A/N: Hey, everyone. It's been a long time since I added a new story because I've been really busy. Anyway, I do not own Phoenix Wright or any of its characters. However, Sandra Castro is my original charrie, and thus, I do own her. So, without further ado...

"Well, Miss Castro? How do you explain that?" Phoenix Wright, the idiot attorney who always smelled of hair gel, pressed. It's amazing to me how many people forget that my hearing is more sensitive than others'.

"I explain the supposed 'contradiction' you found by the fact that you're a moron and have called me on the wrong thing yet again," I answered calmly. "So you found out the bottle of pills at the scene of the crime did not have your client's fingerprints on it. My question is, to what end? That doesn't prove his innocence or guilt. Only an idiot would suggest that your client would use the pill, one that is obviously fatal for someone not suffering from the condition it's used to treat to take, and put it in the medicine cabinet where it would be found quickly and conveniently." I made sure to glare in Dick's general direction as I said this, to which I could hear him whimpering. "The right question to ask would be 'what is my client's motive?', because the prosecution decided I should leave that out for some reason. You'd think this trap would be set by the lead detective, but oh, well. I guess the prosecution thought he was far too incompetent to handle this. It's not surprising." I shrugged. "Can I go now?"

Franziska, of course, whipped the ground in front of me. She wouldn't dare actually whip me after last time, when I caught her whip and pulled her into a slap on the cheek. That was a good day. She threatened to sue me for assault, but no one would deny she deserved it. Besides, I'm the best private investigator in the entire world. I hold more power in pretty much everyone's eyes than even Franziska. At least I don't forge evidence. So, naturally, when we were brought before the court, the judge ruled in my favor with a "please don't do it again", though I suspect he only didn't want me to hit her again because he was tired of replacing his robes after all the whipping. I calmly told him that as long as Franziska never harmed me again, I wouldn't hit her. Naturally, she hasn't whipped me since.

"No, you cannot go now! What was the motive?" Phoenix yelled, undoubtedly pointing at me with his index finger. I can't explain why. He just sounds like a guy who likes to point when he yells, because that's the best way he knows how to emphasize his point besides slamming his hands against something.

"I told you asking for the motive was a trap not two seconds ago. You really are dense, aren't you?" I countered. As I rattled off boring details of the defendant's need for revenge, I knew Phoenix would solve the case and it would turn out one of the witnesses would be the killer yet again. I provided a taped recording of the victim calling to receive security detail to the court and submitted it into evidence. Finally, I was allowed to go. Usually, a detective will stay in court after he or she is dismissed to see the case he or she worked so hard on come to its fruition. I, however, have better things to do, like nurse the headache that always came with all the yelling in the courtroom. Even though it certainly felt like I was the lead detective, especially for cases like this one, I'm a consultant; ergo, I couldn't care less what happens next unless it directly affects me.

"Leaving so soon, Miss Castro?" came the voice of Miles Edgeworth from down the hall. Apparently, he followed me out. I shrugged.

"What happens from here is of no consequence to me," I replied.

"In that case, would you mind if I accompany you?"

"Why? So you can ask me about my past? I have to admit, it's taken you longer to pry than most," I responded, crossing my arms.

"I know it's a subject you like to avoid, but I must ask you these questions now. There is...something that concerns me greatly about you."

"That would probably be my blood-shot eyes. People always think that just because I lost my eye-sight in an accident, there is some reason to worry about me."

"No, it's not that. It's just...I didn't even know you until last year, when you seemed to 'magically' appear to investigate the prosecutor's office."

"Luckily for you. Had I not done the investigating, you would've been accused of murder yet again, considering-"

"-where the body was. I know. I'm just wondering where you were before then," Mr. Edgeworth said.

"In the island of None-Of-Your-Business off the coast of Stay-Out-Of-My-Personal-Affairs," I retorted.

"I figured you would say something like that. Would you at least tell me what caused you to lose your eyesight?" Mr. Edgeworth asked.

"Something that I don't talk to anyone about," I answered. "Why are these questions necessary again?"

"Because, Miss Castro, I am tasked with solving a case in which the victim looks exactly like you," Mr. Edgeworth responded.

"Huh. How about that?"

"And the victim's name is Sandra Castro, which is your name, if I'm not mistaken."

"Wow. What an eerie coincidence. I suppose this means someone wanted to get rid of the actual her, or they wanted to get rid of me without knowing me at all." I tapped my cane against the ground, something I tend to do when I think. It helps drown out the other noises nearby and give me a steady pulse to focus on instead. "If you would like my services so I may solve the case with you, you should know I don't come cheap."

"I do, and I would like it very much if you would help me on this case." Sandra Castro, the best private investigator in the world, does not get scared. However, I was very apprehensive when he said that. If I helped him solve the case, would I be forced to tell him my life story? I hated that idea. I took pains to make sure no one knew anything about me. Still, I'd rather talk about subjects I usually avoid than force someone into being falsely accused of crime once more.

"Very well. Do you have a suspect?" I asked. If Mr. Edgeworth noticed my brief hesitation, he didn't say anything about it.

"Not as of yet."

"Then take me to the crime scene so I can find the killer."

Finding the killer wasn't easy. Finding the late Sandra Castro's stalker, on the other hand, was. In the bushes near her house, I heard a rustling and instantly prepared my cane.

"You, in the bushes, show yourself now or take a cane to the crotch!" I threatened. Mr. Edgeworth let out a sigh.

"Miss Castro, how do you know what's in the bushes isn't an animal of some kind?" he asked. By his tone, I assumed he was smirking and wagging his finger.

"Because animals don't have that stench."

"What stench?"

"That of a pathetic loser," I replied. "I'm going to count to three! One, two-"

"Okay, dude! I'm out!" a really annoying voice shouted. I could hear Mr. Edgeworth face-palm.

"What are you doing here, Larry?" he asked.

"Well, Sandra and I had a date. She's a model, you know?"

"Actually, she's unemployed."

"Right. Well, make that future model. You know, for my artwork. One look into her eyes and I couldn't resist. Say, she looks kinda like that feisty chick over there, now that I think of it. Although I wouldn't think of asking her out, dude. Her eyes creep me out!" Mr. Edgeworth tapped his foot impatiently.

"You still haven't answered my question," he said. He sounded very annoyed, giving me the impression that he had very little, if any, patience for Larry.

"Right. I was getting to that. Anyway, so we had a date, but..." I could smell the water that was the tears forming in his eyes. What a wimp. "She didn't show up!" And then the smell of tears was gone. "So, I decided to see what happened, but, well, I thought I'd seem creepy if I were to show up at her house without her ever giving me her address, so I decided to look through this window."

"I see. So, you thought stalking her was less creepy than knocking at her door and politely asking what was keeping her," Mr. Edgeworth commented. He tried very hard not to show just how exasperated he was, but I picked up on it, anyway.

"Well, yeah!" Larry confirmed. Mr. Edgeworth sighed.

"Larry, I don't know how to tell you this, but-"

"Your girlfriend's dead," I jumped in. "This is a crime scene."

"W-what? S-Sandra's...d-dead?" Larry asked. Then, he burst into tears. "Nooooo! Not her! Why? She was...waaaait a minute!" He suddenly stopped crying. "If this is a crime scene, then...then I'm going to be charged with her murder!"

"No, Larry, that's not-" Mr. Edgeworth started to say, but, of course, the idiot wasn't paying attention.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!" Larry cried as he ran away. I flipped my hair.

"Welp, that takes care of that. Let's go," I said.

"You didn't have to be so harsh, Miss Castro."

"Are you kidding me? He sounded like someone so utterly stupid that he wouldn't have understood if I phrased things any other way," I protested. "Besides, what's done is done. It's time to investigate." Mr. Edgeworth muttered some form of agreement, and then we walked into the crime scene.

Being blind isn't all bad. In fact, there are a few distinct advantages. For example, when investigating a crime scene, I don't see the details that would lead ordinary people like, say, Dick, to arrest the wrong person. I can instead focus on putting together the full picture from the little pieces put in front of me. However, there are disadvantages. The inability to see is one in and of itself, but sometimes, the sharpened senses are even worse than that. For example, walking onto a crime scene, I can still smell the scent the corpse left behind if it's not still there. If it is there, then the scent is ten times worse. The smell has entered my nostrils enough times that I don't have to step out to vomit anymore, but it still distracts and bothers me. I wouldn't dare plug my nose so I wouldn't have to breathe it in, though. There are some important pieces of evidence I can only find by sniffing them out.

"Detective Gumshoe, would you explain the investigation so far to Miss Castro?" Mr. Edgeworth asked.

"Certainly, Sir! Okay, pal, the victim, Sandra Castro, who isn't you, was stabbed in the chest. The wound was too large to be a knife, so we assume it was a sword of some kind. We can't tell for sure because the murder weapon hasn't been found yet. Also, there were a few cuts along her arms which signal that she tried to shield herself from the sword, but failed in the end. We're guessing the sword is long, though we don't see enough evidence to know for sure," Dick explained. I listened intently. A sword as the murder weapon that hasn't been found and is likely long...so the weapon might be like my cane sword. Come to think of it, the sword has felt odd since getting it back from the security checkpoint in the courtroom.

"I see. Excuse me one second. Mr. Edgeworth, come with me," I said, grabbing the prosecutor by the arm and leading him to another room.

"What is it, Miss Castro?" Mr. Edgeworth wondered.

"Take me somewhere we can be alone," I ordered. Mr. Edgeworth considered for a moment.

"Very well." He led me to an isolated spot. At least, I assumed it was, since I couldn't hear anyone else milling about. "Now, then, what did you want to see me about?"

"I need you to check something for me," I replied. "You can see very well, right? Have you noticed anything different about my cane today?" Mr. Edgeworth hesitated, presumably because he was concentrating.

"Actually, it does look a little thicker."

"I knew it." I took a deep breath. "Look, Mr. Edgeworth, there was a new guard at the security checkpoint today. I thought something about his smell wasn't quite right. I'm pretty sure that he replaced my cane with the murder weapon." I made myself appear perfectly calm as I explained this, even though I was fairly sure what would happen next. Going to the detention center is hazardous for most people, but for someone who tries to convict criminals, it's even worse. I wouldn't die, probably, but not through other people's lack of trying.

"The murder weapon was not a cane, Miss Castro," Mr. Edgeworth said as coolly as ever. I forced myself to smile slightly.

"You're right. It wasn't," I responded. Then, I unsheathed the sword from the cane. I heard Mr. Edgeworth gasp.

"M-Miss Castro, that sword-" he began. I braced myself.

"It's covered in blood, pal!" Dick jumped in. I knew that would happen. I could hear him coming. "Th-that means...Drop that sword right now and put your hands up!" I pursed my lips and obliged the detective.

"I suppose that means I'm charged with murder. You don't have to read me my rights. I know them well," I commented. "Just be sure to keep investigating. I'd hate it if you were to overlook any evidence."

"Erm...Yeah. Sorry to do this to you, pal." Dick put handcuffs on my wrists.

"There's no need to apologize. You're just going where the evidence points you. At least if I die in there, I'll be comforted by the fact that you feel mildly guilty about arresting an innocent person." And, with that, Dick escorted me to the detention center, where I could end up living the rest of my life.