//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Together, They Fight Crime // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Sizzling sidewalks made ponies prance with every step and the entire city baked in oppressive heat. The glass, steel, and concrete made for hot, unfriendly surfaces, and the many air conditioners only added to the scorching temperatures that seared the air that everypony had no choice but to fill their lungs with. Even the water fountains—with their pipes buried beneath the streets and sideways—only had hot water to offer thirsty passers-by. Las Pegasus was a miserable city if you were stuck outside, but it was great for the many casinos. A pony that stayed indoors all day and all night did a lot of gambling. Casinos, theatres, and music halls all had signs that promised ice-cold air conditioning. With the ultra-modern construction, air conditioning was a necessity. The ponies of Las Pegasus no longer built with adobe and compressed straw bales, proven barriers against the soul-searing heat. This was a city that saw Princess Celestia’s sun as an oppressive tyrant, but the moon was no better due to the crime that was done in its pale, gentle light. This was easily the most corrupt city in Equestria some said, though others would argue and insist that it had to be Manehattan. The rule of the Royal Pony Sisters was not seen as absolute here and many followed the Golden Rule: that is to say, those that had the gold made the rules. Capitalism ruled the city and exclamations for a free, unrestricted market were the battlecries of its chosen champions. Las Pegasus was the place where fortune favoured the wealthy, the house was always rigged, and being poor was the worst possible crime that you could commit. All in all, Yam Spade prefered Canterlot, which tended to have a cooler climate and better views. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but moved in relentless pursuit of it anyway, led by some unseen, unknown, unfathomable mystical force that he could not even begin to comprehend. Something was blocking him from Honey Dew, so he had latched on to the idea of finding something that would help him get around that. Yam tended to put a lot of trust into his talent—since when had a cutie mark ever led a pony astray—and he was confident that something would turn up. Much to his surprise, Yam found himself at a drugstore that resided on the bottom floor of a mixed development building. Wasting no time and not wanting his frogs to flash-fry on the cement sidewalk, he ducked inside to have himself a look around and ask a few questions. The manager of the drugstore was a prim pink pegasus pony with a pale orange mane and thick glasses that caused her eyes to be magnified to a ridiculous size. A little older, she wore a light cotton corded cardigan to ward off the chill of the air conditioner. This struck Yam as being a little odd, because pegasus ponies did well in the cold. “I don’t know anypony pony named Honey Dew, but I do know Miss Penny. Nice mare. Likes to help others. Charitable. Soft spoken. She had a knack for gaining the trust of others and everypony liked her.” “Ma’am, you sound like you were friends,” Yam remarked. “Not friends, not exactly. More like acquaintances. But we did get to know each other quite well in the past few months. Miss Penny was always coming in to speak to the pharmacist about drugs… side effects and the like. She was a good heart, and she was always looking out for her clients. Must have been real worried about how drugs might affect her youngest clients, because most of her questions were about drug interactions with foals. Such a dedicated therapist.” “I see.” Yam repeated everything he heard inside of his head a few times until he was certain that most of it would stick in his memory. This was certainly interesting, to say the very least. He thought about the enormous stash of drugs in Tweedy Penny’s apartment and the many missing foals. It could have been coincidence, but it sure was interesting and his talent had brought him here for a reason. “For about the past month or so, she looked especially frazzled. Overworked. She said that she was about to leave on vacation the last time I saw her. I hope she’s having a nice time. Poor dear was overworked.” “Ma’am, when was the last time you saw Miss Penny?” Yam asked while he kept his face a neutral, emotionless mask. His unremarkable mug was one of his best assets and according to Azure, his most handsome feature. It also doubled as a comfortable place to sit, if his wife was to be believed. “Two days ago,” the middle-aged manager mare replied. “She came in here to get some pills for motion sickness. Said she was leaving on vacation and airship travel didn’t agree with her. Poor dear.” “Did she say where she was going?” Yam looked the old mare in the eye and hoped that luck would favour him. “No, no she didn’t.” the mare replied. She blinked once, twice, and on the third time, a look of concern crept over her face. Luck was a dirty, dirty whore and Yam hated her fickle nature. He had been inside long enough with his sweat-soaked shirt that he was now feeling a little cold, and he shivered a bit as evapouration had its way with him. Even worse, Yam could see that the mare knew that something was wrong, and was either polite or too afraid to ask about it. It was time to blow this place, time to make like a banana and split. “Thank you for your time, Ma’am. I really should be going.” He hadn’t learned much, but it was time to cut and run before the mare began to ask difficult questions. Scowling, Yam turned tail and with his frogs aching in protest, he headed for the door. “Don’t get heatstroke,” the mare cried out as he made his hasty exit. “Remember to stay hydrated!” In the late afternoon, the city became something like a mirage as heat rose up in playful shimmers. Most of the cabs at street level had ceased to operate and most of the sidewalks were near-empty. A lone stubborn detective arrived at La Estación de Arenisca. Yam wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it had something to do with airships, because this was the place where most of them moored. The public airships, anyhow. Private airships for the wealthy tethered themselves elsewhere. The central terminal was packed with ponies, zebras, donkeys, burros, dragons, minotaurs, diamond dogs, and even a group of panting caribous stood around, waiting. Some waited for elevators that would take them to the upper levels, where boarding was done, and others waited to see a clerk at the ticket counter. A massive black monolith stood in the center of the station, and embedded in the enormous structure was thousands of tiny lights, which lit up in such a way that it formed letters and numbers. The times for arrivals and departures could be read upon this technological marvel. The caribou were quite a surprise to see, as they prefered the cold. Known for extreme politeness and caribooping—their affectionate form of greeting and goodbye—caribou weren’t often seen this far south. Yam had known a caribou in the Fancy Foreign Legion, an unfortunate soul that had been disciplined every time he had uttered, “eh,” which sadly, seemed to come out of his mouth at every other word. “That’s nice, eh.” “Eh, that’s fancy, eh.” “Eh, wouldja lookit that, eh.” Nougat was far too polite to fight a war, or do anything aggressive, really. When faced with impending violence, Nougat brought his mighty antlers to bear only as a means to shield others, but steadfastly refused to attack. Yam found that he missed his old friend and wondered how he was doing. Perhaps a visit to Equestria’s tundra was in order. It might be nice to hang out to watch the northern lights and snuggle with Azure while looking up at the stars. Feeling a little guilty, Yam shuffled into line, knowing that he was going to hold somepony up. “Detective Yam Spade…” The manager was a somewhat pudgy unicorn with half-moon spectacles and a lint-speckled corduroy vest. “I do hope you will not be offended, but of course I checked your number. Had to do a little telegraphing, so I do apologise for the delay. My name is Schmutzig—” “That’s quite unusual,” said Yam in effort to be affable and engaging. “My family worked for years in the coal trade. From a tender age, I decided that being dirty just wasn’t for me, so I immigrated to Equestria and went to school for business management.” Yam could hear the pride in the unicorn’s voice. “Good for you, Mister Schmutzig.” “Thank you. That actually sounded quite sincere. Thank you, I am flattered.” “I grew up on a yam farm and I too, didn’t want to live a dirty, dingy life.” Yam grinned and knew that he had Mister Schmutzig’s ear for certain now. “It is good to aspire to be more and to do more.” “Yes”—the unicorn gave an enthusiastic nod—“it is. So, Mister Spade, what brings you here? You said you had questions?” “Just some very simple ones, nothing to fret over.” Yam leaned forwards over the manager’s desk and looked the pony right in the eye. “I need to find out if a mare named Tweedy Penny ever purchased some tickets here. She was supposed to be taking a trip and I am trying to follow up on a lead.” “I see.” Mister Schmutzig’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “You are a private detective, yes? Not the police?” “I am.” Yam nodded and felt a bit of worry, but refused to be distracted. “I am trying to find a missing mare named Honey Dew. Her mother is worried sick. Tweedy Penny was her therapist, but she’s no longer in any condition to make a trip because it appears that she committed suicide in the tub. She purchased pills for motion sickness and if I can prove that she was about to take a trip, I might have convincing proof that this wasn’t a suicide.” “I see,” Mister Schmutzig said and this time there was a heavy Germane accent to his words. “There is a real problem with the police in this town, Mister Spade. They do very little, which I am sure necessitates your trade. I am glad that somepony is working to secure justice and the Equestrian way. I am not supposed to help you, because of company policy, but I am going to help you.” “Thank you, Mister Schmutzig… you have my appreciation…” The manager returned to his office looking a little rumpled, disturbed, and bearing some papers. Yam watched as he sat down in the cushioned, overstuffed chair behind his plain, middle-manager’s desk and the papers were set down upon a ledger. Mister Schmutzig smiled and his eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “She had what we call a divorce checkout,” the unicorn said as he settled himself into his comfortable chair with a creak. “It is common occurrence… a mare plans to leave her husband and rather than have her plans discovered, she leaves her tickets here to be picked up at the counter just before departure. She planned to go to Mareseilles on a one way ticket.” “That’s in Fancy…” “It sure is.” Mister Schmutzig placed his hoof down on the papers. “These were paid for just a few days ago. Hard coin, no credit. First class booking with a single occupancy cabin. Curiously enough, she left behind an envelope and instructions to open it if she failed to make her departure.” “Oh really… you don’t say… have you read the instructions?” Yam’s eyebrow arched upwards while the right side of his mouth pulled downwards in a soft-boiled smirk. “No, I have not. The less I know about this the better. I don’t want to become entangled with the police, should they get involved. I am going to give you the envelope and then do my best to pretend that it never existed. I ask that you leave my involvement out of this.” “Sure thing, Mister Schmutzig, my lips are sealed.” Yam extended his hoof and after a moment of cautious delay, the unicorn behind the desk made a hoof-bump in return. “I am glad that I can do something for my chosen home and country.” There was something of a fervour that could be seen in Mister Schmutzig’s eyes as he pulled away his hoof. “I have a great deal of love for this land… it has been kind to me and I have been fortunate to make a life here.” “Mister Schmutzig, I must take my leave. I have a lot of ground to cover. I’ll make sure that this envelope and its contents will get to the Wardens… friends of mine. I can’t say if justice will be done, because that is in short supply these days, but I will do everything I can. Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. I couldn’t have done this without you.” “I am proud that I could help…”