//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2 
// Story: The Painless Murders 
// by bkc56 
//------------------------------//

Once at the station, we were directed to one of the interrogation rooms. It was a stark, gray room. The way voices echoed on the smooth surfaces was oppressive. That was by design. A heavy metal table was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Three uncomfortable chairs sat around it. These were also by design. This was no spa. Any interrogated suspect needed to feel uneasy and on edge. The lights were on in the observation room, defeating the one-way window, so we could be assured of our privacy.

An officer entered the room and set three files down on the table. “The reports are all preliminary. It could be several days before they are finalized.” She then left.

I spun the files around to read the titles. “Citrine, you take the initial crime report.” I slid it over to her. “Legal, you take Quicksilver’s history. I’ll take the crime scene report.” I passed one file to him and opened the third one myself. We sat in silence for a while as we reviewed the files.

Legal started, “Quicksilver doesn’t have much history, which is good. There’s an entry here for an event back when he and Misty were in school.”

“Citrine and I are aware of that one. Remind me. Who was the pony arrested in that case?”

He skimmed the form. “Cloud Walker, aka, Cloudy.”

“We should probably check on him,” I said, glancing at Citrine.

“No need,” Citrine responded. “Looks like the ponies here are doing their job today. A couple detectives were already sent to Cloudsdale to talk to him. Cloudy was in charge of a weather team putting together a storm for the farms around Ponyville last night. Multiple witnesses. He’s in the clear.”

“Hmm…” Something didn’t feel right about this. I wasn’t sure what, but my inner voice was grumbling at me.

She looked up from the file. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure we should dismiss Cloudy so fast.” I brought a hoof up to my chin. “We’ve heard that story from Quicksilver and Misty. There was some pretty bad blood leading up to the lab explosion Cloudy caused. It seemed they resolved their differences later, but what if they didn’t? What if there’s still something there?”

“So you think I should talk to him anyway?” Citrine asked.

I nodded. “Yes, please. He might just let something slip to a cute mare. Something he wouldn’t say to a couple gruff detectives trying to put him on the spot.”

“Gotcha,” she said with a wink. 

I looked back to Legal. “Anything else?”

“Yes, they reported a burglary at their home around seven months ago. The only thing they discovered missing was a bag of bits from the bedroom. The case is unsolved, with no leads.”

“Okay. That doesn’t seem relevant at this point. Citrine, what do you have?”

Citrine had decades of experience reading case files and incident reports. It was second nature. She had no problem sifting through the chaff to expose the wheat and share just the important details.

“The body was discovered at approximately 7:30 in the morning when two employees, a supervisor, Mr Head Honcho, and a clerk, Miss Ivy Dawn, arrived to prepare to open the office at 8:00. Mr Honcho flagged down a passing beat cop for help. He explained the circumstances, and the cop entered the office to assess the situation.

“The victim's neck and back had traces of a blue powder. The first officer on scene touched it, and their hoof immediately went numb.”

Shaking my head, I added, “They’re lucky they didn’t become a second victim.” How could a trained cop be so oblivious to a potential danger like that? Simple self-preservation should have stopped him from touching something he couldn’t identify. “I wonder what this blue stuff is on a dead mare? I think I’ll touch it.” Such a foal.

Citrine looked up. “Yeah, I know. Not everypony gets adequate crime scene training. It was a problem the whole time I was on the force. But to be fair, he was checking to see if the clerk was still alive.” She returned to the notes.

“That cop left the scene to summon additional help. The supervisor sat in the waiting area until they arrived. The clerk was confused and in shock and wandered around the office, cleaning up.”

“Oh, great,” I moaned, raising a hoof to my forehead. “So the crime scene was not secured and was contaminated.” I sighed. “Go on.”

“They found a vial near the body with remnants of the blue powder in it. It was tagged with a reference number that led to a previous submission.” She paused as she read.

“Oh, this is bad. The mixture is named Painless. It’s a topical anesthetic, created by Quicksilver and submitted about a year ago. An overdose causes numbness and paralysis in affected muscles, depressed respiration and cardiac function, confusion, loss of consciousness, and finally death.”

I was feeling a weight settling down on me. “So the murder weapon was created by Quicksilver.”

“Yes. And more problems. Quicksilver’s name was in both the appointment book and on the check-in log. But there is no record or physical evidence that he turned anything in yesterday.”

Legal rubbed the back of his neck as he talked, “So there is sufficient evidence to say he was there, but nothing to prove why he was there. In addition, as the creator of the murder weapon, he would have access and know how to use it.”

I growled to myself, which caused both Citrine and Legal to glance at me. I flipped through the initial crime scene report. “This is a pile of road apples. I need to see the actual scene. I can’t do anything with this garbage.” I threw the report on the table where it slid to the far side. It would have fallen to the floor had Citrine not stopped it. I shrugged. “Sorry, I’m frustrated, and a little worried.”

“You’re justified,” Legal added. “You need to find something that does not point at Quicksilver as the prime suspect. And sooner is better.”

“Okay, it’s time to talk to Quicksilver himself. Citrine, would you please let them know we’re ready for him? Then I want you in the observation room, that way you can--”

She raised a leg. “I know the drill. Observe from a distance without being engaged in the conversation. Watch body language. Watch the overall dynamic of the interrogation. I’ve done this a few times before.”

Touching my hoof to my chest, I replied softly, “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

She smiled at me. “It’s okay, really. You’re getting into your investigator groove. Just remember, I’m here to help. I’ve got your back.” She stood up and left the room.

I turned towards Legal. “Thoughts?”

He had taken the arrest report and was reading it. Without looking up, he replied, “Just what I said before. It’s time for you to start doing what you do so well. Find me something I can use. You are invested in this case, so work your magic.”

Work my magic. I thought back to the previous case I’d done for Quicksilver and Misty. That was an impossible task. It took ten days of hard work. But in the end, magic happened. I only hope I hadn’t used it all up.

I noticed the light go out in the observation room, turning the window into a mirror. Citrine was in place.

The door opened, and two officers escorted Quicksilver in. He’s only been here a couple hours, but he looked haggard and tired. His head and ears were down, a faraway look in his eyes. But he perked up when he saw me.

“Mr Steel. They said my attorney was here, but I only use him for help with licensing arrangements. I figured Misty had found someone else?” He glanced at Legal.

“Quicksilver, this is Legal Eagle. He’s a colleague of mine. We’ve worked together before. Unless you have somepony else, he’s going to handle all the legal issues as we try to figure this out.”

Legal stood up and shook hooves with Quicksilver. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I just wish it wasn’t in such a stressful situation.”

“Thank you, Mr Eagle. I’m totally out of my element here. I have no idea what to do.”

Legal sat down again, gesturing to a chair for Quicksilver. “You don’t need to know what to do. That’s what Steel and I are for. But we do have some questions...”

“First,” Quicksilver looked at me, “how’s Misty?”

I briefly debated just how specific I should be so as to not overly worry him. “She’s shaken up, as you would expect. But she had the presence of mind to seek help. We sent her to stay with her parents, so she isn’t alone. You don’t need to worry about her.” 

“Okay, thank you. I was so worried about her. They dragged me from the house so fast. The look in her eyes...” He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “So, what do you need?”

Legal took out his pad of paper and prepared to take notes. “First, please tell us everything that happened from the time you left your house until you returned yesterday afternoon.”

Quicksilver raised a hoof to his chin and rubbed it. “Let’s see. I left around four in the afternoon to walk to the Bureau of New Product Registration to submit my Dragon’s Fire mixture. I had the completed paperwork, copies of my lab notes, release notes, and the required mixture sample. I got there a little before my 4:30 appointment and signed in. There was no one else there, so the clerk, who the police said was Raven Silverwood, helped me immediately. She checked to make sure my paperwork was correct, and that everything else was in order. She said she would do a check for any prior art that evening, and start the submission in the morning. I was out of there just before closing at 5:00, and home around 5:30. Misty and I went out to dinner soon after.”

As I listened, I noted that with a few additions, it was almost identical to the sequence Misty had told us. Was that consistent, or convenient? Was the story rehearsed? It wouldn’t be the first time a pair of ponies had done that. On the other hoof, it was mostly just the sequence of events. I’d expect two highly detailed science ponies to be consistent.

“What’s the difference between lab notes and release notes?” Legal asked.

Quicksilver leaned forward and started talking faster. “Lab notes are the complete development history from when I first got the idea. They aren’t required, but I submit them as proof of my process and as an archive. The release notes are what’s needed to produce the mixture. In this case, it’s the formula, how to mix it, how to make the receiving artifacts, and other such details.”

Legal made some notes on his pad. “So the release notes are what the licensee receives? Nothing else?”

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. “Once they’ve worked out the production details, they can take it to market.”

“Did you get a receipt or any other form of confirmation of the materials you submitted?” Legal asked.

Quicksilver blinked a couple times. “Oh. You’re right. I was supposed to. She was filling it out. It’s just that she was so excited about the submission and kept asking questions. I ended up opening the lab notes to show her details. They got spread all over the counter and must have covered the receipt pad. I guess we just both forgot about it. Does it matter?”

I nodded. “Yes, because there’s no sign of your submission in the office. No record at all of why you were there or that you turned anything in.”

Quicksilver fidgeted in his chair. “What happened to it? I turned everything in. It was all sitting on the counter when I left.”

I shook my head. “That’s one of a number of questions we need to answer.”

“Questions? What other questions are there?”

“There’s the way the clerk died. It was from an overdose of your Painless mixture. The sample vial from your submission was found by the body. It had a reference number on it, which is how they figured out what it was. That’s one more thing that ties this case to you.”

Quicksilver sat forward in his chair. “How much of the mixture was on the clerk?”

Legal answered as he scanned the scene report, “Her neck and back had traces of the powder.”

Quicksilver shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. The vial only has a sample. In actual use, it would only be enough for a wound about the length of a hoof.” He held up his hoof mindlessly looking at it. “There’s not enough of the mixture for that level of exposure. And the vial only has perhaps five percent of what would be a lethal dose. Not even enough to hurt a foal.”

“So someone brought more with them. The vial was basically a planted clue.” I turned to Quicksilver. “How much do you have at home?”

“I have a sample about twice that size at home. In addition, we have three medical-grade doses in our first aid kit, but they don’t contain much more than what’s in the sample vial.”

“How easy is it to get?” Legal asked.

“It’s prescription only, or limited to hospital and military use. So nopony could easily get a lethal dose.”

“Hmmm...” If it’s hard to get, then it would have to be made. “I assume you can mix as much as you want?” I asked.

“Yes, but it’s a slow process and takes several days to prepare, concentrate, filter, grind into a fine powder, and package. And of course it’s not safe to make large quantities as a spill can be fatal. I’ve never mixed more than small amounts.”

“So they had to prepare or purchase it well in advance. That means planning, premeditation. Who produces it for medical use?”

“It’s licensed to Fancy Pants for manufacturing and distribution.”

“Okay. I’m going to get Citrine,” I nodded at the one-way mirror, “and head to the crime scene.”

Legal added, “I’m going to stay here a while longer. I have some additional things to go over with Quicksilver.”

I stood up and looked at Quicksilver. “Try to relax. There’s something going on here, and we’ll figure it out.” I started to head out the door when I was stopped.

“Steel?” Quicksilver said. I looked over my shoulder at him. “Thank you.” I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me. Two simple words. Thank you. But they mean something more when said by a pony that you know really means it. A pony I will not let down.