Letters From C

Chapter 2

"Get up pony filth! I knows you all wants to get to break feasts on time!" a Changeling yelled along with the banging of pots together.

The was a few bangs on Sherclop's door, "Go to bed late, eh Spade?"

That wasn't General Myrkyzel.

"Yes sir," Sherclop replied hopping out of bed.

"Well, then there's no excuse to be late for breakfast or work!"

"I understand sir."

"Good!"

Lieutenant Gruesome's hoofsteps retreated down the hallway. Sherclop sighed as he realized it was Sunday. He braced himself against the door to the storm cellar as the memory hurricane hit. This one was too strong for the thin door and weak Earthpony. It was a Sunday, four years ago. When she had come. Sherclop was in his apartment, but it wasn't as shabby. The walls were painted a fall red, his wooden desk was covered with tall dusty piles of paper, his bed had many blankets and a feather mattress rather than hay, a nice carpet covered the floor, and bookshelf filled with books was in the corner.

There was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Spade?" an old voice called. "I have someone here for you."

"Ms. Key," Sherclop said around his pipe. "I don't accept clients on Sundays."

"I'm aware, Mr. Spade. This girl seemed desperate."

"Fine, but this better not become a habit."

        "Of course Mr. Spade," the owner if the building replied shyly.

        Then she came in. A unicorn shut the door behind her with orange magic. Her mane cascaded down like an orange waterfall. Her tail and eyes matched her mane as did the magic that shut the door behind her. Her creme coat made her eyes pop out like glimmering crystals. Her face wasn't as pretty as it must have been on a normal day because it was etched with sorrow. Sherclop realized his mouth was hanging open. He cleared his throat to recover his thoughts.

       "It's not often that I accept clients on a Sunday, miss. So I would appreciate if you didn't tell anypony about this," Sherclop said studying the brown carpet.

       "Of course," the mare sniffed. "Then you are Detective Sherclop Spade?"

       "The one and only."

       "It's nice to finally meet you. My father spoke very highly of you."

       Sherclop quickly realized what kind of case this was.

        "That's nice to hear," he replied getting the courage to look up from the floor. "Who is your father?"

"My father was," she choked. "Mosley Orange. He was murdered three days ago. My mother disappeared two days ago. The Police found her dead this morning in Appleloosa."

The mare began to wail. Sherclop hated this part in his job. Mosley Orange, was a fine stallion. He loved to host fancy dinner parties. He often invited Sherclop to some since he recovered the thief who had robbed hundreds of his oranges. Sherclop loathed dinner parties, but showed up at some to keep the stallion happy. Mosley wasn't the nicest stallion, but he was alright. Mrs. Orange, as Sherclop never remembered her right name, was like Mosley but doubly unkind. She was also a perfectionist. Sherclop assumed as her perfect world crumbled around her, she was done.

"The Police you say?" Sherclop asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," the mare whispered. "They haven't satisfied my need for speed, you might say. Since, my father trusted you, I decided to ask you for help."

"This complicates things a bit."

"How so?" the mare asked, curious.

"Well, the police and I aren't on the best of terms," Sherclop said slowly. "They, well, as you said weren't quick enough you might say. How about I come to the crime scene tonight, Miss- I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"Orange. Orange Tea, sir."

"Miss Tea, will tonight be fine with you?"

"Of course, sir."

"No need for sir, Miss Tea."

Finally Sherclop forced the door shut. He glanced down at his Cutie Mark, as he often forced himself not to do, to see the shovel digging up dirt. He looked away to block the door again. He crossed the wooden floor to the corner where the bookshelf had sat. There now stood a hat rack, with a tan fedora and trench coat. He pulled the brim of his hat over his black eye and pulled the collar of his coat up over his cheeks. Sherclop didn't want to give Ms. Key any more stress than she already carried.

The hallway was almost empty except the other stragglers who might not receive breakfast. One of these was Ms. Heartstone. She had a bright pink coat and purple mane when the Changeling brought her here, but the bright colors had faded long ago. The Pegasus had once worked a day care. Her sister was the well known Cheerlie of Ponyville, who had won the Teacher of the Year award many years in a row.

Ms. Heartstone's eyes had deep bags underneath them. As did the three fillies that always trailed behind her. The Unicorn and Earthpony were silent and hardworking, but alas the little Pegasus was not.

"Heartstone?" the little one asked.

"Yes, dear," she sighed.

"Do I have to go to work today?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"We've been over this Scootaloo."

"But I don't want to!"

"We've been over that, too," the older Pegasus replied, losing her patience. "The Changelings make us."

"If Rainbow Dash were here, this never would have happened!" the young Pegasus, Scootaloo, whined.