His name was Frank Ewan. His daughter was Katrina Ewan, a 24 year old who had been charged with the murder of the groom, Duke Johnson, who was 25 years old. He died before the ceremony could take place, so they weren't officially married. They had been engaged for seven months, but had been together for 3 years. Duke's body was found outside the Mayflower Hotel, he had fallen 8 stories from his hotel room to his death. Clues were found that pointed to Katrina, though Frank did not know what they were.

I had been waiting for twenty minutes in the detention centre. It seemed that Katrina was reluctant to talk to anyone. Eventually she walked in, all dressed in black.

"Hello, Katrina," I said as she sat down. No response. "My name is Phoenix Wright. I'm a defence attorney." Katrina crossed her arms, and gave me a look. I could see fear in her eyes.

"What do you want?" she spoke, lips trembling.

"Your father came by my office and he told me about your fiancé."

"I don't have a fiancé. He left me."

"He didn't leave you Katrina... He was taken away."

Katrina took a deep breath and sighed.

"Why would anyone do this to Duke? He was my everything," She began to sob quietly. I felt it was the right time to ask her questions.

"Hey Katrina, I was thinking we could talk another time. I need to go down to the hotel and gather information. I just wanted to introduce myself…"

Katrina nodded slightly and continued to sob into her hands.

The Mayflower Hotel was incredibly grand. There were police scattered everywhere which added certain grimness. I counted eight stories up, it was quite a fall. The body was found at the back of the building, where there was a large garden area. Directly across from the white outline was an area of the garden which contained rows of chairs and a podium. This is where the wedding ceremony was to take place. It was an eerie scene; this must have been what Duke last saw before he died.

"Hey, you!" A man in a tattered trench coat stumbled his way towards me.

"Detective Gumshoe," I greeted him, "Good to see you."

"You too, pal. Man, can you believe it? Murder at a wedding. They didn't even get to say 'till death do us part'!"

"Somehow I think that would have made the situation more painful."

"I guess you're right."

"So, what of the investigation? Any clues?" Gumshoe handed me a file. It contained details about evidence found, the key one being a knife with which Duke was stabbed with, though the stabbing was not the cause of death. The knife had Katrina's fingerprints on the handle. That's just great, I thought.

"Her fingerprints were on the knife, huh?"

"Bet you can't wait to try and find an excuse for that."

"I do my job with an open mind, there must be something. Can I go to the room the victim was in?"

"Um, no! But you can go into the kitchen."

"The kitchen? How is that going to help me?"

"I don't know, pal. But the knife did come from there."

There was a lot of bustle in the kitchen, cooks and waiters were packing equipment up. The caterers never got to serve food, how could Katrina have had access to a knife if it came from here? I stopped one of the waiters.

"Hi, I'm a lawyer," I told him, pointing at my badge. He looked at me blankly. "Does anyone around here know about the incident yesterday?"

"You mean the incident. Gee, no, but you might want talk to that guy over there." The waiter pointed to a man in a chef hat, "He has a mystery of his own." The waiter walked away, chuckling. The chef did look like he had a problem. I approached him and introduced myself as a lawyer.

"You must be a chef, right?"

"What? I'm no chef."

"Of course you're not." He was only wearing a chef's uniform!

"I'm Frederic Sanders. I don't make no dishes, I just supply the cake. Cake making is an art of it's own, and wedding cakes are the most extravagant of them all. I am the Picasso of baking!" I never was a fan of Picasso.

"So, uh, do you just do weddings?"

"No, I other do other events. Birthdays, christenings, bowling tournaments you name
it. Here, take my card." He presented me with a small white business card, with bold pink lettering made to look like frosting which read "Pudge, Cakes For Whatever Occasion".

"P-pudge? Your cake company is called Pudge?"

"Yes, Pudge Cakes Inc, don't you think it's a good name?" I detected some irony. What was he going for, some sort of satire directed at obesity? "It's short and catchy, not to mention realistic! All these new fangled diets that women go on to stay thin, especially when they need to fit into a wedding dress, yet they worry so much about a cake that contains thousands of calories! Cakes were never made for healthy eating; they were made to put a smile on people's face and expand their waist. You see that beauty?" He directed me to a trolley; on top was the wedding cake, a staggering three tier white cake with purple frosting flowers and two little figurines at the top: a tiny bride and groom.

"Shame no one got to taste this."

"Actually..." Frederic spun the cake around and revealed a large slice had been taken out of the bottom tier. This must have been his "mystery".

"Some scallywag thought they should steal a bite before it's proper presentation! When I caught sight of it, I thought it was the worst thing that could have happened. Well, until that happened. My assistant joked it was a jealous bridesmaid. The cake I mean." I observed the disturbed cake. At first I thought it could have been a child, but it was cut too neatly. There was a nagging feeling that the cake had something to do with the murder.

After a while I was allowed to go into the victim's room. There weren't any obvious signs of a struggle, only some clothes scattered on the floor. It might as well have been my room. There was a door that led out to a balcony. This was where the victim was pushed. I opened up the Court Record.

"Why stab him?" I quietly said to myself, as if someone was there.

"That's what I asked too," a women's voice said which startled me.

"Yikes!" I turned around, slamming the Court Record shut, only to be more startled. It was a woman who looked a lot like Katrina, only with longer hair. I stammered, "Uh, hi there."

"Hello there," she said, smiling confidently, "Who are you by the way?"

"Me, well, I'm, who am I, I'm Phoenix Wright! I'm the defence attorney in this case." Why did I have to make myself sound like an idiot?

"Oh, you're defending my sister? Dad said something about a blue suit." People always remember the blue suit. "I'm Jenna Ewan, Katrina's older sister. Also, the maid of honour in this case."

"It's very nice to meet you." It really was very nice.

"Ditto. So, anything you found that will prove my sister is innocent? I mean, the fact that she was in love with the man should be enough for the court."

"Well, the court prefers evidence. Did you happen to see your sister at the time of the crime?" Katrina looked down at floor, disappointed.

"No, I didn't. But I know she wasn't killing Duke. Somebody framed her clearly. And when I find out who did-" She clenched her fist. I stepped back a little, intimidated, "Look at me, I'm scaring the lawyer off."

"Oh no, you have every right to be angry."

"I sure do."

"Do you happen to have any other siblings?"

"Nope, just Katrina." Her voice faltered, "Look, I have to know that I can trust you. You can do it right? You can save Katrina." There was that same fear in her eyes that I saw in Katrina's. I remembered watching Katrina cry; I didn't want to see her sister do the same.

"I believe in Katrina. So you can believe in me." I wanted to bite my tongue, I sounded so corny! Jenna didn't seem fazed though. She took out a piece of paper out of her bag and handed it to me. An address was written on it.

"I'm staying at my parents' place, come down there if you have any questions." I slipped the paper into my pocket. I fidgeted awkwardly and mumbled thanks.

"See you round, Phoenix." She left the room, hair swinging with every step. Another case, another pair of sisters.