Miles looked terrible, Maya thought. She'd overheard the yelling in the hall, along with most of the hospital. A blow up between the Chief Prosecutor and one of his most trusted deputies. It didn't bode well. Nick would have known how to fix the problem, she had no doubt. And it was clear that Miles was starting to fray along the edges.
"Miles?" she said tentatively, watching with widened eyes as he sat by Nick's bedside and reached out for her friend's hand.
He looked up and gave her a weak smile. "Maya, Pearl. Have you been talking to him?"
"Yes," Maya said in a subdued voice. "I…" Her throat closed as she looked at Nick. Her oldest friend lay silent and she shivered. "Has there been any change since the operation?"
"No," Miles said tiredly. "The doctors seem to think there's no reason to worry yet. But it gets harder and harder by the day."
Maya walked around the bed and laid a hand on Nick's arm. Miles looked away and found himself being scrutinized by Pearl.
"All these years, and not much changes does it?" she said under her breath.
"I don't know what you mean," Miles said stiffly, but he let Pearl draw him away from the room.
"Come on, Mr Miles," Pearl replied. "This ridiculous triangle between the three of you?"
"What triangle?" Miles said, sounding confused.
"You know," Pearl said significantly. Miles shook his head and she made a frustrated noise. "Mystic Maya's in love with Mr Nick. Mr Nick's in love with you. And you… I guess it's not really a triangle, since I don't think you're in love with Mystic Maya. But I don't know what else to call it."
Miles was gaping at her, his face white. "You think… Wright…" Unable to process what Pearl had asserted, his mouth opened and closed like a baffled fish.
"Of course," Pearl said. "It took me a long time to come around to the idea. After all, if Mystic Maya wanted Mr Nick as her special someone, why wouldn't Mr Nick want Mystic Maya?"
"That's hardly a good reason to think Wright wants… someone else," Miles said lamely.
"No," Pearl agreed. "But that was just the start of my thinking on this, not all of it."
"Look, Pearl, you're a sweet kid and maybe you've read one too many novels…" Miles began and Pearl's eyes flashed.
"I may be just a kid," she said defiantly. "But that doesn't make me wrong."
"What does Maya have to say about this wild idea of yours," Miles said desperately.
"She agrees with me, Mr Miles," Pearl told him. "It makes her sad. She held a candle for Mr Nick for a long time. Still does, really. But she knows now that Mr Nick will never look at her. Not as long as you're around." She shook her head. "Actually, not even if you were gone. I don't think Mr Nick ever saw her as anything other than a friend and a sort of little sister."
"This is insane," Miles denied. "I'm sorry, Pearl. But what you're saying makes no sense."
"I knew it would make you cross," Pearl replied. "I'm sorry, Mr Miles. It's hard to be the object of someone's affections when you don't return them."
"How would you know?" Miles said irritably. He kicked himself immediately. Pearl might be misguided but she didn't deserve the hard edge of his temper. But she seemed unconcerned.
"There was a policeman once who worked for Detective Gumshoe who had something of a soft spot for Mystic Maya," Pearl said, her eyes distant. "It was very hard for her. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. It was lucky he got reassigned."
Miles was starting to feel dizzy. A lack of decent food or rest, no doubt. He opened his mouth to speak but Maya had come out of Wright's room and he really didn't want him left alone for a second.
"Maya," he said warmly, casting a warning glance at Pearl. "Were you able to detect anything?"
Maya frowned at him. "I'm a spirit medium, not a psychic," she said lightly. "There's nothing I can do for him. But I have a friend who might be able to help. I'll call her right away. Are you going to insist on staying here?"
"Yes," Miles said firmly.
The police station was busy, and Ema hurried through, thinking hard. She gasped when she collided with a firm chest and a deep voice laughed at her.
"Detective Cheng!" she said in surprise.
"Ema," Cheng said. "How are you? In a hurry I see."
"Aren't you suspended?" Ema said breathlessly.
"Not any more. Prosecutor von Karma called me in this morning. Said the case against me was, her words, 'a foolish collection of hearsay and circumstantial foolishness'."
"That sounds like her," Ema laughed. "So you're back! That's great, really great. I've missed you."
"Sounds like you've had some excitement while I've been out of the picture."
"Oh, you bet! But listen, I'll fill you in on everything, but running into you is a stroke of luck I really need right now. I need a translation. I've got a dry-cleaning receipt here in Chinese and I need to know what it says."
"Is it really Chinese?" Cheng said.
"Well… the person who wrote it is from Shanghai so… probably?"
"Well, my family are from Hong Kong, so I might have to guess at some of it," Cheng said. "Cantonese is a little different from Mandarin."
"Anything is better than nothing," Ema said. She handed him the photocopy.
"Oh, this isn't too complicated. It's a dry-cleaning bill, you said? This here," he pointed, "it says they removed a bloodstain."
"Blood!" Ema yelped. "I knew it!"
"That was what you wanted to hear?"
"I suspected it, yes," Ema told him.
"You'll have to tell me all about it," Cheng said. "Have dinner with me and Kei-Lin tomorrow night."
"OK," Ema promised. "Now, I really have to go."
Franziska eyed the figure of Klavier Gavin as he entered her office. She recalled Ema Skye's distaste for the man and found herself silently agreeing as he strutted into the room. But then she noticed how his eyes were shadowed and his face was pale.
"Fraulein von Karma," he said, sketching out a bow. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm here to tender my resignation."
"What?" Franziska barked. "You can't quit now, Gavin. We're already two prosecutors down."
"I'm sorry," Gavin said smoothly. "I understand that the timing is bad. But I cannot continue to work under the leadership of Miles Edgeworth."
"What has my little brother done to annoy you so much you'd quit?" Franziska asked, her eyes narrowing.
"It's unimportant," Gavin deflected and yelped as her whip flashed out and cracked by his ear.
"If you're leaving this office in the dire straits it currently finds itself in, I think an explanation is in order," Franziska told him.
He sighed and threw himself into a chair. "He arranged to have mein bruder's execution moved up in secret. It's a betrayal I cannot ignore."
"So I heard," Franziska said.
"Kristoph requested it, probably as a final way of screwing with me. Edgeworth claims his hands were tied, but I don't believe it. He could have found a way to tell me. But he thinks I would have gained no benefit from witnessing Kristoph's… final moments."
"He's right," Franziska told him. Gavin glared at her. "He could not have told you what was happening. Your brother was threatening a civil rights suit. He had a good case. Who knows what the consequences would have been?"
"Once the execution was going ahead, what could Kristoph have done?" Gavin challenged.
"He'd already started filing the suit," Franziska told him. "Martha Bose was his invited witness and she was instructed to complete the filing if you or Mr Justice had managed to get into that observation room."
Gavin stared at her, astonished. "Martha Bose?"
"Yes, your brother's attorney." Franziska said, watching him closely.
"What happened to Frank Orlorn?" Gavin asked.
"Sacked," Franziska told him. "Last year. So, much as I would like to complain about Miles Edgeworth's behavior, I really can't find fault here. And believe me, observing the execution would not have brought the closure you seek."
"Your opinion is noted," Gavin said stiffly.
"It comes from experience," Franziska told him, wagging her finger at him. "Both Miles and I attended my father's execution, you know. It has taken me a very long time to come to terms with the person my father actually was, as opposed to the person he pretended to be. Watching him die did nothing to facilitate that process. It may even have made it worse. He looked so different, at the end. Smaller, less… intimidating. Do you know what his final words to me were?" Gavin shook his head. "'I am so very disappointed in you, Franziska.'"
"Mein Gott," Gavin breathed.
"So you see," she said, ignoring the appalled look on his face, "I know something about closure. And, for the record, he disowned Miles completely. 'You are no son of mine,' he said. I don't think Miles cared much by that point. But it was still a terrible thing to say. If you think denying you the chance to see him one last time was a final act of revenge by your brother, then don't let him win!"
"Stop making sense," Gavin said grumpily. "You're ruining my celebrity-level sulk."
"I do my best," Franziska said with a twinkling smile. "Look, if you want to make Miles Edgeworth's life hell as payback, I'm not going to talk you out of it. But don't quit. You love the law, and you're a fine prosecutor. I'd hate to lose you out of a foolish fit of pique."
"You must be slipping," Gavin said, an unwilling smile forcing it's way onto his face. "You've only managed to call me foolish once."
"I'm cutting down," Franziska told him loftily. "It's bad for my blood pressure."
"You've given me some things to think about," Gavin said after a moment. "I'm not saying I'll stay, but I do need to be sure I'm quitting for the right reasons." He nodded to her and left, with none of the arrogant swagger he'd had before. Franziska looked down at her hand, where she'd been gripping her whip so tightly it had left distinct impressions in her skin. She pursed her lips and tossed the whip onto her desk in irritation, grabbing her phone and tapping out a quick text message. The reply came moments later. She smiled.
Apollo was sitting alone in a booth at the back of Java Judgement. Athena nudged Simon and the prosecutor scowled.
"He's not here."
"No," Athena agreed. "Do you want to go check the office again?"
"Perhaps," Simon said. "But we should talk to Apollo first." He nodded at the forlorn figure. "He looks bad."
Athena eyed him for a second and then grabbed the attention of the barista and ordered coffee for herself and tea for Simon. She watched as Simon stalked over to Apollo and they began talking. Apollo's body language spoke volumes, his arms folded defensively over his chest and his face was bleak. He shook his head in response to something Simon had said and it obviously irritated the samurai prosecutor as Taka spread her wings and screeched at Apollo. Athena frowned to herself. Simon slammed a fist into the table and she jumped in alarm. What was going on over there?
Apollo spotted Athena and Blackquill as soon as they'd entered the coffee shop, but he had hoped they wouldn't spot him. No such luck, Blackquill was bearing down on him with a determined look on his face.
"Where's Gavin-san?" he demanded.
Apollo folded his arms and glared at him. "I don't know. He had a huge fight with Mr Edgeworth at the hospital and then stormed off."
"What were they fighting about?" Blackquill asked.
Apollo sighed. "Mr Edgeworth was the one who arranged for Kristoph's execution date to be moved up in secret. Klavier's devastated. He feels totally betrayed."
"Edgeworth-dono does nothing without good reason," Blackquill asserted. "If he felt this was the correct course of action, then it was. I have faith in his judgement."
Apollo shook his head. "That's not for you to say. Nobody should have the right to rob Klavier of his last chance to see his brother alive." Taka spread her wings and screamed at him but Apollo was not going to be cowed. "It doesn't matter. Klavier's going to quit. He's going to see von Karma this afternoon."
Blackquill gaped at him and then slammed one hand down on the table. "Quit? He can't quit! We're at breaking point already."
"It's not my decision," Apollo told him. He saw Athena approaching with two steaming cups. "He has to do what's right for him."
"What's that?" Athena asked, placing the cups on the table and a restraining hand on Blackquill's arm.
"Gavin-san is quitting," Blackquill bit out.
Athena paled and clapped her hands to her face. "Oh no! What's he going to do if he's not a prosecutor any more?"
"He's talking about going back to music," Apollo told her thinly. "A solo career."
"You don't seem very happy about that," Athena observed cautiously.
"Me? It's none of my business what he does," Apollo said.
"Klavier, darling," a voice said from his office door and he looked up to see the sultry figure of Cassandra Silverstein leaning casually against the frame. "I think you owe me an explanation."
Klavier blinked at her in surprise. "For what?" he asked bluntly. She sauntered into the room and, ignoring the chair, perched on the edge of his desk beside him.
"I'm hearing some very strange rumors," she told him. "And then there's this!" She produced a gossip magazine and tossed it down in front of him. The photograph was of him and Apollo, deep in conversation outside the courthouse. Klavier could see how close he was standing, his body leaning forward and Apollo's face was turned up towards him. The headline screamed "Klavier Gavin's Secret Lover!" He snorted.
"Really? You're mad about this? Why?"
"Why?" she said dangerously. "You're supposed to be dating me. How do you think it looks if you throw me over for a man!"
"Cassandra, I think you need to calm down. We are not, and we never have been dating. So, what I do in my private life really isn't your business." He stood up and walked over to the door, giving her a meaningful look.
"Why do you say such things?" Cassandra pouted. "Our romance was the talk of Hollywood for weeks!"
"Cassandra," Klavier grated. "We. Are. Not. Dating. We went to dinner, twice. Once with the director of that dreadful science fiction movie you did, because he wanted me to write the title music and once with your agent who was trying to convince you to do that movie about the rock band that solved crimes, which was based very loosely on the Gavinners."
"I seem to remember you couldn't keep your eyes off me all night," Cassandra said archly.
"You have a very selective memory," Klavier retorted. "If I didn't watch you like a hawk, your hands had a tendency to wander where they weren't invited."
"A real man would be flattered," Cassandra spat. "I was voted World's Sexiest Woman three times in a row!"
Klavier's temper had been straining at the leash but with that remark it caught fire. "Look, Cassandra, I've had enough. We're not a couple, I've no interest in you. I let you pose with me for a few shots by the paparazzi to keep them from sniffing around your real private life, as you asked me to. Because I thought we were friends. But friends don't do shit like this to each other. Go and wail to the press about how badly I've treated you or some nonsense. I really don't care."
"You'll regret this, Klavier," Cassandra snarled. "We had a deal."
"Sue me," Klavier invited and gestured towards the door. 'Now, leave." He was concerned for a moment that she might make a scene. But she just stalked out of the room, her nose in the air. Mein Gott, did he regret the day he'd met her.
"Well," Franziska said as she entered the room. "You have made a particularly foolish mess this time." Miles looked up at her from his chair, Wright's hand folded into his own. He thought about snatching his hand away but Franziska would have already noticed and doing that would draw even more attention to it.
"I'm not responsible for serial killers and mad bombers," he said tightly.
"No," Franziska agreed. "But upset prosecutors and ridiculous love triangles in the office?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Miles said stiffly.
"Of course you don't," Franziska said mildly. "You're too busy wrapped up in this fool." She waved her whip at Wright. Miles glared at her. "Klavier Gavin came to me to hand in his resignation," she told him.
"I figured he would," Miles groaned.
"Well, I talked him out of it," Franziska added. She graced him with a smile. "You're welcome."
Miles had to smile back. "You're a lifesaver."
"I know," she said lightly. Almost fondly. "Now, tell me about this bomb."
"I don't know anything that isn't in the police report," Miles warned.
"Fool," Franziska said crisply. "You were there. Tell me about it."
Miles sighed and recounted everything he could remember. His voice cracked alarmingly as he described the moment Apollo had come around the corner yelling and then the whiteout of the explosion.
"I see," Franziska said. "Well, we have made some progress." She produced a file from her briefcase and pulled out some photographs. "The bomb was attached to an old cellphone," she explained. "And it had this distinctive, limited edition Steel Samurai strap."
Miles gaped at her. "That's Maya's," he said incredulously. "Or at least, she used to have one like that."
"Is she here?" Franziska asked.
"No, she took Trucy and Pearl home."
"You should consider going home yourself," Franziska said, wrinkling her nose. Miles sighed and she held up a hand to forestall him. "I won't hear any objections. You look like you're about to pass out. Go. I will stay here."
Miles stared at her. He opened his mouth and she glared at him, so he closed it again without speaking. He looked down at Wright. Franziska was probably right. "OK. But call me if there is any change. I'm just going to shower and change my clothes. That's it."
Ema looked down at her phone. "Dinner tonight?" it said. From Franziska. She'd texted back a yes without even thinking about it. Don't read too much into it, she thought. She just wants to catch up on today's progress and she needs to eat. That's it. Her phone buzzed and she jumped. "Meet me at the hospital." She frowned to herself, why was Franziska there? And then her brow cleared. She was meeting with Mr Edgeworth, of course. She texted back a quick reply and then shoved back from her desk and headed for the elevator.
There was a man in the lobby who caught her eye immediately. Robbie, the desk sergeant, was nowhere to be seen.
"Can I help you?" Ema asked, flashing her badge. The man was medium-height, stockily built and with heavy features.
"I look for Detective Goodman," he said in heavily accented English. Russian?
"I'm sorry," Ema told him. "Detective Goodman passed away, many years ago."
"Yes, yes," the man said impatiently. "I know that. I need grave."
Ema narrowed her eyes at him. "Look, I don't know where he was interred. I was a kid when it happened. I don't even know if he was buried in LA, his family were originally from New Orleans."
The man looked alarmed. "He was only one," he said urgently, like that should mean something. "Only one who knew. Except me."
"I don't understand," Ema told him. "What did he know?"
The man shook his head. "Evil. D'yavol." He waved his hands. "How you say? Lucifer."
Ema blinked at him and began to back away towards the desk. Great, this guy was a nutjob. "OK, look, let me just…"
"Nyet," the man said. "I go." He turned and left and Ema just stood there, shaking. What the Hell had that been about? She turned her head to see Robbie lying unconscious on the floor. He'd been struck on the head and blood was pooled on the floor. She hit the alarm button and began to check his breathing.
Franziska looked up as a harried looking Ema Skye burst into Wright's room. "Oh, God, Franziska!"
"What is it?" she snapped. "Calm down, Ema. Breathe. Just breathe." The young detective obeyed and after a moment seemed to regain her composure. "Now, tell me what has happened."
"Someone attacked Robbie Wu. And there was this weird Russian guy talking about Satan and I don't know if he was the one who bashed Robbie over the head. I don't know if he's going to survive."
"I see," Franziska said crisply. "Is Officer Wu here?"
"Yes," Ema confirmed. "They've got him in intensive care."
"Good. And his family?"
"On their way." Ema closed her eyes for a moment.
"Excellent. He is in good hands. Now, the Russian. Tell me about him."
"Uh, 5 feet 8 or 9, maybe 200 pounds. Real neanderthal looking dude, you know, with one of those heavy brows that makes them look like they're glaring all the time."
"And you're sure he was Russian?"
Ema shook his head. "No. I mean, he used two foreign words. One was 'nyet' which I know from TV is Russian for no. The other, d'yavol, I'd never heard before but it sounds kinda like the word devil."
Franziska slipped her fingers under the slender golden chain around her neck and twisted it, her face deep in thought. "What did he say to you? I need to hear everything."
Ema recited the conversation as well as she could remember it.
"Goodman," Franziska muttered. "Why does that case keep coming up?"
"You think it's a link?"
"Perhaps." Franziska gave her an appraising look. "I think it's time we interviewed Damon Gant."
Ema stepped backwards, a chill running through her. Her hands cramped. "He's still alive?"
"Yes. Governor Willis commuted his death sentence to life with no possibility of parole." Franziska looked pained. "It would have been after you went to Europe to attend school."
Ema nodded carefully, feeling as though any sudden moves might cause her to fly apart.
"I'm sorry," Franziska continued. "Of course you don't want to interview him. I apologize, that was insensitive of me."
"No," Ema said. "Maybe I should see him. Maybe I can finally put this awful case behind me."
She looked over at Wright. "Where is Mr Edgeworth?"
"I sent him home for a shower and a change of clothes. I hoped he might get some sleep too." Franziska told her.
"No such luck," Ema said, spotting his magenta-clad figure stalking down the hall. "Here he comes now."
