Robot Pony

by Dreadnought

Pony Tales: Rarity

Author's Note:

Hello Darlings,

I hope you don't mind me taking a little longer to publish my fabulous contribution to this anthology series. I have been so busy of late with working on my spring fashion line and managing my three stores. But do, please, read and enjoy this piece of art.

It was a dark and stormy night. Quite unusual for Canterlot. The pegasi had been force to postpone numerous light rains due to the annual Spring Festival celebrating the end of winter and instead created a mass of black clouds that engulfed the capital. Now, as I gazed out the window, the streetlamp at the corner was barely visible through the pounding rain.

My evenings in the city typically were occupied by the latest society event or soirée. It seems everypony wanted to get the opinion of the latest up-and-coming fashionista. But not tonight. The thought of traipsing through the storm was horrid - even if I could have shown off one my fabulous raincoats. So instead, I took advantage of the respite to work on my spring collection from my upstairs workroom at Canterlot Carousel.

The lights flickered with the lightning of the storm. I sat lost in thought, my only companion the softly humming sewing machine before me.

BAM!

I bolted upright as the stitching of the new gown became ruined.

From downstairs I heard a blood-chilling scream. I rushed across the room and down the stairs to the darkened showroom. I lit my horn, useful not only for fighting back the shadows but also charging a powerful burst to repel a possible assailant. When I reached the bottom of the stairs the room lay still. The front door stood open, allowing the sound of the downpour outside to enter along with the occasional gust of wind-blown rain.

I took a breath and put as much courage into my words as I dared. "Is anypony there?"

Nothing.

I turned my head from side to side, but didn't see anypony. With my magic I flipped a switch and the showroom was filled with light and a second blood-curling scream. Except, this one was from me.

Sprawled in the center of my showroom lay none other than Fleur de Lis. Motionless. With a knife plunged into her back.

---

An hour later, I was again explaining my story to the detective. I told him I had been working upstairs when I heard a terrible noise from my showroom. Yes, I must have left the boutique's front door unlocked. No, I wasn't expecting her. Yes, I knew the victim. No, I had not tampered with any evidence. No, I didn't know the circumstances around her death.

Finally, the body was removed, and I was escorted downtown. I entered the police station, a place that could use a light feminine touch with some hard cleaning, and related my story again. The detective sat behind a typewriter filling out the forms. Once he was done, I had to sign my official statement.

"Thank you sir, I will head back to my shop. Perhaps have a nice, soothing tea."

"If you want my recommendation, hard liquor would be the way to go."

Given my nerves at the moment, he may have been right about needing something a little stronger. But hard liquor? No. A glass or two of pinot noir by the fireplace would suit me better.

He interrupted my train of thought. "One more thing."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come with me."

Confused, I followed him down to the basement and into a room. Upon a table lay a mass, hidden under a sheet. I gulped.

An elderly stallion entered the room. "Good evening miss, I'm the coroner for Canterlot. I'm going to have to have you officially identify the body."

I steeled myself, but even after seeing my friend earlier, I still felt sick. Her lifeless body lay upon the table. The knife had been removed but the wound still fresh, and I could see deep into the wound. I quickly confirmed it was Fleur before rushing to the bathroom to empty my stomach.

---

The next day I paid a call at the police station and was ushered to the detective I had met the night before.

"How can I help you miss?" he asked gruffly.

I bit my lower lip. "I don't mean to intrude, but I find myself in a difficult situation. I loaned a very valuable necklace to Fleur for last week's gala. I was hoping to retrieve it. I realize that an expensive necklace mysteriously disappearing from the victim's flat would raise questions. I would be ever so grateful if you could help me," I batted my eyelashes at the detective.

"Miss, we in the middle of a murder investigation."

"I realize that. Unfortunately, the client who had it special ordered will be coming to Canterlot to pick it up."

He sighed, "You're in luck. We've got a team over at her apartment right now."

---

The detective was kind enough to escort me to Fleur's apartment. It was not foreign to me. She had hosted me before for afternoon tea and once for a charity fundraiser. It was in an upscale building located on Canterlot's upper west side, the kind where most ponies find their year's pay spent on a month's rent. The posh penthouse had equally sweeping views of the city and the Equestrian countryside in the valley below. It had been decorated by a famed Manhattan designer using only the finest of imported furniture from Prance.

I followed the detective into the penthouse, and saw several other officers investigating the scene. One was reading through a pile of books on the coffee table, apparently searching through her diaries. Another was taking notes. I noticed the door to the large coat closet stood open. Inside hung shawls and capes and wraps, many of my own design. There was also a large coat fit for a stallion.

"Miss?"

"Oh, yes," I acknowledged.

"I'll take you to the back."

He led me back to the finely-appointed master bedroom. It was as equally impressive as the public areas of the penthouse. Curiously, the bed was unmade and a familiar scent, a perfume that I couldn't place a hoof on, lingered in the air. I saw an armoire and trotted over.

"She's here to retrieve her necklace," explained the detective.

"There's plenty of jewelry in there," responded the other officer. "It doestn' look like anything was taken."

I searched through all of her jewels. Honestly, I felt ashamed rummaging through a murdered mare's personal belongings, but my client would be in Canterlot that afternoon. Finally I found the necklace and, after showing it to the detective, carefully stowed it into my saddle bag.

As he led me out, I heard the other officers conversing.

"If you ask me, it was her coltfriend."

"Yeah, Fancy Pants is the prime suspect."

---

The next few days were scandalous. Fancy Pants, the noted member of high society, had been arrested for murder! The team of high-profile lawyers from Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and even San Franciscolt would make the upcoming proceedings the trial of the century.

I did my best to weather the storm. Being a friend of both Fluer's and Fancy's put me in a difficult position and cast guilt by association upon me.

I forced myself to attend society events. I could not, nor would not, hide in my boutique. I knew it would be best to be out letting ponies know I had nothing to hide. I will admit, however, that however easy that may sound on paper, it is quite the opposite when you are about with hundreds of eyes on you.

A week later I found myself at an upscale party. Of course, the main topic of conversation was the murder. Equicide was rare in Canterlot, but the high-profile nature of the victim and the accused, the grisly nature of the crime, and the speculation that the guilty would beat the rap all made it everypony's favorite piece of gossip.

"Well, they were known for having relationship issues," said one mares in the conversation.

"And he is known for having his way," said another.

I stomped my hoof. "I, for one, cannot believe that he did it. I know him, he's better than murder!"

"Perhaps you do not know him as well as you think," said the voice I least wanted to hear.

I spun around, "Prince Blueblood."

"They say the police have a solid case," he remarked as he continued on towards the bar.

---

That night I tossed and turned. I just couldn't get over it. Something was wrong. Something didn't make sense. Something didn't fit.

I bolted upright and gazed out the window. Two in the morning is not the time to be awake.

Unable to return to sleep, I trotted over to my workroom. Hopefully, the constant familiar drone would set my mind at ease so that sleep would return.

But I kept turning it over and over in my mind. Something was annoying me, like a mismatched button on a dinner jacket. Suddenly it hit me. I raced down the stairs and out the door. The police station was only a few blocks away....

---

I stood patiently by the door with a squad of police. Silence reigned. Finally, the door swung open.

"What is the meaning of this!?" he demanded.

"Prince Blueblood," I began. "We have found the murderer of Fleur de Lis."

"You have?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Yes. It was you."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous."

"It all makes sense. When I visited Fleur's penthouse I saw a stallion's coat in her closet. I, like the police, assumed it was Fancy's. But I had taken his measurements for a suit two month's ago. The coat in the closet was much too big for him. It must have come from another, larger stallion."

"I won't listen to this rubbish," he insisted, but found his path blocked by the police.

"In Fleur's bedroom, I smelled a delightful perfume. But last night I realized it wasn't perfume - it was a stallion's cologne. Juniper Phoenix, the same brand you're wearing now."

"That's not enough to accuse me, a member of the royal family - "

"And the knife was not any old knife. It was a dueling knife. They always come in pairs."

He glared at me.

A police officer added, "We searched your house today and found a matching knife - only one matching knife."

"Why you!" bellowed Prince Blueblood. He lowered his glowing horn at me. I gasped. A second later he was tackled by a group of police ponies.

"Well," noted the detective. "You certainly wrapped this case up."

"Yes. But it doesn't change the fact that somepony was murdered...."

Comments

[Boltstrike58]

I was kinda expecting Rarity to write a smut piece, but this is better.

[Dreadnought]

10712022
I doubt a pony of Rarity's standing would write smut. Twilight had already taken the shipping fic. Besides, I think Rarity had an ax to grind with a certain noble....

[Steakthedog]

Eh, not interested. Get sumthin that isn’t mystery. Mystery tends to be kinda boring.

[Dreadnought]

10715439
You know, I actually had/have plans for a sequel to my Nightmare Night story. I wanted to do it last year, but... you know what? Let's blame Covid. That's the popular thing to do now.

[Jphyper]

10926840
Story? You mean the Trek ideas? Those are not fleshed out enough for a full story. They're just ideas.

[wertyui]

10933554
yeah, it was apparently one of the lowest-rated shows they ever had

[wertyui]

10937494
already excited

[wertyui]

10937502
yes you did and i thank you for it

[wertyui]

10937495
i was inspired by a family guy joke on lesser prizes from the price is right

[wertyui]

10926733
oh yeah, you talked about survival training in some earlier posts