A Bloody Red Trail

by Baffles

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Sad, Other, Original Character
Length: 7375

When a serial killer pony is on the lose, a famous detective in Victorian England must unravel the few clues to solve this bloody case.

Perfect Pace is a famous detective in old England. Respected, posh, top of his class. Having solved more mysteries than any other pony in The Station.
When a mysterious killer is on a violent bloody rampage, he expects he'll be put on the case, a quick easy solve. What happens is anything but. When Chief, the head of police gives the investigation to a rookie detective, he assigns Pace to be a sort of babysitter, steer the young new comer in the right direction, training him to be his successor, but Pace has other ideas. As it turns out, the killer does also.

Published 2014-09-28 21:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2014-10-24 21:32:12 UTC

A Meal to Remember

Author's Note

Alright everyone! So, the first story is out!
I'd like to thank Nova for being my editor, who's been amazing.

This story comes from my interest in crime scene investigation. I've been interested for a long long time, and now I feel like I'm using the knowledge to my advantage.
I will try and update this biweekly depending on available for time.

Please feel free to comment, I would like to improve! Otherwise, please enjoy!

A Meal to Remember

It was an intoxicating spread before me. A meal to remember. I carefully sat down on my haunches, sniffing the succulent feast. It was my first real meal of the day. From my bag beside me I drew out a long thin carving knife. It had been a gift from my wife. Her intent was for me to be able to help her in the kitchen chopping fruits and greens for her salads. What I really used it for wasn’t what she had in mind. Not that she minded anything anymore. I delicately started to peel away the fur that obstructed my access to my food.

I had made my first killing of the week. It had been a while, perhaps I was rusty. Maybe, but I got the job done. No pony saw me, or heard my victim’s scream. Maybe I wasn’t that rusty after all. It took me long enough to find a solitary mare. I hadn’t known her, let alone seen her before. The perfect model in my twisted art form.

I knew everypony in this town. This new face, wasn’t likely to arouse suspicion. I turned my focus back to my meal. With my knife I slid it under the young mare’s skin, removing it from the thin layer of fat under. She was a healthy little thing. From what I could see of her in the dim light she was quite the beauty, a whole life ahead of her. A shame really. However my emotions did not have any place in this situation, my attention needed to be kept on the very sharp knife I was skinning this now quite dead young lass.

As the layer of skin was removed, well marbled muscle greeted my hungry eyes. Lifting the knife in my silver magic, I began to butcher her. It wasn’t even a her anymore. I butchered it.

In the alley in which I had struck, little light shown in, candlelight flickered and danced weakly into the cold bloody scene. The cold cobblestone below my hooves was damp from the light evening rain, creating an eerie atmosphere. The kind of atmosphere to keep an eye on the shadows, where any sick pony may lerk. I laughed darkly, a low rumble. A pony like me.

I couldn’t stay long, with my blood lust sated for now, and my stomach full, I had to move on, or else I might be caught, and I couldn’t have that. Not for what I was planning.
I left my art for the world to see, skinning and butchering the mare to the bone, leaving her remains in neat sorted little piles.

My glee looking at my work was indescribable. My perfect masterpiece. Dissected a pony. Perfectly, preserving all the organs except the kidney. The Kidneys were my prefered delicacy. Every kill I made, I’d eat the kidneys. Raw, still warm from the body. As close to life the better. With my work in clean tidy piles I turned, soon it would be dawn. Dawn brought curious eyes. Not a place for me.

With a swoosh of my cape, I turned, taking only one thing with me. The hide. In the dawn's light I’d be able to see how beautiful the mare was, and add it to my growing collections of pelts.

It was mid morning when I arrived at work. Walking to the open doors into The Station, it was bustling with news of an apparent killing. Approaching my office I was stopped by a young detective with papers stuffed under his wings, as always scatterbrained.

“Sir, have you heard? The killer struck again last night! It was another young mare... Her name was Velvet Thread...” he stammered nervously clearly distraught over the news, perhaps he knew her? His expression might lead me to believe that.

“No, I’d not heard, I only just arrived.” I was a detective. A damn good one at that. I was well known in Victorian England as top of my class. One might even say a real life version of Fetlock Holmes.

“Do you think he’ll strike again?” The younger detective asked, his compulsive twitching worse than ever. Maybe he should stay a file sorter. This wasn’t the kind of job, suited for a scared pony like this poor kid. He was recently within the last year transferred here, right out of school. No field work, no experience. He was fresh off the school yard, as far as I could tell. His light purple fur still almost his foal coat. His gray mane was messy sticking out at strange angles, maybe he forgot to brush it?

“Maybe so, Feather, I’d rather we catch him before that, any reports?”

“No witnesses, nothing Sir... absolutely nothing...” He pipped up. I frowned, I didn’t like no witnesses. Needless to say, I didn’t like him calling me sir either.

“What have I told you, about calling me sir?” I gave him a bored look, I’d told him this countless times since his transfer. He was, what you could call my secretary. I had wished I had had a pretty mare. Instead the chief thought it was quite the joke to assign this young wannabe to be my assistant. He wasn’t even all that attractive. I gave a snort, trying to collect my thoughts.

“Sorry, Perfect Pace.. Just, proper, you know?” He said his ears down a page slipping from under his wing.

I catch it, and pass it back to him. “Don’t worry about it, Feather.” I called him such, because he was always either in flight or appearing to be about to fly. I didn’t remember his name, I couldn’t be bothered sometimes to remember every pony’s name in The Station.

The Station was a huge police building, brick and stone, stained glass windows as fancy as any church. The main lobby reminded me of a train station or a library, several stone columns holded the arches connected like bridges, the main desktops like homicides and vice were located in the East Wing, while the ones for Arson and other “minor issues” was on the West Wing. Forensics and the morgue where at the very end of the building, as well as the evidence storage room, which is the basement. It can get very crowded during the day, and even at night.

The cells are located at the top floor, same for the interrogation rooms and archives.

In the right light, a perfect picture of it would be beamed down on sunny days, lighting the insides with golds, blues, reds and oranges. It was the envy of every station for miles and miles. Though it was partially because I was here as well, I was the envy of every police station. My skills were very desired. But I couldn’t go around all over the countryside helping every town I stumbled across with their crimes. There just wasn’t enough time in the day. I politely excused myself from the jabbering youth and continued on my way.

I started to climb the luxurious staircase, stopping half way, to look below. Ponies went back and forth, some stopping at counters, others to report a petty crime, something more serious maybe. Some were filling out paperwork, possibly the criminals.

Looking up the height of the stairs I saw my office, the grandest in the building. It was a lovely wooden office, most importantly, clean. It was always clean, not a single paper out of order, not a speck of dust on the desk. I had a view of the area below, and often liked to watch how ponies behaved. It was fascinating for me.

I ascended to the landing, and turned the gentle clopping of my hooves on the marble flooring that made ponies look up as I passed.

“Morning Pace!” I was greeted by my subordinates. It was a good morning, clean clothing, healthy breakfast. Everything was perfect to start the investigation.

Before opening my office door, I straightened my bow and entered. Expecting my boss, the chief of law enforcement in London, to be ready to hand the case to me. As I opened the elaborate wooden barrier between me and my job, I was right about one thing.

“Good morning Pace! So, you’ve heard about the Jane Doe, did you?” Chief was sitting there, relaxed in a seat beside my desk.

“Good morning Chief, So I did. Any clues so far?” I took my jacket off, and hung it on my coat hanger, along with my tophat.

“Well, he’s quite the psychopath, tore the young girl to bits, like an animal! Left her in dissected piles! You tell me, he might be a butcher, you know those stories, it’s always the butcher, or the butler! .” He held a pipe in the corner of his mouth, his mustache slightly sooty from his tobacco. Seeing it made me want to meticulously clean both his mustache, and my desk which was sure to have some ash on shortly.

“Please sir, you know I hate it when you smoke in my office.” I said exasperated trying to distract myself. Sometimes I think he does it just to bother me. It was the only explanation.

“Yes, yes, Pace. But guess what.” He waved a hoof around him. “This is all mine, I just GIVE you this to work with, because I know you need space, need peace to make that brilliant mind of yours work. But, this whole building is mine, I will do whatever I like wherever I like, and another thing. I’m giving the case to ‘Feather’ he needs a case to start his career. You’ll be second fiddle to this, helping him out.” He chuckled.

I nearly stumbled into my chair. He was giving the case to Feather!? How could he do that? He really was out to get me. I brought my hoof up to my face and rubbed it. My jaw tightly clenched.

“Sir, are you sure that is the right move... He’s a rookie! It could take him years to solve it! Not to mention how.... Twitchy he is, it’s not normal! He’s got no field experience, no hardened nerves. I’d bet you seven Shilling he’ll pass out at the crime scene!” I was leaning on my desk, a most unbecoming position, but this news ruined my perfect morning.

“I’m your best bet for solving this case, you know I am!” I struggled with my words, why was he so blatantly trying to vex me?

“Because, you’re getting old Pace. Your record may be perfect, but we need to have someone that can take your place eventually. I’m willing to bet you he’ll solve the case, and remain vertical at the scene.” He smiled smugly at me, puffing at his pipe, sending a cascade of smoke into my face, nostrils and throat.

“Charming sir, is that your cherished import?” I asked gesturing to the rather plain looking smoke pipe. He nodded taking another puff, clearly enjoying himself.

“From India, the finest tobacco.”

“But on a serious note, Chief. Are you sure giving the case to Feather is a good idea, he’s been on the force, what? A year? Never had his own case, has he even seen a body?”

“And that’s why you’ll be there! To train him!” He grinned, getting to his hooves. “I’ll expect to see you too at the crime scene soon, it’s on 5th and Wall Ave. See you there, Pace!”

He got up, leaving a neat layer of ash on my chair and desk and whisked out, tailing his smoke behind him.

I leaned back, a hoof to my temple. I was being replaced, right in front of me. I knew Chief didn’t like how successful I was, but I didn’t know to what extent he was willing to go to tear me down. I pulled my own pipe out of my drawer, I didn’t like smoking indoors, however, perhaps this was the perfect time to calm my nerves. I lit a match deftly as I began puffing to ignite the special blend in the bowl. Dragging a hoof through my blonde mane, I looked down at my blue hooves. Still puffing away.

Strong, sweet, spicey. It was not from India, but South America, the strongest tobacco I’d been able to find anywhere. Leaning back in my chair resting my back hooves on the desk, I look out the window over London.

Another deep breath of smoke soothed me, as I watched the ponies mill around below my office, trading goods for bread, or eggs.

A sick killer was on the loose, and they believed Feather could solve it? Hah! That was a good joke, was it a prank? I sure hoped so. After a few moments I smothered the pipe, extinguishing the coals. Tucking it away, I took my coat off the hanger and put my tophat back on.

I supposed it was time for me to leave. Closing the door office, I descended the flight of stairs quickly, maybe if I arrived before anypony else. I could take the case on myself. I didn’t work well in groups.

I didn’t like a buddy system either. I wasn’t going to like working with Feather. He was a good kid, nothing obviously bad about him, but not the sort of pony I wanted to work with.

The streets were still damp, the air chill around me. It was nearing winter, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it started to snow within the week. My breath hung about me as I walked. My hooves on the cobblestone turned some heads. I wasn’t what you would call a small pony. I was bigger than most and so my hooves made much more sound as I moved towards the scene of the crime.

“Good morning, sir!” I was greeted as I passed.

Everypony knew me, and even maybe feared me. I could almost see what was going on in their lives. There body language spoke volumes to me. Lucky Daisy, for example was having an affair with her husband, with the baker of all ponies. How do I know? Husband always traveling, at least twice a week. That generates an emotional need on the female that requires fulfillment. Only a look at her manners and how she treats anyone willing to spend more than five minutes with her. Next, the state of her mane; despite taking good care like every dame, it shows signs of forceful activity not related to her job, and no amount of dirt on the floor would require the scruff she is likely applying.

Going back to the mane, small blank dots give me her most recent venture, my eyes shift back to the baker as I politely return the salute. How do I know it’s from him and not something else? Baking powder consistency makes it easy to spread to other areas and it’s know to react easily to water and hardening not too long after, though in this case it wasn’t strictly water, if you know what I mean...

As I entered the alleyway I saw other ponies, bigger than I was, the guards. Three of them standing over the body, examining it.

“Alright boys, I’ll be having a look now.” My clear voice rang through the area, making the guards look up in surprise. They backed away, abashed.

“Pace! We didn’t expect to see you here, for another hour!” One chimed, clearly embarrassed for being caught.

“Now, now, Copper Shield, you know I like to get to work bright and early.” I said in a friendly tone, I wouldn’t chastise them, it was merely morbid curiosity wasn’t it?

“Right! We’ll let you get to work. Shout if you need anything...” They removed themselves from the scene.

“Thank you.” I said in a low voice as I approached the victim. My lip curled as I took in the grisly sight. The mare had been picked to the bone, her clear white skeleton in perfect condition and intact. Flesh stripped and set in piles around her body. Sorted by muscles, and organs. It was as if the killer rearranged her body outside like an exhibition. I felt bile rise into my throat. He knew his anatomy very well.

Taking a closer look, I realized, she had no skin, the skin was gone. A memento. The killer had taken it as a prize.

He rubbed his chin. “One sick bastard, that’s for sure.” Taking a look around the rest of the alley, there was blood, still wet splattered across the walls adjacent to the body. Blood takes from 10 to 15 minutes to dry. Taking into account the weather and humidity in the area it’s normal it would take longer. Some of it is already dry, but there are spots still wet. That means the kill took place between 4 and 5 am. A violent killing to be sure, some of the marks were as big as my hoof. The splatter marks suggested a blunt object was used to knock the victim. The smaller spots came from a sharper, more immediately lethal object.

Turning to the body again, I looked for any sign of head trauma in the skull. Nothing. Without broken bones, I turned my attention to the flesh. Sure enough, some of the larger slabs, coming from the chest area were showing signs of early bruising, it was repulsive to be able to look inside the body, but it was a job, and if I didn’t, who would?

A loud wrenching sound met my ears. I turned sharply in time to see Feather empty the contents of his stomach on the stones around us.

“Oi! Watch it, don’t contaminate the scene!” I hissed moving my own hooves away from the encroaching vile puddle. Once he was done wiping his mouth, he looked at me. Still slightly green.

“I’m sorry Pace... I... It’s just so gruesome...” His voice trembled with fear. He was right, it was. But I had been right, in part. Maybe he didn’t faint, but he was risking contaminating the little evidence we had. He didn’t have the skill or steely nerves to deal with this. He was still just a kid.

My ears flicked back. “It’s not a ‘sorry’ moment, this is what you have to face as a detective. Get a tighter lead on your stomach.” I turned back, making sure the puddle was no where near me.

A second smell now filled the air, if rotting flesh wasn’t enough, now stomach bile was added to it.

“I’ll try...” Was his soft reply. He came to stand beside me, turning a little greener with each moment.

Trying to distract him, I think it best to teach him something about the crime. Maybe it would get his mind off his stomach.

“See those dark spots there?” I asked, pointing to what I found to be the bruised areas.
He nodded.

“A first look would tell anyone she was bludgeoned to death, with something flat, or slightly rounded, like a bat, or club.” He saw what I had pointed too, and nodded again.

“So can we assume the weapon would be cause of death, or would it be just to subdue her?” I was surprised by his question, it was a good one. That was for sure observant. Perhaps I hadn’t given him enough credit. He was bright, that was one thing I hadn’t quite counted on.

“That’s a good question, now we just have to find out. Won’t we?” I began lifting pieces of the poor mare, in my magic, looking for any signs of stabbing. The killer was very good at taking apart a pony, though, sifting through the pieces available, I found no immediate incisions leading to a cause of death.

Feather beside me grew greener. “Isn’t that disrespectful?” was a faint whisper from his throat.

“If you want to be respectful you find the killer.” I replied in a soft voice. Maybe I was being harsh with the boy, but compassion wasn’t going to find the killer faster. My heart went out for him just a little.

He stayed quiet as I continued my search. After all of her pieces had been examined I lay her to rest carefully back the way she was.

“Tell this to the forensic officers, the cause of death was blunt force trauma.” It didn’t look good for a swift painless death, rather, a horrible agonizing few minutes before death took her.

My ears flicked down, as I turned away from the mess before me. We had to find this sicko quickly.

“Feather, run off and find me any information on any missing ponies in the area for the last 2 months. This doesn’t look like it was his first killing. I’d bet all my shillings that this was just another casualty in his brutality...” I scanned the scene one more time. Perhaps this young cadet would be of use, a middle pony to run back and forth for me. Leaving me to work things out.

He gave quiet nod, maybe he was happy to leave this gruesome scene, pushing himself to the skies with a few beats of his wings and zipped off.

Now, to do my work. It wasn’t hard, I looked into the organs to see any sign of stabbing. The heart and brain are first. While there were signs of trauma, the muscle tissue didn’t had enough damage for that. If the killer used a drug to knock her down, it had to be injected. The skin is no where visible so the only traces would be in the organs. Unless.... What if it was given to her differently? Poured in her drink? The killer brings her to a secluded area and starts working.

Delicately I move the body with my magic, there, under the mare were copper hairs. Her mane? Or her fur? I couldn’t be sure at first. I needed move her bones a distance away, softly before I could investigate further.

One thing for sure, the killer was a Unicorn, the cuts were too clean for any other race. No aggressive lines where hooved ponies would have had to use their own two hooves or a special tool. No, these were smooth, clean, calculated. I had to stop and admire how dedicated he was to perfection. Granted, a sick method. If he were cutting a melon, or pumpkin, perhaps I would give him more praise.

Lifting a single hair, I examine it. Clearly mane. Too long to be fur, and it was silky, smooth and clean. She was a neat pony, no lice, no infestation. Except the maggots that would slowly infest her corpse soon. Flies already buzzed around the exposed meat and organs. I curled my lip at them.

Disgusting insects. We should be putting the mare in a coffin soon. What’s left from her anyways. It wasn’t right to leave her and whatever small evidence this could give us to lead to the culprit would get lost. Exposed to the elements and vermin. I called the guards over.

“Alright boys, let’s get her to the coroner. . . It’s time to remove her remains and give her at least some dignity...” I turned my hooves clopping loudly on the stone as I exited the smelly dark alley.

Outside, a small gathering had come. Mares, stallions and even foals were eager to gain a tiny peak.

“Nothing to see hear ponies. Get a move on.” I said in a gruff voice. Immediately those around dipped their heads and quickly backed away, busying themselves with whatever that had been doing previously and talking under their breaths to one another.

I realized they either genuinely respected me, or were afraid of me. A small colt approached me, his dappled coat was an unusual sight.

“Sir, what’s going on down there?” Was his soft quizzical voice. It was hard to think of how to simplify things for this little colt.

“A mare was found, somepony had hurt her, and it’s my job to find out who did it.” I dipped my head low as I tell the colt. “She won’t be coming back, but I’ll catch him.” I promised. Ruffling his mane, I bid him a good day. It was time to return to work, needed to begin placing the pieces together. I trotted back to my office as fast as possible but my return was shortlived. Chief stood outside right outside of it.

“Pace, what did I tell you. It’s Feather’s case. Not yours!” His words were harsh, and if I didn’t know any better there was going to be a threat down my throat at any moment.

“Ah! Chief, you’ll be pleased to know, the mare was bludgeoned to death-"

"I don't care Pace, it was a direct order and you openly defied it. Just because you're good doesn't mean I'll consent this insubordination so openly. Accept the fact that you need help and who knows, Feathers might end up being even better than you are right now. If he wants your help, fair enough. But I want to hear from him directly and not because you told him to. Understood?”

I remained in silence just as he interrupted me. How dare he?! I’m the best thing that could’ve happened to this damn place! And he as good as me? He wished!

“Yes sir. Understood” I answered with as much volume as I could conjure at the moment. I wanted to get back at this wannabe third rate cop. But my job is more important and that would mean lower myself to his level… He’ll get what’s coming to him one day. I silently wished he’d feel some wrath, causing him the pain he had caused me, the fifteen years I’d worked for his shoddy police force. Most of them were idiots, not even amusing idiots. My mind suddenly reminded of this one time, this police pony, named Charmed Scroll, he was jotting down a report given by an elderly pony. He was writing what was dictated to him, since most ponies were not literate. He spelled her name wrong, the crime wrong, and began to doodle halfway through. It was no wonder she hit him with her purse. I shook my head mentally… But that’s enough… Not worth my time thinking if their mistakes end up being their demise professionally one day. I simply walk inside my office and try to get back on track. Piece the evidence you have and type it down.

My typewriter beside me. I began cataloging what I noticed:

Skinned his victim. Carefully removed her flesh and organs. Blunt trauma to the body, lower torso. Why though, why the lower torso. It played in my head, over and over, buzzing like a fly looking for the moisture in your eye. A pest. Why would he have attacked her that way?

I leaned forward, getting my pipe. Taking a long, wonderful breath, taking it’s soothing effects.

Why would this killer, who obviously had the strength have attacked in such a savage manner.

I had to look at something else. Her species, The skull had no base for a horn, and the backbone didn’t have the wing appendages. Earth pony obviously.

There were some things missing, the pelt, the skin which adorned the mare when alive, and the kidney... Why would the kidney be missing? It was a strange memento, it would start to rot in mere hours. It wasn’t very logical, and very few had cooler boxes, to keep food cold. It was for only the elite. It slowly started to occur to me. A disturbing prospect. Could he be eating parts of his victims? I had to guess this wasn’t his first killing; the quality of the cuts was not something somepony could do in mere moments without practice.

My magic hovered over the keys. As I felt a cold shiver running down my spine as what the prime suspect would be it also sickens me. A doctor… No just some pony, but somepony trained in medicine would be able to produce an operation like this. Someone who’s supposed to save lives, now decided to terminate them. If we can identify who the victim was, there might be a pattern that connects them. I smirked to myself thinking on this, serial killers, you need to wait for them to make a mistake.

A Murder most Foul

It was late, close to dusk. The street lamps prevented the entire town to be dragged in that pitch black the night carries with her. But I could see very well, better than an average pony. My slitted eyes absorbed what little light there was around me. Illuminating the houses and stores around, some already closed.

It wasn’t hard to see a lone pony in the darkness. The glow from a pipe, or perhaps a cigarette lit their nose and cheeks softly. I sniffed the air, drawing closer, I found her. The perfect specimen for this night.

Fur as white as pearl, a beautiful long and bright orange mane complemented by a ribbon. She was middle-aged. Probably married, and with children. Such a waste of a life.

I begin to approach to her carefully, even if the dim lights on the street are on my side. One wrong move is unthinkable.

She’s not aware of me yet. I take a couple more steps… Then I put my hoof on her muzzle as the metallic blade I prepared for her penetrates her heart. I shush at her ears and kiss her cheek. Her robust body slowly went down, lifeless. I drag her to an alley nearby so that I can begin to work.

She looks so majestic. I use my horn to get the incision ready, this time, I want something different… I run my hoof on that soft fur, slowly I turn her around, with her womanhood spread out before me. My eyes cannot help but stare at it.

I didn’t like this idea, but. I knew the investigators would be on my trail soon, they knew my killings. If I didn’t do something to derail them. I might make a slip up... Leading to my discovery. Curling my lip. I defiled her corpse.

When the whole process was done, I collapsed into my bed, feeling dirty and vile. But it had to be done, I knew they were closing in, they would have suspects soon. I had to make it look like it was another killer. Not me, I had left her intact... I hadn’t wanted too. Her fur, was so lovely, so soft.

I shuddered.

“Posy! Draw my bath!” I bellowed. I had to clean myself, from the vile filth. I had a wife, had being the operative word, but my vows were something I held dear. My killing I held dearer however. I hear one of my maids hooves trot down the hall to the bathroom.

“I want it hot!” I called out. I hated it when she didn’t heated my baths enough. Lukewarm wasn’t the most pleasant sensation. Especially now with my repulsion of what I had done.
After a few moments, I took my cloak off, and went down the hall.

I often walked through my home without clothes on, much to the mares of the household’s dismay. I was however, quite a fetching stallion. Handsome, well built, classy. It was my home, and they were my workers. My home, my rules.

I opened the door to see the bathwater steaming. This was good, better than last time.

“Posy, I’ll take my bath now.” I said. She was bent over the tub, adding oils, perfumes. She jumped at my voice, turning and blushed. A sly grin creased my lips.

“Alone.” I added, in a softer tone.

The water was perfect. The vapor rising from it and how it cleansed my body from what I’ve done. Those idiots would undoubtedly will think this is just a cheap distraction… One of them at least.

I took the sponge and began to wash my back hooves with it. Maybe it’s about time for me to get back at that sorry excuse of a detective. So long have I contemplated his face on the newspapers. That stupid smile of his. I want to erase it, to see him broken and utterly humiliated. I closed my eyes at that idea and a smile drew on my face as I kept enjoying the bath.

After this, some nice dinner would suit me well. Something from my private collection.

“Posy!” I exclaimed still in the bathtub. “Please prepare everything. I think I’ll have something from the dried variety once I’m done here.”

I finished drying myself and put on my bathtub. Descended the stairs down to the kitchen of my lovely residence.

After getting inside the dining hall, my sight immediately focused on the banquet.

It was just a silver tray on the table awaiting for my arrival. Posy opened it revealing one of my personal favorites.

Cured ham. I know it might seem something odd. But having the fortune of tasting something like this is not for everyone.

The subtlety of the cuts, the salty flavour, that reddish color that decorated the center and edges of the meat. They were all greeting my arrival, expecting for me to devour and savour it all.

I worked so hard to get the perfect cuts and cure them. So many days invested, studying the right specimens. And yes, they were ponies. My prize kills, the most lovely and exotic of all the mares I’ve slaughtered. The more foreign, the more I wanted to taste. For example. As I approached one of the hams, the delicate frosty fur greeted my hungry eyes. It was one of my earlier kills of the year, a fair beauty to be sure. She didn’t sound like she was from England, an American pony. Delicately spoken, attractive lips. No, I was not attracted to her to mate, far from it. She was the creme de la creme. Even now I remembered how much I longed to have her on my plate.

Now she was perfectly cured, the spicy scent brought saliva to my mouth. Lifting the small, but very sharp knife, I started to make the first cut, removing the top layer, and getting deep into it.

Taking a cracker, I folded the first edible slice, of thinly trimmed meat from the ham. Bringing it to my mouth.

“Posy! Where is my caviar!?” I cried, this wasn’t complete without the caviar.... Specially prepared. Posy was useless... If it weren’t for her family having worked for my father, I’d have gotten rid of her long ago…

She was however well meaning, if not all there. She was like a kitten, not really dangerous, but playful.

I rolled my eyes when she brought me my caviar.

When I say special, I mean quite special. I had a taste, for pony, which is quite plain. But, this. Was no fish caviar. But the paste, from the ovaries of a mare.
It was fresh, sweet, not at all salty.

I dapped a small spoonful onto my cracker. Perfect.

Popping it into my mouth, I chewed slowly. Savoring the delightful flavors play across my tongue.

Made me forget all the days activities. I sighed as I seated myself in a chair, and began piling the plate with my food. Today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

Yawning I kissed my wife’s forehead. Not that she could really tell, or respond. She’d been a mute and catatonic for over four years now. I still took care of her, and loved her. It was sad to see what’s become of her though, her once beautiful eyes, were now clouded over. her lovely midnight blue fur had taken on a gray tinge to it. My Rose Thorn was as beautiful as the day I met her, but she looked older, more worn.

I moved her out of the bed, and into her rocking chair gently. Covering her with a blanket.
“I have to go to work love, I’ll have the staff look after you.” I gave her another kiss, and got dressed, in a sharp half suit. I gave my wife a last look, I’d see her tonight, but. I never knew. I hadn’t even had a spoken conversation, that wasn’t one sided in years. I missed her, and as much as I would like nothing more than to care for her all day. I had to bring in the bread somehow.

Grabbing my bag. I called for the butler.

“Ivory! I’m leaving now. Take care of Rose!” I called, a cough replied. Ivory was an old stallion, had worked for the family since I was young. Both my parents were well thought of ponies, rich, well educated, sophisticated ponies. I had inherited the large, spacious luxurious home.

I was lucky, I had been born in this home, grew up, and had planned to have my own children grow up here.

But after my Rose had become catatonic, foals seemed out of the question.

I took the walk to my work, as I always did, as a time to meditate. Before the chaos at work consumed me.

It was a stressful job, but I did enjoy it. Many ponies questioned how I could enjoy work, that at any time a murder file could wind up on my desk.

However, for me, while stress was an obvious part, I didn’t let it get me down. The work paid well, it was mentally stimulating.

Over all, the best job I could have hoped for.

I entered The Station a little half past nine in the morning. A clamor made me stop, before taking the stairs to my office.
Mares were huddled, talking in hushed whispers.

“I heard it was different, she wasn’t torn to bits...” one said, obviously the gossipy workhorse.

“Could that mean it was another killer?” Another one asked.

“Another! We can barely catch one! Now we have two?” was another’s horrified reaction. I approached.

“No need to worry my dears. If I have anything to say about it, he or they will be caught. Just, don’t wander out at night, until we do.” I smiled, trying to use my charm to enforce the subtle curfew.

“Oh, good morning Mr. Pace. How’s the misses?” A young mare, Sun Showers. I think her name was asked.

I nodded.

“The usual, but she looked a little better today, thank you.”

It wasn’t widely known what happened to my wife, what I had tried to portray was she was ill at home, and bedridden. Unable to be visited, nor accompany me to night parties.

It was easier if they didn’t know.

“So, what has you mares getting your nerves up?” I asked, leaning on a desk, seemingly interested.
“Anything new?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard. You need to read the paper before leaving to work, Mr. Pace..” A dark brown mare said, with a giggle.

“Then what would I be? I’m a detective, I like to find things out, not be told them.” I smile back.

The mares went into a fit of laughter. I was quite the charmer when I wanted to be. Also setting these mares at ease would be a good idea, depending on what they told me nex.

“Well, what we found out this morning, another mare was killed, but... It wasn’t like the others.” Sun Showers said in a hushed voice.

“She hadn’t been chopped up. Instead...” A deep blush crossed her cheeks.

“She had been violated... It wasn’t what the murderer had been doing before, could that mean somepony else is doing it too?”

“Anything is possible. Don’t worry dears, I’ll catch him.” A cough from behind me made me start.

When I realized the sound, I grimaced. The mares I had been talking to quickly busied themselves with their work. Appearing to have done nothing wrong. Acting as if nothing was amiss.
However, I felt the rage start to boil.

“Ah! Chief! So good of you to greet me this morning! I heard a new body was found.” I was still leaning against the desk, now looking impish.

“So you heard. Good, now, I don’t want you getting any funny ideas. This is still Feather’s case. So, let’s make that clear. Now. if you were to somehow. Take the case from him, by persuasion. I’d have you rung up by your hooves and displayed from the flag post!” His smoke was filling my nostrils. His breath unclean, rotting vegetable matter.

“....Yes. Sir... You’ve made that quite clear.” I replied waving the smoke from me. It was vile.

“Good, now listen here. I’m being a kind old stallion, letting you even be on this case, but.” He held his hoof to my nose.

“If I catch a whiff, of anything suspicious. You’ll be fired before you can say ‘Peach pie’! Do you hear me?”

He began pacing near me.

“You’re smart, Pace. A little too smart, I know, I can see it. You want this case, but.” He gave me a smile, that could only be described as malicious. He enjoyed this! He really did.
I clenched my jaw, to keep from speaking and getting myself fired right on the spot.

“Good, at least you still know how to shut your mouth... You may be the best in the business, but right now. I don’t need the best. I need this case solved! Before more mares are killed!”

Spittle hit my face. The urge to wipe it away was overpowering... But I kept still.

“But sir... If you let me. I can solve it!”

“No buts, ifs OR ands! If you don’t like my decision, you can just mop the floors after hours for all I care!”

He turned and stomped away.

Slowly the mares returned, one thankfully with a handkerchief...

“What’s got the old stud in a mood today?” I asked, after my face was clear of spit.

“Oh, the mare that was killed. It was his granddaughter...” Was a hushed whisper.

This hit me in a way most murders hadn’t. Some sick pleasure was taken the old kook had gotten a few kicks.
But it was his granddaughter after all. So, my heart. Rather half of it, went out to him.

“I see...” I commented. After a little idle chat, I left the mares to go to my office.
There was a file, with photographs. The most recent crime scene. This was less than a week after the last killing.
I flicked through them.

She had had her heart cut. sexually assaulted post mortem. Quite unusual. Sexual assault was not common for ponies... So this took my interest immediately.

“Could it be, a different killer?”

From the looks of things, the method of killing was clearly different, the first, far more brutal than a stab to the heart. This almost seemed gentile...
I lay the photos on my desk, and leaned back, tapping my hooves together, and looking into the distance.
If it was, maybe Feather could be ditched, while I looked for the real suspect.

Or... It could be a diversion. To appear to be different.. Maybe we were getting close to uncovering something about him.
I smiled, no pony could get away from me.

Again, I sat at the typewriter, and began to take notes.
Clearly the villain was clever, he thought ahead of everypone else. But, he wasn’t being consistent, meaning he was worried...
He was a unicorn, the use of magic was the only way to make those kinds of brutal cuts.
In addition he was also desperately trying to cover his tracks. Getting sloppy.