Case Two, Chapter One: Down By the Riverside
Phillip drew his right arm back and snapped it forward. The flat carved stick that he was holding flew from his hoof, spinning through the crisp morning air with a faint whistling sound. It banked in midair, skimming right over the top of the old bare-branched cherry tree and returning to Phillip’s waiting hoof.
"So that's a boomerang," Daring commented, watching the practice with mild amusement.
"My mother taught me how to make them and throw them," Phillip said, tossing the boomerang out again. "It's my favorite long-range weapon."
“Makes a neat toy,” Daring scoffed, puffing on her after-breakfast cigarette.
“It’s better than a gun,” Phillip answered. “Silent. Infinitely reusable. Stuns or disarms without killing. Cheap.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it myself,” Daring said, taking a long drag on her cigarette. “So is business usually this slow? It’s been a couple weeks since we had that case with Twisted Root and Scribbled Note.”
“Patience,” Phillip answered, throwing the boomerang out again. It swooped low to the unmowed grass before banking back up like a bird of prey snatching up a field mouse and returning to Phillip’s waiting hoof. “This city is never quiet for long.”
“I hate waiting,” Daring grumbled, dousing her cigarette on the railing. She turned and walked back into the kitchen, closing the door behind her. Walking over to the coffee machine, she grabbed a mug and filled it up with the warm black liquid. She added two packs of sugar, then took a long gulp of the coffee. Wandering into the sitting room, she looked around for something to occupy her time with. The table with the chemical equipment sat in the corner, the tubes and vials of chemicals scattered about the tabletop; Daring had to make a concerted effort to not stare at the two eyeballs floating in the pickle jar of formaldehyde, the current victims of Phil’s experiments. She scanned the rest of the room. The blues and jazz records didn’t interest her. The newspaper lay on the table, its articles already perused and its crossword puzzle completed. She wandered over to the bookshelves and began to look through the titles for something to occupy her time with.
To her surprise and pleasure, Phillip’s library included the full collection of Joules Verse. She selected her favorite story, Around the World in 70 Days, and settled herself down on the sofa to begin reading.
As soon as she opened the book, however, there was a knock at the door. She groaned. “Of course. Right when I sit down to relax,” she grumbled as Phillip reentered the house. He walked down the hallway and opened the front door.
“Hello, Phillip!” a familiar mare’s voice said.
“G’day, you two,” Phillip answered. Daring’s ears perked up at the sound of three sets of hoofsteps walking up the hallway. Phillip reappeared a moment later, followed by two ponies. The first was Detective Trace Evidence, his jacket hung loosely about his form, looking mildly annoyed with himself. The second was Twilight Sparkle, who bounced into the room excitedly.
“Hello, Daring!” Twilight said with a wave.
“Hey,” Daring nodded back. Trace nodded to her as he settled down on one of the chairs.
“What brings you two here?” Phillip asked.
“Twilight insisted on bringing you in,” Trace grunted in a flat tone of voice. “We fished a body out of the Maresippi. It’s been in there for quite a while. Single gunshot wound to the back of the head—”
“Oh, are you still doing research into the effects of decomposition on the vitreous humor?” Twilight suddenly interrupted, walking over to the chemistry table. She bent over the open notebook on the table, studying Phil’s notes.
“Yes,” Phillip answered her before turning back to Trace. “You were saying?”
“GSW to the back of the head, shaved, and the cutie marks cut off,” Trace continued. “And that’s without mentioning all the damage the water did to it. We have no ID on him.”
Daring’s breakfast lurched in her stomach at the thought. Already she was mentally cursing her wish for something to happen.
“Can you come take a look?” Twilight asked. “I think this would be worth your time, and...I know you two haven’t had a case in a while.” She gave Phil a slightly shy smile. He blinked, apparently not knowing how to respond.
Phillip looked over at Daring. She looked back at him for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. “Right,” Phil nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Cool,” Trace said, standing up. “The car’s waiting.” He started to trot back up the hallway.
Daring gulped down the rest of her coffee and dropped the mug onto the table as she followed Phillip and Twilight down the hallway and out the front door. The golden-brown Hayson Commodore was waiting on the curb out front. Trace was climbing into the driver’s seat, with Twilight waiting next to one of the back doors.
Daring reached out with a wing and stopped Phillip. “Have you ever thought about the fact that Trace might be a mole for the mobs?” she hissed into his ear. “He was there when Scribbled was attacked.”
“I know,” Phillip whispered back. “But if he is, the worst thing we can do is tip him off. Keep calm.”
“What’s wrong?” Twilight called from the car.
“Nothing,” Phillip answered, walking down the short pathway. He slid into the passenger seat next to Trace, while Daring and Twilight both hopped into the backseat. Trace turned the ignition and the engine growled in response, rumbling back to life.
“So, Phillip,” Twilight asked as Trace pulled into the street and started making the journey south. “I was reading in an article about the potential for using the life cycles of insects to determine time of death…”
Daring groaned. Should’ve added some bourbon to that coffee.
It really shouldn’t have surprised them, but it was always a small amazement to Phillip and Daring how crowds always seemed to gather around any scenes of death and tragedy. It was as if the citizens of Ponyville had their ears finely tuned for the sound of police sirens, and were always seeking out entertainment.
When the Commodore pulled up to the pier, they saw that a small crowd of ponies, griffons, and thestrals was standing on the other side of the CRIME SCENE tape that flapped in the breeze. Two police officers stood sentry on the other side, denying entrance to the pier. A pair of ponies stood on the end of the wooden structure that jutted out into the dark gray waters of the Maresippi river; the waters seethed and foamed as the winds blew them up against the concrete walls that separated land and river as if trying to bash them down.
Trace pulled up to the curb and halted his vehicle. He, Phillip, Daring, and Twilight all exited, walking up the sidewalk to the tape. “Let us through, please,” Trace called, pushing through the crowd. Reporters began to shout questions at them.
“Detective Evidence, does the PPD have any leads on this?” one mare shouted.
“Can you comment on the rash of shootings in the Everfree District?” another asked.
“Detective Finder, what do you say to those who call you a vigilante?”
“Is that Daring Do? The thief?” another reporter asked. “Daring, what’s it like to finally be on the right side of the law?”
A great murmur rose up amongst the witnesses, every gaze seeming to focus on Daring. A hissing noise, like a nest of snakes, grew among the crowd, louder with every second. The flash of a camera blinded her for a moment, and she stumbled.
Phillip paused and lowered his head next to Daring’s. “You okay?” he whispered.
“I’m fine,” Daring hissed, raising her head to a proud level and staring straight ahead. Never let them see when they get to you, she repeated to herself.
Phillip pushed through the crowd, shouldering ponies aside. Daring stuck close behind him, ignoring the stares and questions that were aimed at her.
One of the police officers, a dark green pegasus mare, lifted up the tape to allow them to pass. They walked down the pier, the boards creaking beneath their hoofsteps and down to the end.
Detective Red Herring was standing at the end of the pier, his hair dancing in the wind. The other pony was a thin unicorn mare, her coat bleached white like bones that had been laying out in the sun. The unusual sheen of her moonstone coat and the distinct curly style of her blonde mane, held in place by a hairband seemingly hewn from emerald, pegged her as a Crystal Pony. She was wearing a white lab coat, and her cutie mark was a set of bones and a pony’s skull set on a brown background. She was crouching down on the pier, her back turned to the visitors.
Red Herring looked up at their approach and scowled. “Oh, joy. And just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better,” he groaned.
“Real ripper to see you, too,” Phillip grunted.
“Could you two stop fighting for ten minutes?” Twilight said in obvious exasperation. “We are investigating a murder.”
Red growled at her. “Sweet Mother, you are annoying.”
“Enough of this shit,” Trace declared, raising a hoof. “They’re here now, we might as well let them help.”
Red grunted and walked some distance back up the pier, fuming to himself. Trace sighed and walked over to talk to him.
Phillip turned to the mare in the lab coat. “Daring, meet Doctor Vitae Mortis.”
Doctor Mortis looked up, lowering her glasses to give her a broad, welcoming smile, emerald eyes shining in excitement. “Nice to meet you, Miss Do,” she said in a voice that carried a faint tinge of a rural Crystalline accent. She raised a hoof to shake, then noticed the glove over her limb. "Oops!" she giggled, opting to salute instead.
Daring’s attention, however, was arrested by the object that she had been examining. The bloated thing that reeked of rot and sea water barely looked like a body anymore: the coat had turned an ugly soapy white color, and the skin had been stripped away at some sections, revealing the bone. The bald head was mostly intact, save for the eyeballs, which had been eaten away long ago, revealing the jagged, empty holes that stared endlessly at the world. The lipless mouth hung ghoulishly open; the teeth were all missing. The skin where the cutie marks should have been was a pale pink color, the upper layer of the skin having been cut away. Horribly, most of the hind legs were gone as well, everything from the mid-gaskin down ripped away.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Doctor Mortis said cheerfully, noticing her attention. “The number of factors that go into how a body decomposes underwater—temperature, season, salt and oxygen levels. This time of year, with the water oxygenation at this level means that there are a lot of shrimp-like creatures called lyssianasid amphipods. Those little darlings like to burrow inside the body and eat the internal organs and tissue first. They literally eat the victim from the inside out.”
“Fascinating,” Daring deadpanned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to puke now.” Indeed, she staggered over to the edge of the pier and leaned over the edge, heaving. Twilight started to walk over to try to help.
“Best to leave her alone,” Phil said to Twilight. “She’ll be apples in a bit. I threw up the first time I saw a dead body, too.” He crouched down over the corpse. “Dr. Mortis?”
“This is an exciting challenge,” Dr. Mortis burbled. “Notice these bloody gums? Whoever killed our vic yanked their teeth out before dumping them in the river, and shaved off their hair and tail, not to mention cutting off their cutie marks. And they dumped them here in the river! They really didn’t want us to identify this one!”
“And what do you have?” Phillip asked with a bite of impatience in his voice.
“Well, given the state of him, or her, I’m not going to learn much until the autopsy,” Dr. Mortis admitted. “There is one definitive feature, though.” Her horn lit up with a pale green aura and she gently tilted the corpse’s head to the side. A hole, roughly shaped like a jagged, four-pointed star, was torn into the body’s left temple. The skin around it was burnt black and red.
“GSW, point blank range,” Phillip observed. His eyes panned over the rest of the remnants. “Oi. Look here.” He pointed to a trio of deep red cuts across the body’s right side, sliding across their belly.
“Those show signs of healing,” Twilight observed. “They were made while the vic was still alive. And are those burn marks?”
“Looks like it,” Phillip agreed. “He was cut with a hot knife repeatedly.”
“Tortured, too!” Doctor Mortis declared with unhidden intrigue. “This just keeps getting better. Oh, and look!” She gently turned the body over to reveal the back, which was stained with a deep purple with white splotches.
“Lividity on the back,” she noted. “Seems our friend here was laying on their back for a while before somepony decided to drop them in the drink.”
“When would you say that would be?” Phillip asked.
Doctor Mortis tapped her chin in thought. “At an estimate...sometime last night.”
Daring, having recovered from her retching fit, stumbled back over to the group. “What happened to the legs?” she asked in a tone that clearly stated that she was afraid of the answer.
“Looks like they were cut away from decomposition underwater,” Doctor Mortis suggested.
Phillip looked over to where Trace and Red were standing, both of them in serious discussion. “Where was this body found?”
“It was floating in the water next to the pier,” Trace replied. “Before you ask, Red already requested that Sergeant Prowl get a tide and current chart from the Port Authority.”
Phillip nodded. “You two are on the ball today,” he said dryly.
“...Thanks,” Trace said slowly. Red just grunted.
“I think that somepony tied some weights to the vic’s hind legs and submerged them,” Phillip continued, turning back to the mares. “The legs rotted and were pulled off by the current, and the body floated to the surface.”
“Makes sense,” Doctor Mortis nodded. Daring, on the other hoof, was concentrating on not throwing up again at the image of a pony’s detached legs sunk in the water.
There was a whistle from above. Everypony looked up to see a pony flapping down towards them. She was a dark gray thestral mare with bright yellow eyes and a long, wavy white-gold mane. Her cutie mark was a pair of yellow eyes, glaring out at the world. Three golden chevrons were prominently displayed on the sleeves of her uniform, which bore a silver name tag that declared that her name was Prowl.
The thestral landed in front of the detectives and saluted. “Sirs,” she reported. “As requested, the charts for the tides and currents in this section of the river for the last week.” She reached into the messenger bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a stack of papers, handing them to the detectives.
Daring studied the sergeant. She had a tattoo on her left arm, half-hidden by her sleeve: a red cross with wings, and the words “Angels in Flak Jackets.” There was also the thin golden band of a necklace around her neck, tucked beneath her shirt; it looked like a wedding necklace.
“Air Force, Twelfth SAR Group, Sergeant?” Phillip asked, his eyes on the tattoo.
Prowl turned to him and nodded. “Yes, sir. ‘So Others May Live.’”
“Don’t call me sir. Your group was at North Wind’s Last Stand,” Phillip added, his tone flat.
Prowl frowned, her eyes becoming distant for a moment. “Yes, we were,” she muttered. “Did you serve?”
“No,” Phillip admitted. “But I admire those who did. Brave of you to join up.”
“Thank you,” Prowl said, puffing out her chest a bit.
“You may return to your duties, Sergeant,” Red Herring declared, already focused on the papers.
“Sir,” Prowl saluted and took off, flapping off into the distance.
Red spread the sheets and tables out onto the pier, and he, Phillip and Twilight bent over them. Taking out a map of the Maresippi River, Twilight conjured a glowing purple pin and used it to mark their position, then began to run through the timetables and calculations, muttering to herself.
“Based on these…” she said, conjuring up more pins and placing them on separate points along the bank of the river west of their position. “The body was most likely dumped at one of these places.”
“Daring, let’s go,” Phillip called.
Daring took a quick glance at the map, memorizing the positions of all the pins, then grabbed Phillip under his forelegs and took off, flapping towards the first pinned location. Red Herring took off after them.
“I’ll just...wait here,” Trace Evidence muttered, left standing on the pier.
The first possible dump site they searched was an expanse of grass on the northern bank, discarded garbage of all varieties scattered amidst the overgrown blades. After searching the bank for a few minutes, Phillip shook his head. “Nothing here,” he reported to Daring and Red, who were hovering above him. “Move on.”
Daring picked him up and carried him across the river to the next possible site. This one was thoroughly examined and eventually rejected, as was the third and fourth possibilities.
On the fifth place, they finally found something of interest. A set of hoofprints led up and down a sandy rise, from a street to a ridge of mud on the north bank of a bend in the Maresippi.
“It rained two nights ago. These tracks are fresh,” Phillip stated as Daring dropped him next to the trail. Taking out his magnifying glass, he began to walk back and forth along the trail. “Tracks going down are deeper,” he reported. “They were carrying something heavy on the way down and dropped it off.”
“Look here,” Red Herring said, hovering at the bank of the river, where a low concrete wall separated land from the river. “There’s a couple of deep impressions here, and a lot of hoofprints. And hey: this looks like a piece of old rope.” He plucked a plastic bag out of his pocket and used a pair of tweezers to lift the small, rotten bundle of fibers into the bag. “I think our killer put the body and whatever weight they were using on the ground here before dumping them.” He gave Phillip a very superior sneer, obviously expecting him to be impressed.
“Most likely,” Phillip said flatly, studying a particularly clear hoofprint with interest. Herring’s sneer vanished and contorted into a humiliated scowl; the switch was so comical that Daring had to fight hard to prevent a chorus of snickers from escaping her mouth.
Phillip carefully measured the tracks and the distance between them. “They carried the body down by hoof, so most likely not a unicorn,” he stated. “They’re tall, at least four feet, and wide. Heavily built.” He walked up to the road and looked around. “Nothing else here...” He turned and squinted at the south bank, which also featured a small ridge of grassy, sandy land.
“Daring, go check over there. I’m gonna go walkabout here, see if there’s anything else dodgy here.”
“Right,” Daring nodded, flying over to the south bank. The waters beneath her wings churned and foamed, and she found herself morbidly wondering how many dead bodies lay beneath the dark blue-black surface. The image of a pair of rotten legs floating in the currents, tied to a cinderblock that lay on the riverbed, flashed into her mind. Shuddering, she glided forward through the salty air and hovered over the south bank.
Here, the bank sloped down towards the water, with a flat stretch of sand along the edge. A well-worn pathway led up towards the road, through a gap in between the two safety barriers that prevented cars from skidding into the river. She hovered above the stretch, studying the ground beneath her.
Something caught her attention: a pile of what looked like ashes laying on the ground, next to several old, soggy scraps of paper. She scooped some of the ashes up with a wing and tucked them into a hoofkerchief that she plucked out of her pocket, then flew back to Phillip, who was walking up and down the road on the north bank.
“I found something over there,” she declared, holding out the hoofkerchief with the evidence inside.
Phillip took the cloth from her and examined the ash. He studied its texture with the tip of his hoof and held it up to his nose, sniffing deeply. “Cigar ash,” he concluded. “Crystal Crown brand, I think.” He frowned at Daring. “Did you just take this and bring it back to me?”
“Yeah,” Daring said slowly.
“Without checking the rest of the scene?” Phillip asked.
Daring bristled, then deflated a little. “Yeah,” she admitted.
Phillip was silent for a moment, then his expression softened a bit. “You meant well bringing it over here. But next time, let me see the entire scene for myself. You don’t want to contaminate evidence. ‘Kay?”
“Okay,” Daring nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Red Herring glaring at her.
“It’s just this, so no worries,” Phillip reassured her. “Take me over there and I’ll have a gander.”
Hiding her pleasure at the praise, Daring took Phillip underneath the forelegs and flapped up into the air. She carried him over the river and carefully placed him down on the ground next to the street. He didn’t move for a moment, his eyes panning over the ground. He started to make his way down to the bank, stepping carefully.
He paused next to the pile of ashes that Daring had spotted. Taking out a pair of tweezers, he picked up one of the rolls of old, soggy paper and studied it beneath his magnifying glass. “Yup. Crystal Crown.”
“You can tell cigar brands by smelling them?” Daring asked.
“Smell, texture, color, taste,” Phillip answered. “I spent eight months doing a study on hundreds of different types of tobacco. Useful for identification. Bloody amazing that no one thought of it before.”
Daring raised an eyebrow at Phillip, tilting her head to the side. Phillip gave her a befuddled look. “What?”
“You really need to get laid,” Daring snickered.
Phillip didn’t reply verbally, but his ears turned scarlet. Turning back to the ground, he started sweeping the ground for more clues.
“What’s this here?” Daring asked, pointing. She had spotted two small circular holes in the ground, about a foot and a half away from each other. The one closest to the river bank was straight down, while the other appeared to have been left behind by something that was stuck into the ground at an angle.
Phillip studied the holes for a few moments, then said, “Fishing pole.”
Daring imagined a fishing pole stuck into the ground, leaning on a split stick for support as it jutted out into the river, and nodded in agreement.
“Tracks here,” Phillip muttered, pointing. Daring looked down and noticed a trail leading up and down the path that was made up of two different tracks: a pair of cat-like paws, and a pair of bird-like claws with four talons.
“A griffon,” she concluded as Phillip began to measure the tracks. “And look at this.” She reached into a patch of tangled weeds and plucked out a long dark brown feather.
“Good onya,” Phillip nodded, taking the feather for himself. He studied the clue beneath his magnifying glass. “Hmm. Dust here. Suunkii might be able to make something of this.”
“Make something of what?” Red Herring asked as he flew over to them.
Phillip held up the feather. “You might have a witness.”
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Mmm, Daring has good taste. Nothing beats a good Verne/Verse novel.
After watching so many Bones episodes, I can believe this happening to somepony. All in all, not a bad chapter. really.
8312890
I did my research into what happens to a body after it's been submerged. I aim to be as accurate as possible when I can.
8312815
Sorry, I articulated that pretty badly last night.
Pegasus/unicorn actually had decent showings, I just didn't realize it til I laid down for bed.
Daring Do's flying is a decent point, with her dragging Phillip all over the place via flight, and the unicorns had a decent showing in the fight scene where the assassin's magic really won the day so to speak, but what makes earth ponies -and our main character- earth ponies? What makes them unique/more than a pony without wings or a horn?
It's a very minor problem imo and I honestly stretched a bit to think of any form of criticism lol. I am very much taken with this story. :3
Edit: Don't fuss too hard over adding such a thing in, the story is already exceptional. There's also a decent possibility it's already a thing and I missed it. :3
8313272
Ah, that is a good point. I'd never really considered it much (and I should also mention that magic, in this universe, gets a sort of "nerf" and is less important). Phil's not much for gardening, but he is significantly stronger and faster than most ponies. I could chalk that up to his earth pony magic, but you do raise a point that I should think about more in the future. (Perhaps stronger senses?)
I considered giving Phil a "crime sense" that warned him of crimes that were or had occurred nearby, but I ultimately rejected it because it felt too much like a deus ex machina, and I hate those.
8313295
Possibly. I'm lazy with it my story. I usually just go with a heavier bone/muscle density (some part of me wondered if Daring commenting about his weight was a hint at this) which (at least as far as I know) just makes them heavier/more durable. Take a hit a helluva lot better and give way heavier blows and whatnot, but I am fairly lazy in my writings. :3
Newest Chapter: Interesting to see them seek out Phillip, though Trace seems like he doesn't really care for the grudge of his fellow officers, so good on him. Looking forward to where it goes. :3
8327158
Okay, thanks for that. I was seriously hoping the author himself would give his answer.
8327209
It's specially made sugar, only the finest ingredients. In the perfect condition for the sugar to grow in a certain lab they've set up underground.
And before this goes on any further, let me remind you that I'm in no way connected to the making of this story, and thus have as much knowledge of the happenings as you do. I'm joking.
8327282
Fair enough.
Hmm...is that a Bones reference I spy?
8345277
An unintentional one, perhaps, since I don't watch Bones.
I bet Herring is the mole.
8656889
Nah no obvious
is the witness gilda?
Hmm, tis very, very interesting... *sips coffee*
I love how descriptive this fic is. It feels good to take in all the details of a setting, even the macabre ones. Good work.
11078810
Thank you! I hope you like the rest of the story and the series!
doesn't come back if you actually hit anyone
what?
if you actually meant that other mare that was stabbed in the hotel but survived, Star Cluster is the much more obvious explanation, and it's weird how no one acknowledges this.
Prowl? Her name never was mentioned before, so where does this come from? The POV really is a bit confusing at times.
11424463
It does if it's magic.
Scribbled originally died in the previous case. When I rewrote it so that she survived, I must have missed that line. I fixed it now. Thank you for catching it.
It was on her nametag. I mentioned it when she appeared.