The address, 67 Whitewash Road, was a two-story building in the Everfree District, almost straight northwest of the city center. The house stood on its own block, with a long sidewalk and driveway leading to the doorway and garage. The house was almost as big as a mansion, the walls painted a burnished gold that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.The windows were drawn, blocked off by blue curtains.
As Phillip and Daring approached, they saw that the garage door was open. A yellow-white Bigmouth Special Seven was parked inside, the license plate reading XHM I0Z. A white unicorn with a white-blonde mane was washing the car with a garden house, humming to himself. He had a cutie mark of a bucket filled with soap and was wearing a perfectly smooth black vest.
“We found our car,” Daring said as they walked past on the other side of the street. “Now what do we do?”
“Now we find out what we can,” Phillip said.
“We’re just gonna go in there and question this Gold Bar guy about this?” Daring asked.
“Yes,” Phillip answered. “And while we do that, we look around for more information.”
“Okay,” Daring said. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything and everything,” Phillip told her. “The smallest detail might be the one that tells us the truth.” He turned to her. “Just keep quiet and let me do the talking. You observe everything.”
Daring frowned a bit, but nodded in assent. Phillip led the way across the street. The unicorn washing the car looked up at their approach. “Can I help you?” he asked in a high-pitched voice, looking down his nose at them both.
“We’re looking for Gold Bar,” Phillip said, showing his private detective license. “He’s involved in a police case.”
The unicorn studied Phil’s license for a moment, then grunted. “I’ll see if he’s willing to see you. Please come with me,” he said. Turning on his heels, he walked towards the house, ascending up a set of stairs to the front door. Phillip and Daring followed, both of them noticing the distinctive bulge shifting beneath the servant’s vest.
The servant led them into a sitting room. A set of bay windows framed by blue curtains opened up towards the sidewalk, allowing whoever was inside to watch the ponies walking by outside. A coffee table sat in front of a pair of cushy sofas, the tabletop covered in a white doily. A brick fireplace was placed against the wall next to the window, currently clean and empty. A grandfather clock stood next to the fireplace, ticking merrily away. A bookshelf was mounted on the wall, carrying a collection of novels.
“Please wait here,” the servant said. “I shall see if Mr. Bar is willing to see you.” He turned and exited the room. There was the sound of creaking stairsteps from out of view.
“So now what?” Daring asked.
Phillip pointed at his eyes and ears. “We look and listen and learn.”
Daring panned her eyes over the room. Her trained instincts as a thief led her to note the locks on the window were all secured and well-oiled, and that the glass had been replaced. She squinted at the brand: magic-reinforced double-laminate bulletproof glass. She whistled beneath her breath. “Having these put in must’ve cost more than the house.”
Phillip had his ear cocked and was sniffing at the air. Daring heard and smelt it as well: a mare’s voice from down the hallway, singing an aria, accompanied by the smell of cooking stew. So, there was at least one other servant in the house.
Phillip drew a hoof across the novels on the bookshelf. Most of them were historical fiction stories, all of them with dreary, uninteresting titles that gave away little information, such as Faust’s Knights or The Name of the Tulip. “Rarely read,” he muttered, drawing away a hoof and studying the layer of dust on it.
There was the sound of a throat clearing. Both ponies turned to see the unicorn servant standing in the doorway, still glaring at them down his nose. “Mr. Bar will see you in his office,” he stated. “Please follow me.” He turned and walked up the hallway, without waiting for either of his guests to fall in behind. Phillip and Daring followed him up a set of wooden stairs to the second floor and down a carpeted hallway to a door. He knocked sharply at the door and then pushed it open, standing aside to allow the detectives entry.
They entered a large office and immediately had to squint and shield their eyes as they both received a faceful of sunlight streaming in through the windows set in the back wall, spilling through the cracks in the blue drapery. The office had a large bookshelf on the left wall, a pair of glass doors shielding a collection of what looked like financial texts. Opposite was a small table with an expensive-looking coffee set placed atop it, the pot in the center steaming gently. In front of them was a set of three chairs in front of a grand oak desk, behind which sat a short, rotund, middle-aged unicorn stallion with a pale green coat and a long mane and beard of silvery hair. He was wearing a gray suit with a gold-striped tie, secured with a pin that matched his cutie mark: a stack of three gold bars embossed on a silver shield. He blinked up at his visitors through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. The desk itself had several papers spread across it and a telephone sitting to the left of Phillip and Daring’s perspective. On the other side of the table was a snuff box, a little turquoise-shell box with a winged harp logo embossed on it.
“Yes, can I help you?” the stallion asked.
“Gold Bar, I’m Phillip Finder. This is my partner, Daring Do,” Phillip greeted him, settling into one of the chairs. “We’re private detectives. We just want to ask a few questions.”
Gold Bar removed his glasses, revealing his yellow-green eyes, and leaned forward. “Please, ask away.”
“Can you account for your movements for the past twenty-four hours?” Phillip asked, flipping open his notebook.
“I do not leave the house except on rare occasion,” Gold Bar replied. “I have not left this house in the past three days. All three of my servants will account for that.”
“What exactly do you do?” Daring asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
“I am a financial consultant,” Gold Bar replied. “I give information on stocks and bonds and which businesses are wisest to invest in.”
“Your car has been tied to a police case,” Phillip stated.
Gold Bar’s bushy eyebrows raised. “Is that so? What case?”
“We’re not at liberty to say,” Phillip answered. “A witness spotted the car last night.”
Gold Bar brought his hooves up to his chin and pondered for a moment. “Most odd. Perhaps one of my servants took it.”
“We’ll need the names of all three of your servants.”
“Yes, I see,” Gold Bar replied. “You have met Soap Sud. I also have my cook, Steamed Carrot, who is currently downstairs. My third servant is Silver Polish, but he is currently out on business, purchasing groceries.”
Phillip made a quick note of the names. “Are they trustworthy?”
Gold Bar frowned. “To be perfectly honest, Soap Sud has a checkered past. He was sent to prison a few years ago for attacking another pony in a bar altercation, and I have had to discipline him a few times for being belligerent. Steamed and Silver have never given me reason to doubt them.”
“Thank you,” Phillip nodded. “One other thing. Do you own a dark rain jacket and a floppy hat?”
“No,” Gold Bar replied.
“We’re going to have to talk to your servants,” Phil said.
“Certainly, if it will help your investigation,” Gold Bar nodded. “The servants live in the basement. Now, if you would excuse me, I must return to work.” He looked back down at the papers on the desk, lifting up one to his face to examine and grasping a pen in his right hoof.
Phillip and Daring both stood up and exited the room. Descending down the stairs to the first floor, they walked down the hallway to the kitchen. The long, narrow room was filled with the aromas of cooking vegetables and broth. Every surface was brightly polished and spotless. Pots and pans were hung up on the wall beneath rows of cabinets. A large pot filled with a bubbling stew stood atop a burning stove. A chubby blue pegasus mare with her long red mane done up in a tight bun was stirring the pot, singing an aria. She was wearing a white apron and her cutie mark was a steaming pot filled with vegetables.
As the guests approached, the mare turned around, lifting a spoonful of soup out of the pot. “Oh, we have guests! Here, try this,” she declared, stuffing the spoon into Phillip’s open mouth. Phillip instinctively swallowed, then licked his lips. “Well?” the mare asked.
“Aces,” Phillip said, nodding appreciatively.
The mare grinned. “I’ve been experimenting with some new recipes, adjusting the spices and flavors. You think I overdid it with the oregano?”
“No, it works great,” Phillip said. “But it is a bit too salty. Add a few potatoes, that’ll help.”
“Hmm,” the mare said, taking a spoonful for herself and smacking her lips. “I think you have a point.” She paused, then grinned broadly. “Oh, where are my manners? Hi! I’m Steamed Carrot. Who’re you?”
“We’re food critics, apparently,” Daring said, smirking at Phillip. He blinked back at her, then his face momentarily creased in shame as he suddenly realized his lapse in concentration. She snickered silently.
“I’m Phillip Finder, and this is Daring Do,” he told Steamed. “We’re private detectives.”
“Oh! Did I do something?” Carrot asked, her face falling.
“Depends. Where were you last night?” Phillip asked.
“I was here all night,” Steamed replied, turning down the stew to simmer and gathering several potatoes from one of the cabinets, setting them down onto a cutting board. “I got struck with inspiration after dinner and spent most of the night cooking up a new ratatouille recipe.”
“Rat patootie?” Daring asked, her face twisting in confusion and revulsion.
“Ratatouille,” Steamed replied. “It’s a stew made from eggplants, bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, zucchini, and garlic. I’ve still got some in the fridge if you want to try it!”
“Can anyone account for your alibi?” Phillip asked. Daring noticed his eyes sliding towards the refrigerator as he spoke and had to fight down a giggle.
“Oh, Mr. Bar, Soap Sud, and Silver Polish can!” Steamed Carrot chirped, chopping up potatoes and dropping them into the pot. “They all were my taste testers.”
“Do you or anypony else here own a dark rain jacket or a floppy hat?” Phillip asked.
“I think Soap Sud has a dark jacket and a floppy hat,” Steamed replied. “Why?”
“Just checking up on a lead,” Phillip answered, his eyes flickering towards the fridge once again.
“C’mon, partner,” Daring said, smirking and quivering with suppressed laughter. “We should go check out the evidence.”
“Right,” Phillip nodded, returning himself to seriousness as they exited the kitchen.
“Nice meeting you!” Steamed Carrot called after them as they exited.
The pair walked out of the kitchen and quickly spotted a set of stairs headed down. Descending into the basement, they walked into a wide sitting room. Several couches were placed around a table, which was littered with a collection of playing cards and a pair of empty cider bottles. A radio sat on top of a mini-fridge on the wall. Three doors were lined up along a short hallway up ahead.
Phillip walked up to the first door and knocked. When there was no reply, he tried the doorknob. The door opened up to reveal a small but comfortable bedroom. The blue sheets on the bed were neatly folded, and a spy novel sat on top of the sheets. On top of the dresser stood a small safe, which was open. Inside was a box of .38 bullets and an empty shoulder holster.
To the left of the door stood a coat stand. Perched atop it was a dark red rain jacket and a black hat with a wide, floppy brim. Phillip and Daring both exchanged a glance, then Phillip reached forward and pulled the hat down, turning it over to examine the interior.
“Ahem.”
Both of them turned around to see Soap Sud standing in front of them, looking very unamused. “May I ask what the hell you are doing in my room?” he growled.
“Whoa! If your mom were here, she’d put a bar of soap in your mouth for that, Suds,” Daring snarked. Soap glared daggers at her.
“Did you go out at all last night?” Phillip asked, quickly shouldering Daring behind him.
“I do not see why I should answer that,” Soap stated.
“Because as of now, you’re our best suspect for a murder,” Phillip declared.
Soap sneered at them. “You will find that difficult to prove. Steamed Carrot, Silver Polish, and Mr. Bar can all attest for my presence here all of yesterday. And I think it’s long past time for you two to leave.” His horn lit up with a blue aura, tugging his coat breast aside a bit in an understated but firm threat.
This threat did not go unheeded. Replacing the hat on the rack, Phillip led Daring up out of the basement and out of the house. They exited back out onto the street and started to walk away.
“So now what do we do?” Daring asked.
“There are other ways of getting info,” Phillip declared. “Could check with the neighbors.”
“Yoo-hoo! Detectives!” a female voice sang out. Both of them turned and looked across the road to see a pearl white unicorn with an elaborately curled purple mane and tail waving at them.
“I recognize you from the Apple Pie,” Daring said as they walked over. “You’re one of AJ’s friends.”
The mare smiled brightly and nodded. “My name is Rarity. I saw you coming out of Gold Bar’s home. Is he in any trouble?”
“Not at liberty to say,” Phillip replied.
Rarity looked around, her eyes traveling up towards a silver metal pole that stood on the street corner. Daring glanced up at the pole. One of the two surveillance crystals that was mounted upon it seemed to be staring down at her with its one solid blue eye. She quickly looked back down.
“Let us discuss this inside, away from prying eyes,” Rarity declared. “I believe I may have some information that you would find useful.”
She turned and led the detectives into a purple home shaped roughly like a carousel. Inside was a fashion store, with a wide variety of clothing neatly organized across the display room, some of the fanciest outfits adorning the ponyquins that stood sentinel like guards. Displayed on the wall was a pair of photographs. One showed Rarity standing in front of a store on the streets of Canterlot with a tall, thin, cerulean unicorn mare with orange hair and eyes, wearing a fancy dress. The other picture showed Rarity in Manehattan with a creamy white earth pony mare, her blue hair arranged in a short bobcut.
“Welcome to the Carousel Boutique!” Rarity sang. “All your fashion needs met in one convenient location. Now, to business.” She turned to her two guests. “Have you heard of these recent shootings in the area?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Yes,” Phillip answered. “Targeted against members of the Nightmare Moon Disciples.”
“Well, they started about two weeks ago,” Rarity continued. Daring noticed that she kept glancing at her as she talked. “And there’s an interesting coincidence I noticed. Gold Bar left his home that day on a business trip.”
“That’s really that unusual?” Daring asked, shifting as Rarity continued to stare at the top of her head.
“Indeed,” Rarity continued. “I’ve lived with Gold Bar as a neighbor ever since I established this business three years ago. It’s a rare thing indeed to see him leave the house more than once a month…” Her voice trailed off. “Darling, I’m sorry, but your coiffure is really very distracting. It doesn’t work for you at all!”
“I didn’t ask your opinion,” Daring grumbled, subconsciously running a hoof through her mane.
“At least allow me to find you a proper hat,” Rarity declared, turning to a row of hats on the wall and gathering up several of them in her magic. “One should always make themselves look presentable.”
“You were saying about him going out,” Phillip said as Rarity placed a white sun hat on Daring’s head, then immediately discarded it.
“Yes, I was,” Rarity stated, continuing her attempts to find a hat for Daring. “I saw him leaving that morning. He didn’t come back until late that afternoon, which was highly unusual; he never stays out later than he needs to. There is one other thing; when he left he had his mane parted to the left and was wearing his tie in an oriental knot. When he came back, however, his mane was slightly disarrayed and I could swear that his tie was now in a Windsor knot.”
“So?” Daring asked, scowling as Rarity placed a ridiculously oversized hat loaded with an absurd number of fake flowers on her head. “He could’ve just messed up his mane in the wind or something.”
“And you could only see him from across the road, correct?” Phillip asked, watching the ever-changing display of hats with a look of wry amusement.
Rarity paused to think, causing the too-large fedora she was trying on Daring to slip down over Daring’s eyes. “I suppose that is true,” she murmured. “However, it was also odd that he did not respond to me in the slightest when I waved hello. He’s usually so polite.” She considered the fedora for a moment, then shook her head and removed it from Daring’s head. “However, soon after that day, the shootings began. Violence is not an uncommon thing in this district, but now, it’s an almost daily occurrence.” She shuddered. “I hate to think that it would occur here.”
Phillip was silent for a few moments, while Daring continued to suffer the modeling in silence. “What can you tell us about the servants?”
“I do not know them well,” Rarity confessed. “But I have had the opportunity to observe some of them. Soap Sud is quite vulgar, but he seems loyal to Mr. Bar. Steamed Carrot is quite cheery and pleasant to talk to; she’s always good for local gossip. Silver Polish, on the other hoof, is quite taciturn.” She paused for a moment, holding two flapper hats over Daring’s head. “All of them frequently go out for chores—almost daily, in fact—sometimes at odd hours. Soap, in particular, frequents the local taverns, and I have heard that he has quite the reputation amongst…” She paused and cleared her throat in obvious embarrassment. “The local ladies.”
“What does Silver Polish look like?” Phillip asked, watching Gold Bar’s home out the window.
“He has a golden coat with a silvery-blue mane and blue eyes,” Rarity reported, tapping her chin in thought as she studied Daring. “His cutie mark is a silver platter with a cloth.” She sighed. “Darling, you really are a tough case.”
“Well, excuse me for not using conditioner and being all frou-frou—” Daring started to snap, but something caught her eyes. Sitting on the bottom of the shelves of hats was a pale green pith helmet. Daring pounced on it and placed it upon her head. Her ears slid into the holes and the hat perched atop her head like a bird settling into a nest.
“Oh, that,” Rarity said. “I got that in a deal along with several other hats. Honestly, I forgot I had it."
“I like it,” Daring said enthusiastically, examining herself in the mirror. She tilted the hat back to expose more of her face, then forward so that the brow hid her eyes. "I always loved reading about adventurers as a kid, like Hayana Pone. I liked exploring the neighborhood and pretending I was in a jungle or something, searching for treasures. This...this is just like Hayana's hat."
“It suits you,” Phillip nodded, half-smiling.
Rarity tilted her head to the side a bit, then smiled and applauded enthusiastically. "C'est magnifique, darling! It adds such an air of adventure and mystery to your look, and it goes with your coat and shirt so well! I do believe it's perfect!"
“Sweet,” Daring said, handing Rarity some bits. Rarity walked off to total the sale. “So what’s the plan now?”
“We watch this house,” Phillip said, staring at Gold Bar’s home through the window. “We have one dead body and a rash of violence. Somepony in that house is involved.”
Daring tilted her new hat down over her face. “Then we’d better get some coffee. Could be in for a long haul.”