Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes

by PonyJosiah13


Case One, Chapter Seven: The Net Tightens

The sound of Daring’s hoofsteps echoed against the walls of the laboratory as she paced in an endless circle around the tables with their neatly placed equipment. Phillip, Twilight and Doctor Suunkii sat in a row, watching her go around like a wind-up toy on a track.

Suunkii took a long slurp of cold coffee from his mug and sighed. “How is Shifting Tone?" he asked, his concern as genuine as his desire to break the silence.

"She's at the hospital, she'll be okay," Phillip replied. "Cops keeping her under armed guard."

"Then let us hope that we can find the one who attacked her and end the bloodshed here," Suunkii stated.

Phillip just grunted in reply. Daring made no sign that she had heard him. As she walked past the table for the twentieth time, her eyes fell on two objects sitting atop the black countertop. One was a circular black plastic dish, which contained black dirt left on Phillip’s cheek, left behind from the killer’s punch. The other was the switchblade knife, held in a clear plastic bag with a tag to protect it from contamination. Against her wishes, her gaze settled on the weapon.

The switchblade knife was an ugly thing: a glance told her that this thing was designed for one purpose only, and that was to cut and to kill. The five-inch blade was still red to the hilt with Shifting Tone’s blood, the stain having dried to a hideous dark red shade. The handle was black, the metallic shine dulled from lack of care. There was a brand logo imprinted into the handle, the stylized head of a roaring tiger surrounded by flames. She supposed the image was supposed to make the user feel like a badass or something.

She snorted to herself in disdain and went back to pacing. The murderer was no badass. He was a coward.

To her great relief, the door finally opened and Detectives Trace and Red entered. Both of them looked exhausted from a long morning of work. Trace was holding a stack of files in his magic and had a trenchcoat draped over his shoulder.

“I found out how our killer found us,” Trace declared in a grim voice, setting the files down on the table. He reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat and pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was a long, dark red crystal. There was a white line across the center of the crystal; it looked as though the rock had been cut perfectly in half at one point, and then reassembled.

“Two halves of a teleportation crystal,” Trace explained. “It was underneath the bumper of my car. Our killer teleported to our location using this.”

“Can you use their magic off of that?” Daring asked Twilight. “Like what we did with the paper?”

“No,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “The crystal used up all of its enchantment when he teleported to it. There’s no magic in there to use.”

“I wonder how he knew to use Detective Trace Evidence’s car,” Dr. Suunkii mused.

“It’s not exactly a secret that I’m working this case,” Trace shrugged. “I suppose if a pony wanted to find Shifting Tone, the best thing they could do is follow the pony looking for them.”

“We can discuss this later,” Red said with a yawn. “It took us all morning, but we found a list of ponies in this city who bought a Tigertooth Black switchblade recently.” He gave Phillip a grim look. “I assume you have something clever for us to do with this shitload of names that we got for you.”

“Yes,” Phillip replied flatly, ignoring the biting tone of Red Herring’s voice. “We have clues we can use to narrow the list down.”

He walked into the center of the room and turned to face his comrades. “The killer is a unicorn male, approximately three feet, nine inches in height, with a blue aura and green eyes. Right hooved. Trained fighter, physically fit. Will likely have previous criminal history; we can check in the files here. Suunkii, what did you find from the dirt on his hoof?”

“It is potting soil,” Suunkii replied. “I found traces of plant material from several different plants contained within it.”

“Then he does gardening,” Phillip concluded. “Possibly employed at a garden supply, may have a plant-related cutie mark. Probably grew the shrinking violets himself. And he’ll have a bruise on his chin and cracked ribs from last night.”

“All good points,” Trace Evidence commented, accepting a mug of coffee from Suunkii. “But we still have to narrow this list down.” He glanced at the stack of papers and sighed. “That means…”

Twilight gasped, her eyes lighting up like stars. “Research!” she cried.

“Research,” Red and Trace both groaned.

“To the records room!” Twilight declared, already marching out of the lab. The detectives both followed, while Suunkii quietly excused himself.

Before Phillip could follow, Daring reached out a wing and stopped him. “How do we know Trace didn’t put that crystal in his car himself?” she whispered. “To try to throw us off his track?”

“We don’t,” Phillip whispered back. “But we can’t prove that he did, either. Good instincts, though,” he added quietly. “You are learning.”

They exited the lab and walked down a short hallway to a door set all the way at the end. Behind the door was a room about the size of a walk-in closet. Several tall filing cabinets had been stuffed into the room rather haphazardly, many of the drawers stuffed full with criminal records.

“I was just in the middle of reorganizing these,” Twilight was saying, bouncing around the room cheerfully as she gathered up files in her magic. “And after this, I’ll take the opportunity to reorganize them again!” She placed the stack down in front of the group and then pranced off into the aisles again, thinking out loud to herself. “Alphabetical order, subcategorized by race and severity of their crimes, cross-referencing each other by modus operandi and signature…!”

“I’ll get another pot going,” Red offered, scurrying out of the room as fast as possible. Trace, Phillip, and Daring all sighed and set to work.


It took them just under an hour and an entire pot of coffee, but they managed to narrow down the list to only twenty-three unicorns who had bought a switchblade and had a previous criminal history of violence. “Why do so many ponies need switchblade knives anyway?” Red Herring grumbled, laying his forehead on the table.

“Right,” Phillip said, rubbing his eyes. “Now we just have to check on these ponies and see if we can find our wanker.”

“We should bring some officers to back us up,” Trace Evidence stated. “Officers we can trust,” he added in response to a glance from Daring.

“Trust,” Daring snorted as the door shut. “That’s not a word you associate with Ponyville police.”

“Or with thieves,” Red Herring replied, looking up.

Daring snapped her gaze to him, her eyes narrowing. “You got something to say to me?” she growled.

“I can see that brand on your right hoof,” Red replied evenly, standing up to his full height. “Everypony can. And we all know what that mark means.”

“What it meant,” Phillip replied coldly.

Red Herring snorted. “She ratted out her friends for a lighter sentence. You actually think that just because she spent a year in jail, she’s not a thief anymore?”

“Stop it, all of you!” Twilight cried, pushing the arguing ponies away from each other with her magic. “Detective Herring, apologize to her!”

"That fancy certificate doesn't mean you can boss me around, filly," Red Herring snarled at Twilight for a moment, then turned and stormed out of the room. Daring panted through her teeth.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked, touching Daring’s shoulder.

“Get off!” Daring snapped, shoving her away.

“Okay, cool down, all of you,” Trace Evidence ordered. He looked right at Daring. “For the record, I don’t care about your past. You’re working with him, and he’s working with us. That means you’re working with us. That’s all that matters.” He turned to Phillip. “You do have a point, though. No officers this time. Just us.”

“Fine by me,” Phillip said, gathering up the list of names and addresses. “C’mon, Daring.”

“Good luck,” Twilight called after them as they exited the records room. Red Herring was waiting outside with a sour expression.

“Separate cars and she comes with me,” Trace told him in a tone that preemptively cut off any argument, swinging his trenchcoat over his shoulders as he spoke. Red Herring just grunted and stalked out. The group ascended all the way up to the surface. A brisk wind blew through the streets of Ponyville, and the sun was hidden behind a layer of pale gray clouds that blanketed the sky.

Red Herring made a beeline for a rust-colored Diplomat 600, flinging himself into the driver’s seat. Phillip climbed into the passenger seat as Trace led Daring over to his Hayson Commander.

“I’m sorry about Red,” he said to her as he unlocked the door and opened it up. “He can be...well…”

“An asshole?” Daring grunted, getting into the passenger seat. She eyed him warily out of the corner of her gaze, wondering if she was sitting in a car with a traitor.

“Yeah,” Trace nodded. “But he’s really not that—”

“Don’t,” Daring cut him off. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Trace looked over at her, then nodded, turning the ignition. The engine rattled to life and he followed Red out of the parking lot and into the streets of Ponyville.


By that afternoon, the sun was starting to peek out from the cloud cover, as if timidly checking to see if it was safe to come out. The Diplomat and the Commander trawled across a four-lane road through the dockside district, the wipers occasionally dancing across the windshields to clean off a few errant raindrops.

They reached their destination, a garden supply store set in between two multi-story office buildings, with a metal scaffolding of a half-constructed building across the busy road. A squat shack stood in front of a small parking lot, with the words “Edenian Treasures” written in green over the door. White greenhouses and tents stretched out past the store. The two cars pulled into the mostly-empty lot and parked.

“Who’re we looking for again?” Red Herring grumbled, stretching his tired limbs as he climbed out of his car.

“Twisted Root,” Phillip answered as he disembarked. “Worker here.”

“We’re running low on names,” Trace commented as he led the way up to the door. "Maybe this one will be the one we are after."

The bell over the door jingled as they entered. The slightly dusty store was crowded with shelves loaded with a wide variety of equipment: bags of seeds, gardening tools, small decorative stone statues, and bags of potting soil and compost. Every step they took kicked up soil.

In the very back of the store was a low table with an old-fashioned cash register; a dusty but still running and reliable punch clock was set up on the wall behind the counter, with time sheets placed in slots on either side of it. A young blonde earth pony wearing a green apron was sitting behind the counter, his eyes scanning a magazine of word puzzles. He glanced up at their approach and scrambled to his hooves. “Can I help you?” he asked. The silver nametag on his apron read “Dancing Petals.”

Red Herring and Trace Evidence both walked up to the counter. Daring and Phillip held back, scanning the room. “We’re looking for an employee who works here,” Red Herring said gruffly. “Twisted Root.”

Dancing Petals looked back and forth across all four ponies for a moment before answering. “Oh, yeah. He’s not here today. Must’ve called in sick. Is he in trouble?”

“No, no, we just want to ask him some questions,” Trace said, cutting his partner off. “He a friend of yours?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dancing shrugged. “We hang out sometimes after work, go get a cider or something.”

“Were you here last night?” Trace asked.

Dancing nodded. “Was he?” Trace pressed.

“Nope,” Dancing shook his head. “Don’t know where he was. Have you tried his home?”

“We already did,” Red grunted. “He wasn’t there.”

Dancing shrugged again. “Then I have no idea where he is.”

“All right,” Trace nodded, handing Dancing Petals his card. “Well, let us know if you do see him. We need to speak to him.”

“Will do, officers,” Dancing Petals said with a small wave as the group turned and exited the store. He waited until he heard the bell jingling, then dropped his magazine onto the counter and turned, heading out a back door. Sprinting down the gravel pathway, he ran past several greenhouses to the last one in the row and ducked through the thin doorway.

The white walls of plastic sheeting flapped gently in the wind, their noise adding to the hum of the lamps set from the ceiling. Long tables stretched across the length of the greenhouse. Pots filled with a variety of shades of soil stood in rows atop the tables, many of them bearing plants with strange and vibrant colors.

A pale blue unicorn wearing a green apron stood at the end of the row, studying a flower with five bright purple, teardrop-shaped petals. The unicorn was just over three foot nine, with a short white-blonde mane and tail and well-toned limbs. His cutie mark was a gnarled root and a mortar and pestle. As Dancing Petals approached him, the violet suddenly retracted back into the soil in its pot, as though in fright.

“Twisted,” Dancing called. The unicorn looked up, affixing him with his green eyes. “There were some cops up front asking about you.”

“Asking about me?” Twisted Root repeated, his eyes widening with shock.

“Don’t worry, I told them that you weren’t here,” Dancing replied.

“Good,” Twisted sighed, mopping his brow. “But if they came here once, they’ll probably come back. I need to get out of here.”

“Best get going now,” Dancing suggested, looking around. "I'll cover for you."

Twisted Root nodded and turned, heading for the back door of the greenhouse. He pushed through, already running through his backup plans in his head. He had a hideout near the Everfree Forest, loaded with a variety of his favorite potions: he could hide there until the heat went down and he could contact Silvertongue for instructions.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts as he turned the corner and found himself looking up at four ponies forming a solid wall in front of him.

“Boo,” Red Herring deadpanned.

“Word of advice,” Phillip said. “If you’re going to lie about not being at work, don’t put your timesheet in the ‘In’ slot.”

Trace Evidence extracted a set of rattling hoofcuffs from one of his coat pockets. “You’re coming with us,” he declared.

The next moment, all four ponies were sent flying backward by a wave of blue magic. Twisted Root sprinted through them, racing for the parking lot.

“He’s going for a car!” Red Herring shouted, spreading his wings and taking flight, chasing after their suspect.

But instead of leaping into a car, Twisted ran for the road. Leaping into the air, he lit up his horn. His entire body became covered with a blue aura and he propelled himself across the road, over the passing cars. Red Herring chased after him; Daring spread her wings, snatched Phillip underneath the forelegs and carried him across the road, dropping him off on the other side.

“Hey! What about me?!” Trace shouted, trapped on the other side. Grumbling, he tried to make his way across the street one lane at a time, having to pause for traffic.

Landing on the other side, Twisted Root sprinted through a gap in the chain-link fence surrounding the deserted construction site. He spotted a pulley system placed on the exterior of the scaffolding for carrying supplies and sprinted towards it, throwing spells behind him to force his two flying pursuers to back off. Seizing the rope, he used his magic to smoothly pull himself all the way up to the fourth floor before leaping off.

Red Herring swooped up after him but was received by a spell directly to the face. Stunned by the spell, he tumbled out of the air. Daring pulled up short and dived after him, grabbing him just before he struck the ground.

Phillip reached the scaffolding and leaped up, seizing the metal scaffolding and shimmying up it like a monkey. “He okay?” he called to Daring as he pulled himself up to the third floor.

“He’s breathing,” Daring shouted back, crouching over Red’s unconscious form. “But I don’t know if I can wake him up.”

At that moment, Trace ran up, his coat in disarray. “Good,” Daring said. “You can help him.” With a flap of her wings, she flew up to the fourth floor just as Phillip pulled himself over the edge, leaving Trace standing open-mouthed on the ground.

The fourth floor of the part-constructed building was made of wide hallways of plastic sheeting. Buzzing lamps set on the floor provided illumination; construction equipment, sheets of wood and buckets of tools littered the hallways.

Phillip reached into his vest and pulled out his baton, snapping it open with a sharp flick of his wrist. His eyes panned over the scene. “Stay close to me,” he ordered Daring.

Daring and Phil began to stalk forward, every step carefully placed to minimize the sound they made. Their eyes panned back and forth, alert for any movement.

“You hear that?” Daring whispered as they entered a four-way intersection of hallways. “Close your mouth and hold your breath.”

He obeyed. The two ponies remained as still as they could, their ears darting back and forth to scan for any sounds.

Then they heard it above the shuffling of plastic sheeting: the creaking of wood beneath shifting hooves and stifled panting, coming from behind the wooden floor behind a wall to their left.

Like a bird dog leaping onto its doomed prey, Phillip pounced, tearing aside a wall of plastic sheeting. Twisted Root was on the other side, his eyes widening in shock. He immediately tried to fire a stunning spell at Phillip, but he ducked beneath it and responded with a headbutt to the face, knocking Twisted backward. Daring flew forwards and Phillip ducked, allowing her to follow up with a flying kick to Twisted’s head that catapulted him back down the hallway.

Rolling back to his hooves, Twisted turned and ran around a corner, using his magic to tear a section of plastic sheeting from the wall and fling it at Daring. It entangled her like a net, dropping her out of the air. "Motherfucker!" Daring shouted in rage, struggling to disentangle herself. Phillip sprinted after Twisted.

"Fuck off, copper!" Twisted shouted in panic, magically hurling some loose bricks and boards at his pursuer. Somersaulting beneath the first wave of projectiles, Phillip vaulted off a sawhorse to grab a ceiling pipe and swung forward onto a saw table. Twisted hurled another arc of magical energy over his shoulder at him, but Phillip dived off the table into a tuck and roll, then leaped up and tackled the suspect to the floor.

Seizing a loose two-by-four on the ground, Twisted struck Phillip in the ear with it, knocking him aside. Both ponies rolled back to their hooves, each holding their weapon in a guarding position. Phillip growled at Twisted, blood trickling down from his ear. "You're pissing me off," he hissed.

Twisted hesitated for a moment, then let out his gathered courage in a shout of rage and charged Phillip, swinging the two-by-four. Phillip dodged the first two strikes, then sidestepped a downward blow and hit Twisted in the wrist with his baton. Bone snapped, the unicorn howled in agony, and the board clattered to the floor. Phillip shoulder-rammed Twisted, pushing him back. The unicorn stumbled, then saw motion out of the corner of his eye. He tried to bring his guard up, but it was too late.

Daring tackled the unicorn to the ground, entangling him in the plastic sheeting. She and Phillip both pounced, raining down blows on Twisted Root’s struggling form. Within moments, the captured suspect ceased moving, groaning.

Panting, Phillip pulled the sheeting off him. Twisted Root glared up at him, his face and body marked with bruises.

“Who were your partners?” Phillip asked quietly. His voice was pitched low, like the cold wind at the front of a storm. His gray eyes seem to darken, becoming as black as thunderheads. Twisted just glared at him.

With a sudden motion, Phillip brought his baton up and smashed it down onto Twisted left hind knee. The crack of breaking bone mixed with the unicorn’s screech of agony. Daring stepped back in shock, drawing in breath in a gasp.

“Who?” Phillip snarled, glaring at his writhing victim. “You still have three kneecaps left.”

“Fuck you!” Twisted Root snapped back through his teeth.

Phillip raised the baton again but was interrupted by a shout. “Finder! Back away from him, now.”

Red Herring and Trace Evidence appeared from around the corner, both with their sidearms out. Phillip paused for a moment, glaring at them as though infuriated that they dared to interrupt his interrogation, then stepped back with a grunt, folding up his baton and storing it in his pocket. Daring stared silently at him as the detectives approached.

“Great,” Red Herring grunted. “Nice job, Finder. And now we’ve got to get an ambulance for this one.”

“Resisted arrest,” Phillip replied shortly.

Trace placed a set of hoofcuffs on the suspect while Red flew back to the cars to radio for an ambulance. Phillip turned and began to walk away. Daring hesitated for a moment, then caught up to him and fell in line next to him. Neither of them spoke as they descended to the ground via a set of stairs and crossed the street to the lot.

Red Herring was standing at the open door of his Diplomat. He did not look at them as he signed off the radio and replaced the hoofheld microphone. “The kid’s gone,” he grunted. “Must’ve run off while we were busy with his friend.”

“Worry about him later,” Phillip grunted.

“You two stay here. You’ve done more than enough,” Red Herring ordered and flew back across the street to keep an eye on their prisoner. Phillip sat down on the bumper of the Commander with a grunt.

Daring extracted a cigarette from her pack of Blue Camel and stuck it in her mouth. She offered the pack to Phillip. He plucked one out for himself. Extracting her lighter, she lit his first, then hers, puffing heartily.

"Your ear alright?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Phillip nodded. "Just hurts." He touched the appendage and winced faintly. "Think it stopped bleeding. I'll put some gauze on it later."

“You normally beat up every pony you catch?” she asked, blowing smoke rings out of her mouth.

Phillip closed his eyes and inhaled deeply on his cigarette, then pulled it out and closed his mouth, holding the smoke in his throat for a moment before slowly exhaling. “No,” he replied. “But I needed information from him. That was the fastest way.”

Daring scoffed. “Well, the little fuck deserved it. But I see what Twilight meant when she said she didn’t agree with your methods.”

“Not doing this job to make ponies like me,” Phillip answered, studying the gravel beneath him. He was silent for a few moments, then looked up. “This is what I do for a living, Daring,” he said, speaking slowly, as though he were picking his words very carefully. “If you find it’s not right for you, you can leave. I won’t stop you. Hell, if you want, I’ll give you a glowing reference for whatever job you want.”

Daring laughed. “Somehow, I’m not sure a recommendation from you would be worth much,” she said. Phillip half-smiled, smoke puffing out of his nostrils once in a quiet chuckle.

“And me, leave?” she added. “You kidding? I got to sneak into Silvertongue’s gallery and catch a hired killer piece of shit, and I got paid for it.” She paused. “We are getting paid for this, right?”

“Not much, but yeah,” Phillip nodded. “So you’re staying?”

“Definitely,” Daring grinned. A true smile flickered across Phillip’s face, and he quickly lowered his gaze as if trying to hide it.

Daring took another drag on her cigarette and held it in, mulling over her thoughts as the clouds of sharp, minty air lingered on her tongue. “Just tell me one thing,” she said, turning to face Phillip. “Gentle Guide told me that you were looking for a partner. Why? And why take me on?”

Phillip looked down at the gravel for several moments of silence, then answered without looking up. “Needed somepony I could rely on,” he answered. “Somepony not afraid of breaking the rules to do what was right. Was telling Gentle Guide that about two moons ago, and he suggested you.” He looked up at her. His gray eyes, which only minutes ago had been dark and cold as thunderclouds, were now softer and lighter.

“I know about your case, Daring,” he said. “You turned in the Family because you knew that what they were doing was wrong. That and your skills were useful for me. Guide thought you’d make a good match for me, told me that I should give you a fair go since nopony else might.”

Daring frowned. For a brief moment, the brand seemed to burn against her skin. “And? What do you think?”

Phillip leaned back a bit, drawing a slow, contemplative draw on his cigarette, then letting it out slowly. “I think,” he finally said. “That we make a good team.”

Daring grinned and stuck her hoof out. “So, partners?”

Phillip bumped his hoof against hers. “Partners.”

At that moment, a set of spinning red and blue lights announced the arrival of an ambulance. Daring and Phillip watched as it pulled into the construction yard lot and stopped. Two ponies leaped out of the cab and walked around to the back to retrieve a stretcher.

“Think we should take our leave,” Phillip said, rising and dropping the cigarette onto the ground, crushing it beneath his heel. “There is one other thing we need to do.”

Daring doused her own cigarette as Phillip walked up to the curb and flagged down a passing cab. He waited for Daring to climb in before sliding in himself and giving an address to the griffon cabbie. With a grumble, the cab pulled out from the curb and sped away, back into the city interior.


The two-story light brown cottage was still sitting on the side of the road, but the yellow and black crime scene tape had long been removed. Orange Slice was sitting on a rocking chair on the open porch, staring at the passing cars with a forlorn look on his face.

The cab stopped at the curb and Phillip and Daring dismounted. Phillip paused just long enough to pay the cabbie before walking up the short driveway to the porch. “Mr. Slice?”

Orange Slice blinked and looked at him. His expression did not change in the slightest. “What have you found out?”

Phillip and Daring both walked up the porch and sat down on some old rickety wooden chairs across from Orange Slice. “We know who killed your daughter and why,” Phillip said quietly.

He began to explain the story of the murdered ponies, telling Orange Slice that they had all been killed because of one worker who had stolen from their boss, though he did not tell Orange about Shifting Tone. He continued on about how he and Daring had uncovered the killer’s identity, how the murderer had used the pollen of shrinking violets to sneak into his victim’s homes. And finally, he related the tale of how he and Daring, with the aid of two police detectives, had hunted down the murderer and captured him. Daring occasionally interjected to make a brief comment. Orange Slice listened in silence, slowly rocking back and forth in the chair.

When the story was complete, the elder stallion sat, looking at the floor as he continued to rock in his chair. “So,” he finally said. “You caught him?”

“Yes,” Phillip replied. “And he will face justice. You have my word on that.”

Orange Slice looked up slowly and sighed. “You know, this morning when I woke up, I started making breakfast for the both of us,” he said. “And then I remembered that I won’t be making her breakfast ever again. Because she…” He began to blink quickly.

Phillip hesitated. Daring strode forward and placed a hoof on Orange Slice’s back and began to rub reassuringly. “I’m really sorry about your daughter,” she said. “And we’d love to bring her back for you if we could. But she wouldn’t want you wasting your life away.”

Orange Slice took in a deep breath and nodded. “I know.”

“So, look, you should probably seek some help if you need it,” Daring continued.

“And you can talk to us if you need,” Phillip offered, somewhat hesitatingly.

Orange Slice managed a weak smile. “Yes. Thank you. If nothing else, you have caught the pony who killed her, so thank you for that.”

Phillip nodded. “Now, sorry to sound insensitive, but…”

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” Orange Slice nodded. He disappeared inside for a brief moment, then came back out onto the porch with a checkbook. He wrote out a check for Phillip, handed it to him, and shook his hoof. “Thank you for the help.”

“Hooroo, and be well,” Phillip said, touching the brim of his hat. He and Daring descended off the porch and back down the road as Orange Slice turned and went back inside his home. The sun was beginning to set, casting muted rays of gold and amber across the slowly scattering clouds.

“So what now?” Daring asked.

“First, back to our house so I can pick something up. Then the bank so we can deposit this,” Phillip said, pocketing the check. “Then,” he added with a half-grin. “Dinner and a show. You ever been to the Apple Pie in Your Eye tavern?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Daring shrugged.

“Think you’ll like it,” Phillip answered. “Let’s get home.”

A grin slowly spread across Daring’s face. Spotting it out of the corner of his eye, Phillip tried to move away from her, his face creasing into an expression of shock. “No, wait, we can—”

“This is faster,” Daring cut him off, and before he could protest further, she seized him under the forelegs and flapped up into the crisp, clear air, making a beeline for Honeybee Bakery Street.