> Spark
>  by ThunderChaserCreate
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Miss Sparkle Plays Concerto Number 4- Part One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I don't really know what I'm doing here. I mean, I do, but I don't know what to say. It's kind of frightening, really. No, it's very frightening.
When I came to Ponyville, I never imagined that I'd be arrested. I'd only ever seen the interrogation rooms in photographs. It was all so unreal and nerve-wracking that I felt a little woozy. Though, to be honest, I could attribute that to the stench. The chair across the table was vinyl, with a disgusting stain on it. I didn't want to know what had made it.
I slid around in the cold metal chair, knowing that behind the mirror were several strangers, just watching what I did and trying to find enough evidence to get me in a huge amount of trouble. I tapped my hooves on the table, unconsciously creating the rhythm to the song he was playing. The last one he'd ever played. 
I let my hooves slide off the table and into my lap, rubbing my thighs just to keep busy.
After what felt like an eternity of that small, cold room, the door swung open.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," the stallion muttered in a deep voice as he slammed the door shut.
"U-um, that's... that's fine," I stuttered.
The stallion sighed deeply, opening a case file onto the table. He fell into the other chair, and it hissed as air escaped from a small tear. "Alright... I'm Context Clues, but you should refer to me as 'Sir' while we're here. Okay?" 
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Your name is Octavia Melody, and you're from Upper Trottingham, is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
He cleared his throat, taking a moment to re-read the evidence. His eyebrows knit together, and he looked back up at me. "Why exactly are you here?"
"I suppose it's because I was at the scene of the crime. Doesn't that make me a suspect?" I guessed.
Context rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, unless you wanted to put yourself in the line of danger, which isn't a normal standpoint. I was told you were next to him the whole time. How could you have fired the shot?"
I shrugged. "I don't think I could have."
Context continued to scan the file, but the look on his face seemed to convey boredom. He knew I wasn't the pony he was looking for. He sniffed, his mustache twitching. "Were you involved at all with each other? Romantic, platonic..."
"No. To tell you the truth, I didn't know him very well. He had only joined the orchestra a week ago. In fact, he hadn't bought a cello yet. He was borrowing one from the music store."
"Well, we'll still have to go through the motions, but--" Context winced at a squeaking sound behind the glass. 
"Um... what was that?" I asked, confused by the anger on his face.
"It's nothing. Look, I need you to tell me what--" He winced again, this time turning around to face the mirror.
"Is everything alright? If it isn't, we can just do this another time," I suggested, trying not to agitate the officer.
He sighed again, but it came out as more of a growl this time. "If you'll excuse me?"
"O-of course."
Context stood, trotting briskly out of the room. Within a minute, I heard muffled voices behind the glass. The only words I caught were, "Miss Sparkle, you need to control yourself!" from Context. A second female voice murmured an apology, and a third seemed to give an explanation.
Context sighed once more, and said, "Fine, but don't let it happen again!"
I heard more quick steps heading back towards the door, and Context poked his head in. "Miss Melody, you're free to go."
"Thank you," I said, standing on shaky legs and walking to the door.
Context held the door wide open, allowing me back into the open halls of the police station. I followed him, not sure where to go. He stopped at the next door, the one for the room where the ponies could watch me. He opened that one, too, and I peeked over his shoulder to see who was in the room.
There were two ponies inside. The first was attempting to make some kind a comment, his jaw opening and closing, but no words forming. The second was pressed close against the window, scrubbing it with a white piece of cloth. It squeaked loudly as it slid across the surface, trying to remove some kind of smudge.
Context sighed again. You could tell he was a rather stressed stallion. "Miss Melody, this is Lieutenant Cold Case." He gestured to the stallion.
"Hello." I waved. "Um... who's that, then?"
"That's Spark. Hey, Spark!" Context yelled. "Leave it be. We have a cleaning mare to do that."
"Hm? Oh, it's not a problem. It's nearly gone..."
He cleared his throat authoritatively. 
Spark turned to look at me. I recognized her immediately. 
"Oh, my god... you're the Princess! You're Twilight Sparkle!"
'Spark' waved off the comment, continuing to scrub the glass.
"Spark is a consultant for us. She's brilliant," Context said. He leaned down, his mustache brushing against my ear. "She's looking for an assistant. As you can see, she's a little off her rocker."
"Oh! Is that why you're here?" Spark dropped the cloth, turning to me.
"N-no..." I looked about the room, dearly confused. "I'm here-- well, I was here for an interrogation. I'm a suspect in The Noteworthy Case," I explained, remembering the title on the file.
"Oh..." Twilight nodded slowly. "I see." She turned away, lifting the wipe again and continuing to scour the window.
"Spark, I swear- hoof to Celestia- if you don't stop, I'll--" Context's voice was edging on a growl. He cut himself off, looking at the other pony. "Wait-- Gumshoe?"
"Hey..." the pony murmured, trying to smile but only managing a pathetic grimace.
"I'm sorry, I think I've missed something." I turned to leave. 
Context caught me by the shoulder. "No, no. Sorry. This is lieutenant Gumshoe. As you can see, he's bit... odd." Context stalked into the room, grabbing the lieutenant by the back of his collar.
"Hey!" Gumshoe struggled against the grip.
"You're here to keep her under control!" He nodded towards Twilight, who was absorbed in trying to remove a single hair from her wipe.
"Uh... apparently I've missed something... I'll just be going, then..." I squeaked, backing out of the room. Unfortunately, my awkward streak wasn't over yet. I backed right into another pony, knocking them to the floor. "Oh, my god! I-I'm so sorry, I--"
"It's fine... I'm used to it..." murmured an exhausted voice.
I turned, standing up to give the pony space. A grey unicorn lay on the ground, his red mane looking as frazzled as he must have felt. There was a shadow of a mustache on his upper lip, but it was so thin and faint that I couldn't be sure it was there. He had an interesting cutie mark: a black knight chess piece.
"H-hello..." I whispered. Something about him struck a chord with me. 
He groaned, nursing a bruise on his back leg, but stood. "Hi."
"Hi..." I answered. Then realized how idiotic I must have sounded. "Did I just say 'hello' twice?"
"I think so. I'm sorry, who are you?" He was brushing himself down.
"I'm Octavia. I-I was brought in for questioning. The Noteworthy case?" I suggested, wondering if he knew anything about it.
"Oh, that." He cleared his throat. "You a witness?"
"Mm-hm." I nodded.
"I'm Nightwhisper. I'm on the same case. Plainclothes," he explained.
"I see."
"I may have to speak with you later. Right now, I have an appointment with the Captain. If you'll excuse me?" He moved around me, toward the interrogation room.
"Um, sure..." I watched for a moment as the strange stallion left. I could feel my cheeks growing hot as I watched him flashing his badge and trotting authoritatively. 
Then came a face I wasn't sure I wanted to see. Twilight Sparkle, or rather 'Spark' as everypony seemed to be calling her, was led out of the observation half of the interrogation space by the Lieutenant. 
"You!" she called, her face lighting up.
I pointed to myself. "M-me?"
"Yes! Come with me, I want to show you something." She trotted past me, heading out.
I followed her, very confused. "Um... you do know I'm just a witness, right?"
"Oh, of course. You just struck me as the right kind of pony."
"F-for what?"
"To be my assistant, of course!" she said, as though this was obvious.
"I don't understand. Where are we going?"
She scoffed. "Where else? The scene of the crime: Fillydelphia Concert Hall."
> Miss Sparkle Plays Concerto Number 4- Part Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	I followed Twilight's brisk pace through the busy streets, following a familiar route that I had always taken to my practices. To tell the truth, I wasn't even sure why I was following her. She seemed a little crazy from what I'd seen, not to mention we were going to a restricted area where somepony had been murdered.
Nevertheless, I seemed to be staying right on her heels through the city.
Eventually, I had to break the silence. "Why me? I mean, why am I following you?"
She chuckled. "I don't know, you tell me."
"No, no. I mean... well, what I meant to say was..." I struggled to find the right words. "Never mind..."
Twilight shrugged. "Now, you're from Trottingham, right?"
"Well, actually--"
"No, no, no, don't tell me." She skidded to a halt, forcing me to stop short. 
Twilight held up a hoof, letting it hover just inches off my coat. she ran this hoof over me, stopping for a generous time on my bowtie. She stepped back, looking pleased with herself. "Upper Coltchester."
I blinked, confused. "That's right. That's amazing! How did you do that?"
"Your bowtie." 
I looked down at the pink satin bowtie and whit starched collar around my neck. "What about it?"
She sighed. "Well, two things. First: the way you've tied it. That's a style that is only used on a specific type of bowtie." A magenta glow appeared around the bowtie, removing it easily. "In total, this piece of cloth has three bulges. This kind is made exclusively, lowering its popularity and, therefore, availability. Second:" Twilight flipped the tie, showing me the back. "tag. I could see the edge of the tag and the first few letters of each line of text." Twilight took a closer look. "'Upper Coltchester Couturier. I was spot on, as usual."
"But you couldn't have guessed much from that! It-it could have been Upper Canterlot!" I insisted.
Twilight grinned. "No, it couldn't You have an accent specific to that area." Twilight went back to her brisk trot.
I stood there for just a moment, in awe, before galloping to catch up.
"So... what do I do? If I was to become your 'assistant,' what would I have to do? Would I get paid?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Ah!" We turned a corner, the dome of the Concert Hall finally coming into view.
Twilight made her way to the front door, which had been criss-crossed with caution tape. She took a shaky breath and just stood there, staring through the door to the wide room beyond.
"What? Shouldn't we go in?" I asked, trying to see what she was looking at.
"The tape..." she murmured, not moving.
"The... the caution tape?" I stared at Twilight. She nodded very slowly. "Well, what about it?"
"It's so... crooked." 
"What?"
"It's crooked!" she shouted, sounding genuinely upset.
"So what?"
She stuttered. "It's crooked..." she repeated.
"I-it's meant to be that way," I explained.
Twilight sighed, drooping her head. She then perked up. "Guess I'll have to fix it." She used her magic to take off all five pieces of yellow tape, then stuck them back on one by one, making sure they were perfectly straight before she pressed it onto the door frame.
I laughed. "Do you want a level?"
"Oh! Do you have one?"
I sighed. "Look, can you just forget about the tape? You said we had to investigate, so let's investigate!"
"A-almost done..." Twilight whispered, as though she feared her very breath would cause the tape to be uneven. I rolled my eyes, waiting as Twilight gently placed the last piece of tape. "There!"
"Good! Now go through!" A gave her a small push.
"W-w-w-w-wait!" She stuck a hoof in my way. "It's too low. We'll have to use some other entrance..."
I was honestly close to slapping her across the face, but I contained my anger. "Here. I'll fix it," I muttered, tearing off the three on the bottom and stuffing them in a nearby garbage can.
"That works. Good thinking." 
"Yeah..." I followed Twilight as she trotted through the now un-obscured door.
Now, I've never been to an actual crime scene. I had read about them once or twice, and even seen some pictures in the paper, but nothing really prepares you for it.
It was exactly the same as when I had been ushered out of yesterday. Instruments were strewn across the stage, cases left in their open and empty positions in the seats. Fluorescent green-yellow tape formed small circles on the floor where Noteworthy's hooves had been, and extended up to create the outline of his slumped, dead body. His cello leaned against the folding chair, a bullet hole still torn through the delicate wood. The sight sent small chills through me.
Police officers milled about, talking in hushed tones. I noticed that almost none of the stallions were clean shaven; they all wore mustaches, beards, of both. This extra-long hair hung over their mouths, so that words were muffled and caused the hair to twitch about. Very few mares were present, but the ones who were seemed a bit wary of the hairy faces. 
"Okay, here's what I need you to do:" Twilight jarred me from my thoughts. "You need to show me exactly what happened before I can start looking for clues. You were right next to Noteworthy when he was shot, so you probably have the clearest memory of the event. Go on."
"Um... well, we were practicing like normal--"
"No, don't just tell me. Show me." 
"A-alright..." I hauled myself up onto the stage, sitting in the seat to the right of the taped one. "I was sitting right here, we were playing Beetcloven's fourth and everything was pretty normal. Then, I heard this shot. I saw the bullet go through the cello hit him in the chest. There was some shrapnel that flew, I actually got hit right here." I pointed to a spot on my side where I had been grazed by a chunk of the thin wood.
"Did you see the shooter?" Twilight asked, fooling with a trumpet case on the stage. She couldn't seem to get the angle on it quite to her liking, but she wouldn't stop until it was perfectly straight.
"I caught a glimpse of somepony up on the balcony, but it could have been anypony, really," I admitted.
"What makes you say that? It must have been somepony working for the concert hall, right?" Twilight asked.
"Well... no, not exactly. See, the practices are what we like to call 'open house.' We let seniors from the old ponies home come and listen during our practices. Also, if they were a pegasus, they might have been able to fly up through an open window. Let me show you." I trotted towards the set of curling stairs that led to the upper level. Twilight looked concerned.
"Um... how about I stand at the back of the stage, and you show me from here," Twilight suggested.
"Well... it is a crime scene. And you are investigating. What's the matter?"
"It's just a bit... well, high..." she squeaked out.
I rolled my eyes, sighing. "Oh, fine." I walked briskly up the stairs and moved to the window, which was still open a crack. "This window here!" I pointed to it dramatically, shouting at the top of my lungs.
The entire room was silent. I ran to the edge of the balcony, looking down at all of the police and Crime Scene Investigators below.
I could feel my cheeks growing hot as I saw them all staring at me, and slowly sank to the floor.
"Spark!" shouted a familiarly gruff voice. "What the hoof are you doing?"
I peeked through the bars and saw none other than Context Clues making his way to the stage. He started talking to Twilight, and I came back down the stairs.
"Wait! I have a clue!" Twilight shouted suddenly, swerving around Context and coming out to the middle of the stage. "Noteworthy was left-hoofed!" she declared.
"... So what?" I asked.
"So everything! If he was left-hoofed, then the cello was on his right leg. That means his heart was exposed! So, why did the shooter fire through the cello? Unless..." she prompted.
"Unless they weren't aiming for Noteworthy. The shooter was after something else!" I realized.
"Or somepony else," Twilight confirmed. "The question remains: what was his real target?"