Evidence in the Bag

When asked what one might think about a library, a pony might think of the rustle of old pages as they're rubbed against each other. Another might say that the quiet atmosphere of such a place is soothing and calm.

When asked about a library, one would never envision it surrounded by yellow police tape.

Ebony had learned a long time ago that it was best not to assume anything. The solemn guards around the area gave her a hard glare when she approached the tape, but a quick flash of her badge was enough to get her under the tape and into the building. Her eyes sparkled with inappropriate glee as she came upon the spatters of distinctly rust-colored stains covering the bookcases and the stone floor of the library. The odd looks she got from her force did little to deter her from pulling out a magnifier and sticking her muzzle so close to the bloodstains that she could be kissing the floor.

Ooh, this was a nice challenge. The spatters indicated both magical bolts and knife damage, but the lack of drag marks over the stains meant the victim had either been teleported away or levitated into a hiding place.

But how in Equestria had the attacker managed to do it without attracting any attention at all?

Ebony's ears pricked at the sound of an approaching pony. It was certainly not a pattern of hoofsteps that she recognized, which meant that it was no guard or her rather idiotic forensics' expert. Preparing herself for a confrontation, she slid her magnifier shut with a click and straightened up.

"Can I help you?" she said, her mouth curling into a sneer.

"I? ...no. Maybe. Hello? Xor, iff, elsewise, marmalade."

The unicorn of faded blue had a gaze that was anywhere but there, and if it was, it would be obscured by his opaque glasses. His gait was terribly uneven, and it looked like he had neither seen sunlight or ate in a very long time.

It was only after a large amount of effort that he managed to focus on the scene in front of him, and even then it felt unnatural. Unnatural was a good word. Unnatural movement, speech and behaviour.

"It was not supposed to be here," he said faintly, before shaking his head, "No, miss, not here as in-" He lazily gestured. "Here, but here." Same gesture. "Or now. Now is also good." He frowned. "No Equestrian word for a specific point in space-time. It must be worked on. Am?"

He blinked at the bookshelves, which trembled in reply. "Hypothesis. The existence of a watch implies a watchmaker, thus the existence having? a corpse implies a causus mortis. An?" Finally, eventually, the pony looked at Ebony. Technically. It was the right direction, but it was still focused somewhere else.

His unhinged tones then rapidly strengthened and aligned themselves into a proper expression as he muttered a stream of seemingly nonsense phrases. "Nobody just red. Out-of-body? Not the same point from A to B. Magic doesn't play by us. Splatters preserved. Not the same point from B to A. Armerjensi, amerjensi. Synchronization to physical plane complete. Experience."

The gaze focused on Ebony, and his face broke into a tired smile. "Sincere apologies. This should be much more coherent now. Welcome to Canterlot Library. How can I help you today?"

Ebony would say that the word-dump had made not a lick of sense, but then she'd be lying. Certainly, some of it did make sense, like the meaning of what the barmy unicorn was trying to say about here (though the officers around her were likely to disagree with that statement), or the splatters being preserved/magic not playing by the rules. But the rest of it made her want to knock him over the head until a coherent string of words ran their way out of his mouth.

Not-quite-there ponies were not her specialty. The cold fact that there were ponies out there who thought she was one of those who really should be locked up in a room somewhere and separated from all contact with ponykind. One of which, in a more subtle sense, was the doctor who had told Sherrinford that she had sociopathic behavioral patterns (proven wrong simply by the fact that she did, however begrudgingly, love her bureaucratic, Machiavellian elder brother). Dealing with herself was one thing. Dealing with others was walking a very fine line that she often leaped over completely.

It was probably a good thing, in this case, that the worst Ebony did was look at the unicorn with blatant disbelief and groan.

"Yes. Hello. Detective Inspector LeBrun," she said, procuring her badge and holding it open for him to read. "Have you spoken to an officer about this?" She gestured vaguely at the bloodstains.

"Implying I can speak to police officers normally," the unicorn said, shifting his head from left to right, "Also implying that bloodstains are somehow strange in a magical library of all places." He frowned. "Even if could, I would not, considering that such actions would interfere with library operations."

The strange pony trotted directly across the scene, only barely managing not to disturb anything. "Unfortunately, the laws passed by Princess Celestia in 923, Equestrian Calendar, stated that all building interiors in Canterlot falls under the jurisdiction of the Canterlot police, so it fits that you ponies are here if you believe a crime has been committed."

"However," said the pony, pointing a hoof at Ebony, "No murder has taken place inside these walls."

Ebony gave the unicorn a questioning glance.

"There's certainly enough of this," she gestured again, "to indicate that somepony is, indeed, dead. And I am implying that bloodstains in a library are not everyday occurrences, especially if they haven't gone away in the three..." she shot a glance at an officer to her right, who confirmed the number, "...hours that my team has been here. Even if this isn't a murder, then somepony is still hurt, and has been hurt by another intelligent creature, judging by the splatter patterns."

She frowned at the unicorn. "You clearly know something about this. So, Mr. Librarian, unless you're here to give me relevant information, I must ask you to either vacate the premises, or, if you do have a bit of coherency in your sentences, that you provide a statement on the matter. We wouldn't be here if this was a normal event in the Canterlot Library. Somepony called us in." She sighed. "Ponies are delicate in nature. A little bit of blood causes a panic."

"There has not been a single corpse made in this place for 50 years," the unicorn said simply, "Some books dobleed, but they are restricted and would not have called you." Pausing, he tilted his head towards the bookshelves, as if listening to them. "Hmm? Oh. Okay. Very well, then."

"In response to your request, detective, it would be an impossibility to 'leave the premises' as it were. Certainly, I can deconstruct this body if you do not wish to be disturbed, but the books have asked to me to speak on their behalf as to get this whole tedious business over with so that they can be cleaned. They also request that none of them be stuffed in evidence bags to disappear in some forsaken evidence room." The unicorn sniffed. "The accommodations would not be to their liking."

Ebony bristled.

"Of course not," she said, slightly offended. "I would never subject the books to such brutish investigation, especially with the ineptitude of my current forensics team." A squawk of indignation came from the head of said forensics department, but she ignored it. "No, but I would appreciate if my team could take a few samples of the blood for processing. If that isn't an option, I'll take some to examine privately. I have to determine if it is from a pony or, as you suggest, a mishap with a book."

She looked apprehensively at the books before her expression faded to one of familiar respect. "Thank you. Unfortunately, we'll have to ask if we could keep the scene untouched until the results from such a test are returned. At most, that will take me a day. Is that acceptable?"