Stately Yearling Manor loomed in the night like Nightmare Moon’s own castle. Zecora couldn’t help but look at the moon, imagining the Mare on its surface glaring down with something almost like approval. The three-story residence somehow managed to keep hold of a lawn in the cramped confines of Canterlot, and the wrought iron fence and spike-topped gate didn’t make it any more welcoming. The compass rose worked into the latter’s design only made it feel pointier.

Of course, some of that frightful atmosphere came from the trembling unicorn at Zecora’s side.

She patted Twilight Velvet on the withers, making the young author bite back a yelp. “Calm yourself, my fretful friend. I’m sure this will not be your end.”

“Excuse me for being just a touch nervous when you barely convinced the police to let me out to prove my own innocence.” Velvet attempted a deep breathing exercise. Going by her twitching eyelid, it wasn’t doing much. “Which still feels ridiculous.”

“Helping clear my client’s name is part of the detective’s game. And laws that date back centuries still will help you prove your pleas. Sergeant Sentry knows full well that zero lies I’d dare to tell when I’m hot upon a case.” Zecora waved a foreleg towards Yearling Manor in a sweeping gesture. “So we have come to this place.”

Velvet nodded, at least looking like she wouldn’t gallop off the mountain at an unexpected noise. “With the anonymous insider informant you mentioned, right. Where are they, anyway?”

As if in response, hoofsteps approaching from the other side of the gate made both mares’ ears turn towards it. Far as they were from the magically shining streetlights, neither recognized the figure until he stopped less than a ponylength in front of them and bowed his purple-coated head. “Miss Velvet. Ms. Zecora.”

“You!?” cried Velvet.

Zecora merely nodded to the distinguished older earth stallion. “I thought the missive might be thine on stationery oh so fine.”

“One of the perks of the job,” said Randolph. His faint smirk collapsed into a much more pronounced frown. “Not that they’re enough for me to overlook Mistress Alluvial’s latest indiscretion. I can turn a blind eye to the upper crust eating itself, but not when they turn their attention to genuine innocents.” He nodded at Velvet as he unlocked and opened the gates. “My apologies for my earlier actions, Miss. ‘I was only following orders’ is no excuse at all, but it is all I can offer.”

Velvet shook her head as the two followed him inside. “Honestly, I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that the butler actually did it.”

That got a noncommittal hum as Randolph opened what seemed like a stretch of solid wall in the entry hall, leading them into the narrow and much more plain servants’ corridors. “That would depend on what you mean by ‘it,’ Miss. Letting you into the manor? Certainly. But I cannot assist with the actual procurement of the evidence.”

“Butler’s code of ethics?”

“No. Mistress Alluvial is the only one who knows the combination to the wall safe in her office. She won’t even let me dust in there.” Randolph gave a less than professional snort as they ascended a cramped staircase. “I’m going to Ponyville after this. I’ve heard excellent things about the Rich family. Real ‘up-and-comers,’ as the expression goes.”

Zecora nodded at that. “May you have a lovely time without abetting any crime.”

“Such is my hope, yes.” Randolph stopped by a door no different than any of the others they’d passed by. “Well, here we are.” He pushed it open, revealing a room with a mahogany desk, one wall covered by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and a conspicuous framed sea chart that all but screamed “Something’s behind me” to Zecora’s practiced eye.

Velvet took a step back, as much as she was able in the tight confines. “There aren’t any booby traps, are there?”

“There are not, no.” A hint of a grin crossed Randolph’s muzzle as he entered the office. “Mistress Alluvial has no wish to work around pressure plates and tripwires just to get a reference volume off the shelf.”

Zecora, likewise smiling, nudged Velvet with a shoulder as she followed him in. “The wild rumors aren’t true. Yearling isn’t Daring Do.”

The younger mare rolled her eyes as she came in herself. “I know, I know. Still riding some of the adrenaline rush from, you know, being in prison earlier this evening.”

Between the three of them, it was a simple matter to get the sea chart down and an imposing, black-iron safe revealed. “I am afraid I can offer no further guidance,” Randolph said, bowing his head. Zecora was already focused on the thirty-digit combination lock.

Now, supposing—

“It’s more than we could have done without you. Or getting arrested again. Zecora, any—”

She held up a hoof. “Silence, please, I need to think. The answer needs more than a blink.”

Given what she’d seen of Yearling, it could be as simple as—

“She does this sometimes.”

“I’m told all the best detectives do. At least she’s not the sort who keeps stumbling into murders.”

Zecora didn’t bother holding back a groan. “Tell me, you two, did I stutter? Silence does not mean you mutter.”

Velvet’s ears folded back. “Sorry!”

After a few moments of waiting, deeds proved the apology sincere. After a bit more deliberation, Zecora tried testing her theory, using the convenient crank built into the dial. One right, eleven left, twenty-five right…

Clunk

She grinned. “First shot. Jackpot.”

“How ever did you—”

The flush of victory had Zecora explaining her reasoning before Randolph could finish asking. “A few hints lay here and there, like the mechanism’s wear, but the safe was not the key. A. K. Yearling was, you see. Fame is what she’s always sought. Her initials, so I thought, would allow us through the door.” She backed away from the open safe. “Now, fair Velvet, raid the store.”

The unicorn’s horn lit as her magic rummaged through the contents. It was mostly paper, but in smaller bundles of stock certificates and publishing contracts. The exceptions came out: Threatening letters, legal settlements, novels in names that definitely weren’t A. K. Yearling. But she paused once she found one thicker sheaf. Velvet pulled it out, jaw dropping as she took in the front page. “My original manuscript! Dated and everything!”

“Something’s fluttered to the floor.” Zecora scooped up a bar napkin that had gotten dragged out of the safe along with the draft, her eyes widening as she took in the pencil scrawl on the back. “Implicating even more.”

“Huh?” Velvet gasped in recognition the moment she saw the napkin. “Unbelievable. She actually kept it.”

Randolph cleared his throat. “Ladies. While I hate to interrupt what is no doubt a truly shocking revelation, the Publisher’s Ball has concluded and the mistress will be returning home momentarily. I strongly recommend at least one of you make all due haste to the police station.”

“I’ll go,” said Velvet, stuffing her manuscript in one of her saddlebags even as her magic shut the safe and rehung the sea chart. Once more, Zecora marveled at the strength the mare refused to notice. “I can’t promise what I’d do to A. K. if I saw her right now.”

“I will stay to hold her back,” said Zecora, pulling a copy of The Coltbridge Book of Rhymes off the shelves and into her own saddlebags. It was the right size and weight to serve as a decoy if needed. The rest of the details of Yearling’s misdeeds went in the other. “Time to get there you’ll not lack.”

Randolph bowed his head and went back to the servant’s entrance. “I shall pack what few of my things remain unpacked. I imagine there will be much hullabaloo shortly, and it is a wise servant who knows when to make himself scarce.”

“Go. If I have any say, Yearling’s crimes will end this day.”

Author's Note

Message given to PseudoBob Delightus for Chapter 6:
Zecora cured Sgt. Sentry’s young son Flash. Randolph has been a thorn in the investigation’s side until now. Velvet’s criminal status is currently in a gray area. Justice is served.