A/N: Sorry for how long this took. I wanted to update it the night I updated the last chapter, but my internet has been suckish at best… (which means online school has been HARD, let alone using a walkthrough to write this).

BUT, this chapter is demanding to be written. I hope you all enjoy the beginning as much as I do (I was sitting at work, giggling the entire time I thought about it).

Review Reply to Gamergirl: It's so much fun to change it, though I had to actually write a full outline for this case! Valant is going to be a lot of fun, though we'll see him more in my 'slice of live' chapters and the last case. I'm glad you enjoy those chapters, by the way! They're nice little breaks from the cases, and I like writing my original stuff (as original as it can be with fanfiction, at least). I hope you enjoy how I twisted this case, hehe.

Now, ONWARD!

(Yes, I referenced a line from Apollo from one of the SoJ trailers as the chapter title. It just…. fits.)

Chapter 20: The Familiar

July

"Hey, Clay…" I said, flopping down on a bench near him. We had decided to meet at the park today to go jogging. He was really trying to get me to workout with him, and since I had a favor to ask him, I decided I should today.

"Hey, Polly," Clay said with a grin, stretching his legs. "You should stretch so you don't cramp up."

"Fine," I said with and over-dramatic sigh. He laughed at me, but I sat on the ground across from him, copying his movements.

"So, you've been busy," Clay commented. I nodded.

"This magic trick that I've been working on is, uh, pretty big," I admitted. "Speaking of that… will you be busy July seventh?" I asked.

"Nope. Why?"

"Well, I have concert tickets."

"What!? What band?" Clay asked excitedly. I coughed slightly.

"The Gavinners…" I muttered.

"Wait. What?"

"Yeah. That magic trick is actually for Gavin's show…" I said.

"How'd you get roped into that?" Clay laughed.

"Well, he apologized for everything, then asked. And… he might have inadvertently played on a few of my childhood insecurities… heh," I said. "And he gave me two tickets for Trucy and Dad, but Dad's busy."

"So… you're inviting me?" Clay asked.

"Yeah. I mean, I know you're not really a fan of the Gavinners, but… Trucy can't go alone. Neither Dad nor I want her to, and she really wants to go. And… she's already kinda mad that I'm the one helping out with the magic trick," I said, stretching forward and touching my toes.

"Makes sense," Clay mused. "After all, she's the one who wants to be a magician. Not you."

"Nah, it's a matter of experience. I've performed on a big stage at the professional level. Trucy hasn't," I said. Clay looked up at me with a weird look before shrugging.

"Well… I guess I'll go. For Trucy," he said.

"Alright, do you think you have that?" I asked Lamiroir. It was the day before the performance, and we were going over her part in the magic trick. She looked towards her manager, a large man by the name of Romein LeTouse, who spoke quickly in Borginian, explaining the magic trick to her. She smiled once he finished, looked back at me, and nodded. I smiled warmly back, searching her eyes.

The blue looked… familiar.

Gavin walked in, and I quickly folded the map of the stage area I had out, making sure he didn't see it. Everyone in the band and on staff were on a strictly 'need to know' basis with this trick.

"How's practice going?" I asked, standing. Lamiroir and LeTouse stood as well.

"Good. I think this'll be our best show yet!" Gavin said with a grin. I chuckled.

"Good," I said.

"Ja, we—" Gavin suddenly cut off, looking over my shoulder towards a curtained off partition.

"Er, Apollo? I don't think this is going to work," Uncle Valant suddenly said from behind. I turned.

"What's not-!" I cut off when seeing him, covering my mouth. Dressed as Lamiroir, his excessive bulk made him look ridiculous. My shoulders began to shake, and it took everything in my being to not start laughing.

"I think I have to agree, Mr. Gramarye," LeTouse added, his voice full of amusement.

"Er… do I want to know?" Gavin asked. I took a deep breath, swallowing my laughter, and looked over at him.

"The fastest we can get Lamiroir from one stage to another is two minutes," I said. "So, we need someone to impersonate her on stage. Uncle Valant thought it should be him, but…" I trailed off, glancing at the man. Gavin snickered, before stepping back, looking at me curiously.

"Why not you, Herr Forehead?" he asked.

"Wait, what?" I demanded, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

"Yes! That's perfect!" Uncle Valant suddenly said. "After all, you're about the same height as Lamiroir. And build. Wearing the cloak, no one would be able to tell the difference.

"Why not one of the female stage hands?" I demanded.

"Because none of them could disappear quite like a Gramarye. Common, let's have you try on the costume!" he said, dragging me behind the curtained off partition. I could hear the other's laughing, and my face burned with heat.

"And this is why I hate performing on stage!" I growled as the makeup artist applied liberal amounts of foundation and blue eyeshadow to me. Yesterday, it was decided I would make the perfect Lamiroir.

Today, I was dressed in a long, flowing white dress, the midnight blue cloak over my shoulders. As the makeup artist moved away, the wardrobe man came over.

"Here. These are kind of necessary," he said, suddenly pulling the front of the dress away from my chest and stuffing something inside.

"H-hey!" I complained, blushing slightly.

"Stop moving so much, Mr. Wright. We need to get the outfit perfect," the man said, shaping the padding until he deemed it perfect. As a final touch, he placed a wig on my head, and turned me towards the mirror.

Staring back at me was Lamiroir, but with brown eyes instead of blue. Thankfully, from a distance, that wouldn't be noticeable.

Once they were sure I was perfect, and it was time for me and Lamiroir to make the swap, I suddenly found myself on stage next to Gavin. Remembering all of the videos I'd seen of Lamiroir performing, I clasped my hands in front of my chest, getting into character.

"Sugar, Sugar… O that night, in your embrace.

When you stole away the keys,

My heart held on to so tight." I slowly rose my hands to the sides, before letting them drop. The tower in the center of the stage began to rise, with just myself and Gavin on it. He continued to play the slow song on his guitar while Lamiroir sang from her hidden position.

"Pleasure… But a fleeting melody." I rose my left hand, holding it before me. "It wraps itself around me." I rose my hands to the air, looking up. "And now through the air I fly."

Gavin moved over, blocking the audience's view of me while he pulled the cloak off my head. I thought I smelled smoke, but ignored it as he whipped the cloak up. I dropped to the floor, quickly sliding towards the back, where a ladder awaited me (you know how hard it is to army crawl backwards in a dress!?)

"Woh… woh…" I peeked over the edge of the tower, knowing I was invisible to the audience, and watched the cloak flow across the venue over the heads of the audience.

"Burning on in my heart. Fire. Burn my love away—" My attention was suddenly bought to Gavin, who's guitar began to smoke. He gasped, yanking his hand away from it, before struggling to get it off, falling backwards in the process.

Going by the reaction from the crowd, I knew the trick was highly successful. My attention was still on Gavin, however, who had managed to get the guitar off and was beating it out. He caught my eye and shook his head, and I nodded, quickly climbing down and disappearing back stage. It was clear, from Gavin's reaction, that the guitar catching fire hadn't been part of the show. I should know, anyways. Uncle Valant and I were the lead men on the effects for this show.

I quickly made it to my dressing room and changed out of the dress and into my magician's outfit with a sigh of relief. Uncle Valant had talked me into the cloak and hat, as a 'symbol of my position.'

I stepped out of my dressing room.

"Wow, wasn't Lamiroir amazing!" a familiar voice said off to my left, accompanied by a sniffle. "I even cried a little!"

"I was surprised Prosecutor Gavin actually burned his guitar," Clay said.

"Yeah!" Trucy said brightly. "That even surprised me, and I'm a magician! What a production!"

"What a destruction," I said, walking over. "Gavin wasn't expecting it."

"Polly! That trick was amazing! How did you do it!?" Trucy demanded. I grinned, shaking my head.

"Come on, Trucy, you know I can't tell you that!" I countered.

"Aw…"

"Bro, are you wearing makeup?" Clay suddenly asked.

"Huh?" I reached up, brushing my fingers against my cheek. A little bit of foundation came off, showing on my gloved fingertips. "Uh, it's just stage makeup," I said.

"Are you going on stage?" Clay asked.

"That blue eyeshadow isn't," Trucy suddenly said, before smirking. "It brings out your eyes though," she added.

"Argh!" I groaned, grabbing my cloak and scrubbing my face with the inside of it.

"Seriously, why were you wearing that?" Clay asked.

"No reason. Come on, I'm sure you guys came back here to see the Gavinners," I said, leading them to the band's dressing room.

"What the heck was that!? I was never consulted about it!" Gavin stormed, before looking up. "Apollo Wright! Did you know about that stunt!? Were you the one who tried to torch me!?" he demanded. I took half a step back, surprised at the intensity and lack of nickname.

"Of course not. Neither of us did," I said, talking about Uncle Valant – who was absent – as well.

"'The Guitar's Serenade' is ruined! Ruined!" he cried. Trucy, Clay, and I glanced at each other, unsure of what to say to that. Then Trucy shrugged and looked at the rock singer.

"You mean, the guitar… that wasn't part of the act?" she asked.

"Part of the act!? Who'd burn up a guitar on purpose!?" Gavin vented.

"But, it worked really well with the lyrics just then… 'burning on in my heart. Fire. Burn my love away. All away,'" she quoted, bringing Gavin up short, his eyes a little wide.

"Wait, you think the audience thought it was…?" he trailed off. Clay nodded.

"I did, to be honest," he answered truthfully.

Thank goodness. He's having a bad day enough as is… I thought, crossing my arms.

"A-anyway, that guitar was the Ferrari of guitars! All the speed, all the sound… and all the price. If I burned one of those at every show, I'd go broke!" Gavin complained.

"Unusually frugal for a rock band," I muttered.

"Try saying that to Mr. Gavin," Trucy replied while Clay snickered.

"Achtung! Today's been one disaster after another… my hog won't run, my guitar case's broken…" he sighed.

"Daddy told me there'd be days like these," Trucy said, while I nodded, and we sat in silence for a moment, before Trucy perked up.

"W-wasn't Lamiroir's song incredible!?" she asked. "You worked on it too, right, Mr. Gavin?"

"Ah, yes, thanks," Gavin said. "It was a collaboration. I wrote the lyrics, and she wrote the melody," he explained.

"You know… I was surprised she could sing in English," Clay mused.

"She practiced. A lot," I said.

"Ah, here," Gavin suddenly said, coming over and handing something to Trucy. She took it, her eyes bright.

"What is it!?" she asked.

"A lyrics sheet. It's yours," Gavin said with a small smile. "Signed by myself and Lamiroir."

"Yippee! Thanks so much!" she said brightly. I shook my head with a small smile, and Gavin chuckled.

"Well, almost time for the third act of the night," he said.

"Oh! There's more?" Trucy gasped excitedly.

"Yes!" Gavin said brightly, and I could tell Trucy's excitement was starting to pull him out of his funk. I smiled at that.

Trucy was just magical like that.

"Lamiroir's part is done. Now it's time for us to drop our groove again, ja? Hope you're ready to catch it," Gavin continued.

"Woo hoo!" Trucy cheered. "Ready, Clay?" she asked.

"Uh… I think I'll pass," he said.

"Eh…?" Trucy asked.

"I liked Lamiroir's part, but the rest is kinda… loud," Clay said. I snorted at that.

"Oh, Clay, you're getting old!" Trucy said.

"H-hey!" Clay complained.

Ack! Does twenty-two qualify as 'old' to a fifteen-year-old!? I thought in a panic.

"Well, I'm going!" Trucy said.

"Let the old folks rest backstage, ja? Time to rock," Gavin grinned. I got the feeling he was talking about me too, and huffed.

"I don't got a choice, remember!?" I called after him. He just waved over his shoulder, and I gave vent to another sigh.

"Let's go to the hall," I said to Clay, who chuckled.

"Alright."

Standing in the hall, looking around and munching her way through a bag of Snackroos, was none other than Detective Ema Sky.

"Hey, it's you! The detective!" Clay said brightly. Ema turned a sour look on him. "Er…"

"Ema, I didn't know you were here. What are you doing here?" I asked.

"…Isn't it obvious? I'm snacking. You think I want to be here!? Me, in charge of security in this pit!?" she demanded.

"Security…? Did something happen?" I asked, suddenly worried for Trucy.

"There's no knowing with that Glimmerous fop," she seethed. "Apparently, he's all upset because something was stolen. He wanted security back here during the concert. Where does he get off acting like he's some big rock star?" she demanded.

He is a big rock star, I reminded her silently.

"Hey! You listening to me!?"

"So… where's this door here lead to?" Clay suddenly asked, pointing to a door next to the one that lead to the Gavinner's dressing room.

"That one? That's Lamiroir's dressing room. Don't even think of going in there unless you want a piece of Snackoo in your face!" Ema replied threateningly. Clay and I glanced at each other.

Why is she so sour…?

Just then, the earpiece I was to wear at all times, crackled to life. "Apollo, can you come back stage for a minute? We need your help with one of the effects," one of the stage hands called. I bought my hand up to my ear, pressing the button to reply,

"Sure thing. I'll be there in a minute," I said, before dropping my hand and looking at Clay and Ema. "Gotta go. I'll see you after the show, okay, Clay?" I said.

"Sure thing," he replied as I jogged off.

Not too long after I arrived backstage to help with one of the effect machines, something happened. A flurry of activity from the hallway sounded through the ear piece, and suddenly, there was police presence back stage. One of them walked over to the soundboard.

"Shut it down," he commanded the man working it.

"Um… okay," the man hesitated for only a minute before spotting the police badge and doing as he was told. As he threw the switch, the music cut off. A large groan swelled from the crowd.

"What the heck is going on NOW!?" Gavin demanded through the earpieces. I reached up and pressed the button to reply.

"The police are back here. They demanded the sound be shut down. I think something is wrong," I said. A few minutes later, the entire band was back stage. Most of the stage hands were shown out. I managed to be allowed to stay by showing my Attorney's badge.

Gavin looked at the cop in charge.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"We have to cancel the show, Mr. Gavin. A man's been shot in Lamiroir's dressing room."

Gavin, Crescend (Gavinner's second guitarist and a detective of international affairs), and I found Ema, Clay, and Trucy in the backstage hallway.

"The venue's locked down. We took names and addresses before letting the crowd go," Crescend was saying as we walked over.

"Good work, Daryan," Gavin said. I rushed over to Trucy, hugging her.

"Are you okay?" I demanded.

"Yeah. I got worried when they said something was going on back here, though. I thought maybe you were hurt!" she said, hugging me back just as tight. I looked up at Clay, who looked a little pale. He smiled weakly at me, and I dragged him into the hug.

"I thought it was Clay, to be honest," I admitted. "I knew I left him back here…" I said. The three of us finally pulled apart.

"One request I must make…" Gavin said, coming over to us. I noticed Crescend was gone. "Tell no one, on staff or otherwise, anything of this," he said.

"Ooh, a gag order!" Trucy said brightly.

"No word gets out, other than that Mr. LeTouse is dead. No word of the cause of death, or the murder," he said.

"Tell no one… Not even Lamiroir?" I asked, confused at this turn of events.

"Not even her. We must keep everything under wraps. Oh, one other thing. I'll need you signatures on this," he said, holding a paper to us. I took it first, scanning a critical eye over it.

"Hmm… an 'investigation request'?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Why just us?" Trucy asked.

"You three are civilians. It's standard procedure," he explained. I shrugged, realizing he was right, and signed it, passing it first to Clay, then Trucy. We then handed it back.

"Right, well, get started with the investigation!" Gavin said brightly.

"I'm on it already!" Ema snapped.

"Ah, and one tip for you," Gavin added softly to me.

"Huh?"

"Try not to get in the Fräulein Detective's way. She's in a foul mood today," he said. I quirked an eyebrow at him.

Gee, I wonder why?

Just then, an officer came over to us.

"The three of you are witnesses," he said.

"And you need to question us?" I asked, to which he nodded. One officer took Trucy, the other took Clay, and the first stayed with me. I couldn't give him much information though, other than the fact that apparently, just moments before the murder, I had been called to behind stage to help with one of the effect machines. This was collaborated by the other members of the staff.

Trucy was done with her questioning before even me, but Clay was still talking to his officer for a few more minutes. Finally, he came over to us.

"They want to take me to the station, to give a better statement," he explained.

"Wait, what? Did you see what happened?" I asked, surprised.

"Not… exactly. I'll explain later, okay?" he said. I hesitated before nodding, watching the officers lead him away.

"Come to think of it, Clay looked pretty shaken when I found him," Trucy mused.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but he didn't tell me about what…" she sighed, before looking up at me.

Well, neither of us can go home. Let's investigate!

"Somehow, I don't see us getting back to that crime scene anytime soon," Trucy mused, her thoughts apparently in line with mine.

"Probably not," I sighed, wondering what happened.

"Ah well. Let's crack this case!" Trucy said brightly. I shook my head slightly as I looked at her.

I worry about her. She seems to have a very loose idea of what it means to be an 'attorney'…

"Something the matter?" she asked.

"No…" I smiled. "Let's get cracking!" So, our first order of business should be to see who found the body first! "Let's see if we can find Gavin," I suggested. Our first stop was his dressing room.

"Huh. Looks like nobody's here," she mused.

"He's probably busy with the case, too," I said, realizing there was no way he'd not investigate it. "No rest for the wicked."

"No rest for us, either, Apollo! Let's get rocking! Rock, rock!" Trucy said brightly, shoving me out of the room. I laughed at her antics, shaking my head. The next place we checked was the stage.

"Looks empty," she remarked.

"That figures," I sighed.

"Oh well," she said with a shrug, before looking over at something. I looked up as well.

"Oh, the ladder. They needed it for the lights," I remarked.

"Why don't they use a stepladder?" Trucy asked. "I prefer stepladders, really. Is that so wrong?"

"Not wrong, just…" I trailed off, looking at her. "Well, why do you prefer stepladders?"

She thought about it for a minute. "They're so much more flexible than plain old ladders!" she finally said.

"I… prefer my ladders rigid and stable, thank you," I replied, and she rolled her eyes at me. I grinned back, before pointing to a large instrument case.

"Know what that's for?" I asked.

"A contrabass, I think…" she replied.

"You could fit twenty violins in there, I bet," I said, studying it.

"It may look like a violin, but it's a completely different instrument!" Trucy said in a superior way. I smirked.

"You could fit five Trucys in there, I bet."

"Hey! Are you comparing me to an instrument?" she demanded. I laughed, shaking my head at her, and she rolled her eyes, looking back at the case. "I wonder who left it sitting open like that…" she mused. I shrugged.

"Probably one of the stage hands. It was a mess of chaos back here, to be honest," I explained. She nodded in understanding, and we continued to look around.

"Wow, that piano looks much bigger close up! Machi played so beautifully," she sighed happily. I smiled warmly as well, remembering.

"Yeah, like a real pianist," I said with a warm smile. Trucy looked up at me.

"That's just silly, Polly! How can you call someone as good as Machi a 'pianist'? Why, that's like throwing him in the same class as Daddy!" she countered. I burst out laughing at that.

"G-good thing Dad didn't hear that one," I snickerd, and Trucy giggled as well.

"He'd probably cut off my allowance," she agreed, and we both laughed again. Finally, we both decided to head back to the hall. There, I noticed something sitting on the ground.

"What's that?" Trucy asked as I stopped and picked it up.

"And earpiece, like the one I'm wearing," I explained, tapping my ear for emphasis. "Everyone involved with the concert had to wear one, so… what is this doing here?" I wondered, turning it over in my hands. I noticed the LED light was still on. "Strange…" I muttered.

"This might be evidence!" Trucy said. I smiled.

"It might be! After all, LeTouse had one too," I said, slipping it into my pocket. We then made our way to the crime scene: Lamiroir's dressing room. There, Ema was investigating. She looked up when hearing us.

"Oh, it's you. I figured you'd come," she said.

"You have to let us investigate the scene, please," I said.

"You're an attorney, Apollo. Shouldn't you wait until you have a client?" she asked.

Clay witnessed something… something that he'll probably have to testify about. I need to know what happened!

"G-glare at me all you want, you'll get no snacks from me," Ema said, holding her bag of Snackoos possessively.

Who said anything about that…?

"Please! Think of poor Lamiroir!" Trucy pleaded.

"Hmph. Oh well, I suppose. Your friend did find the body with me," Ema said offhandedly.

"Wait, what!?" I gasped.

"Yeah. We were talking, when we heard the gunshots," she explained. "It was right after you left, actually. The killer was already gone when we got in, which means they left someway other than the door," Ema explained, crossing her arms. I nodded.

"Well, that explains why the cops took Clay away," Trucy said softly. I nodded.

"Right. If this goes to court, he'll probably be put on the witness stand," I said. Trucy nodded in agreement to that.

"Well, let's look around!" Trucy said.

"Try not to touch anything!" Ema warned. We nodded. I looked around for a few minutes, before looking up, spotting an air vent.

"What's wrong, Apollo? Your mouth is catching flies," Trucy said. I snapped my mouth closed, unaware it had opened when I looked up.

"Ah? Um, nothing. It's nothing," I said. Maybe that's how the killer escaped… I thought.

"'Maybe that's how the killer escaped.' That's what you were thinking, right?" Ema asked, walking over to me.

"Eh," I muttered, unnerved by her guessing my thoughts.

"When we arrived on the scene, the killer had already fled. He or he must have had a way out. And that air vent is one possibility," Ema explained.

"But it's much too small," Trucy protested.

"Hmm… not if the killer were about your size, Trucy," I muttered, deep in thought. Silence met my words, until finally, I looked up at the two women staring at me.

"What?"

"I didn't do it!" Trucy suddenly snapped.

"Eh!?"

"I was cutting up the dance floor at the time, thank you!" she continued.

"I know, I know!" I said, taking a step back. "Of course I don't think you did it!"

"It's hard to tell with you, sometimes, Polly," Trucy huffed.

Hey! What have I done!? I silently demanded, watching as Trucy stomped away. Suddenly, she spotted something at her feet.

"Ooh, what a pretty brooch!" Trucy said brightly, reaching down to pick it up. I recognized the emerald green, diamond shaped brooch that looked a lot like Trucy's. It was Lamiroir's. "Oh, Ema…?" Trucy asked.

"You're not going to say, 'can I have it, please,' are you?" Ema demanded, looking up from her notebook.

"Oh…" Trucy said.

"It's not healthy to envy the young, Ema," I said with a grin.

"It's not about envy!" Ema snapped. "It's about tampering with evidence!"

Note to self: Ema lacks a sense of humor. Use caution, I thought, knowing that not to be entirely true. After all, we were cracking jokes left and right at the restaurant... I quickly made a note of the brooch in my court record. Trucy continued to stare at it longingly. Ema noticed.

"No way! If you want one that bad, get your daddy to but it for you!" Ema snapped.

"Daddy always says: 'Trucy, Apollo, if you want something, go find or borrow it.' Oh, and 'when in doubt, beg,'" Trucy said. I groaned softly.

"Leave it to Mr. Wright…" Ema mused, looking between the two of us.

"You know Dad only said that because he got tired of you bugging him about that 'Super Deluxe Magical Prop Set,' right?" I asked.

"Oh, really?" she mused.

I'm a little concerned about Trucy. I think I'm going to have to talk to Dad about his 'jokes'…

"Are these… bullet holes?" Trucy suddenly asked, across the room. I looked up.

"Looks like it. There are two here in the wall," I said, going over to her.

"From the look of it, the victim was shot once in the shoulder," Ema said from where she had walked back over to the body. "The first shot must have missed."

"But there are two holes. Wouldn't that mean two misses?" Trucy asked.

"The murder weapon is a 45-caliber revolver. It's very powerful," Ema said, shaking her head. "I believe what we're seeing here… is the mark left by the second bullet after it passed through his shoulder!" Ema gasped.

"Ouch," Trucy said, touching her shoulder. "Sounds painful."

No kidding. I wonder about this murder weapon, I thought, looking around.

"Ooh! Polly! Can I eat some of those, please!?" Trucy suddenly said, spotting a fruit basket.

"Absolutely not!" Ema scolded.

"I know. I know! But still, I yearn!" Trucy sighed.

"Look, you're not the only one eyeing that fruit here," Ema sighed wistfully.

"Well them what are we waiting for? Let's eat!" Trucy said brightly, reaching for the basket.

"Right!" Ema added.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I yelled, darting over to the girls, grabbing both their arms. "Are you two crazy? Ema, you of all people should know better," I said, looking at the detective. She pouted at me.

"But she tempted me! She's a… she's a temptress!" Ema replied.

Please, grow up… I thought in exasperation, looking around. Ema returned to the body once more, while Trucy stayed at my elbow.

"Huh, another ladder," I said, noticing it, thinking back to the one we found on the stage.

"Actually, it's technically a stepladder," Trucy said.

"Well hello Ms. Fancy Pants! Please forgive my lack of ladder discrimination," I said, crossing my arms. Trucy widened her eyes and looked at me, and I felt a small glow of pride that I managed to one up her for once.

"I'm less worried about the stepladder, and more worried about why it's there," Ema said, ignoring our sibling spat. I looked back over to it, noticing it was under the vent.

Oh no…

"I still say it's a stepladder…" Trucy huffed.

"Right," I said with a grin only an older brother could pull off, before moving to the other side of the room.

"What an amazing bouquet. I mean, it's giant," I gasped, spotting the mass of flowers.

"Not sure I approve," Ema huffed, reaching over to study a flower closer. "It'd be better if this flower was a bit more… Oh." The head of the flower snapped off, dropping to the ground at her feet.

"Eek! The flower fell off!" Trucy gasped. I grinned, crossing my arms.

"What happened to preserving the crime scene, Ema?" I asked.

"It's fine! Fine!" Ema gasped, snatching the flower from the ground and shoving it at the bouquet. "I'll just put it back, see?" she said with a nervous grin.

How scientific… I thought. Though… how would the bouquet be better…? I thought curiously.

"Look, there's a little window over here! Maybe the killer escaped through that!" Trucy said, looking at a small window that looked into the hall.

"It's barely big enough for me to get my head through," I pointed out. Trucy smirked, opening her mouth.

"Not to mention it only opens a crack," Ema said, cutting off Trucy's reply.

"What?" Trucy asked, looking up at her. "I was just saying it's possible."

"Right, right, no harm in that," I said, patting her shoulder. Except I'm pretty sure it is impossible…

"You could peek into the room through it, though, you know," Ema said. I smiled weakly, before turning to the elephant in the room.

LeTouse's body. Trucy looked at it too, before gripping my arm tight.

"Th-that's a body, isn't it?" she asked. I nodded, only able to imagine how Clay delt with this.

"Sure is," Ema said offhandedly, before smirking. "The victim, no less. Let's take a closer look."

"Eeek!" Trucy gasped. "G-go ahead, Polly! You first." She let go of my hand and gave me a little shove forward.

"Me!?" I gasped. After all, this was only the second dead body I'd ever seen. "No, you should go first, Trucy, really…"

"Well you two stop bickering and get over here!?" Ema snapped, accompanied by the plastic rustle of a snack bag.

She's munching on Snackoos again. Hope she's not too annoyed… I thought, inching closer. I studied the corpse for a few minutes, Trucy still hanging on to my cape tightly.

"Polly, look at this hand," she suddenly said, pointing to the man's left hand, which was clutched tightly. I looked closer.

"Hmm. He's holding something," I said, reaching forward, only to suddenly be hit by a piece of chocolate.

"Hey! No touching!" Ema snapped.

"You can throw all the snacks at me you'd like, Ema," I said, looking up at the woman. "But sooner or later… you're going to run out of them." A look of shock flashed across her face.

"You raise a good point," she said, before moving closer and looking at the man's hand. "Hmm… I'm a bit intrigued by this scene. Let's take a look," she said.

"Ah… see there?" Trucy asked once the detective pried the man's hand open. "He's holding something! What is it?" she asked as Ema held up a heart shaped keyring with three keys dangling off.

"Ah!" I gasped. "That's Gavin's missing keys!" I said, remembering seeing them a few times while setting up for the concert.

"Wait, these were what was stolen?" Ema asked. I nodded.

"The… victim stole them?" Trucy asked.

"I don't know…" I admitted, making a note of them in my court record.

"Eeek!" Trucy suddenly screamed, causing my to nearly drop my notebook. I quickly looked up at her. "Is that… blood?" she demanded, pointing to a smear near the man's other hand. "Umm… why don't you examine this one, Polly. You know more about, uh, red stuff than I do." She hid under my cape, behind my back. "Yep!"

"…Says who?" I demanded, lifting my cape to look down at her. She flashed a nervous grin at me, and I rolled my eyes, looking back at the smear. Something does look strange with that blood though…

Something else, near the body, caught my eye. I moved closer, aware of Trucy moving with me.

"This is the murder weapon, isn't it?" I asked, pointing to it. "This revolver?"

"That's right. A big .45-caliber revolver," Ema explained.

"Wow," Trucy said, her head popping out of my cape under my arm. "I wonder who brought this in here? I thought only police were allowed to have one of those."

"Hmm…" I hummed, staring into space, a finger pressed to my forehead.

"Why are you giving me that look!?" Ema suddenly demanded, snapping me out of my thoughts and making me realize that I had been staring at her. "I didn't do it!"

"I didn't…"

"Listen, I was out in the hall eating Snackroos and talking to Clay when it happened!" Ema continued.

"I know, I know!" I said. "No one here thinkgs you did it, Ema."

"It's hard to tell with you, sometimes, Apollo," Ema replied, and I felt a vague sense of déjà vu.

What have I done!?

"Wait, if the killer brought a revolver… it must mean they had planned this from the start," Trucy gasped, before turning to a surprised Ema. "That's right, right?"

"Well… yeah," Ema said. I nodded, adding notes about the murder weapon to my court record.

"A .45-caliber revolver, very deadly," I said softly as I wrote about it.

"You know, Polly, I was wondering…" Trucy said, suddenly next to me rather than under my cape. "What's a caliber? And what does the '.45' mean?" she asked.

"Huh?" I asked, surprised she didn't know this.

"Heh, you want me to tell you?" Ema said. "It's the size of the barrel. Simply put, the larger the caliber, the larger the round. The bullet, in other words. Bigger bullets do more damage."

"Wow, chalk one up for forensic science," I teased.

"You know it!" Ema said brightly.

"…But it's not 45 inches, right? That'd be too big. What unit of measurement they use, Ms. Science? Well?" Trucy asked. Ema stared at her for a moment, before looking away, munching her Snackoos again.

"Hush. Kids shouldn't ask so many questions," she said. I grinned, amused she didn't know the answer.

"It is inches," I said to Trucy. "But no, the bullet isn't forty-five inches, but point forty-five of an inch," I explained.

"Oh…" Trucy said. "That's why you keep calling it a '.45' instead of '45,'" she said. I nodded with a smile.

"Right."

"You know, that revolver looks really heavy," I said, watching Ema handle it.

"It's been fired twice," she suddenly announced. "You can still smell the gunpowder." Her eyes widened. "Huh. That's odd."

"What's odd?" I asked.

"Hmm?" She looked up at us, as though just remembering we were here. "Oh, nothing."

"Hey, no fair!" Trucy complained. "Tell us!"

"It's just, something about this revolver seems… strange," Ema admitted.

"Strange?" I asked.

"Well, what do you think about it?" Ema asked.

"Well, it pretty big. And heavy looking," I said.

"That's right. It's a .45-caliber. That makes it one of the deadliest revolvers around. Even the police don't carry guns this big," Ema explained.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. It doesn't make sense. You don't need so much power to kill at such close range. It's overkill," the detective explained.

"I'm not sure I see the problem," Trucy suddenly pipped up. "I mean, whenever I go out to eat curry, I order 'extra spicy.' Just to be sure it's spice. Of course, I can only ever eat one or two bites."

"I know," I said flatly, thinking about all the money wasted when we go out for curry.

"There's another thing about a gun this big," Ema said, pulling our attention back to the present. "It puts a lot of strain on the shooter."

"Strain?" I asked.

"Yeah. Say you were to fire this revolver. The recoil would probably dislocate your shoulder," Ema said.

"Ouuuuuuch!" Trucy whined. "It's like the shooter's a victim, too!"

"Yet the killer used this revolver, and quite well. I'm guessing whoever did it was used to shooting," Ema said.

Used to shooting a high-caliber weapon…? Hmm…

"So, Apollo, what do you know about the victim?" Ema asked. I looked up.

"Huh?"

"You met him before tonight," she added.

"Oh, right. Well, Mr. 'Romein LeTouse.'" I said. "He was Lamiroir's manager and interpreter. This was his first time in the country," I explained.

"Hmm… so I'm guessing he didn't know many people here," Trucy said.

"It doesn't seem likely. Nor can I think of anyone with a motive to murder him… except for one person, of course.

"Lamiroir," Trucy said.

"What!? No way!" I snapped. Both woman looked at me in surprise. "There's no way Lamiroir would do something like that!" I asserted, glaring at Trucy. She held up her hands.

"Whoa, hey, it was Ema's idea!" she said.

"I said nothing," Ema replied, munching away.

Always with the snacks… I thought in annoyance.

"He's a big man. Or was. I don't think even I would win a fight with him," Trucy said, redirecting the conversation. I took a deep breath, returning to the conversation on hand.

"Which is why whoever it was used a revolver, I'm guessing," I said.

"We've sent a request to the Borginian Embassy for more info on him," Ema added helpfully, before looking around. "Well, that's about it. I think we've looked at just about everything there is."

"I guess you're right," I said, giving the room another once over.

"I know how you're feeling. It is hard to know when to stop. But anything more involved has to wait until the squad gets here," Ema sighed.

"Argh… I suppose…" Trucy sighed.

"I'll go report the evidence," Ema said, walking towards the door. "Sorry, but could you wait here till I get back?"

"Huh?" I asked, looking up. "Oh, actually, we have to—"

"Great! Thanks!" the woman said, disappearing out the door.

"Aaaaaand… she left."

"What do we do, Polly? She told us to wait," Trucy asked, looking up at us.

"Great. Now how am I supposed to investigate?" I demanded at the ceiling.

"Oh well, I guess it can't be helped. Let's go," Trucy said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to the door.

"Huh? Go?"

"Time's a wasting, Polly! We've got a lot of ground to cover!" Trucy said.

"Well, that's true, but…" I trailed off, before shrugging. "On second thought, why not. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Of course it will! Let's go!" Trucy said brightly. We stepped through the door, only to spot a flash of yellow at the end of the hall. Trucy gasped, while I looked after it.

"We… didn't just imagine that, did we?" Trucy asked.

"No…" I said, looking down at her. Does she not recognize him?

"Well… whoever that was, he sure looked suspicious!" Trucy huffed, before grabbing my arm. "Let's go!" She dragged me along before I could protest, until we reached the stage.

"What is it with today!?" I heard certain prosecutor seethe. "Problem after problem! Achtung!"

"You ain't kidding," the one he was talking to, Daryan Crescend, said as we stepped around the curtain into the wings.

"It's the two leading members of the Gavinners, Polly!" Trucy gasped, gripping my arm tight. "Klavier on vocals, and Daryan on guitar! They're so cool!"

"Yeah… I know," I said, extracting my arm from her grasp. It's not like I didn't work with them for two weeks or anything…

"Huh? What are they arguing about?" Trucy mused.

"Probably the case, I'd bet," I said.

"My hog won't start. My guitar case is busted… my guitar's been burnt to a crisp, and to top it all off, someone's dead!" the prosecutor ranted, before turning on his bandmate. "And then there was that performance just now. What was that all about!?" he demanded.

"Hey, man, don't blame me. You were the one who missed the cue," Crescend argued.

"Me? Miss a cue!?" Gavin demanded. "How could I conceivably get the most important part of that song wrong? How!? And what was all that tinny playing of yours?"

"Who you calling 'tinny'!?" Crescend countered.

"Sounds like they're having a spat. One of those 'differences in musical direction' bands are always splitting up over," Trucy said, crossing her arms.

"This is hardly the time…" I groaned. Just then, we were noticed.

"Hmm? What are you two doing here?" Gavin demanded, walking over to us.

"Ah, um, hiya…" I muttered.

"We were just discussing the investigation, if you don't mind," Gavin said.

"Sorry," I said, before his words registered. "Wait." I looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow. "You were what?"

"Listen," he turned to the man again. "You need to confirm that with the Republic of Borginia, Detective Crescend."

Ah, that's right. All the band members are also part of law enforcement, I remembered.

"So, about the crime…" I started.

"Which crime do you mean?" Gavin asked. I sighed.

"The murder," I said. The real crime.

"What else would he be talking about?" Trucy asked.

"For me, today has been a hit parade of crimes, you see," Gavin sighed.

"Oh, right. Something about your hog, and your guitar case?" she asked.

"Anyway. I'm afraid you know more about the killing of Mr. LeTouse than I do." Gavin smirked, leaning close "For now, at least."

"Huh?" I asked.

"Your friend was the one who found the body, ja? While we were in the idle of a performance, no less," he said.

"Well, yeah, but he didn't tell me anything about it, to be honest. I found that out from Detective Skye," I replied. "I was back stage, saving your effects at the time of the murder."

"Oh."

"Aren't you going to examine the crime scene, Prosecutor Gavin?" Trucy asked.

"I'll leave that to Fräulein Detective. Wouldn't want to step on her toes," Gavin said, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair.

"They're not exactly best buddies, are they? Ema and Prosecutor Gavin, I mean," Trucy asked me softly. I smiled slightly at that.

"Well, what to do next?" I asked. "We've already check out the scene…" Gavin may be right. We might be the most informed, for once.

"Maybe Prosecutor Gavin can shed some light on things we've found!" Trucy said.

"Ah! That's right!" I said, pulling the keyring from my pocket. "Gavin, we found your keys," I announced, holding them up.

"Ah! Thanks!" The man said with a grin, reaching for them. "Where did you find it?"

I pulled the keys back. "Erm, actually, the victim was holding it. Like he was trying to keep it from the killer. Even if it meant his life," I explained. Gavin's eyes widened, his hand freezing in midair.

"Wh… what!? The victim… you mean, Mr. LeTouse had my keys?" he demanded.

"Indeed."

"Hmm… when will my trials be over?" Gavin muttered, dropping his hand and looking away.

"Speaking of trials, I've never heard Mr. Gavin whine in court like he has been today," Trucy muttered.

"Ema was right about the fop, I'll give her that," I said with a teasing grin. Gavin only smiled slightly, still very troubled.

"Polly!" Trucy scolded, missing our glance. "Mr. Gavin, maybe we can help. Tell us about your troubles today," she said, turning to the man.

"I really don't think that's…" Gavin began.

"Tell us… and we'll keep mum about the key ring for now," Trucy added with a smirk. I gasped, looking at her in shock, my hat slipping slightly over my eyes. I pushed it up in time to see Gavin smirking at Trucy, hands on hips, leaning closer to her.

"Are… you blackmailing me, Fräulein?" he asked. Trucy's smirk was answer enough. I shook my head and looked at the man.

"You were saying something about your motorcycle not starting?" I asked. Again… I thought back to the Kitaki case, when his bike broke down then too.

"And something about your guitar case being busted?" Trucy added.

"You're well informed…" Gavin said, looking between the two of us.

You've only been complaining about it all day… plus I saw the case, I thought.

"You mentioned it a few times," Trucy said with a grin.

"Ach. It all happened this morning. And it's all that key ring's fault," Gavin said with a glare at the keys in my hands.

"The keyring?" I asked.

"It's got all my keys on it, ja? My bike key, my car key… and the key to my guitar case," Gavin explained.

"Wait, so this key ring…" Trucy started.

"It disappeared." Gavin looked to the side, crossing his arms. "I thought I'd put it in my jacket pocket…"

Gavin's key ring… disappeared? That would explain Ema…

"I had to come to the concert by taxi. How embarrassing!" Gavin sighed. I smiled slightly, remembering that view earlier. "And in order to get my guitar out, I had to break the lock."

"I saw that," I said, remembering Gavin go at the case with a fire extinguisher. I suddenly realized something.

"Wait, this guitar wasn't the one that…" I trailed off, looking up at him.

"The very one. Up in flames," he said bitterly, showing us the burnt remnants of the guitar. "And right on stage, too."

"I actually thought that was part of the show," Trucy reminded him.

"Crazy," Gavin sighed. "And to top it off, Mr. LeTouse's life was taken. Nobody told me 'bout days like these." He sighed again.

"Strange days, indeed," I added, earning another tense smile from Gavin.

"You think?"

"Hmm…" Trucy hummed, a thoughtful look on her face.

"What's wrong, Trucy?" I asked.

"Well, I was just trying to make sense of everything," she admitted. "First, this heart shaped key ring gets stolen. Then a very expensive guitar flares up on stage. "Then Mr. LeTouse dies…"

"Yes, and…?" Gavin asked, curious. I'll admit, I was curious myself.

"Could it all really be just a coincidence…?" she mused.

"Coincidence…?" Gavin asked. "Meaning?" He turned to the detective. "Daryan, can you make any sense of all this?"

"Hey, don't look at me," the man snapped after a moment's hesitation.

"What do you think, Polly?" Trucy asked, looking at me.

"Huh?"

"I mean, either Mr. Gavin's having a really bad day… or all this was planned," she said.

Gavin looked at her for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together in an intense look. "You… aren't thinking what I think you're thinking… are you, Fräulein?" he said.

"I am!" Trucy said.

"What? What!?" Crescend demanded. "Hey, don't leave me in the dark with Magic Boy, here."

The name's Apollo, but yeah, I agree… Don't leave us in the dark. What are you talking about?

"Haven't you notice a connection, Polly?" Trucy asked. "A curious connection between all of Mr. Gavin's troubles today?"

"Um, well…" It hit me like a speeding bullet. "Wait! You don't mean…"

"I do," Trucy said with a grin.

"'The Guitar Serenade'…" Gavin said with a scowl.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Crescend demanded.

"It has everything to do with everything," Gavin said.

How articulate, I thought dryly.

"Though I wouldn't have believed it if the Fräulein hadn't pointed it out."

"What are you talking about, man? Enough with the riddles!" Crescend snapped.

"Maybe it is a coincidence… or perhaps it means something. What do you think, Fräulein?" Gavin asked, looking at Trucy.

"I do. Everything that's happened to Mr. Gavin today… is predicted in the lyrics to this song!" Trucy declared.

"Wh-whaaat!? No way!" Crescend gasped.

"Look, just think about everything that's happened to Mr. Gavin. Let's list them in order that they occurred… while reading the lyrics sheet!" Trucy said, pulling the paper from her pocket. I nodded, not needing it.

"First, the key ring was stolen," I began.

"And not just any key ring! A heart-shaped key ring!" Trucy said.

"Which is part of the song. 'When you stole away the keys my heart held on to so tight.' This is a 'heart' holding 'keys'!" I said.

"And next, his guitar burst into flame," Trucy said.

"'Burning on in my heart. Fire. Burn my love away…'" I quoted.

"And then Mr. LeTouse was killed," Trucy continued.

"'Like a bullet of love. Fire. Take my life away…'" I said. Gavin smirked at me.

"You should do that again… but sing it, Herr Forehead," he said. I rolled my eyes at him.

"This is crazy," I said, ignoring his comment.

"Yeah, no kidding!" Trucy said.

"So everything that happened today, here… this song predicted it all?" Crescend asked.

"Or perhaps it was the other way around," Gavin suddenly said, a dark look coming over his face.

"Huh?" I asked.

"The criminal could have based his crime on the lyrics," Gavin explained. I shook my head.

"This was when the song debuted. No one except the staff and band would know the lyrics early enough to set it all up," I reminded him. "Besides, who would go through all that trouble?"

"Someone who moves in mysterious ways, no doubt," Gavin said, before sighing. "I believe you've stumbled upon something quite vital… and quite annoying, Fräulein."

Trucy giggled in response. I shook my head. She looks pleased…

"Anyways, thanks for finding the keys. If you'd found it under different circumstances, I'd be even happier," Gavin said.

"I wonder why Mr. LeTouse was holding it?" Trucy mused. I smirked.

"Maybe he was trying to tell us something?" I said innocently. "Maybe that Gavin is the killer?"

"Herr Forehead, save your wild accusations for the court. I do so enjoy the penalties," Gavin said, barely suppressing a grin. I chuckled at him, shaking my head. Trucy had a thoughtful look on her face.

"So, what's that missed cue you kept talking about?" she suddenly asked, reminding Gavin of yet another of his problems. He chuckled.

"You heard it, didn't you? From the audience?" he asked.

"Um actually… I didn't notice anything," she admitted.

"See!" Crescend said. "No amateur is going to pick up on that!"

"Can you guarantee an entire audience of amateurs?" Gavin demanded. "No!" He answered his own question, before wrapping an arm around me and Trucy, drawing us over to a small machine. "Now take a listen to this!"

"What's that…?" Trucy asked.

"A mixing board. We used it to record our concert tonight," Gavin explained.

Aren't we supposed to be investigating a murder…?

Gavin went on to explain how we could listen to each part, and each instrument, separately. He then set us to find the missed cue. I noticed, after listening to the part he pointed out a few times, that the timing was a little off. Finally, I looked up.

"This part is off: Track two. The second guitar," I said, before looking over at the detective. "That was you, wasn't it?" I asked. His wince and scowl was answer enough.

"Ah well, looks like the cat's out of the bag," he sighed.

"'Ah well'? That's all you have to say!? That kind of attitude lets killers walk free, Daryan!" Gavin snapped.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask about the concert," I said, giving Trucy a pointed look. "It's starting to feel like we're just wasting time."

"It's all experience under our belts! That can't be bad!" she countered. I shook my head, but made a note in my court record. Who knew if this would come in handy?

"The lyric predicting the crime… Klavier?" Crescend suddenly said, trying to change the topic. It worked.

"Seems a bit more than just a coincidence to me," he sighed.

"I have to agree. The key ring, the guitar, and the murder…" Crescend listed off.

"The key ring might have been dropped by accident," I countered, remembering the chaos of yesterday as we did final preperations for the show.

"Yet the victim was holding it. Hard to think that was unconnected," Gavin reminded me.

"That's true," I sighed, surprised at the prosecutor's sudden calm demeanor.

"So the criminal matched their actions to the lyrics?" Trucy asked.

"Sounds likely," Crescend said.

"Why would anyone do that?" I asked.

"While we think about that, I'm going to get cracking on the biggest crime here. I'm going to talk to the Borginian Embassy about this Mr. LeTouse," Crescend said, heading for the door.

"Ah, right. Thanks, Daryan," Gavin called after him.

"I'll leave the pondering of mysteries to you. I'm outta here," he called over his shoulder, exiting.

"A forein national, Mr. LeTouse was killed…" Gavin sighed, irritation beginning to roll off of him again. "It seems like that would have to be the 'point' of all this. But they did more than that. They left us with not only a murder, but a mystery!"

"Mr. Gavin sure is irritable today," Trucy muttered.

"Hmm, yeah," I hummed.

"I've had enough, frankly. If you find any more mysteries, do me a favor and keep them to yourself, ja?" he snapped, walking towards the door.

"Ja," I muttered. I guess that's all we're going to get from Gavin. That leaves Lamiroir to question. "Gavin, do you know where Lamiroir is now?" I called after him.

"Ah, I had her go to my dressing room. With that pianist, Machi Tobaye, of course. She seemed rather shocked by Mr. LeTouse's sudden passing," he called over his shoulder, before leaving.

The Gavinner's dressing room. Got it! I thought, leading the way.

"Ah, Lamiroir!" Trucy said brightly as we entered the dressing room. I smiled at her, a warm feeling of safety and comfort stealing over me. I don't know what it is about the Borginian woman, but I always felt this way around her.

"What… what has happened?" she asked. I reeled back in shock. "I heard that Mr. LeTouse has died!"

"L-Lamiroir! You speak?" I gasped, before realizing how that sounded. "I mean, you speak English?"

"Ah… yes," she replied, putting a hand over her vailed mouth. "I was invited here from the Republic of Borginia… but I am not Borginian by birth," she admitted.

"But… wasn't Mr. LeTouse your interpreter?" Trucy asked.

"Ah, that," she sighed. "Yes, well… it was Mr. LeTouse's idea. He thought it would add to the mystery, you see," she admitted.

"Then, your pianist is also…?" I began, looking over at the young boy, who simply stared off into space, staying silent.

"No, Machi Tobaye is Borginian. He does not speak English," Lamiroir said, before moving closer to me. "Now, please, tell me! What has happened to Mr. LeTouse? Why did he…" she trailed off, her eyes welling with tears. I went to reach for her shoulder, instinctually wanting to comfort her, but dropped my hand.

After all, she was a virtual stranger.

"Actually, Mr. LeTouse was—" Trucy began.

"Trucy!" I said, cutting her off.

"Huh?"

"Remember what Gavin said? 'Not a word'!"

"B-but Mr. LeTouse is Lamiroir's manager! That's not fair to her! I mean, isn't she a related party?" Trucy demanded.

Precisely who Gavin doesn't want to alert, I suspect… I thought, though deep down, I felt really bad about keeping this from her.

"All we have been told is to wait here in this room. It is very unsettling," Lamiroir sighed.

"I'm sorry, we're trying to figure it out ourselves," I said. "Do… you think I could ask you some questions?"

"Of course. I am always willing to help," the woman said, sitting on the couch again. I smiled warmly at her.

Calm as always. I can't put my finger on why, but I really like her…

Machi suddenly said something, and Lamiroir looked over at him.

"What is it, Machi?" she asked. The boy spoke again, and the woman gasped. "What… but you'd be alone!" He replied.

"Um, what seems to be the problem?" I asked.

"Machi… he is not good around strangers. He wishes to go out for a breath of fresh air. Would that be alright?" Lamiroir asked.

"Uh, sure, of course," I said. We watched as the boy stood and made his way out the door, before the woman looked at me again.

"Very well. What is it you wished to ask me about?" she asked.

"The Republic of Borginia… that's in Northern Europe, right?" I asked.

"I've never even heard of it," Trucy admitted.

"I started out singing in a restaurant. Then a producer called me. Before I knew it, here I am," Lamiroir said.

"You don't say!" Trucy gasped in excitement. "You know, our daddy plays piano in a restaurant!"

"Producers tend to look for talent, Trucy," I said, earning a giggle from her. I smiled, before looking at the woman. "Lamiroir, you're not from Borginia originally? Were you born here?" I asked. For the past week, I thought the woman seemed familiar. This was the first time I'd gotten to sit and talk to her.

Maybe… just maybe... I'd figure out how I knew her.

"Well…" Lamiroir hummed.

"Oh…" I said, feeling a little disheartened. "Is that supposed to be a secret?"

"Image is everything when you're a star, remember Polly?"

"Ah, yes, it is something like this," she said. "A contract, you might say. I'm also not to speak anything but Borginese in public," she admitted.

"Image is important, I guess," I sighed. Better luck next time…

"You're not just all image though! I love your songs!" Trucy gushed. "A real 'Siren of the Ballad,' right?"

"Yes, in Borginese, 'Lamiroir' means 'the Siren,'" the woman said with a smile.

"Your pianist… Machi, was it?" Trucy said. "He's cute! Like a porcelain doll…"

"He's very 'European,'" I added.

"I met him while singing in restaurants in Borginia. He is an orphan… yet his playing is exquisite. Soon he came to live with me," Lamiroir explained. My stomach twisted slightly, and my throat closed, but I couldn't identify the emotion that suddenly sprang up in me, so I pushed it away.

"It's like a fairy tale, almost," Trucy sighed.

"I noticed he hardly leaves your side," I said, earning a weird look from both women, before realizing my voice was a little colder then I meant. I cleared my throat slightly.

"Yes, well, he is blind. At first, I hesitated at dragging him across the world," Lamiroir explained.

"He doesn't speak English, either, does he?" I asked, careful to make sure my voice wasn't cold.

"He had never left Borginia before we met," Lamiroir admitted. "I made his presence part of my contract. Machi and I together are 'Lamiroir.' Together, always."

My stomach twisted again. I fought down that feeling, not dwelling on it long enough to really identify it.

"So, about Mr. LeTouse…" I began.

"Mr. LeTouse… was my new manager," Lamiroir said.

"New?" I asked.

"Yes, from three months ago. Around when I received Mr. Gavin's invitation to come. I met Mr. LeTouse at my office. He was to be my manager and bodyguard… and, as it turned out, my interpreter," she explained.

"Interpreter… even though you speak English," I said.

"Yes, but we were to visit more places than just here," she reminded me. "We had a concert in Japan scheduled after this one, though I fear that may have to be cancelled now…"

That's right. I was still trying to figure out how to bring it up to everyone that I would be going on tour with the Gavinners… I glanced at Trucy. Maybe it's for the better that I'm not now…

"Was Mr. LeTouse from the Republic of Borginia, too?" Trucy asked.

"Well… he was only with me for three months. I'm afraid there is much I do not know about him. And now, I shall never know." The woman sighed sadly, and it nearly broke my heart. "No one will even tell me why he has died."

"I-I'm sorry…" I said softly. "Gavin said we weren't to talk to anyone…"

"Mr. LeTouse… was a talented man. The 'Siren of the Ballad'… that phrase was his idea, you know. I am happy for him that it has become so well known," she said softly. I offered her a small smile before leaning back. The three of us sat in silence for a few moments, before I noticed something.

Lamiroir was missing her brooch. I knew it was her's because I had worn an identical one on stage.

"Lamiroir, is this yours?" I asked, pulling it out. She reached for it, picking it up, before gasping.

"My brooch… yes! Well… it may be mine," she admitted.

"I knew it. You must have lost it earlier," I said. She nodded.

"Well, that explains the brooch we found. It was Lamiroir's!" Trucy said brightly.

So I was right… but that begs the question…

"Is something wrong, Polly?" Trucy asked, looking over at me.

What was it doing at the crime scene?

With nothing left to ask Lamiroir, we left the Gavinner's dressing room. Someone very nearly ran into us with their rushing.

"Whoa! Who's there now!?" I gasped.

"Ah, it's you," Ema gasped, looking over at me. She scowled at me. "Where were you!?" she demanded.

"Ack! Ema! Is something wrong?" I asked. She's looking grumpier than usual…

"You bet something's wrong!" she yelled at me. I took a step back, leaning against the door Trucy and I just came through. "The impossible's happened! Arrrgh! It's all your fault, you know!"

Oops. Maybe this is about us leaving the crime scene… I suddenly realized.

"What do you mean by 'impossible'?" Trucy asked.

"Well it's gone! Utterly gone!" the woman snapped.

"What gone?" Trucy asked.

"The body, stupid! What else?"

"Eh?"

"Mr. LeTouse's body has disappeared!" Ema clarified.

"Whaaaaaat!?" Trucy and I gasped. Ema grabbed our arms and dragged us both back to the crime scene, where Gavin waited.

"Ah, Gavin," I said.

"From your vacant stare, I gather you've heard the news," he said grimly, arms crossed.

"I heard Mr. LeTouse's body has gone missing…" I said.

"Look for yourself," the prosecutor invited. "Quite the pickle. Quite. The. Pickle."

Despite his calm exterior, I could tell a violent storm was brewing beneath the surface.

"How can you just stand there!?" Ema demanded. "We have to start the investi—"

"There's no need for alarm, Fräulein Detective."

"Wha!?"

"All entrances and exits have been sealed. The body will not leave the building," Gavin reminded us. "So, I suggest we go find ourselves a cadaver. There will be plenty of time to ponder the 'whys' later."

"Well, you seem pretty sure of yourself, Mr. Gavin," Trucy suddenly said.

"Oh, we'll find him. I'm rather enjoying this," Gavin said. Suddenly I realized there might not be a storm under the surface. For the first time tonight, it was someone else facing misfortune, not himself (well, unless you count LeTouse himself…).

How could Mr. LeTouse's body just 'disappear'? I wondered.

"Well, you heard the man. Let's get searching!" Trucy said brightly. I nodded, turning towards the door, only for someone else to come in, looking quite agitated.

"Yes, Daryan?" Gavin asked, noticing him.

"See, Geeter's gone missing. It was in the dressing room," the man explained.

"Geeter? Who's Geeter!?" Trucy demanded.

"That's what I call my guitar! You like, man?" Crescend said.

"Your guitar… was stolen?" Gavin asked, seeming surprised. Crescend nodded.

"This hasn't been a good day for guitars or geeters," Ema commented, and I knew she was referencing the earlier incident with the burning guitar. I couldn't help but smile slightly at that.

"Okay, Body first, then guitar. And if someone finds that guitar, please bring it to our dressing room," Gavin said, a note of authority in his voice. I nodded, leading Trucy out. Not fast enough, though, to miss Crescend's last words.

"Geeter's like a missing person, not lost 'n' found, man!"

We searched for a bit before reaching the stage.

"Hmm. Does something seem different to you, Polly?" Trucy asked.

"Yeah, the tower was raised. Come on, there's a ladder on the back," I said, running over to the ladder.

"How do you know that?" Trucy asked, following me up.

"I helped set up the tower," I answered distractedly. I hated heights. Of course, earlier, I hadn't been thinking about that, but now it was at the forefront of my mind. I gasped when we reached the top. Trucy screamed, attracting everyone to the stage.

We found two things we were looking for, and one thing we never expected to find. The body, guitar in hand, and the pianist, Machi Tobaye.

Finally, after some questioning as to finding the body, Ema drove us back to the office. I was too high strung to give her directions home, and Trucy had fallen asleep in the back.

"Thanks for the ride," I said, scooping Trucy up onto my back.

"No problem," she said, driving off, leaving me to carry my sleeping sister in. I carefully placed her on the couch, carefully pulling her cape and had off, before stretching out on the floor myself. I shot Dad a text telling him where we were so he wouldn't worry.

It was a few more hours before I could coax my body to fall asleep.

"Wow, that concert last night sure went south in a hurry," Trucy said as we ate breakfast: Eldoon Noodles. There was nothing in the office, and I was too tired to go anywhere else further.

"No kidding. Why did they arrest Machi!? Why!?" Trucy demanded. We found out by the news this morning.

"Don't look at me like it's my fault!" I snapped, sulking in my bowl of noodles. Machi Tobaye, the blind pianist… arrested on suspicion of murdering Romein LeTouse…

"I can't believe such a cute little boy could do something so horrible," Trucy sighed.

"I guess they had proof of some kind," I said with a shrug.

"What proof could possible prove that!?" Trucy demanded.

"Mornin'," a voice suddenly said from the door. I looked up, spotting Gavin, and was suddenly aware that my hair was still a mess from waking up, and that I was still in the wrinkled stage suit I wore under my cape.

"G-Gavin!?" I gasped, a little jealous of his perfect appearance, as though he hadn't been up all night as well.

"What a night, eh? I apologize for being so upset," he said.

"Mr. Gavin, do you know what's going on? Why did they arrest Machi!? Why!?" Trucy started before I could even respond. I scowled.

"Don't look at him like it's his fault either," I scolded.

"It was tough for me, too," Gavin admitted, sitting. "We performed together last night, after all. Yet…" he trailed off.

"Yet?" Trucy asked.

"The powers that be say that, given the circumstances, it could only have been him," Gavin said, with just a hint of bitterness.

"What do you mean by the 'circumstances'?" I asked, not liking where this was going.

"Lamiroir was invited from Borginia as an ambassador of goodwill. It is vital that this case be wrapped up swiftly. That's all the powers that be want, really," Gavin admitted.

"Well, those are circumstances, alright," I sighed. "But what makes Machi the only possible suspect?"

"Herr Forehead… you seem to have forgotten that you're talking to the prosecution… the enemy," Gavin said with a smirk. I smiled back.

"Ah. Right." It's hard keeping up with Gavin's many sides…

"I'm not at liberty to discuss the particulars of the case. Especially not to the defense attorney," he said.

"What… did you just say? Me? The defense attorney?" I gasped, surprised.

"That what I came to tell you. He's down at the detention center. He wants to request your services," Gavin explained.

"He…? You mean Machi? Machi wants me…?" I asked. Trucy picked up her bowl, slurped down the rest of her food, then slammed the bowl down on the table decisively.

"This is what we've been waiting for, Polly! Let's get going!" she announced.

"Uh… right!" I gasped, finishing my own food quickly. Gavin smiled, standing.

"You might want to get dressed first. Good luck. I'm off to question Lamiroir," he said, leaving.

"R-right. Later!" I called after him. I hope I'm up to this…

After going home and getting ready for the day, we made it to the Detention Center, where Machi was lead to the visitor's room.

Questioning Machi didn't work. We couldn't even comfort the poor kid.

Machi didn't speak English.

I can't think of anything we can do but go with this… and hope for the best at the trial tomorrow…

A/N: I want someone to draw Trucy hiding under Polly's cape… I tried… and failed.

But the picture in my head is just… too freaking cute!

Actually, there's a lot of parts in this chapter that I want drawn, but this is the biggest, hehe.

By the way... SO. MUCH. JEALOUSY.