//------------------------------// // Chapter Five: A Justification For Fashion // Story: A Study In Rainbows // by Thanqol //------------------------------// Chapter Five: A Justification For Fashion   By Thanqol   I am not commonly so churlish as to race down the streets of Ponyville as if it were a battlefield over Zebrica, but in this instance I felt quite justified in my haste. Rarity had instructed me to “Reach the scene of the crime and prevent the police from bungling it before I get there”. While it sounded simple, Rarity’s frequent insulations to the sheer defectiveness of Equestria’s police force gave the task a great urgency.   I screeched to a halt in front of a glorious theatre, open-aired with a long, gem-encrusted catwalk. There were ponies milling around outside, blocked off by a police cordon. Some were giggling, others were looking worried. I approached one of the gate guards and, after a halting start, was allowed in to the scene of the crime.   Detective Fluttershy was sitting with the victim, who was curled up on her bed, sobbing softly. Sapphire Shores was a fine looking mare, it had to be said, but she was in no means her best state. Fluttershy turned to look at me as I entered the room, and shrugged slightly.   There was the sound of laughter from nowhere.   I stopped, looking around, old battle reflexes tensing my body. The laughter got louder, more pointed. “Who’s there?” I shouted, and there was another great roar of amusement.   “It’s the Poison Joke,” Fluttershy said in a quiet voice, and a number of small giggles accompanied it. “It has changed Sapphire Shores’ background music to a laugh track.”   There was a great roar of laughter at this. I winced with sympathy.   “Perhaps we should take this elsewhere?” I said to Fluttershy, and there was a burst of laughter and what I believe were wolf whistles. Fluttershy blushed slightly at the implication and I did my best not to do the same. We left the raucous room, closed the door, and finally had the chance to hear ourselves think.   “Fluttershy, Rarity has asked you to keep all of your ponies outside before she gets here,” I said, “And also not to let anypony leave without Rarity checking them.”   “Oh, but the crowd that was in here has already been let out.” Fluttershy said, and then lowered her voice a little in shame, “It happened before I got here,”   “The entire crowd!” I exclaimed. “At least tell me the rooms haven’t been disturbed!”   “Well, we had to look to find where Miss Shores had hidden herself...”   “Please, then, send your men outside and keep everypony you can for questioning,” I said, already fearing Rarity’s reaction.   My fears were immediately justified by a dramatic screech from the stage, “Oh, you insufferable bunglers!” Both Fluttershy and myself hurried outside to see Rarity gingerly lifting a bouquet of blue flowers with her magic.   “Rarity!” I cried, but she threw the deadly poison blue flowers to the ground in a fit of pique.   “Just as I feared! – The horsassin threw a bouquet of flowers from the audience, Sapphire picked them up to smell them and was poisoned, and then in the muddle the louts at the gate just let our culprit walk right on out!”   “Oh. We should probably stop testing all the muffins then,” Fluttershy mumbled.   Rarity spun with dramatic rage. She flowed into these moods so often that one would think one would not lose the ability to tell when she was genuinely angry – that thought would be wrong. When Rarity was actually mad there was never any doubt. “So close! She was so close I could almost touch her! So close I can still... smell... Oh!” Rarity hopped down off the stage and started walking through the stands, horn glowing brightly. She seemed half following it, half being pulled along by it.   “Rarity, whatever is the matter?” Fluttershy asked, and I felt inclined to parrot her question.   “A gem! Somepony lost a gem!” Rarity was saying excitedly as she galloped to try and keep up with her horn as it led her through a convoluted search pattern of the stands.   “Rarity, there’s been a crime –“ I tried to remind her, but she would have none of it. Despairing, I turned back to Fluttershy.   “While Rarity is rummaging for spare change, do you mind if I picked up where we left off last time?” I suggested.   “Oh, certainly. What were we talking about?”   “Photo Finish.”   “Oh.” That was not a happy ‘oh’.   “I apologise if I raised a poor topic –“   “No. I just... I just sometimes think she’s more interested in following my career than me.” Fluttershy said, spilling out with a very quiet anger that I had not been expecting, “She keeps saying I will bring Justice to Equestria, but all I’ve ever wanted was to train dogs –“ she caught herself, and put on what I perceived to be a practiced smile, “I’m sorry, what must you think of me telling such things to a stranger?”   “If it is any comfort, I would rather count you as a friend than a stranger,” I said, offering a hoof to shake.   “Foooound iiiiit!” Rarity’s sing-song voice interrupted the moment as she lifted a bright pink gem into the air. It was star shaped, an exceptional cut.   “What have you got there, Rarity?” I asked, hopping down into the stands to join her.   “The piece of evidence that will clear this case for us!” Rarity said with pride. “The culprit dropped this gem, I am sure of it!”   “Sure? But any of the ponies in this hall could have dropped that gem!”   “That is a vanishingly unlikely possibility, Rainbow Dash, as you would know if you had read the guest list,” Rarity said smugly.   “Rarity?” Fluttershy said quietly, “I’ve read the guest list and I don’t understand either.”   Rarity paused for effect. Of course she’d known that neither of us would understand her logic, setting up her reveal perfectly. “There are only a small group of ponies on the guest list who can afford genuine gemstones. There are an even smaller group who own gemstones anything like this little marvel. An even smaller subsection would be carrying blue flowers this evening. And there are none, none, who would be wearing anything with pink star gems in autumn – I mean, assuming the laws of public decency still apply.”   “I believe I must take your word for that one,” I conceded.   “So, if nopony attending this show would be wearing a pink star gem, that leaves only our mysterious assailant who I’d imagine would have sneaked in. And sneaking is difficult to do in a dress, making it likely that this was the only gem she brought with her. And if she brought a large, shiny and gaudy gemstone on a covert pranking mission, it obviously means a lot to her personally. No doubt she planned this attack poorly, due to the haste in which it followed the previous one, and dropped it in her panic. And if it is that much of a sentimental piece to her she will go to great lengths to re-acquire it!”   “Marvellous! If you are right, she’ll come right to us!” I exclaimed in excitement.   “Not if she smells a trap. Fluttershy, I need you to continue to investigate as though you know nothing of this,” Rarity said, “If my guess is correct, you will find the word “PARTY” scrawled somewhere inside this building too. Search until you find it and then send ponies to watch Pinkie Pie. I need you to promise to keep this a secret, otherwise all will be lost. Please! Please-please-please-please-pleaaase!” Rarity said, gripping Fluttershy by the shoulders as she begged.   “O-okay. If it’s that important to the case, then I promise,” Fluttershy said, nodding quietly. Rarity breathed a huge sigh of relief.   “Very well, girls! I’ve got to go put an ad in Equestria Daily, and then Rainbow Dash and I shall spring the trap. We’ll have this trickster yet!”     The following day, Rarity and I were sitting together in the lounge room. Rarity was as chatty as ever, telling me of the difference between a backstitch and a croissant – Or something along those lines, I confess I was not paying attention – and I was pacing nervously, constantly glancing out the window. By this point I had become accustomed to Rarity’s way of blathering on; it was, as she put it, “A way to keep my mind alert and agile”, and her voice was melodic enough for me to not consider asking her to stop.   A little after noon, when Rarity had finally convinced me to sit and eat something, there was a loud knock at the door. I hurried to open it and was met with the sight of an old gray mare in a cloak, leaning heavily on a metal walker. I realised after a moment I’d seen her in Pinkie Pie’s bakery the other day.   “Good afternoon, madame,” I said, trying to keep the tension out of my voice.   She looked at me with a curious expression, and then said, “Excuse me, but I saw an ad in the paper stating that you had found the gemstone in my daughter’s wedding ring.”   “Oh, indeed. Come in, come in,” I said, leading her across to Rarity. Rarity smiled.   “You’ll forgive me if I ask some questions to check your story.” She said, “I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong gem by mistake. Dash, if you could write these down?”   “Certainly,” I said, producing a quill and ink.   “I do not mind, this should be a simple matter to straighten out,” said she.   “Very well. Your name and address?”   “Cloud Kicker, 13 Duncan Street, Houndsditch. A weary way from here.”   “Cloud Kicker? That’s a pegasus name,” I asked, looking up.   “My mother’s side,” said the old mare. I nodded.   “And could you describe the nature of the gem you lost?” Rarity continued.   “Well, I did not lose it for one. It was, from the description in the paper, the very gemstone my daughter purchased and had set in her wedding ring. That would be a pink gem, cut in the shape of a starburst, with a faint warmth to the touch.”   “And your daughter’s name?”   “Lyra, Cloud Lyra.”   “Ah. I found this gem in the gutter outside the theatre last night; was your daughter attending the show?”   “I don’t know all her comings and goings, but I do know that if she has lost her gem I should return it.”   “Indeed. Then, is this your gemstone?” Rarity said, producing it and setting it upon the table.   I watched this exchange closely, holding my breath, looking for any sign, or twitch, or flinch.   The old mare turned the gemstone over in her hooves, then set it down and said “There can be no doubt that it is.”   “Well, then, I would not wish to deprive your daughter of her wedding ring,” Rarity said, “I am prepared to call the matter closed. Please, take the gem,”   “Thank you,” said she, picked it up, and walked out the door without another word. Rarity and I stood in silence as we heard her footsteps go down the stairs, and the slam of the door as she left.   “This is it!” Rarity cried in delight, “Either she is telling the truth, in which case her daughter is our assailant, or she is lying and is in cahoots with her! Quickly, Rainbow Dash, follow her at a distance and see where she goes! Either way, she will lead us right to the criminal!”   I did not need to be told twice. I peeked out the window just in time to see the old mare hail a carriage, tell the driver, “To 13 Duncan Street, Houndsditch, please!” She got inside and drew the curtains, and I jumped out of the window and began to follow.   I maintained a medium-altitude glide; slow and precise enough to remain perpetually out of view of any of the cab’s windows, fast enough to keep the cab continuously within my sights. I had been trained for such stealthy flight in the air force, and I can say with utmost confidence that I never let the cab out of my sight for a heartbeat.   And yet, when the driver pulled up outside thirteen Duncan Street and opened the door, there was nopony inside. The driver began to give the finest assorted collection of oaths that I had ever listened to, and I, perched on a nearby rooftop looking at the empty carriage knew that, somehow, I had been fooled.   It was with great reluctance that I returned to Rarity to report that somehow the old mare had escaped from a sealed cab underneath my very nose.   “Troubling, but I do not believe this is a total loss,” said she.   “Not a total loss!” I cried, “I held the culprit in my hooves and let her get away!”   “But the process has given us one last, very important piece of data, Rainbow Dash. One piece of data which could break this entire case wide open. But before we can rely on such data, we must rely on intuition. Intuition tells me that the criminal will strike again at Hoity Toity’s art exhibition this evening, and if my luck holds I will be able to catch her in the act.”   “I hope you are right, Rarity.” I said, but Rarity was smiling.   “And, as an added bonus, there is simply no way for you to get into an art exhibition without a brand new dress!” Rarity said, rubbing her hooves together.   “You know, the detective stories I read as a filly seemed to involve a lot less dressing up for some reason,” I said, though in truth I was already resigned to the prospect.   “Like I said. Derpin and Lecoq were amateurs compared to me,” said Rarity.