//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: We Rent the Night // by totallynotabrony //------------------------------// Sundown was coming, and that meant it was time for Trixie to go back to work. Maybe someday she would gain enough seniority to get off this shift. After eating what amounted to breakfast, she picked up her armor. A spider the size of her hoof tumbled out. It was plastic. Dusty had probably put it there. Trixie rolled her eyes. It might have scared her if this was the first time. Once dressed, she stepped out of the barracks. Remembering what day it was, she sighed and walked towards the lighthouse. It was her turn to light it. At the top of the spiral staircase and through the hatch into the glass cupola was the giant lens and the oil lamp behind it. Trixie checked the fuel and lit the lamp with a spark from her horn, careful not to blind herself with the light. She set the clockwork in motion and the lens obediently began to rotate in its mercury bath. She paused for a moment to look out the window. All of the small island was spread out in front of her in the fading sunlight. She could see the kelp boats in the distance and the skeleton of a wrecked one on the shore right outside the guard compound. Wrecking a boat within yards of a lighthouse perhaps answered once and for all what one should do with a drunken sailor: point and laugh. The hatch to the stairway opened and Lieutenant Mirror poked her head out, her slit pupils visibly contracting as the light hit her in the face. “How’s it going?” said Mirror, climbing through the hatch. She took out a small roll of string, biting a piece off and offering the rest to Trixie, who declined. “Well ma’am, first on the agenda tonight is talking with Strawberry Rhyme again,” said Trixie. “She was the one who initially clued us in on the tree carving but was so drunk last night that it didn’t seem any use to interrogate her.” “Question her,” Mirror corrected. “There’s a fine line between interrogation and questioning, just like there’s quite a broad line between morning coffee and liquid mercury.” She patted the light pivot. “Never forget public image. A lot of cults do, though, and leave calling cards too close to home.” “Yes ma’am,” Trixie acknowledged. She decided that maybe it was time to go and find Melon. He was waiting for her at the foot of the lighthouse and the two of them set off. Trixie hurried. “It would be nice if we could catch Strawberry at home, or at least before she gets smashed.” Strawberry did happen to be home when they arrived but she wasn’t exactly sober. It may have been the residual alcohol still in her system from the previous night. She answered the door, but seemed to be having trouble standing up without swaying. “We came to ask you a few questions about the message carved in the tree,” said Trixie. “Oh yeah. Weird,” replied Strawberry. “When did you first see it?” Trixie asked. “Uh...yesterday? Yeah.” “What time?” “About noon.” That was earlier than Trixie would have guessed Strawberry was capable of waking up. “Did you see anypony around? Do you know who could have carved that?” Strawberry shrugged. “What do you do for a living?” Melon broke in. “I make the fruit juice for cocktail mixers,” said Strawberry. “I do a nice trade with the bars.” “There’s enough need for that in a town this small?” said Melon. “You might be surprised,” Strawberry replied. “What do you use to juice the fruit?” Melon asked. Trixie glanced at him. Strawberry frowned. “A juicer?” “Do you have knives or anything in your kitchen?” Melon went on. “Um, my kitchen is the only place I have knives. Why?” “Did you carve that tree yourself?” Melon asked. “What are you talking about? It’s not my tree.” “But it’s closest to your house.” “Well yeah, but it doesn’t have fruit or anything on it. Why would I care?” “We have to question everypony,” Trixie interrupted. “Have a nice evening.” As she and Melon walked away, Trixie said, “You could have asked me what she did for a living. You also could have asked me about the contents of her kitchen, considering I’ve had to bring her home so often.” “I just thought that she’s a unicorn and she lives close. It couldn’t hurt to ask,” Melon grumped. “Well, you’re named after a fruit. How do you make fruit juice?” Trixie asked. “Well...with a juicer, I guess.” It was dusk, but the houses around still had a few lights on. Trixie walked across the alley to the house opposite the tree and knocked. A mare answered. “Yes?” “Good evening, Sea Salts. We came by to ask a few questions about that tree over there.” Trixie gestured. “Do you know who carved that message?” Sea Salts shook her head. “No, but it’s an ugly thing.” She turned her head. “Kingfisher? Rough Tide? The Guard is here and they want to ask a few questions.” Her husband and their son joined her at the door. Trixie repeated her question. Kingfisher shook his head. “Don’t know anything about it. I saw it yesterday morning and wondered who did it.” “And what about you?” Trixie asked the colt. “Do you know if anypony might have done that for fun? I know it can be boring around here.” Rough Tide eagerly said, “No, I was in school when it happened. I have witnesses!” “First time he’s been happy about being in school,” Kingfisher chuckled. “If you think of anything else, let us know,” said Trixie. “You seem to know them well,” Melon commented as they turned to resume their patrol. “Kingfisher works for the local wildlife department. Sea Salts stays home. She does bath salts, smelling salts, seasoned salts, et cetera.” “Too bad they didn’t know much about the case,” Melon lamented. Trixie grumbled. “All we know for certain is that the tree was carved no later than yesterday morning. It’s a threatening message, but the only real crime is vandalism and it might not even be that because nopony claims ownership of the tree.” “But the message is pretty threatening,” Melon said. Trixie sighed. “But words don’t do anything. At least when it was time to make Twilight Sparkle pay for the humiliation she caused, the Great and Powerful Trixie actually went out and took a few hundred hostages.” Melon paused and then asked, “So what if whoever carved the tree turns out to have that much motivation?” “That’s the only reason we’re still investigating this.” Although, as they continued walking, Trixie quickly found a new reason. As the two of them turned the corner onto the next block, an unattended kelp wagon came barreling their way. Trixie and Melon leaped to the side. The wagon crashed into a row of newspaper boxes and spewed paper all over the street. “Wow, where did that come from?” Melon said, as the two of them looked at the mess. “Did somepony forget to block the wheels?” “Wheels,” Trixie grumbled. “No, that had to be intentional. Do you see any hill it could have rolled down? Somepony was trying to flatten us.” She pointed her horn up and launched a bright white illumination flare. It lit up most of the street, including a flash of yellow and orange as somepony ducked into a gap between buildings. “After them!” She and Melon dashed forward in pursuit. He made it to the gap first, finding room to only fit through in single file. Behind him, Trixie could only see his hindquarters as they ran. Melon pulled up short as they came to a disjointed jumble of backyards. Trixie lit her horn and glanced at the ground, finding only a mishmash of tracks. They emerged onto a street near the waterfront. The crowds weren’t heavy, but enough bar-crawling ponies were still within sight to easily conceal any suspicious miscreant. Trixie stomped a hoof. “Gone.” She shook her head. “We should report this.” Back at the compound, they found the Sergeant and both Corporals out front of the headquarters building. Hasta seemed to be in the middle of chewing out Meteor and Dusty for something. While Trixie certainly didn’t relish interrupting him, she felt that “Somepony just tried to kill us, Sergeant,” got his attention. “What did you do?” he demanded. “We had just left the scene of the investigation when-” “What investigation?” “LT told us to find whoever carved a weird message on a tree, Sergeant.” “She didn’t tell me about this,” Hasta growled. “Well, we were doing what she told us and then somepony nearly flattened us with a wagon,” Trixie explained. “There might be more than just vandalism to this case, Sergeant.” “What’s this about a carved tree?” Hasta asked. Trixie told him the story. Hasta shook his head. “A threatening message on a tree doesn’t sound important.” “Well, Lieutenant Mirror thought it was the work of a cult,” Trixie explained. “Yeah, but you have to remember, the Lieutenant’s crazy,” said Dusty. “Sometimes I wonder if we replaced her string with hemp rope if that would actually make her act normal,” added Meteor. “You’re both insubordinate for talking about your superior officer like that,” said Hasta. “Though I think we can all agree that she produces Good Idea Fairies like it’s a profitable business.” “Oh, but I am the Good Idea Fairy,” said Lieutenant Mirror, coming out of the building. There was an awkward silence. Trixie piped up. “Ma’am, somepony just attacked us. We didn’t catch them, but-” Trixie paused, remembering what she had seen. “We do have a partial description.” Mirror grinned and rubbed her hooves together. “Have I got just the plan for you.” “Ma’am, what’s this about an investigation?” Hasta asked. “Come with me to my office,” said Mirror. “Private Trixie, go find a way to make yourself not look like a Guard. This is going to be awesome.”