Dets Sleuth: Private Eye

                       I remembered waking up with the scent of coffee in the air. The morning light struck my eyes, prompting me to open them. It seemed that Celestia once again greets her fellow ponies with a morning kiss of the sun’s warm rays. I was going to greet my fair hairy colt a good morning kiss myself.

I hopped out of bed, slipped on some slippers for my hooves and made my way into the kitchen. The scent of coffee grew stronger and stronger with each step I took. From the bedroom to the living room, I turned around into the next to see that hunk of a colt singing to himself, shaking that flank of his as he uses his magic to whip up his finest home brewed coffee. Lazy unicorns always using that horn of theirs to do the work for em. I smirked and crept up behind that black coated handsome bastard and raised my hooves, ready to tackle.

                                “Don’t think I don’t know you are there!” he exclaimed in a sing-song like tone. Then he turned around and pounced when I let my guard down. I let out a squeal and fell to the floor; that laughing goofball kissed me all over my face while he tickled my ribs.

                                “Stop stop stooooop! Hahahha! Stop it! Stop it! I can’t breathe, Vash! Haahahha!” I was hysterically laughing. I couldn’t stop moving around as he brushed those hooves against my sides swiftly. We were both laughing; my hooves reached towards his sides and I returned the same treatment. He laughed as well, rolled around with me in his grasp as we continued to tickle each other. Then we stopped; I found myself atop of his soft warm chest. I took a few breaths of air and heaved, my cheeks red like a cherry. I must have looked like a kid and not the standard cop he always praised me as.

Our eyes locked together after that. I could see those strong, handsome, fiery red eyes peer into mines. Passion and delight filled his heavenly eyes as he looked at me. You can say ‘I love you’ a thousand times and they never amount to the love I saw in those eyes. They looked so longing, drooped, intimate… it was the most wonderful feeling seeing those eyes look at me the way they did. I gave that colt a big fat kiss on his lips, moaned loudly into his maw as we shared tongue and cheek together. His forehooves wrapped around my waist, pulling me close till our bodies touched and brushed against each other.

                                “How can a beautiful filly like you ever fall for an ugly raggedy looking colt like me?” he asked. I just smiled and ran my hooves through his bushy beard.

                                “Whaaat? You ugly? Please, why would anypony think that?” I responded.

                                “Well… we’ve been in high-school together. You know exactly why.”

                                “Poor lonely Vash Canvas; he reflects beauty into his portraits yet he can’t find beauty in himself.” He blushed bright red and grinned sheepishly.

                                “Didn’t think the most popular and beautiful girl in school would pick up for a colt like me either.”

                                “Beauty isn’t always based on looks ya know. The expression is what counts. Like that portrait you painted. I still keep it in my office. I even snapped a little photo of it just to take it to work with me, admiring that awe inspiring vision of yours whenever I hit a snag. Because every time I see that portrait, I think of all the effort you put into it, how you’ve never gave up.”

                                “Why, Officer Sleuth, I didn’t know you thought that highly of me! And here I thought you was just being nice.”

I stared deep into his eyes, drinking in that beautiful red gaze of his as I gave him another big loving kiss on his mouth. The taste of his lips were so sweet, so fresh, so warm… I wanted this feeling to last forever. The passion of his embrace, the love in his gaze, the warmth of his body against mines. Canvas… how I never stopped loving you.

                                “I hope you can forgive me.” I said.

                                “For what?” he asked.

                                “For messing up this kitchen floor. Surely you didn’t want to clean all that hair do you?”

                                “HAH! I may look after the house but I’m no housemaid! Clean it up yourself!” he said and laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed… then he popped the question I thought I’d never hear him ask. “Dets… let’s make a foal.” My heart nearly skipped a beat. I was flustered, happiness overwhelmed me. I didn’t think any colt would be the type to start a family. Yet when I looked into his eyes, I saw a bit of fear in him. I saw hope too, but it was overshadowed by an agonizing, worrying feeling.

                                “Canvas…” I said as I caressed his face. “You want this? Are you sure?”

                                “I do.” And boy he was never surer of it.

                                “Then I do too.” I said. Then he smiled. And then he kissed me again. He was happy, he was hoping, and yet he was scared. I wondered why he was scared; maybe he wasn’t really ready for it. Maybe he was afraid it might not happen. It was possible though; the idea of us starting a family wasn’t impossible. I told him if not, then we’ll still have each other, and that made him smile again.

Oh Canvas… how I’ve never forgot that smile of yours. Why did you have to go? Why didn’t you stay? Why did fate thrust you into that situation? I already lost my partner that night… but to lose you? My heart aches still.

***

                                I wake up in the passenger seat of a car. I look to my left to see Studly at the wheel, driving me home. The scent of liquor fills my nostril and beckons me to rise. I forgot we hit traffic coming out of the bar. I thought the streets were clear of cars due to the flood. Apparently I was wrong. I look ahead of me, still seeing cars about a mile long ahead of me. Rain continues to splash against the windshield of our vehicle with the wipers working their magic to clear Studly’s vision. He looks irritable; I can clearly see why.

                                “Thirty minutes and we’re still in this crap,” he says. “Might not make it home till midnight. Ahhh sorry I had to bother ya with my driving babe. If I didn’t pull ya in the car we wouldn’t be in this mess. We should had walked.”

                                “Hey Studly, its fine. I wouldn’t want to walk an hour back home in this weather anyways. So what if were in traffic? At least were warm, cozy and awake.”

                                “‘Cept for you. You hardly had much to drink. One hard cider; not even enough to get a foal drunk! Yet already you were asleep for thirty minutes and woke up like you’re hung over,” he says with a laugh.

                                “Laugh it up, ass. Anyways how far are we from the complex?” I ask.

                                “Errr… still an hour to go. I’ve only moved about half a mile.”

I really want a cigarette right about now. I look to the side of my window, observing the streets; community volunteers were sticking around in their raincoats doing their civil duty. They reach up to light the lampposts, some were replacing the candles, and others were picking up trash or cleaning up messes the flood made on the streets and inside buildings, which were unlucky enough to have their floors invaded by water. I look around more, hoping to find an upcoming lane we can turn to. As luck would have it I find one just as a van cuts in front of the car to its left.

                                “Oh, turn here! We’ll take these streets and make our way around the traffic. Best we stay away from the main roads for now,” I spoke.

                                “Good eye darling! Now let’s get ourselves out of this mess.” Before any other cars would drive up, Studly sharply turns and hits the breaks, heading right into the lane while the driver behind us cusses in dismay.

                                “You know if I was still a cop I would have locked that stupid ass of yours up for making that turn.”

                                “Dets, Dets, Dets… you worry too much! It’s not like I was being careless! Besides if I let that car drove ahead of us we wouldn’t have turned here.” I’ve heard stories like this one alllll too many times. They are never safe, always sorry when they find themselves in the hospital the next day. So to save myself the frustration, I changed the subject.

                                “Let’s talk for a bit though. Know anypony from the other mobs? Any where I can find and how?”

                                “Baby you gotta stop with all these loaded questions. It isn’t good for my health, and it sure as hell isn’t good for your health either. If you are gonna pick a fight with the wrong crowd, that’s your problem!”

                                “Why would I bother with the other crime syndicates? It’s not them I am after. But I do want their word on this matter. Don Shoulder Chip is the one I want my answers to be about.”

                                “Dets, babe, listen; even if you don’t got any beef with them, they’ll find you to be a problem. You do realize these crime families are in a council, right? If you mess with one of them, you mess with the rest of them. Besides, these guys aren’t here to make the situation worse as it is.”

                                I reply, “so I guess I should thank S.C. for his contribution in making things better? A few racers rubbed out helps us?” He doesn’t say anything else and just bites his lip. The colt looks at me and then back on the road. “Right, yeah, so are you going to give me any names or what?” And this is the first time I see Studly become frustrated. Nothing ever frustrates this guy and even with me, he keeps it shut. He makes an agitated groan and gives me a dirty look.

                                “Fine… there’s one guy I know who actually knows more about Don S.C. than I do. Purple Jacket is his name. Biiig fashion artist. Likes the old style clothes from... twenty... thirty or something years ago. Definitely not your traditional mobster type. Don’t know how he gets his information, but if you want anyone, you talk to him. He hangs out at the Cocoa Bonanza club near the track. He’ll be there tomorrow at twelve.”

                                “Thanks. And hey… sorry about this.”

                                “Everyone gets one.” Huh… ironic echo. Though I think this time he means to look out for me. Studly isn’t the type of guy who would send me into a situation that he would find dangerous rather than helpful.

                                “Right… ehhh… so how’s the band coming along?” I ask, trying to ease him off the subject. Though I think he sees right through my bullshit interest in his band. He just laughs though. It looks like he feels better after that.

***

                                We arrive home after an hour of dodging traffic and taking turns. I had fallen asleep during the ride again and woke up to find Studly opening the passenger door with an umbrella overhead. I step out and thank him; closing the car door we make our way through the doors, leaving behind the heavy loud rain. Soon our bodies begin adjusting to the temperature, adapting to the warmth of the indoors. Mrs. Crunch is still asleep in the lobby, the poor ol’ goat. Hardly gets a wink of sleep these days after taking over for her husband in the night shift. She is never an evening person. I take over for her to cover my rent when I couldn’t pay up. Though as much as she appreciates my help, she always expects me to pay my rents overdue. You should have seen the look on her face that day when I gave her my rent.

We left her to sleep, ascending the stairs quietly, making our way to the seventh floor without much of a creak in the floorboards. The apartment is old as the dirt itself and yet hardly makes a noise if you walk slowly. Whipping out my key-ring, I make my way to the door and fit the room key in the lock, twisting and opening the door with my hoof.

                                “How do you say? Me casla es yu casla?” I ask.

                                “Ooohhh… I think you should be arrested Dets,” he responds.

                                “And why exactly?”

                                “Because you’ve successfully murdered the Spanish language. How did you ever become a cop?”

                                “Coming from a guy who makes his living doing music instead of going to college.”

He laughs and tells me to shut up as he walks into the room pass me. He looks rather impressed though. The room was spotless, clean and clear and without a splotch of alcohol stains, crumpled papers and dirty clothing on the floor. All my case files were stacked on the desk, the rest in the bin, the counters in the kitchen clean of all empty bottles and everything smells great. Of course I’ll miss the alcohol smell though.

                                “How much did you pay for room service again?” he asks.

                                “I didn’t say. Took me a few hundred bits for it though, considering I never cleaned up since… last January.” I respond.

                                “Dets… that’s a whole year ago...”

I just shrug and trot my way into the kitchen. Instead of drowning out yet another uneventful night, I am celebrating. This time the floors will be clean and the counters will be empty! Aside from the condiments and other appliances I keep on there. I return to the living room with two bottles of the finest Stalliongrad Vodka in my foreleg.

                                “We’ll just get something to drink! I feel good tonight and I need to celebrate.”

                                “And afterwards we can celebrate in your bedroom.” Studly gives me a sleazy look and winks to me. That didn’t take too long to come back. It would be too much for this colt to go on without a piece of tail! Still I just laugh and brush against his hips in affirmation.

                                “Drink with me and yes we’ll celebrate in the bedroom.” I reply.

                                When I drink, those cravings that I spoke of before; they get stronger. Luckily I didn’t drink as much as Studly did. I meant that I was going light. But I just want a couple or more sips to celebrate. I can hold my alcohol but Studly there is hardly the type to drink. You think for a rock n’ roll musician he’d be used to those things. Then again I am just stereotyping. I place my bottle back in the fridge while Studly guzzles down his. By the time he reaches the half-mark he was already smashed. Prying the bottle away, I push the young stallion into the bedroom, placing the bottle on top of the drawer as we walk inside.

                                “Nnnhhh don’t push baby…” he mutters and licks my ear. “Ain’t nice wh-when a g-girl,” he hiccups “when a girl p-pushes a guy like that.” I was hardly pushing him that hard though!

                                “Boy you are drunk Studly,” I reply. “You going to be up for this? I don’t want to have you throwing up all over my back you stupid ass. Remember last time you touched a drink that strong? One lawsuit and restraining order meld into one nasty scandal.”

                                “N-noo… d-don’t bring that,” he hiccups again, “bring that up babe. I-I was already s-sore over that ord-ord… uhhh thing… l-le-let’s just get down to the g-gooooood stuff.”

I laugh and pull him along in by bedroom. I turn around and spend a good few minutes or so just looking at it. It was the one place the maid didn’t touch. Because… well its already clean. It’s been clean for quite some time. Out of every room in my apartment that was trashed, this room never was. Every step I take I feel the soft grey carpet beneath my hooves, easing me down the road to memory lane, thinking back on the days I took my husband into my home. Before it was always clean… by my hooves. Canvas always teases me and calls me lazy because I shirk on my chores. Hehe… well I sure showed him. While Studly is trying to undo his jacket, keyword ‘trying,’ I spend more time observing the bedroom. Normally I sleep on my desk in the living room after going through previous case files on the killer. Rarely do I spend any time in here. I miss it.

I examine the drawers, cabinets and the mirror on my vanity. My eyes are terrible… a sign I should sleep more. Then I turn around and look up at the walls, noticing the same portrait of me that my husband painted. Canvas’ masterpiece I call it. It is a reflection he painted of what beauty that he saw through his eyes. And he saw me. The portrait had me on the left, tending to a withered dandelion while I was sitting in a field of the most gorgeous sunflowers. Although I must admit, my looks do seem to be exaggerated… but then again I never saw myself as beautiful or perfect. My eyes had a deep ocean blue color to it, my mane was longer than it originally is now and I looked more slender, but defined in bodily proportions. Canvas… you could have expressed your talent to the best of your ability, you had so much potential. I am so sorry it was taken away from you…

Studly finishes with his jacket and stands before me high and proud. He has a big goofy drunken smirk on his face. And his words couldn’t be anymore cheaper than they already are. “The Stud-ly is r-ready my fair maiden!”

Quickly I wipe the tears from my eyes before they could drop and turn to face him. I keep my face as calm and happy as possible. I want to stay happy, I want to. So why do I feel so damn sick in my stomach? I look at his half empty bottle on the drawer. I dash over and swiped it in my hoof and guzzle it down until there was nothing left on the bottom. Studly looks at me dumbfounded as he pops the obvious question, “You said you didn’t want to drink heavily; why are you doing it now?”

I let out a huge burp and hiccup; having just downed vodka in one sitting I feel dizzier than I do drunk. Looks like I'm not gonna keep my word tonight. But slowly the irritation in my stomach dies away and I turn to speak to him. “S-shut up and f-fuck me you drunken idiot…”

                                “Hahha y-you you’re calling me dru-drunk? Look at you! A-and that was h-ah... half a-a bottle ya drank!” he replies. He didn’t say anything else as he wraps his forelegs around my waist, lifting me up and gently throwing me right on the bed. I let out a yelp and a hiccup, bouncing on the mattrass while Studly climbs after. “N-now turn a-” he hiccups again. “Turn around and lemme see that flank!”

I did just that. Turning around and putting all four of my legs down, I lift my flank up and wag my tail for him. The stallion lets out a deep, heavenly shudder as he stares at me. He is quite excited from the tone in his voice. He stares at my moist folds, taking in the scent of it and drooling. He didn’t bother with any condoms, it wasn’t the season after all, lucky for me. Boy though, from the look of it, it almost seems like he is about to attack me. Wouldn’t be too far from it actually considering how amorous we are now thanks to the drinks.

He wasn’t wasting time though. I could see his cock growing from his loins, hardening and throbbing with each passing second. I bit my lip anxiously, the cravings were growing more and more. Sweat drips from my hide as I stare at him. Like so many others before him I whine and beg for him to take me. I start to heave and pant; my body temperatures were soaring! Feeling more amorous and hungry, my heart starts to race, wanting that proud cock of his plunging into me.

                                “What are you waiting for?” I ask. “Fuck me Stud… please fuck me…” The shamelessness of that remark is enough to motivate him to make the first move. Studly drives that throbbing fat cock into me; he lets out a heavy hungry moan as the walls within my depths clench around his meat firmly. Feeling the sensation myself I let out a heavy whimpering moan in return. My hooves dig into the sheets of the bed, curling them up as I brush my hips against Studly, feeling his cock push until he stops at the base. Every inch of him is in me now; his cock is coated with juices, throbbing and pulsing with excitement, massaging my walls. A chill runs up my spine, making me shudder tremendously; the feeling of Studly’s cock just staying in me is enough to make me cum. The pleasure only grew though as he starts sliding out and pushing his mast back into me. I let out a squeal and buck forward then back into his hips, feeling his thrusts pacing in slow rhythmic motions. In and out, in and out, I could feel that cock in me, pleasuring me and massaging me; my stomach churns, adjusting to the excitement and the stallion’s motions.

“Oh fuck… ohh fffuck Studly…” I moan. “Yes… yes…. J-just… just like that…” I roll my tongue off the side of my mouth, panting heavily, feeling my body growing warmer. Trying to keep myself calm and cool, I breathe through my mouth and nose. It worked a little bit but I can still feel sweat dripping from my body. I bat my tail playfully against Studly, teasing him for more; I turn around to give him a wink. He could see my face blushing bright red and chuckles. His pace starts to pick up. “Ahhh…. Studly…” I moan again. Soon his hips start to collide against mines and our flesh rubbing firmly against one another; my walls around his cock, the friction would have been slightly painful if his cock wasn’t wet.

The sensation leaves me breathless; the cravings take over and now the real fun starts. Studly stops balls deep into me, slowly grinding and rolling his hips around, brushing that cock against my tightening walls as I moan and heave. He’s teasing me, but damn I love it. That strange pleasurable yet tickling sensation just makes me wetter and more anxious. I grind my hips in return, syncing up with his while he presses his hooves against my flank. He leans over and moans into my ear, “ooohhh fuck baby you feel so damn good…” I let out a chuckle, batting my tail against his leg playfully.

                                “Studly…” I moan back. “Can’t say you don’t feel good... nnnffhhh… fuck… please give me more.” And more he did. Studly laughs and reaches up, grabbing my ear in his teeth he starts nibbling on it. I squeal louder, feeling my ear twitching in his mouth as those teeth grind against my soft flash. My ears were sensitive, rarely have I let anyone touch them. The feeling was so ticklish and delightful. Then he bites harder; positioning his hips back until he was halfway out of me, he slams back hard into my cunt. I let out a scream; sweat sprays in the air as I buck up in response. Then Studly pulls back, slams into me again, repeating the process five or more times before he starts speeding up. His swift, humping motions were already adding to the pleasuring experience. I could feel his cock ramming harder, faster, deeper in me. The room begins to echo as the bed creaks, the floorboards squeaks and our wet slick hips and genitals smacking together. Even his balls were making slight audible sounds as they beat against my flank.

                                “Fffuuuck… Dets baby… how I wish I could keep you… ahhhh… you feel so damn good!” he exclaims. The day he keeps me would be the day I stop looking for that killer. His chances are not looking good. Still I couldn’t help but feel flustered; as perverted as that sounds he sure is enjoying his time with me at least.

 I squeal louder and buck my hips against his as I respond, “Gahh! Gonna have to try really hard to make that a reality! Nnnfhh…. Ohhh fuck… S-Studly! Fucking more baby!” He laughs and grunts; releasing from me ear he buries his head behind my head, covering his face with my mane to distract himself while he pounds deeper and faster in my cunt. Pre begins to dribble from his tip and in my depths; it was liquid-like, warm and so very soothing. I close my eyes, cringe and bite my teeth together, blowing air through my nose.

The feeling of sex was like an addiction. It just felt so good… so distracting. It was a means for my escape when drinks wouldn’t cut it. Normally I use it as a skill, a strength to get what I need from the informed, sometimes to get me in where I want to go. Every other day though when I get the cravings, I just delve into the sweet release of pleasure. Sweet glorious Luna did I need release.

Sweat drips from Studly’s hide; I can feel the heat in his body rising. His cock throbs and twitches, I wasn’t sure if he is close to release but he isn’t stopping. The claps of our hips grows louder the more Studly thrusts. His entire body is shivering, lost in the bliss of desires. His tongue rolls out of his mouth now as he starts to pant and heave. His breathing grows rapidly, his chest inflating and deflating with each breath. That look on his face is so mesmerizing. I forgot how much my partners got carried away enjoying me. It looks like Studly was nearing that point. Even I am getting lost to the pleasure of his cock. Despite how sore I am feeling now, how loose and soft my cunt is now I want more. I start screaming “Ahhhh! Harder!! Fucking harder! Ahhh!! Ahhh!!!” My face feels like it is hot to the touch. I could feel the pressure and delight of sex knocking the chill out of my body. Still I cry for more. “Fuck me harder baby! Ahh! OOhhh fuck! It’s so damn good!! Ahhh!! Please fuck me harder!” Studly doesn’t hesitate as he hears my screams for more. He lets out a stuttering moan that almost sounds like a shrill. In an instant I could feel him slamming as fast and deep as he could manage. The creaks of the bed grew louder, with its frame ramming against the wall that was so loud I nearly forgotten about the neighbors in the other room. I’m too preoccupied to care about it though, and so was Studly.

The stallion’s hooves reaches around my waist, hugging close as he rises on his hind legs, leaning over me with my rump high in the air. Then he rams into me once more, resuming his speed in his new position, slamming me down into the bed. He starts yelling “Ahhhh! Ahhh yeeess!! Fuck! Dets baby you are so fucking warm! I can’t stop! Ahhh!! Ahhh holy shit you feel so fucking glorious!!! I’m so close!” Soon both of us start screaming and moaning loud in ecstasy.

I feel my body growing weak, aches crawled up my legs the longer we fuck. Everything, the excitement, the heat and the pleasure, all of it building up in me, feeling close to release. Studly’s pretty close himself; I can feel the vibrations of his body against mines, the heat and twitch in his cock increasing. I start to count the number of times our hips collide; the motions, the pace, the strength… fuck it’s so good. Then come the climax; I feel a sudden burst of speed from Studly as he rams his cock into me. I let out a scream; my body quivers and shakes as I feel myself orgasm. A wave of juice splashes over Studly’s waist, my bed and down my legs. It wasn’t the only thing I could feel though. From my release, my cunt walls grips his cock firmly, pushing him to his release as well. He lets out a heavy heated moan and bucks his hips up one last time, flooding my depths with his thick, copious seed. I shudder in the sweet sensation of release, from mines and Studly’s. I’ve nearly forgotten how good the climaxes were.

I didn’t count how long we were rutting. All I can count was the number of times he came in me. I believe it’s five times now. Either he’s blueballed to all hell or he’s drunk enough to keep on going. I half expected him to pass out during his fourth time. I got sober beyond this point though, and tired. Studly and I were huddled together; me against his chest and his arms around my waist. We were exhausted; my legs feel sore, his groin numb, and the cold chill returns to our bodies. I was about to fall asleep until I hear the doorbell. Leaving Studly to fall asleep, I got up and stretch my legs, trying to work out the soreness before making my way into the living room.

My eyes were half closed; I reach for the doorknob, only to find my hooves randomly hitting the door itself instead. Looking down, I reach to grab the doorknob, twisting and pulling it opened. To my shame I forgot about my neighbor… again. Only this time, I’m not horny enough to not care. Before me is Mixer Matcher, a caramel coated stallion with a five o’clock shadow next door; he does not have a pretty looking face this night. His eyes were bloodshot, as though they’ve eaten the color of his brown iris; bags formed beneath his eyes, and his brow furrowed with extreme agitation. I laugh nervously and start to speak “H-hey hey! Mixer Matcher! What are you doing up this… early…?” I didn’t even know what time it is. It only made him angrier looking though.

                                 “Early? Early?! Depends on which early you mean! Early at night? Early in the morning? Do you know what time it is?  It’s THREE THIRTY! In. The. Morning! Do you know how long you kept me up? Do you!?” he exclaims. Then he reaches into his pajama pockets and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. “Sweet Luna’s glorious flank, Dets, if you wanted to bring guys home with you don’t fucking let the whole damn complex know! I got work in five hours and I can't get back to sleep!”

                                “R-right right! I-I’m so sorry Mr. Matcher I-I didn’t mean to keep you up! I…” I try to apologize. But he just lifts his hoof and shakes his head.

                                “No. No no no. Don’t be sorry. Next time, take your fun elsewhere. Bad enough I have to smell that alcohol infested apartment of yours. It reeks a mile away!” And just like that he goes back into his apartment. I just stand there, blushing shamefully and embarrassingly. Didn’t think I’d let it get this crazy. I retreat back in my apartment and crawl into my wet messy bed next to Studly, who is snoring like a damn steamboat. Karma’s a fair but terrible bitch alright.

                                The sun greets my face once again. My eyes fluttered to adjust to the ray of the light. Did I leave the shutters open again? I looked behind me to see that I did. Guess it’s a sign that I should get to work. I did plan to meet this Purple Jacket at the Cocoa Bonanza club after all. Huh… ya know, thinking about it now, it sounds almost similar to that one song I heard my mom and dad sing together. I never can recall what it was though.

I checked my watch while making my way to the bathroom. It reads 10:35. Good, I didn’t sleep late. Even better, I didn’t feel tired at all since last night. Good heavy drinking always keeps me in a deep sleep after all. Too bad for the Stud though; looks like he may be sleeping for a while. I didn’t want to shoo him out of my house, I figure I’d let the housekeeping service do that for me. They do have keys for our rooms after all and I can always expect them to lock the door when I’m gone. Nothing in here is worth stealing. I stand in the shower stall, turned the knob and let the rushing hot water crash into my face and my back. With soap in my tail, which is pretty hard to use instead of your hooves at times, I scrub myself from my weak depths, in and out. I worked around my flank, my pucker, then my legs and my sides. Then I pass the soap into my right hoof and start scrubbing my neck, head, back, face and my mane. I’ve been counting the seconds as I am washing myself; it took me about fifteen or so minutes. I wanted to make time so I can meet up this Purple pony guy, whatever his last name was.

After I finish washing I tear a piece of paper from the desk, writing a note on the scrap and walk back into my bedroom to set it besides Stud on the nightstand. Then I dash for my closet, still counting the seconds while I slipped on my jacket. I look out the window again, zippering up to prepare myself for the cold. Fortunately it looks sunny and without a breeze in the air. The trees were calm, the leaves blowing gently in the soft tender morning air. I take a deep breath and smile; now my head’s in the game. I pick up my gadgets and my keys, even my shock gun just in case, and stroll out the door, letting it close behind me.

                                There’s a saying that every Diamond Dog has its day. Except I don’t see Diamond Dogs in places like these. Stupid expressions. It’d be easier if they just said dog and left out the diamond in it. Here where the stakes run high, the drinks were served fresh and cold, and one out of a thousand ponies are a winner each day, the Cocoa Bonanza was the best place for all your socializing needs. Unlike your typical big tops like Gomorrah, Four Seasons and Mairbian Nights that are farther in the city, the Cocoa Bonanza is where friends meet, the losers become winners and the winners… well stay winners. Not as big as the other casinos or clubs, but it has its own charm to it. You think the ponies here would be crapping the floor whenever they win. The Cocoa Bonanza IS being run by the mob after all. You don’t want to win too much with these kind of guys. Oddly enough, I find it cute that these mobsters that stick around the public areas are nice. Charming, funny, odd, down to earth kind of ponies just looking out for us. Despite how traditional and cold they appear on the outside, the way they act tells me they are definitely the type who has a good heart in them. If only I had them as my friends back then instead of those phonies I knew back in school. I always hated that term but it’s what I can best describe them as.

During my time in the department I always steered clear of these kind of folks. They aren’t as bad as they were back then, but the main reason was because I didn’t want to get involved in the nonsense of stepping on the wrong hooves, and having my husband pay for my mess-ups. Though seeing them now, I don’t think I’m afraid of them then I had previously felt. Even so, I still have to be careful when I get around to questioning Purple Jacket. I didn’t want to make the wrong enemies. That is… if I can find him first.

I search the floors, top to bottom; from the poker tables to the blackjacks; the slot machines and roulettes; the bar and dance club; then the betting tables. Instinct tells me that this would be the most likely spot to find. Then again not all ponies are that obvious; it’s not like I’m going to find betting on the racecars right? Wait… I spoke too soon. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand I can clearly see how much he likes to stick to that name of his. Imagine a stallion twice your size wearing a large, sparkly, fur-hooded purple jacket decorated in glitter, with some depraved gaudy, cardboard-cutout-looking designer’s glasses, baggy pink pants that touches the floor and shoes that would make even the gayest pony say how much this guy will be responsible for the death of the entire fashion Industry. It’s so cringe worthy  just looking at him. Then again, it couldn’t be Purple Jacket. There is no way it would be this painfully obvious.

                                “Heeeeey Purple Jacket!!!!” a ‘fan’ screams from the audience. And then another calls out “looking good there Purp!” Were these ponies serious? They couldn’t be. But they were. I just stare in amazement, my ears twitching as I hear this awfully high pitched voice that… ya know what? I’m going to stop with the gay jokes right now because this is ridiculous. This stallion is a walking talking stereotype whose very existence is in question at the moment. I can’t believe this would be the day where I think Justin Neighber or that stupid vampony novel are less ridiculous than he is.

                                “Heellllooooooo fillies and gentlecolts! It is I, the Underboss! PURPLE JACKET! Everypony lift your hooves up! Come on give me a bit of love! That goes for you gryphon cuties too! Don Blu Bluth loves you all… and so do I!” he exclaims. I swear how is it that this Cosa Nostra is around? I don’t care if they own a club but really do they have to make their presence known to the public in here? Especially if it’s being represented by this guy? I’m surprised how the others back at the station didn’t shut them down. They look a helluva lot vulnerable than they make themselves out to be. I just hope this Don Blu Bluth guy isn’t as bad as Purple is.

Then I realize how much my plan just changed the instant he said ‘underboss.’ Am I seriously going to muscle my way on this guy? And why in the fuck didn’t Studly tell me about this?! If I see him next time… I’m really going to smash his teeth in. Everything’s ten times more difficult than I imagined.

Well no time like the present! After Purple was finished with all his showers of praise and love I make my way over to the betting table where I find him already betting high on the next racecar. I could warn him of the potentiality of the races being rigged by Shoulder Chip… but then, I want to see him lose all his money, let him blow it up in smoke.

                                “Quite the entrance there. I must admit I didn’t realize organized crime was so open these days,” I say to him. At first I expected some hoity toity remark or some sort of smug response without so much as giving me a glance. But he turns to face me and smiles, lifting up his horrible horrible glasses.

                                “And who are you my little hunny?” he replies… oh sweet Celestia, it hurts just to have him talk with me. I hope I get whacked by these goons. Anything that will save me from this torment. “Never saw a pretty face like you before and I really, really, really want to get to know you!” he continues. For once in my life I don’t think I want to sleep for information. I might go the hard-broiled route; cut his wrist and squeeze lemon on that wound. He’ll probably scream and shatter every glass within a ten block radius of the area. Might not be healthy for me. Fuck. do I need a cigarette.

                                “Dets. Dets Sleuth. Private Eye.”

                                “Former detective of the Haygas Police Department. Thirty two years old and still quite the looker! Bet you’ll keep that figure in the next thirty or more years even! Also a widow, yes a widow and… a record about a kilometer and a half long. Sure are having a hard time finding that killer. Aren’t ya?”

Well if that wasn’t creepy. I don’t know what is! I assume the reason he knew so much is because of course, connections and informants. They are pretty damn aware of me alright. I didn’t like that.

                                “For your good health, Mr. Jacket, you keep all that to yourself. I don’t mind being on your shit list if I put you in a body bag and send it to your boss. How do you know about me?” Stupid of me to take that route. But I couldn’t help it. He didn’t seem all that bothered though. He just smiles and waves to the receptionist in front of us.

                                “Oh how fresh of you hunny! But do not worry, you are as safe as Fort Mustang. We just like to keep tabs on the blues for good measure.”

                                “Blues as in…?”

                                “You ponies, yes. The good ol stallions and mares of the suit, doing their civil duty of protecting the city! Or so you thought when they removed you from the case. Sorry to hear about their deaths darling. Losing a friend and a husband must have been pretty hard on you. But I assume you didn’t want to chat with me right?”

The smug son of a bitch just looks at me like he’s gotten under my skin. What’s his game? He doesn’t look like he’s baiting me into something I’m not gonna like, but you can never really tell with these guys.

“Let’s see… you don’t want to chat with me… but you do want a taste of the fabulous Purple Jacket no? All the colts and fillies want a taste! Fashion is always on their eyes and they fall head over hooves for me.”

…Err… I’m not going to humor him this time. I say, “listen bud, I’m not going sugarcoat this. My tastes are more refined than yours will ever be. I could arrest you for the attempted murder of fashion and I doubt your boss would bat an eyelash over that. Now you listen and you listen well; I want info, I’ve got questions, questions that you are going to answer Mr. ‘Fabulous.’ Don Shoulder Chip owns the track across the street from this place. He makes his cash off of the races and I have every reason to believe it’s rigged. The deaths and the disappearances of expert drivers caught my attention quite well. In fact, I dug into the case files and news to find a connection. Boy, did I ever. A little canary told me you know of Don Shoulder Chip and his operations; you are going to tell me what you know or I swear I will tear off those clothes and burn them right in front of you!!” I didn’t realize my hooves were around his collar. He sure has a frightened look in his eyes now. None of the other ponies paid any attention to us except for the nearby mobsters. They weren’t so inclined to jump in though.

                                “Aiii! Dets, sweetie pie, please! Don’t! Not the fashion! Anything but the fashion! Hoity Toity is coming to Haygas this month and I must prepare for the fashion show! Have mercy on these fine garments!!” Ouch… my ears. At least I got his weakness. He continues on, “I kn- I know n-nothing! Honest, pumpkin! Honest as my career as a fashion designer! Cadence forgive me I wish I could help you, but it’s true! I don’t know about the race! N-neither does my boss! I-I don’t know about those other racers and-” I catch the word ‘other races.’ A slip up?

                                “Wait what do you mean others?” I start to ask.

The stallion hesitates, swallows the lump in his chest and begins to sweat. Before he gets the chance to speak, an old, withered, gray stallion with a white mane and a bit of a bald spot on his forehead appears behind us with two other mobsters. I drop the excuse for an artist and turn to face the stallion.

                                “Don Bluth, I presume?” I ask.

                                “You presume correctly, Mrs. Sleuth,” he replies. He lifts his hoof and waves it to dismiss his boys and looks back at me. His light blue eyes peers into mine; I feel as though he’s reading me. To be honest I was starting to feel nervous. I caused too much of a scene and now I might face retribution. Yet he smiles, and there was no falseness to it.

“Honestly as much as I loved that little scene, I will have to ask you to refrain from touching my friends.”

                                “That guy was your friend?”

                                “… Hahahah.” He continues to laugh, but not so hard. As much as he liked that remark, he looks as though the laugh will strain his calm voice. “Good one. Yes he… is. It’s a long story. Would you like to come by my office? As much as I hate violating the commandments, I must ensure responsibility for the safety and well-being of my family. Even if it means breaking those commandments.”

Well that explains why I saw several violations of the commandments. Except for the club part. I didn’t bother with it and just kept it smooth. I follow behind Bluth as he gestures me to follow him; we walk towards the far end of the club where I assume his office was. And it was there actually. There was a plaque that read his name: Mr. Bluth. Very conspicuous if you ask me.

We enter his office, it looks quite homely. He has such fine mahogany crafts and furnishing. His desk could fetch a pretty large sum of bits. Even his chairs, his cabinets, the fireplace. Wait… a fireplace? In here? Ahh well… never mind. He also has a couple fairly large bookcases on his side and a nice red luxury carpet on the floor. Classy… very classy. And then there were large stacks of paper on his desk; they kind of look like drawings to me. I turn my attention to him as he starts to speak. “Mrs. Sleuth, a mare of your status should know by now not to make herself a target. You’re brashness and ‘hard-broiled’ attitude would have surely killed you if it wasn’t me in this seat. Now… tell me what brings you here?”

He sure is quite polite I’ll give him that; his advice also comes quite a surprise to me. I didn’t really expect that from a Don. But should I really tell him about my purpose considering it involves the safety of my client? I bite my lip, unsure of whether or not I should chance that. Though looking in his eyes, he’s waiting for me to ask the right question.

Maybe he knows…

                    “The better question is… what do you already know?” I reply.

                    “What I know is you’ve been referred to Purple by my big mouthed friend Mr. Studly.”

Well I didn’t see that coming! I flinch when he mentioned him and bow my head, replying, “Please Mr. Bluth, don’t rub off Studly. I wanted him to tell me about…”

                    “Don Shoulder Chip?”

Again I flinch. Guess there’s no stopping it now. Mr. Bluth’s quite informed.

                    “Yes.” I reply.

                    “Hmmm… Studly’s always kept his mouth shut. I wonder what persuaded him to tell you. After all, you’re no longer part of the Haygas Police Department, continuing on as a PI. You are not exactly off our watch list. Though I am curious as to why you are after Shoulder Chip.”

                    “I’m that obvious huh? Well… I hope you guys aren’t close or anything… right?”

He scrunches his face, narrows his brow and turns his gaze away. For a moment, he look as though he’s about to kill the nearest living being. I hope it isn’t me. I continue, “Guess not huh? Well… I have a friend who came to me, said he survived a crash and believed that the tournament is rigged. He’s a self-appointed mechanic and…”

                    “The only male to survive as far as I recalled.”

It didn’t surprise me that Bluth would know Swift considering he knows so much. I guess he also knows that Swift visited me that night too. Slowly he turns back to look at me and nods his head, expecting me to realize the importance of that statement.

                    “Wait… what do you mean the only male survivor?”

Guess I asked the right question because he stands up and starts to speak, “Ten racers: six are female, four are male; over the past couple months there were talks about Shoulder Chip setting up a tournament that would settle the economic situation in Haygas. Before he delved into gambling and racketeering, S.C. was an arms trafficker. And no I don’t mean the kind of equipment you are used to seeing such as your Shock Pistol for example. He sold the hard kind of stuff that is illegal; guns, swords, maces, spears, even poison and cursed magical items, all of it. It was a pretty dangerous business that would have had us killed by the Blues. Not wanting to lose him on the council nor wanting to lose the money he funnels to us, we decided to shift his attention towards the vices of Haygas. Casinos, race tracks, clubs and loans.

“Of course it wasn’t enough… so he says. Indeed it wasn’t as profitable as arms trafficking was, but we didn’t want to take that risk. Yet he benefits when he cheats, when he cuts corners and shakes down exploited ponies. It would make sense for him to create a tournament and scam those who betted against the racers with the most odds of winning while the low ranking racers win,” he explains.

                    “But the cops surely would have caught the signs. How did they not?”

                “Simple; the cops and reporters were bribed: reporters, to tell a different story; the cops, to divert attention away from the deaths and threaten anypony smart enough to question the details. These ‘accidents’ though happen under different circumstances so no one would bat an eyelash when one racer breaks down and another crashes into the one next to him… or her. As such, these accidents were orchestrated for another purpose other than just cheating. Three males and one female racer died. The other racers ‘disappeared.’ The exception is Swift Wheels. Rumor has it he made quite a bit of bits despite his loss. I assume you know the intentions behind this?”

I nod and start, “Of course. Last night he believed it was Don Shoulder Chip. He knew he ran the tournament and he knew what twenty thousand bits in a suitcase meant.”

                “Right. He wants to buy his silence. Of course he knows where he lives but for the sake of his cover, he bribes instead of killing him.” He leans over, his fore hooves sit squarely on his desk, lifting himself up. “Mrs. Sleuth, my granddaughter’s a racer… I refuse to believe she died as the reports say. I know within the fiber of my bones that Don Shoulder Chip is responsible for her disappearance. If I had the authority I would send my men with the arms I stole from him during his setup  and give the Don and his men a taste of irony. My granddaughter means the world to me Mrs. Sleuth… I want you to find out what happened to her and those other racers. Whatever Swift paid you, I’ll double it. No… triple it. I’m a pony of retribution and justice; I will see this done.”

No sane pony would refuse an offer like that. Then again, hearing this, I’ll accept it either way. I knew something was fishy with Shoulder Chip. I didn’t think it would get deep. Crooked cops, immoral reporters, extortion, bribery and threats? Haygas sure has its fair share of depravity in its early days, and this is a prime example of that. I would gladly do it for free to see this stopped.

                “Well I’m already investigating the matter… so why not?” I reply. He smiles and chuckles warmly from my response. He seems quite pleased with my answer.

                “Good. That’s good. Now… Studly advised you to speak with Purple Jacket, correct?”

I nod in response. Though I doubt I’ll get anything out from a stallion like that. Probably not anymore thanks to Mr. Bluth.

                “Err… yeah.”

                “Studly may think with his cock more than his brain, but he is right on this. Purple Jacket, my Underboss, has done more than flaunting his terrible attire in front of everypony. Lately he’s been hanging around with the other mobsters, primarily S.C. in what he would describe as ‘an evaluation of goods.’ Honestly, I think Purple Jacket knows more than what he is telling me. That is something I don’t like. Purple Jacket always has his ear to the ground but never does he relay it back to me. So, what I want you to do is talk to PJ again. This time, cut the hard-broiled approach. Appease to him and, Celestia forbid, appeal to his lifestyle.”

                “I rather you just kill me now. Its torture enough just looking at him.”

He laughs again and waves his hoof with a joke, “Well, I do use PJ to make my rivals spill the beans in the past. He’s sharper than any scalpel or blade I’ve used to make ponies talk.”

Ok, that was something I wouldn’t mind forgetting. I shudder and respond to him, “well… I’ll have to endure it. Thanks Mr. Bluth.”

                “No, thank you, Mrs. Sleuth. And oh, I am glad we have this talk.”

                I am led out by Mr. Bluth after our little conversation. Right away I make my way to the betting tables where I see Mr. Jacket, once again making his rounds around the table showing off. I swallow whatever insult I can hold and approach him. I tap his shoulder and say, “Hey Purple Jacket.”

And he instantly recognizes my voice without having to take a look at me.

                “Ahhh!! Oh no, not you again! Please, please, please, pumpkin, no more ruffling of my outfit! Remember the fashion show! Please I can’t stress it enough! Do whatever you wish to me, but the fashion, dearie, the fashion! Leave it be!” he exclaims. Hoity Toity would have a heart attack. I don’t think Jacket has a chance. But I let it go and shape up to try and become the gentle mare that I could be.

                “I am… sorry Mr. Jacket. Truly, I am just in a bad mood. Thanks to Mr. Bluth I feel better now.” No I don’t. I feel sicker just listening to this metrosexual wannabe. “I… appreciate your fashion sense, and I know you’ve put a lot of effort into the outfits that you make for these shows. I…” I have to swallow this reeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaal hard. “I dare say you could become the next… Rarity…”

Somehow, in Ponyville, Rarity must have felt a dreadful shudder after I finished that statement. Though PJ looks happier than usual.

                “Oh, you mean it, darling? I knew you’d wanted the taste of the Jacket! Gaze, gaze in awe and amazement at this glamorous beauty that is my outfit!”

                “Errr… yeah, it’s really breathtaking I gotta admit. So… about Shoulder Chip?”

It’s funny how Purple Jacket can be so dumb as much as he is prideful. He knows I’ve seen Mr. Bluth, he knows I talked with him. What comes next though would be a great treat for the ears.

                “Oh darling, heheh! Breathtaking is hardly the word for it! But yes… Mr. Chip. His name certainly carries meaning. He always looks like he’s got a huge chip on his shoulder. I’ve even talked with him a few times in person! Grew up in poverty, never much made a name for himself after school, always going for get-rich-quick schemes and nonsense before he took up the criminal life. And in fact…”

                “I… err, no offense but I don’t care about his personal life. I mean what is he doing now?”

                “Well, he says he wants to get back into the trafficking business. So many corrupted cops these days; he feels it will be quite easy to start it all up again. The track is a front for the new business. Not sure where or how he gets his crude material from, but let me tell you, cupcake, nothing in there is worth the hassle. Hence why I stick with fashion! Don’t want to get dirty too much.”

I feel as though he knows more than he is telling me. Black market goods again? Illegal weapons and cursed magical items? I have to know. More importantly, I have to know of the other racers.

                “That’s interesting. Alright, what exactly is his trafficking business? Illegal arms again? Also one more question; what happened to the other racers?”