A/N Presenting chapter three. I probably would have had this up more quickly, if not for the bit about the trial. I think I'm getting better at this 'humour' stuff. So read on!
Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney, nor do I make any profit from this. Sigh…
Chapter Three: In which there are motorcycles, Gemans, and singing.
Ema Skye was beginning to regret telling Gavin to be more original in irritating her. She had known from the very start that it was probably not a good idea, and she'd admittedly only said it for a comeback, in the hopes of a respite from the Snackoo-snatching, but now, not only was it clear that her rash proposal a bad idea, it was also a dreadfully abysmal one that could and would give her an ample motive to murder the fop.
Now, standing at the front of the precinct, wide-eyed at the thing in front of her and the detestable figure that lounged at its side, she could only utter unintelligible curses and vehement refusals. Indeed, Gavin had sought another way to antagonize her, and successfully. Ema still couldn't decide if this was better or worse than the stealing of her Snackoos.
"Come on, fräulein! Hop on!" Gavin said cheerily.
Worse, she decided, because he probably wouldn't stop nicking her snacks anyway.
"I really do not know why I have not tried this before," he continued, almost to himself, though as blithely as before.
If he had attempted this earlier, coupled with his other annoying habits, she might just have ended up being defended by Apollo. It was anyone's guess for which crime. Or for how many counts. "No, Gavin. Over my dead body."
"Must you really be so reluctant? It is most practical and more convenient for me to whip you over to the crime scene."
"I'm taking the patrol car," Ema said, but as she uttered those words, the car zoomed past her. That's what I get for dilly-dallying. Thanks, Gavin.
The prosecutor smirked as he watched the vehicle speed round the corner. "It seems as though your intended means of transportation has fled under your fiery gaze, fräulein detective. Will you not allow me to be your knight in shining armour?"
"Stuff it, Gavin," the woman quipped, wondering if she could catch a bus, and simultaneously trying to ignore the weeping of her wallet at the very notion.
"It is simplicity in itself. Just sit on the seat behind me," he persisted. "Would you not want to attend to the crime scene before the other officers mess it up?"
Ema's thoughts jumped to Meekins and the other blundering fools that somehow made it into law enforcement, and wept along with her wallet. Oh dear.
Seeing her hesitation, Gavin prompted her along. "And would you not want to get there before the forensics team arrive?"
The carrot was carefully hung in front of the donkey, juicy and tempting. Much too appealing and much too enticing for its own good. "Fine!" she snapped, finally conceding and all too aware that this might potentially spell disaster. "Just this once! And no tricks!"
His eyes turned wide and innocent. " 'Tricks'? I honestly have no idea what you are so delicately insinuating."
"Whatever." Ema wasn't in the mood for entertaining him (not that she ever really was in the mood). "Move aside, you fop."
He obligingly sidled over, moving to the forefront of the seat as Ema got on behind him, glaring holes into the back of his head.
And that was how Ema Skye ended up on Klavier Gavin's motorcycle.
Or, as he liked to call it, his 'hog'. (Stupid name, really. But befitting of a glimmerous fop like Gavin.)
Or, as Ema liked to call it, the 'deathmachine'. (Blunt and to the point. Ema liked it.)
"First and foremost, though, take this."
Ema received a black helmet with two of his trademark 'G's emblazoned in red on the sides. "There's no way I'm wearing this!" she said, glaring at the offending letters, knowing full well that she would have to put it on.
"Suit yourself." Gavin shrugged, and strapped on an identical helmet of his own, revving the motorcycle. The roaring sounded like the rapaciously voracious Snackoo monster that had stalked her dreams only the night before. I did not just think that.
"Ready, fräulein?" he asked with a smirk, and without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward, clearly preparing to set off at full speed and to perhaps give her a warning of his intention.
Why did I agree to this again? Hastily, Ema fumbled with her helmet and jammed it onto her head. To her surprise, Gavin didn't speed off immediately.
"Ah, I think you are forgetting the best part of this, mein liebe."
"Please stop speaking German," Ema said carefully, not at all pleased at his laughing tone. "What did I forget?"
Gavin reached for her two hands in response and placed it on his waist firmly. "You need to put your hands like this, or you may just fall off. And we would not want that, would we?"
Ema would have leapt off the seat at this point and onto the sidewalk, later washing her hands a hundred and fifty-seven times over with two pints of soap and eight litres of water, and then going to the lab to disinfect her palms with a special radioactive light that was technically not suitable for humans, finally finishing off with a healthy slap to the smug fop's face, boss or not. And then repeat the process all over again.
That was what she would have done, had the prosecutor not abruptly accelerated and forced her to keep a tight grip on his waist.
Was this even legal? The speed Gavin was going at was a thousand, a million times faster than she would have expected. Instinctively, to combat the sickly feeling in her stomach that a stone was pressing up against the walls of her intestines, she seized hold of Klavier's waist even more unyieldingly, forcing herself to lean her helmet-clad head against his back. She couldn't even scream for the terror.
Ema could feel the abominable fop shaking with laughter, and she tried not to imagine the stupid smirk that she was sure had spread across his face like a smog of poison diffusing across a pest-ridden field.
She could not see the scenery blurring into a sea of greys and greens, nor the way the road seemed to flee under the terrorization of the tires, but she could hear the wind blowing past them, made sharp and dangerous by the speed they were rushing at. She could feel her lab coat rippling behind her, in danger of being eaten up by the wheels of the deathmachine. She could feel the sheer velocity as they ripped up the road, pressing her against the seat yet simultaneously making her grip even harder onto Gavin.
But most of all, Ema could feel embarrassment lurking under her fear, threatening to rise up and bowl her over. Heat rose in her face, even under the helmet as her boss made yet another leap in speed with all too much alacrity. She was practically pinning herself on his back.
Were they beating every red light in town? Sifting and zipping in and out of the cars that should have been on the streets, honking and angry?
And then they stopped.
It was so sudden that Ema felt herself being thrust forward into Klavier's back with the hard helmet still on her head like a crown. The impact made Gavin lurch forward, losing his balance for a moment, and then attempting to regain it in a most undignified manner—flapping his arms up and down and leaning from side to side precariously. The deathmachine wobbled uncertainly under the shifting of weights.
There were a few moments of collaborated, highly scientific approaches to balancing Gavin's bike. Finally, he simply put his long legs down on the ground. Ema swore that he had intentionally rigged those moments of craziness.
Ema shoved her helmet off of her head and shook out her dishevelled hair, pushing it to Gavin. He took it and placed it next to his own, hooking it onto his motorcycle. Dizziness overcame her as she did so, tottering away from the bike, stumbling onto the ground as her head span and gyrated like an overenthusiastic top. Bewildered, she grabbed hold of the nearest support—a tree perhaps?
No prizes for guessing what she actually seized a hold of.
It was a tree.
"Fräulein detective?" someone asked her, sounding alarmed. Gavin, she thought fuzzily. Wait, who's that again? "Are you alright?"
Argh. Why did she have to have an exceptional phobia of high-speeding deathmachines driven by crazed, immature fops?
"Oh yes, of course," she said, her words slurring together but nevertheless dripping with sarcasm.
Stupid motion sickness. Ema slowly sank to the ground with her head down, closing her eyes and steadying her dizziness. She felt as though her brain had been liquefied, then put inside a tin can and whirled by a blender on the highest setting along with some bananas.
Bit by bit, the detective finally realized that she wasn't standing on her head, and the world wasn't spiralling to some cataclysmic doomsday out of its orbit around the sun, so she got up.
She met a pair of raised eyebrows as she did so, and quickly snapped, "Whatever. I'm fine now. Motion sickness. You drive too fast."
A hesitant smile curved Klavier's lips. "The speed has its merits, I assure you." He gestured around the entrance of the Coliseum. There was not a soul within the barricade of police barriers, except for the drummer of the Gavinners as far as Ema could see.
Disbelieving, Ema was about to rush inside, expecting the other officers and detectives to be at Lamiroir's dressing room, when a patrol car pulled up beside the deathmachine. Out came the detectives she had been going to hitch a ride with. Not only had she managed to arrived on time, she had come earlier than them? That was as impossible as… as… Klav—Apollo becoming the mascot for Snackoos!
"Excellent, is it not?" Gavin gave a Class-A glimmerous fop expression. "Well then, auf wiedersehen, fräulein detective."
Maybe riding his motorcycle wasn't so bad, Ema decided. He didn't seem to want to eat her Snackoos anyhow, so perhaps her spur-of-the-moment idea had paid off.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Klavier added, with an extra flash of pearly white teeth. He bent down to pick up her satchel that had fallen when she had been attempting to shake off her motion sickness. "Here."
Ema took the pouch gratefully, watching as he got onto his hog once again and departed. When he wasn't being a pest, she realized, he was actually a pretty decent guy.
Then she opened her bag to draw out a pack of Snackoos.
It was empty of any snacks. Had she forgotten to pack them?
It was a mark of her newfound respect for Klavier that she did not immediately suspect him.
However, someone kindly left a note of explanation at the very bottom at the bag. It read:
Fräulein detective,
It seems as though I have done you a great favour by aiding you in your attempts to preserve the crime scene from blundering officers as well as practising your scientific techniques without hassle from the forensics team. My hog was not that bad, ja? Therefore, I would be a fool not to kindly and graciously accept my transportation fee that you have so thoughtfully packed into this satchel.
Yours truly,
Klavier Gavin
"The night of the murder, I was on security backstage, at Prosecutor Gavin's request," Ema pouted, glaring at the antagonist.
"Hold it! The night of the murder was the night of the concert, yes?"
"That's right." She adopted a professional attitude and professional tone as she answered Apollo's question. Irritation was reserved for Gavin.
"What was a detective doing on security detail, might I ask? …If it was only a concert?" he questioned, and his last statement sounded as though he were implying that she was there for another reason.
Ema raised her eyebrows at that, and then dismissed it, concurring with the Wright kid. "My thoughts exactly." She paused, discontent. "But, orders are orders. Even when they come from rock gods."
"Prosecutor Gavin…?"
"Yes, allow me to explain. I smelled something that day, you might say. The stench… of conspiracy," he said dramatically, and gave an equally dramatic pause. "That day, at the concert hall."
"Conspiracy…?"
Oh please. Don't get him started.
"Well, isn't it obvious!" Gavin said impatiently, slamming the wall with his fist to give emphasis. "My keys! That whole morning, no, the whole day was ruined! And it's all because someone stole my keys!"
Ema rather thought it was more embarrassing to steal keys on a heart-shaped ring than to lose them.
"I couldn't ride my hog to the show, I couldn't open my guitar case…" he ranted.
Ema really couldn't be bothered to listen, but then the defence attorney spoke and she pricked up her ears. "Isn't it possible he simply misplaced them?"
"Misplaced them! Misplaced items don't just wander into a murder victim's hand on their own!"
That's kinda a bad idea to bring up in court…
"What's this!" The judge shot up from his chair, eyes popping wide open. "Prosecutor Gavin, if your keys were in the victim's hand…" He paused as if to consider the implications. "That makes you a prime suspect!" he concluded with a stern expression on his face.
Ema enjoyed the uproar it caused. Everyone's favourite rock star wasn't so innocent after all, was he? She only wished Klavier would squirm in shock or discomfort, but he merely raised his hands to run down an air guitar solo. Fop. She looked away. Oh, spare me. Please.
It was then that a deep, heavenly-sounding voice descended upon the courtroom, rich and unwavering. "Love, slow-acting and new. Atroquinine… is waiting for you…"
The detective's head snapped up, keeping herself carefully ignorant of the fact that she had just thought the fop's voice was 'heavenly'.
"…The killing happened in the middle of my concert."
So that guy was just trying to show off. Nothing to do with the case. No one was impressed, Gavin. Give it up.
"I was… like a sailor, adrift on a sea of sound. Anyway, I didn't want anything stolen," he said, snapping his fingers to emphasize his apparent musicality. "So I put the detective with the most time on their hands on the task." He gave her a smirk.
"I see. I can accept that." That was the judge, of course.
"Well I can't!" Ema butted in, furious. "What do you mean 'time on their hands'!"
How dare he! Embarrassing her in front of court! Sure, she appeared to be munching Snackoos most of the time, or reading science magazines in the office, but those were breaks. He always dropped by at all the wrong moments—wait, no. He visited so often, after all, to infuriate her, so when she was working, he was the one who distracted her!
"Please, the testimony."
Grudgingly, Ema continued. "Only people involved with the concert in some way were allowed backstage." She paused in case Apollo felt the need to exercise his… what did he call it… Chords of Iron…? "At the beginning of the third set… I heard shots."
"Hold it! I believe we were having a chat when we heard the shots."
"You were the one chatting. I was eating Snackoos," she said truthfully, munching on a few to illustrate her point.
"Ah! Hey! No snacking in court!" the judge exclaimed.
He was ignored.
"And you're sure the shots came from Lamiroir's room?" Gavin asked.
Ema ignored him too.
"Yes, absolutely," the red-clad attorney supplied.
"Hey, I'm the one being cross-examined here!" she interjected, if only to wipe the look on Gavin's countenance off. "Here, this'll keep you quiet!"
KA-TONK. Snackoo'd. Well, almost. She had thrown it in an arc so Apollo could catch it.
"Ah, thanks." He gave a cheesy grin, and his expression was such that Ema thought that he had, in reality, been dying to try the Snackoos that she was also carrying on her person. "So… MUNCH… how about it… MUNCH… Ema?"
"We were right… MUNCH… there. Hard to be mistaken about that… MUNCH." She didn't know what to think when she saw the prosecutor's amusement.
"Please, either talk, or eat. Not both at the same time!" The judge's eyes widened as if he found the very notion incomprehensible.
Ema was tempted to choose eating as she caught a look from Gavin, but decided against it. "... gulp… Right, so after that… me and Mr Lawyer there opened the dressing room door. I went into the dressing room, filled with blaring rock music, and found the body." She recalled, quite unpleasantly, the scene that had greeted her, only made worse by the infernal noise that crackled over the speakers.
"I examined the scene and determined that only the defendant could have done it." She stopped, knowing what was coming next.
"Hold it! How could you know something like that!"
"As I said, it was clear from the circumstances." She proceeded to explain the logic behind the escape route, and as such, the air vent.
Apollo's reaction: priceless.
Her mood was ruined was Gavin intervened and tied it all up. "That air vent was the only way out of the room! The defendant's fingerprints were found on the grill!" A pointing finger punctuated the next statement. "Well, Herr Forehead? What fairy tale does this suggest to you?"
The prosecution was as merciless as the defence was speechless. Apollo looked so lost and desperate that his spikes were even drooping, as if the gel that Ema knew he used had been worn thin by sweat. Eventually, however, he managed to scramble up a last-minute witness: Lamiroir.
Interesting… As Ema entered the prosecutor's lobby, she really wondered if Apollo could give Gavin a good trashing.
Ah well, maybe it's too much to hope for.
"I understand why you would want to protect Machi. Yet remember, you are the Siren of the Ballad…" He paused for dramatic effect, then leaned forward with an easy smile. "…And lies do not become such a creature."
"What does the prosecution mean!"
"Apollo! What's he talking about!"
Whispers and exclamations claimed the court, sweeping around like a wind through the trees. Klavier could barely restrained himself from laughing out loud at the reaction from both the court and Herr Forehead, who looked decidedly exasperated.
Klavier resumed his routine, his plan from the very start, Justice looking more and more helpless as he continued. Finally, he finished off the defence's witness. "Herr Judge!"
"Yes?"
"The prosecutor requests that the witness… be excused. Please."
And the judge conceded.
"…Danke. Now where were we?" Klavier looked to the witness stand as the bailiff prepared to escort Lamiroir away, pondering… "Ah yes, I would like to hear from the Fräulein Detective again."
"Objection! Wait!" The rock star turned to the defence bench expectantly. "Let me hear Lamiroir's testimony one last time…"
He was denied, and Lamiroir gave a final word of apology as she left, confusion clear in her eyes. It had not seemed as though she was lying—yet, it was obvious that she was.
"At last, back to the real trial." It was imperative that this be finished quickly. "Ready, Herr Forehead?" Of course, he needed the defence's cooperation. To stop pursuing the testimony of the Siren of the Ballad, find another avenue of approach. Should they find the truth as swiftly as possible, it could not be done by a barrage of dead-ends. Unfortunately, Justice didn't seem to want to give it up.
"Fräulein Detective, how far had we gotten until we were so rudely interrupted?"
"Don't ask me!"
Ah, more feisty than usual. Klavier looked down, chuckling as his shoulders shook gently. "I dislike saying the same thing twice." He glanced up again to survey her reaction. "And I never repeat a song for an encore."
"…If you would, Ms Skye."
"…Hmph." She looked to the side, as though she were so furious with him a glare could not sufficiently convey her anger and she couldn't bear to spare him a glance. "I believe I was saying that the only way Mr LeTouse's killer could have escaped… was through that air vent on the ceiling."
"Ah, yes, there was only one door in the room. And a witness, you, was standing in front of it."
"The air vent isn't very big, see." Ema put on her rose-tinted glasses. "Kind of limits the people who could possibly get through."
"I certainly would have a difficult time," the judge said airily.
"You sure would. Not that you would have been there in the first place, though. Remember, the whole backstage area was off-limits to people not involved with the concert. The only one who meets the conditions for our killer…" She paused, perhaps in distaste at her next words (for Klavier knew of her doubt of Machi as the killer) or to attempt to recall the pronunciation of Tobaye's name.. "…is the defendant.
Excellent. Succinct and to the point. "…A virtuoso performance!" he said truthfully. "I couldn't have put it better myself."
"Hm. She does state a clear case," the judge agreed. "Though, reading the report, something caught my eye."
So Herr Judge does actually read case files. "Oh? What's that?"
"The circumstances of the defendant's arrest."
"The circumstances…?" Justice kneaded his forehead with his index finger as though trying to recall the mind-boggling scene that had greeted him at the top of the raised stage.
"…A perceptive observation, Herr Judge."
"Ah, er, thanks! It was kind of an accident, really. But you work in this job long enough…" the judge said proudly. "…you get a nose for things. Eh he he."
…Right… "Very good, Fräulein Detective." Klavier paid no heed to the robed man. "Perhaps you could tie it all together for us. Why was the body moved? And how does that lead us to the killer?"
"I believe Machi stole the body because of some lyrics," Ema started, only to be interrupted by a loud and raucous voice.
"Hold it! Who would steal a body just to match some lyrics!"
"I didn't believe it myself," the detective said. "But it can't just be a coincidence."
"It is as the Fräulein Detective says. Let us begin with the first verse." Klavier was about to open his mouth to start singing it out, but a wickedly amusing idea suddenly flashed across his mind. "If you would, Fräulein Detective."
Her expression… was priceless. Eyes wide, now fully exposing the otherwise dull and dark green that lurked in its depths, fiercely glaring at him nonetheless. Her fingers twitched, as though itching to unseal her packet of snacks and hit him with one of her tasty projectiles. (Or not so tasty, as Klavier later found out.)
"What? You want me to sing it?"
"You are the witness, ja?" He smirked playfully, enjoying the scene before him. "Or did you want me to sing?"
Ema looked as though she wanted to bone him in the head, simultaneously reddening at the very notion or, Klavier amended, in anger.
"I warn you, my fee as a vocalist is not trivial."
He could almost see the ten-figure amounts dance before her eyes. (Twelve figures, actually, but that was irrelevant.)
"Fine, fine!" she hastily said, her voice now raspy and dry. "Er, ahem! Let's look at the first part of the lyrics, shall we?"
Klavier was, admittedly, curious as to the tone she would produce. There was a short stretch of silence as Ema wriggled uncomfortably amidst the eyes that were all focused on her. " 'When you stole away the keys my heart held on to so tight.'"
There was a slight waver in her voice, but not the sound of a vibrato gone wrong; a clear mark of nervousness. Nevertheless, the prosecutor was impressed by her lucid tone and ringing clarity, smooth and not at all airy. I didn't know mein Fräulein Detective had such a nice singing voice.
"Indeed," he said, realizing the expectant eyes that were now turned on him. "My favourite heart-shaped key ring was stolen that morning." With some amusement, he noted the reaction to 'my favourite heart-shaped key ring'.
"Next, we go to the right page of the lyrics sheet." A slight ruffle as both her and the defence attorney moved the paper. "Where we find…" Klavier leaned forward to hear her sing once more. " 'Burning in on my heart. Fire. Burn my love away. All away.'"
There was less tension apparent in her voice, though she still stiffened at Klavier's intent eyes.
"As we know," she continued. "Prosecutor Gavin's guitar burst into flame. 'Like a bullet of love. Fire. Take my life away. All away.'" Ah, how he now regretted writing those lyrics. "Mr LeTouse's life was taken by a bullet," she explained.
"Bravo, Fräulein Detective. Your singing… it's not bad," he complimented. "Now, for the finale! 'Guitar, Guitar… Up together to the sky.' As it says in the lyrics, Mr LeTouse…" He raised his eyebrows slightly the queer look Ema was giving him. "…was found with a guitar, high in the 'sky' over the stage. No series of coincidences could be so well-conceived!" Klavier concluded.
"He's right," Ema reluctantly concurred. "…Scientifically speaking."
A/N And that is the awkward ending to the chapter. By the way, I'll be overseas next week for about ten days. So don't expect any updates… Sorry. Though when I return, I expect to see lots of mail in my inbox. Cough cough. Oh yeah, I edited chapters one and two, so you may read them again if you want.