//------------------------------// // Pizza Margherita's Tale // Story: Capriccio - A Detective Story // by Visharo //------------------------------// Pizza Margherita watched her husband slink away from the dining hall with a self-satisfied expression on his face. She sniffed, her useless husband must've spilled everything. Well, not everything. She was quite certain he had no idea what he did when he was drunk on his beloved brandy. Really, the amount he consumes in inponane. He should've been named Brandy or something of the sort. "Margherita, dear. The Detectives require your presence." There was a hidden scoff behind that 'Detectives'. It appears her husband thinks them useless, no doubt because they are mares of peasantry backgrounds. Margherita narrowed her eyes. The fool's view on mares will be his downfall. Without answering, she trotted towards the dining room, an air of disinterest wafting around her. She was quite experienced in the art of misdirection, a tool most useful when dealing with the utter buffoons her husband calls friends. Despite his poor taste in friends, she must say Noble Declaration is quite the darling. "Mrs. Margherita." That Melody mare said simply. There was nothing behind that expression. The other mare on the other hoof, she was an enigma. Her shades and headphones gave her the appearance of a night life delinquent, but she felt those piercing eyes. "If you think I'll spill as much as my husband, than you are sorely mistaken." Vinyl Scratch nodded slightly, one hoof twitching as well. Octavia Melody seemed to take notice in this and nodded. "We understand your want in secrets, however it is crucial that you tell us everything in order to solve your son's murder." There was a slight hitch in that last word. Margherita wouldn't have noticed it if she weren't so good at hearing slight sounds. One needs to know how a pizza sounds when ready, even over a crackling oven. "And why would I do that? There are no benefits for me or my husband or any of these ponies, really." She tilted her head. Octavia Melody gaped open like a fish waiting to be fed. It looked utterly ridiculous. Vinyl Scratch however, seemed to have expected that. Betting on it even. Margherita decided she needed to be careful in her wording from here on. That mare gave her a slight chill. The unicorn never seemed to break eye contact while she maneuvered her hooves in a quite peculiar way. "Right. So, you do not care for your son?" "Never have, never will. His death means nothing to me." "Yet it did, since you and your husband dragged Poof Matcher's body to the fireplace and cremated him. Are those the actions of a pony who claims that her son means nothing to her? I think it would be wise to spare no details." Margherita took a shaky breath in. That last sentence did her in. She had felt a slight pressure on her chest and suddenly she wanted to do this. Margherita didn't have time for thoughts and questions when she was forcibly placed on a chair. She looked up to see the abhorrent excuse of a unicorn looking back at her, her horn aglow. "My! I would..." A white hoof was placed on her lips, cutting off whatever she was going to say. She was beyond furious now. "Like I said, it would be wise." The pressure on her chest seemed to increase and soon she couldn't hold it in. ooOOoo The day began like any other. Pizza Margherita rolled out of bed, the other side already empty, and hit the shower. Despite their fancy house and their posh demeanors, their shower is actually pretty basic. Margherita let the water run down her face and enjoyed the coolness of its touch. Today was going to be interesting. After getting out, drying herself, and making herself presentable, Margherita made her way downstairs. From the stairs, she could see that mildly interesting resident newspaper writer and her useless husband were sitting at the table. Bless her husband's heart, he made her toast. Toast. All he ever makes is toast. Margherita mumbled about how useless her husband is and snagged the toast up and broke it in two, pretending it was her husband's head. After that cathartic release, she made coffee for herself. Black with nothing else, the taste made her content. After that halfhearted preparation, Margherita made her way to the living room and sat down on one of the luxurious couches. She should've felt like in heaven, everything she ever wanted was right there, within the frogs of her hooves. But knowing that somehow made it worse. She sighed. She had no idea how long she sat there. The world kind of just...faded away. She still ate and drank her breakfast, but only because of habit. Margherita let her mind wander, thoughts of murder, of suicide, of running away, of sleeping, of hiding. She didn't blink when the butler, Van Dime, took her plate away. The sweet old stallion had served the Thatchers for centuries, for better or worse. Margherita immediately liked him because of the way he held himself, like he owned his existential inexistence. He reminded her of herself. Itailian families are known for many foals, Margherita was no different. Sporting five siblings, competition was encouraged and necessary. Those certainly were the days. ooOOoo That ruffian rolled her forehooves in a questioning matter. Her partner, the near useless earth pony, translated and said that they would like to know the description of Van Dime. Margherita sighed dramatically, as if she was annoyed that her story was interrupted. The two just stared at her. It infuriated her. She wanted to stand up, set these mares in their places, but thought better of it. "Van Dime is an old stallion. Patchy gray coat, ragged mop of a mane, piercing blue eyes, cutie mark was a tie atop a serving dish." "Thank you. You may continue." ooOOoo A full hour had passed and her husband came back. The fool was chattering away like a starling, a quick glance told her that ex-Major Tomato and his wife, Mint, had arrived. The colt had a goofy grin, it would have been adorable were it not for the fact that he was staying the night. Margherita's husband made a shooing gesture and Mint trotted over wearing a well practiced 'patience' look. She knew that one well. There was no need for anymore words to be said, Margherita knew exactly what her husband wanted and what he wanted out of Mint too. "Come along, dearie." She guided the timid mare away from those boisterous stallions and into the kitchen. The dining table was empty and clean, Noble was gone. With practiced ease, the two mares danced around each other and the kitchen itself as they prepared the food. Their movements spoke of repetition times of a hundred and even then some. It wasn't hard to choose which dish to cook, they've done this enough times to know exactly what to make and how to make it. Barely an hour had passed when they finished with the last dish. The counter was laden with various foods, thankfully the kitchen was large. While they completed the finishing touches, not that their husbands would appreciate, the door opened up letting in yet another abandoned wife. "Archduchess Archduchess, a pleasure." Margherita smiled softly before bowing slightly. Mint followed her lead. Smart filly. "Pizza Margherita, it's been too long! How's your son? I know that you aren't exactly on speaking terms..." The mare laughed haughtily. "He's doing alright as far as I know. Who knows what might happen though. It's not like we live forever." She and the Archduchess shared a laugh. Behind her, Mint shrunk away and busied herself with the food despite there being nothing to be done. "Say, how goes it with your son? Returned after so long?" "Yes." Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes. "To be honest, he doesn't act like my dear Embezzle. There's something off about the colt, and ever since he got access to the bank notes...I don't know." The Archduchess took a seat at the dining table, her purse resting on the table. "Indeed." The three mares fell quiet. There was no sounds to be heard excepting the sounds of the servants, they were just moving furniture. Then, without warning, the doors burst open and four drunk stallions collapsed on the carpet. Margherita's husband, Mint's husband, Archduchess's husband and colt. They were singing some song of some kind, the horrid and brash kind, the kind that would earn a mouthful of soap. Margherita sighed heavily. Mint groaned. Archduchess audibly rolled her eyes. The three mares helped them to their hooves but before they could do or say anything, the fool of a husband, Margherita's husband took off announcing there were games to be played. The other three cheered and trampled after him, nearly crashing into Van Dime. "Alright, dearies. I say we have some fun, what say you? If I know my husband, and I'm pretty sure I do, then they'll drinking his favourite brandy. The four of them won't be able to remember anything." The other wives started to smile which turned into a feral grin. Yelling like banshees, the three mares took off after their stallions, each desiring a different need or want. It wasn't long before they found them in the game room, babbling like the colts they really are. Tomato had somehow been hanging from the rafters, shouting weee. Archduke and her husband were doing a tango. Embezzle was actually nowhere to be found, but nomare seemed to care about that at the moment. "Let's get them!" When your husband is wasted and you wish them dead, why, lead him to the forest to die. On the way back, Margherita felt lighter. She felt happier. There was even a skip in her step. That all came to a screeching halt when she rounded the corner to the entrance to the house. Poof Matcher, her son, stood at the front door, holding a bouquet of flowers in his magic. She trotted up to him. "Son." "Mother." He didn't even act surprised. He simply just turned around and presented the flowers. "Thank you. I'm sure your father would love this." She placed the flowers on her back and opened the door, allowing him to step inside first. "What brings you here?" "Father." "He invited you, did he?" Margherita trotted up to a vase already filled with flowers. She opened a window and chucked them out. She then placed her son's bouquet in the vase. It seemed appropriate that those flowers came from her husband. "He did indeed. Where is father? I have a need to speak with him." "He is not here, he is...occupied." It wasn't a lie. "Occupied." "Yes, occupied." "I see." There was a hint of knowing in those eyes of his. Her son disappeared around a corner. Right after her son's tail vanished, there was a knock at the door. Margherita trotted over and opened the door with a frown. ooOOoo "And this is where you entered." "Indeed." "Then perhaps you should continue the tale." The unicorn shook her head. "Vinyl wants to hear your perspective on everything." "I see." ooOOoo There was Octavia Melody, the musician she hired for tonight's festivities. Recommended to her by Fleur de Lis, she was a breath of fresh air from all these stuffy nobles. She carried herself with importance but there was no smugness behind it. She carried herself with the knowledge of actual skill. It was awe inspiring, but nopony would catch her dead saying that. "Miss Pizza Margherita I presume?" The cellist gave a little bow. "You presume correctly. The main festivities will be in the living room, so if you could set up there..." "And the living room is where?" She asked pointedly, no fear. "Down the hall to the right." "Of course." She said before taking off, the heavy cello case slung on her back. Margherita followed her, even if it was just to watch a master work her craft. She wasn't sure how long she stood there enraptured by the realness of it all. A knock at the door broke her out of her musings. More guests. Lord Branded trotted in with a self satisfied smile. Then it was Mint, back from her trip and was wearing a goofy smile. Fish Fillet came in after her, there was something about his expression that caught her off guard, but he's always been like that. She had no idea what her husband saw in that pony. The Archduchess and the Archduke were last. Archduke looked chastised whilst his wife looked the utter opposite. A beacon of light that mare. It didn't take long for the festivities to start. Octavia, bless her, played her cello with such passion. At some point, Noble Declaration and her son arrived, both with drinks in hoof. The two were chattering like they were old friends and it warmed her old heart. "Ah, Margherita." "Branded. Are you enjoying yourself so far?" The two were near the back with a view of the cellist and her son. "I am, thank you for asking." "What do you want?" "Cutting straight to the chase, I see. Well, what I want, as you so crudely put it, is your hoof in marriage." Champagne shot out of Margherita's nose as she guffawed. It ended up in disaster as she ended up on the floor hacking and coughing and fizzy drink everywhere. She could feel eyes on her pelt but she didn't care. This day has been truly horrid, nothing like public humiliation to add to the list. "My dear stallion," she said after recovering somewhat. "You...are quite delusional." She giggled, booped his nose, and trotted to the kitchen to clean off her coat and perhaps get some towels. When she got back, she found her son sitting in front of Octavia with an awestruck expression. Lightning struck, leaving the house in darkness. One of the blasted 'quirks' of the house was the lighting inconsistencies within the spell matrix. Margherita was feeling a bit...hot headed. Today was not the day. Her vision started going all blurry, whether or not it was from the champagne, she would never know. "So, you're saying that when lightning strikes nearby, the lights will always go out?" A pony asked. "Yes." Her husband replied. The world was cast in darkness yet again. Margherita found a chair in the madness and sat herself down. She let her head drop down in agony but before she could hit the solid and comforting wood of the table, she instead hit a hard circular object. Her cry was drowned out when the lights flickered back on revealing her son's dead body. She watched with numbness as her husband trotted over hesitantly before collapsing as well. He seemed to be suffering from shock or brandy withdrawal. The silence was soon filled with laughter and sobbing. She realized after a while that it was her who was doing both. Blood was oozing down her son's barrel. Today was not her day. She collapsed as well. *** Margherita awoke with a splitting headache. Memories arose to the surface and comforted her as she retched all over. The darkness made it impossible to tell where she was nor where her puke was landing, but like she said earlier, she was at the lowest point. Getting up, slipping once or twice, Margherita somehow made her way to the doorway. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, revealing her location. Somehow, somepony dragged her back to her bedroom. She thanked whoever did that and clambered down the stairs. Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see some sort of tape around the windows and presumably the doors. They were quarantined. Margherita was in a whodunnit. What has her life become? Evidence. They'll be looking for evidence. Need to get rid of it. The rest of the night became a haze of pain and confusion. When she finally resurfaced, she found herself carrying her son's body and a bowling ball. There was liquid dripping down the ball. How to get rid of this? Cremation. She made for the secondary living room. The fire is usually kept up, even at this hour. It's also private. Before she could open the door, there was a heavy thud and a familiar groan. Great. Just what she needed. She pushed open the door and was greeted by her husband. "Margherita, what are you doing at this hour?" "I'm here because I have to talk to you. It's about our son. He's dead." She dragged out the body. She didn't look at her son. She looked at her husband. He looked wasted. "Thatcher, we need to burn the body before the Royal Guards arrive, including this." She pulled out the bowling ball. In the firelight, the liquid was confirmed as blood. ooOOoo "You may go now." Octavia said after the unicorn made some gestures. "If I was innocent, I would say good luck. If I was guilty, I wouldn't even be here." "We'll keep that in mind." Octavia tried to smile. It didn't convince her. She instead looked to the unicorn. Detective Vinyl still had her amiable expression. Nothing was behind those glasses and there wasn't an indication she was listening behind those headphones. "Well, good day then." "Good day."