A/N: So, the idea is sort of based on Clue, I suppose, but without multiple available weapons and the silly character names. This story takes place in 1950's America; everyone is dressed for a dinner party. Some statements may be seen as out of character, but that's just part of the AU, I guess.

It was a dark and stormy night.

The rain had started out as just a light tapping on the frosted windowpanes, but it had quickly grown into a downpour of fists banging on the manor. The steady pounding was only broken by the occasional clap of thunder preceded by a flash of lightning. The dramatic effect was immense.

It was a well-placed storm, that was for sure.

Suddenly, there was a heavy fist at the door. "Hey! This is the police! Open up, pals!" a heavy male voice called from outside. The ornate manor door slowly creaked open. The man entered into the room, pulling out his badge.

"Detective Dick Gumshoe here." Hastily stowing away his badge, the detective took a glance around the room. Six faces stared back at them from the entrance room. Some showed shock. Some showed fear. Some showed amusement. "Anyway, pals. We got a call that there was a murder—"

"Papa!" A young woman broke out into tears. Burying her face in her finely gloved hands, she sobbed, "Papa was murdered!" One of the other women in the room patted her back consolingly, though, judging by her expression, she was shocked to see the crying woman in such a state.

Gumshoe looked toward one of the other members of this party. "Could…anyone else tell me a little more? What exactly happened here?"

"I can tell you." A young man stepped forward. He wore a sharp, red suit jacket with a cravat. Obviously a sign of wealth, the detective noted. The young man extended a hand; it seemed to be more of a formality than a genuine desire to shake hands. Despite this, the detective took it.

"My name is Miles Edgeworth, Detective," the man said, with a princely air. "I'm a professor of law at the university. I can tell you what happened here, and who did it."

"R-really, now! Er…Could you tell me, then?"

"Of course. It was 7:30 this evening. When we gathered for supper, Mr. Von Karma, Franziska's father," he gestured toward the sobbing woman, "failed to appear. Since he is always perfectly punctual, there was concern as to why he was absent. Subsequently, we went up as a group up to his room, where we found his body. There were three stab wounds; from the lack of abrasions and the blood on the sheets," he paused as he nervously thought back to the graphic scene. "…I think it's safe to assume that he died of blood loss. However, we have yet to find the murder weapon."

Gumshoe quickly jotted down the information in his notebook. "Alright, pal, sounds go—"

"OBJECTION!"

A loud cry pierced the air. Rather, it sliced it. Sliced it like a bread knife in butter.

Edgeworth looked angrily back at the source of the cry. "Wright!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There's a contradiction in what you just said, Edgeworth!" Another young man stepped forth. His hair was slicked back. Even spiky. It reminded Gumshoe of those new jet planes that the government was coming out with. "Eh…and, you are?"

The young man grinned slightly. "Phoenix Wright. I'm an art student, but…I've been studying some law, too." He turned his stare back to Edgeworth. "And even I know that what you've said isn't sufficient proof!"

"What?" Infuriated, Edgeworth clenched his fists. "And what problem do you have with what I've just said, which was the truth?"

"How do you know that he didn't die of something before being stabbed? Like, if he was poisoned or something?"

"Then why would someone go through all the trouble to stab him afterward?" Edgeworth responded, teeth grinding.

Phoenix's previous enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "Well…I don't know," he admitted. "But…what if?"

"That is meaningless conjecture," Edgeworth scoffed. "Anyway, we only care about who did it."

Staring back and forth between their intense glares at one another, Gumshoe attempted to interject. "Eh…pals?" Their heads snapped toward him. "So, who was it?"

Edgeworth smirked. "It's quite obvious, really. Looking at the evidence…"

Phoenix mirrored Edgeworth's expression. "…and potential motives…"

"It must have been…"

"Sir Godot!" Edgeworth cried.

"Franziska!" Phoenix cried.

They both looked at each other in surprise. "Wait," they said in unison. "…What?"

"Wright, how can you think it was Franziska?" Edgeworth cried, frustrated. "Can't you see how distressed she is? And why would she kill her own father? Godot was the one with the motive, therefore, and he had the means to commit such an atrocity."

"But Godot was with us the entire time! Franziska left before dinner, don't you remember?" Phoenix cried with equal frustration. "Therefore, she was the only one with a possible time to—"

"Phoenix Wright!" A whip resounded from the other side of the room. The previously sobbing girl had quickly recovered, her look of grief replaced with fury. "How DARE you suggest that I would….would….murder,"—she spat out this word—"my father? You…you…." She fumed as she tried to search for the proper words. "You foolish fool! You and your foolhardy endeavors only lead to more foolishly foolish statements!" Then, her voice grew dangerously quiet. "If you…persist in such a line of thinking, Phoenix Wright…" She stretched her whip taut. "Your claim may come true." Gumshoe looked at her in surprise. Her whip seemed so out of place when juxtaposed with her white satin dress and pearl jewelry. But for such a finely-dressed young woman, she inspired a fear in him like no other.

Phoenix swallowed nervously. "Er…yes, m'am."

Gumshoe scratched the back of his head. "So...what you're saying is…" he searched the people's faces for a sign. "…No one really knows anything?"

Edgeworth twitched at the thought of being ignorant, Phoenix simply looked away sheepishly, and Franziska continued to seethe silently.

"Well…that's not exactly true, Mr. Detective," said a small voice.

The young woman who had tried to console Franziska stepped forth. She seemed of the same age as Franziska, though through her demeanor, she seemed even younger. "Now that we know who couldn't do it, we can start going toward who did, right?"

"H-hey! That's a good idea, pal…Sorry, what was your name again?"

"I'm Maya Fey!" she called out, rather chipper. "I'm Nick's friend!"

"Nick? Who's that?" Gumshoe looked about the room in surprise. He thought all the men had been accounted for; Mr. Edgeworth, Mr. Wright, and Sir Godot.

"Detective, 'Nick' is her pet name for Mr. Wright here," Edgeworth explained, exasperated.

Gumshoe nodded in understanding. "Oooohhhh…"

"Anyway," Edgeworth said, assuming a command position. "I think it would be prudent to ask everyone what they were doing this evening, Detective." He smirked. "Only when everyone testifies will we see the who the true culprit is."

"Y-yes, pal, er…sir!"

Gumshoe looked back at the corner of the room, where he noted that Sir Godot was talking to another young woman in a floor-length red dress.

"Wow…that woman…she's beautiful!" he breathed.

Nodding in agreement, Phoenix said, "Yeah. That's Mia Fey. Maya's sister."

"So…there's you, Mr. Edgeworth, Miss Franziska, Miss Maya, Sir Godot, and Miss Mia?" Gumshoe listed the guests. "Is that it, pal?"

"Um…yeah! I think so…"

"Alright." Gumshoe lowered his fedora over his eyes slightly. "Let's get to the bottom of this!"

A/N: This shall be multi-chapter, so…yeah! Comment with who you think the culprit is! ;D Thanks for reading~