Troublemaker

by totallynotabrony

1:1

Another story from the Battleships Universe. Thanks for reading.

Troublemaker
Part One

I’d been in the place often enough that they knew what I drank. Nodding to the bartender, I went out the back door to the deck. There were maybe half a dozen tables outside. A breeze was coming in off the bay and the stars were beginning to come out.

I found David Goldstein out there. He was part owner of the place and insisted that I should call it a “club,” as if that made it different than a bar or tavern. To be fair, there was a man out front that decided who got in, and there were a lot of young, rich, good-looking people and ponies who frequented the place.

I sat down across from David and leaned a little in the chair, putting one foreleg on the deck rail. It was maybe seventy degrees, about what was expected of an evening in May.

“What’s the news?” he asked.

“Not much,” I said. A waitress brought my drink with a straw, kindly considerate of my lack of fingers or telekinesis. Even with salt, vodka and grapefruit juice tastes terrible. That kept me from drinking it too fast.

David was a lawyer from nine to five, Monday through Friday. My lawyer, in fact, although he handled a lot more of my business than just legal things. He got paid for it, so he didn’t care. The man was short and a little rotund with dark curly hair and glasses. He drank tequila. I didn’t know if that was Kosher or not, but he didn’t seem to care.

Seeing as how it was Sunday evening, we were nearly the only ones there. In the background, I could hear a TV playing coverage of the 2016 Presidential Election that was about six months away. I looked out at the ocean for a while. Nothing I hadn’t seen before.

“You still hurt about Lilly?” David asked.

I was, but said, “Define hurt.”

He sighed. “Come on Sail, we meet like this every week. I know how you are. You haven’t been right since the breakup.”

“I thought we had something,” I muttered. “She was important to me.”

“I told you not to burn down her apartment building,” said David.

“I didn’t.” I paused. “I wish I did.”

He leaned back and took a sip. “I might be able to help you. Guy I know thinks his wife could be cheating on him. He was thinking about hiring a private investigator to check it out. You’ve got a lot of free time. Sound like something you want to do?”

I thought about it. It did sound interesting. David was right; I did have a lot of time to myself. I suppose I had a pretty sweet deal on life. I had inherited the family shipbuilding business. The board of directors had stipulated that I had to come in for a weekly meeting, but that I could do pretty much anything else, including give myself a seven figure salary.

“Okay,” I agreed.

David nodded and pulled out his cell phone. He opened his wallet and rifled through a few business cards, finding one and dialing from it. “Mr. Larson, this is David Goldstein. Do you have a minute? Maybe take a walk with the phone? You’ll want to be alone.”

David paused a moment. “All right. I remembered what you said the other day about your wife. I have somepony here who I think can help you. Right. His name is Sail Canvas.” He listened. “Kind of a seafoam green pegasus with a silver mane and tail. Right, I’ll let him know. Have a good night.” He ended the call.

“You’re hired.” He put away his phone and began organizing the mess of business cards in his wallet. “His name is Neil Larson. He’s an accountant that one of my clients brought along to make sure I wasn’t screwing him. That guy was nuts, but Larson and I had a laugh after he left. We talked a little and he told me his troubles.”

Neil Larson’s card had remained on the surface of the table. He slid it across to me. It had a simple two line title – Neil Larson, CPA. His office and cell numbers were listed along with his office address.

“He says you should show up at nine tomorrow,” David told me.

“Sounds easy enough.” I slid the card into a space beside my cell phone in a pocket of the cloth band I wore around my foreleg.

David gave me a look. “Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

I said I wouldn’t. It took me a few more minutes to finish my drink. I said goodbye and left money at the bar.

My car was where I left it. It was a sleek silver machine called a BMW M6. It was a little irresponsible to buy, but that’s me for you. It’s easy to tell a pony-owned vehicle at a glance. The steering wheel and seats are different. Most manufacturers offer the conversion as a dealer-installed option. I got in and navigated my way out of the parking lot.

I didn’t have enough alcohol in me to seriously affect my driving, even being a lightweight pegasus. I lived in Edgewater Haven, a subdivision near Norfolk, Virginia. It was situated on a spit of land that jutted out into the bay west of the city. To the north and west was the Navy base. To the south was Old Dominion University and the coal terminal of Norfolk Southern Railway.

My house was too large for one pony or even two, but Lilly had liked the location. It was out at the tip of the peninsula and could be reached by a maze of narrow streets, or by boat. I found the second option easier, but it was faster to drive.

I usually met David at nine. I didn’t check the clock when I got home, but I knew it was bedtime.

I had a strange dream that night. I dreamed that the interdimensional portals between worlds had never been invented, and that I’d been raised in Equestria.

Whew, for a second there I thought I’d lost all my material goods. It’s not that I’m addicted to wealth, I just happen to have a lot of it. When you’re only twenty three and your parents leave you an entire company that has lots of government contracts, it takes a little while to get used to spending so much. I figured I would probably catch up sooner or later. Now that Lilly was gone, that might take a little longer.

I walked out the back door of my house and made for the pier. The sun shone brightly on a thirty-two foot cabin cruiser was tied up there. Tiger Lilly had until recently been painted on the transom. I glanced at the terrible spraypaint job that covered the letters and kept trotting.

At the end of the pier I simply stepped into space and plunged into the water. The spring weather hadn’t managed to warm the coastal ocean areas yet, and the temperature was about sixty degrees. It did wonders for a hangover.

Coming up for air, I decided I wasn’t in the mood for a swim at the moment. After climbing back onto the pier and shaking off, I headed in to find something for breakfast.

A little water dripped on the tile of the kitchen floor. I spread my wings to help the feathers dry while I opened a box of cereal. I didn’t use the upper cabinets in the kitchen. The house, like the others built along Edgewater Haven, had been constructed to human standards and didn’t really fit. Once again, it had been Lilly’s choice.

Thinking about the mare that had done me wrong brought to mind the task David had suggested. While eating, I found the card he had given me and gave it a look for the first time. Neil Larson, CPA. His business address in Virginia Beach was listed. The clock on the wall showed that it wasn’t yet nine, but it was close.

Any problems with being late were quickly solved by my car. When the engineers were designing it, one of them probably said, “The Americans like speed, right? Fine! More than five hundred horsepower ought to keep them happy.” Of course, I don’t know if he actually said that. I don’t speak German.

Between the numerous tributaries that connect to the ocean and a general lack of city planning, the whole Norfolk area is difficult to navigate. It’s only about twenty miles from Edgewater to Virginia Beach, but there’s no direct way to get there. I managed to make it to Neil Larson’s office right on time.

Larson’s office had its own building. His name was even on the sign. I walked in. The secretary was a blonde with black plastic glasses. They were the latest in human fashion, I had been told. She looked like she belonged in high school. The little nameplate on her desk told me her name was Sherrie Waldron.

“I’m here to see Mr. Larson,” I told her.

“Your name?” She smiled, perhaps a little too friendly for the serious world of accounting.

I told her who I was. She hunted around on her desk, apparently looking for something that told her I had an appointment. It didn’t look like she found it. She picked up the phone on her desk.

“Mr. Larson? There’s a pony named Sail Canvas here to see you.”

She listened and then nodded, despite the fact that Larson couldn’t see her. She put the phone down and smiled. “His office is at the end of the hall.”

I went down to the door. It helpfully had Neil Larson’s name on it. I knocked and voice asked me in.

Larson was maybe thirty-five. His dark hair matched his mustache. He stood about six feet even and looked like he ate well, but not to excess. His clothes seemed to say that he had money. He had the kind of shoulders that I would expect from someone who used to play football.

Neil extended a fist and I bumped it with my hoof. The dimensional portals had been open for around twenty five years now, and it was rare to find someone who didn’t know that ponies don’t shake.

“You’re younger than I expected. You must be good at what you do, though.” He glanced out the window at my car. “That’s a nice set of wheels.”

He asked me to have a seat. The customer chairs weren’t as nice as his, but nice enough. He sat down and folded his hands. “So what did Mr. Goldstein tell you?”

“You want to find out if your wife is sleeping around,” I said.

He nodded. “She’s been acting differently lately. Every time I’ve tried asking her about it, she says it’s nothing.”

Neil was lucky that he’d noticed early, instead of getting a bolt from the blue. I nodded. “How long ago did you notice?”

“Maybe two weeks.” He shook his head. “I really don’t want to think that she’s cheating, but I can’t think of anything else that might be going on.”

“So what do you want me to do?” I asked. “Should I follow her around?”

“If that’s what it takes. I want to be sure.” He told me about the advertising agency where she worked, her schedule, the silver Toyota Avalon she drove, and a little about the woman herself. I pulled out a small notebook that I had brought with me. I thought it might help me look like I knew what I was doing. I had to borrow a pen, though.

Her name was Tabitha. She was blonde. Neil said she was good looking and only two months younger than him.

I spent maybe twenty minutes on the conversation with Larson. I got some nice things to write in my notebook. When he seemed to be done talking, I started to get up.

“Hang on a minute,” said Neil. “What do you charge?”

I shrugged. “I went through similar relationship trouble once, and you’re a friend of David’s, so how about pro bono this time?”

His face broke into a forced smile. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, let me know.”

As I got up to go, he said, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”

“I own a shipbuilding company,” I answered. “We do a lot of things for the Navy.”

He glanced at the mark on my hip and nodded. “That’s about what I guessed. Well, I want to thank you again for this. If you need your taxes done, keep me in mind.”

I said that I would and left the office, sliding the pen into a loop on my leg band beside my phone. Most people don’t want to keep a pen once a pony mouth-writes with it.

He bumped my hoof again and I gave him my card in case he needed to talk to me. Sherrie smiled at me on the way out of the office.

I sat in the car for a moment and read over what I’d written in the notebook. Tabitha got off work at three in the afternoon, while Neil worked until five. I decided to go to their house first.

The Larsons lived out in Virginia Beach, on Ocean Shore Avenue. The house was just west of First Landing State Park and within sight of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel.

The dwelling was square and two stories tall. It was smaller than I expected. Size had been traded for location. Real estate in that neighborhood wasn’t cheap. Behind the house was the beach.

I parked the car at the curb and got out. Ocean waves breaking could be heard nearby, and there was a dusting of sand on the street. I went over to the neighbor’s house and knocked on the door. No one answered. There were a few cars parked on the street, but there was only one house in the area around the Larson place that had cars in the driveway. I figured that everyone else was at work.

I walked to the house and went up to the front door. An old lady that looked like somone’s grandmother answered my knock. “Can I help you?”

I had created an artificial identity for use whenever I wanted to use something different than my real name. That way, I had a fake name ready and didn’t have to think one up on the spot. “Yes ma’am. My name’s Dinghy Oar. I’m investigating a report of suspicious activity for the Virginia Beach Police Department. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, I don’t believe I have.” She looked worried. If it had been a cold enough day for her to be wearing a shawl, she probably would have clutched it closer.

I nodded. “Have you noticed any people or cars around that you haven’t seen before?”

“Well, down the block just a little ways is a car that I first saw a few days ago. That little green one.” She pointed. “It’s been around since then. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the driver.”

I wrote it down in my notebook and took the pen out of my mouth. “Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.” She still looked worried.

“Thank you for your time.” I went back down the block. There was a green Mazda Miata parked on the street across from the Larson house. Earlier, I had noticed that it didn’t have a front license plate like Virginia requires. I walked around to the rear of the car. It was from Pennsylvania.

I wrote down the plate number and got back in my car. Skimping on breakfast had caught up with me. On the corner a couple of blocks away, there was a Food Lion with a couple of other things scattered around it. None of the restaurants were open, so I decided to just go home. The drive from Virginia Beach back to Edgewater Haven was about as far as you can go from one end of the Norfolk area to the other. I ate some animal crackers on the way.

If I have a habit for snacks, it’s for Barnum’s. They taste reasonably good, they’re cheap, and they’re easy to eat. I usually have some in the glove box.

At home I ate lunch and then sat down to figure out who owned the green car. There are plenty of websites that will give you a detailed rundown on a person – for a price. I found one that would allow you to search anyone for criminal records, ancestry, and cell phone traces from the US, UK, Canada and Australia. All for the low price of sixty dollars for a year subscription.

The owner of the car was a man named Joseph Hauser. I dialed his cell phone number and got an answer almost immediately.

“Mr. Hauser, this Dinghy Oar of the Virginia Beach Police Department. I don’t want to alarm you, but there have been reports of suspicious behavior in an area of the city. While on patrol, officers noticed your car. You drive a green Mazda, correct?”

“Yes I do,” he said. “What’s this about? Has something happened?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with your car. I’m just doing a routine check. As you are from out of state, would you mind telling me what your business in the area is?”

“I’m staying with some friends,” he said. “Tom and Jody Schleman.”

I asked him to spell the last name. “They live on Ocean Shore Avenue?”

“Right.”

“Okay Mr. Hauser, thank you for your time. That should be all.” I hung up and typed the Schlemans into the investigation search engine. I dug up their cell phone numbers and gave them a call. They confirmed Hauser’s story.

That left me with nothing. The only thing I hadn’t done was follow Tabitha Larson around. Well, better get started. I left home a little early to have a look at the area around her office.

The office building was a four story brick structure that looked like it had once been apartments. There was a fire escape down one side. I walked up to the front door to read the sign that listed the companies with offices in the building. The advertising agency took up the whole third floor.

The silver Toyota was in the parking lot next door. There was a parking tag hanging from the mirror because the lot was for employees only. Other than that, there was nothing of note inside the car. Tabitha kept it clean.

As I walked around the front end, I thought that the hood might have been slightly bent. I crouched down to eye level with it. There was a slight ripple in the metal, like the car had been in an accident and the hood had been straightened instead of replaced. The compound curves of modern cars make it really difficult to get sheet metal back to perfect condition. Still, it was a good job. I almost hadn’t noticed it.

I copied down the car’s Vehicle Identification Number and walked back to my BMW, where I sat for a while until Tabitha came out of the building. I didn’t know her on sight, only when she got in the car.

She was pretty by human standards. It seemed like she exercised regularly. I gave her one block of head start and then pulled into the street behind her. When she got to the corner, she turned right.

Tabitha went straight home. I was a little disappointed, actually. I parked a couple of houses away and sat there. No one went into the house and no one left before Neil got home.

He saw me sitting in my car and waved as he drove by. After he went inside, I started up my car and left.

On the internet at home, I typed the VIN of Tabitha’s car into Carfax. A little money later, and I had a history of the vehicle. Two weeks previously, it had been in the repair shop—about the same time Neil mentioned her behavior changing.

»«

I got up late the next morning. I trusted Tabitha to get to work without my escort. I had some personal business to take care of.

At David’s suggestion, I had started seeing Dr. Mind Games once a week for psychotherapy. He told me that I needed to learn more public skills. He was probably right, but I still hadn’t liked the idea. After I opened up a little to Dr. Games, I begrudgingly admitted to myself that having someone to talk to was nice.

I had an hour starting at ten a.m. on Tuesday every week. Dr. Games had a space sandwiched between a hair salon and a pizza place in one of those faceless strip malls that seem to be everywhere. The interrogation chamber, as I thought of it, was nicer than the outside might imply. It was decorated to be comfortable, but not too in-your-face. She had two different sized couches, one for ponies and one for people.

The doctor was an elderly mare who had closed her practice in Canterlot. Like many older ponies were beginning to do, she’d retired to Earth for a change of pace. As it turned out, she was a workaholic and couldn’t stay retired.

I walked in just a little late. Dr. Games didn’t say anything. After all, her payment was by the hour. She was a sand-colored unicorn with a brain for a cutie mark. The glasses she wore were some kind of thin rimless variety that looked like they would break if you touched them wrong.

“So Sail, what’s happened in the past week?” the doctor asked once I was on my back.

“There’s really only been one thing to note. David introduced me to a man who’s been having marital troubles.” I’d mentioned David’s name enough that she knew who he was. “I agreed to help him find out if she’s having an affair.”

“What are you going to be doing?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just follow her around and see if anything happens.”

Dr. Games looked like she didn’t think that was a good idea. “What are you getting out of it?”

“Satisfaction, I suppose.” I paused. “Before you ask, yes, this has everything to do with Lilly.”

The doctor nodded. “I remember that you said you wanted to kill her. Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that if you help this man you might get some closure and that feeling will diminish?”

“It might.”

Dr. Games sighed. “When did you begin?”

“Yesterday,” I said. “I met him at his office and he told me the details.”

“What did you do after that?”

“I went and talked to some people in the area. I didn’t learn anything that might suggest the wife was sleeping around.”

“What if they talk to the wife? Won’t she find out what her husband thinks about her?”

“I said I was looking into suspicious activity for the police. I never said anything that would point directly at the two of them.”

“You impersonated a police officer?” said, Dr. Games, her eyebrows going up.

“No, I never specifically said that I was a cop. I did lie about my name and my affiliation with the police, though.”

She sighed. “Sail, you know you shouldn’t do that.”

“It got results.”

“You should still do your best to find a way that doesn’t involve lying.”

“I’ll try it a different way next time.”

I didn’t know whether I would or not. I would still probably tell Dr. Games the truth no matter what I did. I didn’t feel guilty about it. No real damage had been done, and it had worked.

We talked a little more before the hour was up. I didn’t think she had anyone scheduled at eleven o’clock because I had never met anyone coming in as I was leaving. Maybe it was her lunchtime.

Thinking of that, I pulled out my phone and called Andy Newhart. He was one of the few people—or ponies, for that matter—that I’d kept in contact with after high school. He taught Japanese at Old Dominion.

“Hello?” he said. His voice was neutral and professional.

“It’s Sail. How about lunch?”

“Sure, I can do that,” he replied. “I’ll be at the usual place.”

I disconnected and drove to campus. Andy was standing outside his office smoking when I rolled up. He knocked out his pipe and got in the car.

Andy was a short, thin man with glasses and dark hair that was pulled back and tied. I would have called the hairstyle a ponytail, but I try to avoid puns whenever possible. While at school, Andy wore various tweed suits with elbow pads. Very professor-like.

“I’d like to have your help with something,” I said.

“What, exactly?” His tone was guarded. Admittedly, I’d asked him to help with some irresponsible things in the past.

“Do you want to help me spy on a woman you don’t know?” I replied.

He thought for a moment. “Sometimes I worry about you, Sail, but sure. Is there tailing involved?”

“Part of the deal is following her home from work, yeah.”

I saw Andy’s eyes sparkle with sudden interest. “Where do I fit in?”

“I need your car.”

Andy was surprised. “Huh? What for?”

I gestured at the dashboard. “She might notice a BMW following her several days in a row.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “True. Okay, but I get to come along. And you’re buying lunch.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed.

“Barbecue?” he asked.

I sat up a little straighter. “I could go for that.”

Comments

[The Grey Pegasus]

I will read the rest of this later.

How do you write so much?

[Anon-Do-Well]

Today I am going through the first chapters of every non-mature story on the front page and offering feedback on each one. Yours is the thirteenth.

Presentation

* I take it you're aware that it's no longer standard practice to put two spaces at the ends of your sentences? You can keep doing it, but just keep that in mind.

Story

* This was pretty cool. Your easy-going first-person narration flows well, and you've got a very interesting setting here. I think I may read the rest of this one at some later date. Keep doing what you're doing.

Good day.

[Enceledus]

they eat meat now?

[Themaskedferret]

1317165 *grins* Barbecue refers to cooking things on a barbecue, it doesn't have to be meat.

[AlphaThroughZeta]

the theme for this story....

[AlphaThroughZeta]

ponies don’t shake.

try telling that to applejack