//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 // Story: Taking Care of Animals // by Nicknack //------------------------------// The days after the end of the White Ribbon murders rushed me by in a blur. There were news reporters, EBI investigators, and even ponies out in the street who’d stop me and ask what happened. I did the best I could to keep everypony happy, even while tryin’ to keep it together on the inside. I’d grown up livin’ simple, and between the sudden popularity and all the death I’d seen, everythin’ started to get a bit much. As soon as I wrapped up my business with the EBI—Pony couldn’t interview me, for some red-tape nonsense reason or other—I booked it on out of town and laid low in my silo. Pony stayed with me for the first few evenings after I left Ponyville. No, ’tweren’t like that. She was cute and had a rear that wouldn’t quit, but after everything we’d been through, we both agreed it’d be a mistake to try ‘n take things further. The honest truth is, she’d never got around to gettin’ a hotel in Ponyville, and we did enjoy each other’s company. Platonic-like. Each mornin’, she made the trip back to Ponyville to continue the last bits of investigatin’. She hoofed it, since—in her words—her butterfly wings had died the exact moment the Ribbon Murderer did. I tried goin’ back to the rock farm. Once. ’Bout two hours into it, I marched into Boss Pony’s office and quit. He refused, laid me off, and gave me a severance package that was close to what I would’ve earned in the rest of the year. Boss Pony was a good stallion—I just hated the holy heck out of his quarry. Without work, I struggled to keep myself busy during the mornings. I tried readin’, but it was too stationary. I tried runnin’, but it was too mindless. ’Bout the only thing that worked out for me was, every day at three, I’d start cookin’ dinner for Pony and myself. She didn’t complain about havin’ a real, home-cooked meal waitin’ for her when she got back, and it made the first half of the evenings bearable for me. In the time we spent together, we talked a lot of fluff—music, childhood, sports teams. Pony was a true-and-blue fan of the Wonderbolts, it seemed. After seein’ her stunt where she’d sprouted wings and flown near the speed of sound, I had to wonder if she ever could’ve made it to the team. No matter if the wings were temporary, whatever she’d done had fixed her leg right up. She didn’t say anythin’ about it; I just noticed her walkin’ on it without much complaint. We didn’t talk much about the investigation, either. The only time I asked how things were goin’, Pony told me, “I’ll tell you when I know what the buck’s going on.” I didn’t press. I understood somethin’ of where she was at, mentally. The week ended on a Sunday, so they say. After breakfast, Pony invited me to tag along with her to one of the crime scenes. I told her no, flat-out. However, sayin’ no to Pony wasn’t somethin’ you just did. She swore there weren’t any corpses or killers waitin’ for us that time, but the thing that convinced me was when she said she was headin’ out either way. By then, I was too lonely to spend another mornin’ alone, so for the second time that week, I found myself walkin’ with Pony up towards Ponyville. Like most of the town, Sweet Apple Acres had seen better days. In foggy memories, I saw, far as the eye could see, rows and rows of pristine trees bearin’ their crisp, ripe fruit. That image troubled me at first, since I couldn’t seem to remember when I’d ever been to the orchard. I grew up on an orchard—in Appleoosa. I knew those trees. The memory of Sweet Apple Acres featured completely different trees, and I couldn’t figure out why. No matter how or why I remembered its glory days, present-day Sweet Apple Acres was gnarled, twisted, and dead. Trees that hadn’t been groomed in years looked ugly and vile. Shadows loomed, and I got a creepin’ sense of familiarity as Pony led me down what’d used to be a dirt path. Now, it was mostly covered in grass. We walked in silence, deeper into the orchard, until the path opened up to the yard of a run-down home. Paint was peelin’, shutters had all but fallen off, and the whole thing looked like it was rottin’ from the inside out. Seein’ the house like that woke up somethin’ like indignation inside me. I stopped and took a deep breath, glarin’. Pony turned me. “What’s up, Applejack?” “I ain’t rightly sure…” I shook my head and started walkin’ again. “But it don’t seem right, seein’ the place like this.” That earned me a cocked head and raised eyebrow, but Pony didn’t say anythin’ other than, “Let’s… go downstairs. Into the cellar.” I looked at Pony, then pointed at the rickety house, whose windows were more hole than glass by that point. “Are you sure that’s wise, sugarcube?” She nodded and zipped on up ahead. “Yeah, yeah. Busted house, creepy cellar. It’s safe, Applejack; trust me.” Maybe not surprisingly, that part came pretty easy. I don’t know how to describe the smell of that dark, tomblike cellar. ’Tweren’t rotten, but stale sweetness hung in the thick air and mixed with the musty, earthy scent that usually came in underground places. Then again, it was an orchard’s cellar. And the smell was the only normal thing about the place, believe you me. The “decorations”, if I felt generous with the term, consisted of cracked tables pushed up against walls. Four walls and three tables were plastered with tons of papers—pictures, folders, notebooks, and the like. “This is where she lived.” Earth Pony gestured around the room. Despite everythin’, I took a small bit of solace knowin’ that some mares who did their basements up like that actually were killers. But unlike Rarity’s lair, which had a high degree of order, this nest of information was strewn random and chaotic. The only exception was the table-less wall, which held five neat rows of photographs. Each row held fifteen photographs of different ponies; my breath caught in my chest when I realized they were almost in the same order that they’d all been murdered in. I saw the sixty-third victim—even now, I don’t remember her name—and right next to her was Rarity. My picture was seventy-third, right after the yellow pegasus from the picture in Twilight’s library, and right before a rainbow-maned Pony, still equipped with her wings. Twilight’s picture was dead last, and it was the only one that had any sort of modification on it—a gold foil crown that had been taped on her head. Pony walked over to one of the tables and flipped open a folder. “Her cutie mark was three apples, so I came out here on a hunch. No idea what this junk is; all it does is confirm she was a psycho.” I walked over to the table next to Pony. The folder she’d opened was filled with clippin’s from a home decoration magazine, except they were just bits of furniture and ponies cut out. In a weird way, it reminded me of paper dolls I’d used to play with when I was a filly; that creepy déjà vu sent more’n a couple shivers down my spine. After I shook the heebies off, I asked, “So… you got a workin’ theory on all this?” Earth Pony nodded. “There’s some stuff about her family here, so someone’s gonna interview them. But I think this is the solvey-part of this puzzle.” She picked up a yellowed slip of paper. When I got a closer look, I felt my stomach drop—it was a receipt, for party supplies bought in bulk. Fifth from the bottom were the words “White Ribbon – 275 yd”. “I did a quick checkup on this store, AJ. It… it’s impossible. This receipt is dated for five years ago, but ‘Bloons and Streamers’ went out of business six years ago. And it’s not like they were a franchise or something…” “So, it’s like the picture then?” I blinked. “No one seems to remember this place bein’ open?” Realization dawned on Pony’s face, and she dashed over to the wall with the victims’ photos. Her eyes locked on her picture, and she turned back to me with a victorious grin. “Yeah! Exactly! I…” She’d barely said those three words before the wind dropped out of her sails. Her forehead scrunched as she started puzzlin’ over… somethin’. After givin’ her some time to think it through, I piped up, “What’ve you got, sugarcube?” Pony turned from the wall and walked over to me. “I… I’m not sure. But something’s going on with memories and stuff. Like… she remembered my name, and yours. And she’s got all these pictures…” She shook her head. “I dunno what it means, AJ. But give me a few days, and I’ll have this figured out.” *        *        * A few days later, the two of us entered Princess Celestia’s study. The summons—she’d called it an invitation, and we were stayin’ as her guests in the castle, but ’twerent like we had a choice to say “No”—had come on Monday mornin’. Pony and me made our way to Canterlot by train, but the three-hour trip seemed like the blink of an eye in hindsight. Princess Celestia’s study was less grandiose than her throne room. Course, that’s like sayin’ a swimmin’ pool is less wet than the ocean. Everything was done up in finely polished wood, gold trim, and glass. She kept the place dim enough to be cozy, yet bright enough to remind everyone just which part of the sky she commanded. Three bright yellow cushions sat on the floor, waitin’ for guests. I headed to the one on the far right, Pony went for the middle one, but before we sat, both of us leaned forward in a bow. Celestia chuckled as she greeted us from behind her desk. “Applejack, Detective Rainbow Dash. Please, rise; you are my guests. Sit and make yourselves comfortable.” I looked to my left, and the blue mare standin’ there met my gaze. I tried shootin’ her a look that asked, That’s your name? She shrugged, quick-like, like she were sayin’, Yeah. So? Regardless of if I had to hear her actual name from the regent ruler of all of Equestria, Rainbow Dash and I took our seats in front of Princess Celestia’s desk. It reminded me a lot of elementary school. I felt myself sink a good foot into the cushion. It was comfortable enough to make me feel lazy. Once we got situated, the Princess didn’t waste no time in startin’ things. “I’ve read reports that you are the two mares who recently stopped Equestria’s most prolific killer in decades.” She bowed her head—actually bowed her head to me—and Dash. “For that, you have my gratitude.” “Well shucks…” I skritched the back of my neck. “Beggin’ your pardon, your Highness, but I ain’t sure how much I had to do with all of it. Rarity’s the one who did her house up like a film studio…” Dash turned and glared at me. “If I’d been alone in that booth, neither of us would be here right now.” She had a brash way of shuttin’ me up that I didn’t entirely dislike. Plus, I reckoned I was sittin’ in front of a princess. Really, it was a better time to listen than to talk. Princess Celestia smiled at me. “Please, ‘Celestia’ will do. And do not sell yourself short of your merits, Applejack.” Her eyes darted to Dash, then back to me. “Your friend speaks the truth.” I nodded, but kept my resolve to stay quiet. “But, if you’ll excuse my impatience, this case has personal meaning to me.” Celestia took a deep breath. “Even though Equestria is my personal charge to protect, that does not exclude me from forming closer bonds with some of its citizens.” “Like Twilight?” Dash blurted out. Celestia nodded silently. I suddenly realized I didn’t want to be in that room, sittin’ idly by while Rainbow Dash explained to Celestia that her personal student, Twilight Sparkle, had probably killed herself. That would’ve been awkward on a royal level. Luckily, Celestia already knew. “I read your report, Detective, and while disturbing, it fits in with our correspondence.” She levitated a scroll off her desk, and her voice started crackin’. “She sent me a farewell letter, before she did it.” Seein’ the Princess tear up like that grew a lump in my throat. I looked away and swallowed. After what felt like a long while, Dash piped up. “I… I’m glad she got to say goodbye to somepony who cared about her first, at least.” Once again, Celestia nodded. Only this time she were cryin’, silently and regally. Dash went on. “And…” Her ears flipped back. “I don’t wanna be rude, but… I thought this was going to be about the Ribbon Murderer. Pinkie Pie.” Silence hung in the room, and I suppressed a nervous chuckle. Dash was a one-track mind, all right. Since she was too deep to pull out, she kept ramblin’. “And, I mean, Twilight’s… passing… was tragic. And it even got me to solve the case, indirectly. But the only connection was that Pinkie knew her…” Finally, she shut up. I looked over at her, expectin’ to see her wearin’ a look of shame. Instead, she was just deep in thought, oblivious to the Princess and me. “But… Twilight knew Pinkie, too. So they were probably the two of us who actually remembered knowing each other…” She clapped a hoof against her foreleg. “So that’s why they both went… antisocial. Them, Rarity…” She motioned at me. “You, me, and Fluttershy, used to know each other. Then something happened, and four of us forgot. Or maybe even five…” She trailed off, then her eyes sharpened back on point. “Yeah! Definitely five. And then Pinkie found her receipt, and all her other party supplies, and…” “Beggin’ your pardon,” I cut in, “but I found out about all this, and I ain’t plannin’ on murderin’ nopony.” Dash turned to me. “But you’re sane, Applejack. I read the interviews. All of Pinkie’s relatives and stuff, they all mentioned something being off about her. Like, cracked on the edges. So when something like this came in her mind, it probably shattered it…” Her head drooped a little. “And she didn’t have any friends who could help her through that.” “She always loved throwing parties,” Celestia commented. Dash and I shot our attention to her, and even she seemed surprised at what she’d just said. Quickly, calmly, she regained her composure and muttered, “But that must mean powerful magic is in play here...” I didn’t know what she was talkin’ about, exactly, and Celestia didn’t seem too keen on lettin’ Dash and me in on it, either. All she did was stand up and bow. “If you’ll pardon my abruptness, I have matters I must investigate.” Not wantin’ to be rude, Dash and I rose, too. “Until we reconvene, please make yourself at home here. The whole hospitality of Equestria will be offered to you.” She walked out from behind her desk, quickly, and the two of us followed Celestia to the door. Outside, she parted ways with us, leavin’ me standin’ dazed and confused. I turned to Dash and asked, “You got any idea what’s goin’ on with the Princess?” Dash nodded and cracked a sly grin. “Yeah, AJ. I think, for the first time in this whole thing, I actually do.”