//------------------------------//
// Case I: Accident Prone (Act II) 
// Story: My Neighbor Pinkie Pie 
// by MrEnter 
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It was a long drive. It was a very long drive. If it wasn't Pinkie Pie fiddling with the radio, it was her trying to grab the wheel to get us to stop for a soda. You'd think that I wouldn't have to remind her—repeatedly—that she asked me out of desperation to investigate into a missing pony's case. Then again, she did slam down on the breaks in front of Cloudkicker's apartment complex

I sat in the car for a few minutes, just staring at that pink nightmare. I tried to look through those eyes to figure out what was going on in that head of hers. It was probably safe to say that the hamster turning the gears in her brain wasn't running at full speed. I got out of the car and she followed along with a spring in her step.

I stood in front of the building. Looking up I saw a face pressed against a closed window. It was hard to make out more than a lavender blur, but I could assume that it was Cloudkicker's daughter looking out into the distance waiting for her mother to return. I shook my head. If I wanted to get this over with quickly I'd have to keep those thoughts from clouding my mind.

Pinkie practically knocked down the door as she charged into the building. Even at a breakneck pace I couldn't keep up with her. I was winded by the time we hit the third floor landing, and she was still dashing down the halls. She began to furiously bang on the door. It was like she had just remembered what might have been at stake after a period of totally forgetting about it. That lavender blur opened the door, and thinking back to the newsreport she did have a resemblance to Cloudkicker.

I made my way into the apartment and was instantly hit with a foul smelling gas. I looked around quickly and saw a pot on a stove. It was boiling over with green goop and the bottom of it had been stained black by the fires below. I ran over to the stove and turned it off before something decided to explode. With that relief I could see that the rest of the apartment wasn't doing much better. Random newspapers, receipts, and a bunch of other junk littered the floor. The wallpaper was beginning to peel, and now that the smell of burnt metal was starting to disperse an even worse odor was coming from the fridge. I didn't even want to know what was coming from that. The filly stared at me.

"Mom said not to turn off the stove!" she shouted at me. "She-she said she'd be right back! She'll be right back!"

"When did she—" I began before Pinkie tackled me. 

She had her hoof across my mouth and looked deeply into my eyes as if she was trying to send me some kind of signal. Whatever it was, I wasn't getting it. I pushed Pinkie off of me, but she would not relent. She pulled me into the hallway of the apartment. She came close and then she started to whisper.

"She's just a little filly. Be careful what you say. We can't tell her that her mother might be in danger."

"Alright then. If this is such a delicate process, then you get information out of her."

"No, I can't do it—"

I would have listened further, but I was too busy running over to stop that delicate filly. She had grabbed a chair and was attempting to turn the stove on again. I picked her off the chair and moved it away. Then it dawned on me. Cloudkicker went missing sometime yesterday. There was a good chance that this filly hadn't eaten all night. I asked her if she was hungry, and she weakly nodded.

"Pinkie, you're a baker right? Can you make this filly something to eat, I can't cook for s—sunshine," I said.

Pinkie came in, beaming. Her mouth showed happiness, but her eyes showed intense worry. I must admit that I was heading there myself. It looked like there was some kind of struggle in here. Hell, it looked like there was a revolution. While Pinkie made the filly some food, I decided to look around. Maybe I could find some clues as to where Cloudkicker would have gone to.

The papers and receipts didn't give me many clues. Most of them were of grocery bills months old. In short, nothing helpful. I tried to go in what I presumed to be Cloudkicker's room, but the filly—Violet, as I learned—wouldn't let me, claiming that "no one was allowed in Mom's room." It was hard taking her seriously with a face covered with macaroni and cheese. And unfortunately, the only clues that I would be getting would have to be in Cloudkicker's room because there wasn't any piece of information to be found anywhere else.

"Thanks Ms. Pie. I was really hungry," said Violet.

"Oh, it's no problem at all."

"I'm going to ask around the building. Maybe the neighbors know something," I said. Then I lowered my voice. "You ask her if she knows anything."

Before Pinkie could stop me I was in the hall and knocking on neighboring doors. Most of the apartments were empty or their inhabitants didn't seem to care enough to answer. I eventually made my way to apartment 312, way down on the other side of the hall. I knocked and waited. I was about to return towards Cloudkicker's apartment in defeat before I heard a latch being undone.

"Oh Cloudkicker, you're back!" said the stallion who opened the door. Then he saw me. "Oh, you're not Cloudkicker. What do you want?"

"To ask about Cloudkicker. If you haven't heard, she's gone missing."

"Of course I've heard. I was the one who reported her missing. What's it to you?"

Perhaps it was time for a little bit of intimidation. I showed my badge. He took a good look at it, and a surge of shock shot through his expression. He took another good look at my badge, probably hoping to change the reality before him. No matter how hard he tried it wouldn't change. There was a homicide investigator at his doorstep after he reported a missing pony.

"You d-don't think that she's... do you?" he asked me, never taking his eyes away from the badge.

"That depends. Can I ask you a few questions?"

He nodded and let me into his apartment. He guided me towards his sofa. He asked me if I wanted refreshments of any kind, but I I declined. I saw him sweating and fumbling with a teapot anywhere. A small smirk came to my mouth. I had an idea, and I was loving where I thought that it would take me.

"A bit nervous, aren't we?"

"Well yeah. Someone tells me one of my friends might have been murdered, of course I'm going to be nervous!" he shot at me. Then he shook his head.

"Cloudkicker was a friend of yours?"

"What do you mean 'was?'" he said, turning towards me. "I thought you said you didn't know if she was dead or not!"

"Sorry, I misspoke," I said calmly. "But either way, you two are friends?"

"Yeah, she's pretty. Um pretty great I mean," he said, turning back towards his teapot.

"Sounds like a bit more than a friendship," I said, raising my eyebrow.

"Yeah I wish," he said hopefully. His voice changed gears into a sarcastic tone. "Yeah I wish."

"Her apartment showed signs of a struggle. Pictures were cracked and knocked crooked, papers were all over the floor. Honestly, it looked like a disaster area."

"I-it's always like that. 'Why bother to clean it up if it'll just get messy again?' She's always bumping into things like those pictures. I swear her wings are of two different sizes. Wait a minute, you were in her apartment?"

"Yeah, and do you know what I found? A filly trying to operate a gas stove. I don't think I have to tell you what might have happened if I didn't get there when I did," I said, and almost as if on que the teapot whistled. He shut it off, and then he turned towards me.

"Cloudkicker was only supposed to be gone for an hour. Two at the most. And that was last night. She couldn't get a foalsitter on such short notice so she asked me to check up on Violet every once in awhile."

"And you did a bang up job at that! When I got in there that filly probably hadn't eaten for the better part of a day."

"What would you have wanted me to do?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe what you were asked to and actually checked up on her! What do you think Cloudkicker would say about that? You're lucky that I didn't stumble upon a burnt corpse."

"Violet wouldn't let me in, what do you want from me!?"

"You're familiar with Pinkie Pie, right? Why would Violet let her into the apartment, and not you, someone Cloudkicker trusted to keep an eye on her filly?"

"Because everypony knows Pinkie! She's friends with everypony. Violet knows her, as does Cloudkicker. They like her better than me, sue me."

"I'm going to do more than that, I'm going to have you arrested for child neglect. You knowingly left a filly alone in that apartment all night. I don't care if she wouldn't let you in, she was your responsibility, and you find a way to meet that responsibility."

"N-no, you can't!" the stallion stepped back.

"Then tell me what happened yesterday. What I know is that Cloudkicker unexpectedly left yesterday and left you responsible for her filly. After some time, you reported her missing. The apartment showed signs of a struggle. You claim that Violet wouldn't let you into the apartment, but she easily let me and Pinkie in."

"You can't seriously be suggesting that I—?"

"Tell me what happened."

"O-okay. Last night, I think that it was around seven. Cloudkicker came to my apartment, saying that her work called her in. She said that she'd only be gone for an hour, two at the most—I swear! I asked her if somepony else was watching her, but she said that it was too short notice to get a foalsitter. Everytime I tried to check in on Violet, she wouldn't open the door. At ten I reported her missing, and this morning at six I did it again."

"Where does Cloudkicker work?"

"At the Mandeas Warehouse. It's just a twenty minute flight, er ten minute drive from here."

Finally, this case was moving forward.