//------------------------------//
// So... Something About An Investigation... 
// Story: The Misdemeanor Private Detective Agency 
// by Myriad of Failure 
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Stumbling down the street, I raised an aching hoof to shield aching eyes. The whole world seemed to be glowing majestic gold, reflecting from the while-washed walls and the ornate gates that loomed over me, judging every step I made. My wings were heavy on my back, sweat festering beneath the folds as they were baked by the Sun. All I wanted to do was crawl quietly into a refrigerator and shut the door.

"I'm blind!" I wailed to the stallion beside me. He didn't share my pain, and he wasn't being very sympathetic about the situation. A permanent frown had plastered itself to his face as soon as he'd seen me, and he continually glared down his snout at me - as if I were to blame!

"Stop being so melodramatic, Nocturne, and stand up properly." He snapped, pressing the buzzer on one of the fancy golden gates. "We have an investigation to conduct and you are refusing to be professional about it."

"But it's so hot, and I can barely see a thing!" I did stand up a bit straighter, though, as a maid came out to open the gates for us. I had told myself last night that I was not going to be beaten by the Sun. I also needed to make a good second impression after what had happened; I had been fully prepared to forgive whoever it was that had knocked me out, so long as they let us take on the work. Otherwise, well - let's just say that they might have experienced an unfortunate haunting until they hired us...

"Are you the private investigators?" the maid squeaked, her buttercup yellow muzzle pointed decisively at the ground with only her watery eyes raised slightly in our direction. 

"Yes; I would be Complex Conundrum, and this is my apprentice Nocturne." 

"Oh!" She finally lifted her gaze enough to notice me, only to regret the decision. "Oh, um, okay, if-if you would just follow me, please..." she turned away and trotted off primly, not even worrying to check if we had closed the gate behind us. She was a pretty young mare; her mane and tail both tied back neatly into buns and her uniform pristine and shining in the morning light. Her face was probably also quiet pretty, but I doubted that anypony had ever seen all of it. A pair of wings were also tucked at her sides, however they looked like they were rarely used for flight - where the plumage would usually be thinned out a bit during use, hers was still thick and soft like that of a young fledgling yet to leave the nest. I didn't think I had seen her yesterday, but in the panic I could have easily missed her.

"It isn't a bad looking house, is it?" Conundrum commented, observing the two marble pillars that stood sentry before the grand oak front door. Above them they supported a modest balcony, and where flanked by the two wings of the house. It was a completely symmetrical affair, with glistening white walls, large windows, and every so often an opulent embellishment; such as the family's coat of arms pinned proudly to the door. 

So yes - not a bad looking house. I gritted my teeth and pretended not to notice, unable to ignore the impending doom hanging over my own home.

We were led inside - where the air was pleasantly cooler, but the furnishings no less exquisite - and on into a modest reception room that was probably as big as my entire apartment.  

"Madam, the private inspectors are here." The maid gave a polite curtsy to the ageing mare sat in the corner of the room. I recognized the mare from the night before - her lavender coat matched the streaks in her mane, which were separated by snow white lines (whether from age or an original feature, I couldn't tell), and a pair of silver eyes that sparkled in their grief. Considering that she had been widowed yesterday, her hair was well styled, her fur groomed, and her demeanour was every bit the lady.

"Thank you, Featherlight, that will be all," her refined voice was quiet, while making a clear impression of wealth and status. Years of privilege had led it to command a certain presence and expectation of obedience. I imagined that voice shrieking and knew immediately who had knocked me out - though how she'd had the strength to do it, I couldn't imagine; she was a rather plump mare well into her fifties.

"Lady Grace," Conundrum gave a slight bow and offered out a business card I'd forgotten we'd made, "I assure you we will do our very best to discover what happened last night."

"Thank you, Mr Conundrum; I have complete faith in your abilities." She set the card down on the side table without glancing at it. 

"If I may be so bold to ask," I took a careful step forward, eliciting a nervous crease to appear just above her eyebrows; the only indication that she had recognized me, "why is it that you have employed us? Surely a case of this nature would normally be dealt with by the Equestrian Police Force?" Conundrum was casting me an odd look, but I continued to face the mare, hoping that I had used language posh enough for her to understand.

She observed me carefully, taking her time to reply. While this may seem oddly suspicious, I dismissed it. From the concentration her face was exhibiting, she was probably planning out her sentence so that she didn't have to stop halfway and go 'er...' like the rest of us common folk were prone to do.

"I dislike the police - they lack the delicacy and care that is required for such a task. When summoned last night..." She took a light breath to compose herself, "...they were rough and brutish, and arrested the first pony they encountered without any indication that they were the... culprit." Lady Grace dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a silk handkerchief before meeting my gaze again. "The pony they arrested had a remarkable resemblance to yourself - a relation of yours perhaps?" She was unprepared to admit to punching them... me - the culprit?

"Well..."

"I don't believe there was any relation, madam," Conundrum quickly intervened, "it is often the case with bat ponies that they appear very similar to each other." I glared at Conundrum as elegantly as I could in front of the lady. How he dared to suggest something so rude, I don't know. Admittedly, I did look very similar to myself, or at least I would hope so - so maybe his comment wasn't entirely wrong. "Even though, this is a terrible business if they have arrested a random pony with no connection to the crime - we will do our best to clear her name, I assure you."

"Ah, naturally." Lady Grace crossed her hooves before looking back to us, expecting us to continue the conversation. My employer looked back at her hopefully, no doubt waiting for her to lead the way.

I stepped in before things became too awkward. 

"Would it be possible for us to view the scene of the crime?" I asked directly, causing her to flinch slightly but maintaining her regal demeanour, "It would be easiest to do it now - before the police arrive, and we promise not to disturb any of the evidence."

"Certainly." She raised a silver bell on the table and rang it softly, "I believe they will be coming at ten o'clock, if that gives you enough time?"

"Plenty, ma'am." We both bowed graciously and turned to leave the mare. Behind us the maid, Featherlight, had appeared silently, and was holding a hoof out to direct us further down the halls. She hadn't been there when I'd asked to see the crime scene, but somehow she took us to a private study near the back of the house, still in the centre portion of the building. The room was to the right, just beyond a length of police tape that ran directly across the hall, preventing any ponies who were inclined to pay attention to pieces of plastic declaring a 'POLICE CRIME SCENE: DO NOT ENTER'.

So, naturally, we ducked under it.

"Oh, excuse me?" I turned quickly back to the maid as Conundrum wandered into the study, "Would you be able to get me a list of all of the ponies who were here last night? Servants and guests alike."

"Yes, miss." She squeaked and disappeared down the hall, moving quickly on almost silent hooves. 

So, this crime scene... I turned back, noticing the smears of blood that appeared in the wooden flooring down the hall, continuing until the large glass door that led out to the garden. There was so much blood, I wasn't sure that I wanted to see the study at all. Steeling myself, I stepped over the threshold.

The room had only one window, leaving it pleasantly dark. The decor also left the atmosphere feeling rather luxurious yet imposing at the same time. A large maple desk faced the door, with a black faux leather chair looming behind it. Floor length crimson curtains framed the solitary window to the left of the desk, which had a latch at the top, allowing only a small portion at the top to open - nowhere near large enough for a pony to fit through. The blood smears continued in from the hall onto the thick cream carpet that filled the study, where they faded slightly into the plush material. It ended with a particularly large splodge near the middle of the room.

I consoled myself with the fact that it wouldn't be me paying to replace the carpet.

Conundrum passed me a couple of hair nets and four plastic hoof covers. It wouldn't help if we left traces of ourselves all over the crime scene, now would it?

"Preliminary thoughts?" Conundrum asked, his own hooves and hair contained in identical blue plastic.

"His widow seems rather distant, but that could be the grief. She was strong enough to knock me out last night, but I'm finding it difficult to imagine her as a murderer." I replied, flying over to the desk to avoid the blood spots. There were a few papers - all of them letters between Gently Articulate and Bold Enterprise - a gilded letter opener with a nasty looking edge, and a photograph of the victim with a younger version of his wife, and two foals (a colt and a filly) posing in their garden on a sunny day. 

"I'm thinking that she killed him after discovering a secret love affair with his secretary, and is hiring us to appear the loving and devoted wife while she makes off with his life insurance money." I raised an eyebrow at Conny, knowing that the theories were only going to get wilder as the case went on.

"That doesn't work on so many levels."

"Oh?" He huffed, picking up the letter opener I had been looking at, "because here is the murder weapon she madly slashed at him with as the truth was uncovered."

"Then why isn't it covered in blood?" I sighed, "That letter opener would never have made such a severe wound - and we don't even know if the victim had a secretary, let alone if he was having an affair with her." I wanted to add that she seemed too calm to act spontaneously, but, after last night, I couldn't allow myself to underestimate her anger.

"I was merely making suggestions..." he grumbled, setting the letter opener back down. I moved over to the edge of the blood splodge, body facing towards the door as the victim would presumably have been. 

"What was his name?"

"Gently Articulate," Conundrum announced, rooting through the papers on the desk. "His family were historically part of Princess Celestia's government, but I hear he made his name through business."

"What kind of business?" I questioned suspiciously; a venture gone wrong could easily have gotten him killed.

"Rare art trade from overseas - I believe they called it The Exclusive Collection."

The room was completely bare of any artwork, except for a marble plinth holding up a vase of flowers. I supposed that to trade art didn't require you to like it.

Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine it - an ageing, wealthy business pony, trading rare and undoubtedly valuable pieces of art, with a good family name to uphold and a son and a daughter to pass it down to. I was stood in front of my desk and was stabbed, but didn't attempt to struggle. The wound, while being fatal, wasn't done to immediately kill me (so probably wasn't some trained killer from the shores of the Griffon Empire) - and while I took the time to find help, I don't name my attacker. Either I didn't see them - and that's why there was no struggle - or I didn't want them to be found out. 

Only one wound... I opened my eyes again and looked at the smears leading out of the room. Unless they had been trampled on during the panic, they would never be so... long - or drawn out... unless he dragged himself to the garden on the front of his chest (which would be incredibly difficult to do) these patterns would never have been there. Blood in that quantity would drip substantially, of course, but like that? I guessed the attacker could have pulled him out... but why?

"These letters could be quite important," Conundrum snapped me out of my trance, forcing me to look where he was pointing. "Much of it looks like dull business, and that's the agreement to visit for the Summer Sun Celebration... this looks quite promising..."

The letter was written in the curling writing that can only be achieved by a unicorn horn, and was dated to a mere week ago. It went as such;

My old friend, Gently,

The proposal you suggested in your last letter intrigues me. I sympathize with your concerns, and while I do not have your experience as a father, I feel that I can fully support you in your decision. You have a respectable name to uphold and a large fortune that must be protected; leaving you no other option. 

Your concern over Perfect's response is understandable, although this should not stay your hoof on the subject. You would be acting in her best interests. Foals often do not agree with what their parents dictate for them; it does not mean that the action should not be taken. In time she will understand what you have done, and I assure you - she will appreciate it. She is an intelligent mare and will soon see sense.

My own part in this scheme will be taken willingly and as a thanks to you, my old friend - for I too suffer the fears of what will happen to my own fortune when I pass on. It will also secure the future of The Exclusive Collection; a subject on which there has been a great deal of debate recently, as you will know.

I hope that we are both aware that it could not fall into the hooves of another business pony - our good family names must be protected at all costs.

I look forward to my visit, and hope to arrive on the eve of the Celebration in time for the festivities

Your loyal friend,

Bold Enterprise

"It begs the question - what was this proposal?" Conundrum stroked his chin in an attempt to look thoughtful. I placed the letter back where we had found it and glanced about the room again.

"I'm just going to take a look down the hall." I flapped out of the study and back onto the smooth wooden floor of the hall, taking care over where I set my feet. Slowly following the trail, I went all the way down the hall to the glass door before flying back over it. The blood appeared to get heavier the nearer to the garden you were - as would be expected; the wound would bleed more as Gently Articulate exerted himself. But the splodges stopped being smears about halfway down.

The attacker could have dragged him out of the study, made it part way down, and then... I dropped to the place the pattern changed. There were a few slight scuff marks on the wood, which in such a pristine house must have suggested something important. This section of the hall was also the next to have a door beside it after the study. The attacker could have hidden in here to escape, or maybe they heard voices and fled back towards the front of the house... but why drag him this far in the first place?

The possibilities were endless.

I wandered into the room beside me. The door opened into a spotless kitchen, filled with marble worktops, black and white checked tiling, and walls painted in deep crimson - the kind of colour psychologists claim will make you feel hungrier. In terms of an escape route for an attacker, it would have been fairly useless. There was a wall to my left which was made up entirely of large square windows, nevertheless they looked out onto the back garden where the party had been taking place - so leaving through them would have revealed you to the various guests. I guessed you could have waited in a kitchen cupboard until there was another chance to escape...

So I started opening all of the cupboards to see if you could fit a pony in them.

It turned out that only one under the breakfast bar would do, and even then it would be a tight squeeze for a small mare.

During the few seconds while I had my head in said cupboard (checking for any stains or fur traces, you understand), the maid must have come back to find me, and was now calling out my name frantically.

"Miss Nocturne? Miss Nocturne!"

"What? Oh - ow -" I bashed my head against the top of the counter, before stumbling back painfully, "I'm in here! Ow..." I hurried out of the kitchen before any of the other appliances could attack me, and fluttered over to Featherlight.

"I... I didn't realize the kitchen was part of the crime scene, miss..." she hissed frantically, her voice unable to rise above a soft whisper.

"Oh, it probably isn't..." I rubbed the back of my head tentatively, "I just thought I ought to take a look..." This seemed to calm her down slightly, which I couldn't help but notice. "It must be difficult if the kitchen's been roped off by the police," I said conversationally, trying to encourage her to open up a bit.

"Oh, yes, but there is a smaller one in the east wing of the house..." She reached into the pocket of her uniform and pulled out a scrap of note paper before offering it to me, "The list of ponies present; as you asked for."

"Thanks," I glanced down it quickly, frowning, "surely there should be more servants? A Summer Sun Celebration party and only you on duty with what... seven ponies to serve?"

"Mr Articulate always dismissed the other staff for public holidays."

"But not you?"

"I stay here as a live-in maid - I am always with the family."

"That's very devoted." I scanned the mare quickly - she was young - too young to have already given up her life to look after one family. Though there are some ponies for whom their job is their life; maybe it was just me who struggled with committing to one occupation. That was one benefit of being a private investigator - the work keeps changing (when you get any). "How many of these ponies would normally be here?" I knew that Bold Enterprise didn't, and that presumably Gently Articulate and Lady Grace both lived here, but the other four?

"Gently Articulate, Lady Grace and their daughter, Perfect Eloquence, are all in residence." She blinked slightly and corrected herself, "At least, they were all in residence..."

"What about the others?" I pressed on, relieved at how willing she was to say something.

"Good Conduct - the late master's son - lives with Pink Diamond and their son Quartz Crystal in a fine town house near the centre of Canterlot." Her eye twitched slightly then - I could have been wrong, or it might just have been her blinking - if it meant something, I couldn't be sure what. "Bold Enterprise co-runs the business, though he lives out at Baltimare to supervise the shipping."

"Okay... thanks for that," I quickly grabbed a pencil from Conundrum as he came out of the study, using it to quickly jot some notes on the paper.

"Will that be all?" Featherlight asked, looking eager to get away.

"For now - we'll have to have a bit of a chat later about what happened last night, though," I smiled reassuringly at the young mare - as a maid she could have seen or overheard something vital while delivering drinks, so we needed her on our side. She gave a quick curtsy and hurried off into a separate wing of the house.

We ducked back under the police tape, taking off the ridiculous plastic covers. 

"Did you find anything interesting?" Conundrum asked, pocketing the portable camera he brought to every case. 

"I noticed that the blood stains seem to change when they get to the kitchen, like the victim had been dragged up to there, but then left to stumble out to the garden himself." I shrugged my wings, "It could mean a lot; it could mean nothing." I held out the scrap of paper to him, written in neat hoof-writing (apart from my own messy scrawl) with two neat columns - one of the party guests, the other of the solitary maid. "I also got a list of the ponies present. Our murderer could be one of them."

Conundrum took it from me and added it to his saddle bags - a set of dark blue canvas sacks with magnifying glass tabs, in which all of our investigative equipment was kept. He'd had them before I'd joined, but the cutie mark on them was the same as the mare in his photograph, rather than his own crossword cutie mark. They had seen much better days, and had worn rather thin at the bottom where various other fabrics had to be stitched on to try and prevent holes.

"Young Nocturne, I thinks it's time we started interviewing some ponies..." 





Obviously, we started with the widow - she was the only one we could find.

"So, Lady Grace, about the events of yesterday evening..." Conundrum sat opposite the mare on a vintage velvet armchair, his note book and pencil hovering beside him in a twinkling aura. I had been relegated to a couch at the side of the room, where I could observe the mare fully.

"Where should I begin?" She quavered, holding a silk handkerchief to the corner of her eye. 

"How about at the beginning of the party? I take it that you, your husband and your daughter were already present?"

"Yes, we were out in the garden - myself and my daughter, Perfect, that is - Gently had been in the study where..." She breathed in slowly, closing her eyes for a second.

"We saw, madam - please, continue."

"Bold Enterprise - a good friend of my husband's -  was the first to arrive. I heard him come in, but he didn't come out the the garden for a while. I think he must have been visiting Gently first." Lady Grace composed herself carefully, and smiled sadly, "When he came out he said that Gently was just finishing off some work."

"Did you see your husband again that night?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" She frowned delicately. "You aren't suggesting that Enterprise did it, are you? They have been friends and business partners for the better part of twenty years!"

"We have to be careful, madam," Conundrum explained calmly, with a tone far removed from his usual grouchy self. "So what happened after Bold Enterprise joined the party?"

"The rest of the family arrived - my dear son, his wife and my grandcolt. I think they must have come straight through to the garden, because Pink Diamond asked me where Gently was." She brushed a strand of lilac hair from her face and continued. "We were out for some time, after which I believe I went inside to entreat Gently to come out. I think I went just after Perfect and Enterprise had gone for a walk around the gardens."

"About what time was that?"

"Oh, not late - maybe about five or six o'clock..." She raised a hoof delicately to her cheek, but otherwise remained very still. "Gently would not come out, and said that there would be plenty of time to see his family later."

"Would he often stay in his study working for so long?"

"Yes, he had so much work - I hardly ever saw him some days." She raised her handkerchief again, "I... I wish now that I had made - made more of an effort to see him..." Hiding behind the silk, she sniffed in the most lady-like manner I had ever heard. Not much use to me, though - I was trying to watch her reaction.

Conundrum waited for a few seconds, but soon lost patience and continued. "Where did he keep this work? We were unable to find anything in the study."

Lady Grace raised herself slightly and considered for a second, "There was a locked cabinet in the desk - but he never told me where he kept the keys to it. I must say; I never asked - Gently's business was his own, and I had no right to interfere."

He considered this for a second, a hoof stroking his chin thoughtfully while the pencil made a desperate scramble across the paper. Eventually he returned to the timeline, "Did you leave soon after?"

"Yes, I left when Perfect came in - she was in a terrible state and wanted to talk to her father. I thought I ought to leave them in privacy, and return to my family." She shook her head sadly, "They had such an awful row - and, while all families do occasionally argue, Perfect was acting quite rudely to him. I dare say she is regretting it now..." 

"Did you see your husband again?"

"I... no - no, not until h-he came out, well..." Lady Grace covered her face yet again as dried her eyes. I felt like telling her that she didn't have to - I'd seen ponies in far worse states over much smaller matters; like Fantasia weeping hysterically on my doorstep when her favourite hair dye was going out of production. "I-I didn't see Perfect again either - she only came back when she heard what had happened..."

Conundrum glanced at me while the lady dabbed at her face. That easily provided a motive and the opportunity to carry out the act - not that I wanted to be jumping to conclusions, but it could fit.

"How long was it, if I might ask, between the two instances?"

"Around an hour?" she sniffed again, but folded her hooves over in resolution, "I was outside talking with Pink Diamond for the whole time, I believe." 

"Thank you, madam," Conundrum closed his notebook, which was by now crammed full of notes, "I think that's all we need to ask you. If you would be able to direct us to your daughter, that would be a great help."

"Certainly." She rang the silver bell again. Featherlight appeared and was just leading us away when I remembered something.

"One last thing," I turned to face the widow again, smiling apologetically, "where you were sat outside, was it in view of the kitchen? Sorry, I know it's an odd question."

"Oh... no - no we were sat a little way off. Beneath the willow tree - it has a better prospect of the evening Sun." She frowned, the lines on her face seeming so much deeper. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just helps me build a bit more of a picture, that's all. Thank you." I remembered to bow slightly, and then hurried off after Conny.





We were taken up to the 'east wing' of the house where the splendour relaxed into a more minimalist style, focusing on illuminating the rooms with large windows, rather than the previous fine rugs or colourful wallpapers. The floors were polished wood, the walls an almost iridescent white, and all of the light was reflected back to the unfortunate occupants.

I complained about it the whole way - and it was a long way.

The daughter, Perfect Eloquence, had locked herself in her room as soon as the police left the night before, and was refusing to open the door (with the exception of allowing food in). According to Featherlight this would often happen, and that she would probably 'snap' at us. The way she said it suggested that snapping would probably involve screeching and swearing galore.

"Do you think she was hiding where the key was?" Conundrum asked, trying to get me to stop moaning.

"The key? Oh - you mean for the desk - um, maybe?" I squinted down the hall as I tried to engage my brain, "She could easily not want us to see it, but she might just not know. A rich lady like her probably wouldn't be too concerned with her husband's boring import business. She'd be too busy keeping up with the high-class Canterlot gossip."

"I say they were in it together," Conundrum mused, "and hidden in those art imports they actually shipped over specially trained baby dragons, which were sold out to ponies who needed certain 'jobs' doing. Articulate suddenly had a moral epiphany and refused to continue the trade, but his wife needed the money to fuel her doughnut addiction - so stabbed him in a sugar-high rage."

"No." I shook my head and repeated the word again. Whether it was for his benefit or mine, I couldn't be sure. Ahead of us Featherlight had stopped at the final door along the corridor and was waiting patiently for us to catch up. "Just make sure when we get in there, you don't let your insanity show - it's hanging out a little there." I pointed a hoof at Conundrum's face. I believed there was definitely a deep rooted madness in him, only noticeable during cases. The problem was that I couldn't decide whether I preferred the insane suggestions or the general grouchiness.

"It is vital to make speculations on a line of inquiry, young Nocturne - you never know which will lead you to the right answer."

"But we can at least stick to the facts we know." I mumbled, but signed in acceptance - these wild theories at least livened up the work, "I suppose we'd better get this over with."

Featherlight tapped on the wood gently, raised and ear to it, and called quietly, "Miss Eloquence? There are two inspectors here to talk to you. Please open the door. Miss Eloquence?" There was nothing but silence. A second later we heard the click of a key turning in the lock, and the door fell open soundlessly. 

The maid stepped aside to allow us in, shutting the door behind us and returning to her unnoticeable existence. 

The bedroom was large and light, something I hadn't expected given the moody nature of the occupant. The walls had been decorated with a pearly light blue paint which complemented the mare's own dark blue mane well. In fact, the whole room had a blue, calming colour scheme. A blue quilted blanket on the bed, a blue woven rug, a three-piece set of two blue armchairs and a blue chaise lounge, and finally a pair of dark blue curtains. Everything that wasn't blue was painted white wood, like a fancy doll house.

The mare herself was sat at a desk, which had been placed at an unusual angle surrounded by the box window, with several crumpled pieces of paper littering the floor. This was to the left of where we stood; the four-poster bed was to our right, and the armchairs were directly ahead in the light of a second window. The wall space between these pieces of furniture were lined by an extensive collection of bookcases - full of books, that is - it would have been weird if she just collected the shelves.

Looking at her, fully in the light, she was a striking mare. Not pretty - not your typically beautiful rich mare - but dramatic and angular, with a presence that couldn't be ignored. Where her mother had been plump and slight, she was tall and slender, with few curves to her silver-grey body. Rather than exquisitely styled, her mane fell in straight sheets, like a waterfall cascading to the floor. A set of icy eyes turned to us with a plain scowl.

"Inspectors? You're not part of the police." She got up and strode over to us, her eyebrows raised mockingly. "You're the mare from last night, the one that tried to help." She snorted. "Fat lot of good that did!" 

"I can see where they got your name from; Perfect Eloquence - the finest orator of ponykind." I snapped back, but regretted it immediately as Conundrum glared at me and I covered my mouth with a wing. "Sorry - that was rude, I -"

"Don't bother." She smiled slightly, only using one side of her face, leaving the other side to sag slightly. "It is a ridiculous name - I make fun of it myself." She turned away and took her place on one of the armchairs. "You have some questions to ask me?"

I followed her over, glancing back at Conundrum to see him taking out the notepad. He nodded slightly at me - this was my interview now. Having that power led me to conclude that it was my duty to sit in the other armchair, leaving the chaise lounge for Conny. There was something delightfully amusing about watching an awkward, middle-aged stallion perching uncomfortably on the end of a chaise lounge. 

"So, Perfect - can I call you that? - last night, what happened? Could you start from the arrival of Bold Enterprise?"

"Him." She snorted, wrinkling her snout as if she needed to sneeze. "We were all in the garden - well, father wasn't, but he was busy, wasn't he? Featherlight had served us refreshments, and I had Pink Diamond - my sister-in-law - going on at me about the latest fashion of earrings. So you'll understand my enthusiasm when he suggests I show him the new pond we just had put in." 

"I've had many encounters with my sister I'd rather have avoided." I empathized, making a mental note that the colt she was referring to must be Bold Enterprise. 

"Well, we'd been good friends, you understand, for several years - he was practically my older brother." She laughed, but looked away for a second, out of the window and down to the garden. "So imagine my surprise when he proposed to me!"

"He proposed - what, literally? Down on his knees and asking you to marry him?" I raised an eyebrow, remembering the 'proposal' suggested in the letter.

"Yes." She laughed again. Not from amusement - she wasn't the type to laugh at silly little fancies - but the type of laughter reserved for the nervous and uncomfortable subjects that are easier to laugh at than face properly. "I thought he was joking - he does that sometimes - but as soon as I heard he was serious... I admit, I pushed him into the pond." She grimaced. "Then I went to see my father."

"To refuse him?"

"Enterprise had mentioned that it had been Father's idea - so obviously I wanted a word with him." 

"From what we've heard from your mother," I said slowly, "it was quite a loud word."

"I was angry." She stated, looking directly towards me with those icy blue eyes. "You can't blame a mare for shouting."

"But we can accuse her of murder," Conundrum tactlessly pointed out. He readjusted his spectacles and glanced at his notes, "because after this argument you were not seen again until after your father had been attacked. We have a motive, an opportunity, and no alibi for you." 

"That's ridiculous." She flashed back to me before facing Conny again. "You cannot be accusing me of murdering my own father!" She waited for confirmation, but when neither of us spoke she sprang to her hooves and began pacing the room. "Not wanting to marry somepony is not grounds for murder!"

I sighed, glared at my employer, and twisted in my seat to face the mare, "Obviously, we have more interviews and research to conduct, but... you have to see this from our point of view - you aren't seen by anyone, you've just had a terrible row, and you're clearly angry - even if you didn't mean to, you might have just... lashed out."

"If you would get your facts straight," she spat, "you would see that between the attack and our argument there was a full hour! During which I was here, in my room, working off my anger." She stomped her hoof down to emphasize the point. "I didn't come down until I heard the screams."

I took a deep breath on behalf of the whole room, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Just understand that while we are going to carefully discover the truth, the Equestrian Police Force and their eager inspectors will also be going over this case. And they jump to conclusions naturally, without having such a believable set of circumstances. I mean - they arrested me on a vague suspicion without any evidence at all."

She nodded, but continued to pace restlessly. Conundrum had packed away his notes, and was taking out his pocket watch. I got up to look, knowing it would be time to leave.

"Speaking of the police..." I trotted over to Perfect Eloquence, "it seems we will have to be leaving now. If you remember anything that might help your defence, please try and contact us." Conny joined me, fully equipped with our investigation bags and his tattered green scarf back in their rightful places. "Would you be able to tell us where we could find your brother or Bold Enterprise?"

"Enterprise is staying here in the west wing," she replied, moving slowly back to her desk, "but my brother should be at his house in town - it's number three on Horseshoe street, right near the centre of Canterlot." 

"Thank you for your time, Miss Eloquence." Conundrum said before ushering me to the door. Once out, with the closed door and several meters between us, he looked at me and hissed, "Do you believe her?"

"She never stated that she didn't do it..." I whispered back, "but I'm not sure."

Conundrum allowed a hint of euphoria to cross his face, making him almost manic in the bright sunlight. "You know, we might already have our murderer."