What Kind of Name is Redeye?
“I apologize for the wait,” I entered a parlor where the guests had assembled, each patiently waiting for a verdict that as of this moment remained a mystery, even to myself.
Lady Rarity, either supreme in the knowledge of her own innocence or simply tired of my imposition, was the first to speak. “Who, pray tell inspector, killed my house keeper?”
I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t know, yet.” I stressed the last word, more for my dignity than anything else. Of course, my pronouncement went over about as well as an unicorn trying to grow turnips on a cloud. The room seemed to erupt with indignant shouting.
“…What do you mean…”
“…Wait an’ apple pickin’ second…”
“…You got to be kidding me…”
It went on like this for another few minutes, including some really expert profanity by Rainbow Dash (seriously someone give that mare a medal), before I was finally able to settle everyone down again. The only two to avoid engaging in the rabble were my confidant and my sister.
“I know it’s frustrating, I can assure you of that.” I said speaking a few decibels above my usual volume. “Now it seems it has gotten quite past the hour more than a few of us tend to go to bed, we shall continue with the investigation in the morning.”
Rarity scoffed, “You’re asking me to host a murder for the night?”
“Why not? You already hosted one for supper,” I replied dryly.
She gritted her teeth, “Fine, everyone you may find guestroom in the east wing. They may be a bit dusty; I seem to be short staffed.”
Only Rainbow dared a grin at the last remark.
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I sat alone in one of the many guest room, jotting down a quick missive by candlelight. I levitated the quill back into its resting place beside the inkwell. Satisfied at my work I used a bit more magic to slide the note under my door and into the guest quarters across the hall. Nothing left to do but wait now. I watched a clock on the room’s mantle tick away the seconds.
So who was guilty? The question was haunting me. Rainbow had a temper sure, but she had raised an interesting point. She had no record of violent offences that I knew of, and given her level of celebrity I figured I would know of any. Applejack seemed more likely to have assaulted the Countess than anyone else. Fluttershy couldn’t possibly have done it… but was I only saying that because she was my sister? No, no, can’t think like that. Rarity herself had such a mixed past, and had been a surrounded by a questionable death in the past. Pinkie Pie also seemed likely because, frankly, she scared the crap out of me. She challenged authority, not that that was anything new of ponies to do, but combine that with her apparent thrill seeking tendencies and you have yourself a budding psychopath.
I checked the clock again. 2 am. It was time.
I crept slowly from my room, levitating the candle stick in its holder alongside me. She was waiting for me as I had instructed, the purple unicorn, Twilight Sparkle.
Who, of course, let out a massive yawn at the sight of me. “By Luna’s moon, do you normally skulk around in the middle of the night?”
“How do think I got my name?” I queried back. I turned down the hall and motioned for her to follow.
She caught up and began to trot alongside me. “Actually I was wondering about that. Unless you’re name is actually Brighteyes Redeye, which would just be silly, why does Fluttershy call you Brighteyes, yet you insist your name is Redeye?”
“You’re right, that would be silly. It’s Redeye Brighteyes.” I deadpanned to my companion.
“I may study at night, but I didn’t start my studies last night.” She replied with equal snark.
“Oh alright, but it’s kind of a weird story. I was raised by the Sisters of Celestia at their orphanage in Manehatten. When I was still a newborn foal, the sisters who came in during the morning would always see me wide away, ‘bright eyed and bushy tailed” as the saying goes. So naturally when it became apparent I was going to be staying at the orphanage for years to come I needed a name, and the morning shift sisters were all set to name me ‘Brighteyes.’”
“I wager you don’t have to be a trained inspector to see this twist coming.” Twilight shot me a grin.
I grinned back. “Yeah well, as you may have figured out, I was always up early because I almost never slept through the night. It would drive the night shift sisters crazy because they would never be able to get any sleep in themselves. They began refer to tending to me as ‘working the redeye shift.’ Well when the time came to give me a name the morning shift sister who retrieved my paper work was stunned to see I’d already been assigned my name by a particularly ornery sister who happened to have worked more than her share of ‘redeye’ shifts.”
I pulled up short in front of a doorway, “Ah, here we are.”
“The kitchen?” Twilight said, asking herself more so than asking me. “Oh I get it; this is where the murder weapon came from.”
“Mhmm” I replied. I began to turn the knob with my magic but suddenly froze midway. There was a sound coming from inside, soft but still audible. I indicated silence to my partner with a hoof to my lips and leaned in, pressing my ear to the door. Twilight, copying my movements, did the same.
A soft sobbing emanated from the other side of the door, “…oh...my poor….Derpy…”
Twilight eyes widened and I nodded in understanding. The voice belonged to the Countess Rarity herself. Whether her sadness grew from guilt or genuine loss, I guess only time and more evidence would reveal, though from the sound of her weeping I’d bet on the latter.
I removed my ear from the door and shook my head. It wasn’t the death that bothered me when I went on a case, that was always a given, but the grief… I was never good at that. My fellow police officers referred to it as an ‘overdeveloped sense of empathy.’ Well, actually they just called me a rude name for a mare’s private parts, but I prefer the whole empathy shtick.
I let out a sad little sigh and closed my eyes. I motioned for Twilight to follow me and we stole away to hid in the nearest unlocked room, which turned out to be a pantry. Twilight was the first to break the silence.
“She always seemed so cold…”
“Sometimes… sometimes people just can’t show their true selves to anyone except those closest to them… and when that person is gone… who do you show?” My head felt heavy, but I tried to fight down the gloom that seemed to be wreathing itself about my mind.
“You okay?” Twilight asked, arching a brow.
“Uh, yeah, just not good with grief… or maybe too good, I don’t know.” I tried a final time to shake the negative emotions from my skull. “Ah, okay there we go, sorry.”
“Not met many cops who can get so affected.” Twilight said with a little smile.
“Yeah well, can’t imagine a good filly like you has had too many run-ins with the law.” I said, letting a bit of a grin cross my lips.
“Well, okay no I haven’t, but I have met a ton of members of the Princess’s royal guard and they all seem like they have the emotional range of a brick.” She retorted.
“Yeah, well when you met them they were probably on duty. It’s their job to be all blank faced. But maybe when they go home to their wives or husbands or colt or filly-friends, who knows? Maybe they are a real softy with their foals, or maybe they are just as cold, either way they all have their own mind and emotions, we’re all only ponies after all.”
“That’s… that’s actually pretty deep.” Twilight said tapping a thoughtful hoof to her chin.
We waited in silence for a little while longer. Then after maybe ten more minutes we heard the kitchen door swing open and then shut. After a few more moments, hoof-steps passed by our door and down the hall.
“Alright then, let’s do this”
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The pair of us entered the kitchen, my floating candle leading the way. On a long table in the center of the room sat a solitary teacup with protruding spoon placed aside its saucer. It seemed Rarity was either unsure of where to place used dishes or simply couldn’t find the strength to put it away.
We began a systematic search of the drawers and cupboards. It wasn’t long before Twilight found the butchers block that was missing a knife; unfortunately there were no tell-tale hairs or hoof-prints to point us in the killer’s direction.
“Well this was a wash…” I said, turning to leave.
“Wait a second.” Twilight called to me, she was staring at the spoon that was protruding in the cup. She prodded it gently with her hoof and then let out a little exclamation and lifted it with her magic. She then tapped it on the edge of the table and brought it close to her ear.
“What on Luna’s moon are you up to,” I asked, my curiosity sufficiently peaked.
“It’s fake!” She announced. “See real silver conducts heat quite expertly and this spoon has already gone cold, if it was real it should have retained some heat from the tea. Not to mention that dull sound it made when I struck it on the table. Silver rings, you see?”
“Huh…” I walked over to one of the silverware drawers and withdrew a knife, tapping it against the edge of the counter I observed the same dull tone that the spoon had made. I began to feverishly check all the drawers, one after the other randomly testing utensils, each one failing to ring true.
Panting I looked over to Twilight, “Was the silverware from dinner counterfeit?”
Twilight shook her head, “I think the Countess of Maresfield has been robbed.”