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// Manehattan 
// Story: Dead Ponies Don't Wear Plaid 
// by JohnnyNorthrain 
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	Manehattan. What else was there to say about such a place? The city stretched out for miles surrounding the rivers that kept it alive. The wealthy and the poor were divided along clear lines. You could see the envy on every pony’s face as they looked towards the east and the towering buildings that spoke of hope and prosperity. In the west the buildings reached for the sky and halted in their progress stumbling short of true glory. Stunted and run down with flaking paint and exposed brick they were monuments to the darker side of city life. There’s always going to be the rich and there’s always going to be the poor. It’s one hell of a transition to go between the two. 
I never really understood it back in Chicago but here in Equestria it was clear. There was a deep seething hatred on both sides of the river for the other half. The rich gave the poor jobs and paid them to do services yet at the end of the day they went back to their slums and their apartments grumbling about how the rich could afford to pay more. They did not want to be poor themselves so they kept their bits safely tucked away. 
I turned from the largest window in the flat overlooking the other sky scrapers and  looked down at a book on the floor. Bonnie-best Apple and Clydesdale Draught were two notorious bank robbers that cut a trail of violence through Equestria from Fillydelphia to Manehattan. They were eventually stopped short when the Manehattan police caught up to them. Ponies still fondly remembered the two as folk heroes. There was a time when such ponies were regarded as modern day Robin Hoods even though they never gave the bits they stole to the poor. I couldn’t say that I was fond of them or their exploits but Madame Melba was. Or rather she had been before she met her untimely end from a bullet. 
The last gun I’d seen in Equestria had been wielded by my old friend and put a round in my shoulder. I thought they did not exist beyond that snub nose .38 special revolver. I had hoped that Equestria would remain a relatively violence free society. All of those wises were in vain. Somewhere somepony had acquired a gun and shot Madame Peach Melba in the head. Her body had been removed long before I had arrived on the scene. With a special writ from Princess Celestia I’d been tasked with investigating the death. 
Her blood was solidified in a pool on the floor and the book about Bonnie-best and Clydesdale was laying half in the pool and opened to a page that showed a photograph of the two bank robbers. Bonnie-best was obscured in the blood but Clydesdale’s face was visible. I sat the book aside and shifted my attention around to where she had been laying. I’d have to get the photographs from the police when they developed. 
“Thoughts?” My partner Lyra Heartstrings asked. 
“I haven’t eaten since we arrived here. Know of any good places nearby?” I couched down next to the vanity. 
“There’s a noodle house down on fifth and mane. I’ll take you there after we finish here.” She trotted towards me stooping to look at under the vanity. 
“I think…” I pulled out a small broken string of pearls and let it dangle in my fingers. “That I want to keep this place sealed up and go eat right now. There’s nothing here that can’t wait for a half an hour.”
We locked the door behind us and the police pony guard stayed in the hall to keep watch on the flat. It was just a short trip a couple blocks over to the noodle house and upon entering my nose was assaulted with a hundred rich scents of broth and soy sauce. Instantly my mouth began to water and we took a seat against the wall. The table was big enough but the chair was just a flat stool a couple inches above the ground. I had to tuck my knees under the table to sit. When the food came I slurped it down eagerly and hungry. There were no forks or chopsticks to use so I had to drink down the broth then slurp the noodles. There was no quiet way to do it. 
She looked at me over the table with those amber eyes and shook her head slightly letting a soft sigh escape her lips. I smiled from behind the bowl and sat it down empty on the table. If there was one thing in this universe I was sure of it was Lyra. She’d been with me through some tough times and we had pulled through broken and bleeding but not defeated. I reached my hand over the table and tapped the brim of her fedora. The hat had been one of mine but I gave it to her and she had cut a hole for her horn allowing a proper fit. She leaned over and touched the brim of mine with her horn. 
“What do we know of Madame Melba?” I asked her before starting in on the new bowl of noodles that had been brought to me. It was hard eating without utensils. The ponies never used them and they rarely used knives. I tried coiling them around the blade of a knife but the noodles kept slipping off. Eventually I just started drinking the broth down enough to slurp them. You just can’t put a price on a good bowl of noodles. 
“In her earlier years she was an opera singer and toured the realm with the Shandy Opera Company.” Lyra settled back on her haunches. “Madame Peach Melba is as close to a noble as a pony can get in Manehattan. Her family has always had land holdings here and her brother Toast and his daughter Raspberry now control the estate. They could be counted as suspects and we’ll have to check them. The flat where she was killed has been registered in her name for forty years. It is paid in full for the next fifteen years. She was also a great lover of folk tales. Many of the ponies in the surrounding flats said that she would often talk about the adventures of the early settlers and folk heroes of Equestria.”
“An opera singer makes this interesting.” I leaned back against the wall and ran my finger over the rim of the bowl.
“There was nothing missing from the apartment as far as anyone could tell. Some bits were still in a wallet in her night stand and her jewelry was in a box. “ Lyra slurped her noodles. 
“Not all of it, there was that string of pearls under her vanity.” I tapped the rim of the bowl. 
“It was not stolen, just broken.” 
“If it was only broken then where are the other pearls? Did you see any… anywhere? They would have cascaded like a bag of marbles and rolled over the hard wood floor. There was not one sign of them.”
“So you think that it was a thief after just her pearls?” 
“That makes no sense though why they would break the necklace then only take the loose ones. It’s too bad we can’t dust for prints because that would help lead us in some direction.”
“Dust for prints?” She asked after finishing off her noodles. 
“Fingers,” I held out my hand palm up. “Have a unique pattern on them. Finger prints we call it. When I touch something it leaves grease or dust print in the shape of what is on my finger. If the killer were Human we could dust the area to bring the prints up then record the pattern. Since as far as we know I’m the only Human in Equestria then dusting for prints is useless.” 
She looked as if she was contemplating something for a few seconds before finally nodding. The two of us finished eating and headed back towards the apartment. Along the way I passed a street vendor with a cart. Candied almonds were reflecting the sunlight and caught my attention. The honey and sugar glaze glittered and I was about to buy a bag of them for us to snack on. I had gone so far as pulling out my wallet before the screech of rubber against the road turned my attention and a vehicle skidding around the corner fish tailing before catching traction and speeding on past. I couldn’t be entirely sure but the driver I thought I’d seen somewhere before. She had a black mane and purple eyes. There was a brief second just after the car gripped the road that she looked directly at me. Her eyes had narrowed and she sped up. 
Sailing around the corner came two police cars in pursuit with sirens wailing. I slipped my wallet back into my coat and pulled Lyra to the side just as a Thompson barked out the back window of the first car. A passenger pony was using a sub machine gun and sprayed rounds all over. Quickly I picked up my partner and ducked behind the vendor’s stand hearing the .45 acp rounds collide with the wood and metal cart. The police backed off having no firepower of their own and the let car escaped into the city. I could feel Lyra’s heart pounding against mine and the adrenaline rush we both had started to subside. Standing up I helped her to her feet and surveyed the damage. 
The vendor had run away and his cart was cut to pieces. One of the squad cars had been riddled with holes and the ponies that had been on the street had fled as soon as the shooting began. I slipped my wallet out of my coat and laid down the five bits for the nuts. Pulling a bag off a hook I walked on and Lyra ran after me. 
“What in Celestia was that?” She said breathless. 
“Chicago Typewriter.” I said and popped an almond into my mouth. 
“A what?” She stopped in front of me blocking my way.   
“Tommy gun.” 
“Tommy… gun?”
“These are pretty good.” I held out the bag to her and she shook her head. “Thompson sub machine gun made in America. I don’t know how one ended up here and if they are spraying like that they must have more ammo. This does make things interesting. Let’s go to the morgue. I think it’s time to see the body of Madame Melba and find exactly what type of bullet killed her.”