Disclaimer: ACE! ATTORNEY! DON'T! OWN! DO! OWN! CHANCELLOR! MOORE! STOP! SHOUTING! NOW! NO! NEVER! AAAAAARGH!
… Milton Bradley.
Author's note: Ok, yeah, there's seemingly a major contradiction in the last chapter… namely that Tanya congratulates Alexis for being the first to cause her to object… when Ben causes her to object twice before in the very same chapter.
A seeming contradiction, yes, but not so. The first two objections were simply to interrupt conversation/ shake Ben's nerves… they weren't actually used to present evidence. Alexis' objection (rather, the one she caused Tanya to make) was the first one that involved evidence, and that's what she should have said, but we all know how good Tanya talks English.
Yes I meant to do that, and in no way shape or form am I making this up off the top of my head, after just realizing I made a mistake five seconds ago. Believe it!
Turnabout of the Ancient Mariner
(Trial, part 4)
OMIGOSH! I UNDERSTAND!
"That's…probably the most professional thing I've heard in my life" Chancellor commented sarcastically.
SMACK! Rang the dictionary as it caved in Chancellor's skull.
"Ahem." Alexis cleared her throat, straightened her sleeves (which had become ruffled; darn that Chancellor), and turned to face the court. "Your honor, I believe that Mr. Ne` Chrome's testimony reveals something huge about that night!" She gestured for dramatic emphasis, and to her delight, found it successful. "Namely, specifically, that is to say, it names another witness that has not yet made themselves known before the court!" She shook her head slightly. "And a rather suspicious one at that, seeing as they haven't come forward to testify, haven't owned up, have hidden themselves from the system."
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
"You'll excuse me, Miriam" Tanya quipped. "I'm not sure what edition dictionary you're using…"
"Miriam-Webster, 2007. New Lexicon edition by the looks of it, mademoiselle" Ben said, reading the imprinted words off Chancellor's skull.
"Yes… thank you, Mr. Parenthetical." Tanya rolled her eyes.
"Paraclete" Benvolio corrected patiently.
"Anyway!" Tanya snapped, "back to what I was saying, I hardly see how an instrument going awry has anything to do with a new witness, and, as I was saying earlier, I'm not sure what dictionary you're using… well, ok, I am sure, but I highly doubt that 'declining testimony' is synonymous with 'hiding from the system.'" She flicked her hair back. "Even if there is another witness, which I seriously doubt, there's no reason to be suspicious."
RETALIATION!
"Perhaps in some cases you'd be right, Ms. Krasivaya" Alexis grinned, "but in this case, I assure you they are synonyms." She puffed her chest out. "First, I'd like to address the question of who the witness is." She paused for a moment. "Actually, Ben, would you like to take that one?"
"Certainly, although understand that by taking the job, I am not saying that you yourself are incapable of…"
"Yes, ok, alright, I understand, Ben." She shook her head. "I already know that I know what there is to know, you know?"
"Head… aching…" muttered Chancellor.
"Alright then, mademoiselle" Ben nodded. "First of all" he explained "I would like to call the court's attention the type of band that was playing at the party that night. It was a string ensemble."
BOЗPAЖEHИE!
"I hardly see how this has anything to do with the case, your honor!"
Pardon me!
"But… I was just getting to that, mademoiselle. Not to say you were jumping the gun, or that you were impatient or anything like that." He cleared his throat. "This means that the instrument Mr. Ne` Chrome heard playing was a stringed instrument. Now, let us think. If the string ensemble was playing during that time, who else on the ship could be in a different place, but still be carrying a stringed instrument with them?" He held an open palm up to the gallery. "There is only one person of such a nature, and he is seated right here in this courtroom! Monsieur Stradivarius DuClaw!"
The entire courtroom was silent, and stared at the mangy man sitting in the gallery.
"Oh…" he grumbled. "Damn it, I guess I have to get up now, don't I?"
The courtroom muttered quietly in shock and disbelief. Tanya sighed, and leaned back against the wall. "Honestly, what is it about attorneys that makes them always accuse prosecutors of murder?"
"I know!" Cassie said, leaning over the railing to talk to Tanya. "You think they could do something original like accuse doctors, or their family members or themselves… by that I mean other attorneys, not confessing… but the whole 'prosecutors are evil' line is really getting old, you know? I mean look at you, Tanya! You're not evil, or at least I'd sincerely hope not, because we don't want Chancellor being 'mysteriously killed off' anytime soon…"
"Sh!" Tanya smiled, putting a finger to her lips. "You'll spoil a future plot twist!" The two of them laughed.
"Ben" Chance said, completely serious. "When I die, I want you to have my tire chain, ok?"
"I would comment on how you will probably outlive me…" Ben mused. He turned around and flashed a huge grim. "But I would not want to spoil a future plot twist, now would I?"
Chancellor fell over. On his head. And faked passing out again. "Not… you…too…" were his final words before he lapsed into faux-unconsciousness.
"ORDEEEEEEEEEER UUUUUUUP!" Scotty yelled, smacking the gavel onto the desk. "Well now, Strad, I certainly hope this isn't going where I think it's going."
"ONE!" DuClaw shrieked, holding a finger in the air. "I don't recall ever giving you permission to call me 'Strad', even if we are coworkers, and two, if where I think you think this is going is where you think this is going, I think that your thinking is false."
"Head… aching…" muttered Chancellor.
"Either way" DuClaw said, taking the stand with disdain. "As much as I didn't want to be dragged into this, I suppose I've got no choice now, right?" He tapped his fingernails (the obscenely long ones) impatiently on the stand. "Fire away, low lives," he said, implying that he wanted Alexis to begin. However, when she took a breath, he pounded the desk and pointed his long nails straight at Alexis. "And if you say anything about attorney and low life not being synonyms, I'll cut you."
"Meep, eek, expression of shock" Alexis gulped.
"I think I like this guy," Chance whispered to Culligan.
"Figures" muttered Culligan. "Your liking him, but I'm deserving to be dropping out of a plane flying ten thousand miles above ground into the Mariana trench, wearing nothing but a pair of concrete boots."
"And listening to Crazy Crazy" chimed Chancellor. "Now come on, let's listen to his testimony."
"Well alright, since you've forced me into this thing, I might as well clear some things up. Yes I was on the balcony that night around 10:00, but…" He tapped his fingernails on the side of his head. "Mrs. Noble wasn't."
Pardon me!
"But Mr. DuClaw, as you have already heard, two witnesses have testified to seeing Mrs. Noble around that time!"
"Actually, as you proved, there was only one witness, and he's an idiot." He shook his head, allowing his mangy hair to flow from side to side. "Besides, who's Moore reliable? Someone on the deck needing to look up and away or someone who was there?" He made a grim face. "I've always despised how you attorneys can be so trusting, but… since you've managed to piece enough of the truth together, I suppose I can help you." He leaned forward. "The person Mr. Ne` Chrome thinks was Mrs. Noble… was Zak Newton."
Silence.
More silence, and then.
Complete and utter chaos.
-District Courthouse. 7/11. 12:00 pm.
"I don't think I've ever seen a trial dismissed because of crowd uproar, disquiet, and pandemonium!" exclaimed Alexis.
"It certainly was not dismissed because of any contradiction on our part" Ben nodded glumly. "What kind of judge would actually give precedence to testimony that says an old white woman was actually a young black man?"
"Scotty… he's used to it by now." Chance said, checking his watch. "And I'll bet you anything he just wanted to break for lunch. That's why we get an hour and a half off, instead of twenty minutes." He inched towards the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll…"
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To… investigate…"
Ben shook his head. "You really have no faith in our police force, do you, Chancellor?" He smiled. "There are probably good reasons for that, but I am afraid you are needed in a 'meeting of the minds' if you will, monsieur."
"What?" asked Chancellor, confused.
"We're discussing, talking about, conversing over what to do next" Alexis said sternly. "Now come on!"
"Do I at least get my one phone call?"
"FIVE MINUTES!" Alexis wasn't in a playful mood. She and Ben entered an adjacent room, Ben shrugging his shoulders, Alexis slamming the door behind them.
"Five minutes…" Chance muttered, whipping out his phone. "Two and a half minutes for each then…"
-S.S. Noble. 7/11. 12:18 pm.
A disheveled looking, but actually pristine Studebaker pulled up to the pier. It was painted orange, purple, and silver, partially because they did not match, and partially because there were no words that rhymed with those colors. (If it were known why this particularly mattered to the owner of the car, it would most likely be a key step in understanding the universe… or at least the mind of the author of this story.)
Out of the mismatched car stepped the self-proclaimed king of mismatch himself, everyone's favorite redheaded Latino private eye (and, most likely, the only one you know), Ricardo Writchard.
"Prepare to be investigated!" he yelled, as he always did before entering a crime scene. A woman walking past on the opposite side of the street stood stock still for a moment, made a face, and ran the opposite way.
Unfortunately for her, the scream has also instigated an elephant that was being transported to the Boston Zoo. It broke free of its cage and stampeded down the street, meeting her directly in a place where she would not have been had she continued walking.
Fortunately for the city of Boston, the woman had no friends, family, or any relations to speak of, so the funeral was cheap and the lawsuit that would have cropped up was conveniently swept under the table.
One must ask then, why even bring it up? Why is this of any merit to interrupt the plot of the story? It all comes down to characterization, my friend, but not of whom you might think. The story is not meant to characterize Ricardo Writchard as careless and destructive. For surely, had another individual not also been present at the harbor, the circumstances would not have lined up so perfectly.
"You know…" Came a squeaky voice from in front of the Noble, "I was seriously on the cleaning crew for this ship… seriously… like three days ago." The man sniffed once. "And I seriously thought… have I finally gotten through a job without something serious happening? Seriously? But then, just as I was seriously proud of myself, two days later…"
Liam Sirius tilted his head back and screamed into the sky: "Everywhere I go! Someone dies! SERIOUSLYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
Ricky pulled out his cell phone, looking at the text Chance has sent him.
I srsly sndg u sum hlp. Srsly.
So that's what he meant, huh? Ricky said to himself. "Yo!" He called aloud. "You're the guy that Chancellor sent?"
"Well…" Liam said carefully. "If you seriously mean Chancellor as in 'seriously a Rando Masashi rip off', then seriously, he sent me."
"Rando Ma…" Ricky thought over the reference for a minute. "No… sorry, too obscure."
"Seriously? Rurouni Kenshin then?"
"As in a man with a woman's face!" Ricky said, snapping his fingers triumphantly. "Yes! That's the Chancellor I'm talking about."
"Woopedy doo. Serious congratulations to you. Seriously" Liam said sarcastically.
"You don't sound very serious" Ricky commented. "You actually sound kind of angry at the world… then again, you are a teenager, so…"
"WOULDN'T YOU SERIOUSLY BE ANGRY AT THE WORLD IF YOU WERE SERIOUSLY THE GRIM REAPER'S APPRENTICE? I MEAN, SERIOUSLY! WHY ME?"
"And you didn't ask to be born either, right?"
"Seriously not! That seriously just happened on its own!"
"Funny that" Ricky said offhandedly. "Anyway, are you here to help or complain?"
"Seriously? I'm here to complain" Liam said, completely serious. "Chancellor seriously told me it'd be seriously good practice for you having an ungrateful, seriously annoying sidekick to follow you around. Seriously!"
"What… who does he think he…"
"He seriously told me that if you protested, I should seriously say 'Melissa MacDonald episode."
Ricky flinched visibly. "Yeah… never exactly paid for that one." He wrapped his arm around Liam in a friendly, yet forced way. "Come, son. I shall teach you all I know."
"Seriously? I can be a detective?"
"Heavens no!" Laughed Ricky. "I'm teaching you how to be annoying! Which means… yeah, I suppose I am teaching you how to be a detective, come to think of it." He laughed again. "At least the way I do it, anyhow. Now repeat after me: prepare to be investigated!"
"Seriously prepare to be investigated! SERIOUSLY!" Liam shrieked shrilly. And across the street, a man lifting a piano slipped up, accidentally sliced the rope, and sent the instrument spiraling down on top of a young man in his mid twenties.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Zak Newton screamed like a little girl, and his incredible fear of the falling object was the only thing that gave him the speed to prolong his life. As if the trauma of the fall was not enough, his blind speed caused him to careen, uncontrollably, into a metal lamppost. On top of it all, it was only within the next minute that he was called and asked to testify, and to this day, 'having a Zak' is Boston slang for a short period of time where many things go wrong at once. (Author's note: not true. If you go to real-life Boston and use the expression 'having a Zak', people will either a) not understand you or b) take it to mean something suggestive and/or insulting, and respond accordingly. Just warning you.)
-Deck of the Ship
"Now" Ricky explained, whispering. "The first rule of good investigating is to remain quiet at all times. You never know how loud noise could affect the crime scene, or if anyone is nearby who doesn't want you to know the truth." He straightened his collar smugly. "Just one of the many occupational hazards I grapple with from day to day."
"WOW! SERIOUSLY!?!?!?" Liam squeaked, in an incredibly loud and piercing voice that actually was his whisper.
"Hold it right there!" came a deep, proud voice.
Ricky grabbed Liam and quickly pulled the two of them around a corner, narrowly avoiding being seen by one Jonathan Sherlock, Chief of Police.
Sherlock sniffed the air, licked a finger and stuck it in the wind, and then bellowed: "Ricardo Writchard, you meddlesome private detective! You can't hide from me, you may as well give it up!"
Ricky put on a large smile and stepped out from behind the corner. "Mornin' Chief!" he said brightly.
"Don't Mornin` Chief me, scalawag!" Sherlock reprimanded, fondling his handlebar moustache proudly. "You keep your nose out of police business!"
"What's that about my nose?" Ricky said, thinking on his feet. "You're not anti-Semitic now, are you?"
"What?" Sherlock said, looking around, flustered. "Why on earth would you think such a thing?"
"Well I'm Jewish after all, and you made such a big deal about my nose. I don't know, I might have to go to the minority board on that one."
"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" Liam squeaked, stepping from behind the corner. "Let's get something seriously straight here! You're seriously a redhead, right?"
Ricky was silent for a minute, then responded: "Well… the carpet's the same color as the curtains, if that's what you mean."
Liam cringed. "Seriously… didn't need to hear that. Anyway, you're also seriously Latino, right?"
"Yeah…"
"And you're also… seriously… Jewish?"
Ricky nodded.
"CAN YOU SERIOUSLY EXPLAIN YOUR FAMILY TREE? I MEAN, SERIOUSLY, WHERE THE HECK DO YOU COME FROM?"
Ricky shrugged. "Hey. America." He turned to Sherlock. "And back to what I was saying, I happen to know a very good lawyer, so I'd step off."
"Lousy ingrate." Sherlock muttered. "All those free detective classes, and what does he do? Goes and opens his own business instead of joining the force. How cheap can you…"
"Minority board!"
"Leaving now." Sherlock turned and left in a huff.
Liam shook his head. "What was all that seriously about?"
"Aw, nothing." Ricky waved off, straightening his collar again, "He just doesn't want me hanging around 'cause he knows I'll find something that his boys missed."
"Humility is seriously not your strong point."
"Redundancy is seriously yours."
"Ah, seriously touché."
-Balcony
Ricky and Liam climbed the set of stairs to the balcony of the ship, a huge fixture that ran nearly half the length of the vessel and contained no less than a dozen rooms.
"Do you think Noble will seriously need this ship since he's seriously gone coo-coo?" Liam asked greedily.
"That's very tasteful" Ricky commented. "Someone's wife dies and you wonder if he'll give you his boat."
"Seriously? You were thinking it too."
"But I didn't say it, because I have tact, grace, and self-control." He smiled broadly, as something along the deck caught his eye. "And I'm a good teacher, because you know what I'm going to do?"
"What?"
"What what?"
"What, seriously?"
"Better" Ricky nodded, gesturing towards a leather jacket hanging on a coat rack. "I'm going to teach you how to take fingerprints."
"Are we seriously allowed to mess with the crime scene like that? I mean seriously, what if Sherlock…"
"Leave the Chief to me, just take this dust and have at it."
"Seriously!" Liam shouted, and dove right in. Five minutes later, the air was full of dust, and the jacket was full of gray, lined splotches.
"Alright, now compare the readable prints to the file…"
"Seriously!" He said, quickly scouring the coat for fingerprints. "Let's see… we've got Kendra Noble's prints all over this thing… seriously, probably hers… then we've seriously got Alexis Lexington's prints on the back, Zak Newton's prints are seriously on the lining, Morage Thenue's are on the shoulders, and Jack Noble's prints are seriously over the right… er…" He flushed bright red. "Well, it seriously seems that…well…"
"Nothing to be embarrassed about" Ricky scolded. "Husbands are allowed to cop a feel on their wives, occasionally."
"But they were seriously old people!" Liam said in a shrill whisper.
"Shut up and spray it with Luminol."
"Seriously…" Liam grumbled, but did as he was told. When no results were found, the detective and his Liberty Spiked sidekick shrugged, and walked along the balcony until the reached the scene of the crime, Jacopo Noble's room.
-Author's note corner
You thought I was dead, didn't you?
Nah, I've been busy again. Since I don't get paid for this stuff, it doesn't exactly take precedence, you know?
Anyway, time for the specials (haven't seen them in a while, huh?)
Character In-depth: NOT!
You thought I forget didn't you? No way, Jose!
IT'S! CHRISTMAS! (EVE!) Therefore, I'd like you all to especially cherish this chapter, as it's my Christmas gift to all of you!
… Not satisfied, huh? Years of getting multiple presents have numbed your appreciation, huh? Fine. Two presents. Let's give another character a little limelight, huh? A somewhat amusing short story about everybody's favorite judge, Scotland Domino.
Scotland Domino: Just-the-thing Judge.
Every morning at 6:00 am, Scotland Domino would drearily turn his alarm off and stare up at the ceiling. He didn't actually have to be up until 6:30, but he needed the half hour to debate with himself whether he cared enough to get up that morning.
There are other judges one side of him would argue. You could call in sick just one day; it wouldn't hurt anything.
Slippery slope! Argued the other side. If you call in sick one day, it'll be easier to lie about other days, and you'll never go to work! Besides! A judge is supposed to be HONEST!
I didn't exactly try to hide anything about myself when I was running for office the 'devil' side would shoot back. The people elected me knowing I was like this. And after all, I'm only human!
If you end up not going to work for long periods of time his 'angel' side said, grinning triumphantly and a bit smugly. Who's going to support Lia and Georgia?
Scotty looked over at the woman sleeping next to him. He ran a finger down her dark, ebony arm, lightly so as not to wake her. That, for years, was the only thing that kept him getting up in the morning.
Certainly, his job couldn't keep him getting up. He found it one of the most boring jobs on the face of the planet. For hours he would listen to people argue back and forth, occasionally keeping people under control, and, eventually, declaring a verdict that anyone in the audience could have reached. The only perk was that he didn't have to wear pants. Or a shirt. Or… well, we'll spare you the rest.
It was in such a bored and dreary mood that, one fateful morning at 8:30 am, he called out: "Ms. Moore? Can you top that?"
And the world turned upside down.
For some reason or another, (Scotty didn't know exactly why) he found Chancellor's trials to be interesting, intellectually stimulating, and horrifying, and the combined senses of curiosity, challenge, and need to test his 'flight or fight' system got him out of bed in a fit of near joyous excitement.
He couldn't really place the exact feeling he had whenever Chancellor was defending. There was disbelief, yes, as Chancellor was notorious for messing up, and a bit of shame mixed in there, as some of the things the young attorney said/did were either juvenile, insulting, way too direct, or all three.
On the other hand, there was a sense of admiration in there, as the remarkable man (?) had never lost a case, and always seemed completely unshakable in his defense. There was also camaraderie, Chancellor had, inevitably, become quite a good friend of his.
Overseeing it all, however, was the eerie, even creepy feeling he would sometimes get that the courtroom community was a family. He would often shake such delusions out of his head quickly enough, as most trials left him with a distinct feeling of wanting to disown everyone, but in Chancellor's cases, he would sometimes ponder it for quite some time.
Being the judge, he would be the father figure… that was undeniable. Chancellor wouldn't be his son, the age difference was too small, but he could picture him as that strange nephew of his, going through what one could only call his 'experimental' stage.
Tanya then, would be his daughter. He sometimes thought over this, as claiming someone to be your daughter who… actually… isn't, is always a bit creepy. But he had guided her through seven, going on eight years in America, nearly half the world away from her true parents. He had taken pride in her accomplishments and in her growth, and he really couldn't see her fitting any other way.
This would sometimes bring the question up as to whether he was comfortable with Chancellor dating her. He was a good enough kid, true, but the fact that he was like his nephew made the whole thing seem a bit… ew. He almost found himself objecting sometimes, but would restrain himself by reminding him that it was only incest in his warped and apathetic mind.
Spade then, would be the goofy old uncle who does the same joke routine every time you see him. DuClaw, who he sometimes included, would be the creepy uncle that no one hopes show up. And Cassandra (he had no idea why he included Cassie, as she had only been in one trial) would be another niece… probably a sister of Chance, if he went in-depth with it. Sometimes, when he was extremely bored, his mind would even include Liam Sirius, who always ended up as that obscure cousin who no one really knows how, or if, he's related to them.
Any further thought on the subject was almost always interrupted by a grandiose mistake on Chancellor's part, or an eloquent insult on Tanya's part, and his necessary intervention to prevent the two from either killing or leaping at each other would make him forget all about it.
They were crazy, yes, but they were his crazy people. And he had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be the perfect judge for them if he weren't crazy too.