Author's Note

All those who enjoy reading Andreah's cases, say IYE!

This chapter`s a little early. I'm releasing every Wednesday, but heres this one.

(Chapter 2) Case: Locked and Tied

Ugh, the harbor. Boats bellowing, constant movement, ponies yelling. I'd leave immediately if it weren't for me having a job to do.

The scuba team already pulled the chest out of the water and placed it on the dock, yellow tape reading 'caution RCIS' surrounding it.

When I think about it, it sound like the tape is telling us to be careful.

Heh.

"So, mabey it was pirates." Qwick interjects my thoughts, standing to my left.

"What?" I asks, delayed by a few seconds.

"Pirates. y'know. AARGH!" Silver responds on my right. I look to him and raise an eyebrow.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping them... do... something?" I ask Silver. He nods.

"Yeah. Come get you. They're ready for ya." Smiling like a smartass. I gently flick him on nose with my hoof.

"Oooohkay, before you two need a room, lets get to those remains." Qwick interjects. Starting forward.

"Ooooh, we've needed a room multiple times before." Silver boasts, raising his muzzle into the air. His comment causing heat to raise to my cheeks.

"L-Lets get to the job." I sputter, sprinting over to the scene.

I slow down once at the tape and duck under, thanking the stallion who lifted it. The chest thirty hooves ahead of me, in the middle of the wooden dock. Behind the tape on the other side is Chief Note talking to the two scuba divers who discovered the chest.

Turning my attention back to the chest, I trot over to it. the lid's closed. It's old, and definitely waterlogged. The steel supports on the chest are long rusted. There are multiple rotten out holes, letting in things like sea lice and crabs. So I expect a fair amount of scavenging. The hinges are rusted, along with the handles, but not as bad as the supports. Circling to the front, I take a look to where the padlock would be. The loop that it locks to is broken off, below that is the old padlock. Rusted beyond use.

Taking off my saddlebags and placing them behind me, I open it up and take out gloves. Then take off my trench coat and lay it on the bags. After slipping the gloves onto my hooves, I wave over the forensic photographer. He's got a black coat, and he's wearing just a front garment, a black sweatshirt. The name Film embroidered into the front.

"Yes, Miss Reigns?"

"I'm getting ready to open the chest. I assume you have to photograph this?"

"Yes!" The young unicorn stallion shouts in realization, running off someplace. Great. Now I have to wait for him. I flop down onto my flank and stare at the chest, wondering what could be inside. A stallion? A mare? Colt? Filly?

Please Celestia, neither a Colt or Filly.

"How's it going, 'Dreah?" Silver asks, walking up to me.

"Well, the photo dude ran off, so I've gotta wait. They can get annoying when you start moving things before they get their photos." I tell him, he nods. "Where's Qwick?"

"Oh, I dunno. he ran off somewhere, probably in an affair with that photographer." Silver snorts.

"What's it with you two always at each other's throats lately? Is it cause I'm here and your brain is like 'mate with mare!'. So you've gotta fight him off?"

"No!" His ears redden barely enough to notice.

"I'm back Miss Reigns!" Film shouts, running back over. A small polaroid camera bobbing off his neck. The same model as his cutie mark.

"Great! Silver, darling?" Now I'm just being mean. I turn back to look at him, his face reddening. "Could you go interview the divers? Pretty please?" He nods franticly, then bolts off. Whether from desperation to get away to avoid embarrassment or fulfil my wish, I don't know.

I turn back to the task at hoof, the chest. Repositioning my hoof-gloves and adjusting my wings so that my trench coat stops chafing them, I let the photographer take a still.

Whoof! Chreee

The polaroid film ejects out the front of his camera. He then goes to the side of the chest and takes a photo. Putting the photo away in his bag, he repeats the actions with the back and other side of the chest.

"Alright." He says, nodding to me. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I'm about to see.

Is it a murder? Will they be mutilated? Bones all fractured?

In one motion, I open the trunk, expecting a bombardment of smell. Nothing. Opening my eyes, I see why.

The bones are completely clean, no flesh, no blood. And no evidence of aquatic scavengers.

Whoof! Chree

The flash from his camera momentarily blinding me. Blinking away the light, I look at him. He's smiling, looking at a photo, held up with his magic. He then turns it to me to show me.

I'm sitting with my right side to the camera, my blood red mane bunched up into a ponytail; without my trench coat, my chestnut brown coat is visible. As well as the firearm holster that runs around my torso and ends at the forty-five just under my left foreleg. My eyes a vibrant green, looking at a horror out of frame. My gloved hooves down on the dock directly in front of me.

"Aren't you just great?" He asks, smiling. I shake my head angrily.

"Mr. Film. That is immensely workplace inappropriate. Go and put that into my saddlebag, and get back to the task at hand." I scold, watching his ears droop. "Consider this a warning, Film. Next time something like this happens, I will NOT hesitate to report you."

He nods, his ears still back and his mouth curved into a sad frown. With his magic he floats the photo to my bags, but places it into one of my trench coat pockets.

"Now, photograph the remains." He does so.

I stand up and get close enough to lift the remains. Doing so with the skull, I notice something gruesome.

"Dear Celestia... This is a Filly."