Chapters (Chapter 1) Case: Locked and Tied
The water hits my face, flattening my mane and soaking my coat. It's become more of a habit to shower since the mishap with Vanilla a while back. But it's always nice to shower after a case, despite the longevity of it.
The last two cases Note's put me on were, uneventful, to say the least. One was helping dig up an old zebra burial ground. (And for the record, Qwick is not helpful whatsoever when not interrogating ponies.) And the second was a body found in an alley of the Christal empire. Though bodies are eventful, the perpetrator turned his self in within a day. So that one went quick. But having Silver back for that one was something I cherished every second I could.
Shaking my head out of thought, and painfully getting water in my nose, I grab the coat wash when a loud ring rings, causing me to slip. I land on my back, probably disturbing the ponies below with the loud slam caused by my body.
I groan and flip to my side. Not bothering to get back up. If it's my parents they'll call back later. It really was a bad idea to install a phone in my bathroom. Thanks for the advice Silver.
After climbing to my hooves and checking to see if I broke anything, I lather my mane in shampoo.
RING!!
"Dammit!" I shout angrely. With a head full of soap I step out and stand at the counter. Thinking who it could be, I pick up the hoofset with a soggy wing.
"Hello?"
"Hi Andreah. It's Qwick."
"And Silver!!" A voice shouts desperately over Qwick's causing me to giggle.
"Hello boys." I chuckle out.
"Chief Note wants you at HQ A.S.A.P. We've got a new case." Qwick informs me. I sigh.
"Can I at least finish my shower?"
"I could help you, it'd make it go faster!" Silver shouts from the background. It took all I had not to laugh.
"I'll see ya two soon." I replace the hoofset.
A short stop at my office to grab my badge, then off to Chief Note's office.
Stepping into my bosses office, I'm greeted by a golden coated stallion, his hooves red and mane a sleek and shiny silver. I knew that under his soft black trench coat whould be a cutie mark that was a pair of hoofcuffs. On his face is a smile stretching ear to ear.
Closer to me, and after an empty seat I assume is for me, is an ash-grey stallion. His mane jet black. Anorexic looking and a cutie mark of a Griffin arms pistol.
"Well, somepony's happy." I giggle, looking at Silver. He franticly nods.
"Ihadalotofcoffee!" He sputters out. Closing the door behind me, I look at him questioningly.
"You don't like coffee." Raising an eyebrow at him, I sit between the two.
"Iknow! ButafterourlastcaseIrelisedidolikeit!" He nods again, smile widening. I shake my head, stifling a laugh.
"Pleasentries aside?" Note asks us across from his desk. I turn to him and nod.
"Yes sir." Qwick acknowledges.
"Alright. Vanhoover bay. Two divers were diving yesterday when they found a chest. Hoping they found gold, they opened it. Only for it to be a bunch of remains."
"If it's a normal case, why are both Silver and I here?" Quick asks.
"Because. This is going to be the case where Andreah is going to choose who she would prefer as her partner." He turns to look at me. "After this case you are to report back here and tell me which stallion you would prefer as your partner."
I nod nervously.
"Y-yes sir. I-if I may? Why me?"
"Well, I trust you to make a wise choice. If you pick Silver, I can sent Qwick back to his old job." Chief note informs me.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
There should be air travel. Some way that would get ponies around faster than the dreaded train. Maybe I can get Celestia to fund something like that.
Five dreaded hours I'm to be on this dreaded machine. Silver has fallen asleep in the seat ahead of me. Qwick has long given up on trying to get my attention and moved from sitting next to me, to across the passenger car.
Scooting to the isle seat, I look to make sure nopony is walking up it. Once I'm satisfied I won't bump into anypony, I stand up and move one seat row up, sitting next to Silver.
"Hey..." I slightly shake him. "Silver."
A second goes by, then another. I shake him again.
"Si-"
"Boo!" He shouts, turning to me and raising his hooves to eye level. I totally didn't jump, fall onto my back and scream. That's crazy, I'm a full grown mare!
"Did you just shriek?" Qwick asked, suddenly behind me. Silver breaks out into uncontrollable laughter.
I pick myself up off the floor and dust off the dirt on my trench coat.
"No. No I did not " I respond poshily, raising my muzzle in the air. Still laughing, Silver falls over onto the floor. "Was it that funny?"
"Kinda. But I bet I could get you better." Qwick nods.
Silver stops laughing almost emediatly.
"Nuh uh."
"Yes, I could."
Ugh... To much testosterone.
Instantaniasly after stepping off the train, the smell of salt water hits my nostrils.
"Ah..." Qwick sighs from my left. "I've missed this."
"I miss a good bed." Silver complains.
"Well, since it is pretty late, its...seven... Almost Eight. I say we all go to bed and hit the case first thing in the morning." I tell them, looking back and forth.
"Sure." Silver nods. "But I call the room with Andreah!" He shouts.
"No! That position is already occupied!" Qwick protests. I wince at their fighting over me.
"How about. Because there is two rooms. You two take them. I'll just rent myself another." That shut them up.
Well that was painstaking. The motel receptionist, for the longest time, refused to rent me another room because it was a 'waste of a room when you've already got two!'
I sigh with relief once I take off the saddlebags. Placing them next to the bed, I fall face first onto it.
Sleep will come naturally.
"How did ya sleep, madam?" Qwick asks me from across the diner table causing me to look up from my pancakes.
"Did you just--?"
"I did." He smiles smugly while raising his muzzle into the air.
"Putting your ego away." Silver looks from Qwick to me. "How did y-"
"Awww." I coo. "Did Siwver just use a big wowerd?" I speak like a child. He looks at me with slight contempt shifting to amusement.
"Hey! I'm smart!" He sticks his tongue out at me.
"Yeah." Qwick scoffs. "It's evident."
"Hey!!"
"Alright!" I break the fight. "Just finish your breakfast! We have a crime scene to get to."
(Chapter 2) Case: Locked and Tied
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."
(Chapter 3) Case: Locked and Tied
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. (Chapter 4) Case: Locked and Tied
I walk into the hotel, mentally preparing myself for the fight with Silver. I know that our relationship is over, but it's quite clear that he still has feeling for me. I was thinking when somepony calling my name pulls my attention.
"Ms. Reigns?" The receptionist calls from behind the counter. "Please, a moment of your time?"
I nod and walk over.
"Somepony from the Vanhoover coroner's office says that they're ready for you. Somepony called..." She squints at a piece of paper behind the counter. "Dr. Ambrosia?" I shake my head, telling her I know nopony of that name.
"Thank you ma'am." I say, turning back around and heading towards Silver's room.
...
I make it to his door after a few minutes of walking. Raise my hoof hesitantly, then drop it again.
"Dammit..." I whisper to myself. I pace back and forth.
"Come on in 'Dreah. I know you're there," Silver calls through the door. I huff with annoyance. There was no way he heard me. My pacing wasn't that loud, right?
I turn the knob and push the door open slowly, walking into darkness.
"Hello? Everypony alive in here?" I joke, closing the door behind me. I am not graced with a response. I sigh, hoping that the layout for each room is the same because I can't see anything.
If so, than the bed should be right.... here.
THUD!
I accidently kick the bed frame and fall forwards, landing ungracefully onto the bed. I'm glad the lights were off, he couldn't see that. Than again, if they were on I wouldn't of fell. Oh well.
A faint silver glow shines then a lamp turns on. I turn to look at the other side of the bed, adjusting myself to lay on my back. Silver's laying on his right side, facing away from me.
"Silver... Please listen to m-" Moving up the bed I hit something hard, jabbing it into my side. Using a wing, I pull it out from under me.
It's a dictionary. And the first word I notice is the word 'Truculent'. The word Qwick used when I told them I'll pay. My expression turns solemn, remembering the jab I gave him this morning. About him using a "big word". Well, ego isn't that that big of a word, but it's not that well kn-
"What is it that's in him that's not in me?" I hear Silver ask, not moving.
"What?"
"Oh, I know..." He says, sitting up and looking over to me. the fur under his eyes still shiny from tears. Matted fur in streaks running down his face. "Intelligence. Dignity. Looks." He checks off. Then hopping off the bed and walking over to a bag across the room.
"What are you going on about?" I ask.
He continues talking, not acknowledging I said anything. "He's gentlecoltly. Mature. He actually LOOKS like a stallion."
"Silver... You do too. Just because you're muzzle curves does not mean you look like a mare." I try to comfort him.
"And to top the cake." He sweeps the room with a foreleg. "Nooooooo history of addiction!" With that, he yanks out a bottle of Hydromorphone out of his bag. A silver glow around it.
"No..." I whisper, seeing what he has.
"Oh ho ho yes!" He starts to shout. "I keep a bottle..." Then he mock whispers. "Just in case."
"Silver... What is going on?"
"WHAT'S GOING ON?! Well, until a few months ago, I thought you were DEAD! I was forced to work with that entitled Canterlot prick. Soon enough I was kidnapped!" Silver shouts, slowly making his way over to me. "You don't want to know what they did to me. But it wasn't just sexual experiments. I would be tortured while others watched and GOT OFF ON IT!" He starts to yell, a new batch of tears brewing.
"Or they would test different drugs on me. Different batches of amphetamines, Cocaine, Speed, Acid. Or prescription things. OxyContin, Oxycodone, Hydrocodone. And the one you're most familiar with," He completely walks over to me. "Hydromorphone. Or Dilaudid. Whichever you prefer." He sneers.
"Silver... I-"
"Then there was the shock of being saved by a ghost. Somepony I thought was dead. Months of rehabilitation without a visit from her. Then you show up one day AFTER I was discharged. Soon enough I do get a therapist. Prescribed me Doxepin for MDD, anxiety disorder, and anxiety induced insomnia. Took me off of it when I tried to overdose. Then I went back to the Dilaudid." He tells me, walking back to the bag. "So that's what's going on." He puts the Dilaudid back.
I can't think of anything to say. I just sit there and look like a complete jerk, staring at him.
"But why have you been excessively happy? I mean, I like you happy, but it's obviously forced." I finally say, hopping off the bed and walking over to him.
"I'm just trying my best to be normal again. I want my old partner back. My old l-life b-back!" His voice cracks as he starts to cry again. His legs give and he falls to the floor.
"Silver... Stop this. I know it's hard and I can't even imagine what is must be like for you. But I will do every thing I can to help."
"Anything? How much is that?" He angrily asks, looking up at me.
"As much as possible." I say, kneeling down and hugging his neck.
"Than do me a favour." He says. I pull back to look at him. "Have me as your partner again. When chief asks."
"I'll definitely consider it." I respond.
"What does that mean?" He asks, confused.
"Well," How the hell am I going to say this? "I think Qwick may have made himself my coltfriend."
FUCK! I'm a complete idiot.
"Great!" Silver shouts jumping up. "Salt in the fucking wound." He walks towards the bed. He doesn't turn to face me. "I think it'd be best if you left. Don't want beloved thinking we're up to anything." He sneers. I stand up and walk out without saying anything. My head hung low is enough.
Silver watches as Andreah leaves. Knowing fully well that she feels horrible about what just happened.
He mockingly chuckles to himself, thinking about her. How it used to be Silver and Andreah. Marefriend and Coltfriend. Partners at the RCIS. Then, in the blink of an eye, it turned into Silver, Andreah, and Qwick. Investigating from the RCIS. And, apparently, now it's Andreah and Qwick. Marefriend and Coltfriend. Partners at the RCIS.
Standing aside the bed, he looks down and notices a Polaroid laying face down.
"When?" He asks himself, picking it up and flipping it over with his magic. Revealing a beautiful photo of Andrea.
He falls onto his back on the bed, placing the Polaroid on the nightstand and using his magic he pulls out the bottle from his bag.
"It's times like these why I carry this." He states to himself, sticking out his foreleg.
(Chapter 5) Case: Locked and Tied
I walk into the Vanhoover Morgue. Best the VCSC could do under the circumstances. No actual Hippology lab.
My head no longer hung low but the mental abuse has not stopped. My earlier fight with Silver did nothing to motivate me to work. But dammit, I've got a (possible) murder to solve.
Taking a deep breath, I head to the receptionist.
"Excuse me? Is Dr. Ambrosia here?" I inquire, the orange receptionist looking up from her book. A plaque on her desk says 'Organized Files'.
"Who?"
"Dr. Ambrosia? They left a message at my hotel that the remains I'm investigating have arrived. So I'd assume they'd prefer to go over it with me." I tell her. Realization slowly filling in her eyes.
"AH! Yes. Crème Ambrosia!" She confirms, pulling out a clip board from a drawer. "It says here she had checked out a few hours ago. Would you like me to call her?"
I shake my head. "No thank you. I'll look over the remains without disturbing her. It's late already."
Ish. Clock says seven.
"Alright." She smiles and nods. "I'll just need you to sign in here." She hoofs me the clipboard.
"Of coarse." I say, grabbing a pen from one of those weird metal mesh pen holder things. After mouth signing in and specifying that I've been sent over from Canterlot, my eyes wander up to Ambrosia's name. She's also from Canterlot. Odd.
I say goodbye to the receptionist and trot over to the fun room in the back. The plastic doors push open with ease, reveling the chest on the stainless steel table. The body coolers lined the left wall, names written on paper inserted into slots on the front of the door. A counter bisected the wall closest on my left. The right to me had glass windowed cabinets higher up and solid wood cabinets further down. The wall adjacent to me had a giant whiteboard covering the top half of it. Stopping at the door directly across from me. Assuming it to be the lockers, I enter that door. My assumption correct, I shed my trench coat, placing it into an unlocked locker, my gun going with it. In another locker Is a pair of scrubs, clean hopefully, and a box of muzzle covers. Putting them all on, the cold material sends a shiver up and down my spine.
Sighing with the shivering subsiding, I walk back through the door and look to the chest on the table, silently cursing at myself for not looking more at it on the scene. I start to put on gloves when I remember that we now have a thing called 'Technology'. Taking off my mast and trotting out of the morgue, I make my way over to Mz. Files.
"Excuse me?" I say, looking over the cook book that she was reading.
"Yes Miss Reigns?" She replies, looking up at me.
"Could I borrow your phone for a moment?" Smile.
"Sure!" Award winning smile. She places the rotary phone In front of me. Picking the hoofset up with a wing and placing it to my ear, I turn the dial from the zero, let it fall back, then wait.
"Operator." A voice announces from the hoofset.
"Vanhoover Crime Scene Crew Headquarters, please." I say, getting silence in return. And more silence.
"Vanhoover Crime Scene Crew. How may I help you?" A mare says, obviously bored.
"May I speak to the crime scene photographer, Mr. Film please?"
"Name?"
I identify myself.
"Please hold."
I can hear rustling, like somepony switching around the hoofset, then muffled shouting. More rustling.
"Ms. Reigns?" The young voice of Film.
"Correct." I reply, nodding. Why did I nod?
"What is it you need?"
"Can you bring over a copy of the scene photos? I need something to refer to when taking the contents out of the chest."
"Right away!" He replies with enthusiasm just before slamming the receiver down. Or dropping it.
I'd just finished downing a Diet Cola when somepony walks through the front doors. He is... pudgy, if not fat. An earth pony. Not exactly tall either. His mane is an attempt at a buzz cut and his tail is short and straight down. His mane and tail are a tree green that clash with the sea blue that his coat is. His Cutie Mark is out of view by his brown coat. I can easily imagine the coat smells like cigarette smoke.
Next to him is another stallion, a unicorn, who is the polar opposite of the first. He's skinny and tall, his coat is a sickly grey and his mane a clean blue. His mane is scraggily and points forwards, his tail seems groomed and taken care of, hanging down behind him. His cutie mark is also covered up, but by a black leather jacket.
I watch them walk over to the receptionist. The fat one and Files exchange a few words, then she points at me. The two turn around to look at me. Not knowing what to do, I shyly wave.
The fat one starts to walk over to me, the skinny one nods to Files, then follows the other.
"You Reigns?" The fat one asks me once he's directly in front of me, his voice gravely. Definitely a smoker. Then the smell of cigarettes wafts to me. I try not to scrunch my muzzle.
"Yes..." I nod, contempt dripping from my voice.
"Excuse my partner." The skinny one says to me, glaring at the other one. "The name's Tango. He's-"
"I'm Trent." He says, cutting Tango off.
"Trent?" I ask, he nods.
"Yea, that's it. don't make it old." He scoffs. I watch as his partner (lovers?) lowers his head and sighs.
"We were sent here from VCSC to get you these." Tango says, pulling out a manila folder from his jacket with a white glow. I grasp the folder with a wing once it came within reach.
"You said you were partners? Lovers?" I ask, opening the folder and not caring for the bluntness of my question.
"What the hell?!" Trent. I glance down at the crime scene photos.
"Celestia no! I'm married to a nice mare." Tango says, disgust flashing across his face. Then, in almost perfect unison, the two pull out wallets and show me the badge. I recognize the sun-shaped badge immediately.
"What are two other RCIS agents doing on my case?" I ask them, both scowling while they return their badges.
"Who said we were on your case?" Trent asks.
"It's just an assumption. Why did Film have you two bring over the photos?"
"Chief Note said you need help. Besides, he's the agent, I'm not." Tango tells me, removing his badge again and showing me a second time. I read it more thoroughly. Sure enough.
Tango Field Forensic Hippologist Medical Examiner
I sigh and nod to him.
"Help would be appreciated. Gives me somepony who knows what I'm talking about to talk to."
Author's Note
This chapter is what you can call a filler. I was just introducing the two other RCIS agents.
(Chapter 6) Case: Locked and Tied
Within the hour, Tango was in his scrubs and mask, next to the chest. In my waiting, I pinned all of the photos to the whiteboard with magnets. I was reviewing the photos when he called me over.
"Hey, Miss Reigns." Tango calls, pulling my attention from the photo I was looking at. The chest open and all the remains inside.
"Just call me Andreah, please." I say, turning around to face him.
"Alright." He nods. "You ready to start emptying this?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and pointing to the chest. I nod, walking to the counter, grabbing gloves and a mask and throwing them on. Make my way over to him and peer into the chest.
"You two are the odd ones out." Trent says, walking into the morgue. My eyes roll skyward before settling onto the contents of the chest.
"Right off the bat, you can tell that the remains were put in the water after all flesh was stripped of the bones." I say to Tango, completely disregarding Trent. I reach in and extract the skull.
"How can you tell that, Doc?" Who said that? There's nopony of importance in here...
"Why's that?" Tango asks, I look up at him.
"The distinct lack of Adipocere." I answer. "Not only is it not layered on the wood, but it's not even present on the bones themselves."
"What's Adi-poker?" Was that a fly?
"add-ih-POH-sear." Tango spells out for his partner. Whom I am ignoring. "It's the fat that waxes up when exposed to water or high moisture areas. Something that should be present in remains such as this." He gestures to the chest. I nod, looking around the skull.
"There's too many bones in an infant to put that many in that precisely." I explain, flipping the fragile cranium over to peer inside. And in doing so, I notice a red tint to the inside.
"No, nono no. " I say worriedly, setting the skull gently into the table then looking back to Tango. "Help me find the Vertebrae." I tell him.
With both of us gingerly pulling out all 31 vertebrae.
"okay, find me c2 and c3." I demand, then have two bones in my face causing my eyes to cross. Shaking my head, I manage to focus onto the vertebrae. I lift them and inspect them, sadness and realization setting in.
Celestia, I hate working with infants.
"What is it Reigns?" Trent grunts, walking closer. Cigarette smoke wafting my way, despite the mask.
"Do you see the Transverse Process on the c2?" I ask Tango, holding out the vertebra to him. He nods. "Then look at the Spinous Processes on both. Tell me what you see."
He stays silent for a moment, inspecting both vertebra carefully. Then, "They seem to be slightly marred. As if continually slamming... into.... each...other..." He draws out. "These are symptoms of whiplash." Sadness evident in his voice. He replaces the vertebra.
"Not look at this." I instruct, holding up the skull. He grabs it out of my hoof and turns it over immediately, peering into it.
"Damn." He whispers to himself. I nod.
"What? What do you see Doc?" Trent asks, desperate to be back into the loop. Tango answers him.
"I see evidence of SFS."
"What's that?"
"Shaken Foal Syndrome. One of the most common causes of death in colts and fillies. Aside from SIDS. Or Sudden Infant Death Syndrome." I explain. A viscous sadness filling the room.
"What exactly is this SFS?" Trent asks, looking over his partner's shoulder to the remains.
"It's caused when a foal is shaken violently. Usually when a parent is agitated at their child's crying. The shaking can cause aneurysms and hemorrhaging in the child's brain caused by the brain slamming into the skull. It can also cause whiplash in the child's Cervical, as evident here. Symptoms can be things like vomiting, lethargy, bloodshot eyes, rashes, and others." I say. the despair in the room almost drowning.
"Well shit." Trent stomps the ground.
"C-can you finish laying the remains out?" I ask, my voice shaking. "I need to get some air."
Tango agrees to do that for me.
I rarely have to leave the lab due to the nature of my work. But working with the remains of Foals has always been the exception. Putting this case under that category.
Now with my trench coat and holster back on, I walk the streets of Vanhoover. Allowing my hooves to take me where they wish. The breeze of the barren streets ruffles my mane as moonlight reflects off various puddles left from previous rain falls. Halogen signs buzz announcing 'MARES! MARES! MARES!' and different bars. I walk by them all until the name of one bar catches my eye. 'The Bones Of The Past'. Then the sound of jazz causes my ears to perk up. Maybe all I need is a night of music to forget the horror of my job.
Too bad that can't erase the fact of me having to return tomorrow.
Sighing heavily, I decide to walk into the bar.
Cigarette and cigar smoke mixed with varies alcohol and attempts of eradicating the odor permeate the high ceilinged building. On the far wall is the actual bar, a variety of alcohols on shelves sit behind the bartender. Tables and chairs litter the area leading up to a stage. On the stage is a band and two singers. The female singer has a yellow coat and a black mane. Her Cutie Mark a lighter yellow canary singing. The other singer looks stunningly close to Silver. Aside from the lack of red hooves and the hoofcuffs on his flank. The Singer's Cutie Mark is some kind of musical symbol interlocked with another.
I watch as the band starts Fetlock Sineightra's 'You're Nopony Until Somepony Loves You'.
"Ma'am?"
I jump back to reality and look at the waitress who said that. She's orange and black, her Cutie Mark a shot glass.
"Yes?" I answer.
"Would you like a table?" She asks, waving a hoof at the majority of empty tables.
"Sure," I nod. She leads me to a table closer to the stage.
You're a nopony, until somepony loves you You're a nopony, until somepony cares
"Dinner or drink menu?"
"Both please," I respond, getting a happy nod. She then wanders off.
You may be prince, you may possess, Equestria's gold But gold won't bring you harmony, when you're growin' old
The world still is the same, you'll never change it As sure as the stars shine above
His voice is smooth and beautiful and charming in it's own way. Yet there's the hint of inexperience in his voice.
"Here's you're menus," The waitress tells me, setting them down on the table next to me. "How long do you plan on staying?"
"As long as he's singin'" I point to the singer.
"Ah, yes," She looks at him. "Micro Song. He started singing with Canary Melody. She was a regular here, then one day he came here with her. They've been singing here for almost a year now. He doesn't have a schedule. He just leaves and arrives when he chooses. " She informs me. I nod, thanking her.
You're a nopony, 'till somepony loves you so find yourself somepony...
to love
My Hayburger and hashbrowns came soon after my hard cider. Every now and then Micro Song would change places with Canary Melody. Each of them playing an instrument when not singing. Micro played the bass and Canary played the piano. It's amazing how one instrument can do different types of music.
I'd just finished my cider and was beginning to doze off when somepony sat across from me. Canary was singing in the background.
"You look familiar."
I shake my woozy head in an attempt to clear it only making my eyes cross. Blinking a bunch, I look up at the stallion across from me.
"D- *hic* Dad?"
Author's Note
I love having to resurch Equine anatomy because i know nothing about it...
Well, that's how you learn.
In the writing of this chapter, I realised that I am focusing very little on the case. That'll change in the next case. I'll finish this one the way it's going.
(Chapter 7) Case: Locked and Tied
When I joined the RCIS, it wasn't because I had a horrible foalhood experience. I wasn't molested, abused, my parents aren't divorced or abusive. Quite the opposite actually. I just joined up because I wanted to do this kind of thing.
My dad, whoo colt, is an interesting character. His coat is the same brown as mine and his mane a very light red. Genetics on his side decided to be a bitch. Oh, but not his race. I got my mom's side on that.
Thinking back on it, there is one reason I wanted to go into a law enforcement type profession. When my father was a colt, almost a stallion as he likes to say, his father took him down to their basement and branded over his Cutie Mark. He told me it used to be a wrench and hammer until his father branded a magnifying glass over it.
In my father's words: "He said 'I won't have no mechanic in the family of lawyers and investigators!'" He scoffs at that,, then says, "I sure showed him when I went and worked for the railroad."
I wanted to stop ponies from doing things like what that gelding did to my dad.
"D-Dad?" I repeat, getting a second nod from the stallion across the table. "What are you doing here?" I ask.
"You know you get your love of Jazz and Blues from me, right?" He asks, smirking and motioning up to the stage. Canary is singing some blues melody.
"Your just perusing around different bars and listening to the music?" I question, placing my forehead onto the table.
"What I'm doing doesn't matter. It's what you're doing. Shouldn't you be at work and not getting drunk?" Furrowing his brow, he gently tugs my mane with his magic. I lift my head to look at him.
"My case right now is really depressing and I hate it and I wanted to get away." I ramble, knowing that I'm being weak in just running off and getting drunk instead of facing the problem.
"The music is okay, It's a good outlet. But not the alcohol. It's almost as bad as doing drugs. It's not a crutch, a crutch helps. Alcohol causes you to need one." He tells me, getting up and walking over next to me.
The drugs statement hits home. And the tears threaten.
"What's going on Andreah?" He asks, placing a hoof onto my back.
"You know I can't discuss on going cases."
"I wasn't talking about the case. I was talking about your personal life. You're not one to run from your work." At this point the waitress wanders over. Dad tells her to take the rest of the cider and replace it with lemonade.
"Hey!"
"You don't need it. Now tell me what's going on. Let's start with that partner of yours. You always put him into good light."
I clench my jaw, thinking where to start.
"Do you remember when I fell out of contact two and a half years ago?"
The sip of lemonade cools my sore throat. Sore from crying. Sore from coughing. But it feels good to finally speak my mind.
"Did you say that you'd be his marefriend?" My dad asks, now that I've brought him up to speed. I shake my head. "Well than there you go. Your not his marefriend."
Sighing, I look over to him. His gentle blue eyes assure me that I'm always cared for. No matter what.
"You should go home and rest. And work tomorrow. You've got a job after all. And remember, I'm always here for you. So is your mother."
"Y'know, I'm probably not gonna remember this in the morning," I remind him. He shakes his head no.
"Not with that big brain up there," waving a hoof at my head. "You'll be able to recall every word," His statement makes me smile. "Now get outta here before you get even more drunk."
"I'm not that drunk!"
"You've got your mom's tolerance. Drunk after one. World's best sex after two."
That's when I threw the rest of my lemonade at him and left.
Pulling open the doors to the hotel, groaning because my head hits the door, I enter the building.
"AH! Miss Reigns!" The receptionist calls. I look then make my way over to her.
"Yes?"
"A 'Tango' left a message for you." She says, grabbing a piece of paper from her desk and hoofing it to me. I grab it with a wing and struggle to read it.
Andreah,
Please make your way to the Vanhoover morgue A.S.A.P. There's something you need to see.
Tango
Thanking the receptionist, I stumble my way to my room. Once in and after locking the door I flop down into the bed.
It took a while but I did eventually fall asleep.
"Do you love me Andreah?" Silver asks, a gun to his temple.
"No, she doesn't. Nopony would love a coward like you." Qwick says coldly, a foreleg slung over my neck. I open my mouth to protest but it's cut off the Silver.
"No need," He says. "I know where I am."
I watch in slow motion as the trigger on his revolver goes back. The hammer going forward and a deafening crack rings out.
Replaced by the screaming of a child. I turn around to watch a red mare shaking a little blue foal. Shut up! She screams. I sure as hell didn't want you!
Dropping the baby into it's crib with a THUD! The crying ceased.
The door to my room burst open and Silver ran in, his gun in his magic. Followed by Qwick with his gun in his mouth. Without thinking, I reach to my nightstand, draw my firearm, and point it at them. They look around the room then to me.
"Woah! Careful there! That's a loaded gun." Qwick states, holstering his. I replace mine and look at the two.
"What the hell is going on here? Make it quick because I've got a killer headache." I demand, rubbing my temples. I look over to my clock. 3:15.
"You were crying out. And with the past history of your foalnappings, Silver and I assumed the worst," Qwick tells me. "Silver. You can holster your gun."
Silver whips his head around and looks at him.
"I can put away my gun when I feel like it." He growls. Then walks over to me.
"You good 'Dreah?" Silver asks, running a shaking hoof through my mane.
"Yea." I exhale, nodding.
"You are going to leave Andreah and me." Silver says over his shoulder to Qwick.
"Why should I?" Qwick protests.
"Because I said so. She's my mare." He shouts, spinning to face Qwick.
"I beg to diff-"
"I said LEAVE!" Silver yells, placing the barrel of his gun in front of Qwick's left eye.
"Hey! Silver! PUT THAT DAMNED THING AWAY!"
"Woah, man. Careful there." Qwick cautions, his voice steady but the tenseness in his neck betraying his fear. "Don't want that thing going off a-"
Silver then positions the gun down and shoots a round into the floor. My ears start ringing and my head starts to feel like it's splitting. I'm unable to make out what was said after.
Then, in one swift motion, Qwick knocked the gun out of his face. Then spun around and bucked silver squarely in the jaw. Knocking it disturbingly out of place as Silver hit the floor. Out cold.
My head starts to hurt so much I become dizzy. My vision blotted out by black splotches until unconsciousness grips me.
Author's Note
'Whoo colt' is a play on words of 'Whoo boy'
Don't ask me what I'm doing because I don't know where i'm going with this. But i do know one thing...
I'M GOING!
(Chapter 8) Case: Locked and Tied
My splitting headache is what stirred me from my sleep. Not the ambulance siren when it came and went, not Qwick's persistence in his attempts to wake me. But the headache from my previous night's drinking. I manage to open my eyes and sit up. Looking around, I notice I'm still in the hotel. And further observation of my surroundings reveal a grey stallion asleep next to me. I can't help but smile.
Until I look to the analog clock on the nightstand and my eyes widen at the time. 10:37.
"Fuck!" I shout, hopping out of bed quickly. Too quickly. A dizzy spell hits me and I fall to the floor. Followed by laughing.
"Careful there! Don't want to faint again," Qwick snickers. He turns on the lamp on his nightstand while I clamber to my hooves. I look to him then to the chair behind him.
"Got any Asprin?" I ask, quickly trotting over to my stuff on the chair. I hear him stifle a chuckle.
"I put it into one of your coat pockets," He tells me. I thank him as I throw on my holster then coat, my head throbbing. "You leaving?"
"Yeah, I was supposed to be back at the lab at seven. It's almost eleven," I explain, trotting to the door.
"Alright! I'm gonna head over to Silver's room and see if I can find any reason why he was so volatile."
"Where did he go?" I ask Qwick, turning back around.
"I called the cops not too long ago. Ambulance and two officers showed up and sent him to the hospital. I asked them to hoof cuff him to the bed but not do anything until I get some time to look into it. It took some time to convince them, but once I did, they were pretty unhappy."
An hour and two Aspirin later, I'm standing in examination scrubs in the morgue. Tango stands next to me, both of us quiet in respect of the gruesome sight in front of us.
Laying on the aluminum necropsy table in front of me is the remains of the little filly that was killed, presumably from SFS. But now something else has appeared. Evidence that the filly was tied up when placed into the chest.
"She had to of been in there a long time." Tango says, breaking the silence. "The lack of the Adipocere and insects supports that claim. And the fact that the rope is almost rotten gone."
Silence.
"It's a Zebra."
"What?" I ask, looking over to him.
"These are the remains of a Zebra," He restates, motioning over the remains.
"I haven't worked with many Zebra skeletons, so how can you tell?" I request, getting closer to the bones.
"Well, Zebra skeletons are very similar to that of a Pony, except this," He lifts up the skull, tilting it side to side. "What do you see?"
I watch as he moves it around. The Infraorbital Forman looks right, mandible is the right size. Then something catches my eye.
"The Zygomatic arch is bigger!" I shout, a little to loud.
The Zygomatic arch is the bone just behind, and almost above, the eye. it's what helps support the cheek muscle.
"Precisely." Tango nods, replacing the skull.
"So, to recap, this is a zebra infant, about two to three years old going by size and bone development. She was presumably killed from symptoms of Shaken Foal Syndrome, tied up and left to rot for, oh, what do you think?"
"Well, I'd say about a year at least. Because lack of Adipocere means that they were left in a dry area, not underwater where they were found. But impossible to tell any further due to the water damage to the bones." Tango says.
"Y'know," A voice chimes, walking into the morgue. "Some old Zebra culture required the body to be bound for burial because they thought that it would discourage the demons from possessing the corpse."
I look up to see who said that. Tango was quicker.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Qwick. And you are?" Qwick demands, squinting threateningly at Tango.
"Name's Tango. I'm a Forensic Hippologist working out of RCIS's Canterlot division."
"Ok, good. I'm an RCIS agent. Working under Chief Note." Qwick explains.
"Stallions!" I shout, gathering both of their attention. "Please, lets get to work. Qwick, why are you here?"
"I'm here to ask you to help with Silver's room."
"Later! Explain how you know that about Zebra culture."
"Took Zebra culture at the academy." He tells me.
"Ok! Well, then let me tell you what we know."
Qwick nods as I finish explaining everything Tango and I found out.
"I have no answer on why they would have shaken the child. But, in some ancient Zebra cultures, they wouldn't bury their dead. They would make platforms with long legs, 20-25 hooves tall, and place their dead up high in a box or chest.
"Is that still practiced today?" I ask him, getting a shake of the head no.
"The Zebra tribes that practiced that died out at least a couple hundred years ago."
"Wait... Tango?" I ask, turning to him. He raises an eyebrow quizzically. "Since you're a unicorn, can you cast an age approximation spell of these?"
"Yeah. It will take some time but I can do it."
"How long?"
"Couple hours at least. That kind of magic is complicated." Tango explains. I thank him then turn back to Qwick while Tango gets to work.
"You said you needed help with something?" I ask.
"Yep! We found a few things in Silver's apartment we need you to see."
"We?"
"Me and Chief Note."
Qwick leads as we walk into the apartment next to mine. Standing aside the bed and facing the door is a pure black stallion whom I know as Chief Note. He's wearing a two piece suit with a bag slung over his flank.
"Ah! Andreah perfect." He smiles, waving me over with a gloved hoof. "I need you to explain a few things to me."
"Fire away." I say nervously, unsure of what he needs.
"Might as well start small, do you know why Silver had this in his coat?" Chief asks me, holding up a polaroid of a chestnut brown mare looking at something out of frame. It's the picture of me that Film took.
"I used to be his marefriend. Why would that be odd for him to have a photo of me?"
"Just answer the question."
"I don't know how he got it. Last I checked I had that. The Forensic Photographer who was working the chest scene took that without my permission. I sc-"
"I don't care how it came to be, I just wanted to know how he got it." Chief cuts me off, placing the photo onto the bed then walking over to the bag at the hoof of the bed. Pulling out an orange bottle with a white lid and tossing it to me. I catch it with a wing. "Read it."
I turn it over to read the label but the big black letters catch my eye.
Take one capsule one hour before sleeping
Secobarbital
"Secobarbital," I whisper to myself.
"What?" Qwick.
"Secobarbital," I say louder. "It's a barbiturate. This one in particular used to treat Insomnia. Side effects can be things like irritability or excitability."
"Traits he's been exhibiting since the start of this case..." Qwick sighs, I nod.
"That's not all." Chief chimes in, raising a clear bottle from the bag. He shakes it, causing the liquid inside slosh around. "You know what this is?"
I sigh deeply then nod solemnly. "It's morphine."
"Shit." Quick voices.
"Is there evidence of it being used?" I ask the Chief. He hums a yes.
"Fresh needle in the box in the bathroom."
I look down to the Secobarbital in my wing and look at the prescription date.
"What's today?" I ask.
"The Fifth."
This was refilled two weeks ago.
"Can you grab me a containment bag?" I ask Chief and he grabs one out of his bag and follows me over to the vanity mirror's counter in the back of the room. He placed it onto the counter and I dump the pills onto it. I count them.
"These were prescribed two weeks ago and he's supposed to take one very night. He's given thirty. How many do you see right here?"
I let them count.
"Twenty," They say in unison. Then Qwick says, "Shit."
"Yes. Shit. He should have sixteen left. Not Twenty. And according to the bottle he's already gotten his two other refills. Meaning he just abruptly ended taking them." Then an epiphany.
"He's going into withdrawal." I say.
"What do you mean?" Qwick asks, turning to face me.
"I mean he's going into withdrawal. The irritability we've been seeing isn't from taking this. It's from not ! Then last night, after you two burst into my room and he ran his hoof through my mane. He was trembling. But he's been too high on Dilaudid to recognize the symptoms! Shit, we need to notify the doctors!" I shout, spinning around.
"For what? They'll recognize the signs." Chief protests.
"Not in time! With his body in a weak state from the withdrawals, they'll only see that. They wont know that the dilaudid is in his system until it's too late. Secobarbital is a respiratory suppressant. So is Dilaudid. With both stacked, he won't get enough oxygen and he'll die!" I start to run but Chief gets ahead of me and stops my sprint.
"They've got a police phone on the street corner. i'll get the cops closest to the hospital to notify them," Chief says before running out.
My adrenaline dies down watching Note run out the door. I fall to my flanks dizzily and Qwick catches me.
"Thanks," I say to him. His response is a small nibble on my ear.
Author's Note
OK! I just made up the Zygomatic arch difference because i needed plot! In reality, the zygomatic arch is the same on both a horse and zebra.
Remember, 1 hoof = 1/2 foot
OKAY! So i had to do a LOT of research on barbituates and hydromorphone. It's not my field of expertise so if i got something wrong, please say so!
With both Respiratory Depressants, Silver would either Hypoventilate (Hypo lack of) and Hypoxia would occur and he would die within minutes. Or his lungs would seize and he would die in minutes because of Hypoxia.
(Chapter 9) Case:Locked and Tied
RIIING RIIING
The metallic sound of the rotary phone scares me and makes me jump in Qwick's embrace.
"Calm down, it's just the phone," He reassures me, running a hoof over the top of my head. Flustered, I wave his hoof away and stand up. One to the phone I pick it up.
"Hello?" I speak into the receiver.
"Ms. Reigns? It's Tango. I got done with the magic dating. You're gonna wanna be here for the results,"
"How'd you get this number?" I ask, confused.
"Called the front desk. They gave me this number." Tango tells me before hastily hanging up the phone. The clack of the hoofpiece on his side hurts my ear and reminds me of my hangover. Groaning, I replace my hoofset and turn to Qwick.
"That was Tango. He said the magic dating was a success and I'm going to want to be there to hear the results," I tell him before falling onto the bed. "I'll go later. My headache is too much."
"Nuh-uh! You've already spent too much time away from this case. You're going to finish this," He reprimands, standing up. I wave a hoof at him without lifting my head to look. Only to feel his muzzle push under my stomach and lift me up. Making me slide onto his back. I feel his holster jab into me from under his jacket.
"Hey!"
"This is how this works. I'm going to carry you to the Taxi carriage. Then you walk yourself,"
"Fiiiiiine!" I whine.
"Tango!" I shout, walking into the morgue. Moments later he walks in behind me.
"Yes?"
"Why-?"
"No phone in here. Had to tell Trent."
"Ah," I nod. "So, the results?"
"You're not gonna believe it!" He says excitedly, prancing over to the table. I follow him, sans prancing.
"So, what is it?" I press.
"These remains," He waves a hoof over the bones. "Are over two hundred years old! About two-fifty to two-seventy I'd say!" His excitement contagious and I began to smile.
"So we're not dealing with a current murder," I stress the word current. There's nothing I can do if this child was killed two hundred years ago.
"And hear this. I tested the chest as well, just to avoid any misreading, and i'm sure the chest was made just before she died! Now Trent is talking to the divers again, and he's going to see if they found anything else down there. A sunken ship maybe,"
"You think these were transported from some other land via ship?" I ask, he nods. "That's pretty damn cool, aside from the dead child part."
We were both silent fore some time, looking at the remains.
"So what now? There's no family to release these to. And it's not like we can investigate these," I say, turning to look at him.
"Yea. I dunno now. I'd say a museum after we fully examine and write all the reports. That'd be something up to Note though." He tells me.
"Alright. I guess you can go talk to Note. Call 'em up, I'll start doin' these."
We both nod and start out respective jobs.
Qwick's point of view
"Qwick?" A voice breaks through my nap, making me open my eyes. The hospital guest chair uncomfortable under me.
I look up to the hospital bed ahead of me. The bed Silver lay upon has it's blankets neatly covering him. His forelegs over the comforter and a bandage loosely wrapped around his head.
"Why are you here?" He asks me, I can hear a hint of confusion, relief, and sadness in his voice.
"I'm here to make sure you're okay," I tell him, though that being only part of the truth. I watch as a small smile spread across his muzzle before his eyes squinted in pain.
"I'm lucky you're a weak bucker. Doc says I'll be outta here soon. They didn't even have to wrap this dammed bandage too tight," Another small smile showed itself on his muzzle.
"I didn't intend to break your jaw. I simply wanted that gun out of my face," His smile falters as my words reach his ears. He looks away sadly.
"Yea, man. I'm really sorry about that. It's these dammed drugs my therapist has me on. They make me kinda crazy."
"Unless your doctor prescribed you medical morphine I doubt it's those," I say, my tone flat. He hastily looks over to me, his eyes wide with shock.
"How the hell?!" His ears lay flat against his head.
"That's the other reason I'm here, Silver. After your... Episode... I took the liberty of searching your motel room. Chief Note's the one who found the morphine and the Barbituates you were proscribed. But you've been failing to take them. Haven't you?" I press, hopping off of the chair and walking closer to him.
"So what?! What's it matter? And who gave you the right to search my shit!?" He starts to yell, pointing a hoof at me.
"Silver," I say calmly. "You've got to understand. I had to figure out why my partner, and my friend, suddenly was yelling at me and pointing a live gun at my face." I explain. He lowers the hoof.
"Yeah. You're right," He nods as I walk closer.
"I thought you might like to keep this..." I verbalize, pulling out the polaroid of Andreah out of my jacket and placing it onto the bedside stand.
"Thanks, Qwick. " He voices. Then puts his forelegs out, asking for a hug. Deciding that refusing it would be wrong, I step to the bed and start to place my right foreleg around him.
Without warning, he wraps his hooves around my neck and pulls me towards him, pressing his lips onto mine. I squirm, unable to release myself from his grip. His lips are uncomfortably warm an his scent unorthodox in it's comfort.
Finally, I'm released and I jump back as far as I can.
"You're insane," I say, a low growl in my voice. I try to act unaffected despite the obvious burning in my ears.
"I'm not insane. Just looking for a different road," He says, smirking wildly. Damn this stallion.
"I'll tell Andreah you're still unconscious," I stab, walking out of the room.
"HEY! COME BACK HERE!"
"So, what are you thinking?" I ask the doctor, standing just outside of Silver's closed room door.
"He's definitely breaking apart. I'm not a psychologist,, and I recommend one to determine his mental state, but the use of delauded mixed with the withdrawal from his prescribed meds definitely is lessening his physical health," The doctor tells me. "And, with what you've told me. I'm sure his mental health Is breaking down. And for both physical and mental health. I'm going to commit him to Canterlot Sanatorium for at least a month. After that I'll send in a psychologist to evaluate him."
"Okay, thank you," I say, shaking his hoof before he walks away. I turn to look into the room window.
"Dammit Silver. Andreah still loved you."
Author's Note
That is the end of "Treasured Bones"! Thanks for reading!