Doctor Stable trotted up the hill and looked around. It was early August; usually at that time of year, the town was noisy, filled with voices of its inhabitants cheering and chatting happily, enjoying the sunny weather. But this year, it was unusually quiet. There was no chatting, just some unfriendly murmurs. No laughter, but barely hidden hostility. Doctor Stable stopped in the middle of the path and looked at the five stones on his right.
Usually, he didn’t like cemeteries. Too many stories of his patients ended there. Too many names he could read on the plates were once ponies he knew. But today was different; he preferred the serene atmosphere of the Ponyville cemetery over the company of ponies, looking at each other like they were murderers.
He looked at the five small, white tombstones standing in a row next to the path. Pipsqueak, Ruby Pinch, Alula, Twist and Zippoorwhill. The dates of birth… Nine, ten and, in case of Zippoorwhill, seven years ago. He sat next to the graves, trying to understand. What could make a seven-year-old filly kill herself?
He sighed and went further down the path. The graves there were bigger. Finally he reached the one he was looking for. It was plain and elegant, even by Ponyville’s standards. One wouldn’t expect such a modest place of the final resting from a pony who was buried there. Doctor Stable sat next to it and lowered his head.
Only a few days after the argument between her partners, Vinyl Scratch passed away quietly in the middle of the night. The autopsy revealed the cause, but for doctor Stable it wasn’t important; for him, it was as if Vinyl didn’t want Octavia and Neon to argue over her.
The funeral attracted lots of fans from all over Equestria. There were speculations in the newspapers whether Berry Punch should be tried for murder or grievous bodily harm resulting in death, but Doctor Stable didn’t care about that. Whatever would happen to Berry couldn’t bring Vinyl back to life.
Soon after the funeral, Neon Lights moved out to Baltimare. From what Doctor Stable knew, he was avoiding the press, trying to focus on work. Octavia, however…
“Good morning, doctor,” he heard a calm voice behind his back. “I didn’t expect to see you here…”
“Hello, Ms. Melody,” he replied. “I was just passing by… If you want me to leave…”
“No, doctor, you can stay,” Octavia said, sitting next to him. “I come here every day… I guess I just can’t stand the empty house…” She looked at the grave. “I gave her equipment to Neon. What would I do with it?”
Doctor Stable said nothing. He’d met many patients in his life and he knew that sometimes it was better to just let them talk; many of them got better just because he was there to listen about their problems.
“It’s all wrong…” Octavia said, shuddering slightly. “Waking up in a bed without her or Neon… Do you know that I can’t even bring myself to hate Berry for that? I just sit here, unable to do anything...”
“Well, Ms. Melody…”
“Octavia,” she said. “Please, call me Octavia. No one calls me that anymore… Lyra and Bon Bon… they have their own problems. Bon Bon is still not herself, after…” Octavia looked at the graves of the five foals, visible in the distance. “And I don’t want to see Minuette…”
“Octavia,” Dr. Stable said, looking into her mulberry eyes. “I think it’s good that you don’t hate her. Forgiving–”
“But I didn’t forgive her!” Octavia exclaimed. “I… I just feel nothing… Part of me wants to go to her and… I don’t know.” She looked at the grass beneath her hooves. “Talk to her? Tell her how I feel? Try to avenge Vinyl? That’s just...”
Suddenly, Octavia approached Dr. Stable and wrapped her hooves around him, sinking her face in his fur. He pulled her into a hug, letting her weep into his coat. For a moment, he just stood there, letting Octavia vent her emotions. Soon, however, she realised what she was doing and backed away.
Doctor Stable looked at her. Her eyes were red and puffy; she wiped them with her hoof and straightened her mane automatically.
“I… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t…” She whimpered.
“It’s okay,” he replied. Suddenly, he realised that she was still close to him. He could see exactly the tears still welling in her big, dark eyes. Their lips were almost touching…
“N-no… I shouldn’t… I can’t…” Octavia backpedalled, her gaze shifting from Dr. Stable to Vinyl’s grave. Before he could say anything, she turned around and ran away.
“Octavia!” Dr. Stable called. “Wait!”
She was too far to hear him, almost reaching the gate. For a moment, he considered running after her, but then he shrugged and turned back to Vinyl’s grave. “Mares…” he muttered, looking at it, as if he expected Vinyl to reply.
Riot Control shifted on his chair nervously. He didn’t like that cold room, placed in the underground part of the Ponyville Hospital. He loathed its smell, the faint, yellow lights and the furniture, consisting of some metal tables and a large cold chamber.
At least all the drawers are closed… he thought. He looked at the entrance – the host of that place was currently busy in the other part of the hospital and Riot Control had been told to wait at him. His eyes rested on an inscription written above the old, scratched door.
Taceant colloquia, effugiat risus. Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.
Optimistic… he thought.
The door opened and the old unicorn with grayish mane came in. Riot Control felt the chill running down his spine when he looked into the yellow eyes of the experienced medical examiner.
“Good morning, Dr. Tulp,” he said. “I’ve heard that you have something for me.”
“Indeed.” Dr. Tulp levitated a pair of glasses to his face and opened one of the drawers in his desk. “I’ve received a report from my counterpart in Trottingham. I’d say that poor, little Zippoorwhill told her a lot...”
Riot Control decided not to delve into that topic, instead choosing to open the file that landed in front of him. He skipped the photos depicting Zippoorwhill’s body hanging from the bedsheet in the toilet stall or lying on the table with a large bruise around her neck; instead, he focused on the autopsy report.
“‘Unusual’...” he muttered. “Of course it’s unusual… Fillies that age don’t usually hang themselves…” He thought about his granddaughter and shuddered.
“It’s not only that,” Dr. Tulp said. “Do you know why, while hanging is still quite… popular form of capital punishment, pegasi are never hanged?”
Riot Control sighed. Dr. Tulp had written several papers about the anatomy of pegasi wings and was considered one of the greatest experts in that matter. His fascination about the pegasi was dangerously close to obsession.
“I think I missed that lesson,” he replied, flipping through the pages of the report without much enthusiasm.
“It’s because it’s difficult and cruel to hang a pegasus,” Dr. Tulp replied. “Even if you restrain or break their wings, they’ll still try to fly to save themselves. It’s a reflex; it’s like with trying to commit suicide by holding one’s breath. Sooner or later the organism just makes you breathe.”
“So, someone helped her?” Riot Control asked. “Maybe one of the doctors is our killer… Or their sidekick…”
“Not necessarily. Look at the toxicology report.” Dr. Tulp levitated a page in question.
“Sweet Celestia…” Riot Control muttered. “How much did she take?”
“Enough to repress the reflex. Even if she didn’t hang herself, it’d probably kill her…” Dr. Tulp replied.
“Still, this case stinks,” Riot Control said, throwing the file on the desk. “She takes enough pills to turn off her wings, yet manages to drag herself to the bathroom, tie a noose and kill herself? And how did she even get so many pills?”
“I believe guards in Trottingham are investigating this…” Dr. Tulp replied.
“Oh, I’ve heard about that…” Riot Control said. “They arrested a nurse who found her… Charming Heart or something like that.” He stood up. “Thank you, doctor. I’m gonna see Front Kick. Maybe he’ll figure something out of this…”
He left the morgue and sighed with relief. Then he trotted upstairs, to the lab where Front Kick and a couple of technicians were comparing hair they acquired from the ponies with the ones they’d found on the crime scenes.
“Hello boss,” Front Kick said, not rising his head from the microscope. “Seems that I lost a bet… It’s not Bon Bon…”
Riot Control felt the urge to smack him in the back of the head. “You’re placing bets?”
“You can win fifty bits for every bit you place on Roseluck,” one of the assistants said. “Twenty, if you think it’s Sparkler… Three for every bit waged on Rarity...”
“Front Kick, can we talk in private?” Riot Control asked, glaring daggers at the assistant. Front Kick stood up and they both went to the corridor.
“I have a riddle for you,” Riot Control said. “Who could give Zippoorwhill enough drugs to poison the whole ward of kids and hang her?”
“Dunno, maybe one of the doctors?” Front Kick scratched his mane.
“It wasn’t a shrink… Have you seen any of those shrinks in Ponyville recently? It’s our guy. He or she thought that Zippoorwhill knew something. Who could it be?”
Front Kick scrunched his face. “Someone who either went to Trottingham recently, or travels there often… They’d have to find the way to sneak to the hospital at night without raising suspicions…” he said. “Someone connected with the victims… Probably with violet mane…”
“Any ideas?” Riot Control asked.
“Zippoorwhill’s father? No, it’d be easier for him to knock off his daughter here… Pipsqueak’s parents… They went back to Trottingham after he died…”
“And how’d they kill the other foals?” Riot Control asked.
“Right… How about Filthy Rich?” Front Kick’s eyes lit up.
“Filthy Rich? How so?” Riot Control rose his eyebrows.
“His daughter is also in that nuthouse… He visits her there from time to time,” Front Kick replied. “Also, she has, if I recall correctly, white and violet mane. He might have picked some accidentally before he went for a walk to kill some fillies…”
“Yeah, right…” Riot Control rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s his daughter who killed them?”
“That’s possible,” Front Kick said. “I found no traces of adult ponies on any of the crime scenes…”
“Oh, come on…” Riot Control muttered. He bowed before Nurse Redheart, who just walked past them. “Do you imagine such a filly killing someone? I think the killer was a pegasus… or, more likely, a bat pony. No traces on the ground; could kill Alula and Twist while pretending to look for them; could go to Trottingham and back in a couple of hours… No one suspects a bat pony going somewhere in the middle of the night...”
Front Kick only shook his head.
Lyra took a sip of her cider and put a mug on the table. “Redheart says that the guards think that it was a bat pony with a violet mane,” she said.
“So, they suspect Dusk Dancer?” Time Turner asked. “I can’t say I’m surprised. She always seemed… weird. When I asked her to join the neighbourhood watch, she told me that she had no time.”
“Well, all the bat ponies seem weird, if you ask me…” Cherry Berry said. “And Dusk Dancer drinks blood.”
“How do you know?” Minuette asked. She was half-sitting, half-lying in an armchair, courtesy of a couple of mugs of cider she’d drunk.
“Lily told me,” Cherry Berry replied.
“Yeah… Because Lily is a reliable source of information,” Minuette said. “Lyra, you’d better not tell Bonnie about that… We don’t want her to pull a Berry Punch on poor Dusk Dancer…”
Cherry Berry glared at her angrily. “I thought you were helping my cousin…” she said.
Minuette levitated a mug of cider in front of her, drank the rest of the beverage and threw the mug back on the table, making all the glasses jangle. “I’m helping her, but I still think she’s an idiot,” she replied, trying to focus her gaze on Cherry Berry.
Time Turner cleared his throat. “Minuette!” he hissed.
“What?” Minuette exclaimed. “You won’t tell me that killing Vinyl was normal. Worse, you’re now looking for another scapegoat…”
“I’m not telling that it was normal,” Time Turner replied. His face turned a faint shade of red. “But… If something happened to Dinky…”
“Then what? You’d go and, dunno, burn down Dusk Dancer’s house because Redheart told Lyra that one guard–”
“Minuette, stop it!” Lyra exclaimed.
“Of course not…” Time Turner said, running his hoof through his mane nervously. “But the neighbourhood watch should observe Dusk Dancer and–”
“Watch-shmatch!” Minuette exclaimed. The bar immediately silenced. “There’s no watch since Vinyl kicked the bucket… Just a bunch of assholes who’ll believe in every gossip…” She stood up, staggering. “Goodnight, paranoid tossers.”
She trotted out of the bar, slamming the door behind her.
“‘Paranoid tossers’?” Lyra took a sip of her cider, still looking at the door. “Geez, she really had too much today…”
“She’s mad because Berry doesn’t like her oh so great ideas…” Cherry Berry muttered, rolling her eyes. “I swear, if she jumped from her ego on her IQ, she’d knock herself into a co–” She paused, seeing the look Lyra was giving her. “What’s wrong with you now?”
“Apparently, the word ‘coma’ is a taboo now,” Time Turner said.
They heard the sound of the door creaking open and turned to see Cloud Kicker coming in. She went to a bar, bought a mug of cider and trotted to them.
“Hello,” she said and sat on the only free armchair. “I met Minuette on my way here. What have you done to her?”
“Oh, the usual,” Cherry Berry said. “She doesn’t want to hang out with paranoid to–”
“Cherry, please,” Time Turner interrupted her.
“And you’re paranoid because?” Cloud Kicker asked. She took a sip of her cider and stretched her wings.
“I talked with Redheart today and she told me that the guards have a suspect,” Lyra said. She shifted in her chair nervously.
“Oh, come on!” Cherry Berry exclaimed. “‘Suspect’! A bloodsucker! She’s surely guilty…”
Cloud Kicker’s ears perked up. She leaned closer to Cherry Berry. “Which bloodsucker?” she whispered.
“Enough, Cherry…” Time Turner said. “I think Minuette was right… We can’t just–”
“Oh, come on!” Cherry Berry exclaimed, spilling her cider. “You said yourself that we need to observe her…”
“I can observe her…” Cloud Kicker said. “If she killed Alula…” She waved her hoof.
Time Turner only shook his head.
With an ear-piercing screech of the brakes, the train skid to a halt. The doors opened and a couple of ponies walked out of it. Most of them quickly stretched their hooves, stiff after a long journey, and promptly went to their homes.
Diamond Tiara was the last to stand on the platform. She trotted by Filthy Rich’s side, watching the familiar view of her hometown. She sniffed the air, smelling the mix of bonfire smoke, strange flowers from the Everfree forest and a faint scent of disinfectant that somehow still stayed on her coat. Then she looked straight into the setting sun, enjoying the eerie colours of the sky. A couple of moths flew past her, one of them tangling into her mane for a moment.
Diamond Tiara smiled. For the last couple of nights she’d slept like a newborn foal. According to Dr. Midline Shift, she got better and was ready to go home. She promptly agreed, even though she wasn’t sure about his diagnosis.
She still felt that strange presence that had first spoken to her on that night when she’d killed Alula and Twist. It was asleep – fed by the view of Zippoorwhill fighting for her last breath, it could lie dormant for a long time, like a rattlesnake – be she could still feel it there.
Diamond Tiara looked around the town, staring at the few ponies that still dared to stay outside, and her smile grew even wider.
It was good to be home.