As a salute to the dereliction downstairs, the floorboards upstairs creaked every time I moved a hoof and spiders' webs decorated the lamps and candles that stood unlit. A small spider did show its face, peering around an empty vase, with various limps twitching in the anticipation of danger. I chirped back a high, reassuring note, and continued down towards my left.
Room three was identical on the outside to all the other rooms, but, unlike them, when I knocked the voice of a very grumpy pegasus greeted me. I didn't know what would have happen if I'd chosen to knock on a different door, but it pleased me to imagine it that would contain fewer bloody curses. I also shouldn't use the word 'greeted' - it was more of an angry brawl - but who cares about details like that?
Ignoring the final few insults, I opened the door and poked my head in.
I ducked quickly as a bedside lamp shattered above my head.
Shaking the pottery out of my mane, I said, "If that had hit me, it would've been assault."
"Oh, I thought you were somepony else." Dust Trail said by way of apology. She was lying on her back, on a rickety little bed; all four hooves dangling in the air.
"Most ponies would just lock the door."
"It's broke." I looked at the door to find an already mangled lock - not that I was surprised. The mare was lucky for the door to have all of its hinges.
Daring to slink further into the room, I crouched in readiness for any more projectiles. Normally, if a witness was like this, I would have taken things a little slower. Nevertheless, with a deadline hanging over my head like a dark cloud, pregnant with rain, I felt it necessary to move things along a little faster.
"I'm not in the mood to talk about Perfect." Dust Trail stated, calling the suspected murderer by her actual name for the first time.
"That's good - neither am I." I replied, settling my bottom onto the floor and leaving my still-numb wings to lie there as well. "I wanted to know about your time in The Exclusive Collection."
"That was ages ago."
"I know, but... we think there might be the possibility that the murderer was a worker there. Did you maybe stay in touch with anypony? Hear any gossip?"
"You mean - do I know somepony with a motive?" She interrupted.
"...Yeah..."
"If I did, I would have told you."
"You might have thought of something between this morning and now."
"Well, I haven't." She rolled over onto her side, making sure she was facing away from me. "Anypony that works in my old part of the business has a great reason to try and knock off Enterprise - he works on salaries and pony management, y'see - but Articulate was just some unseen, head business colt. You'd be lucky if you even knew what he looked like."
"So nopony that you knew?" I didn't hear an answer, but her silence spoke for her. I tried to rally myself - it could just meant it wasn't one of the art runners, leaving a huge range of ponies it could still be. But finding them would have taken an incredible amount of time - time I didn't have.
"I should have made a career selling fashionable horseshoe warmers!" I cried out, letting my head fall to my hooves. I wasn't a pony who liked to give up quickly - but everypony needs to release some stress once in a while. "Murders are far too complicated!"
Dust Trail glanced over her shoulder, a bemused look toying with her face. She was probably glad to see somepony else in trouble.
"You investigated many before this one?"
I grinned sheepishly, making a non-committal noise. "You know - about - er - the normal number of murders?" I would have found it easier to admit the number of previous coltfriends I'd had.
The pegasus laughed at me, rolling over so that she faced me fully. "You've never investigated one before, have you?"
"...No..." I felt my skin flushing beneath my navy fur. The kinds of cases I was used to solving were tracing lost items and spying on spouses to see if they had any clandestine affairs - nothing as damning as murder. I mean - fiery burning moon rocks - I had hardly even investigated petty crimes, let alone something as big as this. It was enough to make my wings sweat.
"I was told you had a supervisor of sorts," Dust continued, grinning mischievously, "is he just as clueless?"
"I have no idea - he hasn't said anything," I snorted, adding, "well, he's said a lot of things, but nothing useful."
"Seems the police will beat you to it."
"Certainly feels like it."
"And they'll arrest Perfect."
"Probably - no, wait - they already have."
My mustard-coloured companion frowned slightly, not sure how to take the news. Thankfully she didn't seem angry with me for breaking it so bluntly, but she might have been postponing the abuse. An already chewed lip re-established itself between the mare's teeth as she thought. Almost unconsciously, she twitched a wing at her side. While determined to sulk out the argument she'd presumably had with Perfect, it was clear that she was a pony of action. Everything other than her common sense was telling her to go and solve the problem. Only, whatever problem she'd had was now locked in a cell or being questioned.
"Are you giving up?" she asked, her tone carrying a sharp edge of derision and scorn, attempting to cover her concern over the outcome of my decision.
"No," I sighed, "I'll probably keep hitting my head against this metaphorical wall until it breaks, or better yet, tells me the answer out of sheer irritation."
"How are you going to do it, then?"
I held up a wing in front of me, each spiny finger of bone snaking through the leathery covering. "First, go to the office and look through some letters we found." I dropped one of the fingers. "Secondly, find a list of competing art traders." I dropped the next finger. "Thirdly, see what I found out in the previous steps and improvise from there." I scrunched my entire wing up into a ball. "My improvisation may or may not involve several strong drinks."
Apparently losing faith in me, Dust Trail's head hit the pillow in anguish. "Maybe the cops are right," she said in an uncharacteristically small voice, "maybe it was Perfect..." She snorted. "They always say that murders are usually done by the family."
"You don't believe her?"
"...I don't know - I did!" Dust ran her fore-hooves through her messy mane. "She would never do anything like that! But... I've heard the facts. And I'm not an idiot." She insisted, turning over to face me properly, "Everything points to her, doesn't it? Even if she never confesses, they could still lock her up."
"Almost definitely." I shut my eyes, ready to hit my head against the floor very hard, and very quickly. If the police solved this, it would be unlikely that the widow would pay us for our efforts. So I would lose the apartment anyway, because, by tomorrow, Perfect Eloquence will be confirmed as the murderer.
Curiously, when I opened my eyes, I was faced with a determinedly grinning face, so desperate it was nearly a grimace.
"You said 'almost'." The mare stared at me as if I were a retreating life-line. "So there's a chance."
"Only if I find solid proof, a completely infallible set of events, and probably a full confession from somepony else. And all of that must come before my contract terminates because the police have already solved it."
"It's not impossible."
"It's not likely." I snorted, laughing on the verge on hysterics. I only just managed to catch myself when I saw the pegasus' pleading face, knowing that I was the only one here trying to save her lover. "But I'll do my best." I stood up. "Just tell me one thing - why aren't you speaking?"
"Too many reasons." A teasing smirk curled the edge of her lip. "Not wanting to leave before, not telling her parents about me, not wanting to leave now, not believing that the truth isn't always enough. I'd forgive her for everything - I could get over it - if only she'd listen sometimes." She glared at me. "Don't you dare tell her that."
"My lips are sealed," I winked, "as well as any other semi-aquatic, fat, adorable mammals that can turn into verbs."
"...Sure."
Before any more of my madness could start showing, I left quickly for the office. Fearing for my sanity, I decided to blame Conundrum - without him around I was having to come up with manic ramblings just to fill in the gap. Next thing you know, I'll start wearing scarves in the summer and grumbling at young ponies.
Shivering at the thought, I leant against the peeling door and waded through the hallway. Conny, as promised, had left the camera and photographs that had been developed on my desk. Taking off my sunglasses and taking up the magnifying glass (which happened to be made in the shape of a trident, with the middle prong replaced with a disk of glass. I had Orion to thank for that - he bought it for my last birthday after solving a case where an actor had lost his trident before the premier of The Lost Fisherponies. Which was nowhere near as interesting as it sounded - it turned out that he had left it at his parents' house after a family meal.) I peered down to decipher what was in each of the letters.
Three hours later, and I had found out that none of the managers in the Exclusive Collection seemed angry with Gently Articulate - all of them earning a desirable salary from the illegal trade, and while there were some power struggles between a couple of the stallions, nopony seemed to be challenging the leadership of Gently Articulate or Bold Enterprise.
There were several letters concerning where art had been obtained from, and nervously admitted that some of the tribal ponies in that area were angry; nevertheless, nothing seemed to imply that they knew who had stolen from their sacred temple, let alone had the resources to travel across the globe to complain to the head stallion.
I kept these incriminating photographs to one side, intending to use them in case I needed to blackmail Lady Grace, add them to our own case, or sell them to the police to earn an extra few bits. My professional pride was preventing me from choosing the latter option.
The others I dumped in a pile and ignored, too bored to continue mulling over them. Telling myself that Conny would have had a rest on the train, I decided to stalk back to my apartment for an hour before thinking of what to do next.
Sadly, my brain wasn't ready to relax and continued to run through events, trying to make up its mind on the best course of action. This left me pacing up and down my bedroom, unable to nap, but not wanting to do any actual work. After half an hour of this, I came to the conclusion that I would have to look into the world of other rare art traders.
Not wanting to ask Lady Grace about it (knowing that she might realise that I knew the company was operating illegally), I had to face up the the alternative - talk to some other art traders.
The best place to do this would be at one of the several auction houses, where various companies would be represented. Unfortunately, to get into these auctions you needed to look at least slightly wealthy - otherwise ponies assumed you were there to make trouble rather than bid for extortionate artworks (which would have been the correct assumption).
I, being a poor single pony with no reasons to dress up at all, would be immediately thrown out; especially as being a bat pony wouldn't exactly recommend me to the patrons. So I needed somepony that could disguise me as an aspiring socialite with cash to spend.
My stomach began worming its way towards my hooves in reluctance - this would require a visit to my sister.
Her house was rented, though from a kind landlady who had managed to keep the dated house in relatively good condition. Close to this area, the town was filled with bars and music halls - so possibly not the best place to raise a foal. Although, I often commented that it wasn't Fantasia raising Lullaby at all - it usually seemed to be me or our mother, Sonata. The poor foal had three mothers who were all too busy for her, too often. It was a good thing she had inherited a forgiving nature (probably from her father - none of us had one).
Considering the time, I would have to attend an evening auction - one that was invariably fuelled by alcohol, and where the ponies talk easily. It was my best shot.
Before any of that could happen, however, I needed to knock on the door in front of me.
The paint wasn't peeling, but neither was it fresh. From memory, I knew the door handle on the inside had a habit of jamming, and there was a welcome mat that also caused the door to get stuck. On purpose, I knew my sister had chosen the mat to keep me away - it was embellished with the two-dimensional bodies of pink and purple butterflies.
Remembering that it was a Monday afternoon, I consoled myself with the fact that Lullaby would be home from school and may even enjoy helping me root through her mother's clothes. In the worst case scenario, she could have smuggled me down some clothes to wear without permission. Actually - I kind of hoped that would happen. I always liked going against what Fantasia wanted.
Without further ado, I hammered on the door loudly.
After several knocks, I listened carefully; there was movement from inside the house and a slightly grumbling voice, but nopony seemed to be getting up to open the door.
"Fantasia!" I hollered, pounding my hoof on the door. "Oh, Fantasia!" I listened again - maybe there was a little more action, but I deemed it unacceptable. "FANTASIA!" I cried, startling the neighbours. "I know you're there!" Hooves could now be heard stomping down the hall.
The door was wrenched open, displacing the mat behind it.
A very angry mare with a violet mane and flushing red cheeks glared at me.
I smiled back innocently. "Hey, sissy!"
"Oh, you." She refused to move out of the way to let me in, instead choosing to stare at her favourite little sibling with uncontrolled loathing.
"You're not busy, are you?" I continued to grin manically. "I just wanted to borrow some of your clothes."
"Why does this mare want to borrow your clothes, Fantasia?" A tall, handsome stallion asked from deeper within the house. I peered around Fantasia to get a better look at him as he trotted down the hall towards us. He was a unicorn, with his horn framed by a mane of emerald ringlets, each as tightly twisted as a corkscrew, yet springy like damp moss. An equally well-groomed coat shone gold in the dingy hall, sparkling like a dragon's hoard. A pair of apple green eyes widened as they settled on me.
"Hello!" I greeted brightly. "You must be Fantasia's new coltfriend!" I grinned widely, showing off my fangs and trying to make him feel more uncomfortable. I felt it was my duty to remove this stallion as quickly as possible to save Fantasia from losing him herself - it was my belief that she would never be able to keep hold of a colt as refined as this.
"I... I wouldn't wish to... to presume..." He glanced nervously at Fantasia, adding under his breath, "Who is this?"
"I'm Fantasia's sister, Nocturne." I held out a hoof for him to shake. "And you would be?"
"...Sun Dial..." He said slowly, holding out his own hoof like a true gentlecolt. "You didn't tell me you had a sister," He said to Fantasia, observing her carefully, "or that there were bat ponies in your family."
"We don't really talk about Nocturne..." My sister shifted awkwardly while shooting daggers at me, blaming me for a ruined opportunity, "She's... uh - adopted." The look on her face begged me not to correct her, so I obviously did the exact opposite.
"Really, Fantasia?" I shook my head disappointedly, "You shouldn't lie to nice stallions - I thought we'd got over saying the other was adopted about ten years ago." I couldn't hide my gleeful smile as Sun Dial looked between us, trying to work out who he should trust. "Actually, Fantasia," I continued, ignoring the murderous snarl she was giving me, "I need some of your clothes so that I can pretend to not be a bat pony like you do - I need to sneak into an art auction."
She didn't reply as she hovered between two possibilities - be the bigger pony and ask me to leave politely, or scream at me for ruining her chances with Sun Dial and throwing us both out of the house.
With little chance of ever getting inside, I resorted to dirty tactics. "Is Lulu in?"
"Who's Lulu?" The stallion's eyebrows raised worryingly as he stepped across the threshold and into the street, wondering how much he didn't know.
"Her foal." I hissed back in a false whisper, making sure Fantasia knew exactly what I'd told him.
"No - she's at a friend's sleepover tonight." My sister raised her snout into the air huffily, pretending not to have heard us. "And you can do what you like, Nocturne - it's not like you could ruin anything else!" With that she span around; blanking me, ignoring Sun Dial, and storming upstairs wailing.
We both heard the bedroom door slam shut from street-level.
The silence between us was starting to grow awkward, so I smiled apologetically at the stallion and started to move past him into the house.
"Sorry about that," I admitted, "she can get a little sensitive sometimes."
"It's not me you should be apologising to!" I turned back to see Sun Dial's astonished look. "You have just deeply embarrassed and insulted your own sister!"
"She deserved it!" I shot back, not sure why I was arguing with this complete stranger in the first place. "She lied to you - she lies to everypony!"
"I am certain she would have revealed it all to me in time when she felt confident enough!" He glared down his snout at me as if I were a festering puddle he'd accidentally trodden in. "Can't you see that your sister is a shy, sensitive soul?"
"No," I snorted, "she's a manipulating horse who can't hold down a steady relationship because nopony trusts her." I turned my back on him and stalked into the house, calling back, "And you should thank me for saving you a lot of time and energy!"
With that I flicked the door shut with my tail before he could reply.
Once I had taken a second or two to contemplate how odd the colt was, I hurried up the stairs silently; I really didn't want to interrupt Fantasia's tantrum. As I remembered, there was a cupboard on the landing filled with clothes Fantasia didn't have room for in her own wardrobe. They were also the clothes she wore less frequently, and in my opinion were a lot nicer than most of her other outfits.
Taking a moment to get my bearings, I started to search through the mounds. Eventually, I had pulled out a black beret, a blue silk cravat, and a pinstriped blazer. Adorned with these, I checked my look out in the mirror beside me, adjusting my sunglasses slightly.
Who said I couldn't look fabulous when I want to?
The auction was only just getting under way as I arrived, with several ponies still browsing the available artwork.
The hall the auction was taking place in had once been the ballroom of some noble pony's home, now converted into a museum and weekly auction house. The walls were lined with exotic statues, each varying from its competitors. Paintings were hung or stacked in rows, some watercolours, several portraits, and even a few abstract works. Nothing in the room was less than one hundred years old (except the rich ponies gathering around, and I might even have assumed some of their ages were over a century).
The art did seem to be grouped by which company had provided it, but no notices over whose it was hung anywhere - as if it was presumed that you should already know. Being an ignorant commoner, I was going to have to improvise.
Being careful to appear to be browsing the artwork, I eavesdropped on the conversations around me until one caught my attention.
"-terrible business with The Exclusive Collection, don't you think?" A bejewelled mare exclaimed, fanning herself elegantly.
"Isn't it just!" Another mare echoed. "I had been hoping to see dear Gently here this evening, however it seems that we will never be graced with his presence again!" This statement received several confirming hums and ahs.
"I tried to visit Lady Grace today - to bring her some flowers, you understand - but the whole place is overrun with police and detectives and all sorts of ponies you would never want in your home!"
"That's awful, Chrysanthemum! How the poor mare is coping, I shall never know!"
"I dare say she has a rather nice box of savings to console her." A cynical voice interrupted the polite gossip. I peered down the side of my glasses to see that the voice belonged to a tall stallion with a rather narrow snout. "As do her children."
"Oh Mr Affluence, how could you say something like that!"
"Very easily, Mrs Rose; for it is true!" This was followed by various refined gasps from the ladies. "I do not know a pony who would refuse such a substantial inheritance. Even to inherit the business with none of the previous profits would be a sizeable advantage."
"He is right, ladies," another stallion added, "my company would do anything to know how it makes such good profits."
"Everypony knows that," Mr Affluence replied haughtily, "except for maybe you and your company."
"Now I must disagree there," the second stallion conjectured, "The Exclusive Collection is so secretive it's impossible to even buy a share in the company, let alone ask for business tactics or try to make a bid for it."
"That's because to make a bid for it would have taken more gold than currently resides in the Equestrian reserves!"
"If the ladies and gentlecolts would like to take their seats now!" The auctioneer called from his podium, waving the small hammer in his telekinesis. With that call, I was forced to sit down and face the next couple of hours waiting for wealthy ponies to spend their money frivolously.
Once it was over, several ponies hung behind, including the auctioneer. Realising that I would need to start asking questions rather than sitting around listening for gossip, I stood up and stretched my legs, sauntering over to where the auctioneer was packing away his little hammer into a felt lined box.
"Excuse me, sir, would I be able to ask you a few questions?" I queried in my most refined accent.
"Oh, hello there, young mare," He faced me properly, revealing that while not stood on his podium he was an exceptionally short stallion, "I'm afraid the auction's over now."
"What I'm asking has nothing to do with this auction." I waited a moment to let my statement to sink in before continuing. "I am investigating the death of Gently Articulate, and would like to know a little more on how the business operates."
"Well, I'd be happy to help, of course - Gently Articulate was a well respected stallion among us, and if there was anything I could do to help...?"
"I take it that the art they sold wasn't solely distributed from this auction house?"
"Oh, no, definitely not." He regarded me distastefully as some kind of amateur. "The Exclusive Collection had many links with several different establishments, including the possibility for private buyers to directly contact the company."
"Similarly to other companies?"
"Yes, that's how they all operate." He frowned at my ignorance, which I dismissed - I was here to solve a murder, not to be patronised by some short colt with a greying mane and a little hammer.
"And yet The Exclusive Collection managed to make a substantially larger profit than the other companies?" I raised an eyebrow, but the auctioneer didn't reply; clearly they did. "That must have caused some tensions between the other companies."
"Perhaps it did," he ducked my question, shrugging nonchalantly, "nevertheless, I merely sell the artwork for what ponies want to pay for it, so I could never be sure-"
"Oh, please," I snapped, removing my glasses in one fluid motion, glaring directly at the stallion, "I don't have time for your act." I took a step closer, knowing that in this corner nopony would notice. "You see the art, the providers, and the buyers; there is no possible reason for you to be unaware of what's going on - except for your professional pride getting in the way!"
"Our clients greatly respect us for our discretion, miss," he replied tersely, though I could see he was sweating, "and I don't like to break trust like that."
"And I don't like to have a murder investigation hindered by reluctant auctioneers!" I hissed, jabbing a hoof at his chest. "So you will tell me - now - whether there are any rivalries between the other art traders and the Exclusive Collection!"
The stallion paled slightly, his face starting to grey like his mane. "Well, clearly they are all competing with each other, so there will always be rivalries between them... but... um - nopony ever really liked The Exclusive Collection's success, but I don't know a single pony who didn't respect Gently Articulate!"
"So most of the envy was aimed at Bold Enterprise?"
"Yes!" He squealed as I prodded his shoulder. I did it because he hadn't answered - but I would have done it again just to get him to make that noise again.
"There weren't any other companies plotting to take over The Exclusive Collection?"
"Not that I know of!" The stallion backed up against his podium. "It would have been impossible anyway - The Exclusive Collection is a secretive company that was made to stay in the family! Gently Articulate always claimed that he would never even give the business to Bold Enterprise when he retired - kept insisting that he wanted it to go to his son!"
"I know." I replied darkly, taking a step back from the now trembling auctioneer. "Thank you for your time and willingness to contribute, I hope it will be of use to the investigation." With that I stalked out of the auction house, not bothering to replace my glasses as ponies watched my retreat.
By the time I made it home it was starting to get dark. Too tired to enjoy the moonrise, I sank down onto my sofa, gazing weakly around my apartment.
It wasn't going to be my apartment for much longer, I thought; not at this rate. I would need to start thinking about where I'd be sleeping tomorrow night. I couldn't really ask Fantasia for any more favours, and my mother would never let me crash with her if she found out I didn't even have money to pay the rent. Knowing her, she'd pay it for me, and then expect me to retake my place in the Night Guard to pay her back.
Maybe Conundrum wouldn't mind if I slept in the office - it wasn't like he was there to complain. He also already knew that I didn't have the money.
I threw off the clothes I'd borrowed onto the floor, promising to myself to return them in the morning.
Not feeling very hungry, and so exhausted that dragging myself over to my bed seemed an impossible task, I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Nevertheless, I was reluctant to give in - foolishly so. I had no company that seemed specifically out to get Gently Articulate, and if there was somepony, it seemed more likely that they'd go for Bold Enterprise than the actual murder victim.
If Enterprise and Articulate hadn't been planning a way to keep the business between themselves, I would have claimed Enterprise as the murderer - and while he had been rejected and his hopes of having the business to himself were lost, he did have a completely solid alibi supported by two other ponies.
Maybe it was Perfect... it would at least be a nice, straightforward motive, committed by a mare who I'd seen to be hot-tempered, with no alibi to cover her, in the correct time frame.
So very simple...
I was watching her do it now; a knife in her telekinetic grip, a snarl on her face, and suddenly blood was everywhere. But the stallion didn't move towards the door of his study - he lurched towards me, gurgling and floundering. I pushed him away, blood soaking into my coat, drenching my mane. He removed the knife and came at me with it, grinning maniacally.
It was then that the knife plunged into me - only it didn't - there was an apple in front of me, blocking the blade. Of course there was an apple - it was a fruit knife. The slices were taken away by Featherlight, her tail dragging in the blood - no - dragging in the apple juice. She dropped the pieces into a stew pot, which also contained about five or six puppies. Then I felt myself move weightlessly over to the pot, hanging above the puppies which seemed content to swim around in the broth. A large wooden spoon knocked me out of the air, and I splashed into the stew - bobbing in the liquid as my landlord stirred the concoction with the giant spoon.
Suddenly I didn't want to be in a bubbling stew pot. I started to thrash about, but the heavy weight of a hammer was forcing me deeper and deeper into the stifling heat.
I gasped as I was released, sliding across the floor on the remnants of an apple and puppy stew. Behind me the pot had been knocked over, and my landlord and Featherlight and Perfect Eloquence and the body had all disappeared with a satisfying pop.
A navy blue hoof reached down to help me up, covered by a paler blue slipper.
"Princess Luna?" I asked as I stumbled to my hooves. Looking around, I noticed that we were somehow surrounded by the Royal Guard's training field.
"Yes, Nocturne," my Princess replied, raising an eyebrow slightly, "and might we just say, that while we usually visit the dreams of foals - which tend to be the most unlikely and creative of all dreams - your dream tonight was certainly the most unique we have experienced for a long time."
"...Thank you?"
"We assume that the investigation is not exactly on course?"
"No, Princess." I stared at my hooves, scuffing them on the grass. Blinking, I stared at the grass, realising that it wasn't moving beneath my hoof. "Am I still dreaming?"
"Would it help if you were to explain the situation to me?" The Most Merciful of Princesses asked, ignoring my question.
"Maybe..." I didn't want to disappoint her, so I admitted what I knew. "But, it seems impossible," I admitted once I had finished, "I don't think it was anypony in the company, and there are so many rival companies that would want to take over The Exclusive Collection..."
"Do you truly believe that it was the actions of a rival company which killed Gently Articulate?" The Commander of the Moon raised both eyebrows, making her look a little bit like my mother. Though, unlike my mother, she did seem interested in the work. She probably got bored doing official government stuff and attending ceremonies - maybe a murder spiced things up a bit.
I thought for a while, considering what I knew, who I had talked to, and what I had heard. "No... no - I really think it was somepony at the party." I remembered what Dust Trail had said. "Murders are usually committed by those closest to the victim."
"Families have the longest borne grudges," Princess Luna admitted, her teal eyes casting down towards the ground.
"But Perfect Eloquence didn't have a long borne grudge," I said downheartedly, "she only seemed to find out that day - and she would have to have kept that pent up anger for about an hour before lashing out at him."
"So it was not Perfect Eloquence." The Princess stated simply. "So who else could it have been?"
"Everypony else has alibis," I shrugged. A glare from the Ruler of the Night made me rethink my answer. "Well - unless Lady Grace and Pink Diamond were both covering for Bold Enterprise, then there would only be..." A supernova burst between my eyes. "Oh."
My revelation was rewarded by a cunning smile from the Princess. "I believe that you have come to a conclusion?"
"Well, I'd need to check with them, and speak with somepony else - oh, and write a letter to Conundrum - but, apart from that..." I looked straight into the Moon Goddess' eyes. "I think I have it."