Things Gone Awry

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 5:28 PM

"Julia," Phoenix handed her a copy of his resignation while in her office, "I will no longer be working here."

"Oh . . . I see." She took the copy and filed it on a few others.

"I would like to apologize for upsetting you the other day. I wasn't going to get you in trouble or anything." Phoenix adjusted the classes on his face, still in contrast to his red suit.

"I . . . it's okay. I just didn't expect it from you. You were always so much nicer than the other men here." She crossed her arms – a defense response.

"I knew your boyfriend in grade school. He had some embarrassing stories from back then that I didn't want you to hear. It was completely a selfish, self-defensive act."

"Aren't you French?" she caught that contradiction pretty quickly, didn't she?

"I grew up here. Then over there. I knew Larry from back then."

"Oh. . . . Okay. I will have to ask him about those embarrassing stories."

"Yup. And what he tells you about me, I can tell you about him in return. And trust me, there's a lot."

Julia smiled at him for the first time in a while. "It's a bit sad to see you go . . . like I said, you're one of the nicer ones around here."

"Hmm. Well. If you ever need anything, just let me know. Here." Phoenix handed her a business card. She offered one of hers in return.

Julia relaxed and said, "I hope to stay in contact. Since your friends with Larry, I'd like to think that's possible."

"It is." Phoenix smiled, "You take care of yourself." Phoenix then saw a statue of what looked to be the thinker on her desk. Didn't Larry's murder trial have something to do with a statue like that?

Julia returned the farewell, "You too, Mr. –"

"Mr. Wright." The blood in his veins ran icy. He turned to see Mr. White standing in the doorway, hovering menacingly in Phoenix's only escape.

"Mr. . . Wright?" She looked between the two men, confused but also sensing some tension.

How did he know? Phoenix let a few seconds go by, fiddling with something in his pocket, before he said to Julia, ". . . That work can be completed tomorrow, right? Why don't you go home for the night?"

"You heard Mr. Wrong, right darling?" White glinted and moved to the side, "Go on home, to your humble abode, Miss lovely Julia."

She stood up nervously. Phoenix nodded at her, wanting her to escape before she becomes witness to something gruesome. "Oh, and dear?" Mr. White grinned, "Say a word about this to anyone and you'll find yourself in need of a good lawyer. And a doctor."

"Mmmm!" She squeaked and shook violently.

"Julia." Phoenix calmed her down, "Do as he says. Leave. Do not contact the police. Or your friends and family. Keep yourself out of this."

Julia grabbed her car keys and wallet, then ran out the door. White caught her and she screamed.

"Don't!" Phoenix shouted. "Don't hurt her."

White eyed Phoenix and stole her phone. "All but this can go with you."

"Al-Alright . . ." She cried.

"Now, go home and watch something funny! Get your mind off of these altervocations!" He let her go and laughed as she sprinted away.

Phoenix glared at him. White shifted back into place, blocking him off and cornering him. I need to stay calm and wait for an opening. Phoenix stalled for time, "What do you want?"

"Is that any way to address your superior?"

"You are not my boss."

"That is not what I mean. I mean that I am superior to a lowly creature like you in every conceivanable aspect."

"Except in vocabulary," Phoenix retorted, causing the Bluecorp CEO to frown.

"Well! Aren't you a spry one! Mr. Wrong, I have just one thing to say to you . . ." White held out a document that Phoenix recognized right away.

"That paperwork –"

"Yes. You submitted it only three hours ago. How, you ask, that it came to be in my personage's possitasion? I have connections, you see. Informants. I would say congratulatories were called for, except that I'm told you mean to move against me."

". . . An informant, huh? I should have expected that."

"You really should have, Mr. Wrong! Unfortunately for you, I cannot afford to let a parasite squander my business. Now. If you don't mind doing one last thing for me, Mr. Wrong . . ."

"And what would that be?" Though I have a guess.

"I need you to stay silent . . . forever. Farewell, Mr. Wrong."

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 5:32 PM

Gregory looked at the album, then to the puzzle box, and finally to all the notes that accompanied them. Miles and Larry confessed to it all, leaving Gregory only to sigh. "Am I forced to assign safety courses to you again, Miles?"

Those hour or two long videos of how to safely and legally obtain evidence for law. It was boring and the acting stale. Miles could think of no worse punishment, and that included disbarment. "I . . . I will be careful in the future."

"I want to go with you in meeting Phoenix." Gregory requested and Miles nodded. "Well. You have been honest with me, so I suppose I should return the favor." Gregory thumbed through the pictures, "Ray and I are trying to access sealed files from Phoenix's past. It's slower than we thought it would be, but we should have some answers soon."

"Why are they sealed?" Miles wondered.

"That's what we would like to know as well. In due time, we may have an answer. Larry? Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Oh? Sure!" Larry nodded.

"Great. We will head out as soon as Ray gets back."

"Father, I need to research for a paper. I am not sure how far ahead I still am. I would like to stay here and work on the assignment, if that is okay."

"Hmm. Right. Your education is also important." Gregory seemed saddened, "I will bring back something for you, then."

"Thank you. We can have dinner tomorrow night, Father."

"Aw." Larry pouted.

". . . Just because I am staying behind does not mean you have to." Miles said, "Go. You're practically a live-in anyway."

"Whoop! Thanks, Edgey!"

"Welcome." Miles went to his computer and opened his textbook. Missile trotted along with him and lazily napped under the desk. Soon, it was just Miles and Missile again.

Miles saw a notification flash in the bottom of the screen. Curiously, he opened it. It was from Aunt Annie and it read, 'Sorry sweetie, you are too young for me. Hit me up in a few years.'

Miles furrowed his brow and replied, 'I was asking about Phoenix. I am not sure what you are responding to?' After a few minutes of no response, he continued to write his paper.

No more thinking about Phoenix until tomorrow.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 6:47 PM

Miles was satisfied with his paper. Luckily, that meant he was at a good stopping point before Gregory, Raymond, and Larry came back in. Wordless, Gregory sat Miles' dinner for him and turned on the news. A solemn note hung over the three of them.

"What is wrong?" Miles asked.

Gregory turned up the volume and pointed. The news anchor narrated, ". . . apartment 3C. Police are currently investigating the crime scene and will provide more details. More at 8." Miles recognized the apartment complex.

"Crime scene?" He asked.

"A body was found in apartment 3C." Gregory answered.

"But that's the one Phoenix is renting!" Miles flinched, "Who – Who was found?"

"They did not say." Gregory crossed his arms. Miles stood up as if he were going to look himself, but Gregory stopped him, "They will not let you on. The police will likely investigate for the rest of the night."

"Then what do we do . . .?" Miles stomach dropped in a way similar to learning of his father's disappointment – then the next closest he could recall was learning that Phoenix moved far, far away and they would likely not see one another again. Even this topped both of those incidents combined in how unwell he felt.

"You need to eat and rest and save your strength for tomorrow. I fear it will be a taxing day." Gregory ordered.

"Right." Ray did not even pretend to joke, "I am sorry Miles. If I find anything out, I will call here."

"You are going to the prosecutor's offices? Again?" Gregory asked.

"Yeah. Someone there's got to know something. Hey. Chin up, Miles. It wouldn't do us any good jumping to conclusions." Miles might have nodded; he was not too sure of his own body right now. Raymond left without another second wasted. Larry and Missile both looked at Miles in the same way – strange how a human and a dog could mimic one another's facial expressions so correspondingly.

Gregory rolled out the cot from the closet, "Listen, you two. There are more than enough places for you to sleep here for the night. We can discuss what to do in the morning." Miles sat back down, watching the television.

They replayed the same clip with the same useless information. While Gregory was still awake, he kept reminding Miles to eat – but his stomach protested, feeling very ill. Miles feebly explained it and Gregory understood, but reminded him to 'eat when he is able to'.

The four of them shared in a miserable silence, but Larry decided to stay. He played games on his phone, took care of Missile's dinner and bathroom breaks, and eventually crashed early at 9:00 PM. Gregory was not too far behind him.

Miles worked ahead on college assignments, though feeling that his work was subpar. It did not matter – he was still ahead and could correct it when his mind could improve the quality, he just needed something to focus on.

The 10 o'clock news came on and revealed nothing new. Just an endless repeat of unknowns. Ray came in and locked up shortly after. Miles left Gregory's office to join Ray in the other rooms to not disturb the slumbering men and dog.

"All I know is that it is a murder case." Ray said, "They were stingy on the names, but they have a suspect in custody and another potential unapprehended. I bet we can get some information out of this suspect if we go in wanting to hear their plea."

"Two suspects?" Miles repeated.

"Probably the source of all their hush-hush. One still out on the street that the hound detectives have yet to sniff out."

"I . . . see . . . You don't know who was killed, then?"

Raymond shook his head, "No. Not a clue. I'll run my thoughts to senior Edgeworth in the morning. Try to rest up, Miles."

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 5:47 AM

Miles woke up at his desk and felt Missile plop his head in his lap. Miles absentmindedly loved on the dog. He passed out while reviewing his last paper, evidently, as the word processor shone a completed document. Miles looked at the television. The 6 o'clock news would soon reel, and with it, tired information. In only two hours, it would be 8 AM. They were supposed to meet Phoenix at that time . . .

Miles doubted the meeting would occur.

Instead, they would be meeting with the murder suspect, if Raymond's plan was approved, and learn about the crime that way. Miles saved his work and watched the news, expecting nothing new to come to light. He never did touch his food from the night before. His stomach panged, and he decided to give in to his biological need.

He was quiet as he moved to the kitchen, bringing his left-out meal along with him. Miles readied an accompanying glass of water to wet his dry mouth and throat, then made sure Missile had his own breakfast. Larry and Gregory both still rested peacefully, despite the change in direction this whole situation dove into. Missile trotted back in to snuggle with Larry after sniffing at breakfast.

After he took in what he could, Miles dug out a towel and spare undergarments from the toiletries closet, found a few hangers in the bathroom, took off his many layers of clothing attire, and carefully hung them up so he could take a quick shower.

The warm water helped to clear his head. As it relaxed building pressure aches, Miles thought about Phoenix when they were all children. It did not help him, any.

He then thought of the profile angle of the man he saw, wearing that absurd beanie hat. Tan features and bright blue eyes stood out to Miles. Black hair poorly hidden at the nape of his neck. Miles really should have seen it sooner, but his mental image of Phoenix was shaky at best. It just proved that Miles could not pick Phoenix from a crowd since he had no idea what the man actually looked like anymore.

That may have been his only chance at asking Phoenix . . .

Just what the hell he had been doing! How dare he run Miles around in circles and not have the decency to live and tell the tale on his own! Miles would never forgive Phoenix for that . . . Yet, it was hard to stay angry at the dead.

Do not jump to conclusions . . .

If it was not Phoenix who was murdered in that apartment, then it must have been his accomplice. If it was her, instead, the most likely suspect in custody would be . . .

Phoenix Wright . . .

So, he was either the corpse or the suspect. If he was the suspect, then Miles would tear him a new one in the detention center. If he was the corpse, Miles would see if that spirit channeling thing was more than a hoax and verbally rend him from beyond death itself. Either way, Phoenix was getting a piece of Miles' upset mind.

Once the warm water steamed the bathroom fully, Miles shut the water off and dried off. He readied himself as he normally would, pushing emotions down. They would only serve to get in his way today. He dressed himself once more after brushing his hair and teeth, then stepped out.

Gregory had awakened during his time in the shower and waited for a kettle to boil. "I'm glad to see you taking care of yourself."

"Good morning, Father."

"Good morning, Miles. Did you sleep at all?"

"I think I must have." Miles recalled, though when exactly he gave into his heavy eyes he could not say.

"You sound so unsure. It's . . . unsettling." Gregory smiled softly, "Whatever happens today, whatever painful truths that may wait, promise me you will not do anything rash."

"Rash?"

"It's not like you to act on emotions, normally, but I know you are struggling with this. I will trust you to do the right thing, if you can do the same for me."

"Ah." Miles grabbed his arm, "Of course, Father."

"Good. I have spoken to Ray and I know that there is a suspect in custody. He believes the best course of action is to hear the suspect out and learn details that way. It is not a bad strategy; however . . . Suppose that the suspect in question truly had a hand in murdering the victim – whom we still do not know the identity of – do you think you can handle that?"

If the police corralled the right suspect, then who we would be talking to . . . "The suspect in question could have committed the murder . . ."

"And the victim could be Phoenix. Are you prepared for that outcome?"

Miles crossed his arms, ". . . Not in the least."

"At least you're honest about it. Of course, it could be Phoenix sitting in the cell. I suppose at that point he would be forced to tell us everything."

"Hmm? You, too, then?"

"Me, too?" The kettle whistled and Gregory took care of it, "I suppose I would like to know what that one has been doing. Oh. I forgot to tell you . . . Ray did find something of a record that wasn't sealed."

"What would that be?"

"He graduated a two-year Associates program. For Theatre Arts."

". . .Oh . . ." Drama, then. Seems fitting.

"From those notes that he left for you and Larry, it makes sense. I do have only one thing to say about that."

"Which is?" Miles asked.

"Your friend needs a better sense of humor." Gregory answered while pouring the tea.

"Hah. Isn't that the truth."

"It's good to see you smile." Gregory sat down at the table and offered tea again. A morning blend that helped the brain to churn. Miles accepted and they silently drank together.

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 8:27 AM

Miles, Missile, and Gregory waited outside the courthouse, though they knew it already. Phoenix could not fulfil his proposed meetup, but there was little else to do until the detention center allowed them in. Ray went to the prosecutor's offices again to negotiate and Larry had still been asleep. Gregory patted Miles on the back and said, "Time to go see our suspect."