The Case of the Starry Night

by Bad Horse

3. An unlikely suspect

The museum cafe, which had a separate entrance onto the street, did not appear a likely venue for either a criminal mastermind or a great magician. It was simply decorated, with white walls, small black ironwork tables of the irritating sort whose four legs never all touched the ground at the same time, and a large window overlooking part of the museum's exterior fountain. The view was fading and the window turning reflective instead as the twilight deepened. An area in front of the window had been cleared of tables for the performance. The ticket receipts from the several dozen patrons present could scarcely have covered Trixie's travel expenses. The Great and Powerful Trixie was presumably behind some tacked-up white bedsheets that partitioned off the far end of the cafe to serve as a dressing room.

Holmes had put on a fast and expedient disguise, consisting of glasses and a felt bowler hat from his saddlebag, and the wide-eyed expression of an eager and easily-impressed tourist. He purchased a "Fillydelphia Cheese Cupcake" whose key ingredient I could smell from several feet away, which I hope he chose only to complete his disguise. I chose a root beer and a simple farmer's sandwich of carrots and cucumbers. Holmes chose a table in the front row but off to one side, giving us a clear view but not making us a focus of attention. Mr. F. excused himself to engage in some argument with the cafe manager over a cloud of steam he had seen emanating from the kitchen, which he appeared to think was somehow a threat to the paintings upstairs.

"Holmes," I said, "I will try not to enjoy it, but I think you are going to look like a fool. This is the sort of magic show one would see at a filly's birthday party."

"Your lack of faith wounds me, Watson. But in that case I suggest you relax and enjoy the show. I expect it will be unconventional. She is, as far as I was able to tell from my investigations, completely self-educated."

"Why do you believe," I pressed, "that this second-rate entertainer is capable of bypassing security installed by the arch-mage and stealing a famous painting under the noses of dozens of ponies?"

"Because she is a second-rate entertainer, but a first-rate magician, and conscious of it. A second-rate magician could not do it; a successful entertainer would not. Bitterness and envy drive the unappreciated genius to crime, not for profit, but for vindication. And because, Watson, if I were to steal the Starry Night, this is how I would do it. She has license to stand nearly directly underneath it for an entire hour, employing powerful magical energies, without an alarm being raised. That is why I looked into her background as soon as I learned she would perform here tonight. Her innocuous first show has lulled them into concluding, illogically, that the second will be equally innocent. Her wit and audacity are remarkable." His face glowed briefly with admiration. After all these years, I can count precisely the number of times I have seen this happen.

But it always chilled me when Holmes hypothesized about himself as a criminal. I took a sip from my root beer and tried to change the subject. "I sense something more, Holmes. You are emotionally involved. Yes, even you have emotions. I know the signs. Your ear has twitched at least twice since we entered, which for you is practically spasmodic."

Holmes appeared as if he were about to dismiss this with a rejoinder, but paused, and instead brought his head close to mine, letting his cheery expression drop. "What would you say is the ratio of earth ponies to unicorns in Canterlot, Watson?"

I thought for a moment, and replied, "Perhaps one in five. It is difficult to know. They are usually behind the scenes."

"Indeed they are. And what, among our criminal cases in Canterlot, has been the ratio?"

I frowned. "Closer to two to one."

"Does that not strike you as odd, Watson? Wings, or a bit of magic, make crime so much easier. Why should earth ponies attempt it at all, let alone be drawn to it at a rate of ten to one over unicorns?"

"Well," I said, "Canterlot is not exactly agricultural. Employment there for strong backs is limited."

His eyes turned hard. "That is no excuse. Neither you nor I have strong backs, and we have done quite well."

"Perhaps we would not have," I said, "if we had strong backs."

"Perhaps," Holmes conceded. "But I believe the underlying causes are more systemic." He pulled his head back, a bitter look now in his eyes. "Regardless," he said slowly, "crime is a terrible profession. The work is unsteady, the risks are high, the payoffs usually disappointing. It is the dregs, the leavings, the last resort. It is, in a word, ours, Watson." He looked around him, and I became conscious that we were nearly the only earth ponies in the cafe.

"Holmes," I said, "you seem to be suggesting that for a unicorn to steal a painting would be to put some honest earth pony out of work."

He cast his eyes down. "Everything is so easy for them, Watson. And for her, with her skill and power, crime is child's play." He looked up and met my eyes with a penetrating gaze. "But I promise you this: She will not find it so easy this time."

I looked away and sipped my drink uneasily, conscious again that there were depths to my friend I had not yet sounded. I had the odd sensation of having fallen into a parallel universe where some chance circumstance had made him something less than what he ought to be. Mr. F. joined us at the table, and his good-natured smile was a relief. The cafe manager dimmed the lights out past the impromptu stage, a hoof parted one of the partitioning sheets from inside, and we had our first view of the Great and Powerful Trixie.

Comments

[TheTownCrier]

I would read more but I hear coffee calling.

[Drhoz]

nice bit of earth pony politics there from Holmes :) Which human actor would you have voice him, perchance?

[Xhoral1865]

I like this.

[EchoWing]

1044691 For some reason, I'm hearing Jeremy Brett.

[GrandMaster Soul]

I didn't expect to see themes of racial disparity. Good for you.

[Crack-Fic Casey]

"Perhaps," Holmes conceded. "But I believe the underlying causes are more systemic." He pulled his head back, a bitter look now in his eyes. "Regardless," he said slowly, "crime is a terrible profession. The work is unsteady, the risks are high, the payoffs usually disappointing. It is the dregs, the leavings, the last resort. It is, in a word, ours, Watson." He looked around him, and I became conscious that we were nearly the only earth ponies in the cafe.

"Holmes," I said, "you seem to be suggesting that for a unicorn to steal a painting would be to put some honest earth pony out of work."

This is so perfectly in charator I can't help but go over it again.