Travelers and Jumpers

Chapter 7:

Investigations Commence

You know, the easiest comparison in my mind for this entire situation was the process of brewing a potion. You take two volatile ingredients, and put them together in a pot. Once you do that, you have to patiently stir them together, knowing that the slightest mistake on your part could potentially have the entire brew explode in your face.

In this case, our volatile components were an angry wizard who had just found out he’d been robbed, and an overly paranoid dimensional “Jumper” who was in possession of those objects, and wasn’t likely to give them back any time soon. So, I had to see if I could take them back.  To be honest, though, I’d feel a lot more comfortable about doing this if I had my gun with me.

What? Alex has a knife. A big, large, pointy knife. Excuse me if I want to have the option of not dealing with him in close quarter combat.

The sound of a door opening snapped me out of my thoughts, as I whirled around to find that instead of the man I was expecting, there was a small filly standing in the doorway. She had an orange coat, and a ruffled, purple mane on her head, and an air of general tomboyishness (tomcoltishness?) about her. Her eyes were narrowed in mistrust and suspicion, focused entirely on me.

Well. This was unexpected.

“Hello, youngling,” I greeted the small pegasus, nodding my head to her. “Would you happen to know where I could find Mr. Roberts this fine morning?”

She continued to glare at me with the same suspicious stare as before, as she told me, “My dad told me I shouldn’t be talking to you...”

...Her Dad? Why are my detective senses screaming at me right now?

I thought about how overprotective of the ponies Alex had seemed, and compared it to some of the gossip I had heard from the ponies on the way here. A few connections later, and I had managed to piece together a reasonable hypothesis. And like any good hypothesis, it’s gotta be tested somehow.

“Your dad wouldn’t happen to be...Alex, would he?” I asked, kneeling down to get a better look at her.

The filly nodded, and remained silent.

I let out a sigh of exasperation. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the world had decided to prove me wrong, and make sure that I was put into a situation where I was alone with Alex’s child, and where Alex thought of me as the closest thing to Satan. Although that did raise a few questions, such as why he adopted the kid, or if she really was his biological child.

Don’t give me that look. When magic is involved, everything can happen.

I opted to lean against the side of Alex’s home, and pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. This really wasn’t how I wanted to do things, but I’d have to adjust. Looking at the filly, I said to her, “Well, okay then. Do you know when Alex will be back in?”

She shook her head, and said, “Nope, sorry. Hey, you’re that guy who beat up the chimera, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. “I’m just here to pick up some of my stuff.”

“Dad took your stuff?” she asked, a look of confusion briefly replacing the glare on her face.

“Aye,” I grunted, getting back up to my feet. I dusted my jeans off, and said, “I figured I’d just come and grab it, save him the trouble of trying to return it to-”

“Scootaloo!” a familiar voice shouted suddenly, catching my attention. “How about you go back inside? I just need to talk to him for a bit.”

Great, I thought, the meathead brigade is here.

Turning, I saw that Alex was standing just a few feet away from where we were, an easy distance for him to close, should he want to. His hand was resting on his knife’s hilt, and if looks could kill, I’d have died fifty more times that day. It wasn’t an obvious look, though. It was more powerful, more subtle; the eyes of a deadly father.

The pegasus, Scootaloo I suppose, looked between me and Alex, and elected to go back inside, her wings fluttering a bit in what I assumed was nervousness.

That left me and ol’ Mr. Roberts out in the cold.

And me without my jacket.

“Hello there,” I greeted him in a cheerful tone, “I was just wondering if I could pick up my stuff. See, I don’t know if you meant to do this or not, but it looks like you took a few of my things.”

Alex shrugged nonchalantly in reply, and said, “Well, no harm done either way. And hey, it doesn’t look like any harm will be done. Everyone wins, right?”

“Oh yeah, that’s true enough, isn’t it?” I told him, nodding my head in faux agreement. “Hey, whatever happened to that chimera? Did it get put down for being a threat, or just sent away to some other part of the world?”

The other human walked closer towards me, his face a neutral mask as he said, “The guards actually put him into a cage, and sent him to a zoo in Canterlot. He’s gonna be under observation; studied, even.”

“Well, sure, that makes sense,” I replied, taking a couple steps towards him. Rule number one of an intimidation battle is to never back down, and to never show fear.

“Oh, does it? Why, do wizards do the same thing to new creatures they’ve just met?” he asked me, his voice hiding a subtle acid tone.

“Some, probably. But I was just referring to the fact that everyone fears something they don’t understand,” I calmly said, never once losing that cheerful voice. “They’re making an effort to, though. Sure, maybe it’s in the wrong setting, but I think it’s at least a step in the right direction.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off before he could do so. This little tet-a-tet wasn’t getting anyone anywhere.

I clapped my hands together, and said, “Ah, but we sort of strayed off topic, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose we did,” he said. We were now both within arm’s reach of the other.

“Yep. So, can I just get my stuff back?” No more dancing around the bush. Word games get tiring after a while, and sometimes, you just miss the feeling of being blunt. Although the sudden change of wording might be enough to throw Alex off, if I’m lucky.

He instantly told me, “No.”

“No?” I repeated. “As in...” I trailed off, and gestured for him to say something.

“As in, ‘No, you cannot have your belongings back’,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Figured as much.

I sighed, and shook my head at him. “Look, Alex-”

“Only my friends are allowed to call me that,” he said calmly.

“Alexis, just be quiet and listen to the adult now,” I chided lightly, smiling a little to show him just how much I cared about what he had said. “You’ve obviously never watched those after-school programs. Really, those have excellent morals, I highly recommend them. One of those lessons was ‘Don’t steal what doesn’t belong to you’.”

He rolled his eyes a bit at that, and replied with, “I’m sure that applies to this situation perfectly, doesn’t it?”

“Probably. Maybe we’ll even teach the kids at home about doing the right thing,” I shrugged, ignoring the chill in the air. “So, I’ll just be grabbing my stuff then, shall I?”

“No, you won’t,” he repeated. “Besides. I watched a couple of those specials myself. I remember that one of them taught you to never give in to bullies, right?”

Oy Vey, he’s trying to turn my own scathing argument against me! That’s not fair! Well, two can play at that game!

...It occurs to me that he somehow made this turn back into a word game. Maybe this bastard is craftier than I gave him credit for.

“Not when you are the bully,” I managed to counter. “But hey, I’m a nice guy. So I forgive you. Now then, is my staff on the mantle by the fireplace, or is it in the umbrella stand?”

Surprise shot across his face, and I took a brief moment to enjoy the feeling of satisfaction. It’s not everyday you can guess something right, and make the other guy wonder how you knew it.

“It’s nice to know you forgive me for all of that,” he mockingly said. “It really gives me hope that you’ll forgive me for still refusing to give them back to you.”

Okay, patience is wearing thin. “And you do this...why?” I managed to ask.

This time, it was his turn to shrug nonchalantly, and he said, “Because you’re a wizard. Really, I don’t have any reason to trust you, or to think that you won’t do anything to the ponies in this town.”

That was probably the only thing he had said to me so far that had really gotten on my nerves. It seemed like even in a world with magic users, I’d still have to deal with this kind of prejudicial bullshit.

“Is that it, then? What, are you scared I’m gonna huff and puff, and blow your house down?” I asked him, all traces of humor gone from my voice. “Now either get my stuff for me, or get out of my way so I can get it myself. I’ve got important business to take care of, and dealing with someone like you isn’t part of that.”

“Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger, is that it?” Alex scathingly told me. “See? Typical of a wizard to throw his power around, and act like he owns the place.”

I don’t know if it was the fact that he used my own favorite quote involving wizards as an insult, or the fact that he was being such a stubborn ass about all of this, but I finally lost a bit of my temper.

“Fuck subtle,” I growled. “I’m gonna make this as clear as possible for someone even as dense as you can understand.”

He blinked, as if surprised I had the guts to say that.

Not one to miss an opportunity, I pressed on, saying, “I’ve given you no reason to trust me, I know that. But I’ve also made sure I haven’t given you a reason not to either! So for you to try and say that you had a good reason to steal from me is bullshit, and you know it!”

Alex scowled in anger, and shot back with, “So how am I supposed to know whether or not you can be trusted, then? You could easily just be trying to fool everyone! Wizards do that, you said as much yourself.”

“Well how the hell am I supposed to show you if I can be trusted if you won’t give me a chance to even do that?!” I shouted, fully getting into his face. It was incredibly hard not to stare him in the eyes while I told him. “Where the fuck is your proof, that I’d even do anything like that!?”

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the newspaper I had fished out of the garbage the night before, his eyes glittering menacingly. “Why would someone like you be carrying this around? To keep a memento of his work with him, or-”

“You’re the one with my wallet!” I roared, jabbing him in the chest with my finger. “Read what the damn license says! I’m a DETECTIVE. A private investigator! The kid mentioned something like that happening when I saved her, and so did you for that matter! If you hadn’t noticed, it’s my fucking job to figure this stuff out!”

Instinctively, the man slapped my hand aside, and pushed my back in the same motion, nearly causing me to fall.

“Alright, you want a chance to prove yourself? You got it,” Alex said, crumpling up the newspaper and tossing it after me. “You find out who killed that pony, and I’ll gladly give you all of your items back. Understand?”

Briefly, I considered flash-frying him with a bit of magical fire, but...This was the best deal I could hope for. Even if I did fight him and win, that’d only serve to alienate (no pun intended) me from the rest of town, and make Alex look like he was right all along. Not to mention that the other guy, Matt, would probably make it a point to hunt me down and offer his opinion on the whole matter.

I shook my head, and crossed my arms. “Fine,” I reluctantly growled. “But you’re going to at least give me my coat and staff back.”

“And you expect me to do this, why...?” he asked me, his eyebrow raised.

“For starters, you’ve got all of my focus items already,” I told him. “My shield bracelet, my blasting rod, my energy gems, and even my freakin’ gun! I’m a wizard detective, keyword WIZARD. If I’m gonna be able to solve this case, you’re gonna have to give me something to work with.”

“And the jacket?”

Patience thinning to non-existence at this point, I snapped, “Because it’s cold, damn it! And you’re being overly paranoid over a Seahawks jacket. A Seahawks jacket.” I shook my head in mock disbelief. “Kids these days,” I muttered pointedly underneath my breath.

“Alright, alright, you made your point,” he admitted. “But the staff and jacket-”

“And wallet,” I added. “It’s got my ID and things in there. No magic. Just a square of carefully folded duct-tape.”

He sighed, and did the same nose-pinching thing I had done earlier. “Fair enough,” he relented. His lip quivered for a moment, before he asked me, “Why duct-tape?”

“Wizards don’t explain their ways.”

I can’t just let someone else have the last word. It’d go against everything I stand for.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

It felt incredibly reassuring to have my staff back from Alex. The warm, scarred and nicked oak wood was a comfort in itself, not to mention I could finally get down to what I still suspected I had been sent here to do.

Investigate a murder.

I had no idea of what the police were like in this world, and I didn’t exactly want to get involved with them just yet. It’s probably just my own bad luck at this point, but I don’t exactly have many fond memories of them. Mainly because they’re the ones who think I’m wrong, and I’ve gotta do without ‘em in most cases. That being said though, I’ve always managed without their help.

This situation would be no different.

I smoothed out the wrinkles in the article, and folded it up a bit more neatly. Once I had safely put it in my jacket’s inside pocket, I found myself walking towards the taped-off area I had seen the night before, when I was being escorted to Twilight’s library. This seemed as good a place as any to start my investigation.

A passing mare, cream colored coat with a blue mane, stopped to stare after me as I casually stepped over the police tape, and I nodded in her direction.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” I politely said to her.

She promptly turned around and trotted briskly in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, I’d do the same thing if I saw myself lurking in a dark alley,” I whispered under my breath.

Although now that she had done that, I looked around the alley, and noticed that she had been the only pony in sight. Was it me that had startled her off, or just the general air of death that hung about the crime scene, warning her away? For that matter, I don’t think I heard one argument on my way here, or when I had been going to Alex’s home. Combining that with the fact that a murder case had been on the front page of a newspaper, when on a normal paper it’d just be shoehorned into a back column (and somehow still be noticed and forgotten just as quickly), I started to wonder...

Were ponies just not used to the idea of murder? I remembered Twilight wasn’t exactly comfortable with my casual explanations, but did that go beyond a single pony?

I’d have to look into it more, but my gut is telling me that I’m spot on. It would help explain why some form of guard had to be called in just to help with the investigation.

Well let’s see what I can add to that.

Steeling my nerves, I shoved all of my emotions into a box at the back of my head, and looked silently at the crime scene.

The alley was a bit wide, wedged between two fairly tall buildings. The shadows cast by them were dark enough to hide most of it from view, and I would be surprised if anyone could see even me standing there in the open. A dumpster had been pressed against the left side, and was currently overflowing with random bits and pieces of garbage. Aside from that, though, it was cleaner than I had been expecting.

Except for the red stains I saw on the ground, and to the side of the dumpster. They weren’t exactly prominent, or easily seen, but that didn’t change the fact that they were still there. The only reason I noticed them in the first place, though, was because of the white chalk outline of a pony’s body on the ground next to them.

Something about all of this seemed...off, though. I couldn’t place my finger on it just yet, so I decided to just keep going, and see if I could figure it out as I went.

Time to go to work.

Oddly enough, I didn’t instantly dive for the dumpster. Not very many killers will use a dumpster they found near the body to dump any important pieces of evidence. Right now, the best thing to do is check around for things the victim may have dropped. Hopefully, I’ll get lucky and find something that the other investigators missed.

I knelt on the ground, and eyed the scene carefully. From the way the body was positioned, it looked like she had put up a struggle; at least, judging by the way her limbs had been spread. I started scanning the dirt around her, and poured a little energy into my staff for light. As the gentle white glow flowed into the alley, I was rewarded for my efforts by the smallest glimmer of of something laying just a couple feet away from the tape.

“Paydirt,” I cackled, whipping a tissue out from a spare pocket. Bending down, I made sure to use the paper to pick up the object, and frowned at the sight of it.

It was wire, of some sort. Razor thin too, no wonder it had been missed in the first sweep of the scene. But now I had to ask myself: What was so special about it? There weren’t any blood stains on it, as far as I could tell...

I turned it over in the tissue, and was surprised to see it tear open the thin paper with barely any resistance whatsoever. That shouldn’t happen in most cases. Frowning, I gently brushed the tip of my pinkie finger against the side of it, wincing as something immediately cut through the skin.

“What the hell...?” I muttered to myself.

I looked back at the crime scene, and at the blood spots on the wall. There was still something fishy about all of this...

I shrugged, and wrapped the wire in a protective enchantment I had made for just such an occasion. See, evidence is always something you need to treat with the utmost care. That’s why I actually invented a little spell of my own, one that worked as a sort of safety-bag to keep evidence from being contaminated. I mainly just use it on the small items, the ones I can carry in my pockets, and this wire fell right into that category.

That made one piece of potentially critical information that the “Professionals” hadn’t found. Let’s see if we can’t try for two, or maybe even three?

I’ll spare you the details of the rest of the search, because it mainly consisted of doing the same thing, just underneath the dumpster, and next to one of the blood splotches.

Thankfully enough, though, I did manage to find two more things that I could possibly use in my investigation. That’s three to zero, on the scoreboard now folks! The officials are gonna be hard pressed to keep up with yours truly. Honestly, though, they didn’t seem very significant at first glance. I mean, how useful would a piece of paper and a feather look at first glance?

That’s where the detective work comes in. For example, the victim’s picture in the newspaper hadn’t shown her as a Pegasus. So where had the abnormally large tanned feather come from? And that piece of paper...normally, it would have been overlooked. Even I would have missed such a meager looking piece of scrap. Except for the fact that it had been lying in a spot of blood.

Now if the paper had been there before the murder had taken place, it would’ve been covered in blood. But instead, it had been on top of the scene. Like it had fallen there after. Further investigation of the paper revealed it to be a receipt for an order of cupcakes, at one Sugarcube Corner.

The newspaper had also mentioned that the murder took place two blocks away from that very resturaunt. And the receipt’s date had been marked as the day before the body had been found.

Houston, we have a lead. Next stop...

Sugarcube Corner.

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