[October 17th, 8:43 pm, Ristorante Lama Ardente]

Anna stepped out of the car and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, retrieving her purse from the seat. She looked at her "date" as he walked around the front of the car to join her before entering the restaurant and glared at him. "Something wrong?" the young attorney wondered.

"Just still thinking you should have asked me before you agreed to this in my stead."

"You mean you don't want to eat here?"

"Not the point."

"Come on, I didn't tell Lyn we were together, or anything. Think of it as your boss taking you out to dinner as a way to thank you for your diligent service."

"That makes it even grosser."

"Anna, don't be difficult—"

"Difficult? Oh, I'll give you difficult...!"

Robin hurried ahead to the door, not bothering to hold it open for his plus one as he marched straight up to the maitre d', feeling more comfortable surrounded by the tuxedoed waitstaff as the redhead strode in behind him. He looked at the maitre d', who was already giving him a glazed, disapproving stare, and said, "Uh, we're with the Tolstoy party this evening."

The man cocked an eyebrow and made his curly black hair shake, "Your names?"

"Robin and Anna."

"Just a moment," he held up his index finger and then disappeared behind a partition behind the podium at the entrance.

Anna was still glaring at Robin, now with her arms folded. "Just try to relax," Robin whispered, "it's just a little dinner, and then we'll go straight back to the office."

"Just don't get too cozy with the mob girl while I'm around, huh? I plan on getting home tonight."

"I know, I know. Sheesh, what kind of guy do you think I am?"

Anna coughed.

"On second thought, don't answer that."

The maitre d' suddenly reappeared, surprising both of them, "Your table is ready, if you'd follow me, signore." Robin did so, with Anna close behind him. Lyn spotted the pair from across the room and waved to them excitedly. Rath looked back and, shockingly enough, seemed to be smiling, although it appeared that that smile was not directed at the approaching pair. They sat down, Robin across from Lyn and Anna opposite Rath.

"Mr. LeBlanc, you made it!" the emerald-haired girl smiled, grabbing his hand as he rested it on the table, "Oh, and who is this?"

"I'm Anna Vendise," the redhead said as Lyn stared at her, "I'm Mr. LeBlanc's financial adviser."

"Oh!" she went on grinning, "pleased to meet you, Mrs. Vendise!"

"Uh, that's 'Miss.'"

"Oh, oops. Sorry. All of daddy's financial advisers are 'missus.'"

"Er, yes, well—"

"Did you do your own hair? It's so beautiful!"

Anna blushed, "Well, I don't mean to brag, but I like to think I clean up well enough."

"Ohmigosh, you have to tell me your secret! I can't do anything about mine most of the time, it gets so wild!"

Robin watched the emerald-haired girl chatter away, amused by her enthusiasm. He looked over at Rath, who seemed to be staring at him, albeit slightly off-center. After a moment of silent eye contact, the mafioso spoke up, "Took ya long enough."

"Sorry. I had to do some filing before I left."

He took a swig of wine and Robin began to detect a slur in his voice as he responded, "Doesn't matter. Ya gotta show up on time in my world, else you'll be called disrespectful as a pair o' guys twice your size fit you for some concrete shoes, ya dig?"

"I... think so."

"Ah, whadda you care, you ain't worried 'bout the damn mob. You're just an upstart lawyer. You don't care."

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but the inebriated young man held up his finger to illustrate that he had a further point to make: "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I heard you defended some Plegian girl, too. 'Zat right?"

"Yeah, she was a friend from back in my school days."

"So... you're Plegian?"

This line was delivered with a mystified stare and accusatory directness that made Robin consider whether or not he should answer. He decided it was best not to intensify the mafioso's suspicions: "Yes. I lived there until I started studying law."

Rath laughed and slapped his hands on the table, "Hell. Hey, no disrespect, now, but your folks are goddamn crazy, you know?"

"I'm not sure I—"

"I mean, Naga's sakes, talk about the mob all ya want, but Plegians are next-level. My dad wouldn't even want to hafta deal with any o' those dagger-totin' death-obsessed loons. Er, no offense."

"Do you really think Plegians are so dangerous?"

"Hell yeah! Don'cha watch the news? Every other day there's another attack on a Ylissean ambassador or diplomat."

"Well, both countries have been at each other's' throats for decades, at least. It's no surprise things are a little violent."

"Whatever, man. The Plegians take it way too far no matter what. I've even heard of something big starting up out that way."

"Big?"

"Yeah, man," he arched his brows, "you know, big."

Robin nodded, despite not having any clue what the remark was meant to suggest. He found himself thinking quite a bit about his old homeland recently. He had to remember to call Tharja to see how she was readjusting.

But for now, filet mignon and lobster tails were being doled out on the table, and Robin was going to appreciate the moment and apply his focus to that for a while.

[October 18th, 10:27 am, LeBlanc and Co. Law Offices]

Robin lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Or, he would be, were his phone not in the way. He tried to justify his listless internet browsing as researching potential case developments, but he never did seem to find any prospective clients in the videos and articles he clicked his way through. The thought of calling Tharja popped into his head as he sat around waiting for something else to happen, but as was often the case, somehow dialing the phone and preparing to interact was just too difficult a prospect, so he continued browsing the news site, catching a glimpse of the results of a local dance competition that was held a few days ago until he was interrupted by Anna jumping up and pushing her chair in.

"What the hell is this?!" she shouted, shoving the screen of her laptop into his face.

The attorney read the numbers, "Uh, fifty-five grand from the Lorca defense donated to a soup kitchen and a battered women's shelter."

"And do you see anything wrong with that?!"

"No...?"

"Robin! That was all of the money we made from that case!"

"I know. I took the money at first, but... I don't care how clean it was, I can't hang onto mob money in good conscience. At least if it's going to help people in need, I can feel better."

Anna rubbed her hand over her face, "Look, I get what you're saying, but you have to be realistic about this, Robin: in the last six months, we've taken exactly two cases and received zero payment. If we don't get some money soon, the whole office will have to be closed."

"I know... We'll think of something..."

"That's not good enough! You have to take a paying case, end of story."

"I will, I just... It would tarnish Fado's legacy if I..."

"Fado's legacy is going to be equally tarnished if his office and protégé go bankrupt."

The pair scowled at each other, but turned their heads rapidly when the door cracked open and a short girl with curly, tousled red hair strode in. "Um, excuse me?" she coughed, "I'm looking for Mr. Robin LeBlanc."

Robin hopped up from the couch to get a good look at the girl. She was wearing a navy hooded sweatshirt with a gold or tan t-shirt underneath, gray sweatpants, and a pair of sneakers with red stripes. In short, she didn't look like the type who would go out seeking a lawyer without an eminent reason. In fact, looking at the way the girl's coffee-brown eyes blithely reflected his own, it seemed that even she failed to truly understand the gravity of what she was asking. "Uh, that'd be me," the attorney stammered out.

She nodded, then frowned, "Oh, good. I need to ask you to defend me. I was arrested for murder."

"Arrested? Shouldn't you be at the detention center, then?"

"It's okay, I got special permission. My mom's a pretty important lady, so the police have to work with her."

"And who is your mother, exactly?"

The girl bit her lip, "Well, she's not exactly my mom, but she is my legal guardian, and I've known her since I was just a baby, so I call her 'mom.'"

"But what's her name? And while we're at it, what's yours?"

"Oh, right!" she tapped her forehead, "I'm Morgan. Morgan Cassidy. And my mom— I mean, my guardian's name is Eirika Verlaine."

Anna and Robin exchanged glances. "Eirika Verlaine," Robin wondered, "the daughter of Fado Verlaine?"

Morgan Cassidy looked at both of them in turn, "I think that's what mom said her dad's name was. Why?"

"I used to work for Fado," Robin explained, "and so did Anna, here. I never got the chance to meet any of Fado's children, so the fact that your mom sent you here is just... Well, it's surprising."

"So... does this mean you'll take on my defense, or...?"

"I have to ascertain some of the facts first. Of what are you being accused?"

The girl's eyes lowered to the floor as she rubbed her arm, "They arrested me for murder... they think I killed Ewan. But... but I didn't! There's no way I could've! I would never!"

"Slow down, Ms. Cassidy," Robin held his hands out, realizing that he sounded a bit like a schoolteacher trying to placate the girl, "Who's Ewan?"

"Ewan is... he was a friend of mine. One of... a couple. I don't have a whole bunch of friends, but Ewan was definitely one. He was so nice, and smart, and... what happened to him... it's not..." She trailed off, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Okay," Anna walked forward, "this has clearly got you pretty upset, huh kiddo? So let's do this: why don't you take Mr. LeBlanc to see your mom, and then maybe she can clear some things up for him?"

"A wise idea," Robin agreed.

"I guess that makes sense," she sniffed, "Sorry, I've just never had anything like this..."

"It's all right. Come on downstairs," the attorney walked past her and opened the door to the office, nodding at Anna as he held it open for the girl to follow behind him. As the pair exited the building, they found a squad car sitting out front with its lights flashing, a young police officer standing before it, leaning his back against the car. He sneered when he saw Morgan appear. Robin nodded to the man, urging Morgan forward, "We'd like to go speak to her mother."

"Nope," the cop spat, "I was given special orders to take her here, and that's that. She goes straight back to the detention center when she's done."

"You know this is Fado Verlaine's granddaughter, right?" Robin supplied, carefully awaiting the officer's reaction.

"Yeah, and I don't give a damn. Seems stupid to me that she even gets this much just 'cause of who her granddad was. I'm not making any more exceptions."

"But... mom..." the girl pouted.

Robin looked down at her and tacitly patted her shoulder, "Er, no worries, Morgan. Stiff upper lip. I'm sure your mom can help me nail down what's going on here."

"Mr. LeBlanc," she wasn't looking at him, "you didn't answer my question. Will you defend me?"

"I... I don't know..."

"You have to say yes or no now, and you have to promise. You can't go back on a promise. That's what mom says."

In that moment, despite the juvenile nature of her statement, Robin could swear he saw the gray eyes of his mentor staring at him from behind the milky brown of this girl's. Loath to disappoint those eyes, he felt his heartbeat quicken: "Y-Yes. I'll defend you. I promise."

"Good," she nodded, her smile causing the comparison to Fado's face disappear as the juvenile air overtook her again, "I was gonna be in a really bad spot if you said no."

"You have to help me and answer my questions if I need information, though, okay?"

"Oh, sure, I like answering questions! I can tell you anything you need to know!"

That was quite the mood swing, Robin noted internally, "Just be good, okay? I'll come visit you soon, and I'm sure your mom will do the same."

"'Be good,'" she chuckled, mocking him, "I'm not an eight-year-old, Mr. LeBlanc."

He believed it, but he also believed she wasn't that far off from eight, given how her mood and behavior seemed to change at the drop of a hat. Had he promised to defend someone unstable? The thought made his stomach tense as he watched her, the apparent similarity to Fado having disappeared as she was loaded into the car. Then again, Robin also felt a stirring seeing such a young girl being put in the back of this car. It seemed surreal. He heard the cop shift the car into gear and begin turning out of the lot. When the tires crunched over the gravel near the end of the building's entrance, Robin snapped back into reality, remembering that he would have to pay a visit to Fado's daughter and figure out what she was doing taking care of this girl and what the girl's situation was. Continued thoughts of his mentor made the attorney's mind feel foggy as he went back upstairs to find an address for Eirika Verlaine, and with another quick salute to Anna, he left the office.

[October 18th, 11:18 am, Verlaine Home for Children]

Robin entered the door and glanced at the paper streamers and crayon drawings lining the walls. No sooner had he gotten two feet in the door than did he hear footsteps racing forward to meet him. He halted in place and was struck for a moment by what he had to confess was an intimidating face: A woman with aqua hair and somewhat sharp blue eyes was looking back at him, a toddler in baggy beige shorts wrestling against her grip. She wore a red t-shirt with yellow sleeves—Robin thought maybe it was a certain team's colors—and blue jeans and she was tapping her foot while glaring at him, "Ever heard of a doorbell, mack?"

"Sorry," he felt his face get hot, "it's just that the door was open, and—"

"And so you decided you'd just let yourself in? I dunno how it works where you're from, buddy, but around here you can't just go barging into people's houses."

"Pardon," he tried unsuccessfully to hide his blushing, "this is going all wrong. Are you Eirika Verlaine?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Who's asking?"

Finally with an out, the attorney reached into his pocket and fished out his credentials, presenting them rather forcefully toward her face, "Robin LeBlanc. I used to work for your father."

"Oh!" her eyes widened and she released her grip on the toddler as her hand came up to her face, "No kidding? I know the name. Wait... if you're here... does that mean...?"

"A girl came by the office asking for me, said her name was Morgan Cassidy. She wanted me to defend her."

"So it is you!" her eyes tightened closed as her mouth formed a big smile, "You're the attorney that used to assist daddy! It's so good to finally meet you!"

"Er, likewise," he scratched the back of his head. Maybe this is where Morgan got it from...

"Sorry," she began busily combing her hair with her fingers, "I didn't prepare to meet you at all because I wasn't sure what you were going to say or if you'd come her or... ugh, I look like a total mess."

"It's fine, really."

"And I didn't mean to be rude to you, it's just, you know, I have to watch over the kids and—"

"Yes, about that... Do you have a lot of children?"

She laughed, "You could say that. They're not exactly my children, though, if that's what you mean. I run an orphanage."

"Ah," Robin smiled, "that would explain it. So Morgan was one of the children in your care?"

"You got it," she nodded, "She's such a little sweetie, that one. She used to follow me around the house like a lost puppy, and she'd always want me to read to her when it was raining because she couldn't go out and play... ah, memories."

"Um, but she's been charged with murder, is that right?"

Eirika nodded, "But I don't believe it for a second. Morgan's a great kid. She had fantastic grades from first grade to senior year."

"Senior year? Of high school?"

"Yep, she graduated in June with a 3.87. Isn't that great? And living in this busy old place... she's smart and a hard worker. She'll go far! ...Well, assuming she gets out of this mess."

Robin was still hung up on the fact that the girl had already graduated high school. She looked fourteen at the very oldest. He recovered from that shock and tried to continue, "Uh, right. So, I heard the name Ewan pop up... she said he was a friend?"

The aqua-haired woman's eyes fixed on him and became more serious, "That's right. Ewan Allen was the name of the poor little boy who was killed. There's no way it was Morgan, though. That girl wouldn't hurt a fly, and what's more, Ewan was a good friend of hers. One of her little circle of classmates."

"She mentioned that, too," Robin recalled, "can you tell me more about this circle of friends she had?"

"Oh, sure!" she smiled again, "They're all good kids, too. Ewan was going on to university, to learn about chemical engineering, or something... He helped Morgan in a chemistry class during her sophomore year, so he was the most recent addition. There's also Ross Hammond, who she's known since kindergarten—a bit thick, that one, but he's handy, Cath Nichols she met in an art class she took in middle school—oh, the two of them used to wear their hair and dress the same like they were sisters, ha ha! Then there was Nino Cooper, another smart girl, she and Morgan competed in a lot of quiz bowls and that sort of thing... Oh, and Inigo Morales, of course! She met him back in middle school, too. It was actually at one of his dance competitions that Ewan was killed. Don't tell her I said this, but I always suspected Morgan had a little crush on him."

Robin was furiously making mental notes, having forgotten to actually have a notebook present, "I see. That's all very interesting. Could you tell me where that dance competition was held? I'd like to get a look at the scene."

She did so, then added, "You might want to see if you can talk to some of those kids, too. They'll know more about what happened that night than I ever would. Morgan knows their addresses, but I'm not so sure..."

"That's fine. You've already been a big help, Ms. Verlaine."

"Hey, no trouble. I was hoping I could count on you, being a friend of dad's and all. Maybe when this all blows over, we can sit down and chat about him. I'd love to know what it was like working under him."

"Certainly. But first, I should probably check on Morgan in the detention center. I'm sure she'll have some things to say about the night of the crime.

"Right, right. Don't let me slow you down—I gotta get back to these crazy kids, anyway. Thanks for stopping by! Oh, and for helping little Morgie!"

"Sure thing," he answered, although Eirika Verlaine had already disappeared. He heard her suggest through the wall a game of hide and seek which was met with a loud round of cheers. The attorney smiled to himself and headed out toward his car.

[October 18th, 12:22 pm, Detention Center]

Robin entered the building and only had to sign in momentarily with the secretary, who seemed to recognize him upon entry. He wasn't sure if that was something of which he should feel proud. He passed the desk and grabbed a seat in front of the plexiglass that separated him from Morgan Cassidy, whose head was halfway buried in her collar. She looked up when Robin sat down, but her expression remained neutral, her cheeks pouting and her lips forming a very straight line. "Hi again, Morgan," the attorney saluted, "I assume you haven't been waiting too long."

"No," she agreed, tapping her fingers on the small counter space in front of her.

"Can I ask you some questions about what happened?"

"If you have to."

"Are you upset with me... or someone else, Morgan?"

"No, why?"

"You seemed a bit cheerier when we first met."

"Sorry, I just... I feel a little down... I'm sure you can imagine."

"You're right, I shouldn't pry. All the same, I have to ask you about some things, is that okay?"

She nodded, her small brown eyes seeming to find it difficult to concentrate on those of her attorney.

"So," Robin LeBlanc began, "let's start with the basics: where were you when the murder happened?"

"I was at one of Inigo's dance competitions... Er, Inigo is the name of one of my friends."

"Okay, and what were you doing there? Were you with anyone?"

"Yeah, all of my other friends were there, too. It was a lot of fun, we hung out in the audience and cheered for Inigo's group when they hit the stage. He did a great job—you shoulda seen this one move he has where he does a big backflip and then spins forward and points out his arm like a fencer, he calls it the Exalted Gateway! It was such a fun night, and Nino had us all make casts of our hands the week before that she showed off, mounted in her room. I'd never felt so close to my friends before."

"That sounds nice, Morgan, but can we stick to what you were doing?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Well, there wasn't much happening besides groups coming to the stage and performing... Lots of people went to get drinks and snacks when the next group was getting set up. Oh, right! I went to the bathroom during one of those breaks, and then... it happened."

"I see. But shouldn't that give you an alibi? Didn't you tell your friends you were going to the bathroom?"

She rubbed her arm, "Well, that's sort of the problem... Ewan... he was murdered in the boys' bathroom."

So it gave her exactly the opposite of an alibi. Great. Robin shook his head, "Um, was there anyone else in the bathroom at that time? Someone who might remember seeing you there?"

Her cheeks grew red and she scratched her arm a bit more vigorously, "I... uh, I couldn't actually find the bathroom until... after. I was walking all around, but I couldn't spot the sign because of the crowd."

"Hm," Robin frowned, "that's no good. Did any of your friends see you wandering around, maybe?"

She shook her head miserably, "I don't think so. The crowd was so big... Nobody saw, and nobody believes me..."

"Try to calm down, Morgan. I... I believe you," the attorney told himself.

"Do you mean that?" her eyes finally managed to lock onto his.

"Yes. I believe you didn't do it," he nodded, deepening his voice to give the impression of confidence.

"Thank you," her head bowed, and then she smiled ever so slightly, "Um, I don't think there's anything more I can tell you."

"I think there is one more thing," Robin returned, "do you know if there was anyone there who disliked Ewan? Somebody who might be his enemy?"

"Enemy?" she scoffed at the word, "No, not that I'm aware of. Ewan was super nice, maybe even a little bit of a pushover, honestly. There are people who may not have hung out with him, but I don't think he's… he was really the type to have 'enemies.'"

"All right," Robin sat back, "I guess that's all I have, then. Are you going to be okay if I leave?"

"Yeah," she murmured, "it's fine. Mom's gonna come see me soon. She promised she would."

"Okay," he nodded and gave her a smile, "Thank you, Morgan. Take care of yourself, okay?"

She answered in the affirmative as he attorney headed out.

[October 18th, 1:08 pm, Les Chevaliers Night Club]

Robin stepped out of his car and glanced at the façade of the building again. You'd never know the place was a nightclub if not for the small neon sign that was flashing fuchsia every now and again announcing drink specials and events. The scroll hadn't changed since the night of the crime, apparently, because "City-Wide Dance Contest!" was still proudly being announced alongside Happy Hour and forty-cent wings. Otherwise, the building was unremarkable: cream colored, except for orange-red roofing and a similarly-colored door. Even the windows were dark or blocked, making the whole place look a bit suspicious, if not simply run-down, especially in the middle of the day. Robin could even see trash bags lain carelessly around the front of the building, as if someone had set them out there but was too lazy to ensure that they reached the dumpster mere feet away. With a heavy sigh, the attorney entered the club.

The inside was a bit more respectable, although it was terribly dark. Fuchsia and magenta were the dominating colors, reinforced by the dark curtains of the club and smoky lights that barely illuminated anything other than the stage, which occupied about a third of the space in the building. In addition to looking dark, the place was eerily quiet in the absence of any customers. Some glassware sat out on tables, and the chairs nearby were still facing the stage, like everyone had suddenly gotten up and disappeared. To some extent, that was the truth.

"I'm done with you!" Robin turned his head in time enough to see a certain cobalt-haired detective storm out of an office toward the back of the building. With him trotted a girl who seemed to be resisting. Her hair seemed to match the color of the curtains behind them.

"But Detective Fletcher!" the girl protested, "We still have so many questions we could ask! What if he's the one who—"

"Part o' bein' a good detective is knowin' when to let go, rookie. That's the name of the game. Trust me, that guy's a dry well."

"B-But... I thought..." The girl's lips began to wobble and she sobbed, "I thought I was doing such a good joooooob! Waaaaaaah!"

Detective Fletcher seemed to immediately regret his words, patting her shoulders delicately, "Aw, c'mon, take it easy, girly! You were doin' great, it's just that the guy's useless. Sheesh, how're you gonna make it as a detective when you break down so easy?"

"I... I..." she sniveled, seeming on the verge of another outburst.

"Detective?" Robin dared to approach.

Colm Fletcher turned to him, "Heh, if it ain't you again. You followin' me, lawyer? I know I'm pretty good lookin', but you're barkin' up the wrong tree."

"I'm here on behalf of the defendant again."

"How'd I guess?"

"I can get an affidavit if you—"

"Nah, forgeddit. I got my hands full as it is. I don't expect you to be any trouble."

"Who's your friend?"

The girl leapt out from the detective's grasp. "Neimi Watts," she beamed, "Junior Detective!" The girl flashed a badge at him, but Robin didn't take a close look at her credentials.

"I'm training her," the senior detective explained, "Which is proving to be a lot trickier than I'd imagined. Ms. Watts is kinda prone to being... overly emotional."

"And overcoming that flaw is a part of my training!" she insisted, "Go on, tell me the saddest thing you can imagine, and I won't cry a single tear! Even if it's really sad, like a sick kitten, or something!"

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but the girl was already starting to sniffle and murmuring the words "sick kitten" repeatedly.

Detective Fletcher massaged his forehead, "Anyway, why don't you go take a look around. Just don't mess anything up. I'm gonna be... a little busy today."

"Evidently," Robin was still looking curiously at the crying girl, "Well, good luck, detective."

"I gotta sneakin' suspicion luck ain't gonna be enough," Colm Fletcher muttered as he walked Neimi out of the building.

Robin watched them leave, then glanced around the room a bit. He couldn't see anything on the stage, so he wandered over to the restrooms. He found that the men's was wrapped in some police tape and that the door was firmly locked. He sighed, thinking the trip was wasted, but quickly remembered the office the detective had exited. With no other options, the attorney entered the corner office and found a surprisingly young-looking gentleman with olive-green hair sitting at a desk inside.

The man looked up from staring disinterestedly at his computer and smiled at his guest, "Hello, hello! How do you do? Terribly sorry, but due to an unfortunate incident, Club Les Chevaliers is not open to the public at this time."

"Oh," Robin paused, "Sorry, I wasn't sure if anyone was in here. I'm actually an attorney for the defendant in that 'incident.' I was just having a look around."

"Ah!" the man sprang to his feet so that Robin could see he was wearing a garish green tuxedo with gold trim, "In that case, I can give you the tour, just like a did for the detective and his lovely little assistant!"

"A tour isn't really necessary, thanks," Robin shook his head, "I just wanted to see if I could get into the bathroom."

"Restrooms are for paying customers only," the man smiled.

"I meant so that I could investigate the scene of the murder."

"Right," the green-haired man frowned, "That would be the more logical thing, wouldn't it... Sorry, my mind is going a million miles a minute lately."

"Understandable," Robin nodded.

"Come with me, I'll get the door for you," the man said, walking past the attorney toward the restrooms.

"Do you work here?" the attorney wondered as they walked.

"I most certainly do. I own this little joint." He spun around and offered his hand, "Sain Cheval, at your service!"

Robin took it tacitly, "Uh, thanks. So, can I safely assume that you were at the club on the night the murder occurred?"

"Yes indeedy," he replied, "I was watching the night from my office—it's a great view, seeing the stage lit up with everyone performing and all the people down below having fun. Just what I love to see, you know?"

"Sure. Did you see anyone moving around the bathroom at the time of the murder, or otherwise acting strangely that night?"

"Ha! Well, I saw a great many gents go to the bathroom, but I hardly think that counts for much. At any rate, I'm not supposed to say anything about what I saw. That's what the prosecutor told me."

"Prosecutor?"

"Yes, Mr… Lead, I think it was. Roy Lead?"

"Do you mean Lloyd Reed?"

"That's the one!"

Oh, good, thought Robin, Lloyd's already been chatting with everyone here. That can only make my job harder. At this point, the pair reached the men's room, which Sain opened and gave a sweeping gesture to welcome Robin. The attorney walked in and looked all around for any leads. The room was small, roughly a third of the size of the main room he had just been in. There were four stalls and three urinals against the wall, as well as three sinks each beneath a wall-size mirror that was high enough to show only the head and shoulders of most guests. The room was also significantly less flashy than the rest of the club: white walls, gray tile, white ceiling, and several flickering fluorescent lights that cast an unpleasant, industrial type of light. Before long, Robin's attention was attracted by some orangish-red stains lining the floor near one of the sinks. There were some accompanying stains in the sink itself, though their color was slightly brighter. Robin's nose curled when he spotted the blood and he uneasily drew closer. "I take it this is the victim's?" he said, looming over the faded-looking drops.

"That's what the coppers seemed to believe," Sain nodded, "I hate having to leave my floor dirty like that, but that's what they said to do…"

Robin ignored him and kept looking, spotting a knife whose handle and blade were both soaked in blood and sitting not far from the pool he had been looking at previously, "This knife… Must be the murder weapon, it's coated in blood. Looks like a steak knife, something you'd find in a kitchen, doesn't it?"

"Ah," Sain fawned, "You're asking me? Hm, well, I can't say I'm much of a detective, but I'd have to agree."

"Does Les Chevaliers have a kitchen, Mr. Cheval?" asked the attorney.

"Indeed we do," he nodded, then paused, "Er, but before you go throwing accusations around, we went over this with the police and double-checked our inventory: the knife isn't one of ours. All of our knives are in their proper place."

Robin cocked an eyebrow, "Who's 'we?'"

As if in reply to his question, the bathroom door swung open, and a man with red hair and a stern face stepped in, "Sain, what are you doing in here? We have an owners' meeting right now."

"Ah, right!" the green-haired man jumped up, "Mr. Attorney, allow me to introduce you to Kent Clarke, my business partner and the co-owner of Club Les Chevaliers. Kent, this is… er, say, what was your name, anyway?"

"Robin LeBlanc, attorney at law," Robin offered his hand to the redheaded man.

He was ignored, "Come on, Sain. And you, you need to leave. We can't risk you messing around with evidence in the absence of the police.

Robin was prepared to protest, but it seemed obvious by the look in the man's eyes that he would not be swayed. In any case, Robin had other inquiries to make, and he was sure that he would be hearing all about the crime scene during the trial thanks to Lloyd's meddling. He relented, leaving the bathroom, but paused a moment to take notice of something large and made of fabric sticking out of one of the trash cans. It seemed to be a shirt, or something similar, but Robin was dragged out of the establishment before he could get a closer look.

As he smoothed out his suit jacket, throwing Kent Clarke a spiteful look, Robin turned to look toward the sun, whereupon a blue-haired man greeted him with a big smile. "Ha! Looks like my timing is impeccable!"

"Sorry," Robin rubbed his eyes as they readjusted to the daylight, "Who are you?"

"My name is Inigo Morales," he grinned, "you might have heard about me from some local news media… I'm quite popular, it seems."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Robin shrugged.

Inigo's face fell, "Ah! Alas… Well, all the same, I'm here not to introduce myself, but to speak to you, who I assume are the attorney Mr. Robin LeBlanc?"

"That's right. What's this about?"

"I'm a friend of the dear Ms. Morgan Cassidy, your client! Incidentally, I was also getting ready to perform last night when tragedy befell our mutual friend Ewan."

"Oh, now that you mention it, that does sound familiar. Why are you looking for me?"

"Isn't it obvious? Ms. Verlaine told me you might be in need of my assistance. Go on, is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"Oh, um, sure! Did you happen to see Morgan go to the bathroom at any point during the evening?"

"I'm afraid not. The police already asked me about that one, and I told them the same thing. I was still getting ready backstage when it happened, you see, so I didn't realize anything had happened until the commotion was long over."

"Were any of your other friends in attendance at the competition?"

"Oh, sure, they all were! Well, all of my close friends, anyway. There was Morgan, Ewan, Ross, Nino, and Cath. They all stood out there cheering me on the whole evening. I could scarcely ask for better friends."

"Were any of them behaving strangely that night?"

"Not that I can recall, no. Nino was a little depressed, but then so was Ross, and Morgan too, to some extent… Everyone was trying to make each other feel a little better. This was to be our last big outing as friends, you see, given that we all just graduated."

"Do you know of anyone who would've wanted Ewan dead?"

"Goodness no! Ewan was a very meek kid. In that regard, we might be more alike than I care to admit… Ahem, in any case, he didn't really fight or argue with anyone. Although, come to think of it, I do remember an incident about rumors not too long ago where Ewan ended up getting punched."

Now we're getting somewhere! thought Robin. "Can you tell me anything more about that?"

"Not really, I'm afraid," Inigo sighed, "Ewan said someone had been spreading ill rumors about him, then the next time I saw him, his nose was a bit bent, and he told me that he had been hit, but that everything had been worked out. He seemed a little upset talking about it, so I didn't pry."

"I see," Robin deflated. And there it goes. "How long ago was that?"

"About a week, I think."

"Do you remember anything else out of the ordinary leading up to that night?"

"Well, to be honest, I know this sounds bad, but… Well, Morgan had been getting a little more reclusive in the nights prior to the competition. She seemed resentful, like she didn't want to talk to any of us. She seemed perfectly happy the night of the event, though."

"That's good to know. Thanks, Inigo," the attorney nodded.

"Not at all, Mr. LeBlanc!" he beamed, "Er, but do me a favor? Get poor Morgan declared not guilty, all right? She's done nothing wrong, I'm sure of it. Besides, it would be a shame to never see her radiant smile again."

"I'll do my best," the attorney replied.

"That's all I can ask," the dancer grinned as he took off.

"Oh, just a moment, Inigo!" Robin called after him. He turned around to look back at the attorney. "Would around to look back at the attorney. "Would you mind giving me the numbers of those other friends you mentioned?"

"Certainly!" he smiled and brought out his phone so that Robin could copy all of the numbers.

When Robin finished collecting them, he thanked Inigo once more and jumped into his car.

[October 18th, 3:42 pm, LeBlanc and Co. Law Offices]

Robin busily dusted a few countertops and paused every few seconds to take a peek out the window. When, inevitably, he saw nothing, he would go back to putting books away and tossing little bits of litter he found scattered about into the trash cans.

Anna observed this behavior with little more than a cocked eyebrow for some time, but she eventually piped up, "Expecting someone?"

"A couple of someones, actually," he replied, "friends of our client. I asked them if I could meet them all at once, to shorten things up. They're due here any minute."

"We're definitely getting paid for this case, right?" Robin mumbled something. Anna rolled her eyes and went back to work, "First time I've seen him clean this damn place in ages…"

Suddenly, the sound of an engine came from outside as a car rolled up to the lot around the building. Robin seated himself on a chair near the end of the office couch as he waited in a few minutes of suspenseful silence while the arriving group ascended to their floor. One of them knocked on the office door. "Come in!" Robin shouted.

The group did so. They were a mismatched bunch, with the only governing rule about them seeming to be that they were quite short. There were two girls and a boy: the boy had black, short, spiked hair and big bluish eyes accompanied by a wide smile and an optimistic pleasantness. He wore overalls that drew up over a brown shirt that was stained with paint, dust, and grease, among other undefinable substances. One of the girls had grass-green hair and similar eyes. She wore a purple hoodie that was a bit like Morgan's, but looked older. Her hair was mostly neat, held in place by a purple bow to complement her dark-colored attire, which also included black pants and shoes. The other girl had scarlet red hair and a crooked sort of smile that suggested she was immediately sizing up everyone in the room. She seemed to take particular note of Anna, but then returned her concentration to the attorney. She sported a very simple outfit: a tan t-shirt, with a green long-sleeve shirt tied around her waist and a pair of old-looking jeans. Robin thanked them all for coming and offered them a seat before asking their names. The boy was Ross Hammond, the green-haired girl was Nino Cooper, and the redhead was Cath Nichols.

Robin began to repeat the litany of questions he had posed to Inigo: no, none of them had seen Morgan go to use the bathroom, and no, none of them remembered her acting oddly that night. He continued, "Inigo told me that was supposed to be your last night together as friends, right? Where were you all going after that night?"

"Well," Ross rubbed his nose, "I was off to trade school so I could learn to work in my dad's shop! He's a carpenter, and the best around, y'see."

"I… I'm not really sure," Nino admitted, "I was thinking about going to college, but I'm not sure. Circumstances might make it difficult."

"I was gonna do some travelling," said Cath, interlocking her fingers, "My parents were willing to send me out of the country to become a little more… worldly. I figured it could be fun and help me figure out what I'm going to do with my life."

"Did any of you hear about someone spreading rumors about Ewan?" Robin asked. The trio looked at each other and shook their heads collectively: they hadn't.

"I do remember Morgan being upset about something, though," Cath added.

"Any idea what it was?" the attorney pressed.

"Not really. She just seemed a little bummed, maybe more like disappointed. I couldn't say why, though."

"You don't recall anything more like that, any of you?" They denied it again. "Did you know of anyone who might have wanted to see Ewan hurt?" Their answers were similar to the ones Robin had gotten before: no, Ewan was very kind, and they had no idea who would have had any desire to harm him. Robin sighed and asked a few more questions, but the interrogation was ultimately fruitless, and he sent the friends on their way.

The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a softer amber glow on the land below. Anna looked over to the attorney, "Get what you needed?"

"I see why the police weren't too concerned about keeping those kids on hand as witnesses. I guess I'll just have to try to piece together whatever I can at trial time, like usual."

"On track for another all-nighter, then?"

"Seems that way?"

"Well, it's almost five. Why don't I run out and get some takeout? You can have some throughout the night."

"What about you?"

"I'll take what I need and clear out when quitting time comes around."

Robin LeBlanc smiled and pulled out one of his notebooks, as well as a pen, "Thanks, Anna."

[Turnabout of a Kind ~ Investigation Day 1 – End]