Atroquinine Merlot
PART 2
A/N: Hi, sorry for such the long delay - uni has been pretty hectic as of late. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, fav'd, etc I really appreciate it. I've changed the rating from T to M because of FFnet's recent crackdown. So it's not really a reflection of more mature content, I'm just being cautious. Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 7:
The light of a new morning shone through Edgeworth's bedroom window, but he was still in the dark about the mystery of those photos. Today was the day of Mina's funeral so Miles hadn't stayed up too late last night. So why does it feel like I've only slept for an hour?
Miles groggily got out of bed and went about his usual morning routine, but instead of wearing his normal suit and cravat get-up he chose a simple black suit and tie more appropriate for the occasion. As he finished off the last dregs of his coffee, Miles quickly skimmed over the photos again where they'd been left scattered the night before. Unfortunately (but predictably), the examination did not provide any new insights. Sighing in frustration, Edgeworth gathered up the photos and slid them back into their folder. He collected his keys and phone and set off to Hillsdale Cemetery.
The trip to the cemetery was a short and easy one: it was located just outside the city so all the peak traffic was going the other way. After Miles parked the car and followed the signs to the Henry James Memorial Centre, finding it easily enough by the crowd of appropriately sombre people. He checked his watch; it was already 9.45. As he approached the outskirts of the assembled, the doors to the centre opened and the guests slowly began to make their way inside.
"Oh Miles, thank you for coming," Brigitte greeted as she stepped out of the crowd. She'd taken him by surprise, but he schooled his features to hide it.
"Mrs. van Hale," he replied as she pulled him into a hug. He stood awkwardly in her arms for a few seconds before she reluctantly pulled away. Brigitte smiled sadly up at him; her eyes glazed by unshed tears.
"We don't have much time to talk – the service is about to begin." She glanced left to right anxiously then leant forward conspiratorially. "Afterwards, there is something very important I must tell you," she announced ominously. "Promise to stick around for a little while after?"
"Of course," he replied with a nod. "Shall we?" he motioned for them to walk into the centre. When they got inside the two said goodbye; Brigitte went to sit with the rest of the family in the first row and Miles found a remaining spot right at the back. He looked to the first row and found that all the suspects were there: Albert (with his head in his hands), Cassandra (awkwardly trying to console him while keeping composed herself), Daniel (holding his wife's hand) and Dr. Newman (looking remarkably composed considering the circumstances). As if he could feel Edgeworth's eyes on his back, Newman turned around, eyes growing wide when he spotted the prosecutor. He gave a jerky nod of his head in acknowledgement and spun around quickly to stare at the wall in front, unmoving. Miles fought the urge to smirk – that would be wildly inappropriate.
He was just turning his mobile off when the celebrant walked up to the podium. "If you'd all quieten down. I think we'll begin…"
When the service ended, people began milling out of the centre, whispering in hushed tones, sniffing and coughing. Luckily, as Miles had been sitting at the back, he was able to exit first, just after the van Hales had. A strong wind had picked up during the service and Miles pulled his suit jacket tighter around him in an attempt to avoid the bitting chill. The guests had assembled in small groups talking quietly amongst themselves. Most would be going to the wake afterwards at the estate; Miles didn't have that sort of time to spare so he went to search for Brigitte to see what she wanted to tell him. The family, of course, were surrounded by guests all coming to offer their condolences. Brigitte and Daniel were standing arm in arm, looking years older than their age, as they thanked their guests for their kindness. Albert and Cassandra were standing off to the side, close enough to the van Hales that they could here their conversation, but far enough away that they received separate condolences. Cassandra had her dark hair down today; fashioned to cover a great portion of her tear stained face. She was wearing a black, long-sleeved frock with a thick dark scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Albert was wearing a similar suit to Edgeworth; his hair impeccably gelled and face clean-shaven. The two both stood with shoulders hunched and their eyes puffy and red. Dr Newman was nowhere in sight.
As Miles neared the family, the last of the sympathetic guests moved away, leaving him as the next to talk to the van Hales.
"Edgeworth," Daniel greeted extending a hand. His expression was grim. Miles took his hand and shook it once.
"Mr. van Hale." He turned to face his wife. "Brigitte," he nodded. Before he could say anything more, she pulled him into another hug. By the time she pulled away, Daniel had walked off to talk to an elderly couple.
"It was a beautiful service," Miles offered, unsure what else he could say.
Brigitte smiled sadly up at him, a hint of pride shinning in her eyes. "Yes it was. Cassandra did it all herself, you know? She has a talent for those sorts of things…" Her attention was drawn from Miles to somewhere over his shoulder behind him. "Oh Cynthia!" she greeted.
Miles turned and saw a brunette woman sporting a perm approaching. She smiled playfully and placed a comforting gloved hand on Brigitte's shoulder.
"Brigitte, my dear, it has been too long," she declared in a nasally voice. Cynthia glanced over to Edgeworth and gave him an appraising look. Turning back to Brigitte, she said: "Well, I won't keep you. I'll see you back at the estate." With a wave, she sauntered off in the direction of the car park, waving goodbye to various other guests.
"Cynthia was one of my dearest friends after Mina was born," Brigitte explained with a nostalgic tone. "Now where was I? Oh that's right!" She took one of Edgeworth's hands into both her own. "What I wanted to discuss can't be done here. If you'd be so kind as to come back to the house…"
"Of course, it's not a problem," he reassured her, although he would have preferred to get it over and done with. No matter what Brigitte said otherwise, he felt like he had no place to be here.
A relieved smile graced Brigitte's face. "Thank you, Miles. We may not be able to speak straight away – I have to help Cassandra with the food and the like, but I think what I have to show you will be worth your while."
"Brigitte!" Daniel called. He was standing at the edge of the car park with Albert and Cassandra. "We're heading back now."
"Well I'll see you there then, Miles," she offered in goodbye.
"Goodbye Mrs. van Hale." Brigitte hurried to her family and they all climbed into the black limo that had been parked at the curb. As it drove off, Miles began his journey towards his own car. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and turned it on – he hadn't heard from Gumshoe since yesterday morning and the detective may've had something to report. As he opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat, the message alert on his phone went off. It wasn't from the detective as he'd expected.
Sender: Phoenix Wright
Received: Today, 11.55am
Haven't seen you in ages :(
Coffee today/tomorrow afternoon?
PW :)
Miles exhaled, irked. That spikey-haired attorney could be damn persistent with these sorts of things. So, Miles replied:
Can't – working on case.
Hopefully that would deter Wright for now. After pressing send, he put the phone on silent and tossed it onto the passenger seat so he wouldn't be disturbed whilst driving.
The estate's large U-shaped driveway was full of cars when Miles arrived so he ended up parking about 20 metres from the exit gate. Gertrude was waiting at the front door to greet the guests (bad idea) and when she saw Edgeworth approach, her face twisted into a sneer.
"That way," she said brusquely, indicating to the hallway that ran to the west wing. Miles didn't grace her with a response and walked swiftly down the hall to the dinning room where most of the guests had already gathered. He recognised it as the same room they dined in on the night of Mina's death. Most people were standing in groups of threes or fours, a glass of champagne or other alcoholic beverage in hand. Many were sharing good-natured conversations, catching up on years gone by. Mr. and Mrs. van Hale were speaking with a young couple and their (presumably) teenage daughter over by the Monet painting. Cassandra was with some of the wait staff, making sure that the food was being served in the proper order. The work seemed to be a decent distraction as her face looked brighter and livelier than it had at the funeral. Soft classical music was playing through the sound system, but the noise of the guests was making it difficult for Miles to discern which piece it was. He was still straining to identify the melody when Albert came from the hall and slapped him firmly on the back in greeting.
"Good to see you made it, Edgeworth," Albert said as Miles turned to face him, trying to keep the irritation off his face.
"Yes, Mrs. van Hale has an important matter to discuss with me," he answered measuredly.
"Ah, here for business then…" Albert seemed a little disappointed at that. Getting a better look at the man, he appeared to be coping significantly worse today than he had on Sunday morning. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, probably from a combination of crying and lack of sleep. His shoulders were hunched like they had been at the funeral, giving the illusion that he was an inch shorter than Miles. Thank goodness he had shaved off his perpetual five O'clock shadow otherwise he would've looked absolutely terrible. The pair stood side by side, both looking onto the wake in front of them. Albert sighed wearily and put his hands in his pockets.
"Y'know, when they first told me… about Mina," here he paused and swallowed, trying to reign in his emotions. "… It didn't really hit home. I felt… It didn't feel real." He shook his head and turned to look at Edgeworth, his face a mixture of sadness and guilt. "It's only been the past couple of days that I've really mourned her death." he raised his eyebrows, eyes pleading Edgeworth to say something. Miles shifted on his feet, thinking of something appropriately consoling to say.
"Many people experience that after the death of a loved one," he offered. "They go through a period of shock; the funeral tends to make the finality of it all truly hit home."
Albert nodded and turned back to face the crowd not fully convinced. Cassandra looked up from her work rearranging the h'orderves on a tray to exchange a small smile with Albert. She quickly returned her attention to the food platter. Albert sighed again, but this time it indicated the end of their conversation. He turned to Edgeworth, extending his hand he said: "I hope you find whoever did that to Mina." His expression hardened to one of determination.
Miles shook his hand. "You can count on it, Mr. van Hale," he replied. Albert gave him a half smile and a nod before crossing the room to Cassandra. As Miles observed his journey, one of the waiters walked by and offered him a glass of champagne; he accepted (it was lunchtime after all and he was quite thirsty). He took a sip as he contemplated his conversation with Albert. The man he had talked to then was markedly different to the one he had spoken to on Sunday.
When Miles had reassured him that he had probably gone through shock, he wasn't being 100 per cent honest. True, many people go into shock when their loved ones pass away, but they usually vehemently deny reality or become almost catatonic. Albert had displayed neither. Instead, he had held an air of nonchalance – a man who hadn't really loved his wife or didn't particularly care that she was dead. Or both. Miles narrowed his eyes and took another sip of his drink, watching Albert help Cassandra organise the wait staff into bringing out more drinks. His whole demeanour had already changed: his back straightened and a sincere smile graced his lips as he struggled to pick up four champagne glasses at once, Cassandra chuckling at his inability to do so. Miles couldn't help but think that change a little suss.
But then again, Cassandra looked more cheerful with her work as well. Maybe it really is an effective distraction. Miles took another sip and pursed his lips. This was another little mystery to solve: was Albert faking his nonchalance on Sunday or his sadness today? He didn't think Albert could be genuine about both.
Miles was so enraptured by his musings that he didn't see or hear Brigitte van Hale's approach. Her hand on his arm shook him from his reverie.
"If you'll follow me, I have something important to show you," she whispered quickly, risking a glance at the other guests, but no one took any notice of them. Miles nodded slowly and placed his half empty glass on a side table and the two snuck out of the room.
"I was going through Mina's things yesterday afternoon to try and organise my thoughts," she explained as she led Miles hurriedly down the main hall towards the stairs. They entered Mina's childhood bedroom and Brigitte made a beeline for one of the boxes on the king bed. Most of the things in the room had been packed away and the full-length mirror was covered in a white sheet. Brigitte opened the box and lifted out an envelope reverently. She rounded the bed and offered it to Edgeworth. "I think you'll find that useful for your investigation."
Another letter? Miles carefully opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.
"It's Mina's handwriting," Brigitte announced anxiously, wringing her hands together. It read:
I made an interesting discovery last week. I won't go into the details here, you know exactly what I am referring to.
To say I was shocked is an understatement. To think that sort of behaviour was going on in my own home. Disgraceful.
I'm sure the authorities would love to know what you've been getting up to. Of course, they don't have to know if I'm properly compensated for my shock…
The letter stopped there, unfinished.
Miles stared blankly at the paper for a moment before his brain kicked back into action again.
Another blackmail letter? And written by Mina, a blackmail victim herself? To say Miles was shocked was an understatement. He looked back up at Brigitte who was nervously bitting her lip. Edgeworth's brow furrowed in confusion.
"So Mina wrote a blackmail letter even though she was being blackmailed herself?" he asked incredulously.
"It wasn't sent," Brigitte pointed out meekly. "Perhaps she received the first letter before she could send her own?" Now that sounded like a logical explanation. Why hadn't Miles thought of that?
"That's true…" he examined the envelope once more. "It's unaddressed. How very unhelpful." Miles tried not to sound put out. "I don't suppose you'd have any clue who it could be for?"
Brigitte shook her head apologetically. "I have no idea what sort of 'behaviour' she's referring to; neither does Daniel."
"I see." Miles paused in thought for a moment. "Well, whoever it was for probably had the best motive for wanting her dead if they found out what she knew."
"So, you think her killer was silencing her?" Brigitte asked, eyes wide. Her lip even trembled.
"That's certainly a possibility. Can I ask you to not throw away any of her things?" he indicated to the boxes on the bed. Those could come in handy.
"Of course, of course. I looked through everything, but I didn't anything else of relevance. You're welcome to take a look though; I may've missed something." She closed up the lid of the box she had opened and tapped a hand on it.
"Thank you. I'll have a detective come pick it up tomorrow morning if that's convenient for you." It was more of a question than a statement.
"That's fine," she confirmed. She ran a hand along the top of the box, eyes sad, mouth down turned.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll make a call to the detective now." Miles folded up the letter, put it back in the envelope and slipped it into his jacket's inner pocket.
Brigitte nodded, eyes never leaving the box. Miles hesitated for a second. Should he say anything more? Offer her his condolences? Give a comforting pat on the back? Curse his social ineptitude! After a moment of indecision, he exited the room without another word, pulling out his phone to call Gumshoe.
The detective was either too busy to answer or had lost his phone (probably the latter), so Miles left a message on his voicemail asking him to pick up the boxes tomorrow.
In the dinning room, plates of more substantial food had been put out on the table in the centre of the room. Edgeworth's stomach rumbled at the smell of garlic prawns and honey soy chicken. He hadn't eaten anything since early that morning, so he helped himself to a few prawns, all the while keeping the look out for a certain doctor. He had many questions for Newman and as much as he was not looking forward to it, Miles needed to know more about his thesis. He spotted the good doctor munching away on some chicken wings rather amusingly. Miles walked as inconspicuously as he could towards Newman – the doctor's reaction to him at the funeral indicated he probably didn't want to talk to the prosecutor any time soon. Or ever. Miles finished off his last prawn and slid his plate into the bin resting against the wall and closed the distance between himself and Newman.
"Dr. Newman," he announced once he was standing next to him. Newman chocked a little on his chicken wing in surprise – he hadn't seen Miles coming. Edgeworth wasn't too successful in hiding his amusement.
"Detectif Edgeworth," Newman mumbled, mouth still half full of chicken. His eyes were wide and darting about the room, no doubt looking for an escape route. Miles didn't bother to correct Newman's mistake.
"I've been meaning to talk with you," he said, trying to keep his tone casual. Newman swallowed his chicken loudly, looking very apprehensive. "I don't suppose your thesis has progressed since we last spoke?" he asked conversationally in an attempt to placate the nervous doctor.
At that, Newman squared his shoulders and his eyes danced with excitement rather than apprehension. "Oh unfortunately not, Detective Edgeworth. Haven't had much time for that sort of thing as you'd expect." He took a large bite out of another chicken wing and continued talking mouth full. "I hope 'o gep it mun before' Kwifmath," he garbled.
"Tell me doctor, what was it about again? I think I've forgotten." And please give me the abridged version.
Newman swallowed quickly, eager to explain. "I have this theory, you see, about the development of Atroquinine within the body. Do you know what Atroquinine is, Mr. Edgeworth? It's a slow acting poison, it is. Takes about 15 minutes to attack the central…"
Miles zoned out for a minute; he'd heard this exact speech on Saturday and a little of it on Sunday.
"… What I'm working on: a cure. A cure that will –"
"And what sorts of substances would you be working with?" Miles interrupted.
Newman was unperturbed by the interruption and clutched his now empty plate tight in excitement. "Well Atroquinine, of course – "
"Why?"
"Ah, well," he was a little taken aback by the question. "I need to know all the properties of the poison to better inform my hypothesis." He looked to Edgeworth as if to ask whether the answer was sufficient. Miles nodded and made a hand gesture for him to continue. "I also work with Apomorphine and various anti-depressants – I believe they're vital in the creation of Atroquinine in the body. I haven't decided on what to test for a cure yet – once I work out definitely how this process comes about, I'll start working on a cure. And… that's about it." He looked to Miles expectantly.
"You don't deal with any other poisons apart from Atroquinine?"
Newman shook his head fervently. "Just the one."
That can't be right. Cassandra Long told me he had all sorts of poisons in his lab.
"I was under the impression that your lab was full of many different poisons. Was I wrong?" he queried.
Newman transformed back into his skittish self. He wrung the paper plate in his hands nervously, eyes again searching for an escape. "Well, uh, I guess that's true…"
"You guess? It either is or it isn't – which one?" Edgeworth demanded.
Newman cast his eyes to the floor. "It is," he mumbled.
"Why?" Miles asked brusquely.
The doctor looked back up at him reluctantly and swallowed loudly. "They're a hobby of mine…?" he said meekly. Newman wasn't to confident in his response – it was probably a lie.
Edgeworth was thoroughly unconvinced, but press too hard and Newman would close up like a clam. He narrowed his eyes at the doctor. Perhaps tomorrow he'd take a look around the lab himself.
"The Atroquinine that killed Ms. van Hale was a match for the sample you gave me," he announced, tone no-nonsense.
"A match? I-I'm not going to be charged, am I?" Newman inquired nervously.
"That has yet to be determined, Dr. Newman." Edgeworth crossed his arms. "I'll be in touch." He left out the part where he was planning to visit the doctor. Warn him and he may try to cover up any secrets he had lurking in his lab.
Newman nodded jerkily and all but ran to the bin and then out the door. Miles inhaled deeply, calming his irritation. He didn't know whether Newman was guilty of something or whether he was just that naturally nervous. In either case, he'd be back tomorrow hopefully, along with Gumshoe, to examine the doctor's lab. He checked his phone: still no reply from Gumshoe. Irritated, he shoved the mobile back into his pocket.
People were flocking towards the table in the centre of the room; dessert was being served apparently. Miles moved off to the side to stay out of the chaos. On the other side of the room he saw Daniel van Hale do the same. He supposed that he should talk to the man, if only briefly – it was his daughter's funeral after all. He dodged the hungry guests and made his way over to van Hale, who was starring fixatedly on his near-empty champagne glass. He'd taken off his suit jacket sometime during the day, which only made him look very small and frail.
"Mr. van Hale?" Miles began carefully.
Disturbed from his reverie, van Hale quickly looked up at Miles. "Ah Edgeworth," he responded, voice carefully devoid of emotion. He smiled without joy and looked off to the side, eyes unfocused. "I was just remembering the time Brigitte and I took Mina to Germany for the first time. She'd never seen snow before…" he shook his head wistfully. "Sorry, you don't want to hear the miserable musings of an old man."
"No it's – "
"Mr. van Hale, long time no see!" The disrespectfully cheerful greeting came from none other than Jamie Gardiner. He approached the two with a large grin plastered on his face. Brigitte van Hale followed nervously behind him. Miles heard Daniel curse softly when he realised who had been calling out to him.
"And Mr. Prosecutor Edgeworth as well!" Gardiner exclaimed. "It's so nice to see you, gentlemen, given the circumstances." His expression dropped to mock sadness.
"What do you want, Gardiner?" van Hale growled.
"Just wanted to return these to you as I won't be needing them anymore." Gardiner offered Daniel two files, the top one labelled 'Merger 405AS'. The Bankco/Cancorp merger.
"Couldn't you have done this some other time?" Daniel was struggling to keep his anger in check.
"Oh well, I did want to make an appearance today," Gardiner began, looking around the room. "After all, I liked the girl dearly."
"Well," Daniel started, snatching the files from Jamie, "you've made your appearance – you can leave now."
Gardiner shook his head. "Now? When things are just getting interesting? I'm afraid not!"
"Interesting?" Brigitte piped up from behind Gardiner.
"Yes, interesting. Mina wasn't just a victim of blackmail, she was a perpetrator as well." Gardiner smirked smugly and placed his hands in his pockets. "Right, Mr. Edgeworth?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"How did you know about that?" Daniel hissed. He was very lucky that he didn't have the tendency to raise his voice when angry; the other guests were all still going about their business, unaware of this less than friendly conversation.
In answer, Jamie turned pointedly to look at Brigitte, who shrunk back when she realised what he was doing.
"Brigitte… is this true?" Daniel asked incredulously.
She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I thought he might know something," she began carefully. "He did know that Mina was being blackmailed…"
An uncomfortable silence descended on them. It was Edgeworth who broke it.
"Do you know something?" he asked Gardiner.
Jamie shook his head. "'Fraid not. Could be someone on staff. I know a few people who've had trouble with their maids and the like." He shrugged. "Well," he said suddenly, "I best be off. Gentlemen," he turned to Brigitte, "Ma'am, it was a pleasure seeing you all again. Let's do this another time," he said, backing away, both index fingers pointing to Edgeworth and the van Hales. He turned away, chuckling.
When he was gone, Daniel walked away silently, his painfully measured movements indicating he was trying to control his anger.
"Excuse me," Brigitte said quietly and she quickly chased after her husband who had already walked out of the room.
Edgeworth exhaled deeply. When will the drama end? It's getting a little tedious. Many of the guests were still munching away happily on their dessert – éclairs it looked like – completely oblivious to what had just transpired.
When neither van Hale had returned after thirty minutes, he decided it was best that he go without saying goodbye – there was still much he had to do today. He said a quick goodbye to Albert and Cassandra, who were busy fussing over an espresso machine and then made his exit. He checked his phone again when he got to his car – still no message from Gumshoe, but there was a reply from Wright.
You can bring your files so I can help.
Two brains are better than one ;)
Miles didn't care to respond to that – he had more important things to do at the moment and he'd rather not deal with Wright's foolishness right now. He started the car and set off towards Criminal Affairs. He planned to get thorough background checks on everyone including the staff. Find Mina's blackmail victim and he could very well find her killer.
To be continued...
