The Case of the Purple Diary

by HapHazred

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Princess Cadance, Shining Armor
Length: 10802

Shining Armour investigates the murder of a banker who's memory problems forces him to write every action he does in a diary. Despite this precious clue, Shining finds the case harder than expected.

When a banker is found dead in his office, Shining Armour is called in to investigate. He quickly finds a diary detailing the ponies every move, which becomes the staple for the investigation.

As the young Guardpony hits dead end after dead end, the case begins to cut closer to home than he would like, and he learns the advantages of having a very organized pony for a sister...

A murder mystery that ties together checklists and schedules with lies and trickery.

Teen for murder

Published 2014-12-22 14:50:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-22 14:50:03 UTC

The Case of the Purple Diary

Ink Scribbles dipped his quill into a small pot of black ink, breathing heavily. It was late, and his eyes were beginning to droop. More worryingly, he was beginning to forget where he was, what he was doing. He opened the small purple notebook and began writing with neat, elegant strokes, the calming noise of pen on paper slowing his heartbeat.

"Thursday: finished the accounts for boss. Checking timetable for next week. It's still Thursday, eleven thirty," he muttered to himself as he wrote, giving the impression of a startled, disturbed reporter. Scribbles chuckled as he contemplated that the article in question was his own life.

The clock's long hand flicked to the left. Scribbles sighed.

"Eleven thirty-one..." he muttered. He snapped his notebook closed and shuffled back to a stack of papers. To his delight, it was far smaller than it had been an hour ago. He estimated he had fifteen minutes to go before he could get home to his soft, warm, feather bed. One of the perks of having a large pay-check...

He began scanning the documents before him. His face fell.

"Oh, ponyfeathers..." he muttered, and dipped his pen in ink once again. "How can Mrs. Moneybags be at two places at once? And I bet nopony ever remembers that the Cloudsdale branch operates in a different time zone..."

His ears twitched. He heard the distant sound of hoofsteps. Probably the janitor: he worked late hours, too. Scribbles wondered why he even bothered staying this late... couldn't he just get his secretary to handle it? That was what she's for, after all...

He crossed off one of Moneybag's meetings and moved it up to five fifteen... she'd just have to get over working late hours.

He heard the door knock, twice. He rolled his eyes.

"Still working in here!" he shouted. "Go clean up Mr. Sandwich Sr.'s office if you have to—"

The lock rattled. Ink Scribbles growled, and opened his purple notebook once more. The door was locked, but if the janitor was being dumb again he'd still interrupt his work and his concentration. This merited a strongly worded entry in his diary...

"Thursday, eleven thirty-five... janitor is interrupting me again. Reminder to have him disciplin—"

He glanced back at his notebook. To his dismay, he noticed one of his entries from earlier that day. He swallowed. The janitor was supposed to be delayed because of that mess down on the fourth floor...

The door snapped open. Scribbles eyes widened as he struggled to make out the pony's identity.

"Oi! You're not the janitor!"

The pony surged forwards, faster than he thought was possible. His troubled mind shut down from fear as he opened his mouth to call for help, panicking. All he knew for sure was that he felt two strong hooves hit his chest, before him and his precious office chair rolled backwards towards the glass window.

The glass bit at his skin as he fell from his office. As he went down, the floors of the tall building passing him by, blurring together, black and shiny as a lake at night.

"Eleven forty... I'm falling to my death," he told nopony in particular. Then he hit the ground.

It was early morning, and the traffic of bustling ponies created a constant buzz in the background, reminding Shining Armour that even though he hadn't drank any coffee, hadn't had breakfast and hadn't even properly washed, the city still demanded his attention. He grumbled as he followed his sister, a pony far more able to handle early hours. Twilight never woke up late: she was as predictable as the rising of the sun. Of course, he thought to himself, she also never did anything that might keep her awake at night. One of the perks of having a rather empty social life, he suspected.

When they reached the entrance to the castle, he stopped.

"Okay... this is where I head off," he said, his voice raspy and dry. Goddess, he hated mornings. Why couldn't Celestia make them later, he wondered?

"Sure. I'll see you back home, though, right?" Twilight asked hopefully. Shining sighed. Every morning, without fail. He really, really hoped that someday, his shy and busybody sister might find a circle of friends of her own.

"I'll do my best, Twily, but I'm making no promises," he told her. "Now, I have to get to work."

Twilight's face fell slightly, but she forced a smile to her face as she waved. "Well, have a nice day, then!"

"Don't forget to study, now!" Shining teased. He knew as well as everypony else that Twilight would never, ever forget to study. He couldn't imagine a more organized pony. She had timetables for everything. It was a wonder she had any spontaneity at all... or did she account for that in her checklists too?

"I won't."

Shining smiled, and continued down towards the guard headquarters, leaving his sister behind. At least Celestia would take care of her... he knew the Princess would do that, at least. She was a very caring teacher.

The Guard Headquarters was, in the colorful and fanciful city of Canterlot, perhaps the most practical building there was. It was as vibrant as the rest of the town, certainly, but it was also built with strong, heavy walls and tall towers and turrets. The moat might be short, but it was deep. The entire building was a reminder from a less civilized time. A time without checklists and schedules.

He didn't make three steps across the drawbridge before a pair of guardponies, who's names he knew as Truncheon and Stache, called for his attention loudly.

"Oi! Shiny! We got ourselves a stiff' at Silver Street. You're on the case."

Shining raised his eyebrows, puzzled. "What, me? Aren't I a bit green for a st— a murder?" he said. He found he didn't enjoy watching his speech devolve into the choppy drawl of the other guards. More often than not, he felt it demeaned the victims and families. He himself preferred a more professional and tactful approach.

"Yup, but for some reason the detective in charge requested you. Somethin' to do with checklists."

Shining Armour's curiosity was piqued.

"Did you just say checklists?"

The yellow tape fluttered in the wind, not unlike a cheerful ribbon one might put in place at a party. Of course, this tape did not foreshadow festivities. In fact, the yellow tape Shining was used to seeing only ever meant bad news.

Just as the two officers had told him, there was indeed a corpse lying on the sidewalk. Not where he had fallen; the coroner was in the process of moving him onto a cart to be examined. A chalk tracing had been drawn around where he had landed. His final destination, so to speak.

The detective in charge, or rather, who had formerly been in charge, was a tall, older pony. Shining recognized him from the headquarters: he was quite the experienced detective. Shining had to wonder why he wasn't in charge of the case.

"Shiny!" the detective called out. "Tired of working traffic?"

Shining Armour shrugged. He was bored of his station, true, but not at the cost of seeing the victim of a murder. He didn't like the idea of getting kicks out of seeing dead bodies just because it was his job.

"I feel a bit out of my league, sir," he said humbly.

"Best way to learn how to swim is in the water, son. In any case, I know that you and your family have a bit of a reputation, and I think you might even have fun with this one."

'Fun', Shining grumbled to himself. The detective continued, oblivious to the deteriorating mood of his subordinate.

"And anyway, I've been called to investigate some train crash out of town. You've got this one, green boy. I'll give you the run-down before I leave though: I owe you at least that for throwing you in the deep end."

"That would be nice, sir."

"Stiff's a banker, name of Ink Scribbler. He's an odd one, apparently. His secretary says he's all about organization. Funny thing is, he barely had any short term memory. Kept a record of everything he did in a little notebook."

Shining raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Sounds like a good place to start, if we want to know his movements. Do we have it?"

"Yup. Maybe the killer couldn't find it in time, or maybe he didn't know about it, but it was knocked in a corner of his office. It's pretty damn detailed, too."

"Are we sure it's a murder? Not a suicide?"

"Wouldn't have called you in if it was, sonny," the older pony said with a wry smile. "Signs of force all over that place. Definitely not suicide. Not clean enough."

Shining Armour looked over at the broken body of the banker. Poor pony, he thought. Despite the prestige of homicide, he felt much more comfortable working traffic. A thought occurred to him.

"You didn't call me in because of the notebook, did you, sir?"

"Sure I did. Everypony in Canterlot knows about your family, Shiny. You've got more organizational skills than anypony in the department. Your sister is even worse, dare I say, but I've seen you file more folders than the rest of my division combined, son."

Shining grumbled. "So I'm here because I have good filing skills?"

"Don't feel bad, kid. Whatever gets a case solved, you know. About the witnesses: we've got a secretary, but she doesn't know anything. Janitor found this mess at midnight, so we know the murder took place before then. His boss wasn't around at the time, everypony had gone home. Of course, they could have come back, but that's not clear just yet."

Shining nodded, subconsciously reaching for his own notebook. The detective saw the movement and smiled knowingly.

"See? Already getting inside the victims head."

Shining sighed. He opened his notebook and wrote what he knew.

"Banker... murder... notebook... twelve o'clock. Is that everything?"

"One more thing: there wasn't any physical evidence we could find. No hair, no hoofprints, nothing. The whole place was swept clean, and any evidence left behind was left by ponies that actually work at the office."

Shining frowned. The detective shrugged apologetically.

"That's all I've got. You want more, ask one of the officers. You're with Stache and Truncheon, right?"

"Yeah."

"They're good ponies. They know the ropes. You'll be fine, kid. If you've got trouble, you can always run to another detective, if they're not busy. I know this is your first time, so it's okay to be choppy."

"Not if I want to be taken seriously around here," Shining retorted.

"Well, true, but who wants to be captain anyway? Having to deal with the Princesses is such a bother, y'know."

Then the detective left, leaving Shining on his own with the chalk outline of a corpse. He decided to get straight to business.

"Stache! Find me the notebook. One of the officers must have it."

Shining began reading through the notebook with savage resolve as soon as he got back to headquarters. Every single entry had been neatly written, and anything that Shining deemed of import, he wrote in his own notebook. He couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky: it was like he was looking through the pony's mind. If this was any sort of personal vendetta, then there would have to be an entry in the notebook.

"Tuesday, eleven-thirty, ate a slice of cheesecake. I don't think that's quite the clue I'm looking for..." he muttered. "'Tuesday, eleven-forty, finished lunch break and am getting coffee. Cappuccino. Large.' Goddess, he really did put everything in here..."

Stache arrived from behind him with a cup of coffee and a stack of witness testimonies, which he dumped onto Shining's desk. The coffee stayed with put. "Papers are for you, sir."

Shining nodded, and put them next to the notebook. "What do you make of all this, Stache? Banker thrown from a window."

The officer shrugged. "My bet is money. He's a banker, so he probably had a lot to do with cash."

Shining nodded. "That's a good start, at least. Can you pull up any records from the place he worked and see if he was, I don't know, denying a pony money, or something? Anything suspicious."

Stache nodded. "Sure thing, I'll head right away."

Shining nodded, satisfied. He was glad that the officers treated him well: he hadn't been a detective very long. In fact, his rise through the ranks had been nothing if not extraordinary. He couldn't help but wonder why that was: after all, it was his job to question everything.

He looked at the testimonies, briefly. He didn't want to interrupt his examination of the notebook. There was the secretary... a young mare by the name of Yellow Sunset. She seemed innocent enough. He remembered meeting her briefly... she was nice, but impressionable. And more than a little shaken by the death of her employer.

Shining wondered what it must have been like for Ink Scribbler: forgetting things so easily. Faces, names... all gone in a matter of minutes unless it was scribbled in a tiny notebook...

A shame, really. It would be a debilitating condition to live with.

Ponies, places, and events. That was what he needed to look for... and it was all in this brilliant notebook.

"First step, follow the money. Then check for motives using the notebook. Faces, places, etcetera. Keep everything as organized as Ink Scribbler, and this should be a cakewalk."

He opened the diary again. "Tuesday, twelve o'clock. Got back at the office. Start balancing numbers, file three-six. The opera. Estimate time: one hour."

Stache didn't mind heading over to the bank for the second time that day. He was a tough pony, after all. Walking was easy. Arrests were hard.

So were the stairs, unfortunately. The tall building that housed most of the money organizations in Canterlot was not made for ease of access. How these bankers got to work every day without fail, he had no idea. They had to remain fit somehow, he imagined.

When he reached the late Ink Scribblers floor, he encountered a snag. The security guards were under order not to let anypony in. They were private security, too, and those ponies had a tendency to look down on the guard for being too rule obsessed. Stache did not like them one bit.

"Officer Stache. I'm here on guard business," he told them. The burly ponies sneered.

"Why don't you go and come back with a few more of your buddies, chum—"

He was interrupted by a young mare approaching from behind, her face turning to a scowl. Had she been smiling, perhaps she could have been pretty, Stache reflected.

"Do you want to have our offices turned upside down by the guard? Let them in. They're the guard, for Celestia's sake."

She was Scribblers former secretary, Stache realized. Yellow Sunset.

"Evenin', miss. Thanks for that, wouldn't have liked to have to call for a trio of ponies to detain them," he said, a little grumpy. "I'm afraid I need to see some of the victim's papers."

Yellow hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, okay. But please, a lot of these are confidential. I need to see your badge first to make sure."

Stache held up his badge. "We happy?"

Yellow smiled wanly. "Yes, we're happy. Come right this way: I've moved his papers into a room without a smashed window."

Stache followed the mare into a small, dark storage room. The files he was looking for were piled high in cardboard boxes. He whistled. They would be difficult to get all the way to HQ on his own.

"Do you have, uh, a trolley or something?"

"We do have something like that. Do you want me to go and fetch it?"

"That'd be great. How much of this stuff is about money?"

Yellow shrugged. "Some. Ink Scribbler's true vocation was organization. You saw his notebook, I imagine? Every instant of his day recorded meticulously and regularly."

Stache chuckled. "Well, I myself think that he's bound to forget to write something in there."

"It's because he was liable to forget that he never would," Yellow replied with absolute conviction. "His notebook is a detailed account of his entire life."

Stache grunted. "I'm not convinced, but whatever. Now, about that trolley..."

Shining Armour has finished reading through his notebook and now sat opposite Truncheon in a small room at the guard headquarters. He had decided to review everything they had found out so far.

"All right then: we're going to approach this in the same way Ink Scribbler would. We're going to categorize everything."

Truncheon rolled his eyes. He had heard the stories of Shining's family, but frankly, he had believed that the young guardpony was the exception to that rule, despite his tendency for having a clean desk. No such luck, apparently.

"Whatever gets the case sorted."

"Firstly: our suspects. Whilst it's conceivable that a pony could have sneaked into the office, it's far more likely that given the security of the building, they'd have a key or inside knowledge of the building. I have written a list here detailing each and every pony we know of that fits these requirements. We have Mr. Sandwich Sr., who was his employer. He met up regularly with Ink Scribbler, and could have developed animosity towards him. It's a bit unlikely, though, since if he didn't like Scribbler, he could have just fired him."

"Wouldn't the notebook say whether they were on good terms or not?" Truncheon asked. Shining nodded.

"It did, and they weren't. The two did not get along," Shining told him darkly. "On Thursday, this Thursday, the two had a rather spiteful argument about task allocation."

"Thursday was the day he was murdered."

"Correct. Therefore, unlikely or no, Mr. Sandwich is a suspect. Next we have the secretary, Yellow Sunset."

"She'd have opportunity."

"More than enough opportunity. She had a key to the building, and knew he would be working there and would know when the Janitor would arrive. My only problem is that according to the notebook, she has absolutely no motive. She's a model secretary, very dutiful, and quite efficient, too. Scribblers remarks don't go much further than 'Sunset brought files' or 'secretary did timetabling'. There may be a hidden motive, but she didn't show any sign of it to Scribbler."

"What about the Janitor? He could have done it. Same opportunity."

"True, but even less likely, since currently there's no link between him and Scribbler, not to mention he could have hidden the body or otherwise tampered with the crime scene, instead of calling the police on himself. Stache's papers might prove the contrary, however, but we'll have to wait and see for those."

"Fine. Any other workplace colleagues?"

"There's Mrs. Moneybags. She worked on the same floor, so again, same opportunity. She's used to making deals with ponies and evaluating their credit, and doesn't have much to do with Scribbler aside from following his timetables. There are a few notes in there about her. No outright motive, though."

Truncheon grumbled. "So nopony has any motive... except for his boss, where murder doesn't make sense."

Shining nodded. It was a puzzle, all right. "There's always the possibility of an outside suspect who has not yet come to light. Again, this will hopefully become clear to us when Stache returns with the papers, but it seems more likely that if money were the cause of this catastrophe, then they'd target Mrs. Moneybags, or even Sandwich Sr."

"Or a security guard. They hire private security, don't they?"

"True. There were three security guards for the entire building: none of them on duty saw anypony. Three isn't a lot for such a large building, and there are only ever two at any given time, so it wouldn't be too hard to sneak past them if they knew how their patrols operated. Their names are Bitter, Havoc and their boss, Salt Brine."

Truncheon grunted. "Let me guess: no motives."

"None so far. They barely had any contact with Ink Scribbler."

It wasn't that they didn't have any suspects, it was simply that none of their suspects had any reason to kill Ink Scribbler. Shining rubbed his eyes, deep in thought. He felt a twinge of nostalgia when he thought about his work in traffic, but quickly crushed it. If he was to find justice for Ink Scribbler, and protect the city from a ruthless killer, he couldn't give up.

Shining Armour hadn't joined the guard just so he could give up, after all.

Shining trotted up to the gates of the palace, a little nervously. Whilst he had visited his sister there before, of course, he still felt a bit out of place. He worked in the city, after all, and didn't have much to do in Princess Celestia's residence. The guards nodded at him as he went past.

He already knew the way to Twilight's study rooms, where she would doubtless be. It didn't take a detective to know that Twilight only ever did one thing all day, every day.

He had left Truncheon and Stache to look through the papers on the banks business dealings. He himself wanted to ask Twilight what she thought of all this. He had surprised himself by how he had taken to the organizational side of this case, but he also knew that his skills were insignificant compared to Twilight's own.

He knocked on the door to the library. "It's Shining... can I come in?"

The door opened brusquely. "Oh, hello," Twilight said, beaming. "I thought you'd have work?"

Shining nodded. "I do. But there's a little problem I think you'd like to have a look at."

He held the notebook out. Twilight took the little purple diary in her hooves carefully. "Are you allowed to do this?"

"Well, I was put in charge of this case, so yes. I'm investigating a murder, and this belonged to the victim. He wrote everything he did down in here... and I mean everything. We think that there are two places that a motivation for murder might be found: either in this notebook or in the banks dealings. There's nothing in here, though... nothing concrete."

Twilight nodded thoughtfully, only half listening. She was already muttering to herself as she read. "Wednesday, five twenty... finished stock predictions... going home. Five thirty: got home safe and sound before pouring myself a glass of fine wine. It's delicious. Five forty, going to get myself a take-out and have a relaxing evening alone."

Twilight nodded. "You're right: he really did write everything in here."

"Well, most of it's actually short notes, not quite as detailed as that particular bit, but yes. He even says when he goes to the bathroom."

Twilight scrunched up her nose. "Ugh. What do you want me to do?"

"Well, could you check in-between the lines and see if there's anything he might have left out?"

Twilight nodded. "I suppose I can do that. I'll tell you if I find anything, okay?"

Shining nodded gratefully. "That's be great, Twily. I need as much help as I can get for this one: it's a weird case."

"Weird how?"

"Like there's something I'm missing. Nopony seems to benefit from this murder, at least not that we can tell. Maybe it's money, maybe it's revenge, but... there's nothing in the notebook except a series of petty squabbles."

Twilight looked back at the notebook. "It makes sense he'd carry it around though. Usually, just writing about something helps me remember it."

"Well, this guy had a worse memory than most. No wonder he'd try keeping a diary."

Twilight didn't reply. Shining knew she didn't like making wild conjectures when she didn't have many facts. Instead, she sat down and began reading through the notebook. Whilst she got to work, Shining began exploring the library. Even though it was supposedly a public place, Twilight had more or less claimed it as her own. Here and there, Shining could see evidence that she practically lived in the library: a rearranged seating area here, a picture of her family there, a pile of books in her favorite reading corner...

Shining stopped in his tracks when he saw a small picture of him and Cadence. To his disappointment, he hadn't seen much of the recently crowned princess these days, since she had stopped foalsitting Twilight. It occurred to him that if she hadn't kept her company, the only other pony Twilight would have spent time with as a child would have been him. It was quite sad, he thought. Sadder still that Cadence was no longer around.

He made a silent promise to begin writing to her as soon as he finished the case. It was a shame to let their friendship go to waste, after all.

A few moments later, Twilight looked up. "Well, I'm afraid that I can't see any gap in his writing that's longer than ten minutes. I don't know if that's the sort of thing you're looking for...?"

Shining sighed. "I expected as much. I had already taken note of all the gaps that were longer than five minutes. Is there nothing else you can spot?"

"Only that most of the time, he only writes down times like 'thirty-five' or 'twenty' and things like that. They're all multiples of five: probably because it was more convenient that way."

Shining narrowed his eyes. "So a gap might be longer than ten minutes if he rounded down from any number between ten and fifteen minutes?"

Twilight nodded. "But that only leaves a gap of just under fifteen minutes. Twelve and a half, if you consider that he might also round up from twelve thirty minutes, give or take."

"It's still more than ten, and it makes it even more likely that somepony might have slipped through the notebook's notice."

Shining had to admit it wasn't much of a margin, but given the circumstances... either Ink Scribbler didn't write in enough detail or whatever he did, or saw, must have fallen into one such period that hadn't been recorded in the notebook. Shining decided to check for those moments that might have lasted longer than ten minutes.

"Thanks a lot, Twily. You've been a great help," he said, and turned to leave. Twilight's face fell, disappointed.

"Oh, but, uhm, I'm sure I can find something else in there..." she began. Shining stopped.

Judging by Twilight's voice, she was lonely. He couldn't blame her: books hardly made for the best company.

"Where'd that little dragon get to? The one you hatched?" he asked.

"He's sleeping. He still gets tired very quickly."

Shining wasn't surprised, given how Twilight made him work. Still, dragons were known to have incredible stamina, even if the one Shining had seen did look like a bit of a runt.

"He's very sweet, though, and he really likes hats. He's thinking of developing a collection," Twilight explained. "I caught him writing a list of his favorite ones: there was a top hat, a gambler hat, a trilby..."

Shining smiled. Now that Twilight had begun talking, he could't just leave her. Not to mention, it was late anyway. Truncheon and Stache would be going home in a minute too.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay. Tell me more about this dragon of yours."

The next day began early. Very early. Shining Armour didn't want to waste any more time and woke up at the crack of six in the morning. He grabbed the notebook and trotted to headquarters. Stache was already there, and he looked a little grumpy.

"You didn't show last evening."

"I assumed you'd want to head home soon anyway. Also, I got ambushed by family."

Stache smirked. "Well, I can understand that, at least. My own mum practically has me on a leash."

Shining nodded. "Also, I've got a lead," he said, and promptly explained his and Twilights theory that they had come up with the night before. Stache became progressively more apprehensive as his explanation dragged on, his brow furrowing and his glorious mustache waggling furiously.

"Sounds like we're grasping at straws, to be honest."

Shining sighed. He knew how unlikely it seemed, but given the circumstances...

"Well, unfortunately there were no physical clues left on the scene, so we're stuck puzzling it out. As for the business dealings, did you get them?"

Stache nodded. "I did: they're all on your desk."

Shining could already imagine the huge pile that his subordinate had prepared for him, and it made him cringe. Although he was more than able to sort through paperwork, all of Ink Scribblers files would be quite the challenge. He swallowed.

"Okay then. I suppose we'd best get started."

Their work took several hours. During this time, Truncheon had arrived, with his breakfast, and joined in, muttering angrily about how he preferred working the beat to sorting through all 'this junk' as he called it. However, come lunchtime, they had compiled their findings.

Shining Armour had written down a list that would have made Twilight herself go green with envy. He held it up in front of him, not at all pleased.

"Okay then... one week ago, Mrs. Moneybags was overloaded with work and shared some of her files with Ink Scribbler. He worked on three cases to figure out of some ponies deserved loans or not. As you can imagine, these would be very large sums of money, enough to make anypony desperate. He denied two ponies funding: therefore these two are our new suspects," he said. "This is corroborated by the notebook, which vaguely states that he was working on Moneybags projects on multiple occasions."

"Give us the names."

"The first is a businesspony by the name of Filthy Rich. And the second..." Shining swallowed, "Is Mi Amore Cadenza, of Cloudsdale."

Shining was reviewing the notebook and everything in it. He had began working with renewed vigor ever since he had read Cadence's official name as a suspect. It was the name that she regularly used these days. Shining hardly recognized it, but despite them not being friends any more, he had always paid attention in the papers for his old childhood friend. It had paid off.

Cadence had never struck him as a killer, but for a Princess known for her compassion and care, refusing a loan in order to construct charity homes and hospitals might be enough to send her over the edge. Maybe. Shining wasn't convinced, and he almost refused to continue the case then and there due to personal implications. He stopped himself just in time, once he realized that any other detective might not do whatever they could to clear her name.

It didn't take long to figure out that Filthy Rich wasn't guilty: he lived in Ponyville, and wasn't anywhere near Canterlot at the time. It was conceivable that he had sompony to do his dirty work for him, but given the time he had between the murder and when he was denied money, it seemed very unlikely. Cadence, however, lived in Canterlot, and had apparently been in the city when the deed was done, instead of travelling to a faraway city as she usually did.

"I think it's time we call the suspects in for questioning," he said. "That means Mrs. Moneybags, Sandwich Sr., Yellow Sunset, Mi Amore Cadenza, the Janitor, and the three security guards, Bitter, Salt Brine, and Havoc."

Truncheon nodded. "I'll give the order."

Shining couldn't help but glare at the notebook. What new mess had this case landed him in? If he was forced to convict Cadence, he'd never be able to forgive himself. And he doubted Twilight would be able to either. Cadence was, after all, possibly her only friend.

He decided that the best way to prove Cadences innocence was to start by finding out if she had seen Ink Scribbler around the city. After all, chances were that if their paths overlapped, Cadence could have gotten more opportunity to learn Scribblers habits, that it was him who had denied her funding, and otherwise plan her attack. Shining couldn't help but laugh as he thought of Cadence plotting a murder. It wouldn't be so funny if she was guilty, of course, but the image of sweet, gentle Cadence plotting a devious crime was enough to make anypony chuckle.

Shining reviewed his suspects. The secretary: plenty of opportunity, more than most in fact, but no motive. In fact, killing her boss would be more trouble than not. Then there was Mrs. Moneybags. Possibly she resented Ink Scribbler for his work? It seemed unlikely. Sandwich Sr.: motive, even if it was flimsy, and opportunity. The three security guards: no motive as of yet, but means and opportunity. Filthy Rich: motive, not a lot of opportunity. Princess Cadence: motive, and, being a princess, she'd have opportunity and means in spades.

It was an eclectic crowd of suspects, Shining had to admit. He hoped things would become clearer after the interrogations.

He'd start with the secretary, Yellow Sunset. He might be able to get some insight on Ink Scribbler from her, and use it against the others. Then Mrs. Moneybags: she didn't seem all that likely either, but she could be a veritable treasure trove of ammunition to use against, say, Sandwich Sr., who Shining decided he'd interrogate next.

Next up he'd bring in the security guards, one by one. They'd be a pain to get information out of, but it had to be done. Lastly, he'd talk to Cadence. He wanted to put that off for as long as possible.

Shining flicked through the notebook, and let his mind wander.

Yellow Sunset sat in front of Shining Armour and Truncheon. Shining thought she looked a little nervous, but that was hardly surprising. Even the hardest ponies got a little uneasy when confronted with the law, after all, even when they were innocent.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked. Shining did his best to keep an even face: he couldn't go placating her and making her feel comfortable, but neither did he want to watch her panic.

"We just need you to answer some questions about your employer. We understand he was not on good terms with Sandwich Senior. Can you elaborate?"

Yellow Sunset paused thoughtfully. "Well, they often argued about work. Mr. Sandwich doesn't really care much for the... organizational side of things, and sometimes belittled Mr. Scribbler. Scribbler found it insulting, and would sometimes call him the worst names."

"Did it ever go beyond that?"

"They got into an awful row about two weeks ago. Went at if for a whole hour. Mr. Scribbler was hoarse when it was over. Apparently, Mr. Sandwich wanted him fired."

Shining raised an eyebrow. "But he didn't. Why?"

Yellow Sunset nodded. "Oh, he couldn't. Mr. Scribbler practically runs the department. He can't really handle most of the business transactions because of his memory deficiency, but he was more of a banker than Mr. Sandwich ever was."

"When you say they argued for a whole hour, is that an exaggeration?" Shining asked. Truncheon looked over at the young detective, confused by the question.

"Well... perhaps a little. But it was a very long time, is what I meant by it."

"And what of his relations with Mrs. Moneybags? Was it strictly professional?"

"Mostly. Every Hearths Warming, me, Mr. Scribbler, Mrs. Moneybags and a few others from various departments would have drinks to celebrate the year. They seemed to get along well enough. Scribbler was the only pony to regularly show up: a lot of us are often meeting up with family around that time."

Shining nodded. "I see. Thank you. Please don't leave Canterot, we may need to bring you in for more questions later."

Yellow Sunset promptly left, glad to be out of the interrogation room. Truncheon frowned.

"What was that about the one hour argument? Sounded pretty straightforward to me: they argued. So what?"

"I was mildly curious. If you're arguing for an hour, then you don't have time to write in your notebook. And even though I do recall there being an entry detailing an argument with Mr. Sandwich, it couldn't have taken longer than fifteen minutes."

"You think she was lying?" Truncheon asked.

"Not just yet. I suspect she just doesn't have as good a grasp of time that Scribbler does."

The next to enter was, as Shining had planned out beforehand, Mrs. Moneybags. She was a large mare with an ugly dollop of mane positioned uncomfortably on her head. Her wings looked like they could barely support her generous weight in flight. She had a very businesslike air about her.

"I suppose you have questions for me?" she asked.

"I want to ask about Ink Scribbler and Mr. Sandwich."

Mrs. Moneybags rolled her eyes. "Oh, that pair were always bothersome. My life would be much easier if they could just accept that they needed one another to work efficiently. They were always at odds."

"If Mr. Sandwich hated Mr. Scribbler so much, why didn't he just fire him?" Shining asked.

"I don't know. I always assumed that he liked having him organize everything. Scribbler really was the best at schedules. Such a terrible loss for the company."

"I was told that Ink Scribbler was the best banker in the department." Shining added, waiting for a reaction. Mrs. Moneybags huffed.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. He made my timetables like no other pony could, but he wasn't as good a mathematician, or as good in the boardroom as me. Or Mr. Sandwich, for that matter. Always had his nose in that little notebook of his, couldn't see three feet in front of him."

"Really? Interesting. Did you have any cause to want him dead, Mrs. Moneybags?"

The pegasus mare spluttered. "Well, of course not! He wasn't the finest pony around, but he was always decent, and I'd never want him dead," she said. "I still have to wonder how we'd have managed without him... he was always on the lookout for other jobs, and I got the impression he was just itching to leave."

Shining grunted, making a mental note of that latest piece of information. He dismissed Mrs. Moneybags, and remained silent as he contemplated what he had learned. He smiled to himself: yes, he definitely had more ammunition to use against Mr. Sandwich.

"Bring him in."

Mr. Sandwich was an earth pony, and quite a tall one two. Relatively skinny, he bore a very serious face that fit him like a glove. Shining didn't imagine him being anything other than serious.

"Please sit down, Mr. Sandwich," Truncheon instructed. "We have a few questions for you."

Shining glared at the businesspony. Given the testimonies of the previous witnesses, there was a good chance that he might be in the same room with a killer.

"Very well," Sandwich replied.

"Can you tell us what your relationship was with Ink Scribbler?"

Mr. Sandwich grunted. "It was purely professional... thankfully. The pony was a frightful waste of space. He barely knew anything outside of his timetabling nonsense."

"You don't approve of him?"

"No, I don— didn't. He was a dutiful pony, to be sure, but he was hardly easy to get along with."

"Are you glad to see him dead?"

"Not really. I wouldn't have minded seeing him transferred, but I don't tend to wish death upon other ponies."

Shining nodded. "A lot of suspects say that. Not all of them mean it."

Sandwich growled. "I'm not the pony you're looking for, detective. I've often considered firing him, but I wouldn't kill him."

"Maybe you'd have to resort to murder if you found you couldn't fire him. After all, he practically carries your department," Shining retorted. "Your superiors would never let you fire such a skilled pony: it'd be the end of your department. Your only option would have been to kill him."

Sandwich growled. "Or blackmail him, or make his life so miserable he quit. Heck, I might make ponies think he's having an office relationship with his secretary: that'd get him fired. I'm far more inventive than a dumb killer, detective."

Truncheon snorted. "Not the best way to convince us of your innocence, mate."

"I don't really care what you think: you can't prove anything, because I'm innocent."

"It's pointing in your direction so far, Mr. Sandwich. I can't say it looks good," Truncheon told him. Sandwich grunted, and locked his jaw tightly. He wasn't going to talk any more.

"Leave town, and you'll regret it," Shining warned. "We have more ponies to interrogate. If you really are innocent, you can tell us who else might have wanted him dead."

Sandwich didn't reply. Shining shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Truncheon, show him out."

Shining had sat through the bland and uninformative sessions with the three guards. Neither one saw or did anything: in fact, only Salt Brine was even aware of Ink Scribbler being on that floor. The others worked the night shift, and just kept their eyes out for punks out to vandalize the place. No money was stored in the building, after all: it was just paperwork.

The interrogations had given Shining time to prepare his mind for Princess Cadence's arrival. It would be the first time he had seen her in... over a year, he realized. It would not be the most comfortable reunion.

As the last security guard left, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hoof through his mane: it was time to bite the bullet and get this over with.

"Send Cadenza in."

The door opened. To his surprise, she had gotten taller since she had been Twilight's foalsitter, even though she had already been exceptionally high for her age. He forced himself not to blush when he noticed that she had also grown far more beautiful.

"Shining? Oh, Shining Armour, is that you?" she asked. The guardpony forced himself to swallow his doubts, and coughed.

"Ahem... yes. Uh, how have you been?"

Cadence smiled, as if she had forgotten under what circumstances they were meeting. "Quite well, thank you. I had always meant to say hello to your family again, but I never quite had the time."

"Neither of us did, I'm afraid. I'm a detective now, and I've been working quite hard."

"At this rate, you'll be captain before the end of the year!" Cadence exclaimed, impressed. "I suppose I should be glad it's you here and not some other detective..."

"Well, I suppose so. I'm not supposed to treat you any differently to any other suspect, but I doubt I can manage it," Shining admitted. "I had actually been planning to write to you once the investigation was over... of course, I had to arrange for an earlier meeting instead."

"Well, I'm glad to see you anyway. What do you need to ask?"

Shining tried to be serious, but he couldn't quite manage it. Cadence , despite being very calm and somber, still managed to distract him. She couldn't be doing it on purpose. Shining briefly considered getting Truncheon and Stache to handle this one for him, but he thought better of it.

"Well, we have reason to believe you might have wanted Ink Scribbler dead, Cadence," he said, as bluntly as possible. "Do you know why?"

"I'm afraid not. The only time I had anything to do with his bank was when I was trying to get funding for a hospital down in a new town being built down south... a place called Appleoosa, if you want to know."

"Well, Ink Scribbler was the pony who denied your funds. Knowing your, uhm... caring nature, it's possible you might have wanted to kill him for letting so many ponies go without proper care."

Cadence widened her eyes, shocked. "Well, I... I certainly don't approve of him doing such a thing... and I can't even figure out why, honestly, but I wouldn't kill him for it. In fact, I didn't even know it was him who had made the call to prevent the construction of a hospital."

Shining frowned. Whilst he was doing his very best to try to come up with counterarguments to her claims, he found it impossible to suspect his old friend. Thankfully, Truncheon was there to do that for him.

"Milady, that could be a lie. You're a princess: getting a hold of that information, classified or not, would be a cakewalk. It won't stand up in court."

Cadence looked saddened by that accusation. "I haven't used my... privileges for anything. I try to avoid it. That's why I was asking for funds, not simply demanding it. Equestria is a monarchy, not a dictatorship."

"That also may be a lie. Because of your position, you had both opportunity and means. I'm afraid you're one of our prime suspects," Truncheon declared.

"Well, I still wouldn't kill him."

"A lot of ponies have been saying that today. Unfortunately, chances are one of you is lying."

Cadence sighed, and looked imploringly at Shining. "You don't believe I could do this, do you?" she asked. Truncheon growled.

"I thought you said you didn't use your privileges for personal gain. Don't try manipulating your coltfriend whilst I'm around, milady."

Both Cadence and Shining flinched, startled.

"Ah... she's not my marefriend," Shining stammered.

"We haven't seen each other in years..."

"It's not..."

"...like that..."

Truncheon narrowed his eyes. "...yeah, right. Shining, you had something else to ask her."

Shining looked down at the notebook, and began flicking through the pages. His cheeks had flushed bright scarlet after Truncheon's remark. He thought that Cadence was very lucky to have been born pink: it didn't show quite as much.

"Yes, uhm... yes. We have to ask where you were at a few specific times," he said, and then carefully listed all the moments that had been labelled in the notebook as being gaps from ten to fifteen minutes, at most. These were the most likely times that Cadence could have stalked Ink Scribbler.

Each time, Cadence said where she was, except for those rare occasions when she couldn't remember. Truncheon leaned in towards Shining Armour.

"Have you considered that she might have spied on him at night, when he was sleeping?"

"And how would that benefit her? The murder was committed at his office. It doesn't make sense for her to scout out his house then commit a crime somewhere completely different."

They continued asking their questions. When all was done, Shining realized that there were no less than three occasions where Cadence might have been stalking Ink Scribbler or otherwise come into contact with him. Despite this, it was abundantly clear that they couldn't convict Cadence on speculation alone. He sighed with relief.

"I suppose that's that," he said with the slightest hint of a smile. Truncheon frowned.

"And now we're back to square one," he muttered.

The thought of never catching the killer made Shining blanch. He had to admit, he had been too preoccupied trying to prove Cadence's innocence to properly dedicate himself to solving the case.

"Not quite. Mr. Sandwich is still our number one suspect, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was the sort to kill a pony to get what he wants," Shining reassured him. The officer wasn't convinced. "We'll keep working at it."

Cadence left the room in front of them. Two guardponies of her own selection were waiting for her, as were the rest of the suspects, busy providing their alibis in detail to Stache. The Princess turned back towards Shining Armour.

During questioning, Cadence had looked worried on several occasions, due to being afraid of being convicted of murder. This time, however, her concern seemed to be for Shining Armour. She spoke up somewhat nervously.

"I can't help but feel a considerable amount of... heartache, Shining. I... I'm sure you'll be able to work things out with whoever it is soon," Cadence told him. Shining paused, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"It's part of my power: I can sense when somepony's heart is broken, or damaged," she explained. Shining smiled awkwardly.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, Cadence, but I'm not with anypony, currently."

Cadence looked like she was unsure whether to smile, or frown. "That's strange. I could have sworn I felt something..."

Shining grinned. Was this just some way of asking whether he was single or not? He hadn't thought the Princess of love herself would beat about the bush so much if that were true. Everypony was clumsy at something, he imagined.

Cadence picked up on his amusement, and in a very un-regal manner, scrunched up her nose awkwardly. Shining chuckled.

"Tell you what: if you turn out to be innocent of all charges, you can always visit Twilight. We can talk again then?"

Cadences nose remained scrunched. Truncheon shooed her out of the room. "Go on, get! We have an investigation to get back to!"

As the suspects all left, he turned back to Shining, his eyes narrowed.

"How about a little self control next time, sir?"

Shining could barely hold back his grin, but then a thought struck him. It was a tiny thought, the smallest of ideas, but it made him pause. Slowly, he began connecting dots in his mind.

"What if..." he said. He opened the notebook once again, suddenly anxious.

"Wednesday, four fifty: talked to Moneybags. Disappointed about work. Wednesday, five o'clock: got coffee. Wednesday, five ten: checking time, almost finished work. Wednesday, five twenty... finished stock predictions... going home. Five thirty: got home safe and sound before pouring myself a glass of fine wine. It's delicious. Five forty, going to get myself a take-out and have a relaxing evening alone."

Truncheon looked at him as if he were utterly mad. Shining went quiet for another few moments before springing to life like a firework. "Truncheon! Get Stache and have him get me a list of all the ponies living in and near Appleoosa, and also find me the alibis for all the ponies on the Wednesday. We did get those, right?"

Truncheon nodded. "Of course... it was the day before the murder."

"I know! Get me the Stache! I need to check something... and don't let the suspects leave!"

Despite the surprise of the suspects, nopony left the guard headquarters, even though it took Shining a good half hour to get what he needed. He read through the alibis of everypony involved, and began to chuckle.

"Huh... that never occurred to me."

Truncheon was getting quite fed up by Shinings mysterious manner. He could tell that his superior had a lead, and by the sound of it, a good one too, but even though he pestered Shining constantly, the best he got was 'you'll see'.

Shining looked at the list of ponies living in Appleoosa, and once again at the alibis.

"Okay... I have most of the pieces I need... I'm just missing the hard facts..."

"You know who did it?" Truncheon asked.

"Yes, but this isn't enough to convict. Look at the notebook, in particular the Wednesday five-thirty entry. Notice anything?"

Truncheon nodded. "I suppose it's a bit longer..."

"It goes into far too much detail. I have to admit, I probably wouldn't have thought anything of it if Twilight hadn't made me notice it earlier..."

"How does this get us any closer to identifying the criminal?"

"Ink Scribbler doesn't want us to know something. And what could he possibly have to hide?"

Truncheon shrugged.

"The hospital! That's where it began, do you see? Why would Ink Scribbler deny funding to construct a hospital, especially at the behest of a princess? Whether she meant to or not, you can't help but enjoy some privileges from your station. It doesn't make sense for Ink Scribbler to refuse that loan."

Truncheon nodded. "Sure, I suppose. Cadence could repay the loan if it was a bust, so he had nothing to lose. It is a bit strange..."

"Exactly. And that means that somewhere, there is a motive. I'll have to play this carefully... I need you to... hang on..." Shining babbled, before grabbing a handful of papers and handing it to Truncheon. "I need you to come in after five minutes and hand me these papers, okay? It's quite important."

"These... these are Stache's sketches!? How can these be important?"

"Well, make sure that the suspects don't notice that they're just drawings, all right? Now, I have to catch a murderer."

With that, Shining Armour strode into the room where the suspects were being held, kept quiet by Stache, who looked just as puzzled as Truncheon had. Shining tried not to sweat: this would either work, or it wouldn't.

"Evening', everypony. Sorry for the wait: I had to check some files."

"What is this about, detective?" Mr. Sandwich asked, furious. "I'm late for a meeting!"

"It was in case I needed to ask any further questions. The case has had a major breakthrough: we have identified the killer."

"Well, who is it?" Mrs. Moneybags asked, in the midst the confused murmuring.

"I confess, we initially dismissed her as having no motive. After all, she doesn't get a promotion from Ink Scribbler's death, and she apparently got along fine with our victim... or at least, so it seemed."

Salt Brine narrowed his eyes. "She? So either the Princess, Mrs. Moneybags, or Yellow Sunset?"

"Correct."

"You're making us wait a long time for answers, detective," Mrs. Moneybags growled. "Explain: I'd rather have this charade over with as soon as possible."

"Oh, if it's no bother, we just have to wait for undeniable, physical evidence before we can continue. I'm sure that Truncheon won't take too long."

Right on cue, the officer entered the room, holding Stache's rough sketches. He carefully handed them to Shining.

"Here you are, sir," he said, hiding his bemusement.

"Thank you," Shining said, and briefly examined the papers. Stache was actually quite the talented artist, although Shining made no indication that these were anything less than instrumental to the case. Glancing up, he noticed to his delight that Yellow Sunset was beginning to look nervous.

"Good. That wraps everything up, then," he said. "Our mysterious murderer is Ink Scribblers secretary, Yellow Sunset."

All eyes turned towards the young mare, who did her best to appear shocked. "You can't possibly suspect me, can you? I... I worked with him for over a year! I would never..."

"You can give it up: we know about your family... and your uncle. An unstable heart condition, and still moving to a new colony down south? Rather risky, don't you think?"

Yellow Sunset rubbed her eyes, sweating furiously. She couldn't look more guilty, but Shining needed more: he needed a confession.

"So what? What does my uncle living in Appleoosa have to do with anything?"

"Ink Scribber denied funding for a hospital there. He was blackmailing you... indirectly, but blackmail nonetheless."

"You can't prove that."

"We know what happened on Wednesday. Five-thirty, exactly. You and Ink Scribbler met, discreetly."

Truncheon racked his brain to try and figure out how Shining had come to that conclusion. Was this nothing but a bluff? He remembered the notebook, and the elaborate description from that time precisely. What was all this about?

Whatever Shining was doing, it was having an effect on Sunset.

"Well, even if he was blackmailing me... somepony would eventually make a hospital. Or my uncle would... come home, or something. That's not a motive to kill, detective!" she stammered.

"Try telling that to the judge. We just found hair that matches your own on the body after close examination. I have the papers to prove it."

"That's a lie! I didn't leave any evidence!"

Sunset widened her eyes in shock as she realized what she had said. "Oh, ponyfeathers..."

"Sounds about right. I think everypony heard that correctly," Shining said in a very self satisfied manner. "Have anything you want to get off your chest?"

"Bite me! Ink Scribbler was a monster! I had no choice!" Sunset shouted, all pretense of innocence gone. Truncheons jaw dropped. Shining Armour had played her perfectly.

"Why not?"

Sunset snarled. "He... he figured out that I had family in Appleoosa. Sick family. That hospital could have saved lives, but he decided that one colony wasn't worth it. He wanted quick money: he said he wouldn't re-evaluate the hospital loan unless I got him cash... or did something else for him instead," she said, her face scowling with disgust. "I chose the latter. I shouldn't have. That night, he threatened to get me fired unless I kept on pleasing him."

Shining raised his eyebrow.

"That explains a fair bit."

"You know that if he made your affair public, he would have also been fired, you stupid mare?" Mr. Sandwich asked, shaking his head. "You didn't have to kill him."

Yellow Sunset shrugged. "I know that now... I... I wasn't thinking straight."

Mrs. Moneybags decided to chime in, unhelpfully. "In fact, given that he was blackmailing you, you'd probably have been allowed to keep your job even afterwards, even if you did have a relationship with a co-worker."

"I know!"

Shining nodded to Truncheon, who restrained Sunset. The mare wasn't struggling: her earlier outburst had been replaced with despair. Despair, and guilt.

"Ah... I thought I had sensed heartbreak... instead, it was just betrayal," Cadence muttered, shaking her head sadly. "That poor mare. Being blackmailed, then used is enough to drive anypony to crime."

"True," Shining said. "I'll try to appeal to the judges. There are a lot of mitigating circumstances here... and I don't think she's a cold blooded killer."

Cadence nodded. "How did you figure it out?"

"Well... I'm not lying when I say that you gave me the clue I needed to crack the case. It was when you said that you didn't know why he'd reject the hospital loan... It got me thinking why he'd do that."

Stache nodded. "Yes, I remember you telling Truncheon."

"Indeed. I began to suspect then that there might be a motive to kill him, hidden within that loan. But alone, it wasn't enough. There was nothing in his diary that mentioned blackmail... and then it struck me that of course he wouldn't write something so incriminating in his notebook. I remembered the passage my sister pointed out last evening: at five-thirty on Wednesday, he wrote a far longer passage instead of his usual shorthoof. It was the sort of message that would be written after something had happened, not before or during. He was lying."

Shining shook his head. "We always assumed that the diary would always be true... that dead ponies couldn't lie. We were wrong, of course. I checked the alibis everypony gave again, and two names stood out: Mrs. Moneybags, and Yellow Sunset gave no alibis for the period we had discovered was a lie. When I got the list of ponies living in Appleoosa, and checked if any of them were related to either suspect, it confirmed that Yellow Sunset was linked to the crime. I guessed that something had happened on the Wednesday, and whatever happened must have driven her to kill her boss. I just needed hard evidence... or a confession."

"And you got the evidence: you searched Ink Scribbler's body for clues," Mrs. Moneybags said.

Shining chuckled. "Well, not exactly. Sunset didn't leave evidence. These papers are just some of Staches sketches."

Stache went crimson. "Oi! Those are mine!"

Everypony shook their heads in disbelief. "What if that hadn't worked, detective?" Mr. Sandwich asked.

"I... er, would have..." Shining began.

"He would have searched Ink Scribbler's house and Sunset's for clues, and something would have come up," Cadence supplied. Shining nodded, grateful. It was true, but he doubted he would have been able to phrase it quite as well under pressure.

"Yes, indeed."

Stache grunted. "Not really an elaborate crime... but she would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for Shining."

"I still don't understand why Ink Scribbler would be so stupid. He had to have known he would be fired if word got out. Sunset would have figured out that she'd be fine if she just came clean with the truth eventually... even if she didn't break first," Mrs. Moneybags said.

"He was going to get a new job anyway. You, yourself, told us as much," Shining replied. "He may have just been getting as much out of his old job as he could. Also consider that he didn't have personal relationships with anypony... we can gather as much from the fact that he always attends the bank's Hearts Warming party instead of spending time with his own family or friends, yet he was friends with none of you. He may have just been driven to it out of loneliness."

"Even so, it's despicable," Sandwich growled. Everypony nodded.

"A very sorry story indeed," Cadence muttered. "I'm glad it's over... and I hope that, in light of this, the Appleoosa hospital loan might be reevaluated."

"I'll handle it myself. Serves me right for trusting that treacherous pile," Sandwich reassured. Cadence sighed.

"Then I suppose something positive will have come from this mess... Now, if you'll excuse me, I suddenly feel quite exhausted."

"As do I," Shining admitted. "This has been quite a tiring case."

He looked over at Stache. "I'll handle the report later. I think we could all use the rest of the evening off... what's left of it, anyway."

Stache smiled. "I'll be sure to tell Truncheon about this when he gets back. The Captain will be ecstatic that we got it solved so quickly."

Shining snorted. "Don't count on it. Chances are, he'll just hand me another case and be done with it."

It was much later in the evening, and the sun had just finished setting over the horizon. A faint purple light flickered around Twilight's horn, and several candles spluttered to life, illuminating the room once again.

The young unicorn was ecstatic. Even though she may never admit it, she enjoyed a little social interaction after her studies, and getting both Shining Armour and Cadence at the same time was something that hadn't happened in years. Cadence was smiling and laughing as both her and Shining enjoyed their evening off.

"I'm glad you were able to solve your case," Twilight told her brother. "And I'm also glad I was able to help. I didn't imagine for one second that the notebook might be lying."

"I think that's why Sunset left it there in the first place," Shining explained. "Ink Scribbler's own 'testimony' would prove they had no interaction outside of work. It's pretty clever."

"I imagine everypony was impressed?" Cadence asked. Shining nodded.

"The Captain didn't care much, but I got promoted to homicide permanently by the personnel director," he said.

"It really won't be long until you're in charge of the whole Guard," Cadence pointed out. "I know you have my support."

Shining grinned. He knew that Cadence wouldn't use her position to influence his promotions... or at least, he thought she wouldn't. He hesitated.

It would explain how he went from a regular guard to a detective in under a year... and he had been promoted around the same time Cadence became a Princess...

He looked over at Cadence. Even if she had been helping him behind the scenes, which she had claimed she wouldn't do, would he really mind? Having a beautiful Princess on his side could never be a bad thing, could it?

He chuckled. He decided that it wasn't.

The End

Author's Note

Ahhg! Forgot to write my authors notes.
Ahem. I had loads of fun writing this, more than I did for my previous Shining Armour story, because I felt I could let him be himself a lot more. Sticking ponies in dark, despair ridden worlds (I didn't do that, but it sometimes felt like it) kind of removes the characters from what I feel they should be, so here I let each of the characters speak far more as I would imagine they would.
As for the mystery itself, it is inspired principally from my own absence of memory. Nothing so serious as a handicap, I just can't remember what I had for breakfast. The horror. In any case, I thought up this little conundrum, and here it is.
I hope you enjoyed the story, and even if you didn't, I still invite you to post any advice or feedback in the comments. The more feedback I get, the better my next story will be.