Detective Rarity Chronicles Pt. I - Bad Blood

by RarestRarity1779

Rating: teen
Tags: Spike, Rarity, Other, Gore, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Drama, Mystery
Length: 48881

Part one of an exciting five-part series that pays homage to the infamous Black Dahlia Murder in 1940s Los Angeles in which the famed Detective Rarity investigates a series of grisly murders and fights to bring the elusive killer to justice.

Part one of a planned five-part series, in 1947 Las Pegasus the renowned Private Eye, Detective Rarity, is called upon by the local police department to investigate only the first in a series of murders that have started to plague the idyllic coastal metropolis. It may start out routinely enough, like any other murder the famous detective might have worked, but things slowly start to take a turn for the sinister with each new piece of evidence that is uncovered. Many twists and turns will accompany the fair detective on her journey in search of the truth and she will have to take the greatest care to ensure that she does not become the next victim in this chilling and suspenseful Noire tale that pays homage to the real-life Black Dahlia murder. It will be her greatest challenge yet and Rarity will have to do more than remain steadfast if she hopes to bring justice to those who deserve it and close the case. The Black Zinnia will be her craftiest, most intelligent, and most sinister nemesis yet, so that begs the question: Is she capable? Through her, can the powers of justice prevail over the powers of evil?
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On January 15, 1947 the city of Los Angeles, California was seized by terror and uncertainty when the horribly mangled remains of 22 year old Elizabeth Short were found during the morning hours in Leimert Park Neighborhood, South Los Angeles. The sheer brutality of the murder prompted unprecedented media coverage and, combined with botched investigative techniques and a suspected mishandling of information by the Los Angeles Police Department, the murder and identity of the killer remain unsolved to this day. This piece is intended to educate people about the Black Dahlia Murder and the terror and uncertainty that accompanied it, as well as provide to them an engaging and interesting read. In no way, shape, or form am I condoning, applauding, making fun of, or satirizing the tragedy itself. The utmost care was taken in writing this story to ensure that the real-life victim was totally respected and that, in regards to her portrayal through a fictional counterpart, only the facts as they are known were written. This is a work of fiction based on real events and real people, and anything further is intended for entertainment and speculative purposes only.

Published 2016-09-20 22:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-09-20 22:50:01 UTC

Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Rarity walked towards the address she had gathered from the ID card at a leisurely pace, and as she did so, pulled the diary out of its evidence bag and studied it. Spike peered over her shoulder and tried to read it as well, but usually just ended up fruitlessly warning Rarity of an incoming pedestri-an or unsafe crosswalk. However, Rarity knew the streets of Las Pegasus like the back of her hoof, and when that was combined with her sharp wit and quick reflexes, it was nothing for her to side-step out of the way, skip over some discarded trash, or come to a stop at a crosswalk without miss-ing a beat or even lifting her eyes from her eyes away from the pages.

Most of what was written inside was trivial. Things like the victim’s thoughts on the day’s events, and even a few poems and songs; typical diary things, but the further she read into the pag-es, it became rather obvious to her that things had started to change in the author’s life.

“Very interesting…” she commented quietly, “Spike!” She unglued her eyes from the book just long enough to look up at him, “Take a note.”

“Yes ma’am!” he said and playfully saluted. He then pulled the notebook from his coat and awaited Rarity’s observations.

“The tone, penmanship, and detail of the victim’s writing seems to change rather drastically, particularly within these past two months. Here, she writes, ‘Sometimes I feel like the odds are stacked against me. I feel like I have to watch my own back in my own home. I know my habits aren’t particularly cheap, but sometimes it’s treated as if we can’t afford it.’ Notice that the entries get shorter and less detailed as we progress closer to the final date in the book, which was only a week ago.” As she spoke, Spike’s pencil scribbled away.

“Ah, and here she writes simply, ‘We had another fight this morning. Had to leave and walk through the park a few times.’”

Rarity stopped at a crosswalk and glanced up as the traffic began to move quickly up and down the street. She studied the last few pages, each with entries that were just as undetailed and brisk as the passages that it immediately followed. Some were even as simple as, “Had a bad day today,” or “Going to lay down.” As the last three pages with writing on them were examined, Rari-ty noticed that the victim’s actual writing changed drastically as well. Lyra had apparently pos-sessed very beautiful and careful penmanship, but on these pages there were ink blots scattered about, the lines looked more to be scratched down rather than actually written, and there was even an accidental repetition of words every now and again.

“Judging by this book, it looks like Miss Heartstrings suffered a downward spiral these past few months, and it sounds as if that downwards spiral was brought upon by some sort of disagree-ment at home. And here,” she pointed at the writing quickly for Spike before she moved to cross the street with the crowd, “On these pages, it looks like she was in a depressed state. Some of these aren’t even full sentences, and the writing… it’s an absolute ghastly far cry from the writing on the earlier pages.”

While Lyra’s diary did tell nothing short of a story, Rarity knew that it was only the tip of the iceberg. Anything else that she would need to learn she would find out from where the de-ceased had lived. The diary strongly suggested that she did in fact live with somepony who had some sort of relationship to her, but even if she didn’t, she knew that there could be very valuable evidence contained within the home. She sped up her pace and continued to read through the book for most of the journey.

Knowing the streets as she did though, she was fully aware of when she was in close prox-imity to the residence. She stopped briefly and placed the book back inside of the evidence bag along with the wallet that she had confiscated. She folded the top of the bag over neatly and then tucked it back inside of her saddlebags. “We’re almost there Spike,” she commented as she fin-ished, “only a few more blocks now.”

The rest of the walk was largely quiet and uneventful as Rarity, and Spike too, played over different scenarios in their minds. Rarity explored the possibilities of everything from a robbery gone wrong, to a random assault, to whomever the pony that Lyra had been arguing with finishing her off for good. Another possibility lingered in her mind too, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to consider it, and even if she did, she wasn’t sure if it was the wisest decision. Meanwhile, con-cerned with his own theories, Spike mostly concentrated on trying to cope with the sight of the sce-ne and of the body. He’d never seen something so horrendous. He also worried if Rarity thought any less of him because of how he had handled it. Everypony else had searched every grimy nook and cranny of the scene, and hadn’t been afraid to get up close and personal to the body, all while he chose to stay glued to the wall and write down the things he heard and what few things he saw. He was in such a deep state of thought actually, that he was surprised to hear Rarity inform him that they had arrived.

The duo looked up at the brick building that towered over them. It was an apartment com-plex, one that was actually very similar to the one that Rarity and Spike lived in and operated her PI agency out of. It looked a little ritzier, yes, but still similar. After some seconds of looking up at the building, Rarity took Spike off of her back and the two walked through the front doors and en-tered into the lobby.

As with most apartment buildings in Las Pegasus, it was a very minimalistic lobby. The floor was a checkered bronze and black pattern, the walls were a very bland, and Rarity thought rather ugly, olive green vinyl. Straight ahead of them were two sets of stairs, one which led up, and another which led down to a wooden basement door that was illuminated by the glow of a furnace somewhere beneath. Directly to her right, there was a wall of narrow bronze mailboxes. She scanned over them until she saw the signature, “L. Heartstrings” written in the same beautiful fash-ion as the passages in the diary. “Well well well,” she commented to Spike and took her hat off just long enough to straighten up her mane, “This is it. Apartment 515.”

With that, the two started up the stairs. Even the stairs were similar to those in her apart-ment, right down to the number of steps and the number of creaks. One of the largest differences between her apartment and this one was the silence. Her apartment was in a busy central location, and ponies were coming in and going out of their abodes and the front door at all hours of the day and night. But here, not a single pony could be seen or heard exiting or entering into their apart-ments or coming in or out of the glass front door. Each step that Rarity and Spike took echoed off of the floors and walls with a disturbing tap that, in a quiet location like this, could easily be mis-taken for a boom. Even the apartments were deathly quiet, almost as if they were abandoned or if the ponies that lived inside lived a quiet and lonely existence. Rarity wasn’t sure which scenario was the more unnerving.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of uneasy walking, the two found themselves on the fifth floor. Each floor had a long, somewhat narrow hallway that ended at an outside wall with a single, simplistic window on it. Once at the window, one would turn either left or right to access more apartments. The two walked slowly down the first hallway, observing the numbers as they walked past. “501, 503, 505, 506,” Rarity whispered to herself as she passed each apartment and looked at the number. The hallway ended at apartments 510 on the left, and 511 on the right, so the duo cut a right and took only a few steps before they found themselves face to face with a wooden door that bore a brass plaque with the number “515” on it.

“Ah, here we are,” she mumbled and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure who or what could be on the other side of that door, so she scooted Spike to her rear, and, with that, extended her hoof and knocked on the door.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

At first there was no answer, so Rarity waited for a few moments and then knocked again. She knocked three times each, but on her second knock, she heard the door unlatch and pulled her hoof away just in time to witness it swing open into the apartment. She was met with a very average looking earth pony, a mare who had a cream white coat, a purple and pink mane that seemed to be split right down the center, and who looked at her with curious, yet seemingly kind blue eyes.

“Yes?” the mare asked, “Can I help you with something?”

Rarity used her magic to pull her badge off the side of her coat and levitate it up to the mare just long enough for her to get a good look at it. “Detective Rarity,” she introduced herself as she tucked her badge back into its slot, “and this is my assistant, Spike,” the dragon peered around her to look at the mare. “I’m here on behalf of the Las Pegasus Police Department madam. Would it be alright if I stepped inside?”

The mare was visibly surprised and confused, but after only a second of thought, she replied, “Of course,” and stepped aside so that Rarity and Spike could enter. She closed and locked the door behind them and turned to face Rarity. “Is there something I can do for you? Can I get you a drink?” she asked with a slightly worried tone, but retained her warm and friendly demeanor.

Rarity dodged her question and instead asked, “Is there anywhere comfortable that we can talk?”

“Yes,” she replied, “right through here is the living room.” She then walked briskly ahead and led the two into a very spacious and luxurious looking living room. The floor inside, much like throughout the rest of the apartment, was a very fine oak, and in the center of the room were two plush sofas that faced each other and that were divided by a coffee table. She sat down on the one sofa and looked at the two, now very visibly worried.

“May we?” Rarity nodded at the sofa.

“Oh, yes,” the mare nodded anxiously, eager to find out why a law enforcement official and her assistant was in her home, “of course. I’m sorry.” She offered up a slight smile and waited for the two to sit down before she asked, just as anxiously, “Now, please, what is this about?” Her eyes moved quickly between Spike and Rarity.

Rarity sighed and then looked the mare in the eyes. She hated this part of her job, telling the friends and family of a victim that they would never see their loved one again. One could never tell how the news would be reacted to, but it was almost never pleasant, not that it should be. On top of that, it was sometimes a very difficult task to remain level headed and professional in the midst of all of that emotion. Still though, it had to be done.

“Before I answer your question, may I first ask your name?” Rarity asked and pulled out her notepad.

“Oh! Yes, forgive me,” the mare replied and adjusted herself on the sofa, “my name is Bonbon.”

“Thank you,” Rarity jotted the name down. She was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Now, are you familiar with a Miss Lyra Heartstrings?”

The color drained from Bonbons face, and she gulped before answering. “Y-yes, I am. Why? Is she OK?” A shiver could be heard in her voice.

“This isn’t easy for me to say ma’am, it never is, but… I’m afraid I must inform you that Miss Heartstrings was found deceased this morning,” Bonbon gasped and tears started to well in her eyes, and her head shook as Rarity eventually finished, “and… there is strong evidence of foul play.” Bonbon finally broke down and cupped her head in her hooves so that she could sob. Rarity gave her a few moments to grieve, and Spike looked away from the sorrowful scene while he tugged at the collar of his shirt. After some time passed and Bonbon tried frantically to compose herself, Rarity gently pressed, “I know that it’s hard ma’am, I know,” she spoke with the tone of a concerned mother, “but I do have some questions for you, and your answers may prove very valuable to the investigation.”

Bonbon tried to control her emotions as best she could, but she was clearly upset a great deal. She was only able to nod her head a few times as she reached over and pulled a tissue from the box that was on the table next to her. Before she pressed even further, Rarity decided to allow her some more time to dry her eyes and blow her nose. “I-I’m sorry…” she managed to mumble afterwards and pull another tissue.

“No, no, it’s quite alright. There’s no need to apologize. I… understand that this is very difficult news to hear,” Rarity responded with her still-gentle tone. “Me and my assistant would like to give you some time ma’am, but in that time, would it be alright if we had a look around?”

Bonbon silently nodded once more, and could only bring herself to manage a simple, choked, “Yes.”

Rarity thanked her, and with a gentle smile, stood up. She indicated for Spike to follow her, and the dragon took the hint. Rarity moved her eyes around the living room, looking for anything that might be of use to her in the case, and tried to tune out Bonbon’s sobs in the process. After some moments of looking around, she concluded that there was nothing of much use to the case in the living room and opted to search the rest of the house. Spike followed her and together they combed over every inch of the spacious condominium.

The large, furnished kitchen complete with connected dining room was the first stop, as it was directly parallel to the living room. The table and countertops were looked over and the drawers were pulled open and their contents inspected. Even the stainless steel sink with its ornate controls and the multifunction oven were given a thorough examination by Rarity and her scaly assistant. When those rooms ultimately yielded nothing though, the two moved on to the other rooms. They searched for anything, no matter how big or small, that might help them paint a picture of the real Lyra Heartstrings and possibly even give them an idea as to why her life taken so prematurely from her. However, like the laundry room, bathroom, and makeshift office before them, the rest of the downstairs rooms turned up nothing. In that moment, it seemed like the hope inside of her was falling while the frustration inside of her was building as Rarity entertained the idea that she might not find any useful evidence at all in the apartment. However, those thoughts were quickly quashed when the two moved upstairs.

The upstairs portion of the apartment was fairly simple, but Rarity and her tasteful eye couldn’t help but notice the beautiful elegance of it at the same time. Once at the top of the stairs, there was a hallway which led off to the left and to the right. A little offset to the top of the stairs was an open door which led into a bedroom, and she knew that before she even reached the top of the stairs. Rarity knew the layout well, for her apartment building had the same layout. Residents on the lower floors, such as herself, had only one floor apartments, that, in Rarity’s opinion, were generic in every sense of the word, but which fulfilled their purpose nicely. Wealthier residents on the upper floors, however, were given two floor apartments with a more luxuriously appointed interior. She knew this because whenever she would find herself with a little free time, which was hardly, she would often find herself invited up to Miss Harshwinny’s apartment, which sat two floors above hers, for tea.

However, as nice as it was to stand and admire the similarities in housing arrangements, Rarity knew that she had to stay focused on the task at hand. Without a moment of hesitation, she proceeded forward into the bedroom with Spike close behind. At almost the precise moment she set hoof inside of the bedroom, she noticed several things that caught her attention and piqued her detective’s intuition. The most obvious thing, and perhaps the oddest too, were the multitude of small, black jewelry boxes that seemed to adorn every available space inside of the room. Some were open, and some were closed, but the ones that were open were shown to contain some of the most beautiful jewelry that Rarity had ever laid her eyes on. Horn rings, necklaces, earrings, and gems of all shapes and sizes and constructs. Some of the pieces sat freely, either laid out flat on the nightstand or draped over bed posts. Directly to her left was a large oak bureau with a crystal clear mirror attached to it, and the small black boxes mingled with loose articles to cover practically every inch of its flat top. Slowly, Rarity turned to move in for a closer look.

“Well…” Rarity began, smitten with the beauty of the pieces, “Somepony is certainly quite the collector of the finer things in life, and with such exquisite tastes too.” Her eyes scanned over the open boxes and their contents, and then moved up to see the necklaces and bracelets that were hanging from the ornate pattern that was carved into the wood around the mirror. A dim light came in from the closed shades, but the jewels were so fine and pure that they glistened like diamonds in a mine shaft that was just exposed to the light of day, and if the pieces on the bureau didn’t do the job themselves, the rest of the jewels gave off a glisten that seemed to illuminate the room better than any light ever could. Some of the crystal and diamond pieces were so striking in fact that it made the fashionista detective burn with desire and the mouth of her dragon assistant drool. In the midst of all her admiration though, her eyes and head stopped moving when she saw the two picture frames that were flanking the neatly arranged line of black boxes. She picked up one of the frames and examined the picture inside of it more closely.

“Spike,” she called her dragon assistant and his grumbling stomach over, “come take a look at this.” He came over and stood up on his tiptoes to get a good look at the picture that Rarity had levitating in the air. “That’s her all right,” Rarity examined the picture of a beautiful, smiling Lyra who was adorned with several necklaces and had two exquisite-looking pairs of earrings in her ears. “That’s our victim,” she showed the picture to Spike with a sigh, “and I’m willing to bet that all of this is hers.” Rarity again looked all around the room and surveyed the countless number of black velvet and fine wooden jewelry boxes, and the loose articles themselves.

“I guess she was quite the collector, huh?” Spike commented as he too examined the room once more.

“That, my dear, is an understatement,” Rarity replied and then put the frame back in the spot it had been in, only to pick up the other one. “Look at this one,” she looked at the picture herself before then showing it to Spike. Inside the frame was a photograph of Lyra and Bonbon, wrapped around each other in a warm embrace and smiling. It was very apparent that Bonbon was close to Lyra. “She must be a very dear friend,” Rarity commented and then put the frame down, “poor dear.” She then listened intently for a moment, only to be able to still make out the sounds of Bonbon’s sobbing downstairs. She then scanned her eyes over the collection of jewelry one more time, more absent-mindedly than anything, but stopped when she noticed one of the smaller black boxes, this one a perfect square, resting opened and empty. She hummed to herself and then moved briefly to look at the rest of the jewelry boxes and cases in the room.

She inspected the boxes that were on top of the chest at the foot of the bed, covered the window sill, and lined the elongated dresser which rested against the back wall. All of them had one thing in common: They were closed, and when opened, they contained their respective pieces. Rarity returned to the bureau and levitated the small box up towards her. Having had her own modest collection of jewelry, Rarity could tell what kind of box it was just by looking at it. “This earring box is empty,” she showed the empty box to Spike. She even checked under the plush lining to see if they had been hidden there, but alas, nothing but emptiness.

“You think that that’s the box that the missing earrings were in?” Spike asked.

“It’s a possibility,” Rarity replied and then pulled out her notebook to take some notes on the box, “but I can’t help but feel like it is. We’ll have to see if Miss Bonbon can tell us anything about the earrings and this box, and if she can’t, see if she can tell us of somepony who can. She wasn’t wearing any earrings when we came inside, so just how many other possibilities could that leave? One, they are or aren’t hers and have merely been misplaced, two, they’re being cleaned or repaired, or three, they belong to Miss Heartstrings and are now in the possession of her attacker.” She noted the jeweler name on the lid on the inside of the box, and whispered it as she wrote it down, “Jeweler Joe’s Diamond Emporium.” The name did sound familiar to her, but she didn’t know of an address so she would have to check with police resources after she finished having a chat with Bonbon.

“I don’t think anypony will mind if we take this for evidence,” Rarity muttered after she finished taking her notes. She used her magic to place the small black velvet box in a baggie which she then put in the same saddlebag as the rest of the evidence that she had collected. Afterwards, she moved to observe the rest of the room with Spike to assist her. Before she could even start to look into the small things, however, the next big clue jumped out at her when she got her first good look at the bed. “Very curious,” she commented both to herself and to Spike as they looked over the bedspread. The luxurious silk sheets seemed to be split right down the center, with one side being ragged and showing signs of being slept in recently, while the other side was perfectly folded over and made up. While Rarity couldn’t quite put her hoof on it, there was just something odd about how the bed was made up on that left side. It was a little too perfect. It wasn’t just made up, it was undisturbed. “It looks like only one pony has been sleeping in a bed and a bedroom made for two,” Rarity commented and then scratched down some of her observations, “and it looks like this one side hasn’t been slept in in quite some time.”

The two looked over the bed for a few more moments and then moved on to search over the rest of the room. Jewelry of some kind could be found in every nook and cranny, of course, but other than that, there was little more evidence of worth inside of the bedroom. “I’ll check this room over here,” Spike informed Rarity as the two of them exited out of the bedroom. He pointed to his left at the closed door that was just past the top of the stairs and not but a few paces from the two of them.

“Alright,” Rarity nodded, “I’ll go check the bathroom down here, and then I’m going to head into that guest room.” She doubted there would be anything of use in the bathroom, there hardly ever was when the home itself wasn’t the scene of the crime (in which case the bathroom usually contained most of the evidence), but still, her investigative procedure called for every room to be gone over with a fine tooth comb. Even the contents of the smallest trash can in the smallest room could prove invaluable to leading to the capture of a suspect.

The two then walked away from each other, and with Spike only a few paces from the door at the end of the hallway he was the first to reach his destination. When he opened the door he was surprised to find that the room was not actually room at all, but was in fact a closet. Naturally, the first things to meet his eyes were a bunch of clothes that looked like they hadn’t been worn in quite some time, and some miscellaneous housekeeping items such as a duster and vacuum were inside as well, but he knew that it should be checked nevertheless. He couldn’t really see what was up on the top shelf, but when he backed away from the door and craned his head up while he stood on his tiptoes, it looked to hold nothing more than folded up towels and sheets. He walked back closer to the closet, almost inside of it then, and knelt down to examine the floor level. There were some old shoes down there, which, like the clothes above them, looked as if they hadn’t been worn in a very long time, and a few small cardboard boxes that appeared to contain nothing but assorted and forgotten junk. He placed the lid on top of the second and final box of junk that he pulled out, huffed a sigh, and pushed it back inside of the closet where he had found it. He only wished that he could be of more help to Rarity, but it looked as if there was absolutely nothing inside that could be of use to her or her investigation. That is, until he happened to spot what appeared to be a bulge in some sort of cloth in the darkest, most rearward corner of the closet.

He moved a little further inside of the closet and then leaned his head in to get a better look. He wondered if his eyes might have been deceiving him in the low light, but that all changed when they were given a moment to adjust and he was afforded a better look. It was then that he discovered that there was indeed something hidden beneath some black cloth. He pulled on the cloth which, he discovered, was actually a black dress, and it came floating right into his claws. He placed it on the ground beside him and looked at the corner. There, his eyes met with another cardboard box, this one just a little bit larger than all of the others that contained all of that junk. Could this one simply contain junk too? He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to look over his shoulder and make sure that nopony was there before pulling it out of the corner and into the light.

When he pulled the top off of it, he was surprised to find not the junk he had been suspecting, but folders upon folders of various documents. He thumbed through them for a few moments before calling out for Rarity. “Hey Rarity!” he called down the hallway, “I think I found something! Come look at this!”

Within a matter of moments, the detective came bounding out of the bathroom and came to a halt beside her dragon assistant. “What is it Spike?” she asked him as she surveyed the black dress and the opened cardboard box, “What did you find?” She lowered herself to be more even with him.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, “A bunch of… folders and papers.” He pulled one of the documents out, a very official looking piece of paper, and flipped through it before placing it back where it had been. “I don’t know if it’s important or not, but those two boxes,” he pointed at them, “they’re just full of junk, and they weren’t hidden like this one was.”

“Hidden? What do you mean it was hidden, Spike?”

“Well,” he picked up the black dress, “that’s where this comes into play. It was on top of this box, and it was shoved way back there in the back.” He pointed at the spot where he had uncovered the box of documents.

“Hm…” Rarity hummed to herself and rubbed her chin, “Let me see something.” She then righted herself up to her full height and backed a few paces away. She observed the corner and found that it was indeed practically hidden, if not by the narrow doorway, then by the dresses and coats that hung down a considerable distance. She walked a few paces closer and kept her eyes glued on the same spot. Just as she had suspected, the corner was just as hard, if not more difficult to see whenever she was right up at the entrance to the closet. With a dress that dark covering something in an already hard to see corner, one would truly have to be looking for it to discover it. There was no doubt in Rarity’s mind now that whatever was inside of that box was deliberately hidden away.

“Good job Spike!” she smiled warmly and congratulated him on his find, “You did excellent!” She sat down beside him and moved to examine some of the documents. He couldn’t help but blush as he made way for her.

At almost the exact moment she pulled the first document out from the front of the neatly arranged files and folders within the box, Rarity could feel that she was going to discover something sinister within. On the first document she pulled out, the first, most obvious thing that she noticed was a large, bright red stamp that read “EVICTION NOTICE.” Shockingly, it was for the very address in which she stood, but even more alarming, the date printed on it was only two weeks ago. Eager to find out if there was anything more, Rarity put the document back into its spot and pulled out the folder behind it. Inside, various letters, cards, and official-looking documents complained of bounced checks, threatened legal action, and demanded immediate payment.

“Why, Spike,” Rarity began as she flipped through document after document, “you’ve uncovered a treasure trove of evidence here.”

“Ah,” Spike waved his hand modestly, “Don’t mention it.”

Rarity stopped her searching just long enough to smile at him once again, but briskly went back to looking through the documents. As she progressed through the folders and loose files, she noticed that the dates were going from most recent to oldest, and by the time she reached the last folder and its contents, she had looked through close to an entire year’s worth of somepony’s financial troubles, seven months to be precise. Practically every folder that she had examined contained the exact same documents as the folder in which she had first examined. All in all, there were a little over three hundred letters and documents that informed of missed payments and damaged credit, threatened legal action, or demanded money, and, to boot, a staggering ten notices of eviction.

There wasn’t enough time for her to sit there and study the documents, but she tried to record as much information as she could. After some minutes passed, and she had taken all the notes over the box and its contents that she could, Rarity finally closed her notebook and stood back up.

“I hate to give you busy work Spike,” she said as she tucked the notebook back inside of her saddlebag, “but I need you to start going through all these records and cataloging what all is in there and just how many of each there is. Can you do that for me?”

Spike, while he did hate busy work, wasted no time in accepting the task for Rarity. “Aye aye cap’n!” he responded and then comically saluted before pulling his own notebook and pencil out, and then the first folder as well.

“Thank you Spike,” she said to him and then gave him a peck on the head, “You’re the best partner a detective could ask for.”

Spike blushed deeply but tried to remain cool and collected. “Yeah…” he grumbled, smitten with his gift, “D-don’t mention it.”

After she let out a giggle, Rarity looked down the stairs towards the living room and returned to her no-nonsense demeanor. “In the meantime, I’m going to finish looking the place over and then have a little chat with Miss Bonbon.” She looked away and scratched her head, “Maybe she can shed some light on this peculiar mess.”

With that, Rarity then turned around and left Spike to do his task. There hadn’t been anything of interest in the bathroom, so all that was left for her to examine was the guest bedroom. As she walked down the hallway, and even when she entered into the room, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about those records and all of the possibilities that they could imply. When she was all the way inside of the room, she shook those thoughts out of her mind as best she could and proceeded to look around.

The room in which she stood was very plain, and it was somewhat musty. It was apparent that nopony had been inside of it for quite some time, but still, it was worth a look. There was almost no furniture inside, aside from a bed against the back wall and a single dresser that was against the wall to her left. The room was so small, in fact, that it didn’t even have its own closet. She approached the dresser first and pulled each of the six drawers on it open one by one from the top down only to reveal that there was nothing inside. However, just as she closed the sixth and final one on the bottom left, something caught her eye which then prompted her to reopen it. Inside, there was a dreary looking white sheet that looked like it had been hastily folded and then practically thrown down inside. Just on a whim, Rarity slid her hoof underneath and peeked underneath the sheet. What was underneath filled her with even more interest. She pulled the sheet out and let it float to the ground to then discover that it looked as if somepony had cut some sort of compartment in the bottom of the drawer. She inspected it more closely and saw that there was indeed a perfectly cut incision in the form of a rectangle. She knocked on the side of the exposed drawer while she listened intently. A small echo that met her ears told her that the drawer itself was indeed hollow.

She looked inside of the opening one more time to survey the cut. There was no hole or pull string on the rectangle, so the first step would be to try and figure out just how to open it up. She surveyed the drawer from side to side and from front to back, but still saw nothing that would hint to her how to open the secret compartment. Suddenly though, an idea struck her. She placed her hoof gently atop the cutout shape and wiggled it a little bit. There was a tiny bit of play in it, so insignificant in fact that if she hadn’t been paying complete attention she wouldn’t have noticed it, but it had moved nonetheless and she was sure of it.

She rubbed her chin and then whispered to herself, “Maybe you just… lift it off?” She used her magic to grasp onto the compartment door and give it an easy pull. Sure enough, it came right off. Absolute genius. A compartment that only a unicorn could open.

Rarity laid the thin piece of wood on top of the white sheet and then peered down inside of the opening. Even more curious than the makeshift compartment itself were the contents within. Inside and almost perfectly aligned with the opening was a small stack of books, three to be precise. Again, using her magic, Rarity pulled the books out one by one and sat them on the inside of the drawer. Now that they were in the dim light, almost instantly, Rarity recognized them as not being books, but rather diaries. More specifically, the exact same kind of diaries as the one that she had removed from Lyra’s saddlebags at the crime scene. Taking care not to jump to conclusions though, Rarity pulled the one diary from her saddlebag and examined it closely alongside one of the others. Just as she had suspected it would be, it was a perfect match; Binding, color, number of pages, and all.

Her curiosity piqued, and her hopes of finding another clue within their pages alive and well, Rarity flipped open the cover to the first diary. The first thing she examined was the date, and she discovered, as she had presumed, that these were old diaries and that this was Lyra’s “secret stash”.

“Why are these hidden though?” she asked herself quietly, and rubbed her chin once more as she closed the book and flipped it around in her hoof. She had heard of ponies, especially ladies, keeping their diaries and hidden thoughts in safe, hidden places, but this seemed to just be taking it too far. Hidden financial records one moment, and then hidden diaries the next? Rarity wasn’t sure what the whole story was just yet, but she couldn’t help but feel that of all the things that this posh urban apartment contained, trust wasn’t one of them.

She reopened the diary and flipped through the pages quickly, and then did the same with the other two. As she had expected, the diaries were full cover-to-cover. She knew that she didn’t have the time to sit there and read them from beginning to end, but on that same token, she didn’t feel quite right about removing the diaries from their hidden place and claiming them as evidence. To her, it almost felt like wrongly exhuming the remains of somepony. While these books weren’t Lyra, they were her stories and emotions, and they had every right to now rest in peace just like their author. In her mind, to desecrate these books would be to desecrate the author. She took a deep breath and then picked up the first diary that she had initially had in her magical aura. Thankfully, years of detective work, countless nights of research at the library, and, as much as she hated to admit it, a few years of doing patrol for the LPPD awarded her the gift of being able to skim over pages upon pages of information and weed everything out that wasn’t relevant or important.

As quickly as she could, Rarity started to skim through the pages of each book. Her eyes moved over the pages so fast, anyone else simply wouldn’t be able to keep pace, but alas, her mind moved as quickly as her eyes and absorbed all of the information that it was given. Finally, with only five minutes or so having passed, Rarity closed the back cover to the third and final diary. Unfortunately, as she had feared, the journals gave her practically no information that was relevant to her investigation. However, they did paint a very vivid picture of Lyra as she had been, in happier times. Like the picture that was inside of the wallet inside of her saddlebag, Lyra’s diaries revealed her to be a kind, generous, loving, and full of life, in every single aspect of the word. Perhaps a little oddly, Rarity noticed, Lyra spoke little of her home life and personal history, but always had a story to tell about her experiences with the orchestra, her time with Bonbon, and, of course, her taste for some of the finer things in life. So while these books hadn’t given her any information relevant to the case, they had reminded her just exactly what she was fighting for.

Once Rarity had closed the final diary and placed it down, she looked at all three of the books that were laid out before her. She knew that it would be wisest to take the books and actually read through them one by one, on the off-chance she missed anything, but admittedly against her better judgment, she concluded not to take them. “I’m not going to take them from you darling,” Rarity whispered to the nothingness in the room, “not today. Not ever.” Then, using her magic, she silently stacked the three books exactly as she had found them, and then gently placed them back into their hollow, wooden tomb. She then placed the wooden cover back where it had been and then folded the white sheet properly so that it would completely cover the bottom of the drawer. Once she placed the sheet inside, she quietly pushed the drawer closed and turned to walk away. However, she took only a few steps away from the wooden bureau before she stopped.

In a final act of solemnness and respect that she felt paid homage to the deceased, Rarity turned around and opened the drawer one more time. She lifted up the sheet inside and then silently cast a spell at the rectangular door inside which bound the cut wood to the rest of the inside of the drawer, and effectively sealed the hidden compartment. The spell even took away any evidence of there ever being a rectangle cut into the bottom of the drawer. Lyra had very obviously never intended those diaries to be read by anypony other than herself; she had hidden them inside of a secret compartment in an abandoned room, and the detective couldn’t help but feel obligated to fulfill her wish. Rarity heaved a sigh, smiled ever so slightly to herself, and then closed the drawer with a gentle nudge.

Afterwards, a solemn Rarity who was able to keep her graceful composure turned back around and moved to examine the rest of the tiny room. Naturally, she moved a few paces forward to observe the only other piece of furniture in the room: the bed. When she was standing right beside it, she scanned her eyes up and down it looking for anything of interest. All except for, or at least what Rarity believed to be, a once grand pillow that appeared to have lost its grandeur long ago, and a thin, dusty sheet atop it, there was absolutely nothing to be found. She lifted up the mattress with her magic, examined the underside of the mattress and the wooden platform atop which it rested, and even got down on her stomach to look underneath of the bed, all to no avail. She stood back up, dusted the front of her coat off, and then looked around the rest of the room rather absent-mindedly. She already knew that she would find nothing more inside of the abandoned room with its hidden memories.

Afterwards, she left the room just as silently as she had entered it and closed the door quietly behind her. She had looked over all that she could, and Spike had too, so now all that was left to do was talk to Bonbon. At the end of the hallway, Rarity saw Spike still working diligently on his task. She couldn’t be too sure from where she stood, but it looked like he had made a good bit of progress. Either way, that wasn’t what was on her mind as she walked towards him. Time seemed to slow down for her as she found herself stuck with thoughts of Lyra in her mind. While she didn’t know her personally, those diaries had painted such a detailed picture of her that Rarity couldn’t help but feel as if she knew her. As she walked slowly down the hallway, she found herself to be conflicted over the diaries and her actions. She wondered if she had been wrong to hide them away where no one would ever be able to read them, or even if she should have read them in the first place. On the other hoof, she couldn’t help but entertain the idea that those diaries were deliberately hidden away, in such a fashion that were never intended to be found by someone other than Lyra. It made sense either way, but in that final moment before Rarity took that final step that would place her right next to Spike, she felt like she had made the right call. The diaries of Lyra could rest in peace just as their author now did.

“Just about done here Rarity,” Spike commented as he counted a few documents with his index claw and wrote down the number. His voice shook Rarity out of her deep, timeslowing thoughts and made her push all of them to the back of her mind so that she could focus on the task at hand.

“Excellent darling,” she smiled at him, “you’ve just saved ourselves a lot of work. However, I think it’s time we interviewed Miss Bonbon. We’ve given her all the time to grieve that we can, and we can’t risk losing any valuable information that she might have.” Rarity then craned her head just slightly outwards and listened intently. It was deathly quiet now, and the sounds that had been Bonbon’s sobbing were now replaced with quiet, sorrowful sniffles.

“Right,” Spike agreed and stood up. He pulled up the folder that he been working on so that it would act as a marker, and then tucked his notebook inside of his jacket pocket. “I’m ready when you are.”

With that, the duo walked down the stairs and entered back into the living room. Bonbon held a tissue, damp with tears, tightly in her hoof and had her head laid over on the side of the couch. “Ma’am,” Rarity announced herself and Spike gently as she entered, “I believe we’re ready to ask you those questions, if that would be alright?”

Bonbon looked up at them rather quickly, startled by their sudden entrance into the living room, but eventually sat back upright and, in a quiet, broken tone responded, “Yes… of course.”

“Thank you,” Rarity responded gently as she sat down directly across from her. She pulled out her notebook as Spike climbed up into the spot beside her and subsequently followed suit. “Now…” she began slowly and then cleared her mind with the flip of her mane, “let’s start with the basics, shall we? Tell me, Miss Bonbon, what is your relation to Miss Lyra? Sister? Cousin? Very dear friend I presume?”

Bonbon remained silent as she patted her eyes dry, but even after she did so she was reluctant to answer the question. Rarity could tell so because of the way she noticed Bonbon’s eyes moving, and the blush that spread across her face. Before she had the chance to coax an answer out of Bonbon though, the mare spoke up. “She… she’s my wife…” she managed, more silent tears following shortly afterwards. “W-well, in practice anyway…”

“Oh!” Rarity found herself struck with surprise. “My apologies.”

Then, for the first time since Rarity and Spike had entered into the apartment, a small, albeit short-lived smile spread across Bonbon’s lips. “It’s quite alright,” she said as she pulled another tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose, “Excuse me. I know it isn’t ideal.”

“Ah, well,” Rarity nodded her head, offered a small smile, and then made a note of Bon-bon’s relation to Lyra, “it isn’t my place to judge ma’am.” Two mares carrying on a relationship while actually living together certainly was an oddity, and a unique experience for Rarity personally, but, as she had clarified, it wasn’t her place to judge, nor did she intend to do so. Everypony, no matter who they might be or what kind of life they chose to lead deserved justice, and Rarity believed that firmly. Lyra Heartstrings was no exception to this rule. After she finished noting Bonbon and Lyra’s relation, she adjusted herself in her seat and pressed forward with the questions.

“Tell me a little bit about Lyra. Her job, for starters, other family too. Interests. Anything you can think of or that you believe is useful.” Rarity felt it best to ask about the trivial things first, as it would help to not only paint a more detailed picture of the kind of pony that Lyra was, but of Bonbon and her character as well. Along with that, it would also ease Bonbon, or whomever else might be under Rarity’s investigative microscope, into the interview process and put them more at ease with her.

“Well…” Bonbon began by clearing her throat, “Lyra is from Canterlot, like me. We met each other a couple of years ago, and one thing just led to another and we moved out here.” Again, a small, very short-lived smile spread across Bonbon’s lips as she stared blankly at the wooden floor, apparently very deep in memory. After some moments of reminiscing though, she was able to pull herself out of it and continue answering the detective’s questions. “Even before I met her, Lyra was a part of the Canterlot Royal Orchestra. She could play just about any instrument you gave her, but she was particularly gifted with the lyre, as you can probably imagine.”

“Indeed,” Rarity commented as she and Spike scribbled down what they had heard, “I don’t doubt for a moment that she was very talented, Miss Bonbon.” The two shared a smile and then Rarity pressed, “But please, do continue.”

“Her family lives back East, in Canterlot. Oh…” she looked sorrowfully back down at the ground and choked, “They’ll… they’ll be devastated.”

“I understand. Would you happen to know their names and of any addresses? I believe it’s best if we got word to them as soon as possible. I’m sure you understand.”

“You’re right…” she gulped, “I don’t know off the top of my head to be perfectly honest with you, but Lyra always made sure to write them at least once a week. They would write her back and she would keep the letters in a basket in the dining room. You’re welcome to them.”

“Thank you,” Rarity nodded at her and then looked over at her partner. “Spike,” was all she had to say before the dragon nodded at her and jumped down off of the sofa, headed for the dining room so that he could record the names and addresses on the letters. Furthermore, he knew that it would be his task to read the contents of the letters and report to Rarity if he found anything “troubling” in there, but they wouldn’t reveal that part to Bonbon, of course.

Once he was out of the room, Rarity turned her attention back to Bonbon and readied her pencil once more. Intuition and observation told her that Bonbon was now more at ease with her and felt it safe to try her chances with more direct questioning. She remembered all of the jewelry upstairs and her assumption that Lyra was connected to it in some way.

“When was the last time you saw Lyra, Miss Bonbon?”

“About three days ago…” she nervously scratched the top of her hoof.

Mid-write, Rarity looked up at her and asked with a surprised tone, “And that doesn’t concern you? Didn’t you file a Missing Pony Report with the police department?”

“N-no,” Bonbon stammered out a quick defense, “Lyra was always doing projects with the orchestra or going to some kind of jewelry convention out of town. Sometimes she’d be gone for days on end. I didn’t file a police report because it wasn’t out of the ordinary.”

Rarity felt a little skeptical of Bonbon’s explanation, but decided to hold her in good faith, at least until she could squeeze more information out of her. “Jewelry convention?” she asked, “Interesting. Then I can safely assume that the jewelry upstairs belongs to Lyra? Can you tell me more about that?”

“Oh, you saw that? Yes, one of Lyra’s greatest passions was collecting jewelry. Pieces of all shapes and sizes, and made of just about anything under the sun. Gold, diamonds, silver. Everything.” She sighed, “Some of it didn’t even fit her. She would buy it just to… to look at it.” Rarity noticed a bit of a condescending tone in the conclusion of Bonbon’s statement. She called her out on it.

“Does that bother you?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“Of course not,” Bonbon simply replied and look off to the side, “Not at all.”

Rarity surveyed Bonbon for a moment, sizing her up silently. She knew that Bonbon wasn’t being completely honest with her, at least in regards to her opinions over the large collection of gems and jewels, but she also knew that that wasn’t a crime nor a reason to be overly-suspicious of her. However, she made sure to pay extra close attention to Bonbon now. “Miss Bonbon, Lyra was missing two earrings from her person. Forgive me if I am a little too forward, but… they appear to have been forcibly removed. Would you happen to know anything about them?”

Bonbon placed a hoof over her mouth and muffled a gasp. She closed her eyes tightly and tried her hardest not to imagine what she had just been told. “S-she has so many…” Bonbon gasped. Her eyes darted about as she thought about which earrings Lyra might have worn on that day. “Uh… a gold and diamond pair were her favorite?”

“OK,” Rarity replied and scribbled down a description of the earrings, “We found this empty earring box upstairs, and have decided to take it for further inspection. Is that alright? It has the name ‘Jeweler Joe’s’ inscribed on it. Does that name mean anything to you?” Rarity pulled the bagged box from her bag to show it to the mare.

Bonbon looked at it only for a few moments, and, ignoring Rarity’s first question, huffed, “You bet it does.” She had an upset look upon her face.

“Go on.”

“Lyra’s choice of jeweler, and for the love of me I don’t know why. Some place a couple of blocks from the center of Downtown, on the East Side. Joe, the colt that runs it, is a real slime ball.”

“Oh? Why exactly do you say that?”

“I saw the way he looked at Lyra,” Bonbon’s condescending tone returned, “He wanted her as more than just a ‘valued customer’.” She huffed once more.

Rarity jotted even more notes down and then flipped the page in her notebook. “Did Lyra… reciprocate his feelings?”

Bonbon looked flabbergasted, and was upset on the inside, so she had to try her hardest to stay composed. She answered with, “No,” she then crossed her hooves and leaned back, “she had only one thing on her mind. One thing. The jewelry.” There was that same condescending tone again.

Rarity sized Bonbon silently up again, this time more intently, and took her tone into far more consideration. It was then that she remembered the financial records that Spike had uncovered. “Tell me, could you afford all of that jewelry? It looks like there is an awful lot of expensive pieces in that collection.” She locked her eyes intently on Bonbon.

“Well!” she gasped in offense, “With all due respect, I don’t see what business it is of yours, but… yes, of course we could afford all of that… meaningless jewelry. Is the house that you’re in not a good indicator of that, detective?” She shifted her eyes downwards, but tried to hold eye contact with Rarity and show her that she was indeed offended.

Alas, the insult and the offended stare blew right over Rarity’s head. She smiled cockily at Bonbon and shook her head, “Uh-uh,” she waved her pencil, “wrong answer Miss Bonbon.” She leaned forward in her seat, a move that was intimidating enough for Bonbon to break eye contact with her. “We found your financial records, your hidden financial records. We know that this apartment is just barely being paid for, so how is it that Lyra could go out and buy a set of earrings that are easily worth five hundred bits? Maybe more?”

The color drained from Bonbon’s face, minus a deep red blush, and she gulped. She had never meant for those documents to be discovered. If word got out to the rest of the building, she would be a laughing stock, and she knew it.

“OK, OK,” she closed her eyes for a few moments and then looked down at the ground, afterwards continuing with a quiet tone as though she feared the neighbors may hear through the walls. “Here’s the truth. I… lost my job as head of a candy company a few months ago. Sales were down, production floors were understaffed and so, ponies had to be laid off and doors had to be closed. Apparently, not even the high-ups were safe; I wasn’t safe. It was good money, and it was a real blow when I lost it, but we were able to manage on Lyra’s commission money from the orchestra… barely.” She was quiet for a few moments as she reflected on it all and then quickly moved to defend herself, “B-but! I am looking for another job, and I have been for a while. It’s just… times are tough aren’t they?” She tried to make small talk with Rarity as comeuppance for her lie.

However, Rarity was strictly professional and wasn’t about to become involved with such a distraction. Besides, she knew that Bonbon was still withholding information from her. She did believe that she had been told the truth, just not the whole truth. Still, it didn’t explain to her why the files were hidden away in such a deliberate fashion. There was a difference between stashing things away for safe keeping and deliberately hiding things so that they would not be found. “Come on Miss Bonbon,” Rarity pressed as she wrote down comments here and there, “I know you can do better than that.” She stopped and looked the mare right in the eyes, “Why are those files hidden away? They seem pretty important to me, so why hide them?”

Bonbon gulped, and looked down at the ground once more. Her blush had gone away for a time, but not it had returned.

“I… I didn’t want Lyra to know.”

Rarity nearly dropped her pencil in surprise. “You mean she didn’t know? You didn’t tell her about the fact that you lost your job?” She made a play to squeeze more information out of Bonbon via a line that used cunning and a little bit of deception. “Now, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that.”

“It’s true!” Bonbon was quick to defend, “I swear! I didn’t want Lyra to find out because I was afraid she would leave me if I couldn’t give her the things she wanted!” She sighed, closed her eyes, and hung her head in regret. She was silent for a few moments before she concluded with a quiet, guilty tone, “I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. I know I should have told her about it… I know I shouldn’t have lied. I… I was just so scared and I didn’t know what to do!”

All was silent after Bonbon concluded, with her reflecting over the mistakes that she made and Rarity continuing to observe her silently. Detective Rarity had gotten what she wanted out of Bonbon as far as her line of questioning over that particular subject went, and she believed her now, but she was far from finished with this interview.

“But still, you were on Lyra to watch her spending, weren’t you?”

Frustrated now with Rarity’s intrusive questions but trying her best to keep a level head, Bonbon replied, “Of course I did! I couldn’t let her spend the last of what we had on necklaces or bracelets or earring or whatever and allow us to be thrown out on the streets!”

“Yes,” Rarity nodded her head, “and that lead to quite a few arguments between the two of you, didn’t it?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Bonbon looked away from her and bit her bottom lip in nervousness. She had read enough detective novels and listened to enough crime operas on the radio to know where this was going. “No,” she replied, “never. I asked her to watch her spending, and tried to distract her from it, yes, but we never argued. We had a happy marriage.”

Rarity had caught Bonbon in her third lie, and now the shadow of suspicion was starting to cast itself over the widow… or perhaps the widower. Not only had Bonbon contradicted herself with this statement and her last, but Rarity had physical proof that she was lying. “Why are you lying to me Miss Bonbon?” she asked with a cool tone.

“You can’t prov-” was all Bonbon could manage with a hostile tone before Rarity swiftly cut her off.

“Recognize this?!” Rarity raised her tone intentionally so as to intimidate her subject, and whipped out Lyra’s diary in the process.

“It…” Bonbon stammered, knowing full and well what the little black book was, but Rarity was too fast for her.

“This is Lyra’s diary!” she threw it down on the table with a moderate amount of force, “I read through it and I know that the so-called marriage you two shared was FAR from happy! I also know you argued frequently! What I don’t know though is what you two argued about, but I do know that you’re going to tell me!”

“You’re incredibly rude and insensitive!” Bonbon gasped, as tears welled in her eyes.

“Listen here!” Rarity pointed her hoof at Bonbon, “I’ve got one suspect right now and that one suspect is you. If you don’t start being truthful with me, it’s going to look very bad for you. Do I make myself clear?”

Outraged and upset, Bonbon almost stood up in an emotional rage, “Me? You don’t think I killed her do you?! I loved Lyra! I would never hurt her!

“Mmm...” Rarity grumbled and then replied coldly, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Bonbon stopped fighting and allowed herself to weep for a few moments before she finally dried her eyes with the back of her hoof. She sighed while at the same time trying to choke back tears, which resulted in a cough. Afterwards though, she finally opened up to Rarity. Quietly and in a calmer state she responded, “You’re right… she was right,” she nodded at the diary on the table, “We argued.”

“How often?”

“All the time,” Bonbon shook her head and corrected herself, “Well, since I lost my job that is. Almost every day these past couple of months or so.”

“Over what?”

“Just… foolish things. I was always on her back to watch her spending or buy something useful instead of all that jewelry, and she was always yelling back at me asking what my problem was and telling me not worry about it and that it wasn’t my business and this and this and this…” she waved her hoof around and then hung her head in it, visibly distressed now. She was silent for a few moments, the only sound to be heard the scratch of Rarity’s pencil over the paper in her notebook. Finally, though, she broke that silence with a depressed sigh. “Oh Celestia,” she shook her head slowly, “I should have just told her. Why, oh WHY, wasn’t I just truthful with her?” she lamented mostly to herself and not to Rarity.

Experience told Rarity that she had successfully broken Bonbon’s resolve to lie, and that now she would tell only the truth and nothing but the truth. However, she knew that it was safest never to jump to conclusions too early on and made sure to keep her guard up. Faith in your suspect was something that you could not have. She cleared her throat and pressed on with the questions, this time back to using her gentle and civil tone. “I just need a few more moments of your time Miss Bonbon, and then I believe we’ll be done here.”

Bonbon nodded her head a few times, her eyes still closed, and her head still atop her hoof and simply responded, “Yes. Of course.”

“Excellent. Thank you. Now, this is very important, and I need you to think hard. Is there anypony, and I mean anypony at all that might want to hurt her? Anypony she might have had a disagreement or a falling out with? Anypony suspicious interacting with her or following her around?”

Bonbon took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. As she did so, she thought long and hard about the ponies that Lyra associated herself with. As hard as she tried, there were only a few possible culprits that she could put her hoof on. Lyra had such a unique and beautiful personality that any pony in her presence couldn’t help but love her. Her friends within the orchestra, and her jewelry collecting friends would all be devastated once they heard the news, so Bonbon couldn’t imagine it as any of them. “Joe, and just about any other bigot in this city.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rarity looked at Bonbon intently.

Bonbon heaved a sigh and rolled her head and eyes, frustrated still with providing answers to questions that, in her mind, should have been obvious.

“I know what me and Lyra had wasn’t exactly orthodox Miss Rarity, and we never tried to pretend it was. For every pony that loves in this world, there is another pony who hates.”

Rarity understood now. She understood perfectly. As diverse, welcoming, and sprawling a city as Las Pegasus was, it did have its imperfections. Passersby and pedestrians that saw two mares walking together, perhaps a little too close, or stealing a kiss when they thought no one was looking could warrant hushed whispers or even the rudest of actions. However, as experience so often told her, sometimes that level of misunderstanding could be the polar opposite and be downright deadly as a result.

“I see…” Rarity cleared her throat and adjusted herself in her seat. It was a depressing and uneasy subject to talk about, but a necessary detail nonetheless. “You and Lyra found yourselves to be targets quite often then?”

“Well…” Bonbon fiddled with her mane shyly, “I wouldn’t say ‘targeted’, but oh some of those ponies would say the nastiest things.”

“Anything violent?”

“Nothing physical, no, but on more than one occasion one or both of us might have gotten followed home.”

Rarity’s interested was now piqued. This could be an invaluable clue as to the identity of her attacker. She pressed Bonbon for more details.

“Followed? Do you know by who? What would they do?” she launched question after question.

The mare sighed and looked down at the ground silently before responding. It pained her to have to look back on these awful occurrences.

“Nopony in particular. Usually a different pony each time, sometimes a mare and sometimes a colt. I’m not sure what they were doing exactly, to be honest with you, and neither did Lyra, but we both agreed that they were following us to get our address. Sometimes they would scratch up the door or bang on it in the night and yell awful things at us, but mostly they would just leave the most horrible letters because security or neighboring tenants would run them off. The neighbors even called the police one time the pounding was so loud,” She visibly shuddered when she finished. “I kept a few of them, here, in this drawer. I was going to go to the police about them if they didn’t stop, but… you’re welcome to them. Not like it would’ve helped anyway.”

She sighed and then leaned across the sofa and rummaged around inside of the drawer that was on the opposite side of where she sat, only to pull out three wrinkled pieces of paper. She extended them outwards to Rarity, who seized them with her magic. She wanted to read them over now, and see if she could possibly get a lead, but decided that it would be best to save them for later, both to preserve her image of professionalism and avoid any chance of upsetting Bonbon as it might put her chances of a smooth interview in jeopardy. As she folded them up and went to tuck them into her saddlebag, she wished that there was more she could have done for Bonbon, and perhaps even for Lyra as well. Much to her disgust, she, like Bonbon knew that the LPPD was a hopeless cause just because of how the two chose to love and be happy. On that same token though, Rarity was somewhat relieved that she had these letters, despite their vile contents, in her possession as possible evidence for she knew that had Bonbon or Lyra taken them to the police they would have almost certainly been tossed into the garbage and/or ripped up in the mare’s faces as they were threatened and berated by the very police officers who were supposed to be sworn to protect them. It made her sick to her stomach, but alas, reminded herself that she was here to solve the murder of a deceased victim, not to bring justice to the world’s flaws.

Pencil at the ready, Rarity resumed her questioning. She wanted to mine Bonbon on the uneasy subject just a little bit more, so she asked, “Are you sure there’s nopony that stood out?”

Bonbon thought hard, of all the ponies that had harassed her and Lyra, and continued to harass her to this day, but was still unable to think of anypony that she could pinpoint either by name or by level of torment.

“I-I’m sorry, but I just can’t name any of those ponies.”

“It’s quite alright, I understand.”

The room was totally silent for a few moments afterward, broken only by the pitter patter of Spike’s small feet as he entered back into the room and then crawled back up onto the couch. After that, with an emotionless and broken look upon her face, and a quiet tone to match, Bonbon commented, “Maybe somepony just… took their hate too far.” Her eyes slowly moved from the floor up to Rarity’s saddlebags where she eyed the exposed corner of the letters that were tucked within. Rarity saw what she was doing and shifted just slightly so as to hide the exposed corner from view.

After a few more moments of silence had passed, and Rarity had been given the chance to catch up on her notes, she proceeded with her final line of questioning; The part where she asked questions about the answers to the questions she had already asked.

“Tell me about… Joe,” she pressed and waved the end of her pencil around.

Bonbon’s face scrunched in disgust briefly, and then she replied, “Like I said, he’s nothing less than a slime ball who runs some shady jewelry store a few blocks east from downtown. I swear, I can’t for the life of me figure out why that was Lyra’s favorite place,” she commented with a bit of a snarl. “Bad appearance, even worse breath, greasy mane, and eyes for one thing and one thing only: money… When they weren’t sizing Lyra up, of course.”

“I see. Go on please.”

“Lyra. He watched every single move she made in that store, and he would make sure to have a long, drawn out, and might I add flirtatious, conversation with her over every single piece of jewelry that she looked at. He only tried to sell the most expensive piece to other ponies in the store, but it was like he ‘allowed’ her the variety, and once you get to know Joe you know that that isn’t in his nature.”

“If you don’t mind my saying Miss Bonbon,” Rarity leaned forward a little, “It sounds like this Joe was highly attracted to Lyra, and it sounds to me like he harbored a bit of a crush on her. What makes you think that he would want to hurt her?”

Bonbon was quick to answer, “Things changed, drastically, these past two months. The few times that I went in there with her over the course of that time, I noticed that his advances became stronger and stronger. Sometimes he would even wait for her at the front door. Also…” Bonbon blushed and looked down in shame, “I… think he may have been given a few checks that bounced.”

“Ah, now would that have been before or after his advances got more focused?”

“Before…” Bonbon gulped as a million guilty scenarios ran through her mind.

“Do you think that he may have confronted her about it?”

“I’m not sure, in hindsight, but I tried my best to cover for her quickly before she did find out. On a stroke of luck, I answered the phone and he went on ranting and raving about it, and that was when I learned that he happened to call only at a certain time of day. I’m not sure if Lyra visited him or not recently, but to the best of my knowledge I paid any and all remaining debts to him.”

“I see,” Rarity scribbled down more of her notes and then flipped the page again, “and you believe that he would hurt her because he believes that she was trying to chat him?”

“That, or the knowledge that he would never have a chance with her,” she huffed and then mumbled, “As if…” She then flipped her mane and continued, “But to answer your question, he may have wanted Lyra, but he didn’t love her. He could never love her. Money is his first and only love.”

“And you believe he would kill for it?”

For perhaps the first time, or the first noticeable time, Bonbon locked eyes squarely with Rarity. Not out of anger or frustration, but pony to pony she looked her in the eyes. Without the slightest amount of hesitation in her voice, she confidently responded, “Yes. Joe is just that kind of pony.”

Following that, Rarity scribbled down the last few notes in her notebook and then snapped the cover shut. She slid the pencil inside of the rings and then tucked the articles away inside of her saddlebags, and afterwards stood up. Spike, who had been looking over his own notes throughout the remainder of the interview, followed suit.

Rarity offered a brief smile and then said, “Thank you for your time Miss Bonbon. I believe we’re all done here.”

Bonbon offered a small, broken smile back as she too stood up and then replied quietly, “Thank you detective. If there’s anything else I can do, anything at all, for Lyra, please let me know.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Rarity commented and then took a few paces forward, “Ah, on that note, may I use your telephone?”

“Of course,” Bonbon invited, “It’s right there, in the hallway.” She pointed towards a mahogany table that was in the center of the hallway that divided the kitchen and the living room. Atop it was a rotary style telephone that was flanked by two vases which contained roses.

“Thank you,” Rarity replied and then walked over to the phone. She picked it up and then dialed in the number for police resources. Once the operator on the other end picked up, she stated her name and badge number. “Private Investigator Rarity. Badge number 515. Conducting an investigation for the LPPD.”

“How can I be of assistance detective? Also, I have two messages for you,” the voice on the other, a prim and proper sounding mare, replied.

“I need a box of financial records picked up at my location,” she stated the address and then asked, “Two messages you say? Go ahead.”

“Right away Miss Rarity, I’ll dispatch some officers right away. That’s correct. Two messages from Captain Shining Star for you. He requests that you be reminded that police resources are fully at your disposal,” Rarity rolled her eyes. That was just like Star. He had to remind her of that which she already knew. She didn’t know if she should feel annoyed at the fact that he seemed to lack a great deal of trust in her, or flattered at the fact that he found it necessary to constantly peer over her shoulder and assist her wherever possible. “Also he requests your presence at the coroner’s office as soon as possible.”

Once the operator told her that, Rarity resolved to pinpoint her next lead. She glanced up at the ornate clock just about her head and saw that ample time had passed which would have allowed the body to be safely transported and inspected by the city’s expert coroner.

“Thank you, is that all?”

“Yes ma’am. Have a nice day.”

The line went dead a few seconds afterwards and Rarity hung up the phone. Then, after lifting Spike up onto her back, Rarity turned around and moved to the door of the apartment. Once she got to the living room entrance where Bonbon stood, she stopped and told her, “I’m not sure if you caught that or not, but I’ll be needing those financial records for the investigation. I’m sure you understand.”

Bonbon looked as if she wanted to object, but she knew better. She looked down at the ground with an ashamed look upon her face, but then nodded her head and replied, “Yes. I think I understand.”

“Very good. Police officers are on their way to collect them now,” she took a few more paces towards the door and concluded, “Thank you for your time Miss Bonbon. If there is anything else you need, or anything else you can think of that might be helpful, here’s my card.” Using her magic, Rarity summoned a small business card from the pocket on her coat and presented it to Bonbon.

The mare glanced at the card and then nodded her head. She followed Rarity over to the door where she then placed her hoof on the knob so that she could pull it open for her. She did so, but opened it only a little bit before she stopped and looked into Rarity’s eyes. She gulped, and with a broken voice that sounded like it had more tears waiting behind it, asked, “How did it happen? How did she die, I mean? Did she suffer?”

Rarity was a little surprised to have been asked such blunt questions in such abrupt ways, but still, she answered, “Miss Bonbon, with all due respect, I don’t think that now is the best time to dwell on that.”

“Oh…” tears welled in the mare’s eyes, “Well, Can… Can I see her?”

Rarity briefly placed her hoof on Bonbon’s shoulder and then opened the door for herself the rest of the way. Still with a gentle tone, she replied, “The coroner’s office will call you within the day and request you to come down and make a positive ID. There is a process to it, and I’m afraid I can’t give you an exact time unfortunately, but it’s only a formality. You may see her then.”

Bonbon nodded, and once again, tears welled in her eyes as she tried not to imagine the sight that would behold her later in the day. With one last gesture, Bonbon saw the two out and closed the door behind them.

The halls outside were as silent as they had been when the duo first entered the complex, and the one and only noise that shattered that silence was the sound of the door as it clicked shut. As she walked down the silent, twisting hallways and stairs, Rarity knew that her next stop should be the coroner’s office. She knew that one she arrived she would be able to get some more insight on what exactly the cause of death was for Lyra, but also be offered the chance to confront Star about something that had been nagging at her mind ever since she had first encountered him back at the scene of the crime.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The trip to the coroner’s office had been a fairly short one, largely due to the fact that Rarity opted to take a taxi. Sidewalk traffic was dreadful to say the least, and she felt that it would be a waste of valuable time to walk all the way from her location at the apartment on the west side, across town, and finally arrive at the coroner’s office right near the center of downtown. When the taxi came to a stop, Rarity and Spike exited, paid the fare, and walked towards the building ahead of them. It was an awfully bleak building, constructed of dreadful off-white stones and in the center of an almost overgrown parking lot, while flanked on the left and right by an aesthetically pleasing police department and fire department, respectively. If the contents of the building didn’t scare ponies, the physical appearance of it should, Rarity thought.

Once the two arrived at the front door, Rarity pressed forward but Spike stopped dead in his tracks. She turned to him and teased, “What’s the matter Spike? You aren’t scared are you?” she nudged him playfully.

He smiled up at her and persisted, “N-no, not at all!” and then offered a nervous chuckle, “I just… feel like looking over the case notes and getting some fresh air is all.”

Rarity knew better, but she wasn’t about to force him into doing something that he didn’t want to do.

“Oh Spike,” she chided him gently, “You don’t have to lie to me. You can wait outside if you want. I’ll just be a moment.” She smiled at him and then walked inside of the building.

Once he knew that she was out of eye and earshot, Spike proceeded to bang his head on the stone wall and berate himself for being such a coward. Meanwhile, Rarity walked deeper into the eerie mortuary. She would be lying to herself if she denied that it didn’t send shivers up her spine each time she entered into it, but she knew that it had to be done nevertheless. Just past the empty reception desk where she had entered, a straight, narrow, and dark hallway lined with gurneys, some bloodstained and some creaky, led her past several rooms and offices. She knew, unfortunately, that the main coroner’s office itself lay at the very end of that dreary hallway. As she walked slowly down it, not for the first time in her career and certainly not for the last, she couldn’t help but swear to herself that the coroner must have enjoyed the sensation of feeling uneasy, possessed a strong stomach, or was perhaps a little too at ease with the work performed. Then again, she knew it was likely be all of the above. If it was, or wasn’t, she wasn’t sure which alternative was more disturbing.

Finally, she reached the end of the hallway and turned to her left. The door that she faced was just like the others in this main hallway and the rest of the building; wooden, and with a fogged glass over it, with the exception that it was pushed open just a hair. Almost as neglected as the building itself were the letters on this particular door. They were now so old and so peeled that they were barely legible anymore, but this was merely an observation of Rarity’s. If she could memorize the streets of Las Pegasus like the back of her hoof, it was certainly no task at all to memorize the rooms and halls of a dreadful coroner’s office, and even if she didn’t know the building and its many offices and rooms by heart, the two shadows that moved around inside of the office could have served as a dead giveaway.

She pushed the door open all the way and entered into the small, gloomy room. The two individuals that had been shuffling around and talking stopped mid-conversation and looked up at her. They were on the same side of an examination table upon which Lyra’s remains laid.

“Couldn’t wait to see me, now could you Star?” Rarity poked at her old colleague and then looked over at the coroner so as to greet her, “Twilight! Darling, it’s been far too long! How are you?”

“I couldn’t agree more!” Coroner Twilight Sparkle replied gleefully, “I stay busy, but circumstances aside, I couldn’t be better. Yourself?”

“Very much the same darling, circumstances aside.” Rarity shot a quick glance at the body on top of the examination table.

Captain Star cleared his throat and pressed, “Yes, well, all that aside, I think there are more pressing matters.”

Twilight opened her mouth to say something, but ever in the mood to get underneath her old partner’s skin and find out the answers to her own questions, Rarity beat her to the draw.

“Now Captain,” she chided sarcastically, “Surely you don’t mean for me to come into one of my closest friend’s offices and not catch up? That’s awfully rude! But then again, what exactly would you know about that?” She knew that Star was sensitive to the fact, though he never showed it, that he never made an effort to stay in contact with Rarity after he left the agency despite the fact that he used to be the closest of friends with her.

“Can it Rarity,” he was quick to jump to the defensive, “Need I remind you that you’re here on business, and need I remind you that business comes before pleasure?”

“No, as a matter of fact, you needn’t ‘remind me’ of anything. However, you can tell me just what it is you’re hiding from me,” she shot back at him.

“I’m not hiding-”

“No, now you can it!” Rarity slammed her hooves down on the table and leaned directly over the body. “Have you forgotten so quickly how good I am at sniffing out a lie? The way you hushed me back at the scene? And… how there’s something so familiar about this mare’s murder.” She glanced down at the halfway exposed body with a concerned frown on her face and then concluded, “You know it, and I know it. But, I also know that you aren’t telling me everything, and I want the truth.”

Star looked sternly at her, but eventually broke the stare by looking down at the ground. He looked as if he wanted to try to profess his innocence once more or try to mount a defense, but all the same, he knew that it would do no good.

He sighed and then replied, “Fine. You’re right. I haven’t told you everything, and I’m sorry.” He wiped his nose, “You certainly do still have your eye for detail. Look, it’s nothing important or relevant to you, but if you must know, I shut you up back at the scene because I didn’t want to incite a panic or start a slew of media stories that could grow out of our control.”

“Go on.”

“Do you remember the Zinnia?”

“The… Black Zinnia?” Rarity asked. Star actually thought he saw her gulp, but he wasn’t about to call her out on it.

“No, the Yellow Zinnia,” he replied sarcastically, “Yes the Black Zinnia! Who else?” She huffed at him in response, but he continued on, “This young lady’s murder has very striking similarities to the Black Zinnia. Location, brutality, target and all.” He observed Lyra’s exposed remains in silence for a few moments afterwards. “I figured you of all ponies might have picked up on that.”

“I knew it!” Rarity’s voice abruptly shattered the subsequent silence, “Ha! I knew it all this time!” Rarity leaned back across the table.

“Knew what?”

“You need my help with solving the Zinnia murder! The LPPD needs my help with the case of the century! I knew it was only a matter of time.” She wagged the hoof that she wasn’t using to support herself at him.

“Now, now, don’t get over excited,” Star used his magic to push her hooves off of the examination table, “I’m asking you to help solve this case, this murder.” He pointed at the body and brought his stern look back upon Rarity. As he slowly paced around the table towards her, he said, “Besides, the Zinnia is an LPPD case, and it’s our case to solve. Need I remind you of that again?”

“No, but need I remind you that you won’t solve it without my help?” she replied innocently.

Star cringed and shot a look at Rarity. “Oh,” he exhaled and rubbed his forehead, all but defeated and not wanting to argue with her, “Celestia? Why me?” He exhaled again and further tried to defend against Rarity, “Listen, we have no definitive proof that this is the Zinnia Killer, but my colleagues and I agree that there are some resemblances, however striking, between the original Zinnia herself and Miss Heartstrings. We just want to have all possible avenues covered is all, for as far as we know, the Zinnia Killer is walking the streets right now, or, he’s dead or in jail on some other charge.”

“So, in other words, you know nothing?”

Unsure as to if she was mounting some sort of insult, an apprehensive Star finally replied, “That’s right.”

Rarity was quiet for a moment, but she finally turned on her hooves and responded, “Doesn’t surprise me.” She paced around and examined the many test tubes, vials, books, and other miscellaneous medical items that adorned the counter closest to her.

Star flushed, but still tried his best to keep himself calm and collected. Today had been stressful enough as it were, and Rarity was nothing short of added stress, but she was desperately needed added stress.

“Bottom line Rarity, you’re here to solve this case and this case specifically. If we need your help with anything else, we’ll ask for it.” He saw that Rarity was opening her mouth, no doubt to argue, but he could every bit as swift as she could be. “Now, if you’ll button your beak for just two seconds, I think the coroner has something she’d like to share with you.” Finally, Star turned around and moved to walk back towards the upper corner of the table that he had originally been at, but as he did so, he could swear that out of the corner of his eye he saw Rarity stick her tongue out at him.

However flustered Detective Rarity might or might not have been at not getting the last word in with Captain Star though, she eventually made her way over to the opposite side of the examination table. Coroner Sparkle was using her magic to wield a scalpel and poke at an exposed bit of flesh on Lyra’s body, no doubt in order to take a sample, but when the two converged on her she seemed genuinely surprised. She had a way of getting absorbed into her work, perhaps a bit too much, and had no doubt been completely oblivious to the little scuffle that Rarity and Star just partook in. In her strange way though, Twilight knew exactly what it was that she was supposed to do even though, like with the small scuffle, she likely hadn’t heard a single word that had been exchanged between the two.

“Well,” Twilight started off lightly and waved her bloody scalpel around in the air, Rarity ducking to avoid it and its splatter-prone contents, “After some thorough examination of the patient, I’ve come to a couple of interesting conclusions that you may find useful in your investigation. For starters, let’s start with the elephant in the room. You can see that’s she been mutilated, and my assistant outlined in his report that he told you it would appear to have been done after death. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Excellent. Upon closer examination I can confirm that the cutting was not the cause of death and occurred postmortem. Furthermore, there’s no evidence of any stab wounds otherwise. Just evidence of strangulation around the neck and blunt force trauma over most of the upper body.”

“I see,” Rarity glanced at the grisly sight, “Any idea what kind of instrument may have been used?”

Coroner Sparkle hummed, “It’s hard to tell without actually having anything to compare it to, but if I had to make a guess I would say a large knife. Possibly an axe, but probably not,” she summoned a magnifying glass and examined the severed midsection one more time, “The cuts are too smooth for something like that. In any event, again, if I had to guess, I would say something like a high-grade cutler’s knife.”

Rarity scribbled away in her notebook and then asked, “So we have either blunt force trauma or strangulation as the cause of death. Anything useful in regards to that?”

“Glad you asked. Look here,” Twilight pointed at a spot just above Lyra’s missing midsection with her scalpel and the trio leaned in for a better look, “See this bruising? And here? And here?” she repeated as she moved the scalpel all the way up Lyra’s body pinpointing several spots and eventually stopping at the face.

Rarity hummed and leaned in just a few inches more, “Yes…” she commented after a few moments and then looked at Twilight, “they’re very, very dark. Darker than the rest. Consistent with…”

“Broken bones?” Twilight cut her off a bit too cheerfully. She smiled and then resumed, “Correct! I won’t know until I do a more thorough examination, but so far I count approximately,” Twilight began to count numbers under her breath and then finished with, “fifteen different broken bones, including most of the ribs. That isn’t the cause of death though.”

“Oh? Interesting,” Rarity commented and pulled her notebook out, “so it looks like our perpetrator is one of brute strength. What is the cause of death then?”

“That’s a very likely possibility,” Twilight replied, “because I’m just not seeing any kind of evidence of a blunt instrument being used. Nope. Speaking from experience, these injuries seem consistent with hooves.” Knowing the value of note-taking and being a meticulous note-taker herself, Twilight allowed Rarity a few moments to finish jotting in her notebook. When the private eye finally stopped though, Twilight continued, “Now, on the subject of instruments, and this ties into our cause of death…” she pointed with her scalpel to the bruised lacerations on Lyra’s neck, “this, pretty apparently,” she gave a nerdy chuckle, “your cause of death, was not done by hooves. I can tell you exactly what it was done with though.” She turned around and then, using her magic, procured a leather belt from the bland, steel grey table. She snapped it in the air and then gently laid in across Lyra’s neck; it was at this point Rarity noticed that Captain Star wasn’t wearing his duty belt.

“Ah-ha, so then the murder weapon was a belt?” Rarity eagerly jotted down more notes.

“Yes, but not just any belt,” Twilight replied as she pulled the leather belt away and placed it back on the table behind her, “Definitely a stallion’s belt. Larger than any mare’s belts I know of. Leather. I would have to say that it would likely be a more well-constructed and expensive brand.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This belt was pulled so tightly and with such force that anything else like cloth, twine or really cheap leather would have broken.”

Rarity stopped writing for a moment. She tried not to look up from her notebook and she tried not to imagine it. The thought itself made her throat hurt.

“Anything else?” she said quietly, almost stammering in the beginning.

“Now that you mention it, yes. I looked into the earring as outlined in my assistant’s report, and you are correct, they were indeed forcibly removed,” Twilight responded, looking at Lyra’s torn ears, “Judging by the almost linear perforation, I would have to say that they were pulled out with one quick motion.” She was quiet for a few moments before finally concluding, “There is… one more thing as far as that goes.”

“Yes?” Rarity asked.

"She was still alive when they were pulled out.”

Rarity’s pencil screeched to a halt, and she found herself having to swap over to the almost never used eraser side to correct her mistake. She wanted to say something, anything at all, but she only found herself speechless. She wanted to gulp, but she found her throat dry. To think that somepony could be so evil and so brutal to do that to another living being, it was just unthinkable. Thankfully though, Twilight was there to break the silence that overtook the room.

“Yes, well,” she cleared her throat and then pointed with her scalpel, “if you look very closely, there is dried blood here, close to the tearing, that further corroborate that theory. I almost missed it myself, but under a concentrated magnifier, it’s there. Now mind you, this is long dried blood, and its shade is consistent with blood that only a living creature could have spilled after enduring such torture.”

“Torture doesn’t even being to describe it, I think,” Star commented absentmindedly. He looked away from the body.

Holding her hat in place, Rarity flipped her mane. “Anything further?”

“Nothing that will prove to be of much use in your investigation, I’m afraid.” Twilight sighed and then put the scalpel down, “There’s no preliminary indicators of sexual assault, but with that, among other factors, I still have a lot of work to do. However, I feel confident in saying that this will be the best I can give you. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find out anything more though.” She gently placed her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. After that though, a stern look made its way across her face and she took on a serious tone.

“This young lady died an awful, excruciating, and brutal death at the hands of some… some monster. She was beaten, practically to the point of death, while she had her valuables ripped from her still-tender ears, and then, just as she hoped for a quick death, or, perhaps more realistically, a fast rescue, she was denied her wish and given a slow and torturous death via asphyxiation.” Twilight heaved a sigh and allowed herself to shudder. She might have worked around all of these bodies and had all but grown accustomed to it, but it never made it easier for her to imagine what some of them might have gone through in their final moments. It truly was tragic. “Now I’m no detective,” she concluded quietly, “but for what it’s worth, I think it’s imperative that this individual be caught. Find him Rarity, Star, and bring him before the justice that he deserves. Bring her the solace that she deserves.” With that, Coroner Twilight Sparkle solemnly nodded to the two and walked off to tend to another cadaver at the other end of the room.

Afterwards, all was silent as Rarity jotted down some points here and there and compared things now to what she had initially written when she first encountered Lyra’s body. Meanwhile, Captain Star took a few paces towards the examination table that his belt sat upon and used his magic to summon it up and feed it through the loops around his waist. From somewhere that Rarity couldn’t see, perhaps from the corner of the room that he had been blocking, he pulled his duty belt tightly down over his back and then clipped it securely under his stomach. He then placed his hoof on the edge of the examination table, as a relative might when approaching the casket, and promptly exited the room and building without saying a word. Of course, he didn’t need to for Rarity knew perfectly well what she had to do, and he knew that she did. The images and scenarios that had raced through her mind as the coroner described this mare’s death only strengthened her resolve. Like Star had, she placed her hoof on the examination table, and went so far as to place her hoof gently on the side of Lyra’s cheek as if to give her a final goodbye. It was an appropriate farewell, for she knew that after this moment she would never see Lyra again. She bid her friend Twilight Sparkle farewell and followed suit in exiting the room and then the building without saying a word.

When Rarity finally made her way back outside and into the lot, she wasn’t surprised to see that Star had already come and gone, and that Spike was the only living entity near her. The dragon had taken a seat on a large stone planter a few paces to the side of the door and true to his word, really seemed to have been studying his notes hard. Rarity smiled at him when she approached him, and he greeted her in his usual way.

“Hey Rarity! What did you find out?”

“I’m… not quite sure now is the best time, darling,” she smiled at him once more. She knew that he probably didn’t need or want to hear about the grisly details of the murder as they had been told to her inside of the coroner’s office. Besides, he already had the minimum collected from the scene, and Rarity was sure that that would be more than enough to stimulate his interest and growth, and enough to assist her in the event she might need it.

“Oh…” Spike looked down at the ground as he kicked his feet back and forth, letting them clack softly on the stone when they came back, “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m starving! Let’s go get some lunch!” He jumped off of the planter and started to stroll towards the street.

Rarity smiled weakly as she followed him. It was their usual lunchtime, around noon, and Rarity was hungry, to an extent, but she just wished that for once time hadn’t gone by so swiftly and that she had been anywhere else, anywhere else at all when the time for lunch was nigh. She sighed and hastened her pace to join Spike at his side so that she could scoop him up and place him onto her back. If only you knew darling, if only you knew Rarity thought to herself and allowed a chuckle that was followed by a disgusted gag, how much I hate going to lunch after leaving the coroner's office.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Lunch had been a quaint affair, though Rarity hadn’t eaten much and had actually vouched to give the remainder of her meal to Spike. While it was true she had lost her appetite due to having been in the city morgue mere minutes before, she also found herself stuck with trying to process everything all at once. It did not overwhelm her, for she was the famous Detective Rarity, but it certainly kept her thinking and rethinking scenario after scenario and possibility after possibility. Along with her internal processing, she found herself pondering the mysterious case of the Black Zinnia. Some part of her hoped that this was in fact the infamous Zinnia killer or a direct tie-in to the case in some odd way, for the glory, satisfaction, and sense of service and fulfillment that would come with such an arrest would be unfathomable, but yet another part of her felt dread, confliction and perhaps even fear at that same notion. This whole series of events was like having two mysteries to solve at once. It was a lot to take in, certainly, but she had seen worse and been under far more pressure, so she wasn’t about to let it get the best of her.

By the time lunch ended, it was close to two o’ clock and the city was now in the peak of it activity. Everything was going on all at once yet Rarity was unfazed as she walked confidently towards her destination. As she had been reviewing the case notes in the deli, she decided to proceed with following the few leads that she had. She was left now with two options: Go to Jeweler Joe’s and see if she could find some more clues or get some more information there, or return to the Central Police Headquarters and go over the financial records that she had had confiscated from Lyra and Bonbon’s residence. She was sure that the LPPD had already picked them up, transported them and cataloged them into records, as they had been allowed ample time, but Rarity decided to follow her gut and seek out Jeweler Joe’s. Also, she didn’t feel it wise to place too much faith in the LPPD. As she entertained that notion in her head she rolled her eyes a few times and pressed silently on with Spike atop her back.

Eventually, after some time of walking and making menial conversation, the duo arrived on a fairly docile thoroughfare that was quieter than the rest of the city that surrounded it. Even if she didn’t know the city as she did, her instincts and common sense would tell her that this was a seedy part of town. Not quite the underbelly, but pretty close to it. She stopped, seemingly to kick a piece of debris out of her hoof or perhaps adjust her saddlebags, though in reality to briefly throw her backside upwards and slide Spike forward a few inches so that he would be more even with her shoulders and she would be more acutely aware of his presence. Lastly, she pulled her badge up to the very side of her coat so that it would be very apparently visible and then took off down the quiet street at a rather brisk trot. Observing the numbers on the buildings as they passed, roughly three quarters of the way down the mile-or-so-long thoroughfare, on the left side that she was on, Rarity came to a halt in front of the building that she presumed to be her destination.

“1212 Manehattan Way,” Rarity grumbled the destination to herself. Normally, she would pull her notebook out and double-check to make sure that she was at the right address, as there was no room for error in this business, but here she felt pretty confident that she was at the right place. In front of her stood a tall, aged two-story building that seemed to have been constructed from the grimiest bricks imaginable. The two small rectangular windows on the top floor that faced the street were either tinted or covered an interior that was bathed in darkness, she couldn’t tell which. However, the large shop windows and the glass double doors which they flanked told her an entirely different story. On each window, two pale, peeling diamonds, for a total of four, each wider and shorter than those on Rarity’s rump, flanked the grimy, peeling, and weather-beaten letters JEWLER JOES on one window and JEWELRY! BUY! SELL! TRADE! on the other.

Coupled with the large letters, which Rarity personally felt were too large for the windows, the glasses themselves appeared to either be lightly tinted or covered in a layer of dust so thick that it would mimic the effect of window tint. Knowing the part of the city that they were in, that last option in particular would’ve been the one that Rarity was betting on. She pulled the door closest to her open and entered inside of the stuffy jewelry store.

What she saw before her could hardly be called a store at all as it looked even worse on the inside than it did on the outside, and it gave the overwhelming notion of being nothing more than a shady pawn shop or, in Rarity’s opinion, a glorified trash dump. It was a far cry from the grand boutiques and jewelry stores of downtown Las Pegasus, and certainly those that lined the affluent streets of Neighborly Hills. Everything inside from the floor up to the molding was pale, dim, and dull. The cheap shag carpet, ripped and stained in some places, was no clean marble or tile flooring, and some of the tiles in the ceiling either lay misplaced or sagged with obvious water damage. Even the jewelry cases had heavy flaws, ranging from chipped and even cracked display glass, to thick coatings of dust, to even potentially dangerous pieces of broken and pointed metal trim lining. Upon seeing the place for herself, Rarity couldn’t believe that an apparently distinguished mare such as Lyra would opt to have this as their choice jeweler. Frozen in her doubt that this place could even be up to code, Rarity could only observe her surroundings for a few moments before being approached by a hulking form. If the sight of the brute approaching her didn’t snap her back to her senses, that putrid scent certainly did.

When she looked forward, Rarity knew right then that she was looking at the owner of this establishment, Jeweler Joe. If the crooked nametag that he bore upon his lapel didn’t serve as an indicator to that, then his personal appearance did as it was in just as deplorable a condition as his store. The butterscotch-colored earth stallion wore a jet black suit, stained, of course, and sized a bit too small for his large, plump body, bore an unkempt moustache, and had a greasy, dark mane that was slicked back so much and pocked with split ends that to call it slimy would have been an understatement. Even as he closed in on her from a short distance, one could easily smell that he reeked of a strong cologne, budget, by Rarity’s nostrils, that tried futilely to cover an overwhelming stench of body odors.

“Don’t tell me!” he bellowed out with a shady, somewhat creaky salesman-esque tone, “I know why you came here.” He was right upon her then.

With an eyebrow cocked, Rarity tried her best to keep from gagging at his overwhelming stench. Spike, however, was not so subtle and openly pinched his nose.

“Oh?” Rarity mustered, “And why is that?” She tried her best to offer one of her cocky smiles, for she knew that Joe truly had no idea, but she didn’t want the stench entering into her mouth as well, and could only manage an awkward, crooked pattern across her lips as a result.

Seeming to not even notice the discomfort of either, Joe continued on with his pitch.

“Well, because you’re a discerning lady looking for a great deal, that’s why!” He swung his hoof around, touting his enthusiasm. “So tell me miss, what does a beautiful unicorn like yourself wish of Jeweler Joe and his fine selection today? A beautiful ring for a beautiful horn, perhaps? Or maybe you’re looking for a special something for that special somepony?” He flipped his round body parallel to Rarity’s so that she could get a better look at his sleazy store, and with his eyes intent as ever, and his smile as crooked as ever, tried to sell Rarity some more. “You know, I’ve got this gorgeous new selection of diamond neckl-”

“Please, spare me the sales pitch Mr. Joe,” Rarity cut him short and pulled her badge off of her side and held it up for him to see, “I’m not here to buy. I’m here on police business.”

In a flash, the stallion backed off of her both verbally and physically. He quickly returned to his former position of being right in front of her albeit a few steps back. Almost as fast as his position changed, his tone and overall demeanor changed so that it no longer attempted to be charming, in whatever odd way it had been, and was no longer sale-oriented or welcoming.

“L-look,” he said now with a nervous voice that was as greasy in tone as his mane, “I don’t know what you might’ve heard, but this is an honest business! I swear it! N-now I don’t need any bad publicity here either. Just tell me how much you want, and if it’s reasonable, I’m sure we can ‘lose’ some bits from the register, no problem, eh?” He gave her a brief, insincere smile and subsequently ran his hoof through his mane.

“Oh you can spare me that too,” Rarity shot back, “I don’t care about your backroom card games.”

“ Ho! Ho! What?” Joe waved his hooves in the air as he stammered on, “Who said anything about card games? I told you ma’am, this is an honest business! Honest as me, Jeweler Joe.” The crooked, wide salesman grin that he initially gave Rarity returned. The nervous chuckle that he subsequently offered only made it more apparent to her that he was lying.

“Mhmm,” Rarity shifted on her front hooves and cocked her eyebrow again, “and yet you’re offering me a bribe to leave Mr. Joe?”

Joe nervously adjusted his tie and replied to her, “I don’t like to think of it as a ‘bribe’, more of uh… a ‘donation’ to you for your services. Protect and serve, right?” He offered his fake smile one more time, but Rarity could still see right through him. She was growing impatient with the weasely stallion, but tried her best to remain collected. After some moments of silence, Jeweler Joe sighed, and after looking around behind his shoulders and even out the glass door behind Rarity, he eventually pulled her a few paces off to the side, in the corner of the building.

“Look,” he said with a calmer tone, “There aren’t any card games going on Miss, you have to believe me. I’m… sorry that I offered you a… a bribe,” he cleared his throat and darted his beady eyes briefly off to the side, “It’s just that you cops are bad for business is all. A bunch of ponies see the colts, well, mares in blue standing around and they get the idea that stuff’s going on.”

“Stuff like backroom card games?”

Annoyed now, Joe slapped himself on the forehead and his demeanor once again took a total one-eighty. “OK! OK! You’ve got me!” he scowled at Rarity and shot a particular dirty look at the dragon atop her back, who still pinched his nose. “I’ll pay you double!”

Rarity rolled her eyes and sighed, “I told you Mr. Joe, I’m not interested in your backroom card games or your money”

“Well what do you want then?” he asked rudely.

“I’m investigating a murder and I have reason to believe that the victim may have been one of your clients. I’m seeking out information.”

“Oh…” Joe’s demeanor changed one more time as his scowl turned to a frown. He pondered in silence for a few seconds and then resolved to her, “That’s all well and fine, but I don’t think I’ll be of much help to you.”

“Oh? Now why would that be?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow.

Huffing sarcastically as though it were some great common knowledge, Jeweler Joe said with his greasy, almost timid tone, “Surely you can’t expect as fine an establishment as this to be able to keep tabs on all of its customers? We are quite popular, you know?”

Rarity peered around him at the sparsely populated and dirty interior. She hummed, “Yes, well…” and looked back at him. “Mr. Joe, the evidence that I have in my possession suggests that this particular individual was both a regular customer and a very good one at that. Why, you might even say that she was a very special customer. Now, you can’t expect me to believe that you or your employees wouldn’t have some knowledge of an individual like that?”

The stallion was silent for a few moments as he sized Rarity up. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her, but he definitely didn’t feel comfortable with her snooping around his shop. He was so involved in that observation, in fact, that what Rarity had said seemingly went into one ear and directly out the other. He cleared his throat and then offered up that weasely, raspy chuckle one more time and said, “Yes, well… even if we did maintain some sort of customer log as you’re suggesting… and we don’t,” he was quick to correct, “I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot divulge my customer’s information.” He shuffled a little uncomfortably on his hooves, but his position made it clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Irritated with the exchange that was getting her nowhere and wasting her time, Rarity decided that it was time to turn up the pressure and try a new tactic.

“Listen,” she said firmly and took a menacing step towards him, which prompted him to move a pace back, “Let me put it like this. Are you going to give me what I want, or am I going to have to have half of the LPPD come down here and bust up your little operation? Just think of the reputation that would bring! Think of the…” she turned her head and finished smugly, “property damage.” Joe tried to stammer something out, but Rarity was quick to cut him off. She didn’t want him talking unless he was telling her what she wanted to hear.

“I don’t just mean exposing that little backroom casino of yours either. I mean the fake jewelry too.” She said that final bit rather loudly, which momentarily prompted most activity inside of the store to cease, only to be followed up with hushed whispers. The few customers that were inside took extra consideration when they observed the pieces before them.

A look of absolute horror upon his face, mostly because of Rarity’s final statement, Jeweler Joe tried frantically to hush her.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he spoke quickly and in a near whisper, “I’ll give you what you want!” He turned anxiously and nervously looked around the store’s interior. He then looked briefly back at her and, with a nod of his head, concluded, “But not here. Follow me. We can go to the office and I’ll tell you whatever it is that you want to know.” He then turned his gluttonous form and began to walk towards the closed wooden door that was on the furthest wall from where they had initially been standing at the front of the store.

As she followed him, acutely aware of her senses as always, she glanced over at the jewelry contained within the cases that she passed and couldn’t help but allow for a smug, smart smile to cross her lips. Like most other ladies, she herself had a modest collection of garments and jewelry, but with her intuition she was able to tell what distinguished a fake piece from a legitimate piece. Spike often asked her the secret, as many fake pieces tasted absolutely horrid in comparison to their real counterparts, but Rarity would always reply with a wink and the statement of “A girl has to have some secrets.”

True, there were some real pieces in with the fake ones, and she could have spotted them a mile away, but what satisfied her most though was knowing that any other detective would have let that slip right over their head and would have found themselves with one less bit of information to use to their advantage.

Rarity wasn’t able to revel in her victory for long though, as she soon noticed that they were coming to a stop at the door. It was flanked on either side by two long, curved display cases that were manned by two different uninterested-looking employees, each with a few customers examining the various jewels inside. Rarity was aware of them, but hardly paying them any attention as she watched Joe, who himself could barely fit between the gap between the counters, reach into the side pocket of his suit. She watched him intently as he did this, partly for her and Spike’s safety, and partly to try to construct a mental map of his habits and capabilities. Just from watching him perform those few actions in that brief time window she had already learned that he was slow, and a little clumsy, having almost dropped the large brass key that he pulled from his pocket several times as he fumbled with the likely rusted lock.

Finally, after some moments of fighting with the lock, Joe was able to open the door and lead Rarity inside to a small hallway of sorts. To her left, where Joe was heading, was an open door that led into an office. To her right was a wall with a few crooked generic paintings that had been lazily hung around a battered timeclock that looked to be in less than working order. Directly ahead of her lay another door, this one closed, that likely opened to a set of stairs which led up to the small, illegal makeshift casino upstairs. It wasn’t what she was here for, and assuming that Joe was a stallion of his word, Rarity was a mare of her word. She wasn’t there for that reason. At least not on that day.

As he squeezed into the doorway that led into his office, Joe nervously glanced back at Rarity when he noticed that she had slowed her pace and was eyeing the door. He was about to clear his throat, perhaps out of nervousness or perhaps in an attempt to get her attention, but refrained from doing so when Rarity finally normalized her pace and entered into his plain, bland, slightly in better repair office.

“Please, sit,” he indicated to the two uncomfortable looking wooden chairs in front of his large desk. He walked around and plopped down into his own brown leather chair across from then. With a nod of courtesy, Rarity moved to sit down as Spike dismounted her and climbed into the seat beside her. There was some silence in the room for a few moments after that, as Rarity pulled her notebook and pencil out, but Joe eventually broke that silence by nervously clearing his throat. “Tell me, Miss…”

“Rarity.”

“Tell me Miss Rarity, what is it that I can help you with?” He crossed his hooves on top of the desk.

“Let’s start from the beginning then, shall we?” Rarity flipped her mane and adjusted her hat, “Mister Joe, I’m Detective Rarity, private investigator, working on behalf of the Las Pegasus Police Department, and this is my assistant, Spike.” Joe shot another mean look at the dragon, who subsequently replied by sticking out the end of his forked reptilian tongue when he thought that the stallion wasn’t looking. Rarity paid neither of them any mind and continued on with her business, “As I said, I’m currently investigating a murder and I have reason to believe that the victim was a good customer of yours, perhaps, again as I said, a special customer even.”

Joe gave her a confused look, “What does that mean exactly, ‘special customer’? I value all of my customers the same Miss Rarity.”

Rarity took a short breath, readied her mind and her writing utensil, and then asked, “Does the name ‘Lyra Heartstrings’ mean anything to you?”

The look on Joe’s face changed to a look of shock and concern in an instant. He gulped, “L-Lyra? Why, yes, yes it does actually. Is everything all right?”

“I’m afraid not Mister Joe. Miss Heartstrings was found deceased earlier this morning, and there is every indication that foul play was involved,” Rarity revealed to him with a gentler tone.

“Oh Celestia,” he gasped sorrowfully and placed one of his hooves in his mane, propping his head up. He stared blankly at the wooden desktop for a few moments. “How could it… Are you sure?” he asked. Rarity heard genuine sorrow in his voice, and thought that she actually saw a tear or two well in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied and nodded her head. Rarity allowed him a few moments to absorb the information, and merely observed him as he shook his head, seemingly in disbelief. Finally, though she continued, “That’s why I’m here. I have a few questions that I would like you to answer.”

“Y-yes, yes, anything,” Joe said as he reached over with a shaky hoof and grabbed a large glass bottle which contained an unknown alcohol. “Do you mind?” he asked her as he reached for one of the shot glasses.

“Not at all,” she told him. Everypony grieved in a different way, and it just so happened that Joe’s method was alcohol. She silently watched him shakily pour the drink, spilling a few drops on the desktop in the process, and then place the cap back on the neck of the bottle. “You were… close to the victim?” Rarity asked her first question.

Joe looked silently into the liquid for a few moments before finally grasping the glass tightly with his other hoof and draining the glass in one swift motion. “Yes,” he closed his eyes and nodded his head, “Not only is Lyra one of my best customers, but she is a very dear friend. She’s practically an everyday sight around here.”

“I see,” Rarity commented, “And can you tell me when the last time you saw her was?”

“Around a week ago,” Joe answered surely and without hesitation. “She came in to browse and we made conversation, as always.”

This could be a key detail, so Rarity paid extra close attention as she asked her next question. “Do you mind telling me what that conversation was about?”

“Yes, yes, of course. There were the jewels, of course. She loved to talk about those. A few menial other things as well, you know the weather and the news and the like. But…”

“But what?”

“There was something else… I remember it because I just thought it was so strange.”

“What was it?”

“She mentioned something about her and her…” he stopped, struggling to come up with the correct terminology, “spouse’ fighting. Said she was always on her to ‘watch her spending.’” He huffed. “But what is life if you can’t indulge in the finer things?!” He was then quiet for a few moments after that and then recalled as he scratched his chin.

“You know, come to think of it, she really hasn’t been herself over the course of these past few weeks.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” Rarity cocked an eyebrow.

“Lyra always smiles and is just… outgoing. The Lyra that had been coming into my store these past few weeks has been none of those things. Usually she would have all sorts of questions and comments about the pieces that she fancied, but as of late, she merely looked over them with little to say. I tried asking her what was wrong several times, sure, but it was only recently when she opened up to me.”

Rarity scribbled down a few notes casually as Joe downed another shot of the stiff drink. “You think she was depressed?”

“I don’t know about all of that, but she certainly hadn’t been herself.” He sighed and tapped his hoof a few times on top of the desk, “If I had to give you a definite yes or no answer though, I would say yes.”

Rarity decided it was time to pursue another line of inquiry. She needed to see if she could establish some sort of motive for Joe.

“Alright, now I need you to level with me here Mister Joe. Did Lyra know the jewelry was fake?”

“Of course not!” he snapped, “None of my customers do! It’s not like every single piece in my store is fake anyway. Maybe a little overpriced, but not fake,” he chuckled, “Ah besides, Lyra was… a special exception.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” She felt a little apprehensive of the way he had said that.

“I never sold Lyra any of the fake pieces. I swear upon it. Besides, I think had I tried to she would have been able to spot it. A very clever mare with a very good eye, that one.” He smiled fondly.

“And do you have some way to prove this?”

Joe gave her a disapproving look that she didn’t trust his word, but by now he knew it best just to stay quiet.

“I do, yes,” he simply replied and started digging around beneath his desk. Rarity always got nervous when they started doing that, as all law enforcement officers do, but she did not let it show. However, she trained her eyes intently on Joe. Her suspicions were stamped out though when he pulled forth two blue, rectangular leather-bound books and placed them on the desk. He slid them across to Rarity and with a bit of an irritated tone explained, “Records of all my sales. In this one,” he patted the book to her right, “my timeless, authentic pieces. And in this one,” he patted the book to her left, “my more… generic and budget-friendly pieces.” He smiled at her with a toothy grin.

“Yes, well…” Rarity grumbled and pulled the books a little closer to her. She flipped open the cover and started to scan and flip through the pages. She could tell right away that the record books were accurate, as the dates on the first couple of pages inside matched the establishment date on the front of the store. Still, it never hurt to ask.

“All of this is accurate?” she looked up at him and met his eyes.

“You have my word. It’s all there.”

Rarity flipped through the pages, and eventually opened up the second book with her magic and began to flip through it as well. Her intent eyes scanned over each page looking for what she sought or anything otherwise out of the ordinary. However, she eventually asked, suspiciously, “You find it necessary to keep the addresses of your clients?” She glanced up at him. What type of jewelry store keeps the address of its customers?

“For repossession purposes, of course,” he answered innocently.

Joe pulled a cigarette from the box in his breast pocket. “Do you mind?” he asked, not awaiting an answer before placing it between his lips and striking a match.

“Go ahead,” Rarity mumbled and continued to scan over the pages. After a few more page turns, she found what it was she was looking for in the book containing the sales of authentic jewelry. She skimmed over the pages in the other book and confirmed that Joe had indeed not sold Lyra any fake jewelry, or perhaps deliberately covered up the fact he did by either listing her under a fake name and address or not listing her at all. However, she felt that that was unlikely because shady he may have been, but not dedicated nor intelligent enough to orchestrate a cover up as detailed as that.

As she closed the one book and turned her attention to the other, she looked up at Joe and stated, “Mister Joe, when we found Miss Heartstrings’ body, she was missing a pair of earrings that appeared to be forcefully removed.”

“Oh…oh my,” was all he could reply as he took a shaky puff of his cigarette. He took on a particularly glum look afterwards.

“When we visited her residence, we found this empty box and have reason to believe that it was home to the earrings that she was missing.” Rarity pulled the bagged box from her saddlebag and gently removed it so that she could hand it over to Joe. “Is there any chance you could tell us what particular piece was in here?”

“Hm…” Joe said as he picked up the box and examined it closely. “Going to be hard to tell just by the box, but… let me see here…” he opened up the box and continued to examine it. “Definitely one of my earring boxes, as you can tell,” he pointed out the two small holes where the earrings would have been securely clipped and started to fumble with the interior padding of the box. He finally pulled the bottom padding out and subsequently pulled a small tag. “Oh, yes, yes indeed,” he muttered, partly to himself as he observed a series of tiny white numbers embroidered on the small black tag. “I remember these. Gold,” he said matter-of-factly as he placed the padding back, closed the box, and slid it back to Rarity, “with authentic pearls on the end.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” Rarity asked, and stopped mid-scribble.

“As sure as I am Jeweler Joe!” his salesman tone returned for a moment or two but then quickly faded back when he cleared his throat and concluded, “You’ll want to look for the sale number 103882. A recent purchase if I recall correctly, and a pricey one at that. That matched her very well. She looked beautiful.”

As he said that, Rarity also took note of several interesting things within the book. She learned that Lyra had first visited the store in April of 1944, nearly three years ago, and on that date purchased a moderately expensive mane clip. She further noticed that the closer she got to the current date, the more frequent Lyra’s visits became, and the more spectacular her purchases became. After her initial visit, it looked as if Lyra visited and purchased something from the store approximately once every three months or so, however in the Spring of 1945 those visits and purchases increased to once a month, and after that, in the Winter, they further increased to a couple times a month. This all culminated up to a point of where in October of 1946 it appeared that Lyra was making regular, bi-weekly visits and purchases. As she drew even closer to the current date though, Rarity noticed that the prices of the things purchased changed sharply in just these past few months. Oddly, where she had been spending only a couple hundred bits here and there, all of a sudden there were purchases for pieces costing up to two thousand bits. Rarity hummed as she thought about the new puzzle piece that she had been given. Could it have been that Lyra purchased more frivolously when she was distressed, as she would have been after arguing with her spouse?

Another odd thing that Rarity noticed, on the part of Jeweler Joe, was that he included small comments about his customers. While that wasn’t necessarily unusual for business owners, as these record books often served as a diary of sorts, Rarity couldn’t help but feel the comments were off. That is to say that some were unusually detailed, in the case of Lyra a little too detailed, while others appeared to be monotonous and uncaring. From the middle of 1945 onwards, the tone of the comments that Joe had written about Lyra changed from those monotonous and uncaring comments, to small comments about her attractive appearance and eventually climaxed in 1946 with very detailed, almost lustful comments about her physical appearance and “tastes”. There was a certain dedication to the comments about Lyra that the other customer’s records lacked, and Rarity just couldn’t help but feel that was suspicious. However, she wasn’t afforded much time to dwell on that suspicion before her eyes snapped her back to reality when the met the numbers “103882” on paper.

Rarity had to hand it to the stallion in front of her, he knew his books and his products. The date of sale was March of 1947 and the described product complete with comment was, “Two earrings. Hoofcrafted and imported from the Saddle Arabian Sea region. 14kt gold with authentic pearls on the end. She looks absolutely stunning. No mare could pull them off as well as she could. Should I have given her a discount?” The sale price was listed as just a little over fifteen hundred bits, but if the extravagant number hadn’t caught Rarity’s eye, the bright red marking off to the side that read “UNPAID!!” certainly did. Upon flipping through the next couple of blank pages in the book, Rarity concluded that those earrings had indeed been Lyra’s final purchase, not but two weeks ago.

Rarity closed the book and looked intently at Joe. “Tell me, you had a thing for Miss Heartstrings didn’t you?”

A slightly visible blush across his face, Joe scrambled to take the books back and stash them beneath his desk. He must’ve forgotten about the things he had written, let alone the graphic ones involving Lyra. He cleared his throat nervously once he realized how hasty he had been with his movements. “Of course not Miss Rarity. I don’t get involved with my customers. It isn’t professional.”

“I never said you were involved,” Rarity slyly caught his lie. “What I asked you was if you had a fondness for her… a romantic interest, if you will. Now surely you can’t just sit here and expect me to believe otherwise. Your comments within your record books tell quite a different story.”

Joe gulped and his beady green eyes darted about. He wanted to reach for the drink bottle one more time, but at this point he was too afraid to make that move, especially when he noticed how intently Rarity was watching him. She was different from all the other cops he had ever dealt with, way different. He was so nervous that he neglected to dip his burning cigarette over the ashtray, which prompted some of the ashes to flutter down and make yet another stain on his tarnished suit. “O-Ok,” he stammered, “Yes, I liked her a little bit.” He nodded his head nervously. After that though, he took on a defensive tone with her, “What? Is it a crime to admire somepony now?”

“No,” Rarity shot sharply, “but it is a crime to run backroom casinos, defraud customers, and withhold information from a police investigation, so I suggest you be quiet and tell me what I want to know and only what I want to know. Is that clear?” He opened his mouth to speak, but Rarity cut him short, “I’m a very lenient pony Mister Joe, and I’ve been extremely lenient with you. However, you will find it wise to trust me when I say that things will not go pleasantly when I am no longer extend that courtesy to you.” She wasn’t about to take unnecessary guff from him. It was hard being a mare in this profession and she simply couldn’t allow others, especially males, to get an advantage over her.

Joe only looked sternly at her for a few moments before accepting his defeat. He took a long draw of the cigarette between his lips and asked Rarity, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to answer my questions honestly and fully. Now, were you involved with Lyra in any way, shape, or form? Or… perhaps, did you ever make any advances towards her?”

“No. Lyra was… married, and that was something that I had to accept. I can’t say I approved of her choice in partner, but hey, what business is it of mine?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

He took another puff of his cigarette before answering. “Are you kidding? That Bonbon is about as unsavory as they come! She was awful to that poor mare! You said it yourself, Lyra was depressed. Well, who do you think made her that way?” He took one last puff of the cigarette before mashing it down inside of the tortoiseshell ashtray on his desk. “At least if she had been mine, she would have been happy.”

Rarity ignored his final comment and readied herself to go into a new line of inquiry with Joe. She recalled the financial troubles that Lyra and Bonbon had been having and took into account what Joe had said himself; that he ran a business. Could it have been that an under-the-table repossession went awry? Or is it plausible that since Lyra didn’t know about the financial troubles and thus the missed payments that she was unknowingly lured into a trap or targeted for an attack? These were all thoughts that raced through Rarity’s mind as she thought about how best to go through with her next line of questioning.

“You offer financing on your jewelry, Mister Joe?” she asked.

“On most pieces, yes. Though not on the most expensive pieces in the store. Why do you ask?”

Rarity ignored him and pressed on, “Did Miss Heartstrings ever finance any of your pieces?”

“No, not at all,” Joe chuckled greedily, “Lyra was a mare of means, and I must say that that reflected in her purchases.”

“It’s my understanding that you always dealt with her personally, is that right? How did she pay?”

“Of course. As I had already told you, Lyra was not only one of my very best customers, but also a very dear friend. I couldn’t help but see it fit that she receive the best treatment when she was here. Who better to provide that star service than me, naturally?”

“Naturally,” Rarity commented rather sarcastically. “How did she prefer to pay?”

Joe seemed not to notice her sarcastic reply and continued on with his answers. He sighed, “Lyra never paid with bits. Said she didn’t feel comfortable walking around with a big bag of them. She always paid with a personal check,” he scratched his chin and concluded, “Shame if I do say so myself. She could’ve been quite the head-turner in more ways than one.”

The way he had said that certainly unsettled her in more ways than one, but she tried not to think too much of it as she wrote down what she had been told. If Joe was to be believed, then it was unlikely that Lyra would have had any bits stolen from her when she was assaulted. However, on the same token, Rarity didn’t recall seeing a checkbook or personal checks at the scene of the crime with the rest of Lyra’s belongings, but nor did she recall seeing any at her residence either. This only pushed more questions and concerns into her mind.

“Did that bother you?”

“While I personally prefer cold, hard bits, no,” he shook his head, “no, I can’t say it bothered me. Money is money, is it not?” He then absent-mindedly pushed the bottle of alcohol atop his desk around while he stared at it in silence. After some seconds, he eventually stopped and concluded, “Though, I will say that as of late, something unusual started happening.” He unscrewed the cap from the bottle and poured himself yet another shot.

“What might that have been?”

“Her checks…” he said with a twinge of irritation as he downed his drink, “they started bouncing recently.”

“Now that bothers you doesn’t it, Mister Joe? About how long ago would you say they started bouncing?”

“Of course it does!” he replied with a bit of a snap, “Why wouldn’t it? As I said, I do run a business here, and that is first priority.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s difficult to recall, but I would say we started having… ‘issues’ about three months ago. I’d been meaning to figure it all up, but the time is just always slipping through my hooves.”

“Indeed… now I’m assuming that she was notified of her bounced checks, correct?”

“Indeed she was, via a letter, as per our store policy, and a few… phone calls as well,” he huffed, “Part of the reason I despise checks.”

As she thought it all over and ran through a few scenarios in her mind, Rarity came to the realization that, based on Joe’s record books and statements, Lyra had indeed visited the store numerous times since her checks started to bounce and yet there was no indication as of yet that he had confronted her face to face. She decided to call him on it, and see what she could get out of him.

“You know…” she began slowly, “You said that Lyra’s payments started to fall through roughly three months ago, correct?” He nodded his head and Rarity continued on, “What I can’t quite figure out is that it appears she had been in your business on numerous occasions since that time, and I have evidence to suggest that you never called her on it. Why is that?”

“I never had any reason to.”

“Pardon?” Rarity actually found herself surprised with the straightforward answer.

“I never had any reason to,” he repeated with a shrug, “By the time she came back in, her account would be balanced. Her… other half, Bonbon, always came in to settle the debt for her.”

“And you didn’t find that suspicious? You never thought to ask her about it?”

“Maybe a little bit, but hey, what business is it of mine? Besides, for what it’s worth,” he drummed his hoof on the desk, “Bonbon paid with bits.” He gave a nearly inaudible greedy chuckle. Money is money, is it not?

Now Rarity had the answer to the question that she had initially asked Bonbon, about Joe calling Lyra out on her failed payments. However, Bonbon had apparently settled all of the debts with him, save one by Rarity’s calculation. When she had been scanning over the books, she saw that Lyra’s final purchase had taken place only a few weeks ago and had been for a pair of golden earrings with pearls at the end, which had now been positively identified as the ones that had been stolen from her at the time of her murder. Finally, it would appear that they hadn’t been paid for because Lyra’s payment fell through one last time. The more Rarity thought about it, and she didn’t have to for long, the more a very suspicious light was cast upon Joe.

“The earrings I asked you about earlier, were those properly paid for?”

“Funny that you should mention it, but no, they weren’t. As you can probably guess, another bounced check,” he drummed his hoof on the desktop irritably.

“Were Miss Heartstrings and Miss Bonbon notified of this?”

“Every attempt was made. A few phone calls were made, but they were unanswered, and a letter was finally sent out last week,” he retained his irritated tone.

Rarity had him right where she wanted him. “Mind explaining to me your repossession process?”

He gave her a confused look for a few seconds, but nonetheless complied. “I’m not sure what it has to do with your investigation Miss, but it’s about as standard as they come I suppose. The procedure is the same for failed upfront payments, and insufficient or missed financing payments: I try to contact the pony via the telephone, and if that fails a letter gets mailed out demanding either immediate payment or immediate return. If those go unanswered or unsettled, the police are contacted and an employee goes with them to collect the piece in question.” He made eye contact with her for a few moments before concluding rather tauntingly, “If you don’t mind my saying so, I figured that a detective with your expertise would know how the whole process works.” Rarity thought she saw a smirk, but on a roll in the direction that she was wanting to go, she ignored him.

“Tell me, do your repossessions ever get… violent?”

He quickly took on a defensive tone and, holding both of his hooves up, responded, “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here detective, but I tell you that our repossessions, on the rare occasions they had to happen, never went ‘violent’, as you say. Besides, I think you’re forgetting that there was always a police officer present at all of them.”

“Come now darling,” Rarity chided him, knowing that she had caught him in another lie, “you can do better than that. The LPPD can’t help but have its hooves full with bringing in crooks, drunks, and the occasional troubled starlet, so is it so absurd for me to conclude that you weren’t always able to have an officer sent to you when you wanted one?”

“W-well, I…” Joe tried to defend himself, but only added vocal proof to his visible nervousness.

“And you aren’t so fond of cops now are you Mister Joe?” Rarity held back a smile as she wagged her hoof at him, “After all, wasn’t it you that offered me monetary compensation just to leave your store?” She leaned forward slightly and gave him a stern look, “Now with that knowledge in mind, you can’t expect me to believe that you would want yourself or one of your employees to stay in the constant presence of one of Las Pegasus’ finest? Try again.” She kept her stern eyes locked on him, but leaned back in her chair.

“OK, fine!” Joe’s timid, panicked tone flared at this point, “Maybe I had a couple of repossessions take place under the table, and maybe I had a couple of ponies roughed up for not paying me what was owed, but that’s it! I swear! It never went past that. Never!”

“Was Lyra one of those ponies?” Rarity asked quickly, excitement on her breath, “And don’t lie to me either! If I even suspect the slightest hint that you’re lying to me, the cuffs are going on.” In a visible display of intimidation, she pulled a pair of stainless steel hoofcuffs from inside of her trench coat and dropped them with a clank on the desk.

Eyes wide, Joe gulped. He hoped and prayed to Celestia that Rarity would believe him when he told her the truth.

“Never!” he stammered out, “I would never have allowed something like that to happen to Lyra. I… I valued her far too much for that. She… meant too much to me to allow that to happen. I didn’t care about the jewelry, or the money. It would have been enough for me if she just would keep coming around.”

As he said what he had to say, Rarity watched him very, very intently. She paid attention to his body language, his tone of voice, the way his eyes moved, and just about every other attribute she possibly could. When he eventually finished speaking, instinct and that close observation told her that he was telling the truth, but she knew that it was one thing to speak the truth but an entirely different thing to prove it. She was just about finished up with Joe at this point, but he had already moved to the top spot on her ponies of interest list. There were a lot of hypothetical equations involved with Jeweler Joe himself and with the relationship that he had with Lyra, and to Rarity, too many of those equations just weren’t adding up for her to be comfortable with simply writing him off.

After sitting in silence for some time, Rarity used her magic to take the cuffs of his desk and stash them beneath her coat, “Good,” she commented on the smart move that he made, “Now tell me, who is it that does your dirty work?”

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbled with a defeated and worried tone.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the one who hired them,” Rarity said pointedly. She thought about making another visible show of force, at least as a bluff, but when Joe hurriedly moved to explain himself, she decided against it. It was at that point she knew that she had cracked him all she needed to crack him.

“They’re just on payroll,” he continued quietly, and with a tone full of guilt, “You’ve got to believe me. They don’t know who I am and I don’t know who they are.”

“How did you do it?”

“A bar down on the docks. Clover’s. You know about… about the casino, so I’m not going to hide it. I needed some security after some things went south up there and one of the patrons recommended that place.”

“Who?” Rarity watched him intently.

“You’ll want to ask for Vittore. He’s there almost every day.” Joe hung his head, defeated. “He’s the one that arranges and manages it all.”

Rarity finished writing down all of the details that she had been told into her notebook and then snapped it shut. Silently, she slid the pencil through the metal rings and then tucked it all into her coat.

“I believe we’re done here Mister Joe,” she said. He only watched her in silence as she stood up and allowed Spike to climb up onto her back. “Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve provided the answers to a lot of questions that will assist with the investigation into Miss Heartstring’s untimely death. Alas, you’ve proven yourself to be a valuable asset to my investigation, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you not to leave town. Is that clear?”

Joe silently sized her up one more time, this mare that was able to easily break him and force a bunch of emotions to overcome him at once. He didn’t know whether he should feel angry, sad, guilty, all of the above, or none of the above. It was all a new experience to him. He was used to being the one in charge, and this all had been a rude awakening. Finally, he slowly locked eyes with her and nodded his head.

“Very good,” she responded and turned away from him. “Good day to you.”

Joe merely shrugged and reached for the bottle of alcohol as Rarity made her way out of his office and eventually back onto the sales floor. A few of the employees and customers glanced at her as she made her way to the exit, but she paid them no mind for she was too occupied with thinking about all of the new possibilities and new, unanswered questions that she was just given.

“Well,” Spike’s voice interrupted her thinking as she pushed open the door and he ducked to avoid the frame, “What do you think?” he asked when she stepped outside.

Rarity exhaled and started to walk down the thoroughfare in the same direction that she had entered, moving at that same quick pace as well.

“It’s not much to go on, that’s for sure, but we’ve got some new leads and I think I’ve found my number one suspect.”

“Let me guess: the fat, smelly, creepy stallion back there?”

Rarity giggled, “Goodness Spike, I thought I was the detective here?” she smiled up at him and then turned serious, “You were there. He obviously lied one too many times to be trusted, he also very obviously had an affection for Lyra, and now we know that he has possible links to organized crime. All of the evidence that I have now just doesn’t stack favorably against him. Still… it’s not enough. Even if it were, we’ve more leads to follow!” She hastened her pace even more.

She slowed her pace to a walk when she eventually got away from the thoroughfare and found herself to be around more of the populace in a far more pleasant part of town. Now, she had yet another decision to make. Assuming he could be trusted, Joe had given Rarity a pretty significant lead in regards to this stallion “Vittore” and Clover’s bar. However, Rarity, and practically every other law enforcement official in the city, knew of Clover’s bar and to say that it and its patrons were less than unsavory would be a gross understatement. Among other nagging factors, she had Spike with her, and the already dangerous bar only grew to be more dangerous after the sun went down, and that time was close approaching. She recalled the financial records that had been confiscated from Lyra and Bonbon’s residence and resolved to go to the Central Police Station so that she could pour over them. There was no absolutely no telling what kind of valuable information might be contained within the mountains of pages. Why waste the evening on one lead when there’s the potential to track down numerous leads all day tomorrow? she thought to herself. “I hope you brought your coffee Spike,” she looked up at him as she reared up on her hind legs and prepared for a run, “because we’re going to be in for a long night.”

Intermission 2 (OPTIONAL)

Intermission 2 (OPTIONAL)

The moon had set high in the sky and the hundreds, perhaps thousands of candlelit street lamps flickered dimly in the moonlight. It was at that point of night where activity seems to all but cease and it appears that the only sentient beings out and about are public servants, the occasional weary traveler, and, of course, murderers and detectives.

Near the very heart of downtown at the Central Police Station, small groups of police officers huddled around the exterior of the building. Some smoked cigars and cigarettes, others drank cups of coffee or glass bottles of sarsaparilla or cola, and some talked with each other while others merely stood silent and wrote in their notebooks. Somewhere, in either the closest or the furthest of distances, dependent upon whom you asked, a scream pierced the air. Almost every officer cocked their ears and heads and listened intently, but only some ran off at full gallop in the direction of the screams, while others simply shook their heads, muttered comments such as “Damned Griffons” and carried on about their business. A few that ran to investigate would return only moments later with bored and uninterested looks upon their faces while some others lingered behind in search of a victim or a perpetrator. They had hoped for a little bit of action on a small night, or at least an interesting story to tell, but instead only found themselves with a few more pages of paperwork.

Meanwhile, deep in the bowels of the police headquarters, things were not going as typically as they were on the surface nor as they usually would be in the otherwise neat and clean records room. Mere moments before Rarity had cast a powerful organizational spell, boxes lay shifted out of place, teetering on the edges of their shelves; papers and curious financial records sat in unorganized piles, and somewhere hidden in the midst of it all was a sleeping dragon. Rarity took one final look at her handy work and shuffled absentmindedly through the last box full of financial records that she and Spike, though largely herself, had spent the last six hours scanning over. Once she saw that everything was back in its rightful place she lifted the box up onto a shelf with her magic and pushed it uniform with the other boxes that flanked it on the left and right. A yawn escaped her mouth and she carefully, gently scooped the tiny dragon up and laid him across her back so that she could leave. After she ascended the stairs slowly and tiredly, she heaved a sigh of relief when a stocky officer, the watch commander, wished her a good night, pulled the door open for her, and ushered her out into the night where she got that first breath of fresh air that she had been longing for since she had initially gone inside six hours ago.

She descended the three stone steps in front and crossed the few groups of police officers that had been standing there. Some smiled and nodded to her, “Goodnight detective,” while others merely nodded in her direction or shot a glance at her. As she trudged on, she returned their wishes appropriately and afterwards eventually strayed further and further from the relative safety of the police station. She could see the lights of her apartment building twinkling in the near-distance as it towered over some buildings and was itself dwarfed by others. But what she did not notice is that somewhere amidst the shadows of all those dark buildings, very near herself, a cloaked figure followed her silently, intently. As she crossed crosswalks and turned corners, the dark figure followed her every move but took the greatest of care so as not to step into the light or make even the slightest sound. The figure acted as a shadow and moved as a shadow, completely unnoticed by the famed detective’s unparalleled senses. Even when Rarity approached the well-lit and secured front door of her building, the figure was able to stay completely engulfed in the silence of the shadows, where it stood waiting and watching intently for a time. Rarity would eventually ascend the stairs, enter into her apartment, and fall into a much needed deep sleep like her coldblooded companion had, but one wonders if she would have been rested so peacefully if she had only known of her secret stalker.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The following morning, after only a few precious hours of much-needed sleep, Rarity awoke. She gathered her things and, careful not to rouse Spike, snuck out of her half-apartment-half-headquarters. She intended to make good on her resolution to investigate the lead of a possible hitpony at Clover’s Bar that Jeweler Joe had told her of. She descended the stairs of her building, walked across the tiled floor, and exited out onto the streets where she then began to head West towards the ocean or, more specifically, the dank and smelly docks where she would find Clover’s.

As she walked through the oddly quiet streets at a moderate pace, Rarity pondered question after question and played over possible solution after possible solution in her mind. Aside from the rather obvious one of money, she thought deeply on all possible motives, scanned through her vast mental database of mugshots and rap sheets, tried to place a familiar name with a record and a face, and even imagined some of the possible conversations that might have occurred between Joe and this mysterious “Vittore”. She used this all merely as a pre-investigative tactic of course, so as to brace herself for whatever she may or may not learn.

“Any novice detective can tell you that your imagination has no place in the investigative world, but it’s the good detectives that will tell you to use it as a tool. It can be either very dangerous or very helpful,” she commented quietly as she wrote down a few statements and observations in a small ledger, light brown in color, that served as her personal diary. She felt that writing down her personal feelings over subjects served as a good outlet and excellent stress reliever. After she finished her writing and pondering over all that she could possibly ponder over, she stashed the small book back inside of her saddlebags, which themselves were hidden under her casual, yet fashionable, disguise.

As much as she tried to not be vain about herself, it was hard to deny that she was indeed a famed detective, and having done cases for the police department, it was no surprise at all that certain ponies would peg her as an actual police officer herself, and not a simple, temporary, but above all else, fully independent extension of that agency. Granted, she was a law enforcement officer in every sense of the word, though just not one rooted to any particular desk with any particular police agency. Still though, that fame and mindset could create certain difficulties with the information-gathering process, and sometimes Rarity would find it necessary to give herself a disguise or just throw on something a little more suitable for the task at hoof than her trademark trench coat and hat. In the times that she had found it necessary to venture to Clover’s Bar, she had done a careful and excellent job at not being marked as suspicious or being discovered as a law enforcement officer, and she knew it would be in her best interests to keep it that way.

For this particular locale, she opted to go for a bit of a “damsely” look, as she liked to call it. She wore a black dress coat over a white shirt, a matching black bowtie, a short black veil that could be pulled down just enough to give her that “troubled” look while also sparing her vision, some rather sultry black shoes, all of which was topped off with a freshly picked rose that was tucked into her mane and secured on top of the veil. While it certainly wasn’t her skimpiest outfit, it was sure to get the job done. She was sure to be a sight for the sore and femininely starved eyes of the sailors and generally unsavory characters there, and while some might think it a death wish for a lady to venture into such a nefarious locale all alone and in such an attractive getup, she knew it was good for it would only pull them close to her or, if push came to shove, rush to her side when she desired attention. Still, Rarity always came prepared for the worst, so she kept her badge hidden but within easy reach, equipped herself with a few sets of cuffs, among other means of protection and, most importantly, came ready to make the decision to fight or fly.

After some time of walking on in silence and pondering the quietness of the city around her, Rarity found herself to be closing in on the waterfront. She knew this because the light morning fog that she had been walking through morphed into a dense and eerie fog that surrounded her and was just shy of totally blinding her. The smell, too, became stronger and all the more intolerable with each step that she took. The awful scent was a far cry from that of the crisp ocean air on Las Pegasus’ idyllic beaches and instead smelled of rusting metal, rotting fish, and murky water. She wasn’t sure how somepony would be able to simply sit down and enjoy a drink in such filthy conditions, yet she couldn’t help but briefly reflect on the fact that she had seen and smelled worse, and all the same she couldn’t help but to crack a smile at that. She heard the groan of a ship’s horn as it departed to the sea, or perhaps as it came into port and knew that she was close to where she needed to be.

At the climax of it all, where the fog seemed the worst and where the scent was borderline unbearable, and so close to port that Rarity could make out the haunting and hulking silhouettes of docked liners, freighters, and tugs, a green neon sign shaped in the form of a four-leafed clover flickered and revealed the location of Clover’s Bar. With not but a few more steps, she approached the old two-story building and came to a stop in front of it. She scaled the grimy and weather-beaten building up, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. It never ceased to surprise her how the place seemed to get filthier and filthier each time she found herself staring it down. Sickly looking moss and mold, likely growing out from the wooden boardwalk beneath her hooves, had snaked its way up the front and sides of the building, and it looked to have been battened down and preserved with sea salt, which in turn left the building with an ancient appearance. While the building was hardly ancient, it didn’t help matters to see that the building was so old that it still had saloon style doors.

Rarity heaved a sigh, observed her appearance in a demolished mirror off to the side and put herself into character. Without the slightest hesitation in her movements or thought process she then stepped forward and entered into the bar. Once inside, she saw the familiar interior of Clover’s that was no more or less special than other traditional bars. She walked across a wooden floor and occasionally glanced up at the once seafaring items, such as the helms of ships and taxidermied fish, that adorned and decorated the otherwise vacant brick walls. The overwhelming scent of cigar and cigarette smoke, combined with the slightly less-overwhelming scent of stale beer, pierced her lungs and only reminded her to keep her breaths short and shallow, and to give her garments a serious wash when she returned home.

At almost the exact moment she entered into the bar, she could feel countless sets of eyes moving over her body and scaling her up from every direction. It was nothing new to her, and it was certainly no excuse to break character. She kept her head and eyes low, though she occasionally glanced about with fright and worry in them, and she made slow, even, and dainty steps as she approached the bar counter at the far wall. It was an unnerving walk that was made even more uncomfortable when the otherwise loud and obnoxious sound of intoxicated sailors telling tales and making jokes quieted down when they saw this mysterious, beautiful, and extremely out of place mare grace them with her presence. Rarity knew that this long and uncomfortable walk was necessary though, and she would have done it all day every day if it meant finding justice for her victim. Furthermore, she knew that the unnatural sound, or rather lack thereof, of silence within the bar was also good because it meant that she was being acknowledged. As she approached the counter itself, Rarity took great satisfaction in knowing that she hadn’t been in there more than two minutes and yet she had already lured most of the unwitting stallions into her trap.

When Rarity finally reached the bar itself, it had felt like an eternity when she came to a stop in front of it. It always did whenever she found herself having to walk through the main drinking area itself, not just of this bar, but anywhere else she would never have given the light of day otherwise. She climbed up, somehow gracefully, onto the stool at the far end of the counter and glanced over at the barkeep. The burly brown unicorn with the handlebar mustache seemed to be the only stallion in the entire place that hadn’t noticed her, intent on cleaning his glass, but Rarity knew better. In her time of investigative work, she quickly learned that most barkeeps were so much more attentive than they initially let on; some even seemed to make it a part of their job to hear and see things that others might not. The final challenge she faced was gambling on the fact that he didn’t recognize her, this time in a different disguise, and begin to cast suspicion. For her to be recognized could jeopardize her entire operation.

Thankfully though, it appeared that her cover was safe and that her operation was all clear. Just as conversation picked back up among the patrons, albeit quieter than before she had first entered, the barkeep completely stopped cleaning one of his glasses and looked over at her. Though she did not look directly at him, Rarity knew and could feel that he was sizing her up and admiring her features. While it didn’t flatter her any more than it hadn’t when the other patrons of the bar looked her over, it was exactly what she wanted. He turned more evenly to approach her and Rarity took that as her queue to start the waterworks. By the time he was on his third step, she had a healthy stream of tears going down her cheeks and a quiet, shallow sniffle that was just real enough to be convincing while also remaining quiet enough to not attract more attention than she wanted or needed; she wanted the barkeep and the barkeep only. For now, anyway.

“Oh!” she gasped dramatically and acted startled when he stepped directly in front of her, divided only by the wooden bar and a few dirty looking glasses of drained alcohol.

He cleared his throat, “Can I… get you a drink?” He tried to be polite, but failed miserably thanks in part to his gruff, seafaring tone.

Rarity sniffled, “That’s very sweet,” she said and then mustered a tiny smile, “but I don’t drink.”

The barkeep gave her a confused look, “Begging yer pardon, but ye do know yer in a bar, don’t ye?” She fell back in an attempt to make him feel even more sorry for her. From the black purse that she had draped around her, she summoned a white handkerchief and blew her nose into it.

“I didn’t mean nutin’ by it!” he said as he waved his hooves in the air and hoped that he hadn’t upset the distraught mare anymore. Not only could it potentially cost him a sale, but if he ran the pretty young thing off one of the patrons might try and clobber him again. He smiled to reveal one golden tooth, “Just be checkin’ is all!” He was quiet for a moment as he looked at her once again but then continued, “If it ain’t a stiff drink yer looking for, what be it? Oh is there something wrong Missy? Aye may be a rough old sea dog, but it be a crooked lie for me to say it don’t just tug at me old heart to see a lady in distress.”

As soon as he said that, Rarity knew that she had him right where she wanted him. It had been easier than she thought! Then again, it always had been with the old barkeep.

“Why!” she exclaimed, “It’s the… Worst. Possible. Thing!” She tilted her head backwards and placed the back of her hoof atop her forehead in a dramatic display. Simple theatrics to her but a legitimate cry for help to those in her trap.

“I simply didn’t know where else to go!” She allowed the tears to flow from her eyes a little more intensely, but dialed it back some when she noticed that some of the patrons further down the bar started to give her concerned looks. She didn’t need their attention at the moment.

“Aye?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to burden a handsome and busy stallion like yourself with it, but I was hoping that you would know somepony who could. You do seem to have an excellent eye darling,” she ended with a flirty tone and puffed her chest slightly outwards; she batted her eyes at him.

Like a twig in the wind, Rarity had managed to break any bit of hardness that might have been inside of the barkeep’s salty body. He darted his eyes away from her, and chuckled nervously. It somewhat surprised Rarity that he had been this easy to fool, and she couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive of the situation, so while she resolved to be more acutely aware of her surroundings and of the barkeep himself, she retained the hope that it was either dumb luck or her own sheer experience that had managed to deceive him to easily.

“‘Tis no bother me, so pray tell, what is it that has ye so upset now?” He picked up one of the dirty glasses and used his magic and a rag to polish them to a crystal shine. While his eyes might not have been focused on her she had his full attention, and she knew that.

“I...” Rarity patted her eyes one more time, glanced around, and sniffled one more time to stay in character, “I need a certain somepony… ‘out of my life.’” She said the last part with a near whisper. “Somepony I could trust, somepony very dear to me told me that I could find what I needed here. Can you help me?” she once again amplified the intensity of her tears in an attempt to really show him that she was nothing more than a frightened and distressed mare. “Please tell me you can help me?” she pleaded with him.

“Aye,” the barkeep simply replied as he stroked his chin and gave her a curious look. He looked around and leaned into her. “Clover’s is but a humble bar me dear miss, but she’s known to harbor some… extrie services. For the right price, of course.”

“Of course,” Rarity whispered and, for character’s sake, sniffled once again and then flashed him a small black purse. “Money is no object,” she jingled the purse as proof and then tucked it back inside the recesses of her dress. Little did he know that most of the contents of the purse were paperclips and scrap pieces of metal with a single layer of bits on the top, in the event she was asked to ‘show the goods’.

“There is a particular pony I had in mind though.” She saw a concerned look spread across his face, and she understood that because there existed a general consensus amongst these types of characters that whenever a certain name was brought up, it just so happened that a cop was involved somewhere in the process. She moved quickly to explain herself, “My trusted somepony told me of him. Said he was clean and could be trusted. There can’t be any mistakes darling, I’m sure you understand that. Please tell me you understand that? I’ll simply die if you don’t!” She took on that pleading look again with him and batted her sad puppy dog eyes at him.

The barkeep took a few seconds to cautiously examine her. Though he simply swabbed the glass that he held she knew precisely what he was doing. He saw the sadness in her beautiful blue eyes, saw genuine fright and sorrow in her tears, and witnessed the way she shuddered each time she sniffled. It chilled his old sailing heart to think that somepony could be so cruel to another pony. It just wasn’t the sailor’s code.

“Aye,” he said with a sigh, “Very well then.” He looked around one more time, “What be the name?”

Rarity heaved a sigh and tried to make it look like she was attempting to stop crying while she also looked upwards to give the illusion that she was struggling to remember the name her fake “friend” had given her. She started to stammer some conjured names beginning with the letter ‘v’ just loudly enough for him to hear to further add to the illusion. Finally, after about the fifth name she called, she came up with the correct name.

“V-Vittore,” the name rolled off of her tongue and then once again when she looked into his eyes.

The barkeep gave her a confused look and scratched at the inside of his ear. “Can ye say that one more time?”

“Vittore. The name given to me was Vittore.”

“Hum, that name ain’t be ringing any bells,” he cupped his chin and looked upwards in thought, “Nope,” he shrugged. “Are ye sure ye heard right?”

“As sure as I am that I’m sitting in front of a handsome stallion,” she leaned forward slightly and batted her eyelashes. She ran her hoof up slowly up to his chin. She had to be sure he wasn’t withholding any information from her.

The barkeep once again chuckled nervously and even appeared to blush as well. He tugged at his collar and finally replied, “Sorry to tell ye miss, but t’aint nopony by that name here in this bar. Never was to the best of me knowing.”

“Oh goodness,” Rarity pulled her handkerchief out once more and began to cry softly, “Just when I thought my problems could be solved!” She lamented and blew her nose.

“Oh now, now, now!” he tried to comfort her, “Ain’t never heard of no ‘Vittore’, but I know of some ponies who can ‘assist’ ye, and probably for a better price,” he chuckled.

“No, I simply couldn’t!” Rarity declined and stood up. “For that same moment I talk to somepony is the same moment I’ll be locked away. You… you wouldn’t have me go to jail would you?” her lips quivered when she finished utilizing her guilt-trip tactic. She slowly started to take a few steps backwards and turned just slightly.

“I wouldn’t dream of it me lady!” the barkeep was quick to defend himself, “Just trying to help ye is all!”

“Oh, whatever shall I do?! Woe is me!” Rarity dramatically lamented, attracting the gazes of more of the patrons. She had most of the drinking area in her view, so she quickly observed each and every table she saw, especially the ones where the patrons were looking back at her. Where there was somepony looking at her there was either legitimate concern or, more realistically for a locale such as this, money to be made. Many of the patrons were either too inebriated or too caught up in their card games to take much notice of her anymore, and of the few that did look towards her, she was able to narrow her options down to zero almost instantaneously. She recognized a few of them from police mugshots and reports, all of them apparently contract killers for hire, but that was just it, she recognized them and they were not the individual she was seeking. There were only a few other patrons that could pass for killers of any kind, but Rarity had that feeling in her gut that they weren’t who she was seeking either. A group of three sat with each other, and she eliminated them because experience told her that hitcolts-for-hire very seldom sat in a group, even if they were a “Mafioso”. To do so would create too many conflicts, like when two businesses peddling the exact same items opened up right next to each other. That left her with only one possible suspect, and the more she scanned him the more she had a feeling that he was not her colt. While looks could be deceiving, he was simply too small and didn’t give off that “killer” appearance. Actually, she thought he looked more lost and out of place more than anything; perhaps troubled by something and drowning his sorrow in alcohol.

Almost as fast as she had scanned over and constructed profiles of all of the patrons in the bar, Rarity quickly concluded that this mysterious “Vittore”, if he even existed, was not in the bar. Or, in the very least, he wasn’t at that time. The trip had been largely a lost cause and the time was at hoof to call it quits. So like a well oiled and precisely tuned machine, she utilized the next moment to her advantage, slipped fully back into character with one last outburst of emotion and tear shed, and made a sprint for the door. Then, with a display that only she could perform, exited through the saloon style doors.

Once outside, Rarity proceeded to move away from the waterfront first at the same sprint she had left in and then eventually into a walk. She had no desire to be there any longer than she absolutely needed to be. When out of ear and eyeshot of the bar and the neighborhood completely, she stopped to compose herself and take some notes in her notebook. “Very interesting,” she commented to herself as she wrote, “It would appear that Mister ‘Vittore’ is nothing but a phantom. Conjured up by that shifty Joe’s mind, I’ll bet,” she snapped her notebook shut and began the trek back to her home. “Still…” she slowed her pace.

As bad as it looked for Joe, and for the investigation itself, that wasn’t enough. Rarity knew that there was no room for speculation or error. After all, who was to say that the bartender hadn’t withheld information from her because he had in fact seen through her disguise? Furthermore, who was to say that “Vittore” wasn’t just an alias? Could he simply have not been in the bar that day? There were too many questions left unanswered and, for Rarity, one unanswered question was one too many. She decided that it was time to fall back and do the one thing she had hoped she wouldn’t have to do. Shining Star had offered her full and unrestrained access to police resources, and though she detested the idea, she accepted that she was in no position to decline those potentially valuable resources. With a sigh on her breath and a little less pep in her step than usual, Rarity decided that it was high time to ask the police department for help.

Spike took the hat off his scaly head and used a handkerchief to wipe some sweat from his forehead as he watched Rarity pace back and forth in front of him while he sat on the long wooden table down in the stuffy basement of the police headquarters. Every few minutes, Rarity would stop and look at a section of the extensive number of photos, documents, and drawings she had tacked onto the elongated chalkboard at the front of the room. She would step in for a closer look only to mutter something under her breath, rub her chin, and back away once again to resume her back and forth pace. Only when Captain Star came cantering down the stairs on the other end of the room did she stop to look at him.

“Looks like your suspect, Vittore,” Star chuckled as he walked around the side of the table and approached the duo, “He’s a specter. He doesn’t exist. That, or he’s really good at skipping town and not leaving a trace.” He propped himself against the table and concluded, “And I have a pretty good feeling that’s not the case.”

“You’re sure?” Rarity asked him with an intent look upon her face.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he defended and crossed his forelegs, “It’s been three days and over those past three days we’ve shaken down every two-bit lowlife and every backroom operation in the city.” He pulled his wooden baton out of its holster and it made a menacing sound as it scraped the brass inlays. He twirled it around and, with a macabre chuckle, concluded, “Even put a few wisecracking wisecolts in intensive care.” Spike gulped as he holstered it back.

“Hmf. You’re a darling, truly,” Rarity said with obvious sarcasm and rolled her eyes. “Now, if you’re done bragging about having beaten up half the denizens of Las Pegasus, I would very much like it if you’d answer my question.”

“You’re a patient one, truly,” Star shot back with equal sarcasm. He stood up straight and adjusted his collar, “All of that work and we didn’t come up with any leads. Not the first one. Nobody in this city has heard of any pony named ‘Vittore”, and nobody knows of anypony going by an alias like that. Furthermore, nobody even knows of anypony matching that description who offers services like that.” He looked blankly at the ground, “Thought we might have been on to something with our mobster fellas, but that wasn’t the case when we looked into it. Shame.” He tapped the top of the baton and then turned to leave. “Well, well Miss Rarity, it seems to me like you have your primary suspect in an open and shut case. Say the word, and I’ll make the call.”

“Indeed,” Rarity said as she turned one last time to look at the board and all of the evidence and information that she had compiled upon it. In her precise and intelligent mind everything lined up and all of the cards matched perfectly. She was sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was ready to take the final step. Now came the point in the investigation where the victim, Lyra Heartstrings, was awarded the justice that she so rightly deserved. It was a righteous step, but it was also the most crucial step. Rarity sighed, looked Star in the eyes and nodded definitely to him. “Captain, I believe it’s time we brought Mister Joe in for a talk.”

“Say no more detective,” Star said as he started up the stairs, a smile on his face, “Say no more.”

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It had been quite the spectacle getting Jeweler Joe to come to the police station. Accompanied by Rarity, a group of police officers headed by none other than Captain Star barged into his store and openly sought him out. Either out of pure fright or stupidity, Rarity couldn’t tell which, Joe Diamond had attempted a speedy getaway. However, with his gluttonous form preventing him from navigating the sharp confines of his shop, and his only exit blocked by his pursuers, his getaway was anything but speedy. As they dragged him out to the paddy wagon and eventually set him on his way downtown he loudly begged and cajoled to be set free whilst foolishly professing his innocence for various crimes. Numerous times did they tell him the reasoning behind his summons and state that he wasn’t under formal arrest, but he had been in such a state that it all just went into one ear only to go right out of the other.

As one or two officers transported him to the police headquarters, Rarity, Star, and some more officers stayed behind to clear the shop out and establish it as an informal crime scene. After the employees were told to take the rest of the day off and the very few customers were ushered out, the remaining officers gathered in a semi-circle around Rarity.

“There is a little operation going on upstairs,” she told them, “Do what you have to do, but if you find anything, and I mean anything at all that you think could be of use to my investigation into the death of Lyra Heartstrings, notify me or your captain immediately.” She looked them over sternly.

“Yes ma’am!” they shouted in unison and then quickly moved into the doorway at the rear of the sales floor. They entered into it and bounded up the stairs en route to the casino above. Meanwhile, Rarity and Captain Star began a thorough search of the store in which they stood. They started in the least obvious place, the sales floor, and checked the insides and undersides of the display cases, the checkout registers, and even the interior damages such as the opened ceiling tiles and exposed flooring beneath the carpet.

“Jeez,” Star commented as he jumped down off a chair after having peered up inside of the ceiling, “Why is somepony like Lyra shopping at a place like this?” He coughed as he shook some dust off of himself. “I thought you said she was rich. If that’s the case, why isn’t she shopping at some place in Neighborly Hills?”

“Hm,” Rarity hummed as she turned around to get one more look at the place around her, “My thoughts exactly.” In the end, she supposed it didn’t really matter. Nothing really ever mattered when you were dead.

“Well, either way, come along. His office is this way,” she led him into the backroom. Above them, they could hear the loud sounds of the casino being broken up and its patrons being laid out on the floor. Rarity approached the closed door to his office while Star turned around and observed the old punch clock. He pulled one of the yellowed cards out and saw that the last time anyone had punched a time had been back in 1929.

“Locked,” Rarity commented quietly, “How original.”

“Oh!” Star said as he placed the old card back into the slot he drew it from, “Allow me.” He brushed past Rarity and approached the door. In one swift movement he jumped, turned in midair, and bucked the wooden door nearly off of its hinges.

“Ahem,” Rarity cleared her throat and shot him a rather peeved look.

“What?”

“AHEM!” she pointed at her horn, still with that same look upon her face. “I could have picked that lock, you know?”

“My way was quicker. After you,” he motioned inside of the office and gave her a cocky smile. Rarity rolled her eyes and then entered into the room for the second time around. It was exactly as she remembered it, and that was good because it meant that the search should be fairly quick and simple, and there was no need to worry about having to turn over any unnecessary stones. Even though she could probably recall every single word that Joe had spoken to her during the interview with him the first time around, she could also recall every tiny detail about the room. Multitasking could be a detective’s best friend.

The two wasted no time in beginning their search. There were some documents on the desktop, though nothing of importance, and the same applied to the contents of the grand wooden desk. Rarity even inspected that same desk for hidden compartments, but she came up empty hooved. Still, her intuition told her that she was missing something; that there was more to this office than met the eye. She had felt it the first time around as well. She sighed and looked around the room, and it was at that point that her keen eyes noticed the off-center picture frame that hung from the wall on the opposite end of the room. She couldn’t quite place her hoof on what it was, but something was just off about it.

“How curious,” Rarity commented mostly to herself as she approached the generic painting of a bushel of bananas and stopped in front of it. For what it was worth in regards to the rest of the building, Joe Diamond’s office was very neat, professional-looking, and organized. Yet this painting appeared to be out of place, and sat somewhat off-center. Curious indeed.

“Is now really the time to be thinking about interior decorating?” Star asked as he came up beside her. He reached out to straighten the frame.

“Oh do shut up,” Rarity rolled her eyes once again and swatted his hoof down. She then used her magic to grasp hold of the painting and lift it off of its mount. When she placed it down on the ground and looked back at the wall she was both surprised and delighted to see a pretty sizeable wall safe.

Star hummed, “Neat.”

“Best let me handle this one darling. You might hurt yourself if you try to kick this one down.” Star was the one who rolled his eyes this time around as he watched Rarity work her literal magic. She placed her ear against the cold metal surface and listened intently as she rotated the combination wheel. Within a few seconds she heard the first lock cylinder click and then shortly after that she heard the second cylinder do the same. At that point, she ran into an obstacle, but she knew that it was not an insurmountable one. She was familiar with this particular brand of safe and knew that there was a fairly thick lining of metallic material surrounding the third lock cylinder, so as to prevent even a trained naked ear from hearing it unlock; even with a stethoscope one would have to have a highly sensitive ear to distinguish the tick.

“It’s magic proof,” she pointed at a bright yellow etching on the bottom right corner of the door, near the manufacturer’s seal. Any attempt to cast a safecracking spell at it would be nothing more than a futile effort that would reset the two unlocked cylinders, or, in the case of magically enhanced safes, scramble the combination entirely.

She summoned a makeup bag from within her coat and summoned an even smaller kit from within it. Inside of that kit were otherwise trivial items such as a mirror, a hoof file, and, most importantly, an assortment of bobby pins. What other ponies might see as mere tools to upkeep one’s appearance on the fly, Rarity saw tools that could potentially get her out of a sticky situation, or, as experience proved, even save her life. Luckily for her, she knew that this safe had two major flaws: It had a keyhole on the front in case one might forget their combination, and that third and final lock cylinder happened to be accessible via that keyhole because of its positioning.

Without the slightest hesitation, she bent the bobby pin at a precise upwards angle and inserted it into the keyhole. She jimmied it around a little, muttered a few curses under her breath, and within thirty seconds managed to pop the door open.

“Well, well, well. When did you become such an expert bank robber?” Star asked, impressed at her skill.

“Not an expert bank robber,” she smiled at him as she placed the bobby pin back inside of the kit and then dropped it back into her makeup bag, “I just paid attention in the academy.” She winked at him and then put the bag back into her coat.

“Oh yeah… ‘Bank Robberies 101’. I remember that,” he chuckled.

Rarity pulled the door aside and the two were allowed to behold the unsettling contents inside. If none of the evidence that she’d uncovered up until that point had been incriminating, this was all certainly enough to make up for it. True, most of it was only circumstantial evidence, but it was exceptionally damning circumstantial evidence; enough that Rarity felt she could use to squeeze a confession out of Joe.

“We need to log this in as evidence,” Rarity commented as she summoned more plastic evidence baggies from within her saddlebags. Star watched her with a quiet sense of admiration and interest as she used her magic to quickly, yet methodically, organize all of the documented evidence, bag it, and label it, all without taking a single step away from the wall safe.

“And that should be it,” she said once she finished tucking the last of three evidence bags neatly into her saddlebags.

“Good, good. You should go back to HQ now though. I’ll wrap up things here and catch up in a bit,” he took a few paces towards the door and turned back to her, “Don’t want to keep our colt waiting now, do we?”

“That we do not,” Rarity agreed, “I’ll see you shortly.”

“See you soon,” Star nodded to her and exited the office. He rounded the doorway to the left and started up the stairs, on his way to assist the officers upstairs and look for any evidence that they might have missed.

Meanwhile, Rarity started on her way back to the police station. For the duration of her walk she wanted so badly to take the newly discovered evidence out and pour over it; With her evidence she was like Twilight Sparkle after having left a book store with an exceptionally “exciting” haul. However, for the sake of simple professionalism and preservation she fought back the temptation and kept it safely concealed. She found new excitement with the evidence because it told her that she had in fact chosen the right suspect and would now be able to close the case, get one more killer off of the streets, and, most importantly, rein in justice for Lyra.

She was so excited, in fact, that she didn’t notice she had practically trotted the entire way at a quickened pace. As could be expected, the paddy wagon had beaten her there and Joe had probably already been locked down and placed inside of an interview room. She wanted to wait on Star to return until she began the interrogation, but in the meantime, his opting to stay behind actually proved to be a bit of a boon. Not only would it allow her the time to finally actually get a good, hard look at the evidence that she had confiscated, it would also afford her the time to confer with Spike and get a much-needed cup of coffee. On top of that, she knew that it would place pressure on Joe and it would be easier to make him crack. There was just something about those interview rooms that made one break out into a cold sweat and feel one’s heartbeat (to those that weren’t accustomed to them anyway). Perhaps it was the isolation or maybe the way the walls seemed to close in on one after some time. Either way, that was what she wanted.

Rarity walked up to the breakroom and poured her a cup of coffee so full that it nearly sloshed out of the cup with every step she took. Afterwards, she went back downstairs to where she had left her dragon assistant so that she could talk with him and share with him the evidence that she had uncovered. Very rarely did she take Spike out to make arrests or detainments because of the inherent danger involved in executing them, but she was always sure to fill him in on the details when she returned and share with him the evidence that she had uncovered. Now was one of those times and as she descended the stairs back to the basement she thought of how it would be a good learning experience for him.

“Hello Spikey,” she greeted him affectionately and took a sip of her coffee after she cleared the bottom step. The dragon looked up from the comic book that he had been reading.

“Rarity!” he greeted her back, “How was it? Did you have to fight him?”

She giggled and then replied, “Hardly, my dear. Though, he did try to try to run. Didn’t really work out for him though.” She took another sip of her coffee. She knew that she would have to be fast with it. How she missed the days when she actually had the time to drink coffee and wasn’t often forced to just chug it down and hope it didn’t scald her throat too badly.

“Whoa, so you had to chase him?”

“Now Spike, you’re reading far too many comic books,” she cuddled him in conclusion and prompted him to blush. Once again, she took a sip of her coffee and the duo sat quietly for a few moments.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been messing around the entire time. You know that box of papers that we took from that one lady’s house? Her ‘special somepony’, or whatever?”

“Yes?”

“OK, so do you also remember all of those mean letters that jewelry store owner guy wrote to them?”

“Mhm,” Rarity nodded and took yet another sip. Nearly halfway done.

“Well, I knew that you were going to get him, and I don’t know if it’ll help you or not, but I went and collected and arranged them all for you. Here.” He then passed her a manila folder that had been sitting on the opposite end of himself.

“Aww,” Rarity said as she took it with her magical aura, “That is so sweet of you. Thank you darling! And of course it will help me! Now whenever I go to ask him about these letters I have some physical evidence and not just the threat of summoning it in case he ‘forgets’ or denies their existence.” She sighed, “Sometimes I just don’t know what I’d do without you, Spike. You’re such a clever little dear.” She smiled at him.

“Sometimes?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “All of the time,” she gave him a peck on the cheek.

Afterwards, she summoned the bagged evidence from within her saddlebags and sat it all down on the table. With her coffee almost sipped all the way down she could now at least pull the evidence out and get her first good look at.

“Whoa,” Spike said as he craned over and looked at it all laid out before him, “You found all of that there?”

“Indeed,” Rarity said as she stared at the unsettling material. It made her stomach turn both with disgust and excitement, so much in fact that she was not able to pull her eyes off of it until she was interrupted by the sound of the watch commander as he trotted down the steps.

“Hello detective,” he greeted her and poked his head around the corner, “You said to let you know when Captain Star returned?”

“Yes, thank you. Come along Spike,” she said and then took one final swig of her coffee to down what little bit of the liquid remained in the cup. She scooped up the evidence and placed it carefully back inside of her saddlebags and then, with Spike in tail, started up the steps and, as it happened, nearly walked right into Star when she reached the top.

“Hey,” he greeted as he dodged out of the way to allow herself and Spike enter into the hallway. “You ready to do this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she responded.

“Great,” he started to move in the direction of the interrogation room, “Now as you can probably guess, he’s a little uppity so I’ll go in first.” Star led the two of them down to the end of the hallway where they rounded the corner, crossed the front doors of the police station, and proceeded to the interrogation room at the end of that hallway. Once they arrived, Star opened the door and, before he entered, stopped Rarity and Spike so that they stood off to the side. Sometimes Rarity thought that he liked to make a more dramatic entrance than her. Oh well, at least it was a functional dramatic entrance. He entered into the room where he then locked eyes with a standing Joe.

“Sit,” he commanded him and, without hesitation, walked over to assist him down into the tiny wooden chair that faced the doorway. Whilst Star continued to loom menacingly over him, Joe began to blubber out various statements in regards to his innocence, but his statements fell on deaf ears. Eyes still locked on Joe, Star stepped off to the side and did not break his unimpressed stare until Rarity entered into the room.

“Well, well, well,” Rarity said as she entered into the room and tossed a pack of cigarettes and matches down onto the table, “We meet again Mister Joe. Remember me?” Spike entered in behind her and stepped off to the side to join Star. Rarity sat down and pulled her notebook and pencil out, and by the time she had flipped to the blank page that she needed Joe had already lit one of the cigarettes and taken a long draw off of it.

“Just what is all of this about?!” he hastily asked her after he completed his draw.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions here!” she shot back at him and then used her magic to shut the door behind her with a deafening slam. “Oh you’re very good at pulling the wool down over your customer’s eyes,” she resumed with a normal tone that ended with a chuckle, “but that isn’t the case with me!” She slammed her hoof down and leaned across the table to look him in the eyes. “You know perfectly well why you’re here, and I know you lied about your little friend, ‘Vittore’, and I want to know why.”

“I didn’t lie to you! I swear on it!”

“Oh, I had a feeling you might say that,” she smiled mockingly, “so it might interest you to know that I personally visited Clover’s and nopony there ever heard of any Vittore. It might further interest you to know that we turned over leads all across this city and still nopony has ever heard of this phantom of yours. Nice effort though.”

“Just what exactly would I have to gain from lying to you?” he drew on his cigarette so deeply that choked for a moment or two.

“Oh, I dunno,” she twiddled her hooves in a mockingly innocent way, “How about casting suspicion off of yourself regarding the death of Lyra Heartstrings? That’s why we’re here. I know you killed her.”

Joe’s demeanor changed from harried to frustrated as he took yet another deep draw from his cigarette.

“I told you before! I didn’t kill her! I wanted what was owed to me, yes, and perhaps I could be a little hasty at times, but I would never wish death upon anypony. Especially not Lyra.”

“But you would have them hunted and harmed in a way that could potentially lead to death? Is that right?”

Joe said nothing but his eyes darted to the ground and his body language spoke of his guilt in volumes. Still, she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted him to hear himself say it. To boot, words were admissible in court, body language was not. She opened her mouth to further attempt to push him into confessing to her prior statement, but Star beat her to the draw.

“Hey, the lady asked you a question,” he said. His voice was calm and quiet, but the way he stepped closer to Joe told him that it would be wise if he answered this “clueless detective’s” question.

“Y-Yes,” he mumbled, still unable to make eye contact with either. He took yet another long draw off of his cigarette.

Rarity took care to record his statement, and she glanced over at Star and Spike, both of whom nodded to her. They had heard his statement and she knew that they could be counted on to testify if the need arose; She knew that while information was a valuable asset, perhaps even the most important, bodies in an interview room was the next best thing.

“So tell me Mister Diamond, if you didn’t kill her, who did?” She closely monitored his body language in the few moments that she allowed him to think it over. His eyes darted about even more erratically and sweat started to form on his brow; she knew that he was attempting to conjure up a lie. Still, it was necessary to press him further.

“It’s all right here Mister Diamond. The motive, the evidence, why, we even have the murder weapon,” she reached across the table and gently lifted his hoof up, “It’s all right here.” Still, Joe remained speechless and allowed Rarity to drop his hoof like a limp rag.

“To top it all off, we even have your inspiration…” From within her saddlebags, Rarity summoned the baggies that contained the evidence she had confiscated from his office. She opened them and freely placed it all down in front of him and asked, “Any of these look familiar? They should. We found them in your office.”

Inside of the bags, a series of grisly documents and photos divided the detective from the suspect. Rarity watched him intently, an increasing sense of confidence and satisfaction growing inside of her as he was forced to look at his own secrets laid out before him. There were many grim newspaper clippings and photos, dated January of the current year, 1947, all of which focused on the widely covered Black Zinnia and her killer. Leaked photos of her corpse accompanied sickening and macabre newspaper clippings that described, in unnecessarily great detail, the manner in which the poor mare was assaulted and ultimately brutalized. It all matched the manner in which Lyra was killed exactly, down to be completely divided at the midsection. The only difference is that Lyra’s body had not been posthumously tampered with and arranged in a sickening macabre display. Equally as unsettling, if not more, were the personal documents and materials of Joe’s that revolved around a sick obsession with some female customers, though namely Lyra. There were affectionate writings and poems, and explicit fantasies spelled out in great detail on what appeared to be crumpled pieces of notebook paper, and he had even gone so far as to save the sales receipts of his “favorite customers.” To top it all off there were photos, all of Lyra, that appeared to have either been cut from orchestral playbooks or newspaper articles which featured stories of her orchestra, or taken by a sinisterly competent photographer; perhaps a rouge reporter for hire, perhaps even Joe himself.

Rarity bit the tip of her eraser for a moment and leaned back in her chair, though she kept her eyes glued on him. “You strike me as one of two things Mister Diamond,” she said after a few moments of silent thought, “A crafty though lonely pony who likes his true-to-life crime thrillers, or a sick and dangerous obsessive.”

Joe extinguished his cigarette only to light up another one directly after. He stared dangerously at Rarity, and in his eyes she could see a mixture of emotions, chief of which was a passionate hatred for her. After some time though, he eventually broke the stare and the silence.

“So I like to read the newspaper and… keep the articles that I find interesting. Is that a crime?” He flicked some of the ashes off the end of his cigarette.

Rarity thought it an interesting and bold move that he was going on the offensive. Could he really be foolish enough to think that she, or a jury, would believe that that’s all this was? He was no genius, and that was obvious. Then again, she supposed that if he was then he wouldn’t have gotten caught. Still, she decided to humor him, though not before she dodged his question and asked another of her own.

“What of these pictures?” she picked one up to show it to him, “These little fantasies of yours? For goodness sakes you kept receipts! You cannot honestly sit there and expect me to believe that that’s you having an ‘interest’ in journalism and otherwise.”

Joe sighed and he struggled to keep his eyes off of the material and the detective in front of him. His secret shame had been discovered, and though he truly didn’t see any wrong in what he had done, he just wanted the questioning to stop. Though, on the same token he didn’t wish to tell her anymore for he despised her with a fiery passion. In his eyes she was simply there to ruin his life.

He sighed, “OK, OK…” he closed his eyes for a few moments, pondered his decision, and looked back at her, “You caught me there. I… had a thing for Lyra.”

“Just for Lyra?” she casually shuffled the photos and receipts of one or two other mares.

“Fine, mostly Lyra. She was just so… so beautiful. So genuine. Like a diamond that I could never hope to have,” he sighed, “Oh what I wouldn’t have done to please her.” Rarity couldn’t help but hear a sinister underlying tone in his previous statement, but for the moment she opted to take it at face value. “You’re right,” he took a heavy draw off of his cigarette and continued quietly, “I’m lonely. I’m lonely and I had certain… fantasies in my head. But is that really a crime?”

“No it is not. However, it is a crime to murder somepony in cold blood,” Rarity struck at him with a calm ferocity.

“I told you I didn’t kill her!” he shot back with such passion that he actually raised a few inches out of his seat. Star stepped forward a few paces, his hoof close to his baton, and that convinced him that it would be wisest to go no higher.

“Why’d you lie to me then?” she asked calmly.

Joe shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was even answering her questions. Didn’t he need a lawyer present or something? Still, though he was foolish and could get a bit ahead of himself, he wasn’t downright stupid. “I… I lied because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“What do you think?! Prison! Jail! Losing my business! Losing my reputation! What isn’t there to be scared of?!” He continued to shake his head after his secondary outburst. “I mean, how am I supposed to feel when this ‘detective’ and her little dragon thing show up out of nowhere and say that I’m the number one suspect in a murder?”

“Hm…” Rarity tapped her chin with her pencil, “Mister Diamond, I can assure you that I never recall stating that you were my number one suspect. However, if you can’t start answering my questions fully and truthfully I can positively assure you that you will see more than the cold iron bars of this state’s penitentiaries… you will see the gas chamber.”

“This is an outrage!” he bellowed out and stood bolt upright. Star swiftly threw him back down into it and pulled his baton afterwards.

“Stay down!” he cautioned.

All the while, Rarity stayed quiet and calm throughout the whole spectacle. She was deep in thought. She knew that he was guilty, for not only did her instincts and gut point to it, but all of the evidence was there. Still, this Joe Diamond, this “Jeweler Joe”, fought with the ferocity of a truly innocent pony. It certainly was odd. Unfazed by his acting skills though, she remained steadfast and hell-bent on squeezing a confession out of him. She didn’t care if it she had to be there until the sun came up the next morning, but by Celestia she would hear this stallion say, “I did it. I killed Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Let’s back up a little bit,” she continued, “Tell me, where were you on the night of March 12th between the hours of, let’s say, 7 o’ clock and 10 o’ clock.” After what had seemed like an eternity, Twilight Sparkle eventually was able to put together a detailed portfolio that described how and when Lyra died, and that was the crucial timeframe that she had provided.

Again, Joe stared deeply into her eyes with a dangerous and passionate hate. Eventually though he replied, “I was at work. I closed up the store and went to bed upstairs.”

“Do you have anypony that can testify to that?”

“No,” he replied smugly, “I don’t. All of my employees go home at six.”

“Mhm,” Rarity mumbled, “Of course they do.”

Joe quickly took offense to her comment. “Oh, so do you propose I keep them there all day and all night, like slaves?”

“Oh of course not,” she replied calmly though confidently, “though I do find it funny that you allow your employees to clear out nearly three hours before your store closes. Awfully strange business strategy, isn’t it?” She leaned across the table and looked him in the eyes, “Budget cuts?” She had a keen eye, an extremely keen eye, and it was with that keen eye that she had taken notice of the simple sign that was labeled “business hours” and stuck to the front door of his store. It was a trivial object, and it was something that no one, even a seasoned detective would look at unless they had to. Still, these small and trivial objects and pieces of information could sometimes turn out to be the things that can make or break an interview or even an entire investigation.

“I… I think I let them go home early that day,” his eyes darted away from her and he extinguished his half-smoked cigarette.

“Why are you lying to me?” she asked confidently. She could see that Joe was desperately scrambling to come up with a response. “Whatever the reason, you’ll have to do better than that. I say so because we’ve already interviewed some of your employees. They were very cooperative, and they told us that you never allowed them to leave early. Not even on the holidays?” she flipped back to the statement that one of his employees had made, “Tsk tsk. Now, what was so special about that particular day that you would have let them leave early?”

Still, Joe sat in silence and tried not to make eye contact with her. He wanted desperately to say something, anything at all, but it was too late. He had already backed himself into a corner with his overly-defensive lies. A few moments would pass and he would open his mouth to try to say something, but no words would come out.

“So did you let them leave early,” Rarity asked, still confident and calm; she knew that she had him. “Or were you the one that left early? It’s funny because your employees tell us that you took an awfully long lunch, and a late one at that. Care to elaborate?”

“I went to my usual spot. Stayed a little longer so I could have a couple of drinks and smoke a little bit.”

“What’s your usual spot? What time did you go?” she glanced down at some information that was previously written in her notebook.

“I don’t see what that has to do with any of this,” he sighed and started to toy with the packet of cigarettes in front of him, “but if you must know… it’s the Garden of Celestia, and I left the store around half past seven.”

“Mhm,” Rarity looked at him when she knew that she had caught him in yet another lie, “That’s a little too fancy for your tastes and budget, isn’t it?”

“What are you saying?” he shot her a dirty look.

“I’m saying that I’m getting tired of you lying to me. Again, you’ll have to do better than that and you’ll also do well to remember that I’ve already interviewed your employees. Though I will say that you almost gave me the right answer. Almost. I have the right puzzle piece, as it were, but you just put it down in the wrong spot.”

“What are you going on about?” he asked her with growing irritation in his voice.

“I know that your ‘usual spot’ is Clover’s,” she flipped back to the blank page in her notebook, “and I also know that you really need to learn how to be a better liar. You’re not helping yourself and you’re only digging yourself deeper and deeper into a hole. Do yourself a favor and tell me where you were at during the time in question, and I want the truth this time,” she stared him down and concluded, “And believe me when I say that this is your last chance.”

Joe gulped and he started to dart his eyes all about the room. It was hotter in there, hotter than he remembered, and it made him break into a sweat. He was nervous, angry, and frightened all at the same time. The words that she spoke to him rocked him at his foundation and he was left at a loss for words. What could he say to her that would convince her? He tried to fumble for another cigarette, but he dropped the packet and it landed on the floor with a sound that echoed out like a boom to him. He was too nervous and exhausted to reach down and retrieve the pack, so he sat there in a stunned silence as his mind continued to scramble for something, anything that he could say. The tension in the tiny interview room was so thick that one could cut it with a knife, and as brave a soul she was, Rarity took it upon herself to be the one to cut that tension.

“Not going to give me an answer? Alright, so then just tell me what happened that day. Give me your side of the story. You’ve seen all of the evidence that I have, and I know that you’re smart enough to know that it doesn’t look good.” Still, Joe sat in silence but managed to glance up at her; he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Why did you lie to me? What’s the true meaning of all of this material we took from your office? Did you kill Lyra? Why? Just tell me your side,” she bombarded him with question after question. With each new question that rolled off of her tongue the louder and louder her voice echoed in his mind. All at once, everything going on within his mind intensified; the detective’s voice got louder, his heart beat pounded like a hammer, and his sweat seemed to drench him as the heat of the room suffocated him; at some point in the end Rarity’s voice turned into a shrill ringing in his ears. Despite all of this though, all of these occurrences that told him to scream out and say something, anything, he remained at a loss for words.

“You know what I think happened?” she concluded, ready to paint the picture of truth, “I think you killed her. I think you were tired of not getting your money up front, and perhaps even worse I think you were angered by the fact that Lyra didn’t return your affections… your desires,” she tapped her pencil on the table, “Does that sound right?” she then asked him mockingly. She had no desire to hear his answer for she already knew what it was.

“She came into your store that day to buy a very pricey set of earrings, and then when her personal check bounced for the amount, something about that pushed you over the edge. Maybe it was because it was her most expensive purchase from you or maybe you realized that it was going to be an endless cycle of not getting your money and getting rejected, so out of pure anger you snuck out into the night, followed her home after her invitation-only recital, and murdered her. You beat her to a pulp with your bare hooves, cut her up like a piece of meat, and then further butchered her body in an attempt to mimic the killing of the Black Zinnia.” She stared at him so intensely that he had stopped darting his eyes about the room and couldn’t stop himself when he stared back at her with an empty and expressionless look upon his face. “Paying homage, perhaps?” she asked, “Or were you hoping to throw us off?” she stated what she believed his true intent was with a quiet chuckle at the end.

Something in that final question finally pushed Joe over the edge. To say that she had psychologically damaged and subdued him would be an understatement. Every sound inside and outside of his body echoed out so loudly that he felt like his eardrums were readying to burst, and his mind raced with a million vivid memories of Lyra, sweet Lyra, and the awful things that he had done to her. Along with that, the insinuations and statements that Rarity threw at him pounded on his psyche like artillery shells as they battered the beaches in Normaredy. He felt like he could feel himself dying because of all of this, and he just wanted it to stop! Finally, for the first time in what had seemed like an eternity, he broke the silence with a scream.

“OK!” he shouted afterwards so loudly that it stopped Rarity in her tracks and made Star tense up dangerously, “I did it! I killed her! I don’t know why I did, but I did it!” Guilt welled inside of him, and anger and shame overcame him. He snatched up the cigarette packet from the floor and struck another one to life. He struggled to keep from suffocating as he freely cried and lamented over what he had done. “I knew Lyra, and I loved her, but now she’s dead because of me!”

Rarity smiled subtly to herself as she watched the scene before her unfold. She had done it. She had cracked him and gotten her confession. She didn’t even allow him the time to finish smoking his cigarette before she replied, “I know you did, Mr. Joe. That’s all I needed to hear. However, I do have two more questions.” He said nothing and he didn’t even look at her or acknowledge her, but she knew that he could hear her and that he would likely tell her what she wanted to know; she had broken him. Though she had gotten the confession that she desired, this interview wasn’t over. “Was it a knife that you used? What did you do, and what did you do with the earrings?”

He was quiet for a moment but after he took a puff of his cigarette, in his blind state, he simply told her, “Yes. I threw it in the ocean. Off of the Santa Maneica Pier.” He didn’t really understand why he told her. He simply did.

“The earrings?”

“I don’t remember.”

Rarity judged him silently for a few moments before she snapped her notebook shut. It really didn’t matter. She had gotten the information that she wanted and needed; a confirmed motive, a weapon involved in the murder and a location on it, and most importantly, a confession. The hopefully still-bloodstained earrings would have been a nice addition to show to the jury, but she knew that it wasn’t necessary and that it was perhaps her keen eye for detail or her attention to the tiny things that stoked the hope she would have been able to find them. Of course, it may have been her morality as well. In any event, she knew that Coroner Sparkle’s testimony would be enough for a jury in that regard.

“Very well,” she cleared her throat and stood up; Star moved behind Joe and stood him up, “Joe Diamond, I’m charging you with the murder of Lyra Heartstrings and placing you under arrest for the same charge,” she continued while she watched Star stand a limp Joe up and place cuffs on his hind and front legs.

“You will remain here until your day in court of which the date will be determined by due process. If you cannot afford an attorney or do not wish to appoint one, one will be appointed for you.” She was then quiet for a moment while she watched Star finish the job and move to escort him out of the room en route to a dirty, dark, and cramped jail cell. As the shell of a pony passed by her, like a dog being steered by its master, she concluded, “Good luck to you sir, and may there be mercy on your soul.”

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Later that evening Rarity and Spike returned home and she continued with her usual routine; cleaning her already neat and organized office space, washing the dishes, and balancing her finances; all of them luxuries to her before she moved on to examine another file in an ever-growing stack of manila folders and cluttered notebooks. Another case was closed and the job was done. Now it was time to move on to something else. Though it was certain to be nothing as exciting or inspiring as a murder, it was work that needed to be done nonetheless. A mare or colt suspicious of their significant other perhaps? A string of crafty robberies at the same store maybe? A missing somepony with dreams of stardom, lost in the big bad city of Las Pegasus possibly? It was all part of her after-investigation routine and it would have continued on that way had she not been interrupted by a knock at the door. She expected it to be another client, but when she opened the door she was graced with the most pleasant surprise that she had had in as long as she could remember.

Captain Shining Star’s eyes met hers and whether it be out of reflex or bashfulness, he looked away from them for a split second. He looked awfully handsome with his mane combed back and tucked neatly beside his ears, and he wore a black suit with a white dress shirt and red tie. Rarity wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t help but think that it was his old getup that he wore back when he worked with her all those years ago.

“Hello Rarity,” he greeted and looked back at her, “I’m sorry I dropped by on such short notice, but I was wondering if I could take you to dinner? I was thinking we could celebrate, and it’s the least I could do for you taking this case off my hooves and mopping the floor with it like you usually do.” He smiled thoughtfully at her and then cleared his throat. “My own personal thank you, of course… I trust that the good city of Las Pegasus already thanked you with a fairly hefty check?”

“Mhm,” she smiled cockily back at him and teased, “You never did have a thing for notices darling, so who am I to expect them now?” She sighed playfully, “But yes, I’d love to. Please, do come in.” She stepped aside and allowed him into her home and headquarters; his old home and headquarters. It was exactly as he remembered it, right down to the flooring, and it even smelled the same; that old yet satisfying musty smell that one might encounter inside of a library or bookstore. The little dragon assistant, Spike, now he was new, but otherwise everything else was exactly the same. It was a good and nostalgic sensation, and though he didn’t show it, it made him sad to remember his decision to leave Rarity and the agency. Still, in his heart he felt like he had made the right decision.

When she closed the door behind him she caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye that was in Star’s left hoof and hidden out of her sight beneath him.

“What’s that you’re holding darling?” she asked him casually.

“Oh!” Star looked at her and down at the items he held several times after she reminded him of them. “Sorry! I got these for you.” He pulled them out from beneath him and revealed to her a beautiful bouquet of roses and daisies.

“How thoughtful!” she was genuinely surprised when she took them, “They’re beautiful!” She sniffed them briefly and then smiled at him while she looked into his eyes for what seemed like the longest time. For a time that felt equally as long, the two of them looked at each other in silence and then, for the first time in a very long time, Rarity found herself struggling for words and stuttering over them to boot.

“W-well,” she cleared her throat and pulled her eyes away from him with a deep blush on her face, “I suppose I should put these in a vase and get ready. Do make yourself comfortable.” She turned and went to walk away from him, still rather swooning, and banged her leg on the table. Too embarrassed to even look back at him she pressed on and rounded the corner out of his sight.

Meanwhile, Captain Star did as Rarity had invited and made himself comfortable. He sat down on the old sofa in front of the coffee table that Rarity had banged her knee on and continued to look around the place that he remembered. Even the old sofa brought him a sense of nostalgia as he remembered the many sleepless nights that he had spent upon it looking over pages upon pages of evidence and some nights getting nowhere and other nights cracking the case wide open. Outcome aside, like his old partner, on that old sofa he would sit and in the very least wait, wonder, and know that he would eventually get his suspect and close his case.

In what seemed like only a few minutes Star had spent so much time reminiscing that he found himself surprised when Rarity traipsed around the corner wearing a magnificent dress, likely of her own design, that only magnified the intensity of her beauty. It was royal blue and glistened, somehow, like it’s wearer in even the dimmest of light. In her left hoof she held a crystal vase filled with water and the gorgeous assortment of flowers that he had gifted her, with the exception of a single rose that she had plucked from its stem and fixed carefully into her mane. The dumbstruck stallion couldn’t help but stare at her.

“Everything alright?” she asked and snapped him out of it as she crossed through the living room and entered into her office so that she could place the vase on her desk. Her voice sounded genuine and she didn’t stop walking, and he was thankful for that because it meant that she didn’t realize he had essentially ogled her. But then again, she was the famous Detective Rarity and she could see more than anypony else could.

“Yes, yes, everything is all good. Just… thinking about the old place.” He turned and looked about one more time as Rarity crossed back into the living room to join him. “Well,” he clapped his hooves on the floor and smiled at her, “Are you ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she smiled and followed him to the door but stopped him when he opened it. “Oh yes, one more thing. Do you mind if Spike tags along? I know the poor dear must be starving.”

“That sounds good to me. I haven’t had the opportunity to really met him anyway.”

“Spike!” she called his name, “Spike!” she called again and finally summoned the dragon from his lair in the corner of the next room over.

“Yeah?” he poked his head around the corner.

“Myself and the Captain here are going to dinner. You want to come along?”

Spike eyed them suspiciously for a few moments before he eventually replied with, “Are you two going to kiss? Bleh,” he made a disgusted face, “Count me out! But thanks anyway.”

When he said that, Star made a noise that was part suppressed laugh and part shocked cough, and he pulled his tie away from his neck and cleared his throat afterwards, and Rarity simply turned a deep and embarrassed red. She wanted to say something in retort, and she sensed that Star wanted to as well, but neither of them, despite their bravery, really wanted to say anything.

“Very well then,” Rarity said as she tried to retain her composure, “I’ll just bring you something home then.”

“That works for me,” Spike winked at her and disappeared around the corner with his comic book. All of Rarity’s intuition told her that Spike had probably made that little comment on purpose. Still red as the coastal sunset, she bit her lip and looked up at Star in an almost apologetic way and the way in which he smiled back at her only made her smile as well, and finally, the two quietly laughed.

“Well… shall we?” he indicated the door.

“After you,” she replied cheerfully and then followed him out into the hallway and down the stairs into the lobby. She didn’t know where he would take her and she really didn’t care. Not only was she out with her old friend, but it was nice to think that now, at the end of a day when she had done some real good in the world, she had the time to go out to a nice dinner. They talked of trivial things on the walk, but each of them, in the equally passionate professions that they pursued, were eager to talk of the elephant in the room; the case that she had solved. Alas though, as was silent custom, that would wait until they were properly situated into their seats and well into their meals and drinks until the details of the newly solved case would be discussed.

It, the case that is, had excited a great many officers in the Las Pegasus Police Department, and a few key members of the press as well. Not only was the renowned Detective Rarity on the case, there was evidence that suggested either the elusive Black Zinnia Killer was back or a copycat killer was on the prowl, and it was only natural that everyone wanted to know what would happen. Was there a need to be afraid? A need to constantly look over one’s shoulder? No one would know until the case was solved, and that’s how it had always been for those types of cases and how it always would be. To some, the unknown was frightening, but to others, like Rarity, the unknown provided a rush and a euphoria, but most importantly, it provided a purpose. True, she was rather peeved that it had not been the Zinnia and that she had not been assigned to, in the very least, assist with the investigation into what already seemed like a decades old case; “The case to close all cases” they had called it in the papers and behind the big oak doors inside of the LPPD that were labeled Detective Bureau: Homicide. All the same though, she retained a sense of relief that it had not been what she had expected it to be.

“My only regret is…” she began to conclude, only to stop and drum her hooves on the table for a few moments as if she were deep in thought or perhaps hesitant to say what it was that was on her mind.

“Is what?” Star asked with genuine curiosity as he took a sip of his wine.

“My only regret is that I had all but forgotten the Zinnia. ‘The case to close all cases’,” she recalled again, “shoved to the bottom of my mind beneath a couple missing or dead pets and a lot of scorned lovers.” She sighed.

“Poor choice of words dear. I don’t think you forgot it.” Star retained his wineglass but swirled it around in a way that struck Rarity as being absentminded.

“Well, I didn’t forget it forget it, but…” she stopped herself, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re, well, you. You don’t just forget. You never have. I think you just found yourself caught up in the more mundane side of that little agency of yours and simply lost sight of the bigger picture. Didn’t forget, just…”

“Lost sight…” she finished for him and then stared into her own half-empty crystal wineglass.

“Precisely,” he concluded and took a bite of what little bit of food remained on his plate. Rarity hadn’t heard him use the “P word” in a long time, at least not since he had abandoned the PI life; Cops said “Exactly” and Detectives said “Precisely”. It flooded her with joy to know that her old partner might have changed, but he hadn’t lost himself in a profession that so rarely sent ponies home the same as they had come in. Aside from that joy though, she was still burdened by a kind of guilt that rested on her shoulders. Someone who never wore the badge, or who never worked a case could never even hope to understand it, but Star understood it, as he saw it in her eyes, and Rarity understood it too.

“Then of course, you can chalk even more of that up to our handiwork at the department. It was in the papers and on radios everywhere, and as a matter of fact a lot of it still is. I mean…” he quieted his voice when a waiter walked by, “Severed in half? The body played with and all arranged like it’s some sort of joke? Who does that?” Rarity could hear the disgust in his voice, and it matched the disgust that she held within herself.

“A monster. A pure, cold monster,” she replied and then took a particularly stiff swig of her own wine. She had seen those pictures, the ones of Lily DeShort, now dubbed by the papers as “The Black Zinnia”. She had hoped she would never have to see anything as vile as that for the remained of her life, and yet here she sat at the conclusion of a murder that was like that down to nearly every detail.

“A monster like Joe Diamond?” he asked, largely out of impulse. Rarity said nothing in response. She didn’t need to.

Star sighed and continued, “But anyway, you remember how it was. I didn’t bring you out to dinner just so that you could lose it all over again. Ponies had never seen anything like it, and it scared them. Scared a lot of us too.”

“Did it scare you?” Rarity asked. It was her turn to ask more out of impulse rather than genuine curiosity.

Star remained silent for a few moments before he answered her. He pondered if it would be easier on himself to simply lie to her, but in the end he accepted that she would just see right through it. She always had.

“Yes,” he eventually answered, “of course it did. It still does. I’ll never be able to forget that sight so long as I live.” It was his turn to take an especially stiff drink of his wine. “Speaking of regrets, my only regret is that I beat the homicide detectives there. I like to tell myself that if I hadn’t I might not have had to look at her, but I know that probably isn’t the case. About eight of us secured the scene, not counting the detectives, and only about half of us came back into work the next day. The rest all turned in their badges.”

Rarity wanted to say something to him, but she knew that there was nothing that she could. Every detective, every cop will see at least one thing in their career that will go to the grave with them, and Sargent Shining Star had seen his on the morning of January the 15th, 1947.

“I understand,” was all she managed to quietly say. She reached across the table and gently placed her hoof atop his. They smiled at each other and then Star withdrew his hoof and cleared his throat, indicating to her that he was OK.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything when you first came onto the case,” he switched the subject, “but I knew how bad you wanted on the Zinnia case… how bad you wanted to at least have a small part in it, and I was afraid that you would have gone looking in the wrong direction. You got your suspect, and he was a copycat. That satisfies the department and the papers, it certainly satisfies me, and I hope it does the same for you as well.”

Rarity pondered everything for a moment before she disregarded everything and asked, with some resent and anger in her voice, “Why didn’t you want me on the Black Zinnia’s case? Why didn’t you vouch for me?” She had tried numerous times via letters and calls to the department to get assigned to the murder, if not as the investigating detective then an assistant detective, but each and every time she did either her request was denied or her phone calls and letters went unreturned. She had solved murders for the police department before, some even in the incredible and record-breaking course of twenty-four hours, and they knew of her capabilities and renowned her for them, so why was it that she could not be asked to solve what was arguably their most difficult case to date? She knew, knew, that if her inside connection, Shining Star, had put in a good word for her that she might have been called in and assigned without a second thought in the world. As a matter of fact, Star, like he had done a few weeks before, probably didn’t even need to get authority from anypony to bring her on board.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he replied without hesitation and interrupted her resentful thought process. He leaned forward, looked into her eyes and continued, “You’re the best this city has Rarity. Sure, we haul in the drunks and the crooks and generally just keep the trash off of the streets, but who does everypony call when a dead body turns up and they actually want the case to be solved? A bunch of suit-wearing hacks who sit around working traffic cases and eating scones all day? No, they call you. They call you because they need you, and you’re the best they can hope for.”

Perhaps it was just the dim candlelit atmosphere of the restaurant, but it looked to him as if Rarity had tears welling in her eyes. Still, whether she did or not, she still wasn’t able to fathom while she, the “best” as he had put it, hadn’t been allowed to solve the one case that needed solving. The average murder didn’t leave ponies locking their doors and looking over their backs everywhere they went, but this one did, and it needed to be solved… and yet here she sat.

“What does that have to do with me not even being considered to work the case?” she asked. That same passion and fire that burned so brightly in her and that Star admired so much still burned brightly.

“It wasn’t, isn’t, rather, a question of your skills or the knowledge of the fact that you aren’t with the department anymore. I just didn’t want you to get hurt, and… I didn’t want to lose you, so I refused to put in a good word for you, and every time they talked of putting you on the case I advised against it, and… I might have thrown away some of your letters to make sure nopony else saw them. But I know how bad you want it though, trust me, I do.”

“You know I can handle myself,” she huffed and fought just as fiercely as she had all those months ago.

“For Celestia’s sake Rarity!” Star had to keep himself from shouting at her determination. It was one of the many things that he loved about her, but it got on his nerves more than was healthy for a stallion his age, he was sure. “I know you can handle yourself. Like I said, I never doubted that and the detective bureau never doubted it either, but… but this colt isn’t your run of the mill scorned lover or cheated wisecracker. He’s smart, and he hates mares to boot.” He was quiet for a few moments before he concluded, “You can’t seriously look me in the eyes and say that a pony that can do that to another pony, a mare, doesn’t hate them... and I’m just trying to protect you from that hate. Along with that, how many sleepless nights do you think you would go through? You’re one pony, a smart one, but just one. We have the resources and the bodies to find him.”

“So you wouldn’t let me on because I’m a female?”

“In regards to this one? ‘Target’ is a better word.”

Rarity wanted nothing more than to shoot another argument his way, see if she could get more information out of him, but she was wise enough to know when enough was enough. Still, risks and challenges aside, she knew that she could brave whatever the murderer might have tried to throw at her and bring him to justice. She knew that he was right to say that it would be her most insurmountable challenge yet, and she knew that she could do it, but she resented the knowledge that she would never get to unless there was some kind of miracle. What a shame that there was no room in a detective’s life for miracles.

She was hurt that he had lied to her, of course, and had tried to hide what she felt could have been crucial details of the case at hand from her, but now at least she understood, clearly, his motive. Still, she hated the fact that it had to be that way. She would have to continue on as she had and hope that, as time went on and the cases on her desk multiplied, she would forget or “lose sight of” the minute details of the case as she had already done, or, if she was lucky, forget about the case in its entirety. Fat chance she thought to herself and then, with a mental sigh, but no use crying over spilled milk I suppose.

“Thank you,” she eventually said. It was all she could think of to say. She could not bring herself to make peace with it, and she didn’t want to fight it anymore. She was tired of fighting.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled back, “We couldn’t do it all without you Rarity.” Afterwards, the two silently sat for a few moments and would occasionally glance into each other’s eyes, each pondering what was going through the other’s head. It was just something cops and detectives did, especially those of the opposite sex, but nevertheless it was something that had to be done when motives and inner thoughts were exchanged. Eventually though, Star cleared his throat once again, adjusted his tie, and asked her, “So… what’s next as far as Diamond?”

“Well, I was planning on visiting the jail in the morning and seeing if I could get him to tell me what he did with the earrings.” She began to nibble on the piece of bread that she had levitated up from her plate.

“Why?”

“They’ll be good for evidence. Also, I’d like to buy them properly, clean them up if need be, and give them to Lyra’s spouse. Perhaps they’ll give her closure in some way. I don’t know. Otherwise, if she doesn’t want them, I’ll keep them.” Getting emotionally attached to a victim or a case could be a very dangerous thing for a detective, and Rarity knew this, but she felt that the various little tokens and trinkets she had collected over her years of real investigative work reminded her that she was doing the right thing.

Star nodded and then asked, “So then what’s next for you?”

Rarity thought it an odd question, for though he hadn’t been in close, constant contact with her since he asked if she would take the Lyra Heartstrings case, he knew all too well what she did at the agency. Still, she was enjoying the dinner and her time out so she decided to humor him. She sighed, “I suppose I’ll be going back to the same old, same old.”

“Tell me, is that something you really enjoy?”

She took a sip of her wine before she answered him. “I wouldn’t say I particularly enjoy it, the cases themselves I mean, but if I have nothing else I have the agency and what it stands for. It’s perhaps not the most exciting thing in the world, but I’m good at it, I do something more adventurous than push a pencil all day, and it keeps food on the table.”

“Oh, well, I think I understand.” Star cleared his throat and reached into his coat pocket, “But I was thinking… there are a lot of cold cases down at the department, all kinds, and, well, if you wanted to, we would surely appreciate the help.” He finally pulled a sealed white envelope from within the confines of his coat and slid it across the table to her. “It’s just a statement from the board saying that we’d like to deputize you,” he explained as she opened it and read the official contents within. “You’ll be paid, of course, not by the hour or on a salary, but for each case closed. Also, you’ll be able to do it on your own time,” he smiled at her and concluded, “I had to fight them for this one, but I knew that we could never get you to leave that agency.”

Rarity finished reading the letter and looked up at him. A few times in the distant past he had tried some recruitment tactics to get her to come back to the police department, mostly when he started to achieve titles of rank, but once as a simple patrol officer, and while for a time he would deliver them face to face, up until this night that had all but ceased. In any event, it didn’t matter, he was right to say that she would never leave the PI agency. It was hers, and likewise, she belonged to it. So what if the cases got a little silly or monotonous at times? If that’s what this was, some sort of recruitment tactic, she had to admit that it was certainly a good one. She skimmed the letter over one more time and then looked back up at him with an impressed smile upon her face. As impressed as she was though, there was one thing that she needed to know and she had a sinking feeling that she already knew what the answer was.

“And the Zinnia case? I can work it?”

Star closed his eyes and shook his head. He chuckled under his breath, “How did I know that was coming? I’m sorry. It’s out of the question. Like I said, that’s an LPPD case.”

“Then I’m afraid it’s out of the question,” she replied steadily and then placed the letter back inside of the envelope and slid the package back across the table to him. No hard feelings. Just another failed recruitment tactic in Rarity’s book.

“Hm,” Star smiled as he took the envelope and placed it back inside of his coat, “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but…” He pondered for a few moments afterwards and then took a bite of his food. “I could use a smoke. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He pulled a cigar out of his coat and promptly lit it. He took a couple silent draws of it and looked off into the distance, at nothing in particular.

“So… think you’ll be able to get him to cough up the earrings?” he eventually asked.

“I’m hopeful, yes. You know how twenty-four hours behind bars goes. Either he’ll have cooled his hooves or he’ll be even more difficult than when he first went in.”

“Right…” he nodded in agreement. He took a few more draws from his cigar and then noticed that most of the food had been cleared from their plates and most of the wine had been drained from their glasses. “Well, would you like anything for dessert?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he nodded, “Well, I’m ready when you are.” He signaled to a nearby waiter that he was ready for the check. As they waited, he quickly finished his smoke and extinguished it in the ashtray that sat in the center of the table. The two looked at each other after that, silently pondering each other once again, though in a slightly different sense, but Star eventually broke the cycle.

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time. See how you and your infinite wisdom might interpret it.”

“Oh? Now just what might that be?”

“Why do you suppose we do what we do? As detectives or cops or what have you, I mean?”

“Hm,” Rarity replied as she pondered on it for a moment. She had often asked herself the very same question, as many law enforcement officers and PIs would during their lives and careers. In the end, she supposed that no one answer could be correct and that every individual asked would have an individual answer, and so she gave hers.

“Because it’s the right thing to do and somepony has to do it.”

“I suppose, but do they really?” Star glanced absentmindedly off to the side, “Wouldn’t things be simpler if we simply didn’t know. Like…” he struggled to find the correct words that would make her understand.

But she understood perfectly, “Ignorant bliss?” she concluded for him and he simply nodded. Like before, she took a few moments to ponder this possibility but eventually shook her head lightly and offered a simple, “No. I don’t think things would be better.” Or would they be worse?

However, whether because she didn’t know or perhaps because the waiter came and dropped the check at the table, she didn’t get to explain herself. Then again, neither of them really needed an explanation. It was just one of those things.

After the check was paid, Rarity and Star walked out into the warm, pleasant night. The streets were still abuzz with activity, but none of that activity seemed to touch either of them as they stood in front of the restaurant. It always irked Star when he tried to recruit Rarity and she declined, but this time it really bothered him, and he just wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he felt guilty at the fact that he knew Rarity could and would solve the case and he had been the only thing standing between her and doing so, or perhaps it was a fear of making her upset at him in way that would bar her from him; he drove his friend away when he left her agency, but he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her entirely. He cleared his throat and kicked a stray pebble from the sidewalk as the two set off towards Rarity’s home.

“You know…” he began and then stopped as if he was making a mistake in saying something, but he continued on the basis of knowing that just by saying those two words to her he had already said too much, “I guess through this whole affair that what I’ve been trying to say is… I’m glad this case wasn’t the Zinnia, but at the same time I was hoping that it might’ve been because I know that if anypony could solve it, it would be you. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I think so.” In all honesty, she wasn’t sure if it did make sense or not, but she decided to simply not ruin the moment and appease him. It was all very strange and confusing, but then again, what part of the detective’s life was not?

“Good, good,” he finally looked at her and smiled, rather weakly, “and even though you didn’t take the department up on its offer, you’ll still do cases for us, right?”

“But of course darling,” she couldn’t help but chuckle, “I do enjoy a little bit of adventure and dirty work every now and again,” she referred specifically to homicides and narcotics, “but I’m just not ready to make it an everyday thing. Not right now anyway. I need to be able to solve my own cases and use my own methods to do so.”

“I see,” he stopped and turned to face her, “And… while you’re objected to the idea of working with us on a regular basis, I hope you aren’t objected to the idea of me walking you home?”

“I’d never even dream of it.”

The two had taken their time in reaching the building in which Rarity resided, but even when they arrived they did not immediately depart each other. Rather, they concluded the conversation, one of many, that they had been having on their journey across the expansive metropolis that surrounded them. Afterwards, a few moments of silence followed until it was Star who broke the silence with an obviously fake cough. He smiled at her.

“Well, I had a good time. I hope you feel the same?”

“Trust me when I say it’s the most fun I’ve had in a very long time…” she chuckled, “Unless of course you count chasing adulterers, petty thieves and bloodthirsty murders ‘fun’.”

The two laughed at her comment and then proceeded to look silently into each other’s eyes for a time afterwards. Eventually though, Star looked away, towards the ground, and said, “That’s good. I’m glad you had fun,” he smiled, “We should do this again sometime.”

“Indeed,” Rarity replied with a smile and then, without warning, closed in on him and seized his tie. She thought she saw tough-stuff-no-nonsense Captain Star of the Las Pegaus Police Department actually blush, but she wasn’t paying much attention when she softly commanded him, “Hold still.” She adjusted his tie, tightened it up a little and then finally squared the shoulders of his suit coat off; that had bothered her all night, but she truly had been having too much fun to say anything.

“There we are,” she muttered quietly. Even after she had ample time to admire her own handiwork she did not back off of him; remained stationery with her eyes locked on his and one hoof atop his shoulder.

Eyes not moving away from hers, Star said, “Thank you, Rarity. For everything.”

In response, she kissed him on the cheek and finally backed a few paces away from him.

“It’s getting late. I should go check on Spike,” she turned to enter into the building but stopped and looked back at him with a gentle smile on her face.

“Right,” Star said and returned her smile. “Have a good night Rarity. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Most definitely,” she pushed the door open, “Good night.”

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

As always, Rarity awoke in the early hours of the following morning. She pulled her sleep mask up over her head and crawled down to the foot of her bed where she looked down into the smaller bed at the foot of hers and, as she always did, saw Spike sleeping there. She smiled and nudged him on the stomach, “Spikey,” she whispered and nudged him once again, “Spike. Do you want me to make some breakfast?” He said nothing but instead remained fast asleep and turned over. “I guess not,” she giggled and then pecked him on the head.

She rolled herself out of the bed and landed on the carpeted floor with a quiet thud. She yawned and stretched before she walked ahead to start the rest of her morning routine. As she jumped into her daily shower and subsequently proceeded ahead with her daily rigorous grooming routine she had no idea that this morning would be anything but routine. “Routine” was a dangerous word for detectives and law enforcement officers to use; it simply didn’t exist, but who could ever think that same danger could roll over into one’s own personal life? Then again, was there really anything “routine” about life itself? Knowing that, on any given day and at any given time, something could go so wrong or so right for any individual?

But Rarity wasn’t thinking about that as she sometimes did. Rather, she was thinking about how she so desperately needed to buy a new coffee maker.

“This thing will be the death of me,” she muttered and ended with a sigh after she finished banging on the side of the electrical contraption. Once it started to dribble coffee into the glass pot, she made the decision, as she always did, to check and see if any mail had been delivered or if any anonymous tips or cases had been handed down. She glanced at her stellar appearance as she passed by the mirror that adorned the wall in front of the door and, satisfied with her appearance, opened the door and looked down at the ground.

There was mail alright, quite a bit of it in fact. Various letters and bills in their bland white and manila envelopes, but none of which caught her eye like the one piece that stood out. How could they when there was a large, bright red heart-shaped box of chocolates at the top of the pile? It put the bland letter and bills beneath it to shame, and it certainly surprised Rarity more than they did. Nevertheless, she gathered up the entire stack with her magic and turned back into her apartment where she placed everything, minus the box of chocolates, on the kitchen counter.

She was flattered, truly, and ever-so-curious as to who might have bestowed her with the little gift. She pondered all of the possibilities as she walked across the apartment and into the living room, a warm and fuzzy feeling starting to brood within her. She supposed it could be from a satisfied client, glad to have their property returned or know that, in fact, their spouse was two-timing, but she hadn’t closed any cases recently other than the homicide, and her clients were never that enthusiastic or appreciative, to say the least. That fuzzy feeling inside of her peaked though when she was faced with the more realistic assumption that it was from Spike, as a random gift perhaps, or from Shining Star as one last gesture of gratitude and remind of the night they had shared. It was their night and they had shared it, and Star wanted to see her in that way again, or so she thought.

“Such darlings,” she sighed happily as she eyed the small white envelope that was neatly tucked beneath the red velvet banner and a flower on the box top. She put the box itself down on the table next to her and pulled the envelope from its restraint. It wasn’t sealed, with the flap merely tucked into the envelope which, along with the lack of a stamp or any writing indicated to her that it was dropped off at her door directly rather than sent through the mail. Chocolates to accompany flowers perhaps? Or had Spike snuck it from a hiding place and placed it outside whilst she was asleep?

She opened it up and pulled the neatly folded piece of paper inside of it out. She unfolded it and read its contents. It was a poem. It was a poem that was evil and that made her heart sink; A poem that made her afraid and that made her throat gasp for air. It read:

But a Fare and Rare Sleuth
She is so Bright and Full of Youth
When in Her Presence a Lust
To See Her Cries a Must
Fate Draws Her in with but a Pair of Earrings
But O How Her Fate Pulls at My Heartstrings

A lump in her throat and the sound of her own heart beating in her ears, Rarity let the macabre piece fall limply to the floor in front of her as she scrambled to reach for and open the box of chocolates. The contents of the candy box were perhaps more terrifying than the poem itself, but that’s something that Rarity would always debate. She gently lifted the lid and, still in utter shock, dropped it to the floor as well.

Inside were many succulent chocolate candies, but much like the best candies would be in the center, a different, more sinister item sat dead center in the box. Within a perfectly cut square in the center of the black plastic tray were two golden, pearl earrings. They were carefully, barely pinned into the bottom of the box and sat perfectly side by side. On the ends of them, where they would hook into one’s earlobes, were dried streaks of blood.

Everything sank in simultaneously and for once in her career, the renowned PI, Rarity, was left standing with her mouth agape and her heart racing. In that moment she realized that she had made a terrible, awful mistake; committed an atrocity in her mind. She had done the one thing she, and every detective for that matter, hopes they will never ever do. Rarity hadn’t brought her victim any justice and, perhaps even worse, perhaps not, she had condemned an innocent pony (innocent of the crime in question anyway) to face the fury of the criminal justice system; Singlehoofedly she had sent an innocent to spend his life in prison, or, more realistically, have it stolen from him in the gas chambers. Even worse than all of that too, was the knowledge that he was still out there. The Black Zinnia Murderer was still out there and he had killed again, and now, he was out there on the prowl. All the proof that she needed of that was right there at the base of her hooves.

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter 1

Author's Note

Thank you for reading! Before you begin I would like to bring two things to you, the reader's, attention. First, please read part two of the description for some historical insight as well as an important message. Next, please note that this it NOT a first person story and that the character below is NOT intended to be a representation of myself nor an "OC". Many Noire films and novels are known to have started in the first person and would transition into the third person for the duration of the film or novel, which is what this work does. Thank you, and enjoy! :scootangel:

Chapter 1

Being a cop in a city like Las Pegasus isn’t something for the faint of heart. This is my city, and I love it, but like everything in this world of ours, it has its flaws and it has its dark side. There is a dark side to this city, and might I reiterate every city, that the local politicians and even the Princesses themselves would see hidden from the public eye, but then again, I suppose it’s that dark side that keeps saps like us out of the unemployment line. Anywho, this story isn’t about me. That’s all just my two-cents, for whatever it matters. Anyway…

I remember that day in the March of 1947 like it was yesterday. It was your typical day in the city of Las Pegasus; the sun was high in the sky, the turquoise blue ocean came in at a low tide, and the streets had bustled with their usual vigor of residents and tourists. They all hustled and bustled and climbed all over each other without a care in Equestria. Why? Because that’s what we’re here for. That’s what the police are for. And as for me? I’d recently made the promotion to Captain, and boy how I’d be regretting that after that day.

I had hoped it would be an easy day for me as I walked down the hallways towards my office and subsequently entered into it. I sat down at my old desk and pulled my long overdue paperwork from its drawers as well as a pen from the breast pocket on my neatly ironed uniform shirt. For what was probably the first time in my entire life, a smile spread across my face as I rejoiced at being able to just sit down and fill out my precious paperwork. I was able to tune the outside world out as my ink pen raced over the officially formatted forms in front of me and, as a matter of fact, I recall I had actually gotten so into it that I was no less than startled when the phone on my desk rang.

Before the third ring could complete, I sighed in frustration and no less than threw my ink pen down. This stuff is never going to get done, I remember thinking to myself and then reached over to answer the phone. “Captain Star speaking,” I said as I reached for my pen hoping, praying that I could get at least that first form finished. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. It never works out that way. That’s because when the pony on the other end spoke to me and told me what he had to tell me the ink pen in my hoof fell back to the desk.

“Er yes,” the voice on the other line had begun, “Captain Star, this is Officer Arrow, badge number 1779. Sorry to contact you on such short notice sir, but I think there’s something you’ll want to see on East Celestia Cadenza Avenue. A body, sir.”

I shot to my hooves and nearly dropped the phone in the process. “Where exactly on Cadenza?” I demanded and started to prepare myself for a much needed workout.

“Across from the cemetery sir. I’m ranking officer for the moment, but otherwise I’ve got nothing but a bunch of rooks working crowd control. Requesting a superior, sir.”

“Right. On my way now.” I slammed the phone down and briskly poked my head into the dispatch office that sat right next to our briefing room and command post. “Captain Star here. Show me as in service and moving to the situation out on East Celestia Cadenza.”

I don’t even recall what the mare inside the dispatch office had replied to me because I put my hoof down and booked it out of that place as quickly as I could. This wasn’t the first body to show up on a street in Las Pegasus, of course, but because of the ghastly almost poetic location of the body I couldn’t help but have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Celestia Cadenza Avenue was only a block or so away from the department, so I told myself that if I ran all the way I could be there within a couple of minutes. Everything from the time I started my run to the crime scene until the time I actually arrived is all a blank, but I do recall that my mind was the only thing running faster than my hooves. As I ran to the scene I recall that I asked myself, aloud, “It can’t be him can it? Oh, please Celestia don’t let it be him.”

As sure as Princess Celestia will raise the sun, I found myself at the scene in what only felt like a matter of moments. Of course, I don’t suppose you really grasp time when you don’t focus on it. I was terribly out of breath having sprinted the whole way, but at least I had arrived promptly. Still, it might have been a good idea if I laid off the blueberry scones.

My police instinct kicked in after that moment and I resolved to observe the scene around me. From my point of view it was your typical murder scene, if there was such a thing. A large group of curious passerby ponies surrounded the scene which itself was blocked off by yellow caution tape, surrounded by police vehicles and guarded by the aforementioned rookie police officers. Other than the usual sights and sounds of the surrounding city and of the crime scene itself, I couldn’t make anything significant out so I pressed forward. You’d be surprised at how much just looking at the outside of a crime scene can uncover simply because somepony was sloppy. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with this scene, and I had seen that before so it only made me more apprehensive.

I pushed through the crowd of civilians standing between me and my objective and only muttered “Move along” and “Nothing to see here” once or twice. I didn’t really care what they did as long as they stayed out of my way. What is the appeal anyway? It’s never about them… Anyway, finally, I was able to push through them all and get to the front of the line where a skinny, rather nervous looking pegasus colt stood behind the line.

“Sir!” he greeted and started to fumble with the tape so that he could lift it up for me.

I beat him to it and pulled it up over my head and slid beneath it. “At ease. Keep an eye on the crowd for me. Nopony gets through and try to keep reporters away from the front of the line,” I offered a few quick tips to him and then asked, “So where is the body?” It wasn’t out there in plain view, thank Celestia.

He merely pointed down a dark, dank alleyway that was a few paces over to my right. At the end of said alley, I could make out the figures of other police figures as well as the flashes of a camera; there was no doubt that what I was looking for was at the end of that alley. As I turned away from the young officer and walked down it, I nearly gagged as the scent of the garbage mixed with the smell of what I could only assume to be decomposing flesh hit me like a speeding train. At that point, I wasn’t sure what I hated most about that crime scene; the smell, the pit it left in my stomach, the questions and fear it kept alive in my brain, or the location in which it had taken place. Suddenly, this all seemed like something out of a bad detective novel and oh, I just wanted it to end.

As I pressed further into the alley, almost at the end, I could finally make out the outline of a being on the cold, wet ground. I took my last few steps to join the group that surrounded the body and tried my best not to look down at it until I absolutely had to. I remember an intense wave of relief flooded over me when the crime scene photographer flashed his camera two or three more times and a nearby police officer covered the remains back up. I joined the officer that was closest to me and engaged him, “Star here. You the one that called?”

“Yes sir,” he nodded and looked back down at the covered body.

“What’ve we got?”

“If you’ll follow me sir,” he stepped closer to the body and then used his own hooves to pull the cover down to the being’s hind legs. I heaved a deep breath, almost a gag as I observed the beaten and mutilated corpse of a once beautiful mare that was laid out before me. “As you can see for yourself,” he began, “bruising and trauma to most of the body, particularly up here around the face. Cuts on the neck. Severed limbs. Some kind of lacerations on the chest. Stab wounds maybe?” He scratched his forehead and then adjusted his utility belt, “They informed me that someone from the coroner’s office should be en route. They’ll be able to tell you more sir.”

I merely nodded my head as I listened and assessed all of the damage that had been done to the mare. “Do we have a positive ID on her?” I remember that I had to practically force my eyes away from her mangled corpse.

“Well,” he sighed, “none yet sir. She did have those saddlebags in her possession.” I followed his hoof with my gaze to discover a dirty, yet rather expensive looking pair of saddlebags laid out on the ground not far from their suspected former owner. “We decided it best not to touch them. You know how the detectives get when they find out we’ve played with their toys.”

I think I maybe huffed, at what I really don’t know, and then I observed the scene around me one more time. I still tried not to look at the disgusting remains. “Speaking of which, where are the detectives? I figured they would have beat me here.”

“We tried to get a hold of DB sir, but dispatch says that our guys are preoccupied with another case right now.” My heart jumped into my throat when I heard that and I must have looked mortified, because he was quick to lay it out for me. “Word is that it’s apparently a robbery gone wrong is all. Multiple casualties. Detectives are doing their thing and should be right over. You could requisition some from another city division. County maybe?”

I merely shook my head and continued to observe the scene before me. It had been messy, really messy, and if it was anything remotely along the lines of what I had expected, it would be a whole lot messier outside of the crime scene. “I’m not doing all of that paperwork,” I remembered all of that that I still had left to do and I wasn’t about to add any more to the stack. Suddenly, a new, radical idea popped into my head. It’d surely get me fried, it almost always did, but maybe it was our best shot and maybe it they would lay off me after they realized just who I had called in again. “I suppose I could… hum. Nah. No. Never mind.” I pushed the idea from my head and quietly observed her body. It always got a little easier the longer you were there.

Officer Arrow gulped and shifted on his legs uncomfortably. “Sir?” he asked quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” I looked over at him and then back at the body. There was nothing I could do for her at the moment; my whole presence was nothing more than a formality really, and the poor lady had already been exposed enough, so I used my magic to drape the cloth back over her remains. Afterwards, I then gave my full attention back to the officer.

“Do you think it’s… him? Do you think it’s the Black Zinnia Murderer?”

“I… I don’t know. I hope and pray that it isn’t, but…” I sighed and nodded, “all of the evidence is here.” It worried me, yes, but justice was a mistress that waited for no one, and I wasn’t about to wait around for her. A decision had to be made and an order had to be handed down on my end. That radical idea I had had earlier came rushing back into my mind and this time with enough force that I decided to act on it.

“We can’t wait for the detectives.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. We can’t wait for the detectives. Valuable evidence is wasting away here and it’s only a matter of time before the press, or the weather patrol, gets creative.” The sky was overcast that day when I looked up at it; clouds everywhere. It made the alley darker and colder than it normally would be I was sure. “We need to get a hold of somepony now.”

“But who is there to call sir?”

“The best damned detective in this whole city.”

“Wait…” the color drained from his face, “You don’t mean… her?” He knew what it would mean to do something as crazy as what I was suggesting even though, like I said, this wouldn’t be the first time. Besides, everyone who wasn’t a fresh rook knew her.

“You’re damn right I do. Get to the nearest phone and get her on the horn right away. Waste no time.”

“But… but sir, high command will…” He was right, they’d flip. They always did.

“Screw high command. If they want to drag me in front of the chief or the board, let them. That’s my problem to deal with, not yours. Make the call. That’s an order.”

“Understood sir,” he nodded his head and took off at a gallop towards the street.

“Arrow!” I had called after him, “One more thing!”

He skidded to a halt and turned around, “Sir?”

“She’s a busy mare. Make sure to tell her it’s a favor from me, and if she needs convincing you convince her.”

Officer Arrow nodded and turned back to his gallop. I watched him round the corner and disappear out of sight, no doubt on the way to the nearest payphone or police callbox. Once I was alone with the deceased, I heaved a sigh and lifted the sheet to get one more close-up look at the mare. I had told that officer that I didn’t know if this was the Black Zinnia, but that was a boldfaced lie. The destroyed beauty, the unheard of brutality of the murder, the poetic and humiliating mutilation and dump site, that sick feeling in my stomach, and the LPPD caught with its pants down all told me exactly what I had suspected all along. The Black Zinnia was back, and it was going to take more than just a few streetwise cops to solve his latest murder. As I covered the body back up, I hadn’t much to say other than I was glad I knew the best private eye in the whole city.

Intermission 1 (OPTIONAL)

It was an usually windy night in Las Pegasus, and an usually dark one at that. Luna’s moon was absent from the sky, and the stars that she surrounded herself with twinkled dimly rather than brilliantly. It was unnerving to think that a city as large as this could seem so quiet during a certain time period only to burst back to life not but a few hours later. Few things could be described as truly, deathly quiet, but this night in the City of Pegasi was certainly one of them.

Somewhere within the bowels of the sprawling metropolis, a figure, hidden in the shadows by the dim light of a small room, hunches over a simple wooden table. Music fills the room, though it is not a lively, welcoming fill, more like a loose plug stuffed into a void that was ready to collapse and fall back into silence and emptiness at any moment. The record, an old opera tune, peevishly skipped every few moments, but the figure in the room paid no mind to it; disregarded it as though it weren’t even playing, but gently hummed to it as if it was known by heart. All around the figure were stacks of newspapers, comic books and magazines, some old and some new, that appeared to easily be four to five feet in height. Rather than valued pieces of art and knowledge, or the collections of some unaware hoarder, many of the pages within these collections were ravaged beyond repair and left with only more damage to come to them.

The dark figure hums the familiar tune as a pair of scissors and a pair of tweezers are seized. The cover of a comic book is flung open and the scissors carefully, majestically, cut around no more than one letter within an already butchered dialogue box. The tweezers gently squeeze the freshly cut character, as a mother cat might hold her cub to protect him from danger, only to carry it over and place it down, at a very slight angle, atop a small dab of glue. Alongside the comic’s ‘A’ were more characters, which turned to form sentences, which turned to form an entire, crudely constructed letter. This was no ordinary letter though, no, this was a very special letter that only very special individuals could receive and read. It was destiny. This letter was legacy and fate. The hunched figure stood at full height and turned, letter in possession, to walk just as the record ended with an eerie repeat.