“I beg your pardon,” Vanderbull said, “but are you genuinely telling us that the dead stallion in my refrigerator who was found with a knife in his chest on the front lawn of my hotel was NOT murdered?!”

“Well… yes!” Dr. Mallard said with a shrug.

“Perhaps it would be best if you explained things directly,” Turing Test said.

“I would be glad to,” he said, adjusting his bow tie. “Now then… looking at the corpse with a knife in its chest, it would be natural to assume that Mr. Beacon Bomber died due to that massive trauma to his heart. But upon close examination, I have determined that the knife wound was not as deep as it appeared. It did not damage his heart or any arteries nearby. It would certainly have been painful and caused significant blood loss, but it did not kill him.

“I have instead determined that Beacon Bomber’s death resulted from sudden cardiac arrest.”

The group fell silent.

“Inspector Dupon and I noticed that Beacon Bomber had undergone some form of cardiac surgery to treat a form of arrhythmia,” Turing said. “This was confirmed by his friend, Sea Dweller. The treatment was apparently fairly recent and quite successful.”

“Well, I am not equipped to perform a full autopsy here,” Dr. Mallard said with a shrug. “However, ongoing heart problems can persist, even with good treatment. Even if it mitigated the symptoms of his arrhythmia, the underlying cause may not have been resolved. As you know, Minister, medical technology is growing by leaps and bounds in Equestria these days, and if he attempted something experimental, well… perhaps it was not as successful as it first seemed.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Gadget said, holding up a hoof. “If that’s how he died, then how did he get that knife stuck in his chest?!”

“Ah,” Neighstrad said, “I asked the doctor that same question, Miss. I thought maybe somepony - you, actually - had stabbed him in the chest and the sheer shock of it was what caused his heart to give out.”

Gadget gave him a dirty look.

“Er, but Dr. Mallard says that’s not very likely,” Neighstrad added quickly.

“Then how?” Vanderbull asked.

Dr. Mallard adjusted his spectacles. “Well, the answer is probably tied to his other injuries,” he replied.

At that, Dupon gave an audible groan. “Of course, of course!” he muttered. “It all makes sense now… he was never assaulted. He crashed.”

Dr. Mallard nodded. “Indeed, Inspector Dupon. I believe that he was approaching the hotel, suffered sudden cardiac arrest, lost control of his flight and, well, collided into the hotel before falling to the ground.”

Turing raised her head. “Then it is possible that the sound I detected earlier was actually the sound of his collision with the building,” she said.

“I couldn’t say, Minister, but it is possible,” Dr. Mallard replied. “Rather than being struck by a blunt object, he slammed into the building. That would explain the bruising on his body. And the subsequent fall would explain the abrasions I noticed on his coat and skin. As for the knife, it must have been purely bad luck: he may have had it out and held it in his hoof, or it otherwise came loose from his pocket, and then, rather than being stabbed with it, he fell directly on it, and the force of the collision drove it into his body.”

Dupon furrowed his brow. “That certainly is poor luck,” he said quietly.

Turing considered this new information. “If that is the case, then rather than the power outage being a planned event to conceal the murder, it was merely coincidental?”

Dr. Mallard shrugged. “Again, I honestly couldn’t say. For all I know, somepony intended to kill him but his bad heart got to him first. Or, yes, it could be a total coincidence. But the fact remains: Beacon Bomber was not murdered.”

There was a moment of quiet. Then Gadget’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she breathed. “Then… then that means that I…”

“Ah, yes, there’s that,” Neighstrad began. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Under the circumstances, Miss, we’ll be dropping the murder charge against you. You’re free to go.”

Gadget merely stared for a moment. Then her lower lip quivered, and she burst into tears, immediately latching on to Mr. Vanderbull.

“There there,” he said, patting her gently on the head as she sobbed in relief. “It’s all right, Gadget.”

“Congratulations on your absolution of murder charges, Gadget,” Turing said, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “I am very happy to know that you are safe and free.”

Gadget immediately turned and hugged her as well. “Turing… Turing, thank you…”

“Your gratitude is appreciated but undeserved,” Turing replied, even as she hugged her in return. “Our investigation was not what vindicated you.”

“I know,” Gadget laughed between sobs, “but you still did so much just for my sake! I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

She let Turing go and turned to face Dupon, wiping her tears as she composed herself.

“And thank you as well, Inspector Dupon,” she said. “I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

Dupon smiled. “Not at all, Miss Gadget,” he said, tipping his hat to her. “It provided me with the opportunity to get to know Turing Test, and it was quite an enlightening experience.”

He bowed to her, and Turing returned the gesture.

“Furthermore, it wasn’t a total loss. We did uncover a separate crime, that of Rio Grand’s poisoning scheme.”

“And you have my thanks for that,” Vanderbull remarked.

“Though perhaps,” he continued, “it has failed to fully answer the question of what place machines have in the realm of detective work. Inconclusive result, eh, Minister? Shall we call our bet a draw?”

Turing tapped her chin, considering that. “Negative,” she said. “Though I provided assistance, it was your insight and ability to connect the different events of the evening into a sequence of cause and effect. In short, Dupon, you were the one who discovered Rio Grand’s crime and solved that mystery. I concede that I failed to disprove your assertion. Perhaps it is as you said: without instinct or the ability to have a ‘hunch,’ I may be lacking the true qualities necessary to act as a detective.”

Neighstrad wore a smug look. “Well, it seems I don’t have to give my speech after all!” he laughed. “I knew I was right all along!”

Turing and Dupon stared back at him for a moment before exchanging a mutual look. The kind of look that said, ‘Can you believe this motherbucker?’

“Well, this has been interesting,” Neighstrad said, “but I believe that wraps things up here. Since we’ve obtained a small boat, we’ll be gathering a few officers, the body, and Rio Grand before returning to the mainland. We couldn’t get the full ferry this late at night, so the rest of the symposium members can return home tomorrow morning.”

Dupon nodded. “Understood, Chief Inspector. I’ll begin collecting my things.”

“Right then,” Neighstrad said. “We’ll leave in one hour.” He glanced at the rest of them and gave a short nod. “Good night to you all.”

Neighstrad departed with Dr. Mallard, leaving Vanderbull, Gadget, Dupon, and Turing Test alone once more.

“So, um, sir?” Gadget said, a sly look on her face as she glanced up at Vanderbull. “Did you really just falsely confess to murder back there? For my sake?”

Vanderbull looked away, grumbling. “Hmph! Surely not,” he said. “Th-that is clearly a rumor that is not to be repeated.” He directed a pointed glance at Turing and Dupon. “Is that clear?”

“Quite clear,” Dupon said with a smirk as he walked out of the room.

“Affirmative,” Turing said as she followed him. “As Gadget indicated, my auditory systems were likely malfunctioning when I heard such a brave, selfless, and desperate plea on your assistant’s behalf.”

“Yes, exactly so, Minister,” Vanderbull said, though he wore a knowing smirk as he ushered her out, shutting the door behind her.

Once outside the door, Dupon smiled at Turing. “Well, I am sorry that your symposium was ruined,” he said. “Though if you decide to reschedule it, I would be delighted to attend.”

“And I would be glad to have you there,” Turing said. She held out a hoof and they shook on it.

“Well, I ought to gather my things from my room. Until we meet again, Turing Test, I bid you adieu.”

Turing bowed to him and watched as he trotted away. And in the silence, she found herself with nothing left to do, so she elected to return to her own room.

It had been a long night - as organic ponies were fond of saying, despite nights actually being shorter in warmer months - and if she did require sleep, she suspected that she would sleep like a foal. Not that she had ever been one. And not really like a foal, since they were not very good sleepers in general. Unless the foal had been fed tranquilizers.

Yes, she decided, she would go back to her room and retire for the evening as if nights had unpredictable lengths and she were a foal that had been heavily sedated.

And yet… she found her cognitive function continuing to process the events of the evening, trying to calculate a solution that she knew had already been found.

She shook her head. The murder mystery had been solved - that is to say, there was no mystery.

“...Maud Pie?”

Turing’s synthetic voice was soft as she cautiously entered the room. Maud Pie typically slept like a rock - something she very much took pride in - but just the same, Turing wanted to be considerate.

As it turned out, Maud Pie was, in fact, asleep.

Turing entered their shared hotel room and saw her fiancée sleeping on their bed. Maud Pie’s legs were drawn up slightly as she dozed on top of the covers. Her tail flicked in her slumber as her eyelids twitched, perhaps in the midst of some dream. She was still in her dress.

She did not change out of her clothes or slip under the sheets, Turing noted. Therefore, she was likely reclining on her bed only to relax and fell asleep unintentionally. Was she perhaps waiting for me? Oh.

Oh, Maud Pie…

Turing gently made her way over to her and placed a hoof on her side, tracing it down her form. Maud did not wake, but she seemed to grow slightly calmer, her sleep returning to tranquility at her touch.

“Sleep well, Maud Pie,” Turing whispered.

As a robot, Turing often noted how her ability to appreciate things like beauty was deficient compared to organic ponies. She wasn’t sure about any normal standards of beauty other than what had been described to her, but she knew this much: Maud Pie sleeping soundly was astoundingly beautiful.

The one who knew her best, who accepted her for her strengths and flaws, who understood her when no one else could, who confided her deepest secrets with unreserved trust, who took her hoof and shared her bed without judgment or expectations…

Turing had read that organic ponies were often emotional about seeing their loved ones sleeping like this. And though she was not a living creature and acutely understood how wide the gulf was between her and the ponies that filled her world, this sentiment was one that she understood perfectly.

And so, even though she wanted to wake Maud and tell her everything that had occurred, she decided not to wake her up. Even with everything she wanted to say, she didn’t dare disturb the perfection of her beloved at peace.

Instead, she went to the window and stared out into the dark night.

I should be pleased, she realized. The case is closed. Gadget is free. There is no murder, and therefore no murderer. While Beacon Bomber’s death is quite sad, it is better that his death was simply the result of misfortune, rather than the violent action of an assailant. This result is satisfactory.

…Why am I not satisfied?

There was the sound of fabric against fabric. Turing turned her head and saw that Maud Pie was stirring.

Maud raised her head and rubbed her eyes before looking over toward the window. When she saw Turing standing there, she gave her usual small smile and sat up, sliding off of the bed.

“Hello, Maud Pie,” Turing said.

“Hey,” Maud said in return, and trotted over to her.

“I apologize if I woke you,” Turing said.

Maud shook her head. “No. I just woke up normally. But thanks anyway.”

Turing nodded and returned to gazing out the window.

“Did you and Dupon solve the case?”

“...In a manner of speaking, Maud Pie,” Turing replied.

“Did Gadget do it?”

“Negative, Maud Pie,” she said, knowing full well that Maud was joking (probably). “Gadget is no longer a murder suspect and will not be taken into police custody.”

“That’s good.” Maud yawned softly. “Sorry if I don’t seem surprised. I knew you’d figure it out, Turing.”

She gave another one of her half-smiles, but it faded when she noticed that Turing’s gaze was still fixed on the darkness out their window. Outside of Maud Pie, few ponies were able to read Turing’s expression. (And inside of Maud Pie, it was too dark to read.)

And right now, she knew that something was wrong.

“Tell me what happened,” Maud said.

Turing nodded. “Very well, Maud Pie…”

Turing spoke for several minutes, doing her best to summarize the entire investigation, explaining the things she and Dupon had discovered including Sea Dweller’s grief at the loss of her friend, West Walnut’s vendetta against Beacon Bomber and Filly Hawk, and Rio Grand’s plot against Mr. Vanderbull. (And also the incident with Feather Duster and Mon Signor, which prompted Maud’s reaction: “Ah. Intercourse.” / “Affirmative, that is what I said!”)

After Turing relayed the resolution of the case, explaining how Beacon Bomber’s death was ruled to be the result of natural causes, Maud Pie only nodded quietly.

“So… it’s over?”

“That would appear to be the case.”

“Mm,” Maud murmured. “So… why are you unhappy?”

Turing shook her head. “I am not unhappy,” she said. “However…”

Maud waited for her to continue. When she did not, she prompted her: “However…?”

“For some reason, I have allocated an inordinate amount of my cognitive capacity toward solving a problem that should already be designated as ‘solved.’ How can I best describe it… it ‘lingers’ in my mind? Or would it be better to say that I am ‘preoccupied’ by the case? I cannot explain why I am still considering possibilities when there is nothing left to consider.”

Maud furrowed her brow. “You think you missed something?” she asked.

“That seems unlikely. The medical examiner has determined the most plausible cause of Beacon Bomber’s death. My investigation alongside Inspector Dupon failed to find anypony who might have perpetrated his murder. In the figurative sense, there are no ‘loose ends’ left to attend to.”

Maud Pie took a breath. “Then what’s bothering you?”

“I am not bothered. I am…” She paused. “Correction: I am bothered.”

“By what?”

“The number of coincidences,” Turing replied. “Beacon Bomber’s death occurred in an isolated place concurrently with a highly improbable power outage. The suspects are all connected to each other, and each one has a vendetta against at least one individual on this island. It is entirely possible that these coincidences are merely the result of chance. Correlation does not, after all, equal causation. However, the proposition that the death of Beacon Bomber is unconnected to the circumstances surrounding it seems highly unlikely. There ought to be a connection! There must be…”

Maud placed a hoof on her shoulder. “If you say there must be,” she said, “then there must be.”

Turing met her eyes. “Truly?” she asked.

She nodded. “When you study rocks, you think a lot about possibilities and probabilities. You wonder what event could have caused an unusual layer of mineral deposits to be where they shouldn’t. You consider what geological event could have formed certain rocks in the distant past. You wonder what elements were present at that time to create the rock you hold in your hoof now. And I know you, Turing Test.”

She came in close and rested her head on Turing’s shoulder.

“You and I don’t pick up on everything normal ponies do. So when we do pick up on something strange, that probably means that something’s not right. I trust my instincts. You should trust yours.”

“...If only I had instincts.”

Turing rested her head against Maud’s. She was about to say something more when she heard the grandfather clock in the hall chiming. It was not loud enough for most other ponies to hear it, but her auditory sensors could clearly hear it as it struck 11 o’clock.

She froze. She raised her head. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

“Cognitive loop detected…”

Maud looked at her. “Turing? Is something wrong?”

“There is,” she replied. “I am experiencing… how curious…”

Turing turned to face her.

“Maud Pie, I am not certain what this sensation is, but there is important work that I must do. I apologize, but I will need to leave you again for a small period of time.”

Maud nodded. “I’ll be fine. What’s so important, though?”

Turing placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Dr. Mallard is wrong. There is a murderer on the island.”

“Oh.” Maud Pie’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly. “Eek.”

To be CONCLUDED…

Author's Note

Tomorrow, it’s the FINALE!

Junior Detectives, it’s time to place your bets and finalize your guesses, because it sounds like our robotic protagonist has had a breakthrough...

Don’t forget to leave a like and a comment if you haven’t already! I read every one and always appreciate my readers’ input.