The Trottingham Museum still stood in the same place that it always had, the marble walls as white and strong as always. But today, something seemed to wrong about the building. The life that it usually held, the pride that seemed to shine outwards from the very walls, was gone. The only sign of life to be seen was the single City Guard standing post in front of the wide doors, which were cordoned off with bright yellow "CRIME SCENE: DO NOT ENTER" tape.

When Phillip and Daring climbed up the stairs towards him, the Guard held up a hoof to stop them. "The museum's closed off. You can't go in." His voice was confident, his posture unmoving, but his eyes betrayed the uncertainty of youth and inexperience.

"I'm Phillip Finder, private detective. I'm here to help," Phil told him, turning to the side a little to display his cutie mark and pulling a business card out of his vest. The rookie's stoic expression turned into surprise when he realized that he was facing the renowned detective.

"Er...I guess maybe I...who's this?" he asked, turning to Daring.

"Irene Alibi," Phillip replied, giving a false name that Daring had frequently used in the past. "She's a local PI that I've worked with in the past."

Daring gave the rookie a long look. "You a detective too?"

"Er, no, ma'am," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you seem very interested in my tail," Daring flatly stated. "My eyes are on the other end." The Guard jumped and forced his gaze back to her narrowed eyes.

"We're specialists, and we have an interest in this case," Phillip continued. "And you lot could probably use our help."

The Guard looked back and forth between the two of them for several moments, working his mouth as if trying to speak but unable to form the words, then turned and opened the door, sticking his head inside. He spoke to somepony inside for a few moments, then reluctantly opened the door wider for the two ponies to enter. "Corporal Shield will talk to you," he told them. "He'll meet you in the basement vault."

"Thanks," Phillip said, entering the museum. Proceeding through the lobby, which was populated only by City Guards whose heads turned to follow their path, the two walked through a door marked "Employees Only" and down a set of metal stairs into the dark basement vaults where the museums' most valuable prizes were stored when the museum was closed. Another Guard standing at the huge metal door greeted them with a nod as they crossed the threshold into the wide cavern, filled with crates from past expeditions and locked metal boxes that contained current treasures.

Near the center of the room were two ponies. One was the security guard that had taken the diamond away last night, standing with his head bowed in shame and confusion. The other was Corporal Iron Shield, who stared coldly at them as they approached.

"G'day, Corporal," Phillip said, striding forward and extending a hoof.

"Detective Finder," he greeted Phillip as he approached, ignoring the outstretched hoof that he offered. "You always do have a habit of showing up at convenient times."

"I wouldn't call it a habit," Phillip replied, lowering his hoof. More like a curse.

Iron Shield turned his attention to Daring. "And you're...Irene Alibi, I presume." Daring nodded briefly. Shield raised an eyebrow. "Odd how I've never heard of you before."

"It's fine. I've never heard of you before, either," Daring replied dryly. "What exactly happened here?"

"Well, we're not really sure," Corporal Shield answered, glancing sideways at the security guard. "Why don't we start with your account, Mr. Checklist."

The security guard, a unicorn stallion just shy of middle age with a clipboard cutie mark, swallowed and spoke. "I'm Double Checklist, current head of security. As I was just telling him, after the deaths last night, I took the diamond out of it's display case, put it into its box, and brought it down to the vaults. I ensured that the box was locked and locked the vault doors. When we finally closed up, I double-checked to make sure that all the security measures were in effect and did the roll call for the night shift, then locked up before leaving. This morning, I came back to prepare to open the museum. The night shift reported nothing, and I came down here to retrieve the diamond. But when I unlocked the box...well, here, look for yourself."

With his magic, he retrieved the carved wooden box from the floor. Taking the key from the ring attached to his belt, he inserted it into the lock, turned the key and opened up the box, revealing the velvet-lined interior.

The box was empty. There was no trace of the diamond within.

"There was no sign of any break-ins," Checklist continued, while Phillip bent in close to examine the box through his loupe glasses. "And only myself and the head doctors can open the vault, and only we have keys to this box."

"Why use this box?" Daring asked.

"From my understanding, it was given to the doctors by the Maorein," Checklist replied. "They insisted that they use it to store the diamond. As I said, only myself and the three head doctors—Dr. Exhibit, Dr. Scribe and Dr. Bones—have keys to this box. It's standard procedure for the most valuable exhibits."

Phillip frowned into the velvet interior for a few moments longer, then looked up at Corporal Shield. "What have you got about the mass poisoning last night?"

Shield sniffed and spoke quickly. "Cyanide capsules placed in the punch. We've already vetted the entire catering staff and the guards that were on duty, and we're looking for possible connections between the victims." He frowned and took a challenging step forward. "Now, you're going to answer my questions. What were you doing here last night at the reception?"

Phillip gave him a dry look from behind the multiple lenses of his loupe glasses. "I was there to see the opening."

"Really?" Shield said skeptically.

"No, he was there to water the flowers," Daring snapped back, rolling her eyes.

"And you, Ms. Alibi," the Corporal cut in, turning to her. "When did you get here? Why did Mr. Finder bring you here?"

"He sent a telegram to me last night and I met up with him this morning," Daring replied evenly. She had learned through hard experience that one of the keys to making up a cover story on the fly was to make it believable, but not try to justify it by giving too many details.

Iron Shield stared at her for several seconds before speaking again. "You have that telegram?"

"Do you habitually carry your telegrams around?" Daring snidely replied. Phillip had to stifle a frustrated groan.

Shield's steely eyes narrowed into an unamused expression. "The two of you show up just after a mass poisoning and the disappearance of a valuable diamond. That does not strike me as coincidence."

Phillip opened his mouth to protest, but Daring spoke first: "Are you accusing us of something?"

"I am. I'm accusing you both of wasting my time. The City Guard will handle this, without your help. Now get out of my crime scene."

Daring glared daggers at Corporal Shield; he replied with a statuesque icy stare, challenging her to give him the excuse he needed to arrest her. It was only when Phillip stepped forward and put a warning hoof on her shoulder that the standoff ended. The two detectives retreated hesitantly, watched all the time by the cold steely eyes.

"I hope you and Ms. Alibi aren't planning on leaving town, detective," Shield warned Phillip as he exited the vault. "We might have some questions for you later."

Without another word, the two detectives left the museum, feeling the distrustful stares of the Guards upon their backs as they exited. As soon as the great doors shut behind them, Phillip rounded on Daring. "You know, I'd forgotten just how good you were at pissing ponies off."

"It's a learned skill," Daring replied, snark dripping off her tongue. "Besides, don't blame me; blame that asshole!"

Phillip let out a huff through his nostrils, turning and walking away. "The Corporal might be a wanker, but he's doing his job."

Daring ran up to walk beside him. "And we are here to do ours."

Phillip took in a slow breath through his nostrils and let it out quickly through his mouth. "Agreed. Should we head to the City Guard headquarters and see what we can find out from there?"

Daring thought for a moment, then frowned and shook her head. "I don't think so; if that jerk's attitude is any indication, we probably won't get anything there. I think we should start questioning the head doctors and other employees," Daring suggested. She paused as the pair reached a crossroads. "You know what I think?"

"Charlie?"

"Charlie." Daring spat the word out, a bad taste lingering in her mouth. Charlie August Silvertongue, Trottingham's richest citizen, was well-known across the nation as an art collector and expert whose hobby had made him a multimillionaire. In reality, he ran a nation-wide ring of smuggling, thievery and blackmail, protected behind a small army of bodyguards and retained lawyers.

"You're not planning on going after him, are you?" Phillip asked with a note of wariness in his voice. "You know he's probably amped up the security after last time."

"Not yet," Daring answered. "But if I get even a hint that he's behind this..."

"Daring, you're not rushing into anything without a good reason to," Phillip cut in sternly.

"Since when do I not do things without a good reason?"

Phillip gave her a flat look out of the corner of his eye. "Not counting that time with the Bighoof expedition?"

"Are you going to keep bringing that up for the rest of my life?" Daring sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Come on, Dr. Scribe's place is closest."

"Lead the way," Phillip said, following behind as she trotted quickly down the street.

Doctor Stone Scribe lived at the end of an old dead-end road with missing, uneven cobbles and large, dead trees that creaked in greeting of the two ponies. The plain-looking cottage sat in the midst of a sea of dead grass. Most of the windows were dark, save one at the top floor that stared in judgement upon its visitors. A set of golden wind-chimes hanging from the porch ceiling tinkled quietly in the low breeze. The evil eye charm included with the chimes stared wickedly back at them.

"Cheery place," Phillip commented as they walked up the dirt path. "What's that?" He paused at a patch of upturned dirt with what looked like a cork peeking out like a submarine's periscope. Curious, he dug at the patch of dirt with his hoof, uncovering a buried wine bottle filled with a pale yellow liquid with what looked like hair, pins and needles floating within. Pulling the cork out with his teeth, Phillip took a sniff of the contents and gagged. "It's full of piss!"

"It's called a witch bottle," Daring told him from the creaking porch stair. "It's supposed to keep away witches."

"I think I can guess how it works," Phillip said, dropping the bottle back into the hole and reburying it.

"Yeah, I probably should have told you; Dr. Scribe's kind of superstitious." Daring rolled her eyes again. "Of course, it could be an act. You can never be sure with him." She walked up to the door, the porch creaking beneath her hooves and knocked. After a minute, there was the sound of a bolt sliding back and the door opened a crack to reveal a black eye peeking back out at them. "Dr. Scribe?" Daring asked, pitching her voice lower as a disguise.

"Yes? Who are you?" Dr. Scribe's voice was soft and quivering, not at all like the proud declarations he had affected the night before.

"Detectives Phillip Finder and Irene Alibi, sir," Phillip said, stepping into the witnesses' gaze. "We're here to ask a few questions."

Dr. Scribe stared for a few moments more, then stepped back and opened the door further, allowing them entry. With a gesture, he beckoned them up the darkened stairs and into his study. The wide room was like a small museum: the walls and shelves were covered with occult artifacts, everything from Equegyptian scarab necklaces to zodiac charts to zebra ritual masks. Books on the walls and scattered on the table contained tales of supernatural events, ancient rituals and superstitious practices.

"Sorry about the mess," Stone Scribe apologized, rubbing his jaw. His five o'clock shadow had evolved into an almost full beard. "I was just doing some research on the Taverneigh Blue." He gestured at the open book on his desk. The open pages depicted the missing diamond, worn around the neck of a haughty-looking mare wearing a long cloak decorated with feathers and colored stones. "I was hoping to find something useful in there."

"Useful?" Daring asked.

"We're cursed," Dr. Scribe said in a whisper. Not a dramatic stage whisper, like a poor actor upon stage, but a genuine frightened whisper. "We shouldn't have brought the diamond here, the Maorein warned us..." He swallowed, then looked up at his guests. The dim lighting from the window cast evil-looking shadows across his face.

"Do you know the story of the Taverneigh Blue?" he whispered again, a hint of his dramatic persona emerging.

Phillip and Daring looked at each other. Daring sighed. She had encountered many storytellers in her time, and she knew from experience that they would not rest until they had told their story. "Do enlighten us," she told Dr. Scribe.

Stone Scribe settled back into his chair, cleared his throat and began. "The Taverneigh Blue was recovered by the Maorein 600 years ago from the sourthern end of Neigh Zealand, it is true. But almost right away, it's power became apparent. Two competing tribes began to fight over it: a war was declared that decimated a large portion of the island, as well as both of the tribes. The diamond was lost during the battle, but later recovered by the main tribe. It was given to the tribe's queen, Te Kaimanawa." He tapped the picture of the mare in the book, giving it a dark look, then returning his gaze to his audience.

"She died less than a year after the diamond was given to her," he continued. "Of an unidentified disease." Lowering his gaze once more, he began to slowly, thoughtfully turn the pages of the book. "Everywhere the diamond turns up, death and disease are sure to follow. Stories tell of entire crops failing, unusual storms ravaging coasts, rulers committing suicide or dying mysteriously, regimes collapsing. Have you ever heard of Captain Juniper Cook?" His hoof paused over a portrait of a broad-shouldered pony dressed as a naval captain.

"He led the first major expedition to Neigh Zealand. It was he who named the diamond, after his best friend. His crew took the diamond by force and started to sail back to Equestria, but just minutes after embarking, there was a mutiny on board the ship. Somepony threw a lit match into the magazine, blowing up the entire ship and killing almost everypony aboard." He paused dramatically. "And guess what washed up on shore the day after?"

"The diamond," Daring stated. She knew how these stories ended.

"The Taverneigh Blue," Dr. Scribe nodded. "It was then that the Maorein finally came to understand the curse and buried it in the temple. They tried to warn us...if I had only known..." His voice trawled to a stop and he lowered his head onto his hooves, rocking back and forth like a frightened child. "Leave me alone."

Phillip looked at Daring, who shook her head and turned to leave. The ponies exited the room, walked back down the stairs, and exited out onto the creaking porch with the whispering wind chimes.

"Well, this was literally a dead end," Phillip grunted, shrugging his shoulders. "We should have gone to one of the other doctors."

"We can still do that," Daring said, grabbing him underneath the forelegs. "Come on, Dr. Bones lives nearby."

"Hey!" Phillip shouted in protest as Daring lifted up into the air, flying low over the rooftops of the town. After about three minutes of travel time, she dropped him off in front of a multi-story apartment building, earning a few curious looks from passerby. Adjusting his vest, he shot a glare at Daring.

"Admit it, you're jealous," she replied with a smirk, landing next to him and flaring her wings out in pride.

"Come on," he said, walking towards the front door. "Maybe we can get something useful here."

As soon as he spoke, there came a sound of a scream from high up above. Daring and Phillip looked up, then leapt out of the way. With a sickening wet splat, the body of a unicorn struck the sidewalk, coming to rest spread-eagled in a pool of blood. Daring's eyes immediately settled upon the body's flank, which bore a cutie mark of a bone and a notebook.

"I don't think so, somehow," she said softly, her voice carrying over the horrified cries of the surrounding pedestrians.

Author's Notes:

Much like me, our two heroes are getting nowhere fast.

But is there really a curse, or is there something far more insidious at work here? Stay tuned...