//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Barn Notice // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// When one is on the run, a safehouse is invaluable.  But when one is back in her hometown with no money, she takes what she can get. Such as the loft above the turnipery. Hayseed - whom I didn’t know, but vaguely recalled his family from when I still lived in town - showed me around.  The loft was small, being just the empty space beneath the peaked roof of the barn.  And noisy, from the machinery running downstairs processing turnips.  And smelly, from the turnip detritus. He led me to the top of the stairs and unlocked the room.  “It ain’t much.” I thought he was going to say “but…”  He didn’t. He was also correct.  It wasn’t much. “And what would you charge for rent?” I asked. “Well...ain’t nobody ever wanted to rent it before.  He shrugged.  “Fifty bits a week?” Soarin had told me he was mostly broke, but had the leeway to loan me fifty bits.  I now hoofed it over to Hayseed. Hayseed The landlord After that expenditure, I was back to square one.  Well, to be more accurate, square none.  I’d never been so broke.  It was thoroughly humbling.  I’d never really thought about money before, and now every decision I made had to revolve around it. So I was about to go talk to the estranged wife of Ponyville’s richest citizen. I didn’t know how Soarin came to know Spoiled Rich née Milk.  I could guess, though.  She liked suave ex-military ponies.  He liked sugar mamas.  It was, I might say, a pattern I had seen before. I was fortunate that Spoiled Milk was not a type of pony I had often seen before.  I’ve run into all sorts of deplorables in my time, but small-town-rich-bitch is not a common one.  Though, as I soon realized, I’d much rather deal with diamond dog gangsters. Soarin had given me the address and I knocked on the door.  It was a mansion.  That doesn’t mean a lot by Ponyville standards, but it was still measurably higher-rent than most of the thatched-roof cottages around town. Spoiled Milk opened the door.  I didn’t know her, but sometimes you can just tell.  She was a pastel earth pony with a decided permanent sneer. “Good morning, ma’am.  Soarin told me that I may be able to offer you some help with a problem.” “Hmmf.  Well, come in.” The house, while large, wasn’t well furnished.  There were expensive things, but not a lot of them.  Given what Soarin had told me, Spoiled Milk was apparently the one to move out with the estrangement. “Could you tell me a little bit more about the situation?” I asked. She looked me up and down.  I’d done my best to minimize my lingering injuries.  Rainbow Dash had given me a free shower by pulling a cloud down to kick water out of it over my head.  I’d made sure my tie was straight.  Really, I didn’t look or smell too bad today.  Overseas, I’d sometimes been forced to show up to business meetings looking worse. “I want my diamond brooch,” she said.  “My husband is holding it hostage in exchange for our daughter.” “He wants custody of your daughter?” “He’s such a pig.  I can’t believe he would do this.” She had paused for the barest fraction of a second before replying.  I barely caught it.  Her attitude in the few moments since I’d met her had already given me the impression that I wouldn’t be getting the full story, and this confirmed it. “Is your daughter home?” I asked. “No, Diamond Tiara is out somewhere.  Soarin told me you were coming here.” “Okay, this diamond brooch.  Can you tell me more about it?  What does it look like?  Where I should search first?” “You can’t miss it; it’s nearly the size of a baseball.  Filthy probably hasn’t bothered to move it out of our bedroom.” Filthy - Mr. Rich - her husband, I mentally corrected. “I used to wear it all the time, to parties and galas, sometimes even just out in town,” she went on.  “Those were the days.  He gave it to me back when...well, I can’t get through to him now.”   I could actually see her nose turn up again as her attitude shifted.   “What did he say when you asked him for it?” “I told you - he wants Diamond Tiara.” With a name like that, I could definitely see where the filly’s mother’s priorities lay. “Alright,” I said.  “How much is this worth to you?” She gave me a look remarkably like Hayseed when asked for a price.  “I don’t know, five hundred bits?” Maybe I should be a little more proactive and attempt to set prices myself.  At any rate, I couldn’t afford to be too choosy.  “Alright, but I’ll need half up front.” Her nose started to turn up again, but she did get out her pocketbook and pay me. Spoiled Milk The client I headed straight over to Filthy Rich’s house.  He was the proprietor of Barnyard Bargains, the biggest store in Ponyville and selling just about anything. Spoiled Milk told me that he didn’t actually work at the store anymore, just came in occasionally to check up. I walked up to Filthy Rich's front gate. Now this was a mansion.  It had manicured topiaries and an ornamental wall and the works.  It was probably the biggest, nicest residence in town, save for maybe the crystal palace that had replaced the library.   That change was weird for me, by the way, having been out of town for a couple of years. I knocked on the door and a butler opened it.  I told him, “I’m here to see Mr. Rich about a custody matter regarding his daughter.” I was led through the house - even more impressive from the inside - and out back to a patio and pool. A stallion with a salt-and-pepper mane lay on a lounger.  His cutie mark was bags of money.  His tie had a money sign on it.  Yes, this was Mr. Filthy Rich. There were a couple of fillies in the pool, all of them decades younger than him.  Even younger than me.  I’ve read that some of the noble ponies a few centuries ago used to have ornamental garden hermits as a passing fashion.  The modern day equivalent was apparently ornamental pool girls.  Maybe this explained why Rich was broken up with his wife. The butler introduced me.  “Ms. Octavia to see you, sir.” “Thank you, Garcon.”  Rich gestured to the lounger next to him and I sat, though he made no effort to get up from his recline. I had to convince him to give me the brooch.  However, it was risky.  If he didn’t give it to me, and I had to...acquire it some other way, then talking to him first would make me an automatic suspect. I may not have been quite as nubile as the folicking pool girls, but in terms of laying charm on older stallions I liked to think I could hold my own, when I had to.  I removed my sunglasses and smiled - with my eyes, too - and said, “Mr. Rich, thank you for hosting me today.  I wish I had come with a better topic of conversation, but I’ll do my best to make this as quick as possible.” “What custody issue does Spoiled want to debate now?” he asked, tone appropriately poolside, but somewhat weary. “It’s about her diamond brooch, in relation to the custody.” “I kept every receipt of everything I ever bought, and in the proceedings for our pending divorce, all the jewelry was to go to me.” He thought of the brooch as his property, and had a court ruling to that effect.  Convincing him to give it up just got harder. I was about to speak again when the fillies began to get out of the pool.  One of them came over and hugged Rich’s neck.  “Thanks for letting me use the pool, daddy.” “It’s no trouble, Diamond.”  He cocked his head.  “I know you have homework, so you and your friends shouldn’t delay too long.” She mock-pouted, but headed for the house.  I saw that her cutie mark was a diamond tiara. Diamond Tiara The daughter I didn’t let it show on my face, but felt quietly embarrassed at my earlier assumption. “It’s not even my week for custody, but my daughter still hangs out here,” Rich said to me.  He gave a what-can-you-do shrug. Well, at least my instincts about Spoiled Milk not being up front had been correct - I hadn’t gotten the whole story.  I wondered what my next course of action was, and how I was going to morally justify it to myself.  Was I going to break into someone’s house and steal jewelry for a mere two hundred and fifty bits?  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t done more for less in my career, but with the half-up-front payment, I at least had some time to think about it. “So what was this about the brooch?  And the custody?” he asked. “Spoiled Milk believed that it belonged to her, and implied that it was somehow related to the custody deal,” I explained.  It would have been tough to wiggle out of so direct a question, and he might yet say something to reduce my sympathies for him. “If you aren’t privy to details of the arrangement, then I take it you aren’t here from the lawyer’s office,” he said.  “What are you, some kind of private facilitator?” “A word for it, I suppose.  But that also means I don’t have to do things on the books.”  I decided to dangle that detail, to see what he would say. “How much is the bitch paying you?” Again, I had a pocket full of bits at the moment, but that wasn’t going to last forever.  “Five hundred.” He laughed out loud.  “You know that brooch is worth almost twenty thousand?  Hell, I might just give it to you and have you go sell it just to spite her.” I thought about it. “Tell you what,” he said.  “I actually have something private I needed done, something off the books.  Why don’t we use it as an audition, to decide if I give you the brooch?” “I’d need something up front.” “You didn’t even ask what the job was.”  He nodded.  “Alright, come with me.” I followed him into the house, to his office.  There was a folder lying on the desk with Flim Flam Grand Plan written on it in bold letters. “Two stallions stopped by the other day with a business proposal,” he said, gesturing me to a seat opposite his desk.  We sat, and he gave me the folder. I glanced at the documents inside.  Seed Money to Open a Satellite Store. “Now, the fellows that brought it to me, Flim and Flam, are…”  He paused, and then just came out with it.  “...rumored con artists.  I’d be willing to pay for definitive proof that this either is or isn’t a scam they’re trying to sell me.  What are your rates?” Business investigation wasn’t exactly what I had been picturing, but it seemed low-threat. Emboldened by my deal with Spoiled Milk, I proposed, “One thousand.  Half up front” I saw a playful look in his eyes.  “That’s more than your job for Spoiled.  Do you consider this more difficult than the job she gave you?” I did my best to match his smile.  “Do you consider yourself more generous than her?” He laughed.  “A thousand it is.” Filthy Rich Also a client He grabbed a piece of monogrammed stationery from a pad on his desk and wrote out the receipt.  I hadn’t expected or asked him to do it, but I suppose he really was a businesspony. He let me keep the folder of documents and I said I would get right to work.  I would, certainly, but the five hundred bits he gave me, plus the payment from Spoiled Milk, would go a long way towards getting me set up for my real goal: to figure out why the company had kicked me out. Garcon the butler let me out of the house.  I headed back towards my meager base of operations.  It wasn’t much, as Hayseed had said, but I’d stayed in literal holes in some particularly grim places before. I was passing a monstrous purple building built into the hills near the outskirts of town, wondering idly what it could be and when it had been built, when Rainbow Dash appeared, spiraling down from a cloud overhead.  “Hey Octavia, I’m glad I saw you.  You need money, right?  Maybe you can help me with something.” My my, the jobs were piling up.  Maybe my luck was finally beginning to turn around.  “What did you have in mind?” “So, I’m a guest lecturer at the School of Friendship.”  She gestured at the building. Oh, so this was the School of Friendship.  I’d heard of it, of course, but hadn’t paid much attention to anything else about goings-on in Ponyville. “I just happened to be scheduled on a day when we were having the teacher auditor in.”  She groaned and rolled her eyes.  “I’m not even a real teacher, but it’s such a pain in the ass to get inspected.  I swear, I’d almost rather go for an ass inspection.” “And what do you expect me to do?” “Well, you’re good at the whole secret identity thing, right?  Think you can fake being a teacher?” “For how much?” “Fifty bits a day.” I shook my head.  “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.  I do need money, but for that amount can’t afford to spend a whole day off the other jobs I’m working.” “Ugh.  Fine.  I just wish it didn’t have to be such a pain.  The inspector is always asking me to ‘curb my over-enthusiastic outbursts’ and going on about ‘professionalism.’” The inspector likely had a point, I thought, but didn’t say. I was just about to disengage from the conversation, when Rainbow suddenly curtailed it for me, glancing over my shoulder in sudden distaste.  I heard somepony’s hooves approaching. “Ms. Dash, I wouldn’t keep asking you to curb your over-enthusiastic outbursts and going on about professionalism if you didn’t need lifestyle improvements.  Why, you’re even hanging out with my daughter now.” My hackles went up in sheer panic.  I turned my head, even as I dreaded seeing the face that went with the voice.  “Mum?” Harshwhinny The mother