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Looking Glass, P.I: Coins and Crowns

by Kavonde

Chapter 2

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People from out of town tell me that Fillydelphia stinks, especially in the afternoon. I guess it does, but I can usually shrug it off; I was born and raised here, and while the stench of piss, booze, rotten food, burning paper, leaky sewage pipes and unwashed ponies never becomes what I'd call pleasant, you learn to deal with it. On a muggy afternoon like that one, though, with the sky overcast and the breeze struggling to navigate the maze of old buildings, it can get hard to even breathe.

I immediately regretted bringing my heavy canvas duster, but the Weather Union had promised a hell of a storm that night, whenever they got around to it. Yeah, the strike had just ended, and they claimed that they were still getting back into the swing of things, but come on. If you asked any pegasus in town, they'd tell you the same thing: the Union knew they had city council over the barrel, and they were milking the hell out of it.

Freaking politics.

The Horn and Feather was on pretty much the opposite side of town and walking in this heat wasn't going to be pleasant, but since I hadn't pushed Miss Calla for an advance, springing for a taxi was out of the question. On the bright side, since I had to hoof it anyway, I could make a few stops along the way.

My corner of downtown Fillydelphia was home to the main F.P.D. headquarters. It was an old, flat building squatting amidst the crumbling apartments and failed businesses that spring up around this town like weeds. It hadn't been painted in years, except for the occasional splotches to cover graffiti, but the simple fact that all the windows and doors were intact made it the prettiest piece of architecture on the block. As usual, several police wagons were parked outside in the main lot, and a few uniformed cops were standing a city-mandated ten freet from the front doors while they smoked and bitched about the heat.

"Gentlecolts," I said, nodding at them as I passed. They gave me a distrustful look matched with only the slightest of nods. I paused to address one of them in particular, an earth pony with a bright orange coat and scarlet mane. “Chase.”

"Glass," he grunted. "What's up?"

"Working a case. Cammy in?"

"Yeah, think so."

I paused. "You think so?"

He shrugged. "Hey, she's not my problem anymore."

I just stared at him. "Hadn't heard you'd had broken up."

He met my eyes for a second, then looked away. "Yeah, things... didn't work out."

I kept staring, just long enough to make him start fidgeting. It felt good. Then I snorted and brushed past him.

The interior of F.P.D. headquarters matched the exterior, though it was a little cleaner and paint had been applied within the last decade or so. The floors were a simple white tile, chipped and cracked in most places from the thousands of hooves that have tread its surface, and the walls were some sort of brownish carpeting that couldn't have possibly ever been in style. The main lobby wass mostly a waiting room, with chairs that weren't designed for pony comfort and a small play area with an assortment of ancient toys, most of them missing important parts. A counter lined the space between two hallways; one lead to the holding cells, the other to the bullpen where the cops did their deskwork.

Behind the counter sat a very pretty filly, with a tan coat and pink mane. She glared at me with tired malice from behind a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles.

"Cammy," I said, throwing her my most dashing grin.

"Looky."

"How's it going? Long time no see. I heard you split with Sgt. Scene. What, your conscience finally catch up with you?”

She rolled her eyes. "Just tell me what you want."

"A second chance, Camellia!" I said with a theatrical sigh, raising my hoof to my forehead. "Let us forgive past grievances, and embrace our true, destined love!"

She sighed and hid her eyes behind her hoof. "Are you seriously just here to annoy me?"

"I have this thing with fillies who cheat on me," I replied. "For some reason, I feel compelled to be an obnoxious dick to them. Weird, right?"

She just stared at me.

"I need to know if some high-hoof named Silver Coin's been picked up in the last couple of days."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Silver Coin? The railroad magnate?"

"Sure, I guess?"

"You're looking for him, and you don't even know who he is?"

I shrugged, getting a little embarrassed. "His fiance hired me to find him."

"You are the worst private eye."

I shot her a glare. "So, no, he hasn't been picked up."

"Correct."

"Thanks, Cammy," I said, turning sidelong. "I'll let you get back to your adultery. Work! I mean work."

She gave an angry snort and turned back to her paperwork. "You are such a child, Glass."

I didn't bother responding; she was right, and I knew it. What happened between us was years in the past, and any mature pony would have put it all behind him and moved on. But no matter how hard I tried, the hurt came back fresh every time I looked into those rose-colored eyes.

I pushed aside my rueful ruminations as I left the building. That was one lead followed. Whatever Silver Coin was doing, it hadn't landed him in the clink. The next logical stop was the hospital.

Healing Hooves Hospital was the biggest in Fillydelphia, and located just a few blocks from the F.D.P. H.Q. Those blocks made a difference, though; just a few streets down the road, and life started returning to the city. There were small novelty shops, a few hole-in-the-wall restaurants only the locals knew about, and even a small park that only occasionally doubled as a drug trade flea market.

I made my way across the park, dodging a small pack of young ponies who were chasing an annoyed-looking squirrel, and up the steps to the hospital proper. Inside, it was all white floors and pale, pastel walls. A fountain gurgled in the center of the waiting room, the brightly colored fish within mesmerizing a couple of foals.

The mare staffing the reception counter was matronly and plump, her gray mane pulled up into a bun on which her uniform's hat perched precariously. She greeted me with a bright smile. "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?"

I dipped my mouth into my coat and produced my identification, a small card with an official stamp listing me as a licensed private detective. "I'm just wondering, ma'am, if a stallion named Silver Coin has checked in here."

"Silver Coin?" she said in surprise. "Why, no, sir! Surely the media would be swarming the building if he had!" She leaned forward eagerly. "Why, has something happened to him?"

I bit my card and tucked it back into my coat. "Thanks for your information, ma'am."

"Has he been in some accident?" she pressed, her voice an urgent whisper. "Is he missing? Did they get him?"

I paused. "They?"

She looked quickly around her, and then leaned forward again. "Hadn't you heard? Silver Coin was leading the fight against the Weather Union's strike! He gave a speech calling them all sorts of terrible things... blackmailers, brigands, barbarians... lots of 'B' words. Don't you read the news?"

"Just, you know, parts of it."

"Well, I heard that Nightingale herself put a bounty on him! Ten thousand bits, alive or dead!"

"Uh... huh."

"And I heard that Mr. Coin hired this famous mercenary as a bodyguard!"

"Look, ma'am, thank you for your time... "

"Oh, this is so juicy! I can't wait to tell Dr. Tourniquet."

I hustled out of the hospital while the nurse was distracted with her one-pony gossip hour. As I crossed the park again, I thought over what I'd learned. Clearly, this Silver Coin was a bigger name in the city than I had assumed, maybe even a borderline celebrity. I needed to learn more about him before I started asking questions, if only so I wouldn't seem like such a clueless idiot.

I needed somepony who knew the local bigwigs, who kept up with their goings-on, and who could tell me everything I might need to know about Silver Coin and the enemies he had made on his way to the top. Fortunately, in Fillydelphia, you can find anything you need... for a price.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3 Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 25 Minutes
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