A Study in Amber

Chapters

I - Mr. Eagle Eye
II - The Science of Deduction
III - Obviously
IV - Voice
V - Missing Bodies

I - Mr. Eagle Eye

I - Mr. Eagle Eye

It was a bloody mess. That's the best way I can describe the Changeling invasion of Canterlot. Those vicious beasts were all over the streets, tearing up homes, terrorizing the ponies and overwhelming the entire Canterlot Royal Guard. Their ability to shape-shift did not make things any better. Everypony galloped about in complete disarray not having any idea who was a real pony and who was an enemy. The whole city was in a state of chaos, and the panic only helped the Changelings take over.

When the Guard finally broke apart, I fled to my mother's home, a nice little house in a residential area filled with other seniors, to check on the poor old mare, who must have been frightened to death by the invasion. I found her hiding under the sheets of her bed holding a spatula in her mouth and shivering in fear. I helped her back up and sat her down on a comfy chair. I locked the windows and the doors. Once the house was completely locked down, I boiled some water and served my mother a cup of tea to soothe her nerves. She held the cup with both hooves and raised it to her mouth. She sipped the tea loudly and finished it all in one go.

That was when I noticed something wrong. Mother never made a sound when she sipped tea, no matter what. She found the noise appalling and always scolded me when I sipped audibly. When it comes to her manners with tea, she was impeccable. She could be in the middle of cardiac arrest while having a cup of tea and still be absolutely silent.

Carefully, I checked around the room. I opened the door to her walk-in wardrobe, investigated and found another pony who looked exactly like my mother tied up with a rope, her snout muzzled, and hidden in a corner behind a few boxes. This was my real mother. The one having tea was a changeling.

Before I could turn and react, the changeling had already tackled me and snapped its two-fanged jaws at my neck. Its blue insect-like eyes glared and its transparent wings hummed violently. I could hear my mother's muffled screaming as I struggled to keep the creature from biting my throat. Finally, I just gave my all and swung my hoof up to punch the changeling across the face.

I was surprised by my own strength, since being a medic for the Guard did not demand as much physical exertion as being an ordinary soldier. The changeling immediately backed off and clutched its jaw. One fang was knocked out and its gums bled green slime.

I quickly untied my mother and, once she was free, I galloped at the intruder with the rope in my mouth. Now it was my turn to tackle it, and we were locked in the struggle for dominance. We rolled about the room, yelling and grunting, or shrieking and hissing, knocking over a lamp and denting a wall. When we were by a window, the changeling bucked at me from underneath and sent my flying out into street. I fell upon the stone pavement and lost consciousness.

I woke on the next day to find myself in an infirmary. Captain Shining Armour - who was now Prince Shining Armour - and Princess Cadence had defeated the Changelings and the city was now recovering.

I was lying on a cot with my right front leg wrapped up in a cast. My forehead was covered with a bandage and under my head was an ice-pack. I winced with every movement I tried to make.

To my right there was a mirror in which I could see my reflection. My light brown mane was ruffled, dirty and had little splotches of my own blood here and there. My white coat almost blended in with the white hospital gown I was wearing. Bruises were scattered all about my right side, and my right eye, with its lime green iris, suffered from a periorbital hematoma. I could see my cutie mark, half covered by my gown. It was a golden winged-scepter with two snakes coiled around it, the symbol of the Pre-Classical physician, Sweet Sting, who more or less created the position of field medic. In a little plastic sleeve attached to the frame of my cot was a slip of paper that read, "Captain Greenheart. 5th Canterlot Medical Cavalry."

~~~~~

I was released from the infirmary after a few days with a brace for my broken leg, and I would need that brace for the next two weeks in order to walk.

To add to my woes, I learned that my mother was so traumatized when I fell out her window, that she suffered from cardiac arrest and died. The news came to me as a shock, and yet at the same time unsurprising. Her heart had been slowly failing her over the past few months and it was only a matter of time before it finally gave in. She had grown very old indeed. What harrowed me was that her death was my fault. I fled from my duty as a member of the Guard. I came into her home and fought the Changeling. I proved an inadequate fighter. I fell out the window. I gave her a heart attack. It was my fault. And it was a fault I didn't think I could ever forgive myself of.

Her funeral was held the next week in Canterlot. My sister, Redheart, came up from Ponyville, where she was doing her nursing residency at Ponyville General Hospital. We stood by each other and mourned our mother together, her cutie mark of a red cross with hearts in the corners right next to and contrasting with mine. Her white coat was soaked in her tears and she wiped her blue watery eyes with her pink mane.

I too could not hold back my weeping, no matter how hard I tried to keep up a soldierly composure. As our mother's coffin was lowered into the grave, we tossed in a pair of roses, along with the multitude of other flowers brought by our cousins, uncles, aunts and friends. We silently watched as the gravediggers threw the dirt over the coffin and buried our departed mother in the Earth.

"What are you gonna do now, Green?" Redheart asked after the funeral while we stood staring at our mother's name on the gravestone. The polished marble bore our reflections. My sister had quickly developed a Ponyville accent after spending so much time in that Earth Pony town. It was strange, as we had not spoken to each other for over a year and I had yet to get used to her new voice.

I took a moment before answering, "Well, I can't stay in Canterlot. I won't be able to bear moving into mum's house and I don't have a place in the Guard anymore. They put me in an 'indefinite leave' for deserting in the middle of the invasion... I suppose I'll go to Londerby. I've always loved that city. Best city in Equestria if you ask me. I'll rent a flat, get a job in a hospital and all that."

I stood and turned away from the gravestone. I looked across the graveyard towards the black metal gates that led out to the streets of Canterlot. The ground was covered with a plethora of weeds and moss grew on the bark of the weeping willows scattered here and there. The mid-afternoon Sun was partly obscured by a cloud that strayed from Cloudsdale. I waited for my sister to finish mourning and when she stood we walked together towards the gates.

As we made our way through the graveyard, she spoke again to break the solemn silence. "If you want an apartment in Londerby, I have a friend who's found one and he's looking for somepony to split the rent with."

"Why are you at Londerby so often? You live and work in Ponyville."

"Oh, right, I should tell you about that. You know how in school I always wanted to be a forensic analyst, but dad wanted me to become a nurse and put me in a nursing college? Well, a friend of mine in Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle, she had some connections with ponies in Londerby and got me a job offering in the forensic lab in Trotland Yard. I accepted, of course."

"I see. Well, that's good for you. So, this friend who's looking for a flatmate, is he somepony I can get along with?"

"Well... he's an interesting pony. I think it's best you find out for yourself. He'll actually be in Ponyville tomorrow doing some research, so if you want to meet him..."

"I have plenty of time on my hooves. I can use it to get to know him over supper or something like that."

"Good, good. It's a date then."

"Um, no. It's just me getting to know a complete stranger, so please, don't call it that."

~~~~~

Redheart and I stood silently by the doors of a laboratory in the basement floor of Ponyville General Hospital. It was a rather dark place, in stark contrast from the colorful blissful town above. The room was only lit up by the lights in a shelf full of vials, beakers and other chemistry supplies, and the lights built into the surfaces of the tables.

By one of these tables stood a tall lean earth pony. He was easily taller than me by ten inches. His grey coat was well accompanied by his short black curly mane, his short black tail and the navy blue scarf he wore around his long skinny neck. His face too was quite a handsome one, with bony cheeks. In what little light there was, I could just barely make out the magnifying glass cutie mark on his flank. He gave off a dark air of mystery that I found rather intriguing.

The grey pony had his eyes, as well as all his attention, glued to the microscope. He did not even so much as twitch his pointy ears at the sound of the door opening and shutting when Redheart and I entered. Beside the microscope was a jar of zap apple jam, a local delicacy whose reputation of tastiness even reached Canterlot. My guess was that he was investigating something in the jam. He only glanced at us when my sister gave a loud, "Ahem!"

"You brought me your brother, a medic from the Canterlot Royal Guard, to be my flatmate?" he said. His voice was deep, cold and somewhat intimidating.

"His name's Greenheart in case you haven't figured it out yet. And you told me you didn't care so long as he wasn't an idiot," Redheart replied.

The stranger's first words took me by surprise. "Oh, you told him about me?" I asked my sister.

"No," she answered, evidently holding back a grin, "We haven't talked since I left Londerby three days ago week."

"Then... hold on, how did he... I'm confused." I furrowed my brows and looked back and forth between her and him.

Redheart let her smile go loose as she found my bafflement amusing. Clearly this was something I would have to figure out on my own. Meanwhile, my prospective flatmate had lost interest in the conversation and refocused on the microscope. He twisted a dial and then switched the lens as he studied the jam. I stood there awkwardly, not sure how to interact with this odd pony, and my sister gestured for me to try to interact with him.

"So... I suppose we should-"

"I play the violin, usually whenever I'm thinking," he interrupted me as he took his eyes off the microscope and began putting his things away in a saddlebag, "And my thinking can go on for days, during which time I don't speak, eat, drink or sleep. I smoke when I don't have anything to distract me, but I got started on using nicotine patches recently, so I'll be smoking less now. I often keep severed body parts in the refrigerator. But that doesn't bother you, so there no point in going on about me now."

After he put his full saddlebag on, he walked towards the exit and stopped in front of me and my sister, his piercing yellow eyes darting back and forth as he scanned my entire body, as he continued, "As for you, you're Redheart's brother. You at least won't be a nuisance to live with. You'll often try to get yourself a special somepony but such relationships never last long for you. You habitually wake up at 4:30 AM and sing in the shower. You're decently educated and more or less sensible and practical. You don't smoke, but you don't mind its presence. And when it comes to drinking alcohol - oh! You strongly disapprove of it. You're fond of writing and keep a journal full of daily entries. So far nothing that I won't be able to tolerate. You'll make a suitable flatmate. I found a rather nice place in central Londerby. Together we ought to be able to afford it. Sorry, I've got to dash. My train is in five minutes and I need to pick up a unicorn horn from the Trotland Yard's mortuary. Meet me at the flat tomorrow at three o'clock in the afternoon."

Then he quickly passed by and went out the door. Before the door closed, he stuck his head out from behind and, looking right at me, said, "The name is Eagle Eye. The address is 221B Baker Street."

II - The Science of Deduction

Baker Street was indeed in central Londerby. It was practically in Londerby's heart. A rather nice street lined on both sides with flats for anypony who wished to live deep in the city. Little trees adorned the sidewalks on both sides, and the pavement was very well done.

I sat sipping a cup of coffee at a table outside a cafe next to 221B as I waited for my new flatmate to arrive. It was a good place to get a hot breakfast every morning if my future work hours would allow me breakfast. The coffee however was a little bit unsatisfying. It was just a tad too bitter. I watched the stagecoaches and carriages driving by along Baker Street. The traffic was typical for mid-afternoon on a Friday.

I could not stop thinking about Eagle Eye and I kept on trying to figure out the great enigma I encountered that morning in Ponyville. What was he expecting to find in zap apple jam? How did he know that I was a medic in the Guard? How did he know my habits, my beliefs, my social life and all those other personal details? What did he mean by keeping severed body parts in the refrigerator?

A cab stopped in front of the cafe and through the window I saw the silhouette of Eagle Eye's distinctive profile. The door opened and he quickly stepped out to pay the driver. As the cab pulled away from the sidewalk, he looked at me and nodded with a "Hello," before going straight for the door marked 221B.

"Good afternoon Mr. Eagle Eye," I replied.

"Just Eagle, please." He knocked on the door and as he waited he commented, "I see you're don't fancy Londerby coffee. Understandably so."

"Alright, before you go on, how do you-"

"There's a fellow from Canterlot who runs a fantastic cafe and has a branch here in Londerby. It's called 'Doughnut Joe's,' you'll find it on Shire Street. Don't be alarmed. It's rather evident from the lack of steam rising from the cup that it's gotten cold, but judging from the coffee stain ring, you've had a few sips. You stopped drinking long enough to allow it to get cold, meaning you most likely don't like it. And if you don't like this coffee, you probably won't like the rest of Londerby's coffee. Who could blame you? Canterlot coffee is so much better."

I tried to continue again, but then the door opened and the voice of a sweet old mare came out, saying, "Eagle Eye! Good to see you!" She wrapped a leg around his neck and gave him a warm hug, to which Eagle returned a hug.

She was a slim violet unicorn with a dulled maroon mane which was cut short to just below her jaw. Her face bore the many wrinkles that came with old age, particularly under her dark green eyes, but she had the smile of a very sweet and kind-hearted pony. Her cutie mark was a porcelain teapot.

"Afternoon, Mrs. Chamomile," he said as he pulled away from the hug. He then gestured to me, saying "This is my flatmate, Dr. Greenheart."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said as I shook Mrs. Chamomile's hoof, "I'll take it you're our landmare?"

"Right you are," she replied, "I owe Eagle a favor, so I offered him the flat for a lower rent. A few years ago, my husband got himself in a bit of trouble in Los Pegasus - sentenced to death! Eagle here gave me a helping hoof."

"Oh, he saved your husband's life?" I asked.

"Oh, no, no, no," she said with a bit of laughter.

Eagle, with a bit of a smirk, answered me, "I made sure he died."

I stood there silently for a few moment trying to grasp the exchange of dialogue that just occurred. This pony simply becomes more of a puzzle the more I learn about him.

Not wanting to make the brief silence go on for any longer, Mrs. Chamomile said, "Well then, let's get inside. I'll show you to your new flat."

Eagle immediately trotted through the door and up the stairs, leaving me behind to struggle with the climb, as my leg brace was awkward to maneuver up the steps. Mrs. Chamomile patiently walked behind me as I slowly made my way to the flat.

Through the front door, I came into the living room, which contained a small fireplace and was well lit by sunshine flooding through the tall windows facing Baker Street. The room was mess, with papers, boxes and books cluttered all over the floor and furniture. I presumed it all belonged to Eagle. The place was well furnished, complete with a sofa, a few lounge chairs, lamps, bookshelves and a coffee table. Off to the left was the kitchen, also a mess, and I worried that I would encounter a severed head. Fortunately, from what I could see, the only thing that resembled anything close to that was a skull on a shelf above the fireplace. Beyond the kitchen were what appeared to be a bathroom and a bedroom.

"This is nice," I said, "Very nice."

"Yes, once we both get settled in and organized," Eagle busied himself with looking through a pile of papers. Next to this pile was a jar of zap-apple jam.

In the meantime, I asked Mrs. Chamomile, "I presume there's a second bedroom upstairs or something like that?"

"Oh, of course. I wasn't sure if you'll be needing a second one, but if you do I'll open it up for you."

"... why would think we wouldn't need more than one?"

"Oh, that's alright. No need to be coy these days. It's a free kingdom."

There was a loud and aggressive knock on the door, which Mrs. Chamomile went to answer. I took a pillow from the floor, placed it on the sofa and laid down with my head on it. As I plopped my body down, the sofa let out a great puff of dust that made me sneeze. I sat up and vigorously rubbed my nose.

The visitor who knocked on the door was a griffin who hurried went up the stairs. The first thing to stand out was his ridiculous black moustache. It was long and reached out far to the left and to the right. The ends curled up tightly. It was an upstarting trend for ponies and griffins from Southern Prance to display such facial hair. His head, neck and wings were covered in light grey feathers, while his lion body was covered in dark grey fur. On his chest he wore a silver badge that showed his position as a detective-inspector for Trotland Yard.

He looked to Eagle with his yellow eyes, but before he could said anything, my flatmate asked, "Where and when?"

"Bridleton Street, Lauren District. Discovered this morning at nine o'clock A.M. Dead for about four hours." the griffin had a very thick Prench accent that I found rather amusing to hear while living in Londerby.

"What's different?" Eagle did not even bother to look up from his papers as he and the griffin spoke.

"This one was stabbed in the front."

"I'll need an assistant."

"Sour Lime is on foren-"

"No."

"If you want an assistant, you'll have to work with-"

"No."

"Listen, there is no one else-"

"No."

"Sacre bleu, Eagle, if you-"

"Never mind. I'll find my own."

The detective inspector sighed impatiently and asked, "So will you come?"

"I'll be there," Eagle responded as he took the jar of zap apple jam and swished it around, "I'll take my own cab."

"Very well. Merci." He nodded, turned and hurried made his way back down the stairs and out the door. I heard his wings flapping as he flew off to wherever it was he wanted Eagle to go to. From my seat on the sofa, I watched the activity around me. Mrs. Chamomile went to the kitchen and struggled to make her way around as it was cluttered by microscopes, jars, vials, papers and boxes. Eagle took out three folders and examined the papers inside closely, loudly flipping through the sheets. From the few glimpses I caught of photographs of rooms and dead bodies, it looked as if they were murder files. It seemed that my new flatmate was some sort of a detective and he was working on a serial murder case, and yet it did not feel quite as simple as that.

"Come with me, Dr. Greenheart," Eagle suddenly said as he dropped the folders, grabbed the jar of zap apple jam and went straight for the stairs, "You'll be my assistant." He stopped to turn and face me.

"Excuse me, what?" I asked, standing up as I was startled by his unexpected request.

"You were a medic for the Canterlot Royal Guard."

"You still haven't told me how you knew all that."

He continued as if he didn't hear me. "You've seen quite a bit of action then. You've seen deaths. Violent deaths."

"... yes," I cautiously responded.

"Want to see more?"

Without hesitation, I answered, "I'd love nothing else."

"In that case," Eagle said with a smirk, "Come along, doctor. The game's ahoof."

~~~~~

The late afternoon Sun in the yellow sky sent its bright light through the window of the cab and straight at my face. I had no choice but to avert my eyes from the window and look towards Eagle, who took the seat beside me. He remained in the darker side, looking out into the streets of Londerby. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something. We were both silent, the only sounds were the hoofsteps of the driver, the wheels rolling on the cobblestone road and the clamor of the city outside. The shining of the Sun went on and off as it disappeared behind the taller buildings.

I opened my mouth to break the silence and ask Eagle a question, but he interrupted me as soon as my lips parted. "Ask away. It's another ten minutes until we get to Bridleton."

I was slightly taken aback, but at this point I had somewhat gotten used to being surprised by my flatmate, so I asked, "Are you some sort of a powerful unicorn who knows how to hide his horn and read minds?"

"No. And before you ask me how you would know if I'm telling the truth, I can assure you that you don't, because you don't know how to observes the signs of a lie, which are really quite obvious."

"Alright then. So how do you know all those things about me. How did you know I was a medic? How'd you know I was Redheart's brother? How do you know about my relationships, my habits - my singing! How on Earth could you possibly know about my singing? How'd you know all that?"

He let out a brief chuckle as the ends of his mouth curved up slightly. "Well, to start: the last time I spoke to Redheart before she brought you to me, I told her that I'd be a difficult pony to find a flatmate for. Three days later she comes to me with a stallion I don't know and introduces him. Why else would she do that than to present a prospective flatmate? She knows I'm not one for meeting new ponies so she wouldn't be doing it solely for socialization. Now, you have to be her brother because she wouldn't be introducing me to any stallions except her relatives. Whenever she meets a stallion, he immediately becomes an object of romantic interest and she would never intentionally introduce him to the likes of me. The only stallions she's not interested in are her co-workers, all of whom I already know and therefore not in need of introduction, and her relatives. You're only slightly older than her, not old enough to be her father or uncle, so you have to be a cousin or brother. Judging by the distance she kept from you, you two are not all too close and the fact that she's not offering you a place to live in her home in Ponyville is an obvious indication of your relationship. If you were a cousin, your relationship wouldn't be in such a state. Nevertheless, she is still helping you find a place to live, meaning that she has some sentiment of familial obligation towards you. By process of elimination, you are her brother."

I sat there listening to him absolutely dumbfounded, blinking my eyes in bewilderment. I was genuinely impressed by what this pony was doing. Eagle continued on without even taking a moment's pause.

"You're clearly a military pony judging from the way you hold yourself with poise and dignity, a feature of ponies in a military or law enforcement profession and the straight look on your face further supports that; not a sign of nervousness or fear or reluctance when it came to meeting somepony new. Only ponies who've gone through harsh training and extreme discipline truly show no indications those. You have an injured leg, which you most likely did not suffer from an everyday accident given your training. You've gone through some intense action recently, and the only instance of that within a span of time where you would still have a leg brace was the Changeling invasion of Canterlot. Plus, Redheart's originally from Canterlot and therefore it is likely that so would her brother. And then there's your cutie mark, that makes it all even more obvious. No need for explanation there. Would you like me to continue or are you quite satisfied with the demonstration so far?"

It took me a moment to respond. I could not believe what I had been hearing. I was amazed by Eagle's skills of deduction. If he could deduce all that simply from looking at me and Redheart the moment we entered, then the conclusions he could draw from more information would be incredible.

"I think I've had enough," I said, "You've made your point."

"You're only saying that because you're overwhelmed by all this. You clearly are dying to know how I know about your singing. It's a bit of a shot in the dark really. For starters, it was five-thirty when you came to the laboratory, meaning you had only been awake for an hour, since, as a military pony, you're trained to the point of habit to wake at four-thirty sharp. You spoke with a very clear voice, meaning it has had a lot of work and exercise in those sixty minutes, otherwise it would have been hoarse, typical of an early morning voice. You didn't work your voice by talking since your were traveling with your sister, and, as I've stated before, you two don't have a relationship that gives room for a good amount of friendly casual conversation. So how else would you have warmed-up your voice? Certainly not by talking to other people. No, not at that hour and with only sixty minutes to do so and given that you're in an unfamiliar town full of strangers. And of course, you warming-up your voice is not intentionally a part of your morning routine. What military pony has use for that? So that leaves only one more reasonably probable choice: singing in the shower."

At this point, I did not even know how to respond.

Seeing my amazement, he asked, "What did you think?"

I laughed at the question for a moment. I did not know what to say, so I simply responded, "That... was absolutely brilliant."

"I thought you'd say that. Our relationship should be quite interesting. Nopony's ever responded like that before."

"Well, what else could they say after something like that?"

Eagle's mouth curved some more as the question amused him. He answered, "'Go shag a mule.' Of course, I counter by telling them how racially offensive the phrase is."

We shared a round of laughter together and then he continued, "I am a consulting detective. The only one in the world, I invented the profession. To put it in the simplest terms possible: when the police - being the typical idiots that they are - haven't the faintest idea of what to do with an investigation, they come to me. I solve their problems, they arrest the culprit and then everypony goes on their merry way, while I go on to find more distraction."

After he finished, the cab came to a halt in front of a lonely dreary-looking house in a relatively old suburban area of Londerby. The houses on Bridleton Street must have been built several decades ago. The front lawn was slightly overgrown with a few weeds and the grass had clearly not been cut for a few weeks. Around the perimeter of the property was long yellow "Do Not Cross" tape marking the area as a crime scene under investigation. Lights filled the rooms I could see through the first floor windows, while the second floor remained dark. A single policepony stood by the front door, but it seemed like more were inside the house. Lastly I noticed the mailbox, which was marked with the last name of the homeowners: "Puff"

Eagle wrapped his navy blue scarf around his neck. He opened the door and quickly exited. He took out a hoofful of bits and gave them to the cab driver. He then gestured with his head, inviting me to follow him into the crime scene.

III - Obviously

The first thing Eagle did was to observe the side of the road. He stopped me before I could take another step away from the cab and then proceeded to walk up and down the road for a few meters with his eyes scrutinizing every detail of the ground beneath his hooves. He then moved on to the walkway leading to the front stairs. He crouched down with his head close to the ground and observed the dirt path. He then left the path and walked onto the grass. He walked across the lawn and then turned to investigate the grass to the right of the house. He made a full circle around the house doing exactly that, while occasionally looking up at the building itself, before he finally returned to me and nodded, indicating that could I continue forward.

As Eagle made his curious first investigations, the policepony standing by the front door went inside the house, presumably to inform whoever was in charge that the consulting detective had arrived. The griffin who came to our flat earlier then came out to greet him by stairs. He was wearing a coverall.

"You found an assistant that quickly?" the griffin asked.

"He was readily available," Eagle replied. He stepped aside to briefly introduce me, "This is Dr. Greenheart."

The griffin held out his claw, which I accepted and we shook hoof and claw. He introduced himself as, "Detective Inspector LeGrande."

Before I had the chance to say, "Pleasure to meet you," Eagle walked with the D.I. back into the house to get straight to business.

"So, tell me about the victim."

"Cloud Puff. Female. Pegasus. Forty-seven years old. 1.35 meters. No occupation. Married to Cotton Puff, a female Earth Pony, works as a gardener. Cotton Puff disappeared the night of the murder. No murder weapon found. Same pattern as all the others. An elderly neighbor noticed that nopony in the house stirred at the usual time and she suspected something was wrong, so she called the police to investigate. When an officer came - the same officer stationed at the door - he found Cloud Puff dead. We've been working here since noon."

The three of us walked down the narrow central corridor of the house. As I looked to the left and right I found a sitting room, a bathroom, a flight of stairs, and a closet.

"And the house has been on constant surveillance since the body was discovered?" Eagle continued as we were walking.

"Oui," the D.I. answered, "Nopony but us have been in or out of the house since we arrived."

The corridor led to the kitchen, where a few investigation personnel went about, all in coveralls. The kitchen was rather brightly colored compared to the rest of the house. The walls were covered in wallpaper with rows of fruits and vegetables. The windows were blocked by yellow curtains and the floor was of white linoleum. There were counters, a stove, a sink, a refrigerator, cupboards and so on. It was just like a regular kitchen, except for the dead body lying on its side at the center of the floor, with a few feathers scattered about. This must have been the late Cloud Puff, a skinny, light-blue-coated, red-maned mare with a cutie mark of a pair of knitting needles.

One of the ponies investigating the kitchen looked up from scrutinizing the floor and saw us arrive at the doorway. He grabbed a pair of coveralls and a few pairs of latex gloves and approached us. He had a dark green coat, a short neatly-cut dark brown mane and orange eyes.

"You and your special somepony better use these, Freak," he said as he tossed the scrub suits at us. He spoke with in a scornful tone that showed his contempt for Eagle Eye. "I don't want you contaminating the evidence."

"Shut up, Sour Lime," Eagle replied, "I wear a coverall when I want to wear a coverall, not when you tell me to."

"You can't even legally be here. It's against regula-"

"Lime, just let him in!" LeGrande interrupted, "Eagle Eye has full access to the scene. Let him be."

Quietly, but sorely, Sour Lime stepped aside, and Eagle, after putting on a pair of gloves, immediately circled around the kitchen, his head calmly turning to and fro, and his eyes darting in all directions as he - I presumed - observed every detail of the room. He briefly stopped in front of the sink, which contained a pile of dishes, before he quickly turned and kneeled down beside the body. He reached his right hoof into his curly mane and pulled out a small compact magnifying glass. Using it, he looked over the poor mare, first at her bloodied wound, then her face, her mane, and her hooves. Then he stood back up.

He turned his head to me, saying, "Doctor, examine the wound. I need your input."

"Excuse me?" I quickly answered in surprise.

"You're my assistant, doctor. Go examine the body, if you please."

"Um, alright." I put on a coverall and gloves, approached the body and looked at the stab wound on her chest.

As I made my examination, Eagle said, "The other three victims were stabbed in the back. All were married and lived alone with their spouses in their homes and those spouses promptly disappeared the night of each murder. All but this one were stabbed in the back and the wounds could be clearly identified as a knife for the first two victims and a unicorn horn for the third. This victim obviously saw her killer approach and reacted by turning around and-"

"What? That's ridiculous!" Sour Lime interrupted, "How can you even be sure she turned around?"

"Lime, do shut up. You're lowering the I.Q. of the room and you know how I despise rooms full of more stupid than usual. Obviously she turned around and struggled, otherwise the murderer would have had an easy kill by stabbing her in the back without any fuss, just like in the other three. It's little more than common sense. So, the victim was stabbed in the chest, and by a very strange weapon, or more likely a very strange horn. Now, Doctor, you've seen that wound before haven't you?"

Gravely, and with some struggle over the hard memories the wound brought back, I answered, "Yes."

"Where?"

"Canterlot. On the bodies of my friends who were killed in the Changeling invasion."

"And that confirms my hypothesis," Eagle decisively said, "This mare, as well as all the other victims, were murdered, not by their spouses, but by changelings. And, another obvious detail, the murderer is still here in this house, or rather, out by the front door."

Everypony's eyes quickly widened, a few gasped, and all turned around and looked down the corridor and out the door at the solitary policepony, who had overheard everything Eagle just said, staring back at them with a horrified look on his face. As the murdered stood there with his legs shivering, LeGrande calmly said, "Get him."

Sour Lime stepped forward and galloped down the corridor. The murderer took a few quick frightened steps back and then fell over as he backed into the porch stairs. Fortunately for him, Sour Lime stepped on part of his scrub suit, tripped and landed on his face.

LeGrande grunted in frustration as he watch the murderer take the opportunity to turn and run. He ripped off his scrub suit and shouted, "Mon dieu! Must I do all the chasing myself!" He ran down the corridor, opened his wings and flew off after the changeling, who by now probably returned to its original form and started flying away.

LeGrande left behind him an awkward silence. Sour Lime groaned as he got himself back up and rubbed his face. Eagle smirked. He took the gloves off his hooves and said, "One step closer to solving this mystery." Then he turned and walked down the corridor towards the front door. I took of my gloves and coverall and tried to walk as fast as my leg brace would allow me so as to catch up with my enigmatic flatmate.

"Care to explain all that, Eagle?" I said as we walked down the dirt walkway.

"All the evidence I really needed is right beneath your hooves, doctor. The rest was more for confirmation than anything else."

I looked down at the dirt and could not make out what on earth he mean. "And that evidence would be...?"

"There is no branch of detective science which is so important and so much neglected as the art of tracing hoofsteps."

"You mean to say you figured all that out from looking at hoofsteps?"

"Goodness, you lot are dull. So much information can be found in places you don't even think to look and often that information is the most valuable."

We reached the street and Eagle took a sharp turn to the left, making his way towards a more heavily trafficked street where there would be cabs. Above us clouds had begun to blanket the sky but the late afternoon sun still shone in a clear area. Fortunately a row of tall office buildings kept it from shining at my eyes. I looked at my watch and saw that we spent no more than ten minutes in the house. I followed Eagle's lead and listened to his explanation.

"The murder took place at five o'clock this morning, four hours before the body was discovered at nine o'clock. That was eleven hours ago. Earlier, it rained heavily between one o'clock and two o'clock. The hoofprints on the dirt path and the yard could only have formed between the time the ground dried enough to maintain its shape - which would have been around four o'clock - and now. Since the location was closed off and kept under surveillance from the time of the discovery, the hoofprints must belong to the following: the Puffs, the police, the investigation team and the murderer."

"Hold on," I interrupted, "How'd you know it rained at those exact times? You would've been sleeping."

"I don't sleep. Not when I have more interesting things to do. Now, as I was saying, the prints on the path would have been made only by those ponies. It was easy for me to tell which were made by the police since they have to wear specific horseshoes as part of their uniforms, and I can tell which were made by the Trotland Yard personnel since they were the most recent and were formed at the same time as LeGrande's distinctive claw-prints and paw-prints. Any unfamiliar prints would therefore belong to the Puffs and the murderer. But despite the fact that there weren't that many policeponies and investigators causing disturbances on the path, I could not find the slightest trace of other prints - not even any that would have formed while the ground was wet and easily stood out - meaning nopony had walked on that path between the time the rain ended and the discovery of the body.

"The grass surrounding the house indicates the same thing. Because the murder was not too long ago, any disturbances in the grass at that time would still remain - the grass would not have had the time to fully stand back up, especially given its length. From looking around the house, I found no flattened or disturbed grass whatsoever. So, nopony had walked there either since the rain ended. We can eliminate flight as a way to enter the house, as the windows were locked, none were broken and all were ridiculously dusty. If any of them were opened, the dust would have been disturbed, but there was no indication of that. The back door was locked and when we passed through the front door, I saw that it was broken open - obviously not by the murderer, but by the police officer. If the murderer broke the door open, the Puffs would have heard, and so would their neighbors most likely. So the door was locked when the officer arrived at the house.

"Now, we can easily conclude that the murderer had been in the house for a long time, at the very least ever since it was raining. And, even more interesting, he hadn't left the house."

We arrived at a main road, Stirrup Lane, and Eagle began waving for a cab, all the while rambling on about his deductions. An old brown cab approached and stopped in front of us. The driver's left hoof splashed into a puddle at the side of the road. "Where to, mate?" he asked

"Trotland Yard Headquarters, please," Eagle said. He opened the cab door and hopped in. I followed, taking a seat across from him.

"Will do," the driver replied as he pulled away from the curb, "Get you there in fifteen."

We entered the traffic of Londerby's streets again. Why we were heading to Trotland Yard, I did not know. My best guess was that he had more investigating to do. He took out his jar of zap apple jam (though I had no idea where he took it from) and looked at it intently as he continued on speaking.

"I came to the same conclusion in all the other cases. The unique details of this one help me with the next question, which, of course, is 'who.' The first clue was the numbers. They didn't match up. Judging from the hoofprints, four police ponies went to the house and four left. Five Trotland Yard personnel went to the house and four were there when we arrived. At this point I was almost certain there was an impostor, most likely a changeling. After all, the Changeling invasion was defeated by blasting the creatures out of Canterlot and scattering them across Equestria. Some were bound to end up in somepony's home in Londerby."

"How do the numbers not match?" I asked, "Four to four and five to five."

"Four police ponies came and four left. So how could there have been one standing by the front door?"

My eyes widened as I realized this. "Oh..." The devil truly was in the details. I put some thought into it and then asked, "But what if the impostor was one of the police who left?"

"Don't be daft, Greenheart," Eagle replied with a hint of annoyance, "The impostor couldn't have been the one who left. Everypony would have noticed that there were two of the same pony at the scene. The better question is: what happened to the real officer? If he continued on, going his merry way with the rest of the police, somepony would have noticed that one of him was at a crime scene while another was sipping hot chocolate at Doughnut Joe's. What happened to the spouses of the victims, for that matter? In addition to that, we have to ask, why did these murders happen? Why did the changelings turn against their spouses - off of whose love they feed on - and kill them? Why did the other three changelings use a weapon instead of their horn? In the other cases, the changeling fled from the scene, but this one stayed. Why? Solving one question merely opens up more and it's our job to solve them."

"I'm sorry. 'Our'?"

"You agreed to be my assistant, so you'll continue to assist me. This mystery used to be a simple string of murders, but now it's turned into something deeper and much more fun. The plot thickens."

IV - Voice

The headquarters of Trotland Yard was a grey, impressive-looking, modern building. It rose high above us, forcing me to crane my neck as I tried to view its entirety while I exited the cab. The building was rectangular and very much longer than it was wide. It was covered on all sides by rows of windows that reflected the orange sky. I stood beneath its shadow and for once the sun was not shining into my eyes.

Eagle Eye then walked out of the cab and onto the crowded pavement. He took out a few bits and gave them to the driver, who smiled, nodded and pulled the cab away, back into the traffic of Londerby's streets. Here we now stood, outside one of the central locations of Equestria's law enforcement system. I found it rather intimidating, even though I myself was a member of the Canterlot Royal Guard. I was merely a soldier protecting one city. Here, one could find the geniuses behind the security of the kingdom.

"So, what are we doing here, Eagle?"

"To answer our first question: what happened to that police officer? Trotland Yard keeps track of all law enforcement personnel in Londerby. I need to find out where that officer last was before he appeared at the house as the changeling. I can search for clues at the location that might tell me who else could be at play in this string of murders."

I nodded to indicate my understanding. Eagle trotted to the doors with purpose and I followed close behind. On the glass doors of the building, I could see our reflections and the reflections of everypony walking by and the cabs, stagecoaches and carriages on the street.

Eagle began to continue explaining the situation to me. I could hear his voice, but for some reason I could not comprehend what he was saying - not because his words confused me, but because his voice was terribly unclear. His words blended together into an indiscernible mess of sound. The sound of his voice then faded away, as did the sounds of the city around me. In their place came another sound: a high-pitched ringing in my ears. I shook my head and rubbed my ears. I looked forward and saw that Eagle had continued on into the building, leaving me behind. The ringing continued to grow louder until the sound began to hurt. I covered my ears, shut my eyes and grit my teeth in an attempt to block it out, but the sound was inside my head. Nothing I could do help. Just before the sound reached the point of being unbearable, it stopped and all that remained was total silence.

I opened my eyes and looked around, and everything was just as it was before; the same bustling city, but I could hear no sound. Then I heard a voice that had a distinct upper class Canterlot accent, with the refined dignified tone. It also sounded familiar, as if it belonged to a very famous pony.

"Captain Greenheart. Hello. Can you hear me, my dear fellow?" the voice said.

I quickly turned my head back and forth looking all around me, trying to find the origin of the voice, but it was coming from nowhere. It completely surrounded me, coming from every direction. Eventually, I realized that I must have been under a spell. I gave up on my effort to locate the voice and simply replied, "Yes. I can hear you."

"Ah, marvelous! We need to talk, Greenheart."

"Who are you? Why are you talking to me through a spell?"

"I am somepony to whom your business is his business. I don't want Eagle Eye to see me talking to you, as there is a private request I must ask, and there is much to incentivize your cooperation. Perform this task I ask of you and I can reward you with a good amount of money, or, better still, a reinstatement of your position in the Royal Guard."

"I don't understand why we need the privacy," I said. I saw the ponies passing by and noticed their awkward looks as they watched me seem to be talking to myself. I must have looked like a lunatic. "What are you to Eagle, then?"

"I'm about as close to a friend as anypony can be to him: an archenemy. But you seem to have gotten very close to him, my dear fellow. You seem to have his trust."

"We barely know each other. We literally just met yesterday."

"And in that course of time, you came to share a home and he has entrusted you to being his assistant in his exploits. A truly unique situation indeed, Greenheart. Not just anypony can enter into Eagle's life as easily and deeply as you have."

"It's really not like that at all. I'm just another bloke and he's just another bloke. My sister just set us up together so we can split rent. But more to the point: what do you want?"

"Look to your left."

I did as he told and looked to my left, where the street was with its traffic and river of pedestrians.

"Do you see a mare in the red trench coat and white fedora?"

Sure enough, amidst the crowds of late afternoon Londerby, I saw a slender pretty-looking mare as described by the voice. She had black fur, a dark purple mane and wore sunglasses. I answered, "Yes."

"Good. Now, this mare or one of her colleagues will follow you and Eagle Eye wherever you go. They will always be wearing a red coat and white fedora, though the ponies themselves may look different. Every week you are to go to whoever may be wearing this apparel, alternating between Monday, Wednesday and Friday each week, so as to reduce the chances that Eagle will notice the pattern. You are to report to her all of his activities, habits, ventures, et cetera. You may rest assured that your compliance will be well rewarded with a more than suitable sum of money. What say you?"

It was a tempting offer, nor was the task too difficult. Eagle Eye, so far as I could tell by now, was not somepony I could describe as inconspicuous. More importantly, I needed income if I was to pay my half of the rent until I found myself a job. Yet, for some reason, I did not accept immediately. Something felt wrong. I was ill at ease with the idea of spying on somepony, especially if that somepony was my flatmate and somepony I ought to be getting along with. To complicate it further, knowing that Eagle Eye worked with Trotland Yard on criminal investigation, it was likely that whoever wanted information on him would be a rather powerful and important criminal. After a moment, I replied, "No thanks."

The voice laughed briefly at my response. It was a very dignified, aloof, high-class laugh that very much annoyed me. He said, "Oh my, truly remarkable indeed. The loyalty of a soldier, of a warrior. Always so dependable. The courage as well. Of course, courage is a word I use interchangeably with foolishness."

"A leftover from wartime I suppose," I cheekily said back, "My courage got me through the Changeling Invasion at least."

"Hm. You know nothing, Captain Greenheart," the voice answered in a rather cold, condescending tone, "This is a completely different war being fought here. This is a war of the streets, the alleys and the sewers. A war in which you can never tell which side you are on. A war wage not by fighters, but by thinkers. And now, you are right in the middle of it thanks to your new friend. I'm sure it shall be quite the treat for you."

I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. I was concerned that with my refusal, some masked thug would sneak up behind me and stick a dagger through my spine. I looked behind me and to my sides as the voice spoke. For some reason thinking that it would make me safer, I entered through the glass doors of Trotland Yard.

Upon passing through and into the building, all the ambient sound suddenly returned. I heard flames burst to bring forth scrolls. I heard many sets of hoofsteps on the hardwood floor. I heard ponies talking, the ding from a lift and papers being sifted through. The sounds of an administrative center for a large institution. What I did not hear was the voice speaking to me.

"Hello?" I quietly said, "Are you still there?"

There was no reply. I only received the curious stare of somepony who saw me talking to myself.

All of the sudden, a mass of grey, black and dark blue rushed by me. It was Eagle Eye.

"Come along, doctor!" he said as he swung open the doors and went out to the streets again. He put his hoof to his mouth and whistle for a cab. I trotted out to follow him.

V - Missing Bodies

"The mortuary," Eagle said as soon as I asked him where our next destination was, "That's where you'll be going. I have to go to Shire Street. The tracking spell Trotland Yard's unicorns use shows his last position to be there. He disappeared from the unicorns' vision afterwards."

"And why am I going to the mortuary?" I responded with concern, as I was being entrusted with a task completely on my own.

"I received a letter from Redheart. She just arrived at the mortuary from Ponyville a few hours ago and she discovered that four bodies had gone missing and have been replaced with ones that were not on the record. I need you to go and collect all the data you can on the situation. It is quite likely this incident is connected to our case."

The cab drove over a dent on the road and shook violently for a moment, making me hit my head hard against the door. That hit combined with Eagle's instructions left me dazed for a moment. I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry, what? You want me to collect data for you? I'm a medic, Eagle, not an investigator."

"Bloody hell, Greenheart," Eagle replied with clear annoyance, "how hard could it be? You go and ask questions and look around for evidence. Simple as that. You can't possibly be so dull as to not be able to do that, can you? ... Then again, maybe you are. You can never overestimate ordinary ponies' stupidity."

I was starting to doubt just how well I could get along with Eagle. His remarks were not exactly encouraging or supportive. A more sensitive pony would be insulted. I could understand now why some of Trotland Yard's personnel had such an aversion to him. But here I was now, in the thick of it, and there was little I could do about it. I lived with him now, after all. At the very least, I could try to be cooperative. I knew for a fact that to create enmity between yourself and somepony you had to spend the majority of your time with was not a good move. Perhaps if I was on his good side, he would become more pleasant towards me.

"Alright, alright. I'll go. I'm sure Redheart would be glad to see me." Of course, I said that half-heartedly and I was certain Eagle knew that even if I acted sincere. I had little love for my sister nor did she have sisterly affection for me. Familial duty was really all that bound us. I supposed that was the only reason why she introduced me to Eagle.

~~~~~

The cab pulled up in front of an old grey stone hospital. It looked very dull and depressing. It even made the sky appear less bright with the orange of the setting Sun. I did not look forward to see what was inside. And yet this was place my sister went to for work on a regular basis.

"The mortuary is two floors down. You'll find Redheart in Room B," Eagle instructed me as I opened the cab door and walked out onto the concrete sidewalk. "Meet me at our flat when you're done."

Before I could say anything to express my many concerns, he shut the door and the cab rolled away, the wheels clanging against the bumps of the road driver's hoofsteps clopping against the hard pavement. It made a sharp turn to the left and disappeared from my sight. Nothing to be done now. I turned and faced the dismal hospital. I walked on, pushed the doors open and entered.

There was a strong smell of old laundry and the all-too-familiar odor of used bandages. The first room was dimly lit, and one of the four light illuminating it was flickering erratically. A pair of nurses were stationed at the reception desk. One was a unicorn using his magic to control a quill and write on something, probably a patient's papers. Overall, the inside was only slightly less dreary than the outside. I spotted a flight of stairs leading to the basement and immediately went down.

The hallway I found myself in when I descended was surprisingly well-lit and not at all like the room upstairs. It did, however, seem completely deserted. On the side opposite from the stairway was a series of doors all marked with letters above them. I sighed in frustration to see that the door nearest to me was marked with the letter, L.

I trotted down the hallway, reciting the alphabet backwards from L as I passed by the doors until I finally reached the letter, B. Unlike all the other doors, I could see light from behind the opaque window. I could hear somepony - my sister most likely - shuffling through papers and flipping through sheets. I pulled open the door, which dragged very slightly against the floor.

"Hey, Green," my sister greeted when I walked in. She was standing by the lifeless body of an earth pony mare laid on a metal examination table. The mare appeared to have been in her late middle age.

"Afternoon, Red," I answered, "Is this one of the replacement stiffs?"

"A what?"

"A stiff. A dead body."

"Oh, right! Yeah. I came down here to check on a body Eagle was experimenting on and found a completely different one. I'd never seen it before. It wasn't on the records. It was much fresher too. The most recent bodies we have are at least four days old. This one hasn't even been dead for twelve hours."

I supposed that the best place to start my investigation would have been with the body, so I asked for a pair of gloves. I put them on and then examined the body, checking the eyes, nostrils, ears and hooves. As I looked for potential clues, I asked, "Did you find out anything about the bodies? As ponies, I mean. Who are they?"

"Well, all died of cardiac arrest. All are elderly or late middle age. This one's in her late forties. I couldn't identify the other three, but this one had her wallet and I found an I.D. Her name's Cotton Puff."

I froze. I stopped my examination and slowly turned to face my sister. "Say that again?"

"All the replaced bodies are elderly-"

"No, no, no," I stopped her, "That last bit. What did you say her name was?"

"Cotton Puff."

I looked back at the body and took a deep breath. I said in a low voice, "Oh my..."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Well, um... the plot thickens."

"Ew, please don't say that word."

I laughed. After all these years, Redheart was still disgusted by the word, "plot."

"Cut it out! It's not funny," she protested, "Where's Eagle Eye? I need a professional to be taking care of this case, not my brother."

"He's currently investigating something more important than you. Sorry, you'll just have to put up with me for now."

She kept quiet for the time being and let me continue examining the body. I could feel her glaring eyes looking at me as I ran my hoof through the body's mane, but I could not worry about that for I had found something utterly strange and somewhat disgusting: the mane was damp with a green slimy viscous substance.

"Eagle will want to see this," I said, "Get me a petri dish."

"Get it yourself," Redheart replied.

"How very mature you are, sister. Very professional." I went ahead to the nearest cabinet and found a number of petri dishes. I grabbed one with my mouth, put it on the table by the body and smeared the slime on it. "Alright, I don't see what else I can do here. I've got to head back to my flat and show this to Eagle."

"You and Eagle are just getting along splendidly aren't you?" Redheart cheekily said as I turned to leave.

"I can't say we hate each other."

"What a lovely little crime-fighting couple!"

A harsh counter-attack. I looked back at her irately and saw a satisfied look on her face that made my temper rise. She knew exactly how to cross me and leave me completely flustered. Unable to reply, I simply turned away and continued on my way out the door. As I pushed it open, I heard her irritating giggle.

~~~~~

I found Eagle Eye in our flat lying on the sofa and staring blankly at the ceiling. He appeared to be very deep in thought.

Without even looking at me, he asked, "What did you find?"

With a bit of pride in myself for having found such profound clues, I answered, "The four unknown bodies in the mortuary are spouses of the murder victims. Cotton Puff is there, as well as the other three. I also found this."

I took out the petri dish with the slime and presented it to Eagle. He looked at it briefly and then immediately returned to staring at the ceiling. I continued, "I think it might be a slime changelings produce. They might have been doing something to the bodies."

"Obviously," Eagle interrupted me in a low voice.

"What?" I responded in slight confusion.

"What else did you find?" Evidently he was not listening, but just moving on ahead.

"They all died of cardiac arrest. Um, and that's it. That's all I found."

Eagle looked at me and sighed in disappointment. He got up off the sofa and began to put on his scarf. "You found almost nothing of use to me. Clearly, the replacement bodies are the spouses. That was the first conclusion I came to, and if they are then there would be some residue of chrysalis fluid. Cause of death is interesting though. I'll have to look into that. But I suppose if we are to extract any useful evidence from the mortuary I'll have to go myself."

He took his coat from the rack and swung his head to quickly throw it over his body before inserting his forelegs through the sleeves. He looked around the room for a moment and then reached for the jar of zap-apple jam on the table. He put the jar in his coat pocket and, without another word, he hurried down the stairs and out the front door, leaving me behind.

I awkwardly stood there alone for a moment. Then I went to the kitchen and started preparing myself a cup of black tea.