Key Type, an earth pony stallion, sat in front of the receiving key at the Van Hoover telegraph office. This had been his job now for nearly a year, and like many jobs, quickly became monotonous. In truth, he expected it to be nearly extinct, once that new telephone invention got to be cheap enough. Really, why send a telegram when you can punch some numbers into a phone and talk to a person almost instantly?
He let out a breath as he questioned what he was going to do for his lunch break. He could try the new cafe that opened up a few blocks away. The reviews in the paper said the vegetable soup could put anything a pony's grandma made to shame.
The receiving key suddenly began tapping, shaking Key from his thoughts. Instantly, he grabbed a paper and a pencil to write with. He decoded the message as he jotted it down, deciphering the meaning of the taps, some coming almost immediately after the previous one, and some with a split second of pause between them.
Once finished, he read over the note to make sure he had written it correctly. No spelling errors and exactly how the message came in. The work was satisfactory. The content of the message, was not quite so.
Key had seen a fair number of messages like this one lately. A pony from some far off city like Manehattan or Fillydelphia passing along some kind of mindless drivel to keep a loved one "in the know" about things happening with them and their family. It was the sort of thing better served by writing a letter...
Key paused for a moment. "That's exactly the kind of stuff a pony writes in a letter!", he thought to himself,"Why would a pony spend money on a telegram for this when paying postage to send a letter would be so much cheaper?"
As the stallion sat there looking over the message, he then recalled having taken several telegrams the day before that were similar to this one. Reaching into his desk, he pulled out the previous day's messages; The office kept the previous messages at the employee's desk in case there was a foul up somewhere and they needed to clear it up quickly.
Key Type went through each one and read them. The messages were all nearly similar to the one Key had just taken, but they all had one thing in common: They were addressed to a pony named High Tide. "That confirms it for me", Key said,"There's something fishy going on here."
Gathering up the letters, Key Type then began transcribing new copies in as legible a hoofwriting that he could do, then he set those copies aside for later. He knew where he was going to be going on his lunch break; He just hoped they'd have something he could eat while he was there.
The Van Hoover Police Force was a unique fixture of the city. While a division of the royal guard was stationed there, most of the criminal investigations went through the police. The station house, located a few blocks away from the city center, had several levels for different departments, as well as jail cells in the basement for when they had to arrest and detain ponies that had committed crimes.
In one such department, identified as "Investigations", a pony stallion sat at a desk. He was a unicorn, with dark grey coat, black mane and tail with several streaks of grey in both, and a cutie mark of an old checkered and peaked police hat.
The stallion was going over some paperwork in regards to a case he'd just finished and turned over to the guard; While the police could investigate and arrest ponies, the royal guard was still in charge of the courts that convicted ponies and sent them to the dungeons or whatever punishment was deemed appropriate.
The case in question was a fairly common one. Several jewelers in the city had reported pieces of jewelry going missing. Altogether, the total was several thousand bits.
When the case began, the stallion was almost certain the culprit was a unicorn. However, the case-breaking clue wound up being a single down feather from a pegasus' wing. Now knowing what to look for, the jewelers were put on alert, and the next day, a pegasus mare the same color as the feather was apprehended. A brief interrogation led to the pony spilling her guts and revealing the location of all the missing jewelry.
Satisfied with his case notes, the stallion closed the file and sat it down on his desk. He was about to go for something to drink when he heard a pony walking up to his desk. Looking up, he saw it was one of the two new officers that were assigned to the front desk; This one was an earth pony mare with a teal coat and bright red mane and tail.
"Detective Old Bill", she addressed the stallion,"your informant is here to see you."
Old Bill nodded and dismissed the mare back to her duties. The stallion made his way for the water dispenser to wet his whistle, then moved towards the interrogation rooms. Stepping inside, he saw a familiar pony with a manila folder, one he recognized as Key Note, his informant in the telegraph office.
Of course, he wasn't an informant in the most common sense of the word. Key Note was a regular pony like any other citizen in Van Hoover. What made him special was the fact that he was in a position within the city's communication infrastructure to serve as a pair of ears for both the police force and local guard post. For a stipend, Key would offer them whatever tips he could that would result in either the prevention of crime or help catch those that had committed one.
"Hello, Key", Old Bill greeted,"Do you have something for me?"
"I think so", answered Key,"I've got some telegrams here that are rather peculiar. Have a look." Key then passed over the folder to Old Bill. Bill took the folder in his magic and opened it up.
Inside were about two dozen telegrams, split nearly even between today and yesterday. As he scanned each one, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary right away. "I'm not seeing what you're seeing, Key" the detective told the informant.
"Read the messages again", Key told the detective while gesturing with his hoof,"Doesn't the stuff in these letters seem like the kind of stuff that ponies would send in a letter? The much cheaper option that lets you send a lot more information?"
Bill read the notes again, and did take notice that some of the information they contained wasn't the sort of stuff that most ponies sent in a telegram. The stallion still wasn't entirely convinced.
"These telegrams still aren't that out of the ordinary", Bill told Key,"What's the point you're trying to make?"
Key started to become a bit irritated. "My point is that normal ponies don't send telegrams like this!", Key explained,"Besides, look at where all the telegrams have been coming from."
Bill looked over the locations where each message had come from. There were several from Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Las Pegasus, Whinnyapolis, and even a few from Canterlot. All from different cities, yet having the same type of message. At that moment, it finally clicked for the stallion.
"Okay, you're saying these messages are some kind of code", Bill finally told Key,"but what do you think it means?"
"I'm not one hundred percent sure what this could be a code for", Key admitted,"but I'm pretty sure there's something fishy going on with these messages."
Bill nodded and stood up. "I'll look into this", he told Key,"Take these telegrams back with you. If it's necessary, we'll petition the courts to grant subpoena to obtain them."
"Okay", Key replied,"I'll keep these handy in case that happens." He then got up to leave, but then stopped.
"Almost forgot!" Key said as he grabbed a paper and pencil from his saddlebags. He quickly wrote something down and gave it to the detective. "This is the address the telegrams were being sent to", he told Bill,"The pony's name is High Tide."
Bill took the note and nodded. "Thanks", he told Key,"I'll check out this address then." Key gave him a simple nod, then walked out of the room.
Heading back to his desk, Bill looked over the address on the paper. It was for a building not too far from the city's port area.
"An out of the way part of the city where a pony wouldn't go unless they had to", Bill thought to himself,"This definitely sounds like something I should check out."
"Hey, Bill!"
The stallion was interrupted by another pony entering the department. It was a mare, and his partner in the force. Her coat and cutie mark both were representative of her name.
"Hello, Peach", Bill greeted back,"Getting in kind of late today, aren't we?"
"Well, when your neighbors decide to have a domestic dispute and your the nearest cop", she answered back,"you have to become a mediator, whether you like it or not."
Bill gave an amused chuckle. "So what was it this time?"
"Same as usual", Peach responded in her usually cheerful tone,"Which pony was supposed to take out the garbage today."
"Of all the things" Bill said while shaking his head.
"Hey, if I had a colt to pawn it off on, you can bet your last bit that I would get him to do it."
"Colt?", Bill said teasingly,"I guess I should send an alert over to juvenile for a possible predator in the area."
"Oh, hardy har har!" Peach responded before walking to her desk nearby. "So, anything interesting happen this morning?" she asked after getting sat down.
"Actually, something just came up right before you got in" Bill answered as he showed the mare the note he'd gotten. Peach took it and looked it over.
"According to our informant at the telegraph station", Bill began to explain,"A pony named High Tide has been getting a lot of telegraph messages sent to this address. Apparently, he thinks these messages are some kind of code for something nefarious."
"Really?", Peach said while raising a brow,"What kinds of messages is this pony getting?"
"Based on a sample that the informant brought over, some fairly mundane stuff. However, they also pointed out that the content of the messages was the same sort of stuff you'd send in a letter, so why spend the money for a telegram when you could send more information for much less?"
Peach thought it over for all of a second before looking at her partner. "That's definitely a code", she reasoned,"No way it couldn't be."
"Then it looks like our informant was right" Bill remarked. He walked back over to his desk and grabbed a pair of saddlebags.
"Where are you heading?" Peach asked him.
"I'm going to go check this address that the messages are going to", he told her,"Could you stay here in case the informant comes back? He said if he got any more messages like he had before, he'd bring them over for us to look at."
"Okay", Peach replied,"but you watch yourself. The port area can get pretty sketchy."
Bill just gave a small smile as he walked out the door.
Sharpclaw sat at his desk once again going over paperwork. He had just updated his records with the information he'd gotten in the recent batch of telegrams, with most of the ponies owing on loans having provided some form of payment. With that money soon to be in, he would have enough to start offering some more loans. After all, ponies had to be convinced they would actually get the money they were promised, otherwise they'd never take out loans from him to begin with.
The griffin had just trimmed the tail on his current cigar when there was a knock at his door. "What is it, Miss Scarlett?" he said to his secretary, whom he knew was on the other side of the door. The mare then poked her head in with a worried expression on her face.
"Sir, there's a detective from the VHPF here to speak with High Tide." she told him with worry. Sharpclaw dropped the papers in his claws and was about to slam one into his desk before regaining control of himself.
"Curse it all!" he muttered under his breath. He'd known that the police would eventually be on to him, but he thought it was going to take longer than this. He looked at his secretary and gave one simple command: "Stall him!"
Miss Scarlett gave a nod and closed the door and returned to her desk. "My boss will be with you shortly", she said with a smile to Detective Old Bill,"Please have a seat."
Old Bill nodded and took a seat beside a water dispenser. He made note of the mare's demeanor: near constant looking over and flashing a friendly smile, looking for whatever menial task she could to keep herself occupied, and her body language very tense. It was something he was all too familiar with; This secretary was nervous about something.
Before he could think to drum up a conversation and possibly figure out what was going on, the door to the main office opened up. From inside the office emerged a griffin, with brown head and body a mix of black and brown feathers. The griffin, clearly a male, also had a scar underneath its right eye. It eyed the detective for a moment before adopting a tone that was somehow neutral yet pleasant.
"What may we do for you today, detective?" the griffin asked.
"I was hoping to be able to find a pony that I believe is in your employ", Old Bill told the griffin.
"Really?", the griffin said with confusion,"I don't have too many ponies working for me. Do you have their name?"
"I do", Bill answered,"I'm looking for High Tide."
The griffin's eye twitched slightly. It was nearly imperceptible, but Bill caught it for however briefly it existed.
"I do have a High Tide working for me", the griffin replied,"but unfortunately, he's away on business."
"Oh", Bill responded,"Do you have any idea when he'll return?"
"Hard to say", the griffin answered,"The business he's on isn't the kind of thing that has a definitive time frame to be finished or not."
"What kind of business is he on", Bill asked,"unless it's something sensitive."
"Nothing overly sensitive", answered the griffin,"He's negotiating some new business for us."
"And what kind of business is that?" Bill asked the griffin.
"Financial planning" the griffin answered, presenting the detective with a brochure not too dissimilar from the kind you'd get from a bank. "He's trying to convince a restaurant in Fillydelphia to go with us for some of their business management needs."
"So, Fillydelphia" Bill remarked as he feigned thinking of something. He elected to observe the griffin and secretary as they watched him. Both were tense, meaning that the way he was acting was starting to get to them.
"Okay", the stallion finally said,"I'll have to get in touch with him when he gets back. Sorry to have bothered you two."
"No trouble detective", the griffin responded,"I just hope that High Tide isn't in any sort of trouble."
"Oh, no", Bill replied,"I just had some questions to ask him. That's all."
"Well, if that's everything", the griffin said to Old Bill,"I have business to get back to."
"Yes, that's all I have", Bill replied,"Thank you for your time." With that, Bill turned and left the office. Once out of earshot, the griffin turned to his secretary.
"I want you to get a hold of Packer and Mover, right now", he told his secretary,"We need to get the files out of here pronto!"
Miss Scarlett looked uneasy. "Perhaps we should wait-"
"There's no time!", Sharpclaw barked,"Get those two over her and have them clear the damn files out!"
The mare wanted to protest, but simply nodded and grabbed her saddlebags before leaving. Once Miss Scarlett was gone, Sharpclaw produced a new cigar and proceeded to light it, taking a long drag in an effort to calm his fraying nerves.
Old Bill got back to the police station about an hour later. After walking in through the door, he was met by Peach Fuzz. Going off of the look on the mare's face, he was certain she had something important to tell him. "What is it, Peach?" he asked her.
"Your informant came back with a few more telegrams", Peach told him,"Two from Manehattan, and one from Whinnyapolis."
"And I take it these ones had the same kind of message as before?"
"Yes", Peach confirmed,"but that's not all. I showed these to Word Salad, and she is convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the messages are a code."
Bill gave a nod and mentally slapped himself. Word Salad was a mare who worked as part of forensics, and her specialty, as well as her cutie mark talent, was to decipher the types of writing one would pass of as gibberish. Had she not become a forensic investigator, she could've taught school, or became a pharmacist. "What did she make of the code?" Bill asked Peach.
"Her best idea as to what is being conveyed in the message boils down to two things", Peach explained,"Either its extortion, or this High Tide is a loan shark."
Bill gave a nod. "That fits some with what happened when I went to meet High Tide."
"What did he have to say?" Peach asked.
"He wasn't there", Bill replied,"The building was an old shipping office. I walked in and there was a mare working on a typewriter, but when she saw me, she became nervous. I asked for High Tide, and she went and told this griffin who was working in the main office room."
"The griffin came out and met with me. He acted much cooler than the secretary, but I could still tell he was nervous with me being there. When I asked him for High Tide, he said the pony was away in Fillydelphia on business."
"Funny", Peach remarked,"You'd think a pony going out of town to another city would put a hold on his messages. According to Key Note, the messages were still being delivered."
Bill gave a nod as he thought over that information. Given the circumstances, it wasn't hard for him to come to the next conclusion. "I don't think High Tide exists", Bill proposed,"I think the griffin is using the name High Tide as an alias, and the telegrams are for him."
"That's possible", Peach agreed,"but we'd have to prove it before we could do anything further. It isn't a good idea to start tailing ponies, or griffins, without good reason. Unfortunately, suspicion isn't a good one."
Bill nodded, and then thought of something. "I got a good look at this griffin and mare. I'm guessing with the way they were acting, they might have records somewhere."
"We'll need names for both of them" Peach pointed out.
"The mare is Miss Scarlett", Bill told her,"but the griffin never said his name."
"You got a good look at him", Peach pointed out,"so I guess we'll have to have a sketch artist draw up a mug and then we'll send it around to other departments and guard detachments and see if anything turns up."
"Maybe we should send it out to the Griffin kingdom?", Bill proposed,"He could be operating in Equestria to escape whatever crimes he might have committed there. At the very least, they might be able to give us a name for him."
"That sounds like a good idea", Peach agreed,"I think in the meantime, we should stake out their office to see what ponies come and go. Maybe we could find them doing something incriminating and hold them for it while we investigate these telegrams and what they actually mean."
"Sounds like a good idea", Bill agreed,"but we'll have to find ponies willing to do it, and ones who can disguise themselves to avoid suspicion."
Peach gave a smile. "Too bad we don't have any changelings working for us. They'd be perfect for this kind of job."
Bill laughed. "Yes, they would be."