//------------------------------// // Chapter 3: Interviews // Story: Murder Most Equestrian // by Tumbleweed //------------------------------// Carrot Top slipped off with her typical unobtrusiveness, while Canter Zoom came trotting up from where he'd been speaking with Spotlight and Miss Maple. He looked even more rumpled than usual-- the twin stresses of a play and a murder investigation couldn't have done him any good. Gone was the artistic tyrant who'd thrown his megaphone at me, and in his place was just a nebbish and overworked pony who was sorely in need of a vacation. “Flash. We should talk.” He walked past me and into his office, which made me wonder if I should have even bothered getting up to begin with. “Of course.” I said, and settled down into the rickety guest chair again. “Let me guess-- this is going to be about Deep Pockets, isn't it?” “It is.” Canter Zoom took off his glasses long enough to rub his eyes, then put them back in place. “It's tragic, isn't it? He seemed like a pleasant fellow.” “You're only saying that because you didn't know him.” Canter Zoom said. He reached down into his desk and produced a bottle of black-label whiskey, along with two tumblers. “Oh?” “It's not an artistic thing.” Canter Zoom poured me a measure of whiskey without even asking me (not that he had to). “Not just an artistic thing.” “Oh?” I said, taking up my tumbler. “Why do you say that?” “Deep Pockets fancies-- fancied --himself a ladies stallion.” Canter Zoom took a small sip of his whiskey, topping off his liquid courage. “There's an easy way to get into trouble.” I tried not to speak from first-hoof experience. “I'll say. There's going to be a line of angry husbands waiting to dance on his grave. It was a game to him. Every show, he'd take a new mistress. A unicorn during The Barber of Ponyville. An earth pony during Who's Afraid of Virginia Timberwolf? I don't know who he's shacked up with for this production-- but it doesn't matter anymore, does it?” Canter Zoom looked at the whiskey bottle for a long moment, and then very deliberately screwed the top back on. “You know what the funny part is? Deep Pockets is-- was –married to the most beautiful pegasus in all of Canterlot. And ... and ... and that's not why I wanted to talk to you, Flash.” “No?” “Look-- I know we've had ... artistic differences, but this has put everything into perspective. There's an old saying in theater-- The Show Must Go On.” Canter Zoom pronounced the capitalization. “And while what happened to Deep Pockets is tragic, it's not something we can't work past. We're lucky Cutie Cue's holding things together.” “She is?” “The best stage managers are practically invisible in how they keep things running. And Cutie Cue's the best stage manager I've ever had. She tells me that we can still make our opening night ... if certain cast members can get their lines down.” “Ah.” I said, blanching a bit. “That.” “Honestly, if it were up to me, I'd just recast you and Trixie, but it almost like you two are Deep Pockets' legacy? For ... better or worse. Now, I have to ask you, Flash-- can you prove me wrong?” “I ... I'll try?” I said. “I guess that's the best I can ask for.” Canter Zoom grumbled, and looked up at the clock hanging on the wall. “It's getting late. Miss Maple said she's already talked to you, so you might as well go home. Get night's sleep, Flash, we'll start fresh in the morning. And ... if you could do me one more favor-- I'd appreciate it if you kept what I said about Deep Pockets under your hat. Bad luck to speak ill of the dead, you know?” “Of course. I won't tell a soul.” I told Carrot Top. We reconvened at the late night doughnut shop, and compared notes over apple fritters. Joe, the store's proprietor, kept our coffees topped off but otherwise resolutely ignored us both. “So Deep Pockets was a philanderer? Figures.” Carrot Top said. “At least that gives us a motive. But ... from who?” “Canter Zoom, perhaps?” I offered. “I mean, he's in love with Spotlight.” Carrot Top blinked, and tilted her head at me. “He told you that?” “Not in as many words, but he might as well have. He's got the artistic temperament for it-- and the fact that Spotlight was married to somepony else, well, that just adds to the inevitable, tragedy, hm? Spotlight probably doesn't know he's smitten, though-- elsewise she would have thrown herself at him rather than me--” Carrot Top nearly choked on her coffee, and then affixed me with a pinning glare. “Excuse me?” “Oh.” My wings instinctively tensed, readying themselves for a burst of emergency flight. “I ... didn't mention that? Spotlight may have tried to seduce me. To make her husband jealous, I imagine. But tried is the operative word. I, ah ... politely informed Spotlight I wasn't interested.” Carrot Top peered at me for a longer moment, and then her glare melted into a playful smile. “I should have figured as much.” “Anyway.” I wisely changed the subject. “Here's what I don't get. Miss Maple sent everypony home ... shouldn't she be afraid the killer will use the opportunity to escape?” “That's the point.” Carrot Top said, not without some admiration in her tone. “She goes in, shakes things up, and if anyone doesn't come back tomorrow, well, that's where you start looking for suspects. Even if they bolt, it's easy enough to start slapping up wanted posters around airship terminals and train stations.” “Alternately, if somepony doesn't make it to the next rehearsal, that could mean the killer's struck again.” “Don't worry, Sentry.” Carrot Top winked at me. “I'll protect you.” “What about you? Find anything?” Carrot Top shook her head. “Not much. There were too many ponies around the stairwell to your dressing room to get in. As best I can figure, it's the only way in or out. I asked around, and the only ponies seen going through that door after rehearsal were Deep Pockets, me, Spotlight, and you-- in that order. Deep Pockets hadn't been dead long when I found him-- it's like the killer just ... disappeared.” “That's it!” I pounded a hoof on the table, hard enough to make Joe look askance at us from his counter. I winced, sheepishly, and lowered my voice. “Who in the cast is otherwise known for her disappearing acts?” Carrot Top's eyes went wide. “You mean--” “Trixie.” I nodded. “Canter Zoom said Deep Pockets was dallying with somepony in the cast, but he didn't say who. What if that somepony was Trixie?” “That ... would explain a lot.” Carrot Top rubbed her chin, thoughtful. “On the one hoof, she did use an ancient magical artifact to conquer Ponyville. But on the other ... she's reformed now. Mostly reformed. I have a hard time believing she's a killer.” “It still makes sense. Everypony knows Trixie's a tempermental sort, especially when there's scenery to chew. So, she could have gotten into an argument with Deep Pockets over ... something, at which point she used her unicorn magic to teleport in, kill Deep Pockets, and then teleported out before you got there.” “I have a hard time believing Trixie knows the No-Shadow Hoof.” “Perhaps. But could she mimic the effect with magic?” “I ... guess it's possible? I'd have to ask an expert.” Carrot Top said. “Mmm. Something tells me we shouldn't write a letter to Princess Twilight anytime soon.” I said. “Good point. But it's still all conjecture.” “Which means all we can do is talk to Trixie tomorrow, and see if she has an alibi. If she hasn't escaped by then, at least.” I grinned. “At least if she runs away, she's somepony else's problem.” The next morning, Carrot Top and I returned to the theater about a half an hour before the morning rehearsal was set to begin. Carrot Top brought her saddlebags with her, but I figured I was better off not knowing what she had inside We walked in through the lobby-- which, even in that early hour, was a study in controlled chaos. Ponies went to and fro, bustling about on whatever it was that it took to keep a theatre running. I'd been on airships that had been less busy. By the look of things, nopony was missing, though I would have needed a cast list just to be sure. Miss Maple was there, of course, watching everything with her kindly grandmother's smile. She trotted over as Carrot Top and I walked through the door. “Good to see the both of you.” She nodded to Carrot Top in turn. “I trust the recent unpleasantness hasn't upset you?” “The Show Must Go On, as the saying goes.” “That's the spirit! I should have expected as much from pony of your reputation.” Miss Maple sounded more like she was congratulating me on winning a childhood buckball match, rather than risking life and limb in service to Equestria. “Er, thank you.” “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better get on with the inquiry-- oh, don't worry, I'll be keeping out of your way. Wouldn't want to upset the show-- at least not any further, hm?” “Any developments in the case?” “I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say, Flash.” Miss Maple shook her head. “But rest assured, I'm looking into every avenue of investigation. Speaking of which--” Miss Maple looked past my shoulder, to where a few more extras and bit-players were heading in. “I'm afraid I must be going. Take care, Flash?” Carrot Top looked up at me with a quirked eyebrow, but all I could only shrug in response. Even if I had a clue of what Miss Maple was up to, I knew better than to discuss it in front of everypony else. “Your coffee, sir!” Juniper Montage walked over, precariously balancing a tower of cardboard and caffeine in one hoof. She foisted a cup of hot black coffee on me (but thankfully not on me), as well as a cheery grin. “Ah, thank you, dear.” “You're welcome, Mister Sentry!” Juniper Montage burbled-- and then trailed off as she laid eyes on Carrot Top. “Oh, um. I'm sorry, I don't have anything for you. You're not on the list. Do you want to be on the list?” “There's a list?” Carrot Top said, bemused. “Of course there is! Everypony has very specific requirements as to their coffee, and as the head intern, it's kind of my responsibility to make sure everypony gets exactly what they want.” “I'll be fine, thank you.” Carrot Top said. “Okay! I could add you to the spreadsheet later, if you like?” Juniper Montage said. “Don't worry about it. I had breakfast before I got here.” “Okay!” Juniper Montage took a half-step forward to steady her pile of coffees, and then looked up at me again. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mister Sentry?” “Actually, yes.” I said. “Have you seen Trixie lately? I'd like to practice some lines before we get started.” “The Great and Powerful Trixie is in her dressing room right now,” said Juniper. “Great, thank you.” “You're welcome, Mister Sentry!” Juniper perked her ears as she saw somepony else enter the lobby. “Oh! Cutie Cue! I have your latte!” And off she went. “Well then.” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “I guess it's time to have a chat with my co-star.” I knocked on the door, and Trixe's voice called out. “Entrez!” She put extra emphasis on the 'z.' I pushed the door open and walked inside, Carrot Top following close beside. Her expression fell, however, as she laid her eyes on me. “Oh. It's you.” “Expecting somepony else?” I said, deadpan. Trixie's dressing room was bigger than mine. Nicer, too, though that might have been just because nopony had been murdered inside. Costumes hung from hangers and mannequins, ranging from the simple, ragged cloak Ardent Dale wore in Act 1, to the complicated Masquerade Dress she wore in the finale. And at the center of it all was a blue unicorn wearing a filmy dressing robe and an annoyed scowl. “Don't try to trick me, Flash. I know you know there's a reporter from the Canterlot Times coming, and I'm not about to let some featherbrained buffoon muscle in on my interview. I'm the one with top billing, and I'm the one the audiences want to see. Remember that.” She paused, finally deigning to notice Carrot Top. “And who are you? You look ... mildly familiar.” Sensing opportunity, Carrot Top just smiled, innocent and guileless. “Oh, hi! My name's Carrot Top. I'm actually with the Ponyville Post-- Flash Sentry said he'd introduce me to you, you know, so I could get the scoop on the Canterlot Times.” Carrot Top pulled a notebook and a pen from her saddlebags and began to write things down. “Why didn't you say so?” Trixie leaned forward. “I'm very popular in Ponyville, you know. Comes with the whole 'saving the whole kingdom from a Changeling invasion' bit, you know? There simply aren't many ponies as resourceful and brave and brilliant as I am.” Trixie tossed her hair back as if she were in a shampoo commercial. I bit my tongue. “Which is why my readers back home are so interested in the show.” Carrot Top smiled. “A production like this must be a great showcase for your talents.” “It is! Despite my amazing skills at heroism, it's performance where I really shine!” “Will we get to see any displays of magical skill? Like a duplication spell, maybe? Or maybe you could teleport in at the top of Act 3?” “Teleport?” Trixie's expression faltered. “Why in Equestria would I want to do that?” “Well, I'm not a unicorn, but I remember reading somewhere that site-to-site teleportation can be a surprisingly complicated spell, which would make it a great showcase of your powers, don't you think?” “I ... well ... I don't know if I'd go that far.” Trixie said. “Just because Twilight Sparkle-- I knew her before she was a princess, mind you –likes to blast about because she's too lazy to walk from one place to another doesn't mean it's that impressive.” Trixie grumbled. “In fact, I have devoted my studies to other uses of magic.” “I see.” Carrot Top said. “And ... any comment on yesterday's accident?” “Accident?” Trixie blinked. “Oh, you're talking about Mister Pockets, aren't you? Tragic.” Trixie shook her head. “To think, he had the vision and foresight to cast me in this play. It's a shame he didn't live long enough to see his greatest protege (that is, The Great and Powerful Trixie) take the spotlight she so rightly deserves.” “Er, right.” Carrot Top said, pretending to jot down more notes. “Anything else you'd like to tell the folks back in Ponyville?” “Let me think ... “ Trixie used her magic to pick up her cardboard cup of coffee (identical to the one Juniper had foisted on me) and slid the plastic stirrer from the hole in its lid. Trixie took a sip, and her eyes instantly flew open in shock. She reflexively hurled her cup of coffee across the room, and then clutched at her throat with both front hooves, gagging and wheezing. Between coughs, the unicorn wheezed out a single sentence. “The Great and Powerful Trixie has been poisoned!”