CMC CSI, part five

With permissions asked, a hearty meal eaten, and an afternoon of playing out in the fields behind them, four very excitable fillies retreated to Apple Bloom's bedroom.
"If you need anything, I'll be in the next room," said Applejack, watching the bouncing girls from the doorway.  "An' if you don't need anything, try to keep it down."
In turn, each of the Cutie Mark Crusaders darted to her side and saluted.
"Will do!" said Apple Bloom.
"Cute."  Applejack gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.  "Y'all have fun now.  Goodnight!"
Applejack closed the door behind her.
Sweetie Belle jumped up and down excitedly.  "So, what are we gonna do?  Pony pedicures?  Style our hair?  Try out make up?"
"Talk about boyth?" giggled Twist.
"No, no, no and no," responded Apple Bloom.  "Have you forgotten we're Cutie Mark Crusader Crime Scene Investigators and we're still on the case?  We don't have time for that kinda silliness!"
Sweetie Belle frowned.  Twist, who for the rest of the afternoon had kept a permanently-affixed grin to show how happy she was that she was with friends, decided to speak.
"You really need to lighten up, Apple Bloom."
Apple Bloom looked at her with wide eyes.
"Honorary CSI Twist…" she started.
"No, let me finithh!" said Twist.  "I thought the point of the Cutie Mark Cruthaderth wath to find your thuper thpethial talent and have fun along the way!  If you keep thhouting and giving orderth, no-one'th having any fun."
Apple Bloom boggled.  "You're right.  I'm sorry, guys.  I just wanted to find my calling, you know?"
"Does that mean we can style our hair now?" squeaked Sweetie Belle.
"We're still on the case, Sweetie Belle," said Apple Bloom.  "We started it, and we gotta see it through.  Mr and Mrs Cake are counting on us."
"Hate to break it to you, Apple Bloom, but Sweetie Belle's got a point," interjected Scootaloo.  "You said we had to follow this new mystery lead of yours in the middle of the night, and it's not even dark out."  She punctuated a pause by looking out of the window.  "We're staying put for a while."
"Does that mean…?"
Apple Bloom sighed.  "I'll get my big sister's make up."
Sweetie Belle and Twist jumped for joy.

Candyrocks looked around the shop floor sheepishly.  Mrs Cake had cleared the place of its regular furnishings and replaced them with a long table filled with what Candyrocks assumed weren't delicious cakes.  Just inside the shop's doorway sat a chair, surrounded by what appeared to be ribbons.
Across from her, the shop's owner coughed nervously.  The unicorn stallion shared a look with her, raising his eyebrows perplexedly and glancing at Mrs Cake.  Candyrocks took this to mean, "What in Equestria is she doing?", and she stepped forward to speak.
"Excuse me, M-Mrs Cake?"
The mare looked at her irritably, clearly irked by the interruption.  "Yes, dearie?"
"Um, what… what exactly are you doing?"
"I'm setting up the table for our guest."
Candyrocks could see that.  "So… what are we doing to our… uh, guest?"
Mrs Cake stared at her.  "My dear, that thieving… thief stole about eighty-eight pounds of cake ingredients from me.  I intend to extract eighty-eight pounds in compensation."  She slammed a bowl of éclairs onto the table for emphasis.
Oh Celestia.  "How… exactly?"
"Well, that's what the secret ingredient is for."
Here it comes.  "What…"  She gulped.  "What secret ingredient?"
Mrs Cake moved her face uncomfortably close to Candyrocks' own.
"Prunes."
Candyrocks gave a nervous laugh.  "Prunes?"
"Prunes," reaffirmed Mrs Cake.  "The poor dear will gorge him or herself on the delectable treats in front of him or her, little suspecting that each and every one includes prunes as an ingredient.  Then, once the natural laxatives take effect… revenge is mine!"
"Oh, thank heavens," blurted Candyrocks.  "I thought you were going to do something really barbaric."
Mrs Cake looked at her blankly, perhaps a little affronted that her scheme wasn't living up to the filly's expectations.

Elsewhere, following an evening of beauty products, four very poorly-styled fillies snuck out of Apple Bloom's bedroom, snaking like a conga line towards the staircase in the corner.
"I'll take point," said Apple Bloom.  "You three stay here and I'll signal if it's clear."
Apple Bloom cantered to the staircase, swinging the door open and careering down halfway – into the colossal form of Big Macintosh.
"Now what are you up to?" he asked.
"Nothing," replied his little sister.
Sweetie Belle's and Twist's heads poked around the doorframe.
Big Macintosh looked up at them.  "Shouldn't you all be in bed?"
"Consarnit, Big Macintosh!" drifted a stage whisper from upstairs.  "Ah say y'leave them fillies alone, they're doin' an importan' chore f'me!"
Apple Bloom and Big Macintosh looked at each other, equally shocked.
"Whatever you say, Applejack," he said, walking up the stairs and to his bedroom.  "You four keep out of trouble, you hear?"
The Cutie Mark Crusaders saluted him and tottered down the stairs.  Scootaloo caught up with the other three in the kitchen.
"I told you," Apple Bloom said to her, "that impression of yours is mighty clobber-worthy."
"It got us out of trouble, didn't it?" replied Scootaloo coolly.

Twilight Sparkle set down her quill pen.  "And that concludes my report on preternatural phenomena."  She rolled the parchment up and levitated it in the direction of Spike's basket.  "Come along, Owlowiscious.  We've got to get this to Princess Celestia."
The owl swooped from his perch on Twilight's desk to the edge of the basket where Spike was sleeping.  On Twilight's signal he extended his wing and lightly tickled the underside of Spike's nose.  One explosive sneeze of green fire later, and Twilight's report was floating off on its way to the Princess.
"I hate to leave you with the cleanup, Owlowiscious," whispered Twilight, "but I think I'm going to hit the hay.  Do you mind?  One hoot for yes, two hoots for no."
"Who?" said the owl.
"Thanks a lot.  You've been a big help tonight."  Twilight grabbed the candle from her desk.  "Have a nice night.  I'll see you tomorrow evening."  With that, she headed up towards her bed.
Owlowiscious was flying Twilight's textbooks from her desk and back to their proper places on the library's many shelves when he heard a rustling of bushes outside.  He perched himself on the windowsill and opened the window, hoping to catch sight of a field mouse or a small and hapless bird.  Seeing nothing, he turned his head back into the darkened room… but found himself floundering and struggling as a burlap sack was lowered over his head and he was taken, against his will, into the night.

To be continued...