I'm glad everyone's enjoying this story so far. This one has been hard to write because of the mystery angle. And the timing of things. I keep having to push things to the next chapter because the chapter I'm on has gone on too long. Anyway, here's the next chapter.
Chapter Thirteen – Shock Treatment (You're Jumping Like a Real Live Wire)
Apollo
I woke up with a stiff side and in a slight panic at having no idea where I was. After a moment, I remembered: I had fallen asleep at the Wright office, pouring over the evidence for the case. I was curled up on the couch, and a jacket was draped over me. A familiar blue jacket that I had not seen in years.
Bolting upright, I looked around the office with wide eyes, only to see Mr. Wright sitting in a nearby chair, sipping coffee and staring at me with an amused look on his face.
"Hey," he greeted. "You must have been really tired if you decided to sleep here."
I felt my face heat up and I was forced to look away from him.
"Um…how long have you been sitting there?" I asked. I heard a small snort of laughter.
"Not long," he replied. "You looked kind of peaceful, so I put the jacket I had lying around over you then went out to grab a coffee. I grabbed you one too."
"Thanks," I said, imagining my face become a darker shade of red. I looked around for the coffee he got me and, seeing nothing, gave him a confused look. "Um, where is it?"
"Oh, I'm drinking it," Mr. Wright replied, taking another sip. At the outraged look on my face, he let out a laugh. "I'm just joking, it's right here."
I rolled my eyes before taking the cup from him, letting the heat warm my fingers. It had been a rough night. I couldn't even remember when the Wrights had left the office the night before, with my promising that I would lock up for them. Obviously, that hadn't happened yet.
"Where's Trucy?" I wondered, looking around and realizing she wasn't there. Mr. Wright took an obnoxiously loud sip of his coffee before replying.
"School," he said simply. I could feel my face heat up even further. Oh yeah.
"Um…I thought we would try investigating the scene again and find out where the crime really took place," I muttered after a moment, refusing to look at him. What was I supposed to do now? Investigate by myself?
"Eh, it's ok," Mr. Wright said as if reading my thoughts. "I'll go with you." I whipped around to look at him with wide eyes.
"R-Really?" I asked. That had been my dream when I was in school! Though my opinion of Mr. Wright had soured somewhat since I met him, there was still a part of me that was excited at the chance to work closely with him on a case.
"Yeah, I have nothing better to do," he answered with a shrug. "It might be nice to get out and do some investigating again."
"Um, alright," I replied. "Let's go then."
"Where are we going?" Mr. Wright wondered.
I paused. That was a good question. There was really nothing to be gained from going back to the scene where the body was discovered at this point. The police had picked that place clean and there was nothing left to be found. We had already discovered that the crime had happened elsewhere. There was nothing left to find there. So, what was next?
"We should try to find the janitor and hear what he has to say about the situation," I decided. "If he's the killer, we need find out his motive and if he too was being blackmailed."
"Good thinking," Mr. Wright said, nodding. "I read over the case notes while you were sleeping, so I think I have a good grasp on what's going on."
Needless to say, I was nervous. Mr. Wright seemed content to let me lead, but that didn't mean I was comfortable with telling him what to do. He slouched behind me as we made our way towards the Arena, barely speaking a word the entire time.
"We should talk to the owner of the place first," I said when we reached the Arena. "He should know where we can find this janitor and if he could possibly have a motive for killing the security guard."
"This security guard worked at the prison, didn't he?" Mr. Wright wondered.
"That's what K-Prosecutor Gavin said," I replied, catching myself. He nodded thoughtfully, but didn't expand upon that question as we headed down the hall. "Do you think the victim was murdered in the prison?" I asked when he continued to not say anything.
"It's a possibility," he said after a moment. "I would hope that security would be tight enough there that you couldn't murder someone, let alone sneak the body out afterword, especially if that body was one of the security guards. But I've seen bigger levels of incompetence before, and from security guards, no less."
I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but then decided that I was probably better off not knowing what he was talking about. I admit that I hadn't ruled the prison out as a possibility for the true crime scene, but I wasn't too thrilled about the idea of investigating there. The chances of running into someone I knew in there was low, I was sure, but I still didn't want to take the risk if I didn't have to.
"Here's the owner's office," Mr. Wright suddenly called, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned to see him several feet behind me, pointing to a door with the words "The Owner" in big, bold letters right on the tinted window. I shuffled over to him, looking at the ground in embarrassment.
"I'm not sure how I missed that," I muttered, mostly under my breath. He didn't reply and instead reached out a hand and knocked on the door.
The owner of the Arena was an ancient prune of a man, who looked like he would shatter into a million pieces if someone even blinked at him too hard. I swear I could hear every bone in his body popping and breaking with each movement he made.
"What can I do for you nice young fellas?" he said in a whispery voice. Mr. Wright and I exchanged bewildered glances before answering.
"I'm Apollo Justice and this is Phoenix Wright," I introduced ourselves. "I'm Ed Curity's lawyer and I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the day of the murder."
"Murder?" the owner repeated. "Oh, I don't know…Ah yes! I remember now! Some poor night guard got himself killed, right? Down by the station?"
"Er, it was the security room actually," Mr. Wright replied.
"That's what I said," the owner snapped. "So, is there anything that I can do to help you out? The reputation of the Arena is at stake here. Don't want people to go around thinking I hire murderers or something."
"I actually have reason to believe that the murder didn't take place here," I told him. "And I was hoping to speak to the janitor, actually. I believe he's the key to solving this case."
"Is that so?" the ancient owner replied thoughtfully. "Well, he has a locker in the staff room where he keeps all of his stuff. I have the code to unlock it right here for you. His name is Shmoot Sana."
We quickly thanked him for the information, got directions to the locker room, then started back down the hall. Both of us were lost in our own thoughts and barely glanced at each other. I was fine with that, to be perfectly honest. I hardly ever knew what to say to Mr. Wright. He had a way of enraging and frustrating me that not even Gavin could accomplish. Even after the Misham trial things were a bit uneasy between us.
We found the locker room with very little problem, fortunately. The janitor's locker wasn't all that hard to find either, since it was the only one that was practically falling apart.
"For a janitor, this guy isn't very organized," Mr. Wright joked.
I didn't respond and instead used the code the owner gave us and wrenched open the locker door. Several items came tumbling out and spilled onto the floor, including a bottle of weed killer, a wrench, a disgusting old rag, a pair of boxers and an orange. The things that managed not to fall out of the locker were not much better in terms of usefulness. There was a pair of old work boots, even more cleaning supplies and a framed picture of a French maid.
We struck gold when I reached into the back of the locker and pulled out a small hand vacuum. It was the only new looking thing in the locker, and it had a tag attached to it that said "Property of Shmoot Sana," complete with a home address in case it got lost.
"Bingo," Mr. Wright muttered. "Looks like we have our guy."
"I suppose," I replied. "I just hope this janitor can shed some light on-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Mr. Wright had bent over and was shoving the orange and the picture nonchalantly into his hoodie's pockets. He gave me a lazy smile.
"Oh don't worry, I used to do this all the time when I was an attorney," he said, like that wasn't a problem.
"You know I have the upmost respect for you Mr. Wright, but I'm honestly surprised you didn't lose your attorney's badge much sooner," I sighed, mostly under my breath.
"Yeah, me too," he replied with a shrug and a smile.
I rolled my eyes and quickly shoved everything back into the locker after writing the address down in my notebook. Then we quickly left the arena and started off down the block. Thankfully, the janitor's house was not too far from where he worked and was actually within walking distance. Mr. Wright kept pace with me as we walked, staring thoughtfully off into the distance.
We were almost there when Mr. Wright came out of his thoughts long enough to let out a sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him turn to me and give me a look.
"Listen, Apollo," he started, almost uncertainly. "I want you to start taking an extra day off every week." I stopped and wheeled around to look at him.
"What? Why?" I questioned.
"I've been worried about you," he replied, looking up at the sky. "You tend to overwork yourself. An extra day will really do you good."
"I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Wright," I snapped. "I don't need days off. I have too much work to do already. If I take any more time off, I'll start falling behind."
When he glanced over at me, his expression was surprisingly soft.
"You're just like Miles," he murmured with what almost sounded like affection. All I could do was blink in surprise at him. "Nevertheless, you're going to work yourself to death if you carry on like this. I'll even let you pick the day, but you have to start taking more time off. We're not so busy that you have to come in every day, you know."
I knew what Mr. Wright was saying made sense and he was probably correct, but that didn't mean I had to like it at all. I was barely scraping by as it was. It made me really consider staying over at Gavin's place more often. At least I didn't feel alone when I was with him.
"How are you getting on with Prosecutor Gavin?" Mr. Wright asked suddenly. I was glad I wasn't holding anything, because I'm sure I would have dropped it in surprise.
"Wh-What makes you ask that all of a sudden?" I stuttered, trying to hide my face.
"Well, I just remember you were avoiding him last week and he's the prosecutor for this case," he pointed out. I was certain I would see an amused look on his face if I were to look at him. "You never did tell us why you freaked out like that when he visited."
"I-I…just…" I had nothing. Mr. Wright had his own way to tell if I was lying to him that was vastly different from Trucy and me. But at the same time, I definitely couldn't tell him the truth. "He's not my…favorite person, you know," I muttered at last.
"Yeah, I know," he laughed. "I'm surprised with how much you don't like him. You and Ema, really. Even I can't hate him and he lost me my badge. Sort of."
I couldn't help but flinch. I was certain Gavin still felt bad about being used like that by his brother. I could see it in his eyes whenever the topic was brought up. I made a mental note to tell him that Mr. Wright bore him no ill will the next time I saw him.
"Miles wasn't very fond of me when we met in court," Mr. Wright continued. "Of course, at the time he was only concerned with his perfect win record. I think he would have down right hated me if it weren't for the fact that we were childhood friends."
I gave him a look but didn't say anything. I wasn't quite sure why he was telling me all of this. As far as I knew, Prosecutor Edgeworth was nothing like Prosecutor Gavin. In fact, I think the only thing they had in common was that they were both prosecutors. And I was definitely nothing like Mr. Wright.
"You know, he's the reason I became a defense attorney in the first place," he said, unperturbed by the fact that I hadn't said anything. That took me by surprise.
"Really?" I asked. As much as I had studied him in college, I never imagined the great Phoenix Wright wanting to be anything other than a lawyer.
"I was going to be an actor at first," he replied, nodding. "But when I saw my old childhood friend in the papers that were talking about a 'demon prosecutor,' I…" he trailed off before shaking his head. "Well, long story short, I switched my majors and now here we are."
I opened my mouth to ask him questions about this, but he quickly interrupted me.
"Oh hey, we're here," he said. "And look who's waiting for us!"
I looked over to where he was pointing and felt my heart sink at the sight of Prosecutor Gavin standing at the door to the apartment building where the janitor lived. He had been pressing a buzzer on the entrance, but turned at the sound of Mr. Wright's voice. His face when he saw us was a wild mixture of emotions.
"Ah! Herr Wright! Herr Forehead!" he greeted as we approached him. "How nice it is to see you again! I assume you're here to talk to Herr Sana as well?"
"Th-That's right," I said, trying to keep my face neutral. "But what are you doing here? Shouldn't this be a job for Ema?"
"The Fraulein Detective and the rest of the police are investigating the crime scene again to see if they can't determine a clue to the real crime scene," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I decided to interview Herr Janitor myself." He bent over and gave me a charming smile. "It's actually a good thing you're here. I'm hoping that he'll be more willing to sing if you're here as well. You two have a way with getting witnesses to harmonize."
"That's not quite how I would put it," Mr. Wright said with a lazy smile, "but I have always wanted to see how the prosecution works their side of the magic."
I could feel my heart pounding painfully in my chest as we joined Gavin on the front steps and the prosecutor continued pressing the buzzer. Finally, a gruff voice came over the intercom, telling us to enter. Gavin let Mr. Wright enter first and he reached over and gave my hand a light squeeze before following after him.
Inside was a small, run-down lobby with an equally small reception window to one side. Gavin went over to the window first, flashing his badge at the man on the other side of the window. It took him very little effort to get the man to tell us what number the janitor's apartment was, making me slightly envious of the easy life the prosecution seemed to have.
As soon as we knocked on the apartment door, we could hear a loud crash and movement on the other side. There was a call of "Hold on one second!" and then a moment later, the door opened. I'm not sure what I was expecting this Shmoot Sana to look like, but it certainly wasn't the slouching, lanky, disheveled and unshaven mess of a man that was standing before us. He had a lazy eye, crooked teeth and long, blond hair.
"Well howdy there," he greeted, unperturbed by our sudden appearance. "What can Shmoot do you for?"
"Ah yes, well," Gavin started. "Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Prosecutor Klavier Gavin. This Apollo Justice and Phoenix Wright, defense attorney and ex-defense attorney. We were hoping to ask you some questions regarding a case."
"Well sure, come on in," Sana said opening the door wide and retreating into the room. We all exchanged glances before following him inside. I couldn't tell if I was surprised or not by the state of his apartment. Not a single item was out of place and the entire room sparkled from being recently cleaned. The only thing that didn't seem to belong was the couch, which was old, falling apart and covered in cans of various liquids.
"Make yerselves at home," Sana invited, shoving the cans off one side of the couch to sit down. "So, what did y'all wanna ask ol' Shmoot?"
"Are you aware of the murder down at the Arena?" Gavin asked him, once we were all seated comfortably enough.
"I reckon so," Sana replied. "Some poor guard gone and got himself stabbed. Darn shame too. But I'm not sure what that has to do with ol' Shmoot."
"You see, we have reason to believe that the murder did not take place at the Arena," I told him, deciding to speak up. "And that the body was moved there to throw off the trail."
"Makes sense," Sana said, nodding. "Shmoot knows Ed couldn't have done it neither. He may look tough, but Ed wouldn't hurt a fly! Shmoot sees everything when he's on the job. If Shmoot had come into work that day, you bet that Shmoot would have been able to catch the culprit who gone and did this."
My eyes widened with surprise while Gavin did a double-take. Mr. Wright just stared blankly at the man. Had we heard him right?
"Wh-What do you mean if you had come to work that day?" I asked when I could find my voice again. "You did come into work that day! We have video evidence that you did!"
"Whatever you think you saw is a lie, son," Sana replied, still sounding relaxed. "Shmoot got rip-roaring drunk last night with a cutie and passed out. When Shmoot came to the next day, he'd already missed his shift."
"That's…not possible," Mr. Wright muttered under his breath.
"Shmoot was surprised when he came in the day after that and wasn't fired," the janitor continued, not noticing our distress. "Didn't even get yelled at or nothing. Shmoot figured that it was because of the murder and all."
"Is there anyone who could verify any of this?" Gavin asked.
"I reckon the cute girlie Shmoot was drinking with could," he replied. "Though Shmoot can't remember her name. He barely remembers what she looks like! Maybe the bartender could. Why? Shmoot ain't a suspect, is he?"
I couldn't hear my secret boyfriend's answer, as I was too far gone in my own thoughts. I didn't know what this could possibly mean. There was always the chance that he was lying, but my bracelet hadn't reacted at all. He could have been a good liar, but he seemed to be telling the truth. I didn't know what to think. If he was telling the truth, that just left one question.
Who did we really see in the security footage? And who really killed the victim?
Woah. I'm going to end this chapter here because once again it is going on too long for my liking and this is the best place to end it at. There are a few more things I need to do next chapter and then a hammer is going to be dropped. But not that hammer. A different kind of hammer.
Anyway, I also wanted to get another chapter out because it's been a while. I've been going through some stuff. Part of which was figuring out ALL THE DETAILS of this damn case. And the particular order of things. Hopefully, I'll get the next chapter out sooner than this. And I have other shit to work on…sigh…
