I was sitting in my lovely cottage on a quiet and warm day. The air was fragrant; filled with flowers and joy. I sat, drinking a cup of tea and enjoying the morning paper. I woke up just an hour ago at nine just like I do every morning. No matter my name, that’s not what this story is about.
My peace was quickly interrupted when a scream came from next door. I galloped outside to check on my neighbors and saw their door wide open. Disco Twist, beloved member of the community, had been murdered in cold blood. Disco Twist was always throwing parties and treating every pony he had the pleasure to meet to a warm feeling, why anypony would hurt him is beyond me. His wife, Crinkle Cut, had just gotten off her early breakfast shift at the twenty-four hour hayburger restaurant down the street when she found him that way.
I trotted over to console her and to inspect the crime scene. Sure enough, he was pretty dead; probably had been for a few hours. The scene was gruesome to say the least, caked-on blood and dark bruises covered Disco Twist’s body. It was a pretty clean crime scene from what I saw at first glance; somepony knew exactly what they were doing when they did this. I gave her a sad look and a hug. My only advice to her at the time was to call the authorities. What else do you do in that situation? I’m not very good when it comes to dealing with grief. I solve the murders, I don’t hold the tissues at the funeral.
I got tired of hearing said crying so I went back to my house to keep reading the newspaper. This time though, I’m going to wear some headphones, the hullabaloo that would surely happen next is something I’m not excited for.
Later in the afternoon, I had gotten home from a quick trip to a local cafe to see tape around Disco Twist’s house and ponies poking around the scene. One of them cantered up to me asking if I could assist in the investigation. I agreed, as long as I was paid of course. I started by looking at Disco’s body; he was absolutely and totally murdered. His eyes glazed over and still opened, I closed them out of deference, his fur was matted with blood, there were several triangular holes in his stomach, his hooves were crushed to fragments, and his muzzle was stuffed with a cloth.
The killer was smart, that’s for sure, had to be an utter genius. Disco’s murder was definitely premeditated and it seemed to have been planned for quite a long time; this pony had to have absolutely hated Disco Twist with every single fiber of their being. I have to commend their genius though, using a triangular weapon because those wounds are harder to stitch, crushing his hooves so he couldn’t fight back, and stuffing his mouth with a cloth so he couldn’t produce a single sound over a few decibels.
Another thing I’d have to commend the assailant for their ability to enter without a trace. There was not a single broken window, picked door, or evidence of magic-based forced entry. I told the other ponies there as much, there was just no way to solve this case without forensic equipment. I thought it may take them a few hours to get the supplies needed for the job, but they already had all the equipment necessary. Great, just my luck, I wanted to go back home for just a few minutes at the least.
We began dusting the house for any signs of hoofprints, a few unicorns used spells to detect magic, and we searched the house for any objects out of place. Not a single thing wrong, as if there hadn’t been a single occurrence whatsoever. As a detective, I’ve solved every case I’ve ever worked on with ease. I pride myself in having the genius mind of Starswirl himself, but not even I could’ve worked out what happened in this house. I threw up my front hooves and told all the ponies there I was leaving and would accept a check mailed to me for my labor, then I trotted out and to my nice quiet cottage.
The rest of the night was quiet, thank Celestia for that, the next day however. I woke up at my usual time and went on with my usual day: made breakfast, had a coffee, read the paper, watered the plants, the usual stuff. As I was finishing up watering my plants, I heard a quiet knock on my door. I frowned and trotted over. When I opened it, I was greeted by Crinkle Cut. She had tears in her swollen eyes and as soon as the door was fully open, she threw herself towards me. Her grief was too much for her. She had the kind of sobs that would make a pony regret everything leading up to that point. She didn’t deserve that, she was always so kind and generous.
Crinkle had asked to come in and talk, as I’ve said, I’m not good with that sort of thing; she needed me, there was no saying no. She sat on one end of my couch, I sat on the other. Crinkle cried to me for hours about Disco’s death and how she hoped they would catch the pony who did it. She cried to me about how she wondered why anypony would ever do this to such a sweet stallion like Disco Twist.
Eventually, her sobs died down and she stopped talking. We sat in complete silence, say for the odd sniffle, It was a nice silence, the kind of silence that gives a pony some more time to think on things. I still remember what I was thinking about on that day.
I sat there thinking to myself, should I really have killed Disco Twist? I mean, he was loud and obnoxious, but, was that really the right choice? I used all my incredible detective skills to kill somepony. I don’t know, what do you think, doctor? Don’t I get some points for turning myself in? Whatever, your opinion doesn’t matter to me. Now, if that’s all you want, I’ll be off on my way to the prison library for a bit. It’s so quiet in there.