Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes

by PonyJosiah13


Case Six, Chapter Four: The Meeting in the Mall

Daring felt her heart beating faster against her ribs. She quickly turned and waved at Phillip, getting his attention. “How can I be sure you are who you say you are?” she asked.

I bought the suitcase from Hayseed’s, and I swapped it with the vic’s suitcase on Rosebud Avenue,” the voice said. “Josephus was a Royal Messenger, and I took his case for Silvertongue.”

Daring nodded. “So, Mister Key, nice of you to call today. What’s your complaint?”

I’m telling you to back off and leave me alone,” Key said. “You’re trying to get me killed, you know!”

“What makes you say that?”

The fact that you’ve plastered my face all over half the damn city, you know,” Skeleton Key’s voice answered dryly.

“If you give yourself up to us, we can keep you safe from Silvertongue,” Daring said.

Key laughed bitterly over the phone: Daring could hear the quivering of fear and despair in the back of his throat. “You saying that means you’re either naive or stupid,” he said. “You can’t protect me from him, or my brother.

“You’re talking to the pony who helped take down Monopoly,” Daring said. “Listen, if anypony can stop that asshole and save your brother, it’s my partner and me.”

There was silence on the other line. “Look, you’re scared, I get it. But whatever he’s got on you and your brother, we can take care of it,” Daring continued, pressing her advantage. “Whoever he sends after you, we can protect you from them. We can take him down. We can keep him from hurting you anymore. But you need to help us. You need to come in, and with your help, we can bring him down hard.”

The silence continued on for several long moments, then Key spoke again. “The big pine tree on Market Street, nine o’clock tomorrow. I smell a cop within three square blocks of that place and I’m gone.” And with that, the phone hung up with a sharp click.

Daring hung up the phone. “Who was it?” Phillip asked.

“Our suspect,” Daring said. “Said his name is Skeleton Key. He told us to meet him on Market Street at nine tomorrow, no cops.” She glanced down at the phone. “Phil, he’s terrified. Now that we’ve posted his face everywhere, Silvertongue is gonna know we’re onto him.”

Phil frowned. “Didn’t think of that,” he muttered.

“We should’ve,” Daring said. “And we obviously can’t just bring him to the precinct. How are we going to keep him safe?”

Phil’s brow creased in thought for several seconds, then he looked at the golden bracelet on his foreleg. He touched the red and the green gems, then twisted the bracelet. The bracelet began to glow: it pulsed a few times, then started shining with a steady golden light.

Before Phillip and Daring’s eyes, a ghost-like image of Princess Celestia appeared on the floor, facing Phillip. She was as tall as she was in life, but the image was semi-transparent, and the edges of her body didn’t seem solid, like they were made out of cloud. The mirage locked eyes with Phillip and smiled.

“Ah, Detective Finder,” the ghost-Celestia spoke, her voice muffled and echoing faintly, as though she were speaking to them from inside a small glass room. “What news?”

“We’ve been contacted by a pony who was following Josephus before he was killed,” Phillip said. “A pony named Skeleton Key. He switched briefcases with Josephus. He wasn’t connected to the mugger, but he did steal the treaty for Silvertongue.”

Celestia frowned. “This is distressing,” she said. “If Silvertongue has the treaty by now, he could sell it to another kingdom—perhaps the Griffons, or the Reindeer. They could potentially use that information against us to disrupt our alliance with the zebras. What did this Skeleton Key want?”

“He wants to come in and make a deal, but he doesn’t trust the police,” Phillip explained. “He told us to meet him on Market Street tomorrow morning.”

“Silvertongue probably won’t be far behind him at this rate,” Daring commented.

“Is that Detective Do?” Celestia asked, turning her head towards Daring. “I can hear you, but I can’t see you unless you’re wearing the bracelet.”

“Daring’s right: Silvertongue likely knows that we’re onto Key,” Phillip said. “But part of the deal is no cops.”

“Do you intend to honor that?” Celestia asked.

“The meeting, yes. The no cops, no,” Phillip said. “There are some officers we can trust that we’re working with. We’ll have them there in plainclothes as backup.”

“An excellent idea,” Celestia nodded. “Once you have concluded your meeting with this pony, please update me with any further information.”

“Will do, Your Highness,” Phillip said.

“I look forward to your news,” Celestia said with a small bow. And with that, the ghostly image disappeared.

Phillip and Daring looked at each other. “What do you think?” Daring asked.

“I think we need to make a few calls,” Phillip said.


Market Street branched off of Main Street and headed towards the west: the narrow street, the ground alternating between brick and pavement, roughly delineated the line between the Financial and Industrial Districts. The street was lined with stores and vendors selling wares that ranged from coffee and donuts to local artwork to imported goods. In the center of the street was a hole in the pavement that exposed the dirt beneath: within this hole stood a pine tree, as tall as some of the buildings around it. The green needles bent beneath the weight of the snow upon its branches, and the tree was decorated with strings of colored lights, hanging tinsel of silver and gold. Topping the tree like a crown was a small enchanted purple fire shaped like a heart contained within a glass bauble, a representation of the fire of friendship that had united the three tribes so long ago.

Even at eight-fifty on a snowy morning, this street was a bustle of activity, with ponies bustling up and down, weaving in and out of stores and around the decorated tree. Amidst the crowd were a few ponies who walked calmly along, eyes and ears open and alert.

A pale gold pegasus mare in a blue winter coat and a purple scarf with a floppy hat walked up to a bench that sat in the shadow of the great pine tree. A stallion in a blue vest sat upon the bench, reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette.

“No sign of him so far,” Daring Do whispered.

“Keep watching for him,” Phillip said. Though his eyes appeared to be on the paper, she knew that he was watching the street for any unusual ponies. Held in his lap, concealed in the sheets of the paper, was his hoof mirror, which allowed him to check behind him without turning around. He glanced into the mirror and frowned, letting out another puff on his cigarette.

Daring walked past and entered an outdoor gear shop. Brushing the snow from her coat, she walked over to a window display of boots, continuing to watch the street.

“Oh, hey,” a voice next to her said. She glanced up to see Bumblebee standing next to her, wearing a bright red cap, a purple parka that made him seem chubbier than normal, and a set of green leg warmers. He grinned up at her.

“What in the Holy Mother’s name are you wearing?” Daring asked, trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

“I’m in plainclothes!” Bumblebee declared in a whisper.

“There’s nothing plain about any of those!” Daring chortled.

“This is what I always dress like in the winter,” Bumblebee said. “Besides, do you think anypony could imagine a cop wearing something like this?” he added in a whisper.

“I can’t think of anypony except a colorblind pony wearing something like that,” Daring said, her sides beginning to ache from laughing.

Bumblebee stuck his tongue out at her. “Well, maybe you just don’t have any fashion sense,” he said. He leaned in a little closer, pretending to examine the boots, and continued in a whisper.

“Just like you said, Prowl and Flash are watching from above. Prowl’s on the roof of the Hayseed’s towards the west, Flash is on the roof of the credit union to the east. They’ll be in position to move in fast if they see anything weird. And I’m in contact with them both.” He lifted up the flap on his hat to reveal an earpiece inserted into his ear, faintly pulsing with blue energy.

“Good,” Daring nodded. “Don’t hang around for too long. This guy’s smart, he’ll be able to smell a cop easily. You’re just a shopper out for some Hearth’s Warming gifts: you gotta sell that.”

“Already working on it,” Bumblebee said, picking up a large white paper bag in his mouth. “Mixing business ‘n’ pleasure,” he grinned through the paper straps in his mouth and walked out the door. Daring watched him bouncing down the sidewalk towards the next shop.

Daring continued to pretend the peruse the shelves of boots (They’re the same brand and size. Why the fuck is ‘extra comfort’ worth twenty-five extra bits?) while watching Phillip. He still sat on the bench, pretending to read his newspaper and still occasionally puffing on his fag.

Suddenly, she saw Phillip coolly reach up and extract the cigarette from his mouth. He held it out to the side, drawing a circle in the air. That was the signal: he’d seen the target.

As Daring watched, a green unicorn with dark blue hair walked up to Phillip. He wore a trenchcoat and a floppy hat and a scarf pulled up to his nose. He walked past Phillip, discreetly dropping a note into his lap as he passed. Phillip examined the note, then tucked it into his pocket. He waited until the unicorn had walked a fair distance away, then stood up, tossing the newspaper into a trash can and dropping his cigarette into the attached ashtray. As he trotted past the window, he gestured with his head to signal Daring to follow him. Pushing past a salespony who was trying to upsell a set of boots to her, Daring exited the store and followed behind Phil.

From up above, standing on the rooftop of the five-story Hayseed’s store, Prowl watched the trio with a frown. Reaching into the bag around her shoulders, she extracted a walkie-talkie and extended the antenna. “They have the rabbit, both in pursuit,” she reported.

Copy, I see them,” Flash’s voice reported. Prowl glanced down the street to see Flash standing on the rooftop of a combination credit union and apartment building, binoculars held up to his eyes. Below them, she saw Bumblebee, instantly recognizable with his ludicrous outfit, put a hoof to his ear and nod.

Skeleton Key walked across the street and into the Hayseed’s. Phillip followed him in. As he passed through the revolving doors, he flicked his tail sharply to the side. Understanding the signal, Daring walked around the store and entered through a side door. Bumblebee entered some distance behind.

Should we follow them?” Flash asked.

“Negative,” Prowl replied. “Keep watching the street for anything suspicious.” She panned her gaze up and down Market Street, watching for any ponies that stood out amidst the crowd, casting a brief glance at the surveillance crystals that stood every few meters along the street.


Miles away, Silvertongue sat in the black and red room, watching the projected images before him. He saw Skeleton Key, the miserable traitor, walking right into Hayseed’s, followed by Phillip Finder. No doubt that snooping wench of his was nearby, though he didn’t see her through the crystal’s eyes.

“Do we have a hit squad near Market Street?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the images.

“Yes, sir,” one of his servants confirmed from the doorway. “A six-pony team from the Mareish Mob.”

Silvertongue turned from the images to the bottle of Amontillado sitting on the table next to him. He lifted it up with his magic, the bottle shaking slightly as he carried it over to the wine glass and poured, filling the glass almost up to the brim.

“Send all of them, and tell them to bring the largest guns they own,” he ordered, grasping the glass and carrying it up to his mouth, having to fight to control himself and to not slop the precious wine everywhere. “No more interference from anypony.”


The inside of Hayseed’s was dominated by a large circular lobby that visitors descended to via a set of stairs or escalators. The centerpiece of the lobby was a humongous Hearth’s Warming tree, its artificial branches stretching up towards the thirty-foot ceiling. Huge strings of tinsel and oversized ornaments adorned the tree, and huge wrapped presents sat around its base. A line of eager foals and fillies stood outside a roped-off area nearby, waiting for their turn to sit in Santa Hooves’ lap and drop off their Hearth’s Warming wish.

Skeleton Key walked past the tree and sat down on a plastic bench. Phillip approached and sat down on the bench behind him, so that his back was to him. Daring stood on the balcony above the lobby, watching the scene from above.

“No cops, just like I said,” Skeleton Key muttered. “You actually listened.”

“Too much is at stake here,” Phillip muttered. “Where’s your brother?”

Skeleton Key sighed. “My brother...Rusty. I brought him into this, you know. I was...you know, I took this job ‘cause it was an easy way to get money. You get a pony whose talent is unlocking things, no matter how tightly it's locked, it's kinda hard to find honest work for that, you know? I guess I was trying to look out for him, make sure that he was taken care of.” He glanced back at Phillip over his shoulder. “You can understand that, right?”

Phillip nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do understand.”

“Anyway, he...he always had a stronger conscience than me, you know?” Skeleton continued, reaching up to his neck. He began to fiddle with the rosary necklace underneath his scarf, carefully touching each of the beads. A sun for Celestia, a crescent moon for Luna, a quill for their mother Faust, a heart for Cadenza, and a snowflake and a rainbow for her mother and grandmother, Amore and Speranza. “So he tried to back out, but he mouthed off to the wrong ponies. Silvertongue, he...he had his wife kidnapped. Meadow Dance.”

“I know the name,” Phillip said. “Kidnapped two weeks ago. Case went nowhere.”

“Yeah, of course,” Skeleton Key said with a bitter laugh, stroking a moon bead. “So, I just gotta know...no matter what happens, are you gonna take care of my brother and his wife?”

“You have my word,” Phillip said. “I will find Meadow Dance, and take care of Rusty.”

“Well, you’d better,” Skeleton muttered. “You started this mess by plastering my face everywhere, you know.”

“Just tell us what you know,” Phillip said. “Does Silvertongue have the treaty?”

“Yes,” Skeleton Key confirmed. “Getting that briefcase open took me five hours. I handed off the treaty via the usual dead drops.”

“If we can find it, and get your testimony, we can get him in the docket,” Phillip said.

Skeleton Key laughed. “There ain’t no way I’m going to court,” he said. “It’s not just my brother and his wife, it’s my ass I gotta look out for. He’s got blackmail material on pretty much every pony in this city, and some beyond.” He leaned back a bit. “But, you know, I know what he keeps it all in.”

Phillip remained silent, prompting Skeleton Key to go on. “He keeps it all in this big red notebook,” Skeleton said. “It’s enchanted, you know; you can store an infinite amount of pages inside. He’s got years of dirt in there, stuff you wouldn’t believe.” He dropped his voice to a lower whisper. “You get that notebook, you pull the rug right out from underneath Silvertongue. He’ll lose everything.”

“Is it kept in the mansion?” Phillip asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t know where,” Skeleton Key said. He stood up. “I’ve already said too much. I gotta get outta here. Good luck.” He turned and walked away, still fiddling with his rosary, trying to summon the power of the alicorns to protect him.

Phillip looked up at Daring, who nodded back. The two of them both began to make their way towards the exit, headed in the opposite direction of Key.


Outside, Flash continued to scan the streets. The same crowds of ponies flowed up and down Market Street, weaving in and out of stores. Lovers and families traveled in small groups, vendors called out their wares. All seemed peaceful.

Then, he heard the squealing brakes. Looking towards the end of the street, he saw three pickup trucks, colored red, blue, and gray, plowing up Market Street, sending snow and salt flying. Pedestrians dove for cover as the trucks skidded to a halt in front of the Hayseed’s.

Six ponies poured from the trucks, all of them wearing ski masks and carrying guns. They rushed to the front doors and sprinted through, shocked pedestrians staring with open mouths.

Flash’s heart plummeted into his stomach, the impact short-circuiting his brain. His eyes saw what was happening, but his brain couldn’t process it, failed to signal his limbs to move.

Sentry! Bee! Move!” Prowl ordered.

Snapped out of his stupor by his superior’s order, Flash seized the carrying case next to him, extracting the shotgun from within the canvas. Spreading his wings, he glided down from the rooftop and rushed across the street towards Hayseed’s.

“Police! Get out of the way!” Bumblebee yelled, pushing ponies aside as he rushed towards the door, revolver already in hoof. The ridiculousness of his vestments provided a bizarre contrast from the seriousness of his cry and the determination on his face, and Flash was momentarily struck with the bizarre desire to laugh.

But then he heard the rattling roar of machine gun fire from within the store, and all humor vanished. Pumping a round into the chamber and taking a breath to settle himself, he positioned himself next to the front door, opposite Bumblebee. The two stallions looked at each other, their frosty breath coming rapid and heavy, and slowly nodded. As one, they pushed through the door and into the store.


Phil sensed them before he heard them: a sudden icy touch on the back of his brain that warned him that something was not right. Then he heard the doors crash open, the heavy hoofsteps on the tiles. He looked up: from his position below, he saw Skeleton Key freeze, half-turning to run.

Then he heard the roar of a Trotson submachine gun. Blood flew from Key’s body as bullets pierced his form: he jerked backward violently, then tumbled back down the stairs, leaving a trail of red down the steps.

Then the masked ponies with the guns appeared. They moved with purpose, their steps sure, their grips on their weapons never wavering. Three unicorns came down the steps, submachine guns up and ready. The single pegasus took to the sky and began circling the area from the ceiling, while the final two ponies began to circle around from the balcony.

Screaming ponies fled, the mall floor becoming an image of bedlam as the shoppers trampled one another, shoved others aside. Some dove for the floor, while others simply stood in shock. Santa Hooves dove on top of the nearest foals, scooping them up in his arms as he ran for cover.

The gunponies coming down the stairs all spotted Phillip at the same moment and opened fire. Reflexes took over as Phillip sprinted for the closest cover, a large concrete column. But as he ran for the promised safety, he saw something out of the corner of his eye: a lone colt wearing a puffy blue jacket and a hat, standing frozen in the middle of the crowd, staring at the ponies with guns in stupefied fear even as bullets streaked by inches from his head.

Turning, Phillip raced for the foal, scooping the little body up and tucking him to his chest like a hoofball. A hot iron rod suddenly pierced his right hind leg, then a humongous hornet stung him beneath his dock, and he let out a howl, but kept running, adrenaline numbing the pain. He slid into cover behind the column, gritting his teeth as bullets ricocheted off the stone. The colt looked up at him with wide blue eyes.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Phillip reassured the colt. “Cover your ears.”

The boy nodded and covered his ears with his hooves. Momentarily safe, Phillip looked around to take in his bearings. The three unicorns had reached the floor of the lobby and were spreading out, keeping the guns aimed at him. He heard gunfire from above and looked up: Daring had knocked out one of the gunponies on the ground floor, but the pegasus and the other pony had opened fire at her, forcing her to seek cover.

Fuck. Phillip’s mind raced, trying to think up a solution, a plan, but the roar of gunfire blocked his thoughts. His pounding heart thudded against his skull, increasing his growing panic.

And then a voice called from the doorway: “Police! Drop your weapons!”

The pegasus turned towards the door, bringing their weapon around to bear, but a shotgun roared and the pegasus dropped from the sky with a grunt, crashing to the floor with a wet splat. A revolver barked twice and the other pony on the balcony fell to the floor as Prowl moved in from a side door. She, Flash, and Bumblebee all took position on the edge, aiming their guns down at the three unicorns, who were frozen in the midst of confusion.

“Drop them!” Prowl ordered.

There was a brief pause, then all three unicorns dropped their guns, dropping down onto their haunches and raising their hooves in surrender. The officers quickly moved in to cuff them.

Adrenaline faded away from Phillip’s system, and the pain of his injuries rushed in: his right hind leg trembled when he put his weight upon it, and his flank screamed with every moment. Panting, Phillip looked down at the little colt, still trembling and hiding behind the column.

“It’s over now,” he reassured the colt, gently setting him down on the ground. “Just stay there, and we’ll find your parents.”

Phillip looked around: now that the danger was over, he was able to assess the damage. He spotted a few ponies laying behind cover, clutching wounds and whimpering in pain. Other ponies simply remained frozen, eyes wide with shell shock. He looked up to see Daring tending to a wounded mare, tearing a strip from a roll of gauze she extracted from her vest and pressing it against the bullet hole.

Phillip’s eyes then panned down to the body of Skeleton Key, still sprawled across the stairway as though he had been tossed aside. He watched Bumblebee step over the body, cringing as he carefully placed his hooves outside of the still warm, wet blood. A sigh escaped Phillip’s lips.

We will take care of your brother, he promised.

“Sir?” a voice called him from nearby. He turned to see a young pegasus couple crouching behind a large flower pot. The male, a tall, skinny, sky blue pegasus with wavy green hair, was clutching his stomach, blood flowing from between his hooves.

“He’s bleeding really badly,” the light gray pegasus mare whimpered, brushing some of her strawberry blonde hair from her eyes.

“Keep him still,” Phillip instructed. He too pulled a roll of gauze from his belt and unrolled it. He faintly heard Prowl in the background radioing for an ambulance as he gently pried the stallion’s hooves away from the wound and wrapped it tightly around his body.