Chapter Seven: Fantabulistic, Is It Not?
About ten minutes later someone—Iris didn't remember which nurse, although Mia tried to argue with him or her—returned to kick them out. The two of them hadn't spoken a word since the sort-of disagreement. But Iris discovered, much to her own private pleasure, that Mia had been wrong: finding out that they were cousins had changed things.
Mia had treated her no differently, that much was true. Except for her tendency to soften and give Iris more hugs than before—which could simply be because of their growing friendship—she was the same confident, declarative, respectful, happy young woman as before. But Iris, for her own part, had found the whole relationship easier since that Mia knew the truth.
So as they left the hospital, instead of remaining awkwardly silent, Iris asked, "Mia, do you remember the diamond?"
Mia looked at her blankly for a moment, and Iris wondered if she should have placed the question in context of her curiosity. "Oh!" she finally said, face relaxing in relief, apparently realizing that Iris was graciously trying to make conversation. "Yes, I do. The raw diamond Dahlia stole from her stepfather, right?"
"Yes," Iris answered. "Do you have any idea what happened to it? As in... does she still have it? If she sold it, that might explain her ability to continually elude the police."
Mia frowned, her forehead creasing. Then, as they slid into the seats of her car, Mia's eyes grew huge, and her jaw dropped.
Startling Iris, she leaned across the compartment and planted a kiss on Iris's forehead. "You've got it!" Mia crowed. "Oh, Iris, you're brilliant! She could only sell a diamond that huge to so many people! If we can find her fence, we might be able to track her down through him!"
Mia was so obviously excited and caught up in her own train of thought that Iris was hesitant to interrupt. But finally she asked, "Um... fence?"
"Oh—someone who takes stolen materials and sells them on the black market for a fortune." Mia waved her hands. "Sorry, showing off again—and the word is probably inapplicable. But, oh my God, Iris! Let's think, she could sell it to so many people." She started ticking names off on her fingers. "There's Herm Grimbold; Smithson Dallinger; that German gang out east; that Free Church bastard, what's-his-name, Wilkes; then there's all the Italian families, the Cadaverinis, the Lombardos, the Bolognesas..."
Iris said timidly, "Do you think... we can talk to all those people? I mean, can the police do that?"
Mia stopped in her tracks, and sighed, dropping her hands into her lap. After a moment, she put in the key and started the car. "No," she said, with a tinge of frustration, and twisted, looking backwards to pull the car out of the parking space. "We certainly can't. And the police haven't found out anything about the diamond yet, because they don't have that many contacts with... with..."
The car slowly drifted to a stop as Mia's words drifted away, and Iris sucked in her breath with a little shriek as they barely missed hitting another vehicle. Mia didn't hear her; she had frozen again, but this time with a look of contemplative incredulity on her face. "M-Mia?"
The young attorney looked at Iris: her brows fell, and set into a look of determination. She whipped the car into first gear, and they peeled out of the parking lot. "I just thought of something," she said, lips tight, "but it's technically not legal."
"Well, Miss Fey," said the man smugly, rising to stand from his solid gold desk as Mia boldly strode in. "This is a splendiferously complicative surprisation as in regards to me."
Mia wanted to moan aloud and cover her ears. "Mr. White," she said, in as friendly tones as she could manage. "I realize how strange this situation must seem..."
"Hoh hoh," he said tolerantly. "My not-so-secretive nemesis arrives to provide me with visitation. In what way could that be strange?" He stood up, and Mia noticed Iris wincing at the insane sparkle from his diamond-studded jewelry and clothing. "Res ipsa loquitur, clearly you require something quite difficulterous."
Mia cleared her throat, half-wishing she could just die. The worst part about Redd White was that, just like a cliché, he was always right. Only in a situation this desperate would she even approach the man. "I've come to make an offer."
"An exchange, I presume."
"Yes," Mia said, her mouth dry. Oh God, what am I doing?
Over the years, Mia had been secretly gathering and organizing information on Redd White. The only person she'd ever told about it was Maya: even Diego hadn't known. Was she really going to trade any of her hard work—done to avenge her mother's good name—for a little tip about Dahlia Hawthorne?
Let's just see how this plays out, she thought determinedly. There was a Plan A... only if things got sticky would she use Plan B, all of that blackmail information.
White had posed himself, and was examining his shining, polished nails. "Hmm," he said, grinning like an ape. "I cannot cogitate any explanative as to why I should make a common cause with the likes of you, Miss Fey." The emphasis in his voice was unmistakable: her name should be associated with grubs and earthworms, not Redd White.
"First, what I need will cost you almost no effort," Mia said coolly. "Second, I'll pay in your own currency: information."
"Indeed?" White looked no more than vaguely concerned. He moved around the desk, approaching her. Mia tried her hardest not to gag: he was wearing some kind of cologne that had undoubtedly cost more than her car, but smelled like an overripe banana seasoned with sandalwood. "And your informational divulgatories would be...?"
She smiled. "First I'd rather hear if you can get me what I want."
"Insolence, eh?" White seemed more amused than annoyed, which surprised her. "All right. Go on, expoundulate your necessity."
Then again, considering what she offered, perhaps his borderline politeness wasn't surprising. Iris sighed, obviously lost, and Mia felt a stab of guilt for having brought her. This was not only illegal, but dangerous. But it was too late to show any weakness, and Mia was damned if she would further endanger Iris by escorting her from the room. "I need," she said calmly, "news of a diamond. A big diamond. If anyone's recently come into the market for one, bought one, or sold one."
"Ahhh," sighed White, wiggling his own diamond-encrusted fingers, almost blinding her. "News of a diamond, you say? Not the diamond itself?"
"Good grief, no," Mia answered, allowing scorn to show. She'd known that something as material as a jewel would spark his attention. "As I said, information only. There's not even any need for an investigation. Just tell me what you've heard on the grapevine, Gossip Girl."
She was pleased to see him wince at her use of clichés. "Hmm," he said, trying to hide his interest, and totally failing. "Hmm, well... it just so happens... I have heard some news." Then he paused and looked at her, and raised his neatly plucked eyebrows. "Oh ho, but Miss Fey—perhaps I should reveal no information until I have obtentioned the nature of your... er... bid."
Mia couldn't help but clench her fists behind her back, although she managed to remain her posture. She could lie brilliantly when she wanted (although the opportunity rarely arose) and knew that the best lie often contained an iota of the truth. I'm sorry, Diego, she thought, but I promise you'll stay safe. "My information concerns the two deaths at Ivy University, and the death of my co-worker last year."
White grinned wolfishly. "They are linked. Please, Miss Fey, even this much have I might have guessticulimated."
"More than that," Mia said, carefully keeping her eyes away from Iris. "One of the victims is still alive."
White didn't say anything at first: his perfectly neutral expression and silence were enough to convince Mia she'd come up with the appropriate motivation. Finally he spoke. "And the reason for a police cover-up?"
Mia smiled, partly at the quickness with which he'd dropped his ridiculous phrases. "That's not currently part of my offer."
He narrowed his eyes at her, displeased. "Which victim?"
Mia had only that moment to act, but she'd expected and prepared for the question. She turned her head and blushed as convincingly as possible—a trick she'd learned from Maya, of all people. "Er... that's not... that's not part of the deal either."
"Ah ha!" cried White, and her suspicions were confirmed. A cunning (and self-titled) gatherer of information White may be, but he was obviously no great judge of character. Nor, she thought with satisfaction, does he play much poker. "Oh ho ho ho! Not only does your manifestationing visage reveal the mystericalious personage of your colleague, but also your passionifiate feelings for him! Miss Fey, now you must tell me: where is the locationtory in which your lover resides?"
"The witness protection facility out in Oakside," Mia said, as if with numb lips. "Mr. White... I..."
"Mia!" Iris suddenly cried, and seized her arm. "Don't tell him anything else!"
She looked utterly horrified. Mia winced dramatically: her cousin's reaction was perfectly timed, for all it was unrehearsed. "I won't. Is that... is that enough for you, Mr. White?"
"Oh, but it is," he said, and guffawed uproariously, obviously quite pleased with himself. She felt a burst of sudden relief: she had been unable to think of any better spurious information than something personal about herself. Moreover, having 'slipped' Diego's location wouldn't harm him: but it would give a hint of danger to the information that White would seize upon and try to exploit.
And most importantly, she had said nothing about Phoenix Wright's survival. There was no reason for anyone to know he'd lived.
He wiped his eyes, which had been streaming with laughter. "Ho ho, Miss Fey. All right. I would nominate this as a satisfactorial dealing. I have heard news of a diamond recently. A raw diamond, uncut and of exponential value." He paused, looking up and pretending to be contemplative. "Oh, if only I could remember who was supposed to be the most interested bidder..."
Mia waited, but it became obvious he was still waiting for more information. She felt a quick swing of panic: what else could she say? She couldn't betray the police department... suddenly it occurred to her, and her stomach wrenched. This was going to be unpleasant... but only for her. "Did you hear," she said carefully, "about my very first case?"
"Indeed," chortled White, and she felt a spasm of hate for the casual entertainment this was giving him. "A miserable failureatude, I would call it."
"Yes," Mia said coolly. Iris's eyes went huge, and she put a hand over her mouth. Surely, thought Mia, she must be guessing why I'm doing this. "The real killer got away when my defendant poisoned himself on the witness stand. And she..." Mia swallowed, and forced herself to say it. "She's the real killer at Ivy University."
White regarded her, more shrewdly than she'd expected. "Which means she also 'killed' your boyfriend." There was no sarcasm in his tone, and when he spoke again, his tone was befuddled. "Miss Fey, you really want this information about the diamond, don't you?"
His un-grandiloquized words put a slap of fear into her, but she answered calmly. "Are you done lording yourself over me, Mr. White? I've given you good information that would probably get me into deep trouble with the police, and gives you a personal edge over me. Me, the person you probably fear and hate more than anyone. Is that worth a single name?"
He eyed her for a moment, obviously trying to figure out why the name meant so much to her. It had something to do with Dahlia, she knew he could tell that much. She didn't know how good his connections were with the police department, whether he could find out about Phoenix, or get a picture of Dahlia and connect her with Iris. She doubted it: White was essentially a lazy blackmailer, who would rather buy and sell information than actually research it.
Whatever the case may have been, she obviously managed to look serene enough, and he clapped his hands, the huge, fake smile reappearing. "All right, Miss Fey, you have finanglified me into revelatoriness." He paused, leaving a beat just long enough for her to doubt he would speak again, then declared, "The possible buyer was a man by the name of Tigre, who runs a loan shark business on the edge of town. Has connectilatories with the local Mafia, apparently. The sale is supposed to go down next Monday."
Mia felt a rush of relief and gratitude so strong that she was momentarily tempted to thank him profusely. But that would only have wasted her efforts, and she mastered the temptation. "Good. Adieu, Mr. White."
"Until we encounterify again, Miss Fey," he said, mock-ominously. There was something about his expression, though, that made her hurry a little as they left.
