Dets Sleuth: Private Eye

            My name’s Dets Sleuth. I’m thirty two years old, and I’m a private investigator. As you can guess my special talent is finding and solving problems as evident with my cutie mark; it's a magnifying glass over a notepad. I used to work for the Haygas police department as a detective, but… well, I got laid off because I've gotten a bit too hot with my involvement in a certain case that I just couldn’t let go. First, I was without a partner, then I was without a husband and now without a job; I’m just a widow hardly making ends meet in a cheap second rate apartment that reeks of musk and alcohol. Though honestly, I prefer the latter. It’s been two years since I was fired and I still couldn’t rest over the case. I’ve been staying up late every night going over the case files, checking in with my informants, trying to find the killer responsible for the death of my friend, my husband, and several other victims in the city.

I’ve gotten used to hardships before, but lately I’ve been feeling like everything I’m doing amounts to nothing. Even my behavior is no help; I keep on turning down clients, which is a stupid thing for me to do. I’ve been wasting whatever bits I’ve had on hard cider or the usual liquor and I’ve been rutting left and right with one colt after another. Well I'm off to a great start in this story aren't I? I can hardly justify this behavior. Yet when I get through the day and lay my head on the pillow at night, I just sleep those faults away rather than face them. Pretty terrible role model I am.I keep on digging myself deeper in the situation... not what you can call professional.

This night though, this night I had said to myself that it’ll be different. I’ve found a lead, at least I think I do. Similar killings have been happening in Shetcago that matches my guy’s MO. It’s a long shot, but I am finally gonna catch that monster. Then he came into my apartment.

I pull my head from my desk to get a good look at him. He is a tall colt, probably in his late twenties. He had a cream cheese colored coat, a nice shade of brown mane, brown eyes and a cutie mark with what I can assume was a car. He had a large brown jacket and a hat to boot, soaked to the brim. At first I thought he had fallen in a swimming pool or something on the way here, until I look out my window behind me to see it is raining. Why didn't I hear the drops anyways? Ignoring the rain I turn back to him, twisting a toothpick in my mouth with my tongue as I take a good look at him.

                “Welcome to Dets Sleuth’s home and office. I’m Dets Sleuth, private eye. Is there something you need, Sir?” I ask him.

The colt says nothing as he just stares at me. I assume he’s checking me out, examining every part of me and looking quite surprised. From my chocolate coat to my black mane, he just stared. Then I saw his eyes lock onto mine as he hesitates to pop the question.

                “N-no offense, Miss… err, Miss Sleuth, but… you… are quite young to be a private eye, aren’t you?” I crack a smirk but quickly retract it to look and act as professionally as a half-drunken, sleep-deprived mare can manage while trying to ignore that phrase 'Miss.' It shouldn't bother me but I just found the phrase as bad as being called a widow..

                “Yes I am, though not as young as you, kid. I’m only thirty two. I’ve had experience in the Haygas police department, so let me assure you, I’m more than capable of handling whatever problem you have. Now… what is your problem?”

The colt relaxes himself, letting a sigh of relief as he takes the first seat in front of the desk. At first he says nothing, only observing my apartment. Case files and papers litter the floor around the desk and the trash bin; several empty bottles of the finest hard drinks are scattered around the counters in the kitchen next to us; the roof leaking with water, which I had previously assumed was due to a plumbing problem, is now a structural problem.

                “Errr… right… Miss. Sleuth, the problem I have… involves my profession. I… I’m a racecar driver, self-appointed mechanic, and a colt trying to make ends meet. I had a shot in the Grand Prix in the next two weeks in Shetcago. But a few days ago, during the qualification rounds my car went up into flames and I… well, crashed. Miss Sleuth, I’m good at what I do, I’m no amateur. I’ve always been fixing things on my own since I was five. My car was in tip-top shape since day one! There was no overheat in the vents, no misconnection in the engine or components or anything! Since the accident I took a look into my car and found it's been sabotaged. I’ve looked over and found parts that were completely missing, the engine vents clogged and the brakes… err, broken.” There was that phrase again. I take the toothpick I've been chewing for an hour out of my mouth and fling it into the bin. I raise my hooves to push myself out of my seat with a tired moan.

                “First off… call me ‘Mrs.’ Just because there’s no ring on my hoof or my tail doesn’t mean I am dropping the title of being Mrs. Sleuth. Okay?”

Maybe I was a bit too rough on him. The way he cringes from my little burst kinda made me feel a bit guilty. But being called by ‘Miss’ after my husband’s death just never sat well with me at all. Of all the times I’ve slept with other males I still can’t stop thinking about him and those memories I had of him. I bit my lip and shook my head, trying to get out of the past once more.

“Alright… lets get back on track. do you have any enemies? Did any dirty dealings? Messed with the local mobs?” I ask.

                “W-what? Mobs? No! No, I haven’t! But… the race is headed by Don Shoulder Chip. B-but I don’t understand why they would wreck my car! I don’t have any connections with the other crime families, nothing! I wanted to win the tournament and get the grand prize. Fifty thousand bits. It’d be enough for me and my brothers to make it through the years. We've been struggling since our father passed away and... being the oldest I am the only one capable of getting a job and paying taxes.”

                “Alright. And this Don… Shoulder Chip? Has he ever contacted you at all?” The colt’s eyes slowly drift to the top right, muttering to himself. I take a good long look at the colt for a while, licking my teeth to expect an answer. If he’s paying, I sure as heck need the cash.

                “N-no… no he didn’t,” he says finally. “But... I did receive a letter in the mail a few days after the race. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.” The colt places a package on my table and opens the box, showing me gleaming coin bits and bills. My jaw almost falls out of my mouth as I took a gander at the organized, even set of cash. “Th-the package had about… twenty thousand bits in total. It was enough for my family to get back on our hooves but… I just… couldn’t help but worry that this meant something. I wanted to approach someone with this but I couldn't go to the police for fear of retribution… so I picked you.”

I’m amazed more by the amount rather than the fact he came to me at all with this. I want to take the entire damn thing and run! Get to Shetcago and finish what I started! Then I stop to realize that if I did, I’d just be hurting the colt. I’ve always been desperate, desperate enough to do anything to get back on my hooves myself. When I look at this kid though, I would have ended up like those other ponies in my life.

So I ask the obvious question; “How… err… sorry. How much are you willing to pay? I do have a set price myself, but considering the circumstances, I’d like to know before I make a decision.”

The colt is a bit hesitant about that demand. I just hope I didn't make it out like I was gonna milk him of all that cash. But he spoke up with a clear, calm voice. “Ten thousand bits. I’ll pay five thousand in advance and the rest after you finished the job,” he said.

Now that’s something I didn’t expect to hear. He is willing to split half with me, even giving me a fraction of that in advance. I don’t know whether to kiss him or cry. It is exactly what I need to straighten everything out at home. Honestly, I’m also touched. Few ponies in the world have ever been this nice to me with the exception of my husband and my partner. Whether or not he is doing it just because I was expecting a payment, or it was because he saw the deplorable condition I am living in, it doesn’t matter. I can almost feel the burden of debts flying off my shoulders. I pop out a cigarette from the cabinet next to me and light it with a match.

                “Alright, kid,” I start, “you got yourself a detective. I’ll head down in the district and take a look there, possibly start with some locals before I head to the track first. Also, make sure you aren’t followed by anyone. Stick close to home, don’t talk about where you’ve been and what you’ve done today just keep your head down.  Call me if you need anything.” I reach my hoof into my jacked that hung on the rack next to me, pull out my business card and hand it to the colt. “What’s your name anyway?” I ask.

                “Its Swift Wheels, Mi-err I mean, Mrs. Sleuth,” he responds.

                “Nice name. And hey hon, call me Dets.”

 ***

Before I head to the district the race track was in, I had decided to pay a visit downtown. I have a lot of contacts in these parts since my time off the force. Getting connected with folks earns you eyes and ears. Sometimes they do it for a price. In Haygas, everything has a price; from the big top casinos to the lowly bars and clubs, everything has a price. I’ve gotten around into this gig hoping it would nab me that killer before he jetted off to Shetcago. I doubt any of them would want to involve themselves with the mob, though. Doesn’t hurt to try!

The rain is terrible, so  good thing I’m sensible enough to take my jacket instead of trotting around without decent protection from the weather. Judging by the condition of the streets I say there is a flash flood in effect. Not a lot of rides out this evening, so thankfully no accidents. I take a turn into the local bar for cover though, just to get out of this dreadful weather. The place is warm, bustling with ponies of all kinds. Hot cocoas are passed around to the shivering patrons who had to endure the cold rainy weather. Some have had their fair share of liquor and cider for the occasion, though the bar reeks of chocolate more than liquor. The perfect pass-time for a weather like this. But it’s not like they are gonna drive home anytime soon anyways so might as well crack a hard one open. I look around the room to find anypony out of the ordinary who could give me some juicy info when this grey coated stallion with bangs in his mane brushes up against my side.

                “Hey, Dets, baby! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? What brings you to The Sweep anyways? Come for a bit of hot drinks for the cold night or… did you come to have another taste of the Stud-ly?” he says… in that same annoying tone as ever.

Studly Bangs is a local musician… if you can call him that. He’s been quite the companion, easy to rely on at times. Terrible liar though. Always gets me the information that I need. And oh… remember that price I mentioned? The payment involves them brushing against my hips, a nibble on my ear with the whispers of sweet pleasures in exchange for information. Every encounter ends in their bedroom with the lights off, the covers over and the males mounting me from behind. It got annoying because they always expected seconds or thirds when I seek new info. Buuuut I can’t complain really; I’ve been sleeping with other guys at random.  The rush always gets to me when I think about it and I can’t help but flow with it. One look at a guy and the cravings just get to me. It started a month or two after my husband died; since his death I’ve been choked up with liquor day after day. When it comes to colts and stallions approaching you well... err… well, you can assume what happens when you got a drunk grieving angry widow around your forelegs. Who knew sex and drinks make a good combination? The other nights though, the drinks are absent, and the sex is still damn good. At the end of the day though I wallow in regret, hoping he didn't think less of me for these things I do.

                “Studly… one more flat joke like that and I’ll break your teeth,” I say flatly. I don’t even want to humor him at the moment. I should be in a good mood considering I got paid in advanced but I want info.

                “Dets girl, you know you love my jokes. Why else do you crawl back downtown for more of the Stud? He always finds a way to make the fillies smile!” he responds.

                “Because every time I come to you for info you pester me into sex for it. Everyone gets one, you know.” I lied about that last part.

                “That’s not what I experienced last month, babe. You were practically moaning and screaming for more of the Stud-ly.” I reel up my hoof and smash him square across the jaw. Luckily for him it isn’t my strongest punch ever.

                “What did I say? Also, keep that mouth of yours shut about what we do. Now are you gonna help me or do I have to shove a hoof up that dumb ass of yours?”

Studly shifts his jaw side to side, letting out a slight painful moan before closing and opening it. I don’t see him get angry about it, but damn do I feel bad, considering he’s still smiling and looking at me.

                “No need to get violent, Dets! We’re in public after all. Besides, who'd care about our social lives? If you wanted some sincere help all you had to do was just ask! Now come on, let’s just take a seat and order ourselves some drinks. Got cash on you this time? I’ll pay for it if not.” I lift my hoof up after that last statement.

                “No,” I say, “I’m paying this time. Got news for ya, Studly. So you keep those cheap rock n’ roll bits in your pocket, because Celestia knows how badly you need ‘em.”

                “Hey, my profession pays well! Don’t hurt a stallion’s pride, Dets. Rock is the soul of one's youth, as well as his passion!” I just roll my eyes. Turning aside I wave for the waiter while Studly just… does his thing by pointing in the air.

                “You’re thirty years old. You’re hardly considered to be in your youth. Well, you don’t need pay for the drinks either way. I got a job, Studly. Got paid in advanced. Five thousand bits.” Studly almost falls off his seat when I mentioned five thousand bits.

                “W-what?! Y-you got paid five thousand bits?!” I smack him in the head and told him to shut up. I look around the bar, seeing if anypony heard that, then I just sink back into my seat and sigh.

                “Please keep your voice down, idiot. That’s not even the total. It’s ten thousand. I was paid five in advanced and five thousand more when I get this case done.” Studly blinks and looks at me for a bit. Then he rubs his eyes and looks back as if dumbstruck.

                “Five thousand in advance? A job? Wait, Dets, you got a case this time? You didn’t reject it?” Studly, despite all his amorous and perverted behavior, has a soft spot on me. Which… is kind of odd to say the least. Can’t say I don’t enjoy his time either; it’s nice to just be around a few ponies that can just talk with you. If Studly’s mind isn’t set on sex, it’s set on flirting or just plain chatting. To think I used to lock guys like Studly up back then.

                “Ahhh y-yeah. Yeah, I took the job. I w-was planning to go to Shetcago before this colt came in. I found a lead, Studly. The killer, I believe, went to Shetcago. A few murders over there fit his MO.”

                “Well… I may not be the economic kind of pony but… I say it’s a good thing you didn’t go. You wouldn’t have this cash to make it there either way.”

He has a point. In fact, even if I did pay for a train ride over to Shetcago, I’d be stuck without a home and without a means to pay for even a room in a motel. In fact, I doubt ten thousand alone would be able to sustain me even for a little while in Shetcago. I just don’t want to lose this trail though. Yet… I’m glad I took this case. I need that money badly.

                “Nor would I be able to keep my house. Speaking of which, I paid those debts. Got about a few thousand left so I’ve got enough to spend. Plus, with the rest coming in after I finish, I may be able to set myself straight in the next few years until I get more cash rolling again.” Then Studly leans over and smiles, giving me a wink with his bright green eyes.

                “Does that mean no more fun nights between us?” he asks.

                “Hah! I wish,” I tease. “Still need informants in case I run into big jobs like the one I got.”

                “Well, just as long as those other fellows you hang out with don’t steal ya from me, I’m okay with it! Anyways, what’s this job you got? And why come downtown for information?”

Then the real purpose of my being here comes into play. I look around side to side, just as a precaution. I’ve always been paranoid folks might listen in. It’s happened a few times before already.

                “One of the racers' car has been sabotaged, and it’s possible that the tournament is fixed. Don Shoulder Chip runs it, yes? Do you or anypony you know have any information regarding to the local mob? I’d like to learn about Mr. S.C. too, if that’s not too much trouble. The chief back in the station hardly keeps me in the loop of things before I got fired.”

I swear I almost see the poor guy choke. The Adam’s apple in his throat bounces up and down at the mere mention of Shoulder Chip. I guess he does know him then? Well this is going accordingly well. Before we continue on, though, our waiter comes to the table to take our orders. Just the usual hard apple cider. I need to go light for this case and keep my head in the game. When he leaves, Studly starts talking.

“Well… honestly? I never liked the guy. I mean… I’ve been with mobs before but Shoulder Chip is bad news, babe. I wouldn’t go messing with him. He’s the kind of guy who has that… likes-to-screw-you-over-until-you’re-dead kind of habit. Guy’s a big money-grubbing stallion. Practically gets a hard-on by just looking at money. This racetrack he owns? Biiig money opportunity for him. Its why he shifted from drug trafficking to gambling and racketeering there. You know the Grand Prix in Shetcago in the next two weeks, right? Word has it that some of his races are rigged. No one can prove it, but he’s got a system to make certain racers win the race. He bets on the cars with little to no odds while the rest that have a shot of winning are heavily betted on by the populace. Some of those big time racers get into accidents, some died, nasty stuff. Those who do survive… well, no one heard from ‘em the day after the race.”

When the drinks came I lift one right up and start guzzling it down. The sweet taste of apples sends a pleasuring jolt up my tongue. Hot, rich and delicious; the Apple family’s brands were nice, but I preferred the homebrew drinks myself. Plus Haygas drinks always brings out the peace of mind in me. After taking a moment to process Studly’s words I think back on the colt who came into my office. I pondered and pondered, taking little sips before I start speaking again. “If that’s true, Stud, then that kid shouldn’t have been in my office tonight.” Studly blinks and looks at me, confused.

                “Excuse me?” he asks.

                “A racer came in. And no, I did not have sex with him, and no, I won’t tell you his name either. I prefer he stays anonymous,” I reply and take another swig. “The kid came in with a package a few days after his car was sabotaged and losing the race. Someone sent him twenty thousand bits. If what you told me about Don Shoulder Chip is true, then there would be no way he’d give a racer who was marked for failure twenty thousand bits. Especially if that kid is smarter than the mob thinks he is.”

                “Do... uhh, do you suspect him?”

                “Honestly? No. I don’t. His story doesn’t add up now but I know he isn't the type to lie.”

                “How can you tell?”

                “Because, Stud, their eyes tell the story. I give everyone hell because I read what their eyes tell me. His eyes were subconsciously telling me the truth about that package. His behavior also contains shades of truth in him. Why the inconsistencies then? Hmmm…” I take a minute or two to stare at my glass. The steam rising from the cider carries the aroma with it; just looking at it and smelling it gave me a bit of peace of mind. I try to think, wondering if whatever Stud heard had any contradictions in it. Maybe somepony was just gossiping with him. But he does seem to know about mobsters having been around with a few himself. That part is no lie; I’ve seen him with them before. This stallion never, not even once, had a good idea that didn’t involve the local crime families.

“Studly, one question; is the information you just said accurate enough?” I ask.

                “Errr… I think so. I mean… I know for a fact that those races are rigged, and Shoulder Chip had something to do with it. It’s his kind of thing, after all. He runs the track. But the word always carries a few changes in the story with it.”

I say nothing and just stare at the glass. I decide to drop it for now and consider following the next lead---The track. Might not be a bad idea to rest, though, especially in this weather. No one would be caught dead in this kind of environment. So I down the rest of my cider until there is nothing left at the bottom. Reaching for my coat pocket, I pull out several bits and placed them on the table, paying for his drinks and mine.

                “Well… I might as well check up on that lead tomorrow. Can’t do it with this weather. I doubt I’ll get in anyways considering what time it is. Hey, see ya, Studly. I actually had a nice time,” I say as I get up. As I make my way to the door, the grey stallion calls out my name as I open it.

                “Wait, wait!” he exclaims. “Dets! Hey! M-maybe I can walk ya home? Can’t be too careful this time of night in Haygas. Especially with weather this bad.”

                “I used to be a detective in the police, Studly. I’m pretty sure I can handle a crook or flood with my hooves tied behind my back.” No, I couldn’t.

                “Come oooon, babe! I wanna make sure you’re safe! Can’t help it if a guy like me has to do his civil duty to look after a lady!” It’s also this guy’s civil duty to get under my tail as soon as possible. I turn around to face him and give him a big warm smile.

                “Well… alright. Just for the night.” I say. Knowing him he’ll probably stick around my apartment for quite a while.

                “Don’t mind if I do! And by the way, did you get that apartment of yours cleaned up yet?”

                “Since I got that cash I just had the room service handle it for me. Wasn’t pricey. But yeah, I cleaned it. Just dust your hooves when you get in.”