//------------------------------// // 3. Investigation Begins // Story: Case 109 // by Platinum Noir //------------------------------// I heard muffled and faint noises as the light of day pierced through my eyelids. The noises sounded strange and peculiar, like somepony had made a remix of someone's voice. There was no hiding it, I was officially hungover. Even worse, my legs felt like jelly and my head felt like it was splitting. I heard a thump as somepony's hoof gabbed my arm; but it turned out not to be a hoof, but a claw. "Twilight! Can you hear me!?" Spike's frantic and vibrant voice rang in my head. His voice penetrated my head and bounced around painfully like a bouncy ball. I finally managed to open my eyes to reveal the results of recent events. Bottles both shattered and in one piece lined the floor. "Twilight! What happened? Are you okay?" He asked loudly and directly in front of my-face. "Spike, I'm fine, just please. Go away for a minute." I asked faintly. Spike slowly backed up to the counter, as he fiddled with his claws nervously. I crawled to the chair and put my weight on it as I attempted to hoist myself up. It didn't quite work as I slipped and slumped back onto the floor. I tried twice more until the third try resulted in the chair being knocked down on top of me. "Help me up Spike! Don't just sit there!" I yelled in aggravation. Spike grabbed my hoof and pulled. I felt my body heave up as I planted my hooves onto the ground. This hangover felt awful; it had all the trademarks of a serious one too. Aching joints, splitting headache, blurry vision, dry mouth, and sensitivity to light and noise. And now Spike was a witness to the awful events preceding the present situation. "Twilight, the bottles…" He said as his voice trailed off. "Why did you-how did you drink this much!?" He demanded. I rubbed my neck; "Well Spike, I uh-" "Twilight! You can't drink like that! That's five bottles of hard liquor, don't you know that could kill you!?" He screamed as his face turned red as a tomato. "Spike, I was troubled…" "No! No, no, no! That's no excuse. Can you even work today? You have to compile evidence and a meeting is scheduled with Chief Brasshoof at 4 and-" "Damn chief." I muttered. "Are you sure you can handle it? I mean isn't that a lot of alcohol!?" "Spike, stop. I think I got this." "You thought you could handle the murder suspects, but we had to faint, didn't we?" He said raising an eyebrow. "I didn't expect to see my fellow elements of harmony friends to be there!" I yelled back. “That’s a low blow!” I never heard such a downright dirty blow from Spike; at least directed at me. Spike got closer to my face. "Look, the combination of hatred for your chief, recovering from a Vasovagal response, and a hangover could make for a rough day, okay?" He said calmly and quietly for once. My teeth grinding stopped and my hooves stopped shaking, Spike was magical this way. He always found a way to go all ‘podium style’ and preach to me in a way that made me feel awful for saying or doing ‘insert bad thing’. I suppose I let him do it out of pure necessary evil; because that’s all it was, a ‘necessary evil.’ "I was just thinking for your safety, that's all. Okay?" I nodded, slightly embarrassed. He watched as I grabbed my saddlebags, badge, and case file notes. It wasn’t too uncommon for ERPD agents to not wear anything while investigating or otherwise working; especially mares. I had always tried to look my best to attempt to live up to the precedent of special agents, but that thought had somehow eluded me recently. Along with many details that had been lost throughout the last 48 hours. But, usually I'd wear a vest at the very least, but it really wasn't quite worth it. The effort was simply too much. The mahogany desk in front of me was neat and kempt; two drawers on each side in-between the chair-hole. A lot of ink, parchment, and quills were in the first two. The other two contained a couple family pictures, a wine bottle opener, files from previous cases, and 5 bits. The top surface contained ink and quills along with a lamp, regular office supplies, a picture, and a clock. Since about four years ago I moved into this room because of my special agent promotion. A huge window was set right behind where I sat. It overlooked a huge part of the Canterlot skyline, but immediately in front of the window was the corner of Main Street and Melody Avenue; a slightly less busy corner of the capital's streets. I would sometimes watch the high class ponies walking around, buying things from other ponies and going about their business. I would then think 'Twilight your being creepy' and finally turn around. Ten minutes ago, Spike had slapped a leather folio containing evidence and witness reports. I started rummaging around for a moment; until a familiar churning feeling started in my stomach. Shortly thereafter I felt the also familiar feeling of stalling in my head. Who invented the clock? What’s the weather for today and the next for years? Who is the all-time goal scorer for the Horse Hockey National League? Unfortunately the stalling never actually worked; and additionally, I knew all three of those answers. It was a temporary fix to a permanent problem...I knew the stalling wouldn't last. Shaking, I pulled a page and found the doctors' medical reports. I quickly placed a hoof covering the ‘picture’ portion of the report, where a very cold, dead Pinkie Pie was sure to be lying. My eyes refused to break away from the text under the picture that read ‘Synopsis of Death.’ My teeth began to chatter slightly and the air suddenly seemed to become much more cold and stiff. What is the average length of an eyelash? I knew how it happened; I just needed to read it plainly. This was silly; having to convince myself to read something; to read. Eventually after a long, awkward blink, the words began to be read. 'Suffered a blow to the head, causing the victim to fall back and hit her head on a wall. Cause of death- Blunt trauma & eventual cardiac arrest due to blood loss.' 'Time of death-Sometime around 3 hours after dusk.’ ‘Further investigation on the body shows no other injuries towards the body other than the blow to head.’ ‘Hoofprint, chemical, DNA, and RNA tests are all negative.’ I flipped past a couple pages until an idea sparked. I went to the page marked 'Ballistics' and opened it. I was doing it, but my fears began to dwindle as I continued to read. Ballistics: (MIE) Mathematical Interface Estimates- The blow was made from level ground and the murderer was standing exactly 1 yard away from the victim. "Gah!" I yelled as I slapped the folio off my desk. I didn’t bother to read further. 'A blow from level ground!?' Anypony; pegasus, earth pony, or unicorn could've done that! And as if that wasn't enough, height is out of the question, because anypony could've kicked someone if you're standing one yard away. More thinking ensued. Clearly the kick must have been charged so much that the blow killed a pony and knocked her back into a wall. If I didn’t know the ‘suspects’ I would’ve deduced that ‘the victim’ must’ve trusted her killer. Obviously the victim had to have trusted the killer for ‘said’ killer to charge a kick of that might right in front of her face. This fact was already known though, as the only four suspects are her damn friends. I was about to get the folio and try again until Spike walked in, carrying a clipboard as he stared at the folio propped against the wall. “This is, not good.” I admitted. He thought for some time as a stiff; almost suffocating silence dawned on the room. “Look I really wanted to discuss this 'thing'…last night.” He said. I began to heave a sigh as another silence queued in the room. “We can’t get into it right now, but I think we just have to keep charging onward. We'll grieve in a couple days, right?” He said, refusing to look at me. I just slowly nodded as I felt a deep feeling of hurt enter my body. “You’re with me.” I slowly asked. He finally shifted his eyes to mine. “Right?” Despite only hearing four words, he seemed to know exactly what I meant. “Yes.” He affirmed. A slight silence once again invaded the room. “You have some ideas, right?” He asked, his face not changing emotion for a split second. “I do.” I simply stated, as I found my eyes finally move back to the folio. Spike paused once more, and cleared his throat. “Chief also wants a quick meeting with you later in the evening.” He announced. I winced, but nodded obediently as my eyes wandered once more. Spike eventually turned to the door and left silently. Leaving the folio exactly where he first noticed it. I had two ideas on narrowing things down a bit. The medical report said that no traces of chemicals were found on Pinkie's head. Certain chemicals that are usually tested are chemicals that are usually used in various polish products for hoof-a-cures. In which Rarity loved to get one weekly, so the plan was to simply ask the Ponyville spa if Rarity had visited recently; or anypony for that matter. It was a simple yet effective task. Ponyville hadn't had a murder in quite some time; in-fact Ponyville had, like most small towns, had some of the lowest crime rates in all of Equestria. I was certain I’d be headed to Canterlot, Manehatten, Baltimare, Detrot, or Seaddle; which were not so peaceful towns, and also required an actual address or landmark. I had heard from Spike that the mayor had a speech about the murder last night. It included safety pre-cautions, reassurance, and when her funeral was. Spike said it was in two days. He said he wanted to talk to the doctor right now; I did not. So we split up after a rather swift conversation. I circled near Sugarcube Corner to see that the usual team of ERPD ponies were busy gathering evidence and whatnot; a job that would usually last two days. The ‘usual team’ consisted of a half-dozen of mostly veteran investigators who were assigned to most of my cases. Chills began to shiver my spine as I saw the once extravagant and fun bakery being turned upside down by agents and officers. But that would be tomorrow’s challenge and not today’s problem. I was not here to see the bakery, but simply to retrieve something from Heat Lightning. I had found some shade under a rather large maple tree and waited for Heat to glance my way. Heat eventually noticed me and slowly wondered towards me, looking around carefully. I had motioned him towards a quieter, residential area of Ponyville behind Sugarcube Corner. The trees had almost concluded budding in the later spring warmth and were now a rich green hue. They lined the flat dirt path leading to a few rows of houses which contained little activity at this working hour. “You okay?” He huffed quietly, interrupting my thoughts. “I think those speed pills you gave me yesterday almost gave me a damn heart attack.” I bellowed. Heat was struck by this revelation rather quickly. “Look, Agent Twilight, please! I didn't think they'd do that to you! We’ve known each other a long time, I just wanted to help you-” He pleaded, dashing his head around looking to see if anypony was around, until I cut him off. “I need four more.” I said, calming his fears a bit. He snapped his head back to me, suddenly feeling relieved and as he stopped stroking his long mane in desperation. “Oh, yes, yes I can do that.” He stuttered as he jammed his hoof into his saddle bags and produced the bottle. “I think they can calm me, as long as I don’t overdo it and freak out again.” I inquired, to a clueless, but skilled Officer Heat Lightning. Heat had a long blue and gold striped mane with a large red colored pegasus body. He was a damn good officer, but that’s all he really knew how to do. There was no way he’d ever make an agent or beyond. I suppose that’s all he really wanted to know how to do at this point in his career and his life. He was just one of those jolly ponies who had learned to smile at life and accept what came his way. “That’s right, I guess.” He stammered quickly. His eyes finally settled onto me as he calmed down completely. “Any word from the team? Anything special or notable?” I asked Heat as I motioned to the bakery. Heat’s expression stiffened a bit. “They don’t tell me anything Twi, I’m just a tobacco chewin,’ apple bucking, clueless town cop.” He claimed, mimicking an Applelosan accent. I laughed with a stale tone, narrowing my eyes at his sarcastic statement. “Aren’t they your team? Can’t you ask them yourself?” Heat questioned. “Yes, but I was just wondering if there was anything ‘ground-breaking’ recently, or something.” I continued. “I guess not.” Heat concluded. A certain familiar silence hung over us as a sudden thought popped into my head, you’re stalling. “Where’s your partner Beat? Is he off shift already?” I inquired, desperately trying to keep the conversation alive. “Nah he's stationed out front with a couple other ponies, won’t be long until they takeover though.” He pondered. A slight breeze rustled the trees and their young leaves rattled slightly. “Well it’s around that time Twilight, I gotta get back to it.” He announced as he trotted back to his position giving me an awkward wave with his wing. I simply turned towards the direction of the spa and diligently trotted to it; shoving two of the pills down my throat. I thought about constantly repeating ‘I can do this, I can do this’ to myself and how it could help. Moments later I deemed it ‘not helpful’ as I continued to the spa; stomach beginning to churn. "Hello Ms. Sparkle" Aloe commented sweetly. "Hello, can I ask you something?" I replied. "Of course, you don't have to ask that you know." I thought about the mechanics of the sentence I just asked, and she was right. I almost stuttered as I began to start the question. "I'm with the ERPD and I need to know if Ms. Rarity was here recently?" I asked showing the young pony my badge. Aloe knew who I was; why did I just show her my badge like that? My thoughts continued to feud as Aloe’s eyes widened slightly as her actions became more jerky and peppy. "Oh, well let me check my records, officer." She stuttered, after a fight with the drawer she produced a large binder filed with papers. I nodded as I felt a slight choking feeling. "Last time she checked in waaaaaas…two weeks ago." She said and produced a hopeful smile. "Nothing earlier?" I pleaded. "Nope, she usually comes in every two weeks, fact we should be seeing her today." She said cheerfully. “Any of my other friends?” I asked hopefully. “Applejack, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and uh, um.” She began to stutter and blink rapidly. “Please it’s okay; don’t worry. Just those three.” I said, attempting to re-assure her. “Right.” Aloe commented, trying to rebound her stutter with a semi-confident, professional tone. She continued to expertly flip through each page by hoof, stopping on seemingly the right page each time. “No. Not recently.” She finally claimed, staring at the binder with a straight face. "Mmm, yes. Thank you." I said, agitated. I heard a faint offer of a spa treatment, but I was already gone and out the door. There was no more hope on the chemical front, the idea died as quickly as I came up with it. I could bother Tenderhoof to run a test on the exact polish they use to detect when the polish chemicals wear off completely, but I could assume it was much less than 13 days. There was no point though; but when a lead runs out, you make a new one. The commissioner’s secretary was now in its second shift of the day. Steel Force sat at the desk in front of his door, quietly scribbling something onto the parchment in front of him. Sometimes an agent would pass by going to their respective office on the third floor. I knew them all, and under normal circumstances would’ve chatted with them, or even acknowledge them in the first place. But I was to assume they didn't want to talk to me as much as I didn't want to talk to them. Not even the bulky dark grey unicorn who sat a few mere yards across from me would say anything; he instead continued to write diligently. Steel refused to make eye contact with me, or even Spike for that matter. We arrived about five minutes ago, and I was to assume Steel had let the commissioner know that we had arrived. But it was really an enigma with Steel Force, a rather quiet and mysterious officer who made is way up the peripheral public service ladder, 'with a good 'ole fashioned hard work ethic,' or so he was told. The silence made for a long, drawn out wait that mostly consisted of staring at the commissioner’s door and thinking. Whilst the silence on this posh, special agent office floor was merited, the two floors below were sure to be hustling and bustling with agents and other associated ERPD workers. Those floors were swiftly avoided on our walk in through the back staircase, which was mostly done on purpose to avoid the stares and murmurs of overly curious agents that knew about my case. A faint light that blinked on Steel’s office call box interrupted his writing rather quickly. He quickly shifted his cold blue eyes to mine and nodded slowly. I slowly got up and lumbered towards the door in slight agony. Spike glanced at me before he opened the door. He carried a brown leather folio under his arm as he gestured to let me go first after turning the knob. "Thanks." I murmured. "Ah, Ms. Sparkle, it’s so good to see you. How are you?" Brasshoof’s voice sounding cheerful and inviting. "Fine; you?" I commented plainly. "Oh lovely! Yesterday evening I went to the track and made a 500 bit bet on the underpony; odds were sixty-three to one. And guess what!?" He squealed, a toothy smile brewing on his face. I sighed deeply. "You won and got paid exactly thirty-one thousand, five hundred bits in winnings?" I offered, after a quick calculation. "No, he crashed on the third turn and stumbled to the finish-line and made history; slowest finish by a pony ever. Isn't that exciting?" He asked, smiling fading quickly. "Sounds like a blast." I replied in monotone. “It most certainly was.” He replied in complete disgust. "Look, are we here to chat or have a meeting? You’re the one who called me." I asked frustrated as I rubbed my face with my hoof. "Fine." He said stiffly. "Before I begin; a smoke Twilight?" He offered, waving a large dark brown cigar in my direction that picked up from his desk. "No thank you." "Spike?" "Not today." Spike replied gracefully. "Well okay." He said as he plucked the cigar into his mouth and moved it over to the candle flame and inhaled. Brasshoof was an evil, corrupt, sex addicted, and bipolar depressed police commissioner. The problem was that those adjectives used to describe him were formalities compared to what most other ponies thought of him. Really anyone involved in law enforcement, justice, and/or law hated the pony; even if they haven’t even met him yet. Federal agents, regional agents, county police, city police, lawyers, judges, prosecutors, his own secretaries, and probably even the newspaper pony on our corner had likely created their own word of combined insults and curses to describe him. My personal favorite was Agent Wavecrasher’s damn piece of ass-shittery. His mane was a shiny, gelled black product of seemingly hours of styling. The shiny mane only complemented his large matte ivory body to create one absolutely insane commissioner. And his wardrobe only completed the package; for example today was a pink tie with a burgundy suit vest all on top of a black collared shirt. It was all very neatly tailored and ironed on the taxpayer dollar of course, most likely last week. With simply looking at the stallion on the streets you could conclude that he was one of those stallions simply from how he acted, what he wore, and how he looked. The kind of stallion that could simply be called a ‘jackass’ just because he seemed to act and look like the stereotypical jackass. The kind of stallion that had that ‘I’m a jackass’ kind of smile as he strutted around town. “I just wanted a quick word with you about that DNA testing. You see, I had Tenderhoof put a ‘negative’ for DNA matches on purpose. Even though, technically, we had some sort of… match.” He explained. I stared at him, expecting more as my heart began to pick up pace slightly. Instead, Brasshoof took another puff from the cigar, eyes wandering. “What kind of match?” I eventually asked, almost growling. "Ah yes, well Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Fluttershy all bear an element of harmony, like you." He stated. “We gathered this information rather quickly with the help of Spike, here.” He said gesturing towards Spike. He paused again for a slight cough of smoke. “Please continue.” I bellowed, agitated. “Rude. And impatient.” He snapped back, finally meeting my eyes. "All six of you are magically connected through the elements." He continued. I shook my head as my eyes shifted to the floor. "You did that on purpose!" Spike accused. “Oh, my apologies.” He claimed in a semi-mocking sad voice. “The rest of you five are magically connected through the elements of harmony, and thus, your DNA strands almost act as one. It's really quite a scientific phenomenon.” He stated, moving his hooves together. "So-" I tried to say something but the chief cut me off. "Sooo-o, it renders your DNA strands. And we found this DNA on the victim’s head. Thus giving us our four suspects. Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash" He explained, reading off a paper on his desk. Silence hung over the room as Spike and I slowly put the pieces together. “That’s it; now go solve a case.” He finished, waving a hoof at us to leave. "Unless you have questions." I stared at him, both shocked and disgusted at his arrogance. “Twilight, let’s go.” Spike prodded. The chief seemed to silently beckon to me, wanting me to retaliate and go off on him. I wouldn’t oblige…this time. The Canterlot beauty never failed to please. Except for Spike, who after his first two days on the job years ago, started to hate the city's attempt to glorify polluted and vandalized areas. I didn't want to think of it that way, but in the long-run, it was very true. "Twilight, I'll make this brief because we're almost home." He stated. I looked his way to see a serious but tired face staring at the ground as he walked. "I know you have a dead friend, I know you have to commit a fellow element of harmony bearer to murder, and I know the case has nothing so far. But unless you want to end up like Pinkie, you can't keep drinking like that every night. And you know what I'm talking about." He huffed. "Spike! Don't bring Pinkie into this!" I claimed. How dare him! She didn’t drink herself to death! "I am not going to sugar-coat this. You need to see the reality of that alcohol. Somehow, your liver isn't gonna be able to keep going!" He bellowed. "It was one night. Sweet Celestia, I’m not some drunk guzzling in the tavern every night." I said with a loud, obnoxious sigh. “You sound like my grandmare. Don't be ridicules, do you even know me!?” I continued. "You sound very defensive right now..." He declared. "One. Damn. Night." I growled. "Please keep it that way. Do it for anyone you like, but just do it." He said desperately. I said nothing as I continued to walk to my own home, but I’m sure the silence spoke thousands of words to Spike; who turned towards his own home in silence.