Doctor Suunkii placed the feather on the microscopic slide and slowly slide it beneath the microscope, pressing his eyes to the scope. “Let us see what this feather can tell us about our friend,” he declared, adjusting the focus.
“You know this is a long shot,” Daring told Phillip from her position atop one of the laboratory’s tables. She flicked her tail and scattered a stack of papers across the table.
“Careful!” Twilight Sparkle squawked, looking up from her collection of test tubes.
“A lead is worth following,” Phillip said, sitting and watching Doctor Suunkii work.
“Hmm,” Suunkii muttered. “Phillip Finder, please bring me the book of geological samples.”
Phillip got up and walked over to one of the bookshelves, selecting a large spiral-bound notebook. He carried this back over to Suunkii and gave it to him.
“I remember working on this together,” the zebra said quietly, placing it on the table and flipping through it. The pages contained photographs of soil and dust samples, along with extensive notes and maps. “I had bemoaned the fact that there was nothing to compare soil samples against one another, and you suggested that we work together to create this.”
“A single page took a week,” Phillip stated with a small nod.
“It sounds wonderful!” Twilight said enthusiastically. Daring’s reply was to swish her tail across the table again, further scattering Twilight’s notes and causing her to cry out like she was in pain.
Looking for something to distract her attention, Daring cast her gaze across the laboratory. Her eyes fell on a plastic bag that was sitting on one of the tables in the corner, next to the radio. Inside the bag was a dark red crystal, smoothly cut and polished, with a line across the middle. She walked over to the bag and picked it up, studying the teleportation crystal inside. For a moment, Shifting Tone's cry of fear and pain echoed in her head, and she shuddered; the image of the masked killer with the bloodstained knife flashed before her eyes.
“Daring? Are you okay?”
Daring Do shook her head and brought herself back to reality. Twilight was standing next to her, half-reaching her hoof towards her; Phillip was watching her, concern on his face; Suunkii had his eyes glued to the microscope.
“I’m fine,” Daring grunted. She looked down at the crystal. “I was just thinking about…”
Phillip nodded. “She's alive now because of you, Daring,” he said softly.
Daring took a shaky breath and glared at the damn crystal. “How does this thing work anyway?” she asked.
“Well, a unicorn applies the first part of the teleportation spell to the crystal, causing it to split into two halves,” Twilight explained. “Both of them carry half of the spell. When the user activates one of the crystal halves with the second half of the spell, it sends out a wave of magical energy that pulls it, and anything nearby, towards the other half of the crystal—kind of like pulling two magnets towards each other.”
“And you said it’s one-time use only?” Daring asked.
“Yes,” Twilight nodded. “Once the enchantment is used, it dispels all of the magic energy stored inside it.”
“So could a pony use the other half of the crystal to track its location?” Daring asked.
Twilight had to think about it for a moment. “No,” she finally said. “The spell is very potent. If you fired a spell at either of the crystals, it either would have no effect or trigger the teleportation.”
Daring tossed the evidence bag to herself. “Because I’m wondering how Twisted Root figured out when to use this to teleport in.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Phillip added with a nod and a quiet grunt. “Pity we can’t ask him about it.”
“Awful funny how the officers searching him missed that suicide pill,” Daring scowled. “And it’s still fishy as to how this got on Trace’s car.”
“Yes, I’m wondering about that, too,” Trace Evidence said, entering the laboratory. He gave Daring a deadpan stare.
“You probably think that I planted it there myself,” he said flatly.
Daring half-started, then glared back at Trace. “Maybe,” she replied. Twilight looked nervously back and forth between the two verbal combatants. Suunkii did not look up from his microscope. Phillip watched silently, his expression inscrutable.
“Nice idea,” Trace replied, neither his face or expression changing in the slightest. “I’d suspect myself, too. Except for a couple of things. One, if I was involved, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to leave behind any evidence or tell you how I did it. Two, I wouldn’t have let you two leave that room alive. And three, I didn’t do it.”
He turned away from Daring and towards Phillip. “I just talked with Captain Cold Case. She's not happy about it, but she says that this body’s all yours. She needs Red and I working on the shootings in the Everfree District.”
“Read about those,” Phillip answered.
“And Red wanted me to tell you, we definitely do not need your help with that,” Trace deadpanned, exiting the lab.
“Tell him ‘fuck you, too!’” Daring shouted after him.
“Daring,” Phillip flatly admonished her, returning to his place at Suunkii’s side.
Daring huffed and pulled herself back up onto the table, flicking her tail as she watched Phillip and Suunkii working. Twilight quickly gathered up her notes and put them at the other end of the table, away from the danger. “I read about those shootings, too,” she said to Phillip. “It said that some of the victims were members of the Nightmare Moon Disciples.”
“Right,” Phillip confirmed.
“The who?” Twilight asked, looking up.
“The Nightmare Moon Disciples,” Suunkii explained. “They are an old establishment in the Everfree District of the city, from before the Crystal War. They have grown stronger during the reconstruction years from drug sales, and they are known for a penchant for violence. It is theorized that they are connected to the mob.”
“The fact that they associate themselves with an evil goddess from pre-Equestrian folklore should tell you everything you need to know about them,” Daring snorted.
“It seems that somepony has decided to fight back against them,” Suunkii continued, not once looking up.
“If they were any more suicidal, they’d wake up a sleeping dragon,” Daring commented.
“Perhaps,” Suunkii muttered. “Ah, that is sufficient.” He scribbled down several notes on a sheet of paper, tore it off, and handed it to Phillip. “The traces from this feather are from these locations,” he reported. “It is possible that your witness frequents these areas.”
“Thanks, Suun,” Phillip answered, taking the list. “C’mon, Daring, we’ve got work to do.”
“And maybe you can buy lunch while we’re out,” Daring said, following him out of the lab.
“Why do I buy lunch?” Phillip complained.
“Because I’m the lady,” Daring smirked, bumping her flank against his and causing him to flinch in surprise.
“Sheila, you ain’t a lady,” Phillip grunted in reply. Daring snickered as they climbed up the stairs to the surface.
“Well, if you think of anything, let us know,” Phillip said for the umpteenth time in the past two hours. The griffon he’d been talking to shrugged and turned back to the crates that he was helping carry from the bright green delivery van that was idling on the curb. Phillip turned and walked back to Daring, who was leaning against the fence across the dusty, ash-covered street.
“Another no?” Daring asked, biting down on her carrot dog and licking mustard from her lips.
Phillip grunted an affirmation. “This really our only option?” Daring asked.
“It’s the lead we’ve got,” Phillip said. “This griffon might’ve seen the vic being dumped and they might know something.”
“There were two too many ‘mights’ in that sentence,” Daring glared.
“I’ve worked with less,” Phillip answered, looking down at the map he’d marked with possible locations that their potential witness might frequent. “Let’s keep looking.”
Daring finished off her carrot dog and followed Phillip up the street, weaving through the maze of streets in the southern docksides. This part of Ponyville was one of the oldest sections of the city, made during the advent of steam technology to take advantage of the fledgling shipping industry. Still today, the cracked paved roads were barely wide enough to allow cars to travel down them. They spread out away from the river like small tributaries, paved by ponies that were trying to claim whatever land they could as close to the life-giving water as possible. Most of the red brick and glass buildings had been storehouses and cheap taverns in their previous lives. Now the ones that hadn’t been torn down and turned into vacant lots were apartments, shops, and modest restaurants. These purlieus were also notable as containing the largest concentration of griffons in the city; many immigrant families from the Griffon kingdoms to the east of Equestria had been drawn by the promise of work generations ago, and their families had grown up here.
Their next stop was a nearby construction site. A section of land the size of a city block had been cordoned off with a chain-link fence, which touted signs warning that this was a hard hat zone. A partly formed skeleton of wooden scaffolding stretched up from the ground, with a collection of ponies and griffons climbing about it like a jungle gym. A dump truck grumbled out of the construction site, the gravel crunching beneath its massive tires as it turned up the road and passed the detectives.
“Gravel dust on our witness’ feather,” Phillip stated, looking around. “Likely came from here.”
“There’s a place to ask for information,” Daring said, pointing at a small bar across the street. A sign over the door read The Gold Griffon’s Head.
Phillip looked at the flashing red neon advertisement for Manticore Red in the window and gave Daring a sidelong glance. “Or maybe you’re just thirsty.”
“Can you blame me?” Daring asked in a falsely innocent tone. Phillip sighed and led the way across the street into the bar.
The dimly lit interior of the Griffon’s Head smelled of cheap liquor and dirt. Old fashioned oil lamps dangled from the ceiling, casting the faces of the ponies and griffons inside in weird, flickering shadows. Several of the customers looked up at the two strangers as they entered.
With a confident grin, Daring walked up right to the bar. The bartender was a tall black griffon with gray feathers and dull brown eyes marked with heavy crow’s feet. He wore a white vest with a black bowtie.
“Buon Giorno. What can I do you for?” he asked in a gravelly voice tinged with a Crystalline accent as Daring and Phillip approached his bar.
“Well, normally I charge twenty bits,” Daring grinned, leaning against the bar. “But for you, I’ll make it ten.”
Phillip stared at Daring in wide-eyed disbelief, then facehoofed with a long groan. The bartender blinked at her in confusion, then threw back his head and let out a wheezing laugh. Several of the customers joined in the laughter.
“Ahh, that’s a hoot,” the bartender sighed, wiping a tear from his eye.
Daring’s grin broadened. “What’s your name, bud?”
“Bottgilia, formerly of the Crystal Empire,” the griffon replied, glancing over them both. “No need to give either of your names.”
Daring frowned a bit and quickly dropped her right hoof out of sight. “Don’t worry about it, amica,” Bottgilia declared. “You did your time. Lotta the ponies and griffons I see here were in the same straits you were, once. You’re not gonna get any crap from anyone here.”
“Good to hear,” Daring said, settling back into a grin. “So, how about a shot of Manticore Rare and some info?”
“One I can provide,” the bartender replied, already grabbing a bottle of Daring’s favorite drink and a shot glass. “The other, it depends.”
“We’re looking for a griffon who may frequent this area,” Phillip said. “Dark brown feathers, heavyset, about four feet tall, minor limp in his hind right leg. Smokes Crystal Crown cigars. Goes fishing on the river near Pier Twelve.”
“You’re talking about Mavri,” Bottgilia said. “He’s a homeless fellow who sells fish to the local markets, hangs out around here from time to time.” He looked up at the door. “Matter of fact, that’s him now.”
Phillip and Daring both looked up to see a tall, rounded griffon, just over four feet tall, striding through the door. He had dark brown feathers and his coat was a golden-brown, the color of wheat. He grunted in pain quietly every time he stepped with his right hind leg, his tail flicking from side to side as his chocolate brown eyes panned over the room. He was wearing a gray fishing vest; Daring could see the packet of Crystal Crown in the top left breast pocket.
Mavri stepped into the bar and his eyes focused on the two strangers. He stopped for a moment and his eyes flicked up to Bottgilia. The bartender nodded softly.
Phillip approached him. “Mavri. I’m Phillip Finder, private detective. This is my partner, Daring Do.”
“Hey,” Daring greeted him, easily knocking back the shot of bourbon.
Mavri took a half-step backward. “What’s this about?”
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Phillip said, aware that several of the bar’s patrons were watching them discreetly, tense in their seats. “We just want to know if you were fishing at the river near Pier Twelve last night.”
Mavri’s eyes darted everywhere except Phillip’s face. “I might’ve been,” he admitted.
Daring walked up to him and offered him a glass of bourbon. “Hey, buddy, we just want you to tell us what you saw,” she assured him. “We’re not with the mob.”
Mavri looked around, then took the glass and walked over to a booth. Phillip and Daring both followed.
“I was out fishing, minding my own business,” Mavri began to narrate, sipping his drink. “It was twilight, when the sun’s gone down and the stars are coming up, and you can still see clearly. The salmon weren’t biting, and I was just sitting back, puffing on my third cigar.
“Then I saw a car pulling up to the opposite bank. That caught my attention: you don’t see ponies out there by the river that late at night. Not unless they have...specific business.”
He sipped at the bourbon, his eyes far away. “I knew I should’ve just taken off, but for some reason, I...I stayed. I wanted to see.
“As I watched, a pony got out of the car and pulled something out of the back. It was this huge, heavy shape: I thought it was a bag at first, but then I saw that it was a body.” He shuddered and his grip on the glass wavered, causing some of his drink to slop onto the table.
“They walked down to the edge of the river and set the body on the riverbank, then walked back up to the trunk and brought down some rope and a cinderblock. I kept as still as I could, just watching silently; I don’t think they saw me.”
Mavri paused and took a long drink. Phillip hesitated, then gently laid a hoof on his shoulder. The griffon stiffened for a moment, then relaxed and sucked in a breath.
“They tied the cinderblock to the body’s hind legs and dumped them into the river,” he continued. “Then they got back into the car and drove off. I gathered my stuff and got out of there as fast as I could.”
“Did you get a good look at the pony?” Phillip asked.
Mavri shook his head. “They were wearing a floppy hat and a dark rain jacket. I didn’t see their face or cutie mark.” He paused in thought. “I think that they had blonde hair, but I could be wrong.”
“What about the car?” Phillip pressed.
Mavri thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah, the car. It was a Bigmouth Special Seven, a pale yellow-white color. I even remember the license plate.”
“You sure you saw it clearly?” Daring asked.
Mavri gave her a deadpan look and pointed to his eyes. “I may be getting long in the beak, but I can still see a mouse running through the grass in pre-dawn. Y’see that poster over there?”
He pointed at a poster hanging up on the wall on the other side of the bar, an advertisement for an upcoming performance by the Cardinals at a nearby concert hall. Neither Daring nor Phillip could read the lettering at the bottom.
“‘Tickets going on sale seventh of the Harvest Moon,’” Mavri read. “‘For advance tickets, phone 378-3399. No refunds.’”
Daring blinked, quickly walked over to the poster, then walked back. “He’s right,” she reported.
Mavri allowed himself a smug smirk. “You believe me now?”
“Aces,” Phillip nodded. “The number?”
Mavri took a napkin from the table and scribbled down the plate number: “Z0I WHX.” He handed this to Phillip. “Thanks, mate," Phil said.
Mavri blinked, his face falling slightly into the expression of one who just realized that he was doing something that he was going to regret.
“Mavri, you’re not going to get any trouble from this,” Phillip said quietly.
“You sure about that?” the griffon whispered tensely, taking a long drag of his bourbon.
“Trust us,” Daring said. “We never heard this from you.”
Phillip reached into his vest and pulled out a business card. “You think you’re in trouble or anything, give us a bell. We’ll be there to help.”
Mavri pondered for a moment, then took the card. “Thank you.”
Phillip extended a hoof. Mavri shook it, then Daring’s hoof. “Nice meeting you,” Daring said.
“Yeah, you too,” Mavri nodded, sitting down and signaling for another drink.
Tipping Bottgilia for her drink, Daring started to lead Phillip out of the bar when she heard a familiar voice. “Daring?” Turning, she saw a bluish-gray thestral with the cutie mark of a signpost sitting at one of the smaller round tables, smiling up at her.
“Officer Guide,” she greeted him.
“Gentle,” her former corrections officer corrected her, standing up and holding out his hoof to shake. “How have you been?”
“Can’t complain,” Daring replied, shaking his hoof.
Gentle smiled at Phillip, who nodded in response. “I’m glad that you two are getting along.”
“Glad you sent her to me,” Phillip said. “She’s a hell of a partner.”
“You flatter me,” Daring smirked at him. To her great pleasure, and slight confusion, she saw his ears turning red again.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve got work to do,” Gentle Guide said, reaching into his coat pocket. “But if you ever need anything, Daring, you can give me a call.” He handed her a card with his phone number and address printed on it.
Daring took it, stared at it for a second, then pocketed it. “Thanks,” she said.
“Nice seeing you both again!” Gentle Guide called after them as they exited the bar and walked back onto the sidewalk.
“Our next stop should be the DMV,” Phillip grunted, shrugging his shoulders. “We can run the plate—Daring, wai—!”
But it was too late. Daring had seized her partner beneath the forelegs and taken off into the air with a laugh. “What do you have against taking the trolley?” Phillip protested, wriggling in her grip as she flew high above the rooftops.
“Oh, relax. You act like I’m going to drop you,” Daring scoffed.
“Knowing you, you just might,” Phillip grunted.
“Don’t tempt me,” Daring smirked, soaring northwest over the city.
The DMV was a small, single-story brick building in the town center, stuck on the end of a dead-end road. The parking lot was packed with vehicles of every make and color. The sight caused a feeling of dread to sink into both detective’s stomachs as they pushed through the door.
The DMV waiting lobby was filled with ponies, griffons, and donkeys, many of them grumbling at the wait. A line of sleepy-looking ponies stood on the other side of a long counter, dealing with one customer at a time. Classical music murmured from the speakers set up in the ceiling.
“Next!” a hassled-looking red-maned unicorn mare called as a balding burro stalked away from her, grinding his teeth. An elderly looking stallion laboriously climbed out of his seat and tottered over to her.
Daring and Phillip exchanged glances, then silently plucked a ticket from the dispenser and sat down on the hard, creaking benches to wait.
Fifty minutes later, they were still waiting. Every customer that was sent away was replaced by an incoming visitor. The constant grumbling sound, mixed with the static-punctuated music, provided a mind-numbing soundtrack. Daring had fallen asleep and was leaning against Phillip, her head on his shoulder as she snored. Phillip sat still as a statue, staring stoically ahead even as her breath tickled his cheek.
“Next!” the red-maned mare shouted, dismissing a gangly, pimpled pegasus. Phillip nudged Daring awake and they approached the counter.
“I need to identify a license plate,” Phillip declared to her, showing her his private detective license. “Z0I WHX.”
The mare frowned at him for a moment, then declared, “I’ll be right back.” She turned and walked through a door in the back of the building, returning a few moments later with a large red-bound book. She slapped it down onto the table and started rifling through pages of lined papers covered in cramped, barely legible blue ink.
“There,” she finally declared, flipping the book around to face them and pointing at a line. Phillip and Daring both read the indicated information and their faces creased in confusion.
The plate Z0I WHX was registered not to a pale yellow Bigmouth Special Seven, but rather to a blue Tumbleweed White Specter belonging to a wealthy bachelor living on the western outskirts of the city.
“You think he got the plate wrong?” Daring asked in an undertone.
“Possibly,” Phillip muttered.
Daring looked at the napkin that Mavri had written the numbers on and tilted her head. “Wait a minute,” she declared, reaching around and spinning the napkin around so that it was upside-down. The numbers now read “XHM I0Z.”
Phillip immediately grabbed the book, turned to the section tagged “X” and started rifling through it. “There,” he declared after a minute, pointing. XHM I0Z was registered to a white Bigmouth Special Seven, owned by a Gold Bar, who lived in the Everfree District.
“Good onya,” Phillip praised Daring, handing the book back to the state employee and exiting. “Time to pay this bloke a visit. And can we please take the trolley this time?”
“Hmm,” Daring mused for a moment, then grinned. “Nah.” And before Phillip could try to run, she seized him beneath the forelegs and flapped up into the sky, his cry of protest echoing off the buildings.