Look Up The Mountain, Then Look Down

It was a slow drive, and it was made worse by the stallion riding shotgun who was essentially like a dog poking his head out of the car window. He constantly took pictures, which wouldn't have bothered her...If he hadn't decided to do so on a damn instant camera.

"...Don't you want to use your phone and get better quality pictures?" She muttered.

"No." Dusk smiled.

The drive was made more awkward by her next question.

"Detective, why does your precinct need a cold case department?"

"...Well, why not?"

"I don't get the point of it." Cécile said. "I'd rather focus on preventing crime and stopping people robbing banks now, not criminals robbing banks fifty years ago."

"Cold case investigation is actually quite serious." Dusk said, defensive. "We utilize special techniques designed to bring justice over years, and also help bring closure to loved ones of long-deceased victims!"

"Fine, let's make a bet on whether or not your case hits a dead end. I think it will, you think it won't. Winner gets to make the other do whatever they want. Deal?"

"You got a deal, Inspector!"

As soon as they arrived, they stepped out of the car, now overlooking the large docks before them. What to do, where to go...?

"Well, Detective?" Cécile raised a brow. "Where to now?"

"To be honest I...I don't know." Dusk said, scratching his head. "I was actually hoping you'd help me out! I mean, that's why you're my partner, right? I just need someone who knows what's going on around here, and what did in the past."

"I'm your partner for now." She sighed. "Fine, I have an idea. Just let me do the talking." She said. She led the stallion through the dock, and he immediately noticed a curious thing. It seemed that most of the workers were not Aquileians, but a mix of Wingbardians, River ponies, and Kirin. He didn't need to hear them speak - he paid attention to body language, clothing style, and mannerisms. Not to mention, the Kirin he saw were, well, Kirin.

"This isn't the most...government-run dock, is it?" He proposed.

"...Kind of." She said. "Here's the bird."

Cécile whistled to a cap-wearing, white-feathered griffon who was leaning against a shipping container, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. "Hey! Mateo!"

***

The bird happily described the nature of his operations, waving his cigarette around without a care that he might burn the police officers. "We bring folk from all corners of the planet, but yeah - Aquileia's the final stop." Mateo laughed. "Though to tell you the truth, I feel offended. All these illegals and by extension tourists wanna come into Aquileia, and yet none of these schmucks even bother coming to Wingbardy. Makes that little - yet present part of my inner patriot a lil' upset. Nobody wants real wine or nice beaches or a tour around nice old Karthin. All they care about in Aquila are the romantic candelit nights, and wine bottles, and the griffon girls who don't shave down there that twist your you-know into a balloon poodle and--"

The griffoness grunted. "Tsk! S'il te plait, please don't embarrass yourself - nor myself around my...partner. I'd prefer the questions answered directly rather than have you shit an essay out of your beak. Capische?"

"Aight fine." Mateo rolled his eyes.

"And..." Dusk tilted his head. "You and the police...I mean, are you both cool with what's happening?"

"Uhuh." He proudly grinned. "We get along with Ms. Cécile over here, makes it easier for the police to be cordial with folks like us. After all, if there's illegals coming into your country, you'd probably want to know who and how much. And besides, if all the illegal Wingbardians disappear, who's gonna whip you up some fresh bucatini?"

"I'm more of a fettuccine kinda stallion." Dusk laughed heartily.

"No shit? You got taste. Come 'round the place with the Wingbardian awning on the corner of Silvestine Street. Best Alfredo I've tried...Aaaanyways, I see Cécile's boutta kick our asses for talkin' food, so let's get back on the subject."

The stallion nodded, producing a small notebook and pencil. "Right, may I ask where your ships come from? Have you had any ships from Equus?"

The griffon nodded. "Yeah, all the time. Aight well, not so much since your moon lady took over and things got more strict on your end, though they show up now and again."

"...And, how long has your operation been up?"

"Hah!" Mateo grinned wide. "Longer than you, me, or even this hag--, er, old la--, uh...madame have been swimming in our dad's balls. We're looking at what, seventy-ish years or so?"

"That fits!" Dusk smiled wide, eyes lighting up. "Okay, so look, I'm looking for a ship that popped up here around Summer 1010. It was called the Augustine? Should have been transporting refugees from the civil war in Equus?"

"...Bit of a tall order for me to get you that kinda info..." He started to scratch his head feathers. "But uh, damn...Okay, I gotcha. Gimme a sec."

He turned around to yell into the direction of the dock workers, before letting a bellowing shout.

"VITOOOOOOOOOOOO! Hey! Pronto over here for a sec, will ya?" The smuggler beckoned over, then turned to the two. "Guy worked here longer than most other workers here been on this planet. He's clean, so don't go pinnin' anything on him. Probably the only legit worker here on the account nobody even tells the old guy not everyone on these ship's got passports and not every crate's on manifests."

Approaching them was a grizzled worker, older than Cécile by perhaps fifteen, if not twenty years. The old griffon sighed and shrugged his shoulders at his young coworker. "You truly are a second generation immigrant." Vito shook his head. "Pronto over here for a sec? "Quickly" for a second?"

"Look, we can discuss linguistics later - now I'd like ya to help us out over here. You like the law, right?"

"Any law that's not Beakolini's. Good riddance."

"Well that's good, you don't gotta hang these two upside down." Mateo said, nodding towards the two investigators. "We got a chance to help our fine boys and girls in blue to find a missin' person from a couple of years back."

"Many years back." Dusk coughed. "Like, many many."

Vito smiled at the young stallion. "Okay, well how many are we looking at?"

"In 1010." He said. "There was a ship, the Augustine. We were looking for a passenger who left it, a mare who may have dyed her appearance. She was a unicorn, a little tall?"

"Oh my, I couldn't hope to remember." Vito laughed softly. "1010? I was a pretty young bird back then!"

"Well, sir...If I may..." Dusk reached for his bag. "I'd like to try something to help you remember."

"I can't accept money other than my wages, it'd be a sin. Oh, if it's alcohol, no thank you, too." The old griffon smiled, waving a talon. "I'm not much of a drinker no more, ever since the doctor said the liver's gonna give with as much as a drop of the stuff. Mi scuza, I truly don't remember."

"It's not exactly alcohol. Well, not for drinking." Dusk smiled. "I researched the connection between smell and memory. Like, using a perfume when you study for an exam, and then wearing it on the exam so it helps you remember. Maybe we can try it now? Y-You see, the uh...The pony we're looking for, always used to wear this perfume. Can't miss it."

In Dusk's hoof was a very ornate, gorgeous pink bottle, with a pink-diamond encrusted pump. It read - L'odeur qui vous rappelle votre premier amour.

"Detective..." The griffoness shook her head disapprovingly. "Please be more mature and less...fairy-tale-ish. Even if this works, why would your target not remove it? Smelling perfume after decades - this is really what you do?"

"Have more faith." Dusk smiled. "My target couldn't have thought of everything. She could have forgotten to remove it or didn't think of doing so, don't forget this was her favorite perfume. If she didn't smell like it, her things might have. Mr. Vito, may I?"

"Curious idea, but let's give it a shot." The old griffon nodded. Dusk took the perfume bottle as Vito extended his talon, and sprayed a little on it. Vito brought the talon to his beak, and sniffed it.

"...Whoa." Vito kept sniffing his own talon, on repeat. He began to look, almost staring right through his own limb. "It's...It's..."

Dusk hated that his nervousness was betrayed by his body language. Vivienne smirked, feeling her victory looking. "D-Do you remember anything?"

"...Oh sweet Beatrice..." He closed his eyes. "It smells almost just like her. Not the scent itself - but this sensation..."

Dusk, Mateo, and Cécile exchanged a short look, but did not intervene.

Vito continued. "It's that smell...We're standing together, only us in the field. The sky - the clouds straight out of a painting. That soft breeze, that sun...Those gorgeous flowers and those lush trees...None of that beauty compared to her. Not a candle held to the beauty of her soul. She holds my talon, I hold hers. I beg whatever god is real - let me stay here for the rest of time, for life will never be better than this...than that moment."

He looked quietly forward, and softly sighed.

"...Mr. Vito?" Dusk quietly whispered.

"...Yes." He coughed. "This scent is familiar. I...I was helping some of the refugees carry their luggage. This scent...I do remember a mare. This perfume, it really was the same one, I am certain. I could not ignore nor forget it..."

"And do you remember where she might have gone?"

Vito nodded. "I offered to help her. I carried her luggage to a taxi, she asked me if I knew what part of the city was safest, most monitored and best to raise children."

"What'd you go with?" Cécile raised a brow.

"I suggested the Palais street, basically in the backyard of Queen Vivienne...and that's where she asked the taxi driver to take her." He said. "Oh! But also, she was joined by a stallion. Very quiet, kept his distance - cradled something close to his chest. I almost forgot about him, he really tried to make himself less known."

"Palais street..." Dusk turned to his partner. "But is that really a residential area? Apart from government buildings, police stations, museums..."

"There's one place actually." Cécile said, almost intrigued with the case now that it seemed to have been coming together, forgetting that's the opposite of what she wanted. "There are apartments commonly enjoyed by griffon nobility and the rich, but there's ponies who live there now and again."

The stallion turned to the old griffon, thankfully looking at him. "I think I have our lead, then. Mr. Vito...Thank you. And you too, Mr. Mateo..." Dusk said, then looked at Vito. "Sir, maybe...I can give you the perfume? If it helps you remember, it..."

"...No." Vito smiled. "The past moments - you should cherish them, but never be obsessed with them." He said. "If I cradled a perfume bottle as I fell asleep, I'd be a sad excuse of an old man, eh?"

Dusk sighed. Those words hit him, but not in the way he'd liked. "R-Right. Well, have a good day."

Mateo smirked, wrapping one talon around Vito, waving the other. "Come 'round friend! We'll convince ya to take up a case in Karthin next time, get you to have real lunch with us. Not snails or frog legs, right Inspector?"

Cécile scoffed at him. "Snails and frog legs? Our ancestors ate worms in the soil. Aquileian cuisine fits avian biology more than those grease mountains you call food." She said, waved a talon, then using it to beckon Dusk. "Adieu Mateo. Let's go, Detective."

They sat in the car. Dusk was smiling, ear to ear. When Cécile sat and put on her seatbelt, she caught his gaze and groaned, closing her eyes with annoyance.

"Fine. You win your bet. What do you want? No nude pictures or sexual favors, no buying dinners."

Now, Dusk felt like a child. "...Could you show me your gun?"

"...Well, if that's what you want." Cécile said, surprised but glad it wasn't so complicated. She handed over her revolver, and Dusk eagerly took it, studying it like a child inspecting a toy.

"Oh, it's..." He frowned. Disappointed.

"What?" Despite the mundane action, Cécile suddenly felt offended.

He didn't like it - much too sleek, geometrical. Modern. "...It's a '49?"

"Well yes?" She wasn't sure what he was getting at. "A nice gun, newest model."

"...Okay. Well, thanks..." He said, levitating the gun over to her. However, until she understood what was wrong, she wouldn't take it.

"No, wait. Tell me, really, what don't you like about it?"

"I was just hoping for a '18..."

"...A Manheron '18?" Cécile scoffed. "What is this, the 20's? You want the suspects to make elderly jokes at me while--"

They were interrupted by static. Her eyes darted to the radio on her dashboard. She pressed the button, and the voice came through.

"<>"