"White Gabardine"

Disclaimer: All characters from the Ace Attorney series copyright Capcom.

Time: Right after Dual Destinies.

Simon and Garfunkel could hardly have foreseen that the man in the gabardine suit really was a spy.

Pearls sat on my desk chair, wearing clothes that were way too big for her. "Are you certain you want to do this, Mr. Nick?"

I nodded. We were alone. "Yes. He was a victim of the Phantom too. I want him to know he can rest now."

Pearls nodded. "Very well." She handed me some smelling salts in a plastic bag. "These will wake my spirit up and drive him from my body if he gets violent. I don't think he'll try anything, but just in case. Murdered spirits sometimes are unpredictable."

"I'm ready," I said. It had been awhile since I witnessed a channeling. As Pearls began to concentrate and chant, my mind turned to earlier today. When I got the clothes Pearls was wearing over her channeling robes.

Edgeworth handed me the white gabardine suit. "I trust you, Wright, so I won't pry."

"Thanks for indulging me," I said.

"This is not the suit the Phantom was wearing," Edgeworth explained. "That one was taken as evidence."

Because the Phantom's blood was on it. I nodded. "Any luck chasing down the sniper?"

"No," Edgeworth said. "Still in the wind. The Chief of Police is really putting the pressure on the detectives. A matter of pride. No one tries to kill someone in a sacred court of law and gets away with it. Even if that 'someone' is an international spy."

An international spy who sorely deserves it, I thought. But I'm no judge. "And the Phantom himself?"

"He pulled through surgery. The bullet bounced off one of the lower ribs and was removed from the subcutaneous tissue in the chest. He's recovering in an undisclosed location, under heavy surveillance. Just in case the assassin tries to finish the job."

"He hasn't said anything?"

"No. He's in a haze from the pain medication. Not that he'd be in any mood to talk," Edgeworth said. "And that's all I know right now."

"I wanted to ask you about…Bobby Fulbright himself," I swallowed. "You told us that some remains were identified as him, by the fingerprints."

"Yes, but the finger pads were badly damaged. In fact, the body was in an advanced state of decomposition. The best we could get were partial prints. However, the partials were enough to match Bobby Fulbright in our fingerprint database. It was assumed to be an error, since it appeared Bobby Fulbright was alive and well."

"Wouldn't dental records have been enough to confirm it was really Fulbright?" I asked. "The Phantom had those incredibly detailed masks, but even he couldn't change his teeth."

"There was no head." Edgeworth's voice was cold.

I shivered. "Where was the body found?"

"On the outskirts of town, in a wooded area. A hiker came across it on November 29, 2026. After the investigation, the remains were released to the state. I cannot quite pinpoint the true day of death. That November was colder than usual."

I looked at the chair. Pearls was no longer seated there. Her body was, but not her. Instead, a well-built man was there, wearing all white. I had given the clothes to Pearls beforehand since this was the first time I'd see her channel an adult male. I wasn't sure her robes would stretch enough to keep the poor guy's modesty intact. That, and I thought the clothes would give Detective Bobby Fulbright even a small amount of security. I was disturbing his eternal rest, after all.

Fulbright gazed at me. "Phoenix Wright?"

"The same," I said. I explained everything, from the case to the channeling.

"I see," Fulbright said. "Ask me anything. I'll answer as best as I can."

I supposed the first thing was to address the elephant in the room. "How did you die?" I asked.

He pouted and pressed his two index fingers together. It really struck home how well the Phantom imitated him. "I really don't know."

"How do you not know? You were murdered," I said.

Fulbright looked embarrassed. "You speak as if the dead were all-knowing, but we're not."

"Do you remember your death?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember much. I was driving home from work. I'm a total creature of habit. Every night, I'd get off work. I'd have dinner at General Custard's. It's a little restaurant and bakery on my way home. Then I'd go home, using some little-known back roads."

"So you lived out of town?" I asked, recalling what Edgeworth told me. Specifically, where the body was found.

"Yes," Fulbright said. "On the very edge of the city limits, near the Evergreen Forest. The rent was really cheap, and I didn't mind the longer commute. The city is too loud and bright at night, you see."

"Not used to a big city?" I asked.

"I'm that transparent?" He smiled. "I grew up in Saginaw. I was sixteen when my parents got a divorce, and my father moved here. He got custody. I've always wanted to be a police detective, so I stayed here after graduating from the police academy. My house and Justicemobile…"

"Justicemobile?" I interrupted.

"My car. As I was saying, my house and car weren't grand, but they were mine, and I loved them. The last night I remember, I was driving home from General Custard's. I hit a patch of ice and skidded. I slammed on the brakes, but they didn't seem to work. The car went off the road, and that's the last thing I remember. I must have hit my head on the steering wheel and blacked out. I'm sorry I don't remember more."

"I think I know what happened," I said. "This is just a guess. The Phantom must have watched you before he planned to kill you and assume your identity. He knew your routine. He probably tampered with your brakes while you were in the restaurant. Then he went down the road you usually took home and poured water on it. It froze, since the temperatures were unusually low that year. No one else hit the ice because the road was seldom traveled."

"That makes sense," Fulbright said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You didn't deserve to die." Especially not die alone, in the cold.

"Being dead isn't all bad," he said. "Sure, it gets a little boring. Not much for a homicide detective to do. Everyone's already dead." He laughed at his own joke. "But seriously. I've made friends. Buddy, Dustin, Brucie, and I go bowling every Friday."

"They have bowling alleys over there?" I asked. Huh.

"They have a lot of things over there," he replied. "Maybe when you leave your world, you can bowl with us. I bowled a 221 last week." He blushed. "I wish my girlfriend could have seen it. Oh, I actually have a girlfriend now!"

I was curious, but then I remembered something else. "By the way, how did you know my name?" I asked. "We've never met."

"We can see into your world," Fulbright explained.

"Then shouldn't you know more about the Phantom?"

"Once again, the dead aren't all-knowing. We can see into your world. To do that, we need to concentrate while staring into a reflective surface. A mirror, still water, the closed eyes of someone."

"Closed eyes?" I asked. "Don't open eyes reflect?"

"The dreams are the reflection," he said simply. "It takes practice to see more than a glimpse. And we only get visions. No sound. No context. I did see the Phantom, but only a few times. I just couldn't bear to see any more than that." His fist clenched tightly. "To see that monster wear my face the way a mummy case wears a pharoah's!"

"Do you know why he chose you?" I asked. "He could have picked anyone in the police department."

"Well, you know the Chief Prosecutor at the time was retiring. And it was a foregone conclusion that Miles Edgeworth would be appointed in his place. Mr. Edgeworth chose me as an investigative partner for former Prosecutor Blackquill."

Of course. The Phantom must have found out somehow. He needed to get the psych profile back from Blackquill.

Fulbright continued. "Mr. Edgeworth told me that Prosecutor Blackquill would be returning to the bench, albeit in a reduced capacity. It was unorthodox, but I didn't get paid to question my superiors. I never got to meet him personally. But I did read as much as I could about him. I was curious. There were rumors that he was a spy. Actually, those rumors began with his mother, Dr. Rosetta Stone."

"Oh?"

"Dr. Stone was a linguist. A very good one. She did some work for the government. There were rumors she was a double agent. And…" he looked embarrassed. "Rumors always fly around beautiful, mysterious women. Please don't tell Prosecutor Blackquill I said that."

I won't.

"The rumors multiplied when she died," Fulbright continued. "A few years before UR-1. A car accident. Some claim our government rubbed her out. Others believe it was a jealous rival of hers, another linguist doing similar work. More believe it was an assassin from another country. I don't know. I wasn't on the investigation, and I don't know who was."

"Have you considered talking to Dr. Stone yourself?" I asked.

He chuckled. "The city of the dead I reside in is large. I don't know her personally. I don't know if she ended up there when she died. Even if I did know her whereabouts, I don't think I could casually strike up a conversation with her."

That made sense. At any rate, the sinister stories about Simon Blackquill turned out to be untrue. Chances are the stories about his mom were just that. Stories.

"But one thing bothers me," Fulbright said, jolting me out of my train of thought.

"One thing?!" I asked.

"Why did you call me here? You've caught the Phantom."

I felt myself flush. "I wanted to give you a chance to speak for yourself."

"Speak for myself?"

"Yes. The dead cannot speak, so the living must advocate for them. Athena Cykes and Simon Blackquill spoke on behalf of Dr. Metis Cykes. Apollo Justice spoke on behalf of Clay Terran. But there was no one to speak for you."

Fulbright smiled. And this smile was completely different from the one he had previously given in our interview. The one the Phantom had so perfectly mimicked. This one the Phantom could never hope to imitate, as it was completely without guile. It was one of forgiveness, and trust. "You have spoken for me. Maybe not for me, specifically, but for Lady Dike. You've devoted your life to clearing the names of the falsely accused. Not even disbarment and disgrace could stop you from seeking justice." Tears streamed from his eyes like twin fountains. "It's so beautiful!" He stopped crying and pouted. "It's a shame we never met when I was alive. I think we could have been great friends." He saluted. "You have my eternal thanks, Phoenix Wright!"

Then he was gone. There was only Pearls in the chair, the white clothes limply hanging on her petite frame.

"How did it go, Mr. Nick?" Pearls asked after she regained herself. "You look sad."

"Because I am," I said. "But I suppose he wouldn't want me to be. Justice was served. Right, Bobby?" I forced a smile. "In justice we trust, right?"