The jail was in lockdown for the night, and all of the inmates were confined to their cells until breakfast time which began at exactly 6 AM and ended at exactly 7 AM. At that time, the inmates were confined to their cells once again for the facility count. Everything was strictly regulated and told everypony exactly when to eat, when to play, and when to sleep. Because there were no clocks in the cells, the nights were unforgivingly long and cold.

Rainbow Dash lay uncomfortably on the nylon mat and stared at the walls where she had taped the papers that she had received from her lawyer at the discovery hearing. All of those reports which outlined her guilt stirred anger in her heart. She constantly and desperately tried to come up with an explanation as to how she would have come to be falsely accused. She was tired of thinking about it, but there wasn't much else to do at night.

She hadn't made any friends in the jail and had barely left her cell to get food. The other inmates had made it abundantly clear that she was lucky to have avoided a cell-mate, known colloquially as a 'celly', in the few days she had been there. Rainbow felt fortunate to be allowed the opportunity to perform necessary bodily functions without the presence of another, but she was becoming lonely. Not lonely in the traditional sense that she longed for an interpersonal relationship, but she just wanted somepony to talk to that was relatable in some way.

All of the ponies in Dash's unit were thieves, liars, and con-artists, and they simply didn't have the capacity to share with another pony. Their lies had become such a part of their identity that they had no choice but to believe their own dishonesty lest they lose a part of themselves. It was the consistent self-gratifying empty boasting that she found so detestable about them which pushed her to keep to herself.

Rainbow Dash was beginning to make peace with having yet another sleepless night as the words of the reports ran through her head. She was trying to calm her mind as well as block out the sound of the cell-mates having sex in the adjacent cell. She noted that their activity sounded consensual, but she was still hugely uncomfortable of it. She didn't have an issue with homosexuality, but sexuality in any capacity within the walls of the jail was considered rape because inmates have a legally reduced capacity for consent; thus, the jail motto was, “No means no, and yes is not allowed.” It was against the rules, and she felt like she should report it, but the report wouldn't do any good. It would most likely only get Dash beat up by the numerous inmates whose favorite phrase was “Snitches get stitches.”

Rainbow shook her head of all thoughts, turned onto her side, and closed her eyes. She just wanted to sleep. She didn't want to think about how confusing forensic palynology was. She didn't even know that was a thing, but according to that report, she had been in the area where Twilight's body was dumped. Rainbow strained her mind to figure out how she had gotten candy-lion pollen in her mane.

A sudden penetrating image flashed across her vision; Ghastly Gorge. She sat up quickly in shock of her recollection of a certain brain clearing flight. She mutely remembered the wipe-out into the candy-lions which thusly secured her position as primary suspect. Her mind raced through how she was supposed to explain that the outlandish coincidence was exactly that. She focused so hard that she became insensitive to the confined lovers' soft moans that grew into wails of pleasure. They certainly caught the attention of everypony else, except the sleeping detention guard, as other inmates were quietly calling for them to keep it down.

Rainbow fell back against the mat, having forgotten about its hardness, and thudded her head against the steel below the nylon. She thought deeply through the new ache in her skull for a way to communicate with her friends and put their brains to work. She needed help conveying that she was at Twilight’s dump site, and yet completely innocent.

She rubbed behind her ear with a hoof and stared at the ceiling some more. She worried about sending a letter through conventional mail because the guards read everything that leaves and enters the facility to control contraband and monitor gang activity. She felt like she would be signing a confession if she admitted it on paper. It was hopeless. She had never felt so alone and helpless in her life.

Rainbow turned onto her side and desperately avoided talking to herself. She figured that lying in her bed and chatting herself up would be the first step to going crazy, but all the thoughts running through her mind only exacerbated the soreness of her head. Although, the dull pain that was ringing in her ears was welcomed as it drowned out the sound of the neighboring inmates climaxing together.

* * *

The morgue was smaller than Fluttershy anticipated, but the ghoulishly unnerving feeling of casualty hidden behind the chrome doors certainly met expectation. The florescent tubes above Fluttershy and Envoy did little to lighten the disparity.

Redheart asked them both to stand still as she applied a small amount of cream to their upper lips. It smelled powerfully like mangos, but its soothing scent had no effect on Fluttershy's racing heart. Nurse Redheart explained that it was to mask the bodies' odor which also wasn't soothing in any way.

They made their way down the thin corridor that was almost too small for them to walk three ponies wide. Fluttershy eyed the drawers with the tiny white name plates on the drawers, and she could almost see all of the lost friends and family through the cold stainless steel. She had a brief moment of mortality and thought of the statistic she would inevitably become at the conclusion of her life.

Nurse Redheart gripped the handle of the door marked 'T. Sparkle' and pulled the drawer outward as if revealing the contents of a file cabinet. A bleached white sheet covered Twilight's body and made her appear like a specter that was waiting to show them the errors of their past, present, or future.

The nurse curved a hoof over the cover to pull it back when Fluttershy collapsed on the floor, buried her face under her hooves, and shouted, "Stop! Stop! I can't! I just can't see her like this!"

Envoy knelt down and attempted to peer through Fluttershy's hooves, "Fluttershy, we need you. I know this isn't easy, but you're helping her."

"What good am I?" Fluttershy clasped her hooves tightly against her face and cried, "I'm not going to be any use. This isn't going to work!"

Envoy stood and shrugged at Redheart, "Sorry, Nurse. We're not trying to waste your time. Just give me a few moments with her."

Redheart nodded and the room became silent except the clopping of her hooves on the linoleum floor as she made her way out.

Envoy Fluttershy and sighed, "I'm sorry, but this is important."

"I know." Fluttershy stood with her eyes closed, "I have to do this."

Fluttershy’s eyes peeled slowly as she made weak steps to Twilight's side and stared intently at the sheet that covered her lost friend. Envoy watched Fluttershy struggle from across Twilight's body and awaited a sign to continue.

“Are you ready?” Envoy finally asked while poising a hoof on the sheet and preparing to uncover the body.

“No.” Fluttershy said, but she looked to Envoy and hesitantly nodded.

Envoy reached over Twilight and carefully folded the sheet back to Twilight’s chest. She watched Fluttershy take in the sight of Twilight’s lifeless face.

A quiet gasp struck Fluttershy, but she bit her lip and tried to keep herself composed. Her shallow breaths echoed in the morgue and she tried to say something, but a barely audible squeaking came out. She attempted a deep cleansing breath, but she just closed her eyes so hard that she trembled and forgot to breathe. A sudden hard sigh hit her in the mouth and a bit of drool spat out onto the floor.

“Besides her injuries-” A halting hoof was held up to Envoy's face.

“No, no, no...” Fluttershy gasped out. Her chest swelled and contracted again and again until her nausea began to subside, and she opened her eyes again. She blew air, took a moment to dry her face with her wing, and her voice voiced only consonants, “Okay, I'm sorry. Go ahead.”

Envoy continued softer, “Besides her injuries contributing to the cause of death, do you see anything abnormal?”

“I don't see anything.” Fluttershy said slowly. “I'm sorry.”

“That's okay.” Envoy assured as she levitated a notepad, “That just means that the injuries we found were all sustained during her final moments.”

Fluttershy stared at her friend's closed eyes and sunken features. Twilight's mouth was pressed into a thin line which led to the exposed lower teeth on the left side of her face. She appeared peaceful in a state of rest, but the abhorrent gashes in her throat and face burned Fluttershy's mind and urged her to look away. Despite that, Fluttershy began to find a peculiar sense of ease and closure in sight of Twilight’s tranquility.

Fluttershy put a hoof on her friend's shoulder, “Twilight... You were the best friend anypony could have. We're going to take care of Spike and everything is going to be okay.” Fluttershy leaned down and softly kissed her cold forehead.

After choking back sympathetic emotion for a few moments, Envoy moved a plastic sack with three small green rocks into the light, "The examiner found these." Envoy sniffled, "We aren't sure of their significance, but we're hoping that you had an idea."

Fluttershy shook her head before realizing what they were, but then she was paralyzed by shock, "Those… Those are one of Zecora's doorstops."

Envoy wrote quickly on the levitated notepad, "Zecora the zebra?"

Surprise overtook Fluttershy's grief and was quickly replaced with betrayal followed by anger. "That... that..." Her thoughts crammed words into Fluttershy's mouth so quickly that she couldn't choose any of them when she suddenly shouted, "That BITCH!"

Fluttershy immediately galloped as fast as she could out of the morgue and exited the hospital in flight to Scroot's cabin with speed that would make Rainbow Dash proud.

* * *

Teddy's Transportation was a large dirt yard outlined with cedar privacy fencing. Held within the grounds were hundreds of carts of varying size and style. In the northeast corner of the compound, a single wide trailer was parked next to the chain link entry gate. A dilapidated steel license plate hung from the storm door by aluminum twine with 'Office' spray painted on the displayed reverse side.

Pinkie Pie and Applejack stepped into the trailer where a dusty mahogany desk rested in the center with a blue earth pony sleeping behind it. His gold mane was short and spiked in the front which misrepresented the shoulder length hair lying across the back of his neck. He had his rear hooves settled on the calendar in the center of the desk, his forelegs wrapped around his middle, and his chin rested on his chest. In his slumber, he had begun to drool on his navy blue button up work shirt on which 'teddy' was embroidered in white on the left breast.

Applejack raised a snide brow at Pinkie Pie before ringing the bell on the desk loudly.

Teddy didn't jump or otherwise react unexpectedly, but simply opened his eyes and glared at the ponies before him. He dropped his hooves to the floor and rubbed his face as he yawned. He allowed his forelegs to fall into his lap tiredly while looking over Applejack and Pinkie.

“I'm sorry.” Teddy said in a heavy southern drawl. “The foal's been fussy overnight. Is there somethin' I can help you with?”

“Yessir.” Applejack nodded, “We're investigating a cart that may belong to you.”

Pinkie Pie raised a hoof, “It's actually a sled.”

Teddy opened a drawer in the desk, balanced a binder on his hoof, and presented it to the mares. “This is our log. I know I might not've given the impression of bein' diligent, but it's up to date.” He allowed the book to fall on the desk. “What's this all about, anyway? If I'm allowed to ask. I hope we ain't in no trouble.”

Pinkie shook her head, “We're not investigating you, silly. We're just trying to figure out who was the last pony to have your sled.”

Applejack stared into the log book and her heart thudded against her chest in anticipation of the information she and Pinkie were about to uncover. Pinkie glanced at Applejack a few times before taking initiative and nosing open the binder. The date of Twilight's murder headed the page in bold red text over an arrangement of small rectangular fields in which the renter's name, the cart's number, and the projected return date would be written.

Three carts had been rented that day. The one that hadn't been returned was numbered 30012 under the name “B&N Frisky.”

“I assume you're here for thirty-aught-twelve.” Teddy began, “Did Charlie hire y'all? 'Cause I don't want no investigation over a missing cart on the company bit. We got insurance for that.”

“Nopony hired us, sir.” Applejack said without looking up.

“Well, gosh darn. Y'all just helpin' a neighbor out?” Teddy smiled. “I sure appreciate chya.”

Applejack intently stared at the name on the page and searched her head for a face to put to it. She thought so hard that she hadn't realized she had said it aloud several times.

“Don't hurt yourself, girl.” Teddy said. “That name there's what fancy folk call a pseudonym.”

Applejack became panicked, “A fake name?! Why in the hay would you let somepony put a fake name in your log?”

Teddy held up his hooves to Applejack calmingly, “Simmer down, now. I only did it because that filly was stirring up quite a scene.”

“How did you know it's a fake name?” Pinkie asked with a raised brow and suspected that Teddy knew “B&N Frisky” prior to doing business with them.

“Everypony knows that crazy broad.” Teddy said matter-of-factly. “She came in here with a terrible disguise declarin', 'Pay no particular attention to The Benign and Negligible Frisky!' Which is funny because everypony that was here has mentioned her at least once a day since.”

Teddy laughed while closing the book and putting it back into the desk, “Then she said she wanted a sled. It's spring! I asked if she wanted one of the cheaper carts. You know, with wheels!?”

He leaned back in his chair and kicked his hooves up again. “And you know what she says? Get this, she says, 'The Benign and Negligible Frisky doesn't trust wheels.”

Pinkie Pie stopped Teddy from continuing, “Who is she?”

Teddy gave them a look as if they were asking him what color the sky was, “You seriously don't know.” He let out a surprised chortle and then answered...

* * *

Ponyville was winding down quickly with ponies in their homes performing some before-bed chores and a few parents hustling colts and fillies to bed for the night. The sky had been cleared to make way for the moon to shine upon the sleeping town as the sun descended. The air was sweet, crisp, and cool except around Scroot's head where the hot thick smoke floated away from his nose.

Scroot was deep in thought while he wandered without direction down the main street of Ponyville. Doubt shrouded every piece of evidence and everything he believed he knew about the case. He didn't want to admit he was wrong without something hard to prove it, but he had begun to exclude Rainbow Dash from the murder.

He crossed his eyes to look at the burning filter just beyond his nose before dropping the butt and extinguishing it with a hoof. He stood for a moment to watch the peaceful neighborhood and shook his head at the thought of the residents being subjected to the first major crime in their blemishless history.

A stocky black unicorn was pulling a cart slowly down the north-bound side of the street and levitating trash bags from the houses he passed. His stake-bed cart was black polished oak and was much nicer than one would think a trash bin would be. Three ropes were tied around the four-by-four stakes; one around the top, one near the middle, and one just above the bed of the cart. The aluminum placards on both sides and the rear had bright green, block lettering that said "TRASH" on them. If the garbage pony was out doing his rounds, than it must have been later than Scroot thought.

“It's a hell of a thing.” The garbage pony said. His voice was strangely effeminate.

“Ain't it?” Scroot said nonchalantly.

“You're that big wig investigator?” The trash unicorn asked. His voice was soft enough to be mistaken for a mare. It was mostly surprising because, although he wasn't as big as Bulk Biceps, he could give that muscle head a run for his money.

Scroot nodded and then nosed in his pocket for another cigarette, but instead retrieved the empty box. He mutely cursed to himself for having forgotten to grab his other pack.

“You had Rainbow Dash arrested.” The black unicorn said flatly.

Scroot looked up and wasn’t unsure where that was going. Rainbow Dash was a good friend to many ponies in Ponyville, and her arrest made Scroot not too popular around town. The seasoned investigator had a few tricks up his sleeves which may help him with a pony his own size, but he was pretty sure this unicorn would swat him like a fly.

Scroot proceeded cautiously, “Yeah, I did.”

The unicorn's horn glowed a cold green that matched his crew cut mane, and he raised a pack of menthol 100's from the outside pocket on his saddlebag, “You really think she did it?” A thin white cigarette, encompassed with the green magic, floated to Scroot, and the unicorn took one out for himself as well.

A nice gesture from somepony with an apparent distain for the investigator that pointed a hoof at Rainbow Dash, but Scroot wasn't going to turn down free nicotine. He pressed his pocket for his lighter but only felt his chest underneath his coat. Scroot twisted his face and pictured his lighter which was sitting next to the ash tray on his porch where he had left it.

“I did.” Scroot said. “I'm starting to think I got the wrong pony.” He paused and felt stupid for having to say, "I need to borrow your light."

"You need me to smoke it for you, too?" The unicorn chuckled. He pointed his cigarette up toward his horn with his lips, and a pop, like a tiny bolt of lightning, struck the tip of the cigarette and lit it.

Envoy knows that spell, but she only used it once, and it took two weeks for Scroot's eyebrow to grow back. Before Scroot could decline, a flash blinded him for a moment, and he jumped so hard that he nearly dropped his lit cigarette.

“There you go, buddy.” The unicorn smiled.

Scroot blinked a few times trying to rid himself of the jagged spots covering his vision, “Thanks.”

“The name's Grand Overture. Most ponies just call me Randy.” The unicorn extended a hoof.

“Scroot.” The investigator replied, and he shook hooves with Randy. Grand Overture, Scroot thought, and he absent mindedly leaned to look at Randy's cutie mark and saw that it was a simple white bass clef.

“You checking me out, Scroot? I don't swing that way.” Randy laughed.

“It's just, with a name and a cutie mark like that; I just wonder how you got the garbage gig.” Scroot said without reaction to Randy's joke.

“It pays the bills.” Randy said simply. “I can play the ever loving crap out of a bass guitar. The musicians around here are into that electronic junk or classical.”

Scroot raised a brow, “What's wrong with classical?”

“It's not metal. Besides, those classical ponies are real snooty.” Randy took a long pull on his cigarette.

Scroot shrugged, “Why not go to Manehattan? There's a pretty decent rock scene around there. I crashed many a party and arrested many a rocker pony when I was a cop.” Scroot nodded and thought, good times.

Randy blew smoke while shaking his head, “I had a band in Manehattan quite a while ago. I had to quit and come to Ponyville for my mother's sake." He exhaled hard, "I couldn't put her in a home.”

Scroot smiled, “Noble. Especially if you guys were any good.”

Randy sucked on the cigarette again, “We were good, too. They got signed right after I quit and the producers gave them some studio bassist jack-off. You may've heard of Two Hoof Death Buck, but they're nothing like we used to be.”

“I've seen articles about that band in the paper every once in a while, but that metal shit is just noise. I've never given it a listen.” Scroot said. “I prefer... music.”

“I see,” Randy laughed. "Sonic violence is the whole point.”

“That doesn't make it any more appealing.” Scroot shrugged. “Those metal-head ponies are some fucking strange folks. I wouldn't get involved with that crowd if I had a fifth leg growing out of my ass.”

“Sure, I wouldn't deny that, but that crowd's also got some hot and freaky mares, though.” Randy smiled.

Scroot shook his head while blowing smoke, “I wouldn't fuck any of them with a ten foot dick.” He said. “I don't stick my dick in crazy.”

Randy took another puff from his cigarette while he looked Scroot over, “I'm guessing you lived in Manehattan. You came to Ponyville to get away from crazy?”

Scroot shrugged, “These ponies are good folk and half-way normal.”

Randy laughed hard with a grey cloud wafting from his throat, “Normal?!”

“Yeah.” Scroot nodded with a small shrug. “What's not to like about them?”

“Don't get me wrong, Scroot. They're likable, but normal? Please.” Randy's horn glowed as he adjusted his saddlebag. “Seriously though, what part of this populace is normal? Like the other day; I was doing my rounds, and I see this idiot pulling a sled in the middle of the night.”

Scroot froze and his cigarette fell from his lips, “A sled?”

“Yeah, over by the train station. So, I asked her if she needed help because, you know, it's the middle of spring, for Celestia's sake, and she was having a tough time on the dirt.” Randy recalled.

Scroot's face remained frozen and he said, “Uh huh...”

“She screams at me to get away from her and proceeds to pick up the entire cart with her magic and take off with it in a dead sprint. I've never seen such a pretty mare so sweaty.” He laughed.

“Uh huh.”

“So, it's teetering in her magic, you know, 'cause it's got to be heavy, right? She drops it, tries to drag it, and then picks it up again trying desperately not to lose the load. It was hilarious!”

“Uh huh.”

“She runs off and I'm left thinking, Boy, this town has got some strange ponies in it. And the truly crazy part is; that kind of thing happens daily. Just plain and simple weird stuff.” Randy concluded while beginning to realize that Scroot isn't laughing, smiling, or reacting in any way.

“Where was she going?” Scroot interrogated.

“I don't know. South?” Randy shrugged.

“What color was she?”

“Blue,” Randy answered suspiciously, “Why?”

Scroot cantered to the Randy’s side, pulled the cart’s release with his teeth, and dropped the harness to the ground.

Randy looked down at the harness and then back up to Scroot, “What the hell?”

“You need to come to my cabin right now.” Scroot commanded.

“Dude, I don't swing that way.” Randy said with genuine concern.

“No.” Scroot waved his hoof dismissively, “I need you to submit a statement.”

Randy recoiled and raised a brow, “What for? Am I in trouble?”

Scroot explained slowly and concisely, "That pony, with the sled, is the killer I've been looking for.”

“How do you know?” Randy asked.

Scroot shook his head, “I can't explain it to you, but I need you to tell me everything you saw and everything you know about that pony, Randy. You may be the key to solving this case.”

“I don't know much about her.” Randy shrugged, “Her name is...”

* * *

Fluttershy head butted the front door and scattered splinters from the broken frame onto the floor. The door swung open and slammed into the inside wall as she leaped over the front desk, madly pulled files from the cabinets, and threw them onto the table. She laid out the dozens of photographs of the hair found at the scenes. She shuffled through and arranged all of the blue ones in front of herself. Her eyes were wide in a half-crazed examination of the photographs as she carefully scrutinized every detail.

Rarity gasped at the broken door as she entered the cabin, “Fluttershy, dear. What happened to the door?”

Fluttershy shot a glare of insanity to Rarity and shouted, “It doesn't match Rainbow!”

Rarity looked over the wood on the floor, “Scroot is not going to be happy about this.”

“The hair in these pictures is clearly deep cornflower!” Fluttershy stomped a hoof on the floor, “Rainbow Dash is cerulean!”

Rarity nodded, “You're preaching to the choir, Fluttershy. I know Rainbow is innocent. You're acting a little crazy.”

“What you don't understand is that cornflower is exactly what I thought the hair color would be before I even left the hospital.” Fluttershy explained. She stared back at the photographs and her eyes shifted quickly among them, “I was just confirming it.”

Rarity made her way to Fluttershy's side and patted her, “What did you find at the hospital?”

Fluttershy closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose, and let it all out through her mouth. She did it once more, calmed herself, and said, “I know who did this.”

“You, what?!” Rarity exclaimed. “Who? Who?!”

“Celestia’s mercy!” Envoy shouted upon seeing the destruction at the door. “Scroot is going to be pissed! What the hell?!”

Fluttershy looked up to Envoy, “Oh, I'm really sorry. I just got excited.”

Rarity stepped between them, “Fluttershy, who did this?”

Envoy poked the jamb and watched it lazily dangle from one remaining screw, “This is ridiculous! I stand up for you when Scroot is around. Are you just testing my abilities to keep him from killing you all?”

Fluttershy craned her neck to see Envoy around Rarity, “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Envoy shook her head and blew air, “Being sorry is good and all, but we’d better start coming up with a damn good story to explain this.”

Rarity grabbed Fluttershy’s face, “Fluttershy, who did this?”

“I did.” Fluttershy admitted. “I really am sorry. I should have used the knob.”

“Don't we have Timberwolves around this time of year?” Envoy rubbed her chin. “We could say you were being chased.”

Rarity turned to Envoy and pointed a hoof at her, “Envoy, please stop talking!” Rarity quickly turned back to Fluttershy and hadn’t realized that she had begun shouting, “Who killed Twilight?”

Fluttershy said, “Oh! No, that wasn’t me.”

Rarity's face turned bright pink as she stifled frustration, drew in a cleansing breath, and said calmly, “I know, dear. Who did?”

Fluttershy tried to hold back the tears as she said it, but her efforts weren't recognized. Through the squeeze of Rarity's hooves on her face, she said...

* * *

At that very moment, three ponies, in three separate locations, were led by three different series of events to unknowingly state in unison, “The Great and Powerful Trixie.”

Author's Note

The multiple points of view all coming together at the same time, works well in my head, but I'm not sure about it on paper. I like it, so I left it.