Detective Hooves checked his pocket watch. Twenty minutes till ten in the afternoon. I'd better get going. The boss is going to flip if I don't clock out soon. He rushed the late-night train back to Manehattan town square.
The case files, now filled with pages of notes, thoughts, and conclusions, was to be kept in his office. But when Hooves returned there, a familiar but unpleasant sight assaulted his retina. Broken books. Torn-up spreadsheets. The remains of what was once a filing cabinet. Even his desk was overturned.
All he wanted to do now was scream, trot down loudly to the front desk, and file a complaint. Somepony in the office was playing a joke on him, and it wasn't funny the slightest bit. His mouth uttered a quiet curse as his eyes surveyed the sight. On the ground, he noticed especially, was a brown piece of leather that wasn't there before. As he approached it, the object turned out to be a wallet. Inside was a slip of paper that read:
Property of Apple Strudel
If found, please return to Applewood Refinery, 2772 Saddle Street, Manehattan, Equestria.
The detective kept his anger at a minimum as much as his conscience could allow. It's all right, it's all right. I'll just leave a sign at the door next time saying "No, don't go in here." and everything will be fine. The cabinets were very heavy, and it took the strength of both his front hooves to lift it back up. When it was in its rightful position, he placed the case files in the bottom drawer. At least the papers didn't fly out.
The job of cleaning up the rest of the room left Walter's mind blank and ruffled. He couldn't think at all for the next three days, and the investigation consequently suffered. No new interviews, no new information, no new evidence, and absolutely no new progress. Hooves wanted to pound his head against the wall in frustration.
With only the information he knew, the culprit might as well have been a tree that accidentally caught fire on that night. The fact was clear in his head that Strudel wasn't the arson, despite Walter's bitter hostility against him. After all, he was in the house when the fire started and stayed there during its duration. But he was Walter's last suspect. When guilt had finally overcome him, he decided the only useful action to do now was to write a letter to Applejack and Apple Slice apologizing that he just couldn't solve their case.
It began like this:
Hello members of the Apple Family:
It's been a wonderful time working with you for the last few days, but I am sorry to say that I cannot solve what had happened on the night of September 16. My dearest apologies.
The following paragraphs summarized all the information and conclusions Walter Hooves had gathered.
I'm sorry for your loss, my dear. I can't imagine how it feels to lose a family member.
Happy trails, Detective Walter Hooves
On the way out, he believed it necessary that extra precautions be taken in case another... incident happened. Locking the door, Walter went down to the lobby using the stairs since the longer journey gave him time to clear his mind. On the way down, though, he ran into Jill, who was hurrying upstairs with a receipt in her mouth.
"Woah, trying to catch a train there?" Walter started.
"Oh, hello, Walter. I'm glad I ran into you. It's my little filly's birthday tomorrow, but I'm quite busy at the moment. Could you pick up her cake at Sugarcube Corner for me? Last errand of the night, I promise."
"Sure thing, Jill."
"Just drop it off in my fridge sometime today or tomorrow morning. And thanks again." She trotted up the flights of stairs. Hooves checked his pocket watch again. Eleven o' clock. Better get there before the shop closes.
Sugarcube Corner was located at a very unique, to say the least, location in Ponyville. It wasn't near any public transportation stop, so Walter had to trot a mile or so to get there. What an interesting place. he thought to himself. The special "cookie and gingerbread house" design made him wonder if the building was actually edible.
A doorbell rang when he opened the door. "Howdy there, Walter. What brings you here to this part of town?" asked a cheerful, high-pitched voice from across the counter. Oh, that's right: Pinkie took the afternoon shift on Wednesdays, or was it Tuesdays? Quite an amicable pony, for she was friends with absolutely everypony in a huge radius.
"I'm here to pick up a cake for a friend, miss. Her name is..."
"Of course, mister. I know Jill's planning a super, special party tomorrow. I made her one of my specialties." She ran to the back of the store.
Walter stood there waiting and let his eyes wander. On the shelf was a small book labeled "orders". Hooves remembered Applejack saying something about a cake that was supposed to be brought to the refinery before it was burned. Go ahead, do a justice. Bring the cake to her. It's the best you can do now. Walter picked up the book and scrolled through the dates. He found September 16 and scrolled through the pages. Let's see here... Water Lilly ordered a cupcake a few weeks ago; somepony named Sapphire picked up a few cookies. That's funny. I can't find anypony from the apple family in here.
Pinkie had just returned with the cake. "Special thanks to Mrs. Cake for the design on the top."
"Say, Pinkie. Could you tell me whether or not somepony from the apple family had ordered anything recently?"
"Hmm... I think Applejack wanted some cupcakes once, but that was a LONG time ago." She smiled. "Though I can see why. We're best friends. A gift a day doesn't hurt."
"Are you sure there weren't any orders from her, especially on September 16?"
"Nope, I don't think so."
"Interesting..., well, thanks Pinkie. I'll get this to Jill tonight."
"Okey Dokey Lokie."
Detective Hooves left the shop with a smile on his face and a new plan placed firmly in his mind.