Sherlock Hooves
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The Brightwater Murders
Prologue – A Corpse in the River
On the twelfth day after Summer Sun Celebration, in the year 890, a truly remarkable case had been carried to my dear friend Sherlock Hooves, a series of crimes peerless in Canterlot’s criminal history. And one of the rare occasions where… But let’s start one by one!
Sherlock Hooves had just returned to our apartment in Baker Street 221 B the other day, from what he called a research trip. Though I always suspected that to be an excuse to escape all the turmoil that always happens in Canterlot during the time we celebrate the beginning of summer and the longest day of the year. However, Sherlock was in a jovial mood that morning as he sat at the breakfast table, wrapped in his dark-green velvety banyan, smoking his favourite old pipe.
“Trotson, I must say” he greeted me as I sat down for breakfast as well. “For once I’m satisfied with my research. My trip to the north has brought some interesting new insights on a subject that use to haunt me for quite some time.”
“Something of interest?” I asked. He gave me a side eye over the lecture of the Canterlot Times.
“And with that I suppose you mean ‘something of interest for your faithful readers’, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged”, I had to admit laughingly. “So, are they?”
“Not yet, dear friend, not yet. Though I admit they might be handy some time.” And with that he dove back into his newspaper.
I still was puzzled by that –even by Sherlock’s standards- mysterious reply, when somepony rang the doorbell. “Now, who can that be?” I wondered.
“Your guess is as good as mine”, replied Sherlock. “But I dare claim this to be somepony from Palace Court wanting to consult me because the latest of the ‘Brightwater Murders’, as the press refers to them. A rather sensational titling, but… Oh well…” He sighed. “What else can we expect from the newspapers nowadays?”
“Sweet Celestia, Sherlock!” I exclaimed in astonishment. “You just arrived last evening, how can you already know about those unspeakably horrible crimes?”
To a better comprehension for my faithful readers: During the late seventies and early eighties, some quite elaborate abductions, burglaries, fraud cases and heists had occurred in Equestria, but almost no murders. This case however had –according to my knowledge- involved three killed ponies so far. One murder was uncommon enough, but three committed in a short period of time? The gallery had been shocked and yet curious about such a horrendous series of crimes.
“Quite simple, Trotson”, Hooves answered my former question, still not looking up from the paper. “It’s in the news. Listen:
Fourth Brightwater Murder in six days
Last night shortly after eleven another dead body has been found in the Brightwater River, near the waterfall. The stallion was later identified by reference to the ships papers found in a pocket of his jacket as the seapony Hightide, native to Canterlot and employed at a shipping company in Trottingham. He had been killed by a gunshot…
I must say, I’m not very impressed so far…” Sherlock commented and lowered the paper. “Let’s see what our visitor has to say, shall we?”
At this moment, Mrs. Herdson, our landlady and general kind soul entered and announced the arrival of Inspector Keen from Palace Court. Keen, a pegasus-stallion turned grey on duty, had always appreciated the expertise of Sherlock Hooves and also never overused it. In fact he was one of the few inspectors my friend acknowledged to be less sloppy and incompetent than most of his colleagues.
“Guid day, Mister Hooves, Doctor Trotson”, Keen greeted us with a little nod of his head. He was from somewhere north of Trottingham and even all the years in Canterlot hadn't been enough to fully grind of his northern accent.
“Good morning, Inspector, would you like a cup of tea?” I asked because I felt he was looking a little stressed and out of breath. I pointed towards the second, free armchair at the table. “Please, help yourself.”
There were three settles in our living room, including the old one Sherlock had brought from one of his earlier rooms and he was currently occupying. Inspector Keen thanked us and took a seat in the spare armchair. He poured himself a cup of steaming Earl Grey and gave in five cubes of sugar; he liked his tea especially sweet. While he used his hoof to stir the tea with a spoon, he turned to my friend: “I believe, since you’re Sherlock Hooves, you already know, what I am here for?”
“Because of the Brightwater Murders, of course. It’s common talk, isn’t it?”
Again, Keen nodded. “What did you hear so far?” he wanted to know. Sherlock Hooves put his left hoof to his chin, like always when he was thinking, as he answered.
“Well, I know nothing beside what’s in the newspaper: The last victim was identified as Hightide, a sailor appointed in Trottingham. According to the Times he is the fourth victim within a six-day range to be killed and thrown into the Brightwater; he was shot, apparently. Let’s see, the writer of this article states the other victims to be a lawyer, an executive employee and ‘a stallion of dubious character’. The main reason why these murders are called the Brightwater Murders is apparently the simple fact that all four corpses had been found in the river.”
“All five corpses, Mister Hooves”, Inspector Keen dryly replied, holding up his hoof. “There has been one more murder last night."
My friend strained his ears, but said nothing.
"Luckily the blasted newspapers had already deadline when the last victim was found. That’s be a feast for them! Five murders in six days – Mister Hooves I hope, nay pray to Celestia you can bring a little light into this darkness. Y’know I’m occupied with two other cases. And Lestride seems to be at his wit’s end.”
Sherlock leaned over and launched into a comment. In the end, however, he contented himself with an ironical and knowing smile.
“This morning”, Inspector Keen continued. “The dead body of Star Trail has been found beneath the pedestrian bridge near the Main Railway Station. He had been terribly battered and the heavy bruises at his throat lead to the conclusion that he was strangled to death. As I said, this is the fifth body to be found in or near the Brightwater during the last week. So far we couldn’t find any coherences between these murders – maybe there are none- but that’s exactly what I want to find out.”
“What can you tell us about Star Trail?” I wanted to know, whipping out my notebook. Sherlock had sunk back in his armchair, his eyes closed and his hooves put together. He was listening.
“He was the step-son of Lord Gemstone. His father, General Morning Trail, was killed during the war in Yakyakistan. His mother, Lady Summer Breeze married Gemstone ten years ago. She’s a member of Canterlot’s high society. Her son on the other hoof had the reputation of being a ne’er-do-well, some even say a scoundrel. His sole known source of income was his skilfulness at card games. He was one of the best whist players in Canterlot and to be found almost every day at the playing tables in Bagatelle Cardclub, Stalliongrad-Street. But he’s been a frequent guest in the salons of Canterlot’s finest families…" He heistated for a moment. "Sometimes also in the bedrooms…”
“Bedrooms?” I exclaimed. “You mean he was a ladykiller?”
Inspector Keen looked a little embarrassed. “That’s what gossip says, yes.”
Sherlock Hooves, who had been silent during Keen’s remarks, now addressed the Inspector: “And did you achieve any progress in the other cases?”
“Not as far as I know. As I said, Lestride has taken the case, but I don’t think he’s gotten any further till now. I could provide you with the names of the other victims though, if you want.”
“Now, that would be a start”, my friend commented. And while Keen skimmed through his notes, he turned to me: “This case could be refreshing, my friend. It could establish quite some interesting possibilities. We don’t know if there are any connections but I don’t believe in coincidence in such accumulation. Five murders in one week, and that during these frustrating peaceful and boring times, and each corpse has been found in or near the river! Mere coincidence? I think not! Don’t neglect that we have to search for the logical precept that underlies each crime. For no matter how fiendish the criminal mind may be, it’s always guided by logic. This logic we have to detect.
Did you find the names of the victims, Inspector?”
“Here you are, Mister Hooves. I’ve written together a list with the names and the days of death.” Inspector Keen hooved us over the following list:
Mr. Inchworm, executive at Argent Rapide & Co. 07.06.
Mr. Point Blank, day-worker 08.06.
Ms. Libra Balance, barrister and lawyer 09.06.
Mr. Hightide, sailor 11.06.
Mr. Star Trail, professional gambler 12.06.
“I really hope you can help us in this case, Mister Hooves.”
Sherlock grimaced a little. “Unfortunately, I fear I have a few minor duties to do before I am free to investigate in this case. But I’m sure, Doctor Trotson will worthily substitute me for the moment.”
“But Hooves, what could be more important than five murders?”
“Many things, Keen, very many things! But I assure you I’m not uninterested in your case and I shall pay my full attention as soon as possible.”
Inspector Keen gave him a very little convinced glance. “If you say so, Mister Hooves… Anyway, crime’s not sleeping and I’d better be going now. Guid day and so long, gentlecolts, I hope we’ll get some results soon, one way or another…”
And with another of his characteristic nods, Keen left us to the remains of our breakfast.
“I think he’s a little offended, Trotson. He hasn’t finished his tea…” Sherlock drawled, taking a nip of his own cup. The look I returned Sherlock was at least as sceptic as Inspector Keen’s. “A few minor duties, Sherlock?” I asked with a screwed up brow.
“A few minor duties, yes”, he confirmed with a half-smile.
“And I presume in this very case, that’s ‘not yet’ interesting for my readers and you don’t want to talk about?”
“Of course!”
I let out a meek sigh of resignation. Once again I seemingly was destined to be my friend’s errand colt.
“Alright, alright. So where do I start?”