Ponyville Noire: Rising Nightmares

by PonyJosiah13

Case Nineteen, Chapter Three: Alibis

The Trottingham Police Station provided a massive contrast to the Ponyville precinct; while the station in Ponyville was several stories tall and announced its title in great letters over the revolving doors, with a large lot that was always loaded with cruisers and other vehicles, the Trottingham station was a mere two stories tall and the entrance was a simple glass door, and the lot had room for ten cruisers.

“I suppose it’s a little less than you’re used to,” Skybrush admitted rather sheepishly as he held the door open for them.

“If all the officers here have your brains and drive, it doesn’t matter if you were working out of a mud hut,” Phillip nodded to him.

“Really? Gosh,” Skybrush smiled with a faint blush, rubbing the back of his head.

“If you wanted to invite him to bed, Phil, all you had to do was ask,” Daring said with a roll of her eyes and a smirk.

Skybrush’s blush increased tenfold. “I, er, I, um, I’m seeing, uh, somegriff…”

“She’s joking,” Phillip deadpanned while giving Daring a look.

“You’re no fun,” Daring pouted.

Phillip sighed as they passed through the small lobby with its low chairs and yellow-brown walls. The civilians waiting in their seats or standing at the counter and the officers behind the desk all stared at the detectives as they entered, whispers following in their wake; some countenances began to glow with awe, while other creatures drew back with apprehension. A scrawny blue earth pony waiting in line audibly gulped when he saw them and skittered for the door.

“Where’s Silver Plate?” Phillip asked Skybrush.

The griffon coughed and cleared his throat. “He’ll probably be in an interrogation room downstairs, talking to his lawyer.”

“Then let’s not hang around like bogans,” Phillip said. “Lead on, jackaroo.”

“Right, right,” Skybrush said. He led them down a hallway, down a set of stairs, paused briefly to speak to another detective, then opened up a doorway with a sign overhead that read Holding Cells.

“He’s in the interrogation chamber,” he told Phil and Daring, nodding towards a hallway that led off to the side, away from the cells filled with grumbling inmates.

A short jaunt down the hallway led them to two one-way windows on opposite walls. Through the one on the left, they could see Vinny sitting at a table, speaking to another stallion. The silver-coated unicorn sat with his head down, his unkempt black and gray mane shading his face. Salt-and-pepper stubble clung to his jawline and he held his hooves on the table before him, tightly clenched. On his flanks was the image of a silver dinner platter atop a green tablecloth.

“So, what’s the game plan?” Daring asked as they paused outside the window to study their target.

“I’ll get his side of the story, for starters,” Phillip said. “I do have a theory about an alibi.”

“He hasn’t given one,” Skybrush pointed out.

“I know,” Phillip replied, heading for the door and entering the room.

Silver Plate looked up as he entered. “The fuck are you?” he grunted.

“Phillip Finder,” Phil told him, sitting down across from him. “The stallion who’s going to find out who killed your father.”

“Well, you’re in the wrong place,” Silver Plate groused. “I didn’t do it.”

“That’s why your lawyer hired my partner and me,” Phillip said. “But I need more than your word, you understand.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Why don’t you tell me your story from the beginning?”

Silver sighed in exasperation. “It’s like I said for a dozen times,” he stated. “Two days ago, I got back home from a long vacation and went in to talk to my dad; the last time we’d spoken was three weeks ago before I left and I wanted to try to clear the air around us. I got to the shop around 6:30 and let myself in. Dad was coming out of the back; he seemed kinda surprised to see me.”

He sighed. “Of course, he started laying into me right away about up and leaving without letting him know, and how he’d done so much for me just for me to throw it away, saying I had to shape up before I could inherit the shop. I barked at him that what I did with my own money and time was none of his damn business and I didn’t even want the damn shop anyway. After going back and forth, I just walked out. Found a motel next morning and that’s where the police found me.”

“Where’d you go out?” Phillip asked.

“None of your business,” Silver grunted.

“Wouldn’t happen to be that Mareish restaurant on Main Street?” Phillip asked.

Silver Plate looked up for the first time, his blue eyes blazing with surprise. “How did you--?”

“Silver shamrock in the window,” Phillip replied. “That’s a sign that Coin Toss’ gang hosts gambling tourneys. Recently, judging by the mass of beer bottles in the dumpster. You’ve been working on your card-counting game, judging by the notes in your room. And you’re clearly struggling with money, considering the number of stuff you’ve been pawning.”

Silver Plate swallowed and glanced around the room, his eyes settling on Vinny. “Dammit, man, why didn’t you just say so?” Vinny said.

Silver sighed. “Because you don’t talk about Coin Toss’ clubs,” he said. “Plus, it doesn’t make me look good if I admit I’m a gambler, does it?”

“If it gave you an alibi for that night, it makes you look better than a murder,” Vinny said. “There anyone there who knows you who could give you an alibi?”

Silver let out a dry laugh. “Good luck finding somepony who’ll admit to being there,” he grunted. “But I swear, I went straight there after I argued with my dad. Stayed there until it broke up around two in the morning, then went to a motel and went to bed. Never saw my dad again after that fight.”

Phillip thought for a few moments, studying Silver. The unicorn had slumped forward over the table again, studying his hooves as his mane hung over his face like shades over a window. Vinny reorganized his notes to give himself something to do as the silence hung over them all like a low cloud, glancing up at Phil with searching, uncertain eyes.

Phillip glanced over at the one-way window, frowning pensively as if he could see through it to where he knew Daring and Skybrush were watching.

“You sure you got to the shop at 6:30?” he asked Silver.

“Yeah,” Silver nodded.

“You sure the door was unlocked?” Phillip pressed.

“Yeah,” Silver nodded again.

“You left your key when you left on vacation?” Phillip asked.

Silver had to think for a moment. “Yeah, I did,” he admitted. “Left it behind because I’d argued with dad before I left.”

“Did you see anypony else when you were there?” Phillip pressed.

“No,” Silver shook his head.

“You sure you didn’t see or hear anything weird when you were there?” Phillip continued.

“No!” Silver snapped, looking up to glare at him.

“Silver,” Vinny said gently, placing a hoof on his client’s shoulder.

“You need to think,” Phillip said calmly. “Anything could be important.”

Silver placed his forehead on his hoof and thought for a few moments, then clicked his tongue. “Well, I did ask if he was wearing new cologne,” he said. “He absolutely reeked of this cheap cologne. He didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“And was there a box or something on the counter when you came in?” Phillip pressed.

Silver had to think for another few seconds, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah, a white cardboard box. About this big.” He used his hooves to indicate a shape about five feet in diameter and a foot high. “Don’t know what it was, but it was big.”

Phillip frowned in thought for a few moments, then nodded. “That helps. Thank you,” he said, standing up.

“Hey, detective,” Silver cut in, looking up. His blue eyes, formerly full of frustration and anger, now held a dim glow of desperate hope.

“I didn’t kill him,” Silver said. “I know I look bad, and I know I fought with him a lot, but I didn’t kill him. I swear.”

“Relax, mate,” Phillip said. “I’ll find the guy who did it.”

Briefly touching the brim of his trilby, he exited, closing the door behind him.

“What do you think?” Daring asked as he rejoined his two comrades, watching Silver slump over again, turning towards Vinny as his attorney began speaking to him, a reassuring smile on his face.

“I think he's telling the truth,” Phillip said. “And if he is, then we have an idea who killed Gold Plate and why.”

“What do you mean?” Skybrush asked.

“He got there at 6:30, but the door was unlocked and he didn’t have his key with him,” Phillip said. “Nor was Gold expecting him, if Silver got back home without telling him he was coming. Shop was supposed to be closed by then. So why was the door unlocked?”

“Some last-minute customer,” Daring concluded.

“He could’ve left the key behind him and locked the doors behind him,” Skybrush pointed out.

“He would’ve left a blood trail or mud traces up the stairs,” Daring countered. “Plus, you saw how much dust was in that room. We were probably the first ones in there for weeks.”

“A late-night customer,” Phillip said aloud. “Unicorn, about three-foot-two, wearing Gardener brand horseshoes and cheap cologne. Probably came in to buy whatever was on the counter. We need to go back there and look for more clues, probably talk to the neighbor.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Daring replied, already turning to go.

“I’ll have somepony drop by that restaurant and ask for witnesses,” Skybrush offered, following them.

“You might as well, but I doubt that any bogan there will tell you anything useful,” Phillip admitted.

“Gotta cover all the bases,” Skybrush said, pushing open the doors to the holding cells. He glanced at his two companions as they proceeded. “Do you always tilt your hats down like that when you’re trying to look cool?”

“No,” Phil and Daring simultaneously said, pushing their headgear back slightly.

---

“So this is the abode of the famous Curveball,” Red commented as he exited his car, frowning at the redbrick apartment in front of him. The apartment building was leaning slightly as if it were drunk, many of the windows so greasy that they were nearly opaque.

Flash checked up and down the street, shifting for the weight of his .45 underneath his jacket. A couple of mares in black pleather coats walking down the other side of the street stared at them as they passed; a clementine thestral in a loose jacket leaning against the wall of the apartment stared at them through hooded eyes, taking a drag on his foul-smelling cigarette.

A flutter of wings overhead made him look up. A raven took off from a powerline, flapping down the street, glancing down at him with a beady black eye.

“I don’t think we’re welcome around here,” he muttered to his senior partner.

“Don’t show fear, Sentry,” Red replied in an undertone, pointedly ignoring the thestral as he approached the front door. “Let’s just get in and out of here quick.”

They stepped into a cramped lobby that reeked of mildew and proceeded up the creaking stairs to the second floor, wincing at every harsh crack and groan that betrayed their presence. The door marked number six was at the end of the hall, the gold-plated number nailed to the wood nearly overrun with rust.

“Well, he probably knows we’re here,” Red grunted, beckoning for Flash to go on ahead, stepping back to watch the hallways.

Flash stepped up to the door and rapped sharply. “Curveball? This is the police,” he called.

There was no response from inside. Flash frowned and knocked harder. “Curveball! We’re just here to talk!”

His response was a faint clicking from within. Red dove in and tackled Flash like a linebacker, knocking him out of the way just as a hole burst through the door with a thunderclap.

“You’re not getting me!” a voice howled from within, accompanied by the second clicking of a shotgun hammer. “You stay the fuck back! You’re not taking me like you took Cirrus!”

“Put it down, Curveball!” Red barked, drawing his .45 as he stood up, digging into his pocket.

“Don’t kill him, we need him to talk!” Flash urged, scrambling back to his hooves as he drew his own weapon.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Red grunted, pulling out the object that he was looking for: a small yellow stone, roughly shaped like a die, with a rune that reminded Flash of an eye and a teardrop embossed upon it in purple.

“Ardere,” Red whispered, his lips nearly on the stone, which began to glow faintly. Red tossed the stone into the hole in the door. Flash heard it clatter against the floor, then a flare of light burst through the door as though the sun had just risen within the apartment. Curveball screamed from within.

Both detectives charged forward, Red shouldering the door open as they entered. The orange earth pony with the Manticores cap was writhing in pain on the ground, one hoof over his eyes, the other clinging to a double-barreled shotgun.

Red tackled Curveball to the ground, the shotgun tumbling from his grasp. Curveball wailed in terror, writhing in panic as the two detectives cuffed his forelegs. “Wait! Wait!” he pleaded.

“You should’ve thought of that before you tried shooting cops,” Red snarled, patting him down.

“I didn’t know it was you!” Curveball protested, tears of fear mixing with tears of pain in his eyes.

“The announcement didn’t help any?” Red snorted. “Flash, check the room.”

Holstering his weapon, Flash scanned the area; from eye level to ceiling, then eyes to knees, then knees to floor, just as Phil had told him. The cramped living room and kitchen were filled with greasy takeout bags; the groaning fridge proved to be stuffed full of recently purchased foods. The windows were both boarded over; the construction was clearly recent, as the boards were absent of the dust that covered every other surface. There was scarcely a corner where there was not a gun or a knife within reach.

Flash paused in the bedroom to study a framed photograph on the groaning dresser: Curveball standing next to a familiar white pegasus mare, both of them beaming at the camera with their forelegs about each other, each wearing a Ponyville Manticores cap. Behind them, he could see the tended green of Ponyville stadium.

With a soft sigh, Flash returned to the living room, where Red had hoisted the cuffed Curveball into a chair.

“Definitely a bit too short for regulation,” Red said, studying the shotgun. “And if I were a betting pony, I’d bet that you don’t have a license for most of those,” he added, nodding to a Mausenner C85 on the kitchen counter, handle and hoof strap turned towards them for easy access.

Curveball swallowed and glanced from beneath his cap at Flash, who just coolly stared at him from the threshold.

“You know why we’re here,” Red told the trembling earth pony. “Your buddies Cirrus Stirrer, Glitter Charm, and Greg Granite turned up in a garbage dump west of here.”

Curveball shuddered, his wide eyes still barely visible beneath the brim of his cap.

“What happened last night?” Flash pressed. “You’re obviously scared of something, and I’m guessing that that’s the same something that killed your friends.”

"And oh, look what we got here," Red said, nodding to a set of work horseshoes caked in mud resting on the floor next to the door. "How much you want to bet that there'll be dirt from the landfill on here?" He leaned down to glare at Curveball. "Don't you think that your friends deserve better than to be tossed into a pile of moldy food and old newspapers?"

Curveball whimpered, his eyes momentarily locked onto Red’s stern gaze, then quickly turned away as if searching for an escape route.

“Whoever you’re scared of, we can protect you from them,” Flash said, slowly moving around Curveball to subtly corner him, like a pair of wolves surrounding a lame deer.

“Or you could give us nothing, and we could just leave you to your new buddies,” Red grunted, turning away slightly and looking away, making a show about how much he didn’t care.

Curveball trembled in his horseshoes, eyes darting in between the detectives and the surrounding street, the trapped deer weighing his options: the pack of wolves or the den of snakes.

“You can’t protect me,” he whispered. “You don’t know who this is.”

“Who is it?” Flash pressed.

The stairs outside creaked loudly, groaning like a dying stallion beneath multiple rapid hoofsteps. Curveball gasped and looked up, tumbling off the chair and trying to crawl away.

Red drew his weapon again, signaling for Flash to pull their witness into the bedroom with a wing. Flash grasped the whimpering stallion by the nape of his neck and pulled him into the next room. “Shush,” he hissed, pulling out his own sidearm and crouching down next to the wall.

Red pressed his back against the fridge, breathing slow and steady. The hoofsteps clattered down the hall outside, pausing outside the door; he saw shadows shifting through the hole in the door. For a few moments, there was only a tense silence.

Then with a great roaring like a jackhammer, bullets pierced through the door, screaming through the apartment. Red flinched back from the fusillade; Curveball screamed and tried to make himself as flat as possible.

The door crashed open and three ponies charged in, all of them adorned in ski masks and bulletproof vests, all of them armed with submachine guns.

Red rounded the corner, sights snapping up to the lead pony, hoof already pushing the trigger of his .45. The gun kicked twice and the red stallion stumbled and fell with a grunt; the unicorn behind him tripped over him with a shout of “Fuck!” His weapon flew from his hooves, spinning across the floor.

The third pony, another unicorn, halted, and a blue circular shield blossomed into existence in front of him. His weapon spat hot lead at Red, who drew back with a gasp as bullets clattered against the steel. The unicorn that had tripped was pulling his weapon back to his hooves, turning around to aim at Red.

A .45 Filly let out its distinctive bark and the pony on the floor went limp, blood bursting from his skull. His limp body pinned his struggling earth pony companion to the ground.

“Cover!” Flash shouted. Red pointed his weapon around the corner of the fridge and started firing randomly, his bullets pinging musically off of the unicorn’s shield. The earth pony attacker howled and clutched his foreleg as blood spewed from the tunnel that had just been carved through the limb.

Taking a deep breath, Flash charged forward, raising his weapon. The unicorn turned his weapon towards him, moving as though in slow motion, his face blurry through his conjured shield.

Flash took aim and fired, not at the shield. The unicorn screamed and stumbled as blood erupted from his leg, dropping to one knee as his shield flickered and faded.

His screams were ended by two more .45 rounds to the chest that left him spread on the floor, moaning in pain.

Panting, Flash kicked the submachine gun out of his reach, aiming his .45 down at his face. “You good?” he called to Red, his voice raised over the ringing in his ears.

Red grunted and rubbed his side, his weapon aimed down at the earth pony that had tripped, who was still clutching his wounded foreleg and moaning in agony. He glanced down at the flattened round that had stuck in his vest. “I’m good,” he grunted, his chest burning with pain with every breath. “Nice shooting, Sen--”

A crash from the bedroom made them both whirl around. “Oh, that idiot,” Flash growled, rushing to the bedroom.

His fears were confirmed: the window had been smashed open, blood clinging to the remnants of the glass shards. A glance outside proved that Curveball, still in hoofcuffs, was trying to shimmy down the fire escape, panting and whimpering, his orange coat covered in blood from the multiple cuts he’d obtained in his escape attempt.

“Get back here!” Flash snapped, using a loose piece of wood to knock out more bloodied glass.

Once more, a heavy flapping of wings sounded overhead. A black blur streaked down from the sky like a meteor, aimed right at Curveball. The stallion looked up too late.

Red liquid gushed from his throat. Curveball’s cuffed hooves raised to his neck as he gasped and gurgled. He reached out to Flash, his wide eyes pleading, then toppled over the railing and tumbled to the ground with a sickening splat. Blood spread from his form, his cap pathetically flopping on the ground next to him.

Flash turned away from the corpse to look at the aggressor. The raven swooped about, heading westward with a flap of its wings. In the late afternoon sun, Flash saw the curved iron blades on its talons, Curveball’s blood dripping from them.

He also spotted the small red dot on its chest, like a tiny bloodstain.

Recognition flashed through his mind. That raven was outside when we got here!

“Hey! Come back here!” Flash shouted, diving out the window and taking flight, chasing after the bird.

“Sentry, where are you going?” Red shouted from inside.

“What?” the earth pony at his hooves wheezed, clutching his chest with his uninjured forelimb. “Think you can’t handle two of us at the same time?”

“You’re lucky to still be breathing,” Red grunted, sweeping his gun back and forth between his two captives. “If I were you, I’d exercise my right to remain si--”

Both of his captives glanced at each other, sharing the same look between them. A flicker of fear, then cold resolution. Red had seen that look before.

“Hey, don’t--!”

His order came too late. As one, both of the gunponies reached into their pockets and pulled out a small white pill, which they bit down upon. They choked and spasmed, foam spewing from their lips, mixing with the tears that were now falling from their eyes.

“Dammit!” Red snapped, dropping his gun and diving for the earth pony. He tried to force the dying pony’s head back, pulling his jaw open in what he knew would be a useless gesture.

Hooves batted him away, pushing against the proffered aid. “Who are you scared of?!” Red shouted. “Who is it?!”

The stallion gave a little choking noise, like a whimper. And then he was still and silent, leaving Red alone in the room with three dead ponies.

Yards away, Flash closed in on his target. The raven let out an angry screech and dove away from him, spinning in an attempt to evade his grabs.

“Hold still!” Flash shouted, grasping at the bird.

The raven cawed at him and suddenly whipped around, augmented talons raised and aimed for his neck.

"Wah!" Flash cried, banking to one side and instinctively raising a foreleg.

Claws dug into his arm and pain spread across the limb. The wings beat at his face as the raven passed by inches away, letting out another screech. Flash glanced over his shoulder and watched as the raven disappeared around the chimney of a nearby factory.

He turned just in time to see his reflection rushing at him. “Whoa!” Flash cried as he flared at his wings, stopping just in time to avoid crashing into the skyscraper. Turning about, he rushed around the chimney belching smoke, whipping his head every which way. But his target had vanished amidst the clouds.

Panting, he clutched at his foreleg, blood dripping down his limb, and started to head back to Curveball's apartment.

---

He scowled as he reviewed the projected images before him.

That had not gone to plan. The entire point of keeping Curveball alive was to make him the bait for a trap. But instead of Finder and Do, he’d instead gotten two of the juniors. And then the idiots that he’d hired couldn’t even kill two regular detectives; at least he’d made it clear what would happen to them if they allowed themselves to be captured. And worse, Lenore had not only missed, she'd almost been caught; if the boy had managed to grab some of her feathers, that would've been it.

It should’ve been simple: two detectives who just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, collateral victims in a gang assassination. So much for that.

He glanced around the room, shadows cast by candlelight dancing over every wall and work table, and let out a growl. He'd probably have to abandon this place for a while, just to be safe. And after he'd put so much work into it...

No matter. There were other things to attend to, and he had other hideouts ready.

No point in pushing it at this point. He had tonight to prepare for.

Author's Note:

So far, nothing's going to plan for anyone. Best-laid plans and all that. But maybe that will change later...

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, leave a like and a comment to let me know what you think!

Comments

[Jade Dawn]

Knew the raven Flash spotted was gonna be important. And naming it Lenore? Nice one.