A Study in Mint

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."