Day 10, 11:19

Once again, Pinkie Pie arrived last, running down the main staircase to join the rest of the assembled ponies. Trixie eyed her curiously, but Fleur and Vinyl avoided her gaze.

I wonder if they still suspect me?

Gizmo was talking loudly to Braeburn, who looked confused as to why he was. Soarin was floating in the background, looking annoyed before seeing Pinkie and approaching her.

“No good,” he said disgruntled. “Anytime I try to speak to him he shakes me off.”

“That’s alright,” Pinkie assured him, “if he really is hiding something to do with this case, we’ll get him to spill the beans.”

Looking beyond Soarin Pinkie saw Cloudchaser in conversation with Redheart, and beyond that Blueblood stood watching her. As she met his eye, he gave an awkward smile she knew was meant to be encouraging, she smiled back appreciatively none the less. Soarin saw Pinkie smiling and glanced around seeing Blueblood watching her, who quickly looked away as he did.

“Were you two just…” he began, sounding disbelieving, but he didn’t get any further than that when the usual rumbling noise signalled the collapsing of the stairs.

Once the path to the courtroom was paved, the ponies began moving in. Soarin cast Pinkie a concerned look before following after the crowd.

Crap! I wish he hadn’t seen that.

Blueblood was already moving in so there was no time to speak to him. Walking in behind the rest, Pinkie entered the courtroom and took her place.

“Let’s get straight to it shall we?” the Mastermind declared. “I call this trial to order.”

Trial 3: Coco Pommel

“Alright,” Cloudchaser began, “I suppose we might as well get this out of the way early, I blame Blueblood.”

“Oh come on!” Blueblood exclaimed in frustration. Vinyl sniggered, but she didn’t see the glare Pinkie shot her. “Would you all quit accusing me, I didn’t kill anypony!”

“He’s right,” Braeburn cut in, “Blueblood was drinking with Soarin and me last night, even if he wanted to there’s no way he could have killed anyone considering the state we were all in.”

“So that raises the question as to who did kill Coco,” Fleur stated. “As I have already stated, I believe the culprit is none other than Pinkie Pie.”

No surprises there.

“Alright Fleur,” Pinkie replied, “Why don’t you tell everypony what you think happened.”

“Thank you,” Fleur said in something close to her old warm tone. “I believe Pinkie Pie lured Coco from her room in the early hours of the morning. She used the master key to lock the two doors into the house in case Coco attempted to escape. She then killed her using the lawn mower blade found in the shed, before setting her alight using the matches she stole from Braeburn.”

“It’s a good assessment Fleur,” Pinkie admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to tear it apart, no hard feelings right?”

“Not at all,” Fleur said with a smirk. “Go right ahead.”

“For starters, you say I lured Coco outside,” Pinkie began, “how do you propose I did that?”

“Well at a guess I’d say you simply asked her,” Fleur replied simply, “you two did seem to be good friends after all, there’s no reason she wouldn’t go with you.”

“Sorry, but you got that all wrong!” Pinkie declared, bringing Soarin’s letter out.

“Oh god,” Soarin groaned.

“This is a letter, written by Soarin in his intoxicated state,” Pinkie explained, allowing Fleur to levitate the sheet of paper over. “I’m sure it’s contents speak for itself.”

Fleur scanned the letter, her eyes widening as she did.

“This is… interesting,” Fleur said hesitantly, glancing at Soarin before passing the letter along to Braeburn. “Are you saying that Soarin is the culprit?”

“No!” Soarin exclaimed outraged.

“No,” Pinkie concurred more calmly. “Soarin wrote this while drunk, but he could never have carried out this murder while in such a state. I believe somepony found the letter after they left the dining room, and that pony used the letter as bait. They probably slid it under Coco’s door and let her come out on her own.”

“Interesting indeed,” Trixie agreed, now reading over the letter herself, displaying no visible reaction to its contents. “However this does not necessarily abdicate you, you could quite have easily been the one to take this letter.”

“I suppose so,” Pinkie agreed, she had expected that.

“More to the point,” Cloudchaser cut in, “how did you even get that letter, if Coco had it, surely it would have been burnt?”

“That’s because it was left in her room,” Pinkie explained.

“And how did you get in there?” Fleur asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“We found her room key,” Soarin began to explain. “After I found that shovel I looked around the area where Coco was killed for somewhere that might have been dug at. I found a spot, and inside was Coco’s key and hoof computer.”

“I think we can all agree that the killer was definitely the one to bury them,” Pinkie chipped in, “as they no doubt took the shovel at the same time they gathered the wood for burning.”

“No, that sounds reasonable,” Fleur agreed, “is there anything else you’d like to state? Perhaps a more reasonable excuse as to why you were outside at the time of the murder.”

“I already told you,” Pinkie said, annoyed that this was still being put to question. “I got a message on my hoof computer warning me of a fire. I went outside to check it and got knocked out.”

“You continue to claim this even though we’ve already checked your hoof computer and the message is nowhere to be found on it,” Trixie stated. “Alright, suppose this is true, how did the killer manage to lock the doors and plant the master key on you while remaining inside?”

“The main door opens up at seven,” Pinkie reminded them, “that leaves about an hour window for the killer to plant the key and get inside before anypony knew they were out of their room.”

“You can do a lot in an hour,” Redheart pointed out.

“Exactly,” Pinkie agreed, “isn’t it possible that somepony could have done it?”

“No argument,” Fleur stated, “but who else here could it have been? I’m afraid you’ll have to give us something more substantial to go on Pinkie.”

“Why don’t we continue reviewing the case?” Braeburn suggested.

“Very well,” Trixie agreed, bringing out the bloody blade Pinkie had found in the shed. “This is the murder weapon, it is blade broken from a lawnmower in the shed. The vast amount of blood clearly marks it as the weapon used to slice Coco’s throat open. This was probably done while Coco was outside as the only other blood found was on the path near the fire; if she had been killed anywhere else a trail would surely have been left.”

So that blood in the dining room wasn’t from Coco… so whose was it then?

“I would also like to point out that Pinkie was present when we first discovered the lawnmower in the shed,” Fleur chipped in.

“What about the matchesh?” Gizmo asked.

“Good point,” Fleur complimented before turning to Braeburn. “Braeburn, when were you last sure you had the matches?”

“That’s easy,” Braeburn said proudly, “shortly before Blueblood showed up with all that wine, Cloudchaser asked me if we were going to light another fire that evening, I definitely checked for them then, and they were still in my saddle bags.”

“So the matches had to have been stolen sometime while the guys were drinking,” Cloudchaser summarised.

“And we already know Pinkie had gone and spoken to them during that time,” Trixie reminded them, “it would be easy for drunken stallions not to notice a pickpocket.”

Dammit! Any time I make an argument, they just fill it with holes on the basis that I could have done stuff.

“It wasn’t Pinkie,” a small voice said. Everyone heard it, but nopony knew where it came from.

“It wasn’t Pinkie,” Vinyl repeated, louder this time, her voice shaking.

Pinkie looked over at Vinyl, who was staring at her hoof computer, horror in her eyes.

No that’s not Vinyl’s hoof computer, hers is lying on the bench in front of her. The one she’s wearing is far too dirty, it must be…

“What do you mean Vinyl?” Fleur asked, confused.

“This is Coco’s hoof computer;” Vinyl began to explain, “Pinkie gave it to me to see if I could find out anything from it. But when I put it on…

Vinyl stretched her hoof out so Pinkie could see the screen. It was currently displaying the digital map of the courtroom, but Pinkie could see what Vinyl had noticed written along the top of the screen.

Vinyl Scratch, DJ.

“I don’t undershtand,” Gizmo said nonplussed when he saw Vinyl’s screen.

“It says my name,” Vinyl pointed out, “it’s not my computer but it still says my name!”

“Oh!” Fleur said, realising what Vinyl was getting at.

“Care to explain it for those of us who aren’t tech geniuses?” Soarin asked.

“If this is computer automatically displayed my name when I put it on,” Vinyl began, “what’s to say it really was Coco’s?”

“The fact that everypony else has their computer,” Blueblood suggested with a shrug.

“Well imagine Pinkie really had been knocked out by the killer,” Vinyl suggested, “and they switched Pinkie’s hoof computer with the one they had stolen from Coco, then buried Pinkie’s. You’d never be able to tell the difference… unless you went through the messages and found one that only Pinkie Pie claims to have received…”

Vinyl turned her computer around once more, a new screen displayed on it, stark white with a single word visible in the centre.

Fire.

“You really had been sent that message,” Vinyl said to Pinkie, her voice full of guilt. “And I called you a liar.”

Pinkie didn’t reply, she couldn’t find the words.

“Hey now,” Gizmo interrupted, “Pinkie could eashily have shent that meshage from the other computer in order to throw ush off the scent.”

Pinkie inwardly groaned, she was so close to clearing her name and then somepony had to find another reason to blame her. She looked around the room at the different ponies, Soarin clutching his letter, Blueblood watching her worriedly, Trixie holding the blade in her telekinesis, Vinyl holding the other compu…

Hang on!

“Trixie,” Pinkie said suddenly, drawing everypony’s attention. “That blade, could I see it for a moment?”

Trixie nodded, her face betraying her curiosity as she levitated it over to Pinkie Pie who took it in her outstretched hooves. Pinkie fiddled with the blade in her hooves, forced to hold it very loosely so as not to cut herself. She looked up grinning.

“I could not have killed Coco,” Pinkie declared proudly, “And I can prove it!”

Everyone fell silent, staring at Pinkie in anticipation.

“Would anypony who’s handled this blade agree it’s rather difficult to hold onto with hooves?” Pinkie asked, she was met with a couple nods. “Because I’m finding it impossible to get a good grip on this thing without cutting my own hooves off. Redheart, you saw the cut in Coco’s neck, would you say that could have been made by anypony who didn’t have a tight grip on their weapon?”

Redheart’s eyes widened as she realised what Pinkie was referring to. “Not at all,” she said, sounding pleased, “to make a cut that deep, regardless of how sharp the tool was, a pony would need a firm grip on it.”

“Exactly, and I don’t think anypony here could get a good grip on this,” Pinkie began. “At least, they couldn’t with their hooves… magic on the other hand!”

“So, only a unicorn could have committed this murder?” Soarin asked, looking over at Blueblood, Fleur, Trixie and Vinyl.

“Indeed,” Fleur agreed, “I can’t argue with that, only a unicorn could have killed Coco, which means Pinkie is indeed innocent.”

“I blame Blueblood!” Cloudchaser declared loudly.

“For the last time, I didn’t…” Blueblood began to say before being cut off by Pinkie.

“Maybe we should review the case as a whole before making any more accusations,” Pinkie suggested. “So the killer managed to get a hold of Soarin’s drunken letter and steal Braeburn’s matches at some point while the guys were drinking. They then used the letter to lure Coco outside where they killed her with the blade they took from the shed before lighting her on fire using the stolen matches and wood. I then arrived on the scene, at which point the killer knocked me out and swapped our hoof computers, burying mine along with Coco’s room key. They then returned the shovel and blade to the shed and locked the two outside doors. They then most likely waited until the main door opened, before planting the master key back on me and retreating into the house to pretend they had been there all along.”

“And presumably the killer sent you that message in order to lure you out and make you into their scapegoat,” Trixie added.

“Actually no,” Vinyl argued before hastily adding, “Pinkie’s still innocent, but I don’t think this message was sent by anypony here.”

“What gives you that impression?” Soarin asked.

“Well this message has a white background,” Vinyl explained showing the screen once more, “same as the message Pinkie received detailing the times when the front door opened and closed. However, when I forwarded that same message to everypony else, it had a black background.”

“So you’re saying the Mastermind sent Pinkie a warning about the fire?” Cloudchaser asked sceptically.

“Well I’m not saying that creep did,” Vinyl corrected, “just that when we send messages they appear differently.”

Did the Mastermind really send me that message? What did they stand to gain from me discovering the body early?

“Now that you mention the Mastermind,” Blueblood began thoughtfully, “is it not possible the killer didn’t have to wait until seven before re-entering the house? Perhaps the Mastermind opened the door early for them.”

“You’re making it sound like the Mastermind is the culprit,” Redheart commented, “or that they’re working alongside the killer.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t?” Trixie whispered enigmatically.

“That all sounds right so far… mostly,” Fleur pointed out. “But it doesn’t tell us who the culprit is.”

No, but it had to be somepony who had access to Soarin’s drunken letter and Braeburn while he was drunk…

Pinkie froze, a dark thought creeping into her mind.

How did the master key even get into my bag in the first place…

Pinkie looked up, across the courtroom at the stallion almost opposite her.

Who’s to say that was really blood under the table?

“Do… any of you three guys who were drinking, have any injuries?” Pinkie asked steadily.

“Huh? No, don’t think so,” Soarin said, looking himself up and down.

“I’m certainly right as rain,” Braeburn chipped in.

“Yes, me too,” Blueblood agreed. “But what does this have to do with anything?”

“Because I don’t think all three of you were drunk,” Pinkie said quietly, “I think one of you was pretending… I think one of you has been pretending a lot of things…

“Prince Blueblood!”

“What?!” Blueblood exclaimed, and he wasn’t the only one this time. Everypony had some surprised outburst at Pinkie’s accusation. “You’re blaming me?! I thought you understood me!”

“I thought I did too,” Pinkie replied coldly, “but that’s only because it’s what you wanted me to think.”

“What possible reason could you have for accusing me?” Blueblood demanded, his friendly, concerned tone slipping away to reveal his true nature.

“While searching the dining room I found a large red stain bellow the table,” Pinkie began, “specifically under the part you were sitting at. At first I thought it was blood, but then I remembered you were drinking red wine, or should I say, Soarin and Braeburn were drinking, you were pouring your glasses out under the table!”

“That’s ridiculous!” Blueblood said with a painfully strained laugh. “That would suggest all my inane ramblings about how to say master bedroom in a spooky voice was just an act.”

“Funny, you told me you didn’t remember anything that happened last night,” Pinkie responded emotionless, Blueblood’s eye twitched. “I also seem to remember you pressing an inebriated Soarin to tell Coco of his crush,” Pinkie continued, “perhaps to the point where you even managed to convince him to write a letter saying to meet him outside.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up!” Blueblood shouted, still trying and failing at laughing. “I would never knock you out let alone laugh while I did.”

“I never told anypony the culprit laughed as I passed out,” Pinkie stated, silencing Blueblood. “And of course, being a unicorn you’re one of the only four ponies here that could have killed Coco.”

“And yet I don’t see you blaming any of them!” Blueblood accused, no longer trying desperately to laugh it off.

“That’s because they didn’t plant the master key on me to begin with!” Pinkie retorted. The room fell silent, Blueblood’s eye twitched. “It was so obvious, but because of how you had so expertly confused me, I hadn’t seen it at the time. You put the key in my saddle bags when you kissed me!”

“Wait, he did what?!” Vinyl exclaimed, sounding furious. She wasn’t the only one to have an outraged exclamation at that.

“I also recall Fleur and I finding a key shaped imprint in the ground at that place you first ambushed me,” Pinkie continued, “you had tried to plant it on me then, but you dropped it out of surprise when Cloudchaser interrupted you.”

“So what?!” Blueblood exclaimed, “even if I did give you that key, it has nothing to do with this murder!”

“Actually, it has everything to do with this murder,” Pinkie corrected him. “Where did you get that key?”

Blueblood refused to open his mouth, his eye twitching angrily.

“That’s fine, you don’t have to answer, because I’ve already worked it out,” Pinkie said calmly. “The Mastermind gave it to you.”

“You mean…” Trixie began, staring at Pinkie wide eyed.

“It’s true isn’t it?” Pinkie stated, Blueblood still refused to respond. “The Mastermind sent me that message because you were working with them, and you needed me to be your scapegoat.”

“Hang on a second,” Cloudchaser interrupted, looking thoughtful. “When I saw him looking at his hoof computer outside…”

“He wasn’t looking at anything,” Pinkie confirmed, “he was talking to the Mastermind, planning out his murder. So after killing Coco, the Mastermind messaged me about the fire so you could turn me into your patsy, further reinforcing it with the master key you had given me earlier. And like you yourself said, you didn’t have to wait for the front door to open at all, the Mastermind opened it temporarily for you once you were done outside. And to stop me from investigating further into you, you tried to make me fall for you.”

“Don’t pretend it didn’t work,” Blueblood whispered in a dark voice. Pinkie didn’t answer

“Well done,” the Mastermind announced the sound of clapping echoing around the courtroom. “I must say, I am truly impressed this time.”

“You helped Blueblood,” Trixie stated angrily, “why?”

“Oh don’t feel too bad,” the Mastermind replied, “I never really intended him to come out victorious.”

“What?!” Blueblood exclaimed, “You promised me I would win this stupid game and leave!”

“I lied,” the Mastermind said simply. “I offered Blueblood the master key just after the first trial, on the condition that if he didn’t use it, I would help him carry out a murder so he could win the game.”

“Why though?” Soarin asked, utterly confused. “What did you stand to gain from helping him?”

“It was only intended to be a failsafe,” the Mastermind explained, “a way to get the ball rolling again if the murders ceased. Unfortunately, Blueblood had no patience, and insisted on carrying out the plan regardless of whether I assisted him or not. Naturally I was left with little choice if I didn’t want him wasting the opportunity I had bestowed upon him.”

“I assume most of this murder can be accredited to you then?” Fleur asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Mastermind begun, sounding amused, “all of this murder can be accredited to me. Do you really believe that an illiterate dimwit such as Blueblood could devise any scheme regardless of complexity? No, I had to walk him through every step of the way, and suffer his incessant whining the whole time. I don’t want to pretend to be friends with the cloudhead and the mud pony. I don’t want to kiss Cotton Candy.”

“I can’t believe you would hit on Pinkie!” Vinyl exclaimed, giving Blueblood a death glare.

“I can’t believe she fell for him,” Gizmo commented before withering under the look Pinkie gave him.

“Yes I was the architect, so go ahead, cast your votes and have me executed,” the Mastermind said, in a mock woeful tone, “Oh wait, you can’t vote for me without knowing my identity. Oh well, I guess you’ll just have to settle for the next best thing… my instrument.”

The dials on the benches in front of every pony began to glow, indicating it was time to vote. Pinkie looked over to Vinyl who gave her a single nod before mercilessly turning her dial, Blueblood’s face appearing on the screen behind her.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Blueblood screeched as more ponies began turning their dials and his face appeared on more screens. Looking at him now, Pinkie struggled to recognise him as the stallion she almost fell for, as he flailed his hooves around in fury, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed obscenities at everypony around him. Pinkie looked to her right, at the screen showing Coco’s greyscale face, scarred by the bloody red X. Then, without remorse, Pinkie turned her dial to Blueblood.

All the screens that didn’t show a deceased pony now displayed Blueblood’s face, apart from one which showed Pinkie’s own face, one final act of defiance on Blueblood’s part. At once, the screens all blanked, and the ‘GUILTY’ screen began its rotation around the room.

“You tricked me!” Blueblood screamed at the Mastermind’s screen, even though it no longer displayed the sea of pixels. “You told me I would win this! You told me they would never figure it out!”

“Have some dignity in death Prince Blueblood,” the Mastermind said as the ‘GUILTY’ screen stopped right behind Blueblood. “You have been found guilty of the murder of Coco Pommel. Now let’s see how blue your blood really is!”

The ground beneath Blueblood vanished, and the still screaming stallion plummeted into the darkness. Silence rang in the room; everypony staring up at the screens, waiting for what they knew would come. Seconds trickled away, turning into minutes; Pinkie began to wonder if something had gone wrong. Her doubts were dispelled shortly after when the screens came to life, showing all the assembled ponies a wide view of Blueblood strapped to a surgery table, dozens of narrow tubes inserted into every section of his body, trailing out and connecting to several large containers of vibrant blue liquid.

On the table Blueblood struggled fruitlessly against his bonds, all the while still hollering curses at the Mastermind, Pinkie and the rest. Pinkie eyed the vats of blue liquid warily, it was so bright and inviting looking, but something about it sent chills up Pinkie’s spine. She very quickly found out why as a little red light on each of the containers turned green, and the tubes began filling up very slowly with the liquid. Pinkie watched as the stream of blue crept further and further down the tubes, Blueblood who seemed unaware of this was still fighting against the restraints.

Pinkie braced herself as the liquid reached the end of the tubes, and presumably began pumping into Blueblood’s body. The effect was instantaneous, Blueblood stopped screaming, his eyes bulging open alongside his gaping mouth, his entire body going rigid. Pinkie looked around at the others to see if they understood any better what was going on, but they all looked as confused ad disturbed as she did, with the exception of Redheart who was refusing to look at the screens.

Blueblood’s body began trembling, and Pinkie could just about make out a faint sizzling noise. She didn’t have long to contemplate what this meant however, as all at once, steam began rising from Blueblood’s body, his pristine white coat turning dull. Then it got really disturbing…

Blueblood’s forehoof was the first to go, the hair vanishing as the flesh began bubbling black and dissolving around the bleached white bone and liquefied muscle, the blue acid running free from the stump where his leg used to be. The other limbs followed suit, blistering and burning away in mere seconds, any organic material dissolving from the inside out, leaving only sizzling bones in their place.

Blueblood gurgled as deep scarlet blood began pooling from his mouth as well as running from his nostrils and eye sockets. His mane and tail began falling out, but once the hairs landed on the floor in the now wide pool of acid, they too sizzled and burned away until nothing remained. When all the limbs were gone, the head and torso quickly began dissolving also. The abdomen didn’t last long, shredding away in seconds leaving whatever entrails and guts that survived the scorching to slop to the floor.

The face stretched over the skull melted away leaving a silent screaming skull. In the end, all that remained were bones lying in a pool of acid and liquid pony, the straps long having burned away, the tubes and needles hanging limply from the containers, having nothing to stay attached to any longer. Only then did Pinkie tear her eyes from the screen, finding she was one of the few to have watched all the way through. Her nostrils stung with the stench of vomit from somewhere in the room.

Looking down, she saw the runes at her hooves had stopped glowing. Wordlessly, she stepped back from the bench in front of her, and trudged out of the room.

Author's Notes:

There never was a romance tag...
Unfortunately nobody correctly guessed the culprit (which is ironic considering the one guy on the left has been barking up that tree right up until this chapter)
Oh well, thank you to the few of you who participated none the less, hopefully through the next chapter we'll get some more readers taking part (as well as more readers in general)
Also, if you're making a guess as to who the culprit is, please don't guess multiple suspects.