Detective Hooves: Burning Apples and Avarice

Chapters

Chapter 1: Ribbons and Spreadsheets
Chapter 2: Office Caper
Chapter 3: Untying Loose Ends
Chapter 4: A Slice of Apple
Chapter 5: Cookies and Cakes
Chapter 6: Broken Intentions
Chapter 7: Personality Clash
Applewood Refinery Case Report
Prologue

Chapter 1: Ribbons and Spreadsheets

Death. Some are frightened by it. Some are interested in it. Others, like Detective Walter Hooves, have never experienced a day without hearing of it. Detective Hooves's name was inscribed in a large brass plate outside his office. He looked down at the papers on his desk with dismay and decided to switch his gaze to the window, where he counted the raindrops falling on the glass. His pocket watch told him it was nine in the afternoon, while his schedule book told him to organize just one more cabinet before calling it a night.

The sky was in overcast, and just enough sun was still out to form a dark blue haze. The window offered a marvelous view of the city of Manehattan, as well as town square, which was bustling with streetlights and pharmacy advertisements. Walter counted the horse-drawn chariots carrying other horses as they passed by his office building. He had never noticed that many of them had been cracked several times in the wheels. Didn't anypony bother to fix them?

No, don't think about that, don't think about that. He thought to himself. Come on, detective. Focus. Just one more cabinet.

Just then, he heard hoof-steps in the hallway. That was the great thing about his office: it was on the top floor where the stairs, to say the least, croaked like an army of frogs every time somepony stepped on them. Walter always kept his office door closed and disliked any invasion of his privacy without premonition. It was his own pet peeve. He sometimes called the stairs his "guardians," as they warned him of approaching hostiles.

The door to the office opened, and the unicorn of the hour appeared at the threshold. Jill stood there for a while before asking, "Still here, I see." Hooves turned around. Jill was a coworker who occupied the office adjacent to this one. "Forgot my keys again. Sorry." Her horn lit up as the keys floated into the room by unicorn magic.

"It's fine."

"Great Celestia above, detective. At least buy some folders and staplers." She was referring to the mess of papers on the floor.

"Yeah... sure," he replied slowly as he shoved the last crumpled up sheets into the cabinet. "I'll get it all together in the morning."

Jill played around with the parasprite paperweight on the desk. "You haven't had a case in a while, I've noticed, detective."

Walter was too busy putting on his jacket to notice. "I suppose not."

"A new one just came in earlier this afternoon. It happened right here in Manehattan. Some barn house burned down somewhere in the rustic area."

"That's interesting," he commented hastily while putting on his hat.

"Just saying, Walter. You need to finish two more cases this year. You don't want another pay deduction, do you?"

"Like I said, I'll get it together in the morning."

"Well, if you need it, the files are in the lobby. Pick those up in the morning when you have the chance." Jill trotted away down the stairs, which Walter was too tired to use at the current moment, so he took the lift down all fifteen floors.

Let's see. It's Friday night, so no need to pack for work tomorrow. Better get those spreadsheets ordered by date. I don't believe I have any errands tonight to run otherwise. Then, it hit him. Oh, yes. I should pick up my new suit at the boutique in Ponyville before heading home.

So much detail goes unnoticed in the world, like the fact that the streets of Ponyville become completely deserted at ten in the afternoon. Hooves tightened his coat around his body as the bitter rain and wind battered him. If it wasn't for the weather conditions, the streets would have been pitch silent.

Mercifully, a sign that read "Carousel Boutique" came into view. A bell rang when the door opened with a squeak. Inside, Walter noticed, was completely void of life with the exception of one white filly behind the counter with a purple, swirly mane. The sight of the boutique reminded him of his own office.

"Oh, hello there." the cashier said. "Sorry, I had absolutely no time to clean up. Large group came in this morning, left quite a mess." True, ribbons and cloths of assorted colors were scattered across the tables and chairs. What looked like a blueprint for a dress was lying partly on the table, partly hanging from the edge.

Detective Hooves observed the coat rack thoroughly. "What are you looking for?" asked the purple-mane cashier.

"I'm here to pick up a suit, miss. I believe I ordered it about a week ago."

"Oh, yes." The cashier, a unicorn, brought over with her magic a large, black and white suit from one of the coat hangers. "It's been sitting here for quite a while. Hope you like it, dear. I put extra effort into those stitches in the back."

But Hooves was letting his mind wander. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a newspaper clipping, or rather an article torn from the page, which was lying beneath several sheets of brightly-colored golden cloth. What caught his eye was the image, a barn on fire with the Equestrian fire department stamped on it. The paper felt old and worn, not with age but abuse.

"Sorry about that," she said while picking up the paper from the ground. "I must organize this mess by tomorrow morning. One of my clients is expecting a visit."

His curiosity got the best of him. "What's the story?"

"What, you mean this?" Her magic held the paper in the air. "Hmm... oh my. Applewood Refinery was recently damaged by a fire."

Detective Hooves could read the expression on her face. "Is something wrong?"

"Wha... no. It's just that... one of my friends was involved in running that refinery. I hope she's okay."

Rain was still falling on the roof; the weather didn't seem to be relaxing any time soon. Walter felt it necessary for him to break the silence. "Well, I'll just be going on my way."

"Watch your step outside, dear, and please hurry. Rain isn't good for the fabric."

Chapter 2: Office Caper

Detective Hooves never felt an inclination to wake up early in the morning; neither did he find purpose in eating a decent breakfast. Nonetheless, his legs led him to Manehattan's local coffee shop in the morning. The best coffee in Equestria, in his opinion, was made in Canterlot, where the earth ponies made coffee by hoof directly from the ground to the cup.

It never occurred to him that his schedule was completely obscured from the weekend's procrastination. In fact, any sane gambler would bet he wouldn't be able to finish all his required work by the end of the year. Still, the calm pony sipped his mug peacefully.

Hard to believe a fire happened four nights ago in this very town. The day was simply too peaceful for such disasters. The fillies were playing tag at the park outside the shop. A husband kissed his sweetheart on the cheek. And outside, a group of tourists from Canterlot made their debut.

But for the first time, Walter's mind was not concentrated on the clouds in the sky or the birds and squirrels flying and running past. Instead, he was thinking of what to do with his workload. Two (it was two, wasn't it?) more cases would finish the year's queue and get him ready for the annual employee inspection, which he would just barely pass, if at all.

Jill's probably done twenty by now. The steam from his coffee rose into his eyes, and Walter whiffed it with his left hoof. The refinery fire case absolutely sounded interesting, but the procrastinating pony chickened out of accepting it. Sounds like a really serious one. I'd better leave it to someone more experienced anyway. The last sip of the coffee was finished, and it was resolved that he check on the file at the lobby of his office building. If it wasn't there, oh well. If it was, he would give it a shot.

Walter dropped a tip of two bits onto the table, or what seemed like two bits; he didn't bother to count. The refinery case's file was still sitting in the queue box in the lobby when Hooves had arrived there. Just my luck, he thought, but he kept his promise, signed his name at the bottom of the folder, and clocked in twenty minutes late (that's pretty impressive for him).

The clicks, mumbles, and rings of fax machines and telephones supplemented his hoof-steps up all those flights of creaky stairs. Maybe I should've taken the elevator. he realized about half way up.

His office was still in the same condition as he had left it the night before, except that there was somepony standing at the center of the paper pile on the floor. By the look of his cutie mark, he must have been part of the apple family.

"Um... hello," Walter said awkwardly.

The stranger turned around in surprise. "Oh... sorry. I was a lookin' for somethin'."

"Do I know you? I haven't seen you around this building before." In fact, no member of the apple family worked at the company.

The stranger ran to him and shook the detective's hoof like a maraca. "Name's Strudel, mister. Haven't seen you around these parks neither."

Walter was skeptical. "Can you not find the stapler? I don't have it."

Strudel ignored and walked past him in haste. "Nice meeting ya, stranger." Within a few seconds, he disappeared down the stairwell.

Walter Hooves could do nothing but stand there in confused hesitation. Uh... okay. The first thing he noticed after turning around to face his desk was that all the cabinets he had organized the night before had been vandalized. Most were scratched; others were torn out of their shelves and spilled across the floor. And to top it all off, his bookshelf had tipped over (he thought to himself: How did I not notice that?). At least it had fallen backward so that the books didn't spill across the floor.

He wasn't even surprised, for the only thought that registered in his head was Well, drat. The detective thought about turning around and chasing down Strudel, in case he was responsible, but several minutes of hesitation had already passed. The stranger might as well have been to Andromeda by then.

It looked like he would be pushed back quite a few hours today. Might as well start with the bookshelf.

In the process of lifting up the shelf without spilling any more books, Walter heard hoof-steps coming up the stairs again. There's the pony of the hour. Hopefully he'll apologize for the little incident and help me clean up. But it wasn't Strudel's hoof-steps.

Jill stood in the doorway gazing in awe. "My gosh, detective. If you wanted the stapler so badly, you could've just asked. I only borrowed it for a few minutes."

"Oh, this? It wasn't me. Some stranger from the apple family broke into my office this morning and tipped over the bookshelf and damaged the cabinets. He told me his name was Strudel, and ran down the steps faster than a cheetah."

Jill was a little bit skeptical about his explanation. "Okay... so you need help with this then?"

"It's fine. I'll take care of it."

After the entire morning and a few hours after lunch break, everything was finally reorganized into a neat (ahem, more neat than before) state. The work made Detective Hooves wish he had drunk more coffee that morning, but at least he was free to do some real work. I guess I should get to that case work now.

The case folder was still sitting on the desk where he left it that morning. It had his signature in bright red felt marker, yet the seal had not been opened. Inside, he saw, was a multitude of documents, pictures, and sources: a newspaper clipping of the same article he found at Carousel Boutique, several pictures of the refinery's ruins after the fire, a log of Applewood's affairs prior to the incident, and blank pages for notes along with other things that Walter didn't bother to read over.

The newspaper appealed to him the most, as it had, on the back, a crossword puzzle. The rest of the day was spent smoking his pipe at his desk trying to fill in rows and columns of words. I've done enough work for today, he thought to himself. Of course I deserve a break.

Once the clock struck six, the fax machines and phones stopped buzzing and ringing, while the elevator descended with several workers and businessponies. Everypony clocked out with the exception of Walter, who had just finished the last row of the puzzle.

Great Celestia above, these puzzles are getting harder every week. As he prepared to leave, Walter turned the page around to the article, and out of pure chance, began to read.

September 17 - Manehattan Times Newslog

Manehattan's new local applesauce refinery, the Applewood, has experienced a recent destructive fire just yesterday. Officials report that all ponies were evacuated successfully, with the exception of one, who is yet to be found.

"I can only feel glad that most of us are safe. It didn't seem like anypony could survive what we had just witnessed here tonight," says Newton, the official manager of Applewood Refinery.

Policemen on scene have discovered that no part of the house had any flames running prior to the incident and are now considering that it may have been an arson.

As far as evidence goes, a torch was found outside the building on Saturday evening, but not traces of hoof-prints were found. Stay tuned for more.

At the bottom of the paper was the address of Applewood Refinery, or what's left of it. Walter decided he would search the area and interview the victims in the morning. Every journey started with one step.

One his way out, he knocked his foot against the bookshelf, which fell over again with a huge crash.

Chapter 3: Untying Loose Ends

In the morning, Detective Walter Hooves head for the train station in Manehattan. Everypony was at work on Tuesday, so the lines were shorter than usual. The guard on duty was asleep in his chair with an old Pony magazine on his face.

The detective found his terminal station and boarded the train with very few others. He didn't sit down, but rather hung on to the rail, where he got a great view of the trees and flowers passing by. If there was one thing he could watch all day and never get tired, it would be the view from a moving vehicle. Television became mundane quickly, and music refused to keep its potency. His eyes could stare out the window of that train for years. Therefore, his stop at Manehattan's apple village came a little too quickly for him.

"All passengers may now leave the tram," said an automated voice. The doors swung open; Walter trotted out passively. He probably should've chosen a better time to hold interviews with the victims: most were probably asleep at seven in the morning. Nonetheless, the Applewood Refinery came into view beyond the horizon, and by the looks of it, it was still as deserted as a graveyard on Halloween night. Not that anypony would be interested in visiting, for the entire foundation was burnt crisp, and the mess had not yet been cleaned up.

Oh, trots. I should've scheduled an appointment beforehand. The refinery was surrounded on its left by a chain of apartment complexes, each with brightly-colored brick walls and roofs. There was a slight chance, a very slight chance, that some victims could still be living here. Sure enough, upon entering the hotel lobby and finding the guest book, a few entries with "apple" in the names were present.

The hotel clerk offered him a room, but Walter decided that he was simply visiting "old friends". Beside each name in the guest book were the room numbers. Hooves had to choose the name of somepony who clearly was part of the apple family. Should be easy enough. I'll just look for "apple" in the name. But many of the names didn't include the word "apple".

He came across "Pie," a name that could've been an apple pie, but also might as well have belonged to Pinkie (she was pretty distinguished in all parts of Equestria since her royal party at the Canterlot Castle). His hoof ran down the page, and he came across questionable names such as "Seed," "Cider," "Caramel," "Baked," and "Delicious" (who would name their filly that?). Either one could've been an apple family member. The search became bleak until one name stood out amongst the others: "Applejack".

If he were wrong, and this "Applejack" wasn't part of the family, at least there was a good excuse to make the mistake. Room 122 he read to himself, and took the lift up. The door to room 122, unlike the others, had a "do not disturb" sign attached to the handle. Part of Hooves's mind thought Oh, well. She doesn't want to be disturbed. Case closed., but the other side thought I can't just leave this incident to just fade out in the night, like a patch of darkness in history.

He balanced out the pros and cons of each decision in a mental table. If he did knock on the door, he would get more evidence for the case, possibly solve it, and become locally famous for doing so. If not, it would qualify as a completed case, and he could go back to slacking off in the office. Meh, another day another dollar, I suppose. The expression had no affiliation to what he was doing.

Walter knocked on the door with his head, and a few minutes (what seemed like hours) passed before an answer manifested itself: the shuffling of blankets followed by hoof-steps. "Yes, who's there?" said a voice from the other side of the door. It had a western accent that Walter wasn't very fond of.

"Detective Walter Hooves, miss. I work for the police agency in this town, and I'm here to investigate the refinery accident."

Another bout of silence followed by more shuffling of blankets occurred until the door finally opened. She was an orange pony with a light-yellow mane. By the look of her cutie mark, three apples, Walter could easily discern she was part of the family.

"Should've called the cops days ago, stranger. Glad to have you here. Mighty fine day, huh sugar cube?"

Naturally, the detective took a seat in one large red beanbag chair. The room itself matched Applejack's mane: it was orange, but with stripes of red apples.

"I see you've taken the liberty of customization," Walter commented, observing each wall. "Anyway, can you tell me everything you can about the night of the incident?" He got out a notepad.

"Well, let's see here... It was opening night...."

"Opening night?"

"Yeah. Applewood Refinery was a new project for us orchard-dwellers. Never had a store open in Manehattan before. And we had some leftover bits for the buildin' plans. Anyway, it was first day in business. I invited every pony in the apple family to join us for the opening celebration. Not exactly the best idea, now that I think of it."

"Everypony in the family attended, I presume?"

"Yes," Applejack replied. There was a slight pause afterward. "Ol' Cinnamon Bun flew all the way from Fillydelphia, and she brought several of her friends over."

Walter Hooves scribbled something into his notepad. "Please continue."

"'Bout... probably twenty minutes passed, then the fire alarm went off. We all rushed for the exits till some explosion or two rocked the floor. Can't remember anythin' past that. It all happened in... a blur."

A question arose in the detective's mind. "Do you have any idea who may have caused the fire?"

"I actually have no idea," she said staring up at the ceiling, "the ovens weren't built yet, and I don't think we kept any candles inside. You don't suppose somepony would be mean enough to start the fire himself, do you?"

"Anything can be a possibility, madam." Another question arose in his head. "Was everypony in the building when the fire started?"

"Actually," was her reply, "I think ol' Newton was outside using the outhouse. And Big Macintosh was sent to pick up the cake. Oh, and Caramel wasn't there yet. He arrived late."

"Late, huh? When exactly did he get there?"

"Just a few minutes after the fire. Lucky him." Applejack hesitated, and by the look of her face, she knew exactly what was being implied. "Oh, no. It couldn't have been Caramel. She's way too sweet a sugarcube to do something like that."

Walter was in deep thought, and he scribbled a few more notes down. The pen dropped from his mouth, and Applejack picked it up for him. "And did everypony make it out safely?"

"Yes, they did. Except for..." she slowed down her speech.

"Yes?"

Applejack was in tears. "'Cept..." She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Go on. Who?" Another silence followed. Applejack sniffed.

"My dear old flesh and blood. My dear old Granny Smith. We... we never found her." Applejack's head hit the floor while she continued to weep loudly.

Chapter 4: A Slice of Apple

Walter Hooves could do nothing else besides wait for Applejack to regain her composure. She had been weeping for approximately five minutes. Walter, who felt uncomfortable in moments of extreme emotion, tried to ignore her sobbing and concentrate on his notes. Mercifully, Applejack rose her head and wiped the last drops of tears from her eyes.

"Are you all right, miss?" he asked.

"Yes... sorry about that. I just can't get over my grandmama's death. If somepony really did arson the place, I sure hope he chokes on the next apple he eats."

The detective was still missing a vital portion of evidence. "Just one more question, is that okay?"

"Yes, fire away, sugarcube." Her tone was back to normal again.

"Can you tell me the history of this project? I mean the plans for this Applewood Refinery."

"Sure thing. This here apple business is quite a successful business in Equestria. One day, we all got together and decided to build some offices outside of Ponyville. After all, requests came from all across the land, and we figured it would be faster shipping if there were another location in some other city."

"So, it was a group effort?"

"Mostly. My good ole' brother Macintosh suggested it. Quite a resourceful fellow if I do say so myself. He's always looking for ways to increase our revenues. Anyway, with the new building, each worker in this here apple company could be paid at least twenty more bits than before."

"Twenty more bits?"

"Yeah. It's all about fairness. We take the profits for the year and split them up evenly amongst our crew members. Done so since the industry opened up years ago."

Walter Hooves finished jotting down the last of his notes. "Thank you, madam. You were very helpful."

"Good luck, partner. Hope you find what you're looking for."

Once the door closed, Walter was left out in the hallway. A chill ran down his spine as he made his way back down to the hotel lobby. On the elevator, however, he met one particular pony whose cutie mark was an apple cutter, or something along those lines.

To his surprise, the stranger pony started first: "Hello, I'm Apple Slice. What's your name?"

"Nice to meet you," was all he could think of. "Say, do you happen to know Applejack? She lives on the second floor." Anypony could be a valuable witness.

"Indeed I do. Great friend of mine, actually. Have you read the news lately?"

"Yup, and I'm wondering," he got out his notepad again and continued, "if you have the time..."

"Sure," she replied just before the elevator door opened. They found themselves red fabric chairs in the lobby.

"I work for the detective agency from the police station in this town, and I'm conducting the investigation for the fire that..."

"Really?" she interrupted, "It's about time. I ordered a pizza on that same night, and it came sooner than you did."

"Can you tell me everything you remember from that night?"

Ms. Slice hesitated. "Strange for you to ask, because I did see something unusually on that very night. I was outside when the party started, just a few minutes late. The sky was dark, and fog was everywhere if I remember correctly. Yes, that's right. There was plenty of fog, but in the midst of it, I saw a little yellow glow. I had to squint my eyes to see it, but I thought it was a torch."

Now we're getting somewhere. "A torch you say," Walter said with interest; "do you suppose...?"

"I don't see why anypony would want to burn down such a lovely house, but I saw the torch move toward the house. I couldn't see who was carrying it, but he galloped pretty quickly. Maybe you're right; maybe it was an arson with an attitude."

A spark activated itself inside the detective's head. "Just one second... was the torch held horizontally or vertically? I mean, while it was moving, was the handle held sideways, or did the flame sit right on top of the vertical handle?"

"I think it was sideways, but what good does that...?"

"And was it moving across the ground, or was it floating high in the air?"

"It was moving on the ground, but what does that have to do with anything?" Slice asked skeptically.

Detective Walter Hooves thought for a moment, and after a few seconds, finally said, "The arson and culprit we are looking for is an earth pony."

"How do you know?"

"It was foggy outside. If a pegasi were the arson, he would surely attempt to be discreet. The fog would've covered up his tracks quite easily. I don't see why a pegasi wouldn't be flying while carrying the torch."

"Makes sense to me," said Slice, but she still looked confused.

"And torches burn weakly when tipped on their side. It would be ideal to carry it vertically, just in case the flame died out."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked again.

"Any sensible unicorn would have carried the flaming torch with her magic vertically, but the torch on that night was held horizontally. It must've been an earth pony, who can't fly to hide himself in the fog and has to carry the torch in his mouth."

Apple Slice was in a daze, but she was confident that this case had a good chance of being solved, especially with a detective like him on the job.

Chapter 5: Cookies and Cakes

Detective Hooves checked his pocket watch. Twenty minutes till ten in the afternoon. I'd better get going. The boss is going to flip if I don't clock out soon. He rushed the late-night train back to Manehattan town square.

The case files, now filled with pages of notes, thoughts, and conclusions, was to be kept in his office. But when Hooves returned there, a familiar but unpleasant sight assaulted his retina. Broken books. Torn-up spreadsheets. The remains of what was once a filing cabinet. Even his desk was overturned.

All he wanted to do now was scream, trot down loudly to the front desk, and file a complaint. Somepony in the office was playing a joke on him, and it wasn't funny the slightest bit. His mouth uttered a quiet curse as his eyes surveyed the sight. On the ground, he noticed especially, was a brown piece of leather that wasn't there before. As he approached it, the object turned out to be a wallet. Inside was a slip of paper that read:

Property of Apple Strudel
If found, please return to Applewood Refinery, 2772 Saddle Street, Manehattan, Equestria.

The detective kept his anger at a minimum as much as his conscience could allow. It's all right, it's all right. I'll just leave a sign at the door next time saying "No, don't go in here." and everything will be fine. The cabinets were very heavy, and it took the strength of both his front hooves to lift it back up. When it was in its rightful position, he placed the case files in the bottom drawer. At least the papers didn't fly out.

The job of cleaning up the rest of the room left Walter's mind blank and ruffled. He couldn't think at all for the next three days, and the investigation consequently suffered. No new interviews, no new information, no new evidence, and absolutely no new progress. Hooves wanted to pound his head against the wall in frustration.

With only the information he knew, the culprit might as well have been a tree that accidentally caught fire on that night. The fact was clear in his head that Strudel wasn't the arson, despite Walter's bitter hostility against him. After all, he was in the house when the fire started and stayed there during its duration. But he was Walter's last suspect. When guilt had finally overcome him, he decided the only useful action to do now was to write a letter to Applejack and Apple Slice apologizing that he just couldn't solve their case.

It began like this:

Hello members of the Apple Family:
It's been a wonderful time working with you for the last few days, but I am sorry to say that I cannot solve what had happened on the night of September 16. My dearest apologies.

The following paragraphs summarized all the information and conclusions Walter Hooves had gathered.

I'm sorry for your loss, my dear. I can't imagine how it feels to lose a family member.
Happy trails, Detective Walter Hooves

On the way out, he believed it necessary that extra precautions be taken in case another... incident happened. Locking the door, Walter went down to the lobby using the stairs since the longer journey gave him time to clear his mind. On the way down, though, he ran into Jill, who was hurrying upstairs with a receipt in her mouth.

"Woah, trying to catch a train there?" Walter started.

"Oh, hello, Walter. I'm glad I ran into you. It's my little filly's birthday tomorrow, but I'm quite busy at the moment. Could you pick up her cake at Sugarcube Corner for me? Last errand of the night, I promise."

"Sure thing, Jill."

"Just drop it off in my fridge sometime today or tomorrow morning. And thanks again." She trotted up the flights of stairs. Hooves checked his pocket watch again. Eleven o' clock. Better get there before the shop closes.

Sugarcube Corner was located at a very unique, to say the least, location in Ponyville. It wasn't near any public transportation stop, so Walter had to trot a mile or so to get there. What an interesting place. he thought to himself. The special "cookie and gingerbread house" design made him wonder if the building was actually edible.

A doorbell rang when he opened the door. "Howdy there, Walter. What brings you here to this part of town?" asked a cheerful, high-pitched voice from across the counter. Oh, that's right: Pinkie took the afternoon shift on Wednesdays, or was it Tuesdays? Quite an amicable pony, for she was friends with absolutely everypony in a huge radius.

"I'm here to pick up a cake for a friend, miss. Her name is..."

"Of course, mister. I know Jill's planning a super, special party tomorrow. I made her one of my specialties." She ran to the back of the store.

Walter stood there waiting and let his eyes wander. On the shelf was a small book labeled "orders". Hooves remembered Applejack saying something about a cake that was supposed to be brought to the refinery before it was burned. Go ahead, do a justice. Bring the cake to her. It's the best you can do now. Walter picked up the book and scrolled through the dates. He found September 16 and scrolled through the pages. Let's see here... Water Lilly ordered a cupcake a few weeks ago; somepony named Sapphire picked up a few cookies. That's funny. I can't find anypony from the apple family in here.

Pinkie had just returned with the cake. "Special thanks to Mrs. Cake for the design on the top."

"Say, Pinkie. Could you tell me whether or not somepony from the apple family had ordered anything recently?"

"Hmm... I think Applejack wanted some cupcakes once, but that was a LONG time ago." She smiled. "Though I can see why. We're best friends. A gift a day doesn't hurt."

"Are you sure there weren't any orders from her, especially on September 16?"

"Nope, I don't think so."

"Interesting..., well, thanks Pinkie. I'll get this to Jill tonight."

"Okey Dokey Lokie."

Detective Hooves left the shop with a smile on his face and a new plan placed firmly in his mind.

Chapter 6: Broken Intentions

The next morning, Walter got up very quickly. He had to see Applejack one last time, for there was a lot to talk about. The address to the Inn was in the case files at his office, and never in his entire career had he galloped as fast as he did up the stairs. The door lock, which he had used the day before, was smashed in pieces, as if somepony had hit it with a hammer. The reception desk wasn't occupied yet, so the first greeting Hooves got was a sight that didn't quite please him. His office -- bookshelf, cabinets, desk, and all -- looked as if a tornado had run through it.

But that wasn't his main concern right now. The same mess had manifested itself several times over the week, and Walter had almost gotten used to it. What caught his attention was how all the case files, from his notes to the address book of witnesses to the pictures and documents, were missing. They were always kept in that same upper cabinet. Walter checked the lower cabinet, as well as the bookshelf and the space beneath the desk, but in vain. Everything he needed to wrap up the mystery of the fire of Applewood Refinery was gone.

The detective waited impatiently at the reception desk. It was probably in the lost and found, or, by low chance, maybe the night janitor accidentally swept it up. Finally, the reception filly went to her post. "May I hel...?"

"Has anything been turned in to the lost and found lately?"

"No, I don't th...."

"Did anypony check into work last night and ask to see my office?"

"Not one, I belie...."

Well, maybe I don't need them anymore. "Can you give me the address to Applewood Refinery. Where it once was, I mean?"

"Sure, here's the business car...."

The detective rushed out having taken the card. Behind him, he could hear the receptionist yell, "You're welcome!"

On his way outside, Walter ran into the mail pony, who was currently making his morning rounds. "Howdy, sir. Glad I caught you. Here's a thick stack for ya."

Hooves replied with a hasty, "Thanks."

"You must be pretty popular. That's a huge stack of papers you got thar."

The letter on the very top caught his glimpse. From Applejack and Appleslice. Interesting... The letter was in two hoof-writings, and contained several paragraphs of thanks. Two in particular caught his attention.

Dear Detective Hooves:

A mighty-fine thanks to you on your efforts. Glad we could work with you.

Still, I don't understand who would do such a thing. Granny Smith hated locked doors. She always kept hers ajar at night, and even if the fire blocked the way, she could've easily jumped out the window. Whoever did this probably killed Smith first then started the fire to cover up the crime. Whoever did this wanted us all dead. But who?

But enough about that. It's time to move on and think of happier times. The whole family is already planning another grand reopening of another refinery, this time in Appleseed Village tomorrow at nine PM. Don't worry; we've got some disaster-proofing to do before then. Thanks a lot and hope you could visit anytime soon!

The bottom was signed with two cursive signatures. Another grand opening, huh? I may have my opportunity. And it was the perfect opportunity, an opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. Walter was going to the reopening tomorrow night, but his presence wasn't going to be known. In fact, he wasn't planning on going indoors either. That night, Walter couldn't sleep, for he was going to take some answers home with him soon enough.

Chapter 7: Personality Clash

A distant fog roamed overhead. The night cast a dark shadow over the fields surrounding the refinery. It was quite a cold and damp night, and if the circumstances weren't so demanding, Walter would've made himself at home inside the building, where the candles from the grand opening ceremony danced in the windows. But instead, he, binoculars in hoof, hid in the bushes. He checked his watch for a quick moment. Thirty minutes and still no sign of anything. The sounds of streamers and party whistles pounded his ears.

The fog was thickening over the refinery building. If it continued at this rate, Walter's range of vision would be drastically reduced. He had to move in closer. There was a bush not too far from him, just a few meters off. Taking one last look at the barnyard, he dashed over as quickly and as quietly as he could. As soon as the bush hid his presence, he noticed something moving across the landscape. Immediately, his heart pounded in his chest. The binoculars got a closer look, and he saw three things. Walter's mind eventually registered them as a glowing light; a large, dark figure moving quickly across the ground; and a third figure, a little smaller than the first.

Detective Hooves had to squint his eyes to see. Only across several trees and plants did he register the smaller dark figure, and it hit him like a rock. Strudel, he thought. Walter stood there stunned but regained his consciousness as soon as the figures were moving more and more quickly toward the barn. The figures slowed down for a second, then started running again.

There was nothing Walter could do but go in for a closer look. But as he continued to scurry forward, the figures stopped in their tracks. Walter's breathing refused to subside as he stayed as still as he could, attempting to blend in with the background. Nonetheless, the figures apparently noticed him and started running toward the barn at a faster pace.

Drat, he thought to himself and got up to chase the mysterious figure down. Never in his entire life had he felt so much the urge to sprint. The refinery barn was a good several meters away, and he was catching up quickly. In the ensuing pursuit, Walter caught a glimpse of a small box on the mysterious figure's back. Firecrackers. Hooves could tell by the rattling of the contents inside.

Through his heavy breathing, winds of the night, rustling of the leaves underneath his hooves, and the sounds of chatting from inside the barn, Walter Hooves finally got within tackling distance of the two figures. The larger figure had dropped the torch, and it lay aflame on the ground. The smaller figure, as Walter could easily tell at this point, was sure enough Strudel, who attempted to reclaim the torch before Hooves snatched it away from the ground with his mouth.

Apparently, that was a pretty important torch because the larger figure, whoever it was, stopped in his tracks, turned around, and slowly approached. It was still too dark to see who it was, but it's menacing approach made Walter trot slowly backwards with sweat on his mane. However, he was determined to keep the torch. Bad idea, he later discovered as a sharp pain rose upon his left cheek. After getting up, Walter found his left lip dripping blood and his vision blurred.

But something wasn't quite right. His back was numb from the impact, but the detective could feel grass moving across his face. He was being dragged. At some point, the sound of grass pushing across his mane stopped, and somewhere in front of him, a fire lit. More descriptively, it was a firecracker. Though Walter was still lying on the ground, he registered Strudel and the other figure, and by the light of the firecracker discovered the culprit's face and gasped.

But that was the least of his worries at that point. The detective pony was tied up with his hooves behind his back, and next to him was a lit firecracker. Now this firecracker wasn't only a sparkler; it was basically a TNT barrel placed on its side compressed into one thin tube about a hoof long. It wouldn't take much to pulverize anypony with one of those weapons.

Walter couldn't make out a word nor scream. He cycled through the options in his head, and finally decided on a risky operation. The firecracker wasn't too far away, and with all the strength he could find, rolled over to it, and put the lit end into his mouth. The fuse stifled and died seconds before detonating, but not without giving Walter the burning of his life, for his tongue felt scorched. Hooves had to open his mouth and allow ventilation to fight back the tears in his eyes.

As soon as his daze ended, Walter caught sight of the figures again, this time running away from the barn refinery. Oh, no you don't. And with a case that once took several days and now would be finished on this very night, the detective got on his hooves and charged. Before he even knew it, the thief was tackled and on the ground. Recently, another firecracker had been lit, and this one flew into the air during the impact. Perfect timing, Hooves thought as it exploded midair harmlessly.

The explosion resonated through the night. One could easily tell it probably woke up several ponies in the neighboring apartments. So many events had occurred that nopony noticed the noises inside the refinery had stopped, the doors had opened, and the light from inside bathed the scene. Amongst the pony congregation that surrounded the scene was Applejack, who was the first to speak.

"What in dally who is going on out here?"

Walter could hardly speak. Both because of shock and that his tongue still had a burning sensation. But one idea was clear: the culprit had been captured. He lay on the ground but was still wearing a black mask.

A large gasp was shared amongst the ponies that congregated on that very night, for when Walter pulled of the criminal's mask, the only words Applejack uttered were, "But... but... Big... Macintosh?! Why?"

Detective Hooves knew why, and he would finish his case report, patch up his wounds, and finalize the mystery of the Applewood Refinery arson.

Applewood Refinery Case Report

MANEHATTAN DETECTIVE SERVICES CO.
2557 APPLEBUCK ROAD
MANEHATTAN, EQUESTRIA
CASE #495 REPORT

DETECTIVE(S): Mr. Walter Hooves
DATE: A.U.C. 2765, September 17
CENTER: Manehattan, Applewood Refinery
STATUS: Complete and Closed

Applewood Refinery Arson

I have had quite a wonderful experience over the last few days on the mystery of the arson at Applewood Refinery in Manehattan. Though I cannot stand to see such a family conflict, I am glad the mystery has been solved. Special thanks to Applejack and the rest of the Apple Family for being such great witnesses for my investigation.

And through the clues I will soon present, I can finally arrive at the following conclusion:

When the Apple Family first started their family business in Ponyville, it was clear that such a successful and innovative idea had to be spread to other places. It had gone as far from the deserts of Saddle Arabia to the oceans of Stablecity on the Horseshoe Islands. As the company grew in power and finance, amongst the cheers of optimism and a sense of community were certain jealousies and greed.

Big Macintosh, as his family addresses him, as my knowledge goes started out as a kind and fun-loving working-class pony. But that was simply the problem: he was only a mere working-class pony. In a post-case interview with members of the Apple Family, it seems that Macintosh adopted his gothic lifestyle of few words and expressionless faces soon after one pony, who is addressed as Granny Smith, struck gold and discovered huge orchards of naturally-growing apples glistening in the sun waiting to be eaten.

The orchard itself, called Applewood later, was discovered single-hoofedly by Mrs. Smith on one of her summer strolls, and since it was her own discovery, she would naturally inherit most of the fortune of the resulting refinery, even as all the other members of the family received an equal share of the profits.

In a confusing mix of jealously and greed, Macintosh found that the only way for him to gain the entire family's business and fortunes was to get everypony else out of the picture. And that could be done one way: no negotiations, but simply to burn down the barn while everypony was in it. He would arrive late to the party on the intention of bringing the cake, but would later return with a torch in hand and firecrackers ready to explode.

And that plan nearly worked the first time, for Granny Smith was naturally the first target. However, almost all the other ponies managed to survive, and for a short time, Mac's plans were foiled. Nonetheless, since nopony knew the culprit nor the motives of the crime, in order to cover up his tracks, Mac needed to foil any potential investigations, namely mine. Most likely, he hired one pony friend by the name of Strudel to painstakingly break into the detective business and destroy the case files in hopes of sabotaging my efforts. In return, Strudel would get a share of the fortunes once part B of Mac's plan was completed.

As for part B, I placed myself at the perfect moment to catch the thug. Through a series of lures and catches, I have finally determined the source of all those troubles. Big Macintosh, who is currently being held in Manehattan Prison, will be arraigned shortly.

Though more details are available at the time, I feel no inclination to list them, as my case for this year is closed. As for me, I am pondering whether or not to retire after next year.

My greatest sorrows to Applejack and the rest of the Apple Family for losing not only one, but two of their family members. I hope the days grow bright for y'all soon. Thank you.

CASE CLOSED

Prologue

A large, black column of smoke, followed by several instances of flames and explosions, one after another, shook the ground and lit up the night sky. The only audible sounds were the clopping of hooves against the dusty ground and the screams of several ponies. Applejack, with tears in her eyes, hugged her little sister until they both heard the hoof-steps of the constable.

"Is everypony out?" Applejack asked frantically.

"Nearly," replied the constable carrying a flashlight in her mouth, "but we're still missing one more." A painful silence ensued.

"Well, who is it?" Hopefully, they were missing a pegasus. The barn roof had collapsed in the fire, so if Newton or Eve had been trapped, they could have easily flown out. Not to mention several of the workers knew exactly where the emergency exits were.

Applejack kept her legs crossed, but the constable's reply made her faint.