Episode B2-4: A Comedy of Ehrars

Sept. 22. 5:51 PM. The Home of Minnie Ehrars.

The old woman led Gumshoe and Miles to a small sitting room. It must have served as a shared living space for all four rooms in the home. The furniture had that familiar 'old-person' smell. A few candles were lit in the window. The flickering flames stood out against the darkness of the rain.

"Mrs. Ehrars, was it?" Miles took a seat on the edge of an old green couch. Gumshoe could have sworn his face flickered with disgust for a moment. The prosecutor winced as he sat down, trying to force the expression into a smile. "That is an uncommon last name."

"Oh, we know!" Minnie took a seat in an armchair. Her fingers pulled at a stray string on her shirt. "It's a historical name! We can trace our ancestry back to the original Pilgrims. Isn't that interesting?"

"Very," the prosecutor said with disdain. He looked around, shooting a slightly confused look at Gumshoe. "You keep saying 'we'. Is there someone else here with you? Another tenant, perhaps?"

Minnie shook her head, taking a seat in an old wooden rocking chair. The woman's hands couldn't seem to sit still, constantly moving from her clothes to her hair, fixing unseeable flaws. "Oh, no. It's just us today. We only have one tenant at the moment, and he is out of town."

Gumshoe sat down beside Miles, grabbing the pencil out from behind his ear. He didn't like how the woman kept saying 'we' instead of 'I'. It left a bad feeling in his stomach. "Right, then." He grabbed his small notebook and flipped it open to the next blank page. "So, you're Minnie Ehrars, right? And you own this place?"

Minnie nodded. "Yes, we've owned this home for about a year now. It's been hard, finding tenants to stay. Speaking of which…" She leaned toward Mr. Edgeworth, smile growing wider. "The starting rent is 500 dollars a month for the full package! We are assuming you were honest when you said you wanted to rent a room?" Her smile suddenly turned into a frown, as if she was reliving a bad memory. "Unless all you LAPD people are as prone to lying as that young lady was."

"Information first, money second." Miles seemed to recognize the chill in his tone and quickly backtracked. "That is, if that would be all right with you, Mrs. Ehrars. What did you mean by 'prone to lying'? The woman who was just here lied to you?"

Minnie sat back in her chair, humming. "Yes, she did indeed. Said she knew our granddaughter, but we don't think that's true. Our granddaughter's been missing for almost 3 years now. It's very hard to be friends with someone who is missing, you know."

Gumshoe bit his lip, pencil hovering over his notepad. "You have a granddaughter, pal? What's her name?" Minnie twiddled her thumbs. A change seemed to come over her face. Minnie had been slightly erratic, almost crazy up until this point. Now she just seemed sad. Her eyes drooped, and her shoulders hunched forward as if she was carrying a heavy burden.

"We called her Meg. She was so bright, that one. Always sharp." Minnie looked up, eyeing Miles with a seemingly genuine smile. "You remind us of her…" She blinked, glancing between the two men. "What are your names?"

Gumshoe bowed his head. "Name's Detective Gumshoe. This here is Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth." Said prosecutor sat forward, hands on his knees.

"Pardon, you said I reminded you of your granddaughter. How so, exactly?" Gumshoe couldn't exactly see what angle Mr. Edgeworth was trying to go for. He decided to simply write down notes for now and ask questions later. Minnie chuckled, waving to Mr. Edgeworth's fancy cravat, which he couldn't seem to part himself from even while undercover.

"You have this posh-ness about you. It reminded us of our little Meg. Very professional, very proud, she was. Bossed around detective types, too. We believe she was in charge of quite a few of them." Confusion flittered over Miles's face.

"Are you saying your granddaughter was a prosecutor?"

"Oh, is that the word? We've long since forgotten." Minnie made motions with her hands as if she was trying to knit, yet there was no yarn in sight. This didn't seem to bother Minnie. She continued to 'knit', eyes focused somewhere past Gumshoe's head. "But yes, we suppose that's what she did, before she went missing."

Mr. Edgeworth snapped his fingers in front of Minnie's face. The woman didn't seem to notice. The prosecutor growled something under his breath. He cleared his throat, trying and failing to get the woman's attention.

"I've never heard of a prosecutor named Meg. Did she work here, in Los Angeles? Perhaps somewhere close by?"

Minnie paused in her knitting for a second, thinking it over. In the end, she simply shrugged, continuing her work on her invisible scarf. "We can't remember."

Steam seemed to be coming out of Mr. Edgeworth's ears. "What do you mean you can't remember? You just said you thought she was a prosecutor."

"We aren't as young as we used to be." Minnie stuck her nose in the air. "Meg didn't stay with us very much once she got through high school. She wrote some letters to us, but that was about it. And once she disappeared, obviously we couldn't contact her, now could we?"

Both parties were getting annoyed now. Gumshoe had to step in if they wanted to learn anything more. He sat down on the other end of the couch, bumping shoulders with Miles.

"So…" Gumshoe cleared his throat. "You said that Pam was asking about this Meg person. Did she happen to mention why?" Minnie again paused in her knitting. Her eyebrows pinched together.

"Shouldn't you know? We thought you said you were working on a case together."

Gumshoe froze, his mind racing to find some kind of answer that would make sense. Miles beat him to it.

"We're employing a new investigation technique. By asking a witness to repeat the information that we already know, we can make better deductions during our investigation." Gumshoe and Minnie both turned to him. The prosecutor bristled, puffing his chest out like some sort of bird. Coughing into his fist, he said, "It's a relatively new technique, obviously. So, if you mind, could you answer the good detective's question?"

Minnie made an upset 'hmph' noise. "I don't know—"

"I'll pay up to one thousand dollars for the room," the prosecutor interrupted suddenly. Seemed like he really wanted to move things along. It did the job; Minnie immediately relaxed and went back to knitting.

"Well, of course! Why didn't you ask sooner! The lady you called Pam kept asking us all about our granddaughter: where she was, what she did, how she knew some weird fellow named…" Minnie trailed off. "Hm. Seems we can't remember what his name was. But it was a 'he'. Of that, we're sure."

Gumshoe mentally searched through every conversation he had had with Pam. Never once did she bring up the name Meg, at least not that he…wait, didn't she? It wasn't Meg though. It was something close to it. Meg…an? Megan? That was probably the most likely candidate. He was pretty sure she had been muttering that to herself during the Pitts case. Mr. Edgeworth looked to Gumshoe, one eyebrow disappearing behind his bangs. Gumshoe thought about telling him. Key word: thought. Instead, he chose to shrug his shoulders. Miles shoulders fell a little. The prosecutor quickly turned back to Minnie.

"I see. So, Detective Wright was simply asking around about this Meg person. I find that very strange indeed." He paused, as if he was searching through his mind for the right question to ask. "Do you know the details behind your granddaughter's disappearance? Or is your memory also spotty in that regard?"

Despite the prosecutor's comment, Minnie didn't stop knitting.

"As we said before, little Meg didn't stay with us very much once she graduated college. From what we can remember, she disappeared around springtime." Minnie bit her lip, finally stopping her knitting for good. "We think the police told us that she was last seen very far east of here. One of the states on the Atlantic."

The room dropped into silence. Gumshoe scribbled in his notepad. How exactly was some random disappearance so important to Pam? He just couldn't figure it out. Apparently, Miles couldn't either. The prosecutor leaned back into the couch, his disgust long since forgotten.

"I don't understand," he mumbled, looking to Gumshoe out of the corner of his eye. "Wright obviously knows something we don't."

Gumshoe closed his notepad, tucking it into his pocket. Nothing he could say would help the situation, and yet Gumshoe had never been that good at keeping his mouth shut. The detective scratched at his scruffy beard.

"Well, maybe she really does know this Meg lady. Is that really so impossible, sir?" Miles scoffed, waving to Minnie. The old lady hadn't moved from her spot, instead staring at her hands with a lost look in her eyes.

"You heard what she said. Whoever this woman was, she disappeared three years ago somewhere on the other side of the Mississippi River. I find it highly impossible—"

"Well, she obviously knows about this missing lady somehow." Interrupting the younger man (usually not something he would ever try to do, ever), Gumshoe turned to Minnie. He walked over to the woman, putting a hand on her shoulder. There was only one thing he could think of to try and squeeze out some more information.

"Say, ma'am, do you happen to have any photos of your granddaughter before she went missing? Maybe of her at a birthday party, or with friends."

Minnie sighed. "We aren't sure our Meg had many friends. But there were a few pictures her that we might have. Sometimes her parents would send us some in the mail." She stood from her chair, smiling at Mr. Edgeworth. "We'll go looking in our room. While you wait, perhaps you could count up the money for the room." Minnie walked off, leaving Gumshoe and Miles to wait in the living room. The prosecutor crossed his arms and looked up at the detective.

"Just what are you thinking, Detective?"

Gumshoe didn't like the glower he was getting. He studied the green carpet under his feet. "Well, maybe if we can match a face to a name, we could find out more about this lady Pam was looking for. She was a prosecutor, right? Maybe you could ask around the office, see if any other people knew her."

Miles grumbled in his seat, then stood with a huff. His coat tail flare out behind him with the movement. "Not a terrible idea. I certainly don't remember anyone with that name, and I've been working in this city a long time. Perhaps she didn't work here."

They were interrupted when Minnie came shuffling back into the room. In her hands she held a single piece of paper. She handed it to Gumshoe, and on closer inspection he saw that it was from a newspaper.

It didn't say specifically which paper it came from, but he did see the date was for 2011. The title read 'The Chameleon Killer Convicted – Safety In Our Streets At Last!'. The blurb itself was simple; a man who had killed a lot of folks in New Orleans had been taken down thanks to the NOPD. A small picture of the police department was underneath the paragraph. Minnie pointed to a woman on the far left of the picture. The photo was in black in white, but it was clear to see her smiling face. Her hair was put up in a ponytail, and she had her arm slung around a man with curly hair and circular glasses.

"That's Meg," Minnie said, handing the picture over. "This is the only photo of her we could find on such short notice. Our room is such a mess, you see." Gumshoe peered closer at the picture, but it was quickly snatched out of his hand by Miles. The man glared at the photo before shaking his head.

"I don't recognize her. But if she worked a case with New Orleans police department, then perhaps we can get some more information." He glanced up at Minnie, who was moving back toward her chair. He waved the photo a little. "Did you show this picture to the woman who came by here before us?"

"Nope!" Minnie smiled. "She never asked us about a picture. She just seemed very determined to find where our Meg was last seen. She didn't seem to care for much else. You can keep the clipping, if you want. We're sure we have some more like it somewhere."

Miles pocketed the photo. His face was twitching, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to frown or smile. Eventually he settled on the later. "This could work," he mumbled to himself. "With this, we'd be one step ahead of Pamola. We need to find whatever it is she's looking for…" The prosecutor's voice dropped until Gumshoe could no longer understand his mumbling. Gumshoe stepped toward, clearing his throat in order to get Minnie's attention.

"May I ask what exactly you told Pam—er, the other officer?" Minnie tilted her head.

"Well, we told her that Meg was a…what did you call it, a prosecutor? And that she went missing some time ago, somewhere across the country." The old lady huffed, crossing her ankles. "She just kept going on and on, asking if we knew some Kent person, but we don't know what that has to do with our Meg—"

"Hold on." Miles stepped forward, straightening his cravat. "Kent? Is that the man Pamola was asking about originally?"

Minnie blinked. "Yes," she said slowly. "That was it. We just remembered! Isn't that convenient!"

Gumshoe raised an eyebrow. "Very. So Pam was looking for some person named Kent?" He saw Mr. Edgeworth smile. "Does that name ring any bells, sir?"

"Indeed, it does." Miles's smile grew until it looked borderline uncomfortable. He shoved his hand in his pocket, the same one that he put the photo in. "Now that I think about it, that man in the picture does look a bit like him. Now just what was he doing in New Orleans in 2011?" He turned to Gumshoe. "We should return to the Prosecutor's Office. I believe we've done all we can for today. Let us be off."

Miles took a few steps toward the door, only to be violently stopped when Minnie grabbed the back of his jacket. The old lady had a surprising amount of strength in her old bones. Her grip was iron-like on his black coat. She must have grabbed the back of his cravat, too, because Miles let out a chocked gasp.

"Hold on a minute. You said you were going to rent our room!"

Gumshoe pried the ladies hand off the prosecutor's coat. Miles straightened out his clothing, turning to the old lady with a heated glare.

"Get your hands off me! I am Miles Edgeworth, and you—"

"We don't care who you are!" Minnie held out a hand. "1,500 dollars, that was our deal!"

"T-That wasn't what we agreed on!"

Gumshoe felt a headache coming on. He mumbled that he would go and start the car, but Mr. Edgeworth didn't seem to hear. He was too busy arguing with Mrs. Ehrars to notice much else. Gumshoe stumbled out of the house, taking refuge in the undercover cop car. Only then, in the silence of the vehicle, did he allow himself a moment of rest. He leaned his head on the steering wheel, letting out a long breath.

What was Pam doing? Looking into some disappearance from three years ago? And who was this Kent guy? I mean, the name sounds a bit familiar. If Mr. Edgeworth knows him, maybe I do, too. I guess I could always do some investigating of my own…But then he was reminding just exactly who he was investigating. Pam. His partner. Someone who he was supposed to protect. Gumshoe felt like he couldn't sit still. The front door of the house opened with Miles coming out. He had a frown not unsimilar to the one Pam was wearing when she had left. Gumshoe swallowed, his stomach twisting.

Later, he promised himself. I'll figure it out later. As if he had much of a choice…

Sept. 23. 6:00 PM. Gumshoe's Desk.

Gumshoe could barely hold himself together. Every footstep made him flinch. The constant typing of the keyboards was causing a terrible headache. And that wasn't the worst of it. Every now and then, Pam would sigh or stretch, leaning back so that their chairs would bump into each other. It made Gumshoe's stomach sink.

He hadn't said a word about what happened with Mr. Edgeworth yesterday. In fact, he'd barely said a word to her at all. His conscience was weighing on his shoulders so that he was in a near constant slump. Worst of all, he was sure he deserved much worse, because he went and did what he told himself he wouldn't. Snooping on his partner as if she was a criminal.

He thought the name 'Kent' sounded familiar. There had been a detective that had worked at the LAPD by a similar name a few years ago. Gumshoe hadn't personally worked with him, and if he hadn't, then he was pretty sure Miles wouldn't have either. Then again, the prosecutor seemed to know more than the detective did. Gumshoe stared at his computer screen with tired eyes, scrolling through a report. He tried to ignore Pam as she yawned behind him.

"Welp," she said, pushing her chair back. "I think I've had just about as much as I can take today. What do you say about calling in early?" Gumshoe froze, wondering if she knew what had happened yesterday. But she couldn't, could she? He'd been pretty sneaky with the cruiser. But what if she had noticed? What if this was some sort of ploy to try and lure him into a false sense of security? What if she knew that he looked into that Kent person? What if—

"Uh, Gumshoe?" He felt Pam tap his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder to see a very confused junior detective. She tilted her head to the side, her stray piece of hair dangling in the air. "You okay? I asked if you wanted to grab a drink at Cosmo's."

Gumshoe cleared his throat, turning his chair to face her. His heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, and not in a good way. He tried to force a smile on his face, but it probably didn't look that way to Pam.

"Yeah, pal, sure! Sounds like a plan. I'll just finish up here—"

"Oh, come on, Gumshoe." Pam stood from her chair and grabbed her jacket, slipping into it. "We can ride together. Seriously, I don't mind."

Again, that creeping feeling was crawling up Gumshoe's spine. Sure, Pam had gotten a lot friendlier in the past few weeks, almost treating him as her equal. But she rarely did stuff outside of work with him, and she never went out drinking with anyone. Maybe Pam could see the confusion on her face. Pam sighed, undoing her hair and letting it fall down her back.

"Listen, I've had a pretty rough week, okay? I'm just trying to do something relaxing with a friend. I'd ask my brother, but he's busy with work, and Goodman isn't even here today. I don't really know anyone else around here." She looked at the ground, her cheeks going a little red. "I mean, if you don't want to, I get it. I just thought it would be…nice?" She shook her head a little, looking mighty uncomfortable. "Whatever, just forget I asked." She turned sharply, heading for the front lobby. Without thinking, Gumshoe grabbed the edge of her sleeve.

"Hang on pal! Just give me two seconds." His nerves were still there, but Gumshoe shut down his computer and grabbed his own coat. This felt like a bad decision, but…seeing that almost bashful look on Pam's face was totally out of left field. Besides, if someone he worked with actually wanted to spend time with him, who was he to say no?

The two walked out of the precinct together, with Gumshoe carrying most of the conversation. They took Pam's truck, and even though Gumshoe thought the vehicle was about to explode every five seconds, he slowly felt his body begin to relax. Sure, the terror of Pam finding out he was spying on her was still there, but at least things were manageable now. Pam even began to open up a little the closer they got to the bar.

"And would you believe Lacy had the audacity to sick that crazy lady on me?" Pam shook her head. "I mean, I totally get why she did, but still, I didn't ask to deal with some wound up Karen upset about a parking ticket. Just give her to Meekins for crying out loud!" Gumshoe laughed, voice bouncing around the truck as Pam pulled into the lot.

"Meekins wouldn't have the stomach for it, pal! He'd fall flat on his face."

"My point still stands," she said with a pout. She jumped out of her seat, glaring at him without any real heat. "You could have taken care of it."

"I'm your senior." Gumshoe exited the truck and quickly followed after her, having to hold back a laugh. "That means I get to divvy out the stuff I don't want to do to you, pal."

"Gee, thanks." Pam held the door open for him, waving to the bartender. "Hey, get me a margarita, please!" She tilted her head, following Gumshoe to the counter. "Want anything in particular? Drinks are on me, since I asked you here and everything."

"Ah, gee pal…" Gumshoe scanned over the menu, ordering the least expensive thing he could find, only for Pam to immediately berate him for ordering cheap. So then he had to order something else, but he accidently knocked Pam's drink over in trying to grab his second. He had no choice but to buy her another, and in turn she bought him another…

Suffice to say, they were both pretty tipsy by the end of the night.

Looking back on it, Gumshoe couldn't say he recalled much. He remembered drinks after drinks, and a weirdly spicy batch of nachos. He remembered saying something not all that funny, but Pam couldn't stop laughing. Her face had been deep red, as if she couldn't get enough oxygen. At some point, the bartender swapped out their drinks with glasses of water. Gumshoe vaguely remembered him calling them a cab.

The night had been going so well, but then…something happened. Something…bad? Gumshoe was too busy sipping his water to really focus. His vision was starting to swim. The bar was filled with people, so much so that Pam had to squish up to Gumshoe in order to talk. Pam was staring at her glass, her index finger tracing the rim. Despite the good night, she seemed…almost sad.

"Hey, pal." Gumshoe nudged her shoulder. She barely looked up. "What's up? Something eatin' ya?"

"Sorta." She shook her head a bit. "I don't know. I'm just frustrated about something."

"Something?" His head was fuzzy, sure, but he knew that he needed to keep Pam's spirits up…or something. He leaned forward, raising his voice to be heard over the chatter. "Is it with work?"

"In a way. I…don't know if I should share." Pam leaned her head on her palm, huffing. "It's personal. I'm just…at a lot of dead ends and I feel like I have no where else to look." She forced a laugh. "Probably just the drinks talking."

Awwwmaaaaaaan he'd totally screwed up! This was about the Kent thing, right? Gumshoe set his water down, instead slinging an arm over Pam's shoulder. That look in her eyes, it was down right depressin'! He had to help her out. Some encouraging words should do the trick.

"Don't worry, pal! Me and Mr. Edgeworth'll help you out!"

Pam shifted under him, as if she was tensing up. Gumshoe's head was still buzzing, but even he could notice that.

"What did you just say?"

Completely missing Pam's concern, Gumshoe drunkenly laughed.

"Ya know, with the whole Kent thing! I'm not entirely sure what it's all about yet, but me 'n Mr. Edgeworth'll totally figure it out! Don't worry about a thing."

Pam was quiet for a long while. Her face was white. The blush from the alcohol was completely gone, and if Gumshoe had been more lucid, he would have seen that his statement had sobered up Pam more than any water ever could. Even in his state, he could still feel how tense she was. After a moment, she called the bartender over and ordered one last drink. She slid it over to Gumshoe with a blank face.

"Last one's on me," she muttered. She stood from the barstool, avoiding all eye contact with Gumshoe. He barely noticed. He was too busy knocking back the drink Pam had ordered. "I…need to go to the bathroom." She stumbled away, ducking her way through the crowd. Gumshoe furrowed his brows, scratching his neck.

Was it something I said?

Plot? In your fanfic? It's more likely than you think.

Yeah I have no excuse other than life got crazy. Sorry about that. Uploads will definitely continue to be slower, but I am trying to write at least a little every day for this fic, and then I'm writing more original stuff at the same time, so works been a little slow.

Thanks to TA for the review; Miles may or may not be up to no good, but now that Gumshoe's spilled the beans...well, Pam's gonna have to come up with some kind of plan to get out of this mess.

The next four chapters will focus on the Steel Samurai case, with a little bit of Pam's case sprinkled in, too.

Thanks again for reading! - GBG