[October 3rd, 11:56 am-District Court, Defendant Lobby No. 2]
Robin LeBlanc flipped the page over and examined it carefully, hoping to find some other resource he had overlooked in his previous searches, but it was no use, everything was beginning to run together, and there seemed to be precious little information that he had not yet dredged up. Hopefully, his bluff would be met with success, and the new examinations would vindicate his conclusions: if he was wrong, he had nothing left to go on and the case would be over. Whispers and murmurs could be heard behind the broad oaken doors leading to the courtroom, with the jurors all not-too-silently chattering about the developments in the case. In a way, it felt a lot like sitting in on Fado's trials, Robin thought, but his heart was in his throat at all times; it was much less of a spectacle when you were the one who had to do the talking. He sighed, massaged his forehead, and took a look at the next sheet.
A shadow appeared to distract him, however. The raven-haired girl, her police escort hanging in a nearby corner, stood before her attorney and offered a meek smile, "That was… impressive. Do you think they'll let me off now?"
The attorney decided to reply honestly, shaking his head vaguely, "There's no way to know for sure. A lot is riding on those new examinations, though. If my thoughts are correct, we'll definitely have shifted the balance, but if it turns out that I'm wrong… well, if I'm wrong, I'll just have to pick a new angle altogether."
Tharja nodded, mumbling in the affirmative, "You're really confident that I'm not guilty, aren't you?"
He smiled, "I have to be. I couldn't possibly believe you'd kill anyone, Tharja. Glare, hiss, and cast curses on them, yes, but murder? Give me a break."
The raven-haired girl blushed and hid her face, "I-I don't do the cursing thing anymore…"
"Oh?" her attorney smirked, "Probably for the best. Although, if you wanted to curse that Mr. Canarde, I wouldn't mind too much." Tharja Anderra giggled.
"They won't let me stay out here too long, since things are getting interesting, so I should probably get moving before the guard gets antsy," she shrugged sadly.
"Right, go ahead," Robin nodded, taking a renewed interest in his papers.
"And Robin?" she looked back, "Thank you."
"You're welcome,:" he bowed obediently, then his eyes widened and he called to her one last time, "You're sure that window was open?"
"Absolutely," she nodded. That was enough.
Before long, a call came along the attorney's cell phone. He held it to his ear, "Hello?"
"Not dead yet, huh?" a voice chuckled from the other end.
"I thought I held out pretty well," he supposed.
"That's what I heard," answered his secretary, "I mean, claiming that the victim was murdered before the murder? That's some old mystery novel-caliber stuff!"
"Not to be cliche, but sometimes truth is stranger than fiction," Robin noted.
"True," Anna agreed, "but still, that's pretty wacky. I mean, how did you even come up with that?"
The attorney really wasn't sure, "It just… had to be true. I don't believe Tharja did it, and there wasn't much blood at the scene, but everything pointed to her, so I assumed someone was trying to frame her. Given that, the only way someone could have killed Harken was by stabbing him overnight or something that no one would have seen, like poison. I moved away from the stabbing because of the blood and the spots on the tablecloth, and thus the conclusion. When you eliminate what can't be true, you end up with what is."
The line was silent for a second, then Anna muttered, "I feel like there's a simpler way to say that. At any rate, I'm proud of you, kiddo. You're not a total screw-up after all!"
"Gee, thanks," the attorney groaned.
"Aw, I'm just yanking your chain," she laughed, "Good luck in there. I'm rooting for you, and I'm sure your girlfriend is too."
Robin paused to think, then began, "Wait, what? Tharja's not-"
The line went dead.
"-my girlfriend. Dammit, Anna."
"Mr. LeBlanc?" Robin's attention was diverted to a guard pushing open the oaken doors, "The recess is ended. Please, rejoin the court." Robin LeBlanc wasted no time.
[...]
[October 3rd, 12:29 pm, District Court-Courtroom No. 2]
The judge pounded his gavel authoritatively, commanding the attention and silence of everyone present, "This court will now we went into recess, it was to allow the police department time to conduct a second autopsy, searching for poison, as well as to examine the tablecloth on the Gaetz family dining table for a similar substance, based on Mr. LeBlanc's uncontested assertion that someone else murdered Mr. Harken Gaetz before the presumed time of the murder. I have here the results from the coroner's office, which state that…" The judge paused, widening his eyes a trifle and adjusting his reading glasses, "there were indeed traces of a known toxin inside Mr. Gaetz's stomach, the consumption of which would have caused fatal cardiac arrest in approximately ninety minutes."
Robin nodded, "That seems to fit in logically, if Your Honor will allow me to interject." Virion Canarde had already been floored by the announcement, but he glared with a fierce ire when the young attorney made the remark. Still, he continued, "If, as Mrs. Gaetz testified, their guest left not long after eight o'clock, that would put the time of death for Mr. Gaetz somewhere in the vicinity of nine thirty, just about half an hour before his wife would deem him asleep and go to bed. Without being unnecessarily descriptive, Your Honor, it's very possible that the victim's body was still the same temperature as when he was alive at such a time, which would make Mrs. Gaetz's assumption all the more reasonable."
The judge nodded, apparently ignoring Virion, "That all stands to reason, yes. Now, as for the tablecloth, the forensics team were able to detect the spots you mentioned, Mr. LeBlanc, and they were able to determine that the traces present therein were indeed consistent with the toxin believed to have killed Harken Gaetz. Thankfully, the tablecloth had not been washed since the evening of the murder, else it would have been impossible to draw such a conclusion from such small trace evidence. My commendations to you, Mr. LeBlanc."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Robin took a bow without meaning to, "So… does this mean the trial is finished? There is no more evidence pointing to Tharja Anderra…"
"Objection!" Virion growled, "I refute such a suggestion! The defendant's fingerprints are still all over the weapon!"
"But was killed by poison, that was evidenced by the coroner's report just now," replied the judge.
"How do we know she was not the one who poisoned him?!" the prosecutor insisted.
Robin shook his head, "We have the testimony of both Ms. Anderra herself and Isadora Gaetz, both of whom say Tharja went to bed immediately around four in the afternoon. There was no opportunity for Ms. Anderra to perform such a poisoning, setting aside the question of where she would get the poison to begin with."
Virion tried to compose himself, straightening his cravat, "Grr… Very well then, M. the Attorney, then the burden stands with you: who do you accuse?"
"How's that?" Robin winced.
"You have shown evidence that strongly suggests Ms. Anderra is not guilty of the crime for which she is accused, but you know the law in Ylissean courts," the prosecutor assumed a smile, "In order to acquit an accused party of a capital offense, another suspect must be accused and given his or her own trial, wherein his or her guilt may be judged. The defendant cannot be proclaimed innocent until someone else is found guilty."
Robin swallowed, "O-Of course I know that… Ahem… I suppose, under the circumstances, there is only one possible solution to the puzzle the court has been given today. The only way the mysterious poisoning of Harken Gaetz makes sense is if it was perpetrated by the Gaetz's dinner guest on the evening of October 1, the man Isadora identified as Fomortiis Vigarde."
The judge banged his gavel, "Then we are fortunate. When the police heard identify her dinner guest, they put out a search for this young biographer, but found nothing until recently, when Mr. Vigarde apparently caught wind of their search and presented himself. Mr. Vigarde, are you present in the courtroom?"
A young, fair-faced and soft-featured man with thin, mauve hair, pale amethyst eyes, and a tiny porcelain smile rose from the gallery, his chair groaning as he pushed it back. "I am, Your Honor," he answered in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. Without another word, he made his way to the witness stand, sporting a shiny white suit and matching pants. As he assumed his position, he made a broad smile, first at the court, then at the attorney who accused him, "My name is Fomortiis Vigarde… and I would like to clear up these most unfortunate allegations." Tharja shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she saw his smile, and Isadora cocked an eyebrow, attending to the young man's dress. Robin took note.
"Your occupation, sir," Virion requested gently.
"I'm a biographer, as Mrs. Gaetz told you," he smiled, "I did admire her husband so. I was very eager to tell all Ylisse of his heroism… now, all I can think is what a tragic conclusion this tale will have. The poor man, cut down in his golden years by some Plegian hussy. Very sad."
"Ms. Anderra is most certainly not the murderer," Robin protested.
"So you say," the lad cocked an eyebrow at him, "and in that assertion you accuse me, so can you honestly expect me to concur with it? I most certainly did not kill Harken Gaetz, either."
"Would you care to tell us what did happen that evening, M. Vigarde?" Virion offered.
"I'd be glad to," he grinned, "I arrived at the Gaetz household around 7:30 in the evening, whereupon I was treated to a lovely meal. It was beginning to get a bit cold outside, so I was quite glad when Isadora brought out a lovely warm roast, for it made the house smell like heaven. I tried not to disturb the Gaetz family much during my stay, so I asked generally simple questions, although Mr. Gaetz was a most accommodating gentleman; he entreated me to ask whatever I needed. When I had finished collecting my information, I was in quite a pleasant mood of excitement, I must say, for I had a stomach full of delicious home cooking and a mind bursting with ideas and information. Thanking them for their wonderful hospitality, I left the Gaetz family not long after eight o'clock in the evening."
"Mr. LeBlanc, your cross-examination?" offered the judge.
Robin took a deep breath and placed his hands on his desk, staring back at the smiling youth, "That was a pretty short visit you had with Mr. Gaetz."
"Indeed," the youth confessed, "I had collected a good deal of information through books, military records, internet searches, these sorts of things. I only contacted Mr. Gaetz for access to his personal histories, for those anecdotes are what elevate a biography to something more tantamount to a novel, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Attorney?"
"That will be 'Mr. LeBlanc,' please," Robin responded, "And perhaps, but it seems to me that such a personal conversation might last a bit longer. You don't seem to have probed Mr. Gaetz for very long."
"Objection!" Virion Canarde shouted, "The defense is badgering the witness; who cares how long they spoke? Unless there is something contradictory about this information, it means nothing! Rien du tout!"
"Then let me ask this," Robin proceeded, "What sort of questions did you ask Mr. Gaetz, specifically?"
"I asked about his military history, some of the awards ceremonies he had been to, those sorts of flowery affairs, as well as how he met his lovely wife in the military. A touching story, that one," the mauve-haired man smiled pleasantly.
"Any other meaningless information you'd like to request, M. the Attorney?" the prosecutor taunted.
"Actually," Robin held his lip firm, "I think that last remark was rather interesting. Mr. Vigarde, you're aware of the awards Mr. Gaetz won during his service?"
"But of course," the young man shrugged, "He was a highly decorated veteran. Is this really relevant to the murder we're discussing, Mr. Attorney?"
"'Mr. LeBlanc,'" he corrected again, "And then maybe you can tell me… what was the most prestigious award Mr. Gaetz won?"
Fomortiis Vigarde swallowed and frowned. Virion, however, took over immediately, "For what reason, M. the Attorney? Good M. Vigarde need not be questioned on the detail of his reporting. The only matter up for concern is the murder, anything else is irrelevant."
The attorney glanced up at the judge, "Your Honor, I think this inquiry may be valuable. After all, it should be a relatively simple question to one writing a biography, should it not? It's been all over the news. I only want to know what the most prestigious award that Mr. Gaetz won is."
The judge mulled it over, then nodded and banged his gavel, "Answer the question please, Mr. Vigarde. What is the award?"
"Thank you, Your Honor," Robin half-whispered.
The young man wrinkled his nose at the judge, then smiled relaxedly at the court, "Well, that's quite simple, Mr. Gaetz was most proud of his 'Steadfast Paladin' medal, awarded to Ylissean officers who display exceptional valor in leading their troops."
The court fell silent. "W-What?" the mauve-haired man's eyes widened as he looked out at them, and his smile disappeared.
"Just as I thought," surmised the attorney, "The court finds your response as interesting as I do, Mr. Vigarde… because the medal you have named does not exist."
"W-What?" a grave frown appeared on the lad's face, "Th-That's not… of course it does! I described it to the letter!"
Robin shook his head, "The medal you have described is called the 'Soaring Pegasus' medal, and it was the merit most beloved by Harken Gaetz."
"S-So what?" Virion growled, "He got the name wrong! N'importe! Everything else was correct, so what's the matter?"
"The name of that medal has been broadcast on every news TV and radio station across the entire country since the morning when Mr. Gaetz was found dead," Robin placed his hands on his desk, "Anyone would know it by now, so to think that Mr. Gaetz's own biographer failed to identify it is ludicrous!"
"Q-Quiet you!" yipped the young man, "I made a simple mistake, that's all! I meant to say the Soaring Pegasus, I was only nervous to death by your accusative stare!" He assumed a hurt frown, "I was so dreadfully frightened, I slipped in naming the medal, that's all, but as Mr. Canarde told you, I got everything else right, so I wasn't just making things up."
"Do you have a body of work we can examine, Mr. Vigarde?" Robin requested, digressing.
"Er, no," he breathed, "this was to be my first work after graduating from university…"
"How lovely," the attorney seized with irony, "What university did you attend? And when did you graduate?"
"I, uh, graduated… from the… University of Ylisstol just last year," he choked out.
"My my," Robin taunted, "that's impressive, A UY graduate? How do you feel about the Pegasi this year?"
"H-Huh?" he cocked an eyebrow.
Robin slammed his desk, "Your Honor, I'd like to search the graduation records from Ylisstol University for last year for verification of Mr. Vigarde's qualifications… not that I'm in any doubt, because it's clear that this man doesn't know anything about the things he's claiming!"
"Agh!" the mauve-haired lad grasped a hand over his chest.
"Objection!" Virion Canarde shouted. "These accusations are… baseless!"
"Overruled, Mr. Canarde," the judge shook his head, "We will summon the records for Mr. LeBlanc."
"Ha," a voice suddenly sputtered, "Hahaha! Hahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!" Eyes focused on the mauve-haired man in the center of the courtroom, whose thing locks were now becoming disheveled and bundling into thicker strands that covered his eyes, which were becoming slightly wild, "Is that what you think, Mr. Attorney? You think I'm a fraud, is that it?"
Robin nodded, "You don't know anything about Mr. Gaetz, and you're not a writer at all."
"Heheh! Haha!" the young man shouted, "That's pretty good. Did you figure it all out on your own? Haha! Tell me this, Mr. Attorney: who cares? I'm untouchable! You don't have any proof that I did the crime, do you? So you lose. Without any evidence to the contrary, the suspicion of guilt still falls to that little girl, and there's nothing you can do to change that. All your bluster's for nothing!"
"You're right," Robin confessed, "there's not much I can say."
"Ha!" shouted the young man, "So you admit it! Case closed, bang the gavel, judge! Guilty! Let's have her hanged!"
"But there is someone in the courtroom who can speak up," Robin smirked.
"Huh?" Fomortiis Vigarde's face sunk.
The judge banged his gavel a few times, "Don't keep us in suspense, Mr. LeBlanc, who is it that you mean?"
"There are two people involved in the story of the murder of Harken Gaetz who never met, two players who never interacted… inside the house anyway," Robin tapped a finger on his forehead, "I don't believe much in coincidence, something that noticeable must have happened on purpose. In keeping with my assumption that Mr. Vigarde was the man who poisoned Mr. Gaetz, there's one more step he would need to accomplish in order to divert suspicion, and that's to frame Tharja Anderra."
"Spit it out, already!" growled Virion Canarde, "What are you suggesting?"
Robin continued, unflinching, "If we accept that assumption, then it would be necessary for Mr. Vigarde to keep Tharja out of the way during the actual poisoning, or she would be suspicious immediately, as such, it was Mr. Vigarde who resigned Tharja to her bedroom that night… isn't that right, Tharja?"
Tharja buried her face behind her bangs, her hands shaking slightly. She gritted her teeth and grunted, but refused to offer an answer.
"I could tell by your reaction that you'd seen him before, Tharja," Robin held out his hand, "but you were surprised to see him here, meaning you didn't know he was with your foster family on the evening of the murder. I can also tell that it's difficult for you, Tharja, but you need to tell the court or you'll be even worse off: when have you seen this man before?"
"H-He was… I-I…" she hesitated, still shaking.
"Objection!" Virion shouted, "The witness's answer is taking too long! She is lying!"
"Objection!" Robin shouted back, slamming his hands on his desk, "Be quiet, Virion! She's having difficulty saying it because it's painful! Listen for once and you might just understand!" The prosecutor clutched his chest and grimaced, falling silent.
The raven-haired girl continued to shudder before speaking up again, "I… saw him with my friends. After school, I would go out with some of my Plegian friends, and one day… he was there. He claimed to know one of my friends, and he agreed, so he followed us around when we hung out…"
"How long ago was this, Tharja?" Robin interrupted softly.
"He showed up about a week ago," she answered.
"Interestingly," Robin leered at the youth on the witness stand, "That was around the same time Tharja's foster family received a letter from our 'biographer.' Please continue,"
"W-Well, that afternoon, I… The afternoon before the murder, that is… I did meet a few of my friends, and this man, the man up there… he offered to buy us all a round of drinks at a cafe. I was running a little late that day, so I ran to the bathroom after we ordered, and when I sat down… he was sitting right next to my seat, next to my cup. I guess… I guess I was stupid… I drank some of it, and then I started to feel sick to my stomach… the way he looked at me when I started to realize it… I didn't like the look in his eyes, so I made an excuse and ran home. I was so nauseous, so I barely said anything when I came in, threw open the window, and hit my bed like a sack of bricks. I don't want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't gotten a bad vibe, although things seem to have still turned out pretty terribly, considering," the raven-haired girl choked out. Eyes burned into the mauve-haired man on the stand.
"So, you felt ill and rushed home because Mr. Vigarde drugged you?" summarized the judge.
"How stupid!" grunted Fomortiis, "That's just a sob story she made up to cover her sorry Plegian tail. Why are you simpletons believing her?"
"Tharja, how many of your friends saw this man?" asked the attorney.
"At least five," she replied.
"Then we have at least five corroborative testimonies," Robin glared at the young man, "that's why."
"B-B-But…" Virion groaned, "There is no proof that M. Vigarde drugged her, or that this has any connection to the poisoning…"
"If a doctor tested her system, I'm sure we could find traces of the drug in Tharja's body," Robin responded, "As well as a few friends who might have witnessed something. Regardless, it has everything to do with the poisoning. Why else would Mr. Vigarde ingratiate himself with Ms. Anderra's friends a week before interviewing her foster father? There are too many connecting threads to dismiss it as chance."
"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mr. Vigarde?" demanded the judge.
The man's mauve bangs now covered his left eye, and both his eyes and lips had lost their soft pleasantness, replaced by a coarse frown and coal blackness. He grunted at the room, "Try though you may, Mr. Attorney, you don't have a smoking gun. Whether you think I poisoned Mr. Gaetz or not, my hands are clean, so you can't touch me. No matter what you do, you'll never be able to pin this on me. I'll walk free, and the girl will go to jail. Business as usual."
Robin shook his head, "Not quite. There has to have been a receptacle for the poison you used, and with it, a trace of the same poison that was on the tablecloth and in Mr. Gaetz's bloodstream. If we were to find such a receptacle connected to your person, that would be just as good as a smoking gun, wouldn't it?"
"It most certainly would," the judge concluded before anyone else in the room had a chance to answer, "That would tip the preponderance of the collected evidence most decidedly in favor of suspecting Mr. Vigarde. We will conduct a search of Mr. Vigarde's abode. Will you give us the address of your living space, Mr. Vigarde?"
"Go ahead," he shrugged, telling the bailiff, "You won't find anything, because I'm innocent."
Robin smiled, "Just a moment, Your Honor. Police should be dispatched to that address, but not just yet, because the witness is quite right. Well, half-right, at least."
The judge banged his gavel, "Explain, Mr. LeBlanc."
"The witness can afford to be so sure," Robin placed his hands on the desk, "because there is indeed no such receptacle in his receptacle exists, however. He's simply hiding it in a place he thinks no one will ever manage to discover."
"And what place is that?" requested the judge, "We'll dispatch investigators immediately."
"I told you," Robin smirked, "it's 'connected to his person!'"
The youth doubled back and folded his arms, "W-What?!"
The judge banged his gavel several times among the murmur in the court, "What is the meaning of this, Mr. LeBlanc? Where has the witness hidden the receptacle for his poison?"
The attorney tapped a finger on his forehead, "As I said, in order to be sure that it would never be discovered on an investigation of his belongings, the witness had to have stowed the receptacle somewhere away from his home, and somewhere he could constantly keep an eye on it."
"And where would the witness find such a place?" Virion sweat.
"Maybe Mrs. Isadora Gaetz can tell you," Robin smiled, pointing her out, "It was her reaction that helped me figure it out. That and the witness's willingness to have his home searched after handing himself over to the police, of course. Mrs. Gaetz, would you tell us, what strikes you about Mr. Vigarde's appearance today?"
"His suit…" she murmured, "It's the same one he wore the other night with Harken and I."
"My thoughts exactly," Robin touted himself, "Your Honor, the smoking gun, the receptacle for the poison used to murder Mr. Harken Gaetz is in the witness's suit!"
The mauve-haired youth snarled, grinding his teeth and collapsing a half-step, growling angrily at the attorney, "Th-That's not… You can't prove… How could you know… No… No! Nooooooooooooooooooo!" The young man pounded repeatedly on the stand, shouting the same word repeatedly, hair flying everywhere and eyes growing wider and wilder with each slam until he was forcibly apprehended by the bailiff and a guard.
"Get… Get your hands off of me…" he commanded in a low growl, "I confess. I've got nowhere to run now… I confess, so get your filthy paws away from me…" He pointed at the attorney with a lethal finger, "You… what's your game? What are you trying to prove?"
"My client's innocence, mostly," Robin answered, stone-faced.
"Tch," the young man scoffed, "How typical. And boring. Here I'd hoped I'd met an intellectual equal."
"Oh, we're not equals," Robin agreed, "I think I just won this little game."
"Ha!" the young man grumbled, "Arrogant. The confidence suits you, but it will be your undoing, Little Lawyer-boy."
"Before you go, Mr. Vigarde," Robin watched him carefully, "May I ask why you did it? Why murder Harken Gaetz? And moreover, why frame Tharja? Clearly, you planned it well in advance."
"I'll answer you in this way, Mr. Attorney," he responded, "You accused me of being a fraud, and you were dead on. Everything about me is fake. I say this only because it will inevitably be discovered now, so listen well: my name isn't Fomortiis Vigarde. That was made up, it was a pseudonym, for work, you understand?"
"For 'work?'" Robin cocked an eyebrow.
The youth smiled, "You uncovered quite a bit, Mr. Attorney, but not everything. Yes, work. Ladies and gentlemen of the court, my name is Lyon Mulroy, and I am a professional assassin."
"A-Assassin?!" Robin jumped. The prosecutor, judge, and remainder of the court did so with him, "You mean... you were paid to kill Harken Gaetz?"
"That's right," he nodded, "but don't bother asking who or why. Part of my contract is keeping silent on those questions; I'll die sooner than talk."
"So… you murdered Harken Gaetz via poison?" Virion muttered, "But then… why stab him with Mlle. Anderra's knife?"
"For reasons Mr. Lawyer already pointed out," he shrugged, "I needed to pin the murder on someone. Ms. Anderra was the perfect choice for my purposes, so I snuck back to the house late in the evening. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the girl had left the window wide open: an opportunity gift-wrapped for me. I climbed in, stole the knife, faked the murder, and skipped out the same way before anyone had a chance to realize what had happened."
"So then, the note was part of your plan, too, to fit with the sacrifice motif?" Robin supposed.
"No, the 'motif' was just a stroke of luck," Lyon Mulroy shook his head, "I had other ways to frame Ms. Anderra, but the opportunity that presented itself was just too perfect, so I took it."
"So why did you have the note prepared?" the attorney pressed.
"Part of my employer's request," the assassin surmised vaguely.
"I've heard all I need to hear," the judge shook his head, banging his gavel, "Mr. Lyon Mulroy, you are, without a doubt, a despicable man in a contemptuous profession, and judgment will not fall upon you lightly." The assassin scoffed. "However," the judge relaxed, "I am here to pronounce judgment on Tharja Anderra today, and after conferring with the jury who have graced us with their presence for this trial, in the murder of Harken Gaetz, the court finds Tharja Anderra unanimously 'Not Guilty.'" A few cheers went up in the courtroom, and reporters began to clamor and snap photographs of all the involved parties immediately, paying special attention to the defendant and the assassin. The judge banged his gavel for order, "This court is adjourned."
[...]
[October 3rd, 3:57 pm, District Court-Defendant Lobby No. 2]
"Robin!" a voice yelled after the attorney as he carried his leather briefcase out. He was immediately enveloped in a suffocating embrace.
"Ack! C-Can't breathe!" he choked.
"Whoops," Tharja Anderra released him, "Sorry… I just… that was… Robin, that was amazing!"
"Was it?" he rubbed the back of his neck, blushing, "I don't know, I just tried to come up with stuff to say. I'm glad it worked out as well as it did in the end."
"Well, it was impressive to me," she grinned fondly at him.
"I'm just glad it's all over with," the attorney admitted, "so you can go back to school now, Tharja, and you can live free of suspicion."
"I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't called upon you…" the raven-haired girl looked at her feet, "You really saved me."
"It was nothing, honestly," he blushed, "just doing my best for a friend."
She chose to embrace him tightly once more, ensnaring him in her long Plegian ceremonial clothing, "And this friend is never going to forget it. Thank you so much, Robin…" She kissed his cheek softly, then the pair both blushed, staring at one another. "I-I… I should go," Tharja conceded, melting under the attorney's gaze, "but thank you. Thank you, a thousand times thank you."
"You're welcome," he smiled plainly as she took off. The smile disappeared as Isadora Gaetz traipsed over, "Mrs. Gaetz, I'm sorry… I know this doesn't help you with your loss…"
"Don't blame yourself, young man," she smiled faintly, "It was that little purple-haired monster who took my Harken from me. You helped me see that. It's a load off my conscience to know I wasn't harboring the woman who murdered my husband all this time, at least, so thank you for that."
"Of course," Robin bowed. Isadora took her leave.
"Hey, you!" another voice shouted. Robin turned his head to see a mop of cobalt hair in a trenchcoat with a cigarette poking out from underneath. Robin braced himself as Colm Fletcher drew near, "...Good work." The detective pat the attorney on the back, "I've got some o' my boys checking out that Mulroy creep's place out right now, and we'll see what we can get outta him personally." The detective grinned as he cracked his knuckles.
"Thanks, detective," Robin nodded, "I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without your help."
"Somethin' like that," Colm Fletcher supposed, "You did most o' the leg work, though, so good on ya. I won't hold you up, though, your lady friend is waiting for you."
"My 'lady friend?'" Robin LeBlanc repeated. He followed Detective Fletcher out the door to find Anna pressed up against the wall, waiting to surprise him.
"Hey! Congrats!" she shouted.
"Thanks," he bowed his head, "but all these congratulations are too much… I'm getting embarrassed…"
"Well, no worries," she grinned, "I won't congratulate you every time, because every time isn't your first case. But this one is, you know? So we should celebrate!"
"I guess I can't argue with that," the attorney shrugged.
"Good! Then we're going for dinner, and you can tell me all about it," she smiled broadly, "Your treat!"
"Sounds go-mine? You just got paid yesterday!" he shouted.
"Which reminds me," Anna thought, "How much were we getting paid for this case?"
"Um…" Robin rubbed the back of his neck.
[*]
And just like that, my first trial was over. It felt like I had a ton of iron taken off my chest when it was all finished, but I still had questions hanging around in my mind: who had hired Lyon Mulroy, and why did they demand the use of that strange note? And why did they target Harken to die? I would continue to ponder these questions as cases finally began to trickle in, but before long, I would come to regret ever having uncovered the truth that could only be revealed by shining that certain light of mine in the darkness.
[Blacklight Turnabout ~ End]