Private Eyes

I was sitting at my desk, finishing up a file from my latest case. A pen in my right hand, a glass of scotch in my left. The case was pretty open-and-shut, and I had it figured out within an hour. The case was simple and quick. The paperwork was not.

My desk was cluttered with papers and folders, most of them I could hardly focus on. I just craved a challenge, something to put my mind to work. Somehow, I didn’t think I’d be getting anything to that effect, which was why I was melting my brain with Equestria’s favorite poison. That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.

The room around me was splashed with shadow, the only light emanating from a small lamp on my desk. My window behind me let in a cool night breeze, filling my office with the mingled scent of crisp, fresh air and the stench of the littered Canterlot City streets. Perhaps the word “stench” was a bit harsh. Canterlot City was a big city, it had a lot of cars, and it had a certain smell that wasn’t altogether offensive, but it was far from pleasant. Still, we had it better off than Manehattan.

I polished off my scotch and grabbed my bottle from beneath my desk. I had about a quarter of a bottle left, which I probably would finish off by the end of the night. I couldn’t care less, I just needed something to occupy my time. Mindless paperwork, mindless drinking, and nothing at all to stimulate my brain.

“God, I need a case,” I muttered to myself. I filled my glass again and was about to take a sip when I heard a knock at my door. I took a gulp of booze and ignored it. Whatever jackass was at my door could probably read, and they’d probably get bored of being sandbagged and go bother someone who gave a damn. Still, they knocked again, and again, and one last time, just to make sure I heard.

“It’s unlocked,” I said finally. She spent no time opening the door and stepping into my office, closing the door behind her. She was one of our “boys in blue”, a badge on her blue work shirt and blue work pants with her little blue hat and her shiny black gun on her hip. She was an intrusive, agonizingly bright pink, her mane and tail even brighter than her skin. She looked like she just ran through a tornado, her hair was so disheveled.

“What do you want?” I asked, lowering my glass slightly.

“You’re Dr. Sparkle, right?” she asked. I coughed in disgust from the sudden title drop.

“Doctor? Only technically,” I said. “Private eye now. Who are you and what do you want?” She stepped closer, stopping a few feet away from my desk.

“I’m Officer Pinkamena Pie,” she said. “I'm a rookie with the Canterlot City Police. I’ve come to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”

“No, I really, really don’t,” I said. “But lay it on me. You have two minutes. Make them count.”

“You used to be in the FBI, right?” she asked. I nodded. “That's my goal, too. I’m a big fan of yours, Ms. Sparkle. I just finished your third book. How did you learn about microexpressions?”

“I have a cynical outlook on life and trust issues,” I said shortly. “And I’m gonna ask you to cut the bullshit. What did you come here for?” She barely flinched, and just kept on going with her questions.

“We at the force would really appreciate if you came and settled something for us,” said Pie. “You see, we have a… a problem. We’re kinda stumped, actually.”

“What makes you think that I can help?” I asked, leaning forward on my desk. “What can I do that you can’t have one of your guys do?”

“We just want to get an outside perspective,” said the Rookie. “Could I bother you to take a look at the crime scene, maybe give us a clue as to what we’re looking at here?” I rubbed my temples tiredly, taking another gulp of scotch.

“What’s the case?” I asked. A small grin broke out on her face.

“Sorry, Detective,” she said, her voice nearing a laugh. “Can’t tell you unless you’re officially an advisor of the case. You want details, you need to help us out here.”

I drained my glass and stared at the paperwork I was filing. My pen hadn’t dropped ink onto the page since before Pie walked in. I pushed myself up to my hooves and stretched out my legs. I grabbed my purple windbreaker and pulled it on begrudgingly.

“I’ll take a look at the body and the crime scene,” I said. “I’ll give you my first thoughts and nothing more. I am not on your payroll, and I will leave whenever I see fit. I left the CCPD for a reason.” Pie smiled smugly at me, then gestured towards the door.

It was at that time, as Pie led me out of my office and down the stairs, did I think about why. Why I had agreed to do this. Was I drunk? Did I think they really needed my help? No, I think the answer is much more simple than that. I think it’s as simple as boredom.

Pie and I made it outside and onto the cold dark streets. Her squad car was parked right outside my building. She went around to the driver side and slid in, me following on the passenger side. We remained quiet for most of the time spent starting up and pulling off. This silence persisted until she hit the first red light.

“I really appreciate you doing this, Ms. Sparkle,” said Pie with a small grin. “Or should I call you Doc? Nah, you don’t like that, do you?”

“If you have to call me anything, Detective is fine,” I said.
"So, what's your beef with being called 'doctor'?" asked Pie. "If I was a doctor, I'd make everyone call me Doctor Pinkie!"
"Pinkie?" I asked blandly.
"That's what my friends call me," she said. "So, pretty much everyone calls me that, then."
"I'll stick with Pie," I muttered. That silence from earlier returned with a vengeance, which gave me something to be grateful for.
The quiet remained until she pulled up to a rundown, dilapidated apartment complex in the shady Lower West Side of Canterlot City. I knew the place fairly well, seeing as I spent most of my teenage years in this sort of neighborhood. That was before Celestia set me straight. I had at least that to thank her for.
“You dragged me all the way over here to investigate a gang crime?” I asked. Pie shook her head.
“We don’t think so,” she said. “This is a bit too violent for the average street hustler. What we’re looking at is something more like they’d get in Appleloosa, dealing with the Cartel.”
The first thing to come to mind was the image of Pie laid out on her back with her head rolling a few feet to the right. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d be amused to hear that vision, and so I kept it to myself. I wanted an interesting case, didn’t I? Looks like I’d get one.
I shoved my hands in my jacket and pushed the door open, exposing my face to the nipping chill of the night. I gave a quick little survey, just to see what I could see. Only thing of note was a unicorn mare slumped against a dumpster across the street. Whether she was passed out from drugs or booze remained to be seen. By someone else, of course. Not my problem.
Pie got out of the car, went around the side, and popped open the trunk. She withdrew a tag-like badge labelled (CASE ADVISOR), which I stuck to my chest, and a gun that I glanced at before refusing.
“You sure?” she asked, lowering the revolver.
“I feel like taking the gun would be signing a contract of sorts,” I said. “I’d like to hold onto whatever’s left of my soul, thanks. Besides, I won't need it to look at a crime scene, now will I?” Pie just sorta shrugged, lowered the brim of her hat down, and led me forward. We slipped through the front door of the complex and up four flights of stairs before we reached our door, 1211. There was one other officer standing guard, and he barely looked up at us. Pie grabbed the knob and pushed open the door, gesturing for me to go in first. I did, and then I realized that I might’ve been a little too vague in my request for a case.
In the middle of the floor, laid back in a pool of blood, was a shockingly bright white Earth pony. His naked body was covered in slashes and cut marks of a uniform depth and in various states of freshness. There was a large stab wound, probably from the killing blow, positioned over his heart. His ears had been removed, leaving behind bloody stubs on top of his head. His eyes were mutilated, so much so that they resembled curdled milk more than eyeballs. Whoever killed him had also sewn his lips together and severed his… His stallion bits, leaving behind a bloody mass on his crotch.
“This isn’t our unsub’s first kill,” I said.
“How do you figure?” asked Pie, stepping in behind me. I reached back for gloves, which she placed in my palm.
“The cuts,” I said, pulling on the blue latex. “They’re too neat. See how they're all the same depth?" I pressed my finger just beneath a wound on his arm. "You only cut like this if you're calm and comfortable, and if you know what you're doing."
"We were thinking that this might be a crime of passion," said Pie. "Given the extremeness of the violence, we thought it could've started over an argument that went south."
"I thought I just said that it was premeditated," I said impatiently. I ran my finger down the wound. "These cuts weren't meant to kill. Look where they are. Just barely away from any major arteries. These cuts were for fun."
"And the eyes?" asked Pie.
"Probably also for fun," I said. Even as I said it, I began to second guess myself. It was part of my process to devise the simplest hypothesis and then internally debate how true it was.
"Do we have a name for our victim?" I asked.
"Currently, he's a John Doe," said Pie. "The only ID on him was his license, and we found it covered in some sort of paint or ink." I nodded and kept looking up and down the body. The unsub had most likely mutilated the eyes first, then worked from the legs up. Unless, of course, the unsub wanted the victim to see it happen,which was a possibility
"I've gotta ask," said Pie. "What's the deal with his... Er... His willy?"
"No clue," I admitted. "I can't reach any conclusion with this little information on the victim. He could've been a rapist, and our unsub killed him for 'justice'. It also could've been to humiliate our John Doe here." I looked over the body one more time before rising to my hooves.
"Well, Officer, I did my job," I said. "You're looking for a sadist with multiple kills under his belt. When you ID our victim, check his record for sexual assault charges, see where that leads."
"Is that all, Detective?" asked Pie. I nodded. "Thanks. You helped us out a lot here. With your help, well catch that evil son of a bitch before you know it."
Evil. That word caught my attention for some reason. I'm glad it did, cause otherwise, a massive clue would've flown right over my head.
"Evil..." I muttered. I glanced at the victim's body one more time, and it all fell together.
"Detective?" said Pie. "Are you-"
"Evil, Pie, evil," I said. She didn't understand, and that was starting to annoy me. "Don't you get it? No ears, no eyes, closed mouth, no penis? It's a symbol."
"A symbol of what?" asked Pie stupidly. Why did everyone else have to be so... So slow? Why couldn't they just keep up?
"Evil, and rescue!" I exclaimed. "Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, do no evil. The unsub sees the victim as evil, and he's trying to save him!"
"How do you know the killer is a male?" asked Pie, apparently ignoring everything in my speech that was important and not totally obvious.
"Statistics. More males act upon Messiah fantasies than females," I said, although it should've been obvious. "Plus, look at this guy. He's pretty ripped. He's not sitting there and letting some chick rip off his dick."
"Can you help us narrow it down anymore?" asked Pie, crossing her arms. Before she even fully formed the question, my mind went racing.
"Male, between ages 25 and 35," I said. "At least somewhat muscular. You're looking for a guy who lifts after work, not Mr. Universe. Possibly a cop or former cop. He's probably arrogant and boastful. Say one good thing about him and he won't be able to shut his..." My eyes fell on the victim's sewn lips. "Mouth... Pie, I need scissors. Now. Scissors and tweezers." I didn't really expect her to have any on her, and was pleasantly surprised when she produced what I had requested. Pie was annoying, and a bit slow, but I had to say she was at least prepared.
I took the scissors in my right hand and carefully leaned forward. I slipped the blade into a loop in the wire by the corner of the Doe's mouth and severed it. I pinched with the tweezers and pulled it out in one quick tug.
"Evidence bag," I ordered. Pie pulled a little baggie from her pocket and held it open for me. I dropped the wire in and waved her away.
"You think we could use this?" asked Pie. Such a stupid question deserved no answer, which is what I gave it. I was far more concerned with Doe's mouth than the wire. Specifically, I was interested in what may or may not be in it.
I dropped the scissors to the floor and passed the tweezers into my right hand. I gently pried open Doe's lips, and peered into its depths.
"Interesting," I said. "Unsub left the tongue in tact. He had no trouble busting the eyes, but he left the tongue."
"Why would he do that?" asked Pie.
"He wanted to hear his victim clearly," I explained. "To beg, to threaten, maybe even to thank him. Which means the lips came after death." I dug into my jacket for my pocket flashlight and beamed its light down Doe's throat. There seemed to be something there.
"He has some sort of obstruction in his throat," I noted, digging my tweezers into his mouth and pinching the foreign object. I got a good grip and yanked it from our victim.
"It's a piece of paper," I said. "It's rolled up and wrapped in some sort of plastic." I peeled it open and spread it out onto the floor and read the typed text out loud.
"He saw it coming, in the way the damned always do," I read. "Perhaps, when you see the good I'm doing, you'll understand what I said as truth."
"What the hell does that mean?" asked Pie.
"It means that I'm officially dropping this case," I said. "Before I get too involved."
"Detective, you can't do that," said Pie, unaware as to how horribly wrong she was. "We need you now."
"That's too bad. I'm not working for CCPD again," I vowed. "Until you get a new captain, you'll be lucky if I spit in your direction." I got up and went for the door when Pie drew her gun and aimed it at me.
"Put that down before you hurt yourself, Rookie," I said calmly.
"Doctor Twilight Sparkle, you're under arrest for tampering with a crime scene and interfering with a police investigation," she said.
"Better cuff me, then," I said, offering my wrists sarcastically. I was surprised, but not altogether afraid, when she slapped a set of metal handcuffs on my wrists.
I let her lead me out of the apartment building, a small smirk on my face all the while. When we got to the street and her car when I decided I'd had enough.
"You forgot to give me my Miranda Rights," I said. "Which means I don't know that I can stay quiet or that I can be supplied with a lawyer if I can't afford it. Therefore, this case would be thrown the fuck out. That's a rookie mistake, Pie."
"Detective, please don't make me do this," she begged. "You can solve this case."
"And what leads you to believe that?" I asked.
"Cause you already figured out what that note means," said Pie. "Didn't you? Look, I don't know your beef with the captain, but she won't be involved in the case. If you accept it, you'll be working as a special agent, not an officer. Please, Detective. This is my first real case, and I’m way out of my depth."
I sighed and offered my cuffed arms to be unlocked. I rubbed my wrists and ran a hand through my hair.
"I must be crazy," I said. "Fine. I'll find your unsub, but understand this: I get full access to anything I need to do my job. I get files and reports as I need them and without question. And you work for me, not the other way around."
"Understood," said Pie. "Where do you need to go?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I asked. "You read the note, didn't you? We're going to the nearest playground."