Starlight Over Detrot
Act 2, Chapter 10: Police Do Too Have Balls
Depending on who you ask, Equestria's high society evokes images of magnificent charity balls, ostentatious high fashion, and soul-stirring works of art and music... or images of a bunch of useless windbags with ridiculous accents hoarding all the cupcake money without having worked a day in their lives.
As in many things, there's some truth to both views.
In theory, these are the savvy businessponies, master craftsponies, and refined families who've risen above the squabble and squalor of the rest, who are supposed to guide and lead, and are therefore possessed of more financial and social power. Sometimes, this works out; The Fancy Pants Foundation, assembled lovingly through a combination of benefit events and Mr. Pants' own business skill, is best known for having found an attenuated vaccine for the Pony Pox.
But strip away the genteel mannerisms, social codes, and obscene wealth, and one will find that many of them are nepotists driven by the same base urges - food, fun, and fornication - as the lower classes with which they avoid association; a discovery much to the glee of the tabloids and gossip columns, who love nothing more than to catch an elected official or minor aristocrat in bed with an underage buffalo or stalk of celery.
To protect themselves, these ponies often use their wealth to purchase connections, such as with the police, who, when sufficiently financially incentivized, are often willing to overlook when a beloved nephew gets caught in possession of enough Zap to loosen every sphincter present in a given Grand Galloping Gala.
Detrot, far from the watchful gaze of the Princesses, is much more prone to this sort of abuse than Canterlot.
--The Scholar
“For Celestia’s sake, stop whinging, Hardy!” Taxi snapped, giving another yank at my collar. I yelped and struggled backwards, but she had a determined grip. My head felt like it was going to pop any second.
“Some of us need oxygen, dammit!” I cried as my driver tried to strangle me with the bow-tie. “I hate formal clothing!”
“Then you should have rented a tux in your size,” she replied, giving me a firm shake.
I stepped back from her and pulled at my throat until I could breathe. “My size hasn’t changed in six years! This collar is just the wrong size! Besides, why aren’t you dressing up for this?”
“I’m driving. You need somepony outside in case you need to make a quick getaway. Besides-”
“I was only able to procure three tickets,” Limerence finished for her, appearing in the bathroom’s doorway. He, too, was wearing a very smart tux; he managed to make it look almost comfortable.
“Fine, I get that, but are the tuxes really necessary? Can’t we just hunt down this pony we’re looking for after the show? Why do we have to do it this way?”
“I’m afraid not. Our 'friend' is a very difficult person to track down when he is not working. Believe me, if there were another, simpler way, I would take it,” Limerence replied, checking his pocket watch for the umpteenth time. “We have a half hour to be there. It is a fifteen minute drive. I suggest we leave quite soon if we’re going to get our seats.”
“You still haven’t told me where we’re going!” I groused.
“That is because we are going into the middle of a place that, under present circumstances, I believe you would find... most distressing. I did not wish to give you time to think of a way to wiggle out of it in some half-witted attempt to avoid Chief Iris Jade.”
I put one hoof on Taxi’s forehead as she went to fuss with my lapels again, pushing her away. “Wait a minute. Nothing was said about Chief Jade.”
Limerence pursed his lips. “That is because we are going to be attending the police ball, Detective.”
My muzzle sagged open. I glanced at Taxi. “You knew about this?!”
She nodded, sagely. “I dragged it out of him last night. I think Limerence has a point, both about the pony we’re going to see and about you trying to wiggle out of it.”
“You’re damn right he does! I don’t know if anypony noticed, but I’m enemy number one on Jade’s wanted list! She’ll be at the door, checking tickets!” I shouted, my heart thumping furiously.
“And that is why you will be disguised,” Limerence said, evenly. “I cannot alter your facial structure, but I believe that can be fixed up with a muzzle full of cotton-balls and a light application of make-up. However, there are some more minor and temporary changes I can make.”
His horn lit up and let off a little spurt of magic. I pulled back slightly as a stream of hot sparks splashed across my face, blinding me. I expected it to burn, but my cheek fur just tickled fiercely for several seconds before the sensation faded.
I opened my eyes to see Limerence frowning, critically as he gazed at my face.
“Mmm... Perhaps not that color…” he muttered, his horn lighting up again.
Taxi put her hoof on his side. “No, no I like it,” she said with a mischievous grin.
“He looks ridiculous,” Limerence countered.
My driver’s smile only widened.
“What did you just do to me?” I growled, unconsciously flicking my toe. It’s a long ingrained gesture that police ponies pick up. It’s done in times of stress to make certain their gun bits are right at hoof. Unfortunately, I was wearing a tux and, hence, not armed. The gesture wasn’t lost on either my driver or Limerence, though.
“A... simple cosmetic alteration. Nothing too serious,” the librarian tried to assure me.
I jabbed my hoof at my driver. “It is never a ‘simple cosmetic alteration’ when she has that look on her face!”
Taxi had one leg over her muzzle and her nose scrunched up as she did her best not to giggle. It was a familiar expression I’d seen too many times during our youth when I’d been dragged into games of ‘dress-up’. I turned around, quickly searching for a mirror. The one above the bathroom sink was broken, but good enough for my purposes. I edged sideways, sticking my head out so I could see what awful thing they’d done to me.
My lower jaw almost hit me in the kneecaps.
Swift picked that moment to push open the bathroom door.
We stared at one another for a long moment.
Taxi looked back and forth between the two of us, then dissolved into uncontrolled fits of laughter.
“Swift...Why are you wearing a tuxedo?” I asked, very softly.
“Sir, why are you pink?”
****
When Taxi had recovered from a second violent fit of giggling that left her hyperventilating in a corner, I sat down and began attending to Swift, who’d only barely managed to get into the tuxedo.
“Kid, where did you even find this thing? It looks like it was fitted for a colt,” I said.
The tuxedo’s jacket was long in the limbs and a bit tight across the chest. The shirt also needed a little something, since it kept flapping around her stomach. Those issues were quickly solved with a few safety clips in the right places.
“I borrowed it from Scarlet,” she replied.
“Why, though? I was half looking forward to seeing you in a skirt.”
Swift gave me an offended look. “Not a chance! I went by the formal wear shop near the Vivarium and they wanted to put me in this stupid, frilly dress with these big blue ruffles! I would have looked like-”
“Like a filly? You’ll excuse me saying, but you look like a stallion who’s been hit with a shrink ray.”
My partner’s cheeks flushed and she swiped at me with one wing, leaving me plenty of time to duck. “Is there something wrong with that, sir?”
I thought about this for a minute, then shook my head. “I guess not. Suits you, at least.”
Swift’s cheeks reddened further and she ducked her head under one enormous wing, peering at me over the top of it. “Thank you, sir. If you don’t mind, you never did explain why you’re pink.”
“We’re going to the police ball.”
“That’s this week? I’d totally forgotten about it. Things have been so crazy lately, but it’ll be nice to-” Her ears shot straight up as the surprise hit her. “Wait, the police ball?! Sir?! We... I... you... Sir?!”
“Yeah, that just about was my response, too.”
“But Chief Jade! Everypony there! The news ponies! They’ll see you and…” Her muzzle fell into an ‘O’ shape. “Oh..” She tapped the side of her nose, conspiratorially. “Nopony would ever think of you showing up pink!”
“Not quite my thinking, but close enough. I don’t know why a professional counterfeiter would be attending a police ball, but Limerence seems to think that’s what’s happening so we’re pretty much stuck with this.”
“Aaand this as well, Detective.” Limerence was holding a couple of large wads of cotton his levitation field. I tried to back away, but Taxi was already behind me, her hooves on my flank, holding me in place. Opening my muzzle to protest, I found it stuffed full of cotton. There was the momentary, unsettling sensation of something worming around in my mouth as the unicorn jammed the fluff into the right places to make my cheeks bulge out, then it withdrew.
I chewed at the wads in my muzzle, forcing them to either side so I could speak.
“Thish ish lesh than ideal…”
“Have some water,” Taxi said, holding out a glass with both hooves. I took it and sipped, soaking the cotton so it laid down a bit.
“Ah...okay, that’s better,” I replied, then shuffled over to the mirror again. I had to admit, despite the absurdity of it, I looked almost nothing like myself. The stallion in the mirror had fat cheeks, a permanently smiling expression, and a complexion that wouldn’t look out of place on a filly’s bedroom wall. “Not bad…”
“We’re not done yet,” Limerence said, flicking open Taxi’s saddlebag. He floated out a compact and a set of brushes. “Now, just hold still. We’ll be... let’s see…”
I thought about fighting. I thought about trying to escape. In the end, I just shut my eyes and let it happen. Thankfully, my fellow stallion seemed to have some inkling of my discomfort, and didn’t go with Taxi’s suggestion of a layer of lipstick and some flowery hair clips. His knowledge of makeup proved weirdly extensive, and by the end, I had what appeared to be a double chin, if you didn’t look too closely, and bags under my eyes that looked like mixed luggage.
I was, in essence, the very picture of a bored socialite.
Swift got the color treatment and ended up a few shades darker, more tangerine than salmon. Rather than fight the masculine look, she simply swept her mane into a curl and tossed her coat across her wings to cover their size. It was a surprisingly effective disguise, all things considered.
Limerence, last of all before the mirror, applied a dash of mascara and a faint silver to his side-burns. It made him look more like his father, with whom he shared no genetics whatsoever, than it had any right to. Considering the cameras two days ago had mostly been focused on me, I doubted he’d be noticed amongst the throngs that usually attended the police ball.
****
Ahhh, the Detrot Law Enforcement Gala!
What pomp! What circumstance! What a lot of drinking, vomiting, and spending time with co-workers whilst not being paid for the privilege!
Whatever pony decided the cops need their own special night of the year should be forced to attend one of those wretched things as a guest of honor. About ten years prior, after an especially high profile bust, I’d been subjected to that during the administration of the last Chief of Police. My over-riding memories were of having my hoof shaken until it ached, my back pounded until I was ready to start firing wildly into the audience, and my brain battered by an endless array of the most stultifyingly boring speeches known to pony-kind.
It was an event for a class of pony who would never walk the streets in the cool morning rain, their partner beside them, striking fear in the hearts of criminals. They would never experience the calm clarity that comes from being an island of order in a sea of lawlessness.
It was, at its core, a fundraiser for the Detrot P.D. and, despite the name, there were only going to be a select group of officers there, as street cops rarely have funds worth raising. If any of the organizers had an ounce of honesty in their whole bodies, they’d have admitted that the Galas weren’t about the pavement beating defenders of the law; they were about the city’s elite coming together to congratulate themselves on just what a good job they were doing of running things, despite all evidence to the contrary.
I’ve maintained a firm belief for some years that a firebomb at the Gala would probably have dropped the city’s crime rate considerably.
****
Dressing miseries finished, three penguin suits and a cab driver who’d managed to laugh herself almost insensate made their way up to street level.
The Skids was quiet for that time of night, though a few foals still played at something that might have once been cops and robbers, if it hadn’t mixed in a few elements of cowponies and buffaloes. Swift tugged my hoof, pointing at one of the children who was wearing a tiny fedora made out of newspaper. In crude letters, he’d written ‘Kroosadr’ across the brim.
“You’ve got a fan there, sir,” she snickered.
“So do you.” I nodded at a zebra filly who was wearing a pair of bright orange shopping bags hooked over her back, shaped to look like wings.
A flutter of wings heralded somepony dropping off the rooftops. Wisteria landed heavily on the pavement in front of us, stumbling a couple of steps as she adjusted for her heavy stomach, before trotting up to the four of us. She glanced at the foals, then back at me, giving me a curious look for several seconds. “Pink be not your color, Crusada. I be thinkin’ for a moment ye managed to sneak somepony by us!”
“I’m fully aware, and this is temporary,” I replied, impatiently. “What can we do for you, Wisteria? We’re short of time here-”
The purple mare laid one leg across her pregnant belly. “I and I be just wonderin’ why t’ree ponies of colors not dey own be leavin’ de Skids looking like a mighty fine part’ay dey be going to.”
“I’m probably heading to my own death. Again. Nothing new there.”
She laughed, then stepped up close and used her wing-tips to adjust my tie one last time. “De children... dey be laughin’ at ye prank on de Queen Jade. Dey ask us, again and again, ‘Tell de story!’ De news be all wonderin’ if ye gone mad.”
“I wonder that myself, sometimes,” I answered, opening the Night Trotter’s rear door for Swift, then jumping in beside her.
Wisteria rested her hooves on the car’s window. “Ye may not be knowin’ about de Aroyos, Crusada... but we be lovin’ a good prank on dey dat would rule us. De children be spreadin’ ye name. Each time dey tell de story of de fall of de King of Ace’s mountain, it be bigger! Now ye be riding a dragon when ye kill him!”
“There was a dragon involved, but I wasn’t riding him, much as he might wish otherwise. We’re going to find somepony who might know something.” I had a momentary thought. “Hey, you mind passing along a message to your Ancestors?”
She touched the bag around her throat. “What be de message? No doubts, dey be listening now.”
“Could you tell them to look out for a pony with a red mane and a blue body? Pretty thing, cherries on her flank?”
“Ahhh, ye be havin’ a marefriend, Crusada?”
“What? No... no, just a witness. She might be looking for that girl on the news. The one who died last month?”
Wisteria’s face darkened. “De dead girl dat were hiding among de Aroyos? I and I remember. She come to us, scared, like she be chased by demons. We be... not often giving solace, but de Ancestors say she come in.”
I tilted my head, curiously and asked, “What about Hay Maker? You let him through alright. He was heading for her apartment.”
She grimaced, looking down the street in the general direction of the house with the white door. “De stallion, Hay Maker, were known to us. He were from de Skids. Not Aroyo, but Cyclone. He be de one dat killed de filly wit’out a true name?”
“Her name was Ruby Blue. And no, Hay Maker was just working as muscle for one of Cosmo’s associates. They were... looking for something. I assumed it was her diary, but I’m still not sure what it could contain that was worth setting up hits on her, Cosmo and me,” I explained. Limerence was waving his watch at me from the far seat in the back of the cab, but I ignored him.
Raising the leather pouch to her ear, Wisteria listened to it for some seconds, then blew a slow breath out of the corner of her mouth. “De Ancestors say... she carry a deathly burden when she come in. Dey not know what it be.”
“Just... watch for a filly with a red mane and a blue pelt and cherries, alright? I’ve got things to take care of and with any luck, I might run into her myself.”
“We will watch. Go, Crusada... and do not die again. It would disappoint de young ones.”
****
I needed time to plan. I needed time to come up with solutions and options. I needed to create a character for myself to play. I needed to work out ahead of time what all I was going to say.
I really needed a stiff drink and a bus ticket.
If truth be told, Limerence couldn’t have picked a more effective way of keeping me from trying to avoid that particular unpleasantness than dropping it in my lap at the last minute. Spur of the moment thinking is one of my strengths, but there’s a definite blind-spot where social occasions are concerned. I knew I was, at least in theory, safe enough from the Chief. I was disguised and Limerence was handling the tickets. All I had to do was keep my head low and walk in nice and slow.
Unfortunately, Taxi found my stash of vodka before I could get rip-roaring drunk so I was to face the night without the fortifying powers of strong alcohol. That didn’t mean she could stop me from getting plastered the second I set hoof in the door, but before that, I needed to get past one tiny little hurdle.
****
The Castle was in full regalia for that special night. Somepony with a dedicated trowel, paintbrush, and budget had wandered the grounds, repairing everything they could. The gold leaf covering the walls was shining in a pair of spotlights that’d been set up in the fortress’s courtyard and the onion dome looked to have been spruced up considerably just for the occasion. Most of the sparkle and shine was probably a unicorn with a talent for illusion, off somewhere in a spare office, who would wake up with an aching horn and a fat paycheck. That didn’t really matter, though, I suppose. Whoever they were, they’d done a fantastic job.
For one night, and one night only, Detrot’s Police Department had the feel that it wasn’t an overworked, exhausted, corrupted pit only barely better than the cesspools of criminality that it fought, in a sort of weak-willed way, to empty. Even I, cynic that I am, could feel it as Taxi pulled the Night Trotter to the curb in front of the carriageway. I might even have let myself feel a shred of optimism, that Detrot P.D. might one day truly be the face it presented on that special night. That lasted right up until the moment my cutie-mark practically caught fire while we were parking.
I had to resist the urge to tear off my tux and give it a good scratch. Swift noticed my squirming as we readied ourselves to get out.
“Sir, are you alright?” she asked, flicking her eyes at my rear.
“No, dammit,” I cursed, rubbing my flank against the car door, “I hate these kinds of events.”
“Why? We’ve got disguises and it looks like a real party. Even Granny Glow wouldn’t recognize us! I barely recognize us,” she chirped, grinning at her darkened complexion in the side-view mirror.
I laid my forehead against the window, staring out at the brightly lit fort with much trepidation. The night was close approaching and the moon framed one of the Castle’s lower turrets. “This is your first one of these things, so I’ll let you in on a little secret. You want to know where the real criminals destroying the fabric of our society are, kid?”
She paused, then nodded, interestedly.
“Look for whoever is congratulating themselves most loudly about all the good they do,” I said, trying to work some of the tension out of my neck.
Swift pulled at her bowtie, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t think I like that thought, sir.”
“Good. You’re not meant to. Now, let’s go see just how good these disguises are.”
****
I trotted along behind Limerence, Swift at my side, my hooves rattling down the smoothed cobblestones.
My gun was still in the car, along with the remainder of our arsenal, and I wanted it more than I wanted my next breath. I had argued for full armament, while Limerence insisted that he was the only one who should have a weapon, and Taxi declared we didn’t need the weapons at all because it was a damn party. Before we three could come to blows, I offered the compromise I was now regretting, ferociously.
There was a line in front of the Castle’s two doors and I snatched a glimpse of Iris Jade’s olive head, wearing a pert dress uniform cap as she stood beside the entrance. Most of the ponies in the queue were commenting on the novelty of being made to wait like commoners, apparently enjoying themselves enormously as they made small talk. We waited patiently, Swift with interest in the rich guests, Limerence with apparent boredom, and me with the cool collected character of a prisoner being lead to the gallows. I hoped the flop sweat running down my sides wouldn’t give me away.
The unicorn in front of us was half the age of her stallion escort and wearing enough gems to fill an adult dragon’s belly. She carried a poodle of some sort in her purse, swinging back and forth in her magical grip. The damn thing barked at us for five minutes straight without visibly pausing to inhale; It only stopped when Limerence focused a little magic through his horn and clamped the tiny wretch’s mouth shut. It still squeaked and whimpered before ducking back into the bag. The mare, busily involved in some elaborate story of fashion cataclysm, didn’t even notice.
The line moved as I did my best to calm my nerves, but I was really wishing I hadn’t hung my badge on her horn. She might not have been quite as inclined to rip my limbs off if I hadn’t hung my badge on her horn. Unicorns don’t like it when you remind them they’ve got a coat-rack on their foreheads.
“Tickets please.”
How had the line moved that quickly?!
Chief Jade was now only a couple of meters away. I could see the shine on the buttons of her tightly pressed and primped uniform. My pulse pounded in my ears. I thought about bolting and maybe pretending to vomit on the way out, like a guest who’d started the party a little early. It wasn’t such a bad plan, now I came to consider it.
“Tickets please.”
My panic was mounting. I kept my eyes on the cobblestones and Swift gave me a gentle push forward as the mare with the poodle held out two expensive looking slips of scroll work.
Chief Jade made a show of examining them closely, then gave her a broad smile. “Miss Hypatia and Mister Gold Smith! I am quite pleased to have you back this year. We have a lovely table towards the stage side from where you will have an excellent view. May I recommend the Sweet Apple ‘53?”
The two swept past her and into the Castle.
“Tickets please.”
Limerence took two steps forward, stopped, popped off a quick, slightly mocking salute and his horn buzzed faintly. I’d determined to watch his rear hooves, but something in Jade’s voice made me lift my head. She wasn’t looking at me, but was instead studying our tickets.
Crisp uniform aside, I’d never seen Iris Jade look quite so haggard. She covered it well, with a thick layer of makeup and a practiced, easy smile she’d never use in her professional duties, but I’d known her long enough to see the signs. Her horn-tip trembled, just a little, as she held the tickets and her eyes were glazed.
A stab of guilt hit me in the gut and I held myself a bit straighter. I had intended to irritate her, not drive her off the edge. But as ever, I swallowed that guilt into whatever biological cesspool I plan to one day have cut out along with my inevitable liver cancers.
Jade had finished her inspection, looking vaguely confused. The bottom felt like it'd dropped out of my stomach. "Mister Acapella? I don't believe I remember sending out this invitation-"
Limerence raised his nose, doing a passable imitation of the pony who'd been in front of us. "Not surprising. We are from the Canterlot branch of the Miner's guild and are looking to open a new venture in Detrot. With recent advances in gem-finding spells, it's believed there might be new veins just waiting to be tapped, and we thought it might be best to establish a healthy relationship with the local constabulatory. We simply contacted the Mayor's office and he provided the extra invitations. Of course, if we are unwelcome, we would not wish to intrude-"
"No, no, no... please, do come in, Mister Acapella. May I ask the names of your two guests?" Jade said, her eyes playing over the Swift and I. She stopped on me, squinting down at my face. I battled with myself to meet her piercing gaze.
"Yes, certainly." The librarian performed a slightly complicated bow with one leg that both indicated Swift and dismissed me. "Miss Dynamo, of the Cloudstone Miners, and Mister Thick Head, my assistant."
By the time her stare finally broke, it was quickly turning my bowels to water. The police chief floated a clipboard out of the front pocket of her uniform, then checked the numbers on our tickets again. "You'll be seated by the stage as well; afterwards, your tickets do include the ‘additional’ privileges. Please, enjoy your evening and feel free to mingle as you will."
Limence trotted by her and Swift followed, hiking her jacket a little lower so it covered the tips of her wings. Chief Jade put out one leg as I made to move by and leaned close to me. I almost swallowed my cotton balls.
"Do I know you?" she asked. "You look extremely familiar."
I put on a gruff, gravelly voice. "No, ma'am. Mister Acapella and I arrived in town yesterday. Iffen' you ever made it up to Canterlot-"
"I didn't. Still, I would swear-"
"Come along, Mister Thick!" Limerence called out from inside. "Do not take any more of the Chief's time with your incessant flirting!"
Jade's ears laid back and she hastily stepped out of my way. "Enjoy your evening."
****
As I ambled into the Castle and my urge to flee faded, I considered, quite heavily, just going ahead and killing Limerence. It was one of those things a pony only has the mental fortitude for once they discover they're no longer facing imminent death. More’s the pity that I probably still needed him without a crushed windpipe.
****
Why, when the bathroom nearest my former desk is broken, can Detrot P.D. not find the money to get it fixed, but when there’s a fundraiser, the whole ridiculous place turns into a Canterlotian banquet that would make the Princesses feel shabby? I just do not understand.
The office, or rather the cubicles most of the detectives used for desks, had been cleared away entirely, leaving the ancient throne room, once more, fit for dancing. The Princess’s throne was somewhere behind a gigantic, open stage which must have cost a fortune during better times. I’d only seen it used for this event, and never thought to ask how in the world they moved or stored it. Bright blue curtains, incidentally the shade of a police uniform, hung from a gleaming golden pole to a full-sized oaken stage with a jutting catwalk which lead to a smaller stage down amongst the punters.
Spread out at evenly spaced intervals, tables draped in fine cloth with crystal and laid with shining silver wear. Each table could have easily seated eight, but only four spaces were set at each one, with lounging chairs tucked underneath.
Despite the firestorm of rioting media detractors I’d set off just two days prior, the well-to-do had turned out in droves. Most of the seats around the room were already filled and my rented tux stood out like a sore hoof on a one-legged pony amongst all the frippery and finery on display.
Once inside, Swift had made straight for the small bar set up along one wall. She was happily sucking down something bubbly, reading a novel spread out across her knees. Limerence was already seated before the stage, his eyes closed and ears twitching.
As a waitress drifted past me, levitating a plate full of tiny cheeses wrapped in bits of fine lettuce, I caught her elbow and picked up one of the hors d'oeuvres, popping it into my mouth. It was decent, but nothing I couldn’t make in my own kitchen. If I’d had a kitchen. Or a home.
Melancholy, much? a familiar voice whispered in the back of my head.
Go be dead.
“Thank you,” I muttered, absently.
The waitress gave a surprised twitch then swung back to face me.
“Detective?!”
My muzzle fell open and I dropped the lettuce niblet, along with one of my cotton balls.
Damn me for a luckless diamond dog... I thought.
The one pony in the entire world who could possibly compete for first place with Iris Jade for ‘Pony I Did Not Want to See That Night’ was gawping at me from inches in front of my face.
Sugar Lace, reporter extraordinaire, very nearly dropped her platter as she stared at me with an expression like a shark confronted with a dangling steak. Her normally primped and curled mane had been hacked short and her mahogany pelt was dusted with a thick layer of some kind of product that gave it a matte finish. Nopony but those who knew her personally would have picked her out amongst the groups of catering ponies, though her black skirt definitely had an ‘off the rack’ look.
I covered my shock by putting on my gravelly voice once more. “Not a Detective, Miss. Here with the Miner’s guild. Mind if I have another piece of that there lettuce? I dropped mine.”
“Come off it, Hard Boiled. I know it’s you,” she whispered, pointing one toe at the cotton-ball on the floor.
I surreptitiously kicked the ball behind one of the potted plants, then dug around in my tux’s pocket until I found an extra and slipped it into my mouth.
“Fine. What do you want, Lace?” I growled under my breath.
“I... can’t believe this. You can’t be here. I must be hallucinating. Oh, this is the best day of my life!” she squeaked, dancing on all four hooves.
“Disguises, remember?” I hissed, then quickly shaped up a smile as a very tall, older stallion in a tasteful pink cravat strolled by, giving the two of us a curious look. “Get it together or Jade will have us both skinned and mounted.”
Sugar Lace sobered quickly, setting her plate across her back. “Right, sorry. What are you doing here, though? Half the reporters in this city would sell their sex organs in exchange for an interview with you! Jade would happily give her pill habit up if it meant getting to dissect your crazy ass in a holding cell!” Her lips pinched together as she gave me a contemplative look. “Why pink?”
“Would you have guessed it was me if you hadn't recognized the voice? And I’m afraid I’m not up for an interview tonight. I’m working.”
That was the wrong thing to say and I gave myself a mental kick in the pants.
Sugar Lace’s face lit up with barely suppressed enthusiasm.
“Working? Freelancing? How exciting!” she purred, her lips peeling back into a dangerous smile. “You mind taking a moment out of your busy evening to answer a question for me?”
I shut my eyes. There was no getting out of it.
“Make it fast, alright?”
“Why did you call Princess Celestia ‘The Sun Tyrant’?”
“Prank on Jade,” I grunted, then turned towards where Limerence sat near the stage. “Now, Lace, I answered your question. You mind pissing off? I’m assuming you’re not here toting snacks on a lark and neither of us needs a ‘big reveal’ as part of tonight’s entertainment. I don’t fancy spending the evening in a cell anymore than I’m sure you do.”
“Oh, I’m on the gossip beat tonight and I cannot think of anything juicier than you, Detective.” Sugar Lace’s pretty features had the cast of an eagle zeroing in on dinner. “I think, all things considered, you have significantly more to lose from a ‘big reveal’ than I do, after all. So why don’t we go sit down and have a nice, little talk about-”
Whatever it was she wanted to have a ‘nice little talk about’ was cut off as somepony gently tapped her on the shoulder. She twirled, no doubt about to give the pony behind her a piece of her mind for interrupting her big moment, and paused as she found herself nose to chest with the stallion who’d gone by not a moment ago.
I’ve seen eagles who looked less surprised when a rabbit they’d presumed to be dinner kicks them in the face and goes for their throat.
“M-m-m...Mister Voluntas?” she gasped. I tried to figure where I’d heard that name before. I couldn’t quite place it, but the stallion standing behind Sugar Lace oozed the sort of charisma you hear about in gentleponies of yore, when authors say they ‘dominated a room.’ I felt the unconscious desire to bow or curtsy or something.
He was not handsome, certainly nothing like Zefu, but I had the sincere feeling Taxi would still have found herself having a ‘crisis’ in his presence, regardless.
He was maybe an inch or two taller than myself, and certainly many years older, but he carried his age much like the Don; smoothly and with a grace born of practiced consideration for his environment. His pale, amethyst mane held a streak of grainy platinum, magnificently combed and shaped, and while lines around his eyes and lips suggested age, his tall shoulders and straight back spoke of a body unbowed by the grind of years.
I leaned sideways, glancing at his sides, then at his forehead. No horn. No wings. He still had the bearing I tend to expect solely of the Princesses themselves. There was just something about him that radiated serene aloofness.
The suit he wore had the cut of a talented tailor with a penchant for fashion history. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in Celestia’s court a hundred years ago, and while it might have been out of the present day vogue, it had the feel of something whose time was coming back around. He was, in essence, a pony so fashionable that fashion hadn’t caught up with him yet.
“Please, Miss Lace... do call me Diamante. Voluntas is a family name.” Diamante held a glass of champagne in a clip on one hoof, raising it to his thin lips as he examined Sugar Lace. “I do not remember seeing your name on the guest list, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“I...I...um…” Lace’s ears laid back and she tried to regain her composure. “I was just talking to my friend here…”
Diamante turned to me, and I had the sudden sensation of being a rare bird caught in a cage, being looked at closely by a truly obsessive ornithologist. It was a long moment before I realized he’d held his hoof out. “I don’t believe I remember seeing you on the guest list, either... Detective Hard Boiled. Diamante Voluntas. Starlight Industries.”
That was where I’d heard his name. A month ago, during a radio broadcast, when this whole mess had started. He’d been giving some grand speech at the opening of his towers uptown. It seemed so long ago, now.
“Mister Diamante. A pleasure,” I replied, sweeping my coat-tails out to make sure they were still covering my cutie-mark. “I’m curious as to how you saw through my disguise. Chief Jade was fooled by it.”
The older stallion chuckled, swirling the golden liquid in his glass, ignoring Sugar Lace who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Chief Jade may be an excellent police chief, but I fear that climbing to the top of an organization does dull some of the ‘street senses.' A corporation requires a more... discerning mind.” He glanced towards the potted plant I’d kicked my dropped cotton towards. “That, and you kicked your ‘padding’ into my hoof whilst I was examining the plantings. Without them, you are rather distinctive.”
“Examining the plantings?” I asked.
He snorted, softly and motioned with his glass towards the far side of the vast room. There was a reddish mare standing there in a rather showy violet dress, her face painted so severely it might as well have been done by a clown. “Hiding behind them, I should say. Miss Marinara, of the Colton Corporation, is a mare of exquisite taste who is unaccustomed to stallions saying ‘no’ when they’re invited to her bed.”
The pony I presumed to be Miss Marinara was scanning the crowd with a certain predatory keenness that made me clench my rear legs together. I stepped slightly to one side, covering Diamante as her eyes slid by us. He gave me a grateful nod. “I must say, I am a true fan of yours, Detective. Almost, I’m certain, as much as Miss Lace here. Would you care to join me in my booth before the show starts? We might both avoid further entanglements with pushy individuals.”
He gave Lace a meaningful look; the reporter angrily tapped one hoof. “Now just a minute-”
Diamante’s smiling demeanor changed in two seconds flat to a somber, threatening presence so powerful I flipped my toe several times before I realized I didn’t have my gun on me. “Miss Lace, of PNN? Your editor is Mister Bull Pen, yes? He and I were having the most interesting conversation the other day over lunch.”
Lace’s tail slapped against her flank as she took a step back. “Y-you know Mister Bull Pen?”
“Intimately.” Diamante rumbled, his voice taking on a quality like a thunderstorm ready to break on the horizon. “Our discussion revolved around a possible purchase of your paper by Starlight Industries. We are, after all, expanding into new markets. It would be a shame, were I to suddenly find myself uninterested in such a sale… for any reason. Of course, if Mister Bull Pen asked me why... I would have to tell him, should somepony in his employ leave me with a poor impression of the company...”
The implication hung there in mid-air, and Lace’s face paled visibly. Without another word, her horn glowed to snatch up the platter and place it on her back, before she all but fled, once more, into the crowd.
Diamante watched her go, calm amusement on his face once more.
“So... did you actually have lunch with her editor?” I asked. “I thought damn sure there was nothing in this world that could get rid of that filly once she had the scent.”
“Never met him,” he replied, lazily shifting his weight to his other rear leg. “I do keep abreast of local news and its key personalities, however. A stallion in my position can’t afford not to. Interestingly enough, whether you are aware of it or not, you are local news of some import. Come, join me.”
Without waiting to see if I followed, he strolled off towards one of the row of private, curtained booths set up along the wall. I got the distinct feeling he wasn’t the sort of pony who was told ‘no’ any more than the mare he’d been hiding from.
Diamante and I threaded our way through the tables to a particular booth. He swept the curtain open with one leg and settled down amongst the cushions. I checked to make sure my companions hadn’t moved, then lowered my haunches onto the pillows.
“Thank you for covering for me back there. Lace is… well...”
“A ‘maddening mascara’d vulture’, is the phrase I believe you’re seeking, Mister Boiled.” Diamante finished for me, setting his champagne to one side. “Let me order you something, if you please, as I did somewhat use you for cover as well. It’s the least I can do.”
“Uh... sure. Thanks.”
A waiter appeared with the stealth of a kitten on thick carpets, noted the two items Diamante pointed out on the menu, then was gone just as quickly. We sat in amiable silence until, less than two minutes later, the waiter reappeared, balancing across his back a pair of long-stemmed glasses with handles made for earth-pony hooves.
“Now then, Detective. I feel I must accord you my thanks twice.” He raised his glass to me.
“What for?” I asked, adjusting the cushion under my chest as I took the glass. The waiter bowed, not waiting for a tip before he vanished once more.
“If my sources are to be believed, you single-hoofedly produced a six point upswing in the futures index for pharmaceuticals in this city,” he said, patting his cravat with one toe to smooth the ruffles.
I rocked back on my heels, feeling unaccountably wary. “Why do I suspect that upswing isn't all Chief Jade de-stressing?
“My… source… was, until recently, a chemist operating at the behest of a pony with the less than righteous intent to produce vast quantities of the sedative known as ‘Ace’. I believe you know the one I mean?” he inquired, quirking one side of his lips.
“I might have run into him, sure,” I said, trying to shrug it off.
Diamante’s eyes twinkled with interest. “A second source, now unemployed since his background check came back with associations to said criminal, informed me that he saw yourself and two mares enter the building to see the individual in question.”
I swallowed audibly. “I might have. What about it?”
He sipped his champagne, still the picture of perfect, harmonious calm as he continued, “I suppose that would be far less intriguing had this source not also heard two reports from a high caliber rifle. A pegasus the color of a safety jacket blew out of the window and gave chase to another pegasus before they both vanished into a storm. Some moments later, two pegasi of unknown affiliation were apparently seen carrying what appeared to be one of those mares and a dead body dripping ‘vital fluids’ away from the building’s upper floors.”
“Your source has sharp eyes, Mister Diamante,” I grumbled, shaking my eartips out then letting my face relax into a confident grin. “Still, my methods are a professional secret. You wouldn’t happen to want to tell me which stocks I should invest in this month, would you?”
He laughed and it was infectious. I found myself smiling just a little, despite my continuing uncertainty. “No, no, Detective. I suppose I understand. It is interesting, however, to have found you here. Knowing her reputation and temperament, I would have considered the grave a preferable alternative to putting myself in a position where I might be left to the kind mercies of the Chief of Police.”
I sniffed at the glass the waiter had brought me. It smelled delicious. “There are always jobs for a pony willing to look deeper into the world and right now, freelancing is a steady paycheck. I needed some freedom that working here didn’t offer.”
“True.” He nodded, sagely. “So, if I may ask...what do you think of our fine party?”
“Truth? I wouldn’t be here if I had a choice. In fact, if I had the means, I’d probably arrest everypony in this building wearing a set of diamond cufflinks,” I replied. Diamante gave me a curious look, then held up his sleeve, showing off a pair of glittering, very expensive cufflinks. “Present company excepted,” I added, quickly.
He drained his glass of champagne and looked at it sadly, as though he couldn’t wave his hoof and have more in an instant. “I... understand the impulse, and this may shock you, but I agree. I’ve no wish to be here either, and any honest appraisal of those who climb their way up a corporate or social ladder will inevitably reveal a mountain of skeletons. It is… a sad way for a world to operate.”
“You didn’t strike me as the bleeding heart type,” I said, slipping one toe into my pocket for a sweet before realizing I didn’t have any. I really wanted my trenchcoat back.
Diamante examined his carefully manicured hoof, with a touch of self-deprecating smugness, “Don’t get me wrong, Detective. It is, to my mind, only from on high that a pony might seek to change the world for something better. You have heard my company mission statement, yes?”
I cocked my head. “Wasn’t it something like ‘Reach for the Stars’?”
He shut his eyes and as look of vague displeasure crossed his features. “My marketing director is highly imaginative, but he has little respect for history. ‘Sic itur ad astra’ is the actual phrase. ‘And thou shalt go to the stars.' It’s a family motto.”
“You think Equinekind might do that, one of these days?” I wondered aloud.
Diamante pushed a hoof back through his heavily styled mane, then stared at it for several seconds as though seeing it for the first time. “You are very direct, Detective. I find it unusual, considering the circles I am most familiar with. You are a pony it is... easy... to be honest with. I suppose that would explain your choice of career.”
“I chose my job because a stamp on my ass says I can feel when there has been an injustice.” I waved my hooves at the File Cloud up above, rumbling irritably as it circled the inside of the roof. “Granted, it’s more useful when I’m not in a building absolutely stacked to capacity with ponies who’ve spent their lives climbing over one another to make a few bits.”
His upper lip curled slightly, “Yes... business ponies. I cannot tell you how they disgust me.”
“Aren’t you one of them?” I inquired, tipping my glass against my muzzle.
His sharp, grey eyes roamed around the little curtained booth as he considered his answer. “Unwillingly, I suppose I am. I have brought low my fair share of opponents and more remain, but I get no pleasure from it. Most of that lot out there revel in dragging themselves through the muck up a pile of defeated foes. For them, it is a game."
“So why do it?”
Diamante held up his empty glass. Light from the overhead lamp pierced it, spraying a rainbow out on the pillows next to me.
“I am one pony, one individual from a long line who believes that wise minds plan ahead. It is we, the thinking beings of this world, who are responsible for seeing to it that our futures are brighter than those of the ones who came before us, and brighter still for our foals. I do what I do so that I might see the dawn of those futures.”
“A thousand years of peace isn’t enough?” I asked. “Princess Celestia ruled for a long time in what amounted, more or less, to peace.”
“Yes… but as you bring up Celestia and the last thousand years, please do consider Luna, our moon.” Diamante’s turned his face to the light and I couldn’t help but notice, in profile, what a noble figure he cut. “She is a creature of change; one might even say she embodied it. Consider our achievements since her return: Sixty years, from the carriage to the motor vehicle. One being’s influence restructuring our entire lives for the better from a tiny castle in the capital city.”
I shrugged and held up both hooves. “It’s worth being grateful for, isn’t it? What’s your point?”
“Yes... hah, yes, it is.” He laughed, brushing his hoof against the curtain. The waiter reappeared, topping off his glass first, then mine from another bottle, before Diamante continued, “My point, I suppose if I must have one... is that one day - whether tomorrow, or another thousand years from now - these... archetypes, these creatures of power that define our development... will inevitably be gone. Not just Celestia, but Luna as well. They’ll be dead by somepony's hooves, or perhaps even by the grind of years. After all, true immortality is difficult to prove and there have been enough ‘brushes’ that I would be willing to call it, in their case, unlikely. When they are laid low, what will we do? Go back to grazing the fields?”
I thought about how to answer this for a long time, then slowly shook my head. “We weren’t sitting on our butts during those thousand years. There were fights and other things that forced us to develop. I mean, nothing like the Crusades, but there were some, right? Technology advanced. It might have taken us longer to make real peace without Princess Celestia or develop a motor car without Luna, but we’d have still made it here eventually. There was a time before they were here, after all, and we did alright.”
“It’s true.” His face hardened slightly. “And recognizing that we would have reached this place without them, I would hope to see a day we do not need these beings, because whatever benefit they provide, they represent a vulnerability in ponykind. If someone were to remove them, or lock them in another celestial body, we'd be devastated.”
“So you think the Loonies are right, then? Down with Celestia, and pack Luna in with her?” I chuckled.
Diamante’s brow wrinkled, then he laughed as well, “That group of silly miscreants with their blue robes and chanting? Sweet mercy, no. They have no respect for history. I believe, rather, that there must be examples for ponykind to follow which don’t necessarily have to have wings and a horn. If I am to provide such an example, it does necessitate participation in corporate culture and high society, but then, ponies looking to change anything must open their own doors. Either way-” He snapped his wrist out, flashing an expensive watch tucked over his fetlock. “-the show is soon to start and I must find my seat. Would you care to join me, Detective?”
I stuck my head out of the curtain, looking both ways. Swift was out of her seat and wandering around, no doubt looking for me. She’d left her tuxedo jacket at the bar and her huge wings were on full display.
Pulling my head back, I lifted myself to my hooves and shook a bit of stiffness out of my knees. “I wish I could. My partner’s out there making a real effort to get us caught.”
Diamante rose as well and held out his hoof again. I took it, receiving another firm shake. “Then, Detective, I wish you all the best. You are more valuable than you know; There are few enough ponies in this world looking to end the injustices pervading our society. Should you need anything in the course of future investigations, feel free to contact my receptionist at Starlight Industries.”
“Considering the way things have gone lately, don’t be surprised if you get a call one of these days. Thank you, Mister Diamante. It’s been a pleasure.”
****
I left the curtained booth, wishing I’d had more time to sit and talk to Diamante. It was a damn sight finer activity sitting and philosophizing with an old stallion than wandering around the Castle waiting for Jade to spot me and turn my cutie-mark into a welcome mat for her office.
Ponies were filing to their seats, and I joined them as they headed to their individual tables. Swift was talking to Limerence as I appeared behind her.
“Hey kid. What’s shaking?”
My partner jerked, her wings half rising from her back. “Oh, sir! Don’t scare me like that! I thought She had caught you!” Swift gasped, putting her forehooves up on my chest.
“I’m fine, kid. Aren’t you forgetting something?” I tapped her on the nearest feather with one toe.
Her pupils shrank and she dashed back through the crowd towards the bar, bumping into one pony after another like a brightly colored pinball.
Limerence’s horn lit and a soft glow of magic enveloped the chair closest to me, tugging it back. I collapsed into it, putting my chin on the table.
“You must forgive me, Detective, but I must ask. Why the child?” Limerence asked, cocking his head to one side. “Miss Taxi's presence makes a certain sense; though she tries to hide it beneath a cloud of incense smoke and exuberant bursts of culinary violence, she is as cynical as you are, perhaps moreso. But I do not understand why you persist with your associations with Officer Swift. You are no longer an officer of the law and not required to maintain that partnership. You only knew her for three days before your... unfortunate incident.”
I took a sip from the glass of posh ice water already on the table before I answered, “The kid’s more competent than she looks or sounds. She killed for me. You don’t abandon a pony once they’ve done something like that.”
Limerence crossed his forelegs and gave me a half-lidded appraisal. “Loyalty is a noble reasoning, but logic dictates-”
“I know what logic dictates.” I cut him off. “Logic dictated I head for the hills the second things got bigger than a dead girl in an alley-way.” I traced a circle on the table with my toe, watching a bit of the water seeping from my glass soak into the tablecloth. There was a metaphor there, but my brain was too frazzled to pick it out. “You are going to have to trust me. Swift hasn’t had the benefit of whatever experience with your father’s business you have, but each time I’ve needed her to be there, she is and only for the asking. That kid is the only cop the last few years I’d have wanted to follow me into Monte Cheval, and when it came time, her innocence was worth less than my life to her. She didn’t hesitate to make the trade, either.”
The librarian let his head fall to one side, still watching me with those disconcertingly cold eyes.
“I see,” was all he said.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking in that sometimes chillingly ordered mind of his, but the Don’s Will still sat in my trench-coat’s side pocket. His ‘test’ had gone off the rails the moment we found the Professor’s body. I could have given it to Limerence and let him know the real reasons why his father sent him along. It might have cut down on the incisive questions if I had.
Before I could say anything further, somepony tapped a spoon three times against a glass and brought the murmuring audience to silence. The lights around the stage dimmed slightly and a spotlight swiveled to face the curtain.
Chief Jade, resplendent in her uniform with freshly touched up make-up, trotted up the side of the stage and down to a microphone stand sitting on the thrust stage. Her smile could have been taped on, but she held it anyway as she made her way to the front, pulling off her uniform cap with a burst from her horn whilst simultaneously lifting the mic to hang in front of her.
My chest clenched with worry as I realized I was less than two meters from the stage, but I relaxed as I noticed her squinting into the spotlight. No chance she’d see me, or at least, that’s what I told myself.
Jade cleared her throat and all eyes were on her as she began her spiel.
“Mares and gentlecolts! I wish to welcome you, one and all, to the Detrot Police Gala!” A wave of polite clapping and stomping swept through the crowd, quickly quieting as she lifted one hoof. “Now, I know you’re all expecting me to get up here and make a dull speech. I was half expecting that myself, but if I’m honest, I’d rather eat my own cap.”
There was a scattering of laughter from the crowd.
“I’m going to get down from here quick as I can, but I just want you all to know whose hoof to shake once the show is over. I know we’ve taken a drumming in the media the last couple of days, no thanks to one of my ex-employees who decided it would be funny to get up in front of the cameras and thank me for my participation in a rebellion against the Princesses. Incidentally, if you see him, tell him there’s a carrot peeler with his name on it in my office.”
More laughter. I sank lower in my seat, pulling the menu over and opening it in front of my face.
“Before we go on with the show, after which dinner will be served, I want to thank our benefactor of the evening... please, take a bow, Mister Diamante Voluntas of Starlight Industries!”
Off towards the other side of the stage, a shadow rose from the table and the spotlight swung down to single out Diamante from amongst the crowd. He managed to look regal, humble, and slightly embarrassed as he dipped his head to the audience.
Jade continued, “Mister Voluntas is bankrolling tonight’s entertainment. Now, if you please… I will turn the stage over to that most acclaimed of performers, back from a month long tour taking him to Canterlot, Manehatten, and points beyond… The Great Ghoulini!”
I leaned over and whispered to Limerence, “The great who?”
His lips were tightened into a crease. “The pony we are here to interrogate.”
“You’re… not serious…”
“I am, unhappily, quite serious.”
It was on that note that the curtains behind the stage burst into flame.