//------------------------------// // Because It Couldn't Get Any Worse // Story: The Misdemeanor Private Detective Agency // by Myriad of Failure //------------------------------// Ow. Oh, that was unfair. Attacking a defenceless mare while she's trying to keep a dying stallion alive; that just isn't the done thing! Or at least, I didn't think it was the done thing. Clearly, whoever it was that knocked me out thought it was a good idea. Well, they would pay for it later - I knew where they lived. Tentatively, I opened an eye, expecting to see the rising Moon and a rather lush green lawn. Unless it was an unusually grey night, with a worryingly bright Moon, I wasn't in the garden any more. Stretching out my muscles (they still burned like the Sun's fiery heart) I rolled on to my side, trying to understand my surroundings. They were grey. Hmm, come on brain, you can do better than that. I was raised slightly off the floor on a bed, looking on to the floor, empty except for a single pot in the corner. What I initially mistook for a blank wall actually had the large rectangular outline of a door. At about eye-height there was a metal grille, staring out onto a more brightly lit corridor. Something seemed vaguely familiar. It wasn't a hospital, which I found rather insulting - I'd just been knocked out! It couldn't have been that private manor; nopony in their right mind would have a room like this in their house. I rolled off the bed onto the floor. Ouch! Who had metal floors? Perhaps I had been attacked by the pony trying to kill that stallion - and I had been locked in here until they came to subject me to various hideous tortures, like eating celery and listening to DJ P0n-3 for more than five seconds at a time... My heart stopped for a second while I considered the possibilities. It was starting to get cold on the floor, so I stood up, waiting for the blood to reach my head after being laid down for so long. Blood... hmm, I smelt of blood... I, oh, ugh - even the memory of it disgusts me! I spent the next five minutes running in a small circle, trying to get rid of the cloying stickiness matting my fur. I may also have screamed vivid profanities at the same time - I'm not entirely sure - I was a little preoccupied. My front hooves had been dyed scarlet by the stallion's blood, which had probably dried over an hour ago. Oh, I need another bath, pronto! Equestrians have the common misconception that bat ponies enjoy the blood of their fellow ponies. When faced with this uneducated assumption, I always had the urge to deny it completely. This, however, would have been a lie. Bat ponies have a complex system of traditional beliefs - some of which have by now been proved wrong. Unhelpfully, the practice of drinking the blood of non-magical creatures has continued unchallenged, and is perfectly acceptable in the colonies. Telling Equestrians that only the blood of magical creatures is forbidden doesn't fill them with trust or confidence. "Hey, is anypony there?" I called up the the grille, still squirming at the feeling, "Hey! Is anypony listening to me?" My voice echoed unnoticed down the hall. What is a mare supposed to do to get some attention around here? Here... oh, I was a stupid pony. I glanced back at my cell, then again at the corridor, which was lined by several identical metal doors until a line of steel bars blocked the only exit. It was a prison! This lack of perception may be excused in any normal pony, especially if they had just been knocked out, but I couldn't help but feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment as my cutie mark itched uncomfortably. What use was a special talent in perception if you couldn't recognize a prison? Wait... why would I be in prison? Unfortunately, the only way to find out would be to ask somepony. With no one at hoof, I decided to persuade an officer to come over. There would be somepony supervising; they must have heard me. All it would take was a little play acting and a stupid guard. I screamed loudly and made a loud thumping noise with my wings, "Don't hit me!" I cried out, making another thudding noise, "No, don't hit me again!" - thud - "please officer! Don't-" - thud - "Somepony help!" - thud - "What's going on in there?" I finally heard a guard shout. Keys rattled in the door, letting it swing open on me; sat patiently on the floor, hooves folded neatly, and a bored expression plastered to my face. "You know, if that's really how long it takes you to notice, I'd have been beaten to a pulp by now." "I - what the - you-" the guard collected himself, brushing a hoof through his uniformly blue mane, "What are you doing?" He eventually demanded coherently. "I was pretending to beat myself up." "Why?" He seemed rather angry about all of this. Terrible. Talk about the professionalism of our police officers. He should have been delighted to help. "Because I want to ask you a question." I got to my hooves to address him properly. He was a rather tall colt, probably quite handsome by pony standards, though had an incredibly annoying habit of stomping his hooves - either out of anger or because he was nervous about being alone with such a devastatingly dangerous mare. "Actually, there might be two questions. One - why am I in prison? Two - could you bring me some hot water, and preferably a sponge as well?" It took him a while to consider my demands, during which time I added his mental vacancy to my list of annoyances. "You are convicted for the murder of Sir Gently Articulate-" "I swear he was alive the last time I saw him!" "-and no, you may not have some water and a sponge." "But just look at my hooves!" I held one up to his face. In my defence, I may have over-shot this display due to my boundless enthusiasm, and I might have accidentally bumped his nose slightly... The impact was a little bit heavier than I had initially intended - not that I had intended it at all - but I wasn't the kind of pony to ignore a brilliant opportunity when it arose. Gracefully, I hopped over his prone form - which was moaning uselessly on the floor, clutching a bleeding snout - and trotted out into the corridor. Of course, I am a great believer in upholding the law, and breaking out of prison was a deep insult to the professionals who were holding me here. But seeing as I knew I wasn't guilty, I felt it was my civilian duty to politely inform them that they had arrested the wrong mare. They didn't quite see eye-to-eye with me... I managed to get out of the cell, snag the keys from the incapacitated guard, and get past the barred barrier and out into the main station. It was there I came into a waiting room. They probably let visitors come in here to see the prisoners, and it had a falsely pleasant atmosphere with comfy chairs, a potted plant, and a knackered-looking water cooler. No windows could tell me what time of night it was, but I could guess that visiting hours were over. Nevertheless, the room did have some ponies in it. Luckily, they were too busy arguing to notice me slipping over to the water cooler where I proceeded to wash off my hooves. "Now miss - there's no reason to be so angry-" "No reason? No reason? I have been worried for hours! Hours!" "Now little filly, you mustn't worry -" "I'm not worried; Mummy was, though-" "-nopony thought to tell me where my little darling was-" "-obviously we were dealing with a serious situation-" "Of course you were! My filly was left on her own!" It was then that the door burst open and the stallion I'd accidentally punched came tumbling into the room, his snout swelling painfully. He, understandably, looked panicked, but he appeared to be handling the situation incredibly well - after letting a prisoner escape he could lose his job! I knew I wouldn't be too quick to admit to that. "She's escaped!" He shouted over the roar, though his commanding tone was ruined by the nasal whine that actually came out. "You must have seen her!" "What are you talking about, Officer Spell?" A tall thin stallion stood out from the general fray - which, now I looked, actually only contained four ponies - and adjusted his hat. "Who has escaped?" "The bat pony! The murderer! She knocked me out and stole my keys!" "Then how did you get in here without your keys?" "She left the gate open!" Oh, I was a stupid pony. I could have locked him in the cell! It must have been karma - if you're stupid enough not to think of the most basic plans, you will get caught out. "If she's that brainless, she'll probably be trying to fly out of a locked window right now." This time it was a skinny mare who was insulting me. With a hair style that looked like it cut to precise measurements using a ruler and a spirit level, and a pair of librarian's glasses balanced on the end of her snout, I decided that she wasn't in a position to criticize me. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Spell." "It's not exactly a 'pretty' head, though, is it?" I said before my brain could catch up, "The swelling's really an improvement." Several pair of eyes turned to me, along with their respective heads. Nopony was laughing at my joke. Only one of them was remotely happy. "Auntie Turny!" Lullaby squealed, "They said you were busy!" "I was busy being locked up, Lulu," I explained, and looked back to all of the staring faces. Now, that comeback, if it had been funny, would have been worth being discovered for. But... seeing as nopony was laughing, I decided that it hadn't been worth it at all. Tonight wasn't the best for bright ideas, is it? The whole situation was becoming rather awkward; the guard didn't seem to want to approach me to rearrest me, the tall thin stallion was waiting for the guard to do his job, and my sister was doing her best to ignore everypony else - including Lullaby, who was asking why I had been locked in a cupboard. Luckily (or unluckily), that was when two more ponies entered the room, and everything became a little too cosy. One was a short, stocky stallion, with a puffed out chest and flaring wing tips. He was so short his orange ears only reached as high as my chin, in an attempt to look older that ten, he maintained a stiff forest of grey stubble on his jutting chin. The other was my employer. "Nocturne, I have to congratulate you," Conundrum announced before anypony else could complain, with no trace of sarcasm at all, "if you committed this murder, I fully understand if it was done to finally get us some decent work - and I applaud your enthusiasm - just try not to get caught before we've solved it, alright? That was a very basic error." "I... I didn't do it, sir..." I mumbled, wondering why he had these crazy theories, and whether he would be disappointed by the truth. "Complex Conundrum? Is that you?" The tall stallion squinted at Conundrum, his green eyes narrowing so that crow's feet spread out across his face. At first I though that they might have once been friends, until the stallion smirked cruelly and sauntered over, his body moving like one dark, giant, berry splodge. "Classic Corduroy - still wearing that ridiculous hat?" Conundrum stood slightly straighter, doing little to make up for the height difference. "That's Detective Inspector Corduroy to you, Conny." The inspector snorted derisively, and brushed a hoof to his top lip. It was there I noticed the scrubbing-brush moustache, which wriggled and writhed as if it had been unwillingly glued to his face - though only after being forcefully dyed that hideous shade of dark ginger. Once I'd noticed it, it was impossible to look away. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you again," the moustache squirmed, "but I'd be lying." "And I would congratulate you on the promotion - but we both know you didn't earn it." "Oh, and how's that little agency of yours? Have you resorted to committing the murders now?" "Even if we had, you wouldn't be able to solve them." "Really? Then why do I have your new little assistant in prison?" "Technically, I'm not in prison..." I murmured, only to be ignored as the two stallions shot insults at each other. Clearly they had an awful lot of catching up to do, and their bitter resentments should be respected. Unfortunately, when the argument was about to come to blows after they had insulted each other's mothers, the offensively orange stallion stepped in like the saddle-sore pony that he was. "ENOUGH!" He screamed, deafening all of the innocent bystanders, including myself. "I have enough to do without you fighting over nothing -" he jabbed a hoof at Corduroy, "- you distracting investigators -" he waved a wing at Conundrum, "- and you snivelling in the corner!" "S-sorry, s-sir..." the young guard whimpered. The nose bleed wasn't stopping and the poor little colt was looking tired and peaky. The weak little thing looked like he needed his mother to kiss it better... Bless. For the love of the immortal Moon Goddess - police officers these days are pathetic! "Has the prisoner woken up yet?" He demanded, stalking up to the guard. Clearly he didn't notice Conundrum congratulating me when they came in - not that I was about to admit to it. This was when he started to cry (the guard, not the bossy pegasus), which made Lullaby ask if she could hug him - so obviously I had to intervene as Fantasia was still trying to act above the whole situation. "No, you can't hug him, Lulu - he needs to learn how to be a tough stallion and own up to his failings." I decided then and there that I needed to learn to keep my big mouth shut. "And who would you be?" the pegasus rounded on me, trying to puff himself out to appear bigger. By his stance I could guess that he had once been part of the Royal Guard - the essentially useless bodyguards of princesses and anypony else who happens to be no hoof at the time - and had transferred to the police once his soldiering days were over. I could imagine him as a rather terrifying drill sergeant. "The name's Nocturne - I've just come through; you see, I think you put me in the wrong room earlier?" "The wrong room?" Oh, perfect, he was slow as well - the exact criteria for becoming a drill sergeant. I smiled back at him reassuringly and nodded slowly, "Yeah, there was a metal floor and the door was locked - but that's all been sorted out now, so... I will, um, be leaving now?" It was a long shot and I knew it wouldn't work. Even as I was tacked to the floor by a deceptively heavy pegasus, I considered the futility of my plans. Unless this stallion was prone to spontaneous flying tackle-hugs, I was going to end up back in the cell. "Hey! Don't stand on my wing!" "Why in the name of Princess Celestia's Sun-kissed behind is this prisoner not in her cell?" He may have included a few other profanities, but I couldn't be bothered to list them here - there were too many repetitions. Anyway, every so often Lullaby repeated them, having not realised hoe incredibly rude they were. Talk about the irresponsibility of ponies these days... "She escaped, sir!" "And why did she escape?" "Oh, um - well..." I rolled over, staring at the empty metal room from my lumpy mattress. Sensation had finally returned to my wing, after Sergeant Cross Winds - a name I soon learned - had stood on it for what felt like hours. Sighing, I turned over again to stare at the wall. I had been here for at least half the night, and was starting to run out of things to consider. Sweet stars, was I bored... Luckily, the door soon swung open and my features lit up. They were quickly subdued by the tired scowl of my boss. I couldn't tell whether it was my fault or not; he existed in a state of permanent grumpiness. "Are you going to get up, or are you too preoccupied?" "That depends - where are we going?" I stretched nonchalantly, trying to hide my eagerness to leave this cramped cell. Even if he said I was being taken for questioning which may or may not involve a ravenous manticore if I didn't confess, I would still have followed him out. "I will go back to my house, and I expect you will disappear into whatever place it is you call 'home'." I shot a look over at him, trying to see if he was lying to me. Nope... he looked as if he was telling the truth. Though there was a strange glint to his eyes - it wasn't a nervous look, or a natural air of enthusiasm or optimism. No - he was excited. I tumbled off the bed and trotted over, deliberately stepping over the threshold to freedom, just in case it suddenly slammed shut on me. "Why are they letting me go?" "Once I discovered that you had been arrested while you were unconscious-" he raised an eyebrow at this, "- I told them that they were acting against Equestrian law. Did you know that it was illegal to arrest a pony without their knowledge?" "I do now!" I broke into a smile, though it soon collapsed as we passed through the gate and into the waiting room, "Wait - doesn't that mean they could just arrest me as soon as I get out to the street?" "Not unless they find a bit more evidence," Conundrum glanced at me, his face alight with an emotion I had only seen on a couple of occasions, "which is exactly what we are going to do!" Eager delight gave his features life as he trotted down the steps leading down from the station's door. "I think, young Nocturne, that we finally have some work worthy of our talents." It turned out that while I had been in prison, Conundrum had been contacted by the widow to be signed up as a private investigator. He wouldn't tell me why she had wanted us on the case along with the police - but I knew she wouldn't once she realised that I would be one of the detectives. Nevertheless, I wasn't going to turn down the prospect of work; especially from what I could only presume to be a rich widow. After Conundrum had received this offer, and had a few minutes to wonder why I wasn't at the office, the guards showed up to inform him that his young assistant had been arrested, and that he needed to come along to answer some questions. I had an awful feeling that he was still half-expecting to announce me as the murderer, but that was a problem I could address later. Lullaby and Fantasia left several hours earlier - Fantasia was eager to leave (as well as it being several hours after Lulu's bedtime). So I was free to go home and sleep. Conundrum had decided that now we had a case, we ought to be operating during the day at more sociable hours - so I would be meeting him at the office at nine. Somewhere along the way I had lost my sunglasses; knowing I didn't have any spare pairs, working so early in the morning was going to be ordeal - but orders were orders, and I refuse to be beaten by the Sun. Exhausted from doing nothing, stiff from the prison bed, and still aching from the evening before, I couldn't be bothered to fly up to my apartment. Grudgingly, I opened the door and hobbled up the stairs slowly. I could hear a party going on in a room on the third floor, sounding like all of the alcohol had by now been consumed - leaving anypony still conscious raucously drunk. Just as I turned to go up the next flight of stairs, a hoof rested threateningly on my shoulder. I was about to buck the owner of said hoof, until I heard the voice, "I haven't seen you for a while, Nocturne." "Oh, yeah... I've been busy..." I turned slowly to see my landlord and one of his burly thugs. They must have been checking up on the party to make sure it wasn't destroying too much of his apartment. It was the thug who had been resting his meaty white hoof on my shoulder, and now stood dutifully beside his master - only at a tipsy angle, either from the late hour, or any booze he might have snagged from the party. My landlord, on the other hoof, was entirely sober, and neither was he large and muscular. Nevertheless, he was the one I was afraid of. "Busy earning rent money, I hope?" he asked, in that voice that sounded as if it was leering at you constantly. I could feel my skin crawling every time he spoke. To be honest, even his appearance was a little creepy, not being helped by his oily slick-backed mane and smarmy purple eyes that squinted at anything gold and shiny. "Of course." "So - where is the money, Nocturne? You know it was due yesterday." He smiled in an attempt to look friendly, instead appearing ready to murder and skin several puppies. "What was due yesterday?" I rubbed the back of my head and laughed nervously. "You know - my rent... well - it might be a little, teeny bit late... I've got some work, and I know I'll have the money in about -" I mumbled weakly, pawing at the ground like a painfully uncomfortable puppy. "What was that, Nocturne? You don't have your rent?" He squinted at me, considering whether if he squeezed me hard enough the money might just come out. "I'm not surprised, in all honesty - I never wanted to rent to your type - you're too unreliable." "I am actually incredibly reliable!" I protested, "I am reliably late with my rent - I just don't pay it when you want it." I felt my knees buckle slightly as the hoof of the thug returned heavily to my shoulder. "Unfortunately for you, Nocturne, I am the one you are supposed to be pleasing." He took a step towards me, closing the gap between us. This close, I could smell the stench of hair grease and the broken dreams of thousands of puppies. Don't ask me what broken puppies' dreams smell like - all I could say is that it isn't pleasant. "I'm going to be generous, Nocturne," he hissed, "because my wife has insisted that I don't throw you onto the street." "Your wife must be the barer of the Element of Generosity if she willingly married you-" "You have three days to pay up in full, or you're out. After that, whatever my wife says, you will be thrown out of here by your wing tips!" He leaned back and smiled, satisfied after a hard day's work crushing innocent puppies. "I do hope you understand, Nocturne." I didn't reply. I was too busy praying to the Moon Goddess that I wouldn't be added to a puppy stew. He accepted my silence by way of agreement, and slithered back down the hall to where ever it was that he lived with his 'wife'. Now, you might be wondering why I don't refer to him by name; the truth is - it's because I never knew his name... Before you start calling me rude, allow me to explain. I organised living here while I was leaving the guard, and was quite busy at the time - so when his name was mentioned on the letters I received, I successfully ignored it. That's also the reason I thought I was getting a rather good deal for a large apartment in Canterlot. As it turned out, when not in a letter, houses become less appealing, landlords become less friendly, and rents suddenly seem a lot more expensive. So I ended up here, desperately trying to find another job to pay a rent that was strictly enforced, with absolutely no time, nor the inclination, to learn the name of my landlord. I also lived on the top floor and had little acquaintance with my neighbours, so had never been able to ask when I moved in, and knew it would be too awkward to ask now, especially after living here for several years. Leaving me with absolutely no idea who my landlord was. Not that knowing would help to pay the rent, so I continued trudging upstairs, hoping that the rich widow would pay some money upfront with the promise of more once we solved the case. As if that would happen - life has never been so kind to me.