Looking Glass, P.I: Coins and Crowns

by Kavonde

Chapter 6

Despite my worries for Miss Calla, I brushed past the door guards with a self-satisfied smirk; the pegasus guard rumbled some sort of protest, but it was lost in a low roll of thunder. The wind was blowing hard now, the rain coming down in sideways sheets that were scraping the cobblestones clean. I hunkered down as much as I could under my duster. This was not going to be a pleasant walk home.

I considered swinging by the address Calla gave me to make sure she was alright. I didn't trust her, but she'd hired me, and it's hard to collect standard rates from a dead pony. Given the severity of the storm, however, I figured any assassin or thug with an ounce of wits would put off a hit until morning. Besides, while word traveled fast through the Fillydelphia underworld, it's not like I'd told anyone where Calla was.

Yeah, fine. I was cold, wet, and I wanted to go home. So sue me.

Of course, I'd barely made it across the street before a gust of wind nearly took me off my hooves. This was immediately followed by a solid wall of rain that hammered into me like a brick wall. I staggered into an alley to take cover until things settled down.

I sat there for around ten minutes, miserable and soaked, going over everything in my head and trying to put pieces together. Silver was trying to make amends with his father's friends. He'd started around six months ago. Some rich pony bought Calla Lily's contract around six months ago, too. It wasn't much of a deductive leap to figure the pony in question was Silver. So he bought Calla to be his own private escort, and then kept her secluded in his mansion for half a year. That sounded an awful lot like slavery. Good motive for murder.

But then, if Calla was behind this, why would she have come to me? And maybe she was a great actress, but she honestly did seem worried about her squeeze. So maybe this was a “true love” sort of thing after all. But then, what was the connection between buying Calla and contacting Gold Coin's buddies?

I needed to talk to Calla, that much was obvious. And I would, first thing in the morning. Until then, I just needed to... get... home...

Across the alleyway, sitting in a growing puddle near the mouth of a gutter, I noticed something glistening in the near-darkness. I nudged it over to the small sliver of light from a nearby street lamp, and bent down to get a better look. It was a button... no, a cufflink. Silver. Engraved with three stacks of coins.

I'd like to point out that, despite what you may read in Daring Do or Sherclop Hooves, this kind of thing does not happen to us private eyes in the real world. A detective has to go out looking for clues. Even if he catches a lucky break, like I did with Hot Air, it's a result of initiative and action. You never just stumble onto an important clue.

Except, you know, for this one.

I couldn't see much in the alley, but now that I'd realized that this was a crime scene, the faint, coppery odor that I hadn't realized was tickling my nostrils came to the forefront. I sniffed around near where I found the cufflink. Sure enough, blood. Not a lot of it; somepony probably cleaned what they could. But definitely blood.

Things didn't look good for Silver Coin.

I pocketed the cufflink and tried to pinpoint my location on my mental map of the city. I'd be back here tomorrow, maybe even before I talked to Calla, to see what I could find with the sun up. The wind was dying back down now, so I braced myself for misery and headed back into the storm.

I made awful time getting back to my apartment. It's a few blocks from my office, deep in one of the only moderately crappy parts of town. Every once in awhile, I had to find shelter from another burst of hurricane-strength wind, and wait it out until I could venture back out. I made a few new friends among the homeless community, at least.

I was just five blocks from home when I realized I was getting jumped.

It started when I first noticed a pair of pegasi, both larger than me, trotting along a block or so behind. I'm not overly paranoid, but you don't live in Fillydelphia for long without picking up a few survival instincts. I ducked down the alley behind my favorite grocer's, turned down another, and then ducked behind a stack of crates to watch. Sure enough, the pegasi followed me in. They paused at the fork to have a quick discussion and decided to split up.

That evened the odds. But I don't fight fair if I can help it.

I waited until the pegasus was almost on me. He had just enough time to see me before my hooves hit him square in the chest with a satisfying crack.

I'm not a big stallion, but I'm still an earth pony. When we buck, we buck.

The pegasus went flying and smashed into the wall opposite me with a crunch of bone and cartilage. That was at least one of his wings; he wouldn't be chasing me. The noise tipped off the other one, though, and I heard him shout something; the words were lost in the wind, but I got the gist.

Time to run.

I bolted out of the alley at a full gallop. I know Fillydelphia pretty damn well, but I've made sure to learn every possibly shortcut, blind spot, and ambush point around my home. This was my terrain, and I had the advantage.

Unless, of course, I was facing ponies who could fly.

I glanced up as a bolt of lightning lit up the sky. There were at least half a dozen pegasi following my progress from above and descending quickly. They'd be on me well before I reached my apartment.

Crap. Well, time to improvise.

As I reached the side door to a nearby apartment building, I suddenly spun on my front hooves and used the momentum to launch a massive kick. The lower half of the door exploded in a shower of wood splinters. The latch stayed intact, but then, if anyone invested in anything around here, it was good locks. I squeezed under the broken wood, ignoring the jabs of pain as splinters stabbed through my coat, and scurried inside.

As soon as I moved out of the meager light shining through the broken door, I stopped. Just a few seconds later, there was a heavy thump as one of the pegasi landed outside. His head appeared as he tried to squeeze through the broken door, his wings complicating the process. I stepped into the light, grinned at him, and bucked him hard enough to smash his muzzle flat across his face.

I heard his buddies landing soon after. I didn't wait around for them; that trick wouldn't work twice. Instead, I headed for the nearest set of stairs and started galloping up them. I'd only gotten a couple of floors up when I heard wood splinter and smash; they'd decided to break the door down rather than facing another ambush.

I ran as fast as I could. I could hear them coming up the stairs behind me; fortunately, the stairwell was too narrow for them to get any use out of their wings. Pegasi had their advantages, but take away their flight and they're just ponies like any other.

I reached the roof and slammed the door behind me. Then I raced for the side nearest home and leapt. I had a panicked moment of free-fall, when I suddenly wasn't sure that I was where I thought I was, but that vanished the moment I hit canvas. The herbalist who owned this building believed firmly in the power of awnings to draw customers, and had one of a different color on each floor.

I landed pretty badly, taking too much of my weight on my right front shoulder. I gritted my teeth through the sharp, burning pain and moved to the awning's edge. I carefully dropped down a one level at a time, confident that any noise I was making would be masked by the storm. As I reached the second floor awning, I hazarded a glance up; two of the pegasi were standing on the edge of the roof I'd jumped from, looking around in confusion. I'd given them the slip.

Until one of them happened to look down.

“Dammit!” I cursed. I hurriedly slid down to the final awning, and then on to the street. I didn't have to look up to know that the remaining five or six or more pegasi would be dropping from the roof. It was a straight shot home from here; all I had to do was gallop faster than the pegasi could fly.

So I was screwed.

And then the wind kicked up.

I barely heard the shatter of glass over the howl of the gale, but I looked up to see that one of the nearest pegasi had been blown right into the herbalist shop, and the other was now tangled in the lowest awning. The pegasi further up hesitated, trying to stay afloat. I grinned, ducked my head, and bolted.

By the time the wind died down, I was pounding up the stairs of my apartment building. The water streaming off my mane and coat were leaving an obvious trail, but I figured they knew where I lived anyway. Gangs of pegasi don't just drop out of the sky to attack anyone, you know.

Somehow, I'd pissed off the freaking Union.

I fumbled with my keys and threw open my door. I slammed it behind me and quickly dragged all the furniture I could reach in front of it. It wouldn't keep them out–if nothing else, they'd eventually figure to use a window–but it didn't have to. I went to my bedroom and pulled a leather satchel out from under the matress. I called it my “Oh Crap” Bag; everything I'd need to survive on the run in Fillydelphia for a few days. Although, I noted ruefully, I hadn't counted on needing an umbrella.

They were already pounding on the door by the time I left the bedroom. I could hear my neighbors, rudely awakened in the middle of the night, shouting and cursing at the noise. Wood splintered as my door started to give way.

I galloped to the window, but paused halfway through as I looked around my apartment with a heavy heart. It wasn't much, with its threadbare carpets and bare walls, but it was where I'd hung my hat for years. I'd be back, I hoped, but most of my worldly possessions would be stolen or wrecked.

I sighed, adjusted the satchel on my back, and stepped out onto the fire escape.

Comments

[Nekonyancer]

I carefully dropped down a one level at a time,

remove a