Detective Hooves: Burning Apples and Avarice

by shooterboss

Chapter 1: Ribbons and Spreadsheets

Death. Some are frightened by it. Some are interested in it. Others, like Detective Walter Hooves, have never experienced a day without hearing of it. Detective Hooves's name was inscribed in a large brass plate outside his office. He looked down at the papers on his desk with dismay and decided to switch his gaze to the window, where he counted the raindrops falling on the glass. His pocket watch told him it was nine in the afternoon, while his schedule book told him to organize just one more cabinet before calling it a night.

The sky was in overcast, and just enough sun was still out to form a dark blue haze. The window offered a marvelous view of the city of Manehattan, as well as town square, which was bustling with streetlights and pharmacy advertisements. Walter counted the horse-drawn chariots carrying other horses as they passed by his office building. He had never noticed that many of them had been cracked several times in the wheels. Didn't anypony bother to fix them?

No, don't think about that, don't think about that. He thought to himself. Come on, detective. Focus. Just one more cabinet.

Just then, he heard hoof-steps in the hallway. That was the great thing about his office: it was on the top floor where the stairs, to say the least, croaked like an army of frogs every time somepony stepped on them. Walter always kept his office door closed and disliked any invasion of his privacy without premonition. It was his own pet peeve. He sometimes called the stairs his "guardians," as they warned him of approaching hostiles.

The door to the office opened, and the unicorn of the hour appeared at the threshold. Jill stood there for a while before asking, "Still here, I see." Hooves turned around. Jill was a coworker who occupied the office adjacent to this one. "Forgot my keys again. Sorry." Her horn lit up as the keys floated into the room by unicorn magic.

"It's fine."

"Great Celestia above, detective. At least buy some folders and staplers." She was referring to the mess of papers on the floor.

"Yeah... sure," he replied slowly as he shoved the last crumpled up sheets into the cabinet. "I'll get it all together in the morning."

Jill played around with the parasprite paperweight on the desk. "You haven't had a case in a while, I've noticed, detective."

Walter was too busy putting on his jacket to notice. "I suppose not."

"A new one just came in earlier this afternoon. It happened right here in Manehattan. Some barn house burned down somewhere in the rustic area."

"That's interesting," he commented hastily while putting on his hat.

"Just saying, Walter. You need to finish two more cases this year. You don't want another pay deduction, do you?"

"Like I said, I'll get it together in the morning."

"Well, if you need it, the files are in the lobby. Pick those up in the morning when you have the chance." Jill trotted away down the stairs, which Walter was too tired to use at the current moment, so he took the lift down all fifteen floors.

Let's see. It's Friday night, so no need to pack for work tomorrow. Better get those spreadsheets ordered by date. I don't believe I have any errands tonight to run otherwise. Then, it hit him. Oh, yes. I should pick up my new suit at the boutique in Ponyville before heading home.

So much detail goes unnoticed in the world, like the fact that the streets of Ponyville become completely deserted at ten in the afternoon. Hooves tightened his coat around his body as the bitter rain and wind battered him. If it wasn't for the weather conditions, the streets would have been pitch silent.

Mercifully, a sign that read "Carousel Boutique" came into view. A bell rang when the door opened with a squeak. Inside, Walter noticed, was completely void of life with the exception of one white filly behind the counter with a purple, swirly mane. The sight of the boutique reminded him of his own office.

"Oh, hello there." the cashier said. "Sorry, I had absolutely no time to clean up. Large group came in this morning, left quite a mess." True, ribbons and cloths of assorted colors were scattered across the tables and chairs. What looked like a blueprint for a dress was lying partly on the table, partly hanging from the edge.

Detective Hooves observed the coat rack thoroughly. "What are you looking for?" asked the purple-mane cashier.

"I'm here to pick up a suit, miss. I believe I ordered it about a week ago."

"Oh, yes." The cashier, a unicorn, brought over with her magic a large, black and white suit from one of the coat hangers. "It's been sitting here for quite a while. Hope you like it, dear. I put extra effort into those stitches in the back."

But Hooves was letting his mind wander. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a newspaper clipping, or rather an article torn from the page, which was lying beneath several sheets of brightly-colored golden cloth. What caught his eye was the image, a barn on fire with the Equestrian fire department stamped on it. The paper felt old and worn, not with age but abuse.

"Sorry about that," she said while picking up the paper from the ground. "I must organize this mess by tomorrow morning. One of my clients is expecting a visit."

His curiosity got the best of him. "What's the story?"

"What, you mean this?" Her magic held the paper in the air. "Hmm... oh my. Applewood Refinery was recently damaged by a fire."

Detective Hooves could read the expression on her face. "Is something wrong?"

"Wha... no. It's just that... one of my friends was involved in running that refinery. I hope she's okay."

Rain was still falling on the roof; the weather didn't seem to be relaxing any time soon. Walter felt it necessary for him to break the silence. "Well, I'll just be going on my way."

"Watch your step outside, dear, and please hurry. Rain isn't good for the fabric."

Comments

[Toolkit]

I'm going to track this story. It has potential. But who died. What made Applejack feint in the prologue. I must find out.