Flawless Execution
By Volcash
Octavia was in her home, submitting herself to her daily practice regimen on her cello. She had a concert in just a couple of weeks, and needed to iron the kinks out of a finicky solo. The slate gray earth pony stood on her hind legs, using the cello for support as she held it upright, in perfect balance. She then thrust the bow back and forth across the strings with her ankle. Just as she focused on the delicate melody on the page in front of her, a knock sounded at the door. Octavia gently set down her instrument and trotted over to see who it was. She opened the door to reveal another gray mare staring back at her, and simultaneously the window to her left.
“Hey Octavia,” Derpy greeted. “I have a letter for you!” She then stuffed her head into her messenger bag and came out grasping a small envelope between her teeth. Octavia accepted it gratefully and went back into her house.
She was about to toss the letter on the table and return to her cello when she noticed the seal, a black circle with the initials BB. She immediately found her letter opener and sliced the envelope open with her nimble cellist hooves.
Dear Lucky Sweepstakes Winner,
Congratulations! You were selected from the subjects of all of Blackball’s newspaper articles to attend his annual murder mystery party on Friday, Mayne 13th. You and one friend will get to spend a night at Blackball’s private estate with Equestria’s #1 talent critic himself. You will also enjoy a gourmet three-course meal, and partake in a delightful murder mystery game, where you and the other guests will take on various characters and investigate a fictitious murder. Dress is black tie formal. Included are two round-trip train tickets to Las Pegasus, where Blackball will meet you and take you to his mansion. Blackball looks forward to seeing you.
From,
The Equestria Times, Equestria’s #1 newspaper.
Octavia loosened the pink bowtie around her neck, as if it were suddenly suffocating her, then turned her attention back to the letter. She stared at the words in front of her for a moment longer, just to make sure she read them correctly. She would have a chance to meet Blackball, the big talent critic that everypony listened to, the one that set her career back by years at least. She would have a chance to convince him to change his mind.
Hoofsteps echoed down the stairs as Vinyl Scratch entered the scene. “Hey Tavi, did my package get here?” she asked, but immediately replaced it with a follow up question, “What’s that?”
Octavia turned away in an effort to hide the letter from her wife’s view. “Oh this? It’s nothing.”
“Oh, come on. Let me see.” Vinyl persisted. Her horn glowed pearl white, as did the piece of paper in Octavia’s hooves. The paper then flew towards the deejay and unfolded itself before her ruby-red eyes. “Ooh, a party. Sounds like fun.”
“I don’t think this is exactly your idea of a party. It sounds a little stiff for your taste.”
“I’ll be fine, Tavi. Besides, when have I ever turned down free food?”
“Alright, Vinyl. If you really want to, you can be my plus one.”
“Awesome! Now, did my package come?”
“No, sorry.” Vinyl retreated to her room. Then Octavia picked up her cello, and continued making her sweet music.
In a small cottage on the outskirts of Ponyville, a red earth pony stallion was monologuing, in preparation for a big audition later that week. When he received the letter, he was in complete awe.
“Finally,” he exclaimed, “A chance to give that idiot Blackball a piece of my mind.” He briefly pondered whom to take as his plus one, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a brown stallion was enjoying a hot cup of afternoon tea, like he did every day, when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw that it was his friend Curtain Call. He picked up the phone to figure out what his actor friend wanted.
“Hello Curtain Call,” the brown stallion greeted, a hint of a Braytish accent present.
“Hey Doctor, are you free next weekend?” Curtain Call asked.
“I believe so, why?”
“I got invited to go down to Las Pegasus with one guest to party with Blackball.”
“Blackball? Why would you want to see him after what he said about your show in the papers?”
“I thought I could take this opportunity to show him what I can really do. Either way, it’s a murder mystery party, which does sound like fun.”
“I guess. Why not? I’ll join you.”
“Great. We’ll get together next Friday and go to the train station. See you then.”
Doctor Whooves hung up the phone, and trotted over to the opposite wall of the room, where his calendar hung, outlining his schedule for the month. He marked the 13th, and returned to his steamy herbal tea.
That day Derpy delivered the same letter to one more destination. She knocked on the door and was greeted by none other than Bonbon, who had just finished making a batch of candy.
“Hey Bonbon,” the cross-eyed mailmare chimed. “Can you give this letter to Lyra?”
“Sure thing Derpy. Would you like a bonbon?” The gray pegasus’s mouth watered in anticipation of Bonbon’s offer. Her lips shot out into a big toothy grin as she nodded her head vigorously. Bonbon held out a piece of chocolate, which Derpy gleefully gobbled up, before flying off to her next delivery.
“Lyra!” the beige pony called out, “Letter for you from… The Equestria Times?”
Lyra walked up and wrapped the letter in the green magical aura that was emanating from her horn. “Hmm… What could that be about?” She skimmed the letter’s contents and scowled.
“What is it, sweetie?” Bonbon asked.
“It’s an invitation to a party. With Blackball.”
“Isn’t he that critic who wrote that terrible article about you when you came out of the stable about our relationship?”
“Don’t remind me. I lost every one of my old regular gigs because of him. I’m pretty sure Octavia plays all of them now. If I never see Blackball again, it will be too soon.”
Bonbon skimmed the invitation. “A murder mystery party? That sounds interesting. And you can take a guest? I definitely think we should go.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t want to talk to Blackball.”
“Aww, c’mon Lyra. It’ll be fun. Who knows what kind of classy ponies we might run into there.”
“I just don’t think you’ll have a good time. Seeing Blackball is probably gonna put me in a pretty bad mood.”
“Any night I’m with you I’ll have a good time.”
Lyra was simultaneously touched by Bonbon’s last comment, and disgusted by the thought of meeting Blackball again. “Alright, we’ll go.”
Bonbon pecked her wife on the cheek. “I can’t wait.”
In a small apartment in Manehattan, a blue unicorn stallion slumped over his desk, staring at a blank music score, almost ready to tear his sunny auburn hair out.
All of the notes are there, Alvin, the stallion thought to himself. You just have to put them in the right order.
There came a knock at the door, and a white envelope slipped through the mail slot. When Alvin picked it up, he noticed the seal, the black circle with the initials BB. His horn emitted a blue light, which smothered the envelope, forced it open, and drew the paper out. He read the letter, and grimaced at the mention of the critic’s name, flashing back to his horrible review in The Equestria Times three months ago, when Blackball insulted his music. He hadn’t created anything truly great since. Anger welled up inside of him, and inspiration struck! He picked up his quill and titled the blank sheet music on his desk:
Vengeance, by Alvin Del Signo.
That Friday, six ponies dressed in their best clothes for the party, arrived the Ponyville Train Station two at a time, where the train waited to whisk them away to Las Pegasus. Octavia and Lyra had brought their instruments, just in case they could get some alone time with Blackball. The six of them entered a private car, where Alvin was already waiting inside, scribbling notes onto sheet music.
As the city faded into the horizon, the party guests began to make conversation. Doctor Whooves and Curtain Call walked over to Lyra and Bonbon. Curtain Call wore a fancy tuxedo, and Doctor a more modest brown tweed jacket.
“Hello Lyra. Fancy meeting you here,” the brown stallion greeted.
“Doctor? How’d you get invited to this?”
“I’m Curtain Call’s plus one. Curtain Call, this is my friend Lyra Heartstrings.”
The actor’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve met.”
“Why have I never heard of this?”
“I think we’ve both been making efforts to suppress those memories.”
“What happened?”
Lyra decided to weigh in. “We dated for a while in college, until I caught him cheating on me.”
“I wasn’t on a date with her, she was my cousin!”
“Like I haven’t heard that before. I saw you kiss her!”
“On the cheek!”
Doctor Whooves noticed Octavia and Vinyl, and called them over in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “Well, look who it is. Octavia, you got invited too?”
Curtain Call’s annoyed expression morphed into full disgust at the sight of the slate-gray earth pony. “Ugh, you’re here too?”
Octavia rolled her eyes. “Are you still blaming me for that?”
The Doctor immediately regretted his decision. “Oh dear.”
Vinyl lifted her glasses to get a good look at the red stallion. “Tavi, do you know this guy?”
“Yes, we met once on Broadneigh last year.”
Curtain Call elaborated on Octavia’s brief statement. “I played the title role in the Stallion of the Opera. She was playing in the orchestra. It was the biggest performance of my life. But during my big solo number, a certain cellist missed her cue, causing me to miss mine. Normally, I would just brush something like this off, but who was in the audience? Blackball. He saw that one mistake, and trashed the show. So who takes the fall for it? The lead actor. I haven’t gotten a job since. You ruined my career Octavia!”
“Well maybe if you didn’t micromanage the entire production, and just focused on your own performance, you wouldn’t have let somepony else’s mistake trip you up.”
“I was not micromanaging!”
“You got in everypony’s face whenever anypony did anything wrong. If that’s not micromanaging, I don’t know what is.”
“Well excuse me for wanting a good show. Maybe I didn’t micromanage enough, because Blackball hated it!”
“Well.” Doctor Whooves cut in. “I can tell tonight should be rather fun.”
“Yes.” Curtain Call agreed. “Too bad the murder is only fictitious.”
Vinyl was taken aback by the actor’s morbid statement. “Wow. The tension out here is heavier than the bass I drop at my club.”
“And you are…”
“Vinyl Scratch. I’m Octavia’s wife.”
“Wife? Why am I not surprised?”
Octavia saw where this was going, and walked away to avoid the imminent homophobic tirade. “I don’t have to take this from you. If you need me, I’ll be on the other side of the car. Come on, Vinyl.”
The two mares reached the other end of the car, where Alvin sat looking out at the Equestrian landscape by himself.
Octavia noticed the composer’s Cutie mark: a symbol in music notation made up of a crooked S, a slanted line intersecting it, and one dot on each side, known as a Del Signo.
“You’re Alvin Del Signo, aren’t you?” the cellist inquired.
“The one and only.”
“I’m very familiar with your work.”
“Thank you. It’s always nice to meet a fan.”
“Oh, I’m not a fan. I’m just… familiar with your work.”
Vinyl sighed, and walked away without a word.
“Are you implying that you don’t like my music?”
“I’m stating it outright.”
“Do you think you could do better?”
“I think a bowl of rice could do better.”
After a few more minutes of various bickering amongst the party guests, they broke off with their plus ones for some conversation that they could actually enjoy, except for Alvin, who sat alone writing music.
The train rolled to a stop at Las Pegasus, and the seven guests filed out into the station, where a long carriage awaited. Six bulky stallions were hitched up to the front of the carriage, and a white unicorn stallion greeted them from the reins. It was Blackball, the most influential talent critic in all of Equestria. They saw the blonde mane and cool blue eyes that appeared in the newspapers every week. The disapproving stare that ruined the careers of the four invitees was now molded into a much warmer expression.
“Hello everypony!” he called out from the front of the carriage. “The party awaits." The seven ponies climbed into the carriage, and the stallions galloped down the streets of Las Pegasus.
Moments later the carriage reached the outskirts of the city, and arrived at Blackball's private estate, a small cape containing a large mansion, surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs leading down to the ocean. The team of stallions stopped at a long brick fence on the east side, stretching the entire length of the cape. Blackball hopped off of the carriage and dialed a combination into a keypad, causing the heavy iron gate to swing open. Blackball escorted the seven partygoers into the house. They entered the grand hall, with doors on either side leading to the north and south wings, and a large red carpeted staircase leading up to the second floor. Their gracious host led them upstairs to seven individual rooms where they set their things, and unwound for a few minutes.
One by one, the seven guests came downstairs and entered the dining hall. It was full of a wide variety of fancy decorations. The walls were covered with several framed portraits, the vast majority of which were of the host himself. Underneath the ornate crystal chandelier was the dinner table, where eight plates were set out, piled with the first course, rather strong smelling garlic bread.
Everypony took a seat at the table. Blackball emerged from the adjoining room, carrying eight sheets of paper and eight manila envelopes in his magic aura, which he distributed among the guests and himself. The papers were maps of the house, and the envelopes contained instructions for the murder mystery game.
The white stallion took his seat at the head of the table, and outlined the group’s itinerary for the night. “Alright everypony. After our meal, we will begin the game. We will all portray the characters described in the envelopes in front of us, and go through the house looking for clues to solve the murder scenario, also in our envelopes. You all have been given maps of the house to help you navigate.”
Octavia looked over and noticed Vinyl shoveling the garlic bread into her mouth whole slices at a time. “Vinyl, for Pete’s sake, would you slow down?”
“Sheesh, Tavi! Would it kill you to lighten up?”
Just then, a light twang sounded from far off, and an arrow whizzed through the air, straight into Blackball’s head.
Everypony gasped as the critic’s forehead caved in, crimson blood ran down his neck, and his body slumped back in his chair.
The seven ponies stared at Blackball's lifeless body for a few moments, mouths hanging open in stunned silence. Vinyl's horn glowed white, and then a slice of garlic bread lifted off of Blackball's plate, and flew into Vinyl's mouth.
"Vinyl!" Octavia snapped. "Blackball just died, and all you can think about is his food?"
"Well, you never really liked him, and I've never met him before."
"Why yes," Alvin sneered. "You did rather hate him, maybe even enough to kill him!"
"You're saying that like I'm the only one here who hated Blackball."
Doctor Whooves walked over to the white stallion's body, and noticed a scroll wrapped around the shaft of the arrow. “Look, everypony. The killer left a note!” He took the piece of paper off of the arrow, unrolled it on the table, and read it aloud:
Dear Blackball,
Thanks for inviting me to your party. The food is to die for.
-Red Herring
“Red Herring? Who could that be?” Octavia asked. Everypony turned to the red stallion to the left of the critic’s corpse.
“Me? You’re accusing me just because my coat is red? That’s ridiculous! I didn’t do it!” the appalled earth pony exclaimed.
Lyra squinted. “Why should we believe you? Your special talent is basically lying.” She pointed out Curtain Call's cutie mark: a mask twisted into an agonizing frown, the Tragedy Mask, one of the universal signs of the theatre.
“That alias would be so obvious. Do you seriously think I’m that stupid?”
A sly grin crept into the corners of the green unicorn’s mouth. “Well you are trying to make a career in acting.”
Curtain Call decided it was best to ignore Lyra’s last comment. “You and Octavia had just as much motive to kill Blackball as I did.”
“But as I recall, you said on the train coming here that you wished somepony going to this party would get murdered.”
The red stallion grabbed his map and stormed off. “Buck this! If anypony needs me, I’ll be in the theater.”
As soon as he left, Lyra spoke up. “Quick poll, does anypony actually believe that Curtain Call didn’t do it?” The five other live ponies shook their heads. “Just checking.”
A thought popped into Octavia's head. "Should we really let him go around the house alone?"
"What do you mean?" Her wife inquired.
"If he really did kill Blackball, who's to say he's not off planning something else? It's not like Blackball was the only pony at this party that Curtain Call didn't like."
Doctor Whooves adjusted his bright red bowtie. “Alright, then. You, Vinyl, and Alvin go to the theater and make sure he's actually there. Lyra, Bonbon, and I will look around here for evidence.”
Octavia, Vinyl, and Alvin arrived at Blackball's personal theater, with rows upon rows of red seats, matching the stage curtains perfectly. The stage at the front of the theater was very large, and painted jet black, the apron melting seamlessly into the black walls of the room.
Curtain Call was standing on stage as promised. "Here to apologize, I presume?" the velvet red stallion asked.
"No," Alvin replied, "we're just making sure you're actually here, and not plotting to off somepony else."
"How many times do I have to say it? I didn't kill Blackball! Why would I? Even if I did kill him, that wouldn’t erase what he said about me. That wouldn’t magically fix my life."
“By that logic, nopony at this party has any motive for killing him.” Octavia reasoned.
“And another thing, why me? I’m not the only pony here who doesn’t like him. Why do you only accuse me?”
"You obviously have a very large grudge against Blackball, everypony else has gotten over it."
"Gotten over it? You haven't gotten over it. You're just bottling it up. You and I both know it's eating you up inside. To have one thing you were born to do, and to know you can't do it ever again. To have your cutie mark be a constant reminder that you're a failure. You don't just get over your life being ruined."
"My life isn't ruined, because I refuse to let other ponies' opinions rule me. That's where we're different."
"First you end my career, then you accuse me of murder, and now you're trying to tell me how to run my life? Would you just find somepony else's life to wreck?"
Octavia turned to walk away. "Every time I try to talk to you, I end up regretting it!" Octavia, Vinyl, and Alvin left the theater, and the door slammed shut, leaving Curtain Call to himself. At least, until somepony entered through the backstage door and hid out in the stage left wings.
Curtain Call stood center stage, and vented his rage the only way he knew how: through monologues.
“After Lyra caught me cheating on her, she left me, and I realized just how much I loved my other fillyfriend, Soliloquy, ” the scarlet pony began. “But my Broadneigh career took off, and she struggled to make ends meet. Eventually, she had to go back to live with her parents in Seaddle, and I had to stay in Manehattan. We tried to maintain a long-distance relationship, but it didn’t last long. Without Soliloquy, the theatre was all I had. That is, until Octavia came into my life. And she took that away from me too. When Blackball wrote that review of my show, my career went into a tailspin. My entire life was devoted to earning this one stallion’s stamp of approval, but he only devoted seconds to crushing my dreams. All I wanted was one chance to change his mind. I finally had that chance, and he up and dies. Now his words are permanently etched in the newspapers, and they can’t be erased. Red Herring didn’t just kill the most influential talent critic in Equestria; Red Herring killed my career. I can never do the thing I was born to do ever again, thanks to one pony that I don’t even know. And to add insult to injury, everypony thinks that I killed him! Sure I hated him for what he did, but I would never resort to murder. That wouldn’t solve anything. I hope you’re happy Red Herring, whoever the hell you are! Blackball is dead, and with him, my only chance of ever being happy again.”
The mysterious pony called out to Curtain Call. “Wow. That monologue was…killer.”
The actor sighed and looked away. “For the last time, I didn’t kill him.”
The other pony walked behind him. “I know.”
Curtain Call’s eyes widened as he noticed a rope pass over them, and down to his neck. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t say anything beyond that, as there was now a gag in his mouth.
The mysterious pony trotted back to the wings. Curtain Call tried to follow, but he felt the rope tightening around his neck, constricting his airways. He inspected closer, and noticed that the rope was in fact a noose, leading up to a pulley on the ceiling. The end of the rope was tied to a large sandbag, with a second rope attaching it to a second pulley. He followed the second rope down to the ground, where it was firmly tied to the floor offstage left. Standing next to the second rope was a pony, hidden in the shadows. The only thing visible was a glittering knife held up to the rope.
He fumbled with the noose, desperately trying to get it off, but it kept slipping through his clammy, unskilled hooves. When Curtain Call dated Lyra in his days at Muleiard Performing Arts Academy, he constantly listened to her ramble on and on about the mythology of humans. He had always thought her obsession was ridiculous, but at that moment there was nothing he wouldn’t have given for a pair of hands.
“That was a great last performance,” Red Herring mused. “Too bad nopony else got to see it.”
Curtain Call's cheeks puffed up as a series of incoherent slurs attempted to pass through his lips. Sweat poured down his face as he pawed the gag with his hooves, trying futilely to get it out of his mouth.
"Well, I think I've had my fun," the pony offstage decided, bringing the knife ever closer to the rope.
The terrified stallion got on his hind knees, and put his front hooves together. He could have either been pleading for mercy, or praying to Celestia.
“I guess this is…curtains for you.” The shady figure offstage began to cut the rope.
Just before the rope snapped, Curtain Call let out a scream at the top of his lungs. The few muffled sound waves that escaped rushed through the room at over seven hundred miles per hour, desperately trying to flee from the theater, and reach the rest of the house. But alas, they simply bounced off of the walls, and eventually were absorbed by the red velvet curtains, the red upholstered seats, or the red pony hanging from the ceiling by his neck. Curtain Call attempted another scream, but no sound escaped, as the noose was crushing his windpipe. He flailed his legs wildly as his lungs screamed for air. Then his vision blacked out, he stopped kicking, and his body went limp.
The pony standing below him admired their handiwork, “And, scene.” The murderer then exited the theater and rejoined the group on the other side of the house.
Back in the dining hall, Doctor Whooves examined the letter left by the murderer while everypony else was scattered all over the room, looking for anything that could be a clue. “This hoofwriting is good enough that I could see it done by a unicorn, albeit a rather sloppy unicorn,” the brown stallion stated. “But it’s not so good that a careful earth pony couldn’t manage it. I think the note is a dead end.”
Vinyl called out from across the room, “Hey everypony, I think I found something!”
The five other ponies in the room rushed to see what she was looking at. On a high shelf near the ceiling was a black metal crossbow, hooked up to a kitchen timer. The crossbow was empty, and the timer was set to zero. “Looks like we have our weapon.”
Vinyl lifted it off of the shelf with her magic, and Alvin used a spell to scan its surface.
“No hair, no DNA, no nothing. Whoever this Red Herring is, he or she was very thorough covering their tracks,” the blue composer said downheartedly.
“I think the only way we could get a lead is to check everypony’s luggage,” Doctor suggested. “Let’s go upstairs to the rooms.”
As everypony else trotted up the stairs, Octavia tapped Alvin on the shoulder. “Can I ask you something really quickly?”
“What is it?”
“I auditioned for your philharmonic last month, and I was wondering why I wasn’t accepted.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Octavia. I play the cello.”
“Ah, yes. Octavia. I remember you.”
“What was it about my playing that you didn’t like?”
“Well…” Alvin began awkwardly, “There wasn’t anything in particular wrong with your playing. I just don’t think you have the image that I’m looking for.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your plus one…”
“What about Vinyl? Wait a minute, are you saying that you didn’t accept me just because I like mares instead of stallions?”
“I wasn’t going to say it quite that bluntly, but yes.”
“How dare you?”
“Don’t take it too ponially. Mrs. Heartstrings auditioned for my orchestra as well, and was denied for the same reason.”
Just then, the floor buckled under Alvin. The cobalt blue composer let out a deafening wail as the floor fell apart entirely, sending him crashing into the shadowy maw of the basement.
“Oh sweet Celestia! Don’t worry, Alvin. I’ll go get help.” The gray cellist galloped up the stairs, almost tripping on her dress several times. “Everypony, Alvin fell through the floor! We need to get down to the basement now!” The four other ponies bolted out of the guest rooms and followed her down the stairs.
“Which way to the basement?” Vinyl asked.
Lyra’s horn glowed bright green, and her map unfurled before her eyes. “I think there’s a stairwell behind the house that goes down there.”
The five party guests raced through the twists and turns of the critic’s mansion, and headed out back. Eventually they found the stairs leading into the dark basement, and descended into its depths. When they reached the bottom, Vinyl used her magic to turn on the light.
An old, naked bulb flickered on, showering the room in dim light, and revealed the critic's basement, in an extreme state of disrepair. There was a thick layer of dust over everything in the room, and cobwebs hung from the rafters supporting the dingy ceiling over their heads, which just a moment ago had been the polished hardwood floor under their hooves. They crossed back to the other side of the house, where a large column of light shone down from a gaping hole in the ceiling, illuminating the distinct figure of a pony. The group walked over to it, but it remained motionless. Upon closer inspection, they found that it was in fact Alvin, but he was dead. Multiple conductors’ batons had been thrust through the composer’s neck, his tuxedo shirt was torn open, and a symbol was carved into his chest, still dripping with blood. Sliced into his skin was a crooked letter S, with a straight line going through it, and a small circle on either side.
Bonbon was appalled by the gory sight. “What is that?”
“It’s music notation,” Octavia stated. “It’s called a Del Signo.”
They rolled over his body, and noticed that his cutie mark matched the carving on his chest almost perfectly. They also noticed a note left by the killer. Vinyl grabbed it in her magic aura and read it to everypony.
Del Signo, Al: Finé.
-Red Herring
“And look who isn’t here.” Doctor Whooves observed. Everypony looked around and noticed that a certain red stallion was missing. “He said he was going to the theater, so we just need to go there. If he isn’t there, we’ll have all the proof we need.”
Everypony ran to the theater, and stormed inside, yelling for Curtain Call to show himself. There was no answer. They walked up to the stage and noticed it was empty.
“Well everypony, I believe we have our Red Herring,” The cocoa brown stallion deduced.
Vinyl looked up to the rafters. “Uhh…guys? I think you might want to hold off on the celebration.”
Everypony looked up to see what Vinyl was staring at. Curtain Call’s lifeless body dangled by a noose hanging from the ceiling, counterbalanced by a large sandbag on the floor just offstage. Attached to his leg, was another note. Lyra pulled it down with her magic and told everypony what it said:
Funny thing about Red Herrings, they tend to lead you to false conclusions.
-Red Herring
“Forget finding who did it!” Vinyl shrieked. “We need to get the buck out of here!”
Everypony ran back to the main hall, then up the stairs to their rooms. They hectically tossed their things back into their saddlebags and sprinted out of the house. They crossed the estate and arrived at the gate.
Doctor Whooves tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. "It's locked." The brown stallion sighed.
Bonbon charged at the gate and banged at the doors with her hooves. "Somepony help," She screamed. "Let me out of here! This place is a bucking mad house!"
Doctor Whooves attempted to calm Bonbon down, "Bonbon, it's no use. We’re miles away from Las Pegasus, nopony lives anywhere near here."
"Can't Lyra and Vinyl open the doors with their magic?"
"It wouldn't work. The gate is locked, and it must be three inches thick. It would take a unicorn of Twilight's caliber to move that much heavy metal.”
The frenzied mare stood on her hind legs and put her hooves on the red brick wall. “Maybe we can get over it.”
“It must be at least fifteen hooves high! I don’t even think Lebronco James could jump this wall.”
“Maybe… maybe we could…”
Doctor looked deep into Bonbon’s frightened blue eyes. “Bonbon. We’re trapped.”
Everypony looked around at each other nervously, as any one of these once friendly faces could in fact be a bloodthirsty murderer, hell bent on ending their lives.
The five nervous survivors began hiking across the wooded fields of Blackball’s estate back to the mansion as a storm set in. Raindrops fell from the sky, soaking into the partygoers’ expensive clothes. But a little mud on their dresses couldn't have concerned them less.
Bonbon trembled furiously, only partly because of the cold water seeping into the deepest recesses of her body. "Lyra, I'm scared! Curtain Call was our only lead, Red Herring could be anypony."
"Everything's going to be fine, Bonbon. In fact, I think I know who did it."
"Really?"
"Yes. I still need a little more evidence, but I don't trust Octavia."
"You think Octavia's the one killing everypony?"
"Without a doubt, She was the only one with Alvin right before he died.” She eyed the gray cellist, who was saying something to Vinyl. “And remember, you didn’t hear a thing."
They finally approached the mansion. There was a crack of lightning as they rushed inside.
Bonbon started hyperventilating as soon as the door shut behind them. “What do we do now? We’re stuck in a house with a psychotic murderer, and we don’t even know who it is!”
Lyra put a foreleg over her wife’s shoulder. “It’s alright honey. The bedrooms lock from the inside. We can all just go to our rooms, lock the doors, and try to figure something out in the morning.”
They all walked upstairs to the guest rooms, went inside, and locked their doors. Doctor Whooves folded up his jacket and removed his bowtie, placing them neatly next to his saddlebags. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes, even though he knew sleep wouldn't come to him. He listened closely and heard the faint strumming of lyre strings in the room next to him. Apparently Lyra couldn't sleep either. He focused on the gentle lullaby from the green unicorn's instrument, and the tension from the night began to slowly lift away.
There was a knock on one of the doors, and Lyra’s music stopped suddenly. The door opened shortly after, and an earsplitting shriek came from her room.
Vinyl, Bonbon, and Doctor Whooves all charged into Lyra’s room, but it was empty, save for the lyrist’s messy bed, and her lyre thrown on the floor, missing one string. The window was open, and on the sill was a golden mannequin hand, clutching that one string. The group moved in closer, to see the string running out the window, and down to the bloody neck of the green unicorn, riddled with garrote wounds. Another note was attached to her horn, which Vinyl took off and read:
You can never trust a Lyre.
-Red Herring
Vinyl and Doctor pulled her limp body back through the window and out of the rain, as Bonbon broke into tears, barely able to stay upright.
She bolted over to her dead wife, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, “I’ll find who did this to you… and I’ll make them pay!” The bawling beige pony mustered up the courage to stand and looked around. “Notice somepony missing?”
Doctor and Vinyl scanned the room, and saw a distinct lack of cellists.
The deejay’s eyes widened as the situation dawned on her. “No… there has to be some other explanation! She would never…”
Doctor Whooves cut her off. “There’s only one way to find out.” They crossed the hall into Octavia’s room. It was unlocked, but entirely empty. Her saddlebags and cello case were both gone. “I think we have our answer.”
Bonbon’s sadness turned into blinding rage. “We have to find her. And when we do, I’m going to tear her limb from limb!” She sprinted down the upstairs hallway, Vinyl and Doctor Whooves in tow.
The brown earth pony tried to reason with her. “Now, Bonbon, I know you’re upset, but you have to stay calm if we’re going to find her.”
“You shut up! She killed Lyra! I will have my revenge!” She barreled down the stairs and escaped from their view.
Vinyl and Doctor reached the bottom of the stairs and called out to the psychotic candy maker. “Bonbon, get back here. We have to stay together, or she’ll kill all of us!”
Then all of a sudden, Bonbon crashed into Vinyl’s side, sending both of them to the ground in a heap. The creamy earth pony then sat on Vinyl’s chest, pinning her down, and grasped a large steak knife in between her hooves, bringing it up to the deejay’s throat.
“Show yourself Octavia!” Bonbon yelled. “Or Vinyl gets it!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Vinyl shrieked. Her horn glowed white, and Bonbon flew across the room, slamming into the wall on the other side. “Bonbon, just drop the knife.” She took a defensive stance and her horn sparked again. “I’m not afraid to use this.”
“The only way to get leverage on Octavia is to have something she wants, and I can’t think of anything she wants more.” She placed the knife into her teeth and sneered at the mare opposite her. Bonbon’s eye started to twitch as she took a step toward Vinyl.
“Seriously Bonbon, you’re cruising for a bruising. You don’t want to mess with me. Just drop the knife, and calm the buck down.” Bonbon walked towards Vinyl, still clutching the knife between her teeth. “Come any closer and I’ll kick your flank!”
Doctor Whooves stepped in between them and held his hooves out. “Ladies, please! Be reasonable. This is just what Octavia wants. She knows she can’t take us all at once; she wants to split us up! If you kill each other, you’re just doing her job for her!”
There was a loud thump, and then another, and another as a large black mass tumbled down the stairs. It landed at their hooves with a large crash, and they identified it as Octavia’s cello case. Vinyl’s horn lit up white, the latches on the case flipped open, and the lid hinged up. It contained the lifeless body of the case’s owner, her face a deep shade of blue, and yet another note from the murderer:
Sorry, it wasn’t her either. Care to guess again?
-Red Herring
“Tavi!” Vinyl yelled in agony, pulling her wife’s dead body out of the cello case, and hugging it as tight as physically possible. Octavia would probably have suffocated if she weren’t already dead.
Doctor placed a reassuring hoof on the deejay’s shoulder as tears streamed down her face. “We’re going to find who did this, and everything is going to be alright.”
“Wait a minute…” Vinyl thought. “Everypony but us is dead. My wife is dead, Bonbon’s wife is dead.”
“If you’re implying that I’m the one killing everypony, then I am frankly quite offended.”
Vinyl lowered her glasses, and looked Doctor in the eyes. “Can you think of any other explanations?”
Bonbon charged at Doctor Whooves and tackled him to the ground. “You monster!”
“Would you give me thirty seconds to make my case before you assault me with a steak knife?”
“You’ve got fifteen.”
“Now, let’s be reasonable and think about this for a moment,” The levelheaded stallion began. “All three of us are here. Octavia’s cello case didn’t push itself down the stairs.”
“How do we know that you didn’t set it on a timer like the crossbow?”
“I was with the rest of you ever since Lyra died. I believe the more logical theory is that the murderer faked his or her own death so he or she could sneak around the house alone.”
Vinyl squinted, and then placed her shades back on her face. “Fine, we’ll go around the house and find all of the corpses, but I’ve got my eye on you. And for Celestia’s sake, Bonbon, will you put the knife back in the kitchen?”
The three paranoid ponies strolled into the dining hall, where the table remained set just as it had been left. All of the chairs stood empty except for one. Blackball was still in his chair, still motionless, and still with an arrow in his skull.
Vinyl walked over to the talent critic and put an ear up to his mouth. “Well, he’s not breathing.” She brought her head down to his chest. “No heartbeat either. He’s definitely dead. I guess let’s go down to the basement and look for Alvin.”
Vinyl, Bonbon, and the Doctor went around to the back of the house and found the stairwell to the basement again. They opened the door and gazed into the shadowy void, then slowly ventured down into the depths of the house.
The white deejay turned on the light with her magic, and the bulb showered the dark room with light. They found Alvin in his same spot, impaled through the neck, with his cutie mark carved into his chest, still glistening red with blood that had not had time to dry.
Vinyl came up close to the dead composer to make sure he was actually dead, and the light suddenly shut off. Vinyl screamed, and then went silent. The two earth ponies fumbled to find the light switch and turn it on. When it came back on, they saw Vinyl leaning up against the wall, blood dripping down her entire body. Shards of records were stuck into her and the wall next to her, with one particularly large shard lodged into her chest. The pair of ponies went over to her and Bonbon took the record out. It was large enough that the title was visible in the center: Another One Bites The Dust.
The beige candy maker turned to Doctor Whooves and began screaming. “How could you?”
Doctor Whooves sported a mildly confused expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
“Oh, please. You can drop the charade now, Doctor. Everypony else is dead!”
The brown stallion took a step back and pointed an accusing hoof in Bonbon’s direction. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, Bonbon, but I’m not taking the fall for you!”
“Just admit you did it.”
“No, admit you did it.”
“No! Admit you did it!”
There was a loud bang as Doctor Whooves’ skull shattered. Blood spewed from his head as he fell to the floor. Then a voice came from behind a pile of crates. “No. I did it.”
The first thing to cross into Bonbon’s field of vision was a smoking gun, surrounded by a green magic aura. Then Lyra stepped out into full view. “I told you you wouldn’t have a good time, Bonbon.”
Bonbon stared into her wife’s bright yellow eyes, which were completely devoid of any emotion. They had lost the happy twinkle that she had come to love. The only twinkle came from the green magical aura surrounding the gun that was now pointed at her. “Lyra, how could you?”
“Blackball ruined my career, and I wanted satisfaction. After he wrote that review, I couldn’t get my usual gig at the Grand Galloping Gala, and who took my place? Octavia. She spent almost an entire year getting all of my old jobs, and I’d had enough.”
“How did you even get all of us here?”
“Blackball holds this contest every year, and randomly selects ponies from his articles. A couple of bits thrown in the right direction made it a little less random. When everypony was putting up their luggage, I slipped into the dining hall and set up the bow on a timer to fire right into Blackball’s head. I picked the alias Red Herring hoping you all would accuse Curtain Call, and it worked like a charm. He left to vent, and I hanged him while you all searched for the weapon. That two-timing mule broke my heart, so I broke his trachea.” Bonbon trembled more and more with every word delivered from her wife’s mouth.
Lyra walked over to Alvin’s dead body and put a hoof on his shoulder. “Octavia pulled our good friend Alvin aside to talk to him, and I waited in the basement right below. I used a spell to wear away the floor under him, and stabbed him in the throat when he landed. That’s what he gets for denying me a spot in his orchestra just because of my sexuality. I took a stairwell in the back of the house up to the second floor, and rejoined the group in the pandemonium. When everypony went up to their rooms, I slipped in behind Octavia, pinned her to her bed with my magic, and smothered her with a pillow with my own two hooves. Then I put her cello in the closet, and stuffed her in the case. That was when I faked my own death. I put special effects makeup on my neck to simulate garrote wounds, and wore a harness under my dress to take the pressure off of my neck while convincingly hanging myself. I think you can piece it together from there, Bonbon. Now I just have one loose end to tie up before I can make a clean getaway.”
The paralyzed pony opposite Lyra knew exactly what she meant. Tears streamed down the candy maker’s face at the thought of what her wife was intending to do. “Please, baby, don’t shoot! I won’t tell anypony. I swear!”
“Damn right you won’t.”
Bang.
Bonbon collapsed on the floor, dead.
“I warned you not to come.” With all of the other ponies at the party dead, there was only one thing left to do. She dragged the bodies to the edge of the cape, and began throwing them off of the cliff into the sea, one by one.
Blackball, good riddance.
Alvin Del Signo, see you, wouldn’t want to be you.
Curtain Call, thanks for nothing.
Octavia, I wish you only the worst.
Vinyl Scratch, I never did like you.
Doctor Whooves, a civilian casualty, nothing more.
Bonbon… I did what I had to do.
Lyra held Bonbon in her forelegs for another moment. They’re finally gone, the green unicorn thought to herself, the critic who killed my career, the stallion who shattered my heart… the mare whom I loved more than anything else.
You can do it, Lyra. Just let her go and you can go back home with a clean slate.
As she stared at the pale face of her wife, a tear rolled down her cheek and mingled with the light raindrops falling from the sky. “Oh sweet Celestia! What have I done?” Her horn glowed green, her saddlebag popped open, and the gun lifted into the air. She turned it towards her own head and pulled the trigger. Lyra and Bonbon fell forward off of the cliff, and drifted off to sea, side by side.
Author's Note
I would like to thank everypony who read this, my first fanfic, and a special thanks to AxelShifter and DalekBen for proofing it for me.