Ponyville Noire: Tails of Two Private Eyes

by PonyJosiah13

Case Two, Chapter Six: The Trail

The lanky golden griffon stalked towards the office where Daring was hiding. The barrels of his weapon were like a pair of holes into oblivion; a single twitch of his claw would send a hail of fire and brimstone towards her.

Daring flapped her wings and flew up towards the ceiling, pressing herself up against the corner. Supporting herself by pressing her two right hooves against the doorframe, she tucked her tail in so that it wouldn’t dangle beneath her and potentially give her away. She tucked her wings in close, but kept them partly open and ready to fly. She exhaled softly through her mouth and forced her heartbeat to slow.

The griffon forced the door open with a shoulder and entered, his beak clenched tightly. He swept his weapon across the room, his faintly glowing yellow-orange eyes narrowed as he searched. He stepped into the room fully, stepping around to check behind the desk. Daring briefly considered pouncing on his back and trying to knock him out, but quickly dropped the idea, realizing the noise would give her away.

Knowing she might not get another chance, Daring carefully peeked around to check outside the door. The way was clear. With quick, silent movements, she darted around the door while the griffon’s back was turned, pressing her back up against the wall outside. She then immediately jumped behind a spare engine block. She paused, listening for any sign that she’d been discovered, then slowly peeked around.

The five mechanics were spread out across the auto shop. The unicorn was sweeping his horn across the room, illuminating every dark corner in search of their intruder. The gray griffon was still in front of the front door, while Gears was walking down the hallway towards her position. The shield charms over the doors continued to glow faintly. A flicker of lightning danced across the sky through the skylight, prompting Daring to glance up.

The skylight. There was a way out. She couldn’t just smash through the glass; she’d either bounce right off or get cut to shreds. But if she could break one of the panes, she could fly out...provided she didn’t get spotted and shot.

The lanky griffon exited the office, closing the door behind him. “Nothing in there,” he reported to Gears. Daring ducked behind the engine block and held her breath as the two gunponies passed by. Neither of them checked her hiding place, to her immense relief. She snuck around behind them and hid behind a toolbox. Spotting a socket wrench on top of the toolbox, she reached up and took it. Having a weapon in hoof made her feel a little bit better; the sensation of the cold, hard metal was a comfort to her. And she could use this to break the window.

The other earth pony, a fat white stallion with a greasy brown handlebar mustache and the cutie mark of a wheel, slowly approached her position, his silver-plated pistol raised and ready. She could smell the cheap cologne in his hair, hear his slow, heavy breathing. Daring waited until he was close, then jumped out. Simultaneously, she grabbed the pistol in her free hoof while swinging her elbow into the earth pony’s throat. He gagged, his breathing interrupted, and instinctively let go of the pistol. Taking the gun away, Daring quickly struck him across the jaw with the wrench, then again on the temple, whipping her body back and forth with each strike. The earth pony fell to the ground with a thud.

“What was that?” one of the other mechanics shouted. Daring quickly dropped to the ground and rolled underneath one of the trucks. She heard rapid hoofsteps approaching.

“It’s Wheels!” she heard a voice call. “Somepony busted him over the head. Shit, I think he’s dead!”

Daring slithered out from beneath the truck and moved to another hiding place, breathing heavily. Had she killed him? She hadn’t meant to; she’d only wanted to knock him out. Biting down on her lip, she forced herself to shut the door on the bubbling flood of guilt and self-loathing that was rushing up from within. She couldn’t afford to feel sorry for Wheels...for him right now. He would’ve killed her without hesitation had she given him the chance. She tried to block out the sounds of the mechanics trying to wake up their comrade, ignored the concern in their voices.

She glanced down at the pistol in her hoof. It was a large-caliber pistol. The weapon was heavy and cold, the grip too large for her hoof. The scent of gun oil wafting from the barrel made her stomach churn. She slid the gun beneath a toolbox. If nothing else, it would be one less thing shooting at her.

Daring looked up towards the skylight. This might be her only chance to escape. She flapped her wings and flew silently up towards the skylight, gaining speed as she flew. She gripped the socket wrench in both hooves. With a grunt, she thrusted the long end of the socket wrench at the pane, aiming at the edge. It shattered with a tremendous crash; rain and shards of glass tumbled down on her.

“Up there!” a voice shouted beneath her, but she was already flying out the window and into the rainy sky, out of sight. The cool wind on her face and the rain soaking into her coat was rejuvenating and relieving, and she breathed in the stormy air deeply. She swooped down low to the ground and flew away from the auto shop, searching for Phillip.

A sudden rush of wind from behind her was all the warning she got. Something crashed into her from behind, driving her to the ground. She felt her ribs crunching as the wind exploded out of her; the impact of her skull against the concrete made her head spin. She turned around to see the narrowed yellow-orange eyes of the lanky griffon glaring at her; then something crashed against her jaw and everything went black.

She came to less than a minute later, groaning in pain; her head felt like it had swollen to twice its size. She realized that she was being dragged across a cold concrete floor. The air was cold and smelled of oil and grease.

“Wake up,” a voice commanded.

Shaking herself back to consciousness, Daring opened her eyes and looked around. She was back inside the auto shop, sitting up against one of the trucks, her front hooves bound behind her. The two griffons, the unicorn, and Gears were all standing around her; Wheels was nowhere in sight.

The unicorn leaned in and began to roughly pat her down. She flinched in pain as he roughly brushed up against her damaged ribs. He found the fuses she’d stolen and pulled them out of her pocket.

“Gears, go put those back in,” he said, tossing them to his lackey.

“Okay, Grease,” Gears replied, catching the fuses and walking towards the back door. Daring heard the door open and shut.

The unicorn glared down at Daring. She looked up at him. “Grease Monkey, I presume,” she declared.

“Who sent you?” Grease Monkey snarled.

Daring remained silent.

“We should just kill her,” the gray griffon snapped. “Dump her in the grease tank with the other one.”

“No,” Grease Monkey replied. “We need her alive; we can use her.”

“Sure can,” the lanky griffon said, hungrily licking his beak as he stared at her. Daring spat at him. Her gesture of defiance earned her a swift kick to the gut that left her doubled over, gasping and coughing.

“What the hell is taking so long with the lights?” the gray griffon asked, looking up towards the still-dark lights.

“You’re right,” Grease Monkey muttered. He turned to yell out the door. “Gears! The hell is taking so long?”

There was no answer from outside. Grease Monkey growled and nodded to the griffon. “Go check.” The griffon grunted and walked towards the back door, spinning his revolver around his claw. Daring heard the door open and shut once more.

“Look,” Grease Monkey said, crouching down to look Daring in the eye. “We know you know that we brought your friend here. Why else would you be here, sneaking around?”

Daring remained quiet, refusing to break eye contact. The more he talked, the more she learned. While her captors' focus was on her, she began to wiggle her wrists back and forth, trying to loosen the ropes. She had to fight down a smirk when she felt the bonds loosening already; obviously, none of her captors had been Colt Scouts.

“You know we’re not letting you out of here alive,” Grease said. “But you can avoid a lot of pain if you just tell us what you know.”

“You’re going to kill me either way,” Daring stated. “That doesn’t give me much motivation to talk.”

Grease looked over at the lanky golden griffon, who sneered at Daring. “See, Ryse here, he has a very persuasive way with ponies who don’t talk.”

“Especially pretty little mares like yourself,” Ryse grinned, licking his beak again. Daring glared back at him, forcing herself to breathe slowly through her nostrils even as her innards squirmed and her heart pattered against her ribs, causing her aching head to throb. She continued to work at the ropes.

“You sure we can’t just settle this over a cider?” she asked.

“We’re long past tha—” Grease started to say.

Suddenly, there was the bark of a gun from outside. Both Grease and Ryse looked up in surprise. “The hell—?” Grease said.

The ropes came loose and Daring seized her chance. She lashed out with a kick, striking Grease Monkey in the face. His nose exploded in a shower of crimson and he reeled away with a howl of pain.

Ryse dived at her, but she quickly rolled out of the way and pushed herself back to her hooves. Immediately, she bucked backward and struck Grease Monkey on the head, knocking him out and taking one more foe out of the fight.

Ryse charged at her again and she flew up into the air to avoid his attack. He looped upwards and tackled her and the two engaged in midair combat, grappling and scrabbling against each other in an attempt to gain a better position. His claws and beak flashed at her, threatening to tear the flesh from her bones; she grunted in pain as one of his talons cut across her cheek, drawing blood.

Daring deflected a swipe at her face and punched Ryse in the gut, winding him and giving her an opportunity to disengage and gain some distance. But Ryse twisted around in midair and lashed out with his hind leg, kicking her in the gut. She tumbled out of the sky and crashed into the ground, her breath exploding from her and her ribs burning with pain. She quickly rolled out of the way as Ryse swooped down, his claws missing her by inches. The griffon turned and glared at her, breathing heavily as he prepared to launch himself at her again.

Suddenly, there was a sharp whistling sound and something cracked against Ryse’s forehead, sending him reeling backward. Immediately, Daring tackled Ryse to the ground and punched him across the jaw. His eyes rolled and closed as he slumped beneath her. Daring looked up just in time to see the boomerang spinning back to Phillip’s waiting hoof. He walked up to her, dripping wet from the rain.

“You okay?” he asked Daring.

“Yeah,” Daring said, shaking her spinning, throbbing head as she got up off Ryse’s body. She started to stagger off.

“Where are you going?” Phillip asked, rushing up to her side to try to support her.

“I need to see Wheels,” Daring replied, leaning against him as she walked. “The guy I hit. I need to see if he’s dead or not.”

“I saw them taking you inside,” Phillip said. “Was calling the police from a payphone when I saw one of the wankers coming out. Knocked him out, locked him in the trunk of one of the cars. Did the same to the other wanker that came out—he got a shot off, though—then came inside looking for you.”

Daring glanced up at her partner, then gave a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Phil said.

They turned a corner around a truck and saw Wheels still laying where he’d been left, his head lying in a puddle of blood and a bruise on his throat. Daring was relieved when she saw his chest rising and falling slowly. She walked over to him and bent down to check his pulse. “You lucky bastard,” she sighed in relief as she felt a slow but steady pulse against her hoof.

There was the sound of a siren approaching, then squealing brakes from outside. The door opened and hoofsteps hurried inside.

“Over here,” Phil shouted. “Call an ambulance, we’ve got wounded.”

Sergeant Prowl and Officer Bumblebee appeared around the corner, their guns drawn. Detectives Trace Evidence and Red Herring were right behind them.

Red’s eyes went from Phillip and Daring to the unconscious pony on the ground to the shattered skylight. “This ought to be good,” he grunted.

“We were searching for leads into where Gold Bar got his drugs,” Phillip explained, crouching down to help Prowl carefully bandage Wheels’ head. “This place came up. We went in to take a look. Suspects were uncooperative.”

Red snorted. “Uncooperative. Right.”

“One here, two over there, two in car trunks out back,” Phillip reported.

Bumblebee blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say they were in car trunks?”

“Yes,” Phillip replied.

Bumblebee stared at him for a moment, then dissolved into snickering.

“You’d better have found something,” Sergeant Prowl commented as she finished bandaging the wounded pony. “You do realize that you two technically committed breaking and entering and assault.”

“What, the guns aren’t enough?” Daring snorted.

“Point, but we’ll need more than that,” Trace pointed out. “Officers, take the suspects into custody.”

“Yes, sir!” Bumblebee declared, pulling a set of enchanted hoofcuffs from his belt. Prowl followed him around the corner.

“I did find this,” Daring stated, pulling out the key that she’d found in the trash can out of her pocket.

Trace squinted at it. “That looks like a car key.”

“Wouldn’t go to one of their cars,” Phillip stated. “Too much trouble to hide it and take it out again.”

“Maybe the car out front?” Red suggested.

“That’s an idea,” Phillip nodded. The four ponies began to walk towards the front door.

“You got here faster than I thought,” Phillip commented.

“We were on our way here already,” Trace replied. “We’ve been double-checking all of Gold Bar’s business contacts and this shop came up on our list. It turns out that one of the employees, Ryse, has an outstanding warrant in the Griffon Kingdoms for assault, so we were coming down with Prowl and Bumblebee on backup.”

“It might surprise you to know, but while you’re out playing hero, we don’t sit around with our hooves up our asses,” Red grunted as he pushed the front door open and exited into the rain.

“When we heard that you’d called for help over the radio, Prowl put on her sirens and we hurried here,” Trace stated. They walked over to the Gray Ghost, which still sat dutifully out in front of the store, headlights staring at them.

Daring walked up to the door and tried the key against the lock. It slid in easily and she unlocked the door. Climbing behind the seat, she inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. Instead of the engine turning over, there was a click as the hood unlocked.

Trace and Red opened up the hood and stared at the contents. The engine had been removed and the ignition circuit rerouted to the lock on the hood. Inside the compartment were several bricks of white and brown powder, tightly wrapped in plastic.

Trace whistled admiringly. “Well, that’s going to make the resale value skyrocket.”

“There’s something else,” Daring said, exiting the car. “We need to look in the grease trap.”

They walked around to the back of the shop, to a large plastic bin that sat out in the parking lot. As they approached, Trace lifted up the top of the bin and they all peered inside.

The bin was filled almost to the brim with a reeking brownish-black sludge, a mixture of discarded oils and greases. Something was floating beneath the surface, a darker shadow against the dark shadows within. Trace used his magic to reach inside and grab the object, dragging it to the surface.

Daring knew what it was, but the sight still made her stomach churn. The body of the fake Gold Bar floated in the bin, grease clinging to their skin. His face was barely recognizable beneath the streams of oil and the layers of blood and bruises.

“Well, I’d say that’s probable cause for a search,” Trace commented, tossing one of the bags of drugs to himself as he replaced the lid. They turned and walked back inside the auto shop. Bumblebee had replaced the fuses and the lights were on. The two officers were watching over the hoofcuffed prisoners, who sat sullenly in a group on the floor, glaring at their captors. The enchantments on the hoofcuffs suppressed the magic of the captives and subjected them to a mild lassitude, preventing them from attacking or flying or running away.

Trace walked up to Grease Monkey and dropped the package of drugs on the floor in front of him. Grease Monkey glared at the package, then up at him.

“You’re in deeper shit than the dead body out in the grease trap there, buddy,” Red Herring growled at him.

“We know that you were supplying drugs to Gold Bar,” Trace Evidence declared coldly. “We know that Soap Sud, Steamed Carrot, and Silver Polish brought the fake one here and you killed him for them.” He crouched down in front of the unicorn. “So do yourself a favor and start talking.”

Grease Monkey glared defiantly back at the detectives, but uncertainty and fear glimmered in his eyes. “This is an illegal search,” he protested. “You can’t—”

“See, here’s the thing,” Trace interrupted. “The Equestrian Charter does say the police can’t search your property without probable cause, but it doesn’t say anything about civilians like these two.” He nodded to Phillip and Daring. “So, as far as we’re concerned, they found these items in a completely innocent manner.”

“Maybe we should all just step out for some coffee, leave them with these two,” Red Herring suggested. “We’ve already called the ambulance.”

The four mechanics looked over at Phillip, who glared back at them, his eyes as dark and cold as the storm clouds above them. He reached into his vest and pulled out his baton, snapping it open with a flick of his wrist and a sharp clicking. All four captives swallowed as one.

“Okay, look, we don’t know where they were going,” Grease Monkey cut in. “They came in here with the phony dude, said they needed someplace to keep under cover for a bit and for us to swap out their car for them; that’s something we sometimes do for our, er, ‘customers.’ They beat the phony for info, then killed him and dumped him in the grease trap. We swapped the tires and plate and repainted it blue and they drove off.”

“What plate did you give them?” Trace asked.

Grease Monkey shrugged. “Dunno. Just grabbed one from the pile and slapped it on there.”

“You said it was colored blue?” Trace confirmed. Grease grunted and gave a barely perceptible nod.

“There’s a pair of surveillance crystals on the corner down the street,” Red Herring noted. “We might be able to get something off of that.”

“We also need to put out an APB on Silver Polish, Soap Suds, and Steamed Carrot,” Prowl stated.

Ryse snickered at the mention of the names. “Something funny?” Prowl asked.

“The bitch isn’t with them,” Ryse sneered. “She had no idea what was happening, but they panicked and decided to bring her along so she wouldn’t talk.” He nodded towards the office. “After they were done with the fake, they took her into that office there for a quick bounce. You should’ve heard her screaming—”

Ryse’s description was cut off by Phillip’s baton striking him across the temple. He slumped to the floor, unconscious. The other mechanics quickly shuffled away from Phillip.

“Wanker,” Phillip snarled.

“Was that really necessary?” Prowl asked Phillip, raising an eyebrow.

Phillip and Daring looked at each other, then back at Prowl. “Yes,” they said simultaneously.

Bumblebee snickered but quickly fell silent when his partner gave him a glare. The wail of a siren outside alerted everypony to the arrival of the ambulance.

“We can handle things here,” Sergeant Prowl reported. “You need to head back to the precinct and head to Dispatch for that surveillance feed.”

“Thanks, Sarge,” Trace nodded, turning to go. Red, Phillip, and Daring followed him out of the store as an ambulance and a paddy wagon pulled up. Trace’s two-door Commander was waiting on the curb next to Prowl and Bumblebee’s cruiser. Daring and Phil went in first, slithering into the backseat, then Trace slipped behind the wheel as Red jumped into the shotgun seat. The Commander grumbled to life and pulled away from the curb, headed down the street.

As they reached a corner, Daring glanced up at the silver pole on the sidewalk. The two telescope-like objects sat atop the pole, the pupilless, emotionless blue eyes staring eternally down at the pedestrians and passing cars. She instinctively turned her head away as they passed by.

“You okay?” Phillip asked in an undertone.

“I hate those things,” Daring muttered. “I hate the idea that somepony’s watching us.”

“They were put in a couple years ago,” Phillip stated. “They’re useful. Crime went down afterward. Lots of ponies feel safer because of them.”

Daring turned and glared at him. “I was safe in prison,” she said. “I was given food, a roof over my head, and medical care, all free of charge. I was watched by armed guards every day, wherever I went. It didn’t change the fact that it was still a prison.”

“We still need it,” Phillip stated. “We have to find the killers, and we have to save Steamed Carrot.”

Daring frowned and turned to look out the window. “Still gives me the creeps every time I walk by one of those things.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Phillip replied.

“Believe me, I don’t,” Daring muttered as they passed through a four-way. The rest of the trip to the precinct passed in silence.

---

The rain had not relented in the slightest by the time they pulled into the lot of the police department. Shielding their heads against the wind and rain, they hurried inside, pushing into the lobby. A low murmur of overlapping voices greeted them as they entered, shaking the rain from their manes and tails. A zebra mare with a wailing foal was talking to the hassled desk sergeant, who was shaking his head in obvious exasperation and exhaustion; several other civilians sat on the old, uncomfortable benches, staring out the windows at the pouring rain or looking down at their hooves.

Trace Evidence led the way through the back door and down the hallway to a door marked “Dispatch.” He pushed the door open and allowed the others to enter.

The main feature of the Dispatch room was three long lines of tables and benches, each of which had several telephones and radio sets placed atop them. Uniformed ponies sat at the workstations, fielding emergency calls, triaging situations and coordinating police units in the field. A large street map of Ponyville was laid up on the front wall, coated in several blinking colored dots, some of which were moving around the map. In the back of the room was a raised area with a team of ponies standing atop it. The walls around the dais had several crystals laid into it, which were projecting moving images that the ponies were watching; Daring realized that they were live feeds from the surveillance crystals around the city. Several overlapping voices and the sound of crackling radios and ringing telephones combined to create a constant background noise that drilled into the ponies’ ears:

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Any available units, 10-33 at First Equestrian Bank, respond code three…”

“Copy, Pawn Four-Two, sending a paddy wagon to your location…”

“Ma’am, I need you to stay calm. Are you sure that there’s somepony out there?”

“Flagging possible sighting of two suspects at Dusty’s Deli, any units for 10-16…”

“Breaker!” Trace called out, his voice rising above the chaotic noise. “Need to talk to you.”

A unicorn standing at the back of the room looked up from a thick notebook. He was a pudgy stallion with a white coat and a messy brown mane and full beard. His watery blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. He was wearing a white suit with a green tie, and his cutie mark was a radio hoofset.

“What’s up, Trace?” the stallion asked, putting the notebook down and approaching.

“Phil, Daring, meet Roger Breaker, our head Dispatcher,” Trace nodded.

“G’day,” Phillip nodded.

“Howdy,” Breaker greeted him. “What brings you down to the ponies behind the curtain?”

“Need you to access the feed from a surveillance crystal,” Phillip stated.

Breaker nodded. “Sure, which one?”

“Corner of Pear and O’Wiley,” Trace replied. “We need the feed from the past day.”

“I can get that for you in two shakes of a ponytail,” Breaker nodded, turning back to the raised area with the crystals.

Daring was watching the map on the front wall. “Hey, what are all these dots?” she asked.

“The red ones are surveillance crystals,” Breaker explained. “The blue ones are cruisers, and the yellow ones are unmarked vehicles. We mark all the police vehicles with a tracking spell so we can keep track of where everyone is. That way, if somepony gets in trouble and needs backup, we can get to them quickly.”

“Not to mention spy on your officers,” Daring muttered.

Either Breaker didn’t hear her or he chose to ignore her because he instead turned to the crystals on the wall and started looking them over. “Pear and O’Wiley, Pear and O’Wiley...oh, there you are!” He tapped a blue crystal and the image it was projecting enlarged, revealing the rainy street corner in front of Grease Monkey’s Auto Shop. Breaker tapped the crystal again and the image paused, then he slightly turned the crystal to the left. The projected feed began to rewind, cars and ponies rushing backward in fast motion. Stepping up to watch, Daring spotted Trace’s Commander driving past, followed by the ambulance, then the Commander and Prowl’s cruiser again.

Eventually, the rain relented and night fell, then day came again, the streets washed in the reddish-orange lights of sunset. A blue car traveled past.

“Hold it,” Phil said, pointing. “That car there.”

Breaker paused the image, giving them a clear view of the repainted Bigmouth Special Seven. Aside from the new layer of blue paint, the tires had been replaced with whitewalls and red hub covers, the front bumper had been swapped out for a rustier one, and the license plates were now rustier plates that read “ER0023.” The silhouettes of two ponies could be seen through the windshield, but the image was too far away to get any detail.

“You sure that’s the one?” Red asked.

“Hood ornament’s the same,” Phil said, pointing towards the tiny silver sparrow on the hood. “Same scratches on the windshield, same dent on the left mirror.”

“Track that car,” Trace instructed Breaker. Breaker allowed the image to play forward at normal speed. The disguised car turned right at the intersection and disappeared from view. Breaker expertly tapped an adjoining crystal, switching to another projected image and scanning through it.

“Got it, corner of O’Wiley and Banner,” he reported, spotting the car again traveling down the long end of a T intersection. He continued to track the car as it traveled out of the Dockside district and into the suburbs surrounding the Industrial District in the southwest of Ponyville. Unfortunately, he lost it at South Steam Street. He checked a few more crystal feeds but failed to find it.

“Sorry, guys,” Breaker reported. He turned to the map of Ponyville and circled a wide area in the southwest with his hoof. “They’ll be around there somewhere, looks like.”

“That’s as good as you can get?” Red asked.

Breaker shrugged. “If it were up to me, I’d have these crystals on every street corner. But City Hall wouldn’t approve the funds. Yeah, this is the best that I can do.”

“Then it’ll have to be enough,” Phillip stated. “Thanks, Roger. Let’s give it a burl, mates.”

“Great. Because wandering around in the rain is exactly what I wanted to do today,” Daring muttered as she reluctantly followed the stallions out of the Dispatch room.

Comments

[The Bricklayer]

Bumblebee? Prowl? Have you been watching Transformers Josh? All joking aside, nice job on this chapter.

[Lightoller]

"Suspects were uncooperative.”

Noice.

[PonyJosiah13]

8388095
Phil is Dredd confirmed.

[Nuclear Fallout]

8388139
i.imgur.com/sIMiiDV.jpg

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

I feel for Daring on that last sentence. If there was any justice in the world rainy days would be justification enough for staying home with a hot beverage and a good book.

[AlsoSprachOdin]

“Especially pretty little mares like yourself,” Ryse grinned, licking his beak again.

What, they even taste better? And how pretty can she be if she's old enough to be Rarity's mother?

“The bitch isn’t with them,”

I fucking knew it! I mean, I suspected it.

Ryse’s description was cut off by Phillip’s baton striking him across the temple.

But what happened to Carrot? Is she still alive? Really wish someone would ask about that.

sending a paddy wagon to your location

I'm guessing in Equestria "paddy" refers to some other ethnic minority paralleling the Irish, but which?