There was nothing they could do for Filthy Rich. They tried to open the door, but it was sealed. Not even Twilight was able to have any effect. It was like some ward was preventing her magic from opening the door or teleporting past it.
After the screams had stopped and their initial panic and horror had abated, Time Turner sat with Cheerilee and Twilight Sparkle in the hallway outside Twilight's room for what could have been a few minutes or half an hour. They could scarcely believe what they'd seen.
Time Turner was the first to speak. "I think we should stick together now."
Cheerilee glanced at Twilight. "Is that… do you think that's a good idea? One of us has to be the killer, don't they? I'm not sure I'm comfortable being in the same room with a killer."
Twilight shrugged. "So we should all go to our rooms then, is that agreed?"
Time Turner shook his head. "If one of you is the killer, I'm not sure I want to let you out of my sight."
"But you could be the killer," Twilight pointed out.
"Or none of us is, and there's another pony in this house that none of us has seen yet. Some pony intimately familiar with this house's secrets," Time Turner suggested.
Cheerilee stood up. "Well, you can sit here and debate this all you like. You can't stop me going to my room." She turned and trotted down the hallway. Time Turner and Twilight heard a door slam and a key turn in a lock.
Time Turner sighed and looked at Twilight. It seemed splitting up was the group's decision, but he certainly wasn't going to lock himself into his room and wait for the killer.
Lyra's death, by the account that Rarity and Trenderhoof had given, pointed to the killer having found another route to get into and out of that room undetected. Certain hints in how Rarity and Fluttershy had been killed too indicated that the killer was using ways of getting about that they didn't know of. But what sealed the deal was Filthy Rich's manner of demise.
"Would you like me to stay here with you?" Time Turner asked.
Twilight looked at him sternly. "I think I'd feel more comfortable if you left."
He couldn't understand how she could feel comfortable being left alone in that room — the room that Filthy Rich had been dragged away from — but then again, she was a powerful alicorn and not a simple earth pony like him.
Eager to get out of the room, and to explore his new theory about secret passageways in the house, he nodded and left her. He saw the door close behind him and heard the turn of a key in the lock.
Time Turner hurried to Rarity's room. Although the fires had been put out now, the room had been badly damaged. There seemed to be a slight chance that this might have exposed any hidden doors which the room was concealing. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.
Entering the room, his hoof went to his mouth to block out the still acrid taste of the air. His eyes took in the room, exploring the charred, peeling wallpaper for signs of a secret doorway, but none could be seen. He glanced up at the ceiling. The paint was cracked, blistered, and blackened in places from the heat, but there didn't seem to be any removable panels.
He reluctantly removed his hoof from his lips and used it to tap on the floor, pacing up and down the room systematically, trying to find a trap door, but to no avail.
Time Turner sighed. He'd known that the search would probably prove fruitless, but he was disappointed nevertheless.
Just as he was about to turn and leave, he felt a gentle breeze cause his tail hair to sway. He looked around for where this draught could have come from. The windows seemed undamaged by the fire. The breeze seemed to be coming from a large, ornate wardrobe.
Time Turner flung the doors open, expecting to find a false back, but was confronted by an empty wardrobe with a rather standard-looking wooden back. He prodded the back of the wardrobe, finding it to be of fairly solid construction.
Preparing to leave again, he had one last idea. He reared up onto his hind legs and pushed the wardrobe sideways. Though empty, the wardrobe was built of a solid, hard wood, and still weighed a considerable amount. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he stood back and was relieved to see that his effort had paid off: there was a hole in the wall behind the wardrobe — not a big hole, but looked like it would be big enough for a pony to squeeze through.
So Time Turner did. He found himself in a dimly-lit passageway, the walls emitting a strange, perhaps magical, glow that he'd never seen before. Once through the small hole in the wall, the passage was a more comfortable width for trotting along.
He soon found himself at a fork in the passage. Not knowing which way to go, he chose the left branch at random. He hoped that this didn't turn out to be some kind of maze.
After a short distance, the passage began to slope downwards. By the time he'd reached the next corner, he reckoned he'd descended far enough that he might be underground, at some kind of basement level. Peering around the corner, he saw that the passage opened into a small room, lit by a small oil lamp.
He cautiously entered the room. By the light of the lamp, he could see that the ceiling was adorned with electric light bulbs.
He flicked the switch near the entrance, expecting the lights to turn on, but instead a sliding door engaged, cutting the room off from from the corridor. He tried to use a hoof to stop the door from fully closing, but it was too fast. He was trapped.
After flicking the switch the other way had failed, he banged on the stone door with his hoof, but it seemed solid. Time Turner sighed.
"Hello?!" he called. "Can anypony hear me?!" The only response he got was the echo of his own voice. Frustrated, he decided that if he couldn't get out for now, he could at least investigate the room.
Picking up the oil lamp in his teeth, he trotted over to a desk in the corner. The desk was covered in pieces of paper. There was a telephone on the edge of the desk, but Time Turner recalled that the phone lines to the house seemed to have been cut.
He flicked through some receipts from an establishment called 'Uncle Curio's House of Magic' in Canterlot, but they only listed prices, not descriptions of the items that had been bought.
Underneath those he found something rather more menacing. It looked like a blue print for the device that had claimed Pinkie Pie's life, detailing the intricate system of wires and pulleys that had been rigged up in Twilight Sparkle's doorway. If he'd previously had any doubt that the killer had been using these tunnels, he had none now.
There were also instructions for making some kind of explosive device, wiring schematics for the house, and a receipt for a shipment of sand. He chuckled to himself — somepony seemed to have paid an unbelievable number of bits to fill their sandpit.
Glancing over the wiring diagram in the hope he'd find some way of opening the door, or at least switching on the ceiling lights, he noticed something else. The basement seemed to have a second telephone line. Time Turner immediately grabbed at the phone with a hoof, putting it to his ear. To his surprise and relief, he heard a dial tone. He quickly called the number for the emergency services.
After a couple of rings a female voice came onto the line. "Equestria Emergencies, how can I help you?"
"There's… there's been a murder! More than one, in fact!"
"So you'll need the royal guard?"
"Yes! Yes! And hurry, please!" he implored.
"And you're down in the basement?" came the voice.
"Yes, I'm—" Time Turner paused. How would they know that? He answered cautiously. "Yes… I'm… down in the basement…?"
"Good."
The phone went dead.
Time Turner tapped the phone and held it to his ear again. Nothing.
He heard a whirring sound from above and looked up. All the light bulbs in the ceiling fell out of their recesses, making a clattering sound on the stone floor, and sand started to pour out of the holes they'd occupied. Time Turner suddenly realized why somebody had bought so much sand.
He did a quick mental calculation based on the flow rate of the sand and the approximate size of the room. He estimated that it would be five minutes before the room was full. Practically speaking, he had about three minutes to escape before the sand would be so high it would make movement, and thus escape, impractical.
"Help!" he yelled, barging against the door as hard as he could. In his heart, he knew it was futile: Cheerilee and Twilight's rooms were at the other end of the house, and the basement walls seemed like solid stone.
In under a minute the sand was up to his fetlocks, making run-ups to the door slow, so he resorted to pounding on the door with his front hooves, climbing up the growing pile of sand, trying to avoid sinking into it.
After a further two minutes, the desk, telephone, and most of the door were buried. Time Turner gave up trying to force the door, and resorted to climbing up the ever rising sand, yelling for help through the crack at the top of the door.
Soon his head was against the ceiling and he could climb no more. As the sand covered his cutie mark, he found himself almost laughing at the irony. The room was like the lower chamber of a giant hourglass.
He felt the sand inching up his neck, creeping around his jaw. He closed his mouth and breathed through his nose for as long at it was possible. As the sand neared his eyes, he shut them and released his last breath. Before the sand covered his ears, he heard the sound of a distant clock chiming.
==*===*===*==
To be continued...