The three of us stood on the dusty dirt road out front of Mr Calico’s small house. Perhaps ‘shack’ would have been a better word. The building wasn’t any larger than your typical Canterlot two-room apartment. The siding was cracked and warped with a few boards hanging askew. The roof didn’t look much better and probably leaked. It was well past what a fresh coat of paint could do for the place.
I looked at Citrine. “Since you two interviewed him last time, do you mind if I take the lead today?”
She glanced at Nightly, who nodded. “Sure, go ahead. Perhaps you’ll have better luck at getting something out of him.”
We’d collected the local sheriff and a deputy, who both eyed the porch suspiciously as they waited by the road. The wood creaked and groaned under our combined weight as we approached the front door. I knocked firmly. The reply came almost immediately, “It’s open.” The door creaked loudly as it swung on rusty hinges.
The small dingy room was bathed in dirty light filtered through faded curtains. A small dark brown couch sat against one wall, while a padded chair with a ripped seat cushion vainly tried to fill the space in the opposite corner next to a full bookshelf. In the back I could see a small kitchen and a closed door that would be the single bedroom. Mr Calico sat reading a book behind a small square table, conspicuously placed in the middle of the room. The dust on the bare wood floor suggested the second chair hadn’t moved in months. Visitors were probably few.
He looked up as we entered. “Detectives. I see you’re back, and with reinforcements.” He glanced at me as I stepped forward.
“Good day Mr Calico. I’m Dark Steel and I’m assisting the police with a little matter. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”
He sighed as he gestured at the detectives. “I answered all their questions last time. My answers haven’t changed.”
As I stepped up to the table, I pulled out the folder of pictures from my saddlebag. “I’m sure that’s true. But I have one or two new questions to ask you.” I took out the pictures of the first two notes and set them on the table facing Mr Calico.
His eyes flicked down at them momentarily, but not long enough to read them. “They showed me two of these last time. I already said I know nothing about them.”
“I understand. It’s just that, well, since your talk with the detectives we’ve learned a few new things. For example, we studied the cutout characters used in the notes and determined that they came from the Appleloosa Free Press.” I pointed to a corner. “And you seem to have a good pile of them available.”
He let out a small snort. “That paper wouldn’t last long if I was the only subscriber. Other ponies read it too, you know.” His eyes narrowed just a touch as he closed the book before him.
“Of course, of course. I just don’t think there are many ponies in this town who would even know who Miss Chapeau is. After all, she doesn’t have a hat shop here.” I tossed down the other two pictures from the first batch of four.
“Yet…” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “She’s in almost every other town in Equestria.” He again glanced down without reading them. If he’d only seen two pictures the first time, I’d think he’d be curious as to what the other two notes said. “So, what’s your point?”
“Oh, I’m just talking about a few things...” I set down two of the photos from the more threatening batch of notes. “To see what thoughts you might have.”
This time his eyes lingered on the newest pictures. His brow quickly furrowed as he read the notes. “Wait… No, I didn’t.” He looked up at me. “Where did those come from?”
“They were delivered to Miss Chapeau, just like the first four you sent.” I added two more.
His eyes got wide as he read them. “I didn’t send these. I would never say that!”
I leaned forward on the table. “So you admit you sent the others?”
He glanced at the two detectives, then back to me. “That’s not what I meant. You’re trying to confuse me.” He looked back down at the photos shaking his head.
I pointed to one in particular. “This one is a clear death threat. If you sent one, you sent them all. This one note could land you in jail for a long time.”
He put his hooves on the edge of the table and pushed his chair back a bit. It scraped against the wood floor. I tensed up. You planning to fight or flee? His eyes again darted between the detectives and myself. “I didn’t threaten her. I would never do that.”
It was time for the trump card. “So then, how did you arrange Miss Chapeau’s abduction? Why did you take her, and where is she now?”
The color drained from his face. He started to breathe faster. “No, no, no. That’s not true.”
I leaned further forward, getting in his face. “I assure you, it is. Right off the streets of Canterlot.”
His hooves shot up in front of him. “That can’t be. I haven’t been in Canterlot for months. I couldn’t have done it.”
I nodded. “I know. I saw the two ponies who actually did it. But you still organized it.”
His eyes were wide, his breathing fast and shallow. I was sure he was going to try and run. They always run. He took a stuttered breath. “I swear to you. I did not take her. I did not send those other notes.”
I let him stew for a moment. “Then I’ll ask you again, do you admit you sent some of them?”
He sat for several moments, then slumped in his chair. “Okay, okay. I admit, I did send the first four. I was angry and frustrated. I lashed out! I was wrong, and I’d take them all back if I could. But it was only those four. I didn’t send the others!” He waved his hoof over the latter pictures. “And I did not abduct her. I have no idea where Miss Chapeau is!”
I smacked the table with a hoof. “Why should I believe you?” He looked at me for a long moment, then scooted his chair closer to the table. He slid one of the notes he admitted to sending and one from the second batch to the edge of the table in front of him. He leaned in close. It dawned on me that as a fabric maker, he would probably have an incredible attention to detail. So what are you looking for, Calico?
The room was totally silent. The only sound came from a clock in the kitchen. Its tick, tick, tick counted the seconds as he scanned back and forth between the two photos. Finally, he looked up. “The typeface.”
I tilted my head. “What about it?”
He waved me around the table. “Here, look at this.” I walked to the side of the table, careful to keep some distance between us. “Look at the letters cut from the newspaper in my note.” He tapped several of them. “Now look at the newspaper letters in this one.” He again tapped a few others. “The Appleloosa Free Press uses a typeface that’s characteristic of the older printing press they have. These are from a paper that uses a different, more modern typeface. Wherever it was printed, it’s not from around here. So these other notes were made from publications printed in a different town.”
“You could get other papers here in Appleloosa. Major papers from Canterlot and Manehattan are delivered all across Equestria. If not the same day, the next.”
He pointed at his pile in the corner. “Check my old papers! You won't find anything but the Appleloosa Free Press and a few local tourist magazines. I didn’t make these!” His voice was firm, his eyes unblinking and locked with mine. He believed it. But did I?
“Please, wait here.” I headed towards the door. The clip-clop of additional hooves on the wood floor told me Citrine and Nightly were following. Once outside, I slowed to a stop staring off into the distance. How’d I miss that? It’s so obvious, I should have seen it.
“Steel, you okay?” I turned towards Citrine. “You look a bit unsteady. Do we need to get you to a hospital?” She glanced towards Nightly. “Quick, go find–”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “No, I’m fine. I just… I was sure he was involved in the abduction… somehow.”
“So, you believe him?” Nightly asked. He was standing by the open door, still slightly ajar, to keep an eye on Calico.
I nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“But why?”
I gestured towards him. “You've done your share of interrogations, what did his behavior tell you?”
His eyes drifted to the sky. After a moment they snapped back to me. “That once you confronted him with a second set of notes, he dropped the charade. I’m guessing everything after that was the truth.”
Citrine nodded. “Exactly.”
“Which puts us back to square-one,” Nightly snarled, then kicked a small clod of dirt off the porch.
Citrine held up a hoof. “It’s okay, Nightly. It’s just a setback.” She turned to me. “What now?”
“First, we wrap this up. Then, it’s back to Canterlot. This trail ended so we have to find another.”
I lifted my head to look at the sheriff and his deputy, who were still waiting patiently by the road. “Could you two come in now, please?” He nodded and they followed us back in. They all waited by the door as I walked over to the table. “Okay Mr Calico, let’s pretend we believe you; that you didn’t send the death threats or do the abduction. You’re still going to have to answer for the notes you did send. At the very least, they would qualify as harassment.”
His ears drooped as he pointed to the six later notes. “But… but nowhere near as bad as these are… right?”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s not for me to say. It will depend on what the police decide to charge you with. For now, I assume it will just be sending threatening letters.”
Citrine turned around. “Sheriff, would you please hold Mr Calico here in Appleloosa? The Canterlot Police will be in touch in the next few days.”
I stepped around the side of the table. “I’d suggest you cooperate and go quietly. Let’s not make it any worse.”
He sighed. “I’ll cooperate. I won’t make any trouble.” There was another scrape of wood as he pushed the chair back and turned sideways. I tensed as he reached down by the leg of the table. When he straightened up, he was holding… a leg? Then I noticed that his right rear leg ended just below the knee. My gaze shifted back to his face to find him watching me. “Thank you.”
I blinked and tilted my head slightly. “For what?”
“Most ponies look at me with a splash of horror followed by pity. You didn’t.” He reached down and began to adjust the prosthetic to his stump.
I wasn’t sure if I should ask, but my inner voice pushed me on. “What happened?”
He put his leg down and pushed to make sure it was well seated in the artificial one. “What did Miss Chapeau tell you?”
I leaned against the table making sure to remain focused on his face. I could tell he was paying attention to where I looked. “Not much. The order from your mill wasn’t finished. You sent a foreman who talked about damaged machinery. And she lost a lot of bits because of the missing material.”
“Yeah, I told him not to share any details. I didn’t need her pity.” With the leg ready, he sat back in his chair. “We’d had some supplier problems that put us behind schedule. I figured as long as we could keep ahead of Miss Chapeau’s production deadline, it would still work. I stayed late every night doing prep work, so production could start first thing in the morning each day. I slept in my office.” He paused for a bit. “I don’t know what happened, but one night as I pulled supplies off one of the big shelving units, the whole thing tipped. It hit the next one resulting in a chain reaction. The last one fell on the weaving machine. It caused extensive damage. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was trapped with the edge of a shelf pinning my leg to the floor. I knew it was broken. They found me the next morning.” He let out a heavy sigh. “The doctor talked about reduced blood flow, severed nerves, crushed bones…” He lifted his leg and looked at the prosthetic. I opened my mouth to say something. “Don’t. I don’t want your pity either.”
He dropped his leg and sat back in his chair. The stallion looked up at me. “With production stopped and me out of the picture, we couldn’t finish the order. Miss Chapeau wasn’t shy about telling ponies why her new line didn’t have enough inventory. My business failed, and I was out of a job.” He kicked at the floor with his good leg. “That look I mentioned? I got that every time I walked into an interview, right before the excuses started. I’m an expert in textiles and a business owner. I know plant operations, production, and pony management. There are scores of jobs I can do. And I want to work.” He gestured at his leg. “But I walk in with this… I just wish somepony would give me a chance.”
He inhaled deeply, blew it out, and stood up. “Okay, sheriff, I’m ready.” He walked around me with every fourth step sounding metallic. I wouldn’t call it a limp, but his gate was just a bit… off.
The sheriff pulled out a set of hoofcuffs. “Sheriff…” I caught his eye and shook my head no. After a brief pause, he put the cuffs away.
As the three of us headed back to the train station, I asked, “Can we get word to Officer Mote to deconstruct one of the notes from the second batch and try to figure out where they were made? Perhaps we can pick up a new trail to follow.”
Nightly glanced at me. “Sure, I can get that done. There’s a peg-a-gram office around here somewhere…” He trotted off before I could even get out a quick ‘thanks’.
Citrine snickered. “He’s always like that; ready to do whatever needs doing. It’ll be too bad when the bureaucracy drains that enthusiasm out of him.” I had first-hoof experience of that bureaucracy running over me not that long ago.
The Appleloosa main street, such as it was, presented a small variety of shops and businesses. “There aren’t a lot of choices, but when Nightly gets back, we should find someplace to grab a bite and kill some time. I don’t want to spend the entire time waiting on the train platform.”
“Good plan,” Citrine added. “And I think I know just the place. This way…”