Once the noise of Twilight Velvet’s frantic galloping away had faded, it was quiet in the dark home office. Zecora had little choice but to merely wait, hoping that their timing was fortunate enough that her client wouldn’t have a run-in with the thief, or be recognized elsewhere.

Sergeant Sentry should be trustworthy, Zecora knew. After she’d provided a cure where the medical system had failed his young son Flash, the Sergeant had always been there to help make sure The Stripevate Eye could operate without police interference. A mention of her name should be more than enough to bring the force her way to make the appropriate arrest.

Of course, that still left the problem of holding down the fort long enough for them to arrive. And she could show up at any minute.

Zecora pawed her hoof at the floor, as though there was dirt there to dig up. A nervous habit. She scolded herself for the nerves, but at the same time, she knew there were plenty of bad ways things could go.

Still, assuming all had gone well for Velvet, the worst should have been averted… unless…

She trotted to the window and stared up at the Mare in the Moon, its dark reflected light cast upon the streets outside. The streetlights had come on, and yet Zecora knew all too well how easy it was to hide within shadow – she’d done it herself so many times, after all.

The detective’s ears perked up at the sound of a creaking door. It was distant – not the door to the office itself – but close enough that it must have been within the building. She is near, almost here!

There was no point in hiding. No spot would be effective, in any case. She might not be immediately noticed under the desk table, but she’d still be fully exposed if she was. Regardless, though, she wasn’t there to spy; she was there to confront, and importantly, to make sure the premises weren’t vacated prematurely. Her suspect would only be home for a matter of seconds to make the pickup, and Zecora would have no means of telling Velvet or Sentry where to follow if she had to pursue.

Turning away from the window, Zecora stood silhouetted. She glanced at the safe, securely closed, and then back toward the door. She realized with a start that she was now on the wrong side of the room from her saddlebags, and began to walk back around the desk towards them, but froze.

There was the sound of trotting in the hallway. Its pace was quickening, and it was growing louder, closer. Within a few moments, there was a shadow visible under the door, and the sound stopped.

The door opened, and for the moment, Zecora was concealed by the darkness that impeded the newcomer’s peripheral vision – at least, until a clap brought the lights on.

And there she was. A.K. Yearling. Same garish hat, appalling glasses, cloak, and all.

Zecora stood silently as the conspicuous saddlebags caught the mare’s attention, her voice losing all trace of the practiced affect she’d heard in their earlier conversation. “What in Celestia’s mane is–”

Her eyes found their way to Zecora. “GYAAAAAAAH!”

She stumbled back towards the shelves, and Zecora seized the chance to step between her and the doorway. “Miss Yearling, please, you must not fret. To cause you harm, my heart isn’t set.”

“Wha, gyuh…” The alleged earth pony blinked, then straightened up and reacquired her refined voice. “Ah, the private detective. Zeeborga, was it? I, um, must confess I am confused by your presence. The case is quite clearly closed, that thief Velvet is behind bars, and while I understand if there are some sort of procedural questions you need me to answer, I would appreciate you not breaking and entering into my house.”

Zecora’s eyes narrowed. “It seems as though you’ve mistaken my name, though I’m more concerned with your wicked game.”

Yearling cringed. “Excuse me, detective? I believe I made myself quite clear before, as has all the evidence the authorities have collected. Twilight Velvet used her publishing connections to secure my new romance manuscript and had arranged to have it sold as her own. I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but I assure you, I have no intent other than to see justice done.”

That elicited a snort. “Absurd to call it justice received, when it is you whose words have deceived. For I happen to know that you’re full’v it, as I was hired by Twilight Velvet.”

The author’s face darkened. “I see. Is this your way of asking for a bribe, Detective? Because I assure you, I have a lot more bits to spare than your, well, felonious client.”

Zecora watched as Yearling strode toward her desk, perhaps in the hope that the zebra would move along with her and expose the exit. If so, Zecora didn’t bite, holding in place. “No need to spare your excess bits, nor to make this a game of wits. What concerns me is naught but the truth, that you’ve falsely accused an upstart youth.”

Yearling made a sound akin to a hiss, and Zecora detected another lapse in her affect as she spoke. “How dare… who are you, to make such an insinuation of me, Miss Zegorga? You think this is some little Tracer Bullet potboiler? I can just as easily take you to court for defamation as well, to say nothing of how you forced your way into my home!”

The mare stamped her hooves on the floorboards, but Zecora wasn’t intimidated. It helped that it was far from the most intimidating of displays, given her appearance. The zebra did step forward slightly, however, though only far enough that she could still land a fearsome kick backwards toward the door had Yearling tried to make a break for it. The author seemed to understand that, and didn’t make any attempt.

“If I thought you could frighten me, I’d not have gone where you would be.” With that, Zecora nudged the first saddlebag, which toppled over, spilling out its contents for Yearling to see.

The pony scoffed. “And just what is it I’m supposed to be looking at?”

“The proof of your crimes, collected in full. I think you’ll find your excuses quite null.”

Yearling made a show of rolling her eyes, only to quickly bring them back to the items scattered on the ground. She seemed particularly startled when her eyes alighted upon the napkin.

She brought her gaze up to Zecora, expression draining from her face as, Zecora knew, the implications hit her. That Equestria might soon know that the great A.K. Yearling was a thief and plagiarist, and that Twilight Velvet was merely her latest victim.

“I am reminded,” Zecora declared, “thinking ‘pon your theft, of a children’s taunt that carries some heft. For it seems what they say is quite true; Velvet is rubber, and you are glue.”

Author's Note

Message given to FanOfMostEverything for Chapter 7:
Zecora emptied the safe and Velvet is running to bring the manuscript to the police (she makes it). Yearling isn't Daring Do. Zecora has The Coltbridge Book of Rhymes in her other bag as a decoy.