Soft sunlight rolled in between the curtains, its golden splendor not unlike that of a perfectly baked pie crust.
Soarin' noticed this when the sunlight crept across his room, up his bed, and into his face. Ah, that, warm, wonderful, life-giving glow.
He immediately stumbled out of bed, shuffled over to the window, and shut the curtains. Then he slowly made his way back to the bed and plopped down on it, rubbing his eyes.
"Ugh. I swear Celestia has no respect for guys like me. When's eternal night coming back?"
Sleeping 24 hours a day appealed to Soarin' very much. Mostly because it gave him 24 hours in bed, which left....
He thought for a moment.
Zero hours each day of not being in bed!
"Gee. Handsome, fast, and smart. Why didn't Celestia make me an alicorn?"
And pretty modest too, he added as an afterthought. Since he was awake, he decided he might as well get up and head downstairs - especially since that big, tasty home-made cherry pie from Sugarcube Corner was waiting in the fridge. Cherry pie for breakfast was a little out of the ordinary, he had to admit to himself. But what the heck, pie's pie!
Almost salivating, hooves clip-clopping across the tiled kitchen floor, he went straight to the refrigerator and swung the door open
"Man, oh, man. Just you and me, my little cherry-"
He stared down at the space where the pie should have been. All that he could see was a few tiny crumbs.
"Wuh-"
He frantically searched the shelf above and below. He even checked the freezer, his forelegs a blur, shoveling foodstuffs out of the freezer and catapulting them over his shoulders.
"No way. Did I eat it in my sleep?"
He galloped out into the hall and looked hard into the mirror, checking for the tiniest trace of cherry pie round his mouth - not a crumb. He checked the garbage to see if the pie dish was in there - nothing.
"Someone stole my pie. Someone stole my pie. Someone stole my pie!"
That was the last pie in the store too. He'd have to wait until next week before they started on a new batch. He couldn't, wouldn't wait that long for his pie fix.
But who could have it? And would any be left?
"Darn. Only pony I've seen in the last couple days is Dash, pretty sure she wouldn't... or would she?"
The seed of doubt had been sown. But Soarin' didn't want to accuse a close friend lightly. What he needed was a proper detective, someone who knew how to get to the bottom of this with efficiency and efficacy. And he didn't want to accuse Rainbow Dash of something he couldn't be sure she'd done, or he'd never hear the end of it.
"Dammit. I gotta get in touch with that detective pony... just need to remember where his agency is."
Not wanting to waste a single minute, Soarin' flew out and up into the sky, making a beeline for Ponyville.
After some asking around, and a quick run-in and chat with Rainbow Dash (who was convinced there was something he wasn't telling her) he found what he was looking for. He landed in front of the agency, looked up, and read aloud the notice on the door.
"Inspector Croupseau - Specialist in all forms of mystery and misdemeanor."
Perfect. He stepped inside without hesitation.
A little bell above the door signaled his entry to the occupants.
At the other end of the long, rectangular room was a large desk, adorned with an old-fashioned table lamp, piles of documents, and beside the desk, a brown tweed trilby hanging on a hat stand.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged, grey pony with a moustache, wearing a large trench coat. He seemed to be scrutinising one of the documents. He spoke without looking up.
"Bonjour, monsieur. I weyl be weith yeu in a meument."
Soarin just managed to catch what he said.
Huh, that's a weird accent. Guess he's not from round these parts.
"Yeu preubably think I'm neut freum areund these peurts."
"I'm sorry?"
"That's quite alright, I forgive yeu."
"Right."
He finished writing on the document and tapped the pen against the paper before picking up the pile of pages and promptly throwing them in the waste paper basket beside the desk.
"Meust keep the handwriting practiuse geuing, yieu knieuw. It's impeurtant in this line of weurk."
He pushed his chair back and stood, pushing up his tie knot and brushing himself down.
"So, whaut can I do for yeu, m'sieur?"
Soarin', still a little baffled, stepped forward and sat in the chair on his side of the desk.
"Someone stole something from me. I think I know who did it, but I'm not a hundred percent sure - that's where you come in."
"Ah, I see. Seumthing steulen. Hm. I've much experieunce with steulen theungs, yieu've ceum to the right peuny."
He produced a small metal lighter from one of his coat pockets, and made to light it.
"Do you mind if I...?"
Soarin' assumed he wanted to light a cigarette.
"Uh, sure."
Instead, he lit the lighter, and raised a piece of scrunched-up paper to it. When it was burning, he tossed it into the waste paper basket.
"Makes more reum in the basket, yieu knieuw. Now, yeur case. Wheut exactly is eet yieu want me to do?"
Soarin sighed.
"A friend of mine... a close friend - I think they stole it. My, um, pie."
Croupseau raised an eyebrow.
"Yeur... peu?"
"No. Pie."
"That is what I said."
"Okay, whatever. Yes, I think Rainbow dash stole my... pie."
Soarin's head dropped. Croupseau stood, and paced backwards and forwards behind his desk. Due to a lack of room, he had to pace backwards, and then forwards, without turning around.
"I see that thius ees impeurtant to yeau. I would not take up such a case usually yieu knieuw, but in this eenstance, I feel... obliged teu."
Soarin' raised his head again, the trace of a smile at his lips.
"Thank you, Inspector. I think we should start at my house and work our way from there."
Croupseau donned his trilby and led Soarin' back out the door.
