“Chief Inspector, please!” Turing cried with sudden, very un-robotic ferocity. “If you will allow us to continue your investigation—”

“You can do as you like, Minister,” Neightstrad said as he shook his head, “but there’s no sense in us waiting around any longer than we need to. The boat’s here, we still have just the one suspect, so we’ll take Gadget in and question her ourselves back at Trotland Yard. We’ll take whatever notes you two have on the case, but just the same—”

“Sir, I believe that would be premature,” Dupon said.

Neighstrad scowled at him. “Well, you’re no longer the one running this investigation, Dupon,” he said, poking him in the chest. “Good on you for catching a poisoner, but you’re still short a murderer. But don’t let it get to you, Dupon… after all, it just goes to show, you can’t win ‘em all, eh? Not even you.”

He sneered at that, and Turing felt certain that Dupon would become angry. After all, she was becoming angry herself, and she raised a hoof, preparing to give Neighstrad a piece of her cognitive unit.

But then she heard Dupon as he slowly drew in a breath and let it out through his nostrils.

“The medical examiner,” Dupon said, his voice still calm and even, “is here, yes?”

“That’s what I said, yes,” Neighstrad replied.

“Then I take it that he’s examining the body right now?”

Neighstrad blinked. “Right. He figured he might as well do a preliminary examination right here on the island, so he brought his tools. He’s in the icebox right now, taking a look at Beacon Bomber’s remains.”

“Then it stands to reason that nopony is going anywhere until that examination is complete,” Dupon surmised. “In which case, Minister Turing and I might as well continue our investigation.”

“I… that’s…”

Neighstrad gave an exasperated groan.

“Fine, I suppose you might as well. But Dr. Mallard won’t take long, Dupon, so you two had better work fast.”

With that said, Neighstrad promptly turned on his heels and stomped back down the steps, leaving Turing and Dupon alone once more.

“Excellently done, Dupon,” Turing said. “Let us proceed to the next phase of our investigation quickly.”

But Dupon just bowed his head. “I’m afraid that I’m not actually certain where to go from here, Turing,” he said quietly. “I’m glad that we have a bit more time, but unless one of us can think of what to do next, our investigation might be at an impasse.”

Turing took a step back. “That cannot be true, Dupon. You are the greatest detective in Equestria. Surely—”

“Turing,” Dupon said gently, “as flattering as the moniker is, it can be rather exhausting to live up to. At the end of the day, I’m simply a mortal stallion. Now, I am certain that we could solve this case with enough time, and I believe we can interview the remaining symposium members one by one if need be to discover something we’ve missed. There’s nothing wrong with the brute force approach, after all, but that isn’t going to be fast enough for Miss Gadget, I’m afraid.”

Turing lowered her head. Her ears drooped slowly, giving a prolonged squeak on her hinges that somehow managed to sound positively morose.

“Then why did you request more time?”

“Well, perhaps one of us will come up with a sudden bit of inspiration.” He shrugged and gave her a sheepish smile. “In all honesty, I was hoping it would be you.”

Turing considered this. “Then perhaps we should speak again with Gadget and Mr. Vanderbull,” she said. “If we explain the current situation, they may have some further insight that will assist us.”

Dupon smiled. “That sounds as good an idea as any. Let’s give it a try.”

“Wow,” Gadget breathed. “So you figured all that out about Rio Grand while investigating Beacon Bomber’s murder?!”

“Correct. That is an accurate summary of the events I just finished relating to you, Gadget.”

Vanderbull folded his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Well, it seems that Ms. Rio is even more unscrupulous than I thought,” he grunted. “Still, I thank you both for getting her out of my horns.”

Gadget’s expression darkened and she gave her employer a sideways glance before quickly looking back away, but not before Vanderbull noticed the gesture.

“Gadget?” he asked. “Is something the matter?”

“No, sir,” she said.

She fidgeted for a moment, then stood up straight and faced him. “Actually… yes, sir, something is!”

Vanderbull watched as she took a deep breath, drawing herself up.

“Sir, she tried to poison you,” she said.

“Yes, Gadget, and it was a lucky thing that she was not successful, even though West Walnut was poisoned in my stead,” he said. Then he smiled. “But no need to worry, my girl, I’m perfectly fine.”

“And I’m glad, sir, I really am!” she exclaimed, putting a hoof to her chest. “What bothers me, though, is that she was willing to go to such lengths just to spite you. She’s probably going to prison for it!”

“Most likely,” Dupon remarked. “With a plea bargain, I suspect that she will receive the minimum sentence, but that will still cost her one year in jail.”

“And all this over you blocking her dam project!”

“Gadget! There’s no need to swear!” Vanderbull cried.

“No, her ‘dam’ project!” Gadget groaned. “This whole business with the hydroelectric dam… you never told me about any of this before tonight, sir. Why?”

Vanderbull looked away, suddenly becoming very interested with a clock on the mantelpiece of the suite’s fireplace. “Ah, well, that’s… oh dear, this clock is a bit slow, er, perhaps I should fix it…”

“Sir,” Gadget said. She took a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “You always tell me about your business trips on the rare occasions I don’t go with you. It’s my job to know as your assistant. But you’ve been tight-lipped about this business in Neigh Mexicolt for months, and now I find out that you’ve been feuding with the locals, Rio Grand included?”

“Gadget, I…” He took a long breath and then heaved a sigh. “I knew that you wouldn’t understand. Or approve. I worked very hard and spent quite a lot of money to acquire the Canter Fe line, and I wasn’t about to turn around and bow to Rio Grand and her groupies. I have business partners, stockholders, and employees to consider! I have an entire railway empire to run! I wished Rio Grand and the others luck on their project, but there was profit to be made. It was just a matter of business!”

Gadget gawked at him. “Sir,” she began. Then she swallowed and went up to him, touching her hoof to his side as she looked up at him. “Commodore. I know ponies sometimes say mean things about you. They say that you only care about making more money, that your empire is more important than the ponies under your care. But I know how generous you are, how passionate you are about your work, and that as stubborn as you are sometimes, you are a kind, wonderful person. And I’m never ashamed to say that I work for Cornelius Vanderbull. Or…”

She lowered her head.

“...I wasn’t. Until now.”

Vanderbull’s jaw dropped open. He watched as Gadget turned away from him and sat sullenly on her bed, refusing to even look back at him.

The old minotaur swallowed. He worked his jaw as if he were chewing on cud but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Instead, he turned back to the clock and took out his pocket watch.

“...Y-yes, the blasted thing is five minutes slow… have to dress down the concierge later…”

The four of them stood there in silence as Vanderbull grumbled and fidgeted with the clock.

“...Awkward beep,” Turing murmured.

Gadget chuckled at that. “Sorry about all this, Turing. And you too, Inspector Dupon,” she said. “But hey, since you did all that investigating and found out about the poisoning, you must have had some sort of breakthrough!” She perked up at the thought. “So, did it lead to a break in the case? Are you close to figuring out the real murderer?”

Dupon winced. “Well, unfortunately, no.”

Gadget blanched. “W-what?!”

“We discovered many things,” Turing explained. “We determined several facts about Beacon Bomber’s health, his remarkable recovery, and his propensity for fornication…”

“Not exactly relevant, Turing Test,” Dupon muttered.

“We also determined that all three of our primary suspects - specifically Sea Dweller, West Walnut, and Rio Grand - were all occupied during the murder. Of those three, only West Walnut had the motive to kill him, but it appears that he did not. Sea Dweller was in the ballroom the entire time and had no reason to harm him. And Rio Grand does not appear to have any motive and was actively concealing her role in West Walnut’s poisoning at the time that Beacon Bomber was murdered.

“All other symposium attendees were in the ballroom, and the whereabouts of all of the staff members of the hotel are also accounted for. The only pony whose specific alibi during the time of the murder is not accounted for, Gadget, is…”

“Me,” Gadget breathed.

She took on a faraway stare and took a few steps back.

Vanderbull whirled around. He grit his teeth and stomped over to Turing and Dupon. He loomed over them, nostrils flaring as he glowered down. “Well, what are you doing here, then?! Get back to your investigation if this is all you have to show for it! Go, before it’s too late!”

“I’m afraid that it might already be too late,” Dupon said as he stared up at Vanderbull. “You see, backup from the mainland has arrived, along with a medical examiner. After he confirms our findings, Neighstrad is intent on continuing with his base assumption. That being, ah… well…”

“...That I’m the killer,” Gadget whimpered.

“Gadget,” Turing began. But then her ears perked up. “They are coming. I detect hoofsteps coming up the stairs. They belong to Neighstrad. There is a high probability that they are coming to apprehend you.” Her glowing pupils shrank, and she lowered her head. “Gadget. I am sorry. I am so very sorry… perhaps if we—”

“No, it’s… it’s all right,” Gadget said. She took a deep breath, placing her hoof to her chest. “You and Inspector Dupon did your best. And I’m sure you’ll find some evidence that clears my name later. But for now, I have to face this like a grown mare: with courage, dignity, and grace.”

Dupon nodded, doffing his cap and bowing in respect.

“That is very admirable of you, Gadget,” Turing said quietly. “Also, are you aware that you are trembling?”

“Your ocular sensors are malfunctioning, Turing,” Gadget replied.

“Also, your knees are knocking again,” Turing continued. “I can hear them. I am fairly certain they are loud enough to be audible to ponies back on the mainland—”

“Your audio sensors are malfunctioning too, Turing, now shut up!” Gadget hissed as she continued to do something that resembled trembling and knee-knocking but was most assuredly something else.

The door opened. Neighstrad stood there, and an older unicorn stallion in a white doctor’s coat, glasses, and a bow tie with ducks on it came in behind him.

“So, uh… Dr. Mallard’s finished his examination,” Neighstrad said. “And—”

“I understand,” Gadget said, stepping forward. “I’ll go quietly, Chief Inspector.”

“Well, Miss Gadget, I appreciate that—”

“I did it!” Vanderbull bellowed.

They all turned at the loud declaration. Vanderbull stomped forward, placing himself between Gadget and Neighstrad, holding his bulky arms out wide.

“What?!” Neighstrad gasped. “What are you on about, sir?!”

“Just what I said!” Vanderbull shouted. “I admit it! I murdered Beacon Bomber! I arranged this symposium just to… to lure him in! Yes, that’s it! And I used my wealth to pay an assassin to murder him! You’ll never find him now, I assure you! My assistant had nothing to do with this, so let her be!”

“Sir!” Gadget shrieked. “Mr. Vanderbull, stop, you can’t do this!” she begged, nearly in tears.

“Oh, yes I can!” he shouted. He then seized Neighstrad by the collar and hauled him up to look at him eye-to-eye. “That’s right, you… you featherbrained flatfoot! I am confessing to the crime, so I demand you arrest me! I’m the one you want! I am—”

“Mr. Vanderbull, put me down this instant!” Neighstrad yelled. “I haven’t even told you what Dr. Mallard’s found yet!”

Vanderbull blinked. “Ah,” he said, his bovine muzzle coloring slightly as he gently set Neighstrad down again. “Yes, of course. Please, continue.”

“Of all the… ‘featherbrained flatfoot?’” Neighstrad grumbled as he straightened his collar. “Dr. Mallard, if you’d be so kind?”

The medical examiner, Dr. Mallard, stepped forward. He straightened his bow tie and adjusted his spectacles as he addressed them all.

“Sorry to step into all this drama,” he said in a prim, proper Trottingham accent. “But I believe I have some news for you that may be welcome. And, well, a bit embarrassing.”

They all shared a mutual look of confusion as he cleared his throat.

“I realized this will sound very strange to you all, but I must inform you,” he said, “that Beacon Bomber was not murdered…”

To be continued…

Author's Note

This mystery ain’t over just yet! Remember to leave a like and a comment, junior detectives!

Or else a burly, aging minotaur will be sent to your home to awkwardly insult you.