II - The Science of Deduction
Baker Street was indeed in central Londerby. It was practically in Londerby's heart. A rather nice street lined on both sides with flats for anypony who wished to live deep in the city. Little trees adorned the sidewalks on both sides, and the pavement was very well done.
I sat sipping a cup of coffee at a table outside a cafe next to 221B as I waited for my new flatmate to arrive. It was a good place to get a hot breakfast every morning if my future work hours would allow me breakfast. The coffee however was a little bit unsatisfying. It was just a tad too bitter. I watched the stagecoaches and carriages driving by along Baker Street. The traffic was typical for mid-afternoon on a Friday.
I could not stop thinking about Eagle Eye and I kept on trying to figure out the great enigma I encountered that morning in Ponyville. What was he expecting to find in zap apple jam? How did he know that I was a medic in the Guard? How did he know my habits, my beliefs, my social life and all those other personal details? What did he mean by keeping severed body parts in the refrigerator?
A cab stopped in front of the cafe and through the window I saw the silhouette of Eagle Eye's distinctive profile. The door opened and he quickly stepped out to pay the driver. As the cab pulled away from the sidewalk, he looked at me and nodded with a "Hello," before going straight for the door marked 221B.
"Good afternoon Mr. Eagle Eye," I replied.
"Just Eagle, please." He knocked on the door and as he waited he commented, "I see you're don't fancy Londerby coffee. Understandably so."
"Alright, before you go on, how do you-"
"There's a fellow from Canterlot who runs a fantastic cafe and has a branch here in Londerby. It's called 'Doughnut Joe's,' you'll find it on Shire Street. Don't be alarmed. It's rather evident from the lack of steam rising from the cup that it's gotten cold, but judging from the coffee stain ring, you've had a few sips. You stopped drinking long enough to allow it to get cold, meaning you most likely don't like it. And if you don't like this coffee, you probably won't like the rest of Londerby's coffee. Who could blame you? Canterlot coffee is so much better."
I tried to continue again, but then the door opened and the voice of a sweet old mare came out, saying, "Eagle Eye! Good to see you!" She wrapped a leg around his neck and gave him a warm hug, to which Eagle returned a hug.
She was a slim violet unicorn with a dulled maroon mane which was cut short to just below her jaw. Her face bore the many wrinkles that came with old age, particularly under her dark green eyes, but she had the smile of a very sweet and kind-hearted pony. Her cutie mark was a porcelain teapot.
"Afternoon, Mrs. Chamomile," he said as he pulled away from the hug. He then gestured to me, saying "This is my flatmate, Dr. Greenheart."
"Pleasure to meet you," I said as I shook Mrs. Chamomile's hoof, "I'll take it you're our landmare?"
"Right you are," she replied, "I owe Eagle a favor, so I offered him the flat for a lower rent. A few years ago, my husband got himself in a bit of trouble in Los Pegasus - sentenced to death! Eagle here gave me a helping hoof."
"Oh, he saved your husband's life?" I asked.
"Oh, no, no, no," she said with a bit of laughter.
Eagle, with a bit of a smirk, answered me, "I made sure he died."
I stood there silently for a few moment trying to grasp the exchange of dialogue that just occurred. This pony simply becomes more of a puzzle the more I learn about him.
Not wanting to make the brief silence go on for any longer, Mrs. Chamomile said, "Well then, let's get inside. I'll show you to your new flat."
Eagle immediately trotted through the door and up the stairs, leaving me behind to struggle with the climb, as my leg brace was awkward to maneuver up the steps. Mrs. Chamomile patiently walked behind me as I slowly made my way to the flat.
Through the front door, I came into the living room, which contained a small fireplace and was well lit by sunshine flooding through the tall windows facing Baker Street. The room was mess, with papers, boxes and books cluttered all over the floor and furniture. I presumed it all belonged to Eagle. The place was well furnished, complete with a sofa, a few lounge chairs, lamps, bookshelves and a coffee table. Off to the left was the kitchen, also a mess, and I worried that I would encounter a severed head. Fortunately, from what I could see, the only thing that resembled anything close to that was a skull on a shelf above the fireplace. Beyond the kitchen were what appeared to be a bathroom and a bedroom.
"This is nice," I said, "Very nice."
"Yes, once we both get settled in and organized," Eagle busied himself with looking through a pile of papers. Next to this pile was a jar of zap-apple jam.
In the meantime, I asked Mrs. Chamomile, "I presume there's a second bedroom upstairs or something like that?"
"Oh, of course. I wasn't sure if you'll be needing a second one, but if you do I'll open it up for you."
"... why would think we wouldn't need more than one?"
"Oh, that's alright. No need to be coy these days. It's a free kingdom."
There was a loud and aggressive knock on the door, which Mrs. Chamomile went to answer. I took a pillow from the floor, placed it on the sofa and laid down with my head on it. As I plopped my body down, the sofa let out a great puff of dust that made me sneeze. I sat up and vigorously rubbed my nose.
The visitor who knocked on the door was a griffin who hurried went up the stairs. The first thing to stand out was his ridiculous black moustache. It was long and reached out far to the left and to the right. The ends curled up tightly. It was an upstarting trend for ponies and griffins from Southern Prance to display such facial hair. His head, neck and wings were covered in light grey feathers, while his lion body was covered in dark grey fur. On his chest he wore a silver badge that showed his position as a detective-inspector for Trotland Yard.
He looked to Eagle with his yellow eyes, but before he could said anything, my flatmate asked, "Where and when?"
"Bridleton Street, Lauren District. Discovered this morning at nine o'clock A.M. Dead for about four hours." the griffin had a very thick Prench accent that I found rather amusing to hear while living in Londerby.
"What's different?" Eagle did not even bother to look up from his papers as he and the griffin spoke.
"This one was stabbed in the front."
"I'll need an assistant."
"Sour Lime is on foren-"
"No."
"If you want an assistant, you'll have to work with-"
"No."
"Listen, there is no one else-"
"No."
"Sacre bleu, Eagle, if you-"
"Never mind. I'll find my own."
The detective inspector sighed impatiently and asked, "So will you come?"
"I'll be there," Eagle responded as he took the jar of zap apple jam and swished it around, "I'll take my own cab."
"Very well. Merci." He nodded, turned and hurried made his way back down the stairs and out the door. I heard his wings flapping as he flew off to wherever it was he wanted Eagle to go to. From my seat on the sofa, I watched the activity around me. Mrs. Chamomile went to the kitchen and struggled to make her way around as it was cluttered by microscopes, jars, vials, papers and boxes. Eagle took out three folders and examined the papers inside closely, loudly flipping through the sheets. From the few glimpses I caught of photographs of rooms and dead bodies, it looked as if they were murder files. It seemed that my new flatmate was some sort of a detective and he was working on a serial murder case, and yet it did not feel quite as simple as that.
"Come with me, Dr. Greenheart," Eagle suddenly said as he dropped the folders, grabbed the jar of zap apple jam and went straight for the stairs, "You'll be my assistant." He stopped to turn and face me.
"Excuse me, what?" I asked, standing up as I was startled by his unexpected request.
"You were a medic for the Canterlot Royal Guard."
"You still haven't told me how you knew all that."
He continued as if he didn't hear me. "You've seen quite a bit of action then. You've seen deaths. Violent deaths."
"... yes," I cautiously responded.
"Want to see more?"
Without hesitation, I answered, "I'd love nothing else."
"In that case," Eagle said with a smirk, "Come along, doctor. The game's ahoof."
~~~~~
The late afternoon Sun in the yellow sky sent its bright light through the window of the cab and straight at my face. I had no choice but to avert my eyes from the window and look towards Eagle, who took the seat beside me. He remained in the darker side, looking out into the streets of Londerby. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something. We were both silent, the only sounds were the hoofsteps of the driver, the wheels rolling on the cobblestone road and the clamor of the city outside. The shining of the Sun went on and off as it disappeared behind the taller buildings.
I opened my mouth to break the silence and ask Eagle a question, but he interrupted me as soon as my lips parted. "Ask away. It's another ten minutes until we get to Bridleton."
I was slightly taken aback, but at this point I had somewhat gotten used to being surprised by my flatmate, so I asked, "Are you some sort of a powerful unicorn who knows how to hide his horn and read minds?"
"No. And before you ask me how you would know if I'm telling the truth, I can assure you that you don't, because you don't know how to observes the signs of a lie, which are really quite obvious."
"Alright then. So how do you know all those things about me. How did you know I was a medic? How'd you know I was Redheart's brother? How do you know about my relationships, my habits - my singing! How on Earth could you possibly know about my singing? How'd you know all that?"
He let out a brief chuckle as the ends of his mouth curved up slightly. "Well, to start: the last time I spoke to Redheart before she brought you to me, I told her that I'd be a difficult pony to find a flatmate for. Three days later she comes to me with a stallion I don't know and introduces him. Why else would she do that than to present a prospective flatmate? She knows I'm not one for meeting new ponies so she wouldn't be doing it solely for socialization. Now, you have to be her brother because she wouldn't be introducing me to any stallions except her relatives. Whenever she meets a stallion, he immediately becomes an object of romantic interest and she would never intentionally introduce him to the likes of me. The only stallions she's not interested in are her co-workers, all of whom I already know and therefore not in need of introduction, and her relatives. You're only slightly older than her, not old enough to be her father or uncle, so you have to be a cousin or brother. Judging by the distance she kept from you, you two are not all too close and the fact that she's not offering you a place to live in her home in Ponyville is an obvious indication of your relationship. If you were a cousin, your relationship wouldn't be in such a state. Nevertheless, she is still helping you find a place to live, meaning that she has some sentiment of familial obligation towards you. By process of elimination, you are her brother."
I sat there listening to him absolutely dumbfounded, blinking my eyes in bewilderment. I was genuinely impressed by what this pony was doing. Eagle continued on without even taking a moment's pause.
"You're clearly a military pony judging from the way you hold yourself with poise and dignity, a feature of ponies in a military or law enforcement profession and the straight look on your face further supports that; not a sign of nervousness or fear or reluctance when it came to meeting somepony new. Only ponies who've gone through harsh training and extreme discipline truly show no indications those. You have an injured leg, which you most likely did not suffer from an everyday accident given your training. You've gone through some intense action recently, and the only instance of that within a span of time where you would still have a leg brace was the Changeling invasion of Canterlot. Plus, Redheart's originally from Canterlot and therefore it is likely that so would her brother. And then there's your cutie mark, that makes it all even more obvious. No need for explanation there. Would you like me to continue or are you quite satisfied with the demonstration so far?"
It took me a moment to respond. I could not believe what I had been hearing. I was amazed by Eagle's skills of deduction. If he could deduce all that simply from looking at me and Redheart the moment we entered, then the conclusions he could draw from more information would be incredible.
"I think I've had enough," I said, "You've made your point."
"You're only saying that because you're overwhelmed by all this. You clearly are dying to know how I know about your singing. It's a bit of a shot in the dark really. For starters, it was five-thirty when you came to the laboratory, meaning you had only been awake for an hour, since, as a military pony, you're trained to the point of habit to wake at four-thirty sharp. You spoke with a very clear voice, meaning it has had a lot of work and exercise in those sixty minutes, otherwise it would have been hoarse, typical of an early morning voice. You didn't work your voice by talking since your were traveling with your sister, and, as I've stated before, you two don't have a relationship that gives room for a good amount of friendly casual conversation. So how else would you have warmed-up your voice? Certainly not by talking to other people. No, not at that hour and with only sixty minutes to do so and given that you're in an unfamiliar town full of strangers. And of course, you warming-up your voice is not intentionally a part of your morning routine. What military pony has use for that? So that leaves only one more reasonably probable choice: singing in the shower."
At this point, I did not even know how to respond.
Seeing my amazement, he asked, "What did you think?"
I laughed at the question for a moment. I did not know what to say, so I simply responded, "That... was absolutely brilliant."
"I thought you'd say that. Our relationship should be quite interesting. Nopony's ever responded like that before."
"Well, what else could they say after something like that?"
Eagle's mouth curved some more as the question amused him. He answered, "'Go shag a mule.' Of course, I counter by telling them how racially offensive the phrase is."
We shared a round of laughter together and then he continued, "I am a consulting detective. The only one in the world, I invented the profession. To put it in the simplest terms possible: when the police - being the typical idiots that they are - haven't the faintest idea of what to do with an investigation, they come to me. I solve their problems, they arrest the culprit and then everypony goes on their merry way, while I go on to find more distraction."
After he finished, the cab came to a halt in front of a lonely dreary-looking house in a relatively old suburban area of Londerby. The houses on Bridleton Street must have been built several decades ago. The front lawn was slightly overgrown with a few weeds and the grass had clearly not been cut for a few weeks. Around the perimeter of the property was long yellow "Do Not Cross" tape marking the area as a crime scene under investigation. Lights filled the rooms I could see through the first floor windows, while the second floor remained dark. A single policepony stood by the front door, but it seemed like more were inside the house. Lastly I noticed the mailbox, which was marked with the last name of the homeowners: "Puff"
Eagle wrapped his navy blue scarf around his neck. He opened the door and quickly exited. He took out a hoofful of bits and gave them to the cab driver. He then gestured with his head, inviting me to follow him into the crime scene.