Taking the Case in Hand

by IGIBAB

Chapter 10 - An Old Friend

I'm going nowhere. I know it's the norm for a case to take a bit of time, even more so for a murder case. It's not even been twenty-four hours since Mr. Cake died, I should grin and bear it, analyse things calmly. But I can't, and it's not because of a lack of sugar this time.

There's not even a single serious suspect, and it's getting on my nerves. Usually, I understand pretty quickly what happened, and the rest is simply about proving what I think, or finding things contradicting my thoughts and going on a new lead. Here, nothing. And since we'll have to investigate in Manehattan as well, it's going to take even more time to have a clear vision of things.

Why Mr. Cake? What has he done that's so bad that someone here, in Ponyville, would go as far as to kill him? There's not just good samaritans in this town, yes, but for someone to commit a murder, it takes a lot.

Or maybe it's not someone from Ponyville, and the lead of the competition from Manehattan should be considered. But searching there might be long. Simply going there by train takes an entire afternoon.

The problem is that I don't know all of Ponyville's inhabitants enough. I was pretty isolated the past few years. I would need someone who knows everypony pretty well.

Pinkie? No, she's going to burst in tears again, and she didn't know anything. Mayor Mare then? Since Twilight's coronation, her functions are limited, but still. I should go and see her.

I stop. My steps have brought me near Sugarcube Corner, but my eyes are fixed on something else. Ponyville's bar. Forgotten by most of the town, after all, ponies nearly only drink cider here, in terms of alcohol, but it's still very well located in the middle of Ponyville. In fact, maybe someone saw the assassin get out without even realising.

I think for a moment, grimacing. I know who is probably in there. A mare on the list of people to interrogate, and probably the reason why the bar hasn't filed for bankruptcy yet. But is it really worth interrogating an old drunkard? I don't want to talk to her, not since she had her problem. She was kind, before, and smiling, but now, she's insufferable. Or at least, she was, the last time I talked to her. Maybe things have changed since...

I shake my head and decide on going in. The investigation obliges me, I must not neglect a lead for personal reasons. Maybe she saw something crucial, probably not, but maybe. I come in.

The bar is pretty much empty, as I expected. Nothing differentiates this bar from any other, the same tables, the same chairs, the same decorations and that rustic style giving the place a warm side to it. The latent smell of smoke, despite it being forbidden. And of course, the counter. Weirdly enough, no one is located behind it. On the other hand, there's someone sitting down in front of it.

Placed on a stool, legs hanging, leaning on her elbow on the counter, facing a full glass and a bottle of red wine, looking jaded, mentally tired, in a silent depression. Berry Punch.

I approach her slowly, taking place on a stool two places away from her so as to not discomfort her.

"Hi Berry, the bartender isn't here?"

"Hm..." she flabbily says without even lifting her eyes from her glass. "It's his break time... What's bringing you here?"

"I would like to ask you a few questions."

I'd rather be direct. I notice, with surprise, that she doesn't seem drunk, and that there is a second full glass setting in front of the free spot right by her side.

"You're waiting for someone?" I say to try and start a more convivial conversation, since it doesn't look like she wants to answer.

It gets her to sarcastically muzzle blow.

"It's been how many years since we talked...? Nine? Ten?"

"Ten, if I recall," I say.

"And so you come to see me because you need me... After all this time..."

There's a tormented tone in her voice, but weirdly calm. As if she had accepted her state and her misfortune, whatever its cause might be.

"There's been a murder, at Sugarcube Corner."

"I know... I heard about it..." she tells.

"I know your habits, you hang out here a lot, maybe you saw something important without knowing."

She deigns to turn her eyes to me. Eyes sunken with fatigue, not the one from a night spent without sleeping, but the one from many years of torments. A downcast stare, but yet again, resigned. She stares at me and, somewhere deep down, it terrifies me. Because on that sombre and destroyed face, I can still catch a glimpse of the smiling traits from the Berry I knew, like a ghost.

"Why would I help you...?"

Is she serious right now!?

"To avoid more death, that's why," I say. "And to bring justice to Mr. Cake."

Another muzzle blow, as she brings her attention back to her glass.

"He's dead, there's no justice to bring. Some things can't be excused."

"That's not for you to decide," I say, a tad bit angry. "So, you don't plan on helping me?"

"I do," she sighs with tiredness. "Of course I do... But I didn't see much. I was drunk yesterday evening."

"Really nothing you can remember? Even a sound, or a vague shape would be of great help."

"Nothing... And with the years, I don't pay attention to what's around..."

"And no one that could have had something against him?" I say, continuing while she's willing to answer.

She stares at her glass for a moment. Is she thinking? Or is that slight and sad frowning hiding something else? In the end, she answers slowly:

"Maybe... There's this stallion who had views on Miss Cake... He was from Manehattan I think, like her..."

"A name?"

She rubs her temple with a hoof.

"I don't remember... He came to my bar at the time. I think he said he was a caterer."

"That's old," I say, a bit annoyed. "Mrs. Cake came to Ponyville twelve years ago, why would he come back now? Anyone would give up with the time."

"Not necessarily..." slowly answers Berry.

"Don't be kidding, that's ridiculous."

"Love can make you do ridiculous things..."

I stare at her, trying to understand if she's serious or not. She turned her eyes to her bottle. I notice, by the way, that it is almost full, only the contents of the two glasses are missing. So she didn't drink yet. However, it's almost noon, and I know she generally comes to the bar at the opening.

"Twelve years, it's more than ridiculous."

"I can assure you it's not..." she insists.

"No offence, but I don't really care about your theories."

"I'm talking about what I know."

"You've always been alone," I point out, without really meaning to be hurtful.

"And?" she retorts, suddenly bitter.

I don't dare to reply. She threw me off, she takes the subject to heart. I angered her. And the reason isn't hard to understand, but unexpected. She was in love for a while too.

I see her taking her glass, but she doesn't drink, simply looking at the undulating liquid's surface.

"It doesn't take much, you know... Sometimes, we get attached to anypony, and it doesn't go away... It only takes a pony a bit silly... or a mare a bit too naive..."

I slowly bring my seat closer to hers, curious. I never heard about Berry having a love story, and I don't think I'm alone in that case. I forget my investigation. What she's talking about seems to weigh on her heart, and I want to help her. Before I stopped speaking to her, I reproached her precisely for not saying what was tormenting her this much. But it seems like I have an opportunity to understand now.

"Tell me..." I softly say to incite her to speak.

"You said it, I've always been alone..." she slowly says, still staring at her glass. "Even when I was running my bar, in the old town square, I was alone. Never any stallion really approached me, and even at that time, the bar wasn't doing well in Ponyville. A work that was meant to be social, but where I wasn't seeing anyone..."

She puts her glass back down, taking in a slow breath, smiling with a bitter nostalgia.

"Then one evening, a stallion came in... He was lost, his life wasn't going how he would have wanted it to, he didn't know where he was anymore, in short, a bout of depression, as it happens... I did what every barmare would have done in a moment like this... I served him a glass, to warm his body, and I talked to him, to console his heart..."

I listen carefully, as she seems entirely plunged in her own memories. For now, she still smiles a bit. I don't plan on interrupting her.

"We talked a lot. Mostly about him. He had simply succumbed to the stress, through always striving to be the best he could be in his actions... He seemed like a nice person, who paid great attention to what he was bringing to others... I started to like him. When came the time to go, he thanked me for my help and said "One day, I'll be the one paying you a drink"..."

Her smile fades.

"Those were just words... Coming from a pony who had drunk a bit, and who simply wanted to be thankful... But I was young, idiot, and no stallion had ever shown me signs of affections up until then... So I took him to the word, I exaggerated their meaning, I imagined things... "One day, he'll come back to take a drink, and we'll talk," is what I told myself..."

I wince a bit. I get her, in a way, and I think I know what's going to follow.

"So the next day, I got out a bottle of a wine I liked, two glasses, and I waited. Of course, I didn't open the bottle, since I didn't know at what hour he could have come."

She stops. Telling this is hard for her, but it seems to also feel awfully good.

"He didn't come the next day... I told myself it was normal, he needed time to put things back together in his life. And anyway, it was only another day alone in the bar, amongst many others... He didn't come the day after either. A doubt invaded me, would the wine suit him? I opened the bottle and poured myself a glass... Then another, a few hours later... I finished the bottle the next day. He still hadn't come."

She sighs, I still watch her with attention. Her eyes are going through a thousand different expressions with every sentence she speaks, but all are a bit sad in their own way.

"After a week, I had a few empty bottles... He hadn't come, but I had heard words that a mare had just moved in in the town square and that she had an activity close to his... It was normal for him to spend time with her..."

Ponyville did attract a lot of small businesses at the time, it's true. Not too far from Canterlot, but without the exorbitant rents of the capital, with a nice rural air.

"He didn't come the first month... I got into an argument with my little sister, who told me that it wasn't good practice to take from the store's reserves like that. I told her I was the manager, and that the wine was going to go to waste anyway."

Berry has a sarcastic laugh.

"What an excuse... Wine doesn't go to waste like that..."

"You knew a thing or two about that," I say to show her I'm still listening to her story, as I come sitting next to her.

"Yes..." she says slowly. "After three months, I learned he was engaged with this new mare. But I kept hoping he would come, even just as a friend. And well, love stories come and go, maybe it was just on whim and it wouldn't last..."

She clenches her hoof on the glass.

"How selfish I was... I attended the wedding, in my corner... He was beautiful, dressed like that, but he didn't speak a word to me, nor even looked at me... But that was expected, for him to have eyes only for his mare the day of their wedding... So I let it slide..."

I don't dare to interrupt her, but I can't believe she stayed hung up on something so banal for so long... Or rather, I don't want to believe it.

"I had to close down after a year..." continues Berry with a sigh. "I argued with my sister and she left to pursue her studies in Baltimare... She sent me a single letter, five years ago... I never replied to her..."

She lets go of the glass, leaning her elbow on the counter and taking her head in her hooves.

"I don't know when I started to drink to forget more than to wait... When I lost hope, and I took notice of everything I had lost, of how much I had been dumb... And I continue to be... The worst part is that I think I never truly stopped to hope that, one day, he would say to himself "Hey, what happened to that barmare?" or even "I heard that she has been drinking for years, maybe I should go and see what's wrong"... But none of that..."

Berry slowly raises her head, and I watch her do so. She turns her eyes to the second glass, then towards hers, before slowly pushing it towards me. Or maybe she's putting it away from her, I don't know.

"Love really makes you do stupid things..."

"That's not love, Berry," I finally say, trying to be compassionate. "You were in great affective distress, and you just looked to cling on to the littlest positive thing... You became obsessed, and blind..."

"How is that different from love?"

I don't answer. It's true, she got me on that one. I could tell her that everything resides in nuances, a more measured way to take things, but who am I to tell what's the right way to love? Everyone loves in its own way, and for some, it's more destructive than anything.

"There... Nothing to answer... I just wasted my life waiting for someone... I ruined my liver, my health, my family, my business... And this morning, I got told he was killed..."

What?

"Berry... You..." I slowly say, shocked. "Mr. Cake...?"

"I waited for nothing..." she states without listening to me. "Looks like someone else didn't have my patience..."

I'm at a loss for words. During all this time, all those years, Berry was in love with M. Cake!? But why? I know she just explained it to me, but that's completely dumb and unbelievable! Yes, she seems sincere, it looks like it's affecting her, but all of this for a simple sentence!? It's... sad... too much... way too much... the poor mare...

"Berry..."

"Hm?" she slowly says, turning her head towards me. She's not crying. She really is resigned.

Me on the other hand, I look at her while holding my emotions. So that's what happened to my friend, under my eyes, without me doing anything. Something so silly.

"Sorry..." I end up saying, swallowing my great speeches.

"It's not up to you to excuse yourself for that..." she tells, bringing her gaze back on the counter. "Nobody owes me any excuses anymore... I don't even know if I deserved some at one point..."

I can't let her like this. I have to find something to cheer her up, and I think I have an idea.

"See this as a new beginning. Put back some order in your life, reach out to your sister, I'm sure that if you explain it to her, she'll understand."

Berry lets out a long sigh, before telling me quite unexpectedly:

"You're not in a position to tell me to put some order back in my life, I think..."

Her tone isn't hurtful, but her sentence is.

"What do you mean by that?" I say, a bit offended.

"Lyra came to drink here," she reveals. "A week ago... Or two, I don't know."

I frown. What could she have said about me? Berry stares at me weirdly, before having a weak smile.

"Judging by your reaction it's true..." she slowly says. "You argued with each other..."

"What did she tell you!?" I say, getting angry, not against her, but against Lyra, wondering what she may have told behind my back.

"Just that you weren't together anymore because of a silly story..."

"What story!?"

Berry nonchalantly shrugs, before getting down of her seat all while saying:

"Why don't you ask her? Those are your stories, not mine."

She puts two bits and goes away slowly, without saying anything.

"Where are you going?" I say, still angry but suddenly worried for her.

"I'm going back home... There's no point in me waiting now..."

Without saying anything else, she passes by the exit, leaving me alone in the bar.

That case makes me discover things I didn't expect. Really didn't.

Author's Note:

Love and wine age. Tears dry. Blood coagulates.

Thank you for reading.