Van Hoover, the city of dreams. Ponies, Griffions, Hippogryphs, Changelings, and dragons of all descriptions make the city home. The moors to the south of the town host a large hive, which is run by Queen Fenland Knight, and the overflow reside, turning the surrounding safelands in the moor into a full on city. However, with all of that, the city has a crime rate.
To combat this, the 75th street precinct works round the clock. It's star attractions are a Changeling Queen to be, Moorland Mist and her Sergeant, Desk Jockey. The two are as fierce as bulldogs once they are on the case and when their metaphorical “Teeth” are sunk into the criminal they are pursuing, they don't let go. Like every good cop, they have their enemy, who is a private detective.
The detective, Pipe Glass, is Moorland's most despised frenemy. He was a pegasus with a Cedar Brown coat with a Dull Pine Green mane. He had smoky gray eyes and the build of an average Wonderbolt, with speed to match. His cutie mark-A Smoking Pipe and Magnifying Glass in front of a Candle, is a sign for any cop who sees it to start growling and barking at him uncontrollably.
His office, on the corner of 84th and Maresford, is a short jaunt away from the 75th street precinct, where it wasn't unusual to see him being barked at or booked on a charge. After 24 hours, he was out, only to horn in and get them on his case. Usually, whenever Moorland was out and passing his office, and seeing a pony or whatever creature exiting the building where his office was caused her blood to boil over.
Pipe's office was tied to a small apartment, where everything could fit on a postage stamp, but that didn't stop him from getting clients. Many times, he had no clients. Other times, he had crack job clients. A rainy, dreary and cheerful Wednesday saw Pipe out to do some shopping and get a startling bit of news.
“Trench coat, hat, camera and film, and notepads with pencils and pens, and a few missing office essentials,” he muttered, exiting to the sidewalk to be greeted by a familiar pale lime green coat, gnarled horn and faded whitish silver tail greeted his vision. Noting the Briefcase and oak desk cutie mark, he couldn't resist a jab.
“Oh? The desk mouse got let loose?” he asked.
“Can it you,” the unicorn growled.
“Oh come on,” Pipe said. “What's got you all twisted like a pretzel?”
“This weather and the case we're on,” the unicorn said.
“Case?” Pipe asked.
“You haven't heard the news?” The unicorn asked.
“No, fill me in,” Pipe said.
“Rainbow was charged early this morning with theft,” the unicorn said.
“Charged with the theft of what?” Pipe asked.
“Read the paper,” the unicorn said. “It's front page. Have fun and don't get a client. This case is in the bag.”
The unicorn trotted off. Pipe raised a brow and all the way to the coat shop, he couldn't stop wondering about the theft. Once in the shop, he found a trench coat that fit his build, with interior pockets to boot.
“It's about time,” an elderly Earth Pony stallion said.
“Don't remind me, Button Strip,” Pipe said.
He laid 25 bits on the table and put it on, then walked out. The hat shop was in downtown Van Hoover and getting a taxi would be impossible, as it was 10:30 am and the traveling public wanted quick ways to get everywhere and avoid the rain. Sighing, he set off to the shop.
The rain seemed to pick up in intensity as he neared the shop. When he was able to, he dove into the shop.
“Going for the “drowned rat” look?” a voice asked.
He turned to see a soft pinkish blue pegasus mare. Her golden red eyes lit up.
“You know it, Feather Cap,” he joked.
She chuckled as he picked up a silverish black fedora hat and with a bit of a test, he found the hat not to be the best for him. Trying on other hats, he eventually found one-a dull glass brown colored fedora.
Paying for it, he trotted out and down to the newspaper stand and grabbed the paper and tucked it away in his coat before heading to the camera shop. That, thankfully, wasn't too far from where he normally got lunch.
The shop owner, who he had done favors for in the past, wasn't in. He'd come down with a case of the flu and his son was in charge when Pipe entered.
“Morning,” the unicorn colt called.
“Morning Flash Bulb,” Pipe called back. “Dad's still out?”
“Yeah,” Flash Bulb replied. “The flu.”
“That's rough,” Pipe replied.
“It is,” Flash chuckled softly. “Anyway, can I help you?”
“Just looking for a camera and some films,” Pipe said. “Dad's been riding me about that.”
“Typical,” Flash said. “Note Clue left you a tall order to fill.”
“I don't doubt it,” Pipe replied. “And with Moorland on my tail every five minutes about horning in, it's not gonna be easy.”
The two chuckled, then Pipe went to check out camera's and find the right one for his work. It took him an hour to find the right one, as many of them were awkward, bulky and added extra weight. He wanted something streamlined, so he could easily pull it out and take as many photos as possible.
Once done, he trotted out and over to the cafe. Heading inside, he saw a familiar sight.
“Ah, hello Moors,” he said. “Lunch break?”
“Yes,” she replied. “What brings you here, drowned rat?”
“Lunch and a catch up,” Pipe said.
“You heard about the case,” she asked.
“Heard about it, yes, but know nothing,” he pointed out.
She chuckled and joined him at his usual table, and watched him unfurl the paper and read. His brows knitted together and he looked up at her.
“So, you have her tagged for the crime?” Pipe asked.
“Yes, and the evidence is clear cut,” she said. “So you can't horn in and mess it up.”
Pipe chuckled and worked on a white rose sandwich and coffee while Moorland worked on pan roasted kippers, stewed in vegetables and seven different herbs and iced tea. Once done, the two parted ways. He went to the convenience store down the road a little way to collect some note pads, miniature notebooks, stenographer pads, pens, pencils, trash bins, a coffee maker, and a box of file folders. Moorland went back to her precinct, feeling smug.
Pipe couldn't help feeling like this smugness that Moorland exhibited as they parted ways would blow up in her face.