crusaders, I’m guessin’. You check their clubhouse yet?”
Spike shook his head. “Not yet. Didn’t want to walk all the way there and find out no one’s home, you know?”
Applejack nodded. “Makes sense. Still, I ain’t seen her around here since this morning, so she’s likely cookin’ up some hairbrained scheme to get her cutie mark.” She pointed back the way she had come. “Yer friends are waitin’ for ya by the path a little ways down. Whatever the crusaders have in mind, I trust you’ll keep ‘em outta harm’s way?”
The farmer’s smile remained, but Spike could hear the steel in her voice. He smiled weakly and nodded. “Of course, Applejack. You know I won’t let them do anything crazy. Especially if it involves me.” The dragon shuddered as his mind turned back to the last time he helped the crusaders.
Applejack laughed out loud at Spike’s reaction. “Best not remind ‘em of that partic’lar crusade, Spike.” She took her hat off and wiped her brow with her free hoof, sighing as she placed the stetson back on her head. “Whew! it’s warming up good and proper! I’d best get my work done ‘fore the barn turns into a sauna. I’ll see ya later, Spike!” With that, the mare turned and began to walk away.
Spike let out a sigh of relief. “Okay. Catch ya later, Applejack.”
********
“Do you think my parents will let me have a pet rock?”
Snips sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend. “We’ve been through this, Ish--er--Snails. I don’t think your mom and dad are gonna buy a leash and toys for a rock!”
Snails sat up from his spot in the cool grass, his eyes full of sadness. “But… I’d make sure he was housebroken and everything!” the lanky colt frowned as a thought occurred to him. “And my name is Ishnael right now, remember?”
Snips groaned and stood up, fixing Snails with a level stare. “We don’t have to use the nicknames when Spike isn’t here. You’re still Snails.”
Snails grinned at his best friend. “And you’re still Snips! But you’re also O’Briar! Hooray for two names!”
The pudgy colt sighed and looked out from the shade of the apple tree. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Here comes Spike.” He waved the drake over to their spot in the shade. “Hey, McFang! Where’s your… hat?” The last word came out softly as Snips picked up on Spike’s frantic pace.
“No time for that right now. We gotta get to Applebloom’s clubhouse.” The young dragon’s words were clipped, and he kept peering over his shoulder.
Once again, Snips felt Spike’s tension infect him. His question came out as a harsh whisper. “What’s going on? Why are you so nervous?”
Before Spike could answer, Snails butted in. “We--we’re going to see Applebloom?” The colt’s voice held more than a hint of anxiety. “But… We didn’t help her yet! Or did we?” Snails smiled anxiously at Spike. “Did we win?”
Spike shook his head impatiently. “Not yet, Ishnael. And O’Briar? We’re not in trouble. I just… I overheard something at the barn. Somepony else is involved with whatever Applebloom’s brother and sister are doing.” Both colts gasped.
“Oh no! If somepony else is in on it, then…” Snips trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I have no idea what that means!”
The draconic detective huffed. “Neither do I. That’s why we’ve gotta talk to Applebloom. She didn’t mention anyone else when she came to see me.”
Spike narrowed his eyes and looked to the left, in the direction of the clubhouse. “Before we go any further with this case, our client needs to give us some answers.”