> Taking the Case in Hand
>  by IGIBAB
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1 - The Cakes Problem
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

That sound. The mild noise of industrial plastic getting creased up. The sweet smell of that heap of glucose, food colouring, and glucose again. It's more of a habit, a bad habit, than a real pleasure.

It's been a few years now since I started buying only those candies from Baltimare. They taste worse than the ones from Canterlot, and the differences with Ponyville's cannot be expressed by words. But the prices are way more competitive, and when looking at the amount I swallow everyday, I'm better off thinking about my wallet first.

Strangely, the feeling of that little sweetness on my tongue is always the same, unchanged since all those years. The sugar beginning to dilute on my buds right after the first contact. The saliva slowly rising while I start to roll the candy in my mouth, in order to have every pieces of my tongue, every square centimetres of sensors, able to enjoy the taste.

I put the paper on the desk, next to my crossed hind legs and some other wrappings, some of them glued to the wood by the weeks gone by. Then, I lean my back into my chair again, taking the same nonchalant position, to wait.

This room is really in a dirty state. The desk is a mess, not counting the papers and the empty packages of all kinds lying on the ground, some spilling their white grains all over the floor. The shelves are covered in dust, so much so that it's impossible to distinguish what was originally on them. Books with faded titles, pictures discoloured. And that magnifying glass next to my leg, barely transparent because of the dirt.

The chair squeaks from old age, as I'm slightly swinging on two of its legs. Paradoxically, it's the place where I feel the most alive, the most myself, and the most dead at the same time. Maybe it's chronological: Once, I was here alive, I am here now myself, and I will be here...

Nobody today, again. Evidently, there's not enough stuff happening here for someone to cross that old door with a blurred window.

A blurred window, I've always been unaware of the official term and found that really cliché for a detective. But it's also because I liked that cliché that I got one installed. It's silly, the designation should figure on the receipt, but I didn't think about checking it.

The light is decreasing behind the blinds, letting some pretty orange stripes appear in my office.

A small wind also blows by the small opening of the window, slightly lifting the curtains, making the light undulate.

Noises are coming from outside. Probably foals playing. I even hear their parents calling for them, the evening is coming, so most likely to go home, eat, that kind of stuff...

I'll have to go home soon, to make myself something. I mean, I have time, there's no risk of someone coming to tell me to clean up my desk, to do something... Not anymore.

But oh well, I'm hungry, and sweets are nourishing, but only up to a certain extent.

A strange smell of something burning comes up. It's from the street. An odour of caramel accompanies it. Sacrilege! Who dares letting a dish containing sugar burn!?

... Darn, I'm getting carried away. Keep your calm Bonbon, close the windows, the curtains, get out of the office and... Rha! Nasty paper, what are you doing on my way!? Let go of my hoof! Every time it's the same, the paper soaked in this glue sticks to my coat, and when I use a hoof to remove it, it stays gripped on the other. Some help from a unicorn would be useful. But, since there's none here anymore, I just get it to stick on the desk. Another one that will solidify here, like an old Hearth's Warming Eve's decoration made by a three years old foal in kindergarten. Maybe I should try to do arts?

This absurd thought gets a little laugh out of me as I walk towards the door, a little more into it than usual. Why? Nothing special happened today. This day has even been as boring as possible and I didn't even take advantage of it to evaluate my situation.

Does the answer to this sober excitement lie behind the door? Nothing seems to be there. I open it and disappointment appears in me. No one. Not even a letter from one of my friends, from here, from Canterlot or even from Manehattan.

A small sigh and I go on the left. My office is a door located inside a rectangular courtyard.

I wasn't always the only one to propose my service here. Back in the day, the mail company was facing my office, for example. Along the four walls, there are many doors, shops and store fronts, all closed. In the past, they were open all day long and everypony was exchanging happy discussions, laughs and customers. Mail, dentist, doctor, library, a bunch of public installations and administrations. Even the market took place in the middle of this great square, when this place was still Ponyville's centre.

All of them ended up rising and took their independence. The city hall was rebuilt somewhere else and this area started to decay. It's not in ruins either, but after ten years... That's progress.

My hooves tread on this paved earth on which greenery is taking back its right, since no one is there to trample it. I walk under a little arch made of stone leading to Ponyville, its outskirts. Since the great series of renovations and constructions, the old city-centre has nothing of a centre anymore.

"I was waiting for you," says an enchanting voice, causing me to jump.

Left of the exit, sitting on a bench, evidently embarrassed and wearing her work cap. A unicorn whose colour immediately gives you a taste of strong mint at the bottom of your mouth. Her presence alone angers me, and the fact that she addressed me with such discomfort, that can only mean one thing, it infuriates me even more. I look away and pick up my pace. She starts going after me, of course.

"Bonbon, wait!"

I don't listen to her. I won't give her that pleasure, not after what she's done to me.

"Listen to me! I need to talk to you!"

This troubled wobbling in her voice, that pleading tone. She knows what I think, what I feel. And she still tries. Dammit she's so stubborn! I coldly reply:

"You're on duty! You should not talk about that!"

"But precisely! That's why I came to see you!"

I abruptly stop. I hear that she does the same, a few meters behind.

"And what does the non-commissioned officer Heartstrings have to tell me?"

"Mr. Cake is dead. He's been murdered."

I hear the singing of the birds stop in the distance, as well as the sound of the town, as my heart skips a beat, the smell of burned up caramel still floating in the air. This day was supposed to end without troubles.
> Chapter 2 - The First Crime of the Decade
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The body was found half an hour ago," states the intern. "The cause of death appears to be asphyxia following strangulation done by a rope, or a similar object, absent from the scene of the crime."

The place reeks of burning. So, that smell was coming from there. The poor baker is lying in front of his oven, the classical look of surprise and fear on his face. He didn't see his death come. Poor him.

"Where is his wife?" I say. "And his children?"

"Mrs. Cakes is, apparently, gone for a delivery in Canterlot today and the foals are sleeping upstairs. We'll have to wait for the autopsy results, but the death probably occurred during the afternoon."

"Around two hours ago."

The intern looks at me, surprised. I explain myself, tired of noting that no one here knows this.

"What he was cooking requires lowering the temperature at the end. Judging by the thermostat, he got to the end, and seeing the carbonisation of his dish, and the smell that reigns in town, it's been two hours since the baking should have ended. Furthermore, he was in front of his oven, so he was waiting for something. Either he had just set the thermostat, or he was readying himself to get the dish out."

It's the first murder in Ponyville in years. It's troubling and worrying. But beyond that, this crime affects me. The best baker in all of Equestria. Maybe a crime done by the concurrence then? A first lead.

And those idiots looking at me, impressed. Those are our town's forces of law. Police chief Whooves must have had a field day, sending so many agents and going so far as to find the only private in town. The one time that something's happening, it's not surprising that he wants to overdo things.

Only Lyra, to whom I deliberately turn my back to, isn't looking at me with astonishment. From what I know, she's not fixating me, but I sometimes feel her glancing at me, for a brief second.

One of the officers sighs.

"If only his wife had been there, maybe then..."

"Maybe there would be two corpses instead of one, think a bit about what you're saying."

I'm most likely a bit too harsh to cut him like this, but that kind of dubious supposition on a past event gets on my nerves. The things that count are facts, not what could have been.

"From what we know, their store employed two interns," explains Lyra. "We're going to verify their alibi."

I examine the scene, getting to the counter to spot any traces of clues. 

Some candies in a pretty basket made out of wicker, various pastries in the window display. I open the cash register. Full. Robbery is not the motive then. Yet, a detail gets my attention. Amongst the bits, a small candy, similar to the ones in the basket, is abnormally present.

I invite Lyra to get closer with a nod, so that she can take it without damaging the potential imprints. She complies without having the courage to catch my eyes and I soon turn them away to go to the body, which they are finally done examining.

Mr. Cakes. He clearly shows signs of suffocation: his eyes are red with blood, a thin mark of what's been used to strangle him can be seen on his neck. The thing was as thick as a hair. Maybe a nylon string, or a fishing one, and it was tightened with such strength that the flesh has been cut a little. His assassin really had something against that good and simple baker...

But strangely, there are numerous marks. The string must have slipped a few times before managing to choke him. He fought back, even though he seems to have been caught by surprise. Someone even remotely talented would have had him on the first try, judging by the strength deployed. But here, it's almost like the aggressor hesitated about just doing it right away. Remorse? The other lines aren't really deep...

"So," says Lyra while turning to her subordinates, "you, you go get some reinforcement to evacuate the body. You, you stay here and I am going to question the interns."

"I will accompany you."

Lyra stops as she is walking towards the exit. Visibly, she doesn't like my formal tone, and it's the point actually.

"If it doesn't bother you," I add.

"No," she finally answers without even looking back, with a formal tone as well. "It's fine, you can come."

She walks towards the door and goes out, letting in a sudden brouhaha that was in the background since earlier on. A crowd of onlookers is gathered in front of the store.

And in the meantime, getting out of the population, she's making her way towards us.

"Princess," we say while bowing in front of Twilight Sparkle.

"Tell me what's happening," she says, worried, "I'm hearing all kinds of stories, some even talk about a murder."

She takes it for a rumor. And it's better to not divulge it in front of that whispering gathering.

But our silence is worth all the answers in the world. Her face obscures, hurt by this atrocious news in her oh so sympathetic town. How I get what she's feeling.

"We're going to get the interns."

Without any other formality, Lyra passes in front of the princess, with me in her steps, and we abandon her to her distress, before seeing her go into the store.

As the crowd moves out of the way, at the same time, it opens on a turquoise mare pulling on an empty cart. A few seconds ago, she had an intrigued smile looking at all the crowd in front of her house. But now, she lost it very quickly when seeing us and our grave and bitter look, Lyra's uniform completing the picture.

Now, she's horrified, and if Lyra dares to give her a compassionate look, as for me, I don't have the courage to even look at her.

She leaves her cart without a care in the world and throws herself into the crowd, pushing aside anyone that stands between her and her house, fear on her face.

"Let's go away," I say as I start to walk again, "Quick. The night is going to fall soon."

I don't like crying scenes...
> Chapter 3 - First Lead
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The first intern is the one who discovered the body," says Lyra to me while opening the door of the Ponyville's police station.

It's been years since I last approached this building. Still as stern as ever from outside, and as poorly charming inside. Of course, it's the evening, the place is almost empty, aside from a few agents on duty alerted by the case, in tumult, not really used to manage all the corresponding procedures.

Lyra and I walk pass the hall and the reception quickly to go further, in the rooms where they put the ponies in custody. Maybe they are full of dust because they're never used? Ah, well, someone's stranding in front of one of them, with a grave look on his face. Oh, I even know him, this old captain Whooves. For that matter, it looks like he recognizes me. And he doesn't seem to like it.

"Who gave you the permission to involve her in that case!?" he immediately yells on Lyra. "I said we should avoid spreading the news until tomorrow!"

"With all due respect, Whooves, half of the town is already aware of it, including the princess. So I kinda want to say that control over the information has already escaped you, just like the one over your subordinates."

Yes, it is I who said that. And in the calmest way possible. It is certainly not the answer that Whooves was expecting, and in no way the best start to a conversation, but it's kind of a habit for me to address him like that. You can tell that by the fact it barely angers him.

"Don't get yourself involved in something which doesn't concern you!"

"A murder took place in my town, it concerns me. It's the first time since you and I took our posts, we're talking about a life that was taken, and you would want to slow down the progression of this case solely by pride?"

"You're insinuating that we would be too slow without you!?" he boils over.

"Simply that each minute lost is another minute with a killer out in the wild. My help can't be harmful."

He wants to reply something, I can see it. But he finds nothing. He knows I'm right. This unique case needs all the help he can have, myself included. He ends up dropping a: "It's an exceptional collaboration," with a harsh tone, to which I reply:

"We agree on that part. If I can avoid to deal with you or your subordinates, that works for me."

I don't know why. I can't help myself. I have to say something hurtful. Not for Whooves, that I don't care about. But for the one right next to me, who doesn't even dare to turn her eyes towards me, or acts like she's going to pick up my words. How it angers me the way she pretends like nothing happened.

"Where is the intern?" I finally ask, chasing away my emotions to get back to the ongoing case.

Whooves gauges me for a few moments, with a severe look, then enounces:

"The door on your right. Avoid pushing her around, she has suffered a great shock."

"Thanks."

Without any consideration for that excess of gratitude from me, he turns around and leaves us. Turning to the door, I announce to my... sidekick:

"I take charge of trying to interrogate her. Stay out of it, two people at the same time could intimidate her."

"As you want," she answers with a voice that wants to appear neutral.

We enter the room, with its usual one-way mirror. Through it, we can see, collapsed on a table, the first intern crying. Pinkie Pie.

I know her a bit, as does everypony in Ponyville in fact. And I know enough to understand how that discovery might have affected her. But with how important the case is, I can't wait for her to calm down, especially if it were to take days. I go in and close the door behind me.

Her reddened eyes appear from in between her hooves to look at me with an imploring look, a few strands of her deflated mane falling in front of her face.

"Are you here to tell me it was a bad joke...?"

Yes. That's what I would love to answer. In fact, after seeing her face, it's the only thing I could say. But it would be a lie. So I stay quiet and I sit down in front of her.

"I need to know what happened this afternoon, Pinkie."

Not too abrupt, not too soft. I can't let her hope that all this was indeed a joke.

She sniffs loudly, starting to shake. I must follow up.

"It's really important. You have to tell me about it if we want to prevent it from happening again."

"B-Because it's going to happen again...?" she says to me, new tears coming to her eyes.

Bad choice of words on my end. I'm not use to handle them with such precautions. But I can rectify that.

"Pinkie, out there, there's someone. Someone who killed Mr. Cake and who is still free. And there are only three ponies that might have clues about him. Himself, the second intern... and you. You understand?"

She nods while sniffing again, with a sad little whine. 

"Then I'm listening. Take your time, don't worry, the important thing is that you say it... Without forgetting anything."

It's half true. If she could hurry, that would be great. The night has almost fallen, at this pace, we won't be able to see the second intern before tomorrow.

But at least, Pinkie starts her story.

"T-The day started at six... Mr. Cake always wakes up... Well... Woke up..."

Her voice starts to shake on the last sentence. I drop a "Pinkie," a bit bluntly so that she stays focused. After a sobbing hiccup, she continues:

"H-He woke up early, s-so that even the early birds had something for breakfast if they walked by. Since Mrs. Cake was absent, I had to help, so I was there, a little tired. We served a lot of people until ten..."

"Who?" I say, taking advantage of her brief pause.

"I-I don't remember," she says, troubled, "There was... Derpy first, who wanted a muffin I think. Then Cloud Chaser took two cupcakes. Vinyl came for a cake she had ordered. Twilight came, with Applejack, to eat a bit and see me as well. Rainbow Dash joined them soon after."

Concentrating on her list made her forget a bit about the tragic event it seems, she's a bit more at ease. But it won't last.

"Sparkler came with Twinkle. At ten hours, a pony from Manehattan came and took Mr. Cake aside to talk to him. I don't know what they said, but the pony seemed angry when he went out, and Mr. Cake looked upset..."

Pinkie stops in her account, seeing that my expression suddenly changed.

It's a lead. But no need to rush, Bonbon, don't miss something important.

"Tell me more about that pony."

"He was blue... A unicorn. He said he was named Sweet Caramel."

I hear the door of the room open suddenly. Lyra must have gone inform Whooves. I can let them deal with that for now. I need to keep on listening, in case there would be other leads.

"And then?"

"Then, there were Rose and Cloud Kicker. Then Lyra, and finally Daisy. I finished my service at noon, so I went home."

Her voice decreases at the end of her sentence, her lips starting to shake. I move forward to lay my hoof on hers.

"It's fine, Pinkie... You did what you had to, it's over now."

She looks at me, tears forming at the edges of her eyes.

"Why would anyone do that...? Mr. Cake was so kind... He was always smiling... He was sweet with his children... They're orphans now... Why...?"

She bursts into tears again, burying her face into her hooves. I sigh slightly. I too wonder why someone would do that, Pinkie...

"But I promise that I'm going to arrest him. No matter what it costs me."
> Chapter 4 - Unforeseen News
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"The analysis takes long?"

"It's practically immediate."

The unicorn in charge of the police's analysis department levitates a bag containing the candy I found, gets the potential clue out, putting it in a strange device he then activates with his magic.

It's too late to launch ourselves into a chase after our only lead. The last train departed at least two hours ago, the only thing to do is to send a wanted notice, and agents to Manehattan tomorrow.

So, in the meantime, Lyra and I are in the police station's lab – a big white room with a lot of scientific apparatus – to know if the only abnormal element on the scene of the crime has any sort of relevance or not.

Concretely, to me, it matters. Even if that device doesn't reveal any imprint, I'll stay convinced that its presence at this location isn't a mere coincidence. This candy has something to do with this case.

"We modernised a bit," explains Lyra while glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, attempting a smile.

"Hm?" I say doubtfully as I turn my head in her direction.

"The device," she answers, pointing at it with a small muzzle gesture. "On top of hooves imprints, now we can also trace back the different types of magic which held the object. And it's not as easily erased as an imprint can be. If a unicorn made it levitate, we'll found her trace, even if Bright Bulb used his magic on it afterwards."

"Bright Bulb?"

"It's me," answers the lab pony with an awkward half-smile.

"Oh, nice to meet you, I'm..."

"I know who you are," he gently cuts. "There's not a lot of detective pony in Ponyville. Everypony knows you in the police station, especially with Lyra always talking about you."

Two strange facts here. First: He's talking with a lot of respect, which no one ever manifested towards me. Second, that detail about Lyra's words, to who I slowly turn my eyes towards, as hers go away, her cheeks slightly pink.

"And what does she says about me?"

"A lot of things," cheerfully says Bright, "for example..."

A series of beeps suddenly cuts him, probably announcing that the analysis is done. A strip of paper comes out of the machine, that he quickly pulls off, looking like he instantly forgot the discussion.

"So..." he says, reading the results, "for hoof imprint, there's Mr. Cake and Miss Cake, that's all. And for magical residues, nothing aside from mine and Lyra's."

"So, absolutely nothing," Lyra concludes at the same time I do too in my head.

"How can you know right away who the imprints belong to?"

"We have a database, with practically all of Ponyville," explains Bright. "And same for magic."

I frown, suspicious.

"When did you put such a system in place?"

"A modernisation wished by the captain after Discord was reformed. He wanted a database sufficiently filled to quickly identify any misdeed. Everything was done rapidly thanks to princess Twlight's help."

"The fact remains that this candy must have ended up here by inattention," adds Lyra, getting back to the original topic, "It's likely that Mr Cake dropped it by accident."

She looks at me, like she's asking what I think about it. I slowly rub my chin with a hoof. Weird, I thought...

"Yes, undoubtedly. Which only leaves us with one lead, and not one we can exploit until tomorrow. But keep it, just in case."

"It's late, do you think it's worth interrogating the second intern now?" she asks.

"Go take some rest," advises Bright. "He's not going anywhere. It's a very serious case, better dive in it with a clear head."

"It's probably the best thing to do, indeed," I say, as I suddenly feel tired, and hungry too. "Thanks for doing the analysis so late."

"No problem," he smiles, "I very much appreciate that I have my part to play in solving this case."

"Have a nice evening, and see you tomorrow," adds Lyra.

I'm already turning around to go away as he happily answers:

"Have a nice evening, you two."

I quickly go through the corridors of the police station, almost out before Lyra hurries and catches up on me.

"Bonbon!"

I stop outside, under the light of the entrance, keeping the door open with my hind leg to let her pass. Once next to me, she turns to me, a little embarrassed, and looks at me straight in the eyes, asking:

"You didn't eat yet, right?"

What...? The suddenness of that question throws me off.

"No, why?" I answer.

Don't tell me she's going to...

"Do you want to eat together...?" she shyly says.

She does. She dares. She has the audacity to! What does she thinks!? That spending a couple of minutes together is going to erase the past!? I tell her with a cold voice:

"No, I have someone waiting for me at home. A way better company than yours."

I leave her on the spot, heading to my house.

"W-Who?" she says, surprised, visibly hesitant about following me.

Good, it intrigues her. She's jealous from the simple fact that I could be with someone else. She knows how it feels like, now... What I felt.

"My loneliness."

She abandons the idea to catch up with me, evidently. Yet, I want her to try, to give me a good reason to yell at her, instead of simply throwing one hurtful comment. I want to be able to unleash all that anger that accumulated in me for the past three years.

But it's in the utter most silence of the night that I return to my house, slamming the door with a hoof-kick.

Straight to my bedroom, my bed, I don't want to take the time to dine. A little liquorice from my night table to calm myself a bit, stave off my hunger and find sleep. Nothing more.

Then, quietness. My thoughts are becoming less cluttered, now that she's not there. Her presence always confuses me! Why does she seems like she wants to go along with me in that investigation, despite the fact that she disturbs me!? It's a murder case, for goodness' sake, let me think in peace!

And I feel like it's going to bother me the whole night...






I hate it when I'm right... That kind of night spend rolling around in my bedsheets, it has become a common thing in the last few years... Last three years, in fact. Since that fateful day.

Oh come on! You're not going to think about that again, Bonbon! Think of a way to brush that damn mane instead! That's a real preoccupation! 

A breakfast quickly swallowed, only accompanied by the sound of my clock, a mane hastily put in place, and I found myself on my doorstep.

I open, and who do I find right in front of it, with a hoof raised, ready to knock? Her, of course.

"I was afraid I might wake you," she says once she recovers from her surprise. "Well, I thought that it was better to interrogate the second intern as soon as possible and that it would be faster to come and get you... In addition, you don't know who it is.

"No, but you're going to tell me."

She still has that semi-pleading tone. Like if she was trying to apologize with every sentence without having the actual courage to say it clearly. But what does she wants in the end...?

"Open Skies. From the weather team..."

Oh, no need to specify. Just with that name alone, the hairs on my back stand on end. The colt with whom she had a little affair, right after she left me! I'm not going to forget his name!

"He dumped you six month ago, didn't he?" I say nonetheless. "Are you sure you're going to be okay interrogating him?"

"H-He didn't really dumped me," she timidly stutters, "It was from a mutual accord... And this has nothing to do with our relation."

I gauge her at a glance. From what I know, her break up hasn't been easy, but she's trying to hide it. Better avoid her another hardship.

"I'll do the interrogation if it's too hard for you. Let's go."

Without knowing where that surge of compassion for her came from, I get going, realising on the way I suddenly changed in my actions towards her. I hated her five minutes ago, and she even brought up the name of the stallion that made me the most angry in the past couple of years, and yet... I only want to comfort her.

It's been years since that happened... Where is that anger I had? No, it's still there, I feel it, this bitterness encrusted in me. It's only momentary, a weakness, a leftover from what I once felt for her. It's not going to last. As soon as we arrive at the house, it's already gone. The place is empty, which surprises me a bit.

"You didn't put any guard?"

"I thought we did," answers Lyra, frowning, surprised. "Whooves may have called back the guard when I said I was going to get you..."

Getting to the door, I mutter a "Leaving the last person to have seen the victim alive alone..." before knocking.

Or rather than knocking, I mainly notice that the door opens on its own under my hoof. In fact, it's not closed.

An exchange of suspicious gaze with Lyra. I go in.

"Open Skies?"

No answer. We walk into the hall, quietly. No sound, no sign of any presence of any kind.

I look at the door on the right, opening onto the kitchen. Nopony, some kitchen utensils laying on the worktop, as if someone was about to use them, and nothing else. Lyra gives a small tap on my should and I look at her. Her eyes are staring at the thing she's pointing at, on the left, by the other door leading to the living room.

Amongst the sofa, the coffee table, the bookshelves, plants and posters in this living room, a shape is swinging slowly. At the end of a rope.
> Chapter 5 - An Investigation isn't solved that quickly
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something that I thought about, yesterday evening, as I was rolling over in my bed, is how much this investigation cruelly lacked capital clues. The candy proved itself to be a dead end, and the only suspect is who knows where, probably in Manehattan.

And here's that all of the sudden, the events take on another turn. Open Skies is found hanged in his home, next to a suicide letter confessing his crime, Mr. Cake's assassination, under the influence of anger after a heated discussion. His regrets, the impossibility to live with that on his conscience, all of this coupled with some drops easily identifiable as tears spread all over the letter.

Of course, Lyra and I warned the police of all this. In fact, right after our arrival, the next shift came too, only to go back right away to inform Whooves.

Three agents send over are already carefully finding and collecting everything that seems suspicious, the letter being the first in line, to put them in plastic bags.

The scene is weirdly... mundane, aside from the corpse. A pen next to the letter, an empty cup of coffee on the table, a well-organized living room, you could almost have tea there. And the body, that no one dares to take down for now. 

A regular sound accompany the whole thing, coming from the rope rubbing against the beam, as it continues to swing, slowly, it and the pegasus.

I straighten back up after looking for anything suspicious that might have rolled under the blanket, only to see Lyra, who didn't moved. Since our gruesome discovery, she hasn't said a single word, nor pulled her eyes away from her ex-colt. She doesn't cry, but I'm sure it's not that she doesn't want to. Her face is frozen, in a distressed expression. I guess, knowing her, that she must be seeing all the moments spend with him go before her eyes.

A little pinch comes and tickles my heart. Despite my bad night, which she's responsible for, and the resentment I have... I still can't prevent myself from felling bad for her. I...

"Hey..."

Without even noticing, I gently laid my hoof on her shoulder. She turns her head towards me. It might be the first time, after all those years, that I'm paying that much attention to her face. That little white strand of hair on the side of her eye, those great and moist yellow-orange eyes, her muzzle which usually displays such a large smile. Seeing her like this...

"Why...?" she asks me, begging, her voice sending a shiver in my whole body.

"Lyra..."

"He was so kind... Why would he have done this...?"

What can I answer to that...? That anypony can do something irredeemable under the influence of anger? That many criminals are just plain people who took a wrong turn? What kind of even remotely sincere answer could I give to her without having her break into tears?

"Ponies sometimes do things they would have never wanted to do, and they regret it immediately..."

It was never my forte with her. She has always been subject to small drops in mood, and I've never been very good at getting it up again. Here's just another example of that.

She lowers her head, a drop starting to form at the bottom of her eye. And my body starts to move on its own once again. I do something I haven't done in years. I gently turn her towards me, getting the corpse out of her view, wrapping my legs around her and I hold her against my torso.

She takes refuge against it, putting her head right below mine with a few sobs. I feel her warmth against me, as well as a tear running on my coat. My hoof kindly caresses the top of her mane, to try and comfort her a bit. It's the only thing I can do.

A little throat clearing is heard behind me, recognizable as Whoove's. Without turning my head, I answer:

"So, you're finally coming in person?"

"The princess ordered me to accompany her here."

I glance at him. Twilight is indeed right by his side, astounded and scared at the view of the corpse. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, I'm guessing she couldn't sleep tonight because of that case. Needless to say that now, her nights aren't going to find back their usual sleep.

"So it would be a suicide then?" asks the captain, a little sceptic. 

"Either that or a perfectly disguised crime," I say, still gently holding Lyra against me.

She gets a hiccup.

"A-A disguised crime?" she stammers.

"If we don't find anything conclusive, like imprints, the natural conclusion will be the suicide one. Right?" I add while raising an eyebrow towards Whooves. "What interests me the most for now is to know where was the pony in charge of keeping on eye on the witness."

He frowns because of my disapproving and disrespectful of his title tone, and raises his voice:

"Rose was supposed to do it, given the hours you told me."

"And where is she?"

Whooves scowls, as if embarrassed by the answer he's going to give, mumbling:

"We can't find her... But the agent on duty before her assured me she took her turn."

"When?"

"At two a.m...."

"You're telling me she had to stay on the watch for six hours?" I say in disbelief.

"I'm lacking personnel!" he violently defends. "Ponyville is a small and quiet town, it's already a miracle that we have more than fifteen agents!"

"I can ask for Canterlot or even Manehattan to send in reinforcement," suggests Twilight, who's opening her mouth for the first time since she arrived. "Furthermore, they have officers used to that type of things."

I know Whooves well enough to see when a comment rubs him the wrong way. And his pride just took a serious hit.

"I think I can take charge of this investigation," he answers with confidence while sticking out his chest. "It might even be over already."

Might be... Or might be not. You have a murder case at hooves, but you'd rather pass away any help by pure pride, just to show that you are capable of solving something so serious by yourself. Ponyville isn't used to that kind of event, and if they were to worsen, it would go wrong. Your pride is way misplaced, Whooves!

But I don't say anything. A word from him and I could get thrown out of this investigation. It's already a lot to ask him that I can be a part of it. For now, things are still somewhat in control, but don't give me more work with your ego.

"Very well, if that's what you think, I'll trust you," follows Twilight, exhausted. "Can you... take him down, please? Seeing him swing like this..."

Since earlier, she can't stop glancing with fright at the body. It's understandable that it shocks her. She probably never saw that. Me neither, but I prepared myself, more or less.

"Are you done?" asks Whooves to his agents.

"No traces, captain," answers one of them. "Everything seems to point towards a suicide, indeed."

"Right, take him down."

"Yes sir."

Lyra has a small hiccup against my shoulder.

"You can take your day off, Lyra," says Whooves with compassion. Or maybe its just the little look from the princess that gave him the sudden need to make a good impression.

I slightly pat Lyra's back, whispering "Come on, let's go," and help her stand up to get her out of here.

She obeys without questions, letting me guide her to the house's exit, as Whooves's subalterns are busy carefully lowering the body.

"I'm fine Bonbon..." she says once outside, before sniffing loudly. "I just... need to be alone..."

She wipes an eye before going away slowly, head low.

I want to tell her something, that if she needs to talk, or a shoulder to cry on, I'm here... But as soon as I see her back turned, a painful memory comes up, holding my words back. The same gait, the same scene than three years ago, when she abandoned me, for no reason.

I turn my head away abruptly, avoiding the conflict creeping in my mind and my heart, ignoring those small tingling and those doubts running in my head. I have a case to solve, and maybe lives to save, no time for this.

Once back inside, I notice they started to lower the body. At least they are wearing gloves, so as to not dirty it.

"Two deaths in less than twenty-four hours," sighs Whooves loudly, with a grave face. "I'd never thought I'd see such a tragedy in Ponyville."

"Almost no one would have thought about it, in my opinion," I say while looking at the princess, who approves my words with a slight nod.

"I hope all of this is truly over," she adds with utmost worry.

"Everything indicates a suicide, don't you agree?" suddenly says Whooves to me.

The question catches me off guard a bit with its suddenness and frankness. But at the same time, he's not one to beat around the bush.

I allow myself a moment of thinking, getting everything together in my head, before concluding:

"Well, at first glance, yes. The only weird things are Rose's disappearance and the pony mentioned by Pinkie. And the first one could easily be explained by a sudden emergency that Rose had to answer, someone close to her being sick, for example. Although the coincidence would be pretty big."

It's obvious that, for now, nothing really indicates that there's a reason to pursue the investigation and not close the file. I think it's just my desire to chase a criminal which forces me to say that this resolution isn't right. Too simple.

Whooves seems happy that I'm on his side, and it reassures the princess.

"Contact me if there's anything new," she then says to us, getting ready to go out.

"Don't you worry, princess," reassures the captain.

She goes away. I'm reading myself to do the same, when my eyes are suddenly attracted by a light blue spot, to the level of the beam. Something is jammed in the knot of the rope, stuck to the beam.

I get closer, intrigued, noticing white as well. What is that? And more importantly: How did it got here?

"Excuse-me," I say to one of the agents unhooking the body. "Can you untie the upper knot?"

He glances at Whooves, as if to ask something, and Whooves glances at me in turn. To which I answer by pointing at the object.

"There's something stuck."

The captain frowns upon seeing that I'm right.

"Go on," he says to his subordinate.

The latter obeys and unties the knot, loosening the rope, letting the new fragment of clue fall, to my surprise.

A candy wrapper. The same kind than the one that was in the cash register at Sugarcube Corner.
> Chapter 6 - Range of Possibilities
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Silence falls in the living room, while we all watch the piece of plastic that just now landed, two ponies evacuating the body.

Whooves moves forward, putting on a hoof glove, and picks up the wrapping to give it a closer look.

"A candy wrapper," he enounces with a serious tone. "Probably from Sugarcube Corner."

I get closer as well to examine it. No doubt:

"It's the same wrapping as the one found in the cash register."

Whooves looks at the plastic from all different angles, declaring:

"There's an "O" written with black ink on the inside."

An O. As in Open Skies?

"Maybe there are also imprints on it," I suppose.

Whooves nods to one of his agents and hands him the piece of plastic.

"Go analyse it. Now."

"Yes, captain!" answers the cop while putting the clue in a bag with precaution, before leaving the room with it.

Another silence falls. A silence during which Whooves and I are thinking about everything this single wrapping just brought to the table.

"Looks like the suicide hypothesis is off to a bad start," he ends up sighing heavily. "That paper can't have ended up here by accident, someone put it there."

"And that someone seems meticulous enough in his crimes," I say right after. "Unless Open Skies didn't fought back at all, the murderer stayed here long enough to clean up everything and disguise this as a suicide."

"And it almost worked," admits Whooves. "Whitout that candy, I would have classified this as a suicide and the case would have been closed."

"Something isn't right..." I suddenly say to myself out loud.

"What?" he interrogates.

"Why... leaving this wrapping?" I say, plunged into deep thinking. "Everything was picture perfect in that little deception. Yet, the assassin left this clue, and I'm almost sure he did it deliberately. Why go through all this trouble for nothing?"

"Psychological problems. Maybe we're hunting down someone mad."

I cogitate on what Whooves just said. It can make sense. Maybe even...

"Someone mad... A maniac," I say, starting to understand. "He left a clue, exactly like at Sugarcube Corner. He enjoys leaving a trail just to see if we're good enough to spot it. The first candy was in the cash register, and the cash register is the first thing to check, to see if the motive of the murder is theft or not. And here, the wrapping is placed such that it can only be spotted if you look carefully. It's a test."

A shiver climbs up my spine right when I end my sentence, understanding the reach of what I just deducted. It's not a murder under the influence of anger, that one was premeditated. Someone planned to kill Open Skies, and that person did it, all while playing with us. And Mr. Cake's murder was done calmly as well. It's just... awful.

"We have to find Rose as fast as possible," suddenly says Whooves, turning his gaze on the two agents left. "You two, go look for her! Now!"

His subordinates don't hesitate one moment and rush outside, leaving us alone. Whooves and I, on the scene of the crime.

"It's been at least an hour since she went missing, you know..." I say slowly. "I don't want to break your hopes, but she's probably..."

"Dead," he finishes with a serious face. "I know. There were only three possibilities when we found the body already: That she went away for something, the criminal lured her somewhere else to kill her, or she's the assassin herself. And the first option just went out the window."

Of course he realises it... Whooves isn't stupid, even if I like to think so. But it's one of his subordinates I'm talking about. And someone close, from what I know... He must not expect to find her, nor to make it personal.

"But I refuse to give up until I find her, even if it's her corpse I'm searching for!" he adds firmly while stamping his hoof.

A new moment of silence comes. And in the meantime, I notice a new element which sends an internal shiver.

"You know what's the worst thing about that case...?" says Whooves to me right at the same moment.

"That the murderer is most likely someone we know..." I answer, as I just thought of the same thing.

Ponyville is a small village of a couple hundred ponies, at most. Everypony knows each other. Everypony more or less trusts each other. Enough to follow someone asking you to leave your guarding duty, or to open the door to someone coming to kill you.

And somepony, amongst all those honest and smiling people, took advantage of it to commit murders.

"I think I can already qualify this as the "worst case in the history of Ponyville"," sighs Whooves once more.

"What would be the motive of this murder, according to you?"

"Hm," he says, thoughtful. "Given the sequence of events, how little time there's been between this murder and Mr. Cake's murder, and the fact that Open Skies is probably the last pony to have seen Mr. Cake alive, I'd say: silence an unwanted witness." 

"That's what I think too. But on the other hoof, if he had truly seen something compromising, he would have told us before, don't you think?"

"Maybe..." murmurs Whooves, seemingly thinking. "Or he just had some doubts and was afraid to denounce an innocent..."

It's a hypothesis, indeed. Facing such an event, especially in this small tranquil town, anypony would think twice before laying charges. But if that's the case, this hesitation cost him his life.

"In any case, we have the motive of the second crime," he sums up, trying to regain some composure. "Only a motive for the first one left to find. The stranger from Manehattan seems excluded from the plausible suspects now, since ponies have attested they saw him leave town yesterday evening. I'm going to make a list of all the ponies close to Mr. Cake and we're going to interrogate them to see if they know someone that would have meant him harm."

"Good idea," I approve with sobriety. 

Good idea, even though there's little to no chance of it working, it's the best we can do in the current state of things. This and wait for the hoofprinting, as well as Open Skies' autopsy.

I need to relax... I didn't take anything when leaving my place, I need my sugar dose.

"I'll let you handle all this. Let me know if there's anything new."

"Count on me."

I leave the house, thoughtful, walking without really looking in front of me. The question that plays on my mind now is: Who's next? Was Mr. Cake the only target, and Open Skies was just an embarrassing witness who needed to be silenced? The set up seems to point towards the killer looking for a way to close the case, all the while playing with the police. And what if he was to get too hooked on that game? What if the murderer was to continue? Just for the pleasure of displaying his genius, of leaving clues, of taunting us.

I can't imagine what would happen if a series of crimes took over Ponyville. Already, just by walking in the town square and looking around me, I see that Mr. Cake's death is in every conversation. Here, someone whispers it's a murder done by that pony from Manehattan, there the discussion is about a crime of passion, done by a colt madly in love with Mrs. Cake. Some even argue that it was committed by Mrs. Cake herself, to get freed from a too possessive husband.

Gossips are everywhere. Some use this opportunity to slander the princess, arguing that since she came to Ponyville, it's been disasters after disasters. Others point the blame to Discord, without reason, simply because they still don't trust him.

Deep down, I'm scared. Scared that the news of a second death, so quickly, will spread panic amongst ponies. Open Skies' suicide has to be the leading hypothesis that is presented in public, or ponies might start to fear for their lives.

But this is Twilight and Whooves' role, not mine. Me, I investigate.

As I'm thinking, a crowd forms a few feet away from me. I recognise Applejack's hat, in the midst of it, and get closer.

"Twilight is goin' to make an important announcement," she says to the ponies around her. "Spread the word, in ten minutes, everypony has to be in front of the castle."

Ponies look at each other with worried faces. Then finally disperse, to tell that to other ponies or to go towards the castle.

The farmer sees me and closes in on me.

"Hi Bonbon, Twilight told me you were investigatin' on this story," she says with a bit of trouble in the voice. "She didn't told me how things were, but ah saw her more worried than yesterday, and ah know it's not a good sign... Will... other people die?"

She was scared to say this. Awfully worried by the simple idea that it might happen again.

"Everything moves fast. What's important, for now, is to reassure as many people as possible. It must be made clear to the inhabitants that they don't risk anything. What's going on is tragic, but everything will soon be back to normal. Well, as normal as can be after such an event."

Sorry Applejack, I'm not as honest as you are. Judging by her face, I'd say it reassured her a bit, that's all that counts.

"Ah hope you're right. Twilight's speech is about to start, you're comin'?"

For what reason? I have an investigation to work on. It's not Twilight who's going to tell me something new. In fact, she doesn't even know that Open Skies' death is a murder, since she left before we found the wrapping. And Whooves will be quick to inform her on that point.

"I don't think so, Applejack."

"You have a lot of work, I understand, sugarcube. I'll leave ya."

In reality, not that much. I have to wait for the analysis and the results of the autopsy. Whooves is finishing to inspect Open Skies' house and a team is already actively searching for Rose.

I could help, but not alone. I'm not even coordinated with the searching team, I would encroach on their zone. And if it happens, even if I doubt it, that Rose is the murderer, I'd rather not find myself alone in front of her.

In the end, I have as many reasons to come as I have to not go.

"Maybe..." I say, thoughtful, after a moment of reflection.

No answer. I look around me. Applejack went away without me realising it.

Oh well. I'm still coming. At least I'll be able to see how Twilight manages the problem, or tries to. It could influence the investigation. On my way to the castle then.

I see there's already a small crowd starting to mass. Twilight and her close friends are at the top of the steps, whispering to each other.

I can guess, seeing their faces, that they're talking about Open Skies. Or rather, that Twilight just told them about his death. All five of them are shocked and I see Applejack interrupting Twilight, as if she's asking for clarifications. The latter answers, probably explaining this whole suicide story. They still look stupefied, scared that Open Skies could do such a horror, but at least the case seems closed. At least, it's what Twilight concludes, by the looks of it.

The conversation lasts a bit longer, as ponies are gathering around the palace, still spreading the same news.

"The one time that something is happening in this dump, it has to be a murder, if that's not bad luck I don't know what it is!" says a familiar voice next to me.

I turn my head, looking at Colgate who's holding this morning's journal. On the front page, of course, is Mr. Cake's murder.

"It's true that being attacked by Tirek, Discord, Nightmare Moon, an ursa minor, parasprites to name a few, it's not phenomenal enough to be important," I reply with irony.

"But here, it's not a problem that can be fixed with a magic trick, with stones or whatever. Unless the Elements of Harmony can resurrect someone."

Of course it's impossible, and she knows it. But Colgate has this unique talent to make inappropriate sarcasm, and to act it so perfectly you'd think she does believe it. She's always been a little irritating because of that.

"Is that really all that Cake's death does to you?" I say while looking at her with little disbelief. "We knew him for fifteen years, and your only reaction is "That's bad luck"?"

She closes the journal and looks at me with big eyes, seeming offended.

"Who do you think I am!? Of course I'm sad for him! He was someone good! But he's dead, like hundreds of ponies every day. And there's already going to be enough people to cry on him, with his wife and children, no need for me to join them."

It's a way of seeing things. A pretty awful one, but coming from a dentist who barely anaesthetizes her patients, it doesn't really surprise me.

I lift my head towards the palace's entrance. Looks like the speech is about to start.
> Chapter 7 - Who?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In front of me, the crowd. Ponyville, more worried than ever, expecting me to speak reassuring words. How did I end up here exactly?

It's simple, in fact, Twilight started her speech, announcing Open Skies' suicide, and as all of Ponyville was whispering with anxiety and surprise when faced with such a news, Applejack came to find me in the midst of the crowd. Twilight had asked for my help, wanting me to expose my point of view, my suppositions. She's actually standing by my side, waiting for me to talk.

Why did I accept? It's not my role to communicate with the citizens, at best it is Whooves' role, even if, from my point of view, it's mostly Twilight's job. But I can understand that she needs some help, it's an unprecedented situation. She's afraid to say something wrong. The problem is that, now, it is I who's facing this exact situation. With the same fears, the same doubts. But one doesn't refuse the request for help from a princess...

So here I stand, by Twilight's side, facing more than a hundred ponies, almost all of whom I know. The death of Open Skies didn't reassure them. Even if Twilight made it clear it's a suicide, the most pessimistic among them rather doubt that, even if they have no informations. My legs are shaking slightly.

It's on me to convince them. To lie to them, in fact. Euphemize the truth, so that all those brave ponies may be able to sleep in peace, without worrying about a potential murderer amongst them. Amongst them...

My tremors are getting worse, as I try to hide the doubt and the fear that just settled in me. He's here. In this dense crowd. The maniac responsible for those two murders meticulously orchestrated. The one that took pleasure in leaving clues behind, who just thinks of this as a game, he's looking at me right now. His eyes are on me.

My heart is racing. My breath quickens progressively, as my eyes are going left and right in the crowd. Where? Where are you? Who are you!? I know you're here! A sign, a clue in the gaze, something!

Nothing! Everywhere I lay my eyes, I just see the same stupid incomprehension in all those ponies looking at me silly!

I suddenly jump as a purple hoof arrives on my shoulder. Turning my head abruptly, I see Twilight, worried, asking me:

"Bonbon, are you alright?"

I slowly get back to reality, trying to calm down my breath, as my shivers continue. How many seconds did I just spend like this, without saying a word, simply panicking? I don't know. At least twenty, I'd say. And I know where that comes from, I know those shivers.

"I'm good, thanks Twilight," I answer, attempting a smile that, I can feel, looks more like a rictus than anything.

She looks at me for a few moments, not understanding what happened, before removing her hoof, letting me continue. But I can distinguish in her expression that she's wondering if that's a good idea, seeing my state.

As I turn to the crowd again, a pink lollipop appears right in front of me in a cyan flash, levitated by magic. I look around for the pony, or rather the mare, at the origin of this, without finding her. But the colour of the halo can't be mistaken, I know from who it comes from.

I accept the treat, taking with a great relief my first dose of sugar since breakfast. The moment the lollipop touches my tongue, my legs stop shaking and everything becomes quiet in me again. I breathe in deeply, my brain finally able to think normally.

In the crowd, there's the murderer. It's a certainty. He's listening to me. He wants to know where the investigation is, if we uncovered his little game. Should I take the chance of letting him understand it's been noticed, risking he could keep on going for his own enjoyment, or rather make it look like we believe it's a suicide, hoping he would stop here, satisfied of the fact he duped us? In both cases, there's a risk that he'll continue, and a chance that he'll stop.

I briefly clear my throat, before finally launching myself, trying to appear as confident as possible:

"There are still many analysis we have to wait the results of, but everything seems to point towards the fact that Open Skies indeed committed suicide tonight. With our current informations, he was the last one to have seen Mr. Cake alive, and the letter found in his home confirms he would be his murderer and that, because of remorse, he put an end to his own life."

I don't want to play into the murderer's little game. I'm convinced he genuinely tried to hide his crime to lie low. His clue was only there to give us a chance to catch him. But I want him to believe his little masquerade worked, that he can feel safe. Most of all, I'm afraid he will start again, that he will lash out to another one of those innocent Ponyville's inhabitant. "Leave them alone, you don't need to kill anymore," is what I want to say.

"Of course, captain Whooves and his team are going to make sure it is indeed the truth, but with the current elements, here's the main lead we're studying."

I roll the lollipop in my mouth for a moment, fully savouring it, doubting. Do I stop here? It's probably the better choice. Twilight speaks again:

"This event is a tragedy," she says with sorrow and a heavy tone. "Those two deaths affect each of us. That something like this happened here, in Ponyville, none of us could have expected it. But together, we can share the pain from this loss. We can support each other and take the time to think back about our lost friends. And right now, all of my support goes to Mrs. Cake and her two children, now orphans, as well as Open Skies's relatives. I hope, with all my heart, that we will be able to understand what pushed him to commit such things."

When listening to her talk, I understand a bit better why she's a good princess. She puts all her heart in each word she pronounces in front of her people. She's mourning as much as they are, it shows, it can be felt, and I think that, in such a situation, it's probably what can best comfort Ponyville. In comparison, my own speech is too formal, detached and cold. But, at the same time, it's my role.

The crowd is covered with murmurs. Some already speculate on the reasons behind such actions, others are still destabilised by the news and try to comfort each other. I even spot the silhouette of that pink-magenta mare, Clear Skies I think, completely collapsed and in tears, her friends around her.

Twilight looks at the crowd, sees their trouble and she adds:

"If you have questions, doubts, you can ask me."

A hoof raises in the air immediately.

"Yes?" invites Twilight, as ponies are slowly getting silent around it.

Huh, it's Lily, who seems particularly preoccupied. She's always been very emotional.

"Do you know where Rose is?"

My teeth slip on the lollipop, breaking it. Of course, someone was going to ask this question, but I didn't expect it to come up now.

"S-She told me she had to watch Open Skies' house for the night," continues Lily, her voice all shaky. "She was supposed to come and water the flowers before going to bed, but..."

She doesn't dare to finish her sentence, almost bursting into tears. I slowly turn my head towards Twilight and notice that this question totally took her by surprise. But she tries to answer it, hesitating a bit:

"Well... She..."

"She's missing," I abridge. "Whooves is focusing his efforts to find her, and if someone saw her, or knows where she is, we'll appreciate any useful info-"

"I saw her this morning," suddenly says a voice before I have time to finish my sentence.

All  eyes abruptly turn to Colgate, who replies with a:

"What? I saw her going out of Ponyville when I was opening my surgery."

"At what hour?" I immediately interrogates.

"Around..." she says while thinking," Six hours, six and a half, I'd say. She looked like she was in a hurry."

Open Skies' body was found at a little over seven thirty, a bit before Rose's relief. It leaves enough margin to commit the crime. But why would she have left her post?

I quickly go down in the crowd and come to Colgate, still nibbling on my broken lollipop in a hasty manner.

"Where was she going?"

"North I think."

"Alone?"

"Eh, yeah."

"That's it? You didn't see anything else?"

"I didn't pay attention," she answers me negligently, as if it doesn't matter to her.

I internally sigh. Rose is missing, she's probably the last person to have seen her, and she's not even trying.

Oh well, don't dramatise Bonbon. At least, we have a direction for the search. I need to see Whooves to tell him.

"If something comes back to your mind, even the slightest detail, go to the police station please."

"Got it," she nods.

It's hopeless, she's not even going to try and remember it. I look away and set off quickly, her nonchalance is making me angry. I nibble on the lollipop stick, since it's all that's left of it. It only relaxes me as I'm going through the crowd without seeing it.

Talking about lollipops and getting mad, I hear someone trotting next to me. Quietly, out of nowhere. I know who it is.

We get out of the crowd, and I'm not calmed down yet. On the contrary, even. I slightly accelerate my step, and so does she.

"I thought you'd taken your day off," I coldly say to her before she even pronounces a word, without looking back.

"Still with your sugar issue..." she answers me, worried, with that same shy tone as yesterday.

Well mind your own damn business! What is that way of dodging the answer!? Oh, just you wait my pretty, dodge this:

"At least it didn't lead me to Manehattan."

She stops short. I hit a sensitive topic. Too sensitive in fact, even for me. I feel a knot forming in my stomach. I already regret what I just said. My legs stopped on their own. I shouldn't have. I really shouldn't.

"Just a "Thank you" would have been enough..."

Her voice is shaking. She had a hard time saying this. Is she crying? Most likely. I don't dare to turn around to verify it. Why did I say that...? What was I thinking...?

"Lyra, I..."

She doesn't leave me the time to continue. I hear her galloping away, and I don't have the courage to catch up to her. I don't have anything to say to make her forgive me. No words will heal what I just said.

Once again, my hatred vanished in the blink of an eye. But, this time, I know why. I may detest her for what she has done, but it's not worth hurting her like this. Treating her like this, it's unfair. Worst of all, it's also painful for me, because I was the only one that had always supported her in that story.

She avoided me a crisis in front of all Ponyville, and I hurt her in return.

I'm an idiot.
> Chapter 8 - Suspects
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bright Bulb puts his coffee mug back on his desk, in the room where Lyra and I left him just twelve hours ago. Slumped heavily in his chair, his face is less joyful than yesterday, and now with dark spots under his eyes.

"I didn't think an autopsy would be that long," he confides to me, exhausted. "And Whooves insisted on a detailed report... And when I thought I was done, I got told another body and new clues had to be carefully examined."

"You don't have any assistants?"

"No. And all the agents are gone on the search, practically."

It's true that we're already very lucky to have a specialist in Ponyville.

"So, did the autopsy lead to anything?" I still interrogate, since I came here mostly for the results.

"Mr. Cake died of strangulation yesterday, at around five a.m.. It's a rope, or a string less than half a millimetre thick, which was firmly held around the neck on many occasions. There are no traces of hits on the body, so the aggressor didn't need to overpower Mr. Cake. And that's where I'm at lost."

He sighs with tiredness. Indeed, it's weird that he didn't fight back.

"Maybe he was anaesthetised by his assassin, so he wouldn't fight?"

Bright says no with his head.

"His blood readings are normal, no suspicious trace of anything. But that's not what's the most surprising to me."

"Then what is?" I say, a bit impatient.

He looks up at me, seeming a little lost while saying:

"If he didn't fight back, then why are there many marks? If the assassin had gotten him on the first try, I could vaguely understand that, under the surprise, Mr. Cake didn't have the time to struggle. But here, the assassin had to try four times to get him."

It's true that it's disturbing. I scratch my chin, thinking, before trying:

"There's no traces of combat, but it doesn't mean he didn't struggle. If a pegasus choked him while flying above him, Mr. Cake probably had trouble hitting him, no? He just waved his legs into thin air, without reaching the aggressor."

Now it's Bright who's scratching his chin, frowning, which only accentuates his tired look. Looking at the ceiling, towards the only light present in the room, he thinks out loud:

"Yes, that could be possible... Or even if the thread was handled with magic in fact."

So we can put that in the speculation category. A unicorn or a pegasus could be a potential culprit. Open Skies, maybe...

"Anything else?" I say.

"Nothing really conclusive, I'm afraid. Since he was seeing a lot of people, his coat is filled with a lot of parasitic information. I could probably overlap some once I'm done with Open Skies' autopsy, but I can't do that for now."

I am watching him, seeing his tired eyes circled with black. No need to say more.

"Have a good rest," I wish to him while turning around.

"Have a good investigation..." he says, exhausted, as I'm going out of the lab.





Passing through the hallway that goes out of the lab, I see Whooves holding a paper and turning his head in my direction, as if waiting for me.

"Ah, I expected you to come," he says, approaching.

"And that's a problem?" I reply, awaiting a remark.

"No, on the contrary, I need you."

I gently raise an eyebrow as he hands me the paper he's holding.

"The list of people close to Mr. Cake. We're establishing the one for Open Skies."

I slowly take the sheet, glancing at the list.

"There's at least thirty names in there, you could have done some sorting."

Whooves shakes his head a bit hearing my criticism, understanding.

"We tried. But it's hard to sort between regular customers and more personal acquaintances, so we reduced the list to ponies that knew him for a while and are, or were, often in contact with him. But we can cross with Open Skies' list later."

"And why are you giving it to me exactly? Let me remind you that I'm not under your command."

"No, but once again, I cruelly lack troops. I can't be reluctant to ask for help. Most of my agents are searching for Rose, but I don't want the investigation to stall for too long here."

I thought that this behaviour wasn't normal coming from him. But he's ready to accept my help to be able to focus his research on Rose. Fine, I'm okay with that. At least he'll tell me what he finds.

I skim at the paper, noticing:

"Derpy isn't on the list, even though she was a regular customer."

Whooves looks at me, before turning his eyes away, scowling.

"I don't want to involve her in all this..."

"I'll interrogate her later anyway."

"That's out of the question!" suddenly thunders Whooves.

"We'll deal with that later," I nonchalantly say, focused on the list.

I know most of these names pretty well. In fact, almost all the names from those who had a job in the old town-square are here. It's true, Mr. Cake started there, like a lot of people. Colgate, Lily, Rose, Daisy, of course, Vinyl, Amethyst, Rare, Star, Golden, Berry...

I stop, reading again. Berry Punch.

"It must be years since Berry talked to Mr. Cake, or even to anypony in general, why is she on the list?"

Whooves shrugs.

"Her name came out in the conversation, and she talked with Mr. Cake a lot before she... had her problem, let's say. We put her in because she knew him well, still."

How could an alcoholic have anything to do with this case...

Although. Now that I think about it, the bar isn't far off Sugarcube Corner. Berry could have seen something by inadvertence. But the chances are still slim. I'll go interrogate her. At least, she's easy to find.

"It's going to take a lot of your time to interrogate all those ponies..." I point out.

"I'll convoke many of them here for a real discussion, but I was counting on you to start. Find us a lead."

"Yeah, yeah, I got the idea. But could you at least give me a name to start with?"

"Hm..." answers Whooves, thinking. "If I recall correctly, Vinyl was also suggested for Open Skies' list. You can start with her I think."

"Okay," I say while nodding briefly. "I'm going to start with her. But don't get the idea that I'm under your command."

Whooves sighs wearily, before answering:

"I know. And I don't think you are, you're just someone that can help me, since I need that right now."

"Good. I'll tell you what my discussion with Vinyl gave."

I turn around and head to the door, keeping the list in my hoof. Maybe I'm going to grab my bag before interrogating Vinyl, it'll be easier to put the list in it. I'll take the opportunity to take some candies as well, to be able to think properly and not have another crisis.

A little pinch catches my heart when thinking back to my earlier crisis, and what followed.

I really acted like an idiot with her...
> Chapter 9 - Another Duet
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weirdly enough, there's no background music. It's the first thing I notice when arriving in front of Vinyl's house. Usually, one can hear music a few metres away from the house, despite all the soundproofing in the walls and windows. But this time, everything is quiet. Is she even there? It's true that she could have gone outside, or even on a trip. I don't recall seeing her in the crowd before.

To be sure, I knock on the door. After a few seconds, I finally hear hooves noises coming from inside. That's even weirder.

The door opens and I'm welcomed by a grey face looking modestly surprised, topped by a long and black mane finely brushed.

"Bonbon," notices Octavia with her noble but delicate usual tone. "It has been a while since we last met."

"I'm happy to see you again as well, Octavia. And a bit surprised, I didn't expect to see you."

Now that's a surprise! It's as if this case is making old names suddenly reappear. First Berry, and now Octavia Melody.

"Well, I'm paying a visit to an old friend," she simply answers. "I do that about once a year."

It's true that it makes sense, her and Vinyl were very close at the time, before she moved out. She hasn't changed much since the last time I saw her. Not even a wrinkle, or at least, not one she's willing to show, and her style is as impeccable as ever. A coat so glossy once could eat on it, and then probably get a slap on the face before the dessert.

"That explains why everything seems quiet here," I jokingly say.

"Oh yes. It's impossible to discuss calmly in her usual cacophony," she answers me with a smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to ask Vinyl a few questions for an investigation. Can I come in?"

"An investigation?" she replies with a moderate surprise, completely ignoring my question. "What has she gotten into again?"

"Nothing too bad for her, I hope. A murder happened in Ponyville, and probably two. I'm interrogating the victims' relatives."

Octavia's expression goes from a mild astonishment to utter bewilderment.

"A murder? In Ponyville? But... that hasn't happened since..."

"Years ago, yes," I end for her. "All the more reason to interrogate people. If I may repeat myself, can I come in?"

"Oh!" she says, suddenly realising her lack of courtesy. "Of course, of course, suit yourself."

She moves aside to let me pass. Vinyl's house is still the same. Speakers, posters, a few plants surprisingly, maybe not all of them legal, spotlights, and that about everywhere in the house, even in the hall.

A little further away, in the living room, I find the unicorn slumped on the sofa, glasses a little lowered on her muzzle revealing her red eyes. Seeing me coming, followed by Octavia, she lifts a hoof in my direction as a greeting.

"Yo, Vinyl," I say to her with a half-smile. Her nonchalance always makes me smile. Or maybe it's the air filled with smoke from her party which contains something other than plain smoke.

I walk into her living room, noting that the turntables she uses for her music are temporarily put on the side, and another sofa is available, with a little table in front where lies a half-empty cup.

"Take a seat," invites Octavia, as she goes to sit on the sofa with Vinyl. "This story intrigues me."

"Thanks," I say while I take my spot on the couch. "You're not the only one that this case worries."

The unicorn puts her glasses back in place on her muzzle while straightening a bit, with an enquiring look. 

"You didn't hear, Vinyl?" I say, surprised, but not that much in fact. "There have been two murders since yesterday."

Despite her smoked glass, I see her eyes widening in shock, slightly opening her mouth.

"Who died?" asks me Octavia.

"Mr. Cake was killed by strangulation, and Open Skies seems to have committed suicide."

Both are astonished, and muted for a few seconds. Then, Octavia speaks again, highly troubled:

"Well... That's quite the news... It makes me reconsider the perspective I had on the quiet appearance of Ponyville... I didn't really know Open Skies, but I remember Mr. Cake pretty well. At the time when I was still living here, he was a very charming pony. No one could have ever resent him that much..."

"It didn't really change with time, you know," I say in a half-sigh. "If I had been told the day before yesterday that he would be killed, I wouldn't have believed any of it."

"You knew Open Skies if I'm not mistaken, Vinyl," continues Octavia, looking at her musical playmate. "He was a nice guy, wasn't he? He didn't looked like someone who would go for a suicide, right?"

Vinyl simply nods on the first question, before shrugging as a sign of ignorance. Octavia then turns to me.

"But you talked about two murders, right?"

"Yes," I say, having some regrets about letting that information escape me that easily. "The lead we're studying now for Open Skies tells us it's a murder. But don't say anything to anypony."

"You can count on us," certifies Octavia with utmost sincerity, while Vinyl zips her mouth with a hoof. "You want a coffee? I've seen you coveting my cup for a moment now."

I watch her as she smiles at me, having a little laugh myself.

"Yes, a coffee wouldn't hurt. Especially since I have some questions to ask you both concerning those two."

Vinyl stands up off the couch and goes into the kitchen to prepare me a coffee. I notice she has a slight red mark around her cutie mark.

"Two sugar, please," I say to her, while she answers with a hoof gesture.

Octavia slowly takes her own cup, thoughtful.

"It has been a while since such a tragedy happened in Ponyville, if my memory is correct..."

"It is. I wasn't even a detective when the last murder occurred. Well, if we only talk about those which were indeed qualified as murders."

"What do you mean?" interrogates Octavia, suddenly curious.

"Well, the last official murder of Ponyville dates back to the Bottle husband. That one goes back almost before my birth, and the culprit was never found. A crime done with a knife. And after that, there was the accident of the Apple, and the fire in the Heartbreak house. In my mind, those two were murders, but they were classified as accidents."

"Oh yes, I remember, you made a name for yourself with the fire case, it's true. It's you who had brought the evidence for the accident trail, no?"

"I simply noticed that the fire started in the living room next to the fireplace," I say with a bit of modesty and nostalgia. "But it's true that it opened me the way onto a job of detective. Me, who was just good at eating candies all day. I finally had something to do, at barely sixteen."

"You even got into an argument with the inspectors, if I recall."

"They only send in incompetent ones!" I answer, offended. "People that didn't even know Ponyville, nor the rural lifestyle! Obviously, there were only two police officers in Ponyville at that time, if you can call them officers! By the way, it's why they recruited a bit more personnel here and-"

A sound of broken porcelain is suddenly heard coming from the kitchen. I stop talking, Octavia asking:

"Is everything alright Vinyl?"

The only answer that comes to us is the one from an angry broom cleaning off the debris. Octavia gives me a little smile:

"Your coffee will take a bit of time I think. What makes you think the two were murders, not accidents?"

"For the Apple, it's... about a feeling, I'd say," I tell, a bit embarrassed. "An intuition. For a stallion built like him, even with a wheel breaking, it's not normal to get pulled like this in a ravine. They were in a hurry for their delivery, that I'm willing to believe, but for me it's too... banal for the people they were."

I take a little pause to think about it again. His mare was in the back of the carriage, and both had sunk into the ravine when the wheel had broken in a turn. Everything led to believe in an accident. Maybe because it was my first accident case as an investigator, I refused, and I still refuse to this day, to believe in a simple accident.

"And for the Heartbreak, I told myself it was too much misfortune for one person."

"How so?"

"Miss Heartbreak, formerly known as Miss Bottle, it was her whose husband had been assassinated before. First her husband is murdered while she's pregnant, then her house burns, with her and her new husband inside. To me it's just the murderer that wanted to finish the job, but there was no proof."

"And the foal or the filly?"

"Colgate? She was awakened by the flames and managed to get out in time. At barely twelve years old, losing family and home like this. It's not surprising that she stayed a bit special."

"Oh, I didn't know it was her parents," wonders Octavia. "You learn more every day."

"Yeah... To get back to today, do you have any idea as to who could have held a grudge against Mr Cake?"

"Hm..." answers me Octavia, thoughtful, emptying her cup.

Once the porcelain is put back down, she lowers her gaze on the table. She seems lost in her memory, and her eyes tell me she really wants to find something.

"If we go way back in time," she ends up saying, "There's the story of a stallion, who might have had views on Miss Cake before she moved to Ponyville. But that was twelve years ago now, it would be a bit late for a crime of passion."

"Nothing else?"

"Nothing that comes to my mind, I'm sorry."

I sigh. I was rather expecting the name of someone from Ponyville to be mentioned, but at least it's another lead to dig in.

"If something comes back to you, don't hesitate to tell me about it," I say to her. "I know you like gossip, with just that you could help us."

"I'll be sure to do so."

"Oh, and just in case," I add, "Where were you tonight? Did you see anything suspicious?"

"We rehearsed all night," answers Octavia with a smile. "And we didn't go out during that time. So, no, sorry, we did not see or hear anything."

"And no one that can confirm it... Oh well, I hope there weren't too many breakages."

Octavia very subtly tilts her head, like only the great mares of Canterlot know how to do so, to signify their incomprehension. 

"Vinyl's flanks are a bit reddened," I say to explain myself. "I figure that something probably fell on her to leave that kind of mark."

Octavia's head straightens as she hides, with an ease close to perfection, the sudden embarrassment that invaded her. I kindly reassure her:

"It's your business, that kind of things. It was more to make sure if my intuition was correct, don't worry, I'm not the one who's going to judge you for that."

"Yes, I imagine," she says with a half-smile. "Lyra and you, it's never been a secret for anypony. By the way, I'm surprised that she's not with you, she's an investigator, isn't she?"

I grind my teeth, and contrary to her, I don't hide it.

"You broke up...?" asks Octavia, half-stunned, half-sorry. She's a quick thinker when it comes to that kind of thing, the bloody mare.

"It's been three years..." I breathe between my clenched teeth.

"What happened?"

Even if her tone tries to be one coming from a sorry and compassionate mare, I can feel behind that she's trembling with impatience at the idea of knowing. She's going to be disappointed.

"I don't really know myself..."

I slowly lower my eyes, looking at the floor and my hooves, thinking back about that day.

"It had been a year since we had seen each other, she had gone to Manehattan. When I learned that she was coming back, I waited for her at the train station, happy to see her, and a little anxious and... When the train arrived, she got off. I called and walked up to her, but I didn't get any answer. I came in front of her, but she simply passed me by... Without a look... She didn't look sad while doing this... Her eyes were harsh, cold, but not even on me... I went to see her the day after, in her old house. I knocked, I called her, I didn't get any answer... Any explanations..."

I suddenly feel Octavia's hoof resting on mine, and I jump, coming back to my senses.

"You're crying, Bonbon."

I release my hoof only to pass it on the top of my cheeks carefully. They are a bit moist, indeed, but I must have only let one tear drop. I dry them with the back of my hoof, resuming:

"Sorry. We didn't talk after that, at least until yesterday. We investigated a bit together."

"And?"

I hesitate a bit, still troubled by all those emotions that just came back to me, then I sigh, before answering:

"She seems to have remorse. But it doesn't mean that I plan on forgiving her."

"Everyone makes mistakes, especially in love. Try to understand why she reacted that way and-"

"There will never be any valid reason!" I exclaim, a broken porcelain noise coming out of the kitchen once again, without me paying any attention to it. "She dumped me like I was worthless!"

"I get you," answers Octavia, turning her head to notice that Vinyl is getting something to clean the floor while mumbling. "How do you manage to let things fall all the time, despite having a horn!?"

The only answer she gets is Vinyl sticking her tongue out, and she turns back to me sighing, pursuing when she sees my anger:

"We have reasons, sometimes, to distance ourselves from someone. And often, we are scared to tell the other, so we don't do it, until it hits a breaking point. And that's when it hurts the most. Take a step back, it's been three years by now, going by what you said. Maybe it's time to forget about your ire towards her."

I am fulminating. How does she dare to say this, even though she has no idea how much it hurts!?

"I'm not the best pony to say this," she says to me, as if she was reading my thoughts. "But I know somepony who could tell you the same thing and know what they are talking about."

With a nod, she points towards the kitchen. I try to understand for a few seconds, before remembering. At the death of Ponyville's town square, Octavia abandoned the conservatory she held with Vinyl to move to Canterlot. Did they leave each other on bad terms as well?

"She and you...?" I slowly say, having lost a bit of my anger.

"Yes," she replies with a bitter look. "And I'd rather not talk about it."

As I slowly calm down, a warm cup of coffee comes and sets in front of me on the table, Vinyl going back to her place on the sofa, looking sullen, probably because of her lost dishes, even if it's hard to be certain about it because of her smoked glasses. While I take my awaited cup, Octavia turns to Vinyl.

"This Open Skies, was he at your parties?"

The unicorn nods without even thinking about it.

"Was he getting into trouble?"

This time, she just shrugs with nonchalance.

"Didn't you tell me there was a fight at your last party?" suddenly asks Octavia.

Vinyl rubs her chin, before nodding.

"Was he in it?"

I see the unicorn frowning to think. I already saw her after her parties, she's not in a state that favours a clear and accurate memory most of the time. But in the end, she nods as I finish my coffee.

"Against who?" continues to question her guest.

This time, it's a doubtful pout that precedes Vinyl's shrug. I sigh.

"You'll give me the list of guests, or you'll tell me if it comes back to you," I say while standing up, putting down my cup. "In any case, thank you for your time."

"You're leaving already?" says Octavia.

"I have a case to solve, quickly, before there are any other victims."

After a brief smile addressed to the two mares, I turn around and go peacefully to the door.

"Try to ask the ponies from the old town square," tells me Octavia as I'm opening the door. "It's them who knew Mr. Cake best."

"I know. But thanks for the advice."

I get out of the house, closing behind me. I didn't learn much during that visit, aside from the fact that Octavia is in Ponyville. But at least, I was able to change my views on some things.
> Chapter 10 - An Old Friend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm going nowhere. I know it's the norm for a case to take a bit of time, even more so for a murder case. It's not even been twenty-four hours since Mr. Cake died, I should grin and bear it, analyse things calmly. But I can't, and it's not because of a lack of sugar this time.

There's not even a single serious suspect, and it's getting on my nerves. Usually, I understand pretty quickly what happened, and the rest is simply about proving what I think, or finding things contradicting my thoughts and going on a new lead. Here, nothing. And since we'll have to investigate in Manehattan as well, it's going to take even more time to have a clear vision of things.

Why Mr. Cake? What has he done that's so bad that someone here, in Ponyville, would go as far as to kill him? There's not just good samaritans in this town, yes, but for someone to commit a murder, it takes a lot.

Or maybe it's not someone from Ponyville, and the lead of the competition from Manehattan should be considered. But searching there might be long. Simply going there by train takes an entire afternoon.

The problem is that I don't know all of Ponyville's inhabitants enough. I was pretty isolated the past few years. I would need someone who knows everypony pretty well.

Pinkie? No, she's going to burst in tears again, and she didn't know anything. Mayor Mare then? Since Twilight's coronation, her functions are limited, but still. I should go and see her.

I stop. My steps have brought me near Sugarcube Corner, but my eyes are fixed on something else. Ponyville's bar. Forgotten by most of the town, after all, ponies nearly only drink cider here, in terms of alcohol, but it's still very well located in the middle of Ponyville. In fact, maybe someone saw the assassin get out without even realising.

I think for a moment, grimacing. I know who is probably in there. A mare on the list of people to interrogate, and probably the reason why the bar hasn't filed for bankruptcy yet. But is it really worth interrogating an old drunkard? I don't want to talk to her, not since she had her problem. She was kind, before, and smiling, but now, she's insufferable. Or at least, she was, the last time I talked to her. Maybe things have changed since...

I shake my head and decide on going in. The investigation obliges me, I must not neglect a lead for personal reasons. Maybe she saw something crucial, probably not, but maybe. I come in.

The bar is pretty much empty, as I expected. Nothing differentiates this bar from any other, the same tables, the same chairs, the same decorations and that rustic style giving the place a warm side to it. The latent smell of smoke, despite it being forbidden. And of course, the counter. Weirdly enough, no one is located behind it. On the other hand, there's someone sitting down in front of it.

Placed on a stool, legs hanging, leaning on her elbow on the counter, facing a full glass and a bottle of red wine, looking jaded, mentally tired, in a silent depression. Berry Punch.

I approach her slowly, taking place on a stool two places away from her so as to not discomfort her.

"Hi Berry, the bartender isn't here?"

"Hm..." she flabbily says without even lifting her eyes from her glass. "It's his break time... What's bringing you here?"

"I would like to ask you a few questions."

I'd rather be direct. I notice, with surprise, that she doesn't seem drunk, and that there is a second full glass setting in front of the free spot right by her side.

"You're waiting for someone?" I say to try and start a more convivial conversation, since it doesn't look like she wants to answer.

It gets her to sarcastically muzzle blow.

"It's been how many years since we talked...? Nine? Ten?"

"Ten, if I recall," I say.

"And so you come to see me because you need me... After all this time..."

There's a tormented tone in her voice, but weirdly calm. As if she had accepted her state and her misfortune, whatever its cause might be.

"There's been a murder, at Sugarcube Corner."

"I know... I heard about it..." she tells.

"I know your habits, you hang out here a lot, maybe you saw something important without knowing."

She deigns to turn her eyes to me. Eyes sunken with fatigue, not the one from a night spent without sleeping, but the one from many years of torments. A downcast stare, but yet again, resigned. She stares at me and, somewhere deep down, it terrifies me. Because on that sombre and destroyed face, I can still catch a glimpse of the smiling traits from the Berry I knew, like a ghost.

"Why would I help you...?"

Is she serious right now!?

"To avoid more death, that's why," I say. "And to bring justice to Mr. Cake."

Another muzzle blow, as she brings her attention back to her glass.

"He's dead, there's no justice to bring. Some things can't be excused."

"That's not for you to decide," I say, a tad bit angry. "So, you don't plan on helping me?"

"I do," she sighs with tiredness. "Of course I do... But I didn't see much. I was drunk yesterday evening."

"Really nothing you can remember? Even a sound, or a vague shape would be of great help."

"Nothing... And with the years, I don't pay attention to what's around..."

"And no one that could have had something against him?" I say, continuing while she's willing to answer.

She stares at her glass for a moment. Is she thinking? Or is that slight and sad frowning hiding something else? In the end, she answers slowly:

"Maybe... There's this stallion who had views on Miss Cake... He was from Manehattan I think, like her..."

"A name?"

She rubs her temple with a hoof.

"I don't remember... He came to my bar at the time. I think he said he was a caterer."

"That's old," I say, a bit annoyed. "Mrs. Cake came to Ponyville twelve years ago, why would he come back now? Anyone would give up with the time."

"Not necessarily..." slowly answers Berry.

"Don't be kidding, that's ridiculous."

"Love can make you do ridiculous things..."

I stare at her, trying to understand if she's serious or not. She turned her eyes to her bottle. I notice, by the way, that it is almost full, only the contents of the two glasses are missing. So she didn't drink yet. However, it's almost noon, and I know she generally comes to the bar at the opening.

"Twelve years, it's more than ridiculous."

"I can assure you it's not..." she insists.

"No offence, but I don't really care about your theories."

"I'm talking about what I know."

"You've always been alone," I point out, without really meaning to be hurtful.

"And?" she retorts, suddenly bitter.

I don't dare to reply. She threw me off, she takes the subject to heart. I angered her. And the reason isn't hard to understand, but unexpected. She was in love for a while too.

I see her taking her glass, but she doesn't drink, simply looking at the undulating liquid's surface.

"It doesn't take much, you know... Sometimes, we get attached to anypony, and it doesn't go away... It only takes a pony a bit silly... or a mare a bit too naive..."

I slowly bring my seat closer to hers, curious. I never heard about Berry having a love story, and I don't think I'm alone in that case. I forget my investigation. What she's talking about seems to weigh on her heart, and I want to help her. Before I stopped speaking to her, I reproached her precisely for not saying what was tormenting her this much. But it seems like I have an opportunity to understand now.

"Tell me..." I softly say to incite her to speak.

"You said it, I've always been alone..." she slowly says, still staring at her glass. "Even when I was running my bar, in the old town square, I was alone. Never any stallion really approached me, and even at that time, the bar wasn't doing well in Ponyville. A work that was meant to be social, but where I wasn't seeing anyone..."

She puts her glass back down, taking in a slow breath, smiling with a bitter nostalgia.

"Then one evening, a stallion came in... He was lost, his life wasn't going how he would have wanted it to, he didn't know where he was anymore, in short, a bout of depression, as it happens... I did what every barmare would have done in a moment like this... I served him a glass, to warm his body, and I talked to him, to console his heart..." 

I listen carefully, as she seems entirely plunged in her own memories. For now, she still smiles a bit. I don't plan on interrupting her.

"We talked a lot. Mostly about him. He had simply succumbed to the stress, through always striving to be the best he could be in his actions... He seemed like a nice person, who paid great attention to what he was bringing to others... I started to like him. When came the time to go, he thanked me for my help and said "One day, I'll be the one paying you a drink"..."

Her smile fades.

"Those were just words... Coming from a pony who had drunk a bit, and who simply wanted to be thankful... But I was young, idiot, and no stallion had ever shown me signs of affections up until then... So I took him to the word, I exaggerated their meaning, I imagined things... "One day, he'll come back to take a drink, and we'll talk," is what I told myself..."

I wince a bit. I get her, in a way, and I think I know what's going to follow.

"So the next day, I got out a bottle of a wine I liked, two glasses, and I waited. Of course, I didn't open the bottle, since I didn't know at what hour he could have come."

She stops. Telling this is hard for her, but it seems to also feel awfully good. 

"He didn't come the next day... I told myself it was normal, he needed time to put things back together in his life. And anyway, it was only another day alone in the bar, amongst many others... He didn't come the day after either. A doubt invaded me, would the wine suit him? I opened the bottle and poured myself a glass... Then another, a few hours later... I finished the bottle the next day. He still hadn't come."

She sighs, I still watch her with attention. Her eyes are going through a thousand different expressions with every sentence she speaks, but all are a bit sad in their own way.

"After a week, I had a few empty bottles... He hadn't come, but I had heard words that a mare had just moved in in the town square and that she had an activity close to his... It was normal for him to spend time with her..."

Ponyville did attract a lot of small businesses at the time, it's true. Not too far from Canterlot, but without the exorbitant rents of the capital, with a nice rural air.

"He didn't come the first month... I got into an argument with my little sister, who told me that it wasn't good practice to take from the store's reserves like that. I told her I was the manager, and that  the wine was going to go to waste anyway."

Berry has a sarcastic laugh.

"What an excuse... Wine doesn't go to waste like that..."

"You knew a thing or two about that," I say to show her I'm still listening to her story, as I come sitting next to her.

"Yes..." she says slowly. "After three months, I learned he was engaged with this new mare. But I kept hoping he would come, even just as a friend. And well, love stories come and go, maybe it was just on whim and it wouldn't last..."

She clenches her hoof on the glass.

"How selfish I was... I attended the wedding, in my corner... He was beautiful, dressed like that, but he didn't speak a word to me, nor even looked at me... But that was expected, for him to have eyes only for his mare the day of their wedding... So I let it slide..."

I don't dare to interrupt her, but I can't believe she stayed hung up on something so banal for so long... Or rather, I don't want to believe it.

"I had to close down after a year..." continues Berry with a sigh. "I argued with my sister and she left to pursue her studies in Baltimare... She sent me a single letter, five years ago... I never replied to her..."

She lets go of the glass, leaning her elbow on the counter and taking her head in her hooves.

"I don't know when I started to drink to forget more than to wait... When I lost hope, and I took notice of everything I had lost, of how much I had been dumb... And I continue to be... The worst part is that I think I never truly stopped to hope that, one day, he would say to himself "Hey, what happened to that barmare?" or even "I heard that she has been drinking for years, maybe I should go and see what's wrong"... But none of that..."

Berry slowly raises her head, and I watch her do so. She turns her eyes to the second glass, then towards hers, before slowly pushing it towards me. Or maybe she's putting it away from her, I don't know.

"Love really makes you do stupid things..."

"That's not love, Berry," I finally say, trying to be compassionate. "You were in great affective distress, and you just looked to cling on to the littlest positive thing... You became obsessed, and blind..."

"How is that different from love?"

I don't answer. It's true, she got me on that one. I could tell her that everything resides in nuances, a more measured way to take things, but who am I to tell what's the right way to love? Everyone loves in its own way, and for some, it's more destructive than anything.

"There... Nothing to answer... I just wasted my life waiting for someone... I ruined my liver, my health, my family, my business... And this morning, I got told he was killed..."

What?

"Berry... You..." I slowly say, shocked. "Mr. Cake...?"

"I waited for nothing..." she states without listening to me. "Looks like someone else didn't have my patience..."

I'm at a loss for words. During all this time, all those years, Berry was in love with M. Cake!? But why? I know she just explained it to me, but that's completely dumb and unbelievable! Yes, she seems sincere, it looks like it's affecting her, but all of this for a simple sentence!? It's... sad... too much... way too much... the poor mare...

"Berry..."

"Hm?" she slowly says, turning her head towards me. She's not crying. She really is resigned. 

Me on the other hand, I look at her while holding my emotions. So that's what happened to my friend, under my eyes, without me doing anything. Something so silly.

"Sorry..." I end up saying, swallowing my great speeches. 

"It's not up to you to excuse yourself for that..." she tells, bringing her gaze back on the counter. "Nobody owes me any excuses anymore... I don't even know if I deserved some at one point..."

I can't let her like this. I have to find something to cheer her up, and I think I have an idea.

"See this as a new beginning. Put back some order in your life, reach out to your sister, I'm sure that if you explain it to her, she'll understand."

Berry lets out a long sigh, before telling me quite unexpectedly:

"You're not in a position to tell me to put some order back in my life, I think..."

Her tone isn't hurtful, but her sentence is.

"What do you mean by that?" I say, a bit offended.

"Lyra came to drink here," she reveals. "A week ago... Or two, I don't know."

I frown. What could she have said about me? Berry stares at me weirdly, before having a weak smile.

"Judging by your reaction it's true..." she slowly says. "You argued with each other..."

"What did she tell you!?" I say, getting angry, not against her, but against Lyra, wondering what she may have told behind my back.

"Just that you weren't together anymore because of a silly story..."

"What story!?"

Berry nonchalantly shrugs, before getting down of her seat all while saying:

"Why don't you ask her? Those are your stories, not mine."

She puts two bits and goes away slowly, without saying anything.

"Where are you going?" I say, still angry but suddenly worried for her.

"I'm going back home... There's no point in me waiting now..."

Without saying anything else, she passes by the exit, leaving me alone in the bar.

That case makes me discover things I didn't expect. Really didn't.
> Chapter 11 - An Odd Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's crazy how much I had forgotten this feeling. To sit under a tree, under the shade of its leaves,  brain focused on everything I know about the current case.

Essentially, not much. The killer is still roaming free, made two victims, maybe three, and I have no idea if it will continue or not.

My brain doesn't have much trouble getting used to that, weirdly enough. As if, deep down, I had been waiting for this for years. But that's impossible, right? I can't be this morbid, can I?

In any case, that story seems to bring back some older ones. What Berry told me is still running through my mind. I don't think she's the killer, but it confirms one thing: There exists people in Ponyville who could resent Mr. Cake, for more or less valid reasons. But in that case, is Open Skies truly a collateral victim, or the killer didn't like him either?

More than one brain are required to think about all this. I have to see Whooves. I stand up, take my bag, and start walking there.

On my way, I spot a rather peculiar scene. Daisy and Lily are accosting ponies going by. Judging by the posters they're holding, it's not hard to guess the topic of the conversation.

"Bonbon!" says Daisy, coming towards me, brandishing her poster. "Did you..."

"I know what Rose looks like, you know... And no, I didn't see her."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain."

"Really really sure!?" she insists, getting too close to my liking.

"Yes! If I knew anything, I would tell you, you know that!"

She moves back a little when confronted with my hint of aggressiveness, lowering her ears, putting on a sorry face.

"It's true, and you're investigating that as well... Sorry, it's just that..."

"She's dear to you, I know," I say while recovering a bit of my calm, sighing. "Keep on searching, indirectly you are helping us. But just be less... invasive."

"You... think something bad happened to her...?" then asks Daisy, rubbing one leg, worried. She's looking at me, fearing my answer.

"For now, I think she's just missing. Nothing points me towards something else."

Well, actually yes, judging by the situation, Rose is either locked up in a dark place or, at worst, already dead by now. But that's not the kind of thing I can say to Daisy like that.

"Really? Oh, what a relief then. Lily and I are worried sick."

"I get that. Now, if you allow me, I need to go..."

"Where?" suddenly says an amused voice right next to my ear.

Hiding a jump, I turn around even if I know who it is. Obviously, doing that, it can be only her. That unicorn.

"That's not your business, Sea."

She is standing in front of me with her usual slightly mischievous smile. Sea Swirl.

"That's not you to decide."

"Hello, Sea," says Daisy, once again brandishing her poster. "Did you see Rose?"

"Not recently, no, sorry," she apologises.

"Aren't you supposed to be on holiday?" I say after thinking. "On the beach or wherever?"

"I came back three days ago."

"Everything went fine?"

"Oh yes, the water was divine, and the ponies charming," she explains with a large hoof gesture.

I think a bit, looking at her. An idea just came to my mind. Meanwhile, she continues with enthusiasm:

"Not a single rain day, pegasus are really doing a good job."

She stops, losing a bit of her smile.

"Well, I would have preferred to come back at a better time."

"No, it's perfect, you came at the right time," I suddenly say. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?" she answers, looking distractedly at Daisy going away. "About what?"

"I'll tell you. Follow me."

I'd rather tell her that in a quiet place. Not that I don't trust Lily or Daisy, but they have very light tongues. So I lead her to the small street behind the flower shop.

Few ponies in Ponyville take the streets parallel to the main avenues. The place is quiet. I turn to her. She seems a little intrigued by the situation.

"Can I trust you?"

"Huh?" she says.

"Answer me."

I'm serious. I need to know. Sea Swirl is a mare who helped me a lot for a few years now, and I would say she's currently my best friend. But I must hear it from her mouth.

"Well, it depends, if you announce to me that you're the murderer and you don't want me to denounce you, no, you cannot trust me."

I stay quiet, a little thrown off by her answer. She looks at me with a little step back, seemingly afraid.

"What, it's true? It's you?"

"I... No! Absolutely not!"

"Oh, phew, you scared me," she says, relieved, wiping her forehead with a hoof. "Then what do you want to tell me?"

"I just want to know if I can count on you to help me."

"If you tell me what to do, yes," she answers with a shrug.

"Follow ponies. Collect informations. All while staying low."

She suddenly seems a lot less certain. Especially confronted with my determined face.

"Like... a spy...?" she ends up saying, seeing the term very negatively by the look of it.

"Like an assistant," I say to nuance. "A detective's help."

It doesn't seem to reassure her. Her gaze is fleeting. Something else is bothering her, but it's a topic she doesn't want to bring up...?

"What's wrong?"

She stammers, looking at me.

"It... Well, isn't it the kind of thing you would ask Lyra to do, normally...?"

My hooves clench a bit. She doesn't notice and hastens to follow:

"I know you're not on very good terms. But it's still something you've done together for years. I probably won't be as efficient as her and..."

Sea looks away, uneasy, adding at half-voice:

"... she might get jealous..."

I breathe in calmly, looking for a way to justify myself. I need to find a better reason than simply "I don't want to". And thankfully, I have one.

"Lyra is too involved in that case for now. Open Skies was her ex. It has shaken her emotionally. But consider yourself as my second assistant now. If I deem it necessary, I'll ask Lyra too..."

Which is to say, never for the life of me.

My words seem to have reassured her. Especially the "second assistant" part.

"Oh, in that case that's awesome! You want me to collect information on who or what?"

"For now, no one. But I need you to keep it a secret, alright?"

She nods.

"You'll have to be discreet as well if you gather indications... Don't be too direct, too clumsy."

"Er... How do you do that?"

"By acting like you're not."

That's very poorly explained, and I don't need to see her head tilting on the side to understand that. After a bit of reflection, I rephrase:

"Act natural. Look to steer conversation in the direction that you want."

"Ah, like I do to learn the latest gossip then."

I bob my head a little.

"Yeah, let's say that. But I really need someone I can trust for that."

"You can count on me!" she assures me with some confidence. In the end, she seems rather motivated.






I never thought in my life I'd come back to Ponyville's police station so often. But here I am. And it's more agitated than usual: There's Rarity next to the desk that serves as a reception. Facing a Junebug who seems very embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Rarity. But I can't do anything else."

"But someone robbed my place!" replies the unicorn, revolted.

"I know, and I carefully noted that in your deposition, but we're lacking ponies to send investigating on that."

"Robbed?" I say, stepping up to Rarity. "Your boutique?"

"Oh, hello Bonbon. Yes, it's awful, someone broke into my house!"

"When was that?"

She makes a bothered face.

"I don't know exactly, but this morning. When I was absent."

"And what was taken from you?"

"I don't know, I didn't do all the inventory. But there was an unspeakable mess in my outfits. I decided to come here first."

"Everyone is busy looking for Rose or guarding Open Skies' house," intervenes Junebug. "I'm sorry, Rarity, but we don't have anyone to send. Really. There's more concerning matter than a robbery."

"More concerning!?" she throws, getting carried away. "And what if Sweetie had been there!? What would have happened to her!?"

"Calm down, Rarity," I say, putting a hoof on her shoulder. "Junebug can't do anything about it. We're in a one of a kind situation. Sweetie Belle and you are safe, and just that fact makes the robbery less concerning than a murder."

Rarity lowers her eyes on the side a bit, sorry and a little ashamed.

"You're right, Bonbon. I'm sorry. It's just that it never happened before... And I apologise, Junebug, of course it's not your fault."

"Apologies accepted, Rarity," she kindly reassures her, before looking at me. "You came for something in particular?"

"I'm here to talk to Whooves, don't worry, I know the way."

It's true that I didn't have to stop. But oh well, I couldn't leave her alone against a panicked dressmaker. I walk away while waving at them, passing in the hallways, looking for the captain.






And it doesn't take long to find him. In his office, reading what seems to be a letter. After knocking on the already opened door, to signal my presence, I come in.

"Some news?" I say while looking at him.

He mumbles when raising his eyes to me, answering:

"Canterlot's police are going to send reinforcements."

That's good news, partially. But of course, it annoys him.

"Already?" I say, still surprised by the quickness of it.

"When the princess asks, the administration follows."

He holds back a sigh. It's easy to see.

"At least you'll have more ponies to send after Rose."

"That's a way of seeing it..." he answers, wobbling his head left and right, a little grumpy. "Anything new on your side?"

"Open Skies was caught in a fight at Vinyl's last party. And Berry is alcoholic because of Mr. Cake."

I dumped that with quite the nonchalance. In fact, probably too much for Whooves, who's looking at me with big surprised eyes. It's true that this deserves an explanation, especially the last point.






"And you're sure that Berry isn't the culprit?"

Whooves is staring at me. I just explained to him what I learned and, visibly, it's this story that retained his attention the most. However, the fact that he's asking proves he didn't listen that much, and it gets a sigh out of me.

"She wouldn't have said all that if that was the case. She barely had the energy to walk, so assassinating two ponies, including one she had nothing against, that's unthinkable."

"So we didn't made any progress," he concludes. "At least, not thanks to her. On the other hoof, it could be interesting to know with whom Open Skies fought."

"We just have to hope that Vinyl will remember. If you want my opinion, we shouldn't base our hopes on that."

"That's why I examined the possibilities. I have a list of the next person to interrogate. Done by crossing Pinkie's testimony with Mr. Cake and Open Skies' relatives."

His tone implies something. His phrasing as well. I frown.

"What, you intend on giving me this job?"

"Listen," he says seriously, taking in a deep breath, joining his hooves in front of him. "There's three ponies still at their post in this police station: Bright, who is sleeping and still has an autopsy to perform, Junebug who must stay to take depositions, which, weirdly enough, haven't stopped coming since this morning, and myself, trying to coordinate everyone! Everypony left to look for Rose, and even with twenty of them, the only indication we have leaves a zone so large it'll probably take us weeks to comb! And that's supposing Colgate is reliable which, if you want my honest opinion, isn't clearly a certainty! So excuse me for asking for your help!"

Once his monologue over, he stares at me with resoluteness, waiting for my answer. I give him a moderately surprised look. 

"Why don't you wait for the help from Canterlot? You don't like to work with me, usually."

He sighs, tired.

"The ribbon case, it dates back now. The situation is too serious for me to let that disagreement throw a spanner in the works. Those ponies from Canterlot, I don't know them, and they don't know anyone here. You, you know the people that need to be interrogated. You know where to dig with them."

I already knew he was going to say something like that. But it's always nice to hear it from his own voice. I'm not the "intrusive mare that gets under everyone's feet" anymore, now that you need me, am I?

I smile, internally.

"Fine. Who do I start with?"

"Rainbow Dash, Clear Skies and Applejack. By order of importance. Rainbow worked with Open Skies in the weather team, and she and Applejack spent yesterday morning at Sugarcube Corner. And Clear Skies, I don't think I need to explain myself."

I nod. I was already planning to see her sooner or later anyway. And it's been a while since I had the occasion to talk with Rainbow Dash as well.

"Alright."

Whooves giving me an important task, and trusting me. That's really an odd day.