//------------------------------// // Whistle Stop, in the Bedroom, With the Stopwatch // Story: Murder on the Friendship Express! // by Shahrazad //------------------------------// Pinkie, still pushing Quiet Quill with her head, entered the sleeping car and slid the door closed. “‘Scuse me!” she said to Quill, trying to get past her. Quill took a bounding leap and landed on an empty top bunk. She pulled the covers around her, shaking. Peeking out from under the covers, Quill saw Slate at eye level with her. He gave her a devilish grin before he cleared his throat. “Ah-hem… So what now, dollface?” he asked Pinkie. Quiet Quill didn't move, but her expression looked like she was facing a certain, painful death. “First,” Pinkie said, as she approached Tiny Tinsel, “I gotta know… Do you have any feldspar?” Tiny’s brows arched as she looked up at Pinkie and inquired, “Uh, what’s feldspar?” “GET ON WITH IT!” Slate barked, causing everypony except Pinkie to cower. Quiet Quill hid under the covers. “Oh, fine…” Pinkie sighed, as she pulled back the curtain on a bunk. “Who’s bunk is this?” “That would be our bunk,” Hot Shot answered, “and I’d prefer it if you’d leave our stuff alone.” “Why? Afraid we’ll find evidence?” Slate replied, with a smug smile on his face. “What? No, I just don’t want—” “You really should make your bed at some point. I just love getting into a nice bed after a day of partying when the sheets are fresh and clean, don’t you think?” Pinkie had her head in the bunk’s space, searching. “Which one of you is reading ‘Fifty Manes of Grey?’ It looks kinda worn.” A book spilled out of the bunk over Pinkie’s shoulder. Pinkie backed up a step and lifted the mattress. “I thought I saw a lump under here. Hey, champagne! Nice vintage too, this year, very classy.” The bottle flew out over Pinkie’s other shoulder with a casual flick of her hoof. Hot Shot dove and caught it before it shattered on the floor. The label indicated the common glass bottle had roughly the same value as the liquid inside. “Chocolate wrapper, chocolate wrapper, chocolate wrapper, chocolate wrapper… Hey, don’t you have any wrappers with candy still in them?” Pinkie sighed, pulled her head out of the bunk, then blew more bubbles on her pipe. “Hmmm…” “Um, did you find anything, dearie?” Ol’ Bitty asked. Pinkie bounced past her and pulled back the curtain on another bunk. “Hey, now this is a snazzy bed, nice and clean! Let’s see here, sleeping pills on the windowsill…” Pinkie didn't throw them over her shoulder, but everypony could hear the contents of the bottle being rattled. “An inkwell, and a quill, too. Ink color is tar number four. Ohhhh, that’s Twilight’s favorite! It’s the right shade of black, not too black, but just black enough.” Whistle Stop and Slate facehoofed. “Is this a diary on the pillow, Miss Quill? Can I read it?” Pinkie withdrew her head; in her mouth she held a small book, locked with a strap fitted with a tiny padlock. Quill hopped down and darted in front of Pinkie, her lower lip quivering. She just stood there, not reaching for the diary, but not allowing Pinkie to pass, either. “Open it,” Slate ordered. “Nahh, it’s okay. I don’t have to pry to solve this easy case. Not like she’d be crazy enough to write, ‘I’m going to kill Felix like an insane axe murderer in the dining car tonight!’” Slate facehoofed again. “Don’t you think you should—” He looked up and blinked, looking for Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was already looking into another bunk. “Let’s see, make-up, make-up, make-up, wow, Rarity would love this stuff.” Pinkie withdrew her head. Everypony except Tiny snickered at her garish face. Rainbow eye shadow, hair curlers, rhinestone clip-on earrings, blue rouge, and black lipstick made for a rather… striking appearance. Tiny slapped her once, and all of the make-up came off. “Leave my samples alone! Those are for paying customers only!” Pinkie shrugged and stuck her head back into the bunk. Tiny gasped, but before she could react, Pinkie said, “Fashion magazine and a letter. Who’s this from?” Pinkie came out again, this time with a folded piece of paper in her mouth. Tiny snatched the letter away with her magic. “That’s private! Leave me alone!” she growled. Pinkie’s hind right leg wobbled, her right ear twitched, and she smacked her lips. “Hmmm… Oh, is that all?” Pinkie asked. “All of what?” Slate looked at Pinkie, the detective, for an answer. Pinkie pronked up and down, then replied, “Elementary, my dear Slate. I have the ability to foresee the future! And I read the letter.” Tiny sputtered, “W-what? When?” Pinkie smacked her lips again. “When I tasted it, silly! I learned to read letters by taste a long time ago.” “...What…” Ignis said what was on everypony’s mind. “Yeah, and Tiny’s boss is angry ‘cause she’s not making sales! But my Pinkie sense tells me, after tonight, she won’t have to worry too much about money.” Ol’ Bitty gasped, “You mean, she has the bearer bond?” “Or she’s going to be digging a hole on the side of the tracks!” Slate snarled. “I did NOT kill Felix, and I did NOT steal his bearer bond! I didn't even know it existed before you told me about it twenty minutes ago!” Tiny looked around the room at all the eyeballs on her. “Is this bed empty?” Pinkie asked, her head in another bunk. Everypony turned to her. Slate answered, “No, that’s Felix’s bed. Mine is just above it. We didn't unpack yet, our luggage is still in the next car.” “Oh, okay.” Pinkie bounced to the next bed and tore the curtain back. “Hmmm… interesting. Is this yours, Bitty?” Pinkie showed off a framed picture. It was sepia-toned and showed a happy, smiling, earth pony couple in front of a house under construction. Ol’ Bitty smiled. “Yes, that’s me. Please be careful, that picture is fifty-two years old.” Pinkie giggled, “I know, I can see the apple orchards in the background, and the trees are so small!” She disappeared back into the bunk. “What other cool stuff ya got in here? Let’s see, bifocals, another cane, and another picture.” She popped back out with a much newer photo; this one showed several foals all around Bitty, standing in Sundial’s Square. “Oh, yes, that was taken in Manehatten a year ago. Those are my grandfoals.” Her wrinkled face split into a smile. Pinkie tossed it back into the bunk and bounced to the next bunk… Pinkie giggled, “He-he-he.” “Silly me,” she snorted, as she tried to keep various objects from spilling out onto the floor. “This is MY bed! Okay, next!” She glanced left, then right. Her smile turned into a frown. “Hey, Whistle Stop, where do you sleep? Whistled Stop flushed when everypony suddenly focused on him. “Uh, in the employees’ car.” Slate took a step towards him, but Pinkie stopped him with the words, “Oki-doki-loki!” Slate turned to Pinkie like he’d been slapped. “Wait, you’re just going to let him off the hook?” Pinkie shrugged and adjusted her deerstalker hat. “No, but there’s not much we can do to collect physical evidence for Whistle here until we get to the employees’ car. I’ll just have to settle for an interview.” She shot to Whistle Stop, who found himself seated and tied to a chair. A harsh light was shining in his face from the lamp Pinkie pointed at him. She sat on the other side of the table and glared at him. “Where did the chairs come from?” “Wow, how’d she get the table in here?” “How’d she tie him up so fast?” “Where’s the power source for that lamp? That thing’s like the sun!” Pinkie, without so much as glancing away, said, “Sofas and Quills, portable hole, my mad-secret ninja skills, and my brain.” Tiny blinked against the light and noticed the lamp was plugged into Pinkie’s ear. “Tell me, Whistle Stop… Do you have any feldspar?” “I didn't do it, I swear! Wait… isn't feldspar some kinda rock?” Whistle Stop blinked and put his hoof up to block the bright light. “Where were you between the hours of four and six pm today?” Pinkie leaned in closer, her eyes unblinking as they glared at Whistle Stop. Her face suddenly lit up with a childlike smile. “Tell-me-tell-me-tell-me!” “Uh, I got all the luggage on board, and we left the station four minutes late, at 4:04pm. Felix and Slate were the last ones on board. I punched everypony’s tickets, then went to the employees’ car at 4:23pm. I didn't see anypony on the way.” “Where’s the employees’ car?” “It’s just behind the engine room, at the front of the train. I took a break to drink coffee like I usually do, then I checked with the engineer to ensure we could make up the four minutes.” “Can we?” “He said he’d do his best to get those four minutes back. Anyway, after that I went into the kitchen. I spent the next hour and a half preparing dinner. I loaded the cart, then went into the dining car at 6:02pm. Sorry for being so terribly late.” Everypony but Quill rolled their eyes. Whistle continued, “After that, well, you were there. I served everypony, and at 6:11pm the lights went out.” “You served about six cups of honeyed oats, one apple, about a half-dozen asparagus shoots, tomato soup with alfalfa sprinkled on, and a small chocolate molten cake for dessert for each meal. Oh, and water to drink, right?” Pinkie whipped off the list so fast, several ponies raised an eyebrow, including Whistle Stop. “Uh, yeah. Wow, you have a pretty good memory,” Whistle Stop replied. “Of course I do!” Pinkie exclaimed. “And don’t you forget it!” She turned to Slate and asked, “Who are you again…?” “I’m—!” “Wait! Why are you lying?” Pinkie whirled and pointed at Whistle Stop. He blinked several times, and his cheeks flushed. “I-I’m not lying! What do you mean?” Pinkie didn't stop to take a breath. “Well nine ponies times six cups of oats per pony, plus the time it takes to boil the asparagus in gasoline, filleting the tomatoes for the soup, then steaming them in a hibachi, PLUS sprinkling the alfalfa on with a small bore cannon, AND whipping up a chocolate molten cake using the rubber ducky and the sporks? That’s going to take exactly one hour and nineteen minutes, give or take thirty-seven seconds. At least the way I cook.” Tiny and Slate scoffed, while the others just looked at her, thunderstruck. Whistle Stop stammered out, “Th-that’s right! How did you know that?” “Good memory, remember? And knowing you, you’d know all that. You’re always checking the time. So that leaves you, what… about twenty minutes to yourself? What were you up to?” Pinkie shined the lamp right at Whistle Stop. Sweat rolled down his face as he replied, “OKAY! I’m sorry, I was… uh, doing that thing I really like to do...” Pinkie narrowed her eyes at him. “You like touching it?” Whistle Stop looked down, the blush in his cheeks spreading to his entire face. “Yeah.” Ignis giggled while Ol’ Bitty’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I… just can’t control myself.” “Spill it! What’s your kink? Murder? Cupcakes? Choking yourself? Do you have knismolagnia?” Pinkie’s smile became rather salacious, and she leaned a bit closer to Whistle Stop. “I could definitely help you with that!” He cowered from her insane smile, and held his hooves up to guard himself. “What? No! I haven’t murdered anyone! And I don’t have knism… whatever. Uh, I don’t think… What is that?” Pinkie shrugged, looked directly at the fourth wall, smiled wide, and said, “You’ll just have to check Google.” She turned back to Whistle Stop. “So what were you doing?” “I… I was in my bunk…” “Yeah…?” Pinkie leaned in closer, a grin splitting her face. “I… I was…” “What where you doing?” “Winding my watch!” Whistle Stop squeezed his eyes shut, quivering, holding his crossed hooves in front of him like a shield. “Pshh… Chronomania?” Pinkie sighed. “You think you've found a juicy fetish and what do you get? Chronomania? Seriously, Whistle Stop, you need to cut loose.” Pinkie unplugged the lamp from her ear; everypony blinked while their eyes adjusted. By the time Whistle Stop could see again, the table, lamp, ropes, and chairs had vanished. Pinkie closed her eyes and blew bubbles with her pipe. She scratched her chin with a hoof. “Hmmmm…” “Well?” Slate asked, breathless. “Is he the thief?” Everypony leaned in towards Pinkie, unblinking. Pinkie blinked her eyes open and replied, “Heck if I know. I was thinking about rocks!” She bounced into the next car while every other pony let out an incredulous breath. Several hooves found their owners’ foreheads. Pinkie stuck her head back into the car. “Hey, everypony’s gotta stick together! I got more detectiving to do!” Tiny rolled her eyes. “That isn't even a word…”