Pipp tapped her microphone and checked the display in front of her. "Is this working?"

"Microphone is good," said Hitch. "We're good to go. We'll be live shortly."

"Excellent," Pipp smiled. "Boy do we have an exciting story for them today?"

Hitch glanced up. "Pipp, why are you dressed like you escaped from a Speakeasy?"

"I'm getting into character for today's podcast!"

"I see," Hitch replied. "And we're live in three, two, one..."

Above them, the ON AIR light switched on and glowed green. Whether they liked it or not, the broadcast was now underway. It was time to start the story.

"Good morning, everybody," Hitch said. "Welcome to the Cornwall Noir podcast, where we discuss the strange, the bizarre, and often the criminal. Today, we have a most bizarre case to present to you- a tale of intrigue, of mystery, and of inexplicable circumstances and unusual motives. But to tell this story we have a special guest. Ladies and gentlemen, all the way from the Green Door Tavern, may I welcome our special guest- Pipp Petals!"

Pipp spoke up. "Good morning, Pippsqueaks! No doubt you're excited to hear my story. I know that I may look like a popstar who has a streaming life and operation, but I do have a sleuthing side. After all, I do tend to work in strange things, and the lives of both myself and my friends appear to have become weirdness magnets.

"So, it is an honour to present to you my story for tonight. A tail of drama, of action, and interest. A while ago, this most unusual story roamed across my desk, and although it was from long before I came to live in Cornwall it came to change everything I thought I knew about the county. So join me as I recount... the tale of the missing cupcake!"

"Morning, Sunny!" Zipp said, as she slid past Sunny's stand.

"Morning, Zipp!" Sunny replied, hard at work with her smoothie project. "Fancy a smoothie? I can whip your usual up in nothing flat!"

"That'd be greatly appreciated," Zipp said. "Charles and I have got some lumber to deliver to Truro and I could do with refuelling."

Sunny nodded and set her machine to work, sliding the drink over to Zipp. "Here you go! Have a pleasant trip!"

Zipp picked it up and took a sip. "Tastes as good as ever, Sunny. Great work!" She headed off back to the shed, ready to get Charles out on the line.

"I first heard the news of Pansy Silverwell when I was on my way home from Mane Melody. The night was a dark one, and I had a torch on me. I wrapped my coat round my shoulders and continued on my way until I got home.

"But before I could return home, I was spoken to by a person standing on the street. 'You're Pipp, right?' he said.

'Sure am!' I replied. 'How can I help?'

'I need help looking for somebody,' he said. 'She's an old friend of mine, and she never turned up at the bakeoff she was heading to.'

'Do you have any leads?' I asked, curious.

'I do indeed,' he said, handing me a file. 'Contained in this folder is the identity of the two people she spoke to on the way. They may be able to unravel what happened here.'

Naturally, I wanted to help, so I accepted the challenge. I made my way home and set the evidence down on my desk, looking closely.

And the people who were named surprised me. Two people, one of whom I knew extremely well, were involved. One of them I even worked with regularly. So, when I was next at work, I decided myself and Jazz were going to have a little talk. In voiceover."

The signal ahead was red, so Zipp brought Charles to a stop in the platform at Perranwell. "Looks like we'll be waiting here for a bit," she said, sighing.

"We were going so splendidly, too!" Charles said. "Why does the modern railway have no concept of priority?"

"They do," Zipp said. "We're a goods train, and that's a passenger we're waiting for." She stepped out of the cab to check if there were any work orders for her, but as she walked across the platform she suddenly slipped and landed flat on her back.

"You OK, miss?" shouted a passenger.

"I'm fine!" Zipp replied, as she slowly wobbled to her feet. As she looked down, she saw a patch of ice on the platform. "So, I slipped on some ice. But it's well above zero degrees celcius, so why is there ice here?"

"Why are you specifying celcius?" Charles asked.

"Just in case the person reading this primarily works in fahrenheit," Zipp replied.

"Oh, so you mean backwards people from across the pond," Charles said.

"Remember that Americans do live in this part of the world," Zipp reminded him. "Sunny's mom is one of them." She walked further, and noticed a rather curious trail of ice leading away from the station and into a nearby forest. "Hmm. A trail of ice still here well above the melting point of ice. We have a mystery on our hands."

"Is there a mystery on our hands?" said a voice.

Zipp looked back. "Oops. Left my microphone on."

"I started digging, and discovered all sorts of interesting things. Pansy was well loved by the Falmouth community, and had started a baking club to connect with people of all ages- as she was retired she had plenty of time to devote to it. Apparently people were falling over one another to learn from her.

Turns out Jazz had been a member since a young age, and told me all about it during that little talk I mentioned. Sure enough, this only hardened my resolve to find out what happened.

Jazz was happy to tell her side of the story. She stated she had last seen her when on her way to the bakeoff, and had helped her load her wagon. That was it.

However, that left Dahlia, the other person I mentioned. Time to go talk to them."

"So, it's not everyday you find trails of ice in the middle of nowhere," Sunny said. She had popped up to help Zipp with her investigation.

"Definitely," Zipp sighed, as she walked into the woods. "The ice trail is spreading."

Entire trees were covered in ice and snow, even the leaves. One had fallen to the floor, and Sunny picked it up- before dropping it due to the cold shock of the ice. "Ouch! That is really cold!"

Just then, Zipp heard a strange noise, and ducked back. "Sunny! Behind this bush!"

As they watched, they suddenly became aware of rails in the forest, which connected to an old mine. Just then, a large green engine rolled past, observing the ice with a smile. "Perfect," he said. "Seems the ice plan is working well."

"What is that thing?" Sunny asked. "I've never seen an engine like that before!"

Zipp popped up and snapped a photo, before dropping back down. "Keep quiet until he goes."

"Dahlia didn't turn up much of a lead. Turns out alongside her flower business she runs a small sideline in pastries. I enquired about Pansy, and it turned out she and Pansy didn't really get along. She'd long been jealous of her baking ability, and had apparently said something rather heated to her- she asked me to say she was sorry and that she wants to make amends.

But it turns out Dahlia had left out a rather juicy detail. Pansy had registered to attend, but never showed up, meaning Dahlia won by default. Once she had won, she used the grand prize to get her own shop up and running. But imagine my surprise when somebody offered to meet with me. It was the usual means- message under a mat with an address and a codephrase. I took the bait, naturally, keen to solve this mystery once and for all.

And who should it be but Pansy herself. Over some confectionary she had baked herself, she told me what had happened. Truth be told she had always been planning on finding a new start, and had moved to Truro to open a soup restaurant. She had never enjoyed being the centre of attention, and simply enjoyed providing for others."

"And so, dear listeners," Pipp finished, "in any investigation there are numerous sides to every story. Some wish to be found, whilst others would prefer to remain silent. Pansy wanted to bring some good into the world, and she did just that through her work. Good exists everywhere- it's just a case of knowing where to look."

Zipp looked concerned at Sunny. "Is this what we're up against?" she said. "An evil steam engine? How did he get here? And what if he's in league with Allura?"

"We'll need to investigate," Sunny said. "But like Opaline, we'll face them together, like we always have.

Author's Note

This chapter is a loose adaptation of the Twelth G5 comic (with Pipp taking Hitch's place), combined with the plot of the Tell your Tale episode Icy Prints. The title is an allusion to the Film Noir genre, a type of crime/detective film characterised by low-key, expressive black and white cinematography and a more cynical outlook on the world.

This story was an unusual narrative experiment for me, and I decided to try my hand at writing in the style of classic crime novels told from the perspective of the Private Eye hired to solve them. I do also plan to write a Sherlock Holmes homage at some point, so let me know if that would interest you.

Pipp is, of course, wearing this:

Given that the crime and noir genres enjoyed a boom around the time of the Roaring Twenties, it seemed like an obvious fit (and doing an investigation in period costume seems very in-character for Pipp).

And now our heroes know of Alfred (if not his name). Where could this be going?