"I need to eat," Franziska announced. "I don't suppose there is anything remotely edible near here."
"Depends on what you like," Detective Skye said. "I take it fast food doesn't appeal." Franziska wrinkled her nose. "What about seafood?"
"That could be tolerable," Franziska allowed. She eyed the young detective for a moment. She was an interesting person, and one whose short life had included more tragedy than seemed fair. Her failure to qualify as a forensic investigator loomed large and normally Franziska had little time for anything less than perfection. But given the circumstances, it was incredible she had achieved as much as she had.
"There's a nice seafood place, about four blocks from here," Detective Skye said. "And it's a very clear evening, so it should be a pleasant walk."
"Is it likely to be crowded?" Franziska asked. "I am not… comfortable with busy places this evening."
"It's only really busy at the weekend," Detective Skye told her. "During the week it's usually quiet. Plus they know me there, and they know I like to hide away in the corner."
"I take it you eat there often," Franziska surmised. "You work a lot of late nights?"
"Yeah," Skye agreed. "I've not got much to go home to, other than my goldfish Marlo, and he's not much of a conversationalist." She flushed as she obviously realized she'd given away more than she intended to. "That makes me sound like some kind of loser with no friends, which is totally not true. But I guess I'm something of a loner?"
"Friendships are about quality, not quantity," Franziska opined, feeling an unusually strong sense of empathy with the young detective. She squashed the feeling down, there was much to do and feeling sorry for someone who clearly had no use for it was unproductive. "Let's go try out this restaurant."
Skye had been right, the evening was pleasant. It was warm, but not humid and a light breeze ruffled Franziska's hair. Skye walked quietly beside her, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. So many people felt the need to fill up empty air with inane chatter. She appreciated this woman's comfort with stillness.
Mackenzies was a small, family-run restaurant of the kind that was increasingly rare these days. Inside was decorated in tasteful art-deco, with an understated nautical theme. It was a curious combination but worked well. Franziska perused the menu, which was quite short.
"The menu changes every week," Skye explained. "The chef won't use frozen fish, so it's all about what he can get in fresh. No Alaska farmed salmon or crabs flown in from Maryland. It's all locally caught and processed."
The waiter brought the wine list and Franziska waved him away with a demand for sparkling water. Skye ordered a mojito and sipped at it when it arrived, her tension visibly melting away. The short menu made decisions quite easy, Franziska chose the white sea bass with a garlic butter sauce and a green salad. She watched Skye biting her lip as she tried to decide. The waiter came over and asked if she had any questions.
"I can't tell if I want the halibut or the yellow-tail," she told him.
"The yellowtail," the young man advised. "It's really excellent."
"OK," Skye said, sounding relieved. "I'll take that with the fennel salad."
"Wonderful," the waiter said. "Would you like some bread for the table?" Skye nodded and he bustled off.
"So," Franziska said, "We should talk about the bombing."
"Oh!" Skye said. "I got an email from Chief Gumshoe. The case number is NM-1."
"Finally," Franziska grumbled. "So what do we know?"
"I talked to the lab guys," Skye said. The waiter placed bread, olive oil and vinegar in front of them. She tore off a piece of bread and made a pool of oil and vinegar on her side plate. "The bomb was an improvised device, the kind you can find on the internet in about ten seconds. And I'm not talking about the dark web either. The only item which wasn't super-generic and available at your local Home Depot was the cellphone timer."
"Cellphones are hardly a rare or unusual item," Franziska objected.
"Agreed, but this was an old model. And more importantly it had a limited edition Steel Samurai strap on it."
"That foolish television program my fool of a brother spends too much money on?" Franziska said derisively. "I thought it was over."
"Oh it is," Skye agreed. "But there's still a big fanbase. A bit like fans of the original Star Trek or things like that. And like I say, the phone was old. Maybe ten, twelve years old. Back then the Steel Samurai was everywhere."
"Does the strap have a serial number or anything we can use to trace it?" Franziska asked. The waiter appeared with their food and placed the plates down carefully. He smiled at them and withdrew.
Skye shook her head regretfully. "Unfortunately, no. But my thinking is that this wasn't a coincidence. I mean, anyone can pick up a cheap, anonymous burner phone almost anywhere these days. Why use an old phone with a distinctive strap?"
"Perhaps it was just lying around unused," Franziska suggested. "I think we're wasting valuable time on this foolish object."
"I disagree," Skye said and Franziska blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected to be challenged. "I think it's a message."
"A message? One that was blown to pieces by a bomb?" Franziska waved her fork at Skye. "What would be the message?"
"I don't know," Skye said. "Did Mr Edgeworth fill you in on the serial killer case?"
"Foolish fools," Franziska snorted. "I'm not at all convinced this is a case at all."
"Why not?" Skye retorted. "You can't deny there are some odd connections and similarities."
"Different MO's, different signatures, a variety of victim types. The only solid connection you have is that they were all involved in cases that my brother prosecuted or Phoenix Wright defended. Miles Edgeworth was a prolific prosecutor before he made Chief, almost as good as myself, and Phoenix Wright, for all that he is the most foolish fool ever to fool around, was a hard-working attorney, at least until he was disbarred. It's a coincidence."
"What about the shooting?" Skye shot back. "And now, a bomb?"
Franziska took another bite of her fish, which was really excellent and savored it as she thought.
"I will concede that the bomb-maker and the shooter are probably the same person," she said finally. "I need to spend time on the other case files before I will see any other connections."
"All right," Skye said. "That's fair. I've been hip-deep in this case from the beginning. You're still getting up to speed."
"I am perfectly conversant with all the facts," Franziska snapped and Skye flinched. She sighed. "I apologize, it's late and I am very tired. Perhaps we should speak of something else."
"OK," Skye said nervously.
Klavier's cooking skills proved to be quite good, as everyone declared as they ate. The grilled chicken was moist, the asparagus spears tender and the roasted potatoes rich with garlic.
"Mr Gavin," Trucy said, when she'd finished eating. "I'm sorry about what happened. With your brother. It must be hard."
Klavier swallowed hard and took a large swig of water. He gave her a weak smile. "It is hard, fraulein. But thank you. Do not worry about me, you have plenty on your own plate right now."
Trucy looked down. "Yeah."
"Ach, Fraulein Trucy, I didn't mean…" Klavier broke off when there was a knock at the door.
He frowned in confusion, Edgeworth had a key and he couldn't think who else who would come so late in the evening unannounced. He got up and walked to the door warily. Simon stood up and followed silently. He opened the door cautiously and yelped when he was enveloped in a cloud of pastel-colored garments and black hair.
"Klav!" Maya Fey declared happily.
"Maya," he said warmly. He'd met Phoenix's longtime friend last year when she'd come down from Kurain for Christmas and they'd instantly hit it off. She was the only one he allowed to call him Klav, however.
"How are you?" she demanded. "How's Nick?"
"I'm… OK," he said. "Phoenix is… not so good."
"Oh my God!" she shrieked. "Mr Edgeworth said he was going to be OK! Did he lie to me?"
"No," Klavier said, patting her shoulder and stepping back. "He just didn't want you to worry."
A head bobbed around Maya's shoulder and Klavier winked at her. "Hello, Fraulein Pearl."
"Hi, Mr Gavin," Pearl said shyly.
Trucy stumbled over and threw herself into Maya's arms. "Auntie Maya," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so glad you're here."
Maya's face was a riot of emotion. Klavier stepped back and let them have some space. Pearl gave him a look far wiser than her years. "I'll make a room up for you," he told her. "Give me your suitcase and follow me." He took the rolling suitcase from her hand and strode down the hall, Pearl bringing up the rear.
"Tell me more about Detective Monroe," von Karma said suddenly. Ema frowned at her, perturbed.
"He and I don't get along," she said cautiously. "I think he's lazy and sloppy. I've heard rumors that he's even gone so far as to fabricate evidence, but I've no proof of that other than gossip."
"I remember him, vaguely, as a newly recruited young officer, back when Phoenix Wright first appeared on the scene," von Karma said. "Wright's a fool, as I've said before, bumbling along through life almost by accident. He offended that young policeman, and didn't even know he'd done it."
"How?" Ema asked. Von Karma's face was extraordinarily expressive, she thought.
"It was his first real investigation, and it was into the murder of his own mentor," Franziska reminisced. "Miles was tied up into a dozen knots over the case, foolish man, because he'd known Mia Fey and respected her. Monroe was one of the first officers on the scene, reporting directly to Scruffy."
"Scruffy?"
"Gumshoe," von Karma spat. "The story goes that after that case, Monroe was reassigned to work with Detective Goodman."
"Why was he reassigned?" Ema asked curiously.
"Because Scruffy is a foolish fool by anyone's standards but even he won't actually fake evidence. Monroe was caught by another officer trying to transfer a fingerprint from a reference sample to the murder weapon."
"Oh my God!" Ema exclaimed in horror. "Why was he not fired?"
"He was Chief Gant's second cousin," von Karma said witheringly. She finished the last morsel on her plate and pushed it away.
"It's funny," Ema said, chewing contemplatively. "That's the second time this week I've heard someone talk about old Chief Gant keeping incompetent or corrupt people around."
"Really?" von Karma said, her eyes alight. Ema shifted uncomfortably under that laser-like focus. "Who was the first?"
"Prosecutor Payne," Ema said. "Winston Payne, the one who was just murdered."
"Hmm," von Karma said.
"Anyway, how does this relate to Mr Wright and Detective Monroe? Did Mr Wright catch him in the act?" Ema asked her.
"What? No. No, it was something else. Monroe is one of life's sycophants. Idolized my brother for some foolish reason. He was appalled when Phoenix Wright won that case, but that in itself wouldn't be enough. No, that came later, after the trial. Monroe developed an unhealthy interest in Wright's young friend and sister to the victim, Maya Fey. He tried to get closer to her, without success. Wright always managed to be in the right place to thwart him. I don't think it was deliberate. Wright's too foolish to be so observant." Von Karma's face visibly evinced her disgust.
"How come you remember this so well?" Ema said.
"Maya Fey and I are the same age," von Karma told her. "I had watched the whole case from the public gallery of course, with my father, and he was the one who first witnessed Monroe's behavior around her. He mentioned it to me in passing, as an object lesson in dealing with men in my life." A strange look passed over her face and Ema wondered what it meant. "I do not think he would like the lesson I learned."
Ema stared at her, unsure what this meant but unwilling to come out and ask. It sounded… personal and the word on the street was you did not get personal with Franziska von Karma. She looked down at her plate as a way of escaping the awkward moment.
"Prosecutor von Karma," she said after a moment.
"Franziska," von Karma corrected.
"Uh, Franziska," Ema said. "Do you want dessert?" Von Karma… no Franziska raked a hand through her hair, disturbing its perfection. Ema's fingers twitched.
"No," she said. "I am exhausted."
"Then can I offer you a ride to your hotel?" Ema offered. "Or are you staying at the Gavin house?"
"I was going to stay with my brother," Franziska said coolly.
"Mr Edgeworth is staying at the glimmerous fop's house," Ema explained. "We have evidence that the serial killer has been able to access his apartment and we felt it advisable to move him to another secure location."
"I'm not sure I can cope with Klavier Gavin right now," Franziska sighed.
"I hear you," Ema agreed. "Do you want to go to a hotel? Or uh, I have a spare room."
Franziska eyed her for a moment and Ema worried that she'd overstepped her bounds.
"That's very generous," she said, "but I think I will go to the Gatewater. I have a conference call with my colleagues in Germany at midnight. I don't wish to disturb you."
"OK," Ema said. "Let me get the check and then I'll drop you off." She raised a hand and signalled to the waiter.
When he brought the check over in its little leather folder, Ema reached for it and Franziska's hand came down on top of her's.
"I will get this," Franziska said.
"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Ema stuttered.
"No," Franziska agreed. "But I want to." Ema considered fighting her on this, but the feel of Franziska's hand was distracting and before she knew it the prosecutor had slid the folder towards her and placed a silvery credit card inside.
"Thank you for a very tolerable evening," Franziska said as she signed the receipt. "I apologize for not being better company."
"No, you were fine," Ema protested. "Really, it was nice to go out to dinner with someone for once." She kicked herself. Way to make yourself sound totally pathetic, Skye!
But Franziska smiled at her. "Yes," she said. "It was."
It was a little after eight when Ema knocked on Klavier's door. Everyone was sat around the kitchen table eating breakfast, except for Trucy, Klavier and Apollo. She blinked at the sight of Maya and Pearl Fey, in the midst of it all.
"Where's the fop?" she demanded.
Simon raised an eyebrow at her. "In his room, I would imagine," he said.
"Well, someone needs to go get him," Ema said. "And Apollo. You all need to hear this. Is Trucy here?"
"No, she's at school," Athena told her. "Don't tell me she needs to hear this too? I just dropped her off."
"No, no. I actually wanted to be sure she wasn't going to overhear this." Ema said.
Athena's stomach flipped over. "I'll go get Apollo and Klavier."
"I take it you've made a breakthrough," Simon said easily.
Ema nodded, her face grim. "Yes. At least, I have some new leads for us to follow."
"You're going to find who did this to Nick?" Maya said fiercely.
Pearl shoved up the sleeves of her robe, her face even more scary than Maya's. "Yeah. He's going to be sorry."
"Of course," Ema said, slightly disturbed. Never piss off a Fey, she thought to herself.
Klavier emerged, his face gray and his hair tied in a rough ponytail. Ema had never seen him looking so… rough. Apollo was behind him, one hand on his arm and Athena was shooing them both towards the table.
"All right," Ema said. "Hang on to your hats because this is gonna be one hell of a ride." Everyone stared at her. "OK, first of all, Franziska's here. She arrived last night."
"Who?" Athena asked.
"Prosecutor von Karma," Klavier said. "Edgeworth's sister." He turned to Ema with one raised eyebrow. "You're on first name terms?"
"Nonsense," Simon said. "Von Karma-san isn't on first name terms with anyone."
Ema shrugged, pretending disinterest. "She told me to call her Franziska," she replied.
"Hmm," Simon said, giving her a penetrating look.
"OK, so Franziska's up to date on the serial killer case," Ema continued, ignoring him.
"How is that even possible?" Apollo objected. "Even if she read the case file on the plane, a lot's happened in the last 24 hours."
"We went to dinner last night and I filled her in," Ema explained. She flushed at the general expressions of shock and surprise.
"You went to dinner. With Prosecutor von Karma." Klavier said in astonishment.
"Yes. She's a human being. She eats food," Ema retorted, exasperated. "It was late and she was tired from a long flight. She needed to eat and then get some sleep."
"Of course," Klavier said. "But there's a lot more to going to dinner than eating food. She could have gone to her hotel and got room service."
"I don't know," Ema said. "I can only tell you what happened. Are you calling me a liar?"
"Nein, fraulein," Klavier said. "It's just… out of character."
"OK, whatever. She's looking over the cases assigned to Winston and Gaspen Payne this morning." Ema said. "Let's talk about the leads I mentioned."
"I'll make some more coffee," Maya said. "Why don't you all head into the living room where the whiteboard is. Pearl, you can help me clean up." Pearl pouted but didn't complain.
Once everyone was comfortably established on the couches and all eyes trained on Ema, Maya called a taxi to the hospital.
"Let's go see Nick," she said to Pearl. "Leave the investigating to them."
"We're pretty good investigators too!" Pearl objected.
"I know," Maya said. "But I really need to see Nick first. Please, Pearly. I can't do this on my own."
Pearl took her hand. "OK, Mystic Maya. Let's go see Mr Nick."
"So I followed up on the car that Athena and Prosecutor Blackquill realized had federal plates." Ema said. She produced a sheaf of papers. "Unfortunately, there are 3000 Mercedes C class cars registered across the various federal agencies."
"Wow," Athena commented.
"Who knew?" Widget agreed.
Ema waved the papers. "I've gone through and crossed off all white and silver ones. I've also put aside the black ones for now, because I agree with Athena that the car is a dark color but probably not black. So we're left with just 400 cars, in red, blue and brown."
"Brown?" Apollo said, wrinkling his nose. "Odd color for a car."
"Perhaps," Ema said. "It's not important. What is important is where these cars are. There are 73 in California. Another 28 if you add Oregon and Washington states. 32 in Arizona. 12 in Nevada."
"Which agencies?" Simon asked.
"Well, that's where it gets complicated," Ema responded. "But I had the photograph enhanced. Look at this." She pulled out her tablet and showed them the enhanced zoom of the plate. It was still too blurry to read completely but the pattern was clear. "See how there's a letter with two numbers, and then some other larger numbers."
"Yeah," Apollo said, peering at it. "Looks like a G13 or G18, then a 4, not sure about the next two. Then a 6 and a 1."
"So it's G13," Ema told him. "That's a GSA general motor pool car. The 13 refers to the type of vehicle."
"So how are you so sure it's not G18?" Apollo said, squinting at it again.
"Easy. There is no G18 designation."
"Well, if it's a general motor pool car, that doesn't get us a lot further forward." Simon said.
"Agreed," Ema said. But it does narrow the list a bit. The numbers Apollo read out narrow it even more. We're now down to less than 20 cars. Nine of which are in California. Four are right here in Los Angeles."
"If they're general motor pool cars, is there anyway to find out who's using them?" Apollo asked.
"I've put in a request for information with the GSA," Ema replied. "But you know the government, the cogs grind slow. So it'll be a while before we get anything back. But I'm giving you all the files on the California cars so you can be on the lookout. If we see one of them, maybe that'll give me more ammunition to light a fire under some civil servants."
"Somehow, I don't think she's being hyperbolic," Apollo whispered to Klavier.
Ema glared at him. "The second lead we have comes from the interview Franziska and I conducted with Brandi Darke Snapps. According to her, she found out about Angel Starr's new identity and location from a mysterious correspondent. He or she sent her all the information she needed to lure Starr to LA, in exchange for Snapps promising to kill Starr here not in Boston, and deliver a package from Global Studios to Lordly Tailor. Specifically, to an Adrian Andrews. I'm going to interview Andrews this morning."
"Is Von Karma-san going with you?" Blackquill asked, seeming tense.
"No, she said it might be better if she didn't go. I get the impression there's some kind of history between the two of them?"
"You could say that," Klavier said. "There was a time when everyone thought they might marry. But something happened, I don't know what, and Franziska called it off. Left for Germany the next day. It was an oddly emotional reaction for her."
"Marry?" Ema said, feeling strangely dismayed. "I'm going to talk to her ex-fiancé?"
"Yes," Klavier said, giving her a curious look.
"Do you want any of us to come with you?" Apollo asked and Ema gave a relieved sigh.
"Yes, please. I was hoping you or Athena would come. I need someone good at spotting lies and both of you are gifted in that department."
"I'll go," Athena said. "Simon?"
"Two is enough. Let's not spook the potential witness," Blackquill grunted.
"Good. So I have one more lead for follow up if anyone is interested," Ema said hopefully.
"Shoot," Apollo said.
"So this relates to the bombing. The timer was an old cellphone with a limited edition Steel Samurai strap. It seemed significant to me, like a message." She handed a photograph of the strap and the remaining plastic fragments to Apollo.
"OK," he said. "I'll look into it once I've come back from the hospital."
"Oh, of course," Ema said, biting her lip. "Athena, did you want to visit the hospital too, before we go to Lordly Tailor?"
"If you don't mind?" Athena said.
"It's no problem," Ema assured her. "The store doesn't open until ten. So we've got plenty of time."
