The Iron Horse: Murderous Machinations

by The Hat Man

Rating: teen
Tags: Maud Pie, Science Fiction, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery, Comedy
Length: 51603

An isolated island. A grand hotel. The nation's finest innovators. And one VERY dead pegasus. A mystery unfolds, and when an innocent girl is accused, it's up to Turing Test - an adorable robot pony - and a famous detective to solve the case.

An isolated island. A grand hotel. The nation's finest innovators. And one VERY dead pegasus.

A mystery unfolds, and when an innocent girl is accused of murder, it's up to Turing Test - everyone's favorite adorable robot pony - and a famous detective to solve the case and find the murderer in their midst.

Story suggested by Mind Jack; illustrations by Colby "Greenfinger" Green.

Published 2024-10-25 21:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2024-11-03 23:16:25 UTC

1. Pick Up the Pieces

Beacon Bomber used to joke that he’d die at sea while heroically flying into the heart of a hurricane, but instead he died on a calm, temperate evening on Spur Island.

Meaning it was not, in fact, a dark and stormy night.

Spur Island was a tiny, jagged island that rose out of the sea several kilometers off the coast of Trottingham. It boasted a sandy cove on one side that once welcomed many a happy vacationer in the summer months and humble-bragged rocky gray cliffs that lined the shores that stuck out in a way that must have resembled spurs enough to earn the island its name. It was dotted with trees and swelled upward into a lush, green hill. A dirt path led up from the main dock of the island and curved up the hill until it gave way to a path of stone tiles lined with bushes and lamps that at last led up to the hotel that crowned the island.

The Spur Island Hotel was a gleaming white two-story building with an outdoor courtyard, a grand ballroom with a stage, two dozen guest rooms with windows facing the sea, and a central tower that served as a kind of lighthouse for the island. It had once been host to travelers and vacationers of all sorts, but on the evening of Beacon Bomber’s death, it was playing host to the attendees of the Trottingham Technological Symposium.

The attendees were there to share and discuss the latest advances in technology around Equestria. Of course, the most advanced technology on the island that night was the hostess herself.

Turing Test, the Minister of Technology, happened to be a robot. Still, like any other pony, she had many other roles in life, including daughter, student, friend, and fiancée.

But it was on that not-particularly-dark-or-stormy night that she would take on a new role: detective.

“Good evening, Mr. Haybach,” Turing said, bowing to the bearded stallion who’d just entered the hotel’s ballroom. “I would like to compliment you on your hat, as it is quite aesthetically pleasing.”

“What?” Haybach said. “Er, I mean, thank you, Minister. That is… you are Minister Turing Test, are you not?”

“Indeed,” she said, bowing to him. “And I am greatly looking forward to your presentation on the future of internal combustion engines. Your work with the Marecedes Gesselschaft company is truly promising.”

“Oh!” Haybach said, perking up. “Well, Minister, we owe our growth to you and the Ministry of Technology. I am honored to be here.”

“And we are honored to have you,” she said. “Please enjoy the symposium, sir.”

She bowed once more as he trotted off with a smile on his face, and then she continued to greet more guests and to mingle as the hotel’s ballroom gradually filled with attendees. It was her duty, after all, as hostess and Master of Ceremonies for the Symposium.

As she did so, she made a mental note of how far she’d come since she first took on her position as the Minister of Technology on Celestia’s Royal Council of Advisors.

Even though the ponies of Equestria were gradually becoming more accustomed to the idea of robots, she still stood out no matter where she went. Several attendees that evening, in fact, had a notably visceral reaction to her. Many of them had never met her in person and thus didn’t quite know how to react when a walking mass of whirring metal with glowing eyes walked up and complimented them on their neckwear.

Her exterior was composed of highly-polished titanium, her hooves were brass-colored, and the seams of her joints were rubber. Her mane and tail were tubular coils of polymer filament, and her LED eyes glowed electrically violet. Her ears squeaked softly on joints as they twitched, and she possessed no mouth but instead had a faceplate with four narrow slits. Her voice was feminine but distinctly synthetic, and every syllable she uttered was as crisp and precise as a note plucked on a harp (if harps had a metallic reverb).

Around her neck, she wore an elegant purple crossover tie that Rarity gave her when she left Ponyville. Rarity said such a tasteful accessory quietly communicated friendliness and grace. Turing wondered if it was too quiet to be heard over the rest of her.

So, since ponies rarely approached her, she’d learned to approach them first and put them at ease by being polite and conversational. At the most recent Grand Galloping Gala, she’d even created a “small talk” subroutine, but the results were less than promising. Rarity apologetically informed her that her attempts at small talk were “as excruciating as very slowly being run over by a large train made entirely out of minutiae.”

Twilight and her other friends agreed (except for Rainbow Dash who didn’t know what “minutiae” meant and initially thought it was a kind of soup).

But she had gotten better. And now, after getting over their initial shock, most attendees warmed to her immediately as she greeted them and dazzled them with her knowledge of them, their inventions, and their careers.

Unfortunately, she realized, not everypony was having the same success.

“...And that’s why dunite is my current favorite rock,” Maud Pie said to the poor mare she’d cornered. “Or you can call it olivinite, but some ponies confuse it with the mineral olivenite for some reason. I’m also getting into collecting fulgurites, even though they aren’t technically rocks.”

“Oh,” said the mare.

“They’re actually mineraloid lechatelierites.”

“Lecha… er, sorry, lechatella…?” stammered the mare. She looked around desperately, realizing that, in her attempt to retreat from the merciless onslaught of geological tidbits, she’d backed herself against a wall and had no means of escape.

“It’s a non-crystalline formation of silica glass,” Maud continued. “And—”

“Maud Pie, I see you have met Ms. Cook Rain,” Turing Test said as she trotted over. “Ms. Cook Rain, I am looking forward to seeing your presentation on the mechanical dish-washing device you’ve invented. I am sorry to interrupt, but your partner, Mr. Butters, was looking for you.”

“O-oh, I see!” she said, and offered a quick bow to Maud Pie as she quickly moved away.

Maud watched her go, then turned back to Turing Test. “She asked about my field of study,” she explained in her perpetual monotone. “I guess I got a bit carried away.”

“Please do not be concerned, Maud Pie,” Turing said, gently placing her hoof on Maud’s shoulder. “This event was designed as a means for ponies all across Equestria to share their passions; you should do the same.”

“Ponies here don’t seem to care about rocks; only machines,” Maud said, looking around at the growing crowd.

The Spur Island Hotel’s ballroom floor had been set up with a few dozen round tables, each one topped with a black tablecloth and several dishes and sets of silverware. A huge, crystalline chandelier hung from the coffered ceiling cast a warm, glittering glow across the room. A stage lay at one end of the room, and a podium and a large projector screen had been set up for the evening’s presenters. To the side of the room was a long table where trays of hors d'oeuvres had been placed and were continuously replenished by the hotel staff.

Some of the attendees had already taken their seats, but most were still milling about, greeting their comrades, and chatting with each over an hors d'oeuvre.

“It is true that none of the ponies here have a presentation on rocks or their application in technology,” Turing admitted, “but it is possible that some of this evening’s presentations will interest you.”

“I doubt it,” Maud said flatly. “There’s only one machine here that I care about,” she added with a slight smirk.

Turing’s glowing pupils curved upward to indicate a smile as she nuzzled Maud’s cheek. “I am glad you accompanied me for this event, Maud Pie,” she said softly. “I know that you dislike large gatherings, and I appreciate that you only came to support me. However, it is an excellent opportunity to introduce you to some of my friends. In fact, I have just located one of them…”

Over by the hors d'oeuvres table was a younger mare in a black sequined dress. She wore a serene expression, her eyes which sparkled with intelligence were accented with pale green eyeshadow, and her mouth subtly framed with a gentle application of red lipstick. The soft light of the ballroom illuminated her chestnut brown mane that she wore in short, feathered locks as she brushed back with a dainty hoof, and the cream-colored fur of her coat had a radiant sheen. She was the belle of the ball, the very picture of youthful elegance and confidence that won the admiration and envy of every eye…

And then she crammed an entire spinach puff into her mouth with reckless abandon, her intelligent eyes almost bulging with the effort.

“Gadget!” Turing Test called, waving a metallic hoof.

Gadget’s head whipped around. “Trrfing Tfsht!” she exclaimed, spraying pastry crumbs everywhere before excitedly galloping over to them both.

She hurriedly swallowed the last bite before giving her robot friend a big hug.

“Oh gosh, Turing, it’s been too long!” she bubbled, practically bouncing on her hooves. “Mr. Vanderbull told me you’d arrived, but I’ve been so busy seeing to the final preparations that I didn’t even have time to come see you. I always read your letters in Manehattan when I get them, but just the same, I really missed you!”

“I have missed you as well, Gadget,” Turing said, placing a hoof on her chest with a metallic clank. “Also, I would like you to meet someone…”

Gadget’s eyes followed Turing’s, and she noticed Maud Pie for the first time.

“Hi,” Maud said evenly. “I’m Maud.”

“Hello, Maud, I’m Gadget!”

Maud only stared back, her expression blank.

Gadget’s smile started to waver.

“Maud Pie is my fiancée,” Turing said.

Gadget’s eyes bulged. “Oh! Oh, that’s right!” she cried, eagerly offering her hoof. “The one who likes rocks!”

“Mmhmm.” Maud nodded and shook Gadget’s hoof before proceeding to say absolutely nothing.

“Sooo…” Gadget said, shifting uncomfortably as Maud continued to stare at her unblinkingly. “Um… oh, I like your dress!”

“Thanks,” Maud said. She looked back at her dress, a bluish-green dress lined with small gems that sparkled under the light of the chandelier. “It’s the only fancy one I have.”

“I know what you mean!” Gadget said, nodding eagerly. “I bought this one in Manehattan just a few days ago because I realized I didn’t have anything snazzy to wear, and Mr. Vanderbull told me I had to dress up.”

Turing nodded, taking in Gadget’s appearance. The young mare was cream-colored and was usually seen wearing her brown mane down and sporting a baggy black jacket laden with pockets and a pair of circular red spectacles. Even with her enhanced senses, Turing Test barely recognized her.

“You look very nice, Gadget,” Turing said.

“Oh, do you really think so?!” Gadget asked as she breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s a load off my mind. I want to look my best for this event and not embarrass you or Mr. Vanderbull, but I did it all at the last minute. Did I miss anything? Is my mane okay?!”

“Yes, Gadget,” Turing assured her.

“Is my makeup smudged?!”

“No, Gadget.”

“Did I wear enough deodorant?!”

“Almost,” Maud said.

Gadget tensed up and immediately raised a foreleg for a quick sniff check.

“She is joking, Gadget,” Turing said, giving Maud as much of a look as a robot could.

Gadget’s cheeks colored as she put her hoof back down.

“Sorry,” Maud said. “I was trying to lighten the mood with a joke. But I don’t always have the best judgment in how to act in social situations.”

“Ah,” Gadget said, nodding. Then she smiled. “Well, in that case, you’re in good company. At least we can all be socially awkward together, right?”

Maud gave a small smile in return. “Sure,” she said.

Gadget was about to say something else when there was a commotion at the entrance to the ballroom. The three of them turned their heads to see the ponies nearby backing away as a group of police officers entered the room. A tall, gray stallion with a neatly trimmed mustache and an equally trimmed mane led the pack of them.

“Oh. It’s the fuzz,” Maud observed blandly. She turned to Turing Test. “If they’re here to arrest me for taking rock samples from the marble tiles in the ladies’ room, please wait for me on the outside.”

“I would gladly do so, Maud Pie, but there is no need for concern,” Turing replied. “They are here because I invited them.”

Turing trotted forward, raising a metallic hoof to get the gray stallion’s attention. He smiled and walked over to her, the uniformed police officers flanking him on both sides, as if they were a hive mind of law and order.

“Ah, Minister Turing Test, I presume?” the gray stallion asked. At her affirmation, he gave a slight bow. “Chief Inspector Neighstrad of Trotland Yard, at your service.”

Turing bowed back. “I am so glad you could come, Inspector. And these are your officers?”

“Indeed! When you sent me that letter in reply to my editorial in The Guardspony last month and invited me to share my views, the lads here all insisted on coming along to show their support. Isn’t that right, lads?!”

“Yes, Chief Inspector!” the uniformed officers all shouted and clicked their hooves together in unison.

Turing Test peered around them and saw a few others who were at the back of the crowd of half a dozen uniformed officers.

“I am pleased to welcome you all,” Turing said, bowing politely to them all.

“Wait a minute,” Gadget said, peering around the phalanx of officers, noticing a stallion bringing up the rear. “Pardon me, sir, but haven’t I seen you before?”

The stallion stepped forward and tipped his hat to Turing and the other two mares with practiced grace. He was a light brown earth pony stallion wearing a black suit and tie with a matching bowler hat. His darker brown mane curved down into a pair of neatly-trimmed mutton chops that narrowed into a thin mustache across his muzzle.

“Inspector C. Auguste Dupon,” he said, his voice a calm, clear baritone. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Minister.”

“Wait, the Inspector Dupon?!” Gadget exclaimed. “I’ve read all about you! You’re just about the most famous detective in all Equestria! Maybe the whole world!”

Dupon chuckled, adjusting his hat. “Well, I don’t know about that, but am flattered that you know of my work, Miss.”

“How could I not?!” Gadget cried.

Neighstrad gave a cough. “Er, pardon us, Minister, but we’ll find our seats now,” he said, shooting a look over at Dupon. “We wouldn’t want to impose on your time.”

“Of course,” Turing said. “However, there is no need to worry. You are not imposing at all.”

“He certainly isn’t,” Dupon chuckled, as Neighstrad bristled with indignation. “And I wouldn’t mind chatting a bit longer with the good Minister and her friends, actually, Chief Inspector.”

Neighstrad rolled his eyes and trotted off without another word, the rest of the police in tow.

“Mr. Dupon, I’d like to introduce my fiancée, Dr. Maud Pie, and Gadgette Fabienne Giroux, better known simply as ‘Gadget,’” Turing said.

Dupon bowed to Maud, tipping his hat and then offering his hoof, which she shook. “The honor is mine, Dr. Pie,” he said. Then he faced Gadget, likewise taking her hoof. “Pardonnez-moi, mais aurais-je raison de deviner que vous venez de Vanhoover, Mademoiselle?”

Gadget’s eyes lit up. “Oui Monsieur! Mais je vis maintenant à Manehattan où je travaille pour Monsieur Vanderbull, le sponsor de cet événement. Je suis honoré de vous rencontrer!”

He smiled warmly. “My, it is wonderful to hear Prench outside of my visits home,” he said. “I was born there, but have spent a great many years traveling the world before settling in Trottingham.”

Maud tapped Turing on the shoulder (producing a quiet metallic ting in the process). “Sorry, but I don’t think I’ve heard of him. What’s he famous for?”

“You’re kidding!” Gadget exclaimed. “You’ve never heard of the pony who solved the theft of the Pone-a-Lisa?!”

“No,” Maud replied.

“The Dunn Bronco Armored burglary case?”

“No.”

“The Hoofton Garden case?!”

Maud shrugged and looked to Turing for explanation.

“They are some of the most high-profile crimes in recent memory,” she explained. “Inspector Dupon solved them. It is quite impressive.”

“Oh.” Maud blinked slowly and turned back to Dupon. “I’m so impressed.”

If Dupon was put off by Maud’s demeanor, he didn’t show it, and laughed good naturedly.

She seemed to appreciate his lack of pretension and asked, “So, what’s a famous detective doing here? Extra security work?”

“Nothing so mundane, Dr. Pie,” Dupon replied. “In truth, Chief Inspector Neighstrad is the real invitee. He wrote an editorial in The Guardspony stating his belief that the latest advances in computing technology, impressive though they are, will never replace true detective work. Minister Turing offered him the chance to present his argument to this crowd with the suggestion that he might change his mind after hearing from some of Equestria’s finest innovators. And Neighstrad asked me to accompany him, and so here I am!”

“I see,” Maud said. “So, I don’t speak Prench, but it sounds like you guessed where Gadget is from. How did you know?”

“Ah, well, I suppose that is my talent, and it has served me well in my career,” he said. “It’s a simple case of logic and inference. The young mare’s name is Prench, of course, but that could mean a number of locations. However, ‘Giroux’ is quite common in the Vanhoover region, and I detected a slight ‘oo’ sound when she said ‘about’ earlier, indicating the hint of her native accent.”

Gadget rubbed the back of her neck. “Ah, jeez, and here I thought I’d lost my accent entirely,” she chuckled.

Maud stared back at Dupon.

“Ah, but perhaps you’d like a bit more of a demonstration of my skills?” Dupon surmised. “Very well…”

He cleared his throat and pointed at Gadget. “I deduce that Miss Gadget normally wears glasses. I noticed that she keeps reaching up nearby her ear as if she were adjusting a pair of spectacles that are not actually there, a common nervous habit of ponies who wear glasses. However, she does not have any notable redness of her eyes, nor is she blinking very much, so I conclude that she is not wearing contacts either. The slight strabismus she displays, though, indicates she’s taken some vision-enhancing potions, which are temporary and sometimes cause mild difficulty with focusing vision.”

As Gadget went slack-jawed, confirming his theory, he turned to Maud Pie: “Dr. Pie, when I shook your hoof, I noticed the distinctive roughness of it - if you’ll pardon me for saying so - and the abrasions around the edges. This indicates that you work in rougher terrain and have spent a prolonged period of your life breaking stones. This is further evinced by the tautness of your muscles, which I also noticed when you shook my hoof, and this belies your prodigious strength. Your mane style is also typical of a certain region of Equestria favored by earth ponies in plains regions and a certain valley to the east of the San Palamino desert. Based on this, I surmise that you were born and raised on a rock farm, most likely near Rockville, and that you continue to work in a related field. And since your fiancée identified you as ‘Doctor,’ that field would most likely be geology or ‘rockology’ as it’s sometimes known.”

Maud blinked. “Okay, he’s pretty good,” she said to Turing.

“Ooh, ooh!” Gadget exclaimed. “Do Turing, do Turing!”

“No. That’s my job,” Maud said.

Turing elbowed Maud gently as she kept her electronic eyes on the Inspector.

“And what do you deduce about me, Inspector Dupon?”

Dupon chuckled but gave a shrug of his shoulders. “I must admit, Minister, I am still puzzling you out. You are the first robot I’ve met, though I understand there are a few more of your kind in Equestria. Perhaps over the course of this evening, I might be able to provide you with my own insights.”

“Aww,” Gadget whined, her ears drooping. But then she drew herself up again. “Actually, hold on: your boss, Mr. Neighstrad, thinks machines could never replace detective work? Well, I think he’s just being close-minded! I bet Turing could be a pretty good detective if she wanted to!”

Turing tapped her chin with a series of metallic clanks. “While I have no experience with such work, it is possible that I could perform it competently. I have a strong sense of logic, and my observational and memory skills greatly exceed those of organic ponies. Such skills are required for detective work, correct?”

“Indeed, though there is a bit more to it than that,” he said with a calm smile. “But since you mentioned it, perhaps you could demonstrate your skills in the same manner as I did mine?”

Turing nodded. “Understood,” she said. “I was able to read the body language, eye movement, and heart rate of Chief Inspector Neighstrad and the rest of the police officers when they entered the room and observed how they fluctuated when Neighstrad was speaking. While he stated that the officers were accompanying him as a show of support, that was most likely a fabrication, which means he ordered them to come. Perhaps he wished to have greater support in an unfamiliar setting.

“As for you, Inspector Dupon,” Turing continued, “he shows signs of mild hostility toward you which increased when Gadget recognized you. Perhaps he is envious of your fame. But I cannot determine why he brought you, if that is the case.”

“Well, that’s very good, Minister!” Dupon said. “You are correct about Neighstrad’s coercion, and also his disdain for me. I am an officer of the law, but the truth is that I’m mostly a glorified consultant, as I was hired after I’d already gained my reputation as a private investigator, and can therefore pick and choose my assignments based on my own interest. Neighstrad resents that I’m one underling that he cannot easily boss around, and the top brass will not allow him to terminate me.

“But the reason he brought me,” he continued, “is this: the editorial he wrote was based on my musings, and he wanted me here to act as support should other ponies debate him into a corner. I’m little more than a bodyguard, protecting poor, defenseless Neighstrad from being bombarded by - gasp! - dissenting opinions!”

Gadget chuckled at that.

“Now, Minister, if I understand what you are saying, well, that means you’re essentially a walking lie detector!”

“Not necessarily; I could do it sitting down as well.”

Dupon laughed.

“But that is an apt description. When ponies lie, their heart rates increase, the pitch of their voices change, there is variance in their gaze, and so on. These changes are subtle, but my visual and auditory sensors can detect them with a high degree of accuracy compared to organic ponies. However, I cannot claim that my assessment is reliable in 100% of all situations. I have observed some ponies who can lie so skillfully that not even I can discern it.”

“Well, you do work in politics,” Maud remarked.

“Exactly. And despite a certain popular adage, none of their pants or other garments have ever combusted.”

“Well, while your skill would be quite helpful in an investigation, I remain unconvinced that a machine could do the job of a detective,” Dupon said. “To solve a truly complex case, one must take the facts of the crime and synthesize all the details into a logical, cohesive whole. And that, I believe, requires more than just logic, memory, and the ability to discern lies. One needs a certain instinct for detective work. One needs to be able to trust their gut and follow up on their hunches. Out of curiosity, Minister, have you ever had a hunch?”

Turing shook her head. “Negative. Except when I do my impression of a gargoyle.”

“It’s a pretty good likeness,” Maud said.

“Still, I believe I understand your meaning. As a robot, I lack ‘instinct.’ And I do not believe I have ever experienced what you refer to as a ‘hunch.’”

“Well, without that ability, I maintain that a machine cannot truly become a detective. That said, I am more open-minded than the Chief Inspector. Perhaps we could discuss this later this evening, Minister. I would love to hear more of your perspective on the matter now, but I’m afraid the Chief Inspector wants me to coach him one last time before his presentation.” He tipped his hat once more. “Good evening to you all, ladies.”

They watched him go for a moment before Gadget whispered to Turing, “So, be honest, do you think you could do what he does, Turing Test? You know, solve mysteries, find the bad guy, wow everypony with your skills as a detective?”

“Affirmative,” she said. “But that is only conjecture. The only way I could test such a hypothesis would be to solve a mystery myself.”

“Well, maybe you’ll have the opportunity!” Gadget said hopefully. “I hope you will!”

“Since that would involve a crime, I hope I will not.”

Sadly for both of them, Gadget’s wish would come true in the next hour.

To be continued…

Author's Note

Welcome, wonderful readers to the first Turing Test story in five years! If you're enjoying it, please leave a comment!

And for you sleuths at home, if you have any guesses about our mystery's solution along the way, please post any guesses in spoiler tags.

One final note: this story is complete, but I've chosen to serialize it daily to give y'all a chance to puzzle things out and enjoy it in small chunks, much like the original story. Until next time, remember, comments make Turing a happy robot:

"Happy beep."

8. A Break in the Case

Dupon and Turing stepped out the back door of the hotel and out onto the courtyard. The area was filled with several tables and chairs and looked out onto the back half of Spur Island. In the darkness of the night, the sloping hill was shrouded in darkness. The lights from the hotel windows cast their shadows long across the courtyard and into the grass as Dupon pulled out a chair for Turing Test.

“Thank you,” Turing said, taking the offered seat.

“A lady ought to be treated as such, even if the lady happens to be electric,” Dupon said, taking his own seat. “And I would not be worth my saltlick as a gentlecolt if I acted otherwise.”

Turing looked out across the darkened landscape, her eyes adjusting and taking in the sight of the rocky shores and the calm ocean stretching out to the horizon. The shimmering light of the silvery moon glittered upon those waters, and the sight very nearly made her forget the very tense situation in which they were both mired.

Granted, being a robot with adaptive eyes, she could have seen it all with perfect clarity, though she imagined most organic ponies would find the scene less stirring in varying shades of night vision green.

She turned her attention back to Dupon and saw he was packing tobacco into a small pipe.

“Ah… my apologies Minister,” he said, his calm demeanor momentarily lost as he bowed apologetically. “I should have asked, but do you mind if I smoke?”

Turing shook her head. “As I have no lungs, I am immune to the deleterious effects of secondhoof smoke. However, you should be aware of the considerable health risks inherent in smoking, Inspector Dupon.”

“Oh, rest assured, I am quite aware,” he chuckled, taking out a match and lighting the pipe. He took a few puffs, drawing in the smoke before letting it out with a sigh. “I’ve actually taken great pains to rid myself of the habit, but I must admit that it provides a bit of relief and focus in times of stress. And tonight certainly counts.”

He took a few more puffs.

“I suppose that may be difficult for you to understand, Minister,” he said. “Organic creatures and our bad habits, I mean. Consuming poisons and unhealthful foods… we must seem quite silly to you, I imagine, with all our impulses and carnal vices.”

“Oh, no,” Turing said, shaking her head.

Dupon raised an eyebrow, smirking at her.

“Ah. I was attempting politeness through the use of a ‘white lie’.” She then gave a small nod. “In truth… yes. Organics are often ‘silly’ as you say. I find them puzzling and sometimes difficult to interact with due to their contradictory and illogical habits. But perhaps not to the degree you might imagine.”

“Oh?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

Turing rested her hooves on the table between them. “I do have emotions, after all. Many ponies are surprised by this, but it is true. I am capable of experiencing feelings like any other sapient being, and though I try to base my actions on logic, I am not immune to making decisions based on my emotions.”

He held out a hoof, inviting her to continue.

“Though I am generally incapable of physical sensation, and therefore not subject to ‘carnal vices,’ as you put it, I have experienced them before.”

Dupon’s eyes widened. “You don’t say!”

“I do indeed say,” she replied.

“Well, this is a story I simply must hear,” he said jovially.

“The circumstances were very abnormal. Once was when I was temporarily granted the ability to taste by the being known as Discord and consumed a slice of pie. It was a peculiar but extremely pleasant sensation.

“The other was when I experienced a simulation - a ‘dream,’ if you prefer - in which I experienced what it was like to be a fully organic being and to experience all the sensations that came with it. Now that I have, the actions of organics no longer seem so mysterious to me. Were I to live each day with such an overwhelming amount of external stimuli, I am not certain I would be able to deny my ‘vices’ any better than you.

“In short… please feel free to enjoy your pipe, Inspector,” she said, holding out her hoof.

Dupon laughed. “Oh my… you truly are a delight, Minister!” he exclaimed.

“Your compliment is accepted, Inspector. Thank you.” She paused for a moment and then added: “Turing.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“I have not shared that story with many others,” she said. “But I feel that I can trust you, Inspector. If it is not improper, I would like you to please call me ‘Turing’ rather than ‘Minister.’ All my friends do.”

He smiled warmly. “Very well, Turing,” he replied softly. “And I would say that you could call me ‘Auguste,’ but no one outside of my mother calls me that. ‘Dupon’ without the moniker ‘Inspector’ will be fine, if you prefer.”

Her eyes curved upward, indicating a smile, and she put out her hoof, and he shook it.

“You know,” Dupon said, “I think I first understood this, ah, less robotic side of you when we first examined Beacon Bomber’s body and you reacted so strongly to seeing him like that. I expected that you would see the need to catch the killer, of course. But your sadness, your outrage, and your desire for justice were quite unexpected.”

“Is that so? Strange,” she said. “Violence is an abhorrent act, and a pony who would take the life of another must be truly evil.”

At that, Turing noted, Dupon raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Your reaction suggests that you believe otherwise,” she said. “Since you are a detective, I logically inferred that you desire to see such dangerous perpetrators caught and punished. Is that not correct?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that it’s ‘incorrect.’ There is a satisfaction in seeing justice done, certainly. But your assertion that a murderer must be ‘truly evil’ is a bit naive, if you’ll forgive my saying so. Even murderers have their reasons.”

“Please clarify: what reason could a pony possibly have for killing another?”

“Well, let me answer your question with another question, Mini— er, Turing,” Dupon said, catching himself. “You clearly detest violence, as do I. But let me ask you an indelicate question: are you saying that you would never kill another pony?”

“Correct,” she said instantly.

“Under any circumstances?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“None,” she said, just as instantly.

“And what if you were offered something you desired more than anything else?” he asked. “What if, say, somepony offered you the chance to live as an organic pony once more… this time permanently? And, to add a bit more to it, what if the pony you were told to kill was truly despicable, with no redeeming qualities whatsoever?”

Turing’s ears twitched. “No,” she said, though there was the briefest pause before her reply this time. “It is true that I would do almost anything to be able to experience that life again, but it would be pointless to gain life at the cost of taking another’s. Now that I have experienced what it is to be alive, however briefly, I could never knowingly deprive it from someone else.”

He smiled. “A very moral response,” he said, nodding. “Quite as I expected. But what if it were necessary to save the life of another?”

Turing tilted her head slightly. “Please clarify,” she said.

Dupon took a long draw from his pipe. “Your fianceé,” he began. “Maud. What if she was in grave peril?”

Turing drew herself up. “I believe I can anticipate your line of inquiry,” she said. “But may I counter with a question of my own?”

He raised an eyebrow and then nodded.

“Have you ever been in love? Are you perhaps married?”

“Ah, well, now you’re the one asking the tougher questions,” Dupon chuckled. “But all right, fair is fair, after all. And to answer your question, yes, I have been in love. Quite deeply in love, in fact. And indeed I was married. Previously.”

Turing tilted her head.

“We remain on good terms now, but, we… well, we simply drifted apart.”

She bowed her head, looking away. “I apologize. I did not mean to be intrusive. I merely—”

“It’s quite all right,” he assured her. “The truth is that the fault was mine. I loved her for her creativity, her kindness, and her willingness to listen to me go on and on. But my obsessive need to be right, to pursue things ad nauseam, and my pedantry eventually drove a wedge between us. I am well aware that the very qualities that make me a good investigator can often make me intolerable to everypony around me. It is difficult to find someone willing to accept me for my flaws, and for me to accept my flaws and move past them. It’s a shame I had to learn the hard way to put my love above my pride.”

Turing nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said softly.

The pair of them were quiet for a moment as they sat there, taking in the night sky and listening to the waves as they continued their rhythmic crashing.

“Maud Pie,” Turing said abruptly, “is the most wonderful pony I have ever known. Until I met her, and until we began our relationship, I had never met a pony who understood me as she does. She is not merely ‘important.’ She is… precious to me. I consider myself very fortunate to have met her, as very few ponies would even consider me a suitable romantic partner. I value our time together greatly because…”

She hesitated a moment. Dupon held his tongue and waited for her to finish.

“...because I am acutely aware that our time together is finite. As a machine, I will endure and exist as long as I can be repaired. Maud Pie will not. And when I am alone, I am uncertain that I will ever find another who understands me as she does. For that reason, I wish to hasten our marriage, but Maud Pie insists that we wait for an optimal time. I understand why she feels that way, but she does not perceive time in the same manner as I. However, I worry that insisting we expedite the wedding will only alienate her, causing her to resent me for forcing her, and so I have deferred to her on this matter.”

Dupon smiled. “I see,” he said.

“Ah. Apologies, Dupon. I did not wish to burden you with my personal problems.”

“Once more, it’s quite all right.” He drew in a long breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke which drifted into the salty sea wind and dissipated. “For the record, I am certainly no expert on matters of the heart, but I would encourage you to express these feelings to her. Keeping this to yourself may engender mistrust between you. And based on what I’ve seen, Maud Pie will understand if you speak to her earnestly.”

Turing nodded. “Understood. Thank you for your input, Dupon. I will consider your advice. And, to at last answer your anticipated question…”

Dupon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“...it is highly improbable that I would ever find myself in a situation where Maud Pie was threatened and the only method of preserving her life required such an extreme measure as the taking of another’s. I cannot easily make a conjecture on what I would do in such a situation. I can only say that I would do everything within my capability to preserve her from danger. Beyond that, I cannot speculate. And I would prefer not to speculate further, if that is acceptable.”

Dupon let out a contented sigh and sat back in his chair. “Of course. Forgive me, Turing Test, I didn't mean to distress you with such a question.”

Turing shook her head. “While such a thought is distressing, I understand that you are attempting to make a point. However, I am uncertain what point you intend to make.”

“Then allow me to explain. You see, in my work, I have encountered a number of murderers. Far more than most, I can confidently say. And they tend to fall into one of three types:

“The first are what we might call ‘stone cold killers.’ Ponies with no sympathy or feelings for their victims or anypony else for that matter, and who may even delight in causing suffering…”

Turing Test found her thoughts momentarily shifting to a particular pony. A certain blue-eyed nun with a deceptively calm smile. If Turing had possessed a spine, a chill would surely have been running down it.

“...Then there are those who are less malicious and more impulsive,” Dupon continued. “Ponies who act without care or thought for those they might endanger. And such reckless individuals often lack the moral fiber necessary to admit their mistakes, and often sloppily try to conceal what they’ve done.

“But the last type of killer is, oddly enough, one who is in almost all other ways, a ‘good’ person. A kind neighbor, a caring family member, a hard-working employee, that sort of thing. And yet, many of them find themselves in a situation where, for whatever reason, they chose to end another’s life. Perhaps because that pony did something cruel but otherwise escaped justice. Perhaps out of sheer jealousy. Or perhaps to protect a loved one. Though I detest violence as much as you do, I must admit that I often find myself filled with sympathy, and even pity for the killers I’ve brought to justice.”

Turing sat back in her chair as well. “You are saying that even a murderer may have their rationalizations, correct?”

He ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “In part,” he replied finally. “Rather, I’d like you to understand that, to the murderer’s mind at least, the reason for the murder might seem justifiable under the right circumstances.”

“And what circumstances would have justified the killing of Beacon Bomber?”

“That,” Dupon said, rising from his seat as he tapped out the last of his pipe’s ash, “is precisely what we should be trying to discover. So, if I may offer another nugget of advice?”

“Please proceed,” Turing said. “I will accept nuggets, bars, ingots, or any other denomination you prefer.”

Dupon chuckled. “Well then, please remember that we’re looking for a murderer, Turing Test,” he said. “Not a monster. If you go looking for pure evil, in my experience, you may miss the more mundane motives.”

“I see. Thank you, Dupon. Your alliterative advice is accepted,” Turing said, getting up to follow him. “However…”

Dupon raised an eyebrow. “However…?”

Turing narrowed her eyes. “I am incapable of forgetting anything, and so I will always remember the image of Beacon Bomber lying dead on that table. Furthermore, the killer is allowing an innocent pony - Gadget, my dear friend - to be blamed for their act of violence. And I have seen how gravely that death has affected others, like Sea Dweller. Therefore, I will accept and consider your advice going forward, but when the killer’s identity is discovered…”

Dupon slowed, and Turing came right up to him.

“...whatever I may feel for them, it will not be pity.”

To be continued…

2. Assemble the Players

Once Inspector Dupon had gone, Gadget led Turing and Maud backstage. While most of the ponies presenting that night had opted for simple slideshows and diagrams, a number of others had brought their inventions with them or even working scale models to show off their discoveries as authentically as possible, and several of them were backstage setting up before the event started.

“I’m not presenting tonight,” Gadget explained as she walked backwards, making sure Turing and Maud were still with her, “but Mr. Vanderbull said I could perform during the intermission. And when Turing said you’d be coming tonight as well, Maud, I prepared something really special!”

Maud stared back impassively.

“It involves rocks,” Gadget added.

Maud raised her head and stared back less impassively.

“You have her attention,” Turing said.

“I thought I might,” Gadget said, giving a wink. Then she gave a yelp as she backed up rump-first into a very old-looking stallion with thick glasses and a lab coat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor Barnsworth!” Gadget cried.

“Ehhwha?” mumbled the old stallion as he raised his head. “Oh! Think nothing of it, my dear. I’m just going over my speech for my presentation this evening. Eh, let’s see, where was I…?” he muttered as he wandered off, fiddling with a small metallic box of some kind. “Ah… ‘Good news, everypony! I’ve invented a machine that beeps whenever it detects puns and plays on words! With this, you’ll never miss a cheap joke or mildly clever bit of wordplay again!’ And then I switch it on like so…”

The trio had already wandered off as the Professor continued fidgeting with his device. “Now, where did I store that thing?” Gadget wondered aloud. “By the way, Turing, since we’ve been talking about detective stuff, have you read many mystery books or seen any mystery serials at the theater?”

“Only the few that were in Twilight Sparkle’s library in Ponyville.”

“Oh, then you should check some out and test your skills against some famous fictional detectives! Like Sherclop Pones!...”

Beep.

“...or Columpone!...”

Beep!

“...Or even Hercolt Poiroats!”

BEEEPFWOOSH!
“Oh, Sweet Celestia, it’s burst into flames again!”

“I will take your suggestion, Gadget,” Turing said.

“Let me know what you think!” Just then, her eyes alighted on a large device covered with a sheet that had been wheeled out of the way. “Oh, here it is!” she exclaimed.

“I guess it is a nice sheet,” Maud intoned.

“Not half as nice as what’s under it!” Gadget said, pulling the sheet off the device.

Maud stepped forward, her eyes doing the equivalent of lighting up.

The device panel consisted of a keyboard much like that of a piano. In a panel behind it, however, were several crystals of varying colors and shapes inside little glass domes.

Maud’s nostrils flared.

“Oh, but here’s the coolest part!” Gadget continued. She quickly grabbed the power cord to the device and scrambled over to the nearest outlet (which was already crowded with a few other electrical devices’ plugs). She plugged the strange keyboard in, and the overhead lights dimmed and then brightened slightly before returning to normal.

“Gadget, are you certain the Spur Island Hotel is properly equipped for the electrical demands of the symposium?” Turing asked as she observed the dimming of the lights.

“Of course!” Gadget said, hurrying back to the keyboard. “Well, probably.”

“...‘Probably’?”

“Mr. Vanderbull ordered the whole place renovated and electrified when he bought it. And he sent me here to double-check the electricians’ work. The lights, the outlets, and all the other wiring are all brand new! But never mind that…”

Gadget flipped a switch on the panel of the keyboard and it gave a low hum as it powered on. She looked at Maud and Turing and pressed a key.

One of the crystals began to glow brightly and a single note, clear and sonorous, filled the air. It was like a chime, or perhaps the sound a wine glass made when one ran a wet hoof around its rim.

Gadget played a simple scale, followed by an arpeggio. She then played a very short children’s tune, and Turing was surprised to hear Maud gently humming along with it.

“And there you have it!” Gadget said. “I built this myself a few months ago. You see, it works by—”

“You’re running electricity through those crystals,” Maud said as she stepped closer to the machine. “The charge causes them to vibrate at a precise frequency, and you’ve tuned them to each of these glass tubes to produce tones and turn that into music.”

Gadget swelled with pride. “I should have known an expert like you would know about the Piezoelectric Effect, Maud! That’s why I call it the Piezoforte!”

Maud looked again at the machine, then to Gadget, and finally turned back to Turing Test. She wore one of her elusive, subtle smiles.

“Okay,” she said, “I officially like her.”

Turing stepped forward and put her foreleg around Maud, almost protectively. “Gadget, are you attempting to woo my girlfriend?”

“Wh-what?!” Gadget gasped. “Turing, Maud, no! I would never… oh, you’re messing with me.”

“Affirmative.”

Gadget chuckled and shook her head. “Well, I’m glad you both liked the demonstration. I’ve been practicing super hard for the last month to get my song right. I hope everypony likes it!”

“Sure they will,” Maud said. “Most ponies I know like rock music.”

“Initiating ‘exasperated groan’ sequence,” Turing said as she rolled her glowing eyes.

Gadget had a bounce in her step as she and the others made their way past the other inventors prepping their own projects and back toward the stage. As they went, they passed by a mare who was working on some manner of device next to a large aquarium tank.

The mare glanced up from her work and raised her head when she saw Gadget. She stopped what she was doing, unplugged her device, and immediately came over.

“Excuse me, but—”

Then she noticed Turing Test standing there and her demeanor immediately soured. Her eyes narrowed and her lips went taut. Then she turned back to Gadget, as if Turing and Maud weren’t even there.

“Miss Gadget,” the mare said, “do you know if a pony named Beacon Bomber has arrived yet?”

“Beacon Bomber?” Gadget asked, tilting her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, he hadn’t arrived on the last ferry from the mainland. I checked the guest list a few minutes ago, so I guess he’s not coming.”

“Actually,” Turing said, “Beacon Bomber sent a telegram earlier this week which indicated that he would likely arrive late.”

The mare turned her gaze toward Turing, her expression souring even further.

“Wait, what?” Gadget asked. “How? He missed the last ferry to the island.”

“Beacon Bomber is a pegasus,” Turing replied. “He stated that he would be flying to the island if the weather was suitable. He anticipated my objection and stated that he was skilled at flying over open oceans, so it would not be a concern.”

At this, the mare’s expression changed to one of bewilderment. “So he’s able to fly that far again… is that what he meant?”

“Er, by the way, have you seen the evening’s schedule?” Gadget asked. “Do you know when you’re presenting, ma’am?”

“Hm? Oh, yes,” she replied. “I’m scheduled to go third.”

Turing stepped closer, her eyes smiling as she extended a hoof. “In that case, I look forward to your presentation, Sea Dweller. Also, it is gratifying to see you again. I was pleased to see your application to attend this symposium shortly after its announcement.”

The mare, apparently named Sea Dweller, was a unicorn with a dark bluish-green coat and a violet mane that draped down her long neck. Her cutie mark was a copper diving helmet with a circular visor. She shook Turing’s extended hoof briefly. “Yes, well… I wanted to attend the event. Regardless of who happened to be hosting it.”

Gadget and Maud exchanged a look.

“Uh, I guess you two know each other?” Gadget asked gingerly.

“Affirmative! Sea Dweller is a professional salvage diver and inventor from Filly Hawk,” Turing said. “When Princess Celestia announced the creation of a new position on her Royal Cabinet, the Minister of Technology, and that a public election would be held to determine who would hold that position, Sea Dweller was among the candidates who entered the race.”

Sea Dweller sighed. “Yes, that’s correct. But the public apparently chose otherwise.”

“Oh,” Gadget said softly. “Um… so, not to be rude, but are you bitter about losing?”

“No, I was a long shot to begin with, honestly,” she replied. And then she glanced over at Turing. “I’m more bitter about who won.”

Gadget winced, running a hoof around the collar of her dress.

Then Turing put her hoof to her chest. “Sea Dweller, I recall that in your campaign against me you objected to my candidacy on the grounds that I was a robot.”

“You still are,” Maud quipped.

“However, I took your attendance at this event to mean that your attitude toward me had changed. Was I incorrect in this assumption?”

Sea Dweller stared back at her. “Minister, I grant that you have done a lot for the cause of modernizing Equestria, this symposium included. But it’s not your policies I object to. I’ve been advocating for democratic representation in our government for years. In fact, that organization run by your ‘father’ apparently considered me a prospective candidate to join them before their attack on Canterlot, but they realized I was a loyalist and never recruited me. When Celestia announced that positions on her Royal Council would be determined by democratic vote, I was overjoyed! Your position is the first democratically-decided one in our national government’s history!” Then she sighed. “But I haven’t changed my opinion that a pony - a real pony - should be the one to hold it.”

“Well,” Maud said flatly, “if you like democracy so much, maybe you should respect that Turing won the vote.”

Sea Dweller blinked at Maud a few times. “I’m sorry, but just who are you?”

“Ah, my apologies,” Turing said, gesturing toward Maud. “This is Maud Pie, my fiancée.”

Sea Dweller’s jaw dropped. Gawking, she looked back and forth between the pair of them. “Wait… you mean to tell me you intend to marry this… this thing?!”

A heavy silence fell over the group.

“Ah,” Turing said. “That was quite rude, Sea Dweller.”

“I’ll say,” Maud Pie added. “Nopony’s ever called me a ‘thing’ before.”

Sea Dweller sputtered. “What? No, I meant—”

“Correct. Please do not call Maud Pie a thing, Sea Dweller.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Maud agreed. “Only Turing gets to call me that.”

“Affirmative. And only if it is preceded by an adjective, such as ‘wild’ or ‘sexy’—”

“Oversharing, Turing.”

“Apologies, you Thing.”

“Oh. I’m starting to warm up to it now.”

Sea Dweller sputtered again, her face purpling with rage. “You two are… ugh!” she groaned and stormed away.

“Got her,” Maud remarked, the hint of a smile on her lips.

“We certainly did,” Turing said.

The two exchanged a hoof bump.

Gadget was still stifling her laughter, but managed to say, “Forget her for now, Turing. Let’s head back to the main hall.”

They stepped back into the main hall and the young mare, practically bubbling over with excitement, suddenly seized Turing’s hooves. “Ooh, I can’t wait for the Symposium to start, Turing! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

Then they heard the sound of someone clearing his throat and turned their heads… and then immediately craned their necks to see a minotaur in a double-breasted suit towering over them.

“Oh, Mr. Vanderbull!” Gadget gasped. “Sorry, sir, I was just showing Turing and Maud my invention! I promise I wasn’t shirking my duties!”

But Vanderbull put his hand up and gave her a warm smile. “Calm yourself, Gadget. You’ve done a marvelous job with the preparations so far.” He took out his pocket watch and consulted it, giving a satisfied nod. “We have exactly 12 minutes until the start of the event, so I see no harm in socializing with friends, and I am certain that Minister Turing Test is as pleased by your company as we are with hers.”

“Good evening, Mr. Vanderbull,” Turing said. “I can confirm that I am, in fact, pleased to see you both as well.” She turned to Maud Pie, gesturing toward the odd pair of Vanderbull and Gadget. “Maud Pie, Mr. Vanderbull is the primary sponsor of this event and offered us the use of this establishment. They were responsible for repairing me when I was first discovered,” she said. “My creators sent me on a mission when I was struck by lightning and my original programming was erased. They restored me, and Gadget took measures to upgrade me and prevent such an event from occurring again. Their actions saved my life, and they are the reason I am here now.”

Gadget beamed and Mr. Vanderbull puffed his broad chest out with pride.

Maud’s eyes widened slightly. “In that case,” she began, giving them both a solemn bow, “thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without Turing here now.”

“Mr. Vanderbull, this is Maud Pie, the mare I intend to marry.”

“My, how wonderful!” Vanderbull exclaimed. “And when is the date?”

“We are already dating.”

Vanderbull laughed. “No, no, I meant, when is the date of your wedding?”

Turing hesitated. “Ah. I see. That is currently undetermined.”

“We’re waiting for the best time,” Maud said simply.

“Affirmative,” Turing said. “We are both in the early stages of our careers. We wish to establish ourselves and a clear status quo before proceeding to a state of matrimonial bliss.”

“Well, at any rate, congratulations!” Vanderbull snapped his fingers and a waiter came over with a tray of glasses filled with champagne. He took one and gestured to the others. “Care to join me in a toast to old and new friends? We may not have time once the event starts.”

“I don’t usually drink,” Maud said, taking a glass of champagne, “but I owe you both a lot, so I’ll have some too.”

“And since Turing’s a robot, I’ll take her share!” Gadget said, eagerly reaching for a second glass.

“Gadget!” Vanderbull snapped.

“Ah, right, Commodore, still on the clock, my bad,” she muttered, putting her hoof down.

Vanderbull took a long sip. “Ah, exquisite,” he sighed. “Don Mareignon, 988. Clean, bright… toasty with a note of apple.”

Maud looked at her glass and took a swig. “It’s fizzy,” she said.

Vanderbull raised an eyebrow, but then chuckled. “Why, yes, I suppose it is!”

“I wish I were able to enjoy it myself,” Turing said. “Still, I am very grateful to you for sponsoring this event, Mr. Vanderbull.”

“Think nothing of it!” Vanderbull said. “When I heard of your plan to host a series of symposiums across Equestria and invite those on the cutting edge of this new technological revolution, I knew at once that Vanderbull Industries had to play its part!”

There was a pronounced guffaw and they all looked up to see a pegasus mare hovering just above them. She wore a derisive look as she gazed down at them, though her focus was particularly trained on Vanderbull. She was a dusty yellow color with a cowboy hat that she wore over her red-orange mane. She had bright blue eyes and a matching blue bandana tied around her neck. Her cutie mark was a river running through a sandy desert.

“More like you wanna get in on the action before anypony else does, huh?” the mare said, crossing her forelegs as she hovered.

Vanderbull narrowed his eyes. “Ah, Rio Grand, how perfectly dreadful it is to see you again. I wasn’t sure your RSVP was serious.”

“It sure was!” Rio said, lowering herself to meet his gaze. “I know you probably didn’t want me around, but lucky for me, the Minister here had the final say on who could attend.”

Turing’s ears twitched on their hinges. “Ah. Miss Rio Grand from Neigh Mexicolt. You requested to do a presentation on hydroelectric dams, correct?”

“That’s right!” Rio replied, fluttering down to meet Vanderbull at his eye level. “I’m here to advance technology for the benefit of the ponies of Equestria. Unlike some creatures here.”

Vanderbull glared back at her, a growl in his throat. “Miss Rio, I will have you know that I have invested quite a lot into this event in support of Minister Turing’s goals. I purchased this hotel, paid for the ferry from the mainland, and am offering accommodations here free of charge. Furthermore, I renovated this old place and had it furnished with electric lighting.” He gestured up at the huge chandelier. “My assistant checked the work herself to make certain it would be ready in time for the convenience of the attendees, yourself included. And I hired one of the most renowned chefs in all of Trottingham to prepare tonight’s meal. All of this at great personal expense—”

“Sir,” Gadget hissed, tapping him urgently. “Commodore, you’re a little loud and, um, ponies are starting to notice.”

Vanderbull froze, noticing the scrutiny of the other ponies nearby, and took a calming breath. “In short, I am supporting this event and its attendees as much as possible.”

Rio Grand clicked her tongue. “Oh, sure. But I’m sure this is nothing for a rich fella like you. And this way you can scout out any new tech that looks promising, buy a share of it, and maybe even buy up some patent rights, huh? Give everypony a free trip, a nice meal, and some hooch in a fancy place like this and they’ll give you first pick on their best ideas. You’ll make your money back in no time, eh?”

A puff of what looked like steam gusted from Vanderbull’s nostrils. He quickly downed the remainder of his champagne.

“Minister, it was lovely to see you and meet your fiancée,” he said calmly, though one of his fists was firmly clenched. “But I will take my leave of you before I say something I regret to our guest here.”

Rio Grand chuckled as she watched him go.

“Well, that’s enough fun for now,” she muttered. “I’ll be presenting just before the intermission, so I’ll chat with you all then. In the meantime, thanks again for the invite, Minister!” she added, tipping her hat to Turing Test before flying off once more.

The three mares watched her go in silence.

“I was not aware of any grudge between Mr. Vanderbull and the attendees,” Turing said quietly.

“I don’t know all the details either,” Gadget said, “but the two of them met at some big auction or something in Neigh Mexicolt, and he bought a spot of land near Al-buck-querque that she wanted. Whatever it was, she’s still mad about it.” She drank the last of her champagne. “I should probably go with Mr. Vanderbull, get him calmed down, and see to the last few preparations before we start. That sort of thing.”

They waved as she ran off.

“You know what’s nice about rocks, Turing?” Maud asked.

“Everything, Maud Pie?”

“True. But one thing in particular: they don’t get caught up in drama.” She paused. “Well, unless we’re speaking in geological terms. Or the rapid formation of extrusive igneous rocks. Or I guess if a boulder fell on somepony.” She took out her pet rock and pet him gently. “No need to get offended, Boulder. You are such a drama queen sometimes. I guess you are the exception that proves the rule.”

“I admit that such unpleasantness from Sea Dweller and Rio Grand surprised me. But hopefully there will not be any further conflict this evening.”

Just then there was a splash and a chorus of gasps from a nearby table. Maud and Turing looked in the direction of the commotion and saw Sea Dweller storming away from a stallion who was now dripping wet, a pair of assistants standing protectively in front of him.

“Is everything all right?” Turing asked as she approached the stallion.

“Oh, no worries, Minister,” chuckled the stallion. “Just the usual bit of hysterics from one of my detractors.”

One of his assistants handed him a cloth, and he proceeded to towel himself off. Once he was a bit drier, he extended his hoof.

“West Walnut, Minister Turing Test,” he said, flashing a broad smile. The stallion was a light blue earth pony with a gray mane and tail and bushy mustache to match. He wore a suit jacket from a brand that Turing had learned was quite expensive. Curiously, his cutie mark was a large cardboard box with a yellow smiley face on it.

“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walnut,” Turing said, taking his hoof. “I am looking forward to your presentation on automation in the retail industry. But I am currently more concerned about your altercation with Sea Dweller a moment ago.”

“She was among a very vocal group of ponies who protested my plans to open one of my Walnut-Mart stores near Filly Hawk,” he explained, a slight twang in his speech. “She was not happy to see me here, and remarked that I should be glad her friend Beacon Bomber wasn’t here. I rather bluntly let her know my exact thoughts on what I thought of that rabble rouser and, as you can see, she didn’t take it very well.”

“I am sorry that you were treated so roughly, sir,” Turing said with a bow. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You are too kind, Minister!” West Walnut said, flashing a toothy smile. “But there’s no need to worry. I’ll dry myself off and be quite prepared for my presentation. It is in the 2nd half of the Symposium, after all.”

“Understood. However, I must inform you that Beacon Bomber may still arrive this evening.”

His smile faded slightly. “Oh really?”

“He stated that he might be tardy, and that he would be flying directly to the island himself.”

“Bit surprised that wash-out could manage that,” he muttered.

“What I mean is that it would probably be for the best if you avoided any confrontation with either Ms. Sea Dweller or Mr. Beacon Bomber,” Turing said. She focused her glowing violet eyes squarely on him. “I would very much like it if the rest of this evening proceeded smoothly.”

West Walnut nodded slowly. “I understand, Minister,” he said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me and my assistants, I’ll go and fetch my spare suit, since this one is still a bit damp.”

She bowed and watched him go, motioning to his assistants to follow him.

Maud placed a hoof on her shoulder. Turing patted it back.

“I had not realized there were so many interpersonal conflicts among the presenters,” she said. “But the event will be starting in a few more minutes. I am confident that there will be no more conflict during these proceedings.”

Maud narrowed her eyes. “Turing, have you ever heard of ‘tempting fate?’”

“Affirmative. Miss Tempting Fate is sitting at table 5,” she said, pointing the mare out. “She is seated next to Mr. Red Herring and Mr. Check Off, who is presenting some sort of firearm. But you should find your own seat, Maud Pie. It is time for us to begin…”

To be continued…

3. Murder, She Beeped

The grandfather clock out in the hall chimed 7 o'clock, the attendees all took their seats, and the servers swiftly presented the first course of the evening’s dinner. A projector displayed the event’s title on a screen at the back of the stage. It would also be used by the presenters who’d brought slides (and the one oddball who insisted he be allowed to use shadow puppets).

As they did, Turing and Gadget took their place just offstage. Gadget went out first, taking the podium:

“Fillies and gentlecolts!” she began, loudly.

And then immediately cringed as feedback shrieked from the speakers and everypony grabbed their ears.

“Ooh, uh, sorry,” she chuckled, blushing profusely. She took a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming tonight to the Trottingham Technical Symposium!” There was a round of applause as Gadget looked over at Turing, who nodded reassuringly. “I am Gadgette Fabienne Giroux, but you can call me Gadget. I am the personal assistant to Mr. Cornelius Vanderbull, who has generously sponsored this event and offered us the use of his wonderful venue, only recently refurbished and electrified!”

She cast a hoof toward the back of the room and everypony’s gaze followed it to where Vanderbull, who stood up from his seat and gave a bow. There was another round of applause, and then he retook his seat.

“I hope you’re all enjoying the appetizers!” Gadget continued. “Chef White Heat of Trottingham is our chef this evening, and he is certain that you will all be pleased with your meals. If you have any requests, please let our servers know. And if there’s something I can do to assist with your presentation, please inform me, and I’ll be glad to help! But I know you didn’t come here to listen to me talk… this Symposium is a celebration of the advancement of science and technology in Equestria, and so I’ll turn it over to the one responsible for this event in the first place: fillies and gentlecolts, please join me in welcoming the Royal Minister of Technology, Turing Test!”

The gathered attendees broke out into loud applause and many rose to their hooves as Turing Test walked out onto the stage, taking the podium from Gadget.

“Thank you, Gadget,” Turing said with a nod of her head. “As Gadget stated, the purpose of this event is to celebrate the advancement of science and technology in Equestria. This is the first of hopefully many other Symposia, and I believe that it will set a positive precedent for future events. Our presenters this evening are among the most innovative and forward-thinking citizens of Equestria, and they will present their ideas, their findings, and their inventions to us. It is my sincere hope that you will have the opportunity to meet future collaborators and return to your homes sufficiently inspired by the possibilities for Equestria’s future.

“As a robot, I am the living result of pioneering minds such as yours, and it is my honor as Minister of Technology to foster the technology that will secure a brighter future for Equestria.” The audience applauded once again and she gave a small bow. “However,” she added, “also as a robot, I am incapable of ingesting food and am therefore envious of you all for your ability to enjoy tonight’s dinner. I calculate the probable chances of your enjoyment at 100%!”

Just then there was some commotion as a pony at the back of the room, at Vanderbull’s table no less, suddenly groaned and got up hurriedly from his seat. Turing saw that it was West Walnut, and she watched as he covered his mouth and suddenly ran for the nearest exit. There was a murmur of concern among the attendees as some of them began to eye their appetizers.

“Correction: 94.7%,” Turing said. This drew a smattering of laughter from the crowd. She was about to ask if someone could check on West Walnut, but she saw Rio Grand shoot up from her own seat and fly out the door, apparently chasing after him, followed by his two bodyguards. Deciding he was in good hooves, she decided to continue her speech…

“With that, we will now commence the presentations,” she continued, addressing the crowd. “Please consult the programs found at your tables for the finalized schedule of presentations. Presenters should prepare themselves 10 minutes before their scheduled time, and each presentation should be kept to no more than 10 minutes each. Now, if the first presenters will take their place, we will smoothly commence this evening’s main event!”

No sooner had she said that when the lights in the ballroom briefly flared bright enough to be blinding. Several bulbs on the chandelier popped and then all the lights went dead at once, enshrouding them all in almost total darkness.

A clamor of confusion and a roar of “Oh, for Minos’s sake!” from Vanderbull filled the air. Turing raised her head, hearing a distinctive, heavy thump from somewhere above the ballroom before turning to face the panicking crowd. The only light in the blackened ballroom was from the faint glow of moonlight through the curtains at the back of the ballroom, a few unicorns’ horns, and the glow of Turing’s eyes as she peered out into the crowd.

“Please remain calm, everypony,” Turing said calmly, her voice’s volume now loud enough to be heard by the whole crowd as she switched her eyes to night vision. “There seems to be a power outage, but I am certain that we will re-establish illumination shortly.”

“Confound it all!” snarled Vanderbull. “All that money spent electrifying this place and now—”

“Don’t worry, sir!” Gadget exclaimed, saluting in Vanderbull’s direction (despite the fact that nopony but Turing could see her do it). “I know where the fuse box is! I’ll get it fixed in no ti—WAAUGH!”

She gave a yelp as she underestimated how close the edge of the stage was and, in her haste to fix the lighting, promptly tumbled head over hooves off of it, landing on the floor with a thump that reverberated through the darkened room.

“Gadget? Are you injured?” Turing asked, seeing Vanderbull immediately get to his hooves.

“Ugh… nope, nope, I’m fine, just glad you all couldn’t see that,” she chuckled in embarrassment. “Just stay here, everypony… I’ll be back in a few minutes!”

Turing watched as Gadget swiftly - but carefully - navigated her way around the ballroom, heading toward the exit that led into the main foyer of the hotel, which was apparently just as dark. The power must have gone out in the entire hotel, she reasoned.

She hopped down from the stage and went to Maud Pie. “Maud Pie, are you unharmed?” she asked, her eyes bathing the gray mare in violet light.

Maud nodded. “I’m fine. My croissant was pretty stale, but that’s about it. I’ll complain to the chef later.”

Turing tilted her head. “Maud Pie, no croissants were served at this event,” she said. She looked at the table. “Maud Pie… where is your napkin?”

Maud blinked very slowly. “Oh,” she said. “Well, in that case, never mind complaining to the chef. Actually, could you give him my compliments? That was the second tastiest napkin I’ve ever had.”

“I will consider your request. However, I also request that, until lighting is restored, you refrain from ingesting more things outside the traditional definition of food.”

“Okay. I’ll wait until the lights come back on before I start eating the tablecloth.”

Turing stared at her, her ears squeaking on their hinges. “Analysis: You are the worst.”

Maud smirked. “Maybe. But I bet you feel pretty silly for telling me I didn’t need to bring my phosphorescent rock collection. A chunk of willemite calcite sure would come in handy about now.”

A few minutes later, the lights returned, much more dimly than before, with numerous lights on the chandelier now black and totally dead.

The attendees muttered among themselves, pleased that they could now see, even if the lighting was uneven.

Vanderbull rose to his hooves and held up his arms, motioning for them all to remain calm. “Just a moment, my friends,” he said with a somewhat strained smile. “I’ll have the damaged bulbs replaced, but, in the meantime, please enjoy your dinners, and we will continue the symposium shortly with no more mishaps.”

Turing Test nodded to him and was about to offer her assistance when a sound sliced through the air in the momentary silence.

It was a shrill, piercing scream of terror, the sort that one could feel as much as hear.

And that scream belonged to Gadget.

“Gadget!” Vanderbull exclaimed, turning immediately and rushing toward the door.

Turing Test was momentarily hot on his heels before swiftly overtaking him as she followed the sound. She bounded down the hotel’s hallway, her heavy metal hooves thudding thunderously against the wooden floor. She went past West Walnut, who was sweating and leaning up weakly against a wall as his two guards mopped his brow. She dashed past a few dazed-looking service staff members and a waiter who was busily cleaning up a spilled tray of Waldorf salad he’d dropped in the darkness. She swiftly turned and went into the foyer, running toward the sound of the screaming, which had now transformed into frantic calls for help. The sound was coming from just outside, so she dashed through the front door and out into the main walkway leading up to the hotel’s entrance.

Gadget was there casting about in a panic, still screaming for help. Her eyes were wild and her groomed mane was now mussed and disheveled. A bright red blotch was on her dress.

Gadget turned when she saw Turing Test arrive, and it was then that Turing finally caught sight of the cause of her screams.

The body of a pony was sprawled on the tile walkway. He was a pegasus stallion wearing a shirt and tie with a jacket pinned with a few medals. His moist eyes stared up unseeingly at the night sky above, his mouth slightly agape. There was a wound in his chest and blood stained his shirt and trickled down into a small, sickly red pool that was now smeared across the stones. Lying in the blood was a small knife with a blade stained red halfway to the hilt and a white handle that Turing realized was carved out of some kind of bone.

She was about to administer first aid, but she stopped when her optic sensors scanned the body. The blood still in his veins was already still. His body was still warm, but already cooling. His chest was unmoving, and she could hear no heartbeat.

Either he was dead, or her internal chronometer had stopped.

She stood there a moment, processing the sight as Gadget seized her by the shoulders.

“Turing!” she shrieked. Then, attempting to catch her breath, she gasped, “I… I found him like this! I… oh, Celestia, we need a doctor! Turing, please, you have to—”

“It is too late, Gadget,” Turing said. “He is dead.”

A moment later, Vanderbull and the police arrived, with several of the attendees as well, all drawn to investigate the sound of the screams.

They all froze when they saw the body. Vanderbull’s jaw dropped open at the sight. A mare in the crowd screamed and looked away. Inspector Dupon trotted forward, narrowing his eyes as he took in the scene. Chief Inspector Neighstrad pushed his way through the crowd, shouting, “All right, all right, stand aside!” before he too began to examine the scene.

Vanderbull’s gaze moved from the corpse to his assistant. “Gadget…?” he breathed.

“Sir!” she cried, and immediately burst into tears as she ran to him. “Oh, sir, it’s horrible!” she managed to say through her sobs. “I fixed the lights, b-but the back door locked behind me, so I… I came around to the front, and then I tripped and… and when I looked back, I… he…”

And then she completely broke down, burying her face into Vanderbull as he knelt, taking her into a comforting embrace.

“There there, my girl, it’s all right,” he told her softly. “There’s nothing to fret about.”

“Well, I’d hardly say that,” Neighstrad grunted. “Seems we’ve got a murder on our hooves!”

Several of the crowd gasped and began chattering fearfully. Several more attendees arrived to see what had happened at they began pushing closer to view the grisly scene.

“Right, lads, I want this area secure!” Neighstrad barked to his officers. “This is now a crime scene! Everypony, stand back! Constable Clipper, go tell everypony back in the hotel to stay put where they are! I don’t want anypony missing or milling about ‘til we’ve had our chance to investigate!”

The other officers did as they were told. Dupon continued to look around silently, almost oblivious to Neighstrad as his eyes wandered over the scene.

After a moment, he walked over to Turing Test. “Minister,” he began, “did you happen to see anypony else when you arrived?”

Turing shook her head. “Negative. The only individuals present were Gadget and myself.” After a beat, she added, “And the dead pegasus, at least in the physical sense.”

Then there was a commotion as someone began pushing through the crowd. Turing and Dupon turned and saw that Sea Dweller was there, forcing her way through.

“Miss, please stay back,” Neighstrad called to her. “We’ve got this under control, so there’s no need to—”

Then Sea Dweller gasped and an anguished scream escaped her throat: “Beacon!”

She broke through and almost made it past the officers before a pair of them managed to hold her back. Still, she struggled against them, reaching out with a hoof as she screamed again and again.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “He’s my friend, I know him! Oh stars, Beacon, please…!”

Neighstrad trotted up to her. “You know the deceased?”

Her eyes were filled with tears as she nodded emphatically. “That’s Beacon Bomber. He’s my best friend from Filly Hawk. He… I…”

And then she slumped, crying bitterly as the two officers gently set her down.

“Beacon Bomber was an expected guest to the symposium,” Turing Test explained to Neighstrad. “However, he informed me that he would most likely be delayed and arrive late.”

“Well, seems he was right about the late part,” Neighstrad said with a grin.

Turing stared at him. Dupon shook his head and rubbed his temple. Sea Dweller glared at him hatefully. And somewhere in the gathered crowd, Turing heard Maud Pie say, “Oh. I get it.”

“Ehem, er… regardless, it seems clear that Mr. Bomber was dispatched during the power outage. Poor bloke was stabbed right in the heart.”

“Yes, and with a rather peculiar weapon,” Dupon added as he knelt near the corpse, peering down at the blade. “This appears to be a letter opener. And the handle is made of ivory, if I'm not mistaken.”

Sea Dweller gasped and her sobs began anew.

Neighstrad, meanwhile, moved over to Vanderbull. “Mr. Vanderbull, your assistant there said that this hotel was only recently electrified. Who would be familiar with that system?”

“Well, the staff had some training, but Gadget personally oversaw its installation. She knows it better than anypony here, so I’m sure she could answer your questions.”

Gadget nodded weakly and raised her head. “That’s true, sir,” she said.

“And when the power went out, could you explain what steps you took to restore it?”

“Well, let’s see… the power went out, and then I fell off the stage—”

“Kindly skip the part we all saw, or at least heard, Miss,” Neighstrad said tersely.

“Right. Um, I saw that the power was out for the entire hotel, so I went out the back door and down to the cellar where the fuse box is kept. I needed to replace a few fuses, but we have a supply of them, so I did it as fast as I could.”

“What, in the dark?”

“I memorized where they all are,” she said, raising her head.

“And then?” Neighstrad asked.

“Well, I went back the way I came, but the back door was locked, so I ran around to the front and…” She swallowed. “...And then I found him like this.”

“Hmm,” Neighstrad murmured. “You just ‘found’ him, you say?”

“Well, I… um, I tripped over something, and when I looked back, I… I saw…”

“Ah. You tripped over the corpse,” Neighstrad surmised.

“Pardon me, Chief Inspector,” Dupon said. “But there seem to be some abrasions on the body around his head and legs. Minister, you have keen senses, do you not?”

“It would be more accurate to say I have keen sensors, but if you are asking, I can examine the body.”

Dupon nodded and Turing Test gave the body a visual scan. After a moment - and a very unnecessary chime - she raised her head. “Confirmed. He appears to have blunt trauma on the right side of his head and upper body and abrasions that are consistent with a rough fall. I am unable to determine the exact cause of those injuries however.”

Neighstrad took a look as well. “Yes, yes… injuries are consistent with assault.”

“It would appear so,” Dupon agreed.

“So, he was attacked and then stabbed with the letter opener, where he collapsed on the spot and died,” Neighstrad said, nodding to himself. “And this all occurred during the power outage? That timing seems right, wouldn’t you say?”

Both Turing and Dupon nodded.

“I can confirm based on my observations that he only expired a few minutes prior to my arrival,” Turing added.

Neighstrad pursed his lips. “Very fortuitous timing,” he muttered. “Does anypony here have an idea of how the power might have gone out? Could somepony have cut it?”

“If they had literally cut the power lines, it could not have been so quickly restored,” Turing stated. “Judging by the sudden brightening of the lights and the popping of so many bulbs, the most likely cause would be a power surge.”

“Power surge, eh? And how could that have been caused?”

“A malfunction of the hotel’s generator is one possibility. But another is that one of the devices plugged into the power system could have caused it.”

“Caused it… or perhaps been made to cause it?” Neighstrad asked, raising an eyebrow.

Turing’s ears twitched. “That is theoretically possible, Chief Inspector.”

“And do you know who here has their device plugged into the system?”

“Yes, there are several ponies who—”

“And is one of them Miss Gadget?” he asked, jerking his head in Gadget’s direction.

“...Affirmative,” Turing said after a beat, tilting her head at his question.

“Then I think that’s enough for me,” Neighstrad said with a sly grin. “It’s obvious what happened here: that young mare, Miss Gadget, rigged her device to short out the power supply, and under cover of darkness and with the perfect excuse that she needed to repair the power system, slipped outside, dispatched Beacon Bomber, then restored the power only to put on this whole performance!”

Gadget stared. “W…what?” she whimpered.

Vanderbull drew himself up. “Just what are you insinuating, Neighstrad?!” he demanded.

“I’m not insinuating, Mr Vanderbull, I’m accusing!” He thrust his hoof out, pointing at Gadget. “Miss Gadget, I hereby accuse you of the murder of Beacon Bomber! Officers, place her under arrest!”

“N-no!” Gadget cried, drawing back. “No, no, I would never—”

“Save your breath, Miss,” Neighstrad scoffed. “You’ll need it to plead your case. After all, we’ve caught you red-hooved! Or, as it stand, red dressed.”

“Red…?” Gadget looked down and finally noticed the red bloodstain on her dress. She blanched. “Mr. Vanderbull,” she whispered shakily, her face turning green, “I want to apologize in advance for my unprofessional conduct.”

“Unprofessional conduct? Gadget, what do you me—”

And then Gadget threw up all over his hooves.

To be continued…

4. If (Game), Then (Afoot)

As the police drew in around Gadget, Vanderbull stood in front of her, his nostrils flaring and his fists raised. “Stay back, all of you!” he shouted. “You keep your hooves off her!”

“Don’t make this difficult, Mr. Vanderbull,” Neighstrad warned. “It will not go well for you or her if you interfere!”

“Chief Inspector Neighstrad,” Turing said, stepping forward. “Please wait a moment. I believe you may be acting with excessive haste. My friend did not commit this crime.”

“If that’s the case, then we’ll find out during the interrogation,” he said, waving her off.

“Neighstrad.”

It was Dupon who had spoken. And something about his calm, clear voice caused everyone gathered to stop in their tracks and look in his direction. “I concur with Minister Turing. While your theory is possible, it is but one potential explanation.”

Neighstrad grit his teeth. “Is that so?”

“Miss Gadget has stated that she stumbled over the corp— the victim,” he said, adjusting his wording when he saw her shiver. “That would explain the smeared stain on the ground there, which matches the smear on her dress.”

Gadget looked like she was about to be sick again.

“She could easily have done that on purpose to throw us off track,” Neighstrad said.

“So you believe this was premeditated?” Dupon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, clearly, if she rigged her device to cause the power outage!”

“But to do that,” Turing said, drawing their attention, “Gadget would have had to time her sabotage with Beacon Bomber’s arrival, and she stated to me that she was unaware that he would be arriving late. To my knowledge, I was the only one who knew this in advance.”

Neighstrad’s mustache twitched. He looked back to Dupon. “All right, granted, it’s not a perfect fit just yet, but the fact remains: a pony is dead - murdered - and that mare is the most likely suspect. Isn’t that right, Inspector Dupon?”

“That is the case, yes,” he said with a nod.

“Well, there you have it! Officers—”

“Ah, but wait! I meant that she is our best suspect for now, Chief Inspector,” Dupon cut in. “I propose we investigate the situation further, question the other attendees, and see if that holds up under scrutiny. After all, we’re unable to take anypony into custody until the ferry arrives tomorrow, or at least until we can send a pegasus to fetch the authorities from the coast. I will gladly take responsibility for the investigation myself until then.”

A murmur went through the crowd of spectators, and as it grew, Neighstrad’s expression became more tense, his teeth gritting loud enough to be audible (and not just to Turing).

“All right, Dupon,” Neighstrad said with a sigh. “I suppose we need to do that to shore up any loose ends anyway.” He turned to the gathered crowd. “Attention, everyone! All attendees are to return to their rooms immediately and not to leave for any reason! Officers, I want one of you posted in each hallway and watching every corner of the hotel. We’ll hold the kitchen and service staff in the ballroom.”

Turing Test strode up beside him and raised her hoof. “Please comply with the police, everypony,” she said loudly. “I apologize, but under the circumstances, we must cancel tonight’s symposium. This is regrettable, but I will make certain to reschedule at a later date and see that each one of you is compensated for any expenses taken in coming here.”

The crowd, though obviously not pleased, began to nod appreciatively.

“...Unless one of you is the actual murderer,” Turing added. “In that case, no compensation will be offered.”

“Wait a minute!” shouted one aging stallion. “So you mean that there could still be a murderer loose on the island?!”

“If Gadget is not the killer, then that would be the logical conclusion. But do not worry; now that we are aware of the killer’s presence, your chances of likewise being murdered in a brutal fashion are statistically quite low.”

“Minister!” Neighstrad hissed.

Turing Test looked to him, and then back to the crowd of ponies, most of whom wore looks that ranged from “mildly anxious” to “terrified nearly to the point of fainting.” (And Maud, who wore a look of “Maud.”)

“Ah,” Turing said. “An error has occurred.”

The police confined the guests to their rooms and the staff to the ballroom just as Neighstrad ordered. Vanderbull and Gadget were put in the master’s chambers, and Beacon Bomber’s body was carefully moved to the trot-in refrigerator in the hotel’s kitchen. Constable Clipper - being the best flier among the officers, was ordered to fly to the mainland to get some backup, a medical examiner, and a ship to take everypony back (and Gadget into custody, if her name could not be cleared).

Turing Test and Maud Pie accompanied Gadget and Vanderbull on their way to their room.

“Do not worry, Gadget,” Turing Test said. “I am certain that Inspector Dupon’s investigation will prove your innocence.”

Gadget smiled weakly. “Thanks, Turing,” she said quietly.

“And if he doesn’t,” Maud Pie said, “and you get sentenced to hard labor, I can teach you some great rock-breaking techniques.”

“...That’s… helpful?”

“It will be if you get 20 years to life,” Maud said. “Actually, breaking rocks every day for a few decades doesn’t sound so bad. Sure, they don’t let you keep samples, but…”

She paused, realizing the rest of the group had frozen in their tracks. Gadget was trembling, her four knees knocking loud enough to be mistaken for a swarm of woodpeckers or a horde of migratory coconuts.

“...Sorry,” Maud mumbled, looking away abashedly. “Um… well, that detective guy will probably clear your name after all, if he’s as impressive as you say he is.”

Gadget seemed to ease somewhat at this.

“I am optimistic as well, Gadget. Furthermore, I believe Dupon—”

She paused, her ears twitching.

“...is coming this way.”

Sure enough, a moment later, Dupon rounded the corner and trotted up to Turing Test.

“Ah, Minister, there you are!” he said. “Apologies to your friends, but might I trouble you for a while? I’d like to make a request of you.”

Turing tilted her head at this, but then nodded. “Understood. My friends, please return to your rooms. Maud Pie, perhaps you should go with Gadget to provide her with further comforting comments.”

“No no no, that’s okay!” Gadget said hurriedly.

“Er, yes, I will see to it that she’s looked after,” Vanderbull said. “But thank you just the same, Dr. Pie.”

“Anytime,” Maud said.

When they’d gone, Turing followed Dupon back to the main foyer.

“How may I assist you, Inspector Dupon? I will be glad to provide you with any observations I’ve made or further information about our guests.”

“That would be quite helpful indeed, but I actually have another proposal,” he said with a grin that dripped slyness across his entire mutton-chopped face. “Minister, I’d like to ask you to assist me in investigating the case.”

Turing’s eyes contracted. “Please clarify: you wish for me to act as a detective?”

“Essentially, yes,” he said. “You see, I’ve been contemplating our earlier conversation and disagreement over whether or not a machine could adequately perform detective work. And though the symposium is canceled, we still have a mystery on our hooves, and therefore a chance to put our bits where our mouths are.”

“But I do not possess a mouth.”

“Er, figuratively, Minister.”

Turing tapped her chin, considering this. “An interesting proposal, Inspector Dupon. My capabilities may assist in discovering evidence, and my logic should be able to come to the correct conclusion more swiftly.”

“I’m glad to see that you are confident. And I would love to see you in action.”

“I am likewise eager to learn more. However, considering my friendship with Gadget, is there not a conflict of interest for me to aid in the investigation?”

“The fact that you’re asking actually makes me more confident that you will not let your bias influence you. But I’ll put it more directly: while I personally have strong doubts about Miss Gadget’s guilt, she is currently our only suspect. If, in the course of our investigation, we find evidence that indicates that she is the murderer, do I have your solemn word that you will abide by our findings?”

Turing paused for a moment, processing the question. Her ears twitched noisily. Then, after a beat, she gave a nod. “I know Gadget well enough to be certain on an emotional level that she is not guilty. However, I will let logic dictate my actions. You have my word that I will seek the truth, even if it is not favorable to my friend.”

Dupon smiled and put out his hoof. “Then in that case, Minister-slash-Detective Turing Test, I believe we have a case to solve.”

Turing took his hoof and shook it. “Affirmative. I will inform Maud Pie of this decision and then join you in your investigation. Please clarify: where shall we begin?”

Dupon began trotting in the direction of the hotel’s kitchen. “We begin at Beacon Bomber’s end. Don’t dally for long, Minister; we have a dead body to examine.”

To be continued…

5. Stab the Dirk, Gently

The body of the late Beacon Bomber lay on a table in the center of the spacious walk-in refrigerator. The cover which had been draped respectfully over him was now tossed aside, revealing the corpse. He had a white coat of fur with a red mane and tail. His bloodied shirt was partly undone, the stab wound clearly visible through the punctured tear in the fabric. There was a small, thin scar below the wound.

Dupon and Turing Test stared down at it.

It, Turing thought to herself. Not ‘him.’ Ponies have a curious way of referring to inanimate things. Things that are not ‘alive’ in the organic sense. When I was first activated, many ponies similarly referred to me as ‘it.’ Until a short while ago, Beacon Bomber was a ‘him.’ And now that he is dead, he is not. He is… It is…

Turing’s eyes briefly contracted. “Cognitive loop detected,” she whispered aloud.

“Pardon?” Dupon said, lifting his gaze from the body, his breath forming steam in the frigid air as he spoke.

“In the earliest days after my activation, I did not possess emotional responses,” she explained. “But new experiences and the rapid accumulation of experiential data allowed me to develop new cognitive abilities. When I experience a new emotion, it registers as a loop in my cognitive function. Essentially, I recognize the experience as significant and meaningful, and I process an appropriate reaction. I now have an emotional range comparable to most organic ponies… but this is new… I feel…”

Dupon furrowed his brow. “Minister, are you well?”

Turing said nothing for a moment as she stared down at Beacon Bomber. Though she had seen him before shortly after his murder, his body was now completely cold. His still eyes had a dull look, and they stared unseeingly. No heartbeat, no nerve impulses, no breath, no brain activity. Just sunken and…

“...Empty,” she said.

“Minister?”

“Twilight Sparkle’s books have occasionally mentioned that the dead have an ‘empty’ look to them. As if a cadaver were merely a shell for something vital, and once that vitality had departed, the body is nothing but an empty husk. A discarded shell. I never understood these analogies until this moment. It is…”

She again met Dupon’s eyes. “Disgusting,” she said. “I have been disgusted by ponies’ actions before, by which I mean that I found their actions morally deplorable. In contrast, this may be the first time I feel something analogous to physical repulsion.”

Dupon’s expression softened. “Oh,” he said. “I apologize, Minister. I did not think that a robot would have such a reaction to this sight. Having seen such things before, I didn’t consider that you would… oh dear, do you wish to withdraw from this investigation? I’m terribly sorry if I—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Apologies, Inspector Dupon. I have let emotion distract me from my task. Though this sensation of disgust is unpleasant, it is of no importance. After all, it is not as though I have a stomach to be sick to.”

Dupon cracked a smile. “Well, consider yourself lucky in this particular case, then.”

She nodded. “Indeed so. If we may continue, I have scanned the body quite thoroughly and am ready to report my findings. Please be assured that I will be able to continue with this investigation. Furthermore, I now have an even greater desire for justice to be served to the pony who perpetrated such a horrible act.”

“Very good. Then let’s speak outside. It’s quite chilly in here,” he said with a shiver.

They replaced the cloth over Beacon Bomber and left the refrigerator, locking it behind them once again.

“Did you know him?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “Negative. Though I did meet him once. He was at a large charity function in Canterlot approximately six months ago.”

“What charity event was that?” he asked.

“Funds were being raised to finance updated maritime rescue equipment such as speedboats and longer-range radio communication,” she explained. “Beacon Bomber works in such a field, though I am uncertain in what capacity. That evening, he approached me and stated that he was quite grateful to ‘You and yours,’ as he put it.”

“To ‘you and yours’?” Dupon echoed.

“Affirmative. I asked him what he meant, but I was then called away to pose for an official photo before he could respond. Unfortunately, when I returned, he had departed, and I was unable to discern his meaning. But twenty-one days ago, I received a telegram asking if he could be allowed to present at tonight’s symposium, though he wished to keep the topic of his speech a secret. Because he stated he only required five minutes and no special arrangements for equipment, I acquiesced in spite of his late application. I admit that my decision was partly influenced by my curiosity about what he wished to say to me at the charity event.”

She looked back at the large, cold metal door where Beacon Bomber’s body lay.

“It seems that now I will never learn the truth.”

Dupon hummed to himself, stroking his chin. “Well, perhaps. Or perhaps we’ll discover the truth along the way. But let us begin teasing this mystery apart.”

Turing nodded. “Agreed. Shall we begin with our observations of the body?”

He nodded.

“Then I will begin: I scanned the abrasions on his cranium and bruising on his chest. The pattern of trauma on his head is narrow, as if the object that struck him had an edge. The damage to his chest, however, is more blunt.”

“Yes, I noticed that as well. Tell me, Could the damage be done by hooves? Perhaps the killer struck him?”

Turing considered that. “The abrasion on his head is small and could potentially have been caused by a pony’s hoof, but only if he were struck by the edge of it.”

“Possible,” Dupon said, “but most ponies do not attack others in such a fashion. They strike more bluntly, bludgeoning with their front hooves or bucking with their hind legs. So the murderer may have used a weapon.”

“If so, then they might have possessed a second weapon—”

“—which would explain the different trauma pattern on his chest,” Dupon surmised, giving a nod. “Yes, two wounds, two different weapons, in addition to the letter opener. Or possibly more than one assailant.”

Turing’s eyes contracted. “Then there may be more than one murderer on the island?”

“Well, if Beacon Bomber flew here, then his assailants could have done the same. They might have done the deed, then fled and are already gone.”

Turing lowered her head. “But if that is so… then we cannot exonerate Gadget…”

“Ah, let’s not be hasty, Minister,” Dupon said, holding up a hoof. “We don’t know all there is to know yet. For one thing, why wait until he arrived on the island to kill him? He could have been killed anywhere on the mainland. Or even over open water, which would have been much more advantageous. If he had been killed there, finding his corpse would have been delayed, assuming it was not simply lost at sea. Nopony would have even known he was dead until a significant time had passed. No no, I find it far more likely his killer was waiting for him and struck when he arrived.”

“That is a logical conclusion.”

“Also, did you happen to notice the scar on his chest?”

“Affirmative. It does not appear to be the result of a wound. I believe that it is surgical.”

“My thoughts exactly! Perhaps heart or lung surgery?”

“I am unable to determine that. My knowledge of medical practices is broad but not encyclopedic.”

“Well, either way, it is a curious and possibly significant tidbit, given that he was murdered by being stabbed in the heart.”

“Then both his murder on this island and the method may have been deliberate,” Turing said. “He was killed here for a specific purpose. Is that your conclusion?”

“Hardly a ‘conclusion,’ Minister. Merely conjecture.” He smiled and held up a hoof. “Ah, but here we arrive at an opportune time for me to give you a lesson in detective work. Are you quite prepared, my robotic rookie-in-training?”

Turing sat down and raised her head with exaggerated eagerness, her coiled tail swishing back and forth. “Affirmative, Professor!” After a beat, she added, “Apologies if my reaction is inappropriate. I have often found that ponies appreciate when their levity is reciprocated in a fashion that shows appreciation, sometimes defined as ‘getting as good as they get.’ Have I successfully done so?”

Dupon chuckled. “Oh yes, quite successfully, Minister,” he said. “My my my, you are just full of surprises. But to my point, here is my lesson:

“Means, motive, and opportunity. The three components one should consider when determining suspects.

“Means: who had the means - the tools and skills - necessary to kill Beacon Bomber?

“Motive: who had sufficient motive to kill him?

“And opportunity: who had the chance to do so?”

“Chief Inspector Neighstrad’s conclusion that Gadget is responsible seems primarily based on the third of those. She did indeed have the opportunity.”

“And perhaps the means,” Dupon said. He reached into his suit pocket and removed a small plastic bag containing the letter opener - the murder weapon - and held it aloft.

“I noted this letter opener earlier, Inspector Dupon,” she said. “The handle is carved from ivory of indeterminate origin. Furthermore, I see now that the handle has a small engraving at its base that reads ‘BRHWF.’ My memory banks contain no such initialism or organization associated with those letters that would be significant to this case.”

“None at all?”

“Not unless you wish to discuss the social club known as ‘Big Red Horses With Frogs,’ Inspector,” she replied. “My friend Big McIntosh was briefly a member. He was expelled when his frog was in actuality determined to be a toad.”

“Er… well, perhaps the meaning of those letters will become apparent later,” Dupon said. “Let us put that aside for a while. Consider that a letter opener is a very odd choice for a murder weapon; it’s not very sharp or long. To drive it into somepony’s chest would take a great deal of physical strength. Gadget, though small in stature, is quite sturdy and an earth pony, and therefore likely to possess the necessary might. Furthermore, Gadget does, in fact, have the capability to sabotage the electrical system, as Neighstrad pointed out. Thus she does technically possess the means to commit the murder.

“Which leads us to Neighstrad’s proposed hypothesis: Gadget sabotaged the electrical system, snuck out in the darkness with the plausible alibi of repairing it, and assaulted Beacon Bomber. There might have been a struggle where she bludgeoned him before using the letter opener as a finishing blow. And then… well, the rest would be just as Neighstrad described.”

Turing shook her head. “But to do so would serve no purpose. Of the three components you listed, Gadget has no motive to kill Beacon Bomber. She does not know him, nor would she do anything to spoil Mr. Vanderbull’s investment into this event. She is extremely loyal to him.”

“And now we have the essential weakness in the current theory,” he said. “Ergo, who else might have had the means, the motive, and the opportunity?”

Turing tilted her head back and forth as she considered this. “A great many of the attendees tonight have the technical expertise - the means - to sabotage the electrical system. Though most of the attendees remained in the ballroom during the blackout and murder, a few were not present and therefore had the opportunity, though that also may include the kitchen and service staff. As for motive… I am uncertain, but there is one pony who openly expressed disdain for Beacon Bomber: West Walnut.”

“And he fled the ballroom shortly before the blackout, as I recall. Followed shortly by that pegasus… Rio Grand, I believe she was called?”

Turing nodded. “Though I am not certain what cause she might have had to harm Beacon Bomber. Although…”

Turing then related the incident between Rio Grand and Mr. Vanderbull to Dupon.

“...So she may have no grudge against Beacon Bomber but does have one against Vanderbull. Perhaps enough to sabotage his attempt to ingratiate himself with the rising stars of the technological world and spoil his investment in sponsoring the symposium?”

“I am not certain. But it is possible.”

“And what about that unicorn mare, Sea Dweller? Aside from West Walnut, she seems to be the only one who directly knew Beacon Bomber, at least as more than a passing acquaintance. And, though this might sound contradictory, most ponies are killed by someone close to them, rather than a stranger.”

Turing raised her head. “Sea Dweller did inquire about Beacon Bomber’s arrival earlier this evening. And, to consider a motive, she bears a grudge against me personally. However, though she dislikes me, I cannot conceive that she would murder another simply to spite me. Especially given her reaction to Beacon Bomber’s death. She appeared genuinely distressed.”

Dupon raised an eyebrow. “Though this may cast us in a bad light, organic ponies are prone to some truly despicable acts borne out of hatred. Though uncommon, such acts cannot be ruled out. Unless you are 100% certain that Sea Dweller’s reaction was genuine.”

Turing considered that. “Very well. I was not closely observing Sea Dweller at the time. I cannot rule out the possibility. However, unlike the other two suspects, she was present in the ballroom during the blackout, and thus possesses an alibi.”

“True, but she could have had an accomplice. It could even have been one of the other two.”

Turing didn’t think that Sea Dweller would work with West Walnut, but then she considered the possibility that their earlier confrontation was meant to divert suspicion. She voiced this and Dupon smiled.

“Now, Minister, you are thinking like a detective.”

“Compliment acknowledged,” Turing replied. “Should we now question the suspects?”

“Not quite,” Dupon said, putting the bag with the letter opener back in his coat. “First, let’s question the closest thing we have to a witness: Gadget.”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Hello there, junior detectives! I hope you’re enjoying the mystery so far! 🔎

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has liked the story, added it to a bookshelf, and especially left a comment for me. I’m so glad the story is being received well, and I look forward to your reactions in the coming days!

By the way, unlike a lot of my previous Iron Horse stories, I’m leaving my References Lists out of the author’s notes, but you can check out the ones for Chapter 1-5 HERE if you’re interested to see what you missed! :twilightsmile:

6. The Girl Who Played With Wires

“Go away.”

That was all Mr. Vanderbull said before slamming the door in Inspector Dupon’s face.

“Ah, well that won’t do,” Dupon muttered. “Er, Minister, perhaps if you led this time?”

Turing nodded and knocked on the door. “Mr. Vanderbull, Gadget? Apologies, but could we speak to you?”

The door opened again. Vanderbull gave a quick, sour look at Dupon, and then switched to a pleasant smile as he addressed Turing Test.

“Good evening, Turing,” he said. “My apologies, I didn’t see that you were accompanying the Inspector.”

“It is all right,” she said. “However, we would like to speak to Gadget to question her further about what happened tonight.”

Vanderbull’s smile faded.

“...I am referring to the murder.”

“Yes, I realize that,” he said through gritted teeth. “And to that, I say— wait, ‘we?’ What do you mean?”

“Inspector Dupon has requested my aid with the investigation. Toward that end, I am currently assisting him with interrogations.”

“Well, while I am glad he’s recruited someone with good sense, I have advised Gadget to say nothing without a lawyer present. It is her right, after all.”

“Understood,” Turing said, bowing to him. “Please give her my regards.”

She began to walk away as Vanderbull moved to shut the door again.

“Then we’ll have to bring her in,” Dupon said, polishing his hoof on his shirt.

Vanderbull stopped. “I beg your pardon?” he growled.

“She is certainly entitled to a lawyer during a police investigation. But if we cannot eliminate her as a suspect before help arrives from Trottingham, we will be forced to bring her in for questioning. And she’ll have to sit in jail until you’ve found a suitable lawyer. I don’t imagine it will take you long, but she’ll still have to endure the arrest and incarceration in the meantime, and that can be quite damaging to a pony’s reputation, to say nothing of the distress and humiliation.”

Vanderbull stepped forward, filling the whole doorframe as he crossed his arms and glowered down at Dupon. “You snake,” he growled. “I thought you were above coercing and bullying an innocent girl!”

“Ah. Perhaps if we were all to calm ourselves for a moment, we could—”

“Not to worry, Minister,” Dupon said. “You misunderstand, Mr. Vanderbull. I am not trying to ‘coerce’ anyone. I am simply stating the facts of the matter. I have seen all too many times what happens when an innocent pony is arrested, and I genuinely do not wish to put the young lady through that. If we can gain a better understanding of the events leading up to the murder from her, then we may be able to spare her such trauma by quickly eliminating her as a suspect. But the more obstacles we encounter to our observation, the slower it will go.”

Vanderbull said nothing for a moment. Then his gaze drifted back over toward Turing Test.

She silently gave him a nod.

“I’ll speak to her,” Vanderbull said quietly, and went back into the room.

Turing stepped in close to Dupon.

“You are lying,” she whispered.

Dupon raised an eyebrow.

“You say you are not coercing anypony, but my scan of your biometrics reveals otherwise.”

Dupon smirked. “Then it seems your lie detection ability is quite on point,” he whispered back. “That’s good to know. I admit it’s a bit of an underhooved strategy. But while my primary concern is advancing our investigation, everything else I said is still true.”

“I am aware,” she said. “Still…”

The door opened again. And this time it was Gadget who stood there.

“Um… you can come in,” she said weakly.

They stepped inside the room, the Master’s Chambers of the hotel, and watched as Gadget went back to the large bed and sat down on its edge. She glanced over at Vanderbull, who stood in the corner like some manner of sentry as he watched them all silently.

“Gadget,” Turing said, looking her over, “you look more like yourself now.”

“Hm? Oh, right, I changed,” she muttered.

She now wore her typical long, black jacket and had once again donned her spectacles.

“I couldn’t stand wearing that dress a minute longer,” she said, hugging herself. “Not with all that… b-blood on it.” She shuddered.

“And where is that dress?” Dupon asked.

“In the hamper. Oh, do you need it for evidence?”

Dupon nodded.

“Take it. Even if I could ever get it clean, I’d never be able to wear it again.” She took a long breath and let it out shakily.

Turing went to her and put her hoof on Gadget’s shoulder. “Please try to relax, Gadget. The Inspector and I wish to ask you some questions.”

“...All right,” she said, patting Turing’s hoof as she managed a weak smile. “I’ll tell you whatever you want if it’ll help end this whole nightmare faster.”

Turing Test bowed to her. “Thank you, Gadget. Perhaps you should begin by recounting what occurred after you left the ballroom.”

“Well, let’s see,” she said. She pursed her lips as she considered the question. “I mean, there’s not that much to tell you that I haven’t said already. I ran out of the ballroom, went through the back door, took the stairs into the cellar where we have the power room, replaced the fuses, and then restarted the power. And then I went back upstairs, but the back door was locked, so I went around to the front and… um…”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Gadget,” Dupon said, holding up a hoof. “But try to think carefully and give us a bit more detail up until that point. Even if it seems insignificant, tell us anyway. For instance, was there anypony else in the hallway or behind the hotel?”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Gadget said, “there were a few ponies there.”

“Then please tell us what you can recall,” Turing urged.

“Well, I ran by the restroom and Mr. Walnut’s goons, er, guards were standing by the door. They had their horns lit up, so I could see them, but they just watched me as I ran by.

“Then I kept going and, I… w-well, I…”

“Yes?” Dupon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“...I ran into a waiter carrying a tray of food,” she said, wincing. “I heard it spill, and I heard him yelling, and I apologized, but I had to get to the power room!” She swallowed and gave Vanderbull a pleading look. “I’m sorry for the mess, sir!”

“Gadget, please, it’s all right,” Vanderbull said. “It’s nothing that can’t be cleaned anyway, and that’s the least of our concerns now.”

“I noticed a waiter cleaning up a spilled tray of food when I went to investigate Gadget’s screaming,” Turing said. “That corroborates that portion of her story.”

“Yes, I noticed him too,” Dupon said. “Was there anyone else, Miss Gadget?”

“Well… yes, actually. It was very quick, but I bumped into somepony else in the hallway.”

Turing and the others all leaned forward. “Can you identify who it was?”

“Um… I’m not positive. I heard her grunt - I mean, I think it was a ‘her,’ based on her voice - and… oh! I heard something flutter. I think she was flying and the sound I heard when I hit her was her wings.”

“Did she say anything?” Dupon asked.

Gadget shook her head. “She just grunted and was already moving past me when I tried to apologize, but I was still in a hurry.”

“And there was no one else after that?” Turing asked her.

Gadget shook her head. “No one. And I didn’t see or hear anypony else outside until… until I found Beacon Bomber.”

Dupon stroked his chin. “I would need to make certain, but I think I have an idea of who this pegasus mare was,” he said.

Turing’s ears perked up. “Ah! I believe I have come to the same conclusion. After West Walnut left the ballroom, Rio Grand flew directly after him. I thought that she intended to assist him, but if she was not near the restroom or the guards…”

“...Then she might have gone elsewhere,” Dupon said. “Possibly even outside, only to run into Gadget when she returned.”

“Outside?” Gadget asked. “Th-then you think maybe she… she’s the…”

“That rotten little firebrand!” Vanderbull roared, balling his fists. “I knew she was only here to cause trouble!”

The three ponies stared at the angry minotaur.

“S-sir?” she asked. “Just what happened between you and Miss Rio?”

“That…” he paused, stopping short as he eyed Dupon. He smoothed down his suit jacket. “That is to say…”

“Sir,” Gadget repeated, more firmly this time. “I think Inspector Dupon and Turing Test need to hear the truth.”

Vanderbull sighed. “If you must know, I bought the Canter Fe line last year, and that includes a bridge that spans the Great River of Neigh Mexicolt. A contingent of locals requested that I sell the plot of land there as it would be an ideal place to build a hydroelectric dam, at least according to them. I refused, since that would mean that passengers and cargo would be diverted through my competitors’ lines. The loss of business was unacceptable to me after I’d just put forth such a large investment in the line, so I told them to find another location and even offered several potential alternatives. But one of the key proponents of the dam would not take no for an answer.”

“And that proponent would be Rio Grand, I gather?” Dupon asked.

“Indeed,” Vanderbull grumbled. “She’s something of a local celebrity, and while I admire her respect and love for her home, she has gone beyond the bounds of reason to express her displeasure. Organizing protests, finding ways to block train traffic, putting up unflattering signs and billboards along the train line - one of which said ‘Vanderbull is Bullsh—’”

“I believe we get the idea,” Dupon said with a cough.

“Oh, far from it. She made it a point to show up to every business meeting I had in Neigh Mexicolt some months ago, dodged security, threw paint at the windows of my business partners’ offices, and even sent a massive order of succulents to my hotel room!”

“...That last one doesn’t sound so bad, sir,” Gadget said, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s because you didn’t come back after a long day to find a hotel room filled with cacti!” Vanderbull snapped.

“Oh,” Gadget said. “You meant that kind of succulent.”

“Yes, and one of them had sap that I am apparently allergic to. One guess as to how I found out…”

“So that’s why you asked me to order more calamine lotion when you got back to Manehattan,” Gadget said, nodding her head.

Vanderbull’s face purpled. “The wretched girl insists that she’ll badger me until I sell the land to her and her supporters. And despite her offenses, the authorities refuse to deal more harshly with her. A stern warning, a reprimand, a day in jail, and nothing more. And if I press the matter further, her supporters threaten to do worse. It’s maddening, but I am not about to let her have the last laugh after all she’s put me through!”

“That sounds very frustrating,” Turing Test said. “I believe I now understand why you were displeased to see her at this symposium. Had I known about this, I might have requested that she attend a different one in the future to avoid such a confrontation.”

“I don’t blame you, Minister,” Vanderbull said, calming down. “But if she has anything to do with this case and is laying the blame on Gadget, who had nothing to do with any of this, then I ask that you and Inspector Dupon show her no mercy!”

“That would be up to the courts,” Dupon said. “I am only concerned with finding the true culprit and bringing them to justice.”

Vanderbull grunted.

Turing Test turned her attention back to Gadget. “Gadget, my apologies, but I suppose I should ask the most obvious question just to allay any fears about the matter: did you kill Beacon Bomber?”

“No!” Gadget cried. “I swear, I’ve never even met him!”

Turing nodded firmly and faced Dupon. “She is not lying, Inspector,” she said.

“Hm,” he said. “Then before we leave, I would like to know one more thing: how does your device work, Miss Gadget?”

“The Piezoforte?” Gadget’s eyes lit up and her slump disappeared in an instant. “So, here’s the thing…”

Dupon stood by, patiently listening as she described its functions in elaborate detail.

When she was done, he only nodded and said, “You certainly are passionate about your work, Miss Gadget.”

“Of course!” Gadget said. “To conceive of an idea on your own, to design it, to test and re-test it, to refine it through the creation process…”

Dupon and Turing watched as her eyes grew wider, her voice louder. An intense, yet faraway look came to her eyes and her grin grew wider and wider.

“...to experience the joy of creation and see your will manifested in the world… Sweet Celestia, it’s when I feel the most alive, the most real, like the most powerful mare on the whole planet!!”

“Gadget!” Vanderbull hissed.

“Huh?” Gadget blinked and looked around as if she had no idea how she’d come there or what she was doing. Then she blushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “O-oh, sorry! I, uh… I get carried away sometimes.”

“It is all right, Gadget,” Turing said.

Dupon, however, was narrowing his eyes. “And this machine,” he said, pressing on, “is it capable of producing a power surge or otherwise disrupting the power system at the hotel?”

“No! Well… well, it shouldn’t. I don’t think so…”

“I regret to point this out, Gadget, but the power did fluctuate when you plugged it in to demonstrate it for Maud Pie and me.”

“I… well, I thought the system could handle it,” she said, beginning to squirm uncomfortably.

“Then do you know what else might have caused the power surge?” Dupon asked.

“I… I’m not sure, Inspector,” she said quietly. “To be honest, I think most of the other devices that were brought here have a lower wattage than the Piezoforte.”

Dupon nodded. “I see. Well then,” he said, tipping his hat to her, “I believe we have all we need for now. Thank you both for your cooperation.”

“Yes, you were both very informative,” Turing said with a bow. “Please remain here and attempt to relax.”

Vanderbull and Gadget thanked her as she left with Dupon and exited the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Minister Turing, do you know if Gadget has sought any mental help?” Dupon asked suddenly.

“Mental help? Do you refer to psychological therapy of some kind?”

“Yes, or treatment for any issues of that kind?”

“I do not believe so. I know Gadget quite well, and she has never mentioned such a thing. Why do you ask?”

Dupon furrowed his brow. “When she was speaking of her machines, it was as though she were briefly in another place or, more specifically, another state of mind.”

Turing tilted her head in confusion.

“What I mean, Minister, is that while the Gadget we know seems perfectly gentle and nonviolent, I wonder if her outburst might be indicative of some sort of dissociative disorder. That would mean that she could do something while dissociating and even not realize it.”

Turing took a step back, her electric eyes widening. “Then you suspect that she may have attacked Beacon Bomber in a brief state of madness? Inspector, I assure you, Gadget does not suffer from such mental disturbance. She is not insane, she is merely eccentric.” She paused. “Perhaps excessively eccentric, but she is not dangerous.”

“I am not stating that she is,” Dupon said. “However, it does leave open the possibility that she could have murdered Beacon Bomber without a clear motive and would have no memory of the act, and thus her denial to you would not be lying. At least, not to her rational mind.”

Turing said nothing, but lowered her head. “That… is a theoretically possible, if far-fetched, interpretation of events.” Then she raised her head again and stomped her metallic foot. “Then we must make certain that this is not the case!”

“What we must do,” Dupon said, his smile returning, “is get to the truth. Once we’ve done that, such idle conjecture will fizzle out.”

“Then perhaps we should question Rio Grand next, since we now have more information that could implicate her.”

“Let’s not show our hooves just yet, Minister.”

Turing looked down at her shiny metallic hooves. “Ah. Should I acquire boots?”

Dupon chuckled. “No, Minister, I mean that we should gather more information before confronting Miss Rio.”

“Then who do you believe we should question next?” she asked.

“To know our killer,” Dupon said, raising a hoof, “we should first know who it was they’ve killed. And there is only one pony that we know of who can aid us in that respect.”

Turing Test nodded. “Sea Dweller.”

To be continued…

7. Brine and Punishment

Sea Dweller

“Inspector, were you able to determine if Beacon Bomber is an organ donor?” Turing asked as they approached Sea Dweller’s quarters.

“Hm? Er, no, I’m not certain.”

“Then perhaps we should ask Sea Dweller if she has any knowledge of his status. Since he is currently in refrigeration, many of his organs may still be of use to ponies in need.”

“I suppose, but—”

“With the obvious exception of his heart, of course.”

Dupon winced. “Perhaps that matter could be settled later? In the meantime, perhaps I should take the lead in questioning Sea Dweller.”

“Understood,” Turing said, and stepped to the side as Dupon knocked on the door.

It opened, and the pair were greeted by the sight of Sea Dweller. Her eyes were red and puffy and long, saltwater streaks traced down from her eyes and around her muzzle.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Hello, Sea Dweller,” Turing said. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but may Inspector Dupon and I speak to you?”

“I’d rather… no, never mind,” she said quietly. “I suppose I’d better let you both in.”

She opened the door and led them inside. With her unicorn magic, she pulled out the chair at her desk and drew it to her, taking a seat. She lifted a cup of tea - made with the kettle provided for her room - and took a sip. She sniffled and levitated over a tissue, blowing her nose before tossing it into an increasingly full trash can.

“Do you know why I am here, madam?” Dupon asked.

Sea Dweller nodded. “You’re here to investigate Beacon’s murder,” she whispered. Her lip began to quiver. “You’re here to try to find his real killer.”

“Yes,” Dupon said softly. “And I do apologize for disturbing you, but it is necessary for us to ask you some questions.”

“...Us?” she asked, her gaze slowly turning back toward Turing Test.

“Inspector Dupon has requested my aid with his investigation,” she explained.

Sea Dweller’s expression darkened. “You have a bad habit of interjecting yourself where you don’t belong, Minister.”

“Are you perhaps referring obliquely to the fact that I entered and won the political race and office that you earlier intimated I was unworthy to hold because of my status as a robot? If not, I apologize for extrapolating the wrong conclusion, as I sometimes have difficulty understanding the subtleties of—”

“Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I meant!” Sea Dweller groaned.

“Well, then in that case,” Dupon said, “perhaps I should be upfront: you made it perfectly clear that you have a grudge against Minister Turing Test. And seeing as tonight’s symposium is - or rather was - a public event that furthers her agenda, it stands to reason that you would not object to seeing it disrupted.”

Sea Dweller blinked. Then her eyes widened as his meaning dawned on her.

“Wait… you think… you think I killed Beacon?!”

Turing Test leaned forward. “Did you?” she asked.

“No!” she shrieked, and leaped to her hooves, spilling her tea as she stomped right up to Turing. “I would never do that! How could you even suggest that, you stupid, unfeeling pile of junk?! He and I grew up together… we worked together… he was,” she choked back a sob, her eyes filling with bitter tears. “He was my best friend! And now… now he…”

She put her hooves on Turing’s shoulders and pounded on them with her left hoof in angry frustration before she finally slumped to the ground and began to weep bitterly.

“Sea Dweller,” Turing whispered, her ears lowering. “I am sorry. I did not mean—”

“Perhaps we should give her a few minutes to compose herself, Minister,” Dupon said, and he began moving toward the door and motioning for her to follow.

Once outside, Dupon leaned in close to her and whispered, “What do you think, Minister?”

“I feel very sad for her,” Turing said. “I know what it means to have friends. To lose a pony that one loves is a horrible thing.” She glanced back at Sea Dweller’s door. To her keen ears, Sea Dweller’s sobs of grief were almost deafening.

Dupon nodded slowly. “It is indeed. But to clarify, I wish to know your opinion of her honesty. She stated quite emphatically that she did not murder Beacon Bomber. Was that the truth?”

Turing Test tapped her chin. “Unfortunately, my readings are inconclusive. She is in a state of extreme emotional distress, so her biometric readings are erratic and will not be a reliable indication of her truthfulness until she is able to remain relatively calm.”

Dupon sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. “No matter. Hopefully she will calm herself. And if not, we can determine that the old-fashioned way.”

They waited for Sea Dweller to calm down and then, once she’d recomposed herself, returned to her room to resume their questioning.

“First of all,” Dupon said, “let me apologize for any distress we’ve caused you, Miss Sea Dweller. If it is not too difficult, could you please tell us a bit about the victim?”

Sea Dweller nodded. “What do you want to know?”

“Perhaps you could begin by explaining the nature of your relationship with him,” Turing suggested.

Sea Dweller swallowed and blew her nose again. “Our hometown, Filly Hawk, is a village on an island on the Outer Banks of the Mare-o-lina region. Since we’re on the coast, we have a lot of boating: cargo ships, fishing vessels, recreational sailing and such. But we also get storms - weather teams can’t control the weather out over open seas, after all - and rough seas and boating collisions, and that’s where our local Search and Rescue Patrol comes in. And Beacon was one of their very best.

“You saw those medals on his jacket? He won them for acts of heroism throughout his career. If a pony was lost at sea or swept overboard in a storm or something like that, he and the other patrol members would fly out to sea and find them. He would fly right into the heart of a storm if somepony was in trouble, and we all worried that one day he wouldn’t come back… but he always did.” She smiled at the memory. “Beat down, soaking wet, but always in one piece. And he had more successful rescues than anyone else in his squad.”

She swelled with pride, raising her head as her gaze grew distant.

“He was the real hero of Filly Hawk,” she said. “I was just the cleanup crew. After a storm or some other disaster, my team were the ones who would salvage what we could from the site. Or else we’d dive down to the ocean floor to pull up lost cargo after the fact. In between, we did salvage operations. Once we even found real pirate treasure! But either way, good days or bad, we’d meet at the Rusty Anchor pub every week, swap stories, and I’d laugh at him trying to charm some mare into going home with him… usually just to get a drink splashed in his face.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “But even then, they’d come back to hear his stories. He… I…” She swallowed. “It’s hard to believe he’ll never tell another one of his tall tales again.”

Her voice broke as she was speaking and Dupon passed her a few more tissues.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Dupon said. “But tell me, if he was so well-loved, then who would have cause to kill him?”

Sea Dweller grimaced. “Oh, I think I know exactly who.”

“Who would that be?” Turing asked.

Sea Dweller raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? It was clearly West Walnut!” she exclaimed. “You saw that argument we had earlier, right?”

“If you are referring to the incident that involved you throwing a beverage in his face,” Turing said, “then you are correct. West Walnut stated that he considered Beacon Bomber a ‘rabble rouser’ and that you took exception to his comments. He was not pleased to hear that Beacon Bomber would potentially still be arriving at the symposium.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t,” Sea Dweller laughed mirthlessly, rolling her eyes.

“Then perhaps you could explain the source of your shared animosity?” Dupon asked.

“I’d be glad to,” she said. “West Walnut is the owner of Walnut-Mart. You know, the big warehouse stores all over Equestria? You name it, he probably sells it, and for super cheap.”

Turing and Dupon nodded.

“Well, Filly Hawk is pretty small, but we get a lot of tourists during the spring and summer. Apparently West Walnut figured that having a Walnut-Mart there would be a great opportunity to sell supplies to the vacationers, so he planned to open up a new store in town. When the other townies and I heard he was presenting his plan to the town council - and had been schmoozing with the mayor - a lot of us banded together to try to put a stop to it. And nopony was more passionate about it than Beacon Bomber.”

“One moment,” Turing Test said, holding up a hoof. “A store that sells convenient things for low prices sounds advantageous to everyone. I am not certain why such a thing would be objectionable.”

Sea Dweller rolled her eyes. “What are you, Walnut’s new spokesmare?”

Turing tilted her head. “No, Sea Dweller. I maintain my position as the Minister of Technology. It would be a conflict of interest to… ah. I see by your expression that you are exasperated with me. I apologize and compliment you on your adept use of sarcasm.”

Sea Dweller huffed and instead turned toward Dupon. “This is why we shouldn’t have elected a robot to be on Celestia’s council. A machine like her can’t actually understand basic emotions, so of course she can’t understand why we wouldn’t want a big corporate store in our little town.”

“I believe I understand your reasoning,” Dupon said with a nod. “But you should still explain further just to avoid any ambiguity.”

“Right,” she sighed. “The reason we didn’t want a Walnut-Mart is because those stores have prices so low that the local shops can’t compete. West Walnut can afford to buy supplies in bulk and sell products at his stores for a slim profit. One big store with everything you’d need, and at prices that local shopkeepers would go out of business trying to match, and he can afford to outprice every local business owner until they go broke! He’s done it before in little towns across Equestria, and he wanted to do it to Filly Hawk! Incoming tourists bringing the sales we need to keep the town afloat would just go to Walnut-Mart and then, when all the local shops are out of business, even local townsponies would have to shop there. It doesn’t matter to him if his profit margin is low when he’s the only game in town! We couldn’t let that happen to our friends and neighbors!”

Turing began to nod slowly. “I believe I understand now. You worried for your community and the culture of your hometown. And Beacon Bomber was a major part of the efforts to halt West Walnut’s plan, correct?”

“Exactly!” Sea Dweller exclaimed. “As the town hero, he rallied an organized effort, put pressure on the mayor and the other councilors, and was right there to stand up against West Walnut every time he tried to pressure them into allowing his store to be built. And in the end, we won! One of the only times West Walnut didn’t get his way!” She smirked. “I still remember the look on his big, stupid face! If he’d been any angrier, his mustache probably would have burst into flames!”

“And you believe that,” Dupon said, “is his motivation to kill Beacon Bomber?”

Sea Dweller nodded. “Walnut takes things personally. On the rare occasion a town like ours denies him a new store, he opens one up the next town over and sells goods at a loss. All just to get revenge on his enemies.”

She crossed her forelegs and gave a skewed look at Turing Test. “And you, Minister, invited that monster here and gave him a platform to promote himself, cuddle up to new business partners, and make even more money while his enemies lose their homes and businesses.”

Turing said nothing for a moment, but then bowed her head. “I… did not realize that these were the circumstances…”

“Well, they are,” Sea Dweller sighed.

“Unscrupulous business dealings aside,” Dupon said, “I’d like to return to Beacon Bomber himself. Do you have any idea what this is?” He drew out the bag that held the blood-stained letter opener.

Sea Dweller gasped. “That’s myletter opener!”

She took hold of it with her magic, but Dupon pulled it back before she could seize it.

“I’m afraid this is now a piece of evidence in our investigation, Miss Sea Dweller,” he said. “But what do you mean it’s ‘your’ letter opener? Are you saying that somepony removed it from your possession and used it as a murder weapon?”

“What? No, no, I mean that I’m the one who made it!” she cried. “I gave it to Beacon as a present!”

Dupon and Turing Test exchanged a look.

“Could you explain more clearly, Sea Dweller?”

She nodded. “The handle is made of whale bone,” she began. Then, noticing their surprise, she added, “From a beached whale that had already died! It’s tradition for sailors and seafarers to make scrimshaw from old bones they find. I carved and polished the handle of that letter opener and then added the blade. Before I gave it to Beacon, I added the letters at the bottom. They say ‘BRHWF,’ right?”

Dupon nodded. “Then you know the meaning?” he asked.

“It’s short for the Filly Hawk motto,” she said. “It stands for ‘By Reaching High, We Fly.’ It used to be the motto for the Search and Rescue Patrol before it started applying to the whole town. I gave that letter opener to Beacon a few years ago for his birthday. I figured he’d appreciate something special, especially since he was so depressed after he had to retire.”

Dupon gave a start, but it was Turing Test who asked the next question: “What do you mean ‘retire?’ He appeared to be fairly young and apparently took great pride in his work. It is very abnormal to retire at that age.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Sea Dweller said quietly. “He loved his work. But… he developed a strange heart arrhythmia and the squad told him it was too risky to keep him around…”

Dupon and Turing exchanged a look once more. Dupon made a motion across his chest, and Turing nodded.

“We discovered a scar on his chest,” Turing stated. “Was it the result of some sort of heart surgery?”

“I didn’t know he had surgery until recently,” she replied. “He said… oh, wait, let me show you…”

Her horn lit up. Without moving an inch from her seat, she levitated her suitcase from under her bed and nimbly opened it, removing a folded piece of paper from inside. She floated it over to Dupon, who read it and then showed it to Turing Test.

It read:

Hey, Sea Dee!

First off, sorry I haven’t written in a while. I know after that whole mess with Walnut that I took off without saying much, but it just got too hard to stare out at the sea every day knowing I couldn’t fly out over it. When the docs told me I couldn’t fly for more than twenty minutes a day, that was the lowest I’d ever felt since my folks died.

I don’t know where I might have ended up without your help. Probably half dead at the bottom of a Dark & Stormy with the old-timers back at the Rusty Anchor.

But get this: I heard about some fancy new procedure around Manehattan. It was risky, and I didn’t want you and the rest of the crowd in Filly Hawk to worry, so I kept it quiet. But get this: it worked! If the doctors finally turn me loose, I just might be able to get back to the job, and it’ll be just like the old days!

I heard you were going to this big symposium thing on some island near Trottingham. Well, if I can make it, I’ll show you and everypony else what I’ve been through to keep other pegasi airbound. Don’t be too surprised if I’m not on the boat ride over there, though…

See you soon, Sea Dee. I’ll be sure to thank you in person once I show up.

Love,
Beacon Bomber

Turing Test read the letter in less than a second, and then she remembered her conversation with Sea Dweller earlier in the evening:

“He stated that he would be flying to the island if the weather was suitable. He anticipated my objection and stated that he would take the necessary safety precautions.”

“So he’s able to fly that far again… is that what he meant?”

“I believe I understand,” she said. “Due to his condition, flying directly to Spur Island would have been impossible under normal circumstances. However, he underwent some unspecified medical procedure which apparently restored his ability to fly long distances unaided. He was late on purpose; he intended to show up here on his own wing power to surprise you. And that was most likely the topic of his intended speech to the symposium.”

Sea Dweller’s lip quivered, but she smiled in spite of herself. “That big idiot… always had to make a big impression. Subtlety just wasn’t in his nature.”

“Well, I believe that answers several questions about Beacon Bomber,” Dupon said, “but if you’ll forgive me for being thorough, could you perhaps explain a bit more about what you were doing here at the symposium? You had some sort of invention, I believe?”

She looked up at him and blinked. “My invention? Oh, with everything else going on, I totally forgot about it. It’s a salvage probe. Well, a miniature version of it.”

Turing nodded. “That is what Sea Dweller specified on her application to attend the symposium.”

Sea Dweller nodded. “Right. Well, like I told you, I’m a salvage diver.” She gestured to her diving helmet cutie mark. “It’s difficult, dangerous work, so I’ve been working on building a mechanical probe that can detect heavy objects at the bottom of the sea floor, grab onto them, and haul them back up. It would make the work much simpler and less dangerous. I had an aquarium tank and the scale model ready to give a demonstration…”

She shook her head. “But it doesn’t even matter now. This has nothing to do with what happened to Beacon.”

“Are you certain?” Dupon asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any one of the inventions could have caused the power outage, after all.”

“Actually, I believe that Sea Dweller’s invention can be discounted as a possible cause of the power surge, Inspector Dupon,” Turing said. “I witnessed her unplug it from the hotel’s power grid shortly before the blackout, and it remained unconnected for the rest of the evening.”

Dupon looked to Sea Dweller for confirmation. She nodded emphatically, pointing at Turing Test as if to say, “See?”

“I suppose that clears that matter up,” he said. “Well, Miss Sea Dweller, I thank you for your cooperation. I believe that answers all our questions for now. Unless there’s more you would ask, Minister?”

Turing shook her head. “I also thank you for your assistance, Sea Dweller. And once again, I am very sorry for the loss of your friend.”

They turned to go and were nearly at the door when Sea Dweller suddenly sprang to her hooves and shouted, “Minister Turing!”

They both turned back to see her draw herself up. “I… I know I’ve said a lot of negative things about you. But, if you can bring Beacon’s killer to justice, then you’ll have my eternal gratitude.” She then clasped Turing’s hoof with her own. “Please, Minister. In spite of everything I’ve said, the fact that you’re doing this for Beacon tells me that I was wrong about you. Please, solve this case.”

Turing looked down at her hoof, clasped firmly in Sea Dweller’s, and nodded solemnly.

“I will do everything in my power, Sea Dweller, to do just that.”

Sea Dweller sighed as the tension seemed to drain out of her. She took a few uneasy steps back to her bed and collapsed heavily upon it, turning over and away from the two of them as they closed the door.

As they trotted away from the door, Dupon glanced over at Turing Test. “Any thoughts, Minister?” he asked.

“I have many,” she replied. “Please specify which thoughts you wish to hear.”

Dupon chuckled. “About Sea Dweller,” he clarified. “What do you think of her testimony? Any contradictions, falsehoods, or anything that seems peculiar?”

Turing shook her head. “Though my ability to read the truthfulness of her statements was impaired, she settled herself enough that I was able to attain more accurate readings. Nothing that she stated seemed to be a fabrication. I am curious to learn more about Beacon Bomber’s confrontation with West Walnut. We should inquire about his version of that event.”

“We shall,” he said. “But let me ask you more bluntly…”

He paused in the hallway and Turing Test stopped as well.

“...Do you believe that Sea Dweller killed Beacon Bomber?”

Turing paused, tilted her head back and forth a few times, then finally shook her head and said, “No. While I cannot conclusively verify her statements with 100% accuracy, she displays very real emotional distress at his death, and she speaks of him with great affection that I do not believe is fraudulent. Even her supplication to me seemed to be genuine. Furthermore, her invention could not have caused the power surge, as we have established, and she was present in the ballroom during the blackout, which is not the case for either West Walnut or Rio Grand.”

“Remember, though, she could have had an accomplice. Perhaps even the aforementioned Mr. Walnut or Ms. Grand.”

“Perhaps,” Turing said, “but in terms of ‘means, motive, and opportunity,’ she does not appear to have had any means or opportunity, and I can see no motive for her to kill her friend.”

“That may become clear with time, though,” Dupon said.

Turing’s ears twitched. “Inspector, are you asking me this because you believe she is the killer?”

Dupon laughed. “No, I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just picking your brain - or processing unit, as it were. I do, however, have a few thoughts on what she’s told us, and, combined with Gadget’s testimony, I believe we’ve uncovered a few more pieces of this puzzle, even if we still have no idea where they all fit.”

“Then where should we take our investigation next?” she asked.

Still chuckling, he resumed his trot down the stairs and toward the back door exit.

“Outside,” he replied. “Unlike a certain resilient robot, after dealing with two emotionally-charged interrogations, I could use a short break…”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Illustration of Sea Dweller by Colby “Greenfinger” Green.

9. A Tough Nut to Crack

West Walnut

Dupon tried the back door of the hotel and found it locked.

“Well, that part of Gadget’s story is confirmed, it seems,” he said.

“Indeed,” Turing replied.

The two trotted their way around the hotel. They moved around to the front entrance, passing the stone walkway leading to the front door where there was a blood-stained chalk outline of the spot where Beacon Bomber had been found (and another unsavory spot where Gadget had been sick).

An officer stood at the front entrance and saluted the Inspector as he entered. “Inspector! Minister Turing!” he called out. “Do you require assistance?”

“I don’t believe so, Constable, but just to confirm, nothing in the hotel has been touched since the investigation has begun? That is, the condition of the kitchen, the rooms, the halls, etc., are all as they were left earlier?”

“Yes, Inspector! Though the service personnel are growing a bit restless, I’m afraid. Chef White Heat was quite vocal about being confined to the ballroom.”

“Please offer him our apologies and thank him and the others for our patience, but we still need them to stay put for the time being.”

The constable nodded and Dupon gestured for Turing to follow him.

“Will we now interrogate another potential suspect?” she asked. “If so, might I suggest West Walnut?”

“My thoughts exactly, Turing,” Dupon said, looking back at her with a smile. “He was unaccounted for during the murder and he has, compared to most others, the greatest motive for the crime. Let’s see what he has to say…”

“Mr. Walnut has nothing to say.”

The security guard stated this flatly and slammed the door in Dupon and Turing’s faces.

“It seems that he also wishes to invoke his right to an attorney,” Turing said, her voice just a bit louder than normal. She held a hoof up to her vocalizer amplifying her voice further: “Perhaps Mr. Vanderbull or another guest could recommend a proficient one, given the strong evidence against him.”

At that, there was commotion in the room and West Walnut’s angry voice shouting over his guards.

“...I see you learn quickly, Turing,” Dupon whispered. “Let’s see if he takes the bait…”

The door opened and the same guard stood there, his brow noticeably sweatier and his expression sour.

“Mr. Walnut will speak with you,” he said. “However, please do not upset him. Mr. Walnut is feeling ill and—”

“Come off it, Kato, let them in!”

The guard bowed and opened the door wide, gesturing for Dupon and Turing to enter.

West Walnut sat in his room’s office chair. Upon seeing the two of them enter, however, he stood and offered his hoof. “Well now, Inspector Dupon, Minister Turing, I hear that you are both investigating this awful business about that poor pony murdered right on the hotel’s doorstep. I will of course offer any help that I can to your investigation.”

“We are very glad to hear that,” Turing Test said. “Perhaps you will be able to clarify some things that we have heard.”

“Why, Minister, it would be my pleasure!” he said. “I would hate to be seen as unfriendly under these circumstances!”

“Sir,” said his other security guard, a mare in a form-fitting suit, “I really think you should rest instead.”

“Oh, come off it, May Day, I can answer a few simple questions!” he snapped. He then took a few steps back and sat heavily in his office chair again.

Despite his nonchalance, both Dupon and Turing could see that he looked ill. When searching up possible ways to describe him, Turing considered that Applejack would have said he looked like “a bushel o’ rotten apples warmed over and fed through the hogs.”

He was sweating enough to soak through his shirt. His elegantly-styled mane was mussed, and his mustache frayed. His eyes were marked with dark circles.

“Forgive us, Mr. Walnut,” Dupon said, “but your guards say that you are not well, and I am inclined to agree with them.”

“Oh, just something I ate that disagreed with me,” West Walnut said. “No idea what it was, though that salad tasted a bit off. I heard a lot of wonderful things about this White Heat’s cooking, but I am not impressed. I’m a simple pony at heart, you know, and I’d take a nice bit of biscuits and chocolate gravy over that fancy stuff anyday!”

Dupon raised an eyebrow and Turing was very suddenly grateful to not have taste buds.

“Mr. Walnut,” Dupon began, “perhaps it would be best if you started by briefly describing yourself. Your purpose in coming here, for starters.”

“I’d be delighted!” he said. “As the Minister can tell you, my company has put a lot of time and money into developing a new checkout counter and register that makes use of a fancy new invention called ‘bar codes.’”

Dupon looked over at Turing, who nodded.

“The invention was developed using modern runic coding techniques,” she explained. “By labeling products with a pattern of black and white lines, an optical scanner can determine a product’s identity and price and add it to a running total. West Walnut and his stores are among the first to adopt such technology for consumer goods. It has been shown to greatly expedite the process of tabulating a customer’s total bill.”

“And within a year, every Walnut-Mart across Equestria will have them!” West Walnut exclaimed. “No more manual tabulating or correcting errors! Even the most inexperienced and untrained cashier would be able to ring up a customer in no time at all!”

“I can see the appeal of such an invention,” Dupon said. “And this machine is what you brought to demonstrate for the symposium?”

“That,” he said, his grin widening, “and a bit more.”

Turing tilted her head to the side. “More? West Walnut, were you untruthful in your application to the symposium?”

“Oh, perish the thought, Minister!” West Walnut said, hoof to his chest as if wounded. “I merely brought the newest iteration of the device.”

“Please clarify,” Turing said, leaning in eagerly.

“The version I brought in is a working prototype for a checkout counter that can operate without a cashier.” He grinned. “The whole process is done by the customers themselves!”

Turing and Dupon exchanged a look.

“My apologies, Mr. Walnut,” Dupon said, “but I don’t quite see the point.”

“Oh, neither did the investors, at first,” West Walnut laughed, before immediately devolving into a coughing fit. “Ahem… my apologies. Where was I?”

“Automated checkout counters,” Turing reminded him.

“Oh yes yes, thank you, Minister,” he said. “You see, I was visiting a Walnut-Mart location just outside Tall Tale, seeing our barcode machines working perfectly, when I noticed something: the cashiers only had to swipe the goods across the scanner, announce the total, and take the bits. But why couldn’t the customers scan the goods themselves? Read the total bill themselves? And, just for good measure, put in the money themselves? If we could automate those parts of the process, why, it would be a vast improvement!”

“Really?” Dupon asked, stroking his chin. “It seems to me that the customer would have to do more work just to make their purchases.”

“Oh, just a bit, sir, just a bit,” West Walnut said, waving a hoof dismissively. “But think of the cost that could be saved!”

Turing did think about it. And then she said, “By ‘cost,’ you refer to the cost of your employees.”

“Well… yes!” West Walnut laughed. “No need to pay 20 different ponies to run 20 different cash registers when we could have one pony monitor 20 different automated ones, just to make sure ponies are paying for their goods and operating the machines properly! And machines don’t need breaks, they don’t need vacations, they don’t get sick or need benefits. Just think of all the money that could be saved across nearly every industry! Why, this is the glorious future that you’ve been promising us, Minister Turing!”

Turing raised her head. “The future that I promised?” she asked.

“Certainly!” he laughed. “Being a machine, you can see the advantage, can’t you? We normal ponies can make mistakes, and we are so flawed, but this new age of technology is helping us cut out all the unnecessary waste! And my stores will be on the cutting edge of it all, sweeping away everypony still stuck in the past and galloping toward a brighter future!”

Turing stared back at him in silence for a moment. “...And what will happen to the cashiers this technology will replace?” she asked quietly.

West Walnut gave a simple shrug. “Well, it’s an unskilled labor position to begin with. I suppose all those cashiers will just have to learn how to code, eh?” At that, he erupted into another round of hearty laughter before it brought on another coughing fit. “Oh ho ho, I… pardon me, I…” The color began to drain from his face. “I… urp… excuse me…!”

He got up suddenly and rushed for the bathroom.

“Excuse me as well,” Turing Test said, stepping out of the room.

“Er… yes, let’s give Mr. Walnut a few minutes to compose himself,” Dupon said, hurriedly following her out.

He found her standing in the hall by herself, staring into space.

“Turing Test? Are you quite all right?”

“I am responsible for this,” she said softly.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“I advocated for the use of barcodes in retail services,” she said, turning to face him. “It seemed like a perfect example of using technology to increase efficiency for both buyers and sellers. I believed it would lower the requirements to become a cashier, and I was glad to have Mr. Walnut present this invention to the symposium. I… did not think he would utilize the technology in this way.”

“You mean to put ponies out of a job,” Dupon surmised.

Turing nodded. “According to Sea Dweller, he is using his vast resources to push out local business owners, and now is taking measures that will mean employing fewer members of the local populace. As Minister of Technology, I have prioritized advancing technology that would improve the lives of ponies in Equestria. Princess Celestia’s former stance against technology was based on her fear of machines replacing ponies in society. This led to a long period of stagnation, but I have always believed that steps could be taken to minimize such displacement. I only wished to make citizens’ lives better, but now… now my actions have harmed them. I should have anticipated this.”

Dupon frowned.

“I am… a failure as a Minister,” she said, lowering her head, her ears drooping with an almost melancholic squeak.

“Oh, nonsense!” Dupon scoffed. “That stallion in there is the one who is putting profit before ponies, not you. And since it is just a prototype, there is no reason for you to stand by and let him do as he pleases! I cannot say what the right course of action will be, but I have spent enough time with you to see that you care for the citizens of Equestria, and you have done a marvelous job of doing so!”

Turing stared back at him for a moment. “You are very kind, Dupon,” she said quietly. “But are you certain you wish to say that? After all, our collaboration tonight is based on me attempting to prove that a machine could do the job of a detective. Is this not the same concept: replacing a pony with a machine?”

Dupon chuckled. “Well, that all depends,” he said with a smile. “After all, you haven’t cracked this case just yet, and I’m still betting that I solve it before you. If you manage to beat me to the punch, then we can talk all you like about you stealing my job.” At that, he gave her a wink.

She raised her head, her ears squeaking back into place. “I see your point, Dupon. Thank you for your reassurances. After our investigation, I will consider the matter of West Walnut’s plans and decide the best course of action. Assuming I am still employed as Minister of Technology and not taking your position at Trotland Yard.”

He smirked.

After a beat, she added, “That was a joke. Ha ha. Fat chance.”

Dupon laughed. “Yes, I gathered that,” he said. “Now then, if you would be so kind and use those ears of yours to let me know when Mr. Walnut’s done dry-heaving, we can return to our investigation.”

“Understood,” she said, raising her head, her ears twitching again.

After a few moments of silence, Dupon said, “Er… Turing Test?”

“I will let you know,” she reassured him. “Oh dear… Dupon, is it possible for a pony to turn himself inside out?”

After a few more minutes, West Walnut returned from the restroom, his mane now slick with sweat and his eyes bloodshot, and slumped back into his office chair as Turing and Dupon resumed their investigation.

“Seems I’m still not over whatever’s taken hold of me,” West Walnut said, mopping his brow.

Kato brought him a glass of water and he took a few small sips.

“That scanner of yours,” Dupon said, “does it run on its own internal power?”

“Well, I suppose it could be made to, but no, it—”

“Sir,” May Day hissed.

“Hmm?” West Walnut asked, looking around in confusion. But then he narrowed his eyes. “Oh. You’re asking if it was plugged into the hotel’s power. Because you think I set it to overload the systems, am I right?”

“We are attempting to explore different possibilities, Mr. Walnut,” Turing said. “And your scanner was plugged in the last time I observed it backstage.”

“It requires very little power compared to some of the other things at this symposium,” West Walnut scoffed. “Especially compared to that monstrosity built by your current suspect. That young lady of Vanderbull’s?”

“Gadget,” Turing said flatly.

“Whatever her name is, she’s the one with the real knowhow and the power-hungry machine at this symposium,” he said. “And besides, I came to this symposium to tout our new barcode system and possibly make a few business deals with the other ponies in attendance. Why would I sabotage this evening by blowing out the power?”

“Well, Mr. Walnut, it has come to our attention that you had a rather contentious relationship with the deceased, Mr. Beacon Bomber,” Dupon said.

“Is that so? I barely knew him,” West Walnut said, giving a shrug. “I only remembered his name once I heard he’d been killed.”

Turing narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Walnut, that is a lie,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“You had a confrontation with Sea Dweller earlier before the symposium began. She splashed water in your face, and you explained the situation like this…”

Here she vocalized his exact words in his exact voice:

“‘She was not happy to see me here, and remarked that I should be glad Beacon Bomber wasn’t here. I let her know my exact thoughts on what I thought of that rabble rouser and, as you can see, she didn’t take it very well.’”

She continued in her own voice: “In short, you did actually know his name and identified him as a ‘rabble rouser.’ Furthermore, you appeared to be displeased when I informed you that he might be arriving after all. You expressed surprise that he would be flying in, calling him a ‘washout.’”

“Ah, w-well, yes, I…” He swallowed. “I apologize, Minister, I suppose I’m not thinking clearly with this illness I’ve got going on.” He gave a sheepish grin and a look that would look more at home on a naughty puppy than an aging business tycoon. “But yes, I recall him now. He organized a lot of resistance to a proposed store near his hometown of Filly Hawk. I believed it would have been a boon to the town, but he took every effort to paint me as some money-hungry devil bent on ruining his little town.”

“His friend Sea Dweller indicated a similar sentiment.”

He scowled. “Oh, I’m certain she did,” he said. “But I’m a busy stallion, Minister, and a minor setback didn’t affect me too much. I didn’t hold any kind of personal grudge against him for it.”

Turing took a step closer to him, peering down at him with her violet eyes.

“You are lying again, Mr. Walnut,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?!” he gasped.

“You stated that you had no personal grudge against Beacon Bomber. But I believe that you are lying.”

“What, because Sea Dweller thinks so?!”

“That, and I happen to be fairly good at reading ponies.”

Dupon smirked. “She really is,” he said. “I would suggest being truthful, Mr. Walnut.”

West Walnut seemed to scrunch himself inward as Turing leaned in closer.

“Minister,” Kato said, placing a hoof on her shoulder, “would you please step back from my employer? Mr. Walnut needs some space.”

“Of course,” Turing Test said, stepping back but keeping her gaze squarely on West Walnut.

“...Fine,” he grumbled. “All right, yes: that hot-headed little townie cost me a prime location at a key tourist spot, and he made me look like a fool to boot. And I did have a plan to get back at him, if you must know, but it isn’t what you think. You see, I plan to build a store in another town just up the road. A little place called Nag’s Head.” He grinned. “And once that store goes up, it’ll siphon off business from Filly Hawk and turn that little backwater haven into a ghost town!”

The two of them stared at him. He had swiftly gone from puppy dog eyes to a grin that would look at home on a crocodile, and there was a hardness in his eyes that completely overshadowed the cordial gentlecolt he’d depicted himself to be.

“You intended to get to him by harming the thing he cared about most,” Dupon surmised. “His hometown.”

“And that was your plan before he died?” Turing asked.

“Before?” He gave a short laugh. “It’s my plan now!”

Turing tilted her head to the side. “I do not understand. He is already dead. There is no longer any target for your revenge.”

“Well, after what that town put me through, I don’t much feel like forgiving or forgetting,” West Walnut said with a shrug. “Besides, Minister,” he chuckled, “it’s just business. You understand.”

Turing’s violet eyes narrowed and she glowered down at him. She raised her hoof, about to say something, when Dupon held his foreleg out in front of her.

“That will be enough for now, Turing Test,” he said. To West Walnut, he said, “Let us put that aside and return to the events of this evening. More to the point, how do we know you didn’t decide to kill Beacon Bomber when you learned you might have the chance to do so?”

“Because even if I had wanted to - and that’s not an admission, by the way - I couldn’t!” he snapped.

“You left the ballroom shortly before the power outage and were unaccounted for during the time of the murder, Mr. Walnut.”

“Yes, but I left at the time because I was sick to my stomach! I ran straight to the bathroom and was there during the entire blackout!”

“That’s true,” said Kato. “May Day and I stood guard outside the restroom while Mr. Walnut, ah… relieved himself.”

“Exactly!” May Day added. “Though when we arrived there, that pegasus mare was just outside the restroom. She was checking to see if Mr. Walnut was all right, but we told her that we’d take it from there, and then she flew off.”

“By ‘that pegasus mare,’ you mean Rio Grand?”

“We didn’t know her name,” Kato said with a shrug.

“You mean you weren’t acquainted?” Dupon asked.

West Walnut shook his head. “Seemed a nice young lady, since she was checking on me and asking if I was all right, not that I could hear her that well outside while I was doubled over the commode. But no, I’ve never seen her before tonight.”

“Actually,” May Day said, “didn’t she fly away from the ballroom? It seems to me she might have had the opportunity to do something to Mr. Bomber.”

“We do intend to question her about her whereabouts,” Dupon said.

“Regardless of all that,” West Walnut said, “the fact remains that I was stuck in the restroom, too sick to do much of anything, let alone murder somepony!”

Dupon stroked his mustache. “Perhaps,” he said. “Though you also have some very loyal security guards. And you are a rich stallion, sir. It’s not out of the question that you could have had somepony else do the dirty work for you.”

West Walnut scowled. Then he turned to Turing Test.

“Minister, you say you are good at reading ponies, hm?” he asked. “Then why don’t you just ask me right out and just see if I’m lying.”

Turing Test paused, then gave a quizzical look at Dupon. He nodded to her.

“As you wish, sir,” Turing said. “West Walnut, did you kill Beacon Bomber?”

He smiled. “No.”

She regarded him carefully for a moment. “Did you hire or otherwise enlist someone else to kill him instead?”

He shook his head. “No, Minister, I did not,” he said.

“Your bodyguards did not act on your behalf?”

“No, ma’am.”

Kato and May Day likewise shook their heads. “No,” they said in unison.

Turing stared back at him once more.

“I see. Thank you, West Walnut,” she said, and turned to go, surprising the lot of them, Dupon included.

“Wait, what? Aren’t you going to tell the police that I’m not lying?! Because I’m not!” West Walnut shouted.

“I would prefer not to discuss my insights at this moment, West Walnut,” she said, refusing to face him as she walked out the door. “Have a pleasant evening, sir.”

Dupon shrugged and followed Turing Test out as well while West Walnut sputtered behind him.

“Now you see here, Dupon! I won’t have anypony casting aspersions on my good name, you hear?! If you falsely accuse me, I’ll have your whole department shuttered! I’ll—”

Dupon slammed the door behind him as he caught up to Turing Test.

“He’s telling the truth, isn’t he?” he whispered to her.

“...Affirmative,” she said. “Despite the image he has of himself, he is not a particularly good liar. Unless he is such a good liar that he was able to feign truthfulness in this particular case, but such an event is highly improbable and—”

“Turing,” Dupon said, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “A simple ‘yes’ - or ‘affirmative’ in your case - will suffice.”

She shook her head. “I wish I could trust my senses in this case with perfect accuracy. However, the very fact that I so greatly misjudged West Walnut’s character indicates that my perception of others is more fallible than I comprehended. In his correspondence with me and the way he portrayed himself through his stores’ media, he gave the appearance of kindness and friendliness. I had believed that he was a businesspony of character, and therefore readily accepted his application to attend the symposium. But that perception was fraudulent. He is… not a good person.”

Dupon clicked his tongue. “No,” he said. “He’s quite an unpleasant one. I’d also read articles that painted him as a humble, down-to-earth businesspony. ‘Big time store, small town values,’ that sort of thing. But it seems that beneath that genteel exterior, he’s quite ruthless.”

“Regardless of his suboptimal levels of ruth,” Turing said, “I see no reason to believe that he killed Beacon Bomber.”

“Perhaps not.” Then he chuckled. “Still… that was rather devious of you, leaving him in suspense as to whether you believed him or not.”

“Ordinarily, I do not wish to unnecessarily distress ponies by misleading them,” Turing said. Then she gave an electronic wink of her LED eye. “But in West Walnut’s case, he can bite my shiny metal flank.”

Dupon burst into laughter. “Bravo, Turing!” he exclaimed. “Ah, but still, we have more ponies to investigate. I propose that we—”

“Inspector! Minister!”

They both raised their heads as one of the police officers came running over.

“Yes, Constable?” Dupon asked. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“It’s Chef White Heat, sir!” the constable managed to say as he caught his breath. “He’s run out of patience and is demanding to speak with you both immediately! Says it’s a matter of grave injustice, and he won’t let it stand any longer!”

Dupon raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, Inspector. Chief Inspector Neightstrad went to calm him down, but that just riled him up even more!”

Dupon chuckled, giving a sideways glance at Turing Test. “Well, we can’t have that, can we, Minister?” he asked.

“It would seem that we cannot,” she replied. “Shall we interview him next?”

“Well, right after a short stop along the way,” Dupon said, gesturing for her to follow.

Back in the ballroom, the kitchen and various hotel staff members were seated where the symposium attendees had all been a few hours ago as a few officers, Neighstrad included, stood by.

White Heat, a gray unicorn stallion with a messy black mane and tail wearing a pristine white double-breasted chef’s jacket, stormed over to Dupon and Turing Test as they entered.

“Right, I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your f:raritydespair:cking presence,” he said, and though his voice was calm, it somehow had the effect of sounding like a shout.

“Our apologies, Chef White Heat,” Turing Test said, raising a hoof. “Inspector Dupon and I have something to investigate first.”

He paused and gave them both a very hard stare and clicked his tongue as though he were a disapproving parent addressing a naughty foal. “Well, it seems you’ll just keep us waiting while you both f:rainbowderp:ck about, then. I expected better. Of you both.”

To Turing’s surprise, she actually heard Dupon’s heart rate increase dramatically and he increased his pace, tipping his hat quickly to the chef as they made their way up the stairs to the backstage area.

The darkened room was still filled with all the different inventions that the symposium members had brought. They were scattered about the room, but a few of them were plugged into the outlets at the back wall, including Gadget’s Piezoforte and, as Turing pointed out, West Walnut’s barcode scanning checkout counter.

The counter had a conveyor belt that would lead groceries over to a panel made of glass through which they both spied the inner workings of some device. Presumably, this is where the scanner would read the barcode of various items. Behind the counter were several different goods with barcodes applied, presumably for the purpose of demonstrating the checkout counter’s abilities.

“So this is the device that West Walnut was raving about?” Dupon asked. “I must say, I was expecting something a bit more flashy.”

“Actually, were I to ignore the potential impact on his employees,” Turing said, “the design is quite elegant in its efficiency. There is no cash register, but this counter here would tabulate the total for a potential customer and prompt them to insert the correct number of bits. It could even offer change for payment in excess of the total. I believe that most customers would quickly learn how to use this device. It is admittedly impressive.”

Dupon nodded. “I suppose it is,” he said. “Still, the question remains: could this device have been used to cause the power surge?”

“One moment,” Turing said.

She went around to the back of the machine and opened the access panel, peering inside at the machinery.

“Examining wattage… wiring is above standard requirements… no internal power source detected…”

She shook her head and stood up.

“Dupon, I do not believe that this device could have caused the power surge. It appears that West Walnut was truthful in his assertion.”

“I see,” Dupon sighed. “Well, no matter.”

He turned to walk away when he froze as a thought struck him.

“Turing… this device is plugged in, correct?”

Turing nodded.

“Then could you activate it? Just to check its functionality?”

“I believe so,” she said. She located the power switch and flipped it to the “ON” position…

And the machine was still.

“Curious… it does not appear to be activated,” she said. “I detect no signal from the scanning device and the conveyor belt remains nonfunctional. This scanner is malfunctioning.”

Dupon frowned. “Then it was also damaged by the power surge?” he asked.

Turing tapped her chin. “Most likely,” she replied. “The power surge was of sufficient strength to damage the lighting system in the ballroom, and various other lights throughout the hotel seem affected as well.”

“What about the other devices around us?” Dupon asked.

“Just a moment,” Turing said, and went to each of the devices that were plugged into the outlet. Each one, she realized, was also broken, including Gadget’s.

“And of all these devices, which might be capable of causing the power surge?” Dupon asked.

“I am uncertain,” she replied. “I was given the technical specifications for several of these devices before the symposium, but not all of them. Shall I inspect each one?”

“I believe we must,” he said.

Turing obliged and checked the machinery of each one. And when they at last came to Gadget’s musical invention, she lingered for much longer than she had for the others.

“Turing?” Dupon asked. And when he got no response, he asked, “Minister?”

Turing raised her head.

“Dupon… Gadget is a very enthusiastic young mare…”

“Turing?” Dupon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Such that her zeal for design often blinds her to matters of practicality. In such a situation, it is reasonable that she would—”

“Turing Test,” Dupon said quietly, but with a firmness that gave her pause. “What did you find?”

“...Gadget’s invention is very innovative,” she began. “However, its wattage is inefficient and the wiring is unnecessarily convoluted. Under the right circumstances - or more accurately, the wrong circumstances - her invention…”

Dupon narrowed his eyes.

“...is indeed capable of producing a power surge,” she finished quietly. “It would not be easy to do so purposefully, given its setup, but Gadget’s knowledge of the electrical system for the hotel it is still possible that she could have done so.”

Dupon sighed. “And that would make her invention the only device capable of doing so, correct?”

Turing said nothing but nodded once, briefly.

“That is unfortunate,” Dupon said.

“However!” Turing said, raising her head suddenly. “We are assuming that the power outage was caused deliberately for the purpose of committing Beacon Bomber’s murder! It is possible that Gadget may have inadvertently caused the power outage, and the murder was merely incidental!”

Dupon continued to stare at her. “That is indeed one possibility,” he said.

“Dupon… I…”

“I said it is a possibility, and I meant that,” Dupon said, holding up a hoof. “But remember what I asked of you earlier: regardless of how unpleasant you find it, you must abide by the truth we discover in our investigation. This may harm Gadget’s case, but it is the truth, and we cannot ignore it.”

Turing bowed her head. “Affirmative,” she said.

“Then let us simply take this for what it is,” Dupon said.

The two of them were about to leave the backstage area when Dupon paused for a moment.

“While we are here, and before we endure whatever it is that Chef White Heat has to say,” he said, “perhaps you could point out the inventions of our other potential suspects?”

Turing nodded. “Certainly,” she said.

She pointed to the insectoid probe built by Sea Dweller, which was resting in the dry, sandy bottom of a large aquarium tank. At the other end of the tank was a small metal boat with a hole in it.

“So she intended to fill it with water and demonstrate how the probe could recover items for salvage?”

“That is what her application and technical specification indicated,” Turing replied. “It is also consistent with what she told us during our interrogation.”

“It would seem so,” he said, peering at the small robotic device. “And this is not connected to the power grid? And was not connected to it before the outage?”

Turing shook her head. “I observed her disconnecting it from the power after charging it,” she said. “It could not have caused the power surge.”

“And what of Rio Grand’s?” he asked. “Could you point that out?”

Turing obliged and led him to a table which contained a topographic map of an area in Neigh Mexicolt. A model dam stood out prominently from the map, and a large tank of water was suspended above the left corner. Turing turned a switch and water began to trickle from the container, filling the artificial river that ran down the center of the map. The water flowed through the model dam, turning the miniature turbines inside and causing the lights in the model towns nearby to all light up.

“Well, it’s… functional, I suppose,” Dupon said. “Not very impressive, though.”

“Agreed,” Turing said. “As Minister of Technology, I have attended a significant number of school science fairs, and I have seen several displays by school children that were more technically impressive than this.”

She briefly reflected on the plethora of baking soda volcanos and potato batteries she’d seen.

“Perhaps Ms. Grand was counting on her speech to carry most of the weight of her argument,” Dupon said. “She seems to have been quite the hometown hero with no shortage of influence, not unlike the late Beacon Bomber, so perhaps she had a charismatic speech prepared to extoll the virtues of a hydroelectric dam.”

“Perhaps,” Turing agreed. “However, this device required no connection to the electrical systems of the hotel. Therefore, it also could not have caused the power surge. It does not even produce the necessary voltage to do so.”

“I see,” Dupon said, furrowing his brow.

“Is there anything further that we should investigate here, Inspector Dupon?” Turing asked.

Dupon shook his head. “No, I believe that will suffice for now,” he said. Then he took a deep breath, drawing himself up. “Well then, Turing, shall we go see what White Heat has to say?”

“Affirmative,” Turing said. “Though I suspect he will begin by accusing us of wasting his f:fluttershyouch:king time…”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Illustration of West Walnut by Colby “Greenfinger” Green.

10. In the Excessive Temperatures of the Nocturnal Period

“Finally finished f:flutterrage:king about, have you?” White Heat snapped as Dupon and Turing returned to the ballroom.

“Yes, and we do apologize about making you wait, Chef,” Dupon said, tipping his hat. “But I assure you it was an important step in our investigation.”

“Maybe so, but there’s also such a thing as courtesy,” White Heat growled as he stormed over to them.

Now that he was closer, they both got a look at him. Age lines crossed his features, and they especially formed deep grooves around his small eyes, which only intensified that stone-cold gaze he was giving them.

Again Turing noted that Dupon’s heart was beginning to race again, and yet he wore something resembling a smile.

“I apologize if this is improper, Dupon, but am I correct in guessing that you are a fan of White Heat?” Turing asked.

At this, Dupon nearly lost his composure as his eyes darted between Turing and the supremely unamused chef now staring them down. “Ah… I suppose you’ve caught me up a bit, Minister Turing,” he chuckled. “Well, yes, in fact I am. I quite enjoy fine food and never had the chance to dine at Mr. White’s establishment in Trottingham before his retirement.”

White Heat clicked his tongue again. “You might have had the chance before somepony f:twilightoops:cked up this whole evening,” he said. “All these police around, couldn’t do a f:fluttercry:cking thing about it.”

“Apologies, sir,” Turing said, “but I ask you to watch your language. Bad language makes for bad feelings.”

Turing had never considered the concept of staring contests much before, and when she did, she reasonably assumed she would handily win against any other creature in Equestria.

But the endlessly icy cold stare White Heat was giving her then made her wonder if she might have met her match. She suspected White Heat could turn a basilisk to stone with that gaze. Fluttershy wouldn’t square up with a stare like his (probably).

“It’s a matter of respect, Minister,” White Heat said, never taking his eyes off of her. “I’m not one to swear needlessly when I’m shown respect. And you haven’t.”

“Again, we apologize if—”

“Not the both of you,” he said, poking her in the chest. “You. You specifically, Minister.”

Turing’s eyes shifted, her ears twitching. “Have I offended you, Chef?” she asked.

“One of the staff mentioned that bloke who got sick earlier during dinner service. Ran out just before the lights went dark. And you apparently made some little joke about the cause being the food.” His expression darkened. “My food.”

Turing nodded slowly. “Affirmative. I stated that I was 100% certain that the guests would enjoy the meal and then made a joke about a slightly lower percentage - 94.7% to be exact - in an attempt to lighten any distress and continue the momentum of my speech. It was not intended to directly blame your efforts.”

“Well, that’s not how I see it,” he said. “I work hard at my craft. I didn’t just take this job for Vanderbull’s money only to half-arse the whole business or sign autographs for every fangirl who barges into my kitchen. No.” He shook his head solemnly. “Every meal, every ingredient, every service, I always deliver my absolute best, Minister, without exception. If it’s not perfect, it doesn’t leave my kitchen. And my staff knows that. Isn’t that right, lads?”

“Yes, Chef!!” came the instant, cacophonous response from the staff.

White Heat gave a nod. “So I won’t have my work denigrated by a walking dustbin who can’t even properly enjoy food,” he said.

Turing was quiet for a moment. Then she bowed deeply, a hoof solemnly placed on her chest. “I see. My statement, despite being made in jest, has clearly offended you. That was not my intention, Chef White Heat. As somepony who also takes her work very seriously, I understand why you are upset. I hope you will accept my sincerest apology.”

White Heat said nothing at first. Then a smile came to his lips. “Mm. Not so proud that you would refuse to apologize, I see,” he said. “Good. I’ve dealt with too many government pinheads and self-important aristocrats who don’t appreciate my efforts and come into my restaurants making all sorts of demands, clapping their hooves, and ordering us about like trained monkeys. I’m glad to see you aren’t like that. All right, I accept your apology.”

“However,” Turing said abruptly, “I do take exception to being called a ‘dustbin.’”

White Heat raised an eyebrow.

“...I am not filled with dust, after all. I am filled with mechanical components. It would be more accurate to call me a walking ‘junk drawer,’” she said, her LED eye winking at him.

He blinked a few times, but then broke into a smile and even managed a chuckle.

“All right then, fair enough, Minister. I apologize for my remark.” He shook her hoof. He then turned to Dupon. “And I’ll tell you what: you solve this case before we all go back to the mainland and catch the bastard who ruined my dinner service, I’ll fix you that meal, Inspector.”

“Oh my! Well, we certainly intended to do our utmost regardless, but it is nice to have an extra bit of motivation!” Dupon said, tipping his hat to him.

Neighstrad cleared his throat as he came over. “Well, glad we’ve got that sorted out,” he said. “Now, unless you’ve got anything to share, Inspector Dupon, we’ll let you and the Minister get back to your investigation.”

“Actually,” Turing Test said, drawing their attention, “I believe that White Heat and the staff may be able to assist us, since we are already here, correct?”

“Yes, I suppose now is as good a time as any,” Dupon said. “Though, ah… there is a rather difficult question we must ask, Chef.”

“Perhaps I should do so,” Turing said. “West Walnut, the gentlecolt who was sick, believes it had something to do with the food he was served.”

White Heat’s scowl returned. “Now see here, Minister, I just said—”

But Turing held up a hoof. “I am not accusing you or the kitchen staff of being at fault,” she said. “Rather, I wish to learn the true cause of Mr. Walnut’s illness.”

“Oi, hang on, is this even related to the murder case?!” Neighstrad demanded.

“It may be,” Dupon said. He stroked his chin. “But let’s get to the bottom of this, and then we can decide if it’s of any relevance.”

Neighstrad sniffed. “I still say we’ve got our mare,” he grumbled. “And it’s the bird with the glasses.”

“If you are mistaking Gadget for a gryphon or other avian, then I must call your observational skills into question, Neighstrad.”

Neighstrad sputtered out a protest as Dupon hid a chuckle behind his hoof when he noticed Turing’s conspiratorial wink.

“Chef, do you recall what West Walnut ordered?” she asked, ignoring Neighstrad’s attempted explanation.

White Heat pursed his lips. “Let’s see, he shared a table with Mr. Vanderbull, yes?” When Turing nodded, he continued. “The entrees hadn’t come yet, but he ordered the tomato bisque as an appetizer.”

“And for the salad?” Dupon asked.

White Heat blinked. “What salad?”

“West Walnut stated that the salad he had tasted ‘a bit off,’” Turing explained.

“He didn’t order any salad,” he said flatly. “As you’ll recall, attendees could fill out their orders in advance, and the appetizer was a simple choice: soup or salad.”

Turing recalled mentioning that to Maud before the symposium, remembering that she’d asked, “What’s a Super Salad?”

She put that out of mind and pressed on.

“Then why did he state that his salad tasted strangely?” she asked.

“No idea, but he didn’t order the salad,” White Heat insisted. “It was one or the other, not both. No no no, it was Vanderbull who ordered the salad.”

“Mr. Vanderbull?” Dupon echoed.

“Yes, he ordered the Waldorf Salad as I recall,” he said, “and somepony apparently forgot to mention that he wanted it without walnuts.”

A waiter blushed, bowing his head. “I said I was sorry, Chef,” he muttered.

“Wait, you there,” Dupon said, pointing at the abashed waiter, “you brought that salad to the table, correct?”

“What? O-oh, yes,” he said. “Mr. Vanderbull was not happy that his salad had walnuts, so I had to request another for him.”

“And he sent the salad back?” Dupon asked.

“Well… actually, now that I think about it,” the waiter said, scratching his head, “West Walnut said that he liked walnuts - no big surprise there - and that he’d be glad to eat it so it wouldn’t go to waste. And so I went back to the kitchen and requested a new one for Mr. Vanderbull. I’d just left the kitchen when the lights went out. Still, I decided I ought to bring it anyway and was on my way back when that girl, Miss Gadget, ran into me, and I dropped the whole mess on the floor. I was cleaning it up when you ran by, Minister.”

“That corroborates part of Gadget’s story as well as my own observation,” Turing remarked. “Still, in that case, it is certainly fortunate for Mr. Vanderbull that he gave that first salad away, or else it might have made him sick instead.”

“Oi, I told you, the salad had nothing to do with it!” White Heat snapped. “We used the same ingredients for that salad for several other attendees and none of them were ill!”

“How very puzzling,” Dupon said, rubbing his chin.

Neighstrad scoffed. “Tch. Not really. Just means the old boy had a stomach bug of some kind. Maybe still seasick from the ride over. Bloody salad had nothing to do with it!”

“Perhaps so,” Turing said.

“Well, there is one more thing that comes to mind,” Dupon said. He turned to face the rest of the staff gathered at their tables. “During the blackout earlier, were there any staff members who were unaccounted for?”

One by one, each of the staff members gave their account and the Concierge confirmed it. That was until…

“Actually, as I recall, two staff members were on the upper floor of the hotel,” the Concierge said. “Mr. Mon Signor and Ms. Feather Duster were checking the rooms one last time to assure that all the guests' requests were honored and their rooms were cleaned to perfection.”

Mon Signor, an earth pony butler in a fine tuxedo with a popped collar, and Feather Duster, a petite pegasus maid, both stood at the sound of their names.

And Turing noticed instantly that their hearts began to beat rapidly.

“Would you two please step forward?” she asked.

The two glanced at each other and then did as she asked.

“A few moments after the blackout began, I heard a loud thump from somewhere above the ballroom. Did either of you hear it?”

“No, Minister,” Mon Signor said.

“Non, Madame!” Feather Duster said.

“And you two were cleaning the rooms when the blackout hit?” Dupon asked.

“Zat is correct, Monsieur Dupon,” Feather Duster replied, drawing an emphatic nod from Mon Signor.

Turing and Dupon exchanged a glance. Turing shook her head, confirming what Dupon had already guessed: these two were lying.

“Pardon my indelicacy here,” Dupon sighed, “but the Minister and I think you are hiding something.”

The two exchanged a look. They both broke out into a sweat. The eyes of all the other staffers were on them now.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Mon Signor said, brushing his mane behind his ear. As he did so, Dupon took note of a bruise on his left temple.

“Just a moment,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he trotted over to the butler. “Where did you get this bruise? It looks quite new.”

“I’m… not sure, sir,” Mon Signor said, refusing to meet his eyes.

Dupon looked him over. Then, quite suddenly, he reached over and yanked the butler’s collar down, revealing a small, but very clear bite mark on his neck.

“And what about this, sir?” Dupon asked.

“I… that is…”

“Well, you see, monsieur—” Feather Duster began, but stopped short when Mon Signor gave her a stern look and a shake of his head.

“Sir,” Dupon said, heaving a sigh, “are you aware that the deceased, Mr. Beacon Bomber, has signs of being in a struggle? You likewise have this bruise and this bite mark, possibly the signs of the victim fending off his attacker. Or…”

He then looked over at Feather Duster. “...perhaps it was more than one attacker. Mademoiselle, one of the feathers in your wing seems out of place.” He gestured toward her wing, which indeed had a bent feather poking out from her slender wings. “Perhaps it was damaged somehow?”

Feather Duster swallowed. “Ah… zat was… ah, how do you say…?”

Neighstrad smirked as he stepped over and clapped Dupon on the shoulder. “Well well, Dupon, seems our culprits may have been here this whole time! I’d bet this young pegasus tackled Beacon Bomber straight out of the air as he arrived, then this fellow here did the deed while—”

“Incorrect.”

They all gave a start at the sound of Turing Test’s voice.

“I am uncertain of the reason, but I have scanned the bite mark on Mon Signor’s neck,” she said, “and it does not match the dental pattern of Beacon Bomber’s contained in my visual memory. However, a quick scan has found a suitable match.”

At that, she pointed a hoof at Feather Duster.

“She is the one who bit him. You may check the pattern of her teeth to confirm they match the bite mark. Under such a circumstance, I believe it likely that the bruise and damaged feather were obtained concurrently. Perhaps they could explain the nature and cause of their fight?”

Mon Signor and Feather Duster’s faces went bright red. Feather Duster buried her face in her hooves and there was an audible groan from Neighstrad as Dupon shook his head, massaging his temple with a hoof. Several other staffers were blushing and a few had broken out into laughter.

“...Ah,” Turing said, her pupils contracting. “Understood. You were not fighting. You were attempting intercour—”

“We were just making out!” Mon Signor shouted. “I mean, there was nopony upstairs, we didn’t think anypony would notice if we were gone for a bit, so we were just fooling around a bit when the lights went dark and we fell over in the confusion! I hit my head and landed on her wing!”

“Ah. I see. That is a reasonable explanation for the noise I detected.”

“You idiots!” bellowed Neighstrad. “You two nearly got yourselves accused of murder just to cover up a tryst!”

“Ohhh, you beeg buffoon!” Feather Duster hissed, punching Mon Signor in the shoulder. “I told you eet was a terrible idea!”

“Aw come on, Feather, in the end there was no harm done!”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” the Concierge said flatly. “You two are going to have a long talk with me and Mr. Vanderbull once this investigation is over.”

“Pardon me,” Turing said. “But now that we have cleared that up, can you two tell us if you heard anything else upstairs? Did you see anypony else there, for instance, or see anything outside?”

But they both shook their heads.

“We made sure we were alone,” Mon Signor said. “And if there was anything to hear, we didn’t hear it before or after the blackout.”

“Then it seems we’re no closer to solving this case,” Neighstrad sighed. “All right, Dupon, you and the Minister best get back to the case. Unless you’re ready to throw in the towel and admit we’ve already got the right culprit?”

“Not just yet, Chief Inspector,” Dupon said. “Let’s be on our way, Turing.”

“Of course,” she said, bowing politely to the others as they departed.

She didn’t even have to ask where they were going next. They still had one more prime suspect in the case:

Rio Grand.

To be continued…

Author's Note

5 more chapters, and it’s time for more references! You can find another References List HERE for Chapters 6 through 10!

11. Her Name is Rio (And She Dances on the Sand)

Rio Grand

When Dupon knocked on the door, it was immediately answered with a casual holler, “Door’s unlocked, come on in!”

Turing and Dupon walked and saw Rio Grand reclining easily on her room’s bed. She was sitting up slightly, propping herself up on a pillow, her hat pulled down so the brim covered her eyes. Her forelegs were folded behind her head, her hind legs crossed one over the other.

“Good evening, Rio Grand,” Turing said. “If it is all right, Inspector Dupon and I have inquiries for you.”

“I’d be glad to.” She didn’t raise her head as she spoke. “I figured you’d show up to talk to me eventually.”

“Really?” Dupon asked. “And why is that?”

Rio smirked. She raised her head this time, letting a blue eye peek out from beneath the brim of her hat.

“Because Vanderbull’s night is ruined, his Girl Friday’s neck is on the line, and it just so happens that the last pony he wanted to see here tonight is available to point his big, meaty fingers at.” She chuckled. “I’m more surprised it took you this long to get here with all the nonsense he probably told you about me. I figured you’d come talk to me first!”

She turned, propping her head up with one foreleg as she lay sprawled on her side. She lazily draped her other foreleg on her body, her hoof on her thigh. She wore a confident smirk as she sized the pair of them up.

Turing detected Dupon’s pulse as it momentarily sped up, and she could guess why. She had little knowledge of aesthetic beauty, but she could recognize that Rio Grand was attractive. Indeed, were she in a noir detective story like the ones Rarity had recommended, she might have made a remark along the lines of, ‘Rio Grand had the kind of body that made stallions crane their necks and other mares mentally ill. If it really is true that hips don’t lie, Rio Grand’s hips could be in the running for the next Element of Honesty.’

But she reminded herself that she was not a character in that type of story, as evidenced by the complete lack of sultry saxophone music playing in the background (not that she couldn’t have imitated it).

“Well, you two lovelies can go ahead and ask me anything you like,” she said, idly scratching her neck. “I know I could ask for a fancy lawyer or something, but I’ve got nothing to hide.” She licked her lips idly. “Nothing at all.”

“Yes, well,” Dupon began, clearing his throat, “as you’ve guessed, Mr. Vanderbull already gave us his estimation of you and your character. However, perhaps you could give us your own account to set the record straight?”

“I’d be delighted!” Rio said with a broad smile. “How’d you like me to start?”

“A simple explanation of who you are would be sufficient,” Turing said.

“Well, that might be tricky,” she said with a smirk. “There’s nothing ‘simple’ about me, Minister. But I’ll oblige as best I can…”

She sat up and ran her tongue around her cheek as she considered her answer.

“I was born and raised in Neigh Mexicolt,” she said. “The city of Al-buck-querque, to be exact. My parents always encouraged me to do whatever caught my interest, so I did a bit of everything: studied math and science, became a chess champion, black belt in judo, gymnastics, learned agriculture, biology, botany, horticulture, architecture, hippology, and so on. But my real passion was dance.”

At that, she suddenly rolled forward off the bed before springing to a position of standing on her hind legs, her wings spread and her hat still miraculously still on her head.

“I grew up knowing the Neigh Mexicolt hat dance,” she began, tossing her hat down and doing a series of circular steps around it, “the flamenco,” here she did a flourishing dance, sweeping her foreleg around and then bringing it up to clap her hooves to mimic the sound of castanets, “as well as the traditional square dance… the Buffalo stomp… ballroom… jazz step… tap dance… oh, and a decade of ballet.”

She demonstrated each of these in turn. Near the end, her spread wings lifted her into the air, and she did several twirls, spinning as effortlessly as a feather on the wind as she danced for them before finally setting back down with a flourish.

She flashed a smile as she looked up at the two of them.

“My my! Quite impressive, wouldn’t you say, Minister?”

“Affirmative. And somewhat surprising, as I only knew of you from your application regarding the hydroelectric dam you wished to demonstrate.”

“Glad to get to know you,” Rio said, offering her hoof to Turing. “And even if you weren’t a fan of mine, Minister Turing, I sure am one of yours!”

“Is that so?” Turing asked as she accepted Rio’s hoof and shook it. “For what reason?”

“Well, let me take the long way around to answer that. See if there’s one thing you need to know about me more than anything else, it’s this: I love my home. Most Equestrians think we’re just some dusty region filled with tumbleweeds and ranches and such. They don’t appreciate the beauty of the desert, the wildlife, and the ponies who live all along the Great River. Life is calm and peaceful out there, but it can get tough during the lean times. I got famous for winning dance championships and making a name for myself, but the more famous I became, the more ponies I met. And the more I learned about how they lived, the more I wanted to make things easier for them all. Ease their burdens, lighten their load, that sort of thing.

“Technology can do that for them,” she said, locking eyes with Turing. “And I knew when you became the Minister of Technology that you could help lead the way toward new innovations. All those scientists and inventors with new funds were crawling out from the rocks they’d been living under to start building fancy new machines… and that’s when I heard about some fella called Elephant Butte… yeah, go ahead, make all the jokes you want.”

Turing tilted her head. “Apologies, but I do not know any elephant jokes,” she said.

Rio laughed. “Minister, you’re all right!” she said, still chuckling. “Hooboy… anyway, he made some proposal to the city council in Al-buck-querque about a new hydroelectric dam. It didn’t get a lot of attention at first, but when I caught wind of it, I decided to help him out and get some traction going. It really looked like we were getting the support we needed and even found just the right spot for it! Our coalition was ready to make a deal with the Canter Fe Railroad Line for the land, and we figured we were on our way to electrifying the whole valley!”

Her expression darkened.

“And that’s when that oversized bovine Vanderbull showed up and bought the Canter Fe line. Those snakes who ran it knew we needed the land, but they just ignored all that when Vanderbull plopped a big enough bag of bits on their desks. And all just so he could have his trains running to yet another corner of Equestria.” She sighed. “But unlike the Canter Fe folks, he wasn’t willing to sell or even lease the land to build the dam. After all we put into the project, to see it wither away like that… well, let’s just say it didn’t sit right with me, and I decided that I wasn’t going to take it lying down.”

“Is that why you chose to harass Mr. Vanderbull?” Turing asked.

“‘Harass?’ Last I checked, peaceful protest was still legal,” she said airily. “We petitioned him, let him know about the benefits for everyone living there, and he ignored us. So, since being nice about things wasn’t working, I didn’t see anything wrong with putting a little… pressure on him, letting him know that his actions had consequences.”

“And did that include filling his room with cacti?” Dupon asked.

“Oh, he mentioned that?” She grinned. “Guess it really stuck in his craw, huh? Well, I won’t lie: it was my idea, and I thought it was a real hoot. Heard he started raging, started knocking them around and chucking them out of his room like crazy!” She laughed. “I wish I’d been there to see it!”

“Mr. Vanderbull discovered that he was allergic to some of those plants,” Turing said. “Were you aware that they were toxic?”

“I wasn’t trying to give that fella a rash, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replied with a shrug. She reached under her bandana, adjusting it. “But, to be totally honest… yeah, I knew a few of them were. Like I said, I studied botany, and I know more about the plants in Neigh Mexicolt than most. But I didn’t think he’d go and touch them himself! I mean, that’s on him, not me. After all, they’re cactuses! They’re simple plants that just want to grow and do their own thing… unless you try to mess with them. If you do, well…”

She narrowed her eyes, her expression hardening.

“...Just like any living creature, you mess with ‘em, they’ll defend themselves.”

Dupon raised an eyebrow. “Duly noted, Miss Rio,” he said. “Then perhaps Turing and I should be equally candid: you clearly have a grudge against Mr. Vanderbull. We are curious if that grudge extended to disrupting the event he sponsored.”

If the intimation that she was a murder suspect disturbed Rio Grand, it wasn’t evident from her reaction. She just chuckled and shook her head.

“You think I’d kill somepony just to make things awkward for Vanderbull?” she asked. “Don’t be silly. I would never have hurt poor Beacon.”

Turing raised her head. “‘Poor Beacon?’ Your manner of speaking suggests that you were familiar with him,” she stated.

“Oh, I knew him, all right,” Rio said. She bit her lip and suppressed a chuckle. “In the classical sense of the word.”

Dupon’s eyes widened slightly.

Turing looked back and forth between them for a moment. Then it dawned on her, and her LED eyes became lightbulb shaped.

“Ah!” she declared, raising a hoof. “You are implying that you had intercour—”

“Yes, Minister, I believe that is her meaning,” Dupon said, massaging his temples.

Rio Grand laughed heartily. “Aw, Minister Turing, you’re adorable!” she managed to say between laughs. “But yeah… I knew him. I met him in a bar one night in Coltsbad. Poor fella was down on his luck, and I thought he needed a friend - and it didn’t hurt that he was good looking to boot - and we struck up a conversation. He was some big hero back in his hometown, not unlike yours truly, but he had to quit his search and rescue job when his ticker started having issues. I guess he was on a journey to do a little soul searching and see what else there was to see around Equestria outside of his hometown.”

She smiled at the memory. “He was a fun guy. Nice, funny, told great stories… I’m not some floozy, but I admit, he got to me. Only problem was, uh… well, we were in the middle of, uh… it, and he had to stop because his heart was going a bit too fast.”

“Were you upset?” Turing asked.

“Just disappointed,” Rio sighed. “And if you’re implying I put a knife in the guy’s chest because he couldn’t perform, Minister, then forget it. If I was prone to that sort of thing, I would have filled a whole graveyard around my university before my college graduation.”

Dupon coughed. “So, that was the last time you saw Beacon Bomber?” he asked. “Before his death, I mean.”

“Actually, I did see him one more time,” she said. “He had some fancy new heart surgery and was training his strength back up. He said he wanted to fly along part of the Great River and asked me to be his guide. I agreed, and so we flew together for a while. I said he seemed plenty healthy to me, he said he’d be glad to show me just how healthy and, well…”

“Ah. Intercourse,” Turing said. Then she paused and looked to Dupon. “Correct?”

“Yes, Minister,” he groaned.

“Intercourse!” Turing declared proudly.

“Yep. And I can attest, his heart was working just fine,” she smirked.

“In short,” Dupon said quickly, “you would say that you had a favorable relationship with Beacon Bomber.”

She nodded, her expression turning somber. “Yeah. He was a nice boy, and he didn’t deserve to die. But why don’t you just ask me your real question straight out?” she asked. Her gaze slid over toward Turing. “Go ahead, Minister.”

“Very well,” Turing said. “Rio Grand, did you murder Beacon Bomber?”

Rio smiled. “No,” she said flatly. “I didn’t kill him.”

Turing watched her closely. Then she turned to Dupon and gave a short shrug.

But Dupon frowned. “And you had no wish to disrupt the symposium?” he asked.

“Not by murdering somepony!” she snapped.

“That’s not actually what I asked,” Dupon said, narrowing his eyes.

Rio rolled her eyes. “For pity’s sake… no, Inspector, I didn’t want to disrupt the symposium. I wanted to show everypony here my model for the hydroelectric dam. And at the end of my presentation, after extolling its virtues, I intended to explain to everypony present that it was Vanderbull who was preventing it from becoming a reality.” She sighed. “Guess I won’t get that chance now.”

“Then you are saying that you have done nothing wrong?” Turing asked.

Rio crossed her forelegs. “Haven’t I already answered that?”

Turing nodded, but Dupon placed a hoof on her shoulder.

“Actually,” he said, “you have not. Would you mind answering the question, just for the record?”

Rio blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Have you done anything wrong tonight?”

She chuckled. “I already told you both: I didn’t kill Beacon!”

But then Turing raised her head.

“Thank you for your answer, Rio Grand,” she said. “We will be going now. Inspector Dupon, may I speak to you outside?”

“Certainly,” Dupon replied.

“Well, glad to have you visit!” Rio said, waving a hoof casually as she reclined on her bed once more. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you!”

They shut the door behind them and went up the hallway.

“She does not appear to be lying about Beacon Bomber,” Turing said. “Once more, it is possible that she is a very accomplished liar, but she was forthcoming in her information about her hostility toward Mr. Vanderbull and her intentions for this evening. However…”

“...She is definitely hiding something,” Dupon said.

Turing froze. Then she nodded. “Correct,” she replied. “I am not certain how you knew, but when you pressed her about doing something wrong, her pulse quickened and her gaze became notably less focused. And she never directly answered the question.”

“That last part is actually what tipped me off,” he said. “Minister, she seems to be a bit more familiar with who you are and your capabilities compared to either Sea Dweller or West Walnut. I suspect she knows about your ability to read ponies and thus framed her answers to avoid lying directly.”

“Then you believe her when she says that she is not the murderer?” Turing asked.

“It’s difficult to say; I believe she did not deliver the killing blow,” he said, “but that does not mean that she isn’t involved.”

Turing considered this. “Unfortunately, we have not yet determined who perpetrated the crime, Dupon,” she said. “And we have exhausted our list of primary suspects. If we are unable to solve the case soon…”

“There is no need to despair for your friend just yet. This just means that we have more work to do. Therefore, I propose we quit wasting time on speculation and find a bit more evidence. Follow me, Turing; let’s see if we can tease out the whole truth…”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Illustration of Rio Grand by Colby “Greenfinger” Green.

Hey folks, as the story rolls on, just a reminder that if you’re enjoying the tale and the mystery, feel free to leave a comment. It’s really encouraging and it means a lot to your friendly fellow fanfic fabricators to know our work is appreciated!

And if you have more guesses about “whodunnit,” remember to use those spoiler tags!

Thanks everyone for your support so far!

Oh, and one quick, obvious reference drop for our sultry pegasus’s namesake:

12. Leftovers

Their first stop was back at the ballroom. The eyes of the kitchen and waitstaff were on them both, but Dupon ignored them and trotted toward a table near the back of the room.

“Minister, given your perfect memory, can you please confirm if this is the table where Mr. Vanderbull and West Walnut were seated? I believe it was one, correct?” Dupon asked.

Turing nodded. “You are correct,” she said.

“And do you remember who sat where?”

Turing nodded once again. “This spot,” she gestured, pointing out the seat, “belonged to Mr. Vanderbull. This one, directly to his right, was occupied by West Walnut.”

Dupon looked at the table. “Hmm… do you happen to notice something missing from this table?”

“I do. It seems this table was cleared. All plates have been removed.”

“Oi!” Neighstrad growled, whirling on the waitstaff. “Didn’t we tell everyone to leave things just as they were?! We’ve got an investigation going on here!”

“But Chief Inspector,” one of the waiters said, “we did as you asked! We didn’t touch any of the plates!”

“I believe he is telling the truth, sir,” Dupon said. He swept a foreleg around the ballroom. “Look at all the other tables. All the food that was served is still sitting where it was when the dining service was suspended.”

Neighstrad blinked and looked around. “So it is. Wait, then who cleared the table?”

“An excellent question,” Dupon said. “Well, did anypony happen to see?”

No one spoke up.

Dupon turned to Turing Test. “Your thoughts, Turing?”

She tapped her chin a moment, considering the possibilities. “I conjecture that somepony must have cleared the table and disposed of the food during the confusion caused by the discovery of Beacon Bomber’s cadaver.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said.

He looked around and spotted a garbage bin located near the cluttered hors d'oeuvres table. He trotted over to it and made a face. “Hmm, I don’t relish digging through this rubbish, but it seems we must.” He spotted one of the officers nearby and beckoned him over. “Constable, could you give us a hoof and—”

“There is no need,” Turing said. “Engaging U-Mode.”

There was a mechanical whirr as a panel opened on her forehead and a metallic horn spiraled out. A moment later, it began to glow with magical energy and the contents of the bin were levitated out as Turing separated out the components into clusters that somewhat resembled the meals that they’d once been part of.

“Waldorf salad remnants identified; now isolating,” Turing said, pulling them out and piling them back on the plate. “My apologies, but that is what you were looking for, correct?”

“Indeed,” he said, smiling. “Quite a handy trick there, Turing Test! Now, assuming that this is what made West Walnut so sick, I’d like to test this. Do you know if any of the symposium guests have the necessary equipment?”

“In fact, I am the necessary equipment,” Turing said. She peered closely at the Waldorf salad on the plate and her eyes began to glow brightly. “Scanning… scanning…” There was a ding, and she said, “Spectrographic analysis complete.”

“Another good trick!” Dupon exclaimed. “Though is the chime really necessary?”

“Ponies seem to expect it.”

“Hm. And what can you tell us about it?”

“The chime?”

“No, the salad,” he huffed.

“Understood. It contains celery, grapes, apples, walnuts, and mayonnaise.”

Dupon frowned.

“...And a small amount of an unknown organic substance in the latex family.” Turing raised her head. “It is toxic.”

He smirked. “As I suspected.”

“Do you believe that—”

“Before I say more,” he said, holding up a hoof, “I’d like to remove all doubt. Come, Turing, let’s go.”

“Please clarify: go where?”

“To the bathroom.”

Turing tilted her head. “You are welcome to go by yourself, but as I lack an excretory system, that will not be necessary for me.”

Dupon rolled his eyes and beckoned for her to follow.

They soon arrived at the entrance to the stallion’s restroom. Dupon went inside.

Then, a moment later, he poked his head back out. “Er… Minister? Aren’t you coming?”

“Ah… while I realize that I am a robot, I am still female, and it is against social protocol for a lady to enter the gentlecolt’s lavatory. Perhaps it would be best if—”

“Minister, this is police business and you’ve been deputized,” Dupon sighed.

Turing shuffled on her hooves. “Ah, but… that is…”

Dupon shook his head. “Turing… it’s all right, just this once,” he told her gently. “And if you’re worried about your reputation, I assure you, I will not tell any of your friends or colleagues about this.”

“...Very well,” she said. She drew herself up and followed him inside.

Once inside, their hooves echoed on the hard marble floor. The ornate sinks and broad mirrors greeted them, as did several open stalls.

Dupon looked around and saw no way in or out save for the entrance: no windows, no oversized ventilation shafts, and certainly no holes in the wall that a pony could squeeze through.

“If West Walnut came in here, then he could not have left without being seen,” he surmised. “That only strengthens his alibi. Now, then, Turing Test, perhaps we should—”

“Oh my! What are these curious devices on the wall?”

Dupon turned and noticed that Turing was staring intently at the ‘devices’ in question: the urinals.

“Are they some kind of fountain? If so, then my scans indicate they require cleaning. I detect significant amounts of… Oh.” Her pupils shrank. “I believe I have discovered their function.”

Dupon managed to suppress a laugh. “You really are a lady, aren’t you, Minister?”

“My friend Rarity would never forgive me if I acted otherwise while living in Canterlot,” she said, raising her head with apparent pride.

“Well, if you’ve satisfied your curiosity, then could you please examine the stalls here and perform another scan?”

“Understood,” she said.

A moment - and another ding! - later, they had their answer:

“The surface of this commode has traces of digestive fluid on its rim. Additionally there is particulate matter from the Waldorf salad. It is highly probable that this is where West Walnut went when he became nauseous.”

“And did you also find—”

“Traces of the toxin matching the salad?” she asked, her LED eye mimicking a wink. “Affirmative.”

Dupon chuckled. “Then I think we should talk to the kitchen staff once again, and then pay one of our suspects a visit…”

The hotel room door opened and they were once again greeted by a familiar face.

“Well, well, well,” Rio Grand said as she leaned up against the doorframe. “Back so soon? Not that I mind the company, of course.”

“We are dreadfully sorry to bother you, Miss Rio,” Dupon said, “but would you mind if we asked you a few follow-up questions?”

Rio Grand raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Turing Test.

“It is very important,” Turing assured her. “I do not anticipate that we will require much of your time.”

She sighed. “Well, I was about to turn in, but I guess I could have some late night company,” she said. “All right, come on in.”

They entered the little room once again as Rio sat herself down on her bed. “Please try to keep this short, though, huh?” she said, rubbing her neck tiredly.

“We’ll do our best,” Dupon said. “Actually, we neglected to ask you about something else that happened earlier this evening. When West Walnut became ill—”

“Who?” Rio asked.

“The earth pony stallion you followed out of the ballroom shortly before the power surge,” Turing clarified.

“Oh, that old guy?” she asked. Then her eyes widened. “Wait, that was the West Walnut? The guy who owns all those big stores?”

“Affirmative.”

She blinked. “Huh.”

“Something on your mind, Miss?” Dupon asked.

Rio shook her head. “No, sorry,” she said. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“You chased after him when he ran from the room,” Dupon said. “We wanted to know why.”

“Well, he seemed pretty sick,” she said. “I wanted to make sure he was all right.”

“I believe that to be true,” Turing said. “However, he had two guards with him, Mr. Kato and Ms. May Day. Why did you feel that it was necessary to assist him?”

“What, can’t a lady be concerned for somepony else these days without it being suspicious?” she asked.

Dupon narrowed his eyes. “And after you checked on him and saw that he was in good hooves, you returned to your seat?”

“Yeah, that’s right!” she said.

“In fact, Rio Grand, that is not right.” Turing shook her head. “Kato and May Day both stated that you flew in the opposite direction of the ballroom. Later, during the blackout, Gadget bumped into what she believed to be a pegasus mare - most likely you - in the hallway. However, I did not see you return to the ballroom or when I went to investigate the noise outside. In fact, I did not see you until after the body of Beacon Bomber was discovered. You were one of the very last to arrive with the rest of the crowd before Neighstrad declared it a crime scene.”

She slowly trotted around her bed and then leaned in behind her.

“Can you please explain your whereabouts during that time?”

Rio’s calm expression wavered. She began to sweat, and she scratched her neck, squirming uncomfortably.

“I mean, things were all going to Hades in a hay cart, Minister,” she laughed. “I’m not sure I remember exactly.”

“Then perhaps we can help remind you,” Dupon said. “You see, Chef White Heat incidentally mentioned that he took his cooking seriously, as expected, and ignored every ‘crazy fangirl’ that barged into his kitchen. I thought nothing of it at the time, but when I described your appearance to him, he immediately told me that you were in his kitchen before the start of dinner service. You were apparently zipping around, asking everypony about this and that, what they were making and for who, and so on before he finally threw you out.”

“And that was when one of the waiters noted that you lingered noticeably near one of the appetizers. A plate of Waldorf salad.”

Rio became very quiet.

“Strangely, White Heat then mentioned that you returned after the dinner service had started,” Dupon continued. “You were apparently yelling nonsensically at the waiter who’d brought somepony the wrong dish. Quite out of character for a calm, collected pony like you, isn’t it?”

Rio shook her head. “Look, I don’t know what this is about, but—”

“That is another lie,” Turing said.

She winced. “No, see, what I meant was—”

“Miss Rio,” Dupon said gently, “perhaps you should just listen. We said we wouldn’t take much of your time, so allow us to simplify things: you poisoned West Walnut.”

“No! I—”

“Ah, but that wasn’t your intent, was it?” Dupon asked. He shook his head. “No, your intended target was Mr. Vanderbull. You pretended to be an excitable fangirl of White Heat’s just so you could figure out which dish was intended for him. Then you poisoned his food. However, what you didn’t count on was that Vanderbull, a long-time Manehattanite, prefers his Waldorf salad the original way it was prepared at the Waldorf-Wysteria Hotel: that is, without walnuts. The waiter didn’t know that either, and so when Vanderbull refused the salad, it was instead consumed by West Walnut.”

He shook his head sadly. “And you felt so guilty about poisoning an innocent that you impulsively went after him to make certain he was all right. I commend you on your ethics in that case, but if you hadn’t done so and then berated the waiter, we might not have suspected you.”

Rio swallowed. “N-now hold on!” she stammered. “That’s all a bunch of… of hearsay and speculation and… hooey!”

“Incorrect,” Turing said. “Levels of hooey are at 0%.”

Rio glared back at her. “What do you mean?!”

“We discovered traces of a toxic form of latex in the Waldorf salad and West Walnut’s vomit. The substance is milky white in color and visually blended in with the mayonnaise contained in the salad. Such toxic substances are produced by certain plants contained in my database… including the sap of cacti such as the pencil milk bush found in numerous desert regions of Equestria, including Neigh Mexicolt.”

“That doesn’t prove that I put it there!” she cried.

“No,” Dupon said, suddenly seizing the back of her blue bandana and pulling on it roughly. “But this does.”

The knot of the bandana came undone. Rio Grand scrambled for it, but not before both Dupon and Turing saw her uncovered neck.

It was red and mottled with a small rash.

“Inspector Dupon and I both noted that your neck appeared to be irritated,” Turing said. “You scratched at it several times during our interrogation without removing your bandana. We concluded that you smuggled small pieces of the cactus within it…”

“...and judging by this small pouch you’ve sewn into it,” Dupon said, holding it up, “that is just the case.”

“My scans confirm the presence of the same toxin on that bandana. That confirms that you were in possession of it. You had the means, motive, and opportunity to commit the crime.”

Dupon gave her an approving nod.

“Well, Miss Rio?” he asked. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Rio Grand swallowed. “I… I…”

She slumped where she sat on the bed. Then, quite unexpectedly, she began to chuckle.

“Damn,” she sighed. “You know, I didn’t mean to hurt that old bull. It was a weak poison. I just wanted him to be too busy being nauseous to get in the way of my presentation. I could show everypony how great it would be to have that hydroelectric dam in Neigh Mexicolt, get everypony on my side while he was puking his guts out, and finally force him to let us use the land. And also spoil his plans to make even more money by hob-nobbing with all the scientists at the symposium, but that was just a bonus.”

Turing Test shook her head. “You say that, but toxins are often unpredictable,” she said. “You could have caused Mr. Vanderbull great harm.”

“I know, I know, I was just desperate and—”

“Miss Rio,” Dupon said, “we already have your confession. Perhaps it would be best if you saved any further explanation for later.”

“I…” She swallowed. Then she put on a mirthless smile. “I guess Rio Grand is ‘going up the river,’ huh?”

Dupon returned the same sad smile. “I’m afraid so,” he said.

Her lip quivered, and she began to cry. “...Say, uh… is it too late to ask for a fancy lawyer now?” she asked, laughing in spite of herself as she wiped away tears.

“No, but at this point, I suggest any attorney you hire to focus on a suitable plea bargain,” Dupon said.

He drew himself up.

“Rio Grand, you are under arrest for the attempted poisoning of Cornelius Vanderbull and the unintentional poisoning of West Walnut. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

Turing placed a metal hoof on Rio’s shoulder. “Despite your right to silence,” Turing said, “if there is anything you can tell us regarding Beacon Bomber’s death…?”

Rio shook her head. “Sorry, Minister,” she said. “I meant what I said. I had nothing to do with your murder case. After I checked in on West Walnut and yelled at the waiter, the lights went out. I was flying back to the ballroom when I ran into Miss Gadget. I was freaking out at that point and just hid in the hotel rafters. When I saw you, Vanderbull, and then everypony else clear out of the ballroom, I flew back in there, tossed the poisoned salad in the nearest trash can, and then flew out where you all were. But that’s all I know.”

“If that is the case, then we have successfully solved your crime, but made no progress toward our primary objective?”

“Looks like you both missed the main course, huh? As for me… I’m just the leftovers.”

Turing and Dupon were making their way back down the steps of the hotel when Neighstrad came around the corner and met them halfway.

“Chief Inspector!” Dupon said. “We’ve had a breakthrough!”

“You mean you found the murderer?!” Neighstrad cried.

“Negative,” Turing said. “We have yet to discern who murdered Beacon Bomber. However, we have successfully proven that it was Rio Grand who poisoned West Walnut.”

“Ah… well, that’s too bad,” Neighstrad sighed.

“With respect, Chief Inspector,” Dupon said, “poisoning is still quite a serious crime. I’m certain we will have similar success once we solve the murder case. We simply require more time.”

“That’s just it,” Neighstrad sighed. “You don’t have any more time.”

Turing gave a start, her eyes contracting. “Chief Inspector, do you mean—”

“A small boat from the mainland just arrived with a few backup officers and the medical examiner,” he said. “Sorry, Minister, but if you don’t have a different murder suspect for me, then I’m afraid Miss Gadget will be coming with us…”

To be continued…

Author's Note

Enjoying the story? Just a reminder, comments (and guesses in spoiler text) are appreciated!

13. Lost the Plot

“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.

14. Killer Instinct

“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. :heart:

15. Shot Through the Heart (And You're to Blame)

Turing ran outside when she nearly ran into Inspector Dupon, who was slowly making his way around the perimeter of the hotel.

She skidded to a halt, stopping just short of him, her metal hooves scratching grooves into the stone tiles of the front walkway.

He looked up in surprise, raising the brim of his hat.

“Oh, good evening, Turing!” he said. “And what are you doing out here? Perhaps you couldn’t sleep? Ah, no, of course not, you do not require sleep, do you?”

“In fact, I do not.”

“Well, did you hear that White Heat was preparing some treats for the symposium attendees? He reasoned many of them might still be hungry, since we never got a proper dinner. I’m certain your friends and fiancée might enjoy a midnight snack.”

“It would be more accurate to call them ‘eleven PM snacks,’ but more to the point, I am actually here for a different reason.”

Dupon looked her over. A smile slowly spread across his face. “You’ve had a breakthrough, haven’t you?” he asked. “A sudden flash of - dare I say - inspiration?”

Turing nodded. “It would appear so.”

He chuckled. “As it so happens, so have I,” he said. “A little ‘itch’ I just had to scratch, as it were.”

“Then perhaps we may continue our investigation together?”

“Indeed so,” he said. He swept his foreleg in a circular motion. “For starters, I’ll tell you what I am doing here. You see—”

“You are looking for the letter.”

He gave a start. “Oh… yes, precisely!”

“That is why I came here as well. I have a hypothesis that may explain everything we have discovered so far, but we are missing a notable piece of evidence.”

“Yes, I realized it myself,” Dupon said. “It occurred to me after I returned to my room: Why did Beacon Bomber have his letter opener out in the first place? The most obvious answer is likely the correct one: because he had a letter to open.”

“Affirmative. But we did not discover a letter on his body. Therefore it was either taken—”

“—Or we simply haven’t found it yet,” Dupon surmised. “Quite right! I have searched the perimeter of the hotel attempting to find it, but to no avail. It is possible that I’ll need to widen the search to the whole island, or else the letter may have been carried on the wind into the sea - though the wind is rather calm tonight, so that seems unlikely - or, perhaps we should stop thinking like earth ponies and start thinking like the victim would have: like a pegasus.”

He pointed upward toward the roof.

“Understood,” Turing said. “Please step back, Dupon.”

“Pardon? Well, if you say so.”

Once he was a small distance away, Turing spread her legs as she cast her eyes up at the roof. “Engaging P-Mode.”

There was a whirring sound as a panel opened on her back. This was followed by a rapid series of clacks as the blade-like feathers of her artificial wings slid out on either side of her torso. Once they locked in place, Dupon felt the wind kick up around the area as the miniature jets in her wings came to life. They gave a roar as she leaped into the air and took off in flight.

“My my,” he muttered as he held his hat in place. “You really are full of surprises, Minister.”

He wasn’t sure if even Turing could hear him over the sound of her own jets, but she began to slowly encircle the building, making wide banking turns as she gradually gained elevation. As she climbed, Dupon noticed that several ponies inside had pressed their faces to the windows and were watching Turing as she flew, no doubt drawn by the noise. After a few more circuits around the hotel, she slowed her engines, braking slightly before setting down at the top ridge of the roof. Her wings slid back into her body and she cautiously made her way down the sloping tiles.

“Aerial scan complete!” she called down to Dupon. “I believe I have located the target.”

She reached an area of the roof where it met the pointed outcropping of one of the windows on the top floor. As she approached the corner, she stared closely at the edge of the roof near the window.

“Inspector Dupon,” she called down, “I have made a discovery: there is a small amount of blood on the edge of this outcropping, as well as hairs matching the color of Beacon Bomber’s coat. Furthermore, the gutter here is dented. The corner by the window likely made impact with his cranium and the broad side of the gutter with the rest of his body, making it the cause of his more blunt trauma. Therefore, this is the most probable point of impact where he collided with the hotel in mid-flight.”

“That does corroborate Dr. Mallard’s findings,” he called back up. “Beacon Bomber must have crashed there, tumbled backward, and then crashed upon the ground here in front of the hotel.”

He looked back and spotted the chalk outline where they’d discovered the body. In his mind, he could almost visualize the trajectory of Beacon Bomber’s crash and subsequent fall.

“One moment,” Turing called, and she began to sift through the gutter. A moment later, she held up something in her hoof. It was rectangular and dirty but still recognizable in an instant.

It was an envelope. And it was still sealed.

“Bravo, Turing Test!” Dupon exclaimed. “Now, come down here! It cannot be safe for you to be up there.”

“Understood. But there is no need to worry. I have excellent balance and the probability of me losing my footing is extremely low.”

Then they heard a crack.

“...Ah. However, perhaps when Mr. Vanderbull renovated the hotel, he neglected to reinforce the aging roof. Considering my significant mass, perhaps I should—”

There was a thunderous clatter of splintering wood as Turing plunged through the roof in a cloud of dust and tiles that went flying in every direction.

“Oh dear,” Dupon muttered to himself and immediately rushed back inside the hotel.

Maud Pie was sitting at her hotel desk reading a copy of Stones of the Neighlish Isles. She’d been so absorbed in it that she hadn’t even noticed the sight of her fiancée rocketing around the hotel outside.

She was about to check out the centerfold of the strata of the Shetland Highlands, but then she heaved a sigh and set the magazine aside.

“I wish Turing were back here,” she muttered.

That was when she heard a cracking sound above her. A moment later, Turing crashed through her ceiling and landed on the bed.

Maud slowly raised her head. “Thank you, God.”

A moment later, Dupon, Vanderbull, Gadget, and a few of the staff and police officers all rushed in.

“Turing!” Gadget cried. “Are you all right?”

“I am unharmed if my system diagnostics are to be believed,” Turing said, getting up from the bed. “Also, hello, Maud Pie.”

“Hey,” Maud said.

“Well, that’s all well and good, Turing,” Vanderbull said, as he cast his eyes up at the hole in the ceiling. “But would you mind telling me what in blazes you’ve done to my hotel?!”

“Apologies, Mr. Vanderbull,” she said, giving him an apologetic bow. “I will be glad to compensate you for the damage personally.”

“That’s… no, it’s not the expense,” he said. “But what could have been so important that you were traipsing about on the roof?”

Turing held up the envelope.

“Ah, good,” Dupon said, taking the envelope from her. “I’m glad to see both you and the document are in one piece.”

Dupon gently unsealed the envelope with his hoof. It was sealed quite tightly and he was beginning to see why Beacon Bomber had carried the letter opener.

“Er, this may be a confidential document. Perhaps if everypony else could give us some privacy?”

Everypony left, save for Maud Pie.

“Maud Pie, perhaps you should depart as well?”

“Why? It’s my hotel room,” she said with a shrug and gestured up at the hole in the roof. “And now it has a new skylight.”

“Maud Pie…”

“All right, fine,” she sighed, getting up from her chair. “If you need me, I’ll get a snack from White Heat. I hope it’s better than that napkin I ate earlier.”

Dupon watched her go. “Er… did she say ‘napkin’ just now?”

“Do not ask,” Turing said.

The two of them drew out the letter and began to read.

“Hmm,” Dupon said. “This certainly is interesting… but I cannot see how it has any bearing on our case.”

Turing lowered her head. “I can,” she said quietly.

Dupon looked at her with concern. “Turing Test?” he asked. “Is everything all right?”

“I need to check to confirm something,” she said. “But I am already certain of what I will find. And once I have, then I believe we will have solved the case. You see…”

Dupon listened as she explained. Gradually his expression darkened.

“My my. Quite a sordid mess, is it not?”

“Affirmative.”

“If you are correct, then we must reveal our findings. I apologize, but—”

“No,” Turing said as she drew herself up. “I swore to abide by our findings at the start of this investigation. And that is what I will do.”

Outside the hotel, a crowd had gathered to watch as the police prepared to depart. Neighstrad supervised as Beacon Bomber’s body was placed in a bodybag and wheeled out on a cart. Sea Dweller followed close behind, her eyes somehow dry, though her pained expression revealed that she was only barely holding her tears back.

She followed them as though she were part of a funeral procession.

Just behind the body, a few officers escorted Rio Grand outside as well. Her head was lowered as she shuffled along, forelegs in cuffs and wings bound to her sides, though she raised her head briefly to scowl at Vanderbull as they passed by him.

“One moment, officers,” Vanderbull said, stepping forward.

“Oh, you want to get your licks in?” Rio scoffed. “I’ll pass.”

“No, I…” He paused, looking down at Gadget, who was at his side. “I wanted to let you know that I will be reaching out to Al-buck-querque after we return to the mainland. I intend to discuss an agreement that will allow the construction of the Elephant Butte dam.”

Rio gawked. “W-what?! Are you serious?”

“I am indeed,” Vanderbull said. Then he folded his arms. “Lest you get the wrong idea, it has nothing to do with your attempted stunt tonight. If nothing else, your constant pestering made me more resolved to deny your petitions out of pure spite. However, my assistant convinced me that I was being, er… ‘bull-headed,’ so to speak. I let pride and profit margins blind me, and I am glad she was able to give me clarity of vision.”

Rio glanced at Gadget, who smiled back sheepishly.

“How about that?” she laughed. “Well, Vanderbull, you’re lucky to have her.”

“I am,” Vanderbull said smugly. “And under the circumstances, I intend to ask the prosecutors to give you the minimum sentence.”

“I don’t!” shouted West Walnut from the nearby crowd. “I’ll tell ‘em to throw the whole book at her!”

“Then perhaps we’ll have to delay our negotiations about keeping your freight fees on my trains at their current discount,” Vanderbull said, polishing his nails on his jacket.

West Walnut winced. “Er, w-well, now, no need to be too hasty about things…”

Rio smirked. She leaned toward Gadget. “Your boss ain’t such a bad guy after all, is he?” she whispered.

“No,” Gadget whispered back. “He’s really not. And by the way, now that I know you tried to poison him, I just want you to know…”

Her expression turned icy.

“...that you’re lucky the police got to you before I did.”

Rio chuckled nervously. “Heh heh… okay, duly noted! Hey, come on, officers, that cell ain’t gonna fill itself, let’s go!”

It was then that Turing Test and Dupon exited the hotel, swiftly moving through the crowd of onlookers.

“There you are, Dupon!” Neighstrad barked. “Come on, now, it’s time to head back.”

“Actually, Chief Inspector, Minister Turing Test and I have something to announce,” he said. “You see—”

“We have discovered the identity of the killer on the island,” Turing said.

The police all looked at each other in confusion as the crowd began murmuring.

“What are you on about?” Neighstrad demanded. “We already heard what Dr. Mallard had to say! There is no murderer!”

“Yes, that’s right!” Sea Dweller cried. “The police told me that Beacon died of cardiac arrest! Are you saying that’s not true?”

Turing shook her head. “Negative. Dr. Mallard’s findings are accurate.”

“But if Beacon Bomber wasn’t murdered, then what killer are you talking about?!”

Turing lowered her head.

“You, Sea Dweller.”

Sea Dweller stared back at her. Everypony around them went silent, and for a moment there was no sound but the lapping of waves at the shores of the island in the darkness all around them.

Her jaw worked up and down several times as she gawked at Turing. Then angry tears began to spill down her cheeks. “How dare you,” she breathed. Then she gritted her teeth and stomped over to her. She abruptly smacked her across the faceplate, producing a loud metallic clang.

“How dare you?!” she screamed, as the police hurriedly restrained her. “Beacon Bomber was my best friend! We grew up together! I loved him like he was family! And after all this time you wasted, you think I would ever hurt him?! I would never! I did not murder him!”

“That is correct,” Turing said. “I am referring to something different.”

Sea Dweller froze for a moment. “Th-that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Uh, I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with her, Minister,” Neighstrad said, coming over to her. “No disrespect, but are you sure you aren’t tired or— oh, wait, you’re a robot, so uh… are you sure you aren’t, er, ‘malfunctioning’ or something?”

“There is no mistake,” Dupon said. “In truth, I found Sea Dweller to be suspicious from the beginning. When we interviewed her, I asked if she knew why we were there, and she replied, ‘You’re here to investigate Beacon’s murder. You’re here to try to find his real killer.’ And later she promised her eternal gratitude to Minister Turing if we could find said killer.”

Neighstrad blinked. “And…?”

“We already had Gadget in custody on the basis that her invention was what produced the power surge,” Dupon explained. “And yet Sea Dweller seemed perfectly confident that Gadget was not the ‘real’ killer. And while it could have been a simple quirk of her phrasing, the other possibility was that she knew that the prevailing theory was flawed.”

Neighstrad furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow.”

“Gadget was accused because it was believed that she caused the power outage to provide an excuse for her to leave the ballroom and to commit the murder under cover of darkness. As far as anypony knew, that was the most reasonable hypothesis. But Sea Dweller acted as though she knew Gadget was innocent. And the only way she could have known that is if she knew that Gadget did not cause the power outage.”

“And she could only know that,” Dupon continued as he stepped up alongside Turing Test, “if she knew who did cause it.”

Sea Dweller stared back at them both. “That’s… I just assumed, since you were investigating the matter that maybe you had some other evidence—”

“There is more,” Turing went on. “Your invention is an underwater probe designed for salvage. To demonstrate its effectiveness, you had a large aquarium with a metallic object prepared. A metallic model boat, specifically. This was to be your presentation, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Sea Dweller said.

“And when were you scheduled to present?”

“I was supposed to be the third presentation,” she said and rolled her eyes. “I thought you were supposed to have a perfect memory.”

“That is correct. But since you have confirmed to everyone here that you also knew that, I must ask you: why was the tank not filled?”

“W-what?! What do you mean?”

“If you were going third,” Dupon explained, “then you had less than 20 minutes from the start of the event to fill the aquarium tank you had requested to demonstrate your aquatic probe, and that would barely have been enough time to do so before your presentation. But you hadn’t even begun to fill it as the symposium started. You never even requested a hose to fill it yourself. Not so much as a bucket! Which is peculiar, is it not? Could it be that you already knew that the symposium would end prematurely before your turn, perhaps due to some sudden disaster, and subconsciously decided not to bother filling it?”

Sea Dweller swallowed. “No! I just forgot about it! I was still upset after my argument with Turing Test and then with West Walnut! I was distracted, that’s all!”

Neighstrad furrowed his brow. “Hmm, that may be, Miss,” he said. To Dupon and Turing he said, “Is that all you have?”

Turing shook her head. “No, Chief Inspector. But before I continue, I wish to ask a question: Mr. Vanderbull?”

Vanderbull gave a start at the sudden mention of his name. “Er, yes, Turing?”

“Do you have the time?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, one moment,” he said, and took out his pocket watch. “Let’s see… ah, yes, it is 11:26 on the dot.”

Turing shook her head. “That is incorrect, Mr. Vanderbull. It is 11:21.”

Vanderbull gave her a puzzled look. “Turing, I hate to argue, but this watch is a Patek-Filly. It is one of the finest watches in Equestria, and I am quite meticulous about keeping the time.”

“Precisely.” She turned back to Neighstrad. “Mr. Vanderbull is the head of the largest railroad company in Equestria. And one of the most important aspects of that is making certain that the trains run on time. I have always known him to value precision. Earlier tonight, in fact, he consulted his watch and declared that there were exactly 12 minutes until the start of the symposium, which was accurate. So, when he later commented that the clock in his room was incorrect, I initially assumed that he was merely providing an excuse to get out of an emotionally compromising situation when Gadget took him to task for his greedy actions in Neigh Mexicolt.”

Rio Grand snickered.

“You didn’t need to tell everypony here that, Turing Test,” Vanderbull grumbled.

“Apologies. But to continue, when I heard the grandfather clock in the hallway strike 11 o’clock, I reevaluated my earlier assumption. Mr. Vanderbull would require all clocks in the hotel to be accurate, as evidenced by the grandfather clock. I therefore realized that perhaps Mr. Vanderbull’s watch was in actuality running too quickly. That appears to be the case, assuming my internal chronometer is still functioning correctly. Which it is, of course.”

Dupon took out his watch. “And my timepiece is 3 minutes too slow.”

Several other ponies nearby took out their watches as well and each noticed that the time was, in fact, wrong. A few even had watches that had stopped entirely.

“Right, right, that’s very strange, Minister,” Neighstrad said impatiently, “but what’s it got to do with this case?”

“Everything,” Turing said, turning her attention back to Sea Dweller. “Her invention is a probe designed to aid in the recovery of underwater salvage… including metal. For that reason, the aquatic probe was equipped with powerful electromagnets. Inspector Dupon and I checked the probe and confirmed this, and we discovered that the power capacity of the probe was in excess of what was necessary to operate the magnets safely.”

Dupon nodded. “We all initially thought that the power outage was the result of a power surge created by one of the inventions, Miss Gadget’s being the primary candidate. However, while a power surge would have caused the blackout and damaged the lights, it would not have affected everypony’s watches. But, as Minister Turing has been educating me, there is something that could have caused both.”

“An electromagnetic pulse,” Turing said. “Also known as an EMP.”

“A what now?” Neighstrad asked. And then he noticed that Sea Dweller had broken out into a cold sweat.

“As many of the scientists and inventors here can tell you, an electromagnetic pulse is a large burst of electromagnetic energy. It can cause damage to and severely disrupt electronic systems and devices, particularly when electrified. Sea Dweller purposely overcharged her probe and activated it using a remote control she kept under her table in the ballroom. The probe overloaded the magnets, and this produced an EMP.”

“So, she’s the one who created the blackout?” Neighstrad asked.

“Correct,” Dupon said. “This also damaged the other inventions that were connected to the power grid, by the way, which explains why neither Gadget nor West Walnut’s inventions were functional, but Rio Grand’s was unaffected. Furthermore, it magnetized the hairsprings of the watches of almost everypony in the ballroom, but it had no effect on the hotel’s grandfather clock, since it operates by use of a pendulum rather than spring power. It’s the only thing that can explain all of these phenomena at the same time!”

“So, she did it so she - or an accomplice - could murder Beacon Bomber under cover of darkness?”

“For the last time, I didn’t murder Beacon!” Sea Dweller shrieked.

“She is telling the truth,” Turing said. “We were all mistaken when we assumed the blackout was meant to conceal a crime or provide a distraction. Her actual purpose was completely different.”

She stared back at Sea Dweller and shook her head.

“She meant to kill me.”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Dupon waited for Turing to continue, but when she did not, he spoke up.

“Turing Test, as we all know, is a machine. And when she took the stage, she was very close to Sea Dweller’s probe. It was directly behind her, in fact, and thus she would have been at the epicenter of the blast. Sea Dweller intended for the pulse to wreak havoc on her systems and scramble her processors. Had she been successful, this could indeed have killed her.”

All eyes fell on Sea Dweller, who was trembling with rage. Then, quite suddenly, her expression twisted up into a rictus-like grin. A harsh laugh escaped her.

“...You can’t really ‘kill’ something that was never really alive, you know.” Her laughter grew. “This symposium was the perfect opportunity: an event where I knew right where you’d be, Turing Test, and I could bring any device I wanted. Even if the EMP were traced back to me, I figured I could always say it was an accident. But either way, we’d finally be rid of you, and the ponies of Equestria could elect a real pony to be her replacement on Celestia’s Royal Council. Not some machine.”

Dupon frowned. “Even if she is a machine, Turing Test is an Equestrian citizen with all the rights that entails and a government official to boot. Madame, no matter how you view it, the fact remains that your plot was to commit a murder.”

If Sea Dweller registered that, it didn’t show. Instead, she merely continued to laugh and shake her head. But then she grew sullen. She glared at Turing, gritting her teeth. “You can’t imagine the shock I felt, seeing you up on the stage, all the lights out except for your freakish eyes glowing in the dark. I just don’t understand how you’re still functioning, you pile of scrap.”

“Ooh, ooh, I can explain that!” Gadget exclaimed. “Turing was first discovered in Ponyville after she was struck by lightning, and then Mr. Vanderbull and I fixed her. I didn’t want that to happen to her again, so a few months later, I equipped her with an internal Faraday cage. Mu metal lining, isolating her electronics, that sort of thing. She’s virtually shock proof, and that also protects her from damage by electromagnetism!” She puffed out her chest with pride.

“My thanks again for saving my life, Gadget,” Turing said, bowing to her. To Sea Dweller, she said, “While my shock resistance is not widely known, it is not something I have intentionally kept secret. Perhaps if you had taken more time to know me personally, you would have been aware of it.”

Sea Dweller grimaced. “So,” she sighed, “I guess that’s it. Well, fine, Minister… you win again, it seems. But as I don’t think of you as alive, this doesn’t make me a killer. And I don’t regret what I’ve done.”

Dupon frowned. “That’s only because you haven’t heard the whole story,” he said. From his coat, he drew out the letter they’d discovered and held it aloft.

Turing raised her head and turned to face Dupon.

“No,” she whispered. “Dupon… we cannot tell them…”

Dupon shook his head sadly. “The truth will come out at the autopsy,” he whispered back. “We both swore that we would abide by our findings. And I cannot shirk my oath to uphold justice. But if you wish, I will tell them myself. You do not have to—”

“No,” Turing said firmly. “Forgive me, Dupon. You are correct. And I knew when I renewed our investigation where this might lead. I will take on the responsibility.” She took the letter from him.

Dupon nodded slowly. “Very good, Turing Test,” he said. “But I will be here to assist you.”

“Apologies,” Turing said, turning back to face them. “As Dupon indicated, there is a final part to our findings. We determined that Beacon Bomber’s possession of a letter opener logically indicated that he had likely been carrying a letter that needed opening. We located this letter and I can confirm that the writing matches that of the letter he sent to Sea Dweller. The ‘letter’ he was carrying was in reality a speech he intended to deliver to the symposium.

“In this speech, he intended to discuss the medical procedure that he believed would re-enable him to return to flying regularly. He intended to thank the Ministry of Technology - and me specifically - for the medical advancements in Equestria that led him to reclaiming his life and, he hoped, his livelihood in Search and Rescue. I believe this is what he meant at our first meeting where he expressed his gratitude for ‘me and mine.’ He would then reveal what this procedure was: the surgical implantation of a device designed to regulate his heart rate.

“This device is known as a pacemaker. It is a relatively new invention in Equestria. It functions by stimulating the heart with low-energy electric charges produced by a small battery. This is how he was able to treat his arrhythmia.”

Sea Dweller blinked uncomprehendingly for a few moments when she suddenly froze. Her jaw moved up and down a few times as the truth dawned on her.

“Wait… an electrical device? That means…”

“Correct,” Turing test said quietly, lowering her head. “Beacon Bomber was approaching this location and, realizing he was already running late, he likely removed his speech and letter opener from his pockets in his haste, intending to open the envelope in mid-flight. But as he neared the hotel, the EMP radiated outward. Even outside the building, the strength of the electromagnetism was sufficient enough to cause damage to his pacemaker, which caused it to malfunction. This led to his heart receiving an abnormally large shock, inducing cardiac arrest.

“At this point, he lost control of his flight and crashed into the hotel, injuring himself and forcing him to drop the envelope containing his speech. After that, he fell backward, likely still clutching the letter opener. When he fell to the ground, the force of the impact drove the knife into his chest. He remained facedown until Gadget tripped over his body, turning it over and causing it to look as though it were facing upward instead and also dislodging the blade from his chest.”

The color had drained from Sea Dweller’s face. Her knees went weak and her legs buckled. “No,” she whimpered. “Oh no, please, don’t,” she whimpered, “don’t tell me…”

“I am afraid it is the truth,” Turing said, and placed a hoof on Sea Dweller’s shoulder even as she recoiled in horror. “The EMP you created caused his pacemaker to malfunction, and that is what caused his cardiac arrest.

“I am so sorry. It was not ‘murder,’ Sea Dweller. But you are the one who killed him.”

Sea Dweller fell to her knees and let out an unearthly sound of grief, her face contorted in a mask of anguish as she began to call out Beacon Bomber’s name again and again.

Before anyone could react, she suddenly sprang to her hooves and rushed over to Beacon’s body, throwing herself over it as she wailed, begging for his forgiveness.

Even though she knew he would never be able to give it to her.

The crowd began to disperse after watching the scene unfold, and gradually they went back inside the hotel. Neighstrad shook his head sadly as he watched the other officers lead Sea Dweller away, followed by Rio Grand.

“We’ll get her back under control and read her the Rights to Silence, and then book her,” Neighstrad said to Dupon and Turing. “It’s a sad state of affairs, but she brought it on herself. Good work, Dupon.”

“Thank you, Chief Inspector,” Dupon said. “However, the real credit should go to Turing Test. I have to admit that she is the one who truly solved the case in the end.”

“Really? Well… it’s a good thing I didn’t give my presentation, I suppose,” he chuckled. “Well, you’ve done us a service, Minister. Trotland Yard thanks you for your help.”

“...Gratitude acknowledged,” Turing said quietly.

And without another word, she turned and began to walk away.

As she moved back toward the hotel, she noticed West Walnut standing nearby, Kato and May Day flanking him. Despite his haggard appearance, he wore a broad, unmistakably satisfied grin.

“In contrast with this tragic circumstance, you seem pleased with the results,” she remarked. “Am I correct in guessing that you are happy to see both your poisoner and one of your fiercest opponents in police custody?”

“Well, I won’t pop any champagne bottles to celebrate it, but I’d be lying to say otherwise, Minister,” he chuckled.

“I would not be so content, West Walnut,” she said, and suddenly leaned in close enough to cause his bodyguards to momentarily bristle. “This investigation has revealed some very concerning business practices on your part. I intend to bring this up at the next meeting of the Royal Council, including the Minister of Labor and Princess Celestia. Her Majesty does not look favorably on such things, and you may expect her to take action.”

West Walnut’s smile vanished in an instant. In fact, he began to look as though he might be sick again.

“Have a pleasant rest of your evening, West Walnut!” she added in a voice that was almost cloyingly sweet.

She heard him call after her, but he broke into a coughing fit, and she continued inside without a single glance back.

Once she was back in the foyer, she watched as ponies milled about. Some were conversing about what had just happened, others were retrieving their food from the kitchen, and others were simply returning to their rooms to retire for the evening.

“Minister, a moment, please!” she heard Dupon call.

“Inspector Dupon?” she asked, giving a tilt of her head. “Are you not preparing to depart with the police?”

“Well, I believe I can file my report back in Trottingham in the morning,” he said. “And since it is late, and it really is such a lovely island, I thought I might at least enjoy the rest of my stay here. Plus, ah,” he chuckled, “selfish as this may sound, I decided I didn’t want to miss the breakfast White Heat will be serving tomorrow morning. And again, despite this evening’s tragic turn of events, I do hope you will reschedule the symposium for the near future.”

Turing nodded. “Of course,” she said.

“And since I’m still here, I suppose now I can congratulate you on winning our little contest. It seems a machine really can do the job of a detective. Or at least, you’ve proven that it is possible.”

“Perhaps,” she replied. “However, I am uncertain that I have proven your hypothesis to be false. To clarify, I experienced something unexpected and spontaneous. Though I had no definitive proof, I was able to put forth a conjecture based on a strange supposition that resulted from no particular cognitive process that I could identify.”

Dupon looked at her uncertainly for a moment. Then his eyes widened and he broke into a smile. “My word! Turing Test, you mean you had a hunch!”

She nodded. “And without the need to imitate a gargoyle. Or the famous keeper of bells, Trotsymodo. Or his replacement who had a similar deformity, but had no forelegs and thus performed his work using his cranium.”

“I am not familiar with that last one,” Dupon said, furrowing his brow.

“You would likely recognize him. I have heard that his face rings a bell.”

Dupon smacked his face with his hoof and laughed in spite of himself. “Oh that is terrible, Minister!”

There was a similar smattering of laughter as some ponies nearby laughed at something one of them said. She scanned the main hall and spotted Maud Pie speaking with Gadget and Vanderbull as they each munched on some miniature sandwiches from a platter.

“Dupon,” she asked quietly, “were our actions correct? That is, did we ‘do the right thing?’”

“Hm?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

She said nothing for a moment, but then faced him and continued. “When I had my ‘hunch,’ I realized the potential consequences of taking action. Had I done nothing, no further harm would have been done, and Sea Dweller would not be facing prison and the guilt of causing the death of her best friend.”

Dupon nodded. “True,” he said. “I see you pity her, then.”

“I do,” she replied. “It seems my earlier assertion that I would not feel pity for the killer was incorrect. And I wonder if my actions were justified.” She paused and then added, “She was not a bad pony. She was merely angry.”

“I can understand,” Dupon replied. “And now perhaps you can understand why I say that I do sometimes pity the perpetrators I catch. As I said, very few individuals are truly, irredeemably evil.

“But to your question of whether we did the ‘right thing,’ I’d like you to consider this: you were distressed - disgusted, you said - at the apparent murder of Beacon Bomber. You later expressed concern at the grief his death caused.”

“Affirmative,” she said. “Sea Dweller’s grief.”

“Yes, yes, but he had friends, perhaps family, no doubt others back in Filly Hawk who loved him and will now miss him, yes? Those ponies deserve to know the whole truth and to judge for themselves how to feel about things. And as for your own situation…”

He pointed a hoof. She followed and her eyes were led once more to where Maud, Gadget, and Mr. Vanderbull were still speaking.

“Perhaps you do not blame Sea Dweller for what she tried to do to you,” he said. “And that proves what a good person you are to have such compassion for the one who tried to extinguish your life. But Sea Dweller’s actions would not have only harmed you if she had been successful, Turing. Think of who else would have been harmed. Gadget and Vanderbull would have lost their friend, Maud Pie her fiancée, and Twilight Sparkle and your father would have lost a daughter. Your loved ones would have grieved your loss. And, having spent the last several hours with you, I can say that the world is better for having you in it. Sea Dweller acted knowing full well that you were loved and would be mourned and chose to do so regardless.

“In spite of everything, I believe you still think of yourself as lesser than organic ponies. Perhaps you feel that you will never truly measure up. You even place the happiness of Sea Dweller above your own life. But your friends love you, Turing Test. Honor their love and recognize that you are worthy of it.”

Turing’s ears twitched as she watched Maud and the others. Gadget saw her and waved to her, a bright smile on her face.

“Dupon,” she muttered, and turned back to face him. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, and patted her on the shoulder. “Now, I am going to get a bite to eat and relax in my room, but should you and Maud require a new space to rest - considering the damage done to your own room - Neighstrad says that you may use his. Until tomorrow, Turing Test!”

She nodded, her eyes smiling. “Until the next mystery, Inspector Dupon.”

Maud Pie wore a small smile as she snuggled in closer to Turing, her limbs draped across her metal body as the two of them lay on their bed.

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Could you increase your heat output a little, Turing? I’m cold.”

“Of course, Maud Pie,” Turing replied, and boosted her power ever so slightly to the warming coils she’d had installed on her interior. “Is that satisfactory?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, nuzzling her metallic cheek.

“...It may be prudent to mention once more that you may be more comfortable in a different room, Maud Pie. One less susceptible to the suboptimal temperatures resulting from this room’s exposure to the outside elements?”

Maud cracked open one eye and stared through the massive hole in their ceiling over the bed.

“No,” Maud said. “I like sleeping under the stars.”

“Are you certain? I remind you that Chief Inspector Neighstrad offered us his room, and it is now vacant and perfectly usable—”

“You need a mute button,” Maud said, placing a hoof over her ‘mouth.’

“...Well… if you are content, Maud Pie, then I will not pursue this matter further.”

Maud smirked. Then, after a pause, she planted a kiss against her faceplate.

“Ah, you are very affectionate tonight,” Turing said.

“Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize, Maud Pie. I am happy when you are happy. I was merely making an observation.”

They were both quiet then, watching as a smokey gray cloud drifted lazily in front of the moon, dimming its light.

“You could have died tonight,” Maud said.

“Affirmative. But I did not.”

“No.” She shifted her weight, propping herself up to better look Turing in the eye. “I know you worry sometimes about me. You say that you worry because I’m fragile. Because I’m not made of metal like you.”

“Correct,” Turing said, “though I have apologized for such remarks. You are, of course, very strong and very resilient for an organic pony. I have only expressed such things out of unfounded worries. You… are so very precious to me, Maud Pie.”

Maud smiled and kissed her once more.

“I guess I know how you feel now,” she said, her calm, even voice betraying just a hint of worry. “When I heard what Sea Dweller was planning, I realized two things.”

“And what were they, Maud Pie?”

“First, I really wanted to find the biggest rock on the island and squish her with it.”

“Maud Pie!”

“Sorry, I know it’s wrong,” she said. “That’s no way to treat a perfectly nice rock.”

“...Maud Pie.”

“And second, um… I thought about how awful it would have been if she hadn’t been really bad at murder. And how much I’d miss you. And how much I care.”

She drew in a breath.

“Let’s set a date.”

Turing looked at her. “We have dates often, Maud Pie.”

“No. I mean a date for the wedding. Let’s get married. This year.”

Turing sat straight up, her eyes contracting. “Maud Pie… you always said you wanted to wait for a more opportune time.”

“Waiting for the best time feels like we’re just wasting time,” she said. “So… let’s not waste more time than we need to.”

Turing wrapped her forelegs around her, squeezing her as tight as she could without damaging her soft, squishy organs.

“Oh… oh, I love you, Maudalina Daisy Pie!”

“And I love you, Turing Nomiddlename Test. Now let’s go back to looking at the stars.”

Turing nodded, and turned back up toward the sky…

…only now they saw that several more clouds had swept over the night sky. And the wind was starting to pick up.

“Maud Pie, perhaps we should move.”

“No.”

“But the weather appears to be changing rapidly.”

“No.”

“Maud Pie, I believe there may be a chance of—”

There was a flash and the crack of thunder and suddenly a torrent of rain came down from the sky through the hole in the roof, drenching them both.

“...Fine,” Maud said, “we can move.”

“Ah,” Turing said. “It is a dark and stormy night.”

THE END

Author's Note

Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please leave a like and a comment - I always love receiving feedback and communicating with my readers! :heart: (Oh, and don't forget to use spoiler tags if you're discussing the story's solution, please.)

This story was suggested by Mind Jack back in September 2023, and I hope I can be forgiven for taking this long to get around to it, but I hope I did his suggestion justice.

Illustrations, once more, were by my good buddy Greenfinger.

Dedicated to the bros, who helped me re-discover my creative voice and get back into the mindset necessary to complete this work.

Thanks for joining, Junior Detectives! See you next time!

Oh, and if you are curious, I’ve got one last References List for ya!