A Study in Mint

Chapters

I. Miss Lyra Heartstrings
II. How I Became a Resident of Ponyville
III. Friends and Enemies
IV. Lyra Gets on a Case
V. One Dead Apple
VI. A Note in the Papers
VII. Time Turner Unravels Another Mystery
VIII. The Science of Deduction
IX. The Truth of the Matter
X. Retrospection

I. Miss Lyra Heartstrings

World domination is something I could have accomplished long ago if life wouldn't expect me to get up early every day in the process. This way, I'm just some honest-to-Celestia, lazy earth pony mare who doesn't understand whatever happened to her life. All of the weird ponies living around me never helped in the matter, either.

Truth be told, my life used to be neatly organized and well planned-out...once upon a time. I had a fixed place to call my home, a father who loved me, and a clearly defined idea of what my future would hold. The only thing that ever messed with my life back then was the early passing of my mother. And even that happened at a very early stage in my life, so I didn't fully comprehend it at the time. I lived alone with my father for numerous years afterwards. And even though money was always tight, and I could constantly feel somepony missing in our home, we mostly considered ourselves a happy family.

It all came down to the day I decided I was all grown up, and wanted to move out to built a life of my own. Also because I wanted to put some load off my father's wallet. Mind you, taking care of one's offspring doesn't get any cheaper with the years. Considering that, my decision sounded all too reasonable. As soon as I left home however, a row of unforeseen circumstances started to push my life in a direction I wouldn't have ever imagined. What happened back then messed with my head a good deal. Yet, I still came to live with it eventually, and now I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

Call me Bon Bon. To tell you my story, I best start at the very beginning.

I left my hometown of Appleloosa in early spring. It was the 997th year of Princess Celestia's reign, and I had left the age of fillyhood behind me only recently. Moving out of my father's house, I went trotting off into the whole, wild world for the first time ever. Considering my possible choices for a new home, I ultimately settled for traveling to Ponyville, a small town located several miles further north.

When the time came, I boarded a train in hope of a new life to be raised up on my own four hoofs, and - more importantly - peace of mind. My dream was to one day open a small confectionery store, somewhere on a street corner maybe. I'd run it by myself, baking and selling candy, while somehow making a living off that. Producing all kinds of sweets in general has always been my passion. In a way, I was most likely meant to do so all along. My name derives from it, to say the least, and even my cutie mark consists of three colorful candy bars.

In short: I had made up my mind about the future. A small, private enterprise supporting myself, maybe a family one day. I was looking forward to a peaceful, quiet life, and this sweet town seemed just the right choice for it.

Arriving from Appleloosa, my decision to travel by train seemed the most reasonable thing to do. Railroads provided the easiest and quickest way of transportation, back in the day. It took me less than a few hours to arrive at Ponyville. The local railway station thus naturally presented my first impression of the town.

It was - if anything - a genuinely modest institution. Bordering a single platform, constructed entirely from timber planks, stood a humble, one-story building. Its grey and pink walls supported a massive roof made from hay, which spanned over the entire construction. Reaching in my direction was a short balcony, wide enough still for anypony to securely seek protection from the rain, should there be any. Two dark, oaken pillars supported the excess roof on either side. All three of them framed a single, blue door, and a wide window, which lead into the terminal area. Peering through the glass pane, I could make out one large room on the inside. It presumably occupied most of the small building, safe only for the restrooms, assuming the station provided of such.

I brought myself to step forward and enter the building. The inside looked much like I had expected; a large entrance hall opened up in front of me, only dimly lit by the light falling in through the windows on either side. To my right, a row of counters were lined up, all of which combined spanned well across the room's entire length. Only two of them were opened up at the time, however. There was no need for any more than these, since the station was all but crowded. Merely a few, lone travelers were scattered around the hall. Most of them had spread out across several benches at the waiting area located to my left. Given the time had only processed to eleven in the morning, most townsponies were probably at work right now. So the desertion around myself didn't cause me too much confusion.

I left to the opposite exit rather quickly, and without any further words or detours. I figured the glum atmosphere in this place didn't need to get to me. Stepping back outside, I found myself standing in what I considered to be one of Ponyville's main roads. A number of smaller houses stood to either side. Most of them resembled simple suburban cottages, similar to those I already knew from back home.

If there was one aspect noteworthy of this part of town, it was the one I only noticed a first few steps down the street. Glancing at my surroundings, I suddenly realized that, instead of another ordinary building, the street did in fact run towards a humongous tree. Even so, the plant's size was by far the only thing that startled me. Aside from all that, the tree also possessed numerous windows, as well as a door, and even a small porch reaching out of its upper levels.

I approached this strange appearance in a sense of curiosity, and because there were no roads leading any other way. While I wondered about what purpose this tree could serve for another minute or so, I ultimately decided to turn my attention towards more important matters at hand. Being new to this city, there were several needs I had to take care of first. Above all, I needed a place to stay, and a bite to eat. Though I had gathered a decent amount of bits in my saddlebags, I figured that some sort of employment would also present itself necessary sooner or later.

All of which were issues lasting heavily on my mind. And all of which would ironically get resolved by a string of events, first set off around the time I finally reached the great tree. I turned my way towards the street to my left, leading away from it. Along with everything I'd seen so far, it didn't present anything unusual at first. Until precisely at that moment, an incredulous blur of multiple pink shades approached me, apparently shooting out of nowhere. At a speed beyond anything anypony in their right mind could fancy, a fellow earth pony mare suddenly appeared before me.

I should mention at this point, there weren't any features on this pony that could not be described as out of the ordinary. Her pink coat stood in a bright contrast to her cutie mark, which was made up from three light, colorful balloons in blue and yellow, respectively. The mane - pink, likewise, though in a darker shade - appeared as if it hadn't been combed, or otherwise tended to, in ages. It hardly looked like a mane at all. More like a large, blown up mess that had somehow grown out of her head. From underneath it, two widened, light blue eyes glanced at me with an expression of utmost joy and cheer. Studying the weird apparition for a moment, I could only recall one other pony I ever met, who could bring forth an emotional outburst like that just by using her facial features.

There had been a filly I'd known in my very early days, whom this mare admittedly reminded me of. While among her family, she had worked and lived through the hardships of a rock farm, located fairly close to Appleloosa. She left home after only a few years, for reasons I never fully understood. Only now recognizing the similarities between the pony of my memories, and the one who stood before me now, did I realize the facts.

"Pinkie Pie?" I asked in a mix of joy and confusion, my eyes widening. I didn't feel completely sure, whether I recognizing her correctly after all these years, but decided to give it a try. "I don't believe it. I hardly even knew where you were headed all this time ago."

Back then, like today, her wide smile would immediately warm up my heart, bringing a feeling of delight to everypony around without uttering a word. I did feel somewhat confused however, when it slightly faded upon my words, giving way to a rather puzzled expression. With narrowed eyes, her head tilted slightly to the side, the mare looked at me with a faint sense of suspicion.

"Huh. I thought you didn't look familiar. At least not like anypony I've seen recently." She tapped a hoof to her chin. "You're not from here though. I know everypony in Ponyville. And I mean everypony. Are you new in town, maybe? Are you? That would be exciting, don't you think?"

I can't deny I was a bit taken aback by the number of requests Pinkie decided to bombard me with. Nevertheless, I quickly regained my composure, determined to make up her mind about the other fillies she must have known back home. If I still remembered her, there would at least be a chance for a mutual feeling on that point. Even if I had never been as lively or memorable as her.

"Well...I did just arrive here from Appleloosa," I started to explain, noticing Pinkie's eyes slightly widening at the name. "I lived there for most of my life, and we certainly have met before. Times and times again, come to think of it. Do you remember me? I was given the name Sweetie Drops at birth, but most ponies just call me..."

"BON-BON!" she squeaked in a high pitched voice, completing my introduction in a way I hadn't quite expected. "Is that really you, Bonnie? Ooh, I was right, this is exciting...and fun!"

Within seconds, I found myself drawn into an incredibly tight embrace. It was more than uncalled for on my part, especially since I've always considered myself a mare of certain restraints. Then again, quickly recapturing more and more memories about the energetic filly from my childhood, I found myself all the less surprised. In fact, while Pinkie had certainly grown up physically, her inner self didn't appear to have aged a day. Maybe that was the reason for my sudden, joyful nostalgia upon first seeing her again. Whether it affected her in a good or a bad way, I could hardly tell.

I considered myself lucky to be removed from her embrace moments later, still alive and well. Meanwhile, Pinkie returned to cast her hypnotizing smile at me, wider and more cheerful than ever. Not before long, I found myself confronted with another load of questions.

"This is exciting, isn't this exciting? Of course it is, I just said so myself. After all this time, I didn't think I'd ever see any of you guys again. So, how are you? And your family? Oh, oh, how's little Cherry Pie doing down there at the saloon?"

The latter question brought me to a certain amusement, as it always did on that subject. Cherry Pie was an Appleloosan mare about my age, whose family did own a little private business, several years before. Despite the name, they were all but related to Pinkie, however. Other than her family or mine, the Cherry clan usually picked a pony's last name to distinguish them from one another. The beginning of each name would be marked by the word cherry. Appleloosa had a vast diversity of cherry based names, most of the time: Cherry Pie, Cherry Berry, Cherry Jubilee, Cherry Cola...you get the idea. In our country, different families handled naming their foals in different ways. Exact rules of inheritance regulating these aspects never existed in Equestria, so any of those differences were commonly accepted.

When I told Pinkie how Cherry Pie's parents had to give up on their saloon, and moved further south to Dodge Junction in search for work, she seemed all but appeased. For just a second, I even fancied a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth, but might well have imagined it, just so. Not having myself distracted any further, I turned the conversation to a more important matter. Being as direct as I could, I asked Pinkie, whether she knew where to find any appropriate housing around these parts.

"Mmmh," she mumbled, one hoof slowly running over her muzzle. "It is funny you ask me that. Somepony else brought the same thing up, just this morning."

"Is that so?" I asked in sudden excitement, my eyes widening at the well-perceived remark.

"Yes, indeedy," Pinkie squirted. "I'm just going to my afternoon shift at Sugarcube Corner, so why don't you come along? I can tell you all about her on the way. With a bit of luck, we might even meet her once we arrive. It's a super big meeting place around here, I'm sure you'll love it."

Admittedly abashed by that sudden invite of hers, but also intrigued about meeting this other pony she had mentioned, I decided to trot along. "I'm a bit short on finances. Would there be another pony willing to share an apartment, I could hardly be opposed to that," I told her, speaking out my thoughts. "I can't wait to talk to her."

"Oh, you haven't met Lyra Heartstrings yet," Pinkie answered with a sly grin that I couldn't quite interpret. "She's one of the strangest mares I've ever known. And I've known a few."

For obvious reasons, I found the latter statement fairly easy to believe.

"Whatever you say. But what exactly is it that's so unusual about her?" I asked.

"Well, she's..." Pinkie trailed off for a second, clearly in thought. "Phew, hard to describe, I'd say. And I usually know more than enough about my friends to describe them well enough. But she's...different. Is that a good word? Yes, I think so. She's different."

"And a friend of yours," I observed.

"Of course, silly. Everypony in Ponyville's my friend. If you wanna stay, make sure to remind me putting you on the list, Bonnie."

"I'm sure I will, Pinkie," I returned to her with a smile, even though her addressing me with that obnoxious nickname did annoy me a little. "But tell me more about this Lyra Heartstrings. She seems to be an interesting mare."

"Boy, where do I even start?" Pinkie asked with a giggle. "She's like one of those...detectives from children's stories. Most of the time, anyway. It's not like anypony asks her to do so, or pays her off, she just...sort of does it. Other times, you find her sitting around somewhere for hours, or occasionally plucking melodies on her lyre." Her face went to a light frown for a moment, her mane turning a little less poofy. "Please don't blame it on me if you two don't get along. I'd love to be friends with you, I really do. I've always kinda...hoped somepony from back home would make their way up here."

While I felt a certain remorse for my companion, who had to leave her home at such a young age, I also got a little confused about her last notion concerning Miss Heartstrings. The Pinkie I remembered didn't think in that sense of pessimism. Which already made something feel off about the entire situation.

"Why would you assume the two of us not getting along, though?" I asked. Knowing Pinkie, I expected her to make some short remark for me not to worry, then quickly turn back to matters more cheerful. Which she didn't.

"I'll leave the impression up to you," Pinkie concluded in a serious tone, as we turned another corner. Looking around, I found myself face to face with a very odd looking building. Shaped like a slice of cake, with fake sprinkles, candy bars, even gingerbread figures reaching out from it, it did make a fairly impressive sight. Not to mention the tower in the shape of a birthday cake, reaching out from its center.

But also, it did dampen my hopes on employment a great deal, especially if I wanted to become self-sufficient. It all looked like somepony else had already gone ahead with plans similar to mine in this part of the world.

"Well, here we are," Pinkie cried, returning to her usual, ecstatic self. "That's Sugarcube Corner. You're new here, so the first treat's on the house."

Upon entering the cafe building, which appeared just as twisted and abnormal from the inside, Pinkie offered me to take a seat. She promised to bring something along soon enough. On my remark that I hadn't even ordered any food yet, she answered with a simple shrug. Concerning Pinkie, I knew better than questioning her. Without a moment's hesitation, the upbeat pink mare left me sitting at a chair near the doorstep, as she rushed into the back of the building, quickly disappearing from sight.

Unoccupied as I was after she left, I had a look around the room. Aside from its uncommon nature, which I have described already, there were a few other occupants in here. A chubby, blue earth pony mare with a pinkish mane, ten years or so older than myself, sat behind the counter. A light smile passed her muzzle, as she watched Pinkie hurriedly rush by. Most of their customers, on the other hoof, were colts or fillies, joined by a small number of adult ponies scattered throughout the room. Judging the time, I presumed there was a school nearby, and these fillies had come here for their lunch break. Looking at it that way, the cafe really did seem like a popular meeting place. I could already imagine coming here more often, even if it only meant some catching up with a past acquaintance and future friend of mine.

From all the ponies around the room, one would strike me in particular: An overwhelmingly quiet, mint green unicorn mare sat behind an otherwise deserted table, placed in one of the room's corners. Their upper thirds slightly covered by a short, silver mane, a pair of golden eyes, sharp like daggers, had fixed themselves on me ever since my entrance. No doubt, they displayed a certain curiosity. And maybe a hint of mistrust, but I couldn't tell for sure, concerning the latter.

That mare didn't seem to have a quaint sense of modesty; her eyes kept examining me, even at times when I myself returned her looks. It appeared as if she was studying me, like some kind of laboratory experiment. As I caught a glimpse of her cutie mark, which resembled a golden lyre, an unpleasant feeling overwhelmed me. Somehow, I already knew whom I was dealing with.

I deliberately avoided any kind of eye contact with the mare for the from that point on. Instead, I tried focusing on my own desk, and the menu laid out on top. It took a whole five minutes for Pinkie to come back, and when she did, she carefully balanced a strawberry milkshake on one forehoof, while nodding towards the unicorn mare in the corner as she passed by her table.

I occupied myself mostly with Pinkie at that moment, along with my astonishment about her actually remembering my favorite drink after all this time. The unicorn mare simultaneously getting up, and starting to walk towards me didn't slip my attention either, though.

"Heeere's one coming up," Pinkie exclaimed with a grin, putting the filled to the top glass down in front of me. As the mare arrived to join us Pinkie cast a smile to her, as well. It was hardly returned. The unicorn's expression seemed solid like rock, instead.

"Okie-dokie. Now, let me introduce you two: Lyra, this is Bon Bon. Bonnie, this is Lyra Heartstrings."

"Charmed," I answered in all sincerity, while receiving nothing but a simple nod as a response.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Pinkie added after a moment of silence. "If you need anything, scream like you're in agony. Somepony's bound to hear you...or not." And with another quick giggle, she left.

While I couldn't help but produce a weak smile over her crude sense of humor, the facial features of Miss Heartstrings still remained devoid of any sign of emotion. Her eyes shot back and forth between Pinkie, and myself, but she still didn't utter a word. It wasn't until Pinkie had gone to tend to her other customers, that she would finally take a seat, and break the silence.

"Very well then," she began in an extremely formal, business-like tone. "Let's get down to business, right? Unless you're still worn out due to your recent trip from Appleloosa, in which case I would be willing to give you a minute's rest."

Just as I intended to take a first sip of my drink, I stopped mid-motion, looking up at her in surprise. A question arose in my mind. One, asking how she could possibly know of my descent. Or whatever business she was talking about. Pinkie certainly didn't give her any input. They never even talked since I got here. Unless the nod they shared was some kind of strangely coded sign language. But I quickly dismissed that thought.

"No, I'm just fine," I thus answered, pausing with a moment's hesitation. "Though, allow me to ask: How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"Know, that I've just arrived from Appleloosa."

"Oh, well," Ms Heartstrings noted, the corners of her mouth briefly turning upwards. "Perception, mostly."

"Perception?"

"Obviously."

"Well, then...allow me...what is it you've perceived?"

At my notion, Ms Heartstring's eyes narrowed a little. "Well, where do I begin?" she asked. "How about this: You're an earth pony. Female. Not exactly uncommon in Ponyville. It is your race who originally founded the city, after all. What struck me was never having seen you ever before. Which is odd, since this town is usually small enough for the average mind to comprehend most of its faces at a time. And yet, you seem a complete stranger, not only to me, but also everyone else in this room. I observe that from everypony's reaction upon your first entrance. Some of them ignored you, while others gave you a look of mild interest, the kind one would normally give a stranger. Coming from out of town for some kind of rendezvous, maybe, I asked myself? Obviously not, since you would've brought some lighter, more presentable attire than just two crammed, worn-out saddlebags.

"A complete stranger to town, most likely. And one who either chooses to stay, or pass through. Now, since most ponies tend to not move around all that much, safe for - say - towns and cities in their immediate vicinity, that narrows it down to two possible earth pony towns in our region. Why Appleloosa, why not Dodge Junction, you ask? Simple. You're obviously not a resident of Dodge Junction, since most ponies in that town are in some way occupied with the bucking and manufacturing of cherries. Judging from your cutie mark, you're not much of a business pony, and neither have you served a long time, if any, on a cherry orchard. I observe the latter from your - pardon me - rather skinny, non-muscular haunches. Also, the last train - which you presumably arrived on - coming from Dodge Junction left more than three hours ago, so why only come here now? You are obviously Appleloosan, and came here to stay, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten off your train, but proceeded straight on to Canterlot."

In addition, after drawing in another breath, she concluded: "It's simple, really."

I can't deny that my jaw dropped, as I looked into Miss Heartstrings' face with complete and total perplexion. Her reasoning appeared perfectly logical, yet it seemed far beyond the comprehension of anyone I had ever met. Ever. Throughout her vast theory, only one little fault occurred to me, as I considered what she'd just said.

"But...but how did you know I wasn't helplessly wandering through town for hours before Pinkie picked me up?"

"Of course you weren't," Miss Heartstrings replied with a certainty that sounded almost arrogant. "Pinkie Pie wasn't at work all morning. Time off during the day for her means usually wandering about, meeting everyone. Anytime she sees somepony new, she brings them here. It's a pattern I have been observing for some time, and you confirmed it just a few minutes ago. Now, if you thought it would take Pinkie Pie longer than just a few minutes to locate you, especially with that outstanding, unusual mane coloration, you don't know her very well to begin with."

A satisfied grin across her muzzle, Miss Heartstrings leaned back in her chair. "Now, let's talk about that apartment deal, shall we?"

II. How I Became a Resident of Ponyville

After a short discussion, Miss Heartstrings and I agreed to part ways for the time being. We would rejoice the next day at noon, our meeting point being the apartment she had considered. From what I could gather, she felt already certain about us easily coming to an agreement, as soon as we took a closer look at our potentially new home.

While my first impression of the mare I would come to share an apartment with was a rather odd one, I still considered her somepony worthy of getting to know better. I admit, her uncommon nature did moderately repel me at first. Then again, I found no reason to argue with her suggestion, on a purely rational level. Also, we hadn't settled on any further conditions so far. If anything about her or the apartment would turn out a little too odd, I could still remove myself from the deal without causing too much trouble.

As soon as we finished our talk, Miss Heartstrings excused herself. Apparently, an aspiring, young cellist from Canterlot was to perform at a local concert venue that afternoon. A great admirer of stringed musical instruments, Miss Heartstrings wouldn't want to miss out on it. Judging from the enthusiasm swinging in her voice, I could tell as much.

While on the subject, she also told me about herself playing the lyre as sort of a casual hobby. On the question, whether that would bother me, I answered her no. I didn't mind a bit of musicality in my surroundings every now and then, even if I wasn't as passionate about the subject, myself.

I politely declined the offer to come along, when asked about it. I was low enough on finances already, and couldn't afford anything of the likes at the moment. My plans for the afternoon consisted of little more than to go back out, while getting a closer look at the town. Some fresh air couldn't possibly hurt me after hours spent inside crowded trains and cafes. And my wallet certainly agreed on the matter.

Without any further notion, Miss Heartstrings got up in a hurry, and - after casually dropping the apartment's location with me - wished me a good day. She rushed out the door in a haste, leaving me by myself after only a few minutes of our conversation. When I asked Pinkie about the address in question later that day, she told me the street was located fairly close to the town center.

I would then actually spent some more time at Sugarcube Corner, trying to make up my mind about this strange unicorn mare. She was, without a doubt, somepony whom I could barely interpret, let alone see through. The next time Pinkie passed by my table, I told her about our mutual agreement, as well as my thoughts on Miss Heartstrings. As I did, she seemed positively surprised we came to terms with each other. Since I wouldn't visit the apartment for another day, Pinkie generously offered me to spend the night at hers. I had nowhere else to go, and thus happily accepted.

The next day before noon, I found myself at sitting at the same table once more, still at Sugarcube Corner. As it turned out, Pinkie didn't just work here. She also lived in this extremely odd building. There was small upstairs room located right under the roof, which she rented for years now. Though not exactly an affluent kind of housing, it apparently suited all her needs. Pinkie didn't keep very high standards considering her home, since she spent most of her day either outdoors, or at work. Come to think of it, she hardly used her room for anything but sleeping there at night. At times, I wondered whether she'd already been like this back at home, always rambling about.

As I said earlier, Pinkie spent all of her working shifts at the cafe, and headed into town whenever her schedule would allow it. She'd pass over the doorstep dozens of times within a day. Time elsewhere was always spent in order to catch up with her friends, who apparently included every single resident this town had. Hypothetically, Pinkie could also spent her free time at Sugarcube Corner, assuming she couldn't find anything fun to do, anywhere. Those times hardly ever occurred, though.

The downstairs kitchen also represented the only one of its kind at the cafe. Since Pinkie could hardly prepare any meals in her own room, she consumed most of her meals down here, in the public dining area. That also accounted for our mutual breakfast that morning. Pinkie got the two of us a bowl of cereal each. While this might sound rather feeble for some observers, it was more than a mare of my financial situation could ask for. Along with it came a glass of milk for me, and a sample of a certain Special Pinkie Mixture for herself. Whatever the drink contained, it looked rather appalling, and extremely caffeinated.

In all honesty, I already started to feel bad about abusing her hospitality the way I did. It was for the same reason, that I prepared myself to leave as soon as I was done eating, though not without expressing my sincerest gratitude. When I also offered a small amount of coins in return for her help, Pinkie refused, seeming almost offended. She told me that a smiling friend was all she could ever ask for in return.

With my first impressions of Ponyville remaining thoroughly positive that way, I already felt I could easily make myself at home around here.

Soon after leaving Sugarcube Corner, I started to follow the path Pinkie had laid out for me earlier. Her directions would lead to the lengthy, main road they call Bucker Street. Its southern end was situated right inside the town center, bordering a minor cobblestone square. It didn't turn out a very rough task finding said location, and neither would it take me longer than ten minutes or so.

In the square's center there stood a large, circular building. Judging from the plaque next to its entrance door, it bore the name Carousel Boutique. The extremely colorful, and somewhat pompous construction consisted of something between two and five stories. I couldn't tell their exact number from the outside, since large portions of the boutique looked like the roof of a huge, strangely patterned tent. These parts looked sufficient in height to support their own floors, but they could also contain the highest portion of the rooms below. Combined with every other unusual piece of decor, including a certain number of fake mannequins on its outside, the building made an incredibly tacky first impression on me.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I walked past, heading into the lengths of Bucker Street. From here, I proceeded further north, following the road in straight direction for about a mile and a half. I had to cross all this distance, since the house I was looking for unfortunately lay at the road's opposite end. From what Miss Heartstrings told me, I could easily recognize it by the blue entrance door displaying the brass letters 221B.

As opposed to what I expected from my directions, the exact destination lay all but in the center of Ponyville. It was in fact located very much on the edge of town. Only a few hundred yards beyond, the settled areas would quickly give way to the wilderness of Regent's Wood, and extended part of the infamous Everfree Forest. Its beginnings marked the city's northern border.

I proceeded to walk down Bucker Street in its entirety, finding myself at a steadily approaching loss of patience. The road just seemed to wind on and on. What was worse, almost every building to either side looked exactly identical to the ones right and left from it. Two story housings made from either bricks, cobbles, or wood, covered by the same haystacked roofs as almost every building around town. Sugarcube Corner, as well as the strange boutique, each seemed to make a rare exception of the rule.

Inside the lower floors of most Bucker Street buildings, smaller stores and cafes were commonly located, while the upstairs areas appeared to be used as ponies' living spaces. Impressions like these made my idea of running a business of my own in this environment start to blossom again.

I could welcome something lighting up my mind at that time. Despite all signs of positivity around myself, frustration had gotten the better of me early on. After all, from the constantly identical looks of the street, it seemed I wouldn't make any progress at all. If I could think of anything giving me at least some consolation, that would be a good night's rest, and a healthy breakfast. My saddlebags didn't seem to weigh as heavily as they did yesterday, either.

After another half hour or so trotting along my spirits lightened up a little, as the house I've kept looking for finally came into view. I recognized it standing to my left, flanked by another small cafe, and a store selling cheap memorabilia concerning some local musical artist. The two-story, wooden building in between them mostly did look similar to every other on the street, but its blue door definitely set it apart. Like Miss Heartstrings described it earlier, the brass number attached to it's upper portion clearly stood out, catching my eyes within an instant. A small front garden accompanied the house, giving it a most sympathetic touch. Its neatly cut lawn was split in half only by the pebbled path leading up to the front door, which I have already described.

While the two of us had agreed on meeting right in front of the house's entrance, Miss Heartstrings was nowhere to be seen. Looking up and down the street with a certain sense of anxiety, I decided to give her some more time. I walked into the front garden, passing over the small path at an eased pace, until I was about halfway to the door. There, I sat back on my haunches, thus giving my back some rest after two days of constantly carrying those heavy bags around on it. Though I still preserved a lot of energy from last night's sleep, I felt a sore aching in every part of my limbs and torso, all of which appreciated a short break.

Despite my physical weariness, I soon started scanning the road in both directions, uneasily looking for any sign of a mint green unicorn. I expected seeing Miss Heartstrings walk up to me any moment now. From what I'd seen of her so far, I couldn't possibly determine how dependable a pony my potential flatmate was. But with this definitely being an important appointment, I expected anyone to be on time for once. And yet, I couldn't make out a trace of her, whatsoever.

Time went and passed, but no sign Lyra Heartstrings was anywhere to be seen. Remembering her odd behavior from the day before, I soon expected her delay to be part of some spectacular entrance, but that didn't seem to be the case, either. At around twenty minutes past noon - I had waited for about half an hour, as it was - an extremely visual frown worked its way onto my face. My frustration grew with every moment, especially since I had completely trusted Pinkie with her suggestion of moving in with Lyra.

Eventually turning to leave, I assumed myself the victim of some cruel hoax. The best plan appeared most likely consisted of returning to the cafe for Pinkie's afternoon shift, and have a serious talk with her about what had happened. I almost made it back to the main street, when suddenly hearing a faint creaking noise from behind. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed the blue door behind me quietly sliding open.

"Oh! Excuse me, miss," a raspy voice in a strong Trottingham accent called out, originating from the same direction. "Can I help you?"

I turned back around to find myself face to face with an elderly mare, standing in the doorway. The combination of her golden fur, and a multi-shaded, gray mane reminded me of somepony else at first. However, I couldn't quite put my hoof on who that would be at the time. Her kind, purple eyes looked at me in a much more welcoming manner than I would have expected from a complete stranger, and quickly got me out of my thoughts. In the harsh atmosphere of Appleloosa, a gesture of that kind wasn't a very common sight.

"Why, hello dear," the mare said, as I approached her. "You must be Lyra's new flatmate, aren't you?"

I'm afraid I displayed much more of my own confusion than I had planned in that moment. Once inflicted, the damage could hardly be undone, though. I wanted to facehoof first, but ultimately remained still in an effort to not embarrass myself any further. The other mare didn't seem to mind all that much, luckily. Upon a quaint nod coming from my perplexed face, she smiled and waved a hoof to invite me inside.

"Come in then, don't you worry. Lyra is upstairs, already waiting for you. Oh, and where are my manners," she stumbled, as I stepped closer. "My name is Yearling. I am the landlady of this house." With slightly narrowed eyes, she lowered her voice, and added: "Be careful not to test Lyra's patience. She can become very upset if you leave her waiting."

A disbelieving look on my face, I initially wanted to protest. After all, I wasn't the one having left anypony waiting out in the cold. Keeping in mind the mare's initial kindness however, I simply returned her smile and trotted inside. Once I passed the doorstep, I found myself standing in a long, dark corridor. It didn't contain any windows, and the wallpaper was colored mostly in shades of brown and dark beige. It was a narrow hall; the entrance door took up more than half of its entire width. In front of me, the room split in half. A white door frame on the left lead to an apartment on this floor, while to its right, a wooden staircase proceeded upwards.

Simultaneously to taking in my new surroundings, the gears in my head finally connected. "Wait, did you say Yearling?" I asked her. "You're not the famous author, A.K. Yearling, by any chance?"

I admit, I hadn't read any of the Daring Do novels at the time. But like most ponies, I certainly did hear about her popularity, and that of her books, before. Like Sapphire Shores or John Lee Hoofer, Yearling was one of those names likely to ring a bell inside anypony's head. Though I never expected the creator of a famous adventure book series to run a two-story house in northern Ponyville.

The mare closed the entrance door behind me, then rushed past, until she found herself standing in the opposite door. She cast a quick, anxious glance behind herself, before turning back to face me. "I'm not that author, dear. Only a relative of hers. Amy is my daughter, to be precise," she explained with a smile, before motioning to the staircase. "Go on ahead, I'll be along in a minute, just have to..."

"Mrs. Yearling!" a familiar voice sternly yelled from upstairs. "How's the tea coming?"

"Oh my, just as I expected," the mare quietly replied, rolling her eyes in slight annoyance. "Don't worry, dear. She does that sometimes."

I nodded and thanked her, before proceeding upstairs. All the while, I kept turning the though of me and A.K. Yearling's mother living under one roof around in my head. I wasn't sure how to feel about that, but it certainly did sound like an interesting arrangement. Also, how did Miss Heartstrings get to know her landlady so well? From what I presumed earlier, this day marked her first visit to the house, just as it did for myself. Yet, she behaved like this had been her home for years.

Once at the top of the stairs, I entered another corridor, which looked very much like the one below. There was a heavy oak door situated to my right, and two smaller, framed windows at the opposite end, facing the street below. Proceeding towards the door, I hoped to get some answers on my unfortunate situation. As I turned the knob, it easily swung open, despite its massive nature. The sight that presented itself on the other side was anything but what I had expected. A large, luxuriously furnished room opened up in front of my eyes, spanning well over the entire building's length.

Right in front of me, only three of four feet into the room stood a small, ornamented dining table. It appeared to be carved from a single piece of wood. Two chairs, opposing each other had been drawn towards it. Beyond these, situated well in the room's center, stood two expensive armchairs, and a couch. They created a narrow pathway in between, which lead towards a fireplace constructed into the opposite wall. Though there weren't any flames in it at that moment, I could easily imagine the warmth and comfort it would give once ignited.

To my right, a few cupboards of all shapes and sizes were crammed into the room's corner. Placed on top stood several objects of decor, such as a globe, and a small bronze statue. The latter displayed a pegasus mare unknown to me. Several portraits of ponies I didn't recognize either were hung up on the walls above. One of these walls, the one facing out front, was largely interrupted by a wide glass panel. This large bay window occupied the whole height of the room, reaching right from floor to ceiling. An overwhelming view on the street could easily be enjoyed from there.

In the opposite direction, to my immediate left, a wardrobe was attached to the wall, from which coats and hats of all kinds were hung. In the corner beyond stood a full assembly of all kinds of desks, including a small kitchen counter. Glasses, clamps, and other laboratory equipment were piled up on top of them. Even a low gas flame was lit below one of the oddly shaped glass containers, a light blue liquid peacefully boiling away on its inside.

The fireplace was flanked by two more, wooden doors, which interrupted the opposite wall. I assumed that these led to our respective bedrooms. In the far right corner, another staircase lead further upward, probably connecting this room with the attic.

In the midst of it all, seated in the one armchair facing away from the street window, sat Lyra Heartstrings. Though maybe the word sitting came somewhat short of describing her current position. While her head, neck, and chest were casually pointed upward, her lower torso lay flat on the cushions, causing her entire body to bend at an almost right angle. Both hind legs dangled towards the ground, the exact opposite direction to where they were supposed to go, while her forehoofs both rested on the chair's arms, respectively. Whatever she was trying to either imitate or accomplish this way looked all but healthy, let alone natural.

It took her a few moments to realize she had company. When she did however, Miss Heartstrings jumped out of her chair immediately, giving me a sly, mysterious grin. Whatever I was to make of that, it didn't exactly matter to me at the time. The way I saw it, she did owe me an explanation or two.

"There you are," she said, nonchalantly. "I was starting to think you wouldn't make it."

"Well, you didn't exactly stick to our original meeting place, either," I returned with a frown. "For the past fifteen minutes or so, I was thinking you were the one leaving me waiting."

"Nonsense," Miss Heartstrings told me, in a casual tone. "I asked Mrs Yearling to show you in as soon as you got here. If she didn't comply on the matter, that can hardly be my fault. Where is she, by the way? I've asked for that earl grey a good twenty minutes ago. Ugh, that poor mare always forgets the world around herself whenever she's in the kitchen."

I raised an eyebrow at her last notion, not sure whether to take her sarcasm seriously or not. And neither did I know for certain how to reply to her right then. I simply hoped it wouldn't get me into any overly awkward situation. Which it didn't, since Lyra quickly raised a hoof, pointing at the opposite wall's door to my right.

"Your bedroom will be in there," she explained. "I suggest you get yourself settled in, tea and refreshments should be along shortly. And with them, Mrs Yearling, with whom we'll straighten out the contract. Sorry for her delay, but I don't run the schedule in here."

"What makes you so sure I'm staying?" I asked, as she turned, starting to aimlessly wander around the room. In all honesty, I hadn't ultimately decided on the matter myself, though I did my best trying to remain polite in my tone.

"Where else would you go," Ms. Heartstrings replied. "You don't really have a choice."

"You couldn't say - "

"This is the first apartment you're looking at today, right? Had you been worn out visiting any others this morning, you would hardly sit down outside, and patiently wait half an hour for somepony to arrive. Which, again, I am honestly sorry about. Now, had there been any preferable deal, you wouldn't have come this far out of town for considering to accept mine. Thus, the only conclusion remains that this apartment is your only option."

I felt the hair on my neck slowly rise up, as an tense uneasiness came over me. "You still haven't told me how you could possibly know all this about myself," I observed. It did cause Miss Heartstrings to a brief chuckle.

"There is a time and place for everything, my dear Bon Bon," she replied. "Get yourself settled in, we'll have a contract to discuss at any moment."

For reasons I didn't understand myself, I left her standing in the living room, and turned towards the door leading to my potential bedroom. If anything would make me stay here, it was merely my curiosity for my flatmate's uncommon reasoning and personality in general. And admittedly, I really didn't have anywhere else to go to.

My bedroom, laying on the north-eastern corner of the house, was decorated comparably modest. By any means though, I was positively surprised finding it furnished at all, however scarce that was. Another, smaller window was placed inside the eastern wall. It provided me with a limited view of Bucker Street even from my bed, which was placed directly below. Apart from those two items, a small shelf, two stools, and a bedside table supporting a candle were placed inside.

I threw both of my saddlebags onto the bed, then quickly started unpacking. It only took a short five minutes, which I wouldn't find all that surprising, considering my scarce amount of possessions. What confused me all the more was how I'd seemingly started to treat this house like my new home, already. And for some reason, I suddenly felt like I had in fact made up my mind. In a way, I really wanted to stay. And whether the strange presence of Lyra Heartstrings had triggered that sudden decision, I could not yet tell.

III. Friends and Enemies

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly. Miss Heartstrings wrapped up our contract with an astounding ease, coming to terms that both we and our landlady could agree on. Judging from the amount of bits I carried with me, I would also be able to support myself for a whole more two months or so. It felt good, being independent like that.

During the next two weeks, days came and passed, bringing with them nothing out of the ordinary. Though I kept glancing at different papers or advertisements from time to time, I must admit that my efforts on receiving some employment would remain limited for a while. Unfortunately, one could say, my lazy nature had gotten the better of me. I spent most of my time slowly settling in, getting accustomed to Miss Heartstrings' unusual habits. The unpleasant thought of having to take charge of my life soon, wouldn't I want to be cast back out onto the streets, always resting in the back of my head.

Miss Heartstrings - who, after a few days under our mutual living conditions, insisted I call her Lyra - was of quite uncommon nature in almost every aspect. I can't say I've ever met somepony similar to her before. Yet, getting used to living with her turned out a lot easier than I expected it to be. Weren't it for her scientific experiments, the smell of rotten eggs constantly glued to them, or her obsession of playing the lyre up until three in the morning, I wouldn't have doubted her for a second. But even so, I managed to get used to my new life within a number of days or so.

Of course, Lyra didn't physically play her instrument . The strings would swing back and forth, animated solely by auras of her magic, hardly even touched by her hooves. I myself could never get myself to fully understand the magic abilities of unicorns. Being an earth pony, who grow up in a town with no unicorns present whatsoever, forces like these seem one of the most alien things ever encountered in life.

And still, once I first encountered magic, I quickly dropped every doubt I had about it. In their place stepped a feeling of sudden, but amiable fascination. While I naturally shouldn't call myself an expert on the theories of magic, I quickly observed my flatmate's abilities to be rather proficient, since there were a lot more spells than just simple levitation magic within her repertoire. In fact, Lyra seemed to come only somewhat short of mastering her skills. When asking her where she'd acquired that talent, I learned that she had in fact attended Celestia's school for gifted unicorns a number of years ago.

I also learned that she became a dropout by her own decision. While certainly admiring the strength and effects of her own magical gifts, as well as those of anypony else, Lyra never got herself to agree with the education methods she faced in Canterlot. Too many were based on a strictly organized, conservative system, which demanded an equally straightforward approach for everyone. The capital's elite education had been designed by the Princess herself, who, in my companion's opinion, was a complete and total idiot. Despite Celestia's willingness to help ponies make their way through life, Lyra Heartstrings preferred to walk down her own path.

Naturally, I was most startled when Lyra told me of her complete lack of respect for our ruler. I had certainly heard from ponies casually expressing some criticism directed towards Celestia's rule and person in my day. But none of it was ever so aggressively verbalized the way Lyra explained it. She didn't tell me where all these harsh opinions of hers originated from, just then. I suspected it to be somehow connected to her time in the capital, but it felt like there were some other factors I did not yet know about.

All those discoveries I made during the times in which Lyra was most talkative. Which she was on most days, anyway. At others however, she would remain fixed in her armchair, fixed in the same unnatural position I had found her in when first entering the apartment. An distant, watery look would surround her eyes, indicating that despite the mare's physical presence, her mind was wandering about elsewhere. She would sit like that for hours at a time, even days, without a bite to eat or a sip to drink. Even though we lived under one roof, and held all sorts of conversations every other day, this side of Lyra Heartstrings would remain a mystery to me for a long time.

Sometimes, she would suddenly interrupt her daily routine - if such a thing even existed - as well as mine, by politely urging me to retreat to my bedroom. Lyra reasoned there were ponies whom she called her clients to tend to, and she needed to use the living room as a sort of office. From the perspective given by my chamber's narrow window, I could often watch the ponies she described passing back and forth over our doorstep. They ranked from beggars and street urchins to respectful citizens from every part of town. The vast variety of Lyra's working partners brought a curiosity to my mind that was growing with every new pony I watched enter our home to somehow conclude business with her. When one day even a member of the Royal Guard appeared at 221B Bucker Street, I decided to confront Lyra about what it actually was she did.

"Consulting detective," the unicorn mare explained in a monotonous voice, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You probably haven't heard of the term before, but don't worry. It is quite rare, after all. I'm probably the sole pony in Equestria practicing this profession. I invented it, to be honest."

When I raised a questioning eyebrow, she continued: "What does that mean, you wonder. It's simple. Whenever ponies - be it ordinary citizens, the police, or even the royal guard - find themselves dealing with a situation or mystery they cannot resolve themselves, they come to me for advice. I solve the case for them, they pay me for my efforts, everyone's happy. Simple as that."

"And how is it that you're able to solve every puzzle they aren't?" I asked, curiously. "Pardon me, but you scarcely even leave the house. I mean, these ponies must have some more experience with their particular mystery than you do. They've had some practical connection to it, seen it all with their own eyes..."

"Also simple," Lyra interrupted me in a similar tone. "I get help from an uncommon set of mental skills in my possession, some of which you've already experienced yourself. While I obviously appear quite repelling to most ponies at first, my expertise allows me to do the work I love doing. As for not leaving home, there's a simple reason for that. Most cases are extremely basic, I might as well solve them without any first-hand experience. They bore me, I admit. I prefer those more complicated and enigmatic. But I do have to make up for my daily expenses in one way or another."

"So," I started, trying to carefully place my words. "Do I assume this correctly, if I say that you consider yourself a psychopath...of sorts?"

Lyra snorted, uneasily. "I prefer the term high-functioning sociopath," she returned. "While the phrase might sound like a the same thing to some, the dimensions between them stretch wider than the very universe we live in. 3.74 times, to be exact. Of course, I get strange looks and opinions for my choice of self-description, but after a while, it really just becomes another part of oneself. You have to get used to it, is all."

At that point, a brief amount of time passed, during which neither of us said a word. Considering my loss of words rather embarrassing, I avoided any direct eye contact with Lyra. I'm almost certain though that she didn't. I couldn't say whether she was even aware of these kinds of emotions and their existance.

"I should have another client coming around shortly," she suddenly proceeded without a warning. "If it wouldn't be much of an inconvenience, maybe you could..." she trailed off, motioning towards my bedroom door.

"That's alright," I answered with a partly fake smile. "I was going to leave for a walk, anyways."

Now, while I didn't trust Lyra in her entirety just yet, my last statement was in fact very sincere. I had hardly made any progress of getting to know my new surroundings up until now, and a light walk through Ponyville appeared like a good place to start. I hadn't done so since I first got here, and there were many streets and corners of the town I hadn't even seen, yet. In a way, I was also hoping I could learn more about that strange, giant tree-house, which I had first discovered upon my arrival.

Lyra quickly replied to my idea with a satisfied nod. Since I didn't have anything further tasks unfinished around the house, I decided to pack a few bits in a saddlebag, and head for the outside immediately. Her clients usually didn't stay for longer than thirty to forty minutes, so I assumed that, even after a short walk, I could easily return home whenever I felt like it. And even if I happened to drop into some kind of private conversation, I could still quickly retreat to my bedroom. Lyra certainly wouldn't be able to blame me, if I did. After all, this was as much my apartment as it was hers.

As I slammed the door to 221B Bucker Street close behind myself five minutes later, I stopped for a moment before proceeding any further towards the street. Closing my eyes, I calmly drew in some of the nearby woods' fresh air in through my nostrils. It was only two in the afternoon, so there was still plenty of time to make all the visits I had planned for. I figured I might as well take a short glimpse at the neighboring forest, first of all. Natural forests were a rare sight back home where we didn't have any trees, safe for two artificially planted apple orchards. Each of them located on the western and eastern outskirts of town, respectively.

Reaching the northernmost end of Bucker Street, I took another left turn, and headed into Park Road. While it had a number of houses and cottages lined up to the southern side, the opposing one was left mostly to its natural cause. One could easily get a clear view of the forest, formed by a vast diversity of trees. The first of which stood just a few feet apart from the road. It took me a while getting used to the sight, until I would constantly spot all sorts of birds and critters rushing back and forth between countless tree trunks and branches.

I was able to enjoy this fascinating panorama for a few more minutes, since I had to cover a certain distance to reach the next street that reached back into town. As I headed for the three-way junction, I turned south and headed towards the city's central district. My excitement quickly got dampened around these parts. As opposed to the outskirts, there was hardly anything special to see around here. The suburbs of Ponyville and Appleloosa seemed to look very much alike, despite the slightly different climate.

It took another number of turns, for a whole more forty-five minutes, making my way to the town center. Since I hadn't thought about a good place to start exploring, I decided to first wander towards the great tree that had caught my attention earlier. Funny enough, during a whole two weeks the thought of getting more information about it hadn't crossed my mind even once. Which reflected on my lack of recent productivity all too well, I'm afraid.

Since I didn't exactly have a map of the city at hoof, I got my directions from keeping in mind the locations of Sugarcube Corner, and the train station, knowing the tree had to be somewhere in between. But before I even got there, I was able to catch a glimpse of the tree itself. Given its size, it easily stood out between the comparatively low rooftops. It really should have occurred to me sooner.

The tree still bewildered me the same way it did when I first arrived here. Whatever residents occupied it must have had quite a reputation around town. Though I usually knew better than to interrupt any stranger's peace, I could think of no other way feeding my curiosity than to take a look up close. I approached the tree's artificially implanted entrance door, crossing the open space left around the plant, and knocked a few times. To my surprise, I found the door unlocked. As it opened, I caught an intricate first view of the inside.

Between numerous bookshelves, arranged in a large circle on the first floor, stood, hovered, and walked several ponies of all ages and races. It took me a moment to realize that this was obivously a public place, something I hadn't quite expected. None of those present seemed to pay much attention to my entrance, however. There wasn't any reception either, so I went past relatively unnoticed. Somewhat discouraged, I decided not to stay for long. Then again, having come all the way to the town library, I figured I might as well take a look at whatever kind of books it had to offer.

To be plain, I mostly checked for a few volumes suiting my general interests. Given the library had a notable collection on every regular field of knowledge, combined with its neat organization, these weren't very hard to find. None of those about the confectionery arts and crafts told me anything I didn't already know, unfortunately.

And neither had I come here today for nothing but reading some non-informative books. Reminding myself of that, I restrained from looking at any more, longer passages. I told myself that I needed to get on my way, if I wanted to look for employment or meet some other ponies. None of those around here, who were mostly consumed in there studies, did I expect to be very talkative at the moment.

In an effort to clean up behind myself, I got up on my hindlegs, pushing the books I'd taken off the shelves neatly back in place. Just as I turned to make for the door, a brown-coated stallion cleared his throat, as he approached me.

"Excuse me...Miss Bon Bon, am I right?" he asked. I felt an unpleasant feeling of surprise rise up in my stomach as he spoke.

"Yes, I am," I answered, trying to sound as polite and confident as possible. "Can I help you?"

"Well," he continued, deliberately avoiding eye contact. I couldn't help but notice his accent, which - similar to Mrs Yearling's - probably derived from somewhere around Trottingham. "Not myself, exactly. I'm here on official duty, you see. I'm supposed to let you know that your presence is requested somewhere else."

"Where?" I asked him, dumbfounded. I agree, it wasn't the most well-composed response I could manage.

"Somepony down at the railroad station," he replied. "High-ranking official, it seems. Never met him before, but for some reason he preferred to be quite subtle, which is why he sent me after you."

"And who exactly are you, then?" My brow furrowed in accordance to my skeptical tone.

"Nopony of importance," he told me. "My name is Time Turner, if you need to know. On normal days, I'm investigating for the local law enforcement. And my apologies for this inconvenience, but I'm just obeying orders. I don't know what this meeting is all about, and frankly, I don't care. If you would do me the favour of meeting my superior at the station, we shouldn't have any future troubles."

Though unsettled by his extremely shaky, and hasty approach, I thanked Mr. Turner before heading back outside. Once there, I rolled my eyes with a groan. After just a short while living in Ponyville, I appeared somepony secretly wanted to meet me. A mare in my position really couldn't afford the gossip that would follow, which was why I felt awfully frustrated right them. Frowning, I turned my steps towards the nearby station, hoping to quickly get it over with.

I entered the station hall, finding before me the same scenery as I had on my first arrival. Only about half a dozen travelers had spread out all across the room, either standing in line for their ticket, or waiting for their transportation to arrive. Given only trains from either Appleloosa or Dodge Junction passed through here, Ponyville station was only a moderately active place.

Of all the ponies in the room, I especially noticed a terribly overdressed unicorn stallion sitting in the waiting area. He cast a meaningful glance at me on my entrance, one, which I mistrustfully returned. Assuming he was the one who called me here for whatever reason, I started moving in his direction. All the while, his carefully combed and cleaned out, blonde mane came second only to his pompous attire. An expensive collar with a black bow tie hung around his neck, one single rose stitched to it. Part of me hated him already, another one criticized myself for even bothering to come here.

"Please, have a seat," he said, as soon as I got into hearing distance, standing only a few feet away. With a motion of his hoof, he pointed towards the empty space beside him.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "What are you on about?" I asked, letting all my doubt flow into my voice, hoping he would somehow realize how much of an annoyance he was at this time. The sooner he would, the better.

"Have a seat," he replied in an increasingly stern voice. "I insist."

It all seemed like he wouldn't let me off the hook that easily. Of course, I could also just walk away, but rudeness has never been among my virtues. Sometimes, I wish it was. Audibly exhaling in my frustration, I gave in to his demands, and sat down. Once sitting, I hoped to speed up the conversation, and soon be done with it. "Why am I here?" I asked.

"Good point," he said. "The reason for your presence here is, say...a mutual friend of ours. My apologies for our rather delicate place of meeting, but I'm not somepony who likes to raise a lot of attention. Especially not whenever dealing with Lyra Heartstrings." My eyes widened a good deal when he mentioned that name. I was all but prepared for it, to say the least. And unfortunately, he seemed to notice.

I decided to keep quiet for the moment, letting him complete his narrative.

"Here's where you come in. You see, despite her uncommon nature...or more as a result of it, actually, Lyra tends keeping to herself. You two share a flat, which brings you closer to her than anypony has gotten in years. Including myself that is, unfortunately. I would be more than welcoming to any kind of information you could get to me on her part."

Information about Lyra. His demand instantly rang an alarming bell in my head, as I jumped up from my seat. "What are you," I yelled in my nervous temper. "Some kind of stalker?"

The stallion frowned, as a good deal of faces turned towards us in curiosity. "I am an old friend, as I have told you already," he sternly repeated. "Lyra may not consider me that, but I am concerned about her. I just need to know about some basic issues. Where she goes, for example. Or what she's up to. I don't mean to harm her, or do anything to her that could bring the same to either of us. If that is what you think. But she does have a tendency to get herself into trouble, which repeatedly brought her in need of assistance during past years."

I remained standing where I was, startled, and my doubts unbroken. For just a minute or so, I simply stared at the stallion in disbelief. It didn't seem to ease him up in the slightest. "If it changes your mind," he continued. "I would also be willing to offer a significant amount of money in return for your compliance. Given your current situation and social status, that might come in handy over time."

"Well..." I started, only to trail off extremely quickly. Turning his offer around in my head, I started to feel undecided. Of course, selling out somepony who trusted you was wrong. Then again, I really could need some financial aid at the time. Also, how did he know about my situation? Did I really make it that obvious?

For now, I felt a stronger desire than ever to get away from this buffoon, whatever it was he might be up to.

"I won't be able to find out anything, whether I'd want to or not," I nervously told him to win myself some time. "Lyra doesn't include me in her work. On the contrary, she deliberately tries to keep me away from it."

A satisfied smirk crept on my muzzle, as I finished my explanation. It certainly was one way of getting myself away from that dilemma. The unchanged look on the stallion's face quickly made me feel uncomfortable again, however.

"As I've said, she can be a very restraint mare," he said. " But I'm sure she will try to seek your support sooner or later. Even if it's just her needing to show off in front of somepony. And even if she didn't, it shouldn't be to hard to convince her. Why, living under one roof, you're practically part of the family, already."

"Family?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Are you a relative of hers?"

"That's about enough," he answered with a sly grin, as he got up. "And do think about my offer. Whenever you've made up your mind, I'll be more than happy to hear about your decision. Until then, good luck with all your endeavors."

As he walked past, apparently approaching the platform exit, another thought crossed my mind. "I wouldn't know how to contact you, or where to search for you, if I did," I shouted past him.

Looking back over his shoulder, he concluded: "I know where to find you. That should do for now." And without further notion, he went out through the door, and disappeared onto the platform.

I might have just imagined it, but stepping back out the opposite door, I could feel a chilling breeze blow down the street. It was unusually cold for this time of the season; maybe I should have brought a scarf of sorts.

IV. Lyra Gets on a Case

After my disturbing encounter from earlier, I spent most of the afternoon wandering about in central Ponyville. I also stopped by Sugarcube Corner for a short, casual talk with Pinkie Pie. With newly discovered enthusiasm, I told her all about my success with the apartment, and thanked her again for suggesting it. Before I left, she also gave me some vague advice on where to start looking for a potential workplace around town. The cafe was quite busy that time of the day, so I couldn't stay to chat for much longer.

Whatever remained of my trip from there on out didn't turn out very successful, either. Despite Pinkie's helpful input, I couldn't seem to meet anypony else who could help me out in any way. By the time Celestia was getting ready to have her sun set in the west, I felt majorly worn out, and decided to return to my new home at Bucker Street. I arrived back at the blue entrance door after a half-hour walk back from town. Taking a more direct route than before, my trip went past a lot quicker. Thinking about my unsuccessful day all the while had me pretty much tired out by the time I reached home. I also found myself unable to stop wondering about the strange stallion I'd met earlier. In due time, I reminded myself, I had to confront Lyra in an effort to discover what their connection might be. Assuming she even knew him, and he really wasn't just some creep following her around all day.

Upon reaching 221B Bucker Street, I crossed the short pebbled path in our front yard without any sign of excitement. My limbs felt sore, and my eyelids extremely heavy. Trying to push all my worries out of my mind, I yanked open the door, and made my way inside. Turning right towards the staircase, I quickly proceeded upstairs to enter the apartment. I hadn't seen Mrs Yearling on my way up, but she had probably gone to sleep, as it was. It wasn't much of a surprise at her age, either.

I imagined to hear some faint chatting coming from the living room as I approached the door, but I might well have been mistaken. Even so, it wouldn't exactly be the first time on that day. Tired as I was, I didn't exactly mind, though. It wasn't before I stepped inside that my curiosity was awoken once more, as I noticed we had a visitor. And a rather familiar one at that.

It was Time Turner, the inspecting officer whom I'd met earlier at the library. He sat in the armchair to my left, a concerned look on his face all the way through. Lyra had placed herself in the opposite chair, taking in the same unnatural position as usual. She sat there, facing him with some degree of interest. As far as I could tell, it was her casual look for all sorts of businesslike affairs. Whatever talk they had been engulfed in leading up to my entrance stopped immediately. While Lyra merely gave me a short, indifferent look, Mr. Turner's eyes widened in bewilderment as he saw me.

"Good evening, Bon Bon," Lyra said in her typically objective voice. "This is Mr Time Turner from the local law enforcement. We were just discussing business, so if you could leave us for a moment longer..." She obviously urged me to retreat back to my room, and I didn't see any reason against it. In all honesty, I could need a little time for myself, now. Instead of waiting for our guest's exit, I might as well get myself into bed, right away.

"Sure," I casually replied, as I started approaching the door to my bedroom. "And thanks for the introduction, but...we've met."

"Is that so?" Lyra asked, traces of surprise swinging in her voice, no doubt. She turned back to Mr. Turner. "Intriguing. Do you have anything to add?"

"Well, I..." the poor stallion gave a slight stutter, as his eyes darted back and forth between my Lyra and me. "I wasn't aware you were flatmates. I just...got commanded to send Miss Bon to a meeting with some government official this afternoon. I'm sorry, I didn't know there was any connection between the two of you."

Lyra's eyes hastily closed at the term government official. A low groan escaped her throat. "Well, I should have known better," she murmured. "It should be all too obvious Blueblood would come after you, sooner or later." Addressing me with the latter, she turned back to face Mr. Turner. "You'll have to excuse me, but there are some issues, which my companion and I have to discuss. I'll have the rest of the case later."

"Wait!" Mr. Turner exclaimed, as Lyra started pushing him towards the door with evident urgency. "What about the corpse, I mean, would you care too..."

"Yes, of course. The two of us will be there, first thing tomorrow," she replied, just before slamming the exit door in his face.

"Now," Lyra continued, as she started pacing up and down the room. "You've met Prince Blueblood. Well, he met you, strictly speaking. Which is just as fine, I suppose. Or not, given the perspective. Did you tell him anything?"

"Nothing he didn't already know," I answered, receiving a satisfied nod from her. "What is he, another customer of yours? He seemed important, the way he dressed, and carried himself."

"Important yes, customer...well, not really. He's my brother, to be precise."

"Your...brother?" I looked at her in surprise. "I didn't know you had..."

"Yes, yes, few ponies know about that. My relatives are one of these personal subjects I like keeping to myself."

"Well, that's alright with me," I said. "But what is it he does? And...why would he want to know what you're up to?"

"I can't say what exactly it is he needs from me, or why he's trying to put you in between all this. All I can tell you is what he normally bides his time with, assuming he's not occupied with his dear sister. You see, government official doesn't completely cut it. Mr Turner probably told you how Blueblood works for the government in a high position. Which is what he would think, among most ponies. But practically, Blueblood is the Equestrian government. He's behind virtually every level of security and administration in the entire stinking swamp we call Canterlot. Whatever ministry, office, or term of affairs, he probably runs the place from behind his back, somehow."

"He does? But...I thought the princess put up with all that."

"Of course that's what you thought," Lyra replied, some anger mixed into her voice. "That's what everyone thinks, because the idea of a wise, protecting mother makes everyone much more comfortable than the harsh reality. You'd think, everypony in the Canterlot elite is nothing but a useless snob, while our glorious leader somehow manages to run this madhouse in assistance of her divine genius. Truth is, she's nothing more than a figurehead. She might raise the sun and moon, but that's basically all she does. And all she's capable of, quite frankly."

I wanted to protest; everything I'd heard about the princess throughout my life sounded very different. Lyra's approach seemed like an outrage to me, even blasphemic in some way, but she wouldn't let me cut into her tale just like that. Instead, she kept on talking without any pause or hesitation. In a way, I'd like to hear what our ruler would have to say about her words.

"Would you admire Celestia?" Lyra asked. "Don't. I can tell you that, because I've met her, and she's nothing but a boastful moron. If you see things the way you do, that's mostly because Blueblood wants you to. He runs a stealthy, but thoughtfully planned out arrangement of propaganda methods. Think of that what you wish, but it does help keep the country safe, and its ponies to sleep at night."

I stared at her in all my doubt. Which, to say the least, was more than justified "But why...but how did he even manage to achieve all this, if what you say is correct? One single unicorn in charge of all of Canterlot just seems unreal."

"His skills," Lyra replied with a shrug. "And family bonds, I guess..."

"Family bonds?"

Lyra trailed off, rolling her eyes. "Yes, well...family bonds... I suppose, I'll have to be completely honest with you...Blueblood and I...the two of us are in fact somewhat related to the royal family. Though not directly close to the crown, we still are second degree cousins to Princess Cadenza", she admitted. "Please don't bring it up in public, though. I hate talking about this whole nobility pack, and I certainly don't enjoy sharing my bloodline connections with everyone."

She sighed, strolling back towards her armchair. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

"Why, yes," I replied after a moment of thinking, remembering the words she had just used while forcing Turner's exit. "What was that you said to Mr Turner, just now? Something about a corpse, if I haven't misheard it."

"Ah, yes," Lyra started. "That is a delicate matter. Have I told you I work as a consulting detective?"

"Of course!" I cried, almost offended by how little she seemingly noted me in her everyday routine. "Telling me so was among the first things you did after we moved in here."

"There is a case Mr. Turner wanted me to look into. Well, us, to be precise. I'm not sure whether he realized that yet, but the way he requested it, he'll have both of us joining his investigation, tomorrow. He came over to discuss the case with me, just now. We'll have to deal with everything else tomorrow morning, so I suggest you get yourself some rest."

"W-wait," I stuttered. "You agreed - on my part - to go, examine some forsaken corpse tomorrow?"

"Yes, I did. Something wrong with that?" Lyra cocked her head to the side, looking at me. She seemed to be serious in her request, hardly noticing my confusion. Maybe this was a unicorn thing, but where I came from, ponies usually didn't wander off to look at some stranger's dead body like it was a museum exhibit.

"Well, but...why?"

"Why? Because there wasn't any more time for it, today. I first needed to get that whole business with Blueblood out of the way. And it's too dark outside, anyways. Without some natural sunlight to enlighten the crime scene, a number of details are easy to miss out on. All things considered, postponing the case to next morning seemed like the most reasonable thought." After a moment's thought she added, "I do envy your enthusiasm, though."

I stared at the unicorn mare in disbelief. "I think we're not exactly getting to each other right now."

"We don't?" Lyra asked, as her brow furrowed. "Then what is it you're saying?"

"I'm saying, no, I'm asking you, what in Equestria would bring a simple mare like myself to go look at a dead body first thing in the morning?"

"Why, the battlefield, of course." She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Upon my completely befuddled expression, she snapped. "Gosh, all you regular, regular ponies. Sometimes I wonder what exactly does go on in these dull, tiny brains of yours." She shook her head.

"Very well, I'll be clear with you, my dear Bon Bon. Imagine the very society we live in at war. Life in Equestria might seem all quiet and peaceful, but there is quite a different reality hiding beneath this pleasant facade. Constant warfare, marking a struggle between crime and punishment, good and evil, if you will. Not the kind of heroic tales you hear in fairy tales, quite the opposite. Most of the fighting goes on in the shades. Dark corners, lone side alleys, you name it. Any kind of place that goes unnoticed by most, so ordinary ponies like you were can just keep living their lives, going about their day. They don't know a thing about what's going on out there, and that's the only way for me to keep them safe. It is how I try to make a difference."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, skeptically. "You know, you do sound a bit arrogant, going on about your noble cause like that."

"Noble cause?" Lyra asked, narrowing her eyes. "I never suggested it to be that. And I'm not doing this because I believe in a sense of good and evil or anything of the sort. Even though I did use the words for you to produce a better picture of the situation, just now. I admit that. Most of all however, I'm pursuing my career because I like doing so. And because life would quickly grow exorbitantly dull, if I didn't. Solving crimes, riddles, puzzles...that's the only way keeping me from dying of boredon. It may well be my special talent, I'd say."

"Your cutie mark is a lyre," I pointed out.

"And a clever disguise at that," Lyra returned, not even blinking. "I do enjoy a bit of music every now and then, and I appreciate the lyre more than I do with any other instrument. In a similar manner, I made this appear one day. But going after these mysteries...that's what really gets me going."

"So what you're saying is, you tricked a partly wrong cutie mark into appearing?"

"I suppose that's how you could call it."

"You tricked destiny."

"Very much so, thank you for the input."

"You can't trick destiny."

"Yes, I can."

After a moment of silence, during which Lyra gave me a somewhat irritated look, I turned my eyes to the ground with a groan. "All of this still doesn't explain, why I have to look at a corpse. That has nothing to do with your wild battle plans, which I'm not even a part of."

"Ah, but don't you see? It has everything to do with my plans, or...whatever you like to call it. And you are a fixed part of the entire construct, like it or not. Why, you already chose your side. Myself, as well as the enemy have well recognized that by now."

"When did I chose th-"

"When you agreed to move into this apartment. And decided to have a talk with Blueblood, this afternoon. And spontaneously made yourself part of my own private investigation, just now. The latter might not be entirely your fault, but it weighs, nonetheless." With a short leap, she threw herself back into the armchair, returning to her usual position.

"Do you always sit like that?" I asked, distracted by looking at her in some amusement.

"Mostly," she remarked. "Helps me think." There was a special emphasis on the last letter 'k', which she pronounced somewhat disconnected from the rest of the word. I initially wanted to ask about that too, but ultimately decided that any more unnecessary questions wouldn't do any good right then.

Lyra clopped her forehoofs together a few times, eyes staring dead ahead all the while. Dumbfounded as I was, I watched for another moment, not knowing how to respond. Only then did I raise my voice back up, anyway. "You know, I don't think I'll be of much help tomorrow, so you might as well exclude me..."

"Not much help?" Lyra yelled, making me jump. Without a moment's notice, she snapped back out of her zone. "Excuse me, how qualified are you in the anatomy of living beings?"

"Well, I did have acceptable grades in my school's biology classes, but..."

"Ever dissect anything?"

"A frog...once. But that doesn't help."

"It could...a bit, maybe," Lyra replied. "And it will have to do."

Without further notion, she got back up, wandering towards her bedroom door. "As I said before, I suggest you get yourself rested. Tomorrow should be interesting. Good-night!"

At the last word, she went into her room, closing the door behind herself. Lyra didn't wait for me to return the wishes, but she would never do that before going to bed. I had grown accustomed to it in the meantime. Being left behind in the living room, I quickly decided to extinguish the lit gas lanterns, and call it a day, myself.

V. One Dead Apple

The next day, my alarm rang at around seven in the morning. Compared to the routine I'd gotten accustomed to during the past weeks, it felt extremely early. After all, my daily routine hadn't required me to get up at a time like this for weeks. Ever since I moved into 221B Bucker Street, the only factor getting me out of bed was the natural sunlight from outside. And that wouldn't even be strong enough to wake somepony up before ten or eleven.

Whereas today, unlike most other of my mornings, the sun had hardly been raised yet. The absence of its benevolent light and warming rays left the inside of my room in a gloomy and darkened twilight. Initially, I just wanted to roll over and go back to sleeping, but another part of myself told me that no good could ever come from that.

Getting up on my hoofs, I immediately cursed myself and my lazy habits. Once my current 'time off' would be over, I had to inevitably return to this kind of morning routine. Back in Appleloosa I'd always get up this early, but every habit can easily be broken if there's a more comfortable way, I suppose. It's these exact, comforting replacements that tend to die hard.

I left my bed with another yawn, then immediately came stumbling into the living room. It hardly surprised me finding Lyra fully up and running already. As I let my gaze wander throughout the room, I realized my companion had prepared a somewhat modest breakfast for the two of us. There were two bowls of carrots and cereal placed on our dining table. Meanwhile, Lyra herself kept pacing up and down the room between the hearth to my immediate right, and the small kitchen counter to the far end of the room. Her motions were rapid, and her face expressed all signs of utter nervousness and anticipation. I was surprised that the loud, steady clopping of her hoofs onto the timber floor didn't wake me up earlier.

Only recognizing me standing in the door frame, Lyra paused her tiring march, and looked up. The faintest hint of a smile showed on her muzzle, as she eyed my obviously exhausted features. "Ah! Good morning, my dear Bon Bon!" she subsequently exclaimed.

Her sudden excitement still did startle me a bit from time to time. After all, I got used to my flatmate being a rather restraint mare, who wouldn't show too much emotion most of the time. Sudden outbursts didn't fit into Lyra's everyday personality, she mostly preferred hiding behind her own subtlety instead. Whenever she didn't act like that, I could tell something was off. And thus, today was obviously different. From the first moment on, I realized that Lyra would treat this day very much unlike most others. Though it wouldn't take me a genuinely long time to conclude why that was. After all, there could only be one imaginable reason for her sudden change of mind. Considering her murder case, I wondered whether there was something about the entire matter that she knew about, and I didn't.

"Sit down, if you don't mind. I've taken care of a bite or two for breakfast. That way, we should be able to get ourselves going soon as possible. There are pressing issues to be taken care of, after all." Her words came out as quickly and well-prepared as the odd rounds she'd been making throughout the room upon my entrance. It did sound as if she went through some sort of checklist.

I blinked, as the deprivation of sleep quickly took its toll on my level of awareness. In a quick reaction to my still drained expression, Lyra's horn started to glow in a powerful golden light. Wrapped inside a similar aura of magic, an aluminum can lifted itself from the table behind her, pouring some black coffee into a smaller cup. "This might help you get back on track."

Trying to force a smile, I fell into a light trot, approaching my meal. Not before long, the two of us were fairly placed down at the table. We remained rather silent most of the time, except for Lyra occasionally urging me to hurry. Normally, I would have told her she didn't need to bring me along in the first place, and I'd only slow her down. Only at this time, I knew better than to argue with a mare of her nature. Chances were, she wouldn't consider a change in her plans, anyway. Not at this level of excitement.

I welcomed and complimented her self-made breakfast, nonetheless. It felt good noticing that beneath the cold, rational shell my flatmate kept wrapped around herself, there might still be somepony caring about others, after all. Plus, she did know how to prepare a meal. Though not being a huge fan of coffee, I can't deny the refreshing effect of the hot liquid working its way down my throat. By the time we had finished our breakfast - three additional cups later for me, that was - I was fully awake and in complete awareness of my surroundings. Lyra seemed more than pleased with those results.

I made a mental note to ask her about her kitchen skills, later on. My guess was on her Canterlot education. Distracting her with that kind of thing now didn't seem like a very good plan, however. Better to stay on track, and not feed her discontent any further.

"So...where do we have to go, now...exactly?" I asked, hoping to get a clear answer, for once.

Instead, Lyra simply replied with a low chuckle. "Don't you worry," she added. "Our destination is more or less at the opposite end of town, but we won't have to walk all the way. I've taken the liberty to order ourselves a carriage of public transportation, which should arrive any minute now."

At first, I didn't exactly see the need for that kind of arrangement. A walk straight across town sounded very appealing to me, at the time. Then again, that was probably nothing but the excessive caffeine speaking. And the liquid coming along with it. For several reasons, I really did hope they had a bathroom at the crime scene.

Lyra didn't seem to share my uneasiness. In fact, a lot of tension seemed to fall off her as soon as we left for our strange meeting point. And neither did she seem tired; though I doubted she had closed her eyes for only a minute last night. Like I said, her excitement that morning was to an extreme level, seeming almost unnatural. Whatever the details were she and Mr. Turner had discussed the night before, she had obviously been completely caught up in them, already.

As Lyra predicted, our method of transportation wouldn't let us wait much longer. Minutes after finishing our cereals, we heard the entrance door to the building open up, followed by a brief conversation from downstairs. Which would be Mrs Yearling showing our driver in.

"And here comes our helping hoof!" Lyra exclaimed, as she momentarily stood up from the table, and started to make her way towards the entrance door. She then proceeded to tear it open, using her magic. Stepping out into the corridor, she turned her face towards the staircase. One hoof motioned towards her head, as if tipping a nonexistent hat to an invisible pony, whom - given my perspective - I couldn't make out, yet.

"Glad you could make it, Crossroads," she said. "If it wouldn't bother you, I'd like to leave at once."

Things went very much uncomplicated with our cab driver. He was a light-brown coated, earth pony stallion, a belt with the black-and-white pattern strapped around his back, presumably his employer's signature. Though seeing him for the first time that day, I assumed he and Lyra had to be somewhat familiar, already. Though knowing my flatmate, their relationship was very probably purely customarily based. On our arrival downstairs, she gave him a friendly nod, before paying a wage of eight bits. It looked like some kind of standardized fee, but I figured I might worry about that later.

The stallion, whose name appeared to be Crossroads, lead us outside to his carriage. The two of us would leap onto the back, while our driver had himself strapped to the front. He did quite a peculiar job at it, given his earth pony exterior would only give him so many advantages over his surroundings. I do have my own set of experiences with that sort of thing, naturally. Then again, he did seem more or less proficient at it, probably speaking from years of experience. Only moments later, we were on our way, the cab heading towards central Ponyville.

The place we were heading towards lay in the south-eastern portion of town, Lyra informed me on the way. She wanted us to get an early start, in order to avoid the morning's upcoming traffic. We had to cross most of the town center, after all.

Our cab pulled past Sugarcube Corner, as well as the Golden Oak Library after a while. However, instead of heading towards the local train station afterwards, our driver galloped ahead to a street leading off to the east. I did feel a bit stupid afterwards, assuming our route to be identical with the only one I had used before. After a while, we found ourselves within Foalham, a part of town I wasn't familiar with whatsoever.

A few more minutes passed, before we pulled up to 330 North End Road, our address in question. Like most of the neighboring buildings, it was an everyday, suburban two-story house. Frankly, the area we had arrived at didn't look so much different from most places at Bucker Street. Or to me, they didn't, anyways.

Stepping out of the carriage, we could already spot Mr. Turner standing in the alleyway, awaiting our arrival. While he gave a somewhat pleased nod to Lyra at first, his expression quickly turned a lot more grim upon seeing me walk up behind her.

"Now, what's this all about," he grumbled, approaching my companion. "This is a crime scene. You can't just walk in or out with somepony else at your heels..."

"You did seem fine with it last night," Lyra swiftly replied, barely showing off any emotion. Her quick response drew a frustrated sigh from Turner's lips.

"Listen, I'm risking enough letting you in."

"Yes, you do," Lyra swiftly replied. "Because you need me. And like it or not, you'll have to let us both pass at this time. Otherwise, none of this will be working out, I'm afraid."

A short silence fell between the two, as Mr. Turner seemed to consider his options. Apparently coming to a conclusion that wasn't in his favor, he resumed our discussion with a groan. "Fine. But I tell you, Celestia herself will have my flank on a bonfire one day because of something like this. And when the day comes, that blood is gonna be on your hooves. Just so you know."

"Oh, don't worry. You might get banished to the moon...maybe. But if there were anything worse than that, I suspect I'd know."

Rolling his eyes, Time Turner headed back for the door, leading the two of us in. "This way, if you please," he called out. As we started to follow him, I could briefly make out the self-satisfied grin, which galloped across Lyra's face for no longer than an instant.

Once inside, we trotted through a large room, making up most of the building's lower floor. Two doors were placed inside the left wall, and one on the far right corner, all of which remained closed at the time. A staircase was also provided, occupying most of the room's right-hand portion. Mr Turner proceeded to lead us upstairs immediately, leaving no false sense of hesitation. From the few glimpses I caught of the room while passing through, I figured the house must have been uninhabited for quite a while. The lack of furniture and stained windows reinforced that impression. The floor tiles were incredibly worn out at the edges, and the decor began to peel off the walls wherever I turned my gaze.

Upstairs, a wide hallway awaited us, with no less decay than what we already encountered downstairs. Several wooden doors lead the way from it, placed in regular distances in the walls to both sides. Most of them looked identical to their counterparts below, including them being closed tight, preventing any views to catch from the remaining upstairs rooms. At the far end of the hallway, a single window presented the only source of light in the room, safe from the little bit coming from downstairs.

Of all the doors, only the one to our immediate left stood wide open. It was guarded by a gray-coated pegasus mare, who was leaning against the wall, anticipating our appearance. She gave a light nod to Lyra, as she passed her by, then did the same to me. While the mare herself didn't seemed excessively surprised by my presence, I was admittedly taken aback by hers at first. Which, I presumed, was mostly the fault of her strange eyes. On my entrance, only her right pupil quickly fixed itself on me. Its opposite counterpart steered away, drifting off lazily somewhere towards the ceiling. I immediately felt the urge to ask about them, but - minding my manners - refrained from these thoughts for now.

After her nod, the mare lifted a forehoof, motioning for me to step inside the room. From her resolve, I could easily guess she would follow close behind. Trusting her to be some kind of colleague or assistant to Turner, I did as told, and entered.

Unfortunately, doing so didn't get me very far. Once inside the room, my eyes quickly fell onto the motionless pegasus pony lying on her side, a few feet in front of me. Mr Turner and Lyra stood examining the body already, giving it a few first glances. "Well, what do you make of it?" Turner asked.

I had seen a pony lying dead, before. At a very early age, to be precise. I had attended my mother's vigil, shortly after she died from sickness. But while I did experience a bit of a traumatizing effect back then, I'd been prepared for what I would see. This was an entirely different story. Nothing in this room could compare to the relaxed, peaceful looking body I had stared at in pure sadness, years ago. And the corpse itself appeared all but peaceful to me. Only one look at it made the blood freeze in my veins. A pair of empty, brown eyes, dominated the mare's face, framed by a wine-red coat. The look of unspeakable horror imprinted into them wouldn't let me go one step further. I froze in place, unable to even mutter a word.

After a few moments, the cross-eyed pegasus thus squeezed herself past me, joining the two others. I hardly even noticed her, my senses being as fixated on the body as they were.

"How long has she been lying here?" Lyra finally asked to break the silence. This time, Mr. Turner was the quickest to reply to her.

"A day, maybe two. Given a few hints, Miss Hooves was able to detect the body yesterday afternoon." He motioned towards the pegasus mare upon mentioning her name. "From what we could gather she couldn't have been dead much longer than another 24 hours or so. But that's where our expertise ends, I'm afraid."

Leaning down, just a little, Lyra examined the body more closely. "No apparent signs of outside violence," she concluded. Judging from her tone, it was all but a question. Nevertheless, Turner shook his head in response.

"None at all. Which makes this a lot more puzzling." He pointed a hoof towards the wall opposite of me. It wouldn't take either of us very long to see what he meant. Framed by two more outside windows, a single word had been smeared in bold, dark crimson letters onto the wallpaper.

POMME, it read.

After another instant, I realized it wasn't written in any sort of paint at all. Moreover, this was somepony's blood, marking the wall in an incredibly morose fashion. I could feel myself getting increasingly close to throwing up, my throat feeling increasingly sore. I forced back my instincts by all means of sheer willpower. This was a crime scene, after all. Leaving any excessive marks would likely get us all in horrendous trouble with Turner, let alone his superiors.

Luckily, none of the other ponies reacted as shocked as I did. Of course, a gruesome scenery like this most likely didn't prove any kind of first-time experience for any of them. Especially our two inspectors very probably had to deal with this kind of thing on a regular basis.

"Pomme," Miss Hooves quoted the writing, as she stepped forward, approaching it. I immediately scolded myself for expecting some kind of goofy character traits, judging solely from her strangely warped eyes. In contrast to them, the mare's voice proofed itself one of the most resolute I've ever heard. Combined with the utter determination she placed in her words, she did in fact immediately earn my respect. "We're still doing some research about the meaning, but our closest guess so far would be the family name Pommel. I dispatched a letter to Manehattan yesterday night, telling them to research any connection between these ponies and our dead body. With a bit of luck, we will at least be able to take a step in the right direction that way within a day or two."

Lyra's ears perked up. "I take it, then. You haven't found anything else narrowing down her identity?"

"Negative," both ponies answered in unison.

"Very well, then," Lyra said. "Stand back, if you please. This won't take long."

As the room fell silent once more, I was finally able to get a look of her deduction skills. For a few moments longer, Lyra would continue to stare at the strange writing, her eyes carefully wandering over it two, maybe three times. She then cast a look around herself on the floor. Scanning for all kinds of marks or hints, she scavenged her surroundings. A few times, she knelt down to take a closer look at something. She did so mostly with the naked eye, though occasionally borrowing a stronger lens from Turner.

Eventually, she turned back towards the center of the room, and began to examine the body. The inspectors Turner and Hooves remained silent the entire time, and I knew better than to cause any sudden outburst myself, especially considering my still present state of shock.

Lyra went ahead to get a throughout look at every possible part of the body presented to her. She started looking at the pony's limbs and torso from all different angles, before running a hoof through her tail and back. The former consisted of a light blonde shade, similar to the one of Ms. Hooves, as I realized only now. Not that my own observations would prove very useful, that way.

After briefly examining the coat on the pony's belly with her other front hoof, Lyra's eyes widened, as she looked back up to the two investigators. Both of which still eyed her with all curiosity.

"I need a pegasus pony," Lyra told them. As Miss Hooves nodded, and stepped forward to volunteer, she added: "One from the weather team, that is. And do be quick about it, if you please."

"As you wish," the cross-eyed mare answered, and quickly made for the exit. She looked somewhat relieved when I managed to get out of her way, this time. The faint clopping of her hoofs behind me ceased as she made for the exit, telling me she'd probably taken to flight, once outside.

Meanwhile, Lyra had taken a few more measures on the dead pony's face, which included sniffing her lips for whatever smell or hint she was looking for. As my companion slightly lifted up the mare's forelock, she suddenly drew her hoof back with a motion of shock and surprise. At the same moment, a golden ring sprang from the blond mane, just before it landed on the floor's wooden planks with a clang. Mr. Turner's eyes widened at the sight.

A golden aura of magic wrapped itself around the ring, as Lyra carefully levitated it up to the height of her eyes. Closely watching it for another minute or to, she eventually let it drop back onto the floor, where it repeated the same shattering noise as before.

"That should do it," she said. "There's no more data for me to gather here."

"Alright, then," Turner replied with a sudden burst of energy. "What's next?"

Lyra shrugged, then fell back onto her haunches. "Well, unless there's anything else you need to tell me about the case...all we can do now is wait for Derpy to return. I'll elaborate my theory as soon as we receive our final bit of information from the weather pony, whom she will bring along."

Turner raised an eyebrow in doubt, but didn't answer anything for now.

It took a few minutes, until Derpy Hooves - a name quite ironic, considering the odd angles of her eyes - returned from her search. She trotted back up the stairs, accompanied by another pony, whom I hadn't met so far. Even though I earlier considered Miss Hooves the most curious pony I'd meet today, these thoughts were soon to be extinguished.

The newly arriving, cyan-coated pegasus mare was quite a sight, especially considering her multi-shaded mane and tail. Her hair actually did look somewhat similar to that of our landlady, only it didn't exactly contain any shade of gray. On the contrary, this pony's mane literally burst with bright, powerful colors, stretching across the entire visible specter.

From the confident way she carried herself, I could tell this mare was probably more than used to ponies reacting to her that way. Though stumbling a little upon seeing the dead body, she never fully lost her composure.

"Ah! The headmaster herself," Lyra exclaimed, upon seeing her. Facing me, she added: "Bon Bon, this is Rainbow Dash, captain of the local weather team."

"Hi, there," the mare replied, as she looked at me with some degree of curiosity. "Can't say I've seen you around before. New in town?"

"Came here from Appleloosa," I replied with a nod.

"Cool," Rainbow Dash answered with a grin, before she turned back to Lyra. "So, uh...what's up?"

"Well...we would kindly ask your support in this case..." Time Turner started, only to be cut short by Lyra a few seconds later.

"I need information from you," she said, approaching Rainbow Dash. "To be precise, I need a list of every single rainfall during the last seven days, including time and location."

"Like what? For Ponyville, or..."

"The entire country, that is. Or at least every major city or metropolitan center with access to railroads or other long-distance transportation."

"Woah," Dash replied, taking a step back. "Take it easy. I'm just a local weather captain. I usually don't have that kind of information. As far as I know, there hasn't been any rain scheduled anywhere this week. I mean...that's usually the way we do it, this time of the year."

Another, short silence followed, upon which Lyra nodded her off. "Thank you for your help, then. That's all I needed to know. You may go back to whatever it is you're doing."

Rainbow Dash stayed for a moment, looking at my companion in a some surprise. I guess none of us had expected Lyra's interrogation of our guest to be that brief, least of all Miss Dash herself. After another few seconds or so, she turned with a shrug, and headed back down the stairs. Our three pairs of eyes then wandered back to Lyra, who already anticipated our attention.

"You let me fly all the way out to Sweet Apple Acres for that?" Derpy Hooves asked her in a disbelieving tone, shaking her head. Lyra dismissed her doubts with a wave of her hoof.

"That was important information for my conclusion," she replied. "But now, Miss Dash is no longer of any use to us, since I've received all the information necessary for our mystery. All in all, it was the sole logical decision to dismiss her."

Time Turner shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder how exactly it is that you even have any friends..."

"I don't," Lyra cut him off, sounding indifferent. "Now listen here: There isn't a whole lot of data to be found around here, but it will have to do for time being."

"I suggest we start with the cause of death, then," Turner suggested. "I would have guessed on poison."

"And you would have been right, judging from the smell on her lips."

"Suicide, then?"

"Obviously...not." Lyra paused for a moment, pointing at the wall. "A pony's blood must have been used for writing that. Since our victim never suffered from any external bleeding, there must have been someone else in the room. Our victim must have been chased around or followed by the killer for a while by the time of her death. She ultimately tried to hide in this building, but still did get pinned down. Now, hadn't it been for some sort of chase, I can't imagine why she would come to this part of town so soon after arriving on the train from Fillydelphia. The ring she carried alongside herself suggests a connection to some unicorn, since nopony else uses the kind of jewelery. They were married, most likely. This husband of hers could be the killer, but I wouldn't count on it. We are probably looking for a stallion, though. Judging from the position of the writing, it would only make sense. Ponies tend to place these marks at the height of their eyes, so this clearly has been done by somepony larger than a mare, since the letters are written just about the height of my horn, you see..." She trailed off, just as Derpy lifted a hoof to interrupt her. "Yes, you wanted to add something?"

"No, just...what was that about Fillydelphia?"

"Yes, of course. You see, while the victims coat is perfectly dry down here..." Lyra raised a hoof, pointing to the mare's belly. "Her back isn't completely wet, but somewhat dampened. It probably had some time to dry in the meantime, but she has obviously been out in heavy rainfall before she died. And the only city in Equestria with any rain in the past 72 hours has been Fillydelphia."

"...but Ms. Dash assured us there wasn't any rain in the country for a week?"

"Wasn't scheduled, mind you. Sometimes it helps taking a look at the papers every morning."

The two of them both raised their eyebrows, staring at Lyra in hope for an explanation.

"For Tia's sake, it's all in today's headlines!" I could hardly miss the cringing look on Time Turner's face as my companion so casually mentioned our ruler. Hadn't I come to live alongside her for a while now, my reaction would very likely have been the same. "There's been a communication mistake in the city, two days ago. The local pegasi soaked the city in heavy rainfall for hours, until the order to stop was finally passed down their inefficient chain of command. The princess even sent her star student..." she took a moment to roll her eyes. "...Twilight Sparkle over there, so she could help reorganizing their confusing bureaucratic system."

"Oh," Turner replied with little motion. "Is that all?"

"For now, there's nothing more the data in here would give me," Lyra told him. "I'll be looking further into the mystery soon enough, though. My mind is already sorting out the most probable scenarios."

"In that case, I'd ask you to leave. You know how it goes," he said, uneasily motioning towards the door. Lyra nodded, as we headed back outside. I was halfway down the staircase already, as she poked her head back into the room one last time.

"There's one more thing for you to consider," she explained, pointing at the opposite wall. "Pomme means 'apple' in Fancy. So you can probably stop looking into potential connections to anypony called Pommel."

VI. A Note in the Papers

We came out the front door and trotted back onto the street. As before, Lyra led the way with me following close behind. Surprisingly, our cab remained standing outside, just waiting for us to step back in, apparently. Our driver's behavior did appear somewhat curious to me that way for a moment. Ultimately though, I assumed it all to be included in the eight bits my companion had payed him earlier. In any way, Lyra thanked him for his patience, and had the two of us get back aboard. She also declared that there were some preemptive measures for her to take within the town center, and asked whether I'd prefer to join her.

This time however, I politely declined. Since I actually seemed to have a choice for once, and all. The morning had been more than just a strain on my nerves, and I felt like I could need some rest. I asked to get back to Bucker Street to take a load of my mind, maybe a few hours of sleep after the coffee had worn off. Lyra didn't object to any of my points. She paid our driver another eight bits, just before mentioning she would like to be dropped off at the local post office. The carriage would then take me home, while she tended to her own business. Whatever that meant, I couldn't tell. And frankly, it didn't matter to me for as long as I wouldn't have to be included in any more of her insane business.

I got home at about eleven. Celestia's sun had risen up almost to its highest degree, shining on the happily productive citizens of Ponyville. Minus myself that was, since I hardly felt like being active at all. Upon arriving back at Bucker Street, I exchanged a few, friendly words with our landlady, before retreating to the upstairs commodities. I passed the apartment door into our living room, utterly exhausted still. Once inside, I put myself down on the couch, my limbs firmly folded beside me. In my mind, that was merely the usual way ponies would lay down anywhere. And before Lyra and I ever met, I hadn't questioned it even once. Then again, her uncommon habits did make me question a lot of life's aspects, lately. Even if those revolved around nothing but the state of her own sanity, most of the time.

Among the brochures placed on the dining table, there was a book leaning on one arm of the couch. Lyra must have placed it there earlier today, since I couldn't remember anything placed at that spot earlier. Ironically, the cover image displayed a title named Post Office, one that described her current situation extremely well, as if she had foreseen it. At times like these, I liked to ask myself whether I'd question my own sanity one day, if I kept living with her.

Of course, if I ever told her so, she'd simply argue how I had no other option. And I knew she was right, of course.

I tried to convince myself not to see things to harshly. After all, I barely knew my flatmate even now, and lots of ponies tend to need a while warming up to new acquaintances. Lyra probably was just one of those. In an effort of distracting myself, I started to flip through a few first pages of said novel, but reading it quickly proved too hard a challenge for my strained nerves. My mind kept wandering about, constantly returning to the terrified face of that poor mare whom we saw this morning. The sheer horror, which had fixated itself on her face, never left me for an instant for the rest of the day.

These constantly recurring thoughts made me feel startled at first, then gloomy, and eventually nothing but incredibly tired. An hour passed, without a sign of Lyra approaching our doorstep anytime soon. I eventually decided to retreat to my own room and take a nap. Some sleep might get me distracted from the gruesome business we dealt with earlier. Or so I hoped, to say the least.

When I woke up, the afternoon had already turned to a quaint evening dusk. I couldn't help but frown at the revelation that I did in fact sleep through most of the day. I might not be a very hard working mare, most of the time, anyways. But I always liked keeping to a loose routine at least, and this didn't fit in with my views very well.

Returning to the living room for a bite to eat, I discovered that Lyra had returned. On second thought, only the contrary should still have surprised me at this point. A single trip to the local mail didn't take much longer than an hour or two, even if she had to walk all the way back. Which she probably didn't, since walking long distances seemed not to go along well with her somewhat hasty nature.

Lyra sat in the same armchair as usual, the one facing away from the street. Her body also occupied the same stereotypical position, something that still looked incredibly alien to myself. The vacant expression in her deadpanned eyes told me that though being present physically, my companion's mind was - once again - wandering about somewhere else. Lyra kept staring dead ahead, even as I walked past. She hardly even seemed to notice me.

Sending a silent prayer to Celestia, I wished for my own good she wouldn't just die of hunger or thirst while in that state, some day. It would probably take me days to even notice. The very idea felt both amusing and terrifying.

I walked over to the small kitchen counter, most of which was still occupied by my flatmate's puzzling, chemical installations. A weak stench of hydrochloric acid met my nostrils upon my approach, reminding me how I didn't even want to know what kind of abominations Lyra would go on about during her studies. But as long as she didn't dispose of others' dead bodies that way, I should get along...

Clearly, I've been reading the wrong kind of books, again.

Once at the counter, I poured about half a liter of water into one of the stained kettles, and lit a flame on the gas stove. While the water started its boiling process, I briefly checked the nearby cupboards for any herbs. Discovering some small amounts of earl grey and camomile traces, I cast a quick glance over to Lyra. She still hadn't moved an inch.

"Tea?" I asked, forcing myself not to yell. The words still came out audibly enough to shake even her out of her state of trance. With a blink, her eyes lost their distant expression and turned in my direction.

She hesitated a moment, before replying casually, "Black, no sugar or milk. Thank you very much."

My view shifting back and forth between her and the kettle, I raised an eyebrow. As always, her answer did confuse me a little.

"I was asking for tea," I told her. "Not coffee."

"I am well aware of that. We wouldn't have the ingredients present, anyway. I've used the last of our coffee powder for a little experiment, this afternoon."

Incredulously, I shook my head turning back to the drink currently brewing on the stove. For time being, I preferred not to add anything else to our conversation, and Lyra seemed to feel the same way. The two of us remained silent, until I brought our two cup along, a few minutes later. Lyra greeted it with a friendly nod, before letting her magic levitate it up to her muzzle, then took a sip.

"Any progress on the case?" I asked, sitting down on the armchair opposite of hers.

"Not exactly. There still exist a few gaps in my knowledge, which I'd like to fill in first. Before I manage to do so, it would be far too early to jump to any conclusions."

"Uh-huh. Then...what kind of gaps are we looking for?" By now, I had taken a few sips of tea myself, and gradually felt the day's energy flood back into my muscles. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise, really, considering I'd spent more than half of it in bed.

"We're missing something important," Lyra said. "There was a ring, along with the corpse. I don't know whether you've seen it. In any way, it is most probably a wedding ring, while definitely not belonging to the Fillydelphia mare, who was lying dead alongside it. She was a pegasus, and pegasi don't use these, only unicorn ponies do. Thus, we do have a unicorn involved somehow, but I wouldn't assume him or her being our direct murderer. It just seems...too obvious."

"Sounds legit to me," I answered. "So, what will be your next plan of action?"

"Excellent question. What time is it?"

"Around...seven in the evening I presume?"

Lyra's eyes slightly narrowed, just before she jumped up from her chair, and made for the door. "You must excuse me, then," she declared. "But don't worry, I'll be back in a moment's notice."

Even after the door slammed close, I took a moment to stare at it in skepticism. Only after some time did I direct my attention back to the cup of tea on the table before me. By now, I really should know better than to question her moods.

Lyra wouldn't disappoint me this time; after less than five minutes, the door to our apartment swung back open, as she entered the room once more. Wrapped in her magical aura was a wrapped, black-and-white bundle, which I presumed to be the evening papers. Lyra placed it down on the table between us, then sat back in her chair the same way she had done before.

Upon the questioning look I gave her, she lifted the Ponyville Express up in another aura of magic. The golden light quickly unfolded the package, then skipped ahead a few pages. She stopped somewhere through the last third, and glanced around the unraveled page for a second. Eventually, her hoof pointed to the column on the far right, directing my attention to one of the lost and found inquiries made in it.

Golden ring, probably used for unicorn wedding, found at Foalham, Ponyville, yesterday, it read. For further information, please contact 221B Bucker Street. Ask for one Miss Bon Bon.

I looked up from the short message in a mix of surprise, and irritation. Lyra had firmly sat herself back by now, her forehoofs gently tapping against each other in a slow rhythm.

"I took the liberty to add your name to it," she announced. "My own is somewhat well known around town, including my profession. I wouldn't necessarily have to make a difference, but our potential owner might still become alarmed on seeing it."

"I suppose that makes sense," I answered. "Though trying to arrest the killer without any backup might prove a little dangerous, wouldn't it?"

Lyra shrugged. "It could be. If whoever comes looking after the ring really is the murderer, or otherwise dangerous. Remember, we're looking for a tall stallion, probably unicorn, judging from the ring. However, I'd like to be completely honest with you. Unlike what the ring itself suggests, my money for our killer's identity would be on earth pony. I observed that from the rather large, broad hoofprints left on the ground. You see, unicorns rarely have muscular haunches like this. A lack of manual labor has brought evolution to concentrate our strengths on our magic and intelligence, instead of pure strength. No offense.

"Of course, the race, even the identity of the pony we're searching comes second only to anypony responding to the paper at all. My hopes merely are on our target still being inside Ponyville. Otherwise, the chances of him even reading my note could turn out very feeble. And thus the chance of us catching him any time soon would deteriorate significantly."

"So...suppose someone comes looking for the ring, and he's not the murderer," I theorized, thinking. "How would you explain that you don't have it here, despite your advertisement? It is in police custody after all."

As she narrowed her eyes for a second, I could see Lyra's initial confusion upon my request. "Don't worry about these details. He or she will have a hard enough time proving to us that the ring is in fact rightfully theirs. Besides, I have right here, safe and sound."

And on command, she grasped an object from the table with her magic, levitating it to the height of my eyes. It had escaped my notice up until now, hidden in between all kinds of appalling junk. After all, we hadn't cleaned the room in a while, now. All kinds of ramen noodle and canned soup packages littered the table, joined by stained, empty glasses, and a number of printed documents. Between the entire mess, a minor detail like this one seemed almost nonexistent.

My eyes widened in a sudden realization: The object, which now hovered in front of my face, was in fact the ring from the crime scene. Even the scratches and dirt traces on its outside were identical, as far as I could recall them. No doubt, Lyra already made some smart observation about those.

"Uh...and how exactly did you convince Turner of taking his evidence along?" I asked. Lyra returned the request with a rather bemused expression.

"Again, never mind that," she answered. "I've known Time Turner for a while, now. And trust me, he'll take his sweet time before even finding out about it. Why, I'll probably have the entire case solved by then."

Since I had no idea of how to answer that, the two of us would merely stare at each other for another moment. Then, lasting a good five minutes, we both broke into a strong, heartfelt laughter, almost simultaneously.

"Okay, but honestly," I continued, wiping a few, last tears from the corners of my eyes. "What else can we do, now?"

"Nothing but wait, I suppose. Though I consider any further visits tonight highly improbable." Lyra trailed off for a moment, as her eyes fell onto the small, brass clock situated on top of the stove. "It's not all too late, however," she added. "If you wouldn't mind coming along, I'd suggest to get dinner at a place down the street. Honestly, I think my mind could need a little distraction, right now."

I bit my lip, the constantly decreasing number of bits in my pocket ceaselessly on my mind. Eventually though, I couldn't think of any better excuse, and thus agreed. And to be honest, I wasn't exactly fond of the idea of spending the evening alone at home, either. Or make myself dinner, for that matter. Like I said, more comfortable approaches to any kind of problem are always welcome with me.

"I suggest we get ourselves going, then," Lyra declared, getting up on all four hoofs. "There may be two hours or so left until closing time, but it is a few minutes' walk down to the restaurant, nevertheless."

Once again, Lyra turned out to be right; it really did take us no less than twenty minutes trotting over to the establishment she had suggested. We practically lived in the same street of course, although I doubt Ponyville has any other road longer than Bucker Street. Reaching from the town's center all the way up to its northernmost edge, the street just keeps going for miles at a time. In theory, it would be a perfect first part of a longer road, connecting our town to the capital. A city that, by the way, was a topic my companion still preferred to avoid for some reason.

To both my surprise, and Lyra's disappointment, we found the windows of our destination as darkened as the sky would turn in another hour or two. There wasn't a note at the door, nor any other indication for the restaurant to be closed. The opening hours were printed on a sign right next to the door in bold, black numbers. From what they indicated, business should have proceeded until about nine in the evening, yet the time was scarcely after seven.

Lyra took a step back, her eyes gazing over the gray facade and its windows for a few moments. "Strange. His wife must have come home early, or something."

"Come again?" I asked, turning to face her.

"The store owner's wife...she's been visiting her family for a few days," Lyra replied. "As far as I know, she was to come home tomorrow morning. Must have been moved to tonight, so he's picking her up, or something. At least it would explain why there's nopony around."

I shrugged. "Possibly. But how come you knew? Are they friends of yours?"

"I don't have friends," she answered with a snort. "Or at least, I try keeping my emotional bonds to other ponies at a minimum level. It's the best way to sustain this cold, rational reasoning of mine. I happened to get to know both of these two a few weeks ago, when I cleared up a burglary at their house. A minor inconvenience, not quite worth mentioning. Anyhow, I've received my payment in free meals ever since. Quite a good bargain, come to think of it."

"Easy to imagine," I said with an - unfortunately - more than sheepish grin. "So what's the plan? I'm sure Sugarcube Corner will be open some time longer."

Lyra shrugged. "I suppose I can settle for that, just as well."

Sugarcube Corner was indeed still opened up. And rather crowded, at that. Arriving at the town's central cafe about another thirty minutes later, we could finally look forward to some half-decent meal. When I told her I wouldn't mind any certain spot to sit in, Lyra declared that she preferred to use the table in the far corner. It was the same she had used when I first came here some time back.

Rather to my discontent, Pinkie Pie wasn't working at this hour. From what I've heard, she switched to the morning hours this week, and that her shift was a regular subject to change. Instead of her, we were served by the cafe's owner; an orange, young stallion with a hairy chin, whom everypony simply kept referring to as Mr. Cake. I could hardly tell whether it was his real name, but neither did I have any reason to doubt it. I've heard of artists or religious leaders giving themselves some sort of alias, but I certainly didn't expect the same from a simple store owner.

While we sat in silence, waiting for our food to arrive, Lyra sat perfectly still. Much like the way she would do at home. The only difference was made by her eyes, which kept flashing throughout the room ceaselessly. After a minute or so, I guessed she could easily tell me the autobiography of - more or less - everypony around. I still had my doubts about her skills at the time, but nevertheless tried to steer the conversation that way. Besides, I needed something to talk about right now, otherwise all of this would grow excessively awkward and tiresome.

"So...I've read that article you've written a while ago," I started. Lyra came out of her trance the moment I started speaking up. Her eyes narrowed, as they closed in on me.

"Article? What article?"

"One of those left on the coffee table," I replied. "The Science of Deduction I think it was."

"Ah, yes indeed," Lyra said with a smug. "Well, what did you think?"

"It's brilliant...I suppose. Or at least it did sound that way, having a certain professional touch. Though I didn't actually understand all of it, to be honest."

"Why, I thought it was simple enough. Care if I elaborate on a few points?"

"No, no. Please do."

"Very well, then." Considering her point, Lyra leaned back towards the wall. As much as she could, which wasn't very much, given we only sat on small stools. "The art of deduction concentrates itself around observing things, rather than just seeing them. It is, in a way, a higher level of visual perception. Do you follow?"

"I would think so."

"Let me give you an example, then. Without turning around, could you tell me how many ponies there were in this room when we first arrived here?"

I blinked at her odd request. "I couldn't, of course. I didn't look out for a detail like that."

"And here's where you're wrong," Lyra pointed out. "You most likely saw them, all of them, the instant you stepped through the door. But while your brain did take in the visual information, you did not observe. Assuming you had done so however, you would also have recognized a lot more about them. The data provided by a simple, throughout look can be vast, and prove vital in any possible case of emergency."

I nodded in agreement, though while I found myself more and more able to grasp what Lyra meant, the question of how she would practically comprehend it still lasted on my mind. "Do you observe things the way you described them, or was that just theorizing?" I asked. "Because the theory by itself does make sense, I suppose. But I don't see how anyone's mind could constantly keep up with it."

"Of course I do," Lyra replied. "My own senses are the foundations for most of my research, and need to be aware of my surroundings at all times. If you want to know by the way, there were twenty-three other ponies in this room when we entered. Right now, the number amounts to one more, since two mares recently left, and a family of three sat down behind yourself on the right, just moments ago."

I took a careful glance over my shoulder, looking at the ponies sitting two tables away from us. They seemed to display a classic family constellation, a young stallion and mare, accompanied by an even younger filly. To my surprise, both the adult ponies' cutie marks depicted one or more apples of sorts. "Young couple with a kid, I suppose?"

"Not exactly. They're all siblings, to be precise."

I narrowed my eyes. "So, you know them, or..."

"I don't. Not personally, anyways," Lyra said, dismissing my question with a hoof. "But there's several things hinting towards that. First, there's the age gap. While they might be unnaturally far apart for siblings, the two elder ones are clearly to young for parenthood. The mare, you see, has only been fully grown for a short time herself. Also, you can tell by the way they look at each other. While they are certainly lacking any signs of romantic tendencies, there does exist some kind of deep trust between them, the one you normally only find between close relatives. Also, a married couple, bearing almost identical cutie marks? Probable, but highly unlikely, I'd say. I would suppose their similarities do share a genetic basis."

"In fact, let's stick with the mare for a moment," she added, taking a deep breath. "Orange coat, blond mane...not exactly uncommon for an earth pony, but there's more informative aspects of her outside than just the colors. She's a hard working pony, you see. Manual labor, for which she tied her hair into that loose ponytail, so I'd assume some rapid movements. Judging from the stains of mud in her mane that work should be on a farm of sorts...orchard with trees, I would suppose. These rapid movements I mentioned usually require some sort of opposing force, something as strong as fully-grown tree trunks. Her cutie mark wraps up my observation very neatly.

"Adding to all that, they recently lost both their parents, leaving them alone with only potential grandparents, my money would be on a grandmother. Their mother presumably died giving birth to the youngest one, followed by the father, whom our mare here received her Stetson from. It is not exactly a common female attire, don't you think? Combined with its level of decay, I suppose he wore it most of his life, thus making it an important hereditary object in the family. Thus, she naturally holds the hat in high value herself, and wears it at all places, despite it being that much worn out.

"Now, the false observation of them being the filly's parents might not be completely without fault. They are trying to pose as some kind of similar example to their sister, given the difficult situation."

"That's also brilliant," I blurted out. Lyra looked at me in surprise.

"Yes, thank you, I wasn't finished, though."

"Sorry."

"Let me sum it up, then. A hard working, farm pony, trying to compensate for her deceased parents, while taking care of her little sister in turn. Her name is Applejack - that's hardly a difficult observation, the others just keep calling her that - and she seems to hold a high value in the virtues of telling the truth, and honesty in general, although..." Lyra suddenly trailed off. Her eyes narrowed, expressing some doubt, while still wandering over to the mare.

After a few more moments of observation, Applejack - if that was her name - returned the look, seemingly only now realizing she was being watched. To my embarrassment, Lyra never withdraw her own curious looks. I could almost see little question marks dancing on top of her head, so deep was her concentration at that point.

The mare cast a few more irritated glances over at our table, before she excused herself from her company, and got up, walking towards us. If I could have melted into the ground just then, I would have warmly welcomed the opportunity.

"Somethin' the matter, sugarcube?" she asked, looking at Lyra. There was a certain trace of annoyance mixed into her voice, although she didn't sound at all hostile, just yet. Unfortunately, my companion hardly reacted appropriately. Her eyes kept flashing across the mare's face, clear signs of confusion mixed into them. She lowered her view down to face me for a moment, then glanced back up at our sudden visitor. All the while, Lyra never uttered a word.

"Ugh..." I started for her. "You'll have to excuse her. She...does that sometimes."

"Is that so...?" Applejack started, but stopped short mid-sentence, lowering her eyes at me. "Hey! Ah've heard about you! Ain't y'all the new pony Pinkie Pie got all 'xcited about?"

"Suppose I am," I answered, uncertainty mixed in my voice. "Just moved here recently...from Appleloosa."

"Appleloosa, ya say?" She raised an eyebrow, which, I supposed, was due to surprise. Her expression also softened a great deal from her formerly distraught situation. "Funny, since ah've got kinsfolk down there, as well. Been around once or twice, myself. Heh...sorry, ah should've introduced myself, first of all."

She offered a forehoof for a genuine hoofshake. Having to make up for Lyra's behavior somehow, I hastily returned it.

"Name's Applejack. Mah fam'ly runs the apple orchard on the far west o' town. If ya come down to th' market someday, ah can make y'all a good price for some."

"I'd love to," I replied with a smile. "I'm Sweetie Drops, by the way, but everypony just keeps calling me Bon Bon. From my home, you can probably guess I'm more than used to apples. So...your offer is more than welcome with me."

"Heh, ah'll figure, alright." Through all our friendly atmosphere, I couldn't help but notice the nervous glances, which Applejack shot over at Lyra from time to time. She still hadn't stopped her staring, and I really hoped she would return to normal, before this conversation would turn all too awkward.

"Well," Applejack concluded with a chuckle. "Ah'll leave you to it, then." With another look at Lyra, she lowered her voice, adding: "Be kinda pleasant though if she don't give me them looks all th' time...just sayin'."

I nodded, promising I'd see to it, as she turned to leave back towards her family's table. As soon as she was out of range, I waved a hoof at Lyra, hoping my expressions matched the level of my annoyance. "Equestria to Lyra? What in the world was that all about?"

"Huh? No, I..." she stuttered, blinking. It took a moment for my companion to come out of her vacant phase. "I considered that whole virtue of honesty, but...well..."

"Well, what?"

Lyra remained silent for a moment, her eyes wandering from me, over to Applejack's table, then back to myself, again.

"Never mind," she said. "It's probably nothing."

VII. Time Turner Unravels Another Mystery

I woke up the next morning from somepony vigorously knocking on the entrance door to our apartment. Although knocking didn't fully describe it, to be plain. The roaring blows of hoof against wood sounded more like whoever wanted to visit us was also eager to kick down the entire door. I doubted that was possible for one pony alone, but judging from the sounds, he or she did her very best to try.

Getting up as early didn't leave me as tired or exhausted this time around. Supposedly, the previous day's amount of sleep still took its toll, today. In a good way, to say the least. I still did start the day with a certain weariness, however. It's never a very pleasant experience, getting knocked out of bed like this. I hoped, for that pony's own sake, he better have a good reason for disturbing my peace like that.

Both eyes bloodshot, and my mane completely disheveled, I jumped up from under my sheets and made for the living room. Once peeking in, I realized Lyra had already outdone me in speed. She was halfway to the door already, currently stepping past our dining table with a light frown. She already did look fully awake, and probably had been that way for a few hours or so. At least, her features were hardly as hideous the way I guessed my own to be. Through it all, my flatmate didn't seen very eager to answer, only approaching the entrance in a light trot.

As soon as a golden aura of her magic wrapped the door and unlocked it, our apartment entrance flung wide open. It almost crashed into the adjacent wall, giving way to an evidently disturbed and sleep-deprived Time Turner. His eyes, wide in haste, had darkened rings of his otherwise light-brown coat surrounding them. I presumed he had hardly gotten as much rest as the two of us had. Realizing that Lyra and me had just gotten up to start our day, he blinked in a brief phase of confusion.

"I'm not...bothering in any way, am I?"

Lyra didn't mind him. Not that she ever did. Instead, she invited him in with a faint, sideways nod of her head, before trotting back to her seat at the fireplace. "News on the case, I take it?" she asked halfway there, not going for any sort of formal greeting.

In all honesty, I would have handled his request a little different; that included telling him to leave us for our morning routine, then return in no less than an hour. But since my companion didn't have any issues with his presence, and he came here mainly because of her in the first place, I decided not to cause any trouble. After all, I still hadn't exactly figured out my own part in all of this. Assuming Lyra had somehow introduced me to that game of hers, which I knew nothing about.

Leaving me still standing in my own door frame, as I looked onto the scene with a sense of bewilderment, Lyra placed herself down in her armchair. Everything seemed as usual. By now, even her sitting position didn't even irritate me any longer.

Time Turner glanced at me one or two times, while he walked past Lyra towards the opposite chair. He didn't say a word all the way, but I still didn't feel very comfortable, given the currently unfortunate state of my exterior. Sitting down opposite from the unicorn mare, he let out a deep breath. I presumed that, for whatever reason, he hadn't been able to stretch out his hoofs like that for most of that morning. Or most of the night, for that matter.

Assuming that cooking breakfast would fall back to me this time around, I started to walk over to the kitchen counter. There was hardly any reason for me to get any more cleaned up, by now. All the potential damage from this situation had already been done. I had almost crossed the room, my back mostly turned towards the two, as Lyra raised her voice to speak.

"Well then. What is it?"

Turner coughed twice, trying to dampen the sound with a forehoof. Part of me wanted to offer the poor stallion a glass of water, but I didn't want to risk any unnecessary discussion on the subject with Lyra. Or rather, I didn't feel like arguing at this time of the day. A good five minutes after waking up, I can't imagine anypony would. Besides, he managed to regain his composure well enough without my help.

"We have another one dead," he stated, short and simple, without any emphasis on his words. And yet, all what was left of the pleasant morning atmosphere vanished in an instant. Facing the counter, I couldn't make out neither Lyra's expression, nor the one of our visitor. Nevertheless, everyone in the room appeared somewhat tense. I myself did, at least. The short silence that followed spoke more than a thousand words.

"I suppose, you already know my next question, and I assume it's why you came here in the first place," Lyra began, as I started cracking a few eggs into a wooden bowl. "I need the name, place, and any details you can give me."

For myself, I tried to ignore the startling conversation behind me at my best, which - needless to say - didn't turn out very successful. There was a minor conflict going on in my head, and I couldn't yet tell, which faction up there would win. On one hoof, I did admittedly feel somewhat curious about what had happened, and wanted to take another look into the case. On the other, I really didn't need to face another dead body already. Especially while preparing food, only thinking about it felt like the least appropriate thing.

I figured I'd try to just let Lyra do her job so I could do mine. And currently, that job was cooking some breakfast. While I provided myself some distraction beating the eggs' insides with a whisk, the words from the other two ponies still kept flowing through, however. There weren't any other sounds to distract myself with, of course. For a minute or so, I pondered on the idea of one day placing something like a phonograph in the kitchen for these kinds of occasions.

"He was a restaurant owner," Turner stated. "Not far from here. Just down the street, actually. His wife found him lying in their bathroom this morning. His time of death must be a few days back, though. About the same time as the last corpse we found. His wife only found out about him now because she hasn't been around for a while...the poor mare had been out visiting her family for a few days...so there's that."

My ears perked up at his last sentence. Was he talking about that restaurant? I probably shouldn't have felt as emotionally attached to somepony I had never met, I told myself. Still, the idea of actually knowing about him before his death, as well as having waited in front of a deserted house with an undiscovered, dead body inside...the very idea sent a noticeable chill down my spine.

Naturally, it wouldn't take Lyra excessively long to confirm my fears.

"Strange," I heard her answer, as Time Turner informed her about the exact address. "Bon Bon and I were standing outside that house just last night, wondering why it would be closed at a time like that. I guess this explains it. However..." She paused, before clearing her throat, and - I suspected - for a somewhat dramatic effect. "There must have been more to all of this, otherwise you wouldn't have come here today. If I understood correctly, you're suspecting a connection to our other murder from yesterday?"

Still unable to see them, I suspected Turner to nod at Lyra's request. I also realized that I had beaten the eggs far beyond their point of exhaustion, since my attendance had shifted to the other two ponies' conversation, after all. Their formerly heterogeneous parts had well faded into a dark-yellowish blur. With a low sigh, inaudible for the two others, I produced a frying pan from one of the shelves. Gripping it between my teeth, I set the heavy steel object down on our gas stove as quickly as my tired jaws would allow me.

"Here's where the tricky part begins," Turner resumed. "The scenery appears quite a lot like the previous, including that gruesome writing on the wall. Written in the same substance, somepony's blood, even though there's none on the victim. We did find a few droplets around the house, this time. But there's no stab wounds or anything of the like."

"Oh," Lyra said, some surprise swinging in her voice. "The same word, I take it?"

"Quite so. And while I left Miss Hooves to initiate some throughout investigations of its meaning, she didn't come to any conclusion so far. Neither one of our victims seems to have any connection neither to the fashion brand in Manehattan, nor anypony who actually speaks Fancy as their first language. Adding to the difficulty, Fillydelphia hasn't replied to our letters yet, so we don't actually know anything about the mare's identity. Speaking of which," he added. "Both our victims rest in the exact same position. They're both lying on their sides, wide eyes, mouth shut. No wounds, or any other marks of outside violence. As if they hadn't been murdered at all."

He drew in another breath, before concluding, "I hope you're on the right track with that poison theory. And I can't say it more than enough: Derpy Hooves and me both are risking a lot by letting you do our job. Still, I hate to admit it, but we need your help more than ever."

Another silence fell on the room, which I happily accepted to keep up my cooking. This morning had been disturbing enough, as it was. I didn't think I could handle any more information inexplicably well. Especially concerning these details about the dead bodies, which I tried excessively hard to push out of my mind as it was.

After another five minutes or so, I finished up my bowl of scrambled eggs, which I had calculated to last for only two ponies. After all, chances were Turner wouldn't stay longer than for a few minutes of briefing. I already hated the possibility of asking him to leave because I didn't prepare any food for him. Which wouldn't exactly mark one of my most proficient times of social interaction.

Neither he nor Lyra had spoke a word during the entire time. As long as I was occupied with preparing our meal, I didn't actually mind. Only now did the awkwardness of the situation come flooding back to me. Looking back to the two of them, I spotted an increasingly tense Time Turner, which I could well understand after the past few minutes. As much as myself, he waited for Lyra to say something, and done so for a while now. Meanwhile, she had obviously sunken back in her usual trance, for whatever reason.

Sometimes, I did feel like punching my flatmate for her behavior.

Just as I carefully put down the filled bowl on our dining table however, she suddenly jumped up. Her eyes were directed at Turner, who started awkwardly fidgeting his front hoofs.

"All things considered, I think we should go, take a look at the scene right away," Lyra explained, to his obvious relief. With a look towards me, she added, "Care to come along? This ought to be interesting."

I admit, I looked up not without a decent portion of surprise plastered to my face. Had she completely forgotten about what I just did? She probably didn't even notice. Exchanging a glance with Turner, I could easily deduct the same confused reaction coming from him.

"But...but I was just finishing up our meal..." I stuttered. Lyra mostly ignored my perplexed tone.

"That's fine, really," she replied. "And thank you for it. But we might as well get back to it when we come back."

"It'll be cold by then."

"And it is not the top of my priorities, now. I'm asking again: Are you coming along, or not?"

"But...I..." Accidentally dumping a spoon inside the meal I had prepared, I bowed my head, and sighed in frustration. "Never mind. I'll be there."

A good ten minutes more, and we found ourselves stepping out of a cab, facing the building Turner directed us to. The deep annoyance of having my morning's work gone to waste was only matched by Lyra's newly found enthusiasm about what was to happen next. She was literally beaming with energy, as if there was some hearth's warming eve's gift waiting for her inside, instead of a dead pony. The very possibility of her placing the same value on both things made me feel utterly uncomfortable.

Interestingly enough, our carriage's driver was the same as last time. Again, Crossroads would be casually addressed by name from my companion, otherwise I would hardly remember his name at all. Which didn't do any good to distract my thoughts at the moment. In all honesty, I was too preoccupied wondering why in Equestria I even bothered coming along in the first place. When a pony actually does start to question her own sanity, minor details like this seem to fade into an utmost irrelevance.

In a sense of sorrow, I thought back to the good old times, when all I was looking forward to was producing some candy for kids. Not running around town, chasing after serial killers, while constantly worrying about my impending bankruptcy. Hadn't that only been three days ago? Oh well.

While we rushed past a number of more streets and intersections, an idea suddenly came to me. I could always document our strange murder case, then have it published in the Ponyville Express or elsewhere, as soon as we'd finish it off. It probably wouldn't be able to support myself in the long run, but it was still worth a try. I made another mental note to discuss it with Lyra in due time.

Arriving at the restaurant, we stepped in through the front door, entering the business's public area. Being the only official of the three of us, Time Turner went in first, as usual. Lyra followed his lead close behind, shivering with anticipation, as she let me take of the rear.

Of course, the restaurant remained closed at a time like this, so the many tables scattered all across lay mostly deserted. Three or four stools rested on each, placed on top of them upside down, in an effort to ease the cleaning staff's job. The entire scenery made an impression like the restaurant had just been closed for the night, giving it a particularly morbid touch.

Right in front of us, at a table close to the staff's counter, two ponies sat across from each other, expecting our arrival. One of them, I immediately identified as Time Turner's colleague, Derpy Hooves. She greeted each of us with a simple nod, being the mare of little words, whom I assumed she was. Opposite from her sat a middle-aged earth pony mare. Maybe I simply imagined it at the moment, but I meant to see her crimson mane starting to fade into a light-silvery gray at several spots.

She was visibly shaken from the unexpected turn of events, her face being more pale than what would have seemed healthy, despite the color of her coat being a very light shade of beige, already. Dried streaks of liquid on her cheeks indicated she had been crying quite a lot this morning. Given the circumstances, I could hardly hold it against her.

I frowned; considering the two ponies accompanying us came here only on official duty, and Lyra being...well, Lyra, I was the only one in the room for the poor mare to receive some genuine empathy from. And I didn't even know who she was, or what kind of reasoning brought myself here.

"Anything new?" Turner asked his partner in a very businesslike approach. Miss Hooves then shook her head in a similar manner.

"Nothing so far...I've basically been waiting for you to come back." Looking at Lyra, she added, "The body is still upstairs, if you're looking for that."

Lyra nodded, after taking a few minutes for her eyes to thoroughly scan the room for clues. Or so, I presumed. "That would be off to a good start. Come along, then."

I obeyed, for now. The expectation of another pony lying dead to my hooves in the course of twenty-four hours wasn't exactly something to look forward to. Of course, neither was staying in a room with two unnerved officials of the law, who had every right to question my mere presence at this place.

I forced myself to hold back a groan while following my companion up the staircase. She went ahead with a level of determination that I hadn't thought possible of most ponies I knew. Then again, Lyra was hardly most ponies.

Reaching the top floor, she took a short leap ahead, just before stopping dead in her tracks. "Well, well," I heard her call out as I made for the last few steps myself. "Would you look at that."

I stepped right beside her, already expecting what I'd see. And, to my own disturbance, I felt considerably less repelled by the sight than I had last time. Apart from that, it was all the same imagery. There was a dark gray unicorn stallion lying dead in front of us, his face telling a tale of the horror he must have gone through in his last moments. His body had distinctly dropped against the back bathroom wall, a few feet of from the sink. On the wall directly above him, somepony had left a fairly familiar writing. The word POMME was - once again - looking back at us, smeared on the white, ceramic tiles. And again, it was evidently written in blood, even though there were no marks of any harm on the corpse.

Lyra swiftly bent down, sniffing the stallion's lips, before the faintest notion of a smirk came over her face.

"Poison," she proclaimed. "Looks like we've got ourselves a serial killer."

"You do seem excited about that, if I may say so?" I raised an eyebrow at her last comment.

"Are you kidding me?" Lyra asked, grinning widely. "This is the best thing that could happen. There's so few things going on in this town, I thought I'd die of boredom, sooner or later." Concluding, she bent back down, examining the body. "This should only take a few minutes...I guess Time Turner is already waiting for me reporting anything I've found."

And with that, she dived back down into her observations. All the while, I remained at the room's entrance, opposite of her. Sitting back on my haunches, I let my gaze wander around the room, trying to ignore that my companion and I were inside an abandoned building, looking at the corpse of a violently murdered stallion, whom - apparently - she had known somewhat well. The lack of emotion that remained with Lyra Heartstrings throughout the entire day startled me more than ever.

Believe it or not, I actually grew bored during the few minutes she spent rushing about the evidence, trying to squeeze every last bit of information out of it. Only figurative squeezing, of course. Since there was nothing else to do, I began lightly tapping one of my fore hoofs on the ground halfway through Lyra's examination, making her stop within an instant.

"Shut up," she casually noted in my direction. I raised an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did. Enough to distract from the evidence, anyway. Don't speak, alright. Don't move, either. I'm almost done here."

Almost in a sense of ironic amusement, I ceased every last motion of my own, sitting perfectly still for another two minutes or so. Lyra crouched down next to the stallion's neck, watching it in suspicion for quite another while, before jumping back up on all fours, and directing her attention back to me.

"Perfect. Let's go," she said, cracking her neck a few times. Before I knew it, the mint green unicorn started rushing back to the staircase, leaving me behind in utter bewilderment. Only snapping out of that did I turn and follow her.

VIII. The Science of Deduction

The two officers, as well as the late stallion's wife, whose name I had learned to be Roseluck, looked up with curious faces, as Lyra and I re-entered the room. Giving the mare a second evaluation, I realized the gray streaks from before really were just my imagination running away with me. Or possibly, also a product of my own nervousness. Looking at her again now, I realized she seemed hardly older than the two of us. A few years at best.

None of this made her appearance or situation less tragic, of course. As for our two officers; I could easily understand this being the part about their job they probably hated the most. All three of them were currently sitting in silence, still situated around the same table. Whether their depressing vigil had lasted all the time ever since Lyra and I went upstairs, I couldn't tell. Maybe they merely interrupted their potential conversation to hear what Lyra might have to say. All I could read from the officials' faces was a certain empathy for the widow, while also looking at us with high expectations.

"...well?"

"The murders are clearly connected, most likely performed by the same pony," my companion burst out the moment Time Turner's question came over his lips. As opposed to what she probably expected, it earned her nothing but a cold glare from the earth pony stallion, and a skeptical look coming from his colleague.

"The regulars figured as much, thanks a lot," he replied. "We're not stupid, you know. I really hope you've gotten hold of anything beyond that."

Lyra blinked, slightly cringing at the word 'regulars'. Though I could imagine where it had come from, I preferred not to find out just now. That might well wait until our return to our apartment. Also, I felt a sudden urge to hit her over the head with some kind of blunt object.

"There wasn't much for me to gather, even less than there was last time," she resumed. "But I got as much out of my examinations as possible. There are only a few questions I still need to ask. First of all to you, Mrs Roseluck: Did your husband have any extramarital affairs lately?"

Time Turner narrowed his eyes at Lyra, while the shaken mare looked up at her in horror. Roseluck's shoulders began to shake again, as she started speaking. "W-what? No, of course not! We were married just two months ago, he wouldn't...he had no reason for...anything like that."

"Well, it's unlikely he would have told you about it...but worth a shot, at best." Lyra frowned, as her horn started to glow faintly.

"I mean...I don't know, but I couldn't imagine..." Roseluck started, tears quickly forming in the corners of her eyes once again. She eventually trailed off, upon another swift interruption by my companion.

"Do you recognize this ring?" Lyra asked her plainly and straight-out, as she levitated the small piece of jewelry out from Celestia-knows-where. It was the same ring she had found with our last corpse and somewhat "borrowed" from the officials. Needless to say, while I found myself only somewhat surprised by her new strategy, the other three ponies could only gasp in shock. Especially Turner's eyes went wider than saucers at the mere sight.

"That's his," Roseluck replied without further hesitation. While the mare's own voice sounded even more horrified than before, she certainly did bring a remote smile onto Lyra's muzzle.

"Thank you," my companion said, and lowered the ring onto the desk before her. During the short silence that followed, everyone turned to look at Lyra in bewilderment. "I think...if our law enforcement friends don't have anything further to add, you may as well keep it."

All the while, Turner's eyes had sot back and forth from the two completely lost, a considerable scent of anger mixed into them. As my companion handed over the late husband's possession, he cleared his throat, loudly. All eyes immediately fell on him, including Lyra's. The magical aura around her horn disappeared the same instant.

A visibly forced smile on his face, Time Turner addressed the widow, "I...hope we could be of any help so far, of course. If you'd excuse me, but I need to talk this over with our consulting detective. We will meet back here, as soon as there's any new developments to inform you about."

He did mean to say Lyra, of course. She followed him towards the exit door without any sign of emotional response. At a quaint motion from her side, I obeyed in following the two outside. I'd had enough of this house for a good deal, as it was.

Looking back, my eyes once again fell onto the odd couple that Derpy Hooves and Roseluck made. I presumed they were somewhat acquainted to one another, since there wasn't any other reasonable explanation for Turner's partner to remain by her side all this time. I couldn't help feeling awfully sorry for the poor widow, myself. But then again, I wouldn't have had any idea on how exactly to comfort her. From what I observed, Miss Hooves was the expert in this matter, not me.

Once we stepped outside, Turner dropped his fake smile in an instant, looking on my companion with an expression of rage, which I could somewhat relate to. I suppose it merely is a regular set of emotions brought forth when dealing with Lyra. Some ponies would come to see past her socially awkward flaws, others...not so much.

"Alright. First of all: How?"

Lyra decided to help herself to a chuckle in response. "Did anyone ever call you gullible, Turner? Not like it's the first time I snatched evidence from you for my own research. But don't worry, I always care to put your things back where they belong, in time. Most of them, anyway."

"You do realise I could have you arrested on the spot for that single confession, right there?"

"Probably," Lyra told him, one corner of her mouth slightly twitching upwards. "Yet here I am, free as a bird."

Time Turner frowned. "This better be for a good reason, the lot of it!"

"Don't worry. By now, nearly all pieces of the puzzle are already firmly resting in my hooves."

"So, what's your diagnosis then?" I blurted out in between them.

I added a feeble "Sorry," as both ponies looked up in surprise from my sudden outburst. Only for Mr Turner to quickly tilt his head back towards my companion. He had the same question on his mind, I could tell. His expression wasn't in any way puzzling or hard to understand, even for me. After having her selfishness bath in the level of attention provided for another moment, Lyra cleared her throat.

"Well," she began, no signs of modesty attached. "Our deceased husband appears to be some sort of adulterer. Presumably cheating on his wife with our other dead body..."

"Oh, bloody hell..." Time Turner started in disgust. He quickly trailed off from the strict look Lyra gave him. The scenery seemed like the way a teacher would glare at a noisy schoolfilly. It was rather amusing, to say the least.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"He had some sort of affair with the other mare, whom we found dead. And who came here from Fillydelphia the night before, while his wife spent her time traveling to the very same city. We may assume they both traveled by train. It is the most quick and conventional method, after all. Now, Fillydelphia. Two ponies getting connected to each other through a murder case are also connected to the same city. That could be a coincidence, though unlikely. I think we may well agree that both our victims died in the same night, and from the same pony's hooves. I observe the latter from the messages left behind, naturally. Also, he or she somehow managed to make both of them take a dose of some lethal substance voluntarily, since there weren't any marks of outside violence."

"But here's something I don't get, then," Turner interrupted her, scratching his chin. "These two murder scenes are miles away from the train station, as they are from each other. Who could have done that if he or she acted alone? Not the wife, do you think?"

"No, of course not." Lyra dismissed his notion with a wave of her hoof. "I've seen her face and heard her talk, just now. I wouldn't want to bore you with hours of explanations on mimics and their psychological essence, but believe me when I say: She has no idea what's going on in this entire matter. That much I can tell you. Whoever managed to pull all this off in one night must have either been a pegasus pony, or have access to some means of transportation, other than flight..."

Lyra paused, pondering on her narrative for a moment. Her eyes widened a bit, only seconds later. Without a warning for Turner and me to cover our ears, the word "Brilliant!" suddenly crossed her muzzle at an overly resonant volume. With a few steps, she leaped back inside the building. Turner and I didn't spare any second to rush past her.

Inside, the dead stallion's wife, as well as Miss Hooves looked up in surprise upon seeing us. Before the pegasus mare could even cast a questioning look to her colleague however, and before either of them could stop Lyra, she already started her rambling.

"Mrs Roseluck, I have one more question." I could see Turner roll his eyes from the corner of my own, but he didn't say anything to intervene, either. "When your husband accompanied you to the train station the other day, concerning your trip to Fillydelphia, what kind of transportation did you use?"

Roseluck narrowed her eyes, lost in thought for a while. Then, she answered, "if I remember correctly, we went there by hoof. I tried convincing him to get a cab, as I did, times before. He wouldn't have it, though. He preferred a walk, apparently for spending a little more time with me..." she sniffled. "You don't think he could have known, do you?"

"Maybe...he didn't show any signs of paranoia lately, did he?"

"Not really. I mean, he's been a bit strange the last few weeks or so, I give you that. Looking over his shoulder a little more often than normal, and all that. But I decided not to worry. I...I always hoped it would be nothing..." She started crying again. "I've been so blind...I'm sorry...I..."

"No need for that," Lyra told her. "And thank you for your compliance. That is all I need to hear for now. Speaking of cabs, would you be so kind as to call one for Miss Bon Bon, and myself? I suppose there's still some leftovers from breakfast, waiting for us at Bucker Street. And I don't know about all of you, but I could easily eat an entire ursa major, right now."

My turn to roll my eyes, obviously. Breakfast must have gotten way beyond cold during all the time we spent at this place. It was probably approaching absolute zero by now, at what point anything could get a little hard to chew. And it's not like we have a kitchen device to reverse that process. Simply stuff it all in a big box, and it comes out all heated up again...that had yet to be invented.

Lyra didn't seem to mind, whereas Turner apparently did do the same concerning her request. He ultimately trotted out the door with an angry snort, drawing a faint sign of amusement to the unicorn's muzzle. Shortly after he had gone, she repeated her earlier gesture, motioning towards the exit door. "We might as well wait outside, don't you think?" she asked.

Somehow, in a way I couldn't quite interpret, she had swollen in a mix of pride and anticipation. I nodded to the widow and Miss Hooves, one last time, then made my exit as well. Stepping out into the sunlight behind Lyra, I tried to somehow silently convene my confusion, but she didn't seem to mind me in any way.

"Mind explaining to me what's going on?" I thus asked, hoping to gain her attention. After all, if she would just leave me in the dark about everything, what was the point of having me brought alongside herself, anyways?

"Don't worry, you'll see in due time. I do, in fact, think of our case as almost concluded."

"Almost concluded?" I looked at her in bewilderment. "If you ask me, it couldn't be any more enigmatic."

Lyra snorted in amusement. "There's hardly any need to ask for your advice, no offense. My own suspicions have let me far enough. When the time comes, we'll see whether they are true, or not. But I feel very comfortable about my current theory." With a look to our right, she added, "and here comes our brave detective, bringing along the carriage requested alongside himself. We'll be home in no time, ready to stuff our bellies."

Time Turner did in fact trot back towards us, a cab strolling along beside him. Drawing it was the very same earth pony stallion, who had already driven us around during the past few days. Only later would I discover that the entirety of Ponyville did in fact contain no more than three or four cab drivers at any time. But back then, it would strike me as an odd coincidence.

"I found someone two blocks from here," Turner yelled at us from the distance. "Consider yourselves lucky."

"Oh, I do," Lyra replied, then turned towards the building's entrance, again. "Miss Hooves, you might like to come out here and take a look at this!"

My eyes shifted back and forth between her and the door, in which the pegasus would appear seconds later. To call either of us confused or bewildered, at that point, would have been a large understatement. It wasn't very simple to tell from Derpy's distorted facial features, but I could guess as much.

As the two earth ponies arrived back with us, Lyra and the cabbie shared a friendly nod. All the while, Time Turner appeared extremely angered, even more than his initial annoyance. Judging solely from his face, he didn't try holding it back in the least. I did guess Lyra would owe him a favor for all of this. I also realized that she probably wouldn't see it that way. Which is why I decided to make a mental note about reminding her of the matter, later on.

"Thank you very much for staying put," she eventually told our driver. "I take it, you have met my companion, Miss Bon Bon. As well as our respected officers of the law."

He nodded in agreement.

"Very well then. Mind, if I introduce you as well? No? Very well." With a victorious expression, Lyra turned towards us. By now, I almost wanted to kick her for that dumb, little grin of hers. And who would save her of Time Turner's wrath, then? Certainly not me.

"Fillies and gentlecolts, this here is Mr Crossroads. A respected earth pony cab driver of Ponyville, and formerly, Fillydelphia. He is also the murdered of our two victims in question."

And as soon as she closed her mouth, everything went by extremely quick. I couldn't make out the two officers' initial reaction to Lyra's words, but neither do I recall my own. Instead, I only saw the cabbie's head shoot around at her in a mixture of shock and surprise. The stallion managed tore his massive body loose from the carriage, and attempted to run. He didn't get very far.

After two feet or so, Lyra's horn lit up, while an aura of golden magic wrapped itself around the stallion's left hindleg. As she pulled the entire limb outwards with a yank, Crossroads stumbled, before eventually getting flung down on his side. He crashed into the dirt and rubble of the street with a loud thump, sending small cobbles and chunks of soil flying everywhere.

A sole groan escaped his muzzle, one foreleg slightly twitching. Not before long, Time Turner stood over him, pinning the muscular stallion down. Miss Hooves spread her wings without a moment's notice, and came sailing over an instant later. From there on out, our suspect ceased to show any larger signs of resistance.

"You want a confession?" he asked them, sorely getting back up. "Well, there you have it."

The two officers shared a questioning look, immediately. Turner was the one to break it, saying, "Alright, I'll do it." His strict gaze wandered back to the stallion in front of him, as he stated his case.

"Very well, then. Sir Crossroads, you are hereby under arrest, according to the federal laws of the Kingdom of Equestria. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. Should you fail to provide an attorney for whatever reason, one will be provided for you. Are these rights perfectly understood and clear to you?"

"Right out of the textbook, they are," Crossroads grunted with a frown.

"Then let's get you somewhere safe. My colleague will make sure you get a decent transport to Canterlot. I imagine there will be a suitable confinement open for you." He motioned to Miss Hooves. "One that should be appropriate. Since it would hardly be a proper approach keeping you waiting alongside Mrs Roseluck the entire time, I suggest we await said transport elsewhere."

"We may as well take him to Bucker Street," Lyra replied. "It's right on the way. Plus, we still have some leftover food for everypony."

I facehoofed.

Despite my own certainty of all this being a completely senseless decision, the four of us quickly made for 221B Bucker Street. We arrived a good twenty minutes later, all of us carrying their very own fears and worries alongside ourselves. All of us, except for Lyra, who was obviously beaming with a sense of self-satisfied pride.

Derpy Hooves had left us at our departure from the scene to arrange a transport to a high-security prison in Canterlot. Being placed in these kinds of institutions sounded only reasonable for somepony who had repeatedly committed first-degree murder. Considering what probably lay beyond the upcoming trial, I didn't want to be standing in his horseshoes, nevertheless.

As soon as we got ourselves settled back in, our prisoner decided to raise his voice once more. "Miss Heartstrings, throughout these past weeks, I have come to know your judgment and reasoning to a certain degree. I take it, you would probably like to hear the background story of all this?"

"I'd love to, certainly," Lyra answered him. She had placed herself in the armchair opposite from him, once again resting in her usual, odd position.

"Then you might want to take up some quilt and parchment, and write down what I have to say. In short, I would like to state my case."

"There won't be ay need for that," Turner interrupted him. "You'll have plenty of time to do so in court."

"No, I don't think so," the stallion replied, shaking his head. "There probably won't be a court case, since I very certainly won't live that long...I don't think any of you have received any higher medical education?"

We could all but deny his request.

"Well, it doesn't strike me. Truth is, I have a few days left to live, at best," he continued, then suddenly raised a forehoof, pointing at his chest. "Right in here, there's a nice little aneurysm, that's been constantly expanding outwards for months now. From all the symptoms I've gotten rather recently, I can tell I won't last much longer. In fact, every new breath I take in now could be my last."

He turned slightly, looking Time Turner dead in the eye. "If you need to consult a medical pony for prove, don't let me stop you. but I'd like somepony to know about the truth as long as that's still possible. I would like to be remembered as a stallion with a reasonable motif and background. I'm not some cold-blooded psychopath, who doesn't have a reason for his actions. I think, the world deserves to know as much."

"As you wish," Lyra said, after no further objection came from Turner. The necessary writing gear quickly hovered over towards her, enveloped by her magic. "Tell us what you know, then."

And without further ado, Mr Crossroads took a deep breath, before he began to tell his story. All of it.

IX. The Truth of the Matter

I suppose I should tell you everything you need to know. Mind you, even though most of what you're going to hear comes from my own decision, I'm following certain instructions even now. In case I'll ever get captured, there is a certain amount of information I was told I should deploy to my captors; especially the infamous Lyra Heartstrings.

You may not realize it Miss Heartstrings, but you've got quite a lot of fans out there. And not all of their intentions are purely beneficial.

So where do I start? My name is Crossroads, I work as a cab driver. Just another poor bastard, and an underpaid earth pony stallion, formerly of Fillydelphia. But you already know that.

Underpaid is the word that probably makes all the difference here. As I have told you already, my primary occupation has always been the work as a cab driver I perform in whatever city I live in. But if you know a little bit about the business, you've probably also heard that it's not exactly among the most well-paid jobs in our country. Fifty bits a week may be enough to support oneself, as well as a small apartment. But beyond that...things get tough.

I won't deny it, I've always had the dream of having a family of my own one day. But living paycheck to paycheck, only taking care of my own upkeep, I just didn't see it happen. Heck, I kept living on canned food more or less every last third of a month. The tips I received rarely made much of a difference. And I couldn't possibly depend on those.

Well, what to do? It took a few years for me to grow tired of my low salary, but eventually I decided it was time to make a change. I started to look out for a better source of employment, a side job maybe. Mainly, I kept searching by asking the ponies around me. In a position like mine, you do meet a lot of new faces every day. Maybe, I thought, one of them might have some kind of suggestion for me. Some other source of employment that would allow me to earn a few extra bits.

I may not be the most creative of ponies, but asking others for advice seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. Among those were my colleagues at work as well as my clients. And, of course, whoever else I happened to meet. Unfortunately, most of them didn't have any better ideas then myself. Or they just didn't have the time and motivation to lend me a helping hoof at the given time. And who can blame them? Everypony's got their own troubles, after all.

After weeks of searching, my hopes had already dissipated completely, leaving me even more discouraged then before. You see, from where I found myself, I was willing to do almost anything in search for a better life. I grew increasingly desperate to find a solution in time, knowing that certain factors such as my own age and strength wouldn't remain as charitable forever. And when finally a chance arrived, I couldn't resist but go ahead and take it. Even if I questioned the moral background of this path more than once, you may believe me in that.

It all happened on another one of these rainy, autumn nights, just last fall. Black and whispering rain on the streets of Fillydelphia, the sun long gone behind the western horizon...you get the idea. As my luck would have it on some of these days, I had to work the late night shift. It's these times that honestly make a pony hate his life. Spending half the night in this cold and merciless environment never proves very gentle. During the first few times on the job, it really does feel like freezing to death. But one can get accustomed to anything, I suppose.

Tired and soaked by the rain as always, I stood waiting in front of one of the local casinos that night. We don't have a whole lot of these establishments back in Filly, but most of its citizens couldn't afford the luxury in the first place. Yours truly included. Anyhow, there was some important business pony to be picked up from the place. Somepony from out of town, it seemed. The kind that's always happy to pay quite a poor driver a good fee, so I was more than happy to accept the task. Even though it wasn't the most pleasant. But then again, it never was.

Luckily, the guy I was supposed to pick up didn't leave me waiting excessively long. He came strolling outside a good ten minutes after my own arrival. The stallion didn't strike me as anything out of the ordinary at first - from what I could tell, he was just another one of those high profile jocks with nothing better to do than to waste their spare change at night. Which he probably didn't have to work for very hard, but I kept that thought to myself.

Whatever he had available for tossing out that night probably amounted to more than I'd make in an entire year. Another reason for the guy at the bottom of the food chain to make a good impression. My customer had a shortened brown mane, and a dark grayish coat. He also wore one of these tacky business suits; checkered black and white, a somewhat loosened black tie visible from below. I couldn't make out any more of him in the darkened twilight, except for him being a unicorn. There wasn't a whole lot of effort for me to put in, either. After all, impressions or not, at the end of the day he was just another client to me. No more, no less.

He ordered me to get the cab towards some kind of penthouse-apartment building, a couple of blocks away. Again, nothing out of the ordinary. More like what I'd expected. I just pretty much went ahead to complete his order, get my cash, and be done with it. As I wanted to be done with that night in due time.

Of course, we broke into a bit of small-talk during our ride. It's part of the job; ponies always do that. Jobs, employments, families...whatever comes to mind. And isn't too private to share in order to kill some time. Not that I care.

As usual, I also told him about my situation, and whatever minor junk it was I had to put with at the time. I may have lamented a bit about money being that tight for hard working ponies, and the unfair distribution of wealth, but that didn't seem to put in a whole lot of interest from his side. The way I see it, he was more interested in my self-description of being quite busy, and constantly hard at work. Though he did make an effort of not letting me know straight out.

When we reached the address in question, my client leaped off the carriage, and thanked me for the ride. Which, if I may say so, already contains a lot more politeness than what I'm used to. He payed me my regular fee, plus a few extra coins for my efforts. I returned his thanks in all sincerity, and wished him a good night's rest.

That's when he grew extremely discreet, all of a sudden. He asked me if I could keep some secrets, and whether I'd be interested in a part-time employment he might be willing to organize. There would be good money in for me, and none of it would in any way interfere with my official job. Why, being a cab driver was what mostly made myself attractive for what he'd planned.

The job itself wouldn't be too hard, he told me. All I had to do was get a few ponies across town, or make a certain delivery, on occasion. Completion as quickly and stealthy as possible, with a strain of cash waiting for me upon successful completion. After that, everyone would go their separate ways, with no further questions asked. Of course not.

All of this looked like some very peculiar business, and you can probably guess which way we're headed from here on out. Whether my part in this would be completely legal or not...well, I could probably guess the answer to that question myself. But given my situation, I decided it would be worth a try, nevertheless. Driving ponies around, even if they were some kind of criminals, wouldn't defer all that much from what I usually did. When in doubt, I could always pretend to be the clueless little guy. Also, it didn't mess with my moral values. At least, not a whole lot. I figured none of this wouldn't hurt anypony directly, and my own hoofs would remain relatively clean. The less I knew about the big picture, the better.

After a minute or so of pondering my options, I answered his request in the affirmative. He nodded, and told me he was - of course - more than glad to hear that. He also explained to me that his superior, a certain pony named Moriarty would get in touch sooner or later. The exact point in time had yet to be determined, I should simply stay put for whenever they needed me. It was this Moriarty, who'd tell me where to go and what to do, when the time came. If I proved myself able for that kind of assignment, I would be in for a lot of money, soon enough. That certainly did move the arrangement a good deal in my favor.

Until anything happened however, I was to stay in the same place, and resume my daily routine as usual. Not to cause any suspicion, I suppose. It was for the same reason, that I should keep my current employment, despite all the advantages this new one brought along. It would arouse a lot of unnecessary suspicion if I quit my job only to earn more money than before, afterwards. Besides, only a cab driver could pass through different districts of the city unknown and unseen, and that was the great benefit of my position.

The stallion, whose name I didn't manage to catch that night, and I parted ways shortly after our mutual agreement. Despite keeping in contact with his network - which I guessed it was - I wouldn't see him again anytime soon. Mostly, I was to be contacted by typewritten telegrams or letters, giving me my instructions. So, even if I wanted to, I couldn't give you any more information about the ponies I worked with all this time.

I did of course wonder whether sending telegrams through official lines wouldn't be a bit suspicious as well. But from all I gathered, there weren't any larger problems with that, for whatever reason. And that was good enough for me.

Now, as the strange stallion had predicted, life resumed as usual after that night. For a good two weeks, I kindly resumed my job, and didn't hear anything from anypony, again. After a while, I started to imagine that all of this was nothing but a joke played on me, and that my client from that night was probably long gone, laughing at my foolishness somewhere. Or maybe, I thought to myself, none of this ever happened, and it was all some kind of strange nightmare. That possibility always did exist, of course.

Either of these very thought made me cringe, anyway. But there was nothing I could do about it, and I eventually decided to forget about what had happened for good. It was only after the passing of said two weeks that I received a telegram delivered to my apartment one day. I had been at work until four in the morning or so, and thus didn't recognize its arrival until early afternoon. And I didn't pay it a lot of attention even then. Only reading through the text during a late breakfast did I realize what it was all about.

Precisely like I've been told before, the letter was signed by the single word Moriarty and nothing else. Like most telegrams, this one had been typed out at the local post office, so there wasn't any point in trying to trace it back anywhere beyond. I could only tell that whoever must have sent it didn't live in the same city. Otherwise, I couldn't see any reason he or she might have to use that way of delivering information.

The letter itself didn't contain any more but a few, shortened sentences. They instructed me about everything I'd have to do at a given time and place, summed up in a very objective fashion. To give you the short description, there were two ponies I'd have to pick up two blocks south from the central market later that day. Both of them needed to get to the railway station at Neighwark within an hour. Though it didn't say so in the letter, it appeared they wanted to get away in southern direction, probably heading towards Baltimare or so.

Again, there wouldn't be any further questions asked from either side, of course. I simply went ahead, and fulfilled the job given to me at my best intentions. Though the time wasn't set during my shift, I nevertheless managed to bring my carriage to the market during the time requested. The two ponies I had to pick up, a stallion and a mare I think they were, quickly jumped onto the carriage after recognizing me. I'm afraid I can't quite recall what either of them looked like. My memory can be quite horrible with faces, sometimes. Both of them urged me to race towards their destination in a hurry. Away from some kind of local trouble, as they described it.

As most ponies would do, I decided to give it my best during my first day on the job. As soon as I got out of the afternoon traffic downtown, I started racing the two all across the city as fast as I could. Everything went smooth from there, and we arrived at Neighwark after nothing more than a good forty minutes. Without wanting to show off, I must admit that I was actually quite impressed, myself.

The two ponies didn't seem to share my enthusiasm. All they did was letting me know my task had been carried out well, and my payment could be found in the back of the cab. I'd be hearing from them soon enough, apparently. Without losing any more time, the two of them quickly vanished into the terminal building after our brief exchange, and disappeared from sight. I didn't see either of them again afterwards, but I assume they must have gotten away with it. If they didn't, I'm pretty sure I'd know. And assuming they made it all the way to Baltimare, I didn't expect meeting them around town anytime soon.

I remained on a cautious lookout for the better part of an hour, even after they left. When nothing else would disturb the peace, I stumbled back towards the cab, and decided to take a better look at what I've been paid. Once there, I discovered it was a lot more than I expected, to say the least. The two ponies had left a sober amount of five-hundred bits in cash inside the trunk. You can probably imagine my reaction very well; after all, this changed everything. For the first time in years, I wouldn't have to worry about my financial situation, let alone count every coin in my pocket whenever shopping for groceries or whatnot. I still didn't know what it was I did, or whom exactly I was working for. But it didn't matter anymore. With this amount of money, nothing did.

Then again, I'd still have to keep my job as a taxi driver. And I shouldn't go out, spending my newly discovered wealth all at once. That wouldn't be a wise move if I wanted to stay at a somewhat higher standard for a while. Also, I wanted to avoid any trouble, thus keeping the Internal Revenue Ponies off my tail. Going to jail for tax evasion wasn't exactly something to look forward to, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Over the weeks following that strange event, I got contacted by all sorts of different ponies who needed to be "picked up" on a regular basis. There even were some griffins once or twice, usually a rather rare sight in our parts of the country. I feared they would make it easier for us to get caught, but nothing of the sort ever happened. And thus, without causing any stir, my appointments always remained as straightforward as they started out. I didn't ask any questions, they didn't tell me anything I didn't want to know. At the end of each job, there would be a comfortable payment waiting for me. It was simple, really. And I didn't have any problems continuing my regular job as usual. I simply had to keep my working hours and those other missions separate. Which wasn't too hard. The cab was mostly parked in front of my own apartment during my time off, so no-one at work noticed me rambling about during my free time. Of course, I had to take care nopony would spot me at what I kept doing, but Fillydelphia is a large enough city to keep matters simple. In any case, there would always be a crowd to hide in, somewhere nearby.

It wasn't before early November that the entire matter should be given another twist. Another telegram arrived back then, giving me instructions for a new job I had to finish. The entire description didn't quite fit into the usual pattern - the entire scheme took place late at night, and within the very outskirts of town. Also, my route didn't stretch longer than a few blocks; starting from a large business complex, up to a rundown motel about a mile further south.

I viewed the instructions with some suspicion naturally, but ultimately decided to ignore the details. The time of day didn't interfere with the working shift I'd been given that week, and the overall job didn't seem to difficult. So, I didn't see any way of disagreeing with it. And even if I did, there was no way I would ever be able to tell the people I worked for. It hadn't dawned on me then, but if I ever wanted to get out of the business, I had no idea of how to do that. As long as the money kept coming in, I never really thought about these things. An income of that size really does do a great job dampening one's thoughts.

That day was for no such worries, I decided. After going about my business during the daytime, I once again holstered my carriage. Shortly after nightfall, I went off towards the address given to me. The streets were relatively empty already, so I didn't have to slow down from my usual pace, and arrived at my destination before long. That's when everything started to get out of control.

I parked the cab inside the yard, while keeping an eye on the building's back door. The letter told me to wait for my client here, since he probably wouldn't be able to use the front door after he'd done his part. I didn't ask myself or anyone what his part could possibly be about, and frankly, I didn't care. All I needed to know was how to get him away from here, and I had sketched that out pretty well before even coming here. This way, a huge part of my time was spent merely waiting for somepony to step out the door. It startled me, I admit, since my appointments were usually kept very much on time. This one, however, would leave me waiting out in the yard for more than half-an-hour. It did feel like something was wrong, but I had no idea on what else to do than keep waiting. After all, I couldn't do as much as just leave. There needed to be an explanation for all this delay, and I felt obliged to know what was going on.

It took a whole forty-five minutes from the time of our appointment that the door finally burst open, revealing a young colt. He was much younger, and shorter in size than I expected; why, his flank didn't even bear a mark, yet. And a lot more nervous at that. Even the way he threw open the door had such an impact, I wouldn't have trusted him with that kind of physical force, and if my life depended on it.

I couldn't make out his features, just then. It was too dark to see anything but his outline to be honest, and he kept rushing towards me like a blur. None of which made comprehending the situation any easier.

"Move it!" his squeaking voice yelled at me several times, while he galloped through the yard, approaching my carriage. "We need to get out!"

He didn't get as far, I'm afraid. When he had crossed our distance about halfway, a pegasus mare suddenly appeared in the door frame. Like with the colt, it was hard to make out her features against the inside light. Even though she didn't move around a whole lot, as opposed to him. I could well recognize a thing or two about her, before realizing something that made the blood in my veins freeze: Apart from her sudden appearance, she was also wielding a medium-sized shotgun between her jaws.

As the colt closed in even more, ready to jump onto the carriage any moment now, she pulled the trigger. I wouldn't know how to pull that off without any unicorn magic, but somehow she did. A valiant portion of lead was thus fired our way, and - by some unearthly miracle - managed to miss myself completely. Same couldn't be said for him, however. Only two feet apart from me, the ammunition went straight through his head. Its sheer force knocked him over, never to rise, again.

When I saw the blood and gore of his insides splatter all across the side of my wagon, my heart sure did skip more than just a short beat. My adrenaline levels shot up, bringing me to the verge of panicking within seconds. Still strapped to the carriage, I started to race forward with all my might. The mare had probably started to reload her weapon, but I didn't spare a second look for her. All I could think about was getting away as quickly as I could. While making my escape, I heard two more gunshots being fired from behind. In case they were meant for me, I could consider myself lucky not to be hit by either one.

Keeping up my speed, I rushed out of the backyard, and chased down one street after another. Until I reached the safety of my own home, I didn't stop to catch my breath once. I didn't even look back. Only when my home street came into view did I manage to calm down a little, and take a short look at my surroundings. It was still late at night, and nopony was to be seen anywhere. Lucky for me, since a cab wagon soaked with the blood of somepony else would have definitely made some kind of grand appearance. I needed to avoid that at all costs.

I decided to hide the carriage in my own backyard, hoping no-one else would discover for the time being. I called in sick for work the next day, so I could be given some time to resolve this trouble I found myself in. Of course, there was still the mare who allegedly tried to kill me, and a whole bunch of ponies I'd failed, even though I knew none of them.

And - of course - a kid being shot dead right in front of me. All these issues lasted heavily on my mind, and I didn't sleep very well that night. A ton of nightmares would haunt me until the late morning hours, even though those weren't very far away, anymore.

Waking up around eleven, I found another telegraphed letter in my mailbox. Once again, the sender was the very same pony who would constantly assign new jobs to me, somepony called Moriarty. This time, the message didn't just consist of a mere few facts and instructions. Instead, it was a message to be treated with the utmost urgency, saying I had to leave Fillydelphia immediately wouldn't I want to end up in a cage. Whatever that meant. It also read that I was to destroy all evidence of everything I've ever done in connection to them before leaving. Which probably meant all the letters and telegrams I'd gotten over time. Without further ado, I went ahead and burned all of them up in the stove. Including this one, that is.

There was a railway ticket attached, reserving me a spot in some express train that was to leave from Fillydelphia Central that very day, only three hours from then. The night's memories still heavily lasting on my mind, I packed my things and a few bits together in a saddlebag, and made a run for it. As instructed, I left town that afternoon. If you'd ask me what happened to my apartment, or the cab wagon in my backyard, there would be no way I could tell you. I haven't returned since.

The letter instructed me to stay on board until reaching the end of the line. At the concerning location, I would then meet somepony who could help me out. The last stop just so happened to be Ponyville, so that's where I got off. Like I was told, as always.

To my surprise, I was greeted by the very same pony who had first introduced me to this whole business in Fillydelphia, a few months back. The dark gray unicorn stallion walked up to me now, narrowing his eyes at my sight. He might not have recognized me on first sight, but I sure knew whom I was dealing with.

He sounded stern when first addressing me, though he did also reassure me that none of the unfortunate events from earlier were any of my fault. Nevertheless, it had been necessary to get me out of the city, since my whole last job had gone so terribly wrong, and we also had a witness who saw my face. All of this brought me in immediate danger of getting caught, he told me. Which - in turn - would have been quite a risk for him, since I already knew a whole lot about the whole operation. I didn't agree with him on that fact, but he insisted.

The stallion, whose name I now learned to be Black Dog had thought of everything. He rented a small cottage on my name within the outskirts of Ponyville, organized a new job for me as a local cab driver, and even a carriage more or less identical to my old one. He told me to stick around and not leave the town, until matters in Fillydelphia would cool down. He would let me know whenever that was.

I was also informed that my services might be needed again sometime, though I shouldn't worry about that too much for starters. At the time, I was simply expected to get back to my normal job, and try to learn my way around town. Most ponies didn't mind my sudden appearance in these parts, and the town got used to my presence fairly quick.

Everything turned out smooth sailing from there. I resumed to work at my casual employment, while enjoying a change of scenery. And I still had a considerable amount of coins from back home, so life wasn't all that uncomfortable. For several months, I lived this way within Ponyville, while getting to know some of the locals better. Most of which were a lot more friendly here than back in Fillydelphia, for some reason.

Ironically, Miss Heartstrings here was among my most regular clients. I suppose that didn't turn out for the best.

Anyhow, matters went on like that, until about last week. While I was at work, quite usually like every day, passing the Ponyville Market, the unicorn stallion from before would suddenly approach me once more. Surprisingly, Black Dog suddenly appeared a lot more nervous, and to some degree even paranoid, than before. Though I didn't know him all that well, I hadn't seen him as shaken before, and I could tell there was some kind of trouble going around, once again.

When asked, he told me that his colleagues back on the east coast had in fact identified the pegasus mare who shot our client the other day. They also told him that she had - for some reason - booked a ticket to Ponyville, and was to arrive with one of the next trains, coming that night. And whatever she was up to, it wouldn't do either of us any good.

We quickly agreed that this trouble had to be dealt with. Black Dog told me that, despite all his panicking, he had already developed a plan on how to take care of the matter. The sole problem being that I had to carry out the operation myself, and very probably kill our target in the process.

I had my doubts, mind you. But being reassured there was no other way, I eventually gave in to his demands. He equipped me with everything I needed, and information about where and when to strike. The only doubt that remained to myself was the question, whether I could possibly trust him with all this. Thus, before leaving, he handed me a small piece of golden jewelry. It was his wedding ring, he told me, one of his most prized possessions. I had to give it back as soon as the job was completed. Until then, it would serve as prove that he wouldn't skip town or anything while I was going back out there.

I had my doubts even then, only now getting to know of his marriage in the first place. Eventually though, I realized trusting him would very probably be my best option, so I went for it despite everything. As we parted ways, he kept mumbling something of drowning his worries in some kind of liquor. To be honest, I didn't pay too much attention to him at the time.

I went to the train station the following night, hoping to catch our mare in question. And I'd done my best to prepare myself for any kind of trouble. Black Dog's plan was of a very delicate nature, and I had to mind a number of details if I wanted to succeed. This way, there was a shotgun strapped to my side, among a few tins of poison. Each of them remained hidden well beneath a dark cloak that covered most of my torso. Disguised as the simple cab driver I was, my features well hidden by the darkness around me, I awaited her train's arrival to the other side of the terminal building.

I was - once again - lucky with my choices. The pegasus mare did in fact emerge form the station's central entrance minutes after her train had passed. She looked along the street, up to the Golden Oak Library, with a skeptical look in her eyes for a moment. Then, she slowly approached my carriage, and climbed on, while giving me an address to the south of town.

As you probably know, there are a lot of empty, and worn-out housings in that part of town. Not expecting her to know the town particularly well, I made for one of those to finally confront her. It didn't take very long; I already knew the way. After a short while, I stopped my cab in front of an old, deserted building. From what I gathered, it suited my needs well enough.

The mare eyed her new surroundings with suspicion; she even asked me, whether I was completely certain this was the right address. I only responded with a sole nod at first, fearing my voice to give away too much of my nervousness. Eventually though, I had to make my offer of escorting her inside. She didn't seem incredibly happy about it, but neither did she argue with me on the subject.

It was settled, then. She was the first to step into the old building, me following close behind. A dim light would fall upon the inside scenery, as I lit up a small gas lamp standing in one corner of the room.

'Now,' I then said, while I eventually pulled back the cloak, revealing myself. 'I take it, you still recognize me?'

Her eyes widened at my sight, especially when they fell on the gun I carried alongside myself, but she remained a lot more resolved than I had expected. In the end, she even lowered her head in some kind of resignation.

'Well,' she told me with a sigh. 'Do what you must. This had to end one way or another.'

It was then that I told her not so fast; I subsequently reached into my saddlebags, pulling out two of the cans I'd been given earlier. Placing both of them on the ground between us, I explained the rules to her.

The game was all too simple, really. Both cans contained two different substances that looked virtually alike. There was no way telling the difference between them with the naked eye. Only one of them was actual poison, however. Strong enough to kill a pony within seconds. The other was virtually harmless, containing little more than a few plastic pills. But as long as you don't know which one's which, that information doesn't help a whole lot.

Now, it was her turn to pick. Whatever can she would choose to gulp down, I would do the same with the other. That way, one of us lived, while the other one...well, didn't. When in doubt, I'd still have a gun right next to me that could shorten the entire process a great deal. It wasn't how my colleague had originally devised the plan, who would have gone for the shorter variant right away. Still, the poison was his idea, and I merely refined it a little.

The mare and I then broke out into a heated discussion that lasted no less than a good half hour. As opposed to what I'd expected, she was a lot tougher to crack. All the while, she revealed very little about herself, or her thought process. Speaking of which, to this day I have no idea how she originally got caught up in this business. Thinking back, I guess I should have asked her about that first.

Anyhow, by the end of our discussion, she seemed to realize and accept there was no way out for her. Glancing at the two choices presented to her, she hesitated a short while longer. I don't know what it was that finally influenced her decision, but after a while, she took one of the cans with a swift pull, gulped it down, and hoped for the best.

It didn't take long from there, that she started to have trouble breathing, and began to choke a great deal. As soon as she noticed the poison being in her system, her eyes widened in horror, and she looked at me with a begging plea, hoping for some kind of mercy. Unfortunately for her, I wouldn't have been able to help her, even if I wanted to. As far as I know, there is no such thing as an antidote for what she'd just swallowed. All things considered, there was nothing left to do for me, than wait.

Shortly after that, the mare collapsed onto the floor, and ceased her every breathing soon after. While I started to approach her, in order to make sure of her passing, I suddenly felt a first drop of blood running out through my nostril, presumably coming from my excitement.

It took a good while of considering, until I made up my mind about what to do with it. I read about something similar in newspapers, times and again to be exact. Criminal organizations and families, mostly made up from foreign nationals, would often leave a note at the scene of their crime as some kind of signature. I thought of it as a joke to do the same thing in my case, and decided to scribble something on the wall. Since the first foreign word that came into my mind was the Fancy expression for 'apple,' my decision fell on that.

Visibly shaken, I left the house soon after, extinguishing every light still burning inside it. There didn't seem to be any witnesses around, so I strapped myself back into my carriage, and went off. My next destination was to be Black Dog's house, so I could tell him all about it. The sooner he knew about our success, the better.

He lived, as I found out, on the top floor from a small restaurant at Bucker Street - the very same building I just happened to get arrested in front of. There was still a light burning in one of the windows, so I decided to knock on the front door to make myself heard. There was a faint 'Come in' to be heard from upstairs, and I was surprised to find the door unlocked.

I went upstairs to meet my colleague, and found him sitting at a wooden desk, his head resting in his forehoofs. An emptied bottle of whiskey resting on said table quickly told me about his version of the night. As it seemed, his mentions from earlier weren't as far-fetched after all.

Despite his uncanny appearance, I let my enthusiasm get the better of me. So, I told him my whole story, in every detail. Of course, that way I also mixed in the part where I disobeyed his orders to simply use the poison on her without much further ado. He didn't care much for what I had to tell, if only I could get him his ring back, and be done with it.

I reached in my pocket then, in order to hand it over, only to realize it wasn't there, anymore. Surely, it fell out some time earlier that night, but from all I knew, it could be anywhere in town. Confessing that part of the story to him,I hoped he wouldn't mind too much. After all, objects of such value tend to reappear sooner or later, and it really wasn't anything of any larger importance for the overall operation. Unfortunately, I underestimated the lack of reasoning coming from a drunkard.

'You did what?' he yelled, much to me being taken aback. 'How could you...dammit, what am I gonna tell my wife? Am I only...surrounded by idiots or something?'

All his former authority or demand for respect was gone. There was - quite frankly - no way of reasoning with Black Dog at the moment. Only I didn't realize that right away. I told him how assured I was about somepony finding it soon enough, and how I'd go looking for it first thing in the morning. But he didn't seem to be appeased by that.

'Is that some kind of game to you? I'll show you what kind of game I'd like to play!'

Before I could react, he suddenly held a knife between his teeth, and started galloping towards me. I backed away, naturally startled by his approach, but it didn't matter to him. Not a whole lot, anyway. With another few steps, he reached for me, slashing his blade right through the skin on my right foreleg.

I wasn't too gravely injured, though it did burn like tartarus upon impact. In a wave of instinct, I pulled another one of the cans from my saddlebag, while simultaneously giving him a punch with my healthy foreleg. Stumbling back from the impact, he instantly dropped his weapon, only to charge at me once more, completely unarmed this time.

I let my hoof swing forward at him again, thus shoving the remaining can down his throat with an impressively powerful impact. Distracted by that, he skipped, which sent him flying right past me. Getting back up, he suddenly started choking similar as the mare had done earlier that night. I realized only then what I'd obviously done: Sent another dose of poison down somepony's system. He seemed to see it, too.

'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?' he yelled, just before making a break for the bathroom. I heard a few more choking sounds coming from his direction, and then nothing. Checking back with him a few minutes later, I found Black Dog lying motionlessly on the floor.

It didn't take me very long to recognize what happened. Instead, I left another message from my bleeding leg, then turned around, jolting out of the house as fast as my hoofs would carry me. Once outside, I grabbed my carriage, and raced back home. Hopefully, I thought, this night wouldn't have any further consequences for me. Which was obviously rather foolish of me. During the past few days, I haven't gotten any further note from anyone, so I guessed the whole matter would be resolved. But that's not the case. I realized that a little too late.

Finally, I'd like you all to know that I don't hold any grudge against any of you. I was naive from the first day on to think what I did wouldn't get me caught. I...suppose it's all in the natural order of things. And now, with all the suspects known to me being deceased, there is nothing more I could hope to inform you about. As far as I'm concerned, my case is concluded with this report. That is all.

Finishing his - in some ways excessively long - narrative, Mr Crossroads looked into three very different expressions given to him by three very different ponies.

First of all, Time Turner, who sat to my left. His eyes narrowed, and head slightly tilted to the side, he glanced at our guest with all his suspicions. It wouldn't surprise me, hadn't he believed everything Crossroads told him. After all, a pony in his position got paid for no less: Finding out the truth, no matter what. A good sense of doubt could never hurt in that kind of business. And maybe his trained senses had already discovered a few gaps and holes in Crossroads' story, which I happened to overlook.

I for once looked at the light brown stallion in a certain sense of fascination. His tale had no less sparked my interest, even if it didn't make sense at every single twist and turn. I suppose I would have been a lot more mistrustful, had I stood in Turner's horseshoes that day. After all, ignoring Lyra's weird sense of logic for once, I only was a civilian in this entire matter.

Lyra's expression hardly changed the moment Crossroads finished his last sentence. She nodded and constantly mumbled to herself all through his monologue, while constantly scribbling down his words onto the parchment in front of her. Even after he was done, the sound of her quilt scratching over the scroll's surface would fill the room for a few moments longer. When she finally looked up from her notes, she had a distant look on her face that none of us could possibly interpret.

"It does strike me," she began. "How you managed to elegantly remove your illness from this entire story of yours. Wouldn't it...have some sort of influence on your latest actions, if it were that urgent?"

Our eyes turned back to Crossroads; I could especially see a sense of curiosity lighten up in Turner's eyes. Surely, he had a similar question to his convict.

"Yes, well...yes," Crossroads admitted. "I suppose that is a small detail I wanted to leave out. Forgive my bluntness, but accepting this lethal threat hasn't been easy for me. It still isn't, matter of fact. I try not to think about it, most of the time. It's going to get to me either way. I guess my basic idea was that I could spend the last few days I had in this town...and at peace. When that peace got threatened by others, I might have overreacted a bit. I guess I just didn't want to die alone in a prison cell, but there's no way around that either way, now.

"Well, I can't say I have any other regrets. Maybe what I did was wrong, but it doesn't actually matter in the long run. At least this way I've had a somewhat interesting part of my life...even if it didn't last very long. There's not much more I could ask for."

Slowly rubbing her forehoofs together, Lyra nodded in satisfaction. She levitated her writing equipment back onto the nearby shelf, then sat back with some newly discovered ease.

"Now, wait a second," Turner suddenly blurted in between them. "So what about this Moriarty person? Don't you think you can give us his identity in some way, a name at least? Hey, what did I say now?" he added in annoyance, when Lyra started to chuckle over his questions.

"You did listen to him, didn't you?" she asked. "He never met this other pony, and every evidence that could lead us to him was destroyed months ago. He couldn't possibly tell us anything, even if he wanted to."

She leaped out of her armchair. "By the way, I suppose the time for you to leave us has arrived, either way. It looks like your requested transport to Canterlot is here."

"How would you - " Turner began, when at the same moment the entrance door to our apartment opened up behind him, revealing Miss Hooves, as well as our landlady standing behind her.

"Sir, your requested transport to Canterlot is here," the former stated, addressing Turner. Her expression turned somewhat puzzled when he only deadpanned in response. Without any more words, Time Turner trotted towards the door, leaving his colleague utterly confused. When she gave me a questioning look, I only shrugged and motioned towards Lyra with my head. I think she understood the rest.

Crossroads followed in Turner's tracks without much resistance. Of course, he had already seen that nothing good would come of trying to escape. In one way or another, I felt relieved to see him go. Though I did feel somewhat uncertain about what to do next. Breakfast sure hadn't been much of a success, to say the least.

Turning back around, I could see Lyra still looking towards the door, through which everyone else had just exited the scene. At that moment, the first signs of a grin started to pull at the corners of her mouth.

X. Retrospection

"What? What is it?" I asked, as the smirk on Lyra's face grew bigger by the second.

She didn't answer at first, but from her gestures and mimics I could easily tell that she was bursting with energy once again. At the same time I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. To me it seemed that our case was finished up and concluded for good. There'd be no reason for excitement on either of our parts, the way I saw it. The only logical consequence would mean for her to sit back and relax for once. Because despite all the minor annoyances she caused me during her struggle, I felt more than convinced that Lyra did in fact deserve her victory. Only the mint-green unicorn hardly seemed to agree with me on that topic. And if she did, she sure wouldn't show it.

When I tilted my head to the side in confusion, one eyebrow slightly raised, Lyra began to giggle. "HAH!" she then burst out, leaping a good two feet up into the air. "Brilliant! Oh, this is brilliant. Hearth's Warming Eve must have come early this year. Or did I just forget about my birthday again?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" I asked her. "I would've expected a little more excitement from your success inconcluding the case...however you did that. And when is your birthday, anyway? I don't think you ever told me."

Upon my question, Lyra ceased her ecstatic motion for once. Instead, she remained standing on the ground, eyes narrowed, one hoof tapping against her muzzle. "I don't see how that matters, not to our case, anyway. Besides, can't you see what it is that's so exciting right now?"

My brow furrowed, as I answered with a helpless shrug, hoping for her to elaborate a bit more on her position.

"Moriarty!" Lyra exclaimed, grinning from one ear to another. Her former excitement returned at once, it seemed. "Don't you see? I've waited for this ever since I had to leave Canterlot! Finally, after all this time, there's finally something going on in this dull little town of ours. And not just Ponyville, all of Equestria may be included in this business!"

I repeated my shrugging motion, still not grasping her concept.

"Oh, come on! It should be all too obvious. Isn't it obvious?"

"Can't say so."

"Very well, then. I'll explain it to you," she explained. "There exists some kind of larger organization, which we're dealing with at the moment. An underground network, operating all over the country, and lead by somepony hidden behind the name Moriarty. Most naturally, the criminals within only contact ponies like our dear Crossroads for their simpler jobs. He is, though sympathetic, not of a very bright nature, I suppose you will agree with me on that. Ponies like him easily fail to grasp the entire dimension of what it is they're working for. But from what I could gather, this entire network is huge, if it just so manages to operate on a nationwide basis.

"And now to think, this entire construct being run by supposedly one single pony! Moriarty, king of the thieves, robbers, and corrupted in all Equestria. A Neighpoleon of crime! Do you really think I'd consider permanently settling for this life I'm leading right now? Living day after day in Ponyville, receiving my paychecks by clearing out some minor murder cases? It would bore me to death within only a few months. As opposed to...well, whatever it is we're being confronted with at the moment. This is what I feel like I'm meant to do. The struggle against an arch-enemy. A powerful nemesis worthy of my vast intellect...some kind of challenge, see? Something to bring back the excitement in my job."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes. Of course. While you're at it, I'm thinking about preparing a second breakfast, since the other one didn't quite go as planned..."

"It's a game!" Lyra called out, as I started to turn towards our small kitchen. "A game between two ponies, both of them the very best at what they're doing. Like the grand final in a global championship of chess, or...something else made by...someone else. But that's not the point. What you're about to witness is most likely going to be the single most exciting and vast criminal hunt of our century. Isn't that exciting. Come on, you think so, too. You really should."

"A game?" I asked. All the while, I already felt sorry for having questioned her motifs in the first place. Now she felt like clarifying her point like reciting an entire encyclopedia on the subject. And why was that? Probably just because that's how Lyra worked.

"Consider it a round of chess, like I said. Come to think of it, I can actually picture my opponent making a necessary sacrifice, when instructing Crossroads the other day. I'm not so sure about our friend, the restaurant owner. But in the end, you could say that poor lad just pulled a checkmate on himself. It is kind of funny, looking at it from that angle."

"Funny?" I asked in disbelief. "He was poisoned and killed, mind you. You haven't forgotten about that yet, I'm sure?"

"So, you're just going to be snide. No helpful hints?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Never mind," she answered with a chuckle. "I shouldn't have used that one, anyway. It's someone else's."

We stared at each other in silence for another moment or so. I admit, my expression must have looked completely befuddled, since I hadn't the slightest clue where our conversation was steering at the moment. All the while, Lyra seemed like she'd burst into laughter again, any moment now. To say it bothered me would have been the understatement of the year.

"So, the two of you are playing a game of chess?" I asked. "And...that other pony sacrificed some of his own for whatever is going to be his next move?"

"Yes, and yes." Lyra raised a hoof upon her answer, scratching her chin once, maybe twice. "I think it's what you call collateral damage, isn't it?"

"Well...close enough," I stated. "But that's not the point. You're telling me that ponies involved in this whole affair are getting sacrificed for a greater cause. So, assuming this could happen to me too, what exactly am I still doing here?"

"It won't, not in that way," she said. "We don't sacrifice people for a greater cause. That's why we're the good guys, right?"

"I suppose that makes sense. But couldn't I still be in danger when playing this game? I mean, who exactly could assure me of the contrary?"

"I don't. You don't." Lyra answered my request with a shrug and an indifferent tone, as if there was nothing more natural in the world. "Quite frankly, no-one can assure you of that, now. And neither could they when we first met, or when you first decided to move in here. Dealing with a murder case, you've been involved in this entire affair ever since. And been in the same danger, though you could have stepped away from it at any given time. Yet here you are, safe and sound, most likely unwilling to leave any time soon."

I shot her a questioning look, while simultaneously getting this weird feeling again, assuming she was - in some way - analyzing me.

"You did enjoy this, even though you might not fully notice it yourself. And you are interested in what's going to happen next. There's no denying in that." She grinned, once again. "Honestly, sometimes you're easier to read than some elementary school student's textbook, my dear Bon Bon."

"Well, I - " I trailed off for a moment, pondering her words about in my head. Thinking of the matter, I remembered several occasions that fit her description surprisingly well. Including my sudden sense of persuasion after first moving into this apartment. "I...I could, meaning I do suppose you may not be wrong...entirely."

"I'm never wrong."

"Yeah, you are."

"Like when?"

It was my turn for a self-satisfied smirk, now. "Like when you said our two murderers were linked by somehow having an affair? Or pretty much everything about that underground network? Admit it, you never saw that coming."

"Well..." she began, slowly, pursing her lips. "I could have been. But then again, there can hardly be any process of learning without ever making any mistakes in one's reasoning. But I'll definitely keep it in mind for the future."

"For the future...good point," I replied. "So, what's the next move now, anyway?"

"Not mine to make," Lyra told me. Her sudden doubts were gone in an instant. "I've made mine by removing our dear friend Crossroads off the map. Now, it's my opponent's turn to make a difference. I do hope he'll make it worth my while."

"Huh?"

"For the moment, I could use a little snack, like I said. I haven't eaten anything all day, as you may have noticed. Time is already approaching noon by now, so I assume Sugarcube Corner should open up just about now. Are you coming along?"

My view shifted between her and the kitchen counter, my self-made scrambled eggs still resting on top. "Well - uh - what about the stuff that I prepared earlier? That didn't go bad, just yet..."

"Yes, of course. But we can have that any time. Do I have to repeat my question, or are you coming along, now?"

"No need for that. You already did."

"Well, I...ugh, alright. Just...just come along."

"Whatever," I concluded, as we made for the door. With a soft punch to her shoulder, I added, "You owe me one, though."

Once outside, back on the street, we found ourselves face to face with Time Turner once again. Or maybe not exactly that, since he still had his back turned towards us. For the moment, he stood on the sidelines of Bucker Street, a skeptical look on his face pointing north. The same direction, in which our prisoner's transport presumably just disappeared.

"I hope you didn't have any further kind of trouble," Lyra greeted the inspector from behind, making him jump in surprise. "You seem pretty concerned."

Fit to his name, Turner turned around to greet her. He looked like his teeth already started grinding. Which wouldn't be much of a surprise, considering his nerves had pretty much remained on edge all week. "I swear to Celestia..." he began, only to be cut off by my companion on short notice.

"Don't," Lyra told him. "That's hardly worth it."

"Fine, fine..." he said. "No, just hitching a ride back into town. I don't think I could drag you two along in an official government vehicle without causing too much of a fuzz. I've got tons of paperwork to look forward to as it is, especially considering your involvement. However helpful that might have been."

"That's fine with me," my companion stated. "I can always call for my cab driver, or...oh, right."

"...or we could just walk over there," I added, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah, we probably should," Lyra replied. "Well, it's been nice talking to you," she added, padding Turner on the shoulder. I could clearly see his eyes narrow upon the motion, but he didn't have anything further to add.

"There might be some further help required for you considering this Moriarty person," she yelled back to him, as we walked off to the south. "Well, you know where to find me."

End of Part One