Episode B1–2: Detectives At War
[DETECTIVE GOODMAN: WRITINGS ON NEWEST RECRUIT]
August 21. 4:00 PM. Asha's Hospital Room.
The hospital wasn't crowded like Goodman had originally thought. Only a few people wandered the halls, and none of them paid much attention to the two detectives. The sterile smell of the building set Goodman on edge. He never did like hospitals, and it looked like Pam didn't either. She kept getting all jumpy whenever someone walked by her, and she steered clear of any doctors. Despite the tension between the two of them, she had been quiet.
Goodman took the silence in stride. He doubted she would shut up for very long, so he was going to cherish the moments she kept her mouth shut.
The two were escorted to Asha's room. The woman in question was laying in bed, unconscious. She was in a hospital gown, but her hair still seemed to be curled. Was he seeing things, or was she still wearing makeup as well? Isha was still wearing the Indian costume, a feather missing from her headband. She was holding Asha's hand, barely looking up when they entered the room. There was a nurse in the room, the only one to greet them.
"You must be the police." She held out a hand, rubbing tired eyes with the other. "I'm Lilly Johnson, but everyone just calls me Ms. Lilly."
"I'm Detective Goodman—"
"And I'm Detective Wright." Pam shook the lady's hand, butting Goodman out of the way. "We were wondering if we could ask you some questions."
"Of course, of course. Asha is unfortunately still asleep. It's for her own health. She was so panicked after what happened, the doctor's were afraid she would hurt herself. But I would be happy to answer your questions."
"Right, well, first we need to hear your testimony." Goodman pulled out a notepad and pen. "Tell us what happened the night of the murder." Lilly took a seat on the hospital chair, sighing. Pam said nothing, instead opting to stare at the woman in the hospital bed.
"That night, the 20th of August, we had a costume party at Deddison's house. It was strange, but we all agreed because of how insistent Deddison was about it. After some drinks, Benny asked if we could all take a walk through a local park. We went out around midnight, I think. We had been walking for about an hour when we stumbled upon that weird altar thing." Lilly sniffed, taking a moment to wipe away a few tears. "That's when everything went wrong…"
"How so?" Goodman asked, busily scribbling notes.
"That altar…I don't know what it was, but it gave us all the chills. Asha, well, she was a little more drunk than everyone else. She stumbled forward, touched the statue, and then she went all crazy. It was like…" Lilly's hands leapt to her chest, covering her heart. "It was like she was possessed! She said something about how she was the spirit of a woman scorned, and that she would have her revenge. Deddy tried to stop her, but she held up a hand, like this."
Lilly pushed her hand out, as if to stop Goodman from coming any closer.
"Then Deddison fell," she continued. "We all immediately rushed to him, turned him over…and that's when we saw the blood. He was already dead. Then Asha came back to her senses and collapsed."
The story now over, Goodman looked over his notes. He realized with a frown that nothing new had come up. But that didn't make sense. Where did the murder weapon go? He looked over to Pam, who had slowly wandered over to Isha and Asha. She leaned down, studying Isha's hand. The girl in the costume jumped, hiding her hands in the folds of her shirt.
"Y-yes?" Isha squeaked, voice raw.
"I was just looking at your nails," Pam said, a fake smile on her face. "They are just gorgeous. I was wondering where you got them done?" Isha frowned, confused.
"But I haven't done my nails."
"Hm. Never mind, then." Pam shrugged, returning to Goodman's side. She turned to Lilly. "If you don't mind me asking, what can you tell us about the victim, Deddy?"
"O-oh, well," Lilly shook her head a bit. "He was one of those lucky types. Everything always went his way. The Gunman's paid for his college, Dr. Noha provided him top quality care, and of course he was a playboy. Always got the ladies."
"Do you know anyone who would have wanted to hurt Deddison?" Goodman asked, trying to nudge Pam away. She nudged back, equally as hard.
"Honestly, no. He was a flirt, but Deddy was just like any other man."
Pam leaned over, looking Lilly in the eyes with a raised brow. "Any past friends? Or past lovers?" Goodman was quick to tug on the back of her jacket, pulling her behind him with a frown.
"That's enough, Wright."
"I certainly don't think so—"
"That's enough." Goodman reached into one of his many pockets, producing a small card with his number on it. "Thank you, miss. Please, if you remember anything, feel free to call."
"Yes, thank you, Detective. I should get back to looking after those two."
Goodman all but dragged Pamola from the room, much to her chagrin. He didn't let go of her arm until they reached the waiting room. He spun her to a stop, pointing a finger in her face.
"And what exactly was that all about?"
"Oh," Pam smirked, though there was no mirth in her eyes. "You didn't notice?"
"Remember who's in charge here, rookie."
Pam shrugged. Goodman could see her hands curling up in anger. A part of him knew he shouldn't be antagonizing the young detective, but he also didn't have to sit there and take any of her nonsense.
"While you were busy getting another bland testimony we've heard before, I was getting more important information. Did you see Asha's hair? You didn't get very close, but I did. I could still smell the hairspray on her. And her makeup was practically glued onto her face. That was the getup of someone who thinks very highly of their appearance. Frankly, I'm a bit jealous of how flawless she looked."
"Is that why you asked Isha for nail tips in the middle of a murder investigation?"
"I wasn't looking at Isha's nails." Pam rolled her eyes. "I was looking at Asha's. They were the one part of her that wasn't meticulously perfect. More than a few of them were chipped and cracked."
The room was quiet except for the few nurses walking about. Goodman grabbed the ends of his already short hair, barely holding back a yell.
"That was IT? That's your big reveal?"
"Pardon my words, Detective Goodman, but you obviously don't know much about the fairer sex."
"I don't have to deal with this." Goodman began walking to the entrance, shoulders tight in anger. "Car. Now."
"Fine. I'll explain as we go." Pam walked ahead of him, having to double her pace to keep up. "Everyone at the crime scene had an air of unease around them. Everyone had an imperfection, if you will. Asha seemed untouched, at first glance. But after looking at her nails, we can see that she has a very obvious flaw. A woman like that just wouldn't let her nails be chipped. She's perfect. Her nails should be too." Pam shrugged. "I mean, come on. How curious is it that our main suspect for murder has been put into a deep sleep?"
"Just because the people were spooked because of a murder, it doesn't make them all suspicious."
"No, but it does tell us some things. Obviously, something about their story is wrong. The victim was stabbed, and one of those party goers must have held the knife. I suppose it is a bit hard to narrow down who it might be, though." Pam bit her lip, tugging on a piece of hair that hadn't made it's way into her bun. "I guess I'll hold my conclusions until Otto can tell us more about the victim."
Good. The more you talk, the more my head hurts.
"We're going back to the precinct," he decided, hopping into the driver's seat. "Otto should be able to tell us more. And while he does, you will keep your opinions to yourself."
"Fine. But my money's on Asha."
"I said keep it to yourself!" Goodman snipped. Pam stared outside the window, hands digging into her arms. The car ride back was very long, very quiet, and very awkward. Goodman couldn't help but believe he had just crossed some sort of invisible line.
She'll get over it. I'll get over it. It's just a few harsh words. Even while he thought it, his hands tightened around the steering wheel. He just hoped Otto would be able to give them some solid answers.
August 21. 4:40 PM. Police Department. Forensic Lab.
Goodman and Pam walked in silence into Otto's lab. The man must have noticed the clouds over both of the detective's heads, because he got straight to the point, no beating around the bush.
"So, our victim did die from a stab wound. There was enough force behind the blow to fracture some of his ribs. The thing that confused us at first was that the victim would have survived at least a minute even with that kind of injury. Yet there were no restraint marks on the arms, legs, or head."
"Well, he wouldn't need to be restrained if he was in the middle of the woods. Especially not at night, what with there not being a lot of people there." Goodman uncovered the sheet over the body, revealing the victim's pale face. "When was the estimated time of death?"
"See," Otto wrung his hands, goggles askew on his head. "That's the thing. According to our data, Deddy here died sometime between 11 and 12."
Pam wrapped herself up in her jacket. "So around the same time Lilly said the murder happened. Late at night, on the 20th."
"Yeah, but the decay on the victim's body tells me that he was killed days ago. Around the 15th, maybe late 16th."
Pam leaned forward, lips curled into a smile. Was he imagining things, or were those stars in her eyes?
"Which means all our witnesses were lying through their teeth!"
"So, they weren't lying about the cause of death, but they were lying about the time." Goodman couldn't stop himself from getting caught up in Pam's good mood. "Kid, I want you to go upstairs and order officers to go and arrest every one of those witnesses. And I want those women in the hospital in here, too."
"Why do I—" Pam cut herself off, biting her tongue. She sharply exhaled from her nose, thankfully doing what he said and walking swiftly to the elevator. Goodman managed to see her lean back, head resting on the wall, before the doors closed.
Did she just…follow an order without complaint? Goodman shook his head a bit. That's new.
"Anyway, Boss man, there was something else about the victim that was odd to me. Check this out." Otto turned down the sheet a bit more, exposing the victim's left arm. In the middle of the forearm was a bruise, covering most of the white skin in a purple blotch.
"Didn't notice that yesterday."
"It was covered by the costume he was wearing," Otto replied. "We only noticed it when we cut away the clothes. The injury was caused by something pretty heavy. Didn't get down to bone, but an injury is an injury. There was also a fair bit of alcohol in his system." Goodman rubbed his stubby beard, eyes locked on the knife wound.
"Something's been bothering me, Otto."
The other man nodded. "It was the blood, right?"
"Exactly. Where was all if it?"
"Not in the woods, that's for sure. Wherever you find the blood, that's where the murder took place. The body was probably moved. My guess is someone put it in the woods yesterday. Probably one of your lying witnesses."
"Yes," Goodman muttered, "but the question is which one. Good work, Otto. I'll call you if anything comes up."
"No problem, Boss man!" Otto shot finger guns at him, back to grinning like an idiot. He switched his goggles for his sunglasses. He was even starting to take off his lab coat, showing a Hawaiian shirt underneath. "I'm gonna head out and catch some sun! My precious skin needs it." He walked backwards toward a side door, to the forensics team's private break room. "Not before I get some of that good 'ol coffee, though!"
"Yes, thank you, have fun with that." Goodman turned his back on the man, rolling his eyes. But he was stopped when Otto called out.
"Oh, and Detective?" Goodman looked over his shoulder. Otto popped the sunglasses onto his forehead, brown eyes looking deadly serious for a change. "Go easy on Pams, 'k? I get it; you like playing by Gant's rulebook. But sometimes you have to see things from another person's point of view." He held up his hands, as if surrendering. "I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. I'm just saying…maybe lighten up a bit, okay? Give her a chance to shine." Otto smiled, breaking the tense air. He turned around, skipping happily into the break room. "Laters!"
Goodman stood, rooted in his place. He slowly let out a breath. Maybe he had been a bit harsh on the kid. She had made a mistake, and it shouldn't have happened, but he shouldn't have been so petty about it all. Perhaps that was his fatal flaw. He was too stubborn for his own good. Too loyal to his badge.
After all, that's what got him in so much hot water with the SL-9 case. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stifle a headache. He really didn't want to think about that incident. It was better dealing with Wright than thinking about that case. So he headed up the elevator in an attempt to find the other detective. It was probably going to be chaotic up there, as usual, but he was sure it wouldn't be hard to find Pamola. She was a bit hard to miss.
The elevator opened with a cheerful ping. Goodman stepped out, pausing with one foot out of the elevator. The department was dead silent, each officer looking at three people. One was Pamola. She stood stiff as a board, openly glaring at the person opposite of her. The other was someone Goodman rarely saw enter the building. Miles Edgeworth stared at Pam haughtily, nose in the air. His arms were crossed. The two looked at each other with sparks in their eyes. Not the good kind, either. More like 'you're gonna end up in a ditch, and I'm gonna be the one to put you there' kind of sparks.
The only thing keeping the two apart was a stalwart Gumshoe, one hand on each of their shoulders. He was smiling, shoulders shaking in laughter. It was apparent that he was the only one who couldn't read the room.
"Oh, sir, this is our newest detective on the force! She's a real prodigy I tell ya! Her name's—"
"We've met," Prosecutor Edgeworth said through gritted teeth.
"Detective Wright, this is the best prosecutor in the whole world! Mr. Miles Edgeworth!" Gumshoe slapped the girl on the back, probably popping a few of her vertebrae out of place. Goodman was watching Pam closely, so he noticed her face pale at the prosecutor's name. Gumshoe nudged her with his elbow. "If you're lucky, you'll have the chance to work with him. Just like me!"
"I look forward to it," Pam said with notable distaste. Goodman thought she was hiding her discomfort very well. He was sure that only he noticed the twitching of her fingers, or the shuffling of her feet.
Maybe it's time to make up for this mess between us. Detective Goodman quickly walked over to the two, sure that they were going to catch something on fire due to their heated glares. He touched Pam on the shoulder, making her jump.
"Detective Wright, we should be getting a move on." He nodded to Edgeworth, who also seemed to snap out of his trance. "Good to see you sir. Now let's get a move on, Wright. We have witnesses to question."
"Right…right, yes sir." Pam threw one last hateful look over her shoulder walking off. He looked around the room. Everyone was still quiet. He snapped his fingers a few times.
"Everyone, back to work!" Finally, everyone began to move again. Goodman ignored the moody prosecutor, jogging to catch up with his rookie. She took the lead, walking down the many halls toward the Detention Center until she made it to the investigation rooms. When he caught up to her, he saw her displaying more emotion than usual, at least for her. She had torn her hair out of her bun, pulling at giant strands while she muttered words under her breath. It was hard to hear, but he managed to catch some of it.
"That little…knew I recognized…can't believe…Phee's little hero…had no right…"
She looked more like a caged lion than a detective. Goodman made sure to get in her line of sight before he gently tapped her shoulder.
"…Wright? You okay there?"
Pamola froze, quickly pushing back her hair and shutting up. Goodman was impressed with how easily she put on an indifferent front.
"Fine. Completely fine." She redid her bun, missing a few more hairs this time. He could see why she put it up. When her hair was down, she definitely looked younger, and much less threatening. Putting it up made her cold face more apparent. "Sorry about that. And…thanks for the save."
"No problem. Prosecutor Edgeworth can be…a little intense at first. Did he say something to you?"
"No." Pam tucked her spare hairs behind her ears, taking a moment to breathe. "No, he didn't say anything worth remembering."
"Good. Try not to get frazzled." He was going to add, 'It doesn't befit a detective', but he held himself back. Otto's words were still fresh. He bit his tongue, instead saying, "Take some time to cool off. The officers won't be back with the witnesses for a while. While we wait, let's divvy up who will interrogate who."
"Right, of course." Was he imagining things, or did her shoulders relax a little bit there? She turned to the one-way mirror, clearing her throat awkwardly. Her next words were a little bit quieter. "…thank you, sir."
Goodman wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he may have smiled just a bit when her back was turned. She reminded him of another headstrong detective, one he hadn't seen in some time. She had come from New York, hadn't she? Maybe she knows him…but that was a thought for later. Goodman ran a hand through his short hair, holding back a laugh.
"Goodman will do, rookie. Never been one for formalities. So, which of these witnesses do you want to tear apart?"