A/N And here is the second chapter of The Fop and the Detective. At one point, it sort of alternates between Ema's and Klavier's perspective, but this is written in third-person, so strictly speaking, there isn't really a perspective to begin with. Right…? I've been busy for the past week… cosplaying. As Ema Skye, actually. But that's another story (not that I'd be telling it to you guys), and I'm just mentioning it with regards to this update. Would you consider this late? Early? Regular? Bleh. I just realized how hard it is to keep regular updates, my usual work being oneshots, but I'll keep trying. Anyway, my humour muscle is out of sync with the rest of the world, or otherwise way underused in the realm of fanfiction, so bear with it for now, alright? And I just realized I don't put disclaimers on my stories—whoops! Well, I'm not going to go back and edit them right now, so if I forget any more, just look at my profile.
Disclaimer: 'Capcom fails to sue one TruffleWings on grounds that a disclaimer has been put up' End Quoooottttte! No, no, too long. What about something more succinct? Like thi—(Brushel shoved out of room. Forcibly.)
EDITED as of June 19 2010 for formatting and minimum minor revisions.
Chapter Two: Enter the German Prosecutor
A murder! Who would dare commit a murder in the midst of a Gavinners concert? Everyone, except Herr Forehead perhaps, knew the Gavinners were made up of figures linked with the law! And they had to go and do it in such an impossible, ludicrous manner!
This day, of all days, was the day that was least prudent to cross Klavier Gavin. You can really trod on someone's toes by committing murder.
And then there was that concert. His guitar… burned! Never mind that the audience thought that it was part of the show. That acoustic guitar was amazing. The loss of such an exquisite item should have been considered a crime. (And, Klavier realized, it was a crime. Arson.) The beautiful, clear notes that it produced were unlike any other, the strings were smooth and easy and it projected wonderfully pure, refined sounds that echoed with clarity and ease. All gone now, in a rush of flame.
Not only that, but Daryan had to go and ruin the third part of the concert with his mediocre playing! Right at the climax of the song, no less! And he denied it. He had the cheek to deny it. A brief round with the mixing board would make him eat his words with dressing and relish, no doubt, and it did. Herr Forehead and the fräulein magician sure showed Daryan up.
His anger rose to a new level as he recalled yet another unpleasant fact. His keys. Were. Missing. Still. Missing. Had. Been. Missing. Missing. For. The. Whole. Day. Because of this unfortunate incident, he had been forced to take a cab to his own concert. Oh, the humiliation! Yes, the key to his hog was on that precious set of keys. Klavier even had to break open his own guitar case. Yes, the key to his guitar case was on that precious set of keys. Heck, his key ring held all his keys!
With the thought of keys jingling around in his mind, he remembered yet another horrible happening. His keys had been found. In other circumstances, this would be at least a single piece of good news.
But not this time.
Klavier's keys had been found clutched tightly in the hands of the late Romein LeTouse. The victim. Almost as if… as if he had been trying to give the investigators a clue as to who his murderer was—by grabbing the said perpetrator's belongings. How clichéd… Well, Klavier had a watertight alibi, so he had not been made a suspect in any case.
The prosecutor was most definitely taking this murder case.
You have to feel sorry for the killer.
But since he usually left the legwork to the detectives, especially since the grumpy fräulein detective would be too annoyed to investigate if he chanced upon the scene, Klavier decided to avoid Lamiroir's dressing room for the time being and deigned to linger on stage.
There was a banging noise, and a startled rock star very nearly jumped out of his skin when a man materialized in front of him.
A flurry of canary yellow, sprinkled with colourful flowers by the bundles. Long, greying hair was tamed and straight under a silk top hat. With the air of a professional performer, a pink staff was twirled expertly with a rush of wind. There was no doubt that somewhere in the world, a band as flamboyant as the man was playing a proud fanfare that matched the man's showiness.
Valant Gramarye.
Klavier felt his fingers twitch. Hiring the magician had brought him mixed feelings. On one hand, yes, he was the best in the business and absolutely had to be hired for the disappearing act. But on the other hand… his appearance had drudged back memories from Klavier's very first trial, and to the prosecutor, it was an ill wind. Somehow, it seemed like an omen. He had always known it would come back to haunt him…
"Ah, purple prince of prosecuting powers! Greetings, from the great Valant Gramarye!"
Not even the fräulein detective could deny that Valant's arrogance surpassed Klavier's own. (Actually, he thought, perhaps the detective would.) "What may you be doing here? Surely you should be being interviewed right now."
"But no!" The magician looked him squarely in the eye and pointed his pink sceptre at Klavier. "For I am but a spectre, a pair of wandering eyes that merely wish to examine the operations of the miraculous happenings that occurred merely a few hours prior to this very moment!"
Translation: I'm avoiding the police and just checking my equipment.
You needed practice to speak Valanese. As Klavier pondered on whether to press an interview upon the last original Gramarye, the magician seemed to realize that he was speaking to the very height of command of the investigation team and that he was in a position vulnerable to unwanted questions and such.
With this realization, there naturally was a trademark bang, and an undignified Valant hurrying to the door.
Somehow, Klavier thought, he must be strangely unable to disappear—rather, his ability lies in only the sudden appearances that perhaps rely on the element of surprise.
There seemed nothing else to do; perhaps he should return home…
He lingered in the Gavinners dressing room for a few moments, then really did head onto the exit of Sunshine Coliseum.
But then a harassed-looking detective burst into the corridor, shouting instructions into her headset and shooting glares at the Blue Badger doll atop a black case. Klavier stopped dead in his tracks as a Snackoo was plonked promptly onto his personage. Detective Ema Skye headed towards him with a stride and a MUNCH so threatening that even Klavier took a step back as Ema advanced upon him.
"Stop right there, fop!"
She was obeyed. Instantaneously.
Like a poor schoolboy summoned to the headmaster's office, Klavier was stunned for just a moment, wondering what he could possibly have done.
"Where the heck is Apollo Justice?"
Quickly, the prosecutor regained his wits, and answered, "I have not a clue. Why?"
"LeTouse! LeTouse is gone!"
"Yes. He is dead."
"Not that, you glimmerous fop! His body… It's disappeared!"
"What? How could this be?" It was impossible! As disbelief settled in comfortably with tea and biscuits, fury rose within him; the killer made yet another stupidly audacious move—mocking him! Of all the ludicrous…
"Don't just stand there! Hunt around! Put yourself to good use, for once!" the detective commanded as she threw another Snackoo at him. "And if you find that Wright kid, be sure to bring him to me so he gets a proper Snackoo-ing!"
"What has Herr Forehead done?"
"I asked him! I asked him to watch the body for me while I left and he leaves!"
That, however, was not the most pressing issue here. The prosecutor fled to Lamiroir's dressing room to see if they could find any clues at all pertaining to the mystery.
"Ah ha!" Klavier heard Ema exclaim from the corridor. "The criminal returns to the scene of the crime!"
No doubt she had spotted two gelled spikes and a blue hat. By the time the duo had received the terrible wrath of Ema Skye, they went in to see Klavier and received some rage overspill with a guest appearance by Daryan.
Now, the anger had mostly abated and what was left was edginess and general uncertainty. The case reeked of loops, twists and turns that would throw it off its tracks and turn it onto its head. Because of this, Klavier somehow gained the distinct impression that Apollo would be taking the case.
Herr Forehead and Trucy departed in a hurry, eager to both find the body and to escape the moody Ema.
That left Ema and Klavier alone in the room, and neither of them felt it in themselves to leave—Ema, because she was still upset and wanted to continue investigating while the others searched, and Klavier because he had a feeling that with so many hands at work, the body was bound to be found. After all, the entrances were sealed so there really was no need to worry…
"Fräulein… relax."
Klavier could have sworn that a dozen, razor-sharp daggers were shot his way right at the moment that Ema glared at him. "Relax!" She gave a snort. "The almighty Klavier Gavin wants me to relax! Of course I'm bound to acquiesce to his perfectly reasonable wishes!"
The rock star was surprise; in this sort of situation, he would expect not sarcasm, but an outright fury. "There is no need to worry, ja? After all, t—Oh, you are too kind, fräulein detective. Here you are gifting me with yet another one of your precious snacks!"
Ema's mouth slammed open in outrage. Klavier noted, with amusement, that whenever something so blasphemous as him nicking a Snackoo or catching one of her projectiles and planning to munch it down, her jaw would slam down onto the floor. Then, almost as if she were worried something would fly into it, she snapped her mouth shut and gave a formidable glare.
Perhaps it would leave the fan girls quivering, Apollo Justice trembling, and the investigators giving Ema Skye a berth of about, oh, I don't know, three and a half miles, but to Ema's disappointment, it merely glinted off Klavier's award-winning smile.
And then it happened.
Twice in a day.
This was not a good day for people all around.
Klavier Gavin ate the Snackoo.
For a moment, Ema's brain seemed to jam as the chocolate delight approached Gavin's mouth all too quickly; then his lips closed and a loud, unbearable crunching sound was made; and finally, the bob of his Adam's apple as the Snackoo travelled down his throat.
And down it would go into his digestive system. First, through his oesophagus, pushed to his stomach by peristalsis. And once in his stomach, it would be churned by the digestive jui—
Ema realized her mouth was hanging open again, and closed it. Who knew what insects lurked in the air, after all. "Klavier Gavin." Her tone was steely, as hard and as cold as ice.
Klavier blinked, surprised. The fräulein detective usually took the hotheaded, fiery approach. "Yes?"
"You have taken a Snackoo."
"Correction: You have given me a Snackoo and I have graciously accepted it."
"You ate my Snackoo."
"Correct," Klavier admitted. "Although I do think that these snacks are rather overrated."
Ema was at a loss for words to properly convey her utmost disbelief, and whilst conniving to express her anger, she merely said, once again, "You. Ate. My. Snackoo."
"Ah, your eloquence astounds me, fräulein detective."
How could he? That ridiculous German rock star eating her Snackoo. It was the very blackest of all blasphemy! And as she stood there, frozen, she realized that Gavin had approached her and reached out for the packet in her hand.
Wait, what?
Was he really ruffling around in her bag of Snackoos? Did he really have the gall to keep such a snide smirk on his face as he drew out a handful? Was he really serious when he brought the snacks to his mouth?
"Hold it!"
The fop, thankfully, stopped. It may have been the fire in her eyes, or the indescribable warning in her tone—
"Such intensity in your gaze! I did not realize that I commanded such an attractive presence to you, mein liebe."
—or maybe just the opportunity to tease her again.
KA-TOOOOONNNNNKKKKKK!
Plink, plink, plink…
A shower of chocolate rained upon the gleeful Klavier Gavin and it was nearly impossible to dodge, let alone catch every one of the Snackoos. He caught the edge of the maelstrom, and the remaining snacks fell upon the carpeted floor, some plopping onto the edge of the table and fruit basket.
"You arrogant glimmerous foppish fake prosecutor rock star! Put those Snackoos down right now!"
An easy smile spread across Gavin's face. Outside, investigators hurriedly fled from the corridor. "Oh, you mean these snacks? Unfortunately, mein liebe, I cannot do that."
"Put them down." Ema spoke almost carefully, with rage seeping into her voice, intense hatred directed at the antagonist. She felt as though she were negotiating with a criminal with an ever-so-precious hostage. "And stop speaking German, unless you care to translate. Actually, no. Just stop speaking German, period."
"Ach, you do seem to be a little irked, fräulein."
Why did he have to steal her snacks every time she met him? Ema chose to attempt some calculated prosing. "Aren't you a little unoriginal? I mean, if you really want to annoy me, shouldn't you do something a little more creative than nicking my Snackoos—" Here, she drew out another pack from her satchel to show she could always simply open another packet. "—or teasing me like some 12 year old?" The detective was slightly worried where this would lead to, because if he chose to listen to her, Gavin might try something even worse, if that were humanly possible.
The prosecutor appeared to consider this for a moment, and then a wicked grin flitted across his face. "A most interesting notion, fräulein. I will have to consider it most carefully. And while I deliberate this, I will settle on unoriginality and eat these Snackoos in the meantime."
Just then, the door was slammed open and a head popped into the room. "Prosecutor Gavin! Detective Skye! They… the body's been found!"
The duo looked up sharply. "Where?" both of them said. Ema glared at Gavin.
"On stage! Come quick!"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Do you not think it odd, fräulein?"
"Of course it's odd. LeTouse's corpse found on the raised stage, along with that guitar and Machi Tobaye!"
"Indeed…" Klavier mused. "And Machi has been arrested as the prime suspect."
"He can't be the murderer. How could a boy that small overwhelm LeTouse? Or carry his body and a guitar up to the tower?"
"Yet it is his small stature that warrants his arrest. He may not have been working alone; then, it would make sense."
The detective glared at him. "No, it doesn't and you know it doesn't. Why would he move the body?"
"The song, fräulein. Mysterious as it is…" Klavier began to sing. "Guitar, guitar… Up together to the sky."
"Even so, he would have no need to remain on the platform," Ema said hastily, if only to shut him up.
"I am the prosecution. That is my job—to prosecute, to find the truth. And though it may seem mysterious now, there is no doubt that the truth will reveal itself in the end. So—no need to worry, fräulein detective; though I am glad for your concern of my case." She had not been, Klavier knew, worrying about his case but sharing her doubts with him about Machi Tobaye. "Still, I believe a more thorough investigation had been needed before arresting him as suspect—if not for one thing. The closed room murder."
Ema couldn't contest that.
"But it is not only that. Because Mr LeTouse had come from Borginia, a rather precarious situation has developed… and it is apparently necessary to wrap this case up quickly. So do not glare at me so—I have done my best to convince them otherwise. But the air vent and Machi's size… it is impossible to gainsay that. And for that point, I have to concede to the logic." As he spoke, he slowly chewed, and a familiar crunching sound could be heard from his mouth.
"Yeah…" The very same sound was also being generated from Ema's jaws.
MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH… MUNCH MUNCH… MUNCH… MUNCH
The twin crunches clashed with each other, but one soon faded out. "What?" Ema demanded.
"Was?"
"Was what?"
" 'Was' is German for 'what', fräulein detective."
"Well, what d'you mean, what?"
"Exactly." Klavier paused. Munching ensued. "But really, what do you mean by 'what'?"
Ema took a while to think the conversation through. "I mean, what's with the munching?"
"You notice I do not ask you that same question every day."
"More to the point: did you nick my Snackoos?"
"Nein."
Ema considered this. If he had stolen her obsession, he would have either admitted it or said something along the lines of 'No, you gave them to me'. "Second question: what are you eating?"
Gavin merely opened his mouth to expose a disgusting sight of brown and golden mush.
Ugh, did he really just do that? In Ema's experience, the only time she was exposed to that kind of answer was when interviewing difficult children around the age of seven. Now, what does that say about Gavin? Nothing I already don't know, that's for sure.
"Well, mein liebe, what does it look like?"
The detective tried to stop her mind from making any connections regarding the likeness of the mishmash other than Snackoos, lest she besmirch her impossible addiction. "Why do you have Snackoos in your mouth?"
"Well, you see—"
The door opened and one Daryan Crescend entered the room. "Hey dude, and er… who's the gal?" he asked, turning to look at Ema.
"Detective Ema Skye," she said.
"Oh yeah, you were at the concert. Security detail." Ema could've sworn Crescend had somehow worked a metaphorical eye roll into his tone. "Anyway, Gavin, this here's the preliminary report on that giant. There's so little info about him that it's freaky."
"Thank you, Daryan."
"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go down and see what else I can find, but no promises, man. Doubt there's anything else on him. See ya." With a wave, he departed with a gait that seemed uncannily like a predator stalking his prey. Daryan Crescend had always reminded her of some shark, swimming in the dark waters of the ocean, lurking and just waiting to pounce.
Seeing the guitarist got Ema thinking about the case once again, all thoughts of Gavin's strange new snacking banished at once. "I wonder who LeTouse really is…"
"Indeed. There are many mysteries to this murder. For example, as you said before, why risk moving the body? To follow the lyrics of the song, yes, but why?"
"Maybe the killer's some kind of madman?" Ema said, not really paying attention to the improbability of her words.
"Like something out of a fairytale… How dramatic this is."
"Who was the body found by anyway?"
"Apollo Justice and his assistant, I believe," Gavin said, turning his eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling.
"Huh, maybe I'll go talk to them." Speaking of that, Ema realized that she'd better get going and investigate some more. "See you later, Mr Gavin."
"Indeed." The prosecutor paused for a moment as Ema laid a hand on the doorknob. "Oh yes, fräulein?"
"What is it?" Ema asked as she stepped out of his office.
"It should be 'whom'."
"What?"
"You said 'who was the body found by'. It should be 'whom was the body found by'."
Ema closed the door.
There's something seriously wrong with that German prosecutor correcting my English on so many levels.
A/N Somehow, I like the idea of Klavier correcting Ema's English. Or anyone's English, for that matter, because though it isn't his first language, Klavier is so obviously well versed and very eloquent in our language, which is pretty cool. Valant's speech was fun to write—I'll probably do more of that in the future. I never liked Daryan; even if he wasn't the killer, I just didn't like his personality or his style of speaking… You know what really makes my day? Reviews. Just thought you ought to know, you know… hint hint, nudge nudge.