The peace and quiet of an early spring morning in Ponyville was broken by a long, loud scream.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"What was that?" Flash shouted in alarm, sprinting to the balcony of the Rainbow Castle.

"That, Flash, was the sound of utter despair and misery," Twilight said calmly, scanning a collection of notes as she reclined on the sofa of the castle library. When Flash gave her a confused look, she elaborated, "Sounds like Rainbow Dash just found out that the next Daring Do book has been delayed."

Flash looked up and his eyes widened. "Speaking of Rainbow...incoming!" He dived on top of Twilight, knocking her out of the way just as a multicolored blur raced into the room, carrying a wind gust that upset Twilight's neatly stacked notes and knocked several books off the shelves. Twilight ended up faceup on the floor, Flash on top of her, both of them flushed and wide eyed from the shock.

"Twilight!" Rainbow Dash shouted. "This is not the time! We gotta go see Daring Do, it's important!"

Both ponies turned red with embarrassment. Levitating Flash off her, Twilight got up and gave Rainbow an impatient look. "Rainbow, you're overreacting," she said, staring to clean up the mess. "I know that you've been waiting for the book for—"

"For seven months!" Rainbow shouted. "This is the second time it's been delayed! Daring Do might be in trouble and need our help!"

"Rainbow, just because the book has been delayed doesn't mean that Daring Do is in trouble," Twilight replied calmly, starting to gather up her scattered notes and put them back in the proper order. "And we shouldn't intrude on her just because the book is late."

"We did once!" Rainbow replied.

"Okay, what if we dropped in on her out of the blue and she didn't need any help at all?" Twilight said. "And besides, I'm busy at the moment: I'm going to be giving a speech at the opening of the Leonarda da Whinny exhibit at the Trottingham History Museum later today."

"Who cares about Leo da what's-his-face!" Rainbow responded.

"He's one of the greatest polymaths, artists and scientists of the ancient world, second only to Starswirl the Bearded," Spike said in a monotone, entering and starting to pick up the scattered books. "Much of his work has been collected only in the past year, and it's being displayed for the first time to the public. It's an exciting time for the art and history world." When the other three ponies all gave him a look, he added, "It's also the only thing Twilight has been talking about for weeks."

"Look, Rainbow," Twilight said. "Why don't we talk about it when I get back later today?"

Rainbow sighed angrily, knowing that even she couldn't win this argument. "Fine." She exited via the balcony again, her head hung low in annoyance.

"Wait...the da Whinny exhibit! I'm going to be late!" Twilight suddenly shouted, getting frantic. She quickly gathered up the notes and tucked them into her saddlebag, along with some other items. "Speech notes, check. Lozenges, check. Comb, check. Map of Trottingham, check. Let's see...am I forgetting anything?"

"Yes," Flash said calmly, gesturing at the clock. "The fact that the train to Trottingham doesn't leave for another two hours."

Twilight stared at the clock for a few moments before grinning sheepishly. "Oh. Right."

Baroque Brush settled back on the old sofa. He was a yellow-coated unicorn with purple eyes. His red mane and tail were complimented by green stripes, and his flank had the image of a pair of crossed paintbrushes. Baroque pursed his lips and exhaled cigarette smoke from his nostrils. The stench of nicotine and cheap tobacco did not add to the other odors of the cheap apartment.

He hated the apartment, hated having to live in this smelly old place in smelly old Trottingham with a smelly old landlord who was always on his case about the rent. But it was all he could afford. Much as he hated the starving artist stereotype, he had to admit that he fit it. He was brilliant at painting—nopony had ever doubted that, least of all him—but unfortunately, his skill at business did not match his skill with the brush. It was the public's fault, really—the sheeponies were too stupid to recognize real art, instead craving the same prepackaged garbage that lesser artists got rich off of. It was they who had denied him the fame and riches he deserved.

Which was why he had taken this job. His employer had promised him enough money to purchase an apartment in Canterlot, where he would surely attract a clientele who actually appreciated his work, and had the money to make it known. And he deserved it. He was the only pony who could pull it off--only somepony of his great talent could fake a da Whinny, much less his most famous work...

A knocking at the apartment door interrupted his thoughts. Sitting up, he doused his cigarette in the ashtray before trotting over to the door and opening it. The pony outside was an earth pony of large build. He had a tan coat and brown mane and tail, close-cropped, and wore a gray suit and tie. His mean little brown eyes stared at him from underneath a gray fedora. His cutie mark was a pair of boxing gloves. He chewed on a Blue Camel cigarette.

"Brush," the other pony said with a smile as he entered, doffing the fedora and hanging it up on the hatstand. "How you doing, buddy?"

"All right," Brush greeted his visitor, extending his hoof to shake. "I take it that you did the job?"

"Yup," the other pony said, entering the room and dousing his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. "Did it last night. They'll never know I was there."

"And they'll never know that the painting is a fake, either," Baroque said with a smile. "Now, about my payment."

"Yeah, about that," the tan pony said. "I'm here to tell you about how the payment's gonna work." He gulped, then coughed. "Geez, my throat is parched. You got any hard cider?"

"Uh, yes, I think I have some," Baroque said, turning around and heading for the tiny kitchen that had been squeezed into a corner of the apartment. He hadn't taken more than a three steps before the tan earth pony pulled a switchblade knife out of his pocket, flicked it open, and plunged it into Baroque's back. The knife cut in deep, sending a spurt of dark red liquid gushing into the air. Baroque grunted in surprise.

"That's your payment right there," the visitor snarled as the failed painter collapsed to the floor, eyes wide in shock and pain and already dimming as life left them. Turning, the murderer left the apartment, leaving his hat behind.

Author's Notes:

This took a while: I struggled to figure out a good way to start this off.

But nonetheless, here we go again. It's another murder, another adventure!

NOTE: Daring herself isn't going to show up for a couple of chapters. Just wait a while.