For Crimes Not Committed

by Scyphi

Burden of Proof

Unfortunately, the police ponies weren’t really interested in elaborating despite demands for an explanation, and instead they were roughly escorted out of the hotel in hoof-cuffs. Once outside they were separated and put in different police carriages, with Greta in one and Goldengrape another. So now on his own, Goldengrape was taken back to the Canterlot police station and moved into a somber-looking interrogation room with undecorated brick walls and no carpet. He was left alone here for some minutes, probably so to let him sweat out his situation before the cops came back to question him. If so, then it was working because he was definitely sweating with fear.

First he’d woken up in bed with a griffon he barely knew, had no memory of getting there or anything in-between, and now he was being accused of a murder he also had no memory of. He didn’t even know the unfortunate victim. Greg Griffon…wasn’t that the griffon Greta said she’d met back at the diner? Goldengrape realized that would only make it worse, considering how upset Greta had been about it. In the police’s eyes, that gave her motive…though he didn’t see how the cops figured he also fit into it.

He had time enough to wonder if maybe Greta hadn’t been so upfront with him after all, having actually killed some creature either before he’d met her or sometime during that gap of time he couldn’t remember…but a feeling in the pit of his stomach was nauseated by the idea. He reminded himself that he knew little about Greta, but he still had a hard time envisioning her as a killer, even if accidentally in a fit of anger. Besides, she seemed just as shocked by their accusations as he was. In fact, no matter how he turned it over in his head, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something about all of this didn’t seem right.

Eventually though the detective that ordered their arrest returned, entering the interrogation room accompanied by another more subdued unicorn officer that Goldengrape hadn’t met before. Without greeting their earth pony detainee, the two sat down on the other side from Goldengrape, the accompanying officer setting down a stack of items on the table between them. The detective, meanwhile, set up and started a compact phonograph to record everything that was said onto a wax cylinder.

“I am Detective Swift Case,” he then began speaking matter-of-factly. “Accompanying me is my partner, Shoofly.” He motioned to Goldengrape. “Please state your name for recordkeeping purposes.”

“Uh…Goldengrape,” the stallion replied nervously.

“Goldengrape, do you understand the position you are in?” Swift Case then asked.

“…No? Not really?” Goldengrape admitted. He realized this wasn’t particularly helpful for anyone, but he really didn’t know how else to respond to that question.

“Goldengrape, you and Miss Greta were seen by multiple witnesses entering the Trotter’s Hall apartment complex at around ten o’clock last night, followed by forcibly entering the penthouse of investor Greg Griffon where a scuffle was reported to be heard by other renters. You were both then seen hastily fleeing the scene again around ten to fifteen minutes later in a manner witnesses thought suspicious. Minutes later, Greg was found in his penthouse having been brutally stabbed to death.” Noting Goldengrape’s agape face at all of this, Swift Case leaned closer. “Do you care to elaborate on any of this?”

Goldengrape worked his jaw up and down for a moment, uncertain how to even begin. “There must be some kind of mistake,” he finally stated.

Swift Case skeptically raised his eyebrows at him. “Can you provide an alibi for where you were at the time of the murder then?” he challenged.

Goldengrape hesitated, biting his lip. “…no.”

“Can you provide any other evidence that would disprove your involvement?”

Goldengrape hung his head. “…no.” He then glanced up upon latching onto a possibility. “Wait, do you have evidence proving it?”

“Rather lots, actually,” Swift Case replied and nodded to Shoofly. “Not only do we have eyewitnesses, you were also caught on film entering and leaving the building.”

Shoofly then placed down a black and white photo in front of Goldengrape. To his dismay, it showed both himself and Greta rather determinedly entering a building’s lobby exactly as Swift Case described. A moment later and Shoofly placed down a similar photo of Greta and Goldengrape leaving again at an urgent trot and indeed looking suspicious.

“We also found hair and feather samples at the scene of the crime that match you both,” Swift Case continued, Shoofly also placing the evidence bags of which before him. Goldengrape noted with dismay that the powder blue strands of hair did indeed look like it came from his mane or tail, and the accompanying feather matched Greta’s pale green markings. “We also found additional evidence in the hotel room you and Greta clearly spent the rest of the night in. I’m sure you can confirm this uniform as your own, correct?”

Shoofly set down another, larger, evidence bag within which Goldengrape immediately recognized the work uniform he was wearing when leaving the diner last night. However now it was covered with what he realized, with a sickening lurch, were dried bloodstains.

“Greta’s clothing was found in a similar state,” Swift Case added conclusively.

Goldengrape wondered briefly how Greta was handling her own interrogation before realizing something and swiftly looked himself over. “But…how could I have gotten so much blood on my work uniform but not myself?” he asked, heart soaring at the hope this would prove himself innocent.

Swift Case quickly shot it down again though. “The shower in your hotel room had very clearly been used, no doubt to wash off any evidence of your actions,” he replied with a frown. “As well as anything else you two might have also done in there while you were at it.”

Goldengrape caught what he was implying, suddenly envisioning himself and Greta sharing a shower together and blushed profusely. He started to hyperventilate as this mess seemed to be getting worse and worse. “Look, sirs…I know how it looks, but I’m…” he hesitated, grumbling inwardly over his lack of memory, “…pretty sure I didn’t help kill anyone.”

“Oh really?” Swift Case asked. “Then I ask again: where were you at the time of the murder?”

Goldengrape worked his jaw up and down again. “…I don’t remember,” he was finally forced to admit.

Swift Case scoffed. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“It’s really not,” Goldengrape replied in dismay, “Because maybe then I could actually answer some of your questions.” He straightened. “Look, I know it looks bad, but I wouldn’t do any of this!”

Again, Swift Case scoffed. “Tell that to Greg Griffon.”

Shoofly then set down one final photograph of the state Greg’s body had been left in at the scene of the crime. Goldengrape later assumed they showed him this trying to get him to show remorse for his supposed victim. Instead, Goldengrape took one look at the graphic photo and discovered why the interrogation room had no carpet since he then proceeded to throw up all over the floor.

---

Ultimately Goldengrape still wasn’t able to prove his innocence. Since he couldn’t remember much of anything from that night, he couldn’t even be certain he wasn’t somehow involved, as unlikely as it was. Still, he did try, but he got the impression the questioning was really more a formality and the police already quite decided on convicting him. So dismaying though it was, he wasn’t really surprised when finally told he would be transferred to a prison until at least the case was brought before the court for formal prosecution, which Goldengrape was given no timeline for. Knowing how bogged down the Canterlot courts were with the many petty cases of the nobility, that could be months from now.

Being sent to prison proved fairly straightforward though. He was stripped of any personal clothes or possessions (which went quickly being already unclothed when arrested) and then put into an orange prison jumpsuit. All four of his legs were also cuffed, allowing him enough free movement to walk, but anything faster than a trot was difficult and he couldn’t really reach very far with any of his hooves without dragging the other three along with. He was then escorted into the back of a prisoner carriage where he met up again with the none-too-happy Greta, similarly dressed in a prison jumpsuit, her legs cuffed, and her wings bound to prevent her from flying. Goldengrape initially tried to speak with her so to find out her side of the story and if she knew anything he didn’t, but she instead motioned for him to keep quiet.

Once they were both inside the carriage, they were shackled together with a chain about five feet long that further hindered their movement. They were then sat down side by side on the carriage’s bench seating where that chain was latched to the carriage’s wall, effectively tying them to it. Once that was done, the police left, closing the doors behind them. A few moments later the carriage jolted forward by the two ponies Goldengrape had seen harnessed to it and they were on their way. There was only one window and it was both barred and rather small, but it was still big enough to see the Canterlot streets passing by as they went.

The first couple of minutes of the ride passed in silence before Greta finally spoke. “So how has your morning been going?” she asked, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Goldengrape winced to himself. “Not that great, honestly,” he admitted. He nearly returned the question before catching himself, already knowing what the obvious answer would be. “I take it you didn’t have any luck convincing the cops of anything either?” he asked instead.

Greta snorted. “Oh, that Swift Case guy didn’t even want to hear it,” she grumbled. “It’s profiling if I ever saw it, because he just wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise, not from the lack of trying.”

“Well, they did have photos of us coming and leaving the scene,” Goldengrape reluctantly pointed out.

“Oh, I know, I saw them too. But c’mon, Grapes, I can tell you’re not buying it either.” She groaned. “But they are. And the fact they found us both together in that hotel room just seemed to confirm it in their heads. Not that it mattered anyway, because I can’t recall enough to claim anything untrue. I wasn’t even sure whether or not we did something in that hotel room, so much so somebody decided they probably ought to do a rape test—”

Goldengrape turned horrified. “I would never—!”

“I know, I know, it’s okay!” Greta quickly reassured him. “Don’t worry, it all came back negative, so it doesn’t look like we actually did anything after all. Honestly that checks out because normally I’d still be feeling it the next morning, so…”

Goldengrape breathed a sigh of relief, glad that was one weight off his shoulders. But then he realized it only raised more questions. “Wait, but then why did we both wake up in bed together?” he asked, unsure why they’d do that if it wasn’t for the obvious.

“See, that’s just it,” Greta said, scowling. “Something very much isn’t adding up about all of this and that’s bad since someone’s been killed over it.”

Goldengrape swallowed uncomfortably, remembering the grisly crime scene photos he’d been shown. “The griffon who was murdered,” he began cautiously, knowing how this would sound to Greta, “that was the same one you had that argument with, wasn’t it?”

Greta nodded solemnly. “I don’t need to tell you how that makes me look. But I never wanted the guy dead.”

“I believe you,” Goldengrape assured. “I just wish I could make everybody else believe it too.”

“It’s worse than that though, Grapes,” Greta said seriously before turning to look him dead in the eye. “What’s the last thing you do remember before waking up in that hotel room?”

Goldengrape thought about it for a second. “I remember you at the diner and eating all those burritos…after that there was us leaving the diner…then we stopped at that party potion stand…” he paused, blinking to himself. “Greta, the last thing I remember was drinking that potion with you.”

Greta nodded. “That’s the last thing I remember too,” she confirmed. “So it’s a safe bet there was something in that potion that wasn’t supposed to be.” She let her gaze peer out the carriage window. “Grapes, I think someone’s set us up.”

Goldengrape felt a chill run through him at that. “But why? Why would anyone go to such lengths to frame us for a crime we didn’t commit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they knew I’d argued with Greg and figured that made me perfect for taking the fall. And because you happened to be there with me, you were thrown in just to sweeten the deal.” Greta heaved her biggest sigh yet. “Either way, I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this.”

The apology, while appreciated, felt bittersweet given circumstances. “It’s not your fault, Greta,” he assured her. “We should be focusing on exonerating ourselves anyway.”

“Yeah, and how exactly are we going to do that, Grapes?”

“I…honestly have no clue at all.”

So a somber silence fell between them after that. Goldengrape spent it looking out the carriage window, noting they definitely seemed to be heading out of the city as they were already traveling past the edges of Canterlot.

“Where do you think they’re taking us anyway?” Greta asked abruptly. “Nobody told me exactly.”

Goldengrape hadn’t been told either outside of the non-generic “prison.” He looked outside for a moment, trying to determine their exact route. “Well, since they’re taking us out of the city, ruling out the guard station prison and the royal dungeons…I’d guess the Mount Canter Penitentiary on the northern side of the mountain.”

“Any idea what that’ll be like?”

“Not really, but considering it’s a mostly underground facility and…you know…a prison, I’d imagine it’s not fun.”

“Great.” Greta’s arctic blue eyes gazed out the window for a long moment. Outside, the landscape had already transitioned from city to countryside as the carriage made steady progress. Finally, she spoke again, this time more thoughtfully. “You know, we keep asking ourselves why frame us when maybe what we should be asking is why murder Greg?”

Goldengrape blinked at that point. “You think you weren’t the only one he ticked off?” he asked, following her thinking.

Greta nodded. “And considering he was an investor, then whatever it was it almost certainly concerned money, which means there’d be a record of it somewhere and where there’s a record…”

“…there could be proof of our innocence!” Goldengrape gasped in excitement. “But where would you even find those records?”

“Greg’s office immediately comes to mind,” Greta replied without hesitation. “He clearly kept all of his financial documents there.”

Goldengrape furrowed his brow for a moment, tapping a yellow hoof in thought. “Wouldn’t the police have searched there for clues when he was murdered?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Greta relented. “But they clearly didn’t find anything that stopped them from arresting us, so if there’s any chance they’re still there, that’s the place to check.” She thumped her head on the carriage wall behind her. “If only we could get out of here to go look!”

“How would we even do that though?” Goldengrape asked, thinking it not even worth considering. “Just unlatch the door and throw it open?” To prove his point, he slammed his hoof down on the carriage door’s latch and gave it a shove.

It swung open freely and with great ease.

Shocked, Goldengrape scrambled to quickly grab and latch it again. A moment passed as he and Greta both held their breath wondering if their pullers noticed, but the carriage continued rolling forward like nothing happened. So Goldengrape stared at the door in utter astonishment.

“Whhhhyyyyy is this not locked?” he finally asked in a breathy whisper. “Did…did they somehow forget?”

“Who cares?” Greta hissed back, turning eager. “This could be our chance to get out of here! If we time it as we go down the right stretch of road…” She leapt towards the window to check only to be stopped part way by the chain tethering them to the carriage wall. She looked back at it with a frown. “Oh…right.”

“Are you sure running away is really smart?” Goldengrape asked while watching her tug at the chain. “The police will only add it to the list of charges against us and we’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

“They’re about to lock us up and throw away the key,” Greta pointed out in return, “What makes you think we’ll still escape that once we’re there?”

“Yeah, but if we explain to the police our theory about Greg’s real killer…” Goldengrape began.

“Grapes, the police wouldn’t believe us when we told them we didn’t murder anyone,” Greta retorted pointedly. “What makes you think they’d any sooner believe us with this? To them, the evidence is still too stacked up against us!” Seeing the yellow stallion wilt at that thought, she put a comforting paw on his shoulder. “Look, I get it, this is all a lot to deal with, but…”

“It’s more than that, Greta,” Goldengrape admitted, hanging his head. He bit his lip. “I do get what you’re saying, but I’m worried that we’ll just dig ourselves in deeper doing it.”

“Hey, I’m worried too,” Greta assured him as she lifted his chin so to seriously look him in the eye. “Particularly since I can’t guarantee any more than you that it’ll even get us anywhere. But we gotta try anyway, and right now, even though it doesn’t seem like it, I think going at it on our own is our best bet.” She gazed at him with such genuineness that Goldengrape could tell she meant it. “Trust me.”

Goldengrape hesitated. He barely knew this griffon. Arguably, by her own admission, him even being in this mess was because of her. Yet seeing the troubled emotions racing across her face reminded him that she was as much a victim as he was, and as such, she needed his help…just as he was realizing he needed hers.

He looked at the latch holding the chain shackling them and the wooden carriage wall it was bolted to. “All right,” he replied, turning resolute. “I’ve got an idea.”

He stood and faced the latch. Of course, it wouldn’t be as simple as just opening it since the police wouldn’t want them doing that. So Goldengrape instead grasped the chain attached to it with both hooves and pulled with all his strength. Earth pony strength, don’t fail me now! He felt Greta grab him around the middle and throw her larger mass into pulling too. They were rewarded with the latch popping free by its mountings so suddenly they would’ve tumbled noisily to floor if they hadn’t caught themselves.

They waited another moment to see if their pullers noticed anything, but again nothing changed. “Let’s go,” Greta whispered, taking the lead now.

She unlatched the carriage door again and carefully swung it open so to not make any noise. She then carefully stepped out onto the carriage’s rear step, inching all the way to one side of it before motioning for Goldengrape to follow. Latching the door behind him again, he did so, anxiously pressing his back against the carriage and trying not to fall. They waited until they were heading down a relative straight section of road before jumping off then quickly ducking into the foliage lining the lonely country road. From there, they watched the carriage continue on without them, its pullers apparently still none the wiser. After a couple of minutes passed with no sign of the carriage doubling back or their escape being found out, they both started to breathe freely again.

“With a little luck, nopony will realize we escaped right away,” Greta commented to Goldengrape as she turned and surveyed their mountainside surroundings. “But for right now, we need to put some distance from here or else it won’t matter.”

Goldengrape nodded in agreement, putting his trust in the chestnut brown griffon. “Well, you seem to have a better idea on what to do than me, so…what’s the plan?”

Greta grinned slightly as she held up the cuffs binding her forelegs. “First, we ought to find a way to get out of these.”

Goldengrape took in the backcountry around them. “Well, I don’t think we’ll find anything that’ll help us with that here,” he murmured.

Greta nodded in agreement as she started ahead. “Which is why we’re going to have to go looking for it instead,” she responded before giving his powder blue tail a tug. “C’mon!”

Author's Note:

Another day, another chapter...

Comments

[Yoshifan30]

Shoofly then placed down a black and white photo in front of Goldengrape. To his dismay, it showed both himself and Greta rather determinedly entering a building’s lobby exactly as Swift Case described. A moment later and Shoofly placed down a similar photo of Greta and Goldengrape leaving again at an urgent trot and indeed looking suspicious.

Oh boy it doesn't look too good for them

[Yoshifan30]

Greta nodded. “That’s the last thing I remember too,” she confirmed. “So it’s a safe bet there was something in that potion that wasn’t supposed to be.” She let her gaze peer out the carriage window. “Grapes, I think someone’s set us up.”

yeah I kind of figured somebody did

[Yoshifan30]

“How would we even do that though?” Goldengrape asked, thinking it not even worth considering. “Just unlatch the door and throw it open?” To prove his point, he slammed his hoof down on the carriage door’s latch and gave it a shove.

It swung open freely and with great ease.

Wow they kind of suck at keeping everything secure

[Yoshifan30]

Well then it doesn't look too good for them so apparently they interrogate both of them about the murder of Greg the Griffin which apparently Golden Grape and Greta had no idea and they try to explain they have no idea how but unfortunately security pictures and all the items that they have all pointed at them and up to the hotel so basically the evidence are way too strong and they have no answer so unfortunately they're both guilty and they're hitting for the prison Greta and Golden Grape tried to figure out why would anybody frame them and she felt like she got him into this mess but he wants to reassure her that's not really her fault they just have to figure out to get out of here but with luck and some stupidity the cops forgot to lock the dang door and not only that getting a stronger chain that these two yanked It Off but it looks like they finally got away and now they had to figure out how to clear their name and find the real killer I guess we'll find out next time

[Scyphi]

11595509
To be honest, that whole escape sequence altogether probably needs more work, logistically speaking, but with the contest deadline coming up quick, I don't have enough time to keep tinkering with it, so it'll have to do.