//------------------------------// // Case Five, Chapter Three: Hot News // Story: Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// Daring dropped down in front of the Ponyville Police Precinct and she and Phillip walked through the doors into the lobby. Automatically, Daring’s eyes went up towards the surveillance crystal up in the ceiling overhead, staring down at visitors. Somewhere in this building, somepony was watching her right now, staring at her projected image. Her eyes roved around the lobby itself. There were a few ponies sitting on the old, tacky seats, including a middle-aged brown zebra mare. As soon as the mare made eye contact with her, she looked away, frowning. A couple police officers shouldered past them through the door; she felt them shooting glares at them over their shoulders. The desk sergeant glared down at them from his high chair behind the desk. Phillip led her over to the doorway to the offices and pushed through. They trotted down the hallway to the door at the end, entered the stairwell behind it, and descended the stairs to the basement. The sound of a string quartet playing a lively tune guided them into the laboratory. Inside the laboratory, Doctor Suunkii was watching Twilight, who was squealing in delight as she bent over what appeared to be two microscopes conjoined with a single eyepiece. “Just imagine!” she was saying. “Hair samples, ballistic comparisons, all made so much easier! You know, it’s such a simple idea, combining two microscopes into one, I can’t believe that nopony thought of it earlier!” Suunkii looked up at Phillip and Daring as they entered and gave them a small smile. “It appears that Hearth’s Warming has come early,” he commented. “Geez, Twilight, take a breath,” Daring commented. “You won’t impress Flash if you go over the edge that easily.” Twilight’s entire head turned red as a tomato and she started sputtering at Daring in mixed anger and shock. Daring smirked back at her. “Suun, we’ve got some hairs for you to look at,” Phillip said, ignoring the two mares as he approached Suunkii. He pulled the two bags with the hairs out of his vest and handed them to Suunkii. “Found one of these at a reporter’s apartment, and the other in his car.” “Am I to assume that this reporter is a pony of interest?” Doctor Suunkii said, examining both of the hairs. “Yes,” Phillip said. “Faked death. Mob after him.” “I see,” Doctor Suunkii said. “Well, Twilight Sparkle, it appears that an opportunity to use our new comparison microscope has come sooner than you anticipated.” Twilight’s face lit up and she let out a squeal of joy. “I just polished the lenses! This is going to be great!” she said, taking both of the bags and carefully placing the contents on separate slides. “Nerd,” Daring said beneath her breath. “Need to check in at the Foal Free Press,” Phillip said. “Keep us posted.” Twilight looked up at him and cleared her throat. Phillip sighed. “Please let us know what you find out,” he mumbled. “We will, thank you,” Twilight said, placing her eyes back to the scope. Her frown was quickly replaced by several soft cries and squeals of delight. Daring and Phillip both made to exit the laboratory, but as Phillip reached the threshold, Suunkii called him back. “Phillip.” Phil paused and turned around to look at Suunkii. The zebra was looking back at him, his lower lip slightly extended in a frown and his head tilted to one side a bit. He was silent for a moment, then said quietly, “Be careful.” “I will, Suun,” Phillip replied with a nod, turning to exit. Daring was waiting for him outside. She frowned at him and jerked her head towards the laboratory door. “You trust him?” “As much as I trust you,” Phillip said without hesitation. “And her?” Daring asked. “Yes,” Phillip answered. "They're not the mole. They can’t be.” “You trying to convince me, or yourself?” Daring asked, raising an eyebrow. Phillip looked at her for a moment, his face as infuriatingly inscrutable as always, then turned away. “Let’s just get to the Press,” he said. Daring glared at the back of his head for a moment, then sighed. She glanced back at the door to the laboratory; she could hear Suunkii and Twilight in deep discussion. “I hope you’re right,” she muttered and followed Phillip out of the precinct. The offices of the Foal Free Press were located in the Financial District, a five-story glass and steel edifice that towered over its neighbors. The title of the paper was spelled out in two-foot-high steel letters on the roof of the tower. Two security guards stood sentinel next to the revolving doors; the black dog’s head logos on the sleeves of their uniforms indicated that they were members of Cerberus Security. Phillip and Daring both approached the doors, but the security guards, as one, moved to block them. “No entry,” one of them growled. “We’re here to investigate a case,” Phillip stated. “We know who you are, snoop,” the guard snarled at him. “The police were here earlier, and they told us not to let you or your partner in.” He glared at Daring. “Like we need snoops and thieves like you making a mess of the place.” Daring’s curse mark burned red hot, making the blood in her body boil over in moments. She glared back at the rent-a-cop, her wings partly spreading open to prepare for flight. Phillip quickly placed a foreleg across her chest to hold her back. “Move along, you two,” the guard said, jerking his head. Phillip grabbed Daring’s foreleg and guided her away, walking quickly back up the sidewalk. “Is being an asshole one of the work requirements for that company?” Daring growled, massaging her foreleg to try to ease the burning. “Have to figure out another way in, and they’ll likely be on the lookout for us,” Phillip muttered, looking back at the building over his shoulder as they walked away. “Think you can get in there?” Daring’s glower turned into a smirk. “Does the sun rise in the east?” She panned her eyes around and spotted a thrift store across the block. “Just need to make a quick stop.” She walked over and disappeared into the store without another word. Phillip stood outside the door, waiting. A few minutes later, Daring emerged wearing a long purple dress that draped down over her tail with a high collar, a set of red-rimmed reading glasses, a cheap but elegant pearl necklace, and a floppy gray hat. She had tied her hair up in a bun and hidden it underneath the hat. A medium-sized satchel bounced against her side. “What do you think?” she asked Phillip, slowly spinning around to give him a proper view. “Remarkably plain,” Phillip commented. “Good, that’s what I’m going for,” Daring nodded, handing him her pith helmet. Phillip sniffed. “Is that flour?” he asked. “Yup,” Daring confirmed, lifting her hat up to reveal that her mane was now a snowy-white color. “Just a few pinches and I’m all ready for baking. Just need to add one quick feature…” She pulled a small first-aid kit out of her pocket and extracting a bright green band-aid, which she placed on her cheek. “There. That should keep ponies’ attention away from my face.” “When you get in there, get to Jot’s office fast as you can,” Phillip said. “Make a search. Find anything that might indicate where he’d go.” “That’s the plan,” Daring said. “And don’t worry, I know how to get past those guards. It'll be just like that Hayana Pones novel where he has to sneak into the archeological dig." “Yeah, well, these mooks can actually shoot straight. Be careful,” Phillip advised. Daring smirked at him. “Hey, it’s me.” “That’s what I’m worried—” Phillip started to say but was interrupted by Daring kissing him on the lips. On instinct, he kissed her back. “I’ll be fine,” Daring reassured him with a wink. “Wait here until I get back.” She turned away and started to walk back up the sidewalk towards the Foal Free Press building. Phillip sighed and sat down on a bench, placing his hat in his lap. Affecting a slower, wider slouch unlike her normal gait, Daring started to walk down the sidewalk, moving past the doors to the Press. As she’d hoped, the two guards didn’t give her a second glance: the different clothing and gait, along with the fact that she appeared to be paying no attention to them, proved an effective disguise. As she walked past a trash can a few feet from the doors, she subtly reached under her dress and extracted a couple of cherry bombs with two-minute fuses from a pocket on her cargo shirt. She lit these with a lighter beneath her dress, then tossed them into the trash can without slowing. She walked fully around the block and paused at the corner, watching the front entrance. Moments later, the cherry bombs both went off with a pair of thunderclaps that echoed from within the trash can, causing everypony around them to jump and whirl around, searching for the source of the sound. As a bonus, the bombs actually set some of the trash on fire; the small but bright and merrily crackling flames providing an even greater distraction. To Daring's great relief, the two security guards immediately rushed over to investigate. Moving quickly, but not rushing, Daring walked up to the door and pushed through to enter the Press’ lobby. The lobby was decorated with green carpeting and brown walls. A small waiting area with cushioned chairs, a water cooler and a table with some magazines sat off to one side, opposite a desk behind which a male zebra receptionist sat. Down the hallway beyond the desk, Daring could hear ringing phones and several overlapping voices. “There seems to be a strange affair,” the zebra said, pointing out the windows at the crowd gathered around the smoldering trash can. “What is happening out there?” “Looks like some jokester set the trash on fire,” Daring said. “I was called down here to speak to...Hot Ink?” she said, recalling the name of another Press reporter that had written the article about her and Phillip’s defeat of Tinderspark. “Go up the stairs to the third floor,” the receptionist said, pointing. “Somepony will meet you, wait by the door.” “Thanks,” Daring said, walking forward to the stairs. She walked all the way up to the third floor and pushed open the door. She found herself looking out into an open floor with several cubicles. Ponies of every shape and description were sitting in the cubicles or rushing back and forth, typing away at typewriters, handing off stacks of paper to runners, and speaking into telephones. At the opposite end of the room was a door with the label “Editor in Chief.” “Okay, Headline Jot…” she muttered to herself, starting forward and walking down a hallway. She glanced in the cubicles as she passed by, searching for any clues as to their owners’ identities, like Hayana searching for the hidden Chamber of the Sun amidst the uncovered ruins (though, personally, she still had to wonder how that pharaoh managed to build a model of his city precise enough to work with the movements of the sun). As she reached one towards the end, she paused. A photograph of Headline Jot, the same one of him shaking Mayor Mare’s hoof that was in his apartment, was staring back at her from the wall. She glanced around to make sure that everypony was too preoccupied to notice her, then ducked into the cubicle. There was a minimum of decoration or fuss within the cubicle. The only furniture was a table with a typewriter and a few stacks of papers and a drawer cabinet. The photograph was the only personal effect. This was no miniature model city, but there still might be buried treasure here. Daring started to search the cabinet first, beginning with the bottom drawer. It was unlocked, but only contained a spare tape recorder and blank tapes. The middle drawer had a camera and some empty film canisters. The top drawer had several folders, but these contained nothing but drafts for stories. Frowning, Daring turned to the desk and started poking through the drawers. The bottom one just contained stationery, but the middle one was locked. The lock was charmed with a basic pickproof charm. Digging out her money bag, Daring extracted the charmed gem and the set of lockpicks from the hidden pouch. Placing the gem on the lock, Daring inserted the pick and tension wrench and started to feel around. Ten seconds later, the lock disengaged and she pulled the drawer open. Inside were several assorted papers, including a number of receipts. The label at the top of each of the receipts read “The Gold Griffon’s Head.” Daring instantly recalled the griffon-run tavern in the Dockside District. The receipts appeared to be for light meals and drinks, going back several weeks. Each of the receipts was clipped to a sheet of paper that said “Reimbursement Form” on the top. So, he was doing this on the job, Daring thought, scanning the receipts. Maybe this is where he was getting his info. She started poking through the rest of the papers in the drawer. Beneath some of the papers, she found a key. It appeared to have been recently carved, based on the shiny, sharp edges of the teeth, and it looked large enough to go to a house or a room. Maybe a spare? Daring thought, taking the key for herself. “Excuse me, what are you doing?” a voice said behind her. Daring spun around to see a tall stallion with a salt and pepper mane and mustache and piercing green eyes staring at her suspiciously. He was wearing a white dress shirt and a red and gray striped tie. “Oh, Jot just borrowed my pen, I was getting it back,” Daring said, affecting a sheepish, apologetic demeanor with a nervous grin. “I don’t recognize you,” the stallion said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, I’m AK Yearling,” Daring said, picking the name off the top of her head. “The new intern? I just arrived a week ago, and, uh…” She let out a nervous laugh. “I, uh, don’t think we’ve met.” The stallion scowled at her. “You should get going.” “Right. Sorry, sir,” Daring apologized, lowering her gaze. She walked quickly out of the cubicle and back down the hallway. Glancing behind her to make sure that the stallion wasn’t looking, she ducked back through the door and exited. Descending the stairs, she exited the lobby, giving the receptionist a brief wave as she pushed through the doors. The security guards had extinguished the fire in the trash can and resumed their posts. Neither of them gave her a glance as she walked past them and headed back down the sidewalk. Phillip was waiting around the corner. “What’d you find?” Phillip asked. “Receipts to the Gold Griffon’s Head,” Daring answered, swapping the sunhat for her pith helmet and stuffing the dress and glasses into the satchel. “I think that whatever Jot found that got the mob’s attention, he found it there.” “Then let’s get moving,” Phillip said. “And no drinking this time.” “You are no fun,” Daring grumbled as she grasped Phil beneath the forelegs and took off, heading south for the Dockside. The Gold Griffon’s Head was just where it had always been, a squat two-story bar sitting on a narrow street across from a construction site. The sign over the door simply read The Gold Griffon’s Head. Daring gave the flashing neon advertisement for Manticore Rare a brief but longing stare as they pushed through the door. The bar was lit with old-fashioned oil lanterns that cast the entire room into odd, contrasting shades of dark and light. Several customers, mostly griffons with a few zebras, thestrals, donkeys, and ponies scattered amongst them, sat at the low tables, talking over their ciders. The bartender, Bottgilia, was standing behind the bar, washing a stein. “Well, the heroes are back,” he grinned at them as they approached. “A shot of the regular, amica?” “Not today, Bottgilia,” Phillip interrupted just as Daring opened her mouth. Daring closed her mouth and glared at him. “We’re looking for somepony who frequents this place.” “I get a lot of repeat customers,” Bottgilia said, suddenly looking rather wary. “This one was here at least three times a week for the past several weeks,” Daring said. “They were last here three days ago, they had a veggie burger with Prench dressing and shish kabobs.” Bottgilia stared at them for a moment, then went back to washing the stein. “Sorry, don’t know them,” he said too quickly. “Bottgilia, this is important,” Daring pressed. “You know somepony named Headline Jot?” “No,” Bottgilia replied, still not looking at them. “You gonna order something or what?” Something caught Phillip’s eye. He glanced up at the wall behind the bar and spotted a photograph that had been hastily hung up. He spotted something behind it, something that the framed picture failed to fully cover: a bullet hole. He heard shifty movement behind them and felt the gazes of several of the other customers fixating on the back of his head. “Bottgilia, please,” Daring pleaded. “We—” “I don’t know anything,” Bottgilia snapped, glaring at them as he slammed the stein back down onto the bar. “If you don’t have any business here, get out.” “But—” Daring started to protest, but Phillip laid a hoof on her shoulder. He shook his head at her and pulled her towards the door. Bottgilia and several of the other griffons glared at them every step of the way. “What was that all about?” Daring asked as soon as the door shut behind them. “Somepony has them scared,” Phillip replied, his eyes checking around the area from beneath the brim of his trilby as they walked down the sidewalk. “Whitestone,” a voice said from beside them. Both of them stopped and turned to see a tall griffon with a golden brown coat, dark brown feathers, and chocolate brown eyes sitting in the alley next to them. He was wearing a gray fishing vest and was lighting a Crystal Crown cigar. “Mavri,” Daring greeted him. “How’ve you been?” “Not too bad,” Mavri stated, inserting the cigar into his beak and puffing on it. “The fish have been biting more than usual, so I’ve managed to sell enough to get me through most of the winter.” He grunted and let out a small smile. “Soon, Bottgilia will start breaking out the spiced mead from Northern Griffonia. Damn, that stuff’s worth waiting for.” “I bet it is,” Daring nodded. “You said Whitestone?” Phillip asked. Mavri looked to the side for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “After you...spoke to me a few moons ago, some local griffons who worked for Whitestone dropped by the Head. Somehow, they must’ve figured out that somepony there was involved. They started asking questions, then they started roughing some of the others up. One of them even fired a round at the wall right near Bottgilia’s head.” “Holy Faust,” Daring breathed. “No wonder he’s scared,” Phillip muttered. “Doesn’t change the fact that we need to find Jot before the mob does.” Mavri perked up a bit at the mention of the name, ceasing his puffing on his cigar. “I don’t know anypony named Jot, but I think I might know who you’re looking for,” he said slowly, glancing around to make sure that nopony was watching them. Daring looked up. A metal pole with a pair of security crystals was standing tall a few feet away up the sidewalk, an unblinking blue eye fixated right at her. However, the crystals couldn’t see Mavri from their position. “Who?” Phillip asked. “A fellow named Mint Breeze,” Mavri said. “He rents a room at the Head. He and I have spoken several times before.” He glanced downwards for a moment. “We griffons are pretty tight-knit, so I...hear things sometimes. Mint contacted me a while ago about helping find out about some...activities down here.” “What does Mint look like?” Phillip asked. “Light blue coat, greenish hair, green eyes. Pegasus. Cutie mark of a pair of clouds. He chews dip. I haven’t seen him today, but he usually swings by the bar around three in the afternoon.” “Thanks, Mavri,” Phillip nodded. “Daring, we should get ourselves set up.” “Right,” Daring nodded. Mavri took a long drag on his cigar, his eyes downcast and heavy, then turned to walk away. “Mavri,” Phillip called after him. The griffon paused and looked over his shoulder at them. “You don’t have to do this,” Phillip said. Mavri took another drag on his cigar, then spoke. “After we met, I started thinking about how much was going on that everypony turned a blind eye to,” he said. “It’s especially bad amongst us griffons; you know, tight beaks don’t get broken and things like that. But…” He blinked heavily. “I have a daughter,” he continued. “Well, had. She...walked out of my life a while ago after I objected to a friend of hers. But...every time some corpse turns up in an alley or gets dragged out of the river, that’s somepony’s kid, you know? Could just as easily be my Chiaro.” He paused for a moment, then added, almost beneath his breath, “Besides, Mint paying for my drinks was a pretty good deal. The stallion sure loved his mint juleps.” A smile graced Phillip’s lips for half a moment. “You still got my card?” “Yup,” Mavri said, extracting a small card from his vest. “You can still call if you need me,” Phillip offered. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Mavri nodded. “Take care of yourselves.” With a final nod, he walked down the alleyway and vanished. “We can watch from up there,” Daring said, nodding to the rooftop of an empty shop down the road from the Head. “Good,” Phillip nodded, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost three. Let’s get ready.” They climbed up on the rooftop, watching in silence as the cars passed by the narrow street beneath them. A row of old street lamps stood sentinel on the sidewalk, their shadows stretching across the avenue. Minutes ticked by in silence. “So if Headline Jot isn’t dead, what do you think happened to him?” Daring said, adjusting the strap on the satchel with her disguise in it. “The scenes were set up sloppily,” Phillip stated, his eyes on the Griffon’s Head. “I can think of two possibilities. One, and the one I’m hoping for: he set them up himself and went underground.” “And the other?” Daring asked. Phillip was silent for a moment. “Somepony kidnapped him and made it look like he was dead.” “I like the first option better, too,” Daring muttered. “Hey, look, down there.” A pegasus was walking quickly up the sidewalk, their head held high, their green eyes darting around the street. They had a light blue coat and long, light green hair; it was hard to tell if it was a mare or a stallion. Their cutie mark was a pair of clouds, and they were wearing a long brown coat. Mint Breeze’s jaw worked convulsively as he walked up to the Head and pushed the door open. “That’s our guy,” Phillip said. “What’s the plan?” Daring asked. “Wait till he comes out, then follow him—” Phillip started to say, but was interrupted by a cruiser pulling up to the Head and stopping on the curb. Two officers stepped out and pushed through the doorway. Phillip and Daring both recognized one as Trade Wind, the officer from Jot’s apartment. He was accompanied by a light golden griffon with narrowed chestnut brown eyes. “That can’t be good,” Daring muttered, standing up. “Wait,” Phillip instructed. “If we just jump in, we could make things worse. They might not even be here for—” But their fears were quickly realized as the officers came back out, each of them with their foreleg looped through Mint Breeze’s forelegs. The pegasus had hoofcuffs on and was feebly struggling as they hauled him into the back of the cruiser, slamming the door shut behind him. “Oh, shit,” Daring breathed. “Follow them,” Phillip instructed. “When they stop at the precinct, we can try to get him out of there.” “Okay,” Daring nodded. She grasped Phillip beneath the forelegs and lifted up into the air, following the cruiser from the skies. The black and white car rushed to a T-intersection at the end of the narrow road, then turned and started heading south. “Wait....” Daring said. “Isn’t the PPD the other way?” “Faster,” Phillip ordered. Daring put on speed, chasing after the cruiser, but in her haste, she didn’t see the mass of clouds until she’d flown right into them. The two suddenly found themselves surrounded by thick, heavy gray that pressed down on them from all directions, blocking off most of their light. “Fucking shit!” Daring spat, trying to push through the clouds, squinting as she tried to pierce the vapors with her gaze. Completely disoriented, she had to drop down beneath the clouds to try to see where they were. She found that they were hovering over a road that ran alongside the northern bank of the Maresippi. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she snarled, spinning around as she tried to spot the cruiser amidst the maze of buildings, streets, and cars beneath her. An image flashed before her eyes: Shifting Tone, laying on her side, gasping and sobbing in pain as blood leaked from the stab wound in her side, staining the pillow that she was desperately pressing against the wound and soaking into her hooves. It was happening again. A pony that was relying on her for help was going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it. She’d fucked up, it was over, their lead was lost… “Quit spinning around, I’m gonna hurl!” Phillip cried, his face turning greener by the moment. Daring, just realizing that she was still hanging onto him, paused in midair. “Where are we?” Phillip asked, shaking his head as he recovered. Daring squinted down at a street sign beneath her, her natural pegasus eyesight making the tiny letters distinct even from so high up. “Jetsam and Riverside!” “The cruiser was headed south on Rudder Avenue,” Phillip said, looking around to get his bearings. “That’s—” “That way,” a voice said behind them. Daring turned around to see Rainbow Dash hovering beside them. She was wearing a bright yellow vest that identified her as a weather pegasus on the job. “I just came from that direction,” Rainbow said. “Weather team sent me down there to direct these clouds, make sure they don’t mess up any—” “Did you see a police cruiser headed that way?” Phillip interrupted. Rainbow Dash thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, they were heading west. Come on, follow me!” She zipped off in a blur, leaving behind a rainbow trail in her wake. It took a moment for Daring Do’s brain to process what had happened, then she flew after her. Rainbow Dash paused over another intersection. “Here’s where I last saw them,” she said just as Daring caught up. “And they were headed this way!” She zipped off again in a blur of colors, headed west. “Hey, slow down!” Daring called, already breathing hard. “One of us is carrying a hundred eighty pounds over here!” “A hundred sixty-one, “ Phillip muttered testily. “Including the gear?” Daring asked, huffing as she readjusted her grip on Phillip. Phillip fumed silently for a moment, then grumbled, “Point.”