Detective Hooves: Burning Apples and Avarice

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.