Chapter 2: Processing
Edgeworth seamlessly entered his sportscar and started the ignition while his mind was clouded with his meeting with Wright. Edgeworth shifted into drive without much thought of where he would be headed. There is always work to be done, I should just go back to the office. But it wasn't every day that his good friend and even better rival was likely to be disbarred.
What if the fool leaves a "Phoenix Wright chooses death" letter? It's what you deserve. What will you do then? The prosecutor shuddered at the thought in the safety of his vehicle, the only place besides home his authentic feelings came to surface.
Edgeworth drifted to a destination, a boat surrendered to the current, arriving at a lounge several minutes from his condominium. Relieved to sip a choice German Pinot Noir, he took a seat in relatively quiet spot with minimalist decor, drinking in the wine red color scheme. The nondescript waiter dropped by his table and Edgeworth ordered without a glance at the wine list, left to drum his fingertips against the immaculate black tablecloth. That is, until he saw the shadow cast across his table.
"Herr Edgeworth! What a surprise, I'm used to you keeping long hours at the office, ja?"
Edgeworth, managing to catch himself before appearing startled, looked up at the blond Adonis of a prosecutor clad sans dress shirt in a black vinyl blazer and pants, far more rock star than prosecutor in Edgeworth's estimation.
"Good evening, Prosecutor Gavin. It is a rare occasion that I take a selfish moment, but I daresay the same can be said for you." Edgeworth eyes glinted with a matching calculated smirk.
"Klavier, please. It's understandable. Things appeared to have changed considerably for a colleague of yours. May I join you?"
Edgeworth bristled at the allusion to his friendship with Wright, but nodded for Gavin to sit down.
The thoroughbred prosecutor smiled and settled into his chair, eyes gleaming with youth and vigor in the candlelight. Edgeworth's glass of wine arrived and upon confirmation that it was indeed a German Pinot, Gavin ordered a glass himself.
The dread of socializing set in, but Edgeworth felt ready to play chess with this opponent.
"Gavin, quite an interesting trial today."
"Ja, forged evidence and a disappearing defendant, how could I ever forget?"
Edgeworth smirked, "The forgery, how was that ascertained by you so quickly?"
Gavin smiled evenly in response. "I received notice from a trusted source, which was confirmed by the witness."
"And then you laid the trap."
Gavin's mouth straightened into a hard line, "Herr Wright is a formidable opponent and I had feared that the culprit would go free if I did not prepare. As I told you earlier, Herr Wright's shock and lack of confession at the trial has me concerned. I do not think a hearing regarding his badge should be held at this time, but I have little control over these things now that the trial has completed."
Edgeworth's eyes narrowed, "Who was your contact? How can we be sure that they are not involved themselves?"
Gavin smiled lightly, "I know them, I trust them. I don't want to start a witch hunt, but I too would like to know who commissioned the forgery. At the moment, I doubt Herr Wright's culpability."
He knows and trusts them. There has been no question of Prosecutor Gavin's ethics. If there was a lead, he would investigate, unless…
Edgeworth's face shifted into neutral with an almost smile, "Well, the facts should come to light in due time. How rude of me not to ask...how is life? How is your family?"
Gavin laughed lightly, "Not rude at all as Herr Demon Prosecutor is not known for his pleasantries."
His eyes sparkled at Edgeworth as the latter fought back that trademark reflexive glare.
Gavin continued, "Most of our family is home in Germany and thriving, though Kristoph was the first to come to the US to practice. He encouraged me to join and it was easier given the band's extensive North American tour schedule. Isn't your…"
"Yes, my adoptive sister of sorts, Franziska practices in Germany and seems to be doing quite well. I believe she vows to best me in court. Law families are most complicated, no?" Edgeworth attempted his best warm expression, eager to keep Gavin talking.
Gavin laughed heartily, taking a sip of the wine neither man had noticed was set down during conversation.
"Ja, Kristoph is quite competitive too. You haven't been in court together yet, I imagine."
"I haven't had the pleasure. He's rumored to be the coolest defense in the West, so I was looking forward to it. But you have?"
"Beat him twice fairly recently, and his defense was indeed composed through to the verdict. But I know elder brother, he does not take these things lightly. He holds onto slights and grudges like the stickiest piece of marzipan." Gavin laughed again, seemingly in surprise at his comparison of Kristoph to a confection.
Edgeworth joined for a low chuckle, "You know defense attorneys these days, you're lucky that you know one you can trust."
Gavin's smile lessened and his eyes shifted from merry to pensive. Or perhaps he doesn't trust him? Edgeworth maintained his gaze lightly, not wanting to give the impression that this was an interrogation.
"You trust Herr Wright, no?"
Edgeworth felt warmth fill his core, with the words "trust" and "Wright" nearly overwhelming his composure.
"Yes", he responded quietly, "Wright detests concealment of evidence, forgery, and any other practice that obscures the truth. The idea that he would take part in such a thing is inconceivable."
Edgeworth steeled his resolve and pursued, "You must have access to records authorizing Wright's representation of the defendant. Authorization was likely confirmed this morning, given that the defendant requested representation last night. If it's true, how did Wright have time to request the forgery? I have doubts about whether Wright could even afford the forgery…"
Gavin's eyes burned as his mouth settled into a line, "Is that so? You posit this was a setup?"
Edgeworth maintained silence, knowing the evidence was out of reach.
"Herr Edgeworth, forgive me if I am prying, but with so much work for both of us at the Prosecutor's office...how are you so consumed with thoughts of your rival?"
Edgeworth glowered at Gavin and felt his cheeks flush in a fortunately dark room. He noticed that his fellow prosecutor did not smirk nor tease with this statement, maintaining a solemn expression instead. Edgeworth stalled, finishing off his glass of wine and stood up, leaving cash for both glasses and a considerable tip.
"Indeed. Thank you, Prosecutor Gavin, for an enlightening conversation. I hope you consider the facts again... it never is just the evidence, but the interpretation, isn't it?"
The blond prosecutor smiled openly, "Of course, Herr Edgeworth, we agree on this point. Please don't hesitate to stop by my office and chat again when you have the chance, ja?"
Edgeworth curtly nodded, grateful for the opportunity to break away from such a perceptive opponent. How are you so consumed with thoughts of your rival? The words rang in his ears, a drone of downtown traffic, the hum of electrical cables...irritating, frustrating yet resounding with truth.
As he entered his car and started the ignition, Elgar's Salut d'Amour echoed from the classical station. Edgeworth's musical education kicked in. An overplayed piece, also known as "Liebesgruss," from the romantic era...a gift to the composer's fiancée. The prosecutor eyed the radio with disdain, little regard for the sentimentality of the violin's melodic swells. Yet, his fingertips lingered at the knob as he became lightheaded by the onslaught of images distracted him.
Phoenix's dark blue eyes tearing but accompanied by an open, childlike smile after the class trial. Those eyes burning brightly across the court that very first time, interrupted by the same guileless smile when the evidence wasn't adequate for the defense's assertions, yet shifting into that determined, grounded smile when he would finally locate that bit of undiscovered or misunderstood evidence, or a slip-of-the-tongue contradiction in the witness statement. He had feared losing to Wright not only for a marred perfect record, for a bruised ego. He feared the loss would expose existence of that perfect evidence, his attachment to Wright, that, try as he had for those interim years, could not be pronounced dead.
In turn, with his warmth and pure intentions, the defense attorney had slowly chipped at the prosecutor's armor of artifice and arrogance courtesy of Von Karma. Edgeworth's own need for truth, for justice, was exposed and changed the course of his career, his very livelihood. So much so, that when Wright was clearly troubled or had a friend's life hanging in the balance (often Miss Fey), the prosecutor felt an aching, a longing, to run across the court and stand at his rival's side...to tell him he wasn't alone, to show him…
As he had done many times before, Edgeworth bit his lip reflexively to cut off the daydream. Wright's pleasing visage drifted away with the delicate violin line following what would be the ritardando molto several bars prior to the coda of the piece, if Edgeworth's memory of the sheet music was correct. Long, pale fingers finally turned the radio knob, shutting out that tempting invitation into reverie and sentiment.
Edgeworth clenched his jaw as he shifted into drive, anger stirring in the pit of his stomach, one that had been reserved for his father's killer, the sensation intense enough to block out more complicated feelings. Wright, we will find who did this to you, their crime will be recognized in the eyes of the Law, and you will be exonerated. A new target in mind, Edgeworth felt his body settle into the familiar rhythm of pursuit.