Springsteel, a handsome young unicorn in a crisp blue uniform, ducked under the yellow warning tape—taking care not to catch his horn on it—and walked past the grim and watchful eyes of two royal guards. The ranks used by the Canterlot police department bore no resemblance to those used by the royal guards, but even as a sergeant, Springsteel was several pay-grades below a royal corporal.
The darkened hallways of the inner palace had been empty since yesterday when the other police officers had finished their investigation of the area. If there was anything left to find, it was beyond their abilities to notice. He walked down the hall and around the corner, where a lone figure stared at a point on the wall. He approached the inspector and followed her gaze. As far as he could tell, there was nothing interesting about the wall.
"Spectacles?"
The red-headed chestnut mare startled at his voice, then straightened her glasses and shuffled her feet. "Sergeant."
"Not very clever of you," he said, "getting into a staring match with a wall. I did it once and they're absolutely brutal."
Spectacles snorted.
"Find anything?" he said.
"Not since the last time you asked," she said with a sigh.
"I've seen you like this before," he said, glancing around. "You think we missed something?"
"He was here. He was standing... right... here." Spectacles walked down the hall and looked back. "And I was over here, looking at him. He glanced at me. I ordered him to surrender. And then..."
Springsteel looked between his friend and the wall, expectant.
Spectacles walked back and continued to stare. "I swear he was right here."
"And then what? What happened?"
"I'm not sure. He went from here to the laundry room in an instant." She looked down the hall. "Do me a favor. Go to the chute in the laundry room. Count the paces."
Springsteel walked down the hall, through a door, and back through the long, spacious laundry room on the other side of the wall. He arrived at the chute in question and called out, "Thirty-six paces. And his stride is probably smaller than mine."
He heard Spectacles stamp her hoof against the other side of the wall. He walked back to the inspector.
"What's wrong? What are you thinking?"
Spectacles rolled her eyes, embarrassed. "I think he went through the wall."
"Ooh... so sinister!" Springsteel rolled his eyes. "Big deal. I know a few unicorns who can wink back and forth. I do it myself now and then."
"And how many earth ponies can wink?"
Springsteel froze. "The Magpie is an earth pony? How could he have done any of this!?"
"Never doubt earthy ingenuity," she said and tapped the side of her head. "We see everything differently. And besides, even if he was a unicorn he would only be able to wink somewhere he could see, or someplace he'd visited long enough to memorize."
"Visited before? Are you saying he could get in and out of the palace undetected?"
"The implications are staggering," she said. "It could have just been some new gadget or gewgaw of his. Some kind of translocation device."
"That's a bit much, don't you think?"
"Pegasi discover. Unicorns invent." Spectacles tapped the side of her head. "Earth ponies refine. If a magic spell can do something, there's always a chance that a device can be built to mimic the effects."
"Then why don't we have such a device already?" he said. "The technology would allow anypony to wink. It would be the breakthrough of the century!"
She shrugged. "Why bother? If we need something delivered instantly, we can just hire a unicorn to do it for us. It's cheaper. Easier. Reliable. The demand for teleportation as a service is already being met, so there's no incentive to come up with a different method."
"You really think he could create such a thing?"
"Probably not," she said with a sigh. "Winking is one of the most difficult types of pony magic. And in any case, he's never winked before."
"Maybe he was saving the best for last."
Spectacles said nothing as she looked down the hallway that led to the vault.
"Princess Celestia's very own crown jewels," growled Springsteel. "Over five hundred pieces. Spectacles, they aren't just a bunch of gems and accessories: they're regalia. They symbolize Celestia's right to rule."
"It's possible he was after something else," she said.
"But we searched him during the arrest. He didn't have anything on him."
"He probably stashed them somewhere in the palace. We can't even start searching for them until the royal guards give us the go-ahead, and they won't do anything until they're ready to make an official statement."
"I suppose a haphazard announcement would make them look incompetent." Springsteel smirked. "Or rather, more incompetent."
She shook her head. "This wasn't the guard's fault. They did their duty as well as could be expected."
Springsteel's ears flicked up. "Are you joking? They bungled the whole thing from start to finish."
"The guards are trained to deal with overt threats. Military threats. They failed to stop a single burglar because it's something they were never trained to do in the first place."
"Sympathy for the guards? From you? I was sure this fiasco would put a smirk on your face for days."
Spectacles turned away from the wall and walked back towards the warning tape. "When you plug a glow crystal into a lantern, you don't pound it in with a hammer. And if you do, you can't blame the hammer for what happens."
"Wrong tool for the wrong job, eh?" Springsteel followed beside her and glanced at the guards ahead of them. "Think you'll find anything here?"
"Maybe."
"Because you could just... oh, I dunno. Ask the Magpie. They have him down at the station. They could tie a bow on his head, if you like."
She rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly think he'll tell me the truth?"
"If you think you'll have better luck with the wall, you're welcome to stay here. But the palace staff can't go back to business until we clear the scene."
"Alright then. We may as well pay him a visit."
Spectacles and Springsteel walked back to the central courtroom of the palace and out through the grand hall. It wasn't truly the palace's 'main' entrance, because the palace was too large and convoluted to have an easily defined front or back. But the main courtyard was certainly the most famous entrance: it was a public garden decorated with fountains, gardens and menageries that anypony could visit. The path leading out of the palace cut through the middle of this courtyard and continued on to wind through the rest of Canterlot as a proper city street. This was where most royal processions and parades began, making it one of the most frequently crowded places in Equestria.
The current throng of ponies were nothing like the usual audience: Most were regular citizens hoping to catch a glimpse of the crime scene. News of the Magpie's capture had spread very quickly and by the time they'd marched the culprit out of the palace the street had been lined with reporters and sightseers. Even now, photographs of the event were being hawked from makeshift stands. Most amazing of all were the wealthy nobles, mingling freely with the common folk and eagerly telling stories of their near-brush with the legendary figure.
Spectacles moved down the main path as quickly as possible, but the crowd immediately took notice and began shouting questions for The Lens. The guards struggled to keep the road clear for her, and she and Springsteel came to a covered carriage and climbed in. Springsteel said something to the carriage drivers and they headed for the outer city district. Spectacles only relaxed once the cheering faded behind them.
They arrived at the front gate outside the central police station and encountered a completely different crowd. Spectacles pulled the curtain aside and peered out: A large group of ponies had gathered around the front gate, waving signs and chanting slogans. Pegasi flew about with banners and streamers. There were pictures of caged birds, and even an unflattering scarecrow that superficially resembled Spectacles herself.
She closed the curtain. "This can't be real."
"He's a famous figure. He was bound to have a few supporters."
"He's infamous," she said, "because he spent the last seven years stealing. He's a hardened criminal."
Springsteel threw his hooves up. "Don't look at me! He only stole from the rich and snobbish. In their minds, he's probably a hero."
"Heros have a cause. A goal. They have moral standards. The Magpie has none of those things."
Springsteel leaned back and crossed his forelegs. "You always told me—
"Not this again."
—That to catch a thief, you have to know how they think."
"Can we please, please just drop it? Forget I said anything."
"You insisted that knowing the perp's motives was more important than knowing their techniques. You said that every criminal has a reason."
"Yeah," she sighed. "Sure they do."
The carriage rolled through the walled gate around the police station and parked in the yard, right at the front door. They climbed out of the carriage and walked inside. The department was busy as ever, and officers scrambled back and forth with saddle-bags full of documents. Everypony nodded to Spectacles as she passed.
"Excuse me! The Lens?" A handsome, middle-aged stallion approached her with a courteous nod. He was wearing a fine business suit, and his collar was decorated with the gold chain of a city councillor. "You're The Lens, aren't you? A moment, please!"
Spectacles turned to him. "It's Inspector Spectacles, if you please. If you have a problem, you can take it up with the front office."
"I was hoping to speak with you, actually. I am—"
Spectacles squinted at him. "Pear Cut. Owner of the Pear-Tree jewelry franchise, and owner of the third largest private collection of gemstones."
"Ah, yes! I see my reputation has—"
"Four years ago, August sixteenth, six-thirty-two in the morning, the Magpie broke into your private residence and stole sixteen museum-quality pieces. This included the Sassafras Tiara, set with seven of the largest star-sapphires ever found in one dig site."
Pear Cut trotted in place. "Well, I can see you've—"
"You'd borrowed the Sassafras Tiara from the Manehattan Museum of Fine Art so your daughter, Diamond Dust, could wear it for her wedding to Sir Rosewood. The item was stolen from her at the wedding. She fled rather than risk being accused of stealing it herself. Sir Rosewood was left at the altar, heartbroken. We later confirmed the Magpie had disguised himself as a bridlesmaid, which cleared your daughter of all charges. By then Lady Diamond Dust and Sir Rosewood had already grown distant and their marriage was called off."
Pear Cut stood silent as the whole room looked on. He glanced about. "But that was years ago! How could you remember?"
"How could I have forgotten?" she scoffed. "In any case, I assume you wish to speak with me about the Magpie's recent incarceration."
"Indeed. You see, I represent some of the Magpie's prior victims. We all—"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you started a club."
"Not precisely, but we did get together several times to discuss our collective experiences. It helped us deal with the shock of having been burgled. We've kept in touch ever since."
"And what does this have to do with—" Spectacles' eyes widened. "Oh no. You wouldn't dare. Not even you!"
"We've decided to drop all charges for his crimes against us." Pear Cut held up an envelope. "We've all signed a petition and passed the hat around—as they say—to pay for his bail."
"Bail!?" Spectacles slapped the envelope out of his hoof. "Even if you had the authority to pardon such a crime, the Sassafras Tiara was never your property to begin with! He stole from a public institute of the crown! To say nothing of his attempt to steal from the Princess herself!"
"I know, I know. But we represent his most significant victims. If you discount his crimes against us—
"Which I most certainly do not," she growled.
—then his only serious offense is trespassing on royal property. He has never assaulted anypony, never caused significant property damage, and never conspired against the security of the crown or its citizens. Please, Inspector. Don't you think the poor colt deserves a second chance?"
Spectacles leaned close. "You aren't doing this out of the kindness of your heart. You're doing this because the Magpie was the best thing that ever happened to you! When news of the theft got out your franchise's profits exploded overnight, and you encouraged every moment of it! Every time he steals something the price of gemstones goes up by two percent across the board! Without his thefts, you and your friends would only be half as rich as you are today!"
Pear Cut began walking backwards. "Now, let's not be hasty."
Spectacles advanced on him. "And this... this mockery of clemency is even more craven! You only want to pardon him to make yourselves look better in the public eye! People are crying out for mercy, and you mean to profit from it every step of the way!"
Springsteel set a hoof on Spectacles' shoulder and pulled her back. "Specs old buddy, don't you think you're being a bit paranoid?"
"Paranoid?! He's—"
He cut her off with a harsh whisper. "He's here on behalf of the wealthiest, most powerful ponies in all of Equestria. You might want to compose yourself for this."
Spectacles sighed and turned back to the ruffled stallion. "Mister Cut. Please. The Magpie stole from you and ruined your daughter's marriage. Ruined her life! How can you possibly ask for a pardon?"
"I and my compatriots did not arrive at this decision out of knee-jerk reaction." He paused to adjust the collar of his jacket. "We know he has committed crimes, but he's not a bad pony. There is no such thing as a bad pony. He's only made some bad decisions."
Spectacles stared into his eyes, but could find no ulterior motives. The worst she could find was genuine naïveté.
Spectacles marched past him and towards the holding cells. "There is no bail."
"What? But surely—"
"The bail for grand larceny is based on the value of the stolen items. The Sassafras Tiara was priceless. As wealthy as you are, I doubt any of you can afford to place an infinite quantity of bits in escrow."
Pear Cut raised his nose. "I assure you, I will take this to a higher authority."
"You are welcome to take it to Celestia herself. But take it out of my precinct." She pointed back over her shoulder without turning around. "Door is to your left. Good day."
Spectacles sat in silence and peered through the one-way window to the interrogation room, watching a mare and a stallion currently seated at the table. The mare wore the smart suit of a professional governmentemployee, and the stallion was clad only in leg-irons: his brilliant white coat had a faint blue tint and his dark-striped mane flowed down in a neatly trimmed curtain. His tail was a short, bristly tuft.
Spectacles stared at that stallion. Stared into his brilliant blue eyes while he spoke with his visitor. He was leaning against the table, on the verge of tears.
The door to the observation room opened up and Springsteel walked next to her. He waved at a cloud of drifting bubbles. "Not in the precinct, Specs. You know the rules."
Spectacles exhaled through her pipe one last time and dumped the contents in a nearby waste bin. "Find anything interesting?"
"Interesting, but not useful." He held up a few form papers, all copies of the originals. "The royal census isn't happy. His cutie mark wasn't in the registry so it's impossible to identify him for certain. As far as they know, nopony in Equestria has ever had a cutie mark of a magpie in flight. Have you spoken with him yet?"
Spectacles shook her head. "The social advisor is almost done with him. Won't be long."
Springsteel nudged her shoulder. "You think he'll try to escape?"
"He certainly could. If he wanted to," she added with a snort.
"Are you saying he wants to be here? That he meant to be caught?"
"If he wanted to be caught he never would have let his true identity get out. That was his ace in the hole. He could establish a new identity but it wouldn't be legal. He'd be at risk whenever he used it."
"Unbelievable," he said with a shake of his head. I've never heard of anypony juggling so many disguises. Do we know how he did it?"
Spectacles rolled her eyes. "He went to the bank and opened a new account under a different name. Then he used the bank's reference to request an identity card from the royal census bureau. With that, he could register for medical insurance, passports, property rights... the whole deal."
"But how did he trick the bank in the first place?"
"He didn't. The bank doesn't require you to use a real name to open a private account. Celebrities use their stage names to keep their personal lives private, and merchants use the name of their businesses so multiple managers can share the same account." Spectacles set her pipe aside. "Somepony in the royal census forgot it was a convenience instead of a law, and issued a legitimate identity card for a nonexistent pony. Twelve of them, actually."
Sprignsteel let otu a low whistle. "That is pretty devious."
"No! No it's not," she snapped. "It's very obvious if you think about it. He took advantage of a system that was too lenient."
"Oh, come on. Nopony's ever done anything like this before!"
"And that is the only reason it worked at all. He's not a criminal mastermind. He's not a genius. He simply saw holes in the system and decided to take advantage of them. He did it right in front of everypony's noses, and they never even noticed. Because they weren't looking."
He set a hoof on her shoulder. "Whatever you think of the system, you can't deny that he's brilliant. Did you see the equipment he was using? The zip cord? The silenced horseshoes? The thing... that hang glider thing? He made everything himself, by hoof. He probably designed and invented them, too!"
"We have hang-gliders." she said through clenched jaws. "They already exist."
"He got an eight yard wingspan to unfurl from a pair of tiny saddlebags. Until then, they were perfectly concealed. We still haven't figure out how they work: they were destroyed in the crash landing, and the head of the tinker's guild is going crazy without a functioning model to study! You can say what you want, but the Magpie is a genius."
She sighed, exasperated. "Can we please stop calling him that? We can't keep indulging his ridiculous penchant for theatrics. He has a real name and when we go in there, we use it."
He nodded. "You're right. Sorry."
Spectacles watched as Mister Hearts'n'Arrows shook hooves with the visiting mare, his tearful eyes now full of relief. Spectacles went around the corner and into the room. When their eyes met, the advisor was the only pony still smiling.
"I'll be right out of your way," she said. "I think we've made excellent progress!"
Hearts' voice was frail, but hopeful. "Thank you so much. After all this time, I never thought anypony would care about me."
"Of course we care. You can keep those brochures, and I'll let you know as soon as I have a list of opportunities. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would love to make use of your talents. You'll have a regular job in no time at all!"
Hearts gave a nervous little chuckle. "After all this time on the run, I'm looking forward to settling down!"
The advisor left the room, still smiling. Spectacles sat across the table from the prisoner, and Springsteel stood by her side.
Hearts grinned at them. "Oh! A round of carrot-cop stick-cop? Who wants to go first?"
Spectacles sat in silence.
"The Lens, they call you. And I thought my alias was dumb." He crossed his front legs on the table. "They say you're the best there is."
She said nothing, and simply stared into his glittering, bright-blue eyes.
"I'm sure you're a very capable inspector. But I don't see how good you can be, considering how long it took you to—"
Spectacles clopped her hooves on the table and he jolted upright. She stood from her chair and slowly walked around the table, eyes hard as steel. She came to a halt beside him and leaned close to his face. He leaned away slightly.
Springsteel tensed. "Spectacles? What's this about?"
"I need you to hold perfectly still," she said to Hearts. "It won't hurt at all."
She reached for Hearts' face and gently opened his eyelids wide. She reached over with extreme care and removed a tinted, glassy dome from his eye. Underneath, the eye was pink: not a bright bubblegum color at all, but a bloody red pupil surrounded by a ghostly cornea.
Spectacles examined the tinted lense. "Your coat isn't white at all. You're a dapple grey. You look white because you suffer from congenital albinism."
"An albino?" Springsteel said and glanced between them. "What's the difference?"
"There are a number of breeds that result in a white coat, but none of them coincide with the genetic properties that cause true albinism. Thus, it is biologically impossible for white earth ponies to suffer from that particular condition." She grabbed his mane and swept the wig away. The real mane beneath was cropped short and ragged, and Spectacles parted it down the middle to reveal a small white disk in his forehead.
"The genetic traits that cause true albinism only occur in unicorns."
"He... he had his horn cut off?" Springsteel sputtered, "How could he do such a thing!?"
Spectacles peered at the stump on Hearts' forehead. "Judging from the striation pattern? With a jeweller's saw. The angle of incline suggests he did it to himself while looking in a mirror. He probably couldn't risk another pony gossiping about such a dramatic procedure."
There was a gurgling sound followed by a small splash. When Springsteel lifted his head from under the table, there was a greenish tint to his cheeks.
"You're awfully quiet," she said to Hearts. "Nothing to say for yourself?"
He stared at the table, expressionless.
She turned back to Springsteel. "Have the royal arcane library send a specialist over. If we're to maintain the ridiculous pretense of restraining him, we need to know what sort of spells he's capable of."
Springsteel stared at their prisoner, aghast. "H-he cut off his own...?!"
Spectacles walked to the door without looking back. "Have him returned to his cell. I think we can forego the usual round of bargaining and intimidation... he knows exactly how serious his situation is."
Spectacles walked into her cramped office and sat behind her desk. She shuffled a few papers out of a nearby filing cabinet and set them down.
"Specs?"
She glanced up and saw Springsteel standing in the doorway. "Hm?"
"The chief said you'll be getting a raise. Probably a promotion to go with it, too. You'll have a week of paid vacation before you go back on the case."
"What case." Her tone made it sound more like an accusation than a question.
"Well, The Mag... Hearts. Hearts'n'Arrows."
"There is no case." She dabbed a rubber stamp onto an inkpad and pressed it onto the cover page of the sheaf of papers. "Criminal apprehended. Crown jewels secured. Case closed."
"You know that none of his other thefts have been recovered. There's over a hundred items that still need to be returned to their rightful owners."
"I don't find jewels. I find jewel thieves."
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his front legs. "You know him better than anypony else in the world. You could talk to him. Figure out the truth. Maybe even convince him to hand over the prize, to lighten his sentence."
"Mister Arrows certainly doesn't need an inspector. He needs a lawyer." She tossed the papers back into the cabinet and muttered, "A criminal psychologist wouldn't hurt, either."
"You can't quit on us now!"
"Case. Closed." Spectacles traded her uniform vest for a casual jacket, and left the office. "You want to grab a drink before the bar rush? I haven't had a wheat-and-oats smoothie in years. My treat?"
Springsteel frowned as she walked past. "Spectacles. Please."
"I know a place that uses the whole wheat, too. Chaff and everything. It'll add half an inch to your coat."
Springsteel followed after her. "This isn't going to end well," he said.
They reached the end of the hall before one of the other officers called out, "Inspector! The chief wants to see you. Says it's urgent."
Spectacles rolled her eyes and pulled a hairpin turn. "Right away."
"Told you," Springsteel said.
"Oh, don't you start."
"Not used to other people being right now and then?"
"Sure I am. Just not so quickly."
They walked to the chief inspector's office and found Captain Ironsides waiting in a chair, wearing the royal guard's lighter dress uniform.
The chief nodded to each of them in turn. "Inspector. Sergeant."
"Chief," Spectacles said, returning the nod. "What's all this, then?"
The chief nodded to the Captain. "We need you on the case a little sooner than expected."
"All due respect, sir. I catch jewel thieves. Not jewels."
"Not for that. We need a report that lists all evidence relating to the Magpie's prior activities."
"My records are very thorough," she said. "It'll take no more than an hour. But why do you need it? And why right now?"
"It's for the crown, actually. We need to charge him with something soon, and the legal council isn't convinced we have enough evidence to keep him in custody without bail."
"Wh-what?" sputtered Spectacles. "What more evidence do they need?!"
"The throne has dropped all charges relating to the crown jewels," growled Ironsides. "We don't even know if they truly were his intended target."
Spectacles stared at him in shock. "How can you sit there and say that with a straight face?!"
"Princess Celestia confirmed that none of the crown jewels were stolen. She checked on them herself."
"But the Sassafrass Tiara! The Cherry-Cluster Rubies! The Peppermint Emerald! The Constellation of Peace!"
The Chief inspector cut her off with a wave. "We have no hard evidence that Mister Hearts'n'Arrows was responsible for those crimes. All we know is that he trespassed on palace grounds, attempted to evade arrest, and was dressed as the Magpie while he did so. Princess Celestia has granted him a pardon for each of these crimes."
"Why?!"
"They were royal crimes!" Ironsides answered. "The princess was fully within her rights to forgive them for any reason."
Spectacles' mane bristle. "Well then. What do you need me for?"
"We need you to review all evidence against the Magpie. Find proof—any proof—that links the Magpie's past activities to Hearts'n'Arrows. We can detain him for one week. If you haven't found anything by then, we're obligated to release him into the custody of the royal guards."
"We'll lock him up of course," Ironsides said, "but his prison sentence will be a matter of months instead of years: barely a slap on the wrist for everything he's done."
Spectacles marched out of the office and returned a minute later with a sheet of paper, which she threw on the chief's desk. "I resign."
The chief and the captain both shot up from their seats. "What?!"
"Later Springsteel," she said as she walked out the door. "Let me know if you're still up for that round of drinks."
The Chief Inspector chased her down the hallway. "Spectacles! Don't do this! You've been our best inspector for almost a decade! Don't throw this away!"
"Throw what away?" she said. "I could make better pay working at a fancy sandwich shop."
"And what about the Magpie? You won't let him walk right out the front door, will you? Look me in the face when you answer that!"
Spectacles turned to look back at him. "I brought him in to answer for his crimes. If the law decides he's innocent, then he's innocent. What more do you expect of me?"
"You know he's guilty, Inspector. You have a job to do."
"I just caught the only thief who would ever present the law with a serious challenge." She continued marching towards the front door, and as the entire department paused to watch her go. "I've already put myself out of a job."
Springsteel caught up with Spectacles a block away from her favorite bar and quietly walked alongside her.
"Hey." Spectacles said after a minute.
"Is for mares," he answered, "which is what I thought you were. Now, all of a sudden, you're acting like a foal."
She rolled her eyes. "And now my closest friends begin to turn on me."
"You can't just quit."
"Why not?" she said. "People do it all the time. It'll be a nice change of pace for me. Besides, The Lens is pretty famous right now. There should be plenty of work for a private investigator with my abilities."
Springsteel walked in front of her and locked eyes with her. "You think you're the only pony who had trouble with the system? It doesn't always work, but it's there for a reason."
"We both know perfectly well that Hearts'n'Arrows is guilty. If the system says otherwise, then the system is broken."
"What if he just happens to be innocent? What then? The Magpie managed to rack up a life sentence throughout his career. Don't you think Hearts deserves a fair trial like anypony else, whether he's innocent or not?"
"I brought him in. I presented him to the legal system. I've done everything a good inspector can do."
Springsteel arched his back and puffed his chest. "But what about being a good pony?"
"I've been following him for seven years," she said with a sigh. "Seven years of being woken in the middle of the night. Seven years of twelve hour train rides to distant crime scenes, having the royal guard breathing down my neck, and being unable to keep a colt-friend because I spend five days of every week abroad. Seven years of wealthy nobles packing my mailbox with my own weight in complaints. You don't get those complaints, Springsteel. I do! And you know what? I don't want those complaints anymore."
Springsteel settled. "You really want this, don't you?"
"I've had that resignation letter in my drawer for years now. I swore that once I caught him, I'd retire. Well it finally happened. I finally get to go out for a drink, get a job I actually enjoy, buy a house, find a stallion to settle down with, and be an old gray mare with hundreds of fat little foals for the rest of my natural life span."
"I can still visit, right? Hang out with you?"
Spectacles grinned. "What else am I going to do with my weekends?"
"We'll miss you at the station," he said. "All of us. You're the best there is."
"There's no reason you can't hire me as a private consultant."
"But won't that cost the station a fortune?"
There was a moment of quiet. Then, they both broke into grins.
"We'll only call you up if we really need you," he said. "Promise."
"Just don't call me for at least a week. This whole Magpie fiasco should simmer down by then. If I never see him again, it'll be too soon."
"Hello? Hello, excuse me?" They both turned to the new voice. A lime green stallion, bedecked in a particularly handsome suit, nervously followed after them. "I was at the garden party over yonder and I saw you from across the street. I'm sorry to intrude, but I simply had to ask: are you The Lens?"
She offered an exaggerated sigh. "Spectacles. And I'm not an inspector anymore."
"It really is you! For some reason, I thought you'd be older. I don't suppose... maybe..."
He held up a recently purchased copy of Equestria Daily. There, on the front page, was a headline in giant block letters: 'Lens catches Magpie.' There was a photograph of Spectacles looking particularly resolute.
She stared at the paper. "Where did they even get that picture?"
Springsteel leaned over her shoulder. "Oh, I remember that. Weren't you looking for a bathroom?"
The stallion held up a gold-trimmed fountain pen. "Would you? Please? I'm such a fan!"
"Springsteel. Could you give... us... a moment?"
He leaned close, whispering. "You said you were in the market for a stallion, didn't you? You could do worse."
"Just go."
Springsteel arched his eyebrows and left them alone. The stallion smiled at her, still starry eyed with awe. "He seems nice. Is he a friend of yours? A friend friend, I mean? Do you have a friend?"
Spectacles pointed a hoof at him. "That's not a suit. It is a costume. And the diamonds on those cufflinks are made of glass. You aren't wearing matching shoes, either. It is outrageous to assume that a genuine suit wouldn't come with formal shoes."
"Oh." His voice immediately lost its resonant, affluent accent. His crestfallen look was quickly replaced with a sly smile. "I suppose you really are as good as they say. I wasn't expecting such a challenge!"
"Good day." Spectacles continued on down the street.
He chased after her. "Wait-wait-wait! Hold up for a moment!"
"What is it now?"
"Those nice old gentlecolts dropped all charges against The Magpie, and the crown offered me a pardon for that baseless accusation about the crown jewels. And when they were all done, the Chief Inspector had someone go through all your notes."
"Hm. Don't say."
"It turns out that most of the evidence is now considered suspect. All they can charge me with is trespassing on royal property and impersonation of royal persons. They tallied everything up, and the judge says my minimum sentence is only six years."
"And why are you telling me this?"
"I heard somepony say that you spent seven years trying to capture me. So if I only go to prison for six years... does that mean I win?"
Spectacles stopped to look at him. He was tilting his head askance, with a huge smirk.
"You're trying to goad me. It won't work." She continued walking.
He caught up to her. "Don't you want to know how I got out of my cell?"
"You used a walk-through-walls spell to leave the building. You found a temporary outfit in the department store next door, and snuck into the theater across the street. You found a costume that fit your measurements and constructed a matching story afterwards. You probably used another spell to change the color of your coat, mane, tail and eyes."
"Ah, but how could I have cast a spell? I have no horn."
"Unicorn horns aren't like deer antlers. They don't fall off and grow back every season, and they aren't made of bone tissue. They're more like rhinoceros horns, made of keratin... the same material your mane is made of."
"Wow," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why would anypony ever need to know that?"
She frowned. "A unicorn's magic doesn't come from any single part of you. Magic runs deeper than that. The horn is only an antennae, used to project magic over a distance. You can still use magic without a horn, but only on yourself or on targets you can touch. And in the latter case, only so as long as you maintain contact."
"But the spell you described doesn't exist. There's no such thing as a walk-through-walls spell."
"It doesn't exist yet because no unicorn who could invent it would ever need it... they can simply wink. Except you can't wink. That would require your magic to work over a distance, which requires a horn. So you invented a spell that nopony else in the history of Equestria has ever needed. Which is exactly why nopony else developed appropriate countermeasures against it."
He stared at her, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I think... I underestimated you."
She snorted. "How do you think I captured you in the first place?"
"No, I mean... I think we got off on the wrong hoof."
"I've studied your work. All you have are wrong hooves. Now if you'll excuse me, I've had a very long and very disappointing day. You need to get back to your cell before anypony realizes you've escaped."
"You know, I didn't use any magic. Not to get out of the cell. I did it all by myself. Don't you want to know how?"
"I can think of a dozen ways. Your techniques don't interest me in the slightest. Nor do your gadgets, your disguises, your plans. None of it."
Hearts clenched his jaw. "Well, then, do you care about why? Why I went to all this trouble?"
"Why?" She turned on him. "The why of this is completely irrelevant now! It might have helped me catch you sooner, but there's no need for that anymore. Everypony knows who you really are. Everyone knows who Hearts'n'Arrows is. Your career—if you can even call it that—is over."
"You don't really know who I am." He frowned at her. "I spent a third of my life doing this! Don't you even care why? Don't you wonder that maybe, just maybe, I had a good reason for everything?"
"There is no good reason for stealing Princess Celestia's Crown Jewels! There can be no excuse for that!" Spectacles' voice drew the attention of a few bystanders.
Hearts backed up a step and glanced about. "I never stole them! I never meant to, either! It was nothing like that!"
"You've already stolen from over three hundred people! There can be no excuse for anything you've ever done! You're just a bad pony!"
He set his jaw. "There's no need to be so rude."
"You are a bad pony!" Spectacle slammed a hoof against the sidewalk. "People say there are no bad ponies. Well, now we finally have one! Hearts'n'Arrows, you are a bad pony and I am through trying to deal with you!"
He made a little choking sound and ran off at a gallop. Spectacle watched him vanish into the crowd. A nervous tremble went up her legs. She turned and continued on her way. Nearby ponies frowned at her as she passed and lifted their noses in reproach.
Spectacles climbed out of the taxi carriage and paid the haulers up front. She went through the front gate of the mansion and saw Springsteel on the path ahead, speaking with a mare.
Springsteel turned to her with a smile. "Good to see you haven't gotten lazy, at least. We've had the entire estate closed off since last night."
Spectacles looked at the front of the mansion. "Any details?"
The mare raised her eyebrows. "You're The Lens?"
"Is that a problem, ma'am?"
"No, not at all. It's an honor to have your services. I thought you'd be older, is all."
"Just tell me what happened."
"Right this way." She led them inside.
Springsteel whispered to Spectacles as they walked. "The Chief is getting frustrated. He figured you'd come back by now."
"I can't imagine why."
"It's the Mag... Hearts. He refuses to speak to anypony at all."
"No surprise."
"Actually, it was rather abrupt. He was cordial with the officers. Very polite. He even showed off a few of his gadgets for us. He has this vest that—"
"What does any of this have to do with me?"
"Well, he's completely buttoned up since yesterday. Won't even say hello. He says he won't speak to anypony but you."
"I'm not playing any of his twisted little games. And nopony else should be indulging him either."
"I know you don't like it, but the fact of the matter is doubt exists. The legal system refuses to punish a pony for something they may not have done."
"Will it allow a guilty pony to go unpunished?"
"That's—"
"Don't even answer. Of course it will."
"We need you. Spectacles, you're the only one who knows anything about him."
She clenched her teeth. "Spring, I have a job to do here!"
They reached the front door of the mansion before Springsteel could respond. The grand foyer was two stories tall, with curved stairways and crystal chandeliers. The entire staff was gathered together, standing in neat little rows. Maids, butlers, cleaners, cooks, gardeners, messengers: all were in uniform.
The mare nodded to her guests. "This is everypony on the payroll. The guards did an excellent job of keeping anypony from escaping the premises. I'm sure you'll find the culprit in no time."
Spectacles glanced about the room. "Ma'am, your report mentioned that the missing item was a diamond brooch."
"Yes. It was a gift from my late husband for our sixth anniversary. He had it custom made, with only the finest..."
Spectacles' mind wandered as the mare prattled on. Her eyes cast about the crowd of laborers and then the room itself, but found nothing of interest. Her ear pricked as a faint sound echoed from a nearby hallway: hooves against a marble floor. Judging by the pitch, it was someone small and light.
"Ma'am. Do you have any family?"
The mare blinked when she interrupted her ongoing story. "Yes. We... that is, I have a daughter. At the moment."
"I'll need to speak with her. She may have seen something important."
"Ah. Of course. Her room is right this way."
"I'll have to speak with her alone. You can explain the situation to the Sergeant here."
"But she's already—"
"Now now, Sergeant. No shirking."
Spectacles went to a side hall and followed the sound of errant hoofbeats. She rounded a corner just in time to see the rear half of a very young filly struggling to climb out a window. Spectacles marched past and caught her by the tail, pulling her along with a panicked squeak. She dragged her to a side room and slammed the door behind them.
The filly stared up at the powerfully built mare. "Wha—?!"
Spectacles pointed a hoof at her. "Your mother is going to marry Sir Inkwell no matter what you do. She was going to give him your father's brooch as a gesture of love, and stealing it will not prevent their marriage."
The filly's eyes welled up with tears. Her bottom lip quivered. "But... I dun wanna!"
"You miss your father. And your mother misses him too. But she wants to be happy again, and she wants you to have a family. You need to let go of him. And Sir Inkwell certainly isn't trying to replace your father. He can never do that. But he will still love and care for you in his own way."
The filly burst into tears. She ran over and clamped onto Spectacles' front leg, pressing her sopping wet face against her knee.
Spectacles rolled her eyes. "There. See? That's a perfect example."
She looked up at her. "Wh-wh-what?"
"You made a decision that you believed was for the best. You were scared and desperate, and you felt you needed to help your mother. You chose a terrible way to go about it, but it was all you could think of at the time."
"I did?"
"Of course you did!" Spectacles began pacing back and forth in the tiny storeroom. "Most crimes aren't cunning plans, thought out weeks in advance. They're crimes of passion. They're spur of the moment. They're driven by feelings and impulse. Not reason and logic. Ponies commit crimes because they feel helpless."
Her bottom lip quivered. "I'm a crimimal?"
"That's 'criminal.' With an 'n'. And no, you aren't. You're a good pony."
"But how do I help my momma?"
"Hm? Oh. That. Well... let her know that you don't mind if she marries again. She hasn't forgotten her first husband. And you won't be punished if you don't love your new father. But someday, you may grow to love him. And if you do, that love will be genuine."
"Yay! Thankoo, thankoo!"
The filly hugged her leg. Spectacles tentatively patted her on the head.
A minute later, Spectacles returned to the front foyer. The filly followed alongside her with the diamond brooch proudly pinned to her mane. The mother gasped at the sight of her.
"Precious! Wh-what's going on?"
The filly smiled proudly. "She said I'm a good pony!"
"And indeed she is," Spectacles said. "I couldn't have found it without her."
"You mean... it was simply misplaced?!"
Spectacles chose her words with care. "A crime has not occurred, if that's what you mean. If you want to learn more, you will have to ask your daughter about it."
The lady rushed close and shook Spectacle's hoof, vigorously. "Thank you, Spectacles! Oh, thank you ever so much! I cannot even begin to express my gratitude!"
"Well, a cheque would be a nice start. And you might want to apologize to your staff. They were completely blameless."
The mare blushed, and glanced at the now frowning crowd. "Oh. Well, yes, of course. I'll be right back with my bankbook."
Springsteel watched as she ran off. "Didn't even take you ten minutes."
"I told you this would be like a vacation. Honestly, it feels good to be dealing with petty problems. Personal problems."
Springsteel eyed her askance. "Are you actually feeling cheerful? I've never seen it before, so I can't tell for certain."
"I wouldn't go quite so far. But I think I'm going to sleep well tonight."
Springsteel walked down the corridor of the apartment building where Spectacles lived. Dressed semi-formally, he didn't look much like an officer of the law. A young mare followed beside him in a lemon-yellow dress.
"No, really," Springsteel said, "she simply cannot stand that sobriquet. The newsies were the ones who came up with it."
"You think I could get away with asking for an autograph? I don't want to bother her, but my brother asked if I could at least try. He's a huge fan."
He shook his head. "Probably not a good idea. After the opera, maybe, if her mood has improved."
"Her mood?" she said. "I hear she's cool as a cucumber, even by police standards."
"When she's on a case, yes. She's mellowed out since. I think the whole private detective thing is really doing some good for..."
He trailed off as sounds of violence drifted over: the sound of something being pummeled at a ferocious rate. Springsteel held his date back, then rushed ahead. There was a blood-curdling roar, and one of the doors crashed open in a storm of splinters and plaster. A large punching bag slammed against the facing wall and spilled sand onto the floor.
He ran to the splintered door frame. "What the—?!"
Spectacles stood in the middle of her apartment, wearing cherry-red boxers and a pair of thickly padded horseshoes. She was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily.
The instant they made eye contact, her posture settled. "Oh. Hey."
"You were supposed to be dressed and ready to go by seven! The opera starts in twelve minutes, and it's an eight minute walk!"
She looked around her cramped, messy apartment. "Right. Sorry. I just... got a little..."
Springsteel's date peeked around the doorframe. "What's going on? Is everything—oh my goodness! You're the inspector?"
Spectacles threw her gloves on the couch and stormed off. Springsteel held his date's shoulder. "Just wait for us in the carriage. I'll be out in a minute or so."
"I thought she'd be older. And less... ah..." She looked at the torn punching bag.
He pushed her back down the hallway, then went inside. Spectacles was stripping tape off her hooves. Her bright orange hair was drenched and tattered.
Springsteel tilted his head. "So?"
"So what."
Springsteel looked about the room, then back at her. "Well that was sort of my question in its entirety."
Spectacles flopped on the couch with a huff. "He's a bad pony, Spring. I don't care what everypony thinks. He's a bad pony."
"He must have a reason."
"No! I followed him around for seven years trying to learn his motives, and I never learned anything for my troubles. You know what? There was no motive! He became Equestria's most notorious jewel thief for absolutely no reason at all!"
"Oh, don't give me that. You know there must be a reason! Everything has a reason!"
"I've thought of everything. Revenge. Greed. Mischief. Poverty. Pride. Peer pressure. Sick foal with a heap of hospital bills. He isn't even crazy! There's no sign of obsession or compulsion: He's perfectly sane!"
"I wouldn't go that far."
Spectacles looked up at him. "What?"
"Not since yesterday, at least. Psych evaluation points to sudden and extreme depression. Nopony can figure out why."
"Well maybe he deserves it. Maybe he's finally figured out what a bad pony he is."
Springsteel stamped a hoof. "Stop saying that! He's not a bad pony! That's the one thing we all agree on back at the station. He's been kind and polite with us ever since we brought him in."
"It's just an act! It's what he does!"
"Then that's what we need to know! Talk to him. Look him in the eye. Ask him some questions and tell us if he's lying."
The room was quiet. Springsteel nodded to the broken door frame. "I need to go. Date's waiting. You let me know when you're finished feeling sorry for yourself."
"Don't insult my intelligence."
"I'm not. I'm insulting your feelings. And you need to put them in order before it tears you apart."
"I said I'm fine. Everything's fine."
"He's been giving autographed newspapers to the ponies who visit his cell. He's sold the rights to his life story to a theater director for a hundred thousand bits. He's already gotten a patent on three of the gadgets he invented to steal the Clopman diamond... for goodness' sake, the service is thinking of buying some of his gadgets for police issue!"
"So what!"
"Since he was captured, he's gotten more famous. And you've been forgotten. You used to be Equestrias' greatest inspector, and now look at you! Look at this place!" He pointed at the apartment, filled with heaps of old magazines and filthy laundry. "What's next? Helping kittens out of trees? Returning foal's stolen lollipops?"
Spectacle sat on the couch, silent.
"You know what? Hearts wasn't the one who refused to take this seriously."
Spectacles remained inert as her friend left. She wiped her nose and took a deep breath.
Spectacles followed the officer to the station's cell block. There were only a dozen rooms here. Ponies were rarely arrested for anything more than disorderly conduct. When they came to Heart's room, he was lying on his cot. Everything about him was a shambles. His pink, ghostly eyes were bruised. His mane was as messy as a brush cut could possibly be. It was impossible to think of him as the dashing, beguiling stallion who had charmed his way in and out of countless homes, businesses and museums.
"Mister Arrows."
He flinched at the sound, and turned to her. He made a pitiful effort to set his appearance in order. "Inspector?"
"I'm not an inspector anymore. Just a visitor."
He tossed his head. "I should be glad you decided to visit at all. Came to say your farewells?"
Spectacles arched an eyebrow. Even now, in his dishevelled state, he had gained an air of elegance. His posture. His tone. For a moment, she thought she could see a bit of the Magpie in him. Not the criminal she'd chased for seven years, nor the genius she had failed to predict. This was the Magpie of stories and legends. From gossip and rumors. It was a glimpse of something that existed only in the public's imaginations. Perhaps that was the truest Magpie of all.
"Mister Arrows. I'm going to ask you a few questions. And I want you to answer truthfully."
He set his jaw. "Still trying to prove my guilt, are you?"
"I am beyond caring about your guilt. And apparently, so is everypony else. The public no longer cares about whether or not you actually did the things you are being accused of."
"It doesn't matter. I'm not... I'm not a bad pony."
"Don't even go there."
He lifted his head. "I'm not, I swear! You don't understand any of what I've been through! And you aren't even trying!"
"Whether or not you are a bad pony is completely irrelevant!"
"Spectacles. Should a good pony be sent to prison?"
"Guilty ponies are sent to prison."
"Is it possible to be both? Can a pony be good and guilty at the same time?"
Spectacles opened her mouth to speak. Something in his eyes interrupted her.
"I never stole the crown jewels," he said, "and I never meant to. I would never steal from the Princess."
"Then what were you doing in the inner sanctum of her palace? You were directly next to the central vault. A vault that only a few ponies even know exists!"
"I wasn't stealing. You have to believe me!"
"Oh, and is there anything else you haven't done?"
He lifted his nose. "I never stole the Clopman Diamond."
"Are you kidding?! You were photographed by the case, hanging from the ceiling by a series of cables."
"Well yeah, I was there. But I never stole it."
"You left a near-perfect forgery behind. And a little signed note with an arrow, and the word 'counterfeit.' It doesn't get any—"
Hearts cut her off with a harsh look. There was a quiet moment.
"But... you don't..." Spectacle's eyes widened. "That was the only time you've ever used a forgery as part of a plot. But why? And why only once?"
Hearts nodded, urging her on.
"The forgery wasn't yours to begin with." Spectacle's brow furrowed in concentration."You had nothing to do with it, did you? When you went to steal it, you noticed that it was already a forgery. Someone had stolen it first."
"At least a year before." He cast his eyes down. "I was just trying to be helpful. Figured somepony should know."
Spectacles stared at him through the bars for a full minute.
"That's the first thing I've ever learned about you. The first time you've told me the truth." She turned away away. "Excuse me. I have to speak with the chief."
He stood up and walked to the bars. "Why? What about?"
"I only have three more days to prove your complete innocence regarding the crown jewels."
"But I was cleared of that charge!"
"Not exactly. You were pardoned. Only guilty ponies are pardoned. If that pardon proves to have been unnecessary, the Princess may see fit to extend her grace to your past mischief instead."
"She'd do that?"
"She's the Princess. She can pardon any crime. But I imagine she would only do so if she believed you were not a bad pony."
Hearts'n'Arrows bit his lip. "Do you really think you can convince her?"
Spectacles set her pipe in her mouth. "Compared to proving your guilt? This should be a piece of cake."