The accusation hung in the air between them. At first, AK Yearling made no reaction, simply standing there, expression frozen. But then she smiled, a smile that was more chilling to Zecora than any outburst of anger.

“Well, when you put it as clearly as all that, I see no reason to deny it,” she said, voice suddenly quite unlike the one she had been using prior. It was more confident. More sinister. “I must say, I certainly wasn't expecting anyone to pick up all those loose ends that I didn't bother to tidy away, but you've done quite a nice job of it, Miss Zebra. And as you’ve so helpfully brought all of this evidence right to me, I don’t even need to worry about going after it myself.”

“And so the serpent sheds her skin. We see what truly lies within,” murmured the detective.

“Oh, would you stop it with the rhyming thing? You sound like a quirky side character in a penny novel.” Yearling wrinkled her muzzle in disgust. “Never could stand zebras. I shouldn't have been surprised that one was willing to scrape around in the dirt looking for clues. You must have felt right at home”

Zecora felt her face flush hot in anger. “And here I thought you could not stoop more low. This insult has let your true colours show.”

“Please. I can say whatever I like! I'm the most popular author this side of Manehatten! And I really don’t need to watch my mouth around a detective foolish enough to poke this deep into matters which don’t concern her. You’re not going to be spilling the beans to anypony any time soon.”

And suddenly there was a gun, levelled directly at her. A pegasus type Colt .45, held snugly by the flaxen feathers of a wing. Zecora froze, though she couldn’t help but feel a moment of satisfaction at the confirmation of her theory. Just as she’d suspected, the author wasn’t an earth pony.

“No one will question the sudden appearance of another body around these parts. They’ll just assume that you unwittingly stumbled into a gang fight or something. Tragic, but not suspicious. And it's not like there’s anypony who’ll come looking for you.” She smirked as Zecora’s eyes widened. “You’re not the only one who can do their homework, detective. I’ve looked into your background enough to know that no one will miss you when you’re gone.”

Keep her walking. Keep her talking. Zecora thought to herself. Any chance of survival - no, more importantly, any chance she had of proving Yearling’s guilt, proving that Twilight Velvet’s work had been ruthlessly stolen from her, all hinged on stalling the plagiarising author long enough for help to arrive. If help was arriving at all.

“Since you plan to snuff me out,” she began, desperately, “please satisfy my burning doubt,”
Why Twilight Velvet of all mares, why tangle her in your affairs?”

Yearling’s smile slipped. “That upstart? She just happened to be a convenient target. It wasn’t for any reason in particular.”

“But that can’t be believed. It was her work you thieved.”

“She threatened my position!” The wing holding the gun trembled for a second. Zecora could feel her own heart rate pick up, loud in the quiet of the night . “The world of literary business isn’t the place for sappy romance novels and their naive, hopeful authors. If she thought she could barge in with what little talent she had and go far on that, she was sorely mistaken. So I thought I’d… send a message, which happily coincided with pursuing my own goals.”

“And so you thought to shift the blame. Theft is theft, no matter the name.”

“Call it whatever you like. As far as the public is concerned, Twilight Velvet is an attention seeking liar, who’s too lazy to even write her own books. Even if she does manage to eventually write something else, the bad rep will be enough to ensure it doesn’t succeed. Meanwhile, I’ll remain safely as the number one author in Manehattan. And then, in a few years, once this has all died down, if I happen to publish a romance of my own bearing striking similarities to that claimed “missing” manuscript, no one will bat an eye. The only ones who will care are that fraud of an author, who’ll be ruined, and you, who’ll be dead. There’s nothing you can do. Neither of you have any evidence with which to stop me.”

Perhaps Zecora reacted to the mention of evidence, twitched or broke eye contact. Or perhaps AK Yearling suddenly doubted her own words, felt the need to reconsider. Whatever the reason, her eyes narrowed, and flicked across the room to the safe. Keeping the firearm levelled at the zebra, she slowly moved over to it, and began to spin the dial. Zecora held her breath as the safe door creaked open and the author looked inside.

“It’s empty.” Her voice grew in volume as she spun to face Zecora. “You… What have you done?! Where’s the manuscript?!”
Both of their gazes fell on her saddlebags at the same time. Zecora saw the shift in her eyes, the moment that she realised the zebra was now worth more to her dead than alive. She didn’t waste any time.

BANG! The gun went off a fraction of a second after she dived for cover. She felt the bullet cut through the air, a hair’s breadth from her coat as she skidded behind an ornate dresser.

“This situation’s looking dire,” She muttered, perhaps unwisely as a second shot sounded, and shattered the glass of the cabinet above her. She cursed, and began to awkwardly crawl along the floor towards a window. “You’d go so far for your desire?”

“There’s not much I wouldn’t do,” came the answering hiss, much closer than Zecora had anticipated. She rolled instinctively, ending up under the cover of a desk table just as the floorboard behind her exploded in a shower of splinters. “Reputation is everything. Worth more than the lives of a couple of gutter dwellers like you or Velvet. I’d make the exchange a thousand times.”

The window still tempted her. Zecora judged the distance between her current position and the only possible escape route. It might just be possible, she thought. Desperately she lunged out from beneath the table.

A fourth shot rang out. This one didn’t miss. Zecora yelled in pain, as she collapsed against the wall, clutching the back of her hoof. It wasn’t a serious wound, barely even clipping her, but it had been enough to make her stumble. And that was enough.

“Finally. You’ve stopped crawling around like a rat on the floor.” The saddlebag was snatched from her before she could react, Yearling holding her prize triumphantly aloft. “I must say, you almost had me worried for a moment there. To think, you got all the way into my own house, found my office, even managed to break into my safe. And all for nothing. No wonder I do so well in this city. Everypony else is utterly incompetent.”

Zecora groaned as she pulled herself up. She didn’t trust herself to speak. The author still held the gun, but her attention was on the bag as she began to undo its buckles.

“This is the second time I’ve taken this manuscript from someone,” she chuckled. “I think that makes me its rightful owner, don’t you? And despite its very low quality content, I’m rather glad to have it in my hooves again…”

AK Yearling tailed off as she pulled out the object which had been nestled in the saddlebags. A large sheaf of papers no doubt, but bound officially in hardback cloth rather than the rough, looping string of a first draft manuscript. The title was stamped into the cover clearly, and shone slightly as the lamplight caught it. “The Coltbridge book of Rhymes.”

“The manuscript of which you speak,” Zecora said, quietly, “Is in a place you cannot seek. Miss Velvet carried it to the station. Evidence enough, for your damnation.” She could only hope that it was true, and that the unicorn had got that far.

“That’s… Impossible.” Yearling breathed. The book tumbled from her hooves. “I… I can’t lose. Not like this. Surely…”

“Your time is up, your story at its end. And with your own fate you must now contend.”

The pegasus stared at her. “You… you’re still rhyming? Through all of this? Mocking me?” She levelled the gun at Zecora, who was too tired to even flinch. “Everything went wrong. All because of you. You’ve been messing with everything from the start. If I can just remove you-!”

“No!”

It was a new voice that called out, desperate and furious. Both zebra and pegasus turned just in time to glimpse Twilight Velvet as she charged across the room, colliding with AK Yearling in a blur of lilac and grey. The gun was sent spinning through the air, and the pegasus was sent sprawling across the floor, before being pinned down by a fierce field of magic.

Zecora struggled to find words, and rhymes. “Miss Velvet, your presence, I don’t understand. Was the book delivered, as we had planned?”

“Only just.” Her client was breathing heavily, evidently exhausted. “I spoke to Sergeant Sentry just as you said. The police are on their way now- I just couldn’t wait at the station.”

Sure enough, Zecora could hear distant sirens growing louder. She got to her hooves, and gave a sigh of relief.

At long last, this case was coming to a close.

Author's Note

Message given to EileenSaysHi for Chapter 8:
Noir mystery AU. Twilight Velvet's work was stolen by AK yearling. Zecora is private detective hired by TV. Ends with case closed, AK going to jail. Suggested that AK has stolen work before.