“This place is a bucking dump!” As I surveyed the one-room rented office, the signs of decay jumped out at me. The cracked frosted glass in the office door reminded me of an old mare’s toothless sneer, the paint on the walls peeled, and the water-damaged floorboards beneath the window undulated like tides of Horseshoe Bay and were just as dark. My ear twitched to a soft scratching sound. Great. A family of mice subletting behind one of the bookcases. The list of issues was as long as the owner’s excuses for not getting them fixed.
On the other hoof, as long as I paid the rent, it was my dump. Not bad, since I’d given up my roach-infested apartment a few months ago. My office doubled as my living room, and a cot in the storage closet made for an adequate bedroom. A mini-fridge and a couple small appliances in the corner served as the kitchen. The bathroom was down the hall. And every couple days I could get a shower at the Young Mares & Colts Association down the street. All the comforts of home, plus a very short commute.
I leaned back in my chair and put my legs on the desk, kicking up some motes of dust which spun and danced like snowflakes in the stark sunlight. I watched in idle fascination as they played on an unseen current before my eyes went back to the office. Not only is it a dump, it’s a cluttered dump. It was one big trash can of old case files, reference material, and, well, trash.
Sometimes it’s hard to say if my office is also my home, or if my home is also my office. I let out a snort. It’s not like it bucking matters anyway.
My business is Discrete Discovery Private Investigators. Investigators. Plural. With me as the owner and sole employee. I laughed at the irony. It looks better to prospective clients if it sounds like there’s more than just me. If I could find somepony competent, I could even make it true.
Yes, I enjoy the work, but it’s been slow. And when it’s slow, I get bored. And when the boredom starts to drag on me… I glanced down at the open desk drawer catching sight of two shot glasses. “No, not today.”
I’m good as long as I get enough clients to pay the bills. Although, I can forget about ever getting rich at this. Then, that’s not why I do this job. Still, I need clients, and with the recent changeling invasion of Canterlot, those are probably gonna be in short supply. Ponies aren’t worried about cheating partners right now, and anypony who wandered off in the invasion doesn’t need a PI to find their way home again.
Usually, the universe just mocks me. Sometimes, it surprises me.
A knock at the door snapped me back to the present. It opened and a couple entered. He was a dark red unicorn. She a sky-blue pegasus. He let her enter first, and she silently mouthed “thank you” as she walked by. It was obvious that they were in love, surprisingly, with each other. I don’t see a lot of that in this line of work. It was… refreshing. Although, as if pulling a too full cart, they trudged into the office. They were burdened with a huge problem that weighed heavy on them. I’d figure that out soon enough.
Taking my hooves off the desk, I sat up straight while kicking the desk drawer closed.
“Good day, folks. My name is Dark Steel. Please have a seat.”
They plopped down in the two chairs positioned in front of my desk. The stallion scooted his chair closer to the mare. They were uncomfortable, nervous, and hiding something.
“Good afternoon,” he replied. “My name’s Quicksilver, and this is my wife Misty. We need some help. We’ve talked with some ponies we know, and your name came up several times.”
Most of my business came through referrals. I grinned as I said, “I’ll assume in a good way, or you probably wouldn’t be here. So, what can I do for you?”
Quicksilver replied, “We need you to find somepony. He’s been our employee…”
“And friend,” Misty interjected, touching her husband’s shoulder with a hoof.
He glanced over at her. “And a friend for almost two years.” He looked back at me. “We lost track of him during the recent invasion of the city, and we are hoping you might be able to track him down for us.”
So, a missing pony case. I prefer these to the more common surveillance case. Such cases typically were all about catching some pony in the act. You’d think getting paid to spend hours sitting on my rump would be great. It's not. While it meant more work, I enjoyed the cases that had to be figured out. A puzzle to solve. Something to do.
“I should be able to help with that. Of course, I’ll need all the particulars you have about him. Name, description, relatives, everything you know.” I picked up a pencil in my teeth and prepared to take notes on a pad of paper sitting on the desk.
Quicksilver continued, “His name is Tinker Cob. He’s a small earth pony with a brown and white skewbald coat. His cutie mark is a crossed hammer and paintbrush.”
“Well, that should make him pretty easy to spot.” I smirked at my little pun. This was looking good. A missing pony that is physically unique shouldn’t be too hard to find.
“Perhaps...” Quicksilver said hesitantly.
I narrowed my eyes a little as I regarded this stallion. You’ve got secrets in there somewhere, don’t you? What’re you hiding?
“He has an apartment close to where we live. Both of the addresses are here.” He levitated a sheet of paper and set it on my desk. I glanced down and skimmed the short lines of text. This pony knew how to summarize details.
“We don’t know about relatives, but about once a month he’d go to Ponyville to visit someone. He said it was family.”
“Okay. This doesn’t seem like it should be too difficult to track him down. I’ll check his apartment and then see if the Canterlot police know anything. Then a trip to Ponyville would be in order.”
“There’s… there’s one more thing we need to mention.” Quicksilver looked down at the desk. Misty stared at the floor.
Here it comes. There’s always a curve they throw you right at the end that turns a simple job into a major pain in the flank. It’s something more than just a lost employee. I tilted my head. “Yes? I’m listening.”
“Well, you see, it’s like this.” He glanced up at me. “Tinker happens to also be a changeling.”
My mind froze for a second. Did he really just say changeling?
“He happens to be… a what?” I was angry. I was “get the Tartarus out of my office” angry. “What the buck is this? Canterlot just barely survived a changeling invasion, and you say you want me to go find a changeling?”
I stood up and brought a hoof up to my forehead. “Wait, wait. This changeling was living with you for two years? Buck me. Did you know what he was? What are you playing at here?” I was on my hooftips, leaning over my desk like a predator ready to pounce. I jabbed at the air with a hoof to emphasize my points.
“Please...” the mare started. I turned to look at her. “You have to understand. He was our friend. We need to talk to him. We need to…” She grew silent as she softly sobbed. Quicksilver stood up, stepped next to her, and wrapped a foreleg around her to comfort her. Even I felt a twinge of compassion for her. Mares and their teary eyes. Oh well.
He continued, “We didn’t know he was a changeling until the attack. He said he wasn’t part of the invasion. He tried to defend the house. When the changelings broke inside, he came in and tried to protect us. They took him out. He was unconscious when we last saw him.” He glanced down at his wife. “It was bad. Really bad.”
“Then the magic wave came through and carried all the changelings out of the city, including Tinker. We never saw him again. They’ve established guards and checkpoints, so even if he tried to return, he wouldn’t be able to.”
I sat down. I’m not sure what to make of this. Clearly, they were serious about the request. This wasn’t a joke or prank. They were also emotionally invested in this Tinker Cob. But a changeling? Did they actually care about a changeling? I picked up my pencil and wrote “changeling” on my notes. Then I underlined it two times. Biting my lip, I added in a third line for good measure.
I dropped the pencil and held up my hooves defensively, glancing to the side for a moment. “So, let’s say for a minute that I believe any of this. I’m not saying I do, but let’s pretend.” When I take a missing pony case, it’s because I think there’s a chance of success. Lowering my legs, I looked back at the couple. “You want me to try and find a changeling. You have no idea where he might be. And he’s a changeling, so you have no idea what he might look like. You don’t even know if he wants to be found at all. Do I have that about right?”
Quicksilver paused for a moment before replying, “Everyone we talked to said you were the best. They said you’d take cases no one else would touch. They said you always came through.” He brought a hoof to his chest and looked at Misty. “That’s what we need right now.” He returned his gaze to me. “We have some money set aside. We know this could be expensive, but we need to try. We can’t just let it go. We can’t let him go without an explanation.”
Misty raised her head and was looking at me with the type of eyes that only mares and small foals can pull off. Wide, sad, and rapidly filling with tears. I couldn’t tell if it was honest emotion or intentional manipulation, but either way, she was good at it. Watching her a second longer, I decided she wasn’t faking it.
I glanced down at my notes on the desk. Do I really want to get involved in this? I read the underlined word ‘changeling’ again. Perhaps this is one case I need to walk away from. I looked back up at the couple.
“I think I’m going to regret getting involved in this. Scratch that. I know I’m going to regret this.” I paused and slumped back in the chair. Just how long should I look for something that can’t be found? “Okay, this is what I’ll do. I’ll give it two weeks. I’ll hit Ponyville first, and then some other towns. But if I haven’t found any leads after two weeks, I’m calling it. I’m not going to keep taking your money looking for something that can’t be found. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes!” both Quicksilver and Misty said in unison as they flashed me a grin.
“Thank you, Mr. Steel,” Misty added, wiping her eyes. “We have faith that you will do your very best to find Tinker. I have to believe he can be found. We just need somepony skilled enough to try.”
Once the couple had left, I grabbed my black felt fedora and headed for my first stop, the local precinct of the Canterlot police.
I sneered at the cityscape as I walked down the street. “Canterlot, the jewel of Equestria.” I’d seen that slogan in some tourist ad somewhere. What they don’t tell you is that every jewel has a setting under it that collects crud and dirt. That crud is where I spend most of my time. This setting could use a good cleaning.
As I neared my destination, I paused across the street from it and leaned against a wall. Peering under the brim of my hat, I regarded the precinct. I’d worked here for a lot of years. It had been a decent career. I might have even made it to retirement. Then I arrested some spoiled brat of a pony, a colt of some Canterlot elite couple. He got a slap on the wrist. I got a cardboard box to carry the things from my desk. If this place burned to the ground, I’d bring the marshmallows.
Though there was one pony here I was still friends with. I think, at least. I walked across the street, entered the building, and proceeded to the main squadroom. The place was an anthill, more crowded than I remembered with desks everywhere. It was never this chaotic when I was here. I made my way to one particular desk where a yellow unicorn mare sat.
“So, how’s my favorite police pony?” I grinned at her.
She looked up from the paperwork she was immersed in. “Steel…” She shook her head and returned to her work. And I thought windigoes were cold.
“Oh, come on, Citrine. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”
Without even a glance she said, “An old friend that only seems to show up when he wants something.” Instead of using her magic, she took the form she was working on in her hoof and slammed it down on the top of a pile in the out basket.
I leaned forward a bit against the desk. “Ah, come on. I mean, I just took you out to dinner a couple weeks ago, right?”
Her icy glare cut right through me. “That was two months ago, Steel.” She looked down again.
My brain squirmed like a worm on a hook. It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it? “Months? No, wait, are you sure?”
She let out a snort and slammed down another sheet of paper on the pile. Even the desk shook with fear under the assault.
I took a step back from the desk. “Okay, okay, perhaps I lost track of time a little. But you know how much I appreciate your help. Tell you what, we’ll go out again real soon. And this time we’ll go big, someplace with a band... and dancing.”
She glanced up from the desk with a faraway look in her eyes. “I do like dancing,” she said softly. The glare returned. “Do you even know how to dance?”
I put a hoof up to my chest. “Citrine, I’m hurt. I’m a very graceful pony.”
She snorted so loud that about half the room turned to look at us. Her ears drooped for a moment. She cleared her throat and sat up straight.
“Well, perhaps graceful is a bit much.” I put my leg back down. “But I promise I won’t step on your hooves.”
“Probably a one-trick pony,” she said, resting her chin on her hoof.
“I’ll have you know I’m pretty good at both the ponytrot as well as the Canterlot waltz. That’s two tricks.” I gave her a confident smile.
“If you say so. But I’m not waiting months. You hear me, Steel?”
I raised my forelegs. “Yes, I hear you. I absolutely hear you.”
She sighed and her voice softened, “Okay, what do you need this time?”
Seeing my opportunity, I jumped at the opening. “It’s a missing pony case. I wanted to see if you guys have anything on a brown and white skewbald earth pony named Tinker Cob. I’d also like to check on my employers, just to make sure they’re legit. It’s a couple from Canterlot, Quicksilver and Mist Skimmer, aka, Misty.”
She wrote the names down on a pad of paper. “Okay, have a seat. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She stood up and walked off.
“Thanks, Citrine,” I called after her.
I sat down in the chair next to her desk. I noticed a small picture frame on the corner closest to me and turned it around. It was a picture of the two of us on a vacation we took to Manehattan a couple years ago. I smiled at the memory and turned the picture back the way it had been.
We were different then, Citrine and I. We weren’t serious, at least I wasn’t. Had a lot of fun together. Sometimes I miss those days. Citrine was happier then. I think I was too.
After a few minutes, I heard Citrine returning. As she sat down, I noticed she held a manila folder with her magic.
I sat up in the chair. “So, did you find something?” I pointed at the file.
“There was nothing on this Tinker Cob. No record and no official contact with Canterlot police. But your other two ponies did pop up.” She opened the folder.
“Turns out they’re pretty well known researchers in Canterlot. He’s an alchemist, and she’s a botanist. Both their parents also live in Canterlot and are well-respected. These two are on file because of an incident a few years ago while they were still in school.” She paused as she read some of the text. “Another pony sabotaged a lab experiment, causing an explosion. Misty was injured, but Quicksilver was almost killed. The culprit was caught and the incident closed. They’ve had no interactions with the police since then.” She closed the file and set it down.
So, nothing on Tinker. “I guess it was too much to ask that the search would be easy. But it’s good to get the scoop on the other two.” I stood up, leaned over, and gave her a little peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Citrine, you’re the best.”
“And…?”
“And… this case will be over in a couple weeks. I’ll get in touch with you then, and we can go out to dinner.”
“And…?” Her hoof tapped on the desk.
“And… and dancing. Absolutely we’ll go someplace with dancing.”
“Okay then.” She smiled. I’ve missed that smile and the way light seemed to dance in her eyes.
“And I won’t forget. Thanks again, Citrine.”
With a nod, I turned and headed for the front door of the station. I felt pretty good. Perhaps I was even happy? It was hard to be sure as I don’t do happy very often. But Citrine has that effect on me. Sometimes I wonder if it could actually work between us. She’s a great filly. Perhaps... a family owned business with two employees...
As I stepped outside the station, I shed those thoughts like an old overcoat. Maybe in a couple weeks I could return to them, but right now, I had a case. That’s what I need to focus on, not some fantasy. Head in the game, Steel. Head in the game!
My next destination was the apartment where Tinker lived. I stopped for a minute to verify the address from the paper Quicksilver had given me and got moving.
The apartment building was like any of a dozen others in this part of Canterlot. Unremarkable and easily forgotten. They all looked the same, several stories tall, classic Canterlot white, with a grid of windows facing forward. Just two rows of white dominoes sitting edge-to-edge on both sides of the street. A small awning over the door and a sign with the name completed the package. I read the name and immediately forgot it. It was a name like any of dozens of others. Unremarkable and easily forgotten.
I walked through the door and into the long dark hallway typical of such buildings. The manager’s office was immediately inside the door.
“Good morning,” I said as I walked up to the open window.
“Renting, visiting, or investigating?” He looked up at me. “Investigating.” He looked back down. I wondered if he’d been a fellow gumhoof in a previous life.
I tossed a few bits down on the counter. It was easier when they didn’t make a fuss about privacy. “It’s a missing pony case. It’d be helpful if I could get a quick look at his room. His name is Tinker Cob. Apartment 305, I believe.”
He swept the bits off the counter and into a small cash box. Then he closed the window and came out the office door into the hallway. “Third floor.” I noticed he walked with just a bit of a limp in his right rear leg. Then I saw the scar. I wonder if there’s an interesting story behind that.
As we headed up the stairs, I tried to pump a little information out of the manager. “What type of a tenant is Tinker? Any problems?”
“I didn’t know much about him. He’s quiet, neat, and pays his rent on time. That’s really all I need to know. I give him a discount on the rent in exchange for some light maintenance work around the place. Tinker’s work is always first-rate. I wish I had a few more tenants like him.”
Once we got to the room, the manager unlocked the door and headed back to his office without comment. Terse and to the point. I could appreciate that.
I entered and immediately wondered if it was the correct room. I rechecked the front of the door. Yup, 305. It was a furnished apartment, but there were no other signs of life. I didn’t see anything that would suggest a pony actually lived here. Nothing on the shelves, and the table and counters were empty. No personal stuff at all other than a couple books on an end table by a chair. I’ve seen abandoned houses that looked more lived in. Although, I guess a changeling wouldn’t be expecting any visitors, so wouldn’t need to keep up appearances.
I looked in the bedroom. The bed was made, so I guess somepony slept here, at least occasionally. The bathroom was devoid of anything save for a couple grooming brushes and a toothbrush. I took a closer look at them. Yup, definitely used. Someone lives or lived here.
I went into the kitchen. The only things in the fridge were a couple apples and a container of grape juice. The drawers were all empty. I found one drinking glass in the cupboard over the sink. The trash can was empty.
I wonder how much physical food a changeling needs to eat in addition to feeding off love. Based on what I’ve found, it’s not very much. But then that’s the same amount I know about changelings--not very much, I mused.
I closed the self-locking door as I left and headed back downstairs.
“Thanks,” I said to the manager as I walked by, giving him a wave. It wasn’t that I was actually grateful. I’d paid him for his time. I wanted to make sure the manager saw me leave the building. It’s good to cover those bases.
My last stop for the day was the city hall to check for any public records on Tinker. Well, that was pointless, I fumed. I’d shot the whole day and had exactly the same information as when Quicksilver and Misty left my office. Yes, it’s the client’s time. But that doesn’t make it any easier to come up empty.
I went back to my apartment, or office, or whatever. I heated up some vegetable soup for dinner. Technically, I was on a case and could eat out on the client’s bits. But I’ll be eating on the road for the next week or two, so tonight I’d have a fancy home-cooked meal. Besides, it would save a few bits on my expense report. They’re a cute couple, Quicksilver and Misty. I’d only talked with them a few minutes, but I saw something between them. Something I might like to find for myself some day.