I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. I’d planned on trying to figure out what to do now that I knew that there was a corrupt cop on the Hoofington police payroll. I’d asked Plum if she thought the unicorn could have recognized her, but she wasn’t sure. And once the adrenaline wore off there wasn’t much keeping my eyes open. Then the events of the previous night and day caught up at me all at once and I dropped like a sack of potatoes.
I woke two hours later to Mulberry shouting from downstairs that breakfast was ready. My head shot up and I looked around, brain muzzy and eyes crusted. I was warm, too warm. I looked down and saw that I’d been curled up next to Plum Pudding on top of the blankets on her bed. In spite of the chill in the air, I wasn’t cold. That girl put out heat like a blast furnace.
I was feeling worse off after the short nap than I had before I laid down. The pounding in my head drove out all thought, leaving me to stagger out of the bed with the early morning sunlight driving daggers into my eyes.
“Get up, Plum,” I muttered. The filly groaned, muttered something about cotton candy and rolled over. A few seconds later she started snoring again. I nudged her with a hoof. “Get up. Breakfast.”
She cranked open one bloodshot eye to look at me, groaning as if even that was an endeavor nearly beyond her endurance. “Too tired to be hungry,” she mumbled. That’s a first for her.
A gleeful sadism took me over and I grinned brightly at her. “Your own fault for following me last night,” I said. Plum moaned and pulled her pillow down over her head. “Come on,” I said. I poked her with a hoof. “Come on,” I repeated, poking her again. “Come on. Come on. Come on.”
“Quit it!” she shouted, narrowly missing my face with a swipe from her pillow. For some reason that struck me as hilarious. I laughed in her face while she scowled at back me. Her scowl didn’t last, though. Eventually the corners of her mouth turned up and she started giggling. “Fine, let’s go get breakfast, then.”
We made our way down the stairs, stumbling and yawning. This morning it was waffles, which I dished up with some strawberry jam. They were amazing. I had seconds.
I think I had Mulberry confused when I brought up family in other towns. Plum didn’t have much to add. She was too busy dozing over her plate to keep up with the conversation.
“I do have a sister in Greenrock,” she told me when I asked about family outside of town. “Oh, Greenrock is a little village about ten miles away.”
“I know. I’ve been there.” I took a sip of my orange juice and said, “I think it might be a good idea to pack up Plum and go visit her for a couple of days.”
“Hmm? Why would that be, dear?”
“Figgy might keep coming back to bother you,” I said. Figgy, his police officer friend, and a brick wall on four hooves named Breaker, but I didn’t mention them. Yet.
She laughed, dismissing my concerns. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about him. That crate of his is going through customs today, anyway.”
“I just have a bad feeling,” I said by way of understatement. “You said he ran with a bad crowd, right?” She nodded. “What if this ‘crowd’ decides to punish you for not helping with the crate?”
I hated myself for the spark of fear my words had put into her eyes. Those eyes flicked towards Plum Pudding, who was chewing listlessly, more asleep than awake.
“We’ll be fine,” she said, though she didn’t sound as sure now. “And, anyway, Tapioca can’t be moved right now.”
I gave it even odds that Tapioca was faking this illness of his. I still didn’t have any proof he was involved, but every instinct was telling me he was in this up to his neck. But Mulberry wasn’t going to shift if I told her that. All that would happen is that she’d be furious with me for saying it. And so would Plum.
I considered my options and found out that I didn’t like any of them. I had to get Plum and Mulberry out of the house, out of Hoofington. If that crooked policepony had recognized the filly, then it wouldn’t be long before there was an unpleasant house call from some very bad ponies.
I was going to have to tell her about what I’d done. I’d take all of the heat, of course. As far as I was planning on telling Mulberry, Plum had been asleep the entire night. I’d done it all on my own. I was just opening my mouth to spill the beans when there was a knock at the front door.
“Think that’s your mom again?” Mulberry asked me.
“Yeah, probably,” I said. I was pretty sure it was too early in the day for gangsters to come calling. Too many witnesses around. If anything happened, it would be at night. Still, there was no way I was letting Mulberry open that door. I hopped down from my chair. “Want me to get it?”
“Um... I suppose that’s okay?” Mulberry replied. “Invite her in, if you want. We have plenty of food!”
I looked back at her, a smile ghosting across my muzzle. “Yeah. Thanks, I might do that.”
Another knock sounded as I approached the door, managing to sound both timid and impatient. I relaxed a little. That sounded like my mother’s knock, alright.
“Hold on, dammit,” I grated as I reached the door. I cracked it open, ready to slam it shut again if I didn’t like what I saw. “You can just... What the hell do you want?!”
It wasn’t my mother, and it wasn’t a crooked cop unicorn with a crumpled fedora. Instead, Figgy Pudding stood outside the door, hoof still raised to knock. His eyes widened above his greasy pencil-mustache for a half-second before he grimaced at me. I was so glad it wasn’t Breaker or the crooked unicorn cop that I was almost glad to see him.
“What, do you live here now?” he asked. I didn’t say anything, opting to close the door. He pushed it open ahead of him as he started walking forward. I braced myself and shoved a hoof into his chest. The surprise stopped him more than my filly-sized power did.
“Nopony invited you in, you bastard,” I growled at him. He gaped at me. Then his face became a thunderhead of anger.
“Why you little—” His hoof raised. I didn’t break eye contact. He hesitated.
“Go on,” I said, my voice flat and even. “Hit the little filly. And then we’ll all go down and have a nice little chat with the cops.”
“I...” his hoof drooped back down.
Whatever he was going to say was derailed by Mulberry, who’d come up behind us. Too bad she hadn’t seen him about to hit me. Nothing lets a mom know when a stallion is bad news more than him lifting a hoof to a child. And this stallion was bad news in a cheap fedora.
“Figgy?” Mulberry said. The distaste in her voice was carefully hidden but still obvious to both him and me. I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah... Um. Hi, Mulberry. Can I talk to Tapioca? It’s kind of important.”
“He’s asleep,” she said, frowning. “You know his stamina isn’t what it used to be.”
“I know. I wouldn’t bug him, but it’s real important.” He fidgeted while she stared at him. “Please, Mully. I swear, it’s important.”
Damn me if he didn’t sound sincere. Mulberry must have heard it, too. She eventually nodded. “I’ll go see if he’s up to it.” And she walked away, leaving me in the doorway, my hoof still on the stallion’s chest.
“So, uh... filly. Whatever your name is. You gonna keep your hoof there?” he asked me.
“You ain’t getting in until Mulberry says so,” I told him.
That didn’t piss him off like I expected. Instead, he laughed and ruffled my mane. “Ain’t you the most adorable bouncer ever,” he said. My eyes narrowed. After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his throat. “I ain’t gonna do anything to hurt Mulberry. Or Plum, or Tapioca either.”
“You almost sound like you mean it. You’re still waiting there until she says otherwise.”
“Fine, fine.” He took a step back and sat down on his rump. After a second, he took the fedora off of his head and wiped a fetlock across his sweating brow.
I frowned. His leg was trembling. Something had this stallion rattled. I added two and two together and came up with “smuggling operation”. I was more sure than ever that Figgy’s bosses had suspicions that the Pudding family might have been involved with the fracas last night.
My mind raced as he sat there. I had to figure out some way to protect them. If I hadn’t gotten involved, they wouldn’t be in any danger right now. There had to be something I could do.
Reluctant hoofsteps behind me heralded Mulberry’s return, interrupting my train of thought. “He’s awake and he’ll see you,” she said. Figgy flinched at the disapproval in her voice. “Try not to excite him. You know how weak he is these days.”
“You got it, sis.” Figgy got up and walked to the door, looking down at me. “Okay?” he asked.
I stared up at him for a few more seconds, not shifting. When he opened his mouth to say something, I beat him to it.
“Watch yourself,” I told him. Then I stepped aside. He gave me an odd look and walked in. I scowled after him.
“I’m taking Plum shopping,” Mulberry said quietly to me as she watched Figgy walk away with a frown etched on her muzzle. “I think her uncle is a bad influence. Do you want to come along?”
“No, thanks,” I said, feeling relieved. The market. Nice and open, lots of witnesses. They’d be almost as safe there as they would be in a vault. “I should get home.”
Of course Mulberry wanted to walk me home. I waved her off. “I can get home just fine, thanks.”
Plum came stumbling up behind her, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. “You goin’ home, Cinnamon?”
I hesitated. “I might come back later,” I said, sidestepping the lie. “If it’s okay with your mom.”
“You can come by anytime you like, Cinnamon,” Mulberry said with a smile.
It wasn’t long afterwards that we all left the house. I had my saddlebags back on and waved to Plum and Mulberry as they took a left turn towards the market. I took a right, heading towards my mother’s house. Then I rounded a corner and waited.
Two minutes went by before I judged it safe to look back the way I’d come. Plum and Mulberry were nowhere in sight. I went back to the Pudding house. Like I expected, the front door was unlocked. I really had to talk to them about that, but it worked out to my advantage right then.
I heard the arguing even before I stepped inside. Two voices, both stallions. One was Figgy. The other was Tapioca, though I barely recognized him. He wasn’t speaking in the half-distracted mumble I was used to. I stood in the hallway and listened in.
“No way! I told you I was done!” he was saying to Figgy. “I gave them what they wanted. I kept my muzzle shut. What more do they want?”
“You know better than that, bro,” Figgy said. He sounded... what? Sad? Regretful? Hard to say. “They always want more. Besides, there was that trouble last night. They’re wondering if you had anything to do with it.”
“I haven’t left this house in weeks,” Tapioca said angrily. “You know—”
Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by wracking coughs.
“Damn, bro,” Figgy said when Tapioca finally wound down. “Is that blood?”
“Yeah.” There was a rustling sound for a few seconds. “Don’t worry about it.”
So much for a fake illness. They stopped talking for a while. Eventually Tapioca started talking again.
“Why do they think it was me? I thought you said Chains saw who broke into the warehouse.”
“He said that whoever it was decked him while his back was turned, he didn’t get a good look.”
Holy hot damn. I felt a grim smile coming on at what was the best news I’d heard in a week. Apparently, his pride had been bruised even more than his ‘no-no’s’. That reduced the threat from a full gang of smugglers to just one slimeball of a unicorn.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Tapioca said. “I’m seriously laid up, here. I’m not up for a walk around the block, let alone breaking and entering.”
“So, if Chains showed up to ‘talk’ to you again today, you wouldn’t have a certain type of jar in your possession?”
“You know I wouldn’t,” Tapioca said, his voice weak and dry. “Their last ‘warning’ almost killed me. I’m not trying anything like that again, especially now that I know they have cops on the payroll. I have a family to think about!”
Pieces started clicking into place. I frowned as I ran over what I’d heard in my head.
“How are they?” Figgy asked. “Mully and Plum, I mean.”
“They’re alright,” Tapioca said, heaving a sigh. “But money is tight. All these doctor bills, and I’m not even bringing in any money.”
Figgy grunted. The two of them lapsed into silence. After a while, Figgy started talking again. “Well, I don’t wanna keep you up. You need some rest.”
I heard him moving towards the bedroom door and scooted my tail down the hallway. I got behind a bookcase just as Figgy opened the door. A few seconds later, and he was out the front door.
I walked to the bedroom door myself. I hadn’t been able to convince Mulberry, but maybe I didn’t need to. There were two adults in this household, one of whom I was having to revise my opinion of. If nothing else, he sounded serious about protecting his family. I pushed the door open and walked inside of Mulberry and Tapioca’s big bedroom, bold as brass.
The smell of body odor and sweaty sheets filled my lungs, dispelling the last of my doubts as to Tapioca’s illness. He was sick, alright. In fact, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, slumped over with his head in his forehooves. His head came up when I walked in, and his eyes went wide when he saw me.
“Cinnamon?”
“Hi, Mister Pudding,” I said as I reached into my saddlebag. I pulled out the ceramic jar and placed it on the nightstand. “We need to talk.”