Family Comes First: (Book 1) - Money Doesn't Grow on Apple Trees

by Gentlemuffin

Rating: teen
Tags: Alternate Universe, Dark
Length: 932

Manehattan's top sleuth investigates a series of murders somehow connected to the affluent and notorious Apple Family.

"My name is Red Herring, and I'm looking for apples.
Not the kind that you see in supermarkets. Not the sweet and juicy kinds.
No. I'm looking for rotten apples. The kind that stinks to the pit of it's core. The kind that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. The kind that makes you sick to your stomach.

I'm not some hero. Or somepony who gets the dame and rides off into the sunset. This ain't some spaghetti western, fillies and gentlecolts. This is about the choices we make, and what happens if we pick the wrong one.

This is my story. And their's.
Their last story when I'm done."

Follow the exploits of Manehattan PD's top sleuth and the underbelly of the Produce Underworld in the first of this multi-parter series:
"FAMILY COMES FIRST"

Cover art by GSphere

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-05-09 07:10:01 UTC

Prologue: The Case

"So how's it look, Detective?"

Manehattan, Tartarus Kitchen. A warm and happy place. If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic.

"This has been going on for weeks now. You'd think that after Union Square these guys would let it go.."

We're looking at a disturbance that happened sometime last night. We received a call from an anonymous resident at 47th at 8th. It sounded pretty bad when we were told there was a loud noise that came from one of the tenants' rooms. Some of the guys went to check it out and boy were they surprised.

"Yeah well, you know how it's been lately. Ever since the bigwigs cut cider distribution, everypony's getting a little... stressed."

"Sure could use a drink."

"Don't even joke about that."

The victim was still being identified at the lab. She had it so bad we couldn't tell if we were even looking at a pony. There wasn't any identification, but we all knew who it was. Well, not 'who' exactly, but we knew who she was working for.

"Peaches and apples. I can't remember the last time I said those words and didn't lose my stomach." I said while looking over the files.

"You think you got it bad? The mayor's been wracking his brains trying to keep things together. Even Appleloosa is looking better than us and they got that thing with the Buffaloes. More than a dozen casualties. Half of them fillies. Sweet Celestia.."

The recent string of 'accidents' happening all across the city started weeks ago when two local vendors had an argument over which stand goes where during the Harvest Festival. As the name suggests, it's a big event that celebrates the last harvest of the year. Where the ponies of Equestria give thanks to the bounty that nature provided with our hooves. We expected loads of grocery bags. By the time it all ended, all we got were body bags.

"How's the weather by the way, sarge? Sunny out? Birds chirping? How are the kids?"

"Don't be a smartass, Herring."

"What? Haven't had a happy conversation with you in weeks. I was hoping we could sing a song about 'planting our tiny seeds' and with 'proper care and sunshine every mare it feeds."

We both had a good laugh. It's been glum in the office recently. No shit. I haven't seen my girlfriend in days either. Work does that. Keeps you from enjoying life, but you know you can't if you don't work. There's a poem in there somewhere. I gotta follow the dead to enjoy life.

"You still haven't answered my question, Mr. Specialist. How's it look?", he asked me.

"It's bad. And whoever did it should feel bad."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to put that in the report with a picture of a sad face."

It wasn't hard figuring out the perps. The two vendors belonged to two of the biggest produce distributors in the country: Sweet Apples and Pretty Peaches. What was hard was finding a way to prove it was them. Either one had a big piece of the pie with Equestria's economy and had lands strewn all across Equestria. Farms, processing plants, markets, dealers, you name it. So yeah you get the picture, they have resources. And believe it or not, everyone else is running out. The mayor in particular. And with the recent banning of liquor products, it's hard to piss off the guys who give honest law-abiding citizens their daily happy time. Nopony wants to say it, but these guys own the city. And it's my job to catch them. I need a raise.

"Any witnesses, sarge?"

"It's in the file."

"I meant the 'other' witnesses."

"....no. At least not in a while."

We're having a pretty hard time, but we're still not completely in the dark. We had moles planted in some places for each distributor. But all we got were bedtime stories, pretty good ones but nothing we can use to say "Look here! This bastard tried to kill an old lady if she didn't buy his goods". They said that anypony found with a camera inside the facilities were brutally questioned. Just your average everyday companies huh? So no proof, no leads, and recently, no word from any of them.

"And the body?" I asked.

"Just came back from the cellar. Forensics say she's, or 'was', Orange Blossom. Key contacts didn't say much, but only that she worked in the market for a while. No evidence, room was stripped clean. But witnesses say they saw her with some peach boxes a couple of days ago. The landlord won't give us shit unless we go screw ourselves with a caramel sucker."

Truth is, we all saw this coming. Ever since Nightmare Moon came back and off'd Celestia, the economy has been on a downward spiral. Would've been a lot worse if nopony stopped her, but things are just as bad. Now some pony in a suit is in-charge and I'm starting to think we were better off with eternal night. It sure isn't sunny now, believe you me.

"Something's going on." my boss said.

"Wow. Maybe you should be the detective, sarge."

"Fuck you, Red. If you actually did your job then I'd have less paper to punch and more mares to bang."

"Good thing I'm not in a marriage. Otherwise, I'd actually care about your's."

"Funny. Now what's the plan?"

As I stand up and walk out the door, I could say only one thing to that big ugly mug of his.

"Gonna get a drink."