It was a good twenty minutes’ walk down the main road from Carousel Boutique to Fluttershy’s cabin on the outskirts of town. My companion was in fairly good spirits, and prattled endlessly about musical instruments, particularly fiddles, and the difference between a Stradivarius and an Amati. As for myself, I was silent, for I was in a state of puzzled dissatisfaction, having left Rarity’s without a solid answer.
“You amaze me, Pones,” I said as we crested another small hill. “All of those details back at Rarity’s – surely you are not as definite as you pretend to be of them?”
“I am one hundred percent confident,” he replied firmly. “The very first thing which I saw on arriving were the hoofprints embedded into the path, though admittedly my mind was on other things, and we carelessly trod over them – but no matter. The criminal’s trail was clear as day to me.”
“How are you aware of his height?” said I.
“The height of anypony, in nine cases out of ten, can be told from the length of his or her stride,” said Pones. “It is a simple calculation, though there is no use boring you with my trigonometry. I had this fellow’s stride on the clay, and I knew his weight from the indentation that he left when he stood there, and that is part of the reasoning for my pacing at the edge of the pathway.”
“What else did you determine?”
“That he was about my height and a good deal heavier, in much the similar build as you, but with much wider hooves.”
“I see. That seems simple enough,” I said, after some thought. “But what of his age?”
“If a stallion can stride four and a half feet with the smallest effort, he must be fit and healthy. That was the breadth of a puddle on the garden walk which he had evidently strode across.”
“So you deemed him to be very fit?”
“Yes, though I cannot be sure of his age – I would suspect around his late twenties, though you yourself are only twenty-four and yet you hold a similar stride to him.”
“But,” I interjected, “Rarity’s description of the criminal and your analysis do not match.”
“Perhaps she may have been wrong,” he said idly.
I frowned. “Come now Pones, I believe you know as well as I do the medical exactness of psychological recall while under duress.”
“True, true, and while it can be argued for the more extreme cases that the opposite holds true, this was not as overly horrifying as that. She also seemed quite adamant about her assailant,” he replied.
“Then what of the contradiction in facts and the account?”
“Ah, there is yet one more confirmation I have to make before the facts are quite clear to me, and the account may make sense.”
“Do you mean to say you know who perpetrated it already?” I said, quite incredulously.
“Not at all!” my companion said. “But, if I were to obtain such affirmation of my suspicion, then all the facts would be made clear to me, and then it is only a simple matter of whom.”
“So it appears that you are again aware of something that I am not?” I asked.
“Yes – the inconsistency bothers me, as you mentioned, but I have a theory as to a possible solution that satisfies it,” he said.
“And will you not share this theory?”
Here, my companion stopped on the side of the dusty road, turning to me in the afternoon sun.
“I’m not going to tell you much more of the case, Doctor. You know as well as I do that a conjuror gets no credit once he has explained his trick, and if I show you too much method of my working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all.”
“That would be impossible,” I replied with a grin; “you have brought the profession of a detective as near an exact science as it ever will be.”
It seemed to me that he was sensitive to flattery on the matter of his work, for he flushed with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I spoke them.
“For your kindness, I will tell you something else,” he said at length.
“And what might that be?”
“There is no discrepancy between the account and the evidence.”
I was puzzled, though I grimaced and took a deep breath, turning my gaze back towards the road.
“Well, I hope your theory is correct,” I said. “Though it is beyond me to question you.”
We arrived at Fluttershy’s somewhat out of breath, for we had hurried. Pones had wanted to speak to Berry Punch before the afternoon was out, and I had to somehow make my way to Miss Redheart’s within whatever time was left over from talking to the shy mare.
Fluttershy’s cottage was a small and tidy looking house whose ceiling appeared to be formed out of tree leaves and thatched verdant branches. It was placed beyond a very quaint little bridge that ran over what I presumed to be the river we had crossed earlier, though now the powerful stream had dwindled into a tapering and winding creek, its crystalline waters burbling through rushes and reeds. The house itself resembled a cross between a stone farmer's cottage and a bush, and there were several trees and a line of hedges around it – the effect it gave was very natural and rather soothing, and the modern stonemasonry did not appear to clash with the greenery. There was, at its front, a little red door, a handful of windows with attached window-gardens from behind which a golden light was visible, and on the roof there was a pale, cream-coloured chimney-pot. It resembled a cosy warren more then a proper house, but that is not criticism, for I could imagine myself living in such a place quite happily.
The other detail that caught my eye as we crossed the bridge was what appeared to be a chicken coop with a low fence. There were also many finely crafted bird houses were nailed to the lower boughs of the trees, the chattering of their occupants the only indication that any other creature lived on the serene property.
We walked up the gravel turnoff that led to her front door, and Pones knocked upon it twice, and we stood and waited a while for a response. The door then creaked open, and Fluttershy stood before us. She was wearing an apron and had the dustings of flour upon her forehooves, and she recognised me before Pones, smiling. This was just as well, for she when she laid eyes upon him she turned a faint shade of white, not dissimilar to the powder that smattered her features. She apologised hastily for taking her time in opening the door, for she had been baking, and we were shown into a very spacious and eloquent lounge room, where she bade us wait ‘just another five minutes if that would be ok with you’.
She arrived, I noticed, almost precisely five minutes later, having removed her apron and tidied her appearance a little. She carried with her on a large silver platter a pot of tea with three cups, and a plate of shortbread; their wonderful freshly-cooked scent causing the very faintest of a rumble in my stomach. We were sitting on a very large and comfortable couch, and she took up a small armchair opposite us.
“It’s a good to see you again Doctor,” she said, looking at us kindly. “And you must be Mr. Pones – please, help yourself to some tea and biscuits.”
I happily obliged, taking a biscuit and a large mug, wondering how on earth someone so innocent could have possibly occurred in Pones’ mind as suspicious.
“We were just here to ask a few questions about the other day,” Pones said.
“Well, um, the Inspector came by before to take my report, but I would be happy to repeat it for you two gentleponies,” she said. I noticed that she had neglected to take a cup, instead putting both her hooves into her lap where she fiddled nervously. I glanced over at Pones, presuming that he had noticed the same, but he did not give the impression of having done so, instead smiling a little as he spoke.
“We thought that we should like to hear it from yourself, given that you are Rarity’s friend,” he said.
“Okay… From the beginning?” she asked softly, and I replied with an encouraging nod.
Fluttershy took a deep breath and creased her delicate brow in concentration, as though she was trying hard to not make a mistake.
“Well, I was up early feeding the animals,” she began. “About six or seven in the morning. I realised that I didn’t have enough seed for my chickens for the week, so I decided that I’d go into town to get some.”
“How do you carry such a thing?” Pones inquired suspiciously.
She faltered in her speech, and for a second my heart almost wilted with pity to imagine such a frail filly struggling with a very large and heavy bag of seed.
“Oh, I don’t – I have it ordered by mail cart, so I usually just send a message with a bird or go there myself, and then it gets delivered the next day.” She smiled sweetly. “I couldn’t possibly carry it all.”
“Then you just decided to walk into town,” I said quickly before Pones could ask another question. He shot me a sideways glance, but Fluttershy did not seem to notice.
“Anyway, I walked by Rarity’s boutique, and I saw that the door was wide open—”
“You did not fly straight into town?” Pones interrupted again, his eyes narrowing somewhat. I felt that the poor mare may have simply curled up into a nervous wreck under his questioning, but she answered somewhat confidently for someone so reluctant.
“No, I enjoy walking more these days,” she said thoughtfully. “I am a Pegasus, and I do fly, but I like the ground and the animals there a good deal more than the sky.”
I nodded, urging her on. “Please, continue.”
“Anyway, I was a little past the place, and I looked back only to see that the door was open. There was yellow tape on the front yard and a police cart outside, so I just thought I’d go over quickly to see what was going on. I went to the door, and looked through the open doorway to see if Rarity was alright.”
“And was she?” I asked softly, in a much less intrusive fashion to Pones.
“Yes, but there were also two policeponies there, and one of them noticed me as I entered, and he started yelling at me. He said that it was a crime scene, and that I needed to leave." She seemed somewhat happier and more comfortable talking to me than Pones, so I continued as the main correspondent for her story.
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No… Rarity must have been in her room.”
“Did you do anything else when he told you to leave?”
“Well, um, he scared me, so no, I didn’t.” She looked quite ashamed at her own cowardice. “I went back to the path very quickly, and then out to the orchards, where I placed my order with Granny Smith before coming back here again.”
“Did you stop by Rarity’s a second time on the way back?”
“No, I didn’t, but I trotted by from my house later, when they removed the tape. I didn't go up to look, though.”
“Why did you not stop back in then?”
Fluttershy turned a very faint shade of pink.
“The police-pony was still there, and I didn’t want him to yell at me again,” she said very quietly.
“And was there anypony there at that time other then the two officers?”
“I don’t know – I didn’t look in, I just passed by quickly on the way back to my house.”
Pones, who had kept his hooves together in front of his face, was watching Fluttershy intently. She noticed it, but would not give him eye contact, instead keeping her gaze on me throughout the entire conversation.
“And then what time did you go to see Rarity again?”
“At around noon today.”
Silence filled the room, and I turned to my companion, seeking approval. He still wore the same suspicious look that had adorned his features not previously, though it was less intense than before.
“She is telling the truth,” he said after a while, leaving the comment in the air. Fluttershy looked quite upset that she had been under suspicion in the first place, but she sounded relieved to be out of the spotlight again.
“Um…” She began to say something, but instead tapered off. “Okay.”
“Fear not, Miss Fluttershy, for we are of the hounds, and not the wolves,” Pones said. “You need not fear our questioning either, for I knew quite well that you could not have committed the crime.”
She seemed a little more relaxed by his reassurances, but all the same she still seemed uncomfortable about something. Perhaps it was just her way, I thought, for I did not want to confuse her discomfiture with Pones with suspicion of guilt, and my companion’s words solidified that thought in my mind.
I turned to him.
“See what I mean?” I said proudly. “She is far too kind to have done such a thing.”
Fluttershy blushed in embarrassment.
“Well, she is the element of Kindness,” Pones said very quietly indeed – almost so that I could not hear him.
“I did not know this!” I cried, smiling. I was familiar with the exploits of the six heroes, and as such I felt slightly ashamed that I had ever suspected her. “This was a waste of poor Miss Fluttershy’s energy and time, for there is no way the element of kindness would ever steal, let alone from a good friend.”
“Indeed, though her words have been of some use to me,” said Pones, rising to his feet.
“Why, have you reached a conclusion?”
“No, but a suspicion of mine has been confirmed.”
“And what might that be?”
He turned to me, his eyes flashing.
“I did say I would not repeat any more of it to you, did I not?”
“Even so,” I said, gesturing to Fluttershy, who sat silently, watching our exchange with intrigue. “She deserves to know of her predicament.”
I could see that Pones was torn between hiding his profound talent and the obligation to explain himself to the mare, who was watching him reproachfully with her dulcet aqua eyes.
“Oh, very well,” he said with resignation, and that was much to my relief, as privately, I was quite in the dark about what Pones had gained. I noticed that as he began to explain himself, Fluttershy smiled at me, but only very briefly.
“My conclusion is based in two parts. One is based on what you just said now – that this morning, you passed by Carousel boutique on your way to town,” he said. It was as if his own logic bored him, and he did not wait for a response before continuing. “That was when you said you went over to Rarity’s, and put your head in the doorway. But, you were frightened away from the scene by one of the constables that was there.”
“Yes,” said Fluttershy steadily, appearing to take much interest in what he said. “What is the other part?’
“The second I have not yet tested, and I felt I would not test it before I intended to leave – BOO!”
With this final word, he lunged forward with a shout, causing me to jump out of my skin, spilling some of my cup of tea. Fluttershy squealed in fright, and immediately took to wing, rising towards the ceiling rapidly where she hovered, her eyes wide and petrified.
“What in Equestria did you do that for?!” I spluttered indignantly. I had managed to not tip any of the boiling liquid onto my jacket or on the sofa, but I was more indignant that he had appeared to do it for no reason. Pones appeared quite neutral, his eyes resting upon the flying filly.
“That,” he said deliberately, pointing at the mare, “is the second part of my hypothesis.”
My head turned between him and the startled Fluttershy in bewilderment. Fluttershy, seeing that there was no danger, touched back on the floor again, her face a bright shade of scarlet. She did not speak, but watched Pones reproachfully as she had upon first seeing him.
“Well whatever your reasoning is, it had best be good,” I snapped at him. Already this frail young girl was terrified of Pones, and yet here he was jumping about like a hooligan, frightening the wits out of her.
“My dear Trotson, calm yourself,” he said authoritatively. “Unfortunately, I had to frighten you both to demonstrate my logic to you, for it is in her reaction that I am convinced she did not commit this crime.”
At this, he turned to me.
“Fluttershy did not go directly to Rarity’s boutique in the morning.”
His quiet and self-confident manner swayed me from my anger, somewhat. “What do you mean?”
“She did not walk,” he repeated. “She had already passed the boutique when she decided that she might visit, and as she mentioned, the pathway was cordoned off at the time, presumably for the benefit of Lestrade. She then peered in, and because she was shouted at by the constable, she took off back to the road. I have concluded this because she is quite shy by her very nature, and the fact that when she is quite frightened, she tends to take to wing – a phenomena we have observed twice, once outside the boutique when she bumped into you, and once again just now,” he added, with an apologetic glance to Fluttershy.
At this, I smacked a hoof to my head in amazement. I had neglected the logical possibility that she had flown at all, for I had not seen her in the air other than the two times that Pones had mentioned, yet her strong and supple wings told me that she was a regular flier. Fluttershy was still standing some way away from Pones, but she nodded slowly.
“Yes… I flew over to the front door when I noticed the strangeness, and then again away from the guard when he scared me,” she said quietly.
“And thus,” Pones added, “She did not set hoof on the wet path in either coming or going.”
My mind buzzed. Pones had clearly pieced it together as soon as he had seen Fluttershy jump in fear. But yet I was bothered still, for I recalled what Pones had said on the way to her house.
“Then how did you gain an idea that the hoofprints on the path made sense before speaking with her?” I said.
“Two reasons,” he replied. “One is Rarity’s statement, in which she described her robber as a very lightly built fellow, and two is that there was a pot plant next to the stone step and doorway. I was looking at it when you came outside with Lestrade – do you remember?” He glanced over at me, and I nodded.
“What did you see on it?” I inquired.
“I saw that one of the fronds of the plant had been broken, and that the damage was fresh, for the sap was still leaking from it. No doubt it was caused by somepony brushing by it,” and here he glanced to Fluttershy.
“Yes,” she said, “The tape was tied from the bottom of the path to two of those striped poles, and so I had to go from the side, which meant squeezing between the pole and the plant.”
“As thought,” said Pones. “This means, that in our grand tally of ponies who visited the boutique, there are two sets of hoofprints left unaccounted for.”
“And how do you know they were not made before yesterday?’ I enquired in amazement.
“It had rained the night that Rarity was out, and so all tracks older than yesterday would have been churned away,” he said simply.
“So we have two thieves, and not one,” I murmured.
“Perhaps,” he said with a curt nod of his head. “It could simply be another visitor who came during the evening, wishing to speak to Rarity about something, or it could be an accomplice.”
For a while, then, we sat in silence, basking in the new information.
"Now, Doctor, I must be off, for I must return to the Boutique and look at the path once more, and then I must catch Berry Punch before sundown.”
“Do you have an idea of where she might be?” I asked, to which he nodded his head.
“Yes, though I was not told. She will be at the bar by the time I arrive, as it is close to the evening,” he said, checking his watch. I frowned, but did not move from my seat.
“Are you not coming?’ he asked.
“I have a few more questions to ask Miss Fluttershy,” I said, and here the fragile mare interjected.
“Just Fluttershy will do, thank you,” she said quite happily, to which both Pones and I turned for a moment. I had thought it was quite unusual for her to be assertive around me, someone who she appeared to be comfortable with, let alone both Pones, who had just frightened her out of her wits.
My companion looked back at me briefly.
“Well then, perhaps it is best if we rendezvous tomorrow instead?” He glanced at a great grandfather clock that stood against the cream-coloured wall. “I must be gone a bit before you, and I doubt that I will be back early, but I have several places to stay, so I will work that out later.”
I agreed, and we worked out that we would meet again outside the train station at one o’clock.
“And where will you stay?” Fluttershy inquired, undoubtedly interested in our activities.
I admittedly had not given the subject much thought, my mind having been too busily turning over the strange mystery and my even stranger companion the whole day. I thought for a moment, and then reeled – for it had been plainly obvious. Felicia could not have possibly intended for me to travel back to Canterlot by train, for as I knew all too well, there were no trains after seven, so she had intended for me to stay the night. This did not bode well for me, for as I have mentioned I am something of a shy character, but I rationalised it by thinking that she had not meant anything so forward. I had made that mistake once before, after all.
“I’m seeing a friend in the evening, so I’ll stay at… hers,” I said after a while, halting the implications that lurked in the back of my head. Mercifully, nobody appeared to have picked up on the awkwardness of my predicament (I was always fairly lucky in that respect).
“Well then, until tomorrow!” Pones said, and he shook my hoof. Fluttershy then showed him to the door, leaving me in the parlour. I took another drink of my tea and ate quietly, thinking about the new information Pones had revealed to me.
I heard the sound of the door closing, and then Fluttershy returned to me. She seemed a good deal more relaxed now that the conversation was one-on-one, and, much to my surprise, took her seat right next to me on the settee instead of on the armchair. She did not seem to care much though, instead immediately talking about Pones.
“He is amazing,” she said breathlessly as she helped herself to the remaining, untouched cup.
“Yes, he certainly is,” I agreed.
“He’s just like he’s mentioned in the books – very thorough and efficient and unusual, and he didn’t speak much, either, though I’m very thankful that I didn’t have to answer too many questions from him.”
I nodded. “Yes, I agree, he is often a bit forward when he is at work - and actually, now that you mention it, that is what I had wanted to speak to you about.”
Fluttershy looked at me curiously.
“What do you mean?” she inquired. “His mannerisms?”
“Oh, no – I meant the books.”
“Oh!” she replied, immediately setting her cup of tea down on the table. “I have one in my bedroom, just let me go and get it.”
Before I could object, she trotted away, humming to herself lightly. I concluded, as I watched her turn the corner back towards the front door, that she was a very different creature when she was in her comfort zone, and I understood immediately how it came to be that she worked with animals – for who as timid as she could ever work with other ponies? Her animals were predictable creatures, and there was no doubt that her work gave her some degree of comfort. But it saddened me nonetheless to see such a pretty young mare so very isolated from the rest of her town.
Maybe though, I thought to myself, as she re-entered the sitting room with a small brown book in her mouth, that perhaps this was her attitude exclusively to important strangers, and she was more comfortable among her friends. She handed me the book, and I noticed its cover was quite faded.
Important Crimes of the Last Century, it ran in small lettering, and I was quite unnerved.
“Fluttershy, what interest do you have in crime?” I inquired politely, concealing my unsureness from her. Fluttershy had resumed her seat next to me and was now eating a biscuit, which she swallowed before turning and replying.
“It’s just so exciting! – all the things you get to see and do, and you get to see people like Mr. Pones make their fascinating conclusions.”
“I have been of that mindset myself,” I said with a smile. I was not referring to Pones in particular, for I had been a great reader of mystery books myself when I was a small foal -- but of course, Pones' more recent conclusions gave some poignancy to what was otherwise a very well read childhood.
“What do you mean?’
I recounted to her the story of this morning, where Pones had concluded from a single glance that the postman was a sailor, and that I had travelled recently. Her aquamarine eyes were wide open, and she hung on every word until I finished several minutes later.
“Wow…” she said, her voice in a dreamy state. “He sounds so clever.”
“I doubt that clever is the right word for it, for it does not do that kind of brilliance justice,” I replied in agreement.
“All that he could tell just from a single glance?” she said.
“It could not have been more than a few seconds for the postman, though he did get a fair opportunity to examine me.”
“Amazing!” she said, and I laughed, for I had remembered myself in exactly the same position.
“He does not seem to think so – he is, some would say, an extremely modest prodigy.”
“That’s the impression the book gives me,” she said, to which I opened it.
“Is he mentioned heavily?” I inquired hopefully. Pones had not been overly liberal about his past to me, and I had decided long before I met Fluttershy that I would be very interested in learning about it.
“Yes and no – not in that he is a main feature, but his name seems to pop up every now and again.” She reached over with a butter yellow hoof, turning the book on my lap to about halfway.
“I think he’s mentioned at most here,” she said, pointing at a small paragraph.
It appeared to be an aside and was written in a scratchy, yet refined and legible way.
Sherclop Pones, or so he was known to me at the time… is a very good detective and an exceedingly strange pony… he was observant, even though he seems quite vague, and his mind is very much unmatched.
I turned back to the front page, searching for an author, but I found none.
“Who is the author of this?” I inquired, flipping through the first few pages, looking for a publisher or note explaining the absence.
“I have no idea," she replied. "It was published under a Pseudonym.” She reached over and closed the book on my hoof, tapping at the cover. I squinted, and there, underneath the title, there were in faded gold-leaf written the letters H.R.H.C.
“Do you know where I can find more?”
Fluttershy nodded.
“At the library, which is back towards the centre of town, um…”
She looked around before standing again, walking to a small cabinet on the far side of the room and opening it. She withdrew an ink pot, a quill and a piece of paper, and scribbled on the note hastily before returning.
“Here’s the address, and a little map. She closes late at night, because she lives there.” she said to me. I thanked her and took it, pocketing it for later. If I had time, I would go and see her before she closed.
“She lives in a library?” I inquired. I had noticed the strange habit by which some of the town’s occupants tended to work out of home (the mayor and Rarity sprung to mind). I had seen similar occupancy before in Canterlot, where living space was expensive, and often people would live on the second story over the top of their cafes or businesses. But out here, where space was abundant, I wondered why it occurred. It was traditional, presumably.
“Well, it’s more of a tree,” Fluttershy said, interrupting my thoughts.
“A tree…?”
“Well, on the inside it’s a library.”
“I understand,” I said, though I did not.
“I like the idea lot,” she said, throwing a glance around at the leafy roof. “This house was designed like a bush.”
“I noticed that, actually,” I murmured, following her gaze. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place very much like this.”
“Do you enjoy nature as well?”
“Well, I am not legitimately from the countryside, but I did grow up in a very small town to Canterlot’s northwest, so I do love it,” I said. This was of course, all true – I was raised on a farm in the cold Northern Highlands near Canterlot, towards Cloplin, and I moved to the big city of my own volition.
Fluttershy and I sat and talked a little more about various things that are presumably of great disinterest to you, dear reader. We spoke about my family, and my childhood, and hers and how she had fallen from Cloudsdale as a foal, and all manner of things. The point of me saying so is to make an excuse - for, in my eagerness to talk with Fluttershy, I lost track of the time. I glanced at my watch after what only seemed to be a short while, and noticed, to my surprise, that I had already consumed more time than I had intended, and that I ran the risk of running late for my meeting with Felicia.
Fluttershy seemed alarmed, for it was she who had been talking the most between the two of us.
“Oh, I’m so sorry to have made you late!” she cried, and immediately she searched around for some way to hasten my leaving.
“No, no – I am not late, but I must go now, or else the person I’m going to see will be most upset with me,” I said, getting to all fours. She then proceeded to walk me to the door.
“Is it a date?” she asked me, when we were halfway down the hallway that lead to the front door. I felt embarrassed in what was a rather childish way, and I searched for an appropriate answer, though none was forthcoming.
“Erm, yes, something of that nature,” I said rather sheepishly, and I heard again that delightful, bubbling laugh from Fluttershy.
“Lucky mare,” she said, before she opened the door. I was quite stunned that her reclusive nature allowed her to say such a thing, but I tried my best to hide my own shyness, simply forcing a laugh and bidding her goodbye.
“Thank you again, Fluttershy,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. She was obviously the more confident figure now she felt comfortable talking to me, and to confirm my suspicion she returned the farewell quite amiably and happily before we parted.
I smiled a final goodbye before walking back over the stone bridge, exiting out and back onto the main road.