A Paradoxical Series of Events
Sunlight poured through the thin lavender drapes, coming to lay on the face of a slender white unicorn. The mare was asleep in her bed, covered by silk sheets and a cotton comforter. The mare opened her eyes, the light pink irises catching the sunlight and shining brightly, though still clouded with sleep. Fleur de Lis climbed out of the bed, the centerpiece of the large bedroom. She slid her white hooves into light purple slippers, casting a quick glance around the room and taking note of the unmade bed and the nearly empty wardrobe. She’d have to do laundry soon, an idea that didn't appeal to the worldly mare. She now dearly regretted firing her maidservant. Fleur crossed the white-carpeted floor and opened the wardrobe. She pulled out a robe of satin, which she draped over her form with ease. The white robe trailed against the carpet as she exited the room.
Fleur walked silently down the hallway’s wooden floors, her hooves making no sound in their plush slippers. She stopped in the powder room and examined her reflection, patting on a slight blush and painting her eyelids purple before exiting the room to continue her descent to the main floor of her large home. Holding back a slight yawn as she entered the main living area, she passed a display cabinet that held some of her most valuable possessions. The mare stepped into the kitchen, the floors decorated with the flowers that resided on her pristine white flank. She gazed down at the tile, her namesake scattered across the room in varying shades of purple and yellow. The Fleur de Lis was her mother’s favorite flower, and she had named Fleur after it. She closed her eyes for a moment as a wave of sadness struck her. Her parents were gone, and they weren't coming back. Fleur knew this as certainly as she knew her own name.
The unicorn opened her eyes and walked across the kitchen to the cabinets, where she took down a mug and some cheap coffee mix. Fleur had recently discovered coffee, the pick-me-up of peasants and found she deeply enjoyed the drink in its most basic form, undecorated by sugars and creams. She poured the mix and some hot water into the coffee machine she had bought specifically for the purpose of fixing her morning wake up call, and shuffled over to the dining table where she sat to wait for the coffee to finish. Fleur had never liked the undignified way most ponies sat on chairs, so the furniture in her house was all cushions and low coffee tables--partly because the tables had coffee in their name.
The white mare jumped as the coffee machine rang out in high, annoying tones. She quickly walked back over and shut off the machine, retrieving her mug and lugging it back with her past the curio cabinet. She passed the cabinet’s glass display doors, the mug wrapped in the purple cloud of magic that belonged to her. Fleur had a contented smile on her face--that was, until she froze suddenly and cast a sideways glance back towards the cabinet. She backed up a few steps, still holding the mug a little ways ahead of her. Fleur’s gaze fixed on the spot where her prize vase should’ve sat, and there was a thump as her coffee mug hit the white carpet, splattering black liquid everywhere. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that echoed in the large room, bouncing of the high arching ceilings.
A few hours later, the distraught white mare answered the pounding on her door to find the police ponies she had called upon earlier. She gave them a slight frown of annoyance, but stayed silent until she reached the curio cabinet with the ponies in tow. Fleur would have called them from her telephone, a strange invention many of Canterlot’s elite had, but the police station’s funding didn't cover telephones. She’d had to bother with Canterlot’s mail system, which was a very exhausting task. Fleur had requested the letter to the police be sent as fast as possible, but it still took two hours to get there, plus another for the time it took them to get to her home. The deputy was watching her intently, and she met his gaze readily.
“Deputy Silverhoof, ma’am. Where is the missing vase?” asked the earth pony, addressing the white unicorn.
She gave him an odd look. “If I knew that, would I have called you to look for it?” Fleur had a feeling this investigation was going to take much longer than originally necessary.
“No, I suppose not. Where is the place it would normally be, then?”
Fleur gestured at the top shelf of the curio cabinet. “Top shelf, middle of the cabinet,” she said. Leaving them to their work, she walked over to where her mug had landed and looked sadly at the spilt drink. With a sigh, she used the spell she had learned before her last party to remove the coffee from the carpet. She carried the liquid mess back to her kitchen and dumped in the sink, running some water to clean up the silver basin. Fleur passed the police again, retrieving the mug and returning to the kitchen to make more coffee.
Fleur returned to the crime scene, holding her mug of new coffee at about eye level. The silver colt turned to her, and promptly explained what had happened with about as much police jargon as he could. She stared at him for a second, before slowly requesting he speak in Equestrian.
“Somepony stole your vase while you were sleeping last night,” said the deputy.
Fleur rolled her eyes. “Well, I figured as much. They could hardly do it while I was awake!” Fleur responded with annoyance.
Silverhoof glared at her and she simply blinked innocently. “Was there anyone with you in the house last night?”
Fleur appeared to think for a moment before answering. “Pony Joe. He runs a donut shop here in Canterlot,” she said dismissively.
Deputy Silverhoof raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Does he have a key to the house?” questioned the earth pony.
Fleur opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again and fixed the colt with a glare. “Why am I being interrogated? I’m the victim!” Fleur said, keeping her gaze on the deputy, “I refuse to answer any more questions until you tell me what you've found.”
Silverhoof let out a sigh. “Fine, have it your way. Lieutenant Chrome? Bring the evidence,” Silverhoof said, massaging his temple with a hoof. Chrome trotted over, bringing an object surrounded by an icy blue cloud of magic.
Fleur tilted her head as she examined the object. “‘Pony Joe’s Donuts’,” she read aloud, “It has an address and contact number. I’m surprised his little business generates enough profit to buy a telephone.” Fleur turned away from the business card and faced the deputy again.
“ Didn't you have more questions for me, sir?” she said sweetly, though her eyes sparked dangerously. The deputy and his lieutenant appeared not to notice.
“We found the card near on the floor near the cabinet. Was Pony Joe near the cabinet at all?” asked the lieutenant. The deputy gave him a sharp nudge, and whispered something Fleur couldn't hear. The lieutenant’s eyes widened and he rejoined the investigative team.
Fleur frowned before answering. “No, we came in through the front door, cut across the corner of the living area, and headed up the stairs to my room,” she responded, pondering the events of the previous evening before nodding. “We didn't come near the cabinet.”
“Did you give him a key to your home?” Silverhoof questioned further. Fleur shook her head, light pink mane sliding easily over her slender white neck.
“Are any of your doors or windows unlocked?”
“I don’t believe so, no,” Fleur said, tapping a delicate hoof to her chin.
“Do you mind if we check?” Silverhoof said, already motioning to his ponies. He turned back to the unicorn, fixing her with an intent stare for another time that morning.
“Are you sure you didn't give him a key?”
Fleur raised an eyebrow, but thought hard about last night. “Well, I keep a key on rack in the living room, just in case. We passed the rack and I’m pretty sure he saw it.”
“I’m going to go look. Don’t move,” Silverhoof commanded, turning and crossing the living room to examine the key rack. It was empty. He turned to Fleur.
“The key’s gone. Do you think he may have swiped it when you weren’t looking?”
“He may have.”
“But you don’t know for certain.”
“Yup.” Fleur hated the way her confirmation sounded like a peasant speaking. Too late to fix it now. She heaved an inward sigh as Silverhoof’s troops re-entered the living area.
“No signs of breaking and entering, sir. The porch door was slightly ajar in the lady’s bedroom, however,” reported one of the younger members of the police squadron.
Fleur stared at him. “Are you sure?” she asked, “I swear I didn't leave it open last night!”
An older police pony answered for his young fellow. “Yes, he’s sure. It had to have been opened from the inside, as well. The type of locks you have mean it’s impossible to open from the porch. Security reasons, I’m assuming.”
Fleur de Lis blinked in surprise. “You know a lot about locks, for a police pony,” she said flatly.
The police pony shrugged in response. “I used to be a criminal. That was years ago, mind you. I’m on the right team now,” he said easily. The unicorn was amazed he was that careless about speaking of his past.
Fleur thought for a moment. “So you’re telling me Pony Joe tried to frame someone else by making it look like they came in through the porch?” asked Fleur, stringing together random bits of information.
The deputy gave her an odd look, which she appeared not to see. “Well, yes, we were going to tell you that, but we weren’t counting on you figuring it out on your own...” the deputy trailed off, wondering how the unicorn mare could’ve possibly connected facts with such obscure connections.
Said unicorn fluffed her pink mane with a hoof, pulling on an aloof expression. “Well now, I’d expect such educated young stallions not to base their opinions on other ponies’ looks!” Fleur said, pretending to act offended.
Silverhoof sighed. “Miss, does Pony Joe have any significant pegasi enemies?”
Fleur stared at him. “How should I know? It was a one night stand, ponies. I know next to nothing about the colt,” Fleur said offhoofedly.
Lieutenant Chrome whispered into his deputy’s ear. Silverhoof nodded and turned back to Fleur. “We’re going to go question Pony Joe. If you need us, send our dispatcher a letter down at the station,” he said, turning and leading his ponies towards the door.
Fleur followed Silverhoof and his ponies out, shutting the door behind them and returning to the kitchen. Realizing she’d put down her coffee mug unconsciously earlier, the unicorn searched for it frantically before her eyes settled on the mug, resting next to the stylish white telephone on the counter. Fleur captured the mug in her magic, taking a sip before setting it down and making a call to a local restaurant. A deep voice could be heard sounding in the speaker.
“Did they fall for it?” it questioned.
Fleur turned and watched the police ponies trot down the road, lifting the coffee mug to her lips once more. “Of course.”
Pony Joe stood behind the counter of Pony Joe’s Donuts, his very own restaurant, polishing a glass with a rag. He had just turned to put it on the shelf when the door slammed open, startling him and causing him to drop the glass. He frowned at the shards on the floor before directing a glare at whomever--
Joe’s eyes widened as a police squadron entered the donut shop, marching right up to the counter and sitting down. The deputy fixed him with an intent stare, and Joe stared right back with his wide eyes. The deputy cleared his throat before speaking.
“Sir, I’m Deputy Silverhoof. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
"Alright...”
“Where were you last night?”
“With Fleur de Lis, at her house.”
“May we ask why?”
“I’m disinclined to answer that.”
“Fine, we know why anyway.”
“Why did you ask?” Joe asked incredulously. For police ponies, these ones sure weren’t the brightest.
“Policy. Were you involved in stealing her key?” Silverhoof questioned, his gaze on Joe unrelenting.
“No, I didn’t steal her key. What are you implying?”
“Someone stole an expensive vase from her home last night.”
“My, that’s terrible. So why are you here?”
“Your business card was found on the scene, as if dropped unknowingly.” Silverhoof’s gaze became more of a glare.
“What!?” Joe’s jaw unhinged as he realized they were accusing him. “I don’t even have a business card!”
“Apparently you do. Lieutenant, show him the card.” Silverhoof turned to look over his shoulder at the colt. Chrome levitated the business card over to Pony Joe, who examined it.
“‘Pony Joe’s Donuts’,” he read, in the same monotone Fleur had. Joe made a questioning noise before turning to Silverhoof for answers. “ I've never had business cards.”
“Do you have any pegasi enemies, sir?” Silverhoof asked.
Joe dropped the card on the floor, surprised. “W-what?”
“Are you at odds with any pegasi?”
“What?”
“Say what again. Say what again! I dare you, no I double dare you marebucker, say what one more goddessdamn time!” shouted a voice from across the restaurant.
Joe sighed. “No, I’m not enemies with any pegasi. Obviously not Spitfire,” he said confidently, then slapping a hoof over his mouth as he realized what he confessed.
Silverhoof raised an eyebrow. “Lieutenant Chrome, find out where Spitfire the Wonderbolt lives. We’re going to see a mare about a vase.” Lieutenant Chrome lead the police squadron out of the restaurant, headed down the road to the police station to consult their records.
Joe watched the police ponies leave, a sinister smile creeping across his lips. Once he was sure they weren’t coming back, the tan unicorn crossed the space between him and his office, opening the door and sitting down in the chair. Silently debating with himself for a moment, he reached out and took the phone of the hanger, quickly calling somepony.
A voice answered, high and feminine. She sounded excited, anticipative. Joe could feel a grin stretching across his face as he answered her rushed questions.
“Did everything go as planned?” asked the mystery mare.
Joe nodded, forgetting for a moment she couldn't see him. “Yes, everything went perfectly,” said the unicorn smoothly. “What about you?”
There was a chuckle from the mare’s end. “Of course. No worries, Joe. I’ll talk to you later.”
Joe grinned as the phone clicked, signaling the end of their odd conversation. He hung up the phone and sat back in his chair, humming a cheerful tune.
The door to the cramped studio apartment slammed open, bouncing off the wall and swinging back to nearly smack the exhausted mare in the face. Spitfire threw out a hoof to fend off the door, dropping her saddlebags just inside the doorway and kicking the cheap door shut. She let out a sigh as she began walking down the narrow hall into the main room of--
What’s this? Spitfire regained her balance after tripping over parcel, sitting in the middle of her path. She bent down to examine the box more closely, finding no return address on the box. Deducing it must’ve been hoof-delivered, she picked it up and carried it to the only counter in her kitchen. Spitfire carefully opened the box, digging around in it to find... a vase? She pulled out the vase and put it on display on the table in the hall, clearly visible from the door to her apartment. She continued to rifle through the box’s contents, finding a folded piece of paper. The rest was all just packing material to protect the fragile glass container. Spitfire unfolded the note.
An anonymous gift from a fan... she thought, reading the cursive script. Anypony’d think I’d be used to this stuff by now. Spitfire rolled her eyes, tossing the box in the trash and leaving the note on the counter before heading to the tiny bathroom in the corner of the apartment. She dropped her uniform on the floor and kicked the door shut behind her, clearly not having any respect for the apartment she was forced to call home. There was a quick pause, and then the sound of running water could be heard in the bathroom.
Spitfire stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped over her neck and her uniform in her mouth. Her damp mane and tail hung haphazardly as she walked back to her bedroom to dry off and put her uniform in the hamper. Once completely dry and wrapped in a warm bathrobe, Spitfire left her bedroom and was about to settle down with a sandwich and the paper when a knock sounded on her door. Spitfire jumped, nearly falling off the stool she was sitting on. Casting a curious glance at the door, she removed the bathrobe and left it on her bed before answering.
“Hello, Miss Spitfire, I presume,” stated a tall silver colt.
Spitfire blinked. “Y-yes. That’s me. Can I help you?” She didn't know what this colt wanted, and she wasn't sure she was going to like whatever it was. She leaned against the door frame as she waited for his answer.
The black-maned earth pony cleared his throat before answering. “Deputy Silverhoof. We’d like you to accompany us to the police station so we can ask you a few questions.”
Spitfire drew back in surprise. “The station? What is this about?”
“Miss, we have reason to believe you were indirectly involved in a crime that occurred last night,” Silverhoof said flatly.
Spitfire’s eyes widened, and she nearly spat her next words. “Reason? What reason could you possibly have?!”
“We believe a colt named Pony Joe framed you in a robbery.”
“Pony Joe!” Spitfire said incredulously.
“Yes, Pony Joe stole a vase last night. He framed you in stealing it.”
“Me? As in, me, specifically.”
“Yes, miss. You.”
“How do you know he was trying to frame me?”
“The porch door on the second floor was slightly ajar.”
Spitfire gasped quietly, but Silverhoof did not seem to have heard. “What makes you think that he was framing me, though?”
Silverhoof sighed. “Pony Joe confessed to being enemies with you and tried to frame a pegasus by opening the porch door.”
Spitfire stared at the deputy. “H-how does that even begin to relate? I’m not enemies with Pony Joe, either. He runs a restaurant I visit occasionally, I know next to nothing about him!”
Silverhoof ignored the annoyed yellow pegasus, pushing past the mare and leading his troops into her apartment.
Spitfire followed him, obviously angry. “Hey! I didn't say you could come in. Where are your manners?”
Silverhoof whipped around to meet her gaze, impatience smoldering in his green eyes. “I appear to have left them back at the station. You should get a hold of yourself and let my ponies and I do our work.”
The pegasus mare opened her jaw to respond, but her vocal chords weren’t cooperating. A voice sounded from the kitchen, summoning the deputy to come see something.
“Look what we found, on the counter.” Chrome was holding the vase in his magic. The deputy stopped upon seeing it, turning to face Spitfire slowly. The mare had gone completely slack jawed.
“Miss... where did you get this vase?” Silverhoof asked, a vein his temple bulging.
Spitfire gulped, trying to keep her eyes off the vein. “I-it was in a package in the hall this morning. Someone hoof-delivered it to me.”
Silverhoof glared at her for a second longer, then started belting out instructions. “Chrome, take that vase with us. We, including the lovely lady here, are returning to the station. Pick up Fleur de Lis and Pony Joe on our way as well.”
Spitfire recovered from her initial shock. “What! This is Fleur’s vase?” Spitfire glowered. I hate that mare.
Silverhoof nodded. “Fleur de Lis called in a theft this morning. We've been all over town since sunrise. Now, let’s get going.” The tall earth pony led his troops, including the vase-carrying Lieutenant Chrome, the young rookie, and the ex-criminal, out the door of Spitfire’s apartment. The yellow pegasus heaved a sigh before going after them, locking the door behind her.
Spitfire sighed. How did I get caught up in this mess? She glanced around the plain cell’s walls, examining the gray bricks and staring for the hundredth time at the wall length mirror. She stood up and walked over to the glass, tapping on it.
“I know this thing is one of those one way windows. Can I leave yet?” Spitfire called to whomever was watching her. There was a slight rustling behind the mirror, and Spitfire gave it an annoyed glare.
“... No,” said the mirror. The yellow pegasus rolled her eyes, but listened for further noise behind the glass anyway. There was none, and the bored mare trotted back over to the hard wooden bench and sat down.
The cell door opened and Spitfire looked up eagerly, then frowning when a ruffled Fleur de Lis joined her, followed soon by a disgruntled Pony Joe. Both ponies looked upset, and Spitfire waited until they wore themselves out pacing to attempt to talk to them.
“Hello.” Spitfire’s greeting was bland. She really didn’t bother putting any emotion into the word, because after all, these two ponies were responsible for stealing away her free time. Even though her free time mostly included watching the ugly green paint peel off the walls of her cheap, deteriorating apartment, it was still more fun than this.
Fleur didn’t answer Spitfire, having flopped on the floor a few minutes ago. Joe just grunted in response. Spitfire sighed before stretching out on the bench and settling in for a nap.
A loud pounding on the door startled Spitfire into an upright position, nearly tossing her off the bench. Fleur lifted her head off her hooves to glance at the door, and Joe didn’t acknowledge the entrance of the deputy.
Spitfire glared at Silverhoof. “Don’t you ponies have better things to do than startle other ponies all the time?” She knew for a fact police ponies took pleasure in pulling rank and authority to scare other ponies. Well, maybe not for a fact, but she still didn’t trust Canterlot’s law enforcement.
Silverhoof returned the glare. “No, we really don’t. This is the first real crime we’ve had in ages. Now then, who wants to talk first?” the colt said, glancing at each of the ponies, who refused to meet his gaze. He sighed, “I have a cookie for the first squealer.”
Fleur looked up at the mention of cookies. Cookies were lovely with coffee. Joe caught the movement and gave a slight shake of his head. She frowned at him and stood up.
“I want the cookies before I talk. Also, bring me some coffee.” Fleur said, walking past the deputy and flicking his muzzle with her curled pink tail. Silverhoof feigned indifference, shivering as her tail came in contact with his fur.
He gulped noticeably. “N-no. That wasn’t the deal. You get the cookies after you talk. Maybe I’ll let you have a coffee after you tell us everything.”
Fleur sighed. “You’re difficult, Silverhoof, I’ll give you that. Fine, I’ll talk before I get my cookies, but I want them immediately after.”
Silverhoof rolled his eyes, apparently recovered from his brief encounter with Fleur’s tail. “You really like cookies, don’t you, Fleur de Lis.”
The white mare smiled at him. “Come now, Deputy. Call me Fleur. Using my full name sounds so... formal, don’t you think? And I know we’d both like to become a bit more familiar.” Fleur’s expression turned seductive, and Spitfire burst out laughing.
“Alright, I have no idea if you’re acting or not, but can we move this show on the road? I have places to be.” Spitfire examined her hoof lazily, but looked up after receiving burning glares from Fleur and Silverhoof. “What?”
Silverhoof shook his head. “Come with me, you three. We have some questions you expressed interest in answering.”
Silverhoof sat across from the white unicorn, who shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“I hate these things. So weird looking, we are, when we sit in them.” Fleur sighed, casting a backwards glance at Joe and Spitfire, who were sitting on the floor behind her.
Silverhoof rolled his eyes. Mares could be so dramatic. “Alright, Fleur. What’s going on?”
Fleur smiled devilishly at him. “You really want to know?”
Silverhoof didn’t have time to play games. “Yes, I really want to know. Answer the questions.”
Fleur huffed. “Fine. You’re not much fun, you know,” The mare leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, thinking back to the previous evening. “It all started last night, after I brought Pony Joe back to my house for... some more private fun, if you know what I mean.” Fleur eyed Silverhoof, who coughed into his hoof and looked away. Pony Joe grumbled from behind her.
Fleur glared at the colt. “Hush, you. I’m telling a story!” Fleur turned her attention back to Silverhoof. “Anyway, we started discussing that mare, if she could even be called one, Spitfire.”
Spitfire sat ramrod straight. “What in the hay did I ever do to you?”
Fleur tossed her a disdainful glance. “You became famous.”
Spitfire’s expression was incredulous. “That’s what this is all about? You were jealous of my fame and had Pony Joe frame me?”
Fleur was surprised. For a famous pony, Spitfire was smart. “Yes, I had Pony Joe frame you. He didn’t do a very good job of it, leaving his business card and all.”
Joe spoke up from behind Fleur. “I don’t have business cards! I didn’t leave it there!”
Normally, Silverhoof would’ve just watched, but there was something he had to know. “If you tried to frame Spitfire, why did it look like someone else tried to frame Pony Joe?” asked the silver earth pony, glancing at each of the ponies. They had all suddenly gone silent, and he frowned. “Anypony going to answer?”
Joe smacked the back of his head on the wall. He just wanted to leave. “Wait, someone tried to frame me? Even though I did it? How does that work!”
Silverhoof stood up, throwing his chair back. “Confession!” yelled the colt, pointing a hoof at Joe.
Joe glared at him. “Didn’t you know I’d already done it from Fleur’s story?”
Silverhoof sat back down. “Oh. Right.”
There was a loud groan from next to Joe. Spitfire sighed, tossed a glare at Fleur, and turned to face Silverhoof. “I did it.”
Silverhoof blinked. “Excuse me?”
Spitfire rolled her eyes. Some ponies... “I did it. Me. I stole a necklace from Fleur’s bedroom. The diamond one.”
Fleur gasped dramatically, staring daggers at the yellow pegasus. “M-my diamond necklace?! How dare you?”
Spitfire gave her a flat stare. “I dared when I stole it. Besides that, I stole the key from Joe to get in. Once I had the key, I snuck inside, took the necklace, and left from the porch. I must’ve left the door unlocked, because Joe got in without the key.”
Fleur glared at her partner in crime. “You let her steal the key? And then you didn’t even bother to tell me?” Fleur was offended, and it showed.
Joe rolled his eyes. “Yes, dearest, I knew the key was gone when I came to your house. I still managed to steal the vase without a hitch.”
Fleur huffed indignantly and turned away from the tan unicorn.
Silverhoof rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hold on... I’m confused. So, Spitfire stole the key from Pony Joe, unlocked the door and stole the necklace. Afterwards, she left the house from the porch and left the porch door open and the front door unlocked. What did you do with the key, Spitfire?” Silverhoof asked, addressing the yellow pegasus.
Spitfire frowned. “I think I left it on the table in Fleur’s bedroom, but she’ll have to verify that for herself.”
“You were in my bedroom! Pervert!”
“Don’t blame me for where you put your jewelry box.”
Silverhoof massaged his temple again. “Ladies, please. Can I continue summing up what’s going on?” Spitfire and Fleur settled back into their spots, refusing to look at one another. “Thank you. Now then, Joe came in after Spitfire left, took the vase, and exited through the front door. So, Joe, why did you frame yourself? You also realize, of course, that Spitfire framed herself, and you didn't, right?”
Joe heaved a sigh. “I didn't leave that card, I told you. Besides, our plan was to plant the vase in Spitfire’s apartment, which we did.”
Silverhoof frowned. “We found the card and assumed you dropped it on accident... it must have been Spitfire!”
Spitfire held her hooves up. “It wasn't me! Do you even have business cards, Joe?”
Joe shook his head, and Fleur slammed her hooves on the table and stood up. “It was me, alright! I planted the card because I wanted both of you to go to jail, and I would stay out and be the poor victim.” Before any of the three ponies could ask why, she was ranting again. “Joe, you’re a sleazy colt who will sleep with any mare who asks. Don’t you have any shame? And Spitfire, the famous Wonderbolt. Kiss the ground she walks on, praise the very air she breathes! Too busy being famous to pay any attention to her old friends!” Fleur spat the words with such venom Spitfire actually flinched. Joe ignored the angry white mare, drawing in the dust that covered the cell floor with the tip of a hoof.
Silverhoof sighed, nearly unfazed by Fleur’s outburst. “Well. That nearly explains everything. Although, Fleur, why haven't you displayed any interest in getting your vase back?”
Fleur turned to look at him. “Isn't it obvious?” asked the mare. “That vase was ugly.”
Silverhoof and his police ponies ushered three very disgruntled ponies into the courtroom, shuffling them all into the defendant’s bench before taking a seat in the audience. All the ponies stood up as the judge walked in, the bailiff standing in his podium.
“Honorable Judge Gavel, presiding,” announced the brown colt. He was wearing a very expensive looking suit, and Fleur winced as he wrinkled it sitting down.
Judge Gavel took a look at the three defendants, and then at the empty prosecutor’s bench. “This is a strange case, isn’t it. Mr. Ponyx Wright, what is going on here?” The judge addressed the prosecutor, a blue pegasus famous for winning his cases.
Ponyx Wright adjusted his tie. “Well, your Honor, we have a very unusual case. As you will see in your files, each pony is considered a victim and a defendant, so we will be rotating throughout the trial.” Judge Gavel examined his files, reading quickly through the police report and the ponies’ confessions.
“How interesting.”
Spitfire sighed. “Hey, Ponyx. Can we get this show on the road? Who’s going first?”
Ponyx glared at the bored yellow pegasus. “Fleur de Lis to the prosecutor’s bench, Pony Joe to defendant, and Spitfire joins the audience.”
Grumbling about incompetent lawyers, Spitfire slid off of her bench and back into the audience, where she was forced to sit next to Deputy Silverhoof. Fleur walked over to the prosecutor’s bench, where she waited for the trial to begin.
Ponyx Wright cleared his throat before beginning. “Your Honor, Fleur de Lis is an honorable mare of high society here in Canterlot. Last night, she was robbed by --" There was a pause as Ponyx whipped around to face Pony Joe. “This colt!”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “No I wasn’t, you idiot. I had him steal the vase for me, then give it back once the police were gone. There is absolutely nothing to deal with between Joe and I.”
Ponyx gave her a confused look. “Well... Okay... on to the next matter, I suppose. Could I have Spitfire and Pony Joe switch places?”
Spitfire looked annoyed. “You made me walk all the way over here just so I could walk back again? You’re really something.” The yellow mare got up and walked back to the defendant’s bench anyway, flopping down as comfortably as possible.
Ponyx sighed. “Now then. Spitfire here stole a diamond necklace worth a lot of bits. One million, to be exact.”
Spitfire’s eyes widened. “That much? Really? I thought it was a knock-off or something. I thought it was fake!” She realized she’d just admitted to the court she had stolen Fleur’s necklace. Oops.
Judge Gavel raised an eyebrow. “So, Spitfire, thanks for admitting to your crime. It makes my job a whole lot easier. Ponyx, if you please?”
Ponyx motioned for Fleur to join the audience, Spitfire to stay put, and Joe to come over and sit in the prosecutor’s bench. It was a very strange cycle to watch, and the ponies forced to partake in it didn’t seem very happy about constantly moving.
The blue pegasus examined his notes. “Your Honor. Joe, the restaurant owner, had a key stolen from him by Spitfire the Wonderbolt. What reason would she have, you may ask? Why, to steal the diamond necklace from Fleur’s house. You see, Fleur gave Joe the key --”
Spitfire interrupted. “So he could get into her house, steal a vase, and frame me for stealing it!” Spitfire abruptly stood up and returned to the audience, shoving Fleur out of her spot and sitting down. “Your turn.”
Fleur indignantly stomped a hoof before taking a seat in the defendant's bench. Ponyx blinked, unsure of what had just happened.
She glanced at him. “Ponyx, dear, I believe we are beginning the fourth trial. Could you hurry along and catch up with the rest of us?” asked the pink maned mare sweetly.
Ponyx glared at her. “Ahem. Now then, Joe was nearly arrested for performing a crime he was asked by the victim to perform. However, she framed him and led the police straight to his restaurant. Any objections, Fleur?” Ponyx said, leaning over the white mare.
Fleur leaned away. “Your Honor, the prosecution is badgering the defendant.”
Judge Gavel looked up. “What? Er--yes, Ponyx, calm yourself. You may continue.” He cast a surreptitious glance around the courtroom before returning to the book of crosswords he had in his lap.
The blue colt shook his head. “Fleur, you must answer the question. Did you or did you not plant evidence that Joe stole the vase?”
Fleur gave him a radiant grin. “I did, pretty boy. What of it?”
Ponyx’s eyes flashed. “I see. Your Honor, Fleur just confessed to planting evidence. We shall begin the fifth trial immediately.”
Judge Gavel yanked his gaze out of the crossword he was currently doing, nodded, and returned to his next clue. “What’s a five letter word for evaluating something...?” he muttered to himself.
Ponyx commanded the switch once more, Spitfire settling into the prosecutor’s bench, and Joe taking a seat in the audience while Fleur stayed put.
The colt turned to Fleur. “Fleur de Lis, you were part of a project to frame Spitfire. The offenses include: the act of framing another pony and breaking and entering.”
Fleur looked away from her hoof, which she had been examining, and stared down the blue pegasus. “And? I’m waiting for you to do the typical lawyer thing: lie. So far I’ve not heard a single one. I’m disappointed.”
Ponyx gave her a hard glare. “From what I understand about you, you’re not one to obey stereotypes either.” He turned away, facing the judge again. “So far, each and every pony has admitted to their crimes easily and without restraint. We will be beginning the sixth trial now.”
Spitfire stayed in her bench of prosecuting, while Joe and Fleur switched places.
Ponyx began speaking. “Joe, you were also part of the project to frame Spitfire. The only offense not already mentioned is the act of framing another pony.”
Joe eyed him carefully. “So? We all know this by now, Ponyx. Can you just hurry it up so I can go home?”
Ponyx sighed. “Very well. Your Honor, we have finished. Far too quickly, in my opinion.” The blue pegasus glanced at the very bored trio of criminals. The judge sat up straight, examining his notes once more.
After a moment, he looked up. “May I have Spitfire, Pony Joe, and Fleur de Lis come forward?”
The three ponies exchanged glances before stepping up to the podium.
Judge Gavel stared down at them. “All three of you are guilty of deception and theft. You will each receive a five hundred bit fine, and must give back all stolen property. If you are unable to give it back, you must reimburse the owner of the item.”
Fleur glared at the judge. “I didn’t steal anything! How am I guilty of theft?”
Judge Gavel returned the glare. “Don’t question my judgement. That’s an extra five hundred bits for you.”
Ponyx looked up from packing up his notes. “Hold on just a minute. You can’t do that; it’s unfair.”
Judge Gavel turned his gaze to the blue pegasus. “Exactly whose favor are you speaking, the defendant’s or the prosecution’s? You played lawyer pony to both.”
Ponyx blinked in surprise. “Uh... I don’t know?”
The judge smirked triumphantly. “Now then. Fleur, you don’t have to pay the extra five hundred bits. Don’t worry. Call the police if you have any trouble getting your property back.”
Fleur nodded, and the judge copied the same gesture. “Now then, you three are free to go. This session is over!” The judge knocked his gavel on the stand and excused himself to the bathroom.
The brown bailiff pony nodded, watching the audience file out the doors until he was the only pony left in the courtroom. Casting a glance around, just to be sure, he pulled a diamond necklace out of his suit pocket. The necklace looked to be worth around a million bits, and was very shiny. The bailiff examined it, poring over the jewels with a spark in his eye.
He flinched as Judge Gavel made a noise from behind the courtroom, and he stuffed the necklace back into his suit pocket. He scurried across the courtroom and out the main doors, pausing to spare a glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowds outside.