• Published 23rd Aug 2014
  • 1,872 Views, 41 Comments

Murder on the Friendship Express! - Shahrazad



Pinkie meets some interesting characters on the train ride home, and a mystery is ahoof! Missing odds and ends, a million bits, oh and let’s not forget the murder! Can Detective Pinkie solve the case before the whole thing flies off the tracks?

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It could have happened LIKE THIS!

Pinkie Pie whirled on Ol’ Bitty, pointing the syringe like a sword with a tuft of her dexterous mane. “So, grandma, thought you could get away with it?”

Bitty backed away from the syringe, like it was filled with acid. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t done anything wrong!” she said with a sweet, creaky voice. “I’m just a poor, old, homeless mare.”

“Uh huh, sure you are. Homeless because Felix and his company tricked you out of your home. You've been trying to talk to him for months, but he wouldn't give you the time of day. Why would he? He’s got your house, what does he need you for? But you… you couldn't let it go.”

“Hang on a second, how do you know she done it?” Slate asked, while pointing a hoof at Bitty. “She’s an old dame, are you sure she coulda killed Felix?”

“It’s elemental, my dear Slate,” Pinkie said, while stroking her fake mustache with one hoof. “It’s by process of elimination.” The rest of the ponies in the car nodded.

“How do yous figure that?” Slate asked.

Pinkie slowly advanced on Bitty, while she explained, “First off, I know Ignis and Hot Shot aren't guilty. Just big fat liars.”

“HEY!” Hot Shot exclaimed. “We’re not liars!”

Pinkie blew a raspberry. “Give it up, Hot Shot. I know you’re her private-private.”

Slate rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Yeah, I think we all knows that.”

Pinkie shook her head. “Not like that. He’s a private detective. Ignis hired him to get dirt on Felix, in order to save her father’s company. They’re not really engaged or anything. That’s just a cover story so Ignis has an excuse to stick around.”

Ignis hung her head. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Shot. It’s all my fault. If I were a better actor…”

“Nonsense, Miss Lignum. You did an exemplary job. Things just got a little out of hoof when Felix got killed. If only we could find some evidence, maybe trace the money for the bearer bond?” Hot Shot smirked at Pinkie. He pulled out a fedora and put it on his head. Then he popped a toothpick into his mouth. “I guess there ain't no sense in acting anymore. Course, I’m not gonna quit ‘til we find some proof that Felix is a lying cheat. How’d you know?” Hot Shot tilted his head at Pinkie.

“Easy: you two kept acting like you were doing the horizontal tango, but you aren't smelly or sweaty,” Pinkie explained. “You two never quit; you overplayed your hoof. I suspected something was going on, so when I checked your mattress, I saw the sheets were rumpled, but there wasn't any sweat soaking them. Plus, I found the pictures you took of Felix at the train station. You were spying on him. It probably would've worked, too, if he wasn't murdered. And bonus for you: that means you have a motive to keep him alive. It’s tough to find out what Felix was doing if he’s dead.”

Slate stared at Hot Shot, mouth agape. “So, what about the rest of them?” he asked.

Pinkie continued, “So that eliminates Ignis and Hot Shot. I know Whistle Stop didn't do it; like I said, his motive is the weakest. And most importantly: he really was poisoned. Why would he poison himself if he were the killer? I checked his heart rate, and he wasn't faking it.” Pinkie took another step toward Bitty, who backpedaled away, while she continued her explanation. “The engineer didn't do it, either. He was in the engine room the whole trip, except when he came in here to have a smoke. Tiny couldn't have done it. She’s too short to have caused the wounds on the body. If she were the killer, the blows would be from an upward angle.”

“HEY are you calling me— uh, yeah. I’m too short…” Tiny sighed, then blushed. “Heh, I never thought being short would work in my favor.”

Slate glanced into the corner of the room, and saw a pair of cigarette butts snuffed in the corner. “Smokes…?”

“Yepperooni, so that leaves Ol’ Bitty. You’re a big-fat-liar, too!”

Ol’ Bitty looked to be on the verge of tears. “I am not a liar! Why won’t you take pity on a poor, old, homeless mare?”

Slate tilted his head. “Uh, aren't you forgetting…?”

“Psshhh. Homeless? Yeah. Poor? Well, you’re not rolling in bits, but plenty of other ponies have it worse. Old? Only as old as you think you are. And you don’t think of yourself as OLD!” she shouted, then quickly snatched away Ol’ Bitty’s cane with a snap of her jaws. She spat the cane away, which clattered on the floor behind her. “See? You’re not a weak, old mare. You just like the pity; it puts ponies off guard.”

Ol’ Bitty’s eyes narrowed at Pinkie. “So what if I like it when ponies treat me well? Without that cane, most ponies treat me like dirt! Just look at Felix, he stole my home!” Her voice held none of the warmth it had before. Now she was screeching like a banshee.

“I know, an excellent motive. All you had to do was get the wrench, hide it somewhere in the dining car, flick off the lights, brain Felix with the wrench, then drag his body here. Of course, you had to bribe the engineer with the bond, because he was smoking in here, and would have seen you.” Pinkie blew a few bubbles on her pipe. “It’s probably a good thing the engineer didn't smoke near all that coal. I like not being on a flaming train.”

“WAIT A MINUTE!” Slate hollered. “You mean the engineer has the dough?”

“I’m almost sure of it. Why else would he try to help the killer? Once the killer got rid of the body here, they returned to the dining car and waited for the lights to come back on. Of course, cleaning yourself in the sink here won’t get all of the blood off. Some of it probably splattered on the killer, which is why I’m using the luminol. This will prove who the killer is.” Pinkie advanced on Ol’ Bitty, who had backed into the wall, with nowhere left to run. “The jig is up!”

“Uh, what about—” Slate never finished. Pinkie squirted Ol’ Bitty with the luminol and flicked off the lights…

And nothing happened. There was a moment of complete, still, silence in the car. Slate flicked the lights back on, with one brow raised at Pinkie.

Pinkie didn't even blink. She whirled on Quiet Quill and yelled to Slate, “GET HER!”

Quill collapsed onto the ground and dug a small bottle of pills out of her saddle bag. She cried quietly when she popped a pill. “I-it’s t-too much. I-I-I need my medicine!”

“NO!” Pinkie cried, as she and Slate tackled Quiet Quill. Pinkie tore the pill bottle away. “Hold her! Sit on her if you have to!” She and Slate literally sat on Quiet Quill, pinning her down.

Slate looked over his shoulder at Pinkie, along with the rest of the group. With wide eyes, he asked what everypony was thinking. “You sure this quiet little thing is our killer?”

“Killer? Yep, she’s the only one left with a motive that I haven’t eliminated. Plus, she’s nuttier than a granola bar! Fruitier than a fruitcake! Crazy, with a capital K!”

“Let. Me. Up.” Quiet Quill said from under Slate and Pinkie. Her voice had changed. Not dramatically, but something in the tone. A gleam in her eyes made Slate grind his flank just a little harder into her back. “I said, let me up. Think you’re a big, strong stallion? I’ll CUT OFF YOUR—”

“Yeah yeah, I already said you were crazy.” Pinkie pulled out the diary again and began to read.

Slate looked a bit pale. “I've had some angry ex-marefriends, but this is the first time I believe she’d do it.”

“Oh, she’d slice you up and not even care. Or remember, for that matter.” Pinkie re-read a particular line in the diary, then asked Quiet Quill, “So, who am I talking to?”

Ignis scoffed. “And here I thought I hired the wrong detective. Don’t you remember? Her name is—”

“Razor Quill, and don’t you forget it! I’m going to cut that name into your flank, you dumb airhead!” Quiet Quill, or Razor Quill, said from under Pinkie’s tail. She struggled to stand, sending a flicker of fear through Slate. She was incredibly strong! If it weren't for Pinkie helping him, he wasn't sure Razor Quill would stay pinned down.

“H-how did you know there was another pony here with us? Or in her head, or whatever? Who is she? Razor Quill, or Quiet Quill?” Hot Shot asked.

Pinkie smiled. “Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Shot! There’s no way for you to know unless you read her diary. Here,” Pinkie said, as she hoofed the diary over. Razor Quill bucked, causing Pinkie to wobble, but she firmly pinned Razor in place.

Hot Shot took the dairy and read. His eyes went wide. “This is amazing! I've heard of split personalities, but I don’t think I've ever seen it in a real pony before! It’s so obvious now.” Ignis looked over Hot Shot’s shoulder, while Tiny used her magic to force the diary down a bit so she could read it.

“I don’t get it, Pinkie read this part already. It’s signed, Quiet Quill. What’s all this about split personalities?” Tiny asked.

Hot Shot chuckled, a grin splitting his face. “It isn't in the words, exactly. I mean, the prose changes, but maybe that’s just her ‘muse’ coming back. No, it’s the writing itself. Notice how the style changes completely at this paragraph? And then it changes back a bit later? Writing is like a hoofprint; it’s unique to everypony. A change like this can only happen if the writer is a different writer.”

“You got it, Hot Shot,” Pinkie chirped. “I’d say you’re a good detective.”

He chuckled back, “Yeah, even without a cane, Ol’ Bitty isn’t strong enough to commit this murder. I wouldn't have even suspected her, but you really wanted to make sure, didn't you?”

“Uh huh! Oh, um, say…” Pinkie’s hair deflated a bit. “I’m kinda stuck here ‘til the police arrive. Could you…?”

“Oh, sure thing!” Hot Shot turned and trotted forward.

“Where are we going?” Ignis asked.

Hot Shot put a hoof on the engine room door. “We’re going to get the bond back from the engineer. I don’t think he’ll put up a fight, but just in case, stay behind me.”

Ol’ Bitty stood over the trapped Razor Quill. “All of this, and for what?”

“Feldspar, of course!” Pinkie replied. “Oh, you mean why did she do it? Well—”

Razor Quill blew a lock of Pinkie’s tail hair out of her face and screamed, “I’ll kill every stallion in the world if it’s the last thing I do! Disgusting, filthy, philandering thieves! You think you’re tough, huh? You think—”

“Oh, put a sock in it,” Pinkie interrupted, stuffing a rolled pair of socks in Razor’s mouth, silencing her. “I read the diary when I tasted it,” Pinkie said, while Bitty rolled her eyes. “Quiet Quill has a miserable life. In order to cope with it, this other personality came out.” Pinkie’s hair deflated, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “It’s really sad. Oh, when the police get here, can you tell them Quiet Quill needs to be placed in an asylum, not jail? She needs help.”

Ol’ Bitty’s jaw dropped. “She just murdered a pony!”

Pinkie shrugged and replied, “That doesn't change the fact that Quiet Quill will be punished along with Razor Quill. Quiet Quill didn't do anything, she just wanted to be left alone. How would you like it if you were punished for something you did while you were sleepwalking?”

Tiny backed away from the still-struggling Razor Quill, and nearly fell when the train rapidly slowed to a stop. “We’re safe!”

Flashing blue and red lights reflected off of the train windows. Several police ponies tromped on board the train and took the still-babbling Quill away. She kept switching between soft-spoken apologies to vicious, bloody threats, sometimes in the same sentence.

Hot Shot shoved the engineer out of the engine room. “Smart move, buddy. Lots of police stallions here, just co-operate with them. I believe your story, you should be okay.”

The engineer hung his head and stammered, “O-okay.” Hot Shot nodded to the police stallions, who slapped hoof cuffs on the engineer. “I swear, she made me do it! You don’t argue with a crazy mare covered in blood, you just take the junk she gives you and don’t cross her!”

“Didja find it?!” Slate asked, with barely contained excitement.

Hot Shot produced a gilt sheet of paper. “You mean this little note? It’s just got a bunch of zeros on it, I don’t know why everypony wants it…” he said with a mischievous grin.

“Gimme that!” Slate deadpanned as he swiped the note from Hot Shot. “I guess I should return to headquarters with the bond. Nothing more for me to do here.”

“Hold on for a second,” Pinkie said to the engineer, as he was being led away with hoof cuffs. “Do you have any feldspar?”

The engineer shrugged and replied, “Yeah. That crazy mare told me to keep the bond and this rock. She said paper beats rock, and the rock was going to destroy the world, so I had to keep the rock covered in the paper. How crazy is that?”

Pinkie laughed. “That’s silly, everypony knows feldspar won’t destroy the world. Only limestone can start armageddon. Now, hoof it over!”

The police stallions and the engineer went wide-eyed at Pinkie. “Better do as she asks,” Hot Shot commanded. The engineer produced the feldspar from his saddlebag and gave it to Pinkie.

~~~~~

“And that’s how I solved the mystery of the missing feldspar. Aren’t you proud of me, Daddy?” Pinkie sat at the old oak dining table, surrounded by her family. They looked on during her story with what could best be described as mild interest. Of course, with the Pie family, one could never truly tell.

Igneous Rock scratched his beard and replied, “Thank you, Pinkie. I’ve always enjoyed your silly stories. I could never make up something like that myself.” The rest of the Pie family nodded and ‘smiled.’ The smiles were only detectable with precision microscopes, but Pinkie noticed.

Pinkie wasn’t smiling. “But it’s all true! And I finished the rock collection! Aren’t you proud of me?”

Her father replied, “Of course I’m proud of you. I’m glad you remembered your fillyhood instruction. Feldspar is a common rock that can be found lying on the ground almost anywhere. I just like the way you talk about it, like it’s really special to you. It makes me happy.”

Pinkie’s eyes shifted left and right. “Heh, common rock, found on the ground. Of course…”

Author's Note:

Not the way you expected the story to end?

No problem... the next chapter is another way the story could have ended.