Chapter Six

February 12, 2:00 p.m., Detention Center

I didn't go back to the detention center immediately, even though it would have been more convenient that way. Instead, I went back to my office for about an hour and mulled over the new evidence that Detective Rayne had given me. The manila folder sat on my desk expectantly, and every time I looked at it I could swear it was leering at me.

It was difficult to describe the feelings those pictures aroused in me. Gah, wait, poor choice of words! Not "aroused" so much as... induced. Yes, induced; that was a nice, safe, neutral word. However, "induced" didn't even begin to suggest at the heat that rose in my cheeks and the nosebleed that threatened to erupt every time I glanced over at those photographs. There were only four of them, but somehow they managed to be more intimidating than every prosecutor I had ever known. No, really, no exaggeration. Combine Edgeworth, both Von Karmas, and even Payne, and they still wouldn't even come close to how these pictures affected me.

By the time I'd finally come to terms with the contents of the manila folder, it was almost two o'clock, so I steeled my nerves and marched back to the detention center. Well, marched to the bus stop, then rode the bus, then marched-- you get the idea. It was time to confront Gumshoe on this matter once and for all.

He looked surprised to see me again. "Look, pal, if you think you're going to change my mind..."

I pulled out the first photograph and slapped it up against the glass. Detective Gumshoe paled and sat heavily in the chair on his side of the divider. "Talk," I demanded.

For a second, I worried that I'd gone too far, and that he'd start crying again. I don't think I could have handled a blubbering Gumshoe after all I'd been through that day. Luckily for me, he merely took a deep breath and started talking. I sighed with relief and took my own chair.

"It's not what it looks like," he began.

"Then please, enlighten me," I retorted. "Because it looks an awful lot like..."

"I know what it LOOKS like, pal!" He huffed and crossed his arms, cheeks burning red. "That's why I said 'it's not what it looks like', see? People always jump to conclusions when they see something like that."

"Well, then tell me what conclusion I should have reached, because I am frankly at a loss."

He gave me that kicked puppy look, and I regretted being so harsh with him. "Gee, pal, you can be as mean as a prosecutor when you really want to be." Ouch.

"I'm sorry. Just... please, tell me what this is supposed to mean."

Sighing heavily, he made a twirling gesture with his finger, indicating that I should turn the photo around. "Give it another look, would you?" I did, even though my eyes had already been seared with the afterimage of that photo. I could practically draw it from memory-- not that I'd ever want to!

It was Detective Gumshoe and Prosecutor Edgeworth, locked in what appeared to be a passionate kiss. Their faces were flushed and slightly shiny, as if damp from sweat. Gumshoe was shirtless and straddling Edgeworth's prone body on hands and knees. The prosecutor was still clothed, but the detective seemed to be untying his frilly cravat. Looking at this again was making me blush, and I wasn't sure if it was because I was embarrassed to be looking at it, or... something else. I put those thoughts out of my head immediately. They certainly weren't going to help me with Gumshoe's problem.

"I'm looking at it," I prompted, hoping that next he'd tell me I could stop looking at it.

"Looks bad, doesn't it? Really, uh, incriminating?"

Almost word for word what Detective Rayne had said earlier. "Ah-yup. Drop the other shoe, Gumshoe."

"Here's what really happened... Mr. Edgeworth has been staying in a hotel for the past week while his house is being painted. The fumes bother him, see? Anyway, I was bringing him some things from his house so he wouldn't have to trouble himself to go back in there for them.

"He invited me to stay for a drink, and I did. They have a really nice minibar in Mr. Edgeworth's room. Well, we got caught up talking about past cases, and one drink turned into five or six, and I thought it'd be a nifty idea to go try out the hotel jacuzzi. Mr. Edgeworth said okay, but that he wasn't going in with me, and I said he could just sit in a pool chair and talk with me.

"We got down there, and..."

"Wait, wait," I interrupted, holding up a hand. "You two got drunk together, then went for a dip in the hot tub?"

"No, he didn't want to go in the water," Gumshoe reminded me. "Just bear with me, pal, okay? It'll all make sense when I'm finished." I doubted it, but let him continue. "Anyway... where was I? Ah, right. We got down to the pool and I just went in wearing my shorts-- forgot to bring trunks, but it was late so nobody else was there to care. Talked for a little while longer, and then..." He coughed. "Uh, well, Mr. Edgeworth had a few too many to drink, I suppose, because all of a sudden he toppled right out of his pool chair into the jacuzzi."

"He what?!" I stared at Gumshoe. Then, unable to contain myself, I laughed hysterically.

"Hey, pal! It's not funny!" he said, looking angry and a little hurt on Edgeworth's behalf. "I was really scared! Not to mention, I was three sheets to the wind myself, so I didn't do such a great job rescuing him. By the time I got him out of the tub, he'd swallowed a lot of water. I laid him out on the floor, loosened that froofy tie-thing he wears all the time, and gave him mouth-to-mouth. That's when the pictures must have been taken."

I blinked and looked at the pictures with new eyes. When explained that way, the pictures made perfect sense. Edgeworth certainly didn't seem responsive, at second glance. His arms were down by his sides, his eyes were closed, and the muscles of his face were slack. The detective's expression seemed more "worried" now than "intensely passionate", as I'd assumed (though thinking of Gumshoe with an "intensely passionate" expression made me a little ill). Even the slight flush to their cheeks was understandable, given how much alcohol they'd consumed.

"Well, that certainly clears some things up," I said thoughtfully, rubbing my chin. So, there really weren't any illicit relations between Edgeworth and Gumshoe? That was a relief. Although, Gumshoe hadn't denied it when I asked him if he really loved Edgeworth... But that wasn't important at the moment. "It still doesn't make total sense to me, though. Why, if this was just a big misunderstanding, wouldn't you tell me about what happened?"

Gumshoe was back to looking miserable. "Mr. Edgeworth... didn't know about the pictures. He told me not to tell anyone about what happened that night, because he was embarrassed for getting so drunk. It's not something he does very often, you know? Anyway, when that Rotzi woman told me about those pictures, and threatened to publish them, I knew I had to keep it to myself. Mr. Edgeworth would have my job if he knew that anyone had found out-- not to mention what sort of assumptions people would make, seeing those pictures! You see why I had to keep my big mouth shut, pal?"

"You wanted to protect his reputation." Gumshoe nodded glumly. "Well, I guess that's a noble thing to do, but why didn't you go to Edgeworth for help when that woman started blackmailing you?"

He looked at me as though I'd grown a second head. "Do you really think he would have wanted me to bother him with something like that? Mr. Edgeworth is an important man, not like me. He doesn't have time for trivial stuff like that."

"I wouldn't call it trivial. After all, you're on trial for murder now because of it." I paused, a horrible realization dawning on me. "You... you still haven't told him, have you? That's why he's still prosecuting you! He doesn't even know?!"

"Of course he doesn't, and he won't." The detective had that stubborn look again. "If I tell him... If I reveal what happened in court, she'll make things worse."

"Who's 'she'?"

"...I can't tell you."

I made a frustrated noise and slammed my hands down on the table. "Detective Richard Gumshoe, so help me, if you don't tell me what's going on right now, I'll go show these pictures to Edgeworth myself!"

In all the time I've known Detective Gumshoe, I don't think I've ever seen him look so stunned. "You... you..."

"Yes, I would," I confirmed, before he could finish his sentence. "I'll go straight to his office from here if I have to!"

"No, not that," he said, shaking his head. "You used my first name. When did I ever tell you my first name?"

I just about fell through the floor. How could he be so clueless sometimes? "Detective... when we first met, you introduced yourself as 'Dick Gumshoe'. Unless your parents were really lazy, 'Dick' is just a nickname for 'Richard'. Sort of like how Maya always calls me 'Nick' because it's short for 'Phoenix'. You understand now?"

"Oh. Right. Well... I guess you're going to have to do what you need to do, because I'm not saying another word!" He mimed zipping his mouth shut and folded his arms obstinately.

"Your diehard attitude is commendable," I said dryly. "I just wish you wouldn't use it on me." With a sigh, I put the photos back into their folder and stood from my chair. "I'm going to talk with Edgeworth. Surely there's something he can do to help."

Gumshoe looked anxious, but didn't try to stop me. "... If you think it's best," he mumbled.

I nodded. "I think it would have been best if you'd told him from the start." At his startled look, I added, "Real friends don't think your problems are "trivial", especially when it involves them as well. I'll see you tomorrow, Detective Gumshoe."

With that parting tidbit of wisdom, I left the detention center and headed for the courthouse.