After staring at your strange informant for a few seconds, you turn away to consider the riddle.

If only one of the statements is true, you determine, then it can’t be Hummingbird, because then both Tern and Whippoorwill would be telling the truth; thus, you dismiss both statements as false. The only two statements remaining are the ones that are mutually contradictory: Hummingbird’s claim that Sandpiper is the correct path, and Sandpiper’s protest that it is some other road.

If Sandpiper is telling the truth, that still leaves either Whippoorwill or Tern as possibilities; however, if Sandpiper is lying and Hummingbird is the one telling the truth, then there is only one conclusion. Sandpiper must be the correct path.

“Thanks for the help...I guess,” you mutter to Sunrise, turning back to your waiting vehicle.

Suddenly, Sunrise Glow rears up and grabs your hind leg, holding you back. “You need to leave!” he rasps, his voice suddenly taking on a desperate tone.

You whirl back to face him, trying to shake your limb loose from his grasp. “Let go!” you demand.

“They know you’re here!” Sunrise continues, his eyes focusing on yours with a terrified expression splashed across his irides. “They know why you’re here! You need to leave!”

“Let go!” you shout, yanking your leg away from him. Sunrise sprawls onto the sidewalk and immediately curls up into a ball, mumbling to himself and slowly rocking back and forth on the concrete.

“If X is equal to three Y...rotation effects orientation...her brother is my father’s cousin…”

You can’t help but stare at the display for a few moments, then swing yourself back onto your motorbike and kick it to life. With a growl, the bike pulls you away from the sidewalk and down the street indicated. You slowly cruise down the road, noting the names of the streets you pass. Whippoorwill...Tern…

...Sandpiper. You turn right and follow down the street, passing several small cottages. Every window is still dark; the few ponies you pass walking up and down the street pause and stare at you as you bike past. It suddenly occurs to you that an outsider such as yourself probably are very conspicuous in a small village such as this.

Sunrise’s warning echoes through your mind: “You need to leave!” Logically, you know should most likely dismiss his warnings as the rantings of an addled, drunken pony, but the image of his terrified, oak brown eyes floats in front of your gaze…

You shake it off just in time to spot an approaching sign: a waxwing taking flight, painted in magnificent grays and browns, with the words Waxwing Diner painted beneath in stark orange. You pull the bike to the side and turn the engine off; the bike falls silent with a final purr. Swinging yourself off the vehicle and placing the helmet and goggles in the saddlebag, you pull your coat collar up to protect yourself from the chill wind and stroll up to the glass door, passing beneath a flickering lamp. As you push open the door, a bell jingles over your head, and you turn to your left to examine the room.

The Waxwing Diner is a small establishment, with white and pale bluish-gray tiles on the floor and a few fixed tables that were once white partnered with scarlet cushioned chairs. A low metal bar with several metal stools separated the kitchen from the dining area. A slightly scratched mirror is placed on the wall behind you, apparently intended to make the room seem larger than it actually is. There are only a few ponies in the diner, all of them sitting by themselves at different tables.

A small waitress standing behind the bar looks up as you enter, brushing a lock of dirty blonde hair out of her haggard face. “I’m looking for the sheriff,” you tell her.

She nods towards the back of the diner. A portly dark blue unicorn sits in a corner booth, stuffing his face with some kind of hot potato dish. He has wavy lime green hair, sharp yellow eyes, and the cutie mark of a diving hawk imposed on a five-pointed silver star. He wears a faded olive green shirt with several pockets, crumbs from his meal spread across the front. You walk up to him. He looks up at your approach and fixes you with a friendly gaze.

“You’re the PI looking for Idea Spark, right?” he asks. “Your friend called ahead to let me know you were coming, but I didn’t expect you to arrive while I was eating dinner. I’m Sheriff Hawkdive, take a seat.” He gestures to the seat opposite you. You slide into the chair, sinking into the velvet cushioning.

“Shepard’s pie?” Sheriff Hawkdive offers, nudging the plate towards you. “There’s plenty for two!”

“No, thanks,” you dismiss the offer, taking out your notepad and pen. “So, how long as Idea Spark been missing?”

Hawkdive wipes his mouth on his foreleg before answering. “Two days now. He was invited down here to work at the factory.”

“Factory?” you ask.

“The Magopharmaceutical Factory,” Hawkdive explains. “It’s our big source of jobs here in the village: we make all kinds of enchanted pills there, everything from pain reducers to antidepressants and cures for magical ailments. From what the forepony at the factory told me, Idea Spark had been hired to work on some new prototypes for some kind of machine there.” He shrugged. “A bit over my head, to be honest.”

“And in two days, he hasn’t been seen or heard from?” you ask.

“Nope,” Hawkdive shakes his head. “And we’ve searched the village up and down for him. Even checked in the sirenium mines in the mountains. Nothing.”

“But his wife received a letter from him in Chicoltgo this morning,” you state.

Hawkdive’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “Is that so? Well, sometimes mail can take a while getting out of here to a larger city: the delivery system is a bit slow. What did the letter say?”

“That he needed help,” you reply. “Was there any sign that he was in trouble?”

The sheriff thoughtfully chews on his forkful for a few moments before answering. “Not that I know of,” he states. “At least, nopony that I talked to gave me any reason to think that he was in trouble.” He sits back and folds his forelegs across his sizeable chest. “Raven Hollow is a quiet little town, detective. We don’t normally have things like this happen here.”

“It can happen anywhere,” you point out. “So when was Idea Spark last seen?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” Hawkdive says, scratching his head. “I’ve got two statements here that contradict each other: one from the waitress here, Honey Roll, and another from the head of the hotel he was staying at, Turtledove.” He pulled a notebook and pencil out of one of the pockets in his shirt and flips it open.

“They both have Idea at two different places at the same time. Turtledove said she saw him leaving the hotel at around 11:20 AM, but Honey Roll said that he had lunch here on the day he disappeared, and that she saw him leaving this diner at 11:25 AM.” He flips the notebook shut. “Right now, I’m considering both of them my primary suspects, but I can’t figure out who to focus on. One of them is definitely lying, though.”

You think for a moment, glancing up at the small, unmarked clock hanging on the wall over your head. “Actually, I think I can solve that little problem for you right now.”

Resolve the contradiction. Who is telling the truth and who is lying?

Author's Note

So far I've been able to keep up with this weekly schedule thing. I should try to work on a timetable more often!

Congratulations to Magic Step, The Villain in Glasses, and Everfree Pony for correctly solving last week's riddle! How will you fare with this challenge?

Clue: the answer isn't immediately obvious, but the details you need are all in this chapter. Think carefully.