La Femme Fatale

by bkc56

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Mystery
Length: 21926

I could tell a lot about a client just by watching them walk into the office. This one was trouble.

Stunningly beautiful, high class, and extremely wealthy, Jasmine Chapeau was nothing like my typical clients. Only then I went and botched the job, lost the client, and almost died. I’ve never failed a client before. And by Celestia, I’m not starting now.

Chapter one was written for Bicyclette's A Thousand Words contest in 2022. The feedback was clear: a cliffhanger ending just wouldn’t do. So now we have the rest of the story.

Thanks to OConnerGT-R for pre-reading, Airy Words for proofreading, and PopMediaVagabond for editing.

Cover art by: •rae•#0800 (discord), @raeano06 (Instagram).

Published 2022-04-28 17:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2023-07-02 23:10:42 UTC

The Client

The city of Canterlot could be a cruel mistress. You pour all your love and attention into her, and she ignores you like a dead houseplant in the kitchen window. That's how I felt now: disregarded and desiccated. That doesn’t mean I desire you any less. Plus, business was slow. Who am I kidding? I hadn't landed a case in two weeks. A private detective without a case is about as useless as, well… a dead houseplant.

As I sat at my desk considering my place in the universe, there was a knock at the door, and she walked in. I first noticed the two pairs of shapely gams with perfectly manicured hooves. She had all the right curves in all the right places. A translucent sundress teased at her svelte figure. The forward tilt of her wide-brimmed hat shaded her eyes in mystery. She moved as if working a fashion show runway with every part of her body enticing some unseen audience. I’d have bought whatever she was selling.

This was a mare of class and distinction. So what was she doing here?

I stood up. "Good afternoon. I'm Dark Steel. Would you care to sit?" I gestured at a chair. She ran a hoof across the back and checked it for dust. After evaluating the risk to her dress, she sat down. I inhaled a hint of honeysuckle.

She lifted her head to reveal piercing blue eyes. “Good day Mr Steel. My name is Jasmine Chapeau.”My brow furrowed slightly. "I see you recognize the name."

With a single nod, I admitted, "I do."

The twinkle in her eye was both enticing and terrifying. "Please, tell me more."

I took a quick breath to refocus. "Last month, I received an anonymous retainer. The note that accompanied the rather substantial bag of bits said simply: Investigate Jasmine Chapeau. I’ll be in touch.” I opened a desk drawer and extracted a half-empty bag. There was the unmistakable metallic rattle as it landed on the desk. "Your change."

She glanced at the bag as if gauging the number of bits remaining. "Why do you assume it was I who hired you?"

I leaned back. "Do you deny it?"

After a pause, she asked, "And what did your investigation reveal?"

"You are a mare of substantial influence." That is, insanely wealthy. "You own a chain of stores located in Manehattan, Canterlot, and other large cities." Which is why you are insanely wealthy. "Those stores sell, of all things, hats." I gestured at the hat tree by the door. "My fedora was purchased from your store here in Canterlot some years ago."

She smirked. "I noticed that when I entered. A classic design that remains popular year in and year out, despite the season or the fickle whims of fashion." Her gaze returned to me. "Please continue..."

"You’ve had a long line of potential suitors over the years," Leeches looking for a free ride, "Which you have consistently turned away.” From the trail of names left in your wake, you always made the correct choice.

"Social flotsam, all of them." A nicer description than what I was thinking.

“This pattern has led to some…” I grinned, “Colorful rumors.”

A shadow of emotion crossed her face. Pain? Regret? “Rumors can hide a less desirable truth.” Probably best to move on.

"Multiple sources were consistent in describing you as a reputable business mare with an aggressive, yet honest approach. The employees I spoke with were satisfied with their jobs, salary, and working environment."

Her face lit up with a smile and I immediately understood why there had been so many stallions, and a few mares in that line. "I find that satisfied employees are both loyal and hard working. A company is only as strong as the foundation of its ponies."

“And not the owner?”

“The owner is the architect. But without that foundation, it’s destined to collapse sooner or later.” And that’s why you own a chain of successful stores.

"I also discovered I was not the only investigative archeologist to dig into this case. Some of the ponies I interviewed were amenable to the influence of a few bits and provided the names of other firms who had questioned them. It's a veritable who's who of major detective agencies with a few wild cards, like myself, thrown in."

"May I see the list?" I opened a manila folder packed with papers. “My file?” I nodded as I handed her the list. After careful review, she placed it on the desk. "Impressive. That appears to be complete."

"I am not in the habit of overlooking details in an investigation." I hefted her file to emphasize the thickness.

She scoffed, “Unfortunately, that’s not the case for the others. My research suggested you were different. That’s why I visited you last.”

"Interesting. I have learned something new in the last few minutes."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "Do tell."

"You like games. A psychological competition to challenge the mental agility of the participants." I've never been much of a game player myself. "What I'm uncertain about is the purpose of this particular… contest." Although I have my suspicions.

“Let’s call it an interview.” She winked.

“And have you selected somepony?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I have.” She pulled out a bag of bits from her satchel and tossed it on the desk with a heavy thunk. It dwarfed the previous retainer and spoke of a case that would be long, dangerous, or illegal. Perhaps all three.

“You assume I’m in a position to drop everything to take on a new case?”

One of her eyebrows arched dramatically. “Please, my dear Mr Steel. I believe we’re done playing games.” She turned her hoof over to reveal a folded sheet of paper. Rather than place it on the desk, she hoofed it to me with a soft smile. I unfolded it and began to read…

I blinked a couple times and looked up. “Are you bucking serious?”

The Case

I let the paper slip from my hoof. “You want me to… foalnap you?”

With a slight tilt of her head, she replied, “If you’d be so kind.”

This was either some sort of prank, or she was one pony short of a full team. My eyes flicked to the bag of bits on my desk. Perhaps the latter. “To the best of my knowledge, foalnapping is still a serious crime resulting in a quick trip to a small cell for a long stay.”

“I imagine some accommodation can be made when the intended victim requests, and even pays for the service.” She removed her hat allowing her mane to spill out. Lifting her muzzle into the air she gave her head a couple shakes to distribute the mane over her neck.

For the first time, I could fully appreciate the stark contrast of her crimson mane against her snow-white coat.

To say it was striking was to call Canterlot a quaint country hamlet. She lowered her head and the twinkle in her eyes told me she knew exactly the effect that would have on anypony in the vicinity. This was somepony to always keep on the far side of the desk.

I cleared my throat. “I think this is where I say: why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me the entire story.”

She placed her hat on the corner of my desk and leaned back in her chair. “As you wish. For the better part of a year, I’ve been receiving anonymous threatening letters delivered to my main store here in Canterlot.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a folder. “For example…” She opened the folder and hoofed me a single sheet of paper.

It was a photograph of a note, which had been made out of letters cut from newspaper or magazine article titles. It was totally cliché, but still effective at being untraceable. I read it aloud, “‘I look forward to the day you will suffer as I have.’” I flipped it over to look at the back. “That’s a Canterlot Police evidence stamp. So you turned the originals in to the police?”

She nodded. “After I’d received a few, I contacted my attorney who advised me to involve them.”

“Did they open a case and assign a detective?” I set the photo on the desk.

She handed me three more photos. “Yes. A Detective Citrine and her partner Detective Hunter.”

I looked up from the photos. “I know Citrine. She’s a good pony. I don’t know Hunter. But if there’s anything to find, Citrine will find it.” I looked back down at the photos. “Although, this isn’t much to go on.” I silently read the text from one of the pictures: ‘You’ll understand after you too lose it all.’”

She gestured at the photos. “Yes, I realize it’s not much. And I’m aware of the limitations. They have more important cases than somepony receiving a few vaguely threatening notes. That’s why I started my… contest, as you called it. I wanted to initiate my own independent investigation.”

“I see.” I set the three photos atop the first one. Something nagged at me. Why hire so many firms to investigate? It’s almost as if she wanted everypony to know about her problem. A defense? A smokescreen? There were better ways to pick a private investigator than hiring a bunch of ponies to do fake investigations.

She flipped through the pages in her folder. “Then, a few months ago the tone of the notes changed. They became less vague, more… explicitly threatening.” She hoofed me a few more photos.

“‘A heart pierced by steel.’ … ‘Your last breath will be alone.’” I glanced up to see her looking at the floor, her ears down against her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be reading these out loud.”

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and looked up. “No, it’s fine. I’ve read them all myself, multiple times.” She paused. “It’s just… different, hearing them aloud.”

She’s a tough mare, but not invincible. A little more tact would be in order here, Steel. I tossed the photos onto the desk. “I can read them later. Let’s move on. Do you have any enemies? Customers or business associates who may have a grudge? Anypony who could conceivably want to hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. Of course, there is always the occasional dissatisfied customer. Most of the time a replacement or refund is all they need to be satisfied. Treat them fairly and with respect and they’ll leave happy. They’ll tell their friends about how they were treated, and one failed sale can turn into multiple new customers. This is standard policy in all my stores.”

I snorted softly. “You don’t miss any opportunities.” She smiled sweetly. I wonder if she’s really that friendly towards customers, or if it’s just her approach to growing business. “I’m sure there are some customers you simply can’t satisfy.”

She nodded. “Of course. I imagine you know the type. They demand to speak to a manager. Nothing will placate them. And they usually end with ‘You’ll never see me in this store again.’ If they’re speaking to me personally, I will smile and reply ‘Thank you so much,’ as I open the door and invite them to leave.”

I snickered as I shook my head. “And I bet none of them catch that little dig, do they?”

“Some might, later that night or the next day.” Her smile faded away. “I know the detectives were interviewing all the names I could provide.” Yet another sheet of paper was pulled from her file and set on the desk. “Last I heard they didn’t find any likely suspects.”

I glanced at the paper. There were a couple dozen names listed, though it was upside down to me, so I couldn’t read them. Didn’t matter right now anyway. I looked at her file folder and could see another sheet of paper that was almost blank. I pointed at it, “Another list?”

She pulled out the sheet and hoofed it to me. “I try to be fair and honest in all my business dealings, but sometimes things still happen. The first name on that list was a supplier selling defective goods.” Miss Chapeau began to collect the various photos, putting them back into the file. “They refused to address the issue, so I reported them to the Canterlot Business Administration. Word got out, and other companies reported them for similar problems. They were shut down in under six months.” She carefully set the file folder down onto my desk and after a brief pause, adjusted it to lay flush with the edge. She has an eye for details...

“And the other name?” I looked up at her.

“Mr Calico. I never fully figured that one out.” She glanced down at her dress and smoothed out a wrinkle. “He owned a textile mill that we did business with.” Her gaze returned to me. “A couple years ago he was under contract to supply the main cloth we needed for a spring line. It was a hat and shawl combination, which meant a much larger order than we’d typically need for a new line. The contract date passed with less than half the order completed.” After a pause, she continued. "He didn’t even tell me himself. He sent a foreman. Something about an accident that broke the weaving machine. A month later the mill was closed.” She sighed heavily. “We lost a lot of bits that year as we barely produced half the desired inventory.”

I scratched my head as I looked at the two names again. “Neither of those seem like they were your fault. I don’t see them holding a grudge.” I set the list on the desk.

She picked up the two sheets of paper and slipped them into the file with the pictures. “The detectives agreed. They talked to both of them, the first one in prison, Mr Calico in Appleloosa, and determined neither one was involved.”

She was out of photos and papers, so unless she had another file… “Does that bring us up to date then?” I asked.

She glanced at the file folder she’d set on the desk and gave it a little push in my direction. The implication was clear enough. “Yes, it does.” I took the file folder, tapped it on the desk a couple of times to align the contents, and set it on top of a pile to my right. She pointed at it. “Will you require anything else?”

I brought a hoof to my chin for a moment. “I would like to review your employee records and a little more information about your company. Policies and procedures, that sort of thing. I imagine it’s the same information the police requested at some point.”

She nodded. “Yes, exactly the same. I’ll have a courier deliver those to you as soon as I get back to the office.” She didn’t make a note of it. She struck me as the type who didn’t need to make notes. If it was important, she remembered.

“Great. I’d also like to see the results of the police investigation…” I paused. “But I’m not sure how.” I glanced at the ceiling. “I wonder if I can convince Citrine to let me have a little peek.”

“I’ve got that covered too. As my representative, Equestrian law allows you to see the official police reports.”

I gave my head a little tilt. “But wait… That law is for ponies accused of a crime. It allows their defense lawyer to understand the case and do their own investigation. You aren’t accused of anything, so it doesn’t apply.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She winked. “I requested my attorney to study the actual law. The wording refers to the subject of an investigation, not just a pony accused of a crime. The threatening notes make me a subject of an investigation. He unofficially ran it past a judge who agreed with what the letter of the law says, even if the common interpretation is more restrictive.” She pulled an envelope out of her satchel, setting it on the desk. “Here’s the paperwork all signed and ready, designating you as part of my legal team, thus giving you access.”

This mare was good. Add in a competent lawyer to deal with the technicalities and they could probably find a way to do whatever needed to be done. I sat back and crossed my forelimbs over my chest. “Okay… now… why exactly are you hiring me to…” I cleared my throat. “Foalnap you?”

“Detective Citrine suggested that it might be a good idea for me to…” Miss Chapeau hesitated, “‘disappear’ for a while, out of an abundance of caution. So I’d like you to take me someplace safe where I can relax and enjoy a little break. I haven’t taken time away from work for… well… never mind. During this little vacation, you and the detectives can try to get to the bottom of all this.”

I pursed my lips for a moment. “So you were just being dramatic with the whole foalnapping thing.”

“And I shall treasure your expression for many moons to come!” She laughed in a way that removed any thoughts of being upset over the deception. “Still, there is a hint of truth to it. I want to vanish on my way to work tomorrow with almost nopony knowing where I went.”

I pulled out a pad and pencil. She may not need to take notes, but I do. “So I take it, you have a plan?”

She nodded. “I do.” After a brief glance to her left and right, she leaned forward in the chair with an air of conspiracy. Speaking just above a whisper she continued, “Every morning I stop on my way to work to have some coffee. It provides both a little quiet time to help me focus on the upcoming day as well as an opportunity to chat with various socialite ponies that might be present at the time. I rotate among a half dozen different shops.”

I decided to play along and lowered my voice to ask, “And tomorrow’s shop will be the scene of the… ‘crime’?” Being clear about every detail kept things from getting… complicated.

In response, Miss Chapeau leaned on the desk. For a proper mare such as herself to lean on a desk would certainly seem out of character. I searched her face looking for any cracks in the calm facade. There was, I think, a touch of actual excitement there. “Yes. Tomorrow I shall arrive at Le Café Noir promptly at eight in the morning. I shall travel light; a few bits for the road and a bank check I can cash at our destination. Anything I need I can simply purchase there. I’ll be prepared to stay for six weeks, although I hope you won’t need nearly that much time.”

After making some notes, I asked, “And where do you wish to go?”

She shrugged as she sat back. “That’s up to you. I don’t want to know until we’re on the train. Or perhaps you’ll select something more exotic, like an airship. In any event, use your best judgment. But when you return to Canterlot, please inform my attorney, Mr Writ, where I am, so that somepony besides yourself also knows. Just in case of an emergency.”

Tell no one, yet tell someone? I wonder… “Do you completely trust your attorney?”

“As it so happens, I own another business in addition to my hat shops. It’s–”

I held up a hoof. “I know.” Flipping open my own file which I had built on her, I pulled a sheet from near the bottom. “Gossypium Textiles Incorporated. It was started by your great-grandfather and passed down through the generations.” I looked up. “Technically, as a corporation, it’s just the control that is passed down. In effect, you are the sole stockholder giving you complete authority. The plant manager is a…” I glanced down at the page. “Mr Twillery, who reports directly to you.” I returned the paper to its place and closed the file.

She was quiet, staring at me with her mouth open a crack. “I… I’m truly surprised. And I’m not often surprised by anypony. None of the other investigators’ final reports had anything about this. What prompted you to…”

“I still had bits left.”

Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“When I’m given a case with no clear goals, I investigate until I run out of leads or bits. Whichever comes first. Running out of bits usually means the client is satisfied and tells me to stop.” I poked the bag of change still on the desk. “I still had bits, so I kept digging until all the leads were exhausted.”

She smiled. “Impressive. As it so happens, my attorney previously worked for my dad. When my dad passed, I inherited the mill. Mr Writ effectively came with it, so I guess I inherited him too. Besides which I’ve known him since I was a foal. So yes, I trust him.”

I wrote down a few more notes. “Okay, I will contact him with the details tomorrow.”

She stood up and put her hat on. It was pretty clear this meeting was over. “Do you have any other questions for me?” She wasn’t really asking.

“No, thank you. I have a folder of evidence to study,” I tapped the file she’d given me, “as well as the additional information you will be sending by courier. Any questions that come up can wait until tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” She offered a hoof over the desk, which I gently shook. “I look forward to our little…” Miss Chapeau shot me a mischievous smirk, “‘tryst’ in the morning.” And with that, she seemed to almost float out of the office like a gentle breeze, leaving behind only a faint hint of honeysuckle.

The Abduction

One couldn’t ask for a nicer day for an abduction.

The morning was chilly, but the clear sky, along with the weather schedule, said it would be sunny and warm later. With coffee in hoof, I stood across the street from Le Café Noir.

Having arrived early, I’d been observing the café for a while. Most of the clientele took their coffees then shambled off like so many zombies hoping the sacred elixir would infuse life into their muddled heads. Though some of them would continue to loiter outside the café. These were clearly the well-to-do ponies, who had nothing better to do than waste bits and time. The mares would do that fake cheek kiss thing and titter, the stallions hoof bump and laugh. Snippets of conversation I could hear tended towards the inane and pointless. Social gossip was the topic of the day. No doubt, the topic of most every day.

I finally sipped my coffee and winced. This cup cost more than my entire dinner last night, which also included coffee. And yet that cup had tasted better than this swill. Must be ponies with more bits than brains who drank this each morning. My client didn’t seem like the type to waste money this way.

Ponies were creatures of habit, hitting the same watering hole every day. Miss Chapeau had said she rotated between several such shops. Perhaps her seemingly wasted bits were actually an investment in rubbing shoulders with a different herd of Canterlot elite each day? I scowled at the liquid concoction in my cup. I wonder if she actually drinks this stuff, or if it’s just a prop she holds to help fit in better with the locals?

I glanced at the large clock outside the café. It was two minutes past the hour. My client would not be late for anything, especially her own abduction. Unless, there was something more going on here... I felt a small knot in the pit of my stomach, and it probably wasn’t the swill I was still choking down. What was left of my coffee found itself in the nearby gutter, and the cup in an adjacent trash can. I then started walking the likely path Miss Chapeau would have taken from her home.

The majority of the ponies on the roads were heading to work. Those that trotted or galloped by with a panicked expression were obviously already late. Most of what I saw were the vacant, glazed eyes of ponies heading to another day of servitude sitting at rows of desks to work at the same mundane job as every other day.

I shifted to a fast trot scanning faces as I went. I hoped to see hers any second. Perhaps she stopped to chat, setting her back a minute or two. I went through an intersection and slowed so I could look both ways. That scarlet mane of hers should be easy to spot. And she’d have a hat. I didn’t see many fashionable hats in this sea of ponies. My heart rate was increasing, and it wasn’t from exertion.

I glanced into an alley as I passed and slowed to look more carefully. There was something on the ground a few paces in. I trotted over and picked it up. It was a hat. A mare’s hat. A check of the lining showed a tag with her store’s name. The opposite side had two fancy embroidered letters stitched into a monogram: ‘JC’. Jasmine Chapeau? On instinct, I did the only thing I could think of to verify I was correct: I held it up to my muzzle and inhaled. Honeysuckle.

My client was gone. Snatched a block and a half from our meeting. I’d only missed her by a couple minutes. How could a staged foalnapping turn into a real one? I shoved the hat into my saddlebag. They’d probably had months to learn her routine, like where she got coffee each morning. But why today? Was it just coincidence, or had some information leaked out? Now’s not the time, Steel. Only one thing matters.

My hooves clattered on the cobblestones as I galloped down the alley. I emerged on the next street. Left headed towards the castle, right towards the city gates. I turned right at a full gallop and briefly stumbled as my hooves slipped. I stayed off the crowded sidewalk and dodged the occasional wagon in the street. A barked “Get outta da road!” assaulted me.

A cop on the next corner tensed at my rapid approach. As I flew past, I called out, “I need help! Follow me!” No time to slow down and look back. I hope he’s following.

I wanted to call out her name, but that would be pointless. In the noisy bustle of the waking city, I could see farther than anypony could possibly hear. I constantly scanned the array of ponies on the street, looking past the rainbow of various ponies’ coats and manes for that splash of crimson on white. So rare, even precious.

I blasted through another intersection, looking left and right. Partway down the block I glanced up an alley, then skidded to a stop, almost falling on my rump. I stumbled back for a closer look. At the far end were three ponies; a mare between two larger stallions. A crimson tail swished across her perfectly white rump. Yet they weren’t moving like a foalnapping. She didn’t appear to be resisting and they weren’t restraining her that I could see. Were they abductors or escorts? Had I been hired to be a faux-abductor or a witness? With a snort, I bolted down the alley.

It was impossible to run quietly with hooves on cobblestones. They were going to hear me. The only questions were: how soon, and would they look back? The stallion on the left was big, an earth pony from the looks of it. The smaller one on the right didn’t have wings, though I thought I caught a glimpse of a horn.

I was close, but not close enough when all three looked over their shoulders. There was no hiding my intent now. The unicorn’s horn flared with magic as he turned. I dodged right towards the alley wall. A hard scrapping blow allowed me to ricochet off for an otherwise impossibly fast dodge to the left. Just another couple paces. I could see her eyes, frightened and wide. There was no doubt now; she was not here by choice. The unicorn sneered at me.

I lowered my head and prepared to ram straight into him. Just one more stride…

There was a blinding flash, then… blackness.

The Hospital

The first thing I noticed was the smell. That antiseptic odor that permeated everything. The bed was uncomfortable and I shivered despite a thin blanket. I was in a hospital. But why? What had happened? As I opened my eyes the brightness stabbed at them. I squeezed them shut and groaned as a wave of nausea washed over me.

A voice called out, “Go tell the Doctor he’s awake!” Then much softer, “Hey, Steel. You had us worried.”

I focused on the familiar voice. “Citrine? Is that you?” Peaking through narrow slits, I could see her face leaning in close. The worry lines faded away and her ears rotated forward.

“There you are.” She smiled. “Take it easy now. You were hurt pretty badly.”

With my eyes closed again, I took a quick inventory of myself. My whole body ached, but all my legs moved. A deep breath didn’t bring any pain to my barrel. I rolled my head side-to-side; nothing. “Where am I hurt?”

“You were hit by a powerful magic attack. The doctor said anypony else would have died there in the street, but you earth ponies are a hardy bunch.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve always known you were a tough stallion.”

I opened my eyes again, wider this time. The room wasn’t as bright as it first seemed, but it was still a barren white hospital room. And that antiseptic smell seemed to be getting stronger. I looked back to Citrine. “I don’t remember anything. What happened?”

“We don’t know. A beat cop said you galloped by, yelling that you needed help. He lost track of you in the crowd. It took him a while, but he finally found you unconscious in an alley. Any of that sound familiar?” I shook my head. Citrine continued, “He got help and they got you right to the hospital. The doctor said another hour… That cop saved your life.”

I rubbed my temples as I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why can’t I remember anything? What’s going on? What’s wrong with me?” I was starting to hyperventilate.

She laid a hoof on my shoulder. “Steel, look at me.” I opened my eyes once again and let my legs fall to the bed. “The doctor called it ‘mild retrograde amnesia’; a side effect of the spell that hit you. Imagine your memories are like books in a library. Someone ran through and knocked all the newest ones to the floor. You just need a little time to put ‘em back on the shelves.” She gave me a little reassuring shake. “You’ll be fine.”

“How long?” I forced myself to breathe slower and deeper.

“He said probably a few hours at most, once you woke up. The effects of the spell are fading.” She sat back in her chair as her smile fell away. “Steel, we’re trying to piece together what’s going on. I need to ask you some questions. They can’t wait.”

I felt a pinch in my foreleg and lifted it up to see an IV line inserted. I lowered it again. “Okay. Not sure I can help. Everything is a big blank.”

“The beat cop checked your saddlebags to try and figure out who you were. He found some case documents and a mare’s hat. He then contacted me. How exactly are you connected to Jasmine Chapeau?”

Miss Chapeau! A wave of panic flooded through me. “She was a recent client of mine. No… wait… I think she’s a current client.” My whole body tensed up. Something’s wrong. What is it? I’ve got to remember. I know it’s important.

“The thing is…” Citrine paused until I looked at her. “Miss Chapeau is missing. We’ve checked her home and work. Nopony has seen her since she left her house.”

“She’s missing?” I closed my eyes tight. “Missing… missing… No, wait. Not missing.” My eyes snapped open. “She was taken. Two ponies… two stallions grabbed her off the street. I was chasing them. I yelled at the cop for help. Streets… An alley…? Argh, why can’t I remember?” I snorted and slammed a foreleg down on the bed causing the IV tube to bounce around.

Her hoof was on my shoulder again. “Calm down, Steel. Give it some time. It’ll come back to you.”

I looked at Citrine. “We were to meet at… at eight. In the morning. At a coffee shop.” I glanced out the window. “It looks to be what, late morning? Near noon? So it’s only been a few hours. We need to hurry…!”

Her ears drooped and she winced. “Uhh, Steel… That was two days ago. You were unconscious that day and all of yesterday.” My mind struggled to do the math. No. Two days? It couldn’t be. Citrine cleared her throat. “If Jasmine Chapeau was taken right before you were attacked, that was over forty-eight hours ago.”

My mind went blank. I couldn’t breathe. My head spun with a flood of memories. The meeting at my office. Her crimson mane. Pictures of threatening notes. An abduction plan. Le Café Noir. A hat in an alley. Two stallions. Honeysuckle.

“Steel,” Citrine whispered. “What did you remember?”

I glanced at her. “Everything.” A kick of my hind legs sent the blanket into a high arc until it touched the floor while hanging from the bottom of the bed. Another brief wave of dizziness washed over me. I pushed through it as I rolled out of bed onto my hooves. I ripped the IV out with my teeth and a few drops of fluid fell to the floor. My saddlebags sat on a chair in the corner. A quick flick of my head flipped them up and over onto my back. I huffed from the impact. I topped it off with my trusty fedora from the back of the chair.

Her brow furrowed with concern, Citrine stepped forward. “Steel, what are you doing?”

“Leaving.” I glanced out the window to gauge the weather.

“But the doctor said you need to rest.” She took a step forward and held up a hoof at me.

“I’ve rested for two whole days. You can tell the doctor—”

“Tell the doctor what?” said a voice by the door. I spun around to see a lanky, light blue unicorn stallion in a white coat standing in the doorway. Another detective stood behind him in the hallway, but I couldn’t see the figure clearly.

As I took a couple slow steps towards the door, I replied, “You can tell the doctor that I have a missing client and a case I need to get working on. I can’t do that here.”

He shook his head. “Not on my watch. I have not released you. Now get back in that bed before I call a couple orderlies to put you there.” He centered himself in the doorway, blocking my exit.

Without looking back, I asked, “Citrine, am I under arrest?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

I glared at the doctor. “Then you have no cause to keep me here.”

He was cold, detached. “You’re clearly a threat to your own well-being. I could put you on a medical hold right now.”

I winced. No need for evidence. No need for a court order. On his testimony and a bit of paperwork, I’d be behind a locked door for days. My ears drooped as I slumped. “Please. If she’s not already dead, Miss Chapeau is in incredible danger. I can’t just sit here waiting for the police to tell me they found a body. I have to go… Now!” My dry tongue failed to moisten dryer lips as I ended with a desperate, “Please.”

His head tipped back slightly as he looked down his muzzle at me. “Mr Steel, you are still recovering from a serious assault. You almost died. Even an earth pony doesn’t just merrily trot off after that.”

My gaze fell to the floor. “I know. But I’m well enough to stand, so I’m well enough to leave. The detectives will keep an eye on me.” I looked up at him again. “Please. There’s another life at even more risk right now.”

Everything went quiet as he regarded me. I could feel the room starting to spin but I willed myself to look him in the eye. Citrine’s hooves shuffled nervously behind me. Finally, he blinked with a soft sigh. “Very well. We’ll try it your way. But if you get hauled back here again, unconscious, then we do it my way. And I’ll use restraints if I must. I’ll expect you back here in a few days for an evaluation, from me… personally. Am I one-hundred percent clear?”

Citrine stepped up next to me. “Doctor, is he in any danger of a relapse?”

He shook his head. “No. The fact that he woke up means the spell has completely faded away. But it impacted him like an incredibly powerful physical attack. The memory loss is just a side effect.” His gaze shifted to me. “Your body will ache just as if you’d been clipped by the Friendship Express. You’ll be weak for several days, longer if you push yourself by leaving now. And you still may experience some memory gaps.” He paused for a moment. “You should not leave. Even twenty-four hours would help.” With a slight shake of his head, he added, “Again, you almost died. You get in another fight and it won’t be ‘almost’.”

“I can do a lot in twenty-four hours,” I raised a hoof, “but I absolutely understand, and you’re probably right. I just… I can’t… not do something.” As I put my hoof on my chest I added, “I promise, I won’t push myself too hard.”

He pursed his lips as his eyes scanned me from head to hoof, then he stepped back into the hallway.

I took the hint and added a “Thank you” as I blew past him, with Citrine and the other officer scrambling to keep up. I wasn’t scared of hospitals having had my share of visits over the years. Still, I didn’t like them and a sense of freedom filled me as I escaped into the warm sun.

A double row of fruit trees filled the gap between the hospital and the street, providing some shade and the occasional snack. I made a beeline towards one of the trees close to the walkway. Being a little light-headed, I fell against it. The rough bark scraped at my coat.

By Celestia I've bucked up bad. I've allowed this case to make me complacent and I’ve thrown my usual caution to the wind. As a result my client has been snatched and I almost died in a reckless rescue attempt. I closed my eyes as the weight of this settled on me like an impossibly heavy bale of hay.

Citrine dashed in front of me. “Steel, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I nodded as I opened my eyes. “I just need a minute.” I inhaled a deep breath of clean, not antiseptic-infused air.

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not as all better as you implied, are you?” I glanced at her without responding. “Figures. ‘Earth pony strong, earth pony stubborn.’ You know, he’s watching you right now…” I pushed off the tree and turned to look back at the hospital. “The big window next to the front door.”

There he was. As our eyes met, he shook his head, turned, and walked off. I felt like a school foal caught in a lie. Yeah, he knows. I just don’t care. I slumped against the tree trunk again, then looked up at the other unicorn detective. His tan coat and almost black mane reminded me of my dad. ‘Course my dad had been a big burly earth pony who’d never met a barroom brawl where he wasn’t last-pony-standing. He’d have wiped the floor with this little unicorn. Still, you can’t be a unicorn detective without some serious attack and defense magic training. He could probably hold his own. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. And you are?”

Citrine stomped a hoof. “Shoot, sorry. This is my new partner, Detective Night Hunter.”

He nodded, “Mr Steel. And everyone just calls me ‘Nightly’.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Nightly?”

He snickered but I wasn’t in the mood for a funny story, and my face conveyed that. “Er, yeah. When I was at the academy, I was up late every night studying. And since it was a nightly ritual…”

“I see. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Nightly.” I started to raise a hoof, and then put it down again. “I think we’ll shake later.” I adjusted my stance so I wasn’t leaning on the tree as much. “How long you been on the force?”

“Some seven years, and a detective for two.” He glanced at Citrine. “We’ve been partners for about a year.” He looked back at me. “My little brother is on the force too.”

“Really. A family thing? What’s his name?”

Nightly stood up just a bit straighter. “We’re third-generation cops. And yes, it’s sort of a family tradition. His name is Shadow Hunter. He’s the smart one, and I expect he’ll pass the detective exam next month on his first try.”

“I’m sure he will.” I pushed off the tree with just a hint of dizziness that quickly passed. With a shake of my head, I took a couple tentative steps forward. “Well… I’m not ready for the Running of the Leaves, but I think I’m good to head to the precinct now. Let’s get to work.”

The Confession

The three of us stood on the dusty dirt road out front of Mr Calico’s small house. Perhaps ‘shack’ would have been a better word. The building wasn’t any larger than your typical Canterlot two-room apartment. The siding was cracked and warped with a few boards hanging askew. The roof didn’t look much better and probably leaked. It was well past what a fresh coat of paint could do for the place.

I looked at Citrine. “Since you two interviewed him last time, do you mind if I take the lead today?”

She glanced at Nightly, who nodded. “Sure, go ahead. Perhaps you’ll have better luck at getting something out of him.”

We’d collected the local sheriff and a deputy, who both eyed the porch suspiciously as they waited by the road. The wood creaked and groaned under our combined weight as we approached the front door. I knocked firmly. The reply came almost immediately, “It’s open.” The door creaked loudly as it swung on rusty hinges.

The small dingy room was bathed in dirty light filtered through faded curtains. A small dark brown couch sat against one wall, while a padded chair with a ripped seat cushion vainly tried to fill the space in the opposite corner next to a full bookshelf. In the back I could see a small kitchen and a closed door that would be the single bedroom. Mr Calico sat reading a book behind a small square table, conspicuously placed in the middle of the room. The dust on the bare wood floor suggested the second chair hadn’t moved in months. Visitors were probably few.

He looked up as we entered. “Detectives. I see you’re back, and with reinforcements.” He glanced at me as I stepped forward.

“Good day Mr Calico. I’m Dark Steel and I’m assisting the police with a little matter. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

He sighed as he gestured at the detectives. “I answered all their questions last time. My answers haven’t changed.”

As I stepped up to the table, I pulled out the folder of pictures from my saddlebag. “I’m sure that’s true. But I have one or two new questions to ask you.” I took out the pictures of the first two notes and set them on the table facing Mr Calico.

His eyes flicked down at them momentarily, but not long enough to read them. “They showed me two of these last time. I already said I know nothing about them.”

“I understand. It’s just that, well, since your talk with the detectives we’ve learned a few new things. For example, we studied the cutout characters used in the notes and determined that they came from the Appleloosa Free Press.” I pointed to a corner. “And you seem to have a good pile of them available.”

He let out a small snort. “That paper wouldn’t last long if I was the only subscriber. Other ponies read it too, you know.” His eyes narrowed just a touch as he closed the book before him.

“Of course, of course. I just don’t think there are many ponies in this town who would even know who Miss Chapeau is. After all, she doesn’t have a hat shop here.” I tossed down the other two pictures from the first batch of four.

“Yet…” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “She’s in almost every other town in Equestria.” He again glanced down without reading them. If he’d only seen two pictures the first time, I’d think he’d be curious as to what the other two notes said. “So, what’s your point?”

“Oh, I’m just talking about a few things...” I set down two of the photos from the more threatening batch of notes. “To see what thoughts you might have.”

This time his eyes lingered on the newest pictures. His brow quickly furrowed as he read the notes. “Wait… No, I didn’t.” He looked up at me. “Where did those come from?”

“They were delivered to Miss Chapeau, just like the first four you sent.” I added two more.

His eyes got wide as he read them. “I didn’t send these. I would never say that!”

I leaned forward on the table. “So you admit you sent the others?”

He glanced at the two detectives, then back to me. “That’s not what I meant. You’re trying to confuse me.” He looked back down at the photos shaking his head.

I pointed to one in particular. “This one is a clear death threat. If you sent one, you sent them all. This one note could land you in jail for a long time.”

He put his hooves on the edge of the table and pushed his chair back a bit. It scraped against the wood floor. I tensed up. You planning to fight or flee? His eyes again darted between the detectives and myself. “I didn’t threaten her. I would never do that.”

It was time for the trump card. “So then, how did you arrange Miss Chapeau’s abduction? Why did you take her, and where is she now?”

The color drained from his face. He started to breathe faster. “No, no, no. That’s not true.”

I leaned further forward, getting in his face. “I assure you, it is. Right off the streets of Canterlot.”

His hooves shot up in front of him. “That can’t be. I haven’t been in Canterlot for months. I couldn’t have done it.”

I nodded. “I know. I saw the two ponies who actually did it. But you still organized it.”

His eyes were wide, his breathing fast and shallow. I was sure he was going to try and run. They always run. He took a stuttered breath. “I swear to you. I did not take her. I did not send those other notes.”

I let him stew for a moment. “Then I’ll ask you again, do you admit you sent some of them?”

He sat for several moments, then slumped in his chair. “Okay, okay. I admit, I did send the first four. I was angry and frustrated. I lashed out! I was wrong, and I’d take them all back if I could. But it was only those four. I didn’t send the others!” He waved his hoof over the latter pictures. “And I did not abduct her. I have no idea where Miss Chapeau is!”

I smacked the table with a hoof. “Why should I believe you?” He looked at me for a long moment, then scooted his chair closer to the table. He slid one of the notes he admitted to sending and one from the second batch to the edge of the table in front of him. He leaned in close. It dawned on me that as a fabric maker, he would probably have an incredible attention to detail. So what are you looking for, Calico?

The room was totally silent. The only sound came from a clock in the kitchen. Its tick, tick, tick counted the seconds as he scanned back and forth between the two photos. Finally, he looked up. “The typeface.”

I tilted my head. “What about it?”

He waved me around the table. “Here, look at this.” I walked to the side of the table, careful to keep some distance between us. “Look at the letters cut from the newspaper in my note.” He tapped several of them. “Now look at the newspaper letters in this one.” He again tapped a few others. “The Appleloosa Free Press uses a typeface that’s characteristic of the older printing press they have. These are from a paper that uses a different, more modern typeface. Wherever it was printed, it’s not from around here. So these other notes were made from publications printed in a different town.”

“You could get other papers here in Appleloosa. Major papers from Canterlot and Manehattan are delivered all across Equestria. If not the same day, the next.”

He pointed at his pile in the corner. “Check my old papers! You won't find anything but the Appleloosa Free Press and a few local tourist magazines. I didn’t make these!” His voice was firm, his eyes unblinking and locked with mine. He believed it. But did I?

“Please, wait here.” I headed towards the door. The clip-clop of additional hooves on the wood floor told me Citrine and Nightly were following. Once outside, I slowed to a stop staring off into the distance. How’d I miss that? It’s so obvious, I should have seen it.

“Steel, you okay?” I turned towards Citrine. “You look a bit unsteady. Do we need to get you to a hospital?” She glanced towards Nightly. “Quick, go find–”

I cut her off with a shake of my head. “No, I’m fine. I just… I was sure he was involved in the abduction… somehow.”

“So, you believe him?” Nightly asked. He was standing by the open door, still slightly ajar, to keep an eye on Calico.

I nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

I gestured towards him. “You've done your share of interrogations, what did his behavior tell you?”

His eyes drifted to the sky. After a moment they snapped back to me. “That once you confronted him with a second set of notes, he dropped the charade. I’m guessing everything after that was the truth.”

Citrine nodded. “Exactly.”

“Which puts us back to square-one,” Nightly snarled, then kicked a small clod of dirt off the porch.

Citrine held up a hoof. “It’s okay, Nightly. It’s just a setback.” She turned to me. “What now?”

“First, we wrap this up. Then, it’s back to Canterlot. This trail ended so we have to find another.”

I lifted my head to look at the sheriff and his deputy, who were still waiting patiently by the road. “Could you two come in now, please?” He nodded and they followed us back in. They all waited by the door as I walked over to the table. “Okay Mr Calico, let’s pretend we believe you; that you didn’t send the death threats or do the abduction. You’re still going to have to answer for the notes you did send. At the very least, they would qualify as harassment.”

His ears drooped as he pointed to the six later notes. “But… but nowhere near as bad as these are… right?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s not for me to say. It will depend on what the police decide to charge you with. For now, I assume it will just be sending threatening letters.”

Citrine turned around. “Sheriff, would you please hold Mr Calico here in Appleloosa? The Canterlot Police will be in touch in the next few days.”

I stepped around the side of the table. “I’d suggest you cooperate and go quietly. Let’s not make it any worse.”

He sighed. “I’ll cooperate. I won’t make any trouble.” There was another scrape of wood as he pushed the chair back and turned sideways. I tensed as he reached down by the leg of the table. When he straightened up, he was holding… a leg? Then I noticed that his right rear leg ended just below the knee. My gaze shifted back to his face to find him watching me. “Thank you.”

I blinked and tilted my head slightly. “For what?”

“Most ponies look at me with a splash of horror followed by pity. You didn’t.” He reached down and began to adjust the prosthetic to his stump.

I wasn’t sure if I should ask, but my inner voice pushed me on. “What happened?”

He put his leg down and pushed to make sure it was well seated in the artificial one. “What did Miss Chapeau tell you?”

I leaned against the table making sure to remain focused on his face. I could tell he was paying attention to where I looked. “Not much. The order from your mill wasn’t finished. You sent a foreman who talked about damaged machinery. And she lost a lot of bits because of the missing material.”

“Yeah, I told him not to share any details. I didn’t need her pity.” With the leg ready, he sat back in his chair. “We’d had some supplier problems that put us behind schedule. I figured as long as we could keep ahead of Miss Chapeau’s production deadline, it would still work. I stayed late every night doing prep work, so production could start first thing in the morning each day. I slept in my office.” He paused for a bit. “I don’t know what happened, but one night as I pulled supplies off one of the big shelving units, the whole thing tipped. It hit the next one resulting in a chain reaction. The last one fell on the weaving machine. It caused extensive damage. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I was trapped with the edge of a shelf pinning my leg to the floor. I knew it was broken. They found me the next morning.” He let out a heavy sigh. “The doctor talked about reduced blood flow, severed nerves, crushed bones…” He lifted his leg and looked at the prosthetic. I opened my mouth to say something. “Don’t. I don’t want your pity either.”

He dropped his leg and sat back in his chair. The stallion looked up at me. “With production stopped and me out of the picture, we couldn’t finish the order. Miss Chapeau wasn’t shy about telling ponies why her new line didn’t have enough inventory. My business failed, and I was out of a job.” He kicked at the floor with his good leg. “That look I mentioned? I got that every time I walked into an interview, right before the excuses started. I’m an expert in textiles and a business owner. I know plant operations, production, and pony management. There are scores of jobs I can do. And I want to work.” He gestured at his leg. “But I walk in with this… I just wish somepony would give me a chance.”

He inhaled deeply, blew it out, and stood up. “Okay, sheriff, I’m ready.” He walked around me with every fourth step sounding metallic. I wouldn’t call it a limp, but his gate was just a bit… off.

The sheriff pulled out a set of hoofcuffs. “Sheriff…” I caught his eye and shook my head no. After a brief pause, he put the cuffs away.

As the three of us headed back to the train station, I asked, “Can we get word to Officer Mote to deconstruct one of the notes from the second batch and try to figure out where they were made? Perhaps we can pick up a new trail to follow.”

Nightly glanced at me. “Sure, I can get that done. There’s a peg-a-gram office around here somewhere…” He trotted off before I could even get out a quick ‘thanks’.

Citrine snickered. “He’s always like that; ready to do whatever needs doing. It’ll be too bad when the bureaucracy drains that enthusiasm out of him.” I had first-hoof experience of that bureaucracy running over me not that long ago.

The Appleloosa main street, such as it was, presented a small variety of shops and businesses. “There aren’t a lot of choices, but when Nightly gets back, we should find someplace to grab a bite and kill some time. I don’t want to spend the entire time waiting on the train platform.”

“Good plan,” Citrine added. “And I think I know just the place. This way…”

The Box

The click-clack of the train wheels on the track was having its normal hypnotic effect. Citrine’s eyes were closed, although her head was still upright. I was feeling pretty relaxed myself. A little nap on the way to Canterlot might be a welcome relief. I glanced at Night Hunter who was looking at me with a furrowed brow. “Something wrong, Nightly?” I asked.

“Perhaps.” He stroked his chin. “This just doesn’t feel right.”

I sat up, suddenly less drowsy. “How so? What are you thinking?”

Hunter leaned forward. “It’s clear that Mr Calico was not involved beyond those initial four notes he sent. But if this was a simple foalnapping, why hasn’t anypony received a ransom demand? What if it’s some sort of elaborate ruse starting with the second batch of notes?”

I tilted my head to the side. “By who, and to what end?”

“By Miss Chapeau herself.” I opened my mouth to object but he cut me off. “Wait. Hear me out. We know she’s wealthy, but you don’t get that rich selling hats. We know she’s left a trail of broken hearts in her wake, but what if there was more to that than just a string of failed romances?”

I shook my head. “Most of them were social opportunists who just wanted to use her, or more specifically her bits. Not the other way around.”

He shrugged. “I’ve met her, you know. I know what type of mare she is.”

“And what type is that… exactly?” I could hear the edge to my voice. Citrine noticed it too as her eyes snapped open and she turned her head.

“She’s the type that can twist a stallion around her fetlock and wear him like a bracelet. And he’ll smile the whole time. That is, until he’s no longer useful.”

“She is not like that.” I stomped a hoof for emphasis.

“We know she hired a bunch of firms for an investigation. Perhaps she was looking for the best? Or perhaps… the most easily manipulated.”

“What are you implying?” I hissed.

“A new ‘bracelet’, for some unknown plan of hers. A down on his luck, single, ex cop, fired under questionable circumstances.”

I jumped to my feet, ears back. Citrine stood up too as she intervened. “Hey, Hunter, you need to back off. I was there, and the only thing questionable was the politics that ran over him.” She turned to me. “But Steel, are you sure you haven’t lost some perspective here? Hunter does have a point: there is something missing in this case. Something doesn’t add up.”

Hunter leaned back in his seat and crossed his forelegs. “You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you?” Citrine’s eyes went wide, as she shifted her gaze from him to me. “You actually think she and somepony like you…?”

At that point I did something he'd never see coming. I sat down. “Look, I know the effect a mare like that can have on a stallion. I’ve felt it. And yes, she is stunning. But we’re from totally different worlds. What’s more, she’s a client.” I glanced up at Citrine. “I would never cross that line.” She stared at me for a moment, then nodded and sat down. I looked back to Hunter. “You’re right, there is more going on here.” I thought back to Miss Chapeau’s eyes in that alley. “But I guarantee she is not involved in whatever it is.”

Hunter took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “Okay. Perhaps I pushed a little too hard there.” He paused for a moment. “I’m… sorry. Please, just keep an open mind about this as we move forward. That’s all I’m asking. If you do have any feelings, even casual ones, don’t let them interfere.”

I nodded. “If there’s something deeper going on, I’ll figure it out.”

Citrine added with a grin. “And that you can count on.”

I let out a heavy sigh as we stepped off the train and squinted from Canterlot’s late afternoon sun. It had been a long day. I was drained from the train ride, and knowing my luck, the day wasn’t done yet.

The universe agreed.

“There you are.” We looked around for the voice and saw Officer Mote trotting up. “I wanted to catch you right away!” She glanced around. “But let’s get off this platform first…”

There were two trains in the station at this time of day and the platform was awash with ponies exiting, entering, and transferring. In addition, at least a dozen porters tried to keep up with the baggage that needed to be moved about. We struggled against the current as we threaded our way towards the exit. Citrine asked, “So, did you make some progress with the note?”

“Progress?” She laughed. “I’ve already figured out where it was made!” Noticing our wide-eyed expressions she laughed again. “It was made using a Canterlot newspaper. I then checked specific letters from the other notes against the ones from the newspaper. They were the same. Same typeface. Same size. Everything. I came to the conclusion the entire second batch is the same, all made here.”

Citrine shook off her shock. “How did you manage all that so fast? It’s only been a few hours.”

Once out of the station, we moved off to the side where we could talk away from the noise of the crowd. “Processing the letters went a lot faster the second time. They used a different type of glue that was much easier to deal with.” Different glue was just one more confirmation that these later notes were created by a different pony. “Then I just followed the procedure Mr Steel had us use before. I started with Canterlot as he had, and found the first paper in just a few minutes of searching.”

Nightly was shaking his head. “Amazing…” I nodded in silent agreement. I had now moved past wondering about her possible interest in non-police work. When this is all over, I really need to have a little chat about her working in the private sector.

She lifted a hoof. “And one more thing. The headline letters from that specific note came from two different issues of the paper. The later issue came out two days before the note was delivered. So that doesn’t leave time for it to have been created in another town. I’m convinced they were made right here in Canterlot.” Mote fidgeted, then shrugged before continuing. “Or at least the one sample note I worked on was made here.”

So, the first four came from Appleloosa, with some delay between creation and delivery. Then when Calico stopped, somepony new took over with their own more threatening notes. So was it just a coincidence that there was no overlap? Was there really no connection between the two batches, and it was just pure chance that they happened one after the other? And if so, how might that still play into Chapeau’s abduction?

“Uhh, Steel? You in there?” I blinked and looked toward the source. Citrine had a smile. “You appear to have gone off to your thinking place again. Got anything to share?”

I glanced at Nightly and Mote who were both also grinning. “No, just a lot of questions I don’t have answers to… yet.”

“Detective Citrine!” We looked around and spotted an officer galloping towards us. “Detective Citrine!” He came to stop, panting hard. “The captain sent me… to fetch you back… to the precinct.” He paused to take a couple deep breaths. “We received a ransom demand for Miss Chapeau. I don’t know any details. They immediately sent me here to find you.”

After making it back to the station, we raced through the front doors of the precinct and were directed to one of the holding rooms. The officer outside filled us in. “Miss Chapeau’s attorney, Mr Writ, showed up about an hour ago. As soon as he explained the situation, we put him in here to wait. We figured you would be back soon and would want to talk to him immediately.” He opened the door, and Citrine, Nightly and I entered. The room was plain gray, windowless, and somewhat oppressive. The perfect environment for an interrogation. The left wall held a large one-way mirror, behind which was the observation room. A large gray metal table occupied the center with a few chairs around it.

Citrine stuck her head out the door. “Can we get some water in here? Quickly please.”

Mr Writ sat at one end of the table. He was a touch rotund for an earth pony, no doubt from too many decades spent behind a desk. Those same decades left their mark in some gray mixed into the brown fur on his muzzle, with little left but a hint of green in his mane. Normally an attorney adorned in a custom tailored suit crossed by a gold pocket watch chain would suggest somepony who could not be rattled no matter how dire the situation. His profession demanded it. But this stallion was visibly shaken and had his head in his hooves. At the other end of the table sat a small white box, about two hoof-widths in each dimension. He lifted his head. “Detectives, Mr Steel, I’m so glad you’re here!”

An officer zipped in and placed a beverage tray on the table then left. I filled one of the four glasses with water from the pitcher and set it before Mr Writ. His hooves visibly trembled as he picked it up to take a long drink. “Thank you.” After Citrine closed the door, she and Nightly remained close to it. She nodded at me to go ahead.

I pulled a chair over and sat down so I could speak to him eye to eye. “We were told there was a ransom demand? Please tell us what happened.”

He took another sip. The trembling was hardly noticeable now. “I was at my office when our normal courier dropped off a couple of letters and a package. I wasn’t expecting a package, so I checked it first. It was the ransom demand. They want…” He gulped. “two million bits for the safe return of Miss Chapeau.”

Nightly let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of bits.”

“But why a box for a note?” I asked. The attorney’s gaze shifted to the box as his hooves started shaking again. I glanced over my shoulder. “Citrine? Would you please…”

Mr Writ tensed up. “No, I can’t.” He stood up, walked to the back wall, and leaned forward, resting his head on the cool surface.

I turned around to face Citrine. She reached out with her hooves and lifted the lid off the box.

“There’s a typed note.” She started to read the note as it lay in the box: “Two million bits in bearer notes for the return of Miss Chapeau. At dawn on the third morning from today. We’ll tell you where later. Only two cops. Mess with us, and the next thing we send won’t be something that will grow back.”

Setting her horn aglow, Citrine levitated the note out of the box, then gasped. After a wide-eyed glance at me, her horn glowed again. From the box rose a large section of scarlet mane tied with a length of twine. It hung down from Citrine’s magical grip, swinging slightly.

My head was spinning. I put a hoof on the table to steady myself and closed my eyes. “Citrine, please… put it back in the box, and replace the lid. But… leave the note out.” When I heard the lid slide back on I opened my eyes. I was surprised at how hard seeing that had hit me. I looked at Mr Writ. “It’s gone. Do you think you can come back to the table now?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the box, then returned and sat back down in his chair. “I'm sorry. I’ve known Miss Chapeau since she was a filly, even though to her, I’m sure I was just another anonymous business associate of her dad’s. I’ve gotten to know her better, now that I’m her attorney.” His eyes rested on the closed box. “After discovering that at my office, I just couldn’t…”

I scooted my chair a little closer. “I completely understand Mr Writ. Don’t give that box another thought.”

“Thank you.” He took another drink of water.

I laid a hoof on his shoulder. “Mr Writ.” He looked up at me. “You’re Miss Chapeau’s attorney. Do you have access to the kind of funds needed to put together this ransom?”

He shook his head. “No, but I think her business manager might. When I got here, I had them send for Miss Jade. She should have been here by now.” He pulled out his pocket watch as if by rote without even glancing at it.

I looked back. “Citrine, can you check?”

She nodded, “Sure,” and left the room. Almost immediately, the door opened again. “She was just outside. They had her waiting until we were ready.” A light-green unicorn followed Citrine into the room. Her ears were down, partially hidden by an impractically coiffed lavender mane. She quickly scanned the room ending at the table, her brow furrowed in worry. Citrine gestured towards the empty chair close to Mr Writ.

Miss Jade’s eyes never left the box as she moved from the door to the chair. As she sat down, she laid a hoof on Mr Writ’s foreleg. “You look really stressed. Are you okay?”

Mr Writ looked at her. “I will be. So, have you heard the latest?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “The detective told me. Two million bits, and in just two days.”

His voice was soft, pleading. “Please, tell me Jasmine has that much in liquid assets.”

Miss Jade’s horn glowed as she levitated a notebook out of her saddlebag. “You’re aware that I have both direct as well as cosigner access to a number of Miss Chapeau’s business and personal accounts?” Mr Writ nodded. She opened the notebook to a bookmarked page and tapped on it. “Two of them are rather substantial.” She looked up at Mr Writ. “If you can get an emergency court order to bypass the co-signing requirements, we should just make it. Barely.”

Mr Writ was suddenly all business. He had just needed a legal problem to focus on to get his mind off that box… and its contents. He checked his pocket watch again. “I’ll get the documents prepared today. I know a judge who’s a personal friend of Miss Chapeau’s. Between the police reports and the ransom note, I’m confident he’ll sign the order. If I get it to you mid-morning, will you have enough time?”

She closed the notebook. “A day and a half? Yes, no problem. I can move the funds to one master account, and then get the bearer notes prepared.”

“Excuse me,” I asked, raising a hoof. “How did you know they specified bearer notes?”

She glanced at me. “It’s kind of obvious. Two million literal bits would take multiple wagons with full teams to carry. And a bank check would need personal ID verification and fund confirmation with a multi-day delay. But ten thousand bit bearer notes would cover the entire amount with just two hundred total notes. Those would easily fit in a pair of saddlebags. Plus, they’ve already been paid for, if you will, so there’d be no holding period. On top of all that, the magic seal prevents counterfeiting.” She tapped the table for each point, “Portable, secure, guaranteed, and anonymous. They have their legitimate uses, but for a criminal, they’re perfect.” She looked over to Citrine. “Once I have the notes ready, then what?”

Citrine replied, “We’ll meet you at the bank and secure them until the time of the exchange. They’ll be under continuous guard.” Miss Jade nodded.

Mr Writ stood up. “Alright, I have some documents to prepare for the morning.” He headed for the door, but gave the other end of the table a wide berth. As he passed the two detectives, he mumbled, “I don’t ever want to see that box again.”

The Exchange

The pre-dawn dampness clung to me like a wet blanket. I shivered as a biting cold breeze seemed to blow right through me. We were at a command post just north of the intersection of 12th Street and Sea Breeze. The irony of the one street’s name was not lost on me as I shivered again. A second note from the foalnappers had contained little beyond three things: the intersection name, instructions that we approach from the north side, and a single long hair from my client’s tail. My jaw clenched at the thought of their hooves on her.

The Canterlot police were here in force. I mean, no pony believed that any demand for “no cops” meant that there would actually be no cops. All the ongoing chaos of preparations blocked any chance of me being able to focus, so I headed south towards the intersection. In this space, usually so full of life, my footfalls seemed lonely as they echoed off the empty buildings. I briefly wondered if the buildings resented our intrusion into the early morning stillness.

I moved to the center of the intersection and sat down. As I looked down 12th, the street lights provided just enough light for the ambient shadows to play tricks on my vision, teasing a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye when nothing was there. I gave my head a shake to dispel the phantoms and focused on the events to come.

Years of experience on the force meant that I could clearly visualize how the event would almost certainly go down.

There was no guarantee they’d actually come up 12th. Frankly though it wouldn’t matter once we were all at the intersection. Whichever direction they came from, those two ponies from the abduction would almost certainly walk up the street with Miss Chapeau between them. She’d be restrained. They would stop just short of the intersection, so as to not be exposed to any officers, either in the buildings or on the surrounding rooftops. The unicorn’s horn would be glowing, charged up as a threat to the hostage. I frowned at that thought. Miss Chapeau would not survive the type of spell he’d hit me with.

I squinted as I peered into the murky intersection. Those two stinking road apples would be in control of the situation, at least initially.

I tensed as I heard two sets of hoofsteps coming from behind me. No, it’s too early! “Hey, Steel, whatcha doing?” I blew out a breath. It was Citrine and probably Nightly with her.

“I’m trying to figure out their plan,” I replied without turning to look.

Nightly offered, “Walk in, do the exchange, walk out.” He scoffed. “Until we nab ‘em.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that easy. They’ll know that. They should know that.” I looked over my shoulder at Citrine. “Do we have thestrals?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “We have five bat-ponies on the force, all on the night shift. They’ve been assigned to tonight’s operation and should show up soon.”

I looked forward again, then up at the sky. “I know what their note said, but they’ve got to figure we’ll have scouts around. They may not know about the bat-ponies, but they’ll assume that we’ll at least have pegasi in the sky. Which means… they’ll have an exit plan.” I stood up, turned around, and started walking up 12th.

Citrine and Nightly joined in behind me as she asked, “Where are you going?”

“They’ve got four exits out of this intersection. I’m going to walk a block down each one and see if I can figure out their plan.” As we left the intersection, I slowed my pace. My head was in constant motion as I checked the street and surrounding buildings. A fire escape ladder that went to a roof. A narrow alley between two buildings. Any number of doors that might be unlocked.

Nightly spoke up. “But this is the direction we’ll be coming from. They’d have to pass right through us to go up this street.”

I nodded. “Which makes it the one we’d be least likely to be watching or have officers stationed on. The one we’d never expect them to use. The perfect choice.”

Citrine added, “No matter which street they might choose, they could still escape into any of these buildings.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “And they could potentially move from building to building for a while without being seen. But they’d eventually have to exit and,” I pointed up, “our eyes in the sky should spot ‘em.”

We walked a block down and back on each street, working clockwise around the intersection, until finally we made our last excursion down Sea Breeze. Ahead was a building undergoing external renovations. The entire facade and decorative work was removed from the front. Several large dump-boxes blocked the sidewalk and part of the street. They were all full of rubble from the building and ready to be hauled away. I glanced down the gap between the two of them and saw a door. Probably an emergency exit for the building. Then I stopped. A metal grate sat in the road between the dumpsters, with a corresponding maintenance hole cover set into the sidewalk next to it.

Citrine moved up beside me. “Why are you staring at that storm drain? There are one or two of them on every block.”

I walked over to it and peered through the grate into the blackness below. “True. But this is the only one that would be hidden from view from the intersection. If they could get down there undetected, they could move for blocks before coming to the surface again.”

Nightly was looking up at the surrounding buildings. “We have an officer on that building right there,” he pointed at it, “and another at the end of the block. They’d be able to see ponies vanish between these two dump-boxes.”

“That’s if the officers can see well enough in the dark. And if the two thugs don’t somehow mask or hide their escape.” I pointed at the door. “And should they enter the building elsewhere, say by breaking in the main door, then they could be out that exit and down the hole in seconds, completely unseen.” I turned around to face Nightly. “And seeing them is too late. Once they’re below ground, we’ll probably lose ‘em.” I glanced at Citrine. “Can you station a few officers down there, out of sight? Make sure some of them are unicorns with good shield spell skills, because I’d bet bits to brownies that the unicorn will fight back if cornered.”

“What about the other access points?” Citrine asked.

I shook my head. “We don’t have the pony power, and this is the only spot that might have real potential as an exit. And while I’m not sure I would try to escape this way,” I peered into the darkness again, “a couple of rats might think it’s perfect.”

What stars we could see through the thinning fog were starting to fade, as shades of purple stretched across the east. Dawn was approaching. The saddlebags containing the ransom weighed heavy on my withers beyond just their intrinsic weight. These two million bits were a pony’s life. I could feel my heart pounding, though we still had some time before the foalnappers should show up. But soon…

With Citrine on my right and Nightly on my left, we waited at our end of the intersection. Observers and backup were scattered in various buildings two blocks in every direction, all as good as invisible. The thestrals were somewhere above, circling, and essentially unseen. We stood motionless, ears forward and alert.

The sound of hooves on cobblestone reached us first. Then three ponies emerged from the darkened street opposite us. They stopped at the edge of the intersection, their rumps still in the shadows. Miss Chapeau stood between her unicorn and earth pony captors. My breath caught and I heard Citrine gasp. They had Miss Chapeau in a rope halter. A lead led from below her chin to the earth pony, where he had it wrapped a couple times around a leg. It was demeaning and degrading. For a mare like her to be treated like this was unforgivable. I ground my teeth, seething in anger. Get a grip, Steel, this is just starting.

The unicorn called out, “I said only two cops.”

As I stepped forward a couple paces, I replied, “I’m not a cop.”

He furrowed his brow, then lit up his horn for a moment, bathing the intersection in white light. As it faded, he sneered. “So it’s you. I didn’t expect to see you again. Guess what they say is true: one to put ‘em down, and one to keep ‘em down. I shoulda hit you a second time.”

He was trying to throw me off my game. I’d done it so many times myself with suspects. I wasn’t going to fall for it and stood my ground without comment.

After a pause, the unicorn stomped a hoof in minor frustration. “You got the two million?” In response, I did a quarter turn so he could see the saddlebags. With a sneer, he barked, “Show me.”

I reached back and flipped open the flap, revealing the tied bundle of notes. Turning, I repeated that for the other bag. “It’s all there, every bit. We aren’t going to take any chances by trying to pull something.”

He took two steps forward. “Okay, this is how it’s gonna go. You’re gonna bring those bags over here. Then me, my partner, and this pretty little dame are gonna walk back the way we came. Once we’re clear of all the cops you obviously got waiting for us, we’ll let her go.”

I turned to face him straight on. “Not in your wildest fantasies. I know what you can do. I know what you’re willing to do. She’ll be dead the moment she ceases to be useful. Miss Chapeau is not leaving this intersection.”

His horn lit up again and he inclined his head towards my client threateningly.. “You’re in no position to demand anything.”

“Two million bits,” I replied, giving my shoulder a little flick so the saddlebag swung out a bit. “Besides, we both know you have an escape plan all figured out. And I’ll bet two million bits it does not involve trying to drag a slow-moving hostage with you.”

He paused, squinting. No way he thought we’d go for his original plan. “So what do you propose?”

I took another step forward and turned just a bit to keep the saddlebag in his view. “I’ll walk out to the middle of the intersection.” I tossed my head towards his partner. “He brings Miss Chapeau out. I give him the saddlebags, then Miss Chapeau and I return.” Using the partner kept the unicorn some distance from the actual exchange.

“And what guarantee do I got that your unicorn won’t attack?”

“Because then you’ll do the same. Our only concern is for Miss Chapeau’s safety. I guarantee we will not interfere with your escape or make any effort to pursue you. We just want to get her out of this intersection unharmed.”

Without taking his eyes off me, he stepped back by his partner and said, “Go.” The earth pony tugged at the lead and started forward, Miss Chapeau forced to follow. It’s a good thing I’m not a unicorn, because when I saw her head jerk from the yank of the lead, I’d have made the situation a lot worse. I took a deep breath and started forward.

As we got closer, I could see Miss Chapeau better. She was dirty and disheveled. Her mane and tail were a tangled mess, with a big chunk of her mane missing from just behind her ears. She looked right at me, but it was the vacant stare of somepony in shock. As my client, I wanted to get her to safety. As a stallion, I wanted to pound these two piles of coddy muck into oblivion.

The earth pony opened negotiations. “Gimme the bags.”

I hissed in response, “Let… her… go.”

He reached over and undid the clasp, letting the lead drop to the street. I pushed in between him and Miss Chapeau. I whispered in her direction, “Start walking,” then pulled off the saddlebags, hoofing them over. I walked backward a few paces, keeping a wary eye on the unicorn while the earth pony started back. As I turned, I noticed Citrine had moved forward and to one side. Her horn was glowing… ready. Nightly was still in his place, looking past me and keeping an eye on the two mooks.

I started to think that perhaps we’d pulled it off.

Nightly bolted forward. “Steel, look out!”

Then in quick succession: bang, bang, bang. The loud reports repeated as they echoed off the buildings.

By reflex, I jumped and spun in mid-air to land facing backward, crouched and ready. My vision was obscured by a shimmering shield spell cast by Citrine. The other side of her spell was quickly filled with thick gray smoke. There was a bang to my left down Sea Breeze, followed shortly by two more. Then three more, ahead down 12th. A final three came from the other direction on Sea Breeze.

I turned and yelled, “Run!” To her credit, Miss Chapeau didn’t flinch nor freeze, but immediately took off at a gallop. Nightly joined us, taking up position on the other side of Miss Chapeau. As we passed Citrine, she dropped the shield and brought up the rear. Our footfalls echoed off the buildings as we galloped part way back up 12th, staying ahead of the smoke. When we reached mid-block, we stopped and turned to look back towards the intersection.

“Poison?” Nightly asked. Citrine’s horn glowed again, ready to cast another shield spell.

“I don’t think so… Unless that unicorn can cast a shield bubble while moving. Uhh, still… let’s back up a bit more.” We retreated a few more paces. The advance of the smoke slowed. Then the early morning breeze began to push it back, causing it to dissipate. “Thank Celestia for that breeze. It should all clear up in another minute or two.”

“That was smart of them,” Citrine commented.

“It was,” I replied, “since we now have no idea which street they might have picked. And the smoke probably filled at least half the block, allowing them to vanish without a trace.”

We turned to the sound of two officers galloping up the empty street from behind us. Citrine trotted out to talk with them. “As soon as it’s light enough to see, get all our pegasi in the air doing a grid search along with the bat-ponies. Make sure to spread our other officers out over as many blocks as we can search.” She glanced at a covered police wagon parked on the street. “Oh, and get the ponies assigned to this wagon along with a couple officers down here.” The two ponies saluted and took off at a full gallop.

As Citrine returned, Nightly pointed at the same nearby wagon. “Miss Chapeau, we have transportation to take you to the hospital. If you’d please–”

She cut him off. “No. Not… not yet.” She looked at me and whispered, “Please…”

After a quick scan of the street, I looked at Citrine. “We’ll wait in that alley over there,” I pointed, “Until we hear what the status is. Just for a few minutes.” I escorted Miss Chapeau into the alley, while Citrine and Nightly took up positions at its opening to the street. Miss Chapeau stood against a brick wall that lined this part of the alley. As I moved next to her, I noticed she stood absolutely motionless, head up, eyes forward. She was not trembling, but small swishes of her tail betrayed her uneasiness.

With ears pinned back, Miss Chapeau tensed as I pushed my muzzle into her cheek. There was no hint of honeysuckle, just the smell of stale sweat from multiple days in captivity. The rough rope scratched at my lips as my teeth worked at the knot. Finally, the halter slipped free and fell to the ground. She took a deep, stuttering breath as her ears rose up again.

With a loud snort, I gave the halter a kick, sending it in an arc towards the street. Citrine snagged it out of the air with her magic and gave it to a nearby officer. “Take this, then retrieve a lead you’ll find out in the intersection. Tag them both as evidence.”

We all waited in silence.

After a while, I heard the approach of galloping hooves. They stopped just short of the mouth of the alley. “We got ‘em,” a voice declared. “In the storm drain, just as that detective said.”

I felt Miss Chapeau collapse against my side, her face buried in my mane. She softly sobbed. This was the strongest and most self-assured pony I had ever met. But she was still only a pony, and everypony has their limit. She had reached that limit and the stress from the last few days was pouring out.

“Were there any casualties?” Citrine asked, her voice colored with concern.

“None,” the unseen pony replied. “The unicorn fought back, but we were ready. The shield spells held, and our unicorns took them both down. The earth pony dropped to the ground, put his hooves over his head, and cried like a foal. He didn’t put up any resistance.”

“Where are they now?” Hunter asked.

“We separated them. I think that earth pony will talk, if we keep him away from his partner.”

“Good thinking,” Citrine replied. “Get them to the precinct in separate wagons, then lock ’em up. And tell everypony they did a great job.”

“Will do.” The hooves galloped away again.

Citrine looked back down the alley at us. I shook my head. “We just need another minute. You can get the wagon ready.” She vanished, and in a few moments, I heard the clip-clop of hooves and creak of wheels, as a wagon was backed up to the mouth of the alley.

Citrine came back around the corner and approached us. “When she’s ready, we really should get her to the hospital. We’ll need to take her statement, but we can do that tomorrow. Steel, I assume you’ll want to be there when we interrogate the suspects?”

I felt Miss Chapeau’s leg wrap around one of mine. “Yes, I would, but my first priority is the safety of my client. I will accompany her to the hospital and see her safely home afterward.”

“We have two officers who will escort her the entire way. She’ll be completely safe.”

She tightened her grip. “Citrine, I know she appreciates the extra security, but my responsibility is clear. I’ll meet you at the station as soon as I can.”

“Okay. Here are your saddlebags.” I nodded my thanks as she hoofed them to me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Citrine turned and trotted out of the alley.

I spoke softly. “Miss Chapeau, we need to leave now, as I’m sure you heard. Can you walk?”

She lifted her head from my neck. “Oh my, I seem to have made a terrible mess all over your mane. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I assure you, I’ve had a lot worse on me in the past.” And no doubt will again in the future. “If you can, let’s go to the wagon.” She nodded and we started walking slowly.

As we approached, Nightly opened the rear door. Then he held up a hoof. “Steel, I was wrong about you, and this case. I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck as his ears fell.

“You pushed a little too hard, but you were considering other possibilities. That’s what a good detective does. No hard feelings.” I climbed up into the enclosed wagon, and then extended a hoof to help Miss Chapeau get in. She sat on one of the simple wood benches along the side. I took the other side, facing her. The door closed with a thump and the whole wagon shook slightly. After a moment, the wagon jerked from the unseen ponies pulling it, starting us on our trip.

She sat very still, only swaying slightly to the motion of the wagon. Her unblinking eyes were fixed on a point just to my left. “Miss Chapeau…?” She did not respond. “Miss Chapeau?” I said a little louder. “Jasmine!” Finally, she blinked and met my gaze. “Are you okay?”

She paused for a moment. “I believe I’m uninjured.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Are you… okay?”

Her eyes searched my face before I saw a spark of realization. “Oh, no, they did not hurt me.”

I blew out a breath. “Good. After the incident with your mane… I mean, I was really concerned.” One of her hooves reached up to paw at the large gap in her mane. “Oh,” I blurted out, “I almost forgot. I found this the other day.” I reached into my saddlebag and extracted her hat. Stretching across the gap between us, I gave it to her.

She took it with shaking hooves, held it up to her muzzle, and inhaled deeply. The scent of honeysuckle was still strong on it. Her eyes glistened with tears ready to spill out. It was pure force of will that prevented the escape of a single one.

With years of experience, she reshaped the hat and smoothed out the material. It took her a couple tries to place it just right on her head. The missing mane kept causing it to sit askew. Finally, she was satisfied and put her limbs down. As she looked at me, for the first time I could see a faint flicker of her old self. “Mr Steel. I… I can’t…” She inhaled deeply. “Thank you.”

I smiled. “I know you well enough to know you can’t be seen without one of your trademark hats. Detective Citrine allowed me to check it out of evidence so that it would be ready and waiting for you.”

She returned just the barest hint of a smile as her eyes glanced up. “So says the stallion who never leaves the office without his fedora.”

The Arrest

“Steel!” Citrine jumped to her hooves and lifted a limb to flag me down. I dodged ponies and desks as I made my way through the barely controlled chaos of the squad room. “How’s Miss Chapeau?” Her hoof pawed nervously at the floor.

I held up a leg. “She’s fine. Don’t worry. They gave her a complete physical. Other than being a little dehydrated, she’s uninjured.” She blew out a breath, looking very relieved. I snickered and Citrine’s brow furrowed. “Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about being at the hospital. We were stuck there for three hours, as they put it, ‘for observation’.” I shook my head. “The first hour was kind of rough. She was very quiet, and repeatedly got off the bed to look at her missing mane in a small mirror. She was still in shock.” Citrine gestured at the chair in front of her desk and we both sat down. “But then she started to get better. By the second hour, she was complaining to anypony who would listen about how long it had been.” I grinned. “As hour three drew near, she informed the doctor that she was leaving, and if they had any paperwork, they had best get it to her before she got to the front door.” I snorted once. “We were out of there within ten minutes. I then escorted her home.”

Citrine smiled. “I can just imagine her saying that.” Her smile faded. “Were the guards in place?”

I nodded. “Yes, two officers, outside her home. I don’t believe she considers them necessary, but she thanked them as we passed by. Do you really think there’s any risk?”

She shook her head. “No, but until this case is completely resolved, it’s standard procedure. Plus, given what she’s been through, it’s justified. If only to give her some peace of mind.”

“Yeah, that’s a good point..” I leaned back in the chair to get more comfortable. It had been a long day. “Once we got inside her place, Miss Chapeau’s housekeeper took one look at her and ran off to draw a bath. A hot soak and a good night’s sleep will help a lot.” I paused for a moment. “So, where do things stand here?”

Citrine shuffled some papers on her desk. “The unicorn foalnapper isn’t saying a word. On the other hand, his earth pony accomplice won’t shut up. He’s scared to death of spending the rest of his life in prison and is giving us information about crimes and activities we didn’t even ask about.” Her eyes scanned a list from one of the pages.

“Well that sounds great, but what about the Chapeau case?”

She flipped open a file. “Lots of info about the planning and the timeline. You can look it over later. The big item is that he told us who they were working for: Mr Twillery.”

I tilted my head and blinked a couple times. “But that’s…”

“Yup,” she nodded. “That’s the plant manager for Miss Chapeau’s textile factory.”

I sat up straight. “Have you arrested him yet?”

From behind me I heard Nightly’s voice, “Arrested, processed, and interrogated. But much like the unicorn, he ain’t talkin’”. He stepped around the chair and stood beside me.

“Hey, Nightly.” I raised a hoof.

“Steel.” He bumped it. “So it’s looking like we may have this case wrapped up, even if we can’t get an actual confession out of him.”

My eyes glazed over as I looked down at Citrine’s desk. She leaned forward. “Steel, what is it?”

My eyes popped up and I focused on her. “I’m not so sure we’re done.”

Nightly moved to his adjacent desk and sat down. “Did we miss something?”

“When I was reviewing the personnel files, I read about Twillery. These were Miss Chapeau’s personal notes. She said he was adequate to run the factory because he was an implementer. Tell him to have a thousand bolts of denim produced by a given date, and he’d get it done. But ask him where the mill should be in five or ten years, and he would have no idea. He’s very capable at taking someone else’s plan and galloping with it, but he’s not a visionary or a planner himself.”

Citrine tapped her chin with a hoof. “So, you think he was implementing someone else’s plan? Meaning he’s not the ringleader of this little herd?”

I nodded, “It would make sense. I think there’s at least one more pony higher up the chain.”

Nightly snorted softly. “Okay then, we keep looking.” He glanced at me. “So… what’s next??”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure…” I paused. “But I may have an idea.”

The door was open, so I knocked twice on the doorframe and walked into Miss Jade’s third-floor office. Citrine and Nightly hung back. Miss Jade jumped to her hooves with a slight stumble. “How did the exchange go? Is Miss Chapeau okay?”

I raised a calming hoof. “She’s fine. The ransom exchange went off without a hitch, and she’s safely at home after a quick check at the hospital.”

She sat down and she blew out a breath. “Oh, that’s a relief. I was so worried.”

I remained standing, despite an available chair. “And you will be relieved to know we’ve recovered the entire ransom.”

Her eyes got a little wider. “Oh… you did? That’s good to hear.”

I pointed back at the detectives. “It’s safe at the precinct. I’m told they’ll make arrangements in the next day or two to return it to the issuing bank, so it can all be deposited back into Miss Chapeau’s accounts.”

She looked down at a calendar on her desk. “Yes, good… I’ll need to be there to make sure everything is in order.”

“And more good news: we captured the foalnappers, too.”

Her head snapped up to look at me. “That’s fantastic.” And after a brief pause, “So I guess the case is solved?”

I casually rested a hoof on the back of the chair before me. “You might think so, but no, not yet. Turns out the threat of a long prison sentence has made them very talkative. It didn’t take them too long to give us the name of their boss.”

“Really?” Her head tilted. “And who was it?”

“This may be a bit of a shock,” I locked eyes with her, “but it turned out to be Mr Twillery.”

A hoof shot to her mouth. “No, It couldn’t be. He’s been the plant manager since Miss Chapeau’s dad owned it.” She looked down at her desk shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. Why would he do such a thing?”

“I can assure you, it’s true.” I casually picked up a copy of the Canterlot paper setting on the near edge of her desk. “It’s curious though…” I idly perused the headline for a moment. “The detectives found a good stack of past newspapers in his house, going back well before the last two threatening notes that were sent to Miss Chapeau. But they didn’t find any issues with the letters cut out to make the notes.”

“Well, he'd have to be pretty dense to keep those issues for somepony to find.”

“True, true.” I set the paper down again. “But there weren’t any issues missing. It would be strange to buy two copies of a given day’s paper, just so there’d be no gap in the recycle pile. Why not just get rid of all of them?”

She reached across the desk, picked up the newspaper, folded it in half, and dropped it in a trash can. “Perhaps he created the notes someplace else, where he was careful about getting rid of any evidence.”

I put a hoof on my chin and pursed my lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re probably right. That makes sense.” I paused for a moment then added, “Did you know he has a record from back in his days at college?”

She gasped softly. “No. Really?”

“Nothing major. He stole some stuff from a shop where he worked part time. Like this abduction, it was an inside job. The cops knew he had two partners, but he refused to name names and they were never caught. Since the items and bits were recovered, he was released on probation with the condition he finish college.”

She nodded. “That seems fair, almost lenient.”

“I guess they figured getting him educated so he could get a good job was better than punishment. And it seemed to work, based on his position at the textile mill. I wonder what, or who, could have convinced him to give all that up for something so risky…”

She slowly shook her head. “Who can say what might turn a stallion back to his old ways.”

I nodded. “It’s one more item on the list of unanswered questions…”

Her face brightened. “Then it sounds like the case is solved? Good work Mr Steel.” She looked past me towards the door. “And you too, detectives.” They both nodded in response. The silence hung in the office like a heavy mist in a bog. “Was there… something else, Mr Steel?”

“No, I suppose that’s it.” I turned to my left and began a slow circumnavigation of the room. Directly in front of me was a bookcase with glass doors. A key was inserted in the lock between the doors. The shelves were filled with ledgers, each with a year printed on the spine. “Although…” I paused as I scanned the years. “There’s something that bothers me...”

“Yes…?” Her voice was strained. She was irritated.

My slow pace took me past a display case filled with fancy hats, each of which had one or more ribbons from some fashion competition. Most of the ribbons were blue. “It’s just that… I wonder how Mr Twillery knew how much ransom to ask for. We know he didn’t have access to any of the business accounts. And the account ledgers are stored here.” I gestured back to the bookcase. “Yet he asked for exactly what you were able to pull together by draining all the accounts you could withdraw from.”

“Well… he and Miss Chapeau had regular meetings. Perhaps it came up in a discussion about the funds available to purchase supplies. There are a number of significant contracts coming up that need to be prepared for.”

I walked past Citrine and Nightly as I moved to the other side of the room where another bookcase stood loaded with a variety of pictures, nick-nacks, and other dust collectors. “Yes. You’re right. I’m sure it was something like that.” My eyes lingered on one particular photo as my slow pace brought me back to her desk. I lifted my head and our eyes met. “Just one more thing.”

She let out a small sigh. “Yes, what is it now?”

“Well… ponies with something to hide are often tripped up by the silliest little thing. Something everypony else misses because it doesn’t seem noteworthy. A little crumb of a clue easily swept away during the chaos of an investigation. It takes years of experience to recognize that crumb for the clue that it is.”

She stood up. “I’m sure this is all very interesting to you, but I’m afraid I have actual work to get done in Miss Chapeau’s absence.” She walked around the side of her desk. “So, if you would excuse me…”

I continued as if I hadn’t even heard her. “A clue like that can break a case. Take that photo on the bookshelf back there. Three smiling ponies posing in front of what looks like a college dorm. That’s you in the center. You really haven’t changed much over the years.” She had frozen mid-step with a front leg held up just a bit. “To your right is Mr Twillery, looking a good bit younger.” Her hoof slowly lowered back to the floor. “And to your left, well… that’s the unicorn from the pair that abducted Miss Chapeau.” Her pupils dilated. “So you’ve known them both since college. He had two partners. His partners then, and now, are in that photo, right?” She stood motionless, staring at me. “It might be more correct to say that, as the leader of the gang, they are your lackeys?”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then she bolted for the side door to her office. I guess that’s a yes. Her magic flung it open, only to almost collide with Nightly standing in the way. I hadn’t even noticed he’d left the room. She backpedaled until her rump smacked into her desk. The impact knocked a few items over. Eyes wide, she glanced at me, back to Nightly, and then looked at the open window behind her desk.

I took a step forward. “I wouldn’t suggest that. We’re three stories up. If the fall doesn’t outright kill you, you’ll break most of your legs. You’ll spend the next few months in traction, at least for those legs you don’t lose because of the injuries. And you still won’t escape.”

She continued to look at the window for a few moments, and then in rapid succession dropped her ears, head, and rump. She had given up. It was for the best. Nightly pulled out a set of hoofcuffs and walked forwards.

I turned and headed for the door. As I passed by Citrine I asked, “Why do they always try to run?”

The Aftermath

It was unclear if it was an invitation or a summons that brought me to Miss Chapeau’s main store in Canterlot. As I entered the ground floor retail section, I spotted a familiar pony at the counter. “Mr Calico. I must say I’m surprised to see you here. Is… everything okay?”

“Mr Steel.” He extended a hoof which I tentatively bumped. “I believe you are responsible for this.”

“How so?” I felt my body tense. I couldn’t read this pony. His words carried an edge to them, but his body language was relaxed.

“A few days after I was arrested, Miss Chapeau’s attorney showed up in Appleloosa.”

“That would be Mr Writ?” I took a casual step backwards, to give myself just a bit more space.

“Yes.” He took a step forward to match my move. “Mr Writ had official paperwork with him. The charges were dropped, and I was released. He then escorted me here to Canterlot for a meeting with Miss Chapeau. Like so many vegetables on a fire, she grilled me for over two hours. Questions about textiles, production, management, finances. It went on and on. That mare really knows her stuff.”

“It was…” I tilted my head. “An interview?”

“Exactly,” he laughed. “She then offered me a job as the plant manager of her textile mill. She said there had been an unexpected opening she needed to fill.”

I blew out a breath and relaxed. “I assume you accepted?”

“Are you kidding? I accepted before she finished the sentence. She pulled out an already prepared contract, which I read and signed right there.” He stomped a hoof for emphasis.

“So then you’ve moved to Canterlot?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “A house also comes with the job. It’s much nicer than that dump I rented back in Appleloosa. I report directly to Miss Chapeau, but have complete autonomy in running the mill. As long as I meet the contractual deadlines and make a profit, she’s happy. I’ve already started to write out plans to improve production and expand our offerings over the next five years. I’ve shared my vision with Miss Chapeau, and she’s anxious to see the details once I have them all worked out.”

“That’s fantastic, although I don’t see why you blame me for any of that.”

He pointed at my face. “Because you included our conversation in your report. When Miss Chapeau learned my side of the story, she decided to do something about it.” He lowered his foreleg. “Given the direction I was going, it probably saved my life.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” I added a little shrug, “but I was just doing my job.”

“It may have just been another job to you, but it was much more than that to me. Thank you.”

“I assure you, it turned out to be much more than just another job. Still, you’re welcome.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m due upstairs for a meeting with Miss Chapeau.”

He also glanced at the clock. “Then you best get going. One does not keep Miss Chapeau waiting.”

As I approached the third-floor office formerly occupied by Miss Jade, Miss Chapeau noticed me through the open door and beckoned me in. “Mr Steel, so good of you to come.” She stood up and walked around the desk with a big smile.

My pace faltered momentarily. “You… You cut the rest of your mane!”

She turned to show her profile. “My tail too.” Her smile faded. “I will not be a victim.” She stomped a hoof. “If I have to wait for my mane to grow back, I will proudly embrace the look. Who knows, I might even keep this style for a while. Mane and tail care has never been easier.”

“Well, I must say, it looks really good on you.” I gave her a quick wink.

Her beaming smile returned. “Thank you. Very kind of you to say so.”

I noticed the doors to the cabinet were open. A glance at the desk shows several ledgers open and scattered about. I gestured at them. “So, how bad is it?”

She let out a long sigh. “Not good, but it could have been a whole lot worse. As you thought, there’s a trail of embezzlement going back years.”

“Yeah. I figured there’d be history leading up to a try for two million bits. You don’t start with that.”

She nodded. “Fortunately, in order to not be noticed, she kept the amounts relatively small, infrequent, and they always look like a clerical error. When funds were deposited, there might be a couple digits transposed, or an eight turned into a zero. That sort of thing. The difference she took as cash back. I haven’t seen anything larger than a thousand bits in a single transaction.”

“Big discrepancies you’d have noticed, but small amounts…”

“Exactly.” She walked back behind her desk and looked down at the open ledgers. “Mr Writ gave me the name of a forensic auditor who’s going to deal with all…” She extended her hooves towards the desk. “This. Then we’ll know. Anyway, enough of this unpleasantness.”

She sat down again while I moved to the chair in front of the desk. “I ran into Mr Calico downstairs.” I paused for a moment. “You did good.”

She scooted her chair up to the desk. “He’s an experienced plant manager with years in textiles. I had an opening at my mill. Hiring him was a sound business decision.”

With an exaggerated nod, I replied, “Yes, I’m sure it was.”

She arched an eyebrow. “I detect a touch of skepticism in your tone. Remember who it was that included so much unrelated background information in his report.”

I held up a foreleg. “Hey, I told you that I was not in the habit of overlooking details in an investigation. So I just did what you hired me to do.”

Her head lifted slightly and she looked down her muzzle at me. “And so we’re both liars.”

I pursed my lips for a moment and then replied, “Yes. I suppose we are.”

Her eyes remained locked with mine until she threw her head back and started laughing. It was a deep, joyous sound that shook her whole body. I couldn’t help but chuckle along. She started to calm down when a very unladylike snort escaped. She stared at me wide-eyed as a hoof flew to her muzzle then broke out in another spasm of laughter. I wasn’t even sure what was so funny, but it was infections. After a bit, she lowered her head and wiped a tear from her eye. “Oh, that felt good. Thank you.”

“I didn’t really do anything, but you’re welcome.” I shifted in my chair and gestured at her. “Speaking of thanks, I suppose I have you to thank for the influx of social elite customers I’m starting to see?”

She slowly shook her head. “No, not really. As soon as the story hit the papers, the schools of social remoras began to circle. They obviously hoped to get some vicarious thrills by asking me about all the details. Some of the mares were most interested in any scraps of information about a romantic relationship with my own personal private detective.” She ended with a knowing wink.

I gasped. “What? No… we never–”

She held up a foreleg. “I know, I know. I would explain that their little fantasies weren’t possible, as you are already spoken for.”

This conversation had taken a nasty turn. “Spoken for? I’m not aware of being spoken for.”

She brought a hoof up to her chin. “No. I don’t suppose you would be.” She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. “In any event, I made no effort to hide the identity of the stallion who saved me and broke the case.”

“It wasn’t just me you know–”

“Yes, I’m well aware of the others and the critical roles they played. But the story tells much better with a more limited cast of characters. I’m not surprised if a few have sought you out for help with issues of their own.” She paused. “I hope you have raised your prices appropriately for them. These types of ponies can be suspicious if something isn’t overly expensive.”

I nodded. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Oh, and before the prices go up…” She pulled a heavy bag out of a drawer and set it on the desk with a solid ka-chunk. “If I can impose upon you… I have another little task I’d like you to perform on my behalf…”

— The End —

The Investigation

As the three of us entered the precinct, Citrine asked, “So, what do you need, Steel?”

“To start with, I really could use a place to sit down.” Before I fall down. “Also, a clear desk I can spread out on.” I tapped my saddlebag. “I have a ton of information I need to review just to catch up. Oh, can you also bring me the reports on my attack and anything else connected to the case?”

Nightly raised a hoof. “I’ll get those. Citrine, why don’t you set him up at that empty desk by the wall close to us?” He turned and trotted off.

Citrine led me to the desk. The dark, stained wood top was completely clear save for a desk lamp that was probably as old as I was. A standard metal office chair sat ready for use. “You can use this.” She opened the drawer, “Pads and pencils. If you need anything else, let me know. Our desks are just over there,” and she pointed, before giving me a small smile and walking off.

I dumped my saddlebags out onto the desk and collapsed into the chair. I could organize the clutter later as the pile wasn’t that deep. The first step was to focus on the pictures of the anonymous notes. There were the four original notes that were somewhat vague, and the six additional, more threatening ones. Whoever created these went through a major attitude shift part way through. What caused that, and why did it seemingly escalate into a foalnapping? The questions were piling up.

After a few minutes Nightly came by. “Here are the reports you wanted.”

I looked up. “Thanks. Hey… Nightly, can we get help from the tech department to process some of the evidence? I have an idea.”

“Absolutely, and I know just the pony.” He turned towards the door. “Be back in a sec.” Before I had time to refocus, he was back with a unicorn mare in tow. With a tilt of her head, Citrine stood up and walked over too. Nightly gestured to the mare. “Steel, this is Officer Mote. She’s new to the department, but no detail is small enough to escape her eye. And her evidence processing skills are second to none.”

I stood and extended a hoof. “Officer Mote…”

She shook it. “Mr Steel. How can I help?”

I sat down and spun some of the pictures around to face her. “I assume you’re familiar with these and the original notes?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I actually took those photos.”

“Great.” I picked up the picture of the very first note. “Whoever is involved here used this method because it’s so hard to trace. Just a bunch of random letters cut from newspapers or magazines. What they forgot is that there’s print on both sides.” I looked at Officer Mote. “I’d like you to use magic, alchemy, or whatever other means you can to remove the letters from the paper, then paste them to something clear in exactly the same layout. We can then turn it over and see what’s on the back.” I set the picture down. “Can you do that?”

She tapped her chin a couple times. “Yes… depending on the glue used, that should be doable.” She paused. “It’s possible some of the paper fragments may be damaged or ripped. But any damage will barely show when I get them glued down again.” She looked at Citrine. “Except…”

Citrine shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill out any justification paperwork for the time and materials. You do whatever Steel needs, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Mote smiled. “Great. But there’s also the issue of essentially destroying evidence…”

Citrine pursed her lips for a moment. “The Captain has given us free rein on this case. I’m sure he’ll sign off on it.” She looked at me, “How many of the notes do you want her to do?”

“Let’s be conservative. Just do the very first note.” I slid that picture forward from the others. “If that doesn’t generate any clues, we’ll do another.” I looked at Officer Mote. “You okay with some overtime?” That actually wasn’t my call, but Citrine had said we had free rein.

She smiled back. “For a case this interesting? Absolutely.” Then suddenly her smile fell away as her ears drooped down. “Oh, I’m sorry. I realize this is a serious case. I didn’t mean to make light–”

“No, no,” I cut her off, “I understand the technical side and how interesting it can be. You do what you do with all the enthusiasm you have. You let us worry about the serious stuff. Deal?”

Her ears rose up again. “Deal. Leave it to me, I’ll get you what you need.”

Citrine tapped the desk a couple times. “Okay, then. Nightly, you get the first note out of evidence. I’ll get the paperwork done.” She glanced at Mote. “Then we’ll both meet you in the lab.” With that, they turned and trotted off in three different directions.

I returned to the pile on my desk. The personnel reports and business documents were supposed to have been read on the train days ago. And now I had police reports on top of it all. Every second I spent here was another second Miss Chapeau was at risk. But you can’t shortcut the process. Find the clues first, they’ll lead to the bad guys.

The chaos and noise in the room faded away as I focused on my work. Even the passage of time went by unnoticed. A knock on the desktop startled me. I looked up to see Officer Mote along with Detectives Citrine and Hunter staring at me.

“I see you were doing your thing, where you check out from reality for a while.” Citrine smiled. “How was the weather in there?”

I snickered and shrugged. “A little stormy today. So, whatcha got?”

“This…” Mote said and levitated a sheet onto the desk.

It was the first note. I slid over the picture to compare. “This is great work. The layout looks identical.” I flipped the transparent sheet over. “I take it back. This isn’t great.” I glanced up at her. “This is amazing.” She looked down at the floor as some color entered her cheeks. “You aren’t just a unicorn, you’re a wizard!”

I opened the desk drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass. “Now let’s see what we can see here…” I studied the back of each letter. Each fragment was another tiny clue, but I needed something bigger. Something more obvious. A clue that would lead somewhere quickly. Something like…

I banged my hoof on the desk. “Like that!” I looked up to see three wide-eyed stares.

“What did you find?” Citrine asked, leaning in.

“Okay, follow me here.” I flipped the sheet over to the front side as I glanced down. “Look at these two letters, here… and here.” I pointed at each with the handle of the magnifying glass. “They were next to each other in a word in some headline of the newspaper they came from.” I flipped to the back side, and pointed at them again. “I know that because there are parts of sentences, even words, split between the two bits of paper. And there’s a date, half on one, half on the other.” I tapped a report on the edge of the desk. “And that date is less than a week before the delivery of this note to Miss Chapeau’s shop.” I stood up.

“Where are you going?” Citrine asked.

As I collected some of the papers from the desk and put them in my saddle bag I answered, “To the main branch of the Canterlot Library. They have a periodical archive going back years. They’ll have a copy of the paper these two letters came from. We have an approximate date. We know what page they’re from, even what part of the page. And we have some text we can easily look for. We find the original newspaper, and then we’ll know what town this note was almost certainly made in.”

Nightly touched Citrine’s shoulder. “I’ll get our stuff. Meet you at the door.”

Officer Mote waved a hoof. “Wait, wait. Can I come too? I can help with the search, and I want to see where this goes.” She looked at Citrine, who glanced at me. I nodded.

Citrine addressed Mote, “Sure, we’d appreciate another set of eyes.”

I paused. “Wait, we’re going to need photos of the note and the back side for each of us to compare with.” Mote levitated a set of photos from her satchel and let it plop on the desk. I looked at the photos and up at her. “How did you figure…?”

She smiled at me. “It was logical. If you didn’t find anything on the back to explicitly identify the paper, the next stop would be a search at the library.”

The main hall of the Canterlot library was as impressive as some small museums. The walls were covered in artwork, with statues and display cases filling the open area. Several hallways led off the main rotunda to the various wings. We made a bee-line to the archway under the sign: Periodicals. A search down the hallway quickly led to the door labeled: Newspapers. It was a large room with row after row of cabinets containing multiple wide shallow drawers. The smell of wood and newsprint was everywhere.

“So what’s the plan, Steel?” Citrine asked as we all looked around the room.

I stepped forward and turned around to face them. “I’ll take the Canterlot paper. Citrine, Nightly, why don’t you two take the two Manehattan papers?” They each nodded. “Officer Mote, why don’t you, umm, just use your best judgment to pick a town. We’ll start with the issue from the date the note was delivered, and work back say two weeks. If we don’t find anything, we’ll all pick a different town.”

Wood scraped on wood as I opened the first drawer to start my search. The crinkle of paper accompanied my flipping to the correct day. This actually wouldn’t be too hard. Scan the day’s headline for occurrences of the two key letters side-by-side, then flip to the back side to check for a date printed in that same spot.

I was a little over a week back when I was startled by two knocks on the cabinet behind me. I turned to see Officer Mote watching me. “Found it,” she said with a barely subdued grin.

“You did? Already?” It was looking like this mare was worth her weight in bits to any investigation. I wonder if she’d consider working for a private agency someday…

She turned to go. “Come on, I’ll show you.” I closed the newspapers and pushed in the drawer. As we walked, she explained. “I decided to start with towns close to Canterlot. I began with Ponyville, but the typeface of their newspaper didn’t match our letters. So I tried Appleloosa next. I found it in the edition five days before the note was delivered. The date in the article references an event in town a couple days before that.”

We stopped at a table that had several papers laid out. I heard Citrine and Nightly come up behind us. Citrine spoke softly, “We saw you go by. What’s up?”

I glanced at her. “Mote found the paper. Appaloosa.”

Mote pointed at the headline on a paper. “Here are the two letters.” She turned the page over and pointed again. “And here’s the text on the back. It’s a perfect match.”

Nightly snickered. “Not sure why we came at all. We should have just sent Officer Mote and relaxed with coffee until she returned.” Citrine and I laughed softly while Mote looked down at her hooves.

I reached for my saddlebag. “Who was it that lived in Appleloosa?”

Citrine answered before I could get out my notes. “Mr Calico, the owner of the failed textile mill that Miss Chapeau used. We talked to him a while back, but it didn’t seem like he was involved.”

I nodded. “That’s right, Calico. I think it might be time to visit him again.”

Nightly glanced at a clock on the wall. “If we wanna do that today, we have to get to the train station right now.”

Officer Mote shooed us away with a hoof. “You guys go. I need to document this with some pictures and clean up. Then I’ll go back to the precinct and write up the report on what we did and what we found. Just don’t forget to tell me all about what you find out when you get back.” She grinned.