Chapter 21

Subpoena Ad Testificandum

September 9, 135 P.M.

District Court

Courtroom No. 1

"OBJECTION!" Edgeworth shouted and pointed at the defendant, "Not so fast Phoenix Wright!"

"Eh?" Wright said, giving him a look of long suffering. Then he straightened up and glared back. The picture of serenity and composure. Edgeworth couldn't let him win.

"There is a certain thread of logic to the defendant's claims… However—there is no concrete proof that Phoenix Wright is innocent!"

Wright made a face at Edgeworth and Edgeworth glared balefully back at him.

"Ergo!" Edgeworth continued, "I would like to request one more day before Phoenix Wright is granted his freedom."

If White were guilty, Edgeworth would make sure of it first—Wright wasn't going to control this trial.

"I need more time to make one more inquiry into this matter," Edgeworth said.

"Hmm…" the Judge said. Wright was giving Edgeworth an odd look—what was it? Mistrust? Hatred? Betrayal? Edgeworth could only meet that glare with what he could muster—desperation… Stone cold desperation. If Wright understood he wouldn't push so hard to end it like this. He wouldn't object to one day—

"OBJECTION!" Wright said, "Mister White's guilt is obvious! There is no need to prolong this trial any further!"

He objected. That bastard objected.

"Hmm…" the Judge said, "Well Mister Edgeworth?"

"If anyone is going to call Mister White to trial, it would be me, the prosecution. I need a day to ascertain whether your claims have any basis in factual evidence!"

"Hmm…" the Judge said, "I see… Objection denied!"

"Whaaat!?" Wright said in protest. Edgeworth gasped a little—and only then realized he'd been holding his breath. He was pretty sure Wright had uncovered the truth—still he couldn't let him win.

"The completion of the trial of Mister Phoenix Wright will be postponed until tomorrow," the Judge said.

'Stay out of my way, Phoenix Wright,' Edgeworth willed at him. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Phoenix Wright just glared at him with that odd look on his face. Was it disappointment? Pity? Edgeworth suddenly wished he could hear the other man's thoughts—that didn't last very long. Phoenix Wright had one more ace up his sleeve.

Miles felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when Phoenix Wright began reading off of that list. Redd White's simpering confession on the stand only made things worse. I would've had him—Miles thought, just one more day. I'm a prosecutor. I'm not the bad guy.

The look of relief on Phoenix Wright's face was palpable. Did he really believe that Miles wanted him declared guilty? He might've spent one night in detention. One night, and the prosecution would've done its job.

Miles barely waited for the gavel to slam before he stormed out of the courtroom. Somehow, Von Karma was there, glaring at him from the prosecution lobby. Miles didn't even pause to meet his glare. Von Karma was smirking a little at him—Miles noticed that much. He'd never hear the end of this.

Miles made it all the way to the parking garage of the DA building, but he couldn't muster the will to get out of his car and climb the twelve flights to his floor. How could he show his face there? Miles pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. His hands were shaking. It took him a few tries to unlock his phone and find the number in his contacts. He dialed and listened to the ringing on the other end. When it hit her voicemail he felt a tiny bit of relief.

"Maddy, this is Miles, something's come up at work. I'm going to have to cancel, tonight. I-I'll make it up to you…" Miles hesitated, he was hurting—why didn't she answer the phone?

"I l-love you…" he said and hung up and thumbed through his contacts again.

He dialed and waited for the phone to pick up, "Hallo?" she said.

"Heidi?"

"Miles is that you? How are you?"

"I'm…" Miles couldn't say, "How are you?"

"Oh darling," she laughed, "you know Gretchen is a handful, so I am very busy. She's growing so fast—when will you come to meet her?"

"Soon… maybe," Miles said, "Um…"

"Are you sure you're okay, Miles?"

"Perfectly, well," Miles said, "Don't worry about me… Has Franziska been over to see you?"

"Oh, you know how she is," Heidi said, "She's actually in England right now. How is Papa?"

"Uh, well…" Miles said—then it started. He had to stifle a sob, "He—uh… He's the same as ever, I think."

"Are you alright? You sound upset," Heidi said.

"Um," Miles said, "You know I have allergies…"

"In September, Miles?"

"The weeds here are different," Miles said. He wiped his face and grimaced—thank god she couldn't see him over the phone.

"Are you taking your medicine?"

"I forgot it today," Miles said.

"Darling, it's no wonder you sound so awful…"

If Miles wasn't so upset, he might've laughed.

"So we were talking about getting a puppy for Gretchen," Heidi said cheerful and gloriously oblivious, "What kind of dog do you have?"

"Um… She's mixed," Miles said, "Chow-chow definitely and maybe Akita Inu… And grizzly bear too…"

Heidi laughed and Miles joined her, hiding his sobs in the mirth of her laughter.

"If you get a puppy," Miles said, "you should call it Phoenix…"

"Phoenix?"

"Like the mythical bird…" Like that attorney that stole his thunder, "It's a good name for a dog." He was worse than a dog.

"It'll be up to Gretchen, but I'll tell her what uncle Miles thinks," Heidi said. Miles smiled, he was calm now.

"Thank you, Heidi," Miles said.

"For what, darling?"

"For this…"

"Miles," Heidi said, "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is perfect," Miles said.

"It's good to hear from you," she said, "We never talk enough."

"If I know you, you're talking all the time."

"Miles!" She scolded.

"I should go," he said, "I just wanted to hear a friendly voice."

"Aww," she laughed, "Take care, Miles. You can call me anytime."

Miles smirked at her teasing and started the car. Franziska glared at him.

"Why are you smiling? You lost," she said, "You're getting so good at losing."

Miles looked at her with unmasked sympathy, "I only got two at bats, but both times I got a homerun. When they finally let me pitch, I pitched two perfect innings. I did my best—and I think I played rather well. One cannot save a sinking ship with only one sound bucket."

"There's no 'I' in team," Franziska said.

"Fine," Miles said, "I'm a loser… What now?"

"I just want to make sure we're clear on that," Franziska said.

"Well, all right, love," Miles said and he almost laughed, "Your poor brother is at the end of his glory."

"Would you say you were at the edge of glory?"

"Don't start that again," Miles said, "I hate that kind of music, I hated that CD when she gave it to me, and honestly, I kind of hate her too."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Miles stopped at a stop light and glared at Franziska.

"Why do you hate this Maddy person?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Why?"

"Stop it Franziska," Miles said, "I was having a good day…"

"She was in the restaurant that night—"

"Shut up, Franziska," Miles warned her menacingly.

Franziska stared at him for several moments and then pulled out her phone. She poked around on it quietly while he drove. When the silence grew too much to bear she looked at him again.

"You know that little girl at the park has a crush on you."

"What girl?"

"That Skye girl," Franziska said, "She talked about you the whole time. Is that where you spend your time when I'm not here?"

Miles glanced at her with not a little shock, "I've never met her before."

"She seems to know an awful lot about you."

"Her sister is my boss," Miles said.

"Do you have to go to work today?"

"I was planning to go in for a bit—I've got the Honeymoon case going to retrial in about a week."

"I was going to visit Dagmar, she's home now," Franziska said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Miles said.

"I was telling you," Franziska said, "I don't need your permission."

"How long are you going to be over there?" Miles said—irked at her response.

"I wish you'd stop treating me like your little sister…"

"You are my little sister," Miles said.

Franziska pouted at him and turned back to her phone, suddenly withdrawn. Miles was glad for the quiet, so he didn't try to coax her out of her moping. The glorious silence lasted until he parked in the underground garage of his building. Franziska jumped immediately out of the car and went toward the elevator.

Miles took his time getting his gear out of the trunk and only spared a glance at the elevator that swallowed his little sister as he passed.

Miles tugged at his cravat while he drove toward the building. He frowned to himself—she was going to do what she wanted whether he allowed it or not. She really wasn't a child—the hard part was accepting things that way. She always seemed a child to him.

He parked and stood near the car to put on his jacket and grab his briefcase from the seat. The garage was nearly deserted and he crossed unmolested to the stairwell door. His shoes echoed in steady tattoo as he made his way briskly up the stairs. In a way the sound was a comfort—as familiar now to him as any other part of his routine.

The floor was nearly deserted, as most of the staff took advantage of the picnic day and stayed out in the park. Miles had other work to attend to. He unlocked his office and nearly stumbled on the pile of letters shoved under the door. He was here yesterday, why had it piled up? Miles bent and stacked the envelopes together and carried them to his desk.

He tugged off his jacket and turned on the kettle then the computer and sat at his desk. Nothing ever seemed to happen fast enough—all of this modern technology and it seemed he spent most of his day waiting for things to get started.

Miles eyed the letters in front of him warily. This was official correspondence for Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth—so he was surprised to find a letter with a handwritten address. He frowned. It was from Madeline Tailor. Miles set it aside and picked up the next one. This was from the High Court.

Miles knew at a glance what this was—he'd written his share of them over the years. But knowing about it didn't halt the sinking feeling in his gut as he read over and over the few details of the case.

"You are herby commanded to appear in person…" he read aloud, "Failure to comply with the command of this subpoena will subject you to any and all penalties provided by law…"

Miles cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. He set the order aside—separate from Maddy's letter. He picked up the next envelope and frowned at it.

This was a very formal looking envelope from the office of Doctor Chihiro Young, Miles rolled his eyes as he tore the envelope open, "Give up already."

He flipped open the single page typed letter and read.

Mr. Edgeworth,

This correspondence is in regard to an inquiry made by your office on the subject of Albert Sheinheilig. As you may remember, we conducted assessments of Mr. Kurt Sheinheilig's Mental State at the time of Offence (MSO) and of his Competency to Stand Trial (CST). We would gladly repeat the above assessments for Albert Sheinheilig, but we have yet to schedule these assessments and the court has already given us a deadline. Do you have Albert Sheinheilig in custody at this time? Please contact me in this regard as soon as possible so we can work something out.

Respectfully,

Dr. C. Young, ABPP

Miles cursed again. The police still had no idea about the second Sheinheilig's whereabouts. Miles pulled out his memo pad and made a note before setting Chihiro's letter on top of his subpoena. Well, at least she kept to business only.

The rest of the mail was rather routine, verification of court dates, evidence lists, copies of his own correspondence the clerks provided out of courtesy. Miles filed them away and then checked the kettle. He was disappointed to find that the water had boiled and turned off only to cool too much for steeping his tea. Miles flipped the kettle back on and turned to the computer.

He opened his e-mail and frowned—his inbox was flooded with stupid department e-mails. He sorted by sender and started mass deleting them—he'd never had the patience to set up rules.

There was an e-mail from Phoenix Wright.

January 15, 2016 at 243 P.M.

From: pwright

To: medgew .gov

Subject: WTF?

Edgeworth,

Sorry I missed your game this afternoon, I was planning on showing up. Some weird shit is going on. Maybe you can enlighten me? Some shady lawyer stuff. Call me, please?

Thanks

Wright

Miles scratched his temple and read the e-mail again. Then he made tea and let it steep while he read it again. Was this a joke? Miles poured his tea and picked up his cell phone.

Miles was not very good at this sort of thing and he sat there feeling very stupid while she cried. And she cried. He crossed his arms and stared around the room, hoping she'd stop sometime soon.

Madeline Tailor put her head on the table and continued to sob uncontrollably. Miles cleared his throat, "Miss Tailor?"

Finally, Miles thought to dig out his handkerchief—he vaguely remembered something like this before. He leaned forward and held it out to her, "Miss Tailor?"

She lifted her face and glanced at him with her immense blue eyes before grabbing the proffered handkerchief and hiding her face in it. He watched her with a sidelong stare as she pulled herself together. When she'd calmed enough to speak she sat up a little straighter and put on her sunglasses. If he hadn't just watched her cry like a little girl for the past several minutes, he might not have known she'd cried at all.

He cleared his throat again, "Now, Miss Tailor…"

"Please, Mister Prosecutor," she said with a blank and distracted air, "You can call me Maddy—we're practically old friends, darling."

Miles was a little startled at that, was she making a joke—after all that?

"I know this is very upsetting—" he began very formally.

"Do you, darling?" Maddy said, "Because I think you're just saying that because you think it makes you seem empathetic—but you're just like any of the others, aren't you?"

"Uh," Miles said, "I—well—I'm trying to help, Miss Tailor."

"Are you, Mister Prosecutor? Because you can't bring him back—nothing will make him come back. You can put away every murderer in the world and my Danny will still be dead."

Miles looked at her the way one looked at a crazy person and she lifted her chin a little defiantly. She trembled with a residual sob and Miles could see his face glaring at him twice in the lenses of her glasses. He looked away from her.

"Believe me," he said coldly, "This is just as painful for me as it is for you."

He couldn't read her expression behind those big dark sunglasses, but her sudden calm and the cold stillness of her person told him she was done with crying and starting to get angry. Maybe he could work with that.

"I need you to tell me everything—"

"I don't know anything!" Maddy said and almost lost her tenuous composure again, "Why did you bring me here? Why? I miss Danny more than anyone, why would I—"

"No one is accusing you of anything, Miss Tailor," Miles said, "But you were closest to the victim. We need to find out why anyone would want him killed—that's all. Was there anything you know of that—"

She started to sob again. Miles groaned inwardly and stood up. He walked up to the policeman guarding the door to the interrogation room, "Do you think we could have a bit of privacy?"

"Sir, I—" the cop said.

"You can guard the outside of the door," Miles suggested coldly.

The policeman only nodded and stepped outside. Miles paced around the table and rubbed his face. He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of one chair and then sat in the one beside her dragging it around so that they were face to face. He leaned into her menacingly.

"I don't think you hired De Killer," he said, "So you can stop playacting."

She leaned away from him; Miles reached out and snatched away her sunglasses. He frowned. Those were real tears.

"Do you know of anyone that might've wanted Daniel Cornado dead?"

Maddy only nodded. Miles sat back a little and she relaxed.

"Mister Prosecutor," she said, "he's dead because of me—it's my fault…"

Miles must've made a face because she blanched. He really was starting to lose patience. He stood and crossed his arms, tapping an index finger impatiently against his arm.

"You know, this isn't helping at all. The longer you drag this out the less likely it is that we'll be able to track down the culprit."

Maddy glared at him, the blue of her irises darkening, "You're a cruel person… You don't know what it's like to lose someone important to you—and know that it's your fault. I can't expect you to understand it at all."

Miles turned his back to her and put his hands on his hips. He sighed audibly.

"Actually, I do know what that's like."

Miles glared across the table at Phoenix—unsure what to think. Phoenix stuck his hands in his spiky hair and put his head down.

"I'm sure you're over-reacting," Miles said finally.

Phoenix picked up his head and stared at him with earnest brown eyes, "I'm not crazy, Miles! It's like some secret society—with passwords and everything."

"Why would ANYONE want to build a cult around you?" Miles said.

"Well—now… You don't have to get all jealous—it's not really that cool," Phoenix said.

"I'm not jealous," Miles said in a flat monotone.

"Whatever, you keep acting all surprised about it," Phoenix said.

"It's curious," Miles said.

"They say I'm talented," Phoenix said, "It's flattering and scary."

"Naturally," Miles said.

"But somehow, there has to be some sinister purpose behind—"

"Why?" Miles said dismissively, "The only thing you should be worried about is the group using your name. That they want to get together and study your technique is rather a benign issue."

"But what if they really do something to—to…"

"Do you want a police escort?" Miles said.

"Can you do tha—I mean no way," Phoenix said, "I just want to find out who's really running it."

"The department's very busy," Miles said and sighed, "I'm sorry. But since there's no real evidence of criminal intent I can't send anyone after them. This is a personal problem."

Phoenix leaned back in the booth and frowned. Miles shook his head and smirked at him, "Nick, what did you expect me to tell you? That the police department is going to drop ongoing investigations of actual crimes so we could provide resources to finding out who's the mastermind behind a creepy secret lawyer society?"

"I just thought you might have more answers," Phoenix said, "You know a lot of stuff about—stuff."

"It defies all logic that anyone would want to emulate your defense style," Miles said.

"I've never lost a trial," Phoenix pointed out.

Miles frowned, "You don't have to remind me."

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at it, "Excuse me, Wright."

Phoenix just nodded and picked up his menu—which was really just a laminated piece of paper.

"Edgeworth," Miles said into the phone. It was Maddy.

"Why are you calling me? I thought we were—"

"Did you get my letter, darling?"

She sounded cheery at least—so she wasn't calling to fight with him.

"Yeah, but I—"

"Will you help me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I haven't—"

"You didn't read it? Miles, must you be so dramatic about everything?"

"I'm not being—"

"Darling, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I wouldn't have contacted you if it weren't absolutely important, but I simply can't let this—incident—reach the public. You understand, don't you darling?"

"Um," Miles said, "Can I call you back after I've read—"

"I've been ordered to testify in court, Miles. I don't want to," she said, "Can't you make it go away?"

"I most certainly cannot," Phoenix looked up at him, concern in his dark eyes. Miles frowned, "I'll call you back."

He hung up before she could protest.

"What was that all about?" Phoenix said.

"It was nothing," Miles said, "But I should go. If anything more should happen, you can call me. For now, I wouldn't worry about this."

"Hey," Phoenix said, "I thought you were going to stay for—"

"I still have work to do," Miles said, "As you can see, it follows me if I neglect it."

"Yeah, but," Phoenix said.

"Maybe next time," Miles said, "Good day."

"Take care," Phoenix said.

A/N: Thanks for Reading! I'm going to point out that Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney is copyright by CAPCOM. I own no part of this. (That trial is ripped right out of the game)

I tried to flip it to Edgeworth's POV and…Wow… Phoenix Wright is scary from the other end…

Another difficult chapter too… We went a little light and now plunge into the nitty gritty… Oh man… the first flashback—well I think it's pretty obvious! And the second flashback happens one year ago—prior to Miles' first encounter with Phoenix Wright. This is also his second time dealing with Madeline Tailor on a case.

UPDATED 7JUL2015 – Minor corrections and changes. I changed the name of the victim in the flashback to match the story "Guadalupe". Not that it matters to anyone...