The Private Scrapbook

by Cadabra

Chapter 55: Good Evening, Officer

Chapter 55: Good Evening, Officer

Fairly Rich spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find Filthy Rich, having no luck in his efforts. He left Smithy where she fainted, expecting to see her later when she came around. After a long, exhaustive search, Fairly Rich could smell supper cooking from the house and decided to take a break from looking for his nephew.

Supper was spent in a worried silence as everypony picked at their carrot stew. Smithy and Fairly Rich kept giving each other harsh looks across the table, wordlessly blaming each other for Filthy Rich’s disappearance as their supper grew cold.

Crab Apple cleared his throat uncomfortably as he chewed his food. "Say, dis sure is good, ain’t it?" he said with an awkward smile.

Smithy nodded her acknowledgement to her husband, but wouldn't take her gaze off of Fairly Rich. “Thank ya, dear," she said halfhearted, taking a bite of it herself. “T'ain't nothin' special. I whipped it up last minute. It's all 'bout gettin' it to do what ya want and not lettin' it go, ain’t it?"

Fairly Rich scoffed at how the recipe description was associated with slave treatment. “Don't surprise me," he commented, taking a big, manly bite of his meal. “Last minute presentation seems yer kinda style."

Smithy tossed down her fork in annoyance, letting it clatter towards her guest. “And just what in tarnation is that supposed to mean!" she hollered her offense.

Fairly Rich watched his host's outburst with an unphased expression as he wiped his mouth off with a napkin. “Oh, don't go worryin' yer purdy lil' head 'bout it," he said in a condescending tone. “I’m sure there's a method to yer madness. Ya seem like a real resourceful type. They teach that sorta thing in Foalsom, don't they?"

Smithy's cheeks reddened with pent up anger. “I learned it doin' hard work here on the farm!" she burst out. "I earn what I got, so iffn ya wanna stay in this house, ya better treat us with the respect we've earned!"

Fairly Rich set his napkin down beside his plate, smiling proudly as he rested his hoof on top of his peg leg. "Well, bless yer heart," he said in a mocking sweetness only a wounded soldier could pull off, glad to know how that his time on the front lines could aid him in swaying the conversation to his favor. "Here I thought I was treatin' y'all how ya deserved, given we're in this here mess 'cause of y’all. Boy howdy, do I ever have egg on mah face."

Both ponies jumped up as soon as they heard a knock at the door, stopping the argument from escalating any further. They ran to answer it, tripping over each other in an effort to be first.

Standing on the front porch was an overweight, grey police stallion dressed in blue from his head to his donut cutie mark. “This yer boy?" he asked, pointing to a disgruntled Filthy Rich.

"Yes!" both ponies declared, each wrapping their arms around the runway.

The police officer eyed the loving display between the two ponies. “Boy, ain’t that a purdy sight," he said, watching the two ponies separate quickly and look at each other uncomfortably. “Don't matter none to me. I'm just here to do mah job. I caught this here run away trespassin' on Old Man Sedgewick's property and brought him back, and while I was interrogatin' him he said he ran off 'cause there's been a murder here."

Smithy gulped back her anxieties as soon as she saw a cruel look on her son’s face. “Now what could've made ya think a thing like that?" she asked, doing her best to keep a neighborly tone in her voice.

Filthy Rich pushed passed his mother and uncle, leading the police officer up to the kitchen table. "It's him, officer," speaking in the most polite voice he had all day while pointing an accusing hoof at Crab Apple. "This here’s the pony who killed mah daddy."

Crab Apple choked on his bite of supper as the police officer watched him. “Hey, kid, don't surprise me like dat," he coughed, drinking some water to clear his throat.

Fairly Rich rushed to Crab Apple's side to pat him on the back and refill his glass. “Filthy Rich!" he scolded. “Ya better apologize to yer step-daddy this instant!"

Filthy Rich gasped at his uncle's betrayal. “He killed mah daddy!" he shouted in a crackling, prepubescent voice as he stomped his hooves so hard on the floor that the table shook.

Fairly Rich swatted his nephew upside the head to get him to be quite. "Officer, ya gotta fergive him," he explained with the same sweet smile he had at supper. “His mama got remarried and he’s all upset. Ya know how kids can get when somethin' like that happens."

The police officer scrunched up his eyes in confusion. “Wait, I thought ya were his daddy," he said to Fairly Rich, scratching his head as he tried to figure out who was who. “Look, I ain't here to judge y'all on yer lifestyle choices, but this here’s feelin' like one of them cheap paperbacks mah wife reads. Just tell me straight who I'm talkin' to."

Fairly Rich puffed up his chest proudly at the officer as though he had just been complimented. “That’s awful kind of ya to think I'm his daddy," he said with a big smile on his face. “Filthy Rich is just mah nephew, but we've always been real close. Mah wife and I couldn’t have one of our own, so he’s just like what I’d hope fer in a son, iffn I was blessed with one mind ya. So I'm here to help him with the new family transition is all. Any good brother'd do the same thing, right Smithy?"

Why Fairly Rich was defending Smithy was a mystery to her, but she couldn't believe her ears at what she was hearing after such a rude supper. Smithy was so dumbfounded by the lies Fairly Rich was willing to tell in her defense that she had to pause to find the right words to say to the police pony. “Oh, right," she said, having to tell herself to exchange a smile with the stallion who was lying to protect her. “Mah brother here’s a real... peach."

Filthy Rich grabbed the police pony by the hoof and dragged him away from his uncle and mother. “Don't listen to them lyin' vipers!" he hollered, desperate tears rolling out of his eyes. "This man killed mah daddy, right in front of me! I saw it with mah own eyes! Don't ya believe me?"

The police pony smiled down at Filthy Rich and tousled his hair, but ultimately did not believe him. "Sounds more like ya got some trouble at home," he said with a concerned smile. “Listen kiddo, runnin' 'round accusin' folks ya don't like of murder ain’t gonna open doors fer ya, or make stuff go how ya want it to go. I know it's hard gettin' used to a new family, but these things take time. If ya give it a chance, ya might just discover ya like it more than ya thought."

Filthy Rich shook his head violently, fresh tears spilling out. "No!" he screamed. “T'ain't right, ya hear! Lyin' ain’t right!"

Filthy Rich’s temper tantrum was out of control, and the police officer backed away for fear of being hurt. “Y'all want I should call fer backup?" he asked as he watched the angry teen throw the pot of lukewarm carrot stew across the dining room.

Fairly Rich rested a reassuring hoof on the police officer's shoulder. “He'll tire himself out soon enough," he replied calmly. “Before ya know it, it'll be nothin' but 'I'm sorry' and 'I didn't mean it' and such. Ya know how kids this age are."

The police officer looked at each of the adults in the room, not sure how to read their expressions. “Okay then," he said, tipping his hat. “I'll be patrollin' the area tonight iffn ya need me."

Fairlhy Rich walked the police officer out to the porch and sent him on his way, making sure to thank him profusely for returning his nephew safe and sound. As soon as he was far enough away from the house, he turned on his peg leg and walked back in with a look that could kill. “Boy!" he shouted at Filthy Rich, grabbing him square by the shoulders. “What got into yer head goin' to the police like that? Ya know just as well as I do that we're in enough hot water with the bank examiner fer fleein' Dodge City after yer Auntie Velvet stole the last of the money. Ya want me to get arrested on top of everythin’ else?"

Filthy Rich was crying so hard that he could barely breath. “I’m sorry, Uncle Fairly Rich!" he sobbed. “I just don't wanna be here with that murderer. He killed mah daddy!"

Fairly Rich hated to watch his nephew have to suffer more than he already had. While knowing it wasn’t manly do cry, he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around the emotionally scarred teen and shedding a few frustrated tears of his own. "Now I don't wanna be here anymore than y'all do," he said, shooting his hosts a distasteful look, "but ya know that layin' low to avoid the bank examiner's warrant is all I got left to keep us safe from fallin' apart again. I don't want nopony callin' ya a bad pony ever again. I don't wanna ruin yer life!"

Filthy Rich wiped his nose with the back of his hoof. "But we ain’t bad ponies, Uncle Fairly Rich," he said in his defense. “Ain’t our fault the market crashed. And we didn't kill nopony like he did."

Fairly Rich lowered his nephew's accusing point at Crab Apple. "Them boys in blue ain’t gonna look at it like that,” he explained as he brushed away tears from Filthy Rich’s cheeks. “We're talkin' 'bout money, and money's just as bad sometimes. I know ya've been mighty wronged by these folks and ya wanna bring 'em to justice, but right now ya gotta think 'bout yerself or y'll never start fresh."

Filthy Rich rested his head against his uncle's shoulder, letting his tears soak into his coat. “I hate 'em," he said in a breathy sob.

Fairly Rich rested his cheek against his nephew’s forehead. “I ain't askin' ya to love 'em none," he replied matter of factually. “Ya just gotta tolerate 'em is all."

Smithy felt awful as she watched Fairly Rich walk her son upstairs to find him a place to sleep for the night, remembering when old Tess did the same thing the night she found out that Stinking Rich had killed Bladire. She remembered how emotionally broken she'd felt to have to accept her marital fate, even though she hated the man who had conceived her son that night.

She wanted to reach out to her son, to tell him that she understood the pains he felt. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that everything would be alright. She felt like she could spend a million years in Foalsom Prison if it meant he could find peace, but she knew it wouldn't solve anything. Just like the night she and Bladire tried to run away, she was accountable for this. And just like the murders his father had committed before him, she knew that she was to blame.