With a creak of complaint, the gates to one of Little Hoofington’s three prison cells rolled open.

Cadabra Smile’s sanguine grin was as disdainful as the swishing gesture she made with her hips just to billow her cobalt cape in Beat Trotter’s direction. The deputy sheriff of Little Hoofington scowled from under the brim of his Stetson, but stood idly by as the cultist in his custody went free. Cadabra’s prideful countenance made the entire constabulary seem to wilt with inferiority as she stamped her hoof and smiled.

“Art thou satisfied now, Captain Silvermane?” She declared to the decorated white stallion that stood before her while gesturing to the back room. “Or dost thou plan to incarcerate us for this terrible crime as well, when we were only practicing our right to our faith? Thine subordinate kept his rum-soaked countenance at our neck for the entire evening. We neither called upon our magic nor attempted to escape.” She glanced at Beat Trotter, somehow making the simple acknowledgement of his presence look sloppy and insulting, “Corroborate us!”

Beat Trotter looked as though he was being asked to testify in defense of Tirek himself. He sighed deeply, leaned against the wall, and chewed on the end of a pencil.

“…she’s right,” He confirmed. “I was here all night. She just sat there, starin’ at the moon outside the cell window and saying all sorts of fancy things.”

“Those fancy things,” Cadabra added insult to injury by mocking Trotter’s tone as well as his words, “were the Litanies of The Night. They are part of our Gospel, to be recited in times of duress.” She whirled back on Silvermane, piercing him with her gaze. “Duress such as unjust imprisonment by a constabulary that judges those who are different from them without cause.”

Silvermane’s expression was unreadable. He held in his embarrassment, refusing to allow the falsely accused an inch upon which to gloat. He stood aside.

“You’re free to go.”

Cadabra shook her head just to swish the starry sparkles in her lilac mane in the reflective glow of sunlight on snow.

“Where is our apology?”

Silvermane bristled. Behind him he could still hear Whatzit’s vain attempts to calm the nerves of Buttermilk Waffle. The new corpse that now rested in the back room had been brought in at dawn on the back of Buttermilk’s husband. They had disturbed the crime scene by bringing the body all the way to the constabulary, but Hector took one look at Buttermilk’s expression of utter despair and found he couldn’t bring himself to fault them for trying to do the right thing.

On the other hoof, Hector was just about finished with the disrespectfully prideful smirks from Cadabra Smile at a time like this. He chose to give her what she asked for and send her on her way quickly, before his urge to tell her where to go became too much to deny.

“We apologize for our error,” He said dispassionately.

Cadabra flicked her sangria ears, as if tasting the words that entered them. Finally she shrugged.

“As well thou shouldst be. Goodday.”

With a flourish, Cadabra lit her horn and simply disappeared in a puff of teleportation magic. The sound of retreating hoofsteps crunching through the snow told Silvermane her range at least had limits.

Silvermane heard the sound of floorboards creaking. He turned to meet the grave stare of Constable Rose, as the olive drab unicorn emerged from the back room.

“Well?” Hector inquired. Rose averted her eyes out of politeness to the dead.

“Everything was just like Buttermilk said,” Rose replied. “Poor mare was barely anythin’ more than a filly, but y’could hardly tell that now unless ya knew what yer lookin’ fer.” Despite her rough edge, Rose took a breath and softened her tone. “She’s missing both her wings, three legs, her cutie mark, an eye…them gashes look like a wild animal made ‘em…”

Hector heard Buttermilk Waffle gasp. He turned to find her where he had left her – on the couch before the fire, with a steaming, untouched cup of black coffee on the table in front of her. Whatzit was sitting next to her looking utterly helpless.

“I’m sorry, Missus Waffle,” Hector offered. “I know you’re trained in healthcare, but considering the circumstances I had to have somepony from the constable’s office confirm your report of the injuries that killed Specs.” He sighed. “Further, I…have to ask you again what you know about this.”

A lumbering, pineapple presence filled the doorway, accompanied by a baritone so deep, it seemed unreal coming from a pegasus.

“Captain,” Maple Waffle said sternly, “We both already told you all we know. You’re upsetting my wife.”

Hector held his ground. “Be that as it may, Mister Waffle, Specs was entrusted to your clinic for the evening. And you said you saw no evidence that anypony went out last night.”

Maple opened his mouth to protest rather than answer, but Buttermilk held up a periwinkle hoof to silence him. Her cheeks were marred with dried tear tracks and her shoulders were still slightly quivering, but her voice was strong.

“It’s all right, honey. Captain Silvermane is just doing his job, and he’s correct – Specs went home with us last night, and now she’s dead.”

“B-but we didn’t—”

Buttermilk silenced her husband again. “You know that, and I know that. The Captain justifiably needs to be convinced.” She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and reiterated her story.

“We found her in the lobby, Captain, just before sunrise. I suppose the reason we didn’t hear her scream is because her throat had been torn out, and I guess…a clever and particularly savage killer would probably think to do something like that first. We rushed her into the examination room anyway, because healthcare is our duty, but…we’re just a clinic. Nevertheless, we had to try.”

“You tried to save her life then,” Silvermane concluded. Buttermilk glanced down at her twiddling hooves.

“For all the good it would do, yes we did. It all happened so fast, we didn’t even realize her vitals were nonexistent until we were already trying to resuscitate. We’re going to have to…shut down the examination room at the clinic for a few days. It…needs to be cleaned.” She appended, “A-and in response to your comment earlier…we’re very sorry but we didn’t consider that we were tampering with a crime scene. Our first concern was for the patient.”

Hector got himself a cup of coffee, purely to make the entire interrogation look more passive, and found a stool to perch on. “That’s understandable. But you realize how this looks, don’t you? If the clinic was locked up tightly—”

“But it wasn’t, Captain,” Maple spoke up. “That’s just it. Our clinic operates twenty-four hours a day. We still keep normal sleeping hours, and the doors leading to our private rooms are locked at night, but we leave the entrance to the lobby unlocked. Anypony who needs medical attention can get in and pull the emergency cord hanging from our ceiling. It’s attached to a loud bell in our bedroom.”

“It’s a tradition handed down by my many-times-great grandmare, Sunshine Waffle,” Buttermilk added wistfully, “The Sunshine Waffle Community Health Clinic is always there for you when you need it.”

“Then what we really should be asking is why Specs was in the lobby in the middle of the night,” Hector replied.

“An’ did anypony else come callin’,” Rose added as she scratched at a hairy mole on her chin.

“Of course somepony came calling,” Maple said. “What other explanation is there?”

Hector noticed the uptight stare Maple Waffle was giving to Constable Rose. He voiced what he knew was on the mind of the entire law enforcement staff.

“If I were to go to the clinic right now, Mister Waffle, what would I find your children doing?”

Maple seemed confused by the question. “At this time of day…? Arithmetic. Why?”

Buttermilk clarified, “I won’t let any of what’s happening here interfere with our children’s education, Captain Silvermane. I’m homeschooling them and my husband is right – they would be at their studies, in our private living area above the clinic.”

“I rigged the doors to our home to lock automatically,” Maple explained. “Anypony can get out, but you need a key to get back in.”

“So your children are…” Hector waved his hoof in the air, “…safe?”

Maple’s cheeks filled with the redness of anger. “I beg your pardon, Captain! Of course my children are safe!”

Buttermilk had resignation in her eyes. She rose from the couch and walked over to stroke her husband’s withers soothingly, knowing she was about to say something that would upset him even more.

“Darling…the Captain is insinuating that either you or I might be one of the killers. And thus he’s asking us if he would find our foals unharmed if he were to go and check on them right now.” She glanced at Silvermane sorrowfully. “That is what you are insinuating, isn’t it Captain?”

Feeling suddenly ashamed of himself, Silvermane nodded stoically.

“O-of all the-!”

Maple’s muscles tensed, but Buttermilk grabbed his foreleg and rushed to interpose herself between her towering husband and the quartet of tense law-enforcers.

“Darling stop!” She insisted, her auburn curls bouncing with the sudden gyrations of her body. “It’s a valid concern! We’re all on edge here and you have a family to look out for. Don’t do anything you’ll regret later!”

Maple’s gaze was bordering on murderous. He let out a visible snort from his flaring nostrils, but ultimately he let himself relax.

“Captain Silvermane,” Maple said evenly, “Do you have any foals?”

“No,” Hector replied simply.

“Then you can’t possibly understand the connection I have with my family,” Maple explained. “Nor my sincerity when I say that I would never harm them. If you were to go to our clinic right now, you would see them in perfect health, just as I’ve claimed. In fact--“ He gestured semi-mockingly to the door, “Why don’t we go and prove it right now.”

“Sweety…” Buttermilk said softly. She turned a concerned eye to Silvermane, but any words she chose were drowned out by a sudden, guttural shouting from outside.

“Maple Waffle!” A passionate voice cried. “I know you’re in there! Come out!”

Before Hector could do anything to control the situation, Maple pushed the door open a crack, glanced out, furrowed his brow, and marched from the constabulary. By the time the denizens of the building were all collected around the doors and windows, Maple was looming over the bland, lanky, peasant-hooded form of Stringbean, who wore a mask of barbarity Silvermane never expected to see from him.

“You did this!” Stringbean raged. “It’s all your fault!”

Maple didn’t move, save for raising a brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

“Liar! She was entrusted to you last night! You murdered her!”

Constable Rose, suddenly at Hector’s side, whistled. “So that’s what this is about. Now ah done gone an’ seen everything.”

Hector inquired, and Rose nodded at the altercation. “Ain’t never seen ol’ Stringbean care about nothin’ before. It’s like somepony dumped cold water on him the day he was born, an’ it never dried off. I guess he found his passion finally. Took him long enough.”

Silvermane considered the situation. “…Specs.”

Rose nodded. Whatzit appeared at Hector’s other side and adjusted her glasses with a quick glow of her magic. “If you want my professional opinion as an investigator, Captain, I heard about how Stringbean was talking to the sisters for a long time the night you arrived, and I saw how he reacted in the street when we found Scoops’s body. I wouldn’t be surprised if…” she blushed, “…he had a crush on one, or even both of them.”

“Moves fast, doesn’t he,” Silvermane commented.

Rose shrugged. “If’n it was me, and ah went through mah whole life just making motions and saying words, without no fire in mah belly, and some sweet filly came along and suddenly started lighting me up? Tch. Ah’d move fast too. Ah bet a lonely soul like him was head over hooves already two days ago.”

Buttermilk, who was standing on the porch, approached the stairs hesitantly and held her hoof out towards the altercation. “My husband didn’t do this…you have to understand, he would never—”

“You stay out of this!” Stringbean barked the mare into silence and went about trying to burn a hole clean through Maple’s head with his eyes. “I heard about what happened! You can’t keep secrets in a town this small! I heard her body was found in the lobby. It’s really convenient that she just happened to be in the lobby long enough to get killed last night!”

Silvermane had broken up enough bar fights in his day to recognize Maple’s body language. The huge Pegasus had already made up his mind to pounce. Gleaming in his armor, Hector galloped down the stairs and came up beside the arguing pair.

“What are you insinuating, Stringbean?” Silvermane asked. He knew the answer already, but asked the question in the hopes that it would calm the washed-out stallion’s verbal assault, thus allaying the imminent physical one from his winged adversary.

“It ain’t that hard to understand!” Stringbean pointed an accusatory hoof at Maple. “Specs didn’t wanna have to go and tell her family what happened, but she had no reason to be here anymore. The Waffles could have kept her from the train in the morning, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Look at the sky!”

Everypony except Maple and Stringbean looked up. The latter continued.

“It cleared up last night. They knew it would be clear today, and clear skies means Specs could have just flown out of here! And that’s the last thing a changeling would want – somepony that could bring back help! It’s obvious who your killer is, Captain!”

Silvermane considered the miner’s deductive reasoning, and found it to be valid enough to hear more.

Stringbean continued to lay out his accusation, “Don’t you think it’s just a little strange that the Waffles, the only pegasi left in town, haven’t offered to go for help on a day like today? Or ever, for that matter?”

“My family is all that matters to me,” Maple replied, his pitch lowering into a threatening range. “I can’t just leave them behind.”

“Then why didn’t you all just leave town when you had the chance!?”

Buttermilk fielded the question from a distance. “The Waffles have been seeing to the care of the citizens of Little Hoofington for generations of my family. Leaving you all to fend for yourselves…would have been wrong.”

Hector weighed the consequences of revealing sensitive evidence about a crime to a laypony, but quickly made up his mind. In this situation, secrets would only work against him. “The condition of the body doesn’t match either, Stringbean. What happened to Specs is not what changelings do to corpses.”

“Of course it’s not!” Stringbean raged on. “The Waffles couldn’t risk being seen out and about somewhere at night, so they killed Specs themselves, left her in the lobby that everypony knows is unlocked at night, and did all those horrible things to her j-just to…” he began to choke on his own tears, “…j-just to take suspicion off themselves! They…they murdered her just for that! Not even to feed their disgusting lust for love!”

Silvermane found himself unable to refute Stringbean’s line of reasoning. “Listen, let’s just calm down and we can take this inside—”

“I know a few things about changelings,” Stringbean simmered. “You hear a lot in taverns when miners are coming and going from all over Equestria. I know the smallest broods are never less than four. And there are four Waffles.”

Hector could hear Buttermilk sobbing softly behind him. Maple somehow managed to rise above his full height. He stepped closer to the waifish miner, dwarfing him in both height and bulk.

“Are you accusing my foals of being changelings, you son of a nag?” Maple seethed.

Stringbean held up two hooves. “Two strong changelings, and two weak ones. And you’re all holed up together, to make it easy to cook up your horrible plots at night. It’s the only explanation.”

Maple felt the thin rope that was holding his wild, bucking reasoning in check snap. He lunged.

Silvermane was on Maple in half a second, struggling to hold the big stallion back as Stringbean continued to fuel the fire.

“You see!? You’re nothing but a dirty changeling! You’re trying to kill me right now!!”

“Constable Rose!” Hector shouted, “Deputy Trotter!”

Hector heard a commotion from the constabulary before Maple simply flung him into a snowbank like a ragdoll. When he righted himself, he came up to find the two belligerents frozen in place. Between them, a hole had been drilled clean through the snow, a scorch mark marring the cobblestones there.

Constable Rose stood on the porch, her horn still glowing. “Unless y’all want a night in the slammer fer brawlin’, ya better break it up right now.” She grinned, “Ah been itchin’ to shoot a changeling fer days now, y’all push me and ah might…draw mahself some conclusions.”

Hector took note of the instantly melted snow that was filling in the deep gashes in the stone where Rose had fired. Clearly her ability with projectile magic was beyond that of a normal unicorn. The combatants must have been aware of that as well, for they each took a step away from one another.

“That’s better, young’uns,” Rose frowned at Stringbean. “You git outta here. This here’s police business.”

Stringbean, glanced at Maple Waffle, made a buzzing sound with his lips, and galloped off. Beat Trotter was at Silvermane’s side, but the guard captain waved him off and stood on his own, brushing invisible snow out of his pure white coat.

“What’cha wanna do, Cap’n?” Rose asked.

“We’re going to the clinic, to check on the crime scene,” Hector ordered, “…and on the foals.”

* * * * *

Hector wasn’t surprised by what he found in the lobby of the Sunshine Waffle Community Health Clinic. The amount of blood on the floor and the walls was consistent with a savage murder, with a trail leading into the examination room. One of the room’s beds was covered in still more life fluids of a pony, such that Silvermane marveled at the sheer amount of it that one young pegasus had pumping through her veins.

Hector’s second reason for being there was satisfied when the Waffles presented their children for inspection. Strawberry, the fruity red teenaged filly, clung as always to her father, while Chocolate, her cocoa-coated brother, averted his eyes and never uttered a word. Hector turned to Buttermilk as the group stood in a hallway far from the grisly scene.

“Is he always like that?”

Buttermilk placed a hoof to her heart and sighed deeply. “He used to smile. At first I thought he was just becoming a rebellious youth, and that might have been the end of it, if not for…all of this. Maybe…maybe we should have taken the children away from here…”

“No,” Said Maple. With his daughter on his back, her forelegs hooked behind his neck, he walked over and soothed his mate with a pat to the withers. “This has been your family’s home and duty for generations. I gave up my own heritage to be a part of it, and I won’t allow all that you’ve worked for here to be washed away by some intimidation.”

Buttermilk smiled somberly. “I…I know darling. And I love you for that. But…maybe we really should leave…”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Silvermane stated.

The eyes of every law-enforcer and every Waffle turned to him. Even Chocolate Waffle glanced up from the protection of his scraggly bangs.

“…Captain…?” Buttermilk inquired.

Whatzit looked just as confused, but Constable Rose and Beat Trotter exchanged glances charged with experience. They both looked sorry, but they both knew what was coming. Trotter had a sack flung over his shoulder, and he began to fiddle with it.

“Mister and Missus Waffle,” Silvermane announced. “I’m very sorry, but despite his bluster, Stringbean made some good points. Points that we haven’t yet had time to work through.”

Maple stood instinctively before his family, pushing his wife behind him such that she nearly lost her balance. “You can’t arrest us,” He challenged. “We told you what we know. Anypony had the means to commit that crime.”

Buttermilk spoke softly, “We tried to save her, Captain…please don’t lock up my children…I worry for their safety…”

Silvermane shook his head. He felt bad enough about incarcerating Cadabra Smile on only circumstantial evidence, and he had been wrong about her. He chose his words carefully.

“None of you are under arrest. And while it is indeed possible that anypony could have come into the clinic lobby to commit murder last night, the fact remains that we don’t know why Specs was even in that part of your building. If you truly intended to protect her, of course you would have warned her about the lack of security in that area.” He appended before Maple could yell at him again, “And I’m not saying you did that on purpose, or that you did anything wrong. But you can’t deny the implications, either. I’m afraid that until this investigation concludes, I cannot allow anypony to leave this village.”

Maple narrowed his eyes. “If we were the killers, Captain, our leaving town would tell you that. Because the murders would stop.”

Silvermane shook his head again. “And then you would be loose somewhere in Equestria, able to mimic anypony you want. You could start this all over again. Whatever is happening in Little Hoofington, it has to end HERE.” He spoke to his subordinates without turning to meet them, “Constable, when we are finished here, you will go immediately to Beanie’s station and instruct him to close the gate. As of now, Little Hoofington is under martial law. Nopony, either entering or leaving, shall be allowed to pass without my personal authorization.”

“…yes Cap’n.”

Maple bristled and flexed his wings tauntingly. “That won’t stop us.”

“No. No it won’t.” Hector replied. “But this will.”

Beat Trotter began to produce a number of objects that clanked on the floor, dragged down by the weight of the single padlock affixed to each. They were adjustable straps used to hold precarious cargo on wagons, but everypony was aware of their secondary application in law-enforcement.

Pegasus nullifiers.

“I will not wear that!” Maple growled. “You can’t just strap restrains on my wife and children!”

“Martial law says that I can, Mister Waffle,” Silvermane reiterated his edict from the Princesses. “You and your family will still be free to move about town and see to your own security. These straps are designed to secure your wings to your sides. Nothing more.”

“I will not…” Maple sputtered, “…subject my family to…”

“The alternative,” Hector spoke over the hulking stallion, “Is to have your primary feathers removed.”

“That’s mutilation!” Maple exploded. Hector kept his cool.

“Primary feathers grow back. It’s drastic, but it won’t actually hurt you. Nevertheless, I don’t want to go that far. Don’t force my hoof.”

“Honey…” Buttermilk placed a hoof on her husband’s side and favored her daughter with a reassuring glance. “We were going to stay here anyway. If this is what it takes to prove our innocence, I think we should cooperate. None of us will be hurt.”

“You have my word on that,” Hector assured.

Rose and Trotter moved to flank and block the hallway, just in case. Whatzit flattened her ears and took up a position directly behind and out of the way of her commander.

Maple felt a small hoof stroking at his neck. “Daddy,” Strawberry Waffle cut the tension with her small voice. “Please don’t get hurt.”

Maple shut his eyes and shook his head in frustration. “Fine. Strap your damn cuffs on. I’ll still protect my family.”

Hector supervised as his subordinates went about the task. Whatzit looked mortified as she approached Buttermilk with one of the straps floating beside her, but the elder mare just smiled reassuringly and stood still. The young unicorn slipped the restraint around Buttermilk’s torso, tightened it with care, twisted the lock, and removed the key. Rose took care of Maple, who encouraged his daughter to flutter to the ground and stand still for Deputy Trotter.

Hector was aware of a presence at his side. He hadn’t even noticed the colt’s approach, but Chocolate Waffle was there, staring at Hector’s neck from under his ruddy bangs. It was as much eye-contact as the captain had ever gotten from the boy. Lighting his horn, Hector levitated the final restraint to his side.

“This is for your own protection,” he justified. “It won’t hurt.”

Chocolate said nothing. He merely let out a breath and blew on his bangs while Hector secured the restraint about his torso.

Back in the street, Rose broke off from the group to deliver her report to the main gate. Hector sent Beat Trotter to Kitty’s Nip to inform the rest of the town about the state of martial law. He waited until it was only himself and Whatzit walking together on the empty stones before speaking again.

“Zit,” Hector directed, “I want you to keep an eye on the Waffles.”

“Do you really think they did it?” Whatzit was watching her hooves move. “I mean, Missus Waffle and her foals…it’s hard to believe. And Mister Waffle is gruff, I know, but he’s hardworking and he means well. It’s hard to believe any of them could…do something like this.”

“Is there any pony in this town you believe could have done these things?”

Whatzit thought long and hard about the question. “…maybe Cadabra. But I know that’s probably just because I don’t understand her faith. It’s not a fair accusation to make purely on that basis.” She yawned into her hoof and shivered. Hector thought about what he was asking the young unicorn to put up with. The strange hours and the sudden thrust into dangerous situations. He levitated the pink scarf off of his shoulders and tied it loosely around her neck with his magic.

“Wh-what’s this?” Zit stared at the comfortable, warm wool.

“My wife made it,” Hector replied. “It’s for luck. I’ve asked so much of you, and I’m sorry.”

“Your wife?” Whatzit balked, “I-I can’t accept this, Captain, I—”

Hector held up his hoof. “You’re not accepting anything. It gets cold here at night. Call it a loan. When this is all over you can give it back to me.”

“I…uh…” Whatzit felt herself blushing. “…th-thank you sir. I’ll take good care of it for you.”

Hector smiled. “Go and get some rest. I need that perceptive mind of yours sharp when it counts the most.”

“Yes sir.”

Whatzit trotted away, leaving Hector alone with his thoughts. Every morning since he arrived, another pony turned up dead.

His leads were painfully few, and time was running out.

Author's Note

Specs has died. Specs was the watchpony.

Captain Hector Silvermane
Constable Dusky Rose
Deputy Beat Trotter
Whatzit
Cadabra Smile
Lora Lore
Stringbean
Kitty Contessa
Whim
Maple Waffle
Buttermilk Waffle
Chocolate Waffle
Strawberry Waffle
Scoops (Reporter)
Specs (Watchpony)
Caveat
Beanie