Chapter 32
In Your Head
"Hey Nick!" Maya said, before stuffing another mouthful of noodles into her mouth, "Is Mister Edgeworth going to come or not? Now that he's free and everything?"
"I told you, he's still in detention," Phoenix said taking a platter that Gumshoe was passing to him.
"That was like, two-and-a-half hours ago. It didn't take nearly—"
"Two hours!" Gumshoe said interrupting Maya, "I had to be back at the precinct an hour ago."
The detective stood up and dug in his ragged coat, "Hey, Wright, I'm kind of in a hurry here. Can you cover me, pal?"
Phoenix looked at him exasperated but the detective was already turning to leave.
"I owe you pal!" Gumshoe waved, "Bye Maya! Lotta, Harry."
"Bye Mister Gumshoe!" Maya said.
The night suddenly took a turn downward, Phoenix sighed and ordered another beer.
"Cheer up Nick," Larry said, bumping him with an elbow, "Enjoy the sights."
Phoenix looked sidelong at Larry who was leaning over toward Lotta Hart and engaged in what seemed like serious conversation. Phoenix had to smile. He didn't think she was Larry's type.
"Nick," Maya said, "Can you pass me the dumplings?"
Phoenix did as she asked, "I think we're going to be staying late tonight…"
"Waddaya mean, Nick?"
"I don't think I can pay for this. Larry?" Nick said.
"Oh man!" Larry said, "Look at the time. Hate to dash—but we got to go take some pictures."
"Hoo boy, y'all sure know how to party!" Lotta said, "I'll send you a copy if I get that picture developed. Night, Y'all!"
"Wait a sec, Larry," Phoenix said. But Larry was already helping Lotta out of her chair. Phoenix looked over at Maya, she had speared a dumpling with her fork and stared at it thoughtfully.
"At least you're still here with me," Phoenix said.
"I'll wash dishes with you Nick," Maya said and bit into her dumpling.
"Well if it ain't the man of the hour," Lotta said near the door, "Congrats, hon."
"Hey Edgey," Phoenix sat up when he heard Larry, "Bye, Edgey."
Edgeworth approached the table cautiously, "I didn't think they were still open."
"Have a seat," Phoenix said and took a draught from his beer, "You can hang out and wash dishes with us."
Edgeworth sat and gazed at the remnants of the meal on the table. Phoenix couldn't tell if he was shocked or disgusted.
"Have a dumpling, Mister Edgeworth," Maya said offering the platter. Edgeworth took it from her with a nod of thanks.
"The noodles went cold—and they're not the kind you want to eat cold," Maya was telling him, "But you'll like these. They're the kind—"
"I didn't think you'd show up," Phoenix said.
"Surprise," Edgeworth said banally and took a bite of a dumpling.
"I'm glad you came Mister Edgeworth," Maya said, "I think Nick really missed you."
Phoenix leaned forward and looked away from them embarrassed.
"Yuck," Edgeworth said and Maya giggled, Phoenix looked back at them.
"How about one of these?" She said offering a different plate to Edgeworth.
Phoenix almost laughed watching Maya experiment with Edgeworth of all people. He was startled when the manager came up to their table.
"You can stay as long as you like," he said, "but I had to lock the door, we're closed."
"Sorry," Phoenix said trying to ignore what suddenly seemed like a bubbly conversation between Maya and Edgeworth.
"Also, if you could cash out so we can empty the register…"
"Uh," Phoenix said, "Sure, I'll just…"
He started fumbling in his jacket for his wallet.
"I'll get it," Edgeworth stood and followed the manager before Phoenix could say anything. He covered his face; abashed at the situation.
"He said he didn't want to wash dishes," Maya whispered loudly at him from her side of the table.
Phoenix rubbed his head as they walked out of the restaurant; he was definitely going to feel this the next day. The three of them stood awkwardly in front of the restaurant, trying to look in different directions—except Edgeworth—he seemed pretty content to stare at the curb.
"Hey, I'm sorry about—"
"It's nothing," Edgeworth replied, though in the dark it was hard to tell if he was irritated or congenial—never mind the tone of his voice. Phoenix was pretty sure Edgeworth didn't know how that whole tone thing worked.
"You want to come up?" Phoenix said.
"Sure," Edgeworth said.
They started walking toward the apartment. Maya skipped ahead glancing at them over her shoulder every now and again. Phoenix turned over the things he wanted to say in his head—not sure what Edgeworth would talk about.
"I am glad you had a chance to come hang out, whatever it's worth," Phoenix said.
Edgeworth didn't answer him, maybe he nodded, Phoenix thought—this was starting to get awkward.
"There is something," Phoenix said, hoping he sounded chipper enough, "I wanted to ask you… Ever since last September when we first met in court."
"What's that?" Edgeworth said curiosity apparent in his voice, Phoenix's eyes widened and he smiled.
"How have you been?"
"Fine," Edgeworth said, "You?"
"Great," Phoenix laughed, "I've been swell."
"Your mother?"
"She's good—she's retiring here in a couple of years. She keeps telling me she's going to relocate to Atlantic City."
He couldn't tell if Edgeworth laughed or smiled or whatever, "You should come see her."
Edgeworth did chuckle at that, "Hmm."
It felt weird. He and Maya did this all the time—the quiet walk back to his place near the business park. Edgeworth's presence wasn't unwelcome—just different.
"The girl is waving at you," Edgeworth said.
"Maya, what?" Phoenix said as they caught her up. She'd gone ahead of them skipping like a little girl.
"I was just going to ask if you wanted ice cream," Maya said.
"Do you want ice cream?" Phoenix said and looked at Edgeworth.
"You're not serious," Edgeworth said.
"Why not?" Maya said, "It's not that late yet."
"It's freezing out," Edgeworth said.
"Hot cocoa, then?"
"I think we should just head back," Phoenix said.
She pulled ahead of them again and when she reached his building she jogged up the stairs and waited at the door with her arms crossed. Phoenix paused and looked at Edgeworth.
Edgeworth raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah…" Phoenix started up the stairs and unlocked the door.
"Good night Nick," Maya said as soon as the door was opened and she entered the small apartment, "Good night Mister Edgeworth."
"Hey, Maya," Phoenix said, "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah, Nick," Maya said. She turned immediately and went into the back of the apartment.
"Is she upset?" Edgeworth asked as he stepped into the doorway, just far enough inside that Phoenix could close the door. Phoenix was occupied with removing his coat and then his shoes, but he looked up at Edgeworth standing over him. Tense and cautious as ever.
"She said she was fine," Phoenix said and he walked into the apartment loosening his tie. He took off his blue jacket and laid it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. Edgeworth removed his coat and shoes and followed him in. Phoenix blinked at him—Edgeworth wore a dark sweater over his magenta pants—he hadn't noticed earlier; the open collar and missing jacket.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"No," Edgeworth said.
Phoenix sat in his chair and stared at his boyhood friend. Edgeworth seemed relaxed—as relaxed as he'd ever seen him—he was leaning on his elbows and his gaze was directed toward the tabletop where his hands were clasped together. His left sleeve had been tugged up slightly, revealing most of what must be an atrociously expensive watch with a large face and a dark leather band.
"So what now?" Phoenix said and he smiled; partly to ease some of the tension and partly because he was starting to feel giddy. He was thoroughly buzzed after what had started as a pretty raucous celebration dinner in honor of the guy sitting in front of him.
Edgeworth's mouth pulled into the merest hint of a smile and he met Phoenix with his striking gray eyes, "I suppose we return to the status quo."
"Yeah," Phoenix said and cursed himself inwardly for his ineloquence, "I guess."
Edgeworth's mouth drooped into its usual frown and he shifted in his seat and turned to face the window. It was early yet, maybe nine or nine-thirty, but the winter sky was pitch dark, and had been for at least a couple of hours.
"You know, all of this aside," Phoenix said pointedly dismissing both trials and their standing rivalry, "I've been meaning to ask you…"
Edgeworth answered by meeting his stare and raising an eyebrow.
"I just wanted… I always wondered what happened to you after you left. Where you went… Why you never answered my letters."
Edgeworth blinked but didn't answer. After several moments hesitation he leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He never met Phoenix's stare.
"It seems it should be rather clear what happened after I left," Edgeworth said, "and I never… Where did you send your letters to anyway?"
Phoenix frowned, slightly embarrassed, "I don't know. I always gave them to my mom. After a while—a pretty long while—I got tired of writing them and never getting an answer… So I stopped."
Edgeworth looked back toward the window, but he didn't say anything. Phoenix found himself occupied with a small piece of laminate that had cracked off of the tabletop. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, not saying anything. Phoenix swallowed—he started this, he may as well see it through.
"I tried calling you when I found out you were back in the area," Phoenix said, "You never once answered or returned my calls."
Edgeworth's head moved slightly when Phoenix spoke but he had nothing to say.
"Did you forget about me—about all of us so completely?" Phoenix said, "I never understood why you ignored me. It's messed up, Edgeworth."
"Should I leave?"
"No," Phoenix said. He stared at Edgeworth, watching the other man's gaze slide back toward the window, "I don't know…"
"I think I've had a few too many tonight," Phoenix said, and walked over the coffee pot, "I'm going to make coffee, do you want coffee?"
Edgeworth nodded. Phoenix pulled the carafe out of the sink and rinsed it before filling it.
"I must've called you a hundred times," Phoenix said as he added coffee grounds to the machine and set it to percolate.
"Fifty-seven," Edgeworth said quietly.
"What?" Phoenix said but Edgeworth only shook his head. Phoenix returned to the table and sat heavily in his chair.
"I'm sorry," Phoenix said, "We just got done with that trial—those trials…"
"Only just."
"Yeah. I feel bad, Edgeworth, I feel really bad. About your dad, and what you've been through… I wish I could've been there—I wanted to be there for you. You understand that, right?"
Edgeworth hesitated and then nodded slowly.
"I was serious, too. When I said I became a lawyer so I could meet you—confront you. Now that all of this is over, maybe we can be friends like we used to—"
But Edgeworth was shaking his head before Phoenix could finish the sentence.
"Why?" Phoenix asked.
"Just stop, Wright," Edgeworth said, "I don't want to… You're making me uncomfortable."
Phoenix glared at Edgeworth's profile; the guy wouldn't even look at him. Phoenix stood again. He balked for a minute before going back to the coffee pot. He pulled a couple mugs from the wire dish drain that sat next to the sink. When he lifted the carafe the plate hissed from his removing it early. When he returned to the table with both mugs, Edgeworth was standing and staring out of the window.
Phoenix glowered at him, "Cream or sugar?"
"No, thank you."
Phoenix scooped sugar into his mug and stirred letting the spoon bang against the mug more loudly than needed before joining Edgeworth at the window. He handed a mug to him and looked at the dark outside. The light from the kitchen shone against the glass and their reflections stared back distant and faded, but present none-the-less. Phoenix noted with some displeasure that Edgeworth was taller than him by at least a couple of inches. He was broader in the shoulder too.
"Unbelievable," Phoenix said.
Edgeworth looked at him sidelong and drank his coffee.
They stood silent with their coffee mugs. These long silences were driving him crazy, didn't this guy know how to have a proper conversation? Phoenix took to staring at him surreptitiously by the reflection in the window. Edgeworth's eyes moved back and forth with a steady cadence—like he was reading a book.
"Just say one thing," Phoenix said.
"About what?"
"Whatever's going on in your head."
Phoenix watched the sudden twitch as the muscle in his friend's jaw tightened and Edgeworth set his cup on the table, "I should probably go."
Phoenix sighed.
"What happened?" Phoenix said. He picked up his pace after entering her hospital room and stopped to stare down at her.
"Oh hey, kid," Brooke picked her head up from the pillow to get a better look at him and then dropped back down. Phoenix pulled a chair up to her bedside and unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down.
"What happened?" he repeated.
"I'm not sure—I can't remember it actually happening… Somebody hit me on the head with something hard."
Phoenix stared at her for a moment, frowning.
"I brought you a card," he said and flipped a large envelope onto her pillow.
"Thanks," she said picking it up and making an awkward endeavor to open it from her position.
"Geez," Phoenix said, "At least there wasn't any permanent damage. Did you file a report?"
"What?" Brooke said holding the card up to read it.
"With the police," Phoenix said, "so they can try to get the guy that—"
"No," Brooke said, "I know who it was."
Phoenix gave her a look of exasperation—mentally slapping his forehead, "Isn't that more reason to go to the police!"
"Not with these folks, kid," Brooke said, "These people own the police."
"Okay," Phoenix said, he was starting to get bored with all of the cloak and dagger, "Aren't you worried they'll come after you again?"
"Dunno," Brooke said.
"What about your client?"
"The trial was postponed—I'm going to be replaced…" Brooke looked at him directly, "You want in on this?"
Phoenix stared at her for several moments before answering, "No."
"Why not?"
"I'm just—I don't want to," Phoenix said.
Brooke turned her head to look at the television. It had been muted so Phoenix hadn't noticed it was there. They weren't friends, barely acquaintances, but he somehow felt guilty about her attack. She must still be pretty out of it, he thought while she started to nod off.
"Get well," Phoenix said and backed out slowly.
He left the hospital feeling a little more threatened than he had before. Edgeworth wasn't answering his phone the last few days either, so he had no one to talk to about it.
Phoenix walked briskly through the city following his feet, not really sure where he was going—until he got there. The Law Offices of Marvin Grossberg. Phoenix balked before entering.
"Mister Grossberg is not seeing any clients," the receptionist said.
"I'm not a client," Phoenix said and she looked at him for the first time.
"Oh," she said, "You again."
"Heh," Phoenix grinned, "Me again."
"You can go in," she said already turning pages in her magazine.
Phoenix smiled when heard that old familiar clearing of the throat, "Mister Grossberg?"
"Wright, I was expecting you earlier. Since you didn't show, I was forced to occupy myself with this one-eighth scale model of a 2010 Aston Martin Vantage—it's sure to be a classic!"
"A what?"
"Do you see here, my boy?" Phoenix stared at the little model in Grossberg's hands and wondered how those chubby fingers had managed to put the thing together, "The doors open and close."
"Oh," Phoenix said, "It's a car."
Mister Grossberg grumbled at him as he set the model aside, and cleared his throat with a rumble, "Did you see Miss Shield?"
"Yeah," Phoenix said, "I brought her a get well card."
"So very thoughtful of you, Wright," Grossberg said, "In my youth, I remember all the young men bringing get well cards to their young incapacitated lovers…"
What? Phoenix didn't bother asking, that didn't seem like something worth exploring.
"So I'm sure you've heard that the trial against Kurt Sheinheilig has been postponed, as he is as yet—and soon to be officially—without council."
"Too bad for him," Phoenix said, "I have a feeling Edgeworth is coming back with a vengeance."
"Hoom," Grossberg grumbled, "He is the worst."
"Uh," Phoenix said, "Okay. You helped us get him acquitted just over a month ago."
"I know who he is," Grossberg said, "Still, I don't recommend getting involved in the Sheinheilig case. Pretty nasty business if you ask me."
"Huh?"
"Look what happened to Shield—everyone's afraid."
"Wait," Phoenix said, "You think the DA's responsible for shaking up Sheinheilig's defense?"
"Nonsense," Grossberg said his jowls quaking, "It's coming from somewhere else. But I don't know where."
"Why would anyone want to scare defense attorney's off of the Sheinheilig case? If he's guilty—which seems certain according to Nancy Grace, if you can believe that drivel—why not let the trial run it's course?"
"I don't know," Grossberg said, "But it mistrialed under some decidedly underhanded circumstances and that in itself is enough to lay a shadow of doubt over the whole proceeding. It seems someone would like to use this case as another embarrassment to this district and their prosecutors."
"So why are all of the defense attorneys afraid to take on the case?"
"Hoom," Grossberg said, "It's enough to start my hemorrhoids flaring."
'Eww,' Phoenix thought.
"But Wright," Grossberg said, "What's the real reason you're here today?"
"I just," Phoenix hesitated, "I just wanted to talk about Mia."
Grossberg leaned back in his straining chair and waved a hand at the leather sofa in his office, "Sit down Wright."
"I am serious about this," Phoenix said staring at her with what he hoped she might take for plucky determination. It was really hard not to let his gaze slide down to her ample bosom and the generous amount of cleavage allowed to peek out. Good night! It was like waving a sandwich in front of a starving man.
Mia whacked him on the hand with her pen, "Then quit joking around, Nick."
She'd agreed to tutor him in his final semester—that in itself seemed like a great victory—but he still had to get through that Advanced Criminal Law Elements test he had on Friday—not to mention the rest of the semester. One day at a time, he told himself.
She made him memorize passages—huge swaths of dry academic prose summarizing any case or precedent or glittering piece of legislation he might possibly need to reference. It gave him headaches sometimes. This was the easy part—she would quiz him when they met after she got done at the office tonight.
"So, I'm serious about this… but I also really need a sandwich," Phoenix said when the letters in the book started crowding together. Mia let out a noise of exasperation.
"Let's get lunch together," Phoenix said giving her the best sad puppy look he could muster, "As friends," he added—he didn't want to give her the wrong idea. Even though the wrong idea sometimes seemed so right.
"Nick," she said, "You're still going to be responsible for all of this tonight. But yeah, lunch is a good idea—I'm tired of trying to eat at my desk when I get in."
Phoenix couldn't stop that sloppy lopsided grin from spreading across his face.
"But it's just lunch—among friends—got it?" Mia said pointedly. Phoenix nodded emphatically and wasted no time packing up his books.
They found a small deli just off campus that had just finished the lunch rush and therefore relatively empty. Phoenix couldn't help looking around at other guys they passed on the way to gage their reaction to his lunch buddy. More than a few heads turned to look at her as they made their way toward the deli—that made him feel kind of awesome.
They sat down in a quiet corner and a young waiter—a dude Phoenix remembered from one of his art classes a few semesters ago—took their drink orders and left them alone.
"So," Phoenix said, "What did you do last weekend?" He almost held his breath—worried that maybe he was being too forward or too casual with her.
Mia smiled politely, "Not much, I spent most of the day Saturday at the hospital."
Phoenix frowned—oh yeah… "How's he doing? Did they say anything else about—"
Mia just shook her head and gave a small sigh, "No. They can't even bring him out of the coma yet… I'm sorry, Nick, I didn't mean to dive straight into this whole melancholy business—"
Phoenix smiled at her, "Don't worry about it—I was the one who asked about the weekend… Besides, it wouldn't be right if something—er someone—important to you wasn't on your mind. I can't blame you for that."
Mia smiled back, "What did you do over the weekend?"
"The usual," Phoenix said, "I helped put out a fire at a local orphanage—rescued a couple dozen kids from the burning wreckage… Then I stopped a robbery at a convenience store on the way home—" Phoenix sniffed and thumbed his belt, "You know—all before lunch time…"
Mia rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Phoenix grinned back at her.
"I went home to see my mom on Saturday—do some laundry. It's so nice to be able to change underwear everyday—"
"Gross," Mia said, but she was giggling now.
"Anyway, Mom is all worked up about that Joe Darke guy—the one that—"
"Yeah Nick, it's all over the news," Mia said.
"Did you hear about that prosecutor—the one that he killed at the police department? The guy's crazy."
"Probably the only plea his defense is thinking of entering…" Mia said.
"It's kind of…" Phoenix started, "I mean when people like that just come out of nowhere… What would you do if you had to defend someone like that?"
Mia frowned, "I'd like to say that I'd refuse the case—I can't defend a client that I don't trust or believe in… But there might be a time when you don't have a choice. That's when you have to trust justice will find a way…"
Mia's voice faded and Phoenix swallowed—it was always easy to forget the hard part about his chosen career path. They sat quietly for a few moments—Phoenix was stewing on the thought that sometimes the client he might be defending might be guilty. The waiter broke up the heavy silence by bringing their drinks and taking their sandwich orders. The guy didn't seem to recognize Phoenix—but he was congenial and funny… Maybe only because Mia was at the table.
"Are you starting to think that maybe you'd rather be a prosecutor?" Mia asked after the waiter left. She stared at him earnestly and maybe he heard a teasing note in her voice, Phoenix didn't answer right away.
"It might be easier," Mia said as she picked up her mint lemonade, "Steady pay, steady work…"
"Weren't you the one that said 'the grass is always greener' with regard to criminal law?" Phoenix retorted with a small cocky smile, "Anyway, my real answer is no. I have very… specific reasons for wanting to be a defense attorney…"
"Oh yeah?" Mia said this time the taunting note in her voice was very apparent.
"I don't want you to make fun of me," Phoenix said and he sat up to grab his coke and take a drought.
"I won't make fun of you," Mia said, "all of us have not-so-apparent motivations."
"Why'd you become a defense attorney?"
"It's very personal…" Mia began timidly, "But I did it for my mom…"
Phoenix raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Mia shook her head.
"That's as much as I'll give you—we barely know each other…" She said mockingly.
Phoenix chuckled and toyed with his glass for a moment, wiping patterns in the condensation with a finger, "I wanted to be a defense attorney because of a friend…"
Mia lifted one of her delicate eyebrows and cocked her head, asking for elaboration. Phoenix swallowed—he couldn't tell her about Miles—she'd laugh at him.
"It was you," Phoenix said, "Because you believed in me, even when all the evidence seemed incontrovertible… When it seemed like there was no way on heaven or earth to find me innocent…"
Mia only smiled at him and occupied herself by stirring her lemonade with a straw. Several moments of awkward silence later, their sandwiches came. At least they had an excuse now for keeping quiet.
"Pretty good, huh?" Phoenix said after a while, "for the price."
Mia dabbed her mouth with a paper napkin, "this is excellent—great choice Nick."
Her phone buzzed and Mia put down her sandwich and pulled it out of her purse.
She laughed, "Ha… Miles Edgeworth…"
Phoenix breathed in some sandwich and began to cough violently.
"Nick?"
Phoenix shook his head as he struggled to regain composure, "Sorry," he croaked.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said and took a drink, "I just had—some of it went down the wrong pipe."
Mia chuckled—she was answering whomever it was that had texted her.
"What happened?" Phoenix said trying to sound as oblivious as possible.
"Oh," she hesitated until she was done on her phone, "Marvin—Mister Grossberg, just told me that the new prosecutor for the trial against Joe Darke is going to be Prosecutor Edgeworth…"
"Oh," Phoenix said with forced nonchalance, "I never heard of that… person…"
"He's a conniving little prick—sorry. I had to go up against him my very first trial. Mister Grossberg thought I'd be interested to know…"
"Hmm," Phoenix said and shoved another bite of sandwich into his mouth.
"Nick Nefsik doesn't stand a chance," Mia said, she looked up to see the inquisitive look he gave her, "Darke's defense attorney. Nefsik works for Hammond and Associates. Rob Hammond is another one of Mister Grossberg's protégés."
Phoenix rolled his eyes and swallowed, "Geez…"
"Don't worry," Mia said, "You won't be quizzed on local personalities until after you graduate."
"Good," Phoenix said.
The archive maintained in the Records room of the district court was expansive—spanning several decades from the time the court was established to the recent past. Cases from the last two years were maintained in other archives that required special accesses and permissions and in some cases payment—but anything older—provided there were no additional appeals or judgments pending—i.e. the case was closed—was available here for the education and entertainment of the public.
The oldest records—from thirty or forty years ago—were archived on microfiche that were later digitized and placed in the archive's memory bank. Newer cases were digitized as part of the newer digital archive process and provided for luxuries such as keyword searches and multimedia files. Records older than two years but less than five years were also maintained in hard-copy briefs that could be checked out by authorized persons—students, clerks, paralegals, lawyers, etc…
Phoenix supposed the rotating of these briefs and the digital archiving of new cases older than two years, kept several people in a job—among several other jobs that had nothing to do with the law or court procedure—that made the courthouse itself one of the largest employers in the local district. Sometimes he wondered if he should take a part-time job at the courthouse—just to have some steady income coming in.
However, the possibility of additional employment is not what brought Phoenix into the archive today—in fact he hadn't been in the archive since he was in school—unless, of course, you counted the night a few weeks ago when Edgeworth dragged him in there to go over testimony transcripts from DL-6 and the Hammond murder trials. Those transcripts, by the way, were not kept in the archive—Phoenix had no idea how Edgeworth had gotten a hold of them; nor did he feel he should even ask.
Phoenix always felt intimidated by the Court Records Room. Probably because Mia had forced him to spend most of his time in there preparing for his finals, and later, the bar.
He entered the archive by one of several entrances and made a beeline for one of the computers set aside just for the perusal of the digital archive. Edgeworth had only been prosecuting in the district for a few years—less than five—so every one of his cases older than two years would be digitized. If he searched for Mia, he had even fewer cases to look through.
He read through over three hours of Mia and Edgeworth's case files before finding one small mention of a trial that ended prematurely. The prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth—Defense: Mia Fey. Score! Except… The trial was never completed and therefore no actual documents or media pertaining to the trial existed.
Phoenix left the archive to get a quick lunch at the courthouse cafeteria. He sat pondering over crappy chicken a la king, as to how he'd be able to find more information on that trial. Talking to Mia was out of the question—he didn't know when or if Maya would ever come back. He could ask Edgeworth—if the dude would ever decide to start answering his phone again.
Phoenix choked down most of his lunch—unwilling to waste money on a meal he didn't eat—then went outside. He stared at his phone in his hand—he wasn't sure if he even wanted to call Edgeworth again—as Edgeworth had been ignoring him for the last several days—since he left for Las Vegas. Phoenix dialed—now that he was fixated on learning about the trial between Mia and Edgeworth, he wasn't going to let Edgeworth off so easily.
Phoenix paced the bright expanse of concrete that made up the courthouse mall and courtyard. It was sunny again and the light made the concrete shine like new snow. The phone kept ringing until the voicemail answered. Phoenix cursed and dialed again. One ring… Two rings…
"Edgeword."
"Where have you been?"
"Hello Ride, I was workin'. What are you doin?"
"What? What's wrong with you?"
"By allergies hab flared up. So I'b takin' a persodal day—sort ob…"
Phoenix laughed; this was kind of funny.
"Oh, okay," Phoenix said, "So since you're off of work, do you have time to—"
"Dope."
"Edgeworth what—"
"I'b at da dry big rage," Edgeworth's voice faded as he sneezed and blew his nose, "Sorry about dat. You're welcome to join be if you wad, however, I ab attendig to some berry serious bidness and I whoa be abailable all day."
"Is that where they race cars?"
"Doh, I'b at da dry big rage. If you cub out to da Palms on da Horizon, da cubhouse is ride awe da bain road."
"Uh, well," Phoenix said, "Is there a bus stop near there? I'm kind of limited—"
"Doh," Edgeworth said, "But you can take a cab."
Phoenix muttered under his breath, "Are you busy tomorrow?"
"I hab to take by sister to da airport," Edgeworth said and sniffed, "Bud udder dan dat doh."
"Well, it's sort of important—wait you don't have a sister."
"Bye Ride."
"Wait—!" But Edgeworth had already hung up the phone.
He doesn't have a sister. Phoenix stopped pacing and stood in the glaring concrete tapping his chin thoughtfully. He grinned—there was a girl version of Edgeworth! Well—not that he thought of Edgeworth—Phoenix Wright doesn't have to explain himself to anyone!
Phoenix turned on his heel and marched back into the courthouse and headed back into to the records room. He'd just have to look harder.
A/N: Thanks for Reading! Yay! Phoenix to cheer everyone up!
First flashback immediately following the Hammond Murder Trial.
Second flashback from just over two years ago—Phoenix is 21-22.
Lol… Nancy Grace gets on my nerves too.
In PW:AA:TT (third game) Phoenix goes over an old case of Mia's in the last episode "Bridge to Turnabout" [covered in Turnabout Beginnings]. Phoenix is curious—trying to find it here—but doesn't actually find it. (I hope that made some sense to the other person that reads this besides me).
A translation of Edgeworth's stuffy nose conversation—for anyone who didn't get it:
"Edgeword." Edgeworth
"Hello Ride, I was workin'. What are you doin?"
Hello Wright, I was working. What are you doing?
"By allergies hab flared up. So I'b takin' a persodal day—sort ob…"
My allergies have flared up. So I'm taking a personal day—sort of…
"Dope." Nope
"I'b at da dry big rage," I'm at the driving range
"Sorry about dat. You're welcome to join be if you wad, howeber, I ab attedig to some berry serious bidness and I whoa be abailable all day."
Sorry about that. You're welcome to join me if you want, however, I am attending to some very serious business and I won't be available all day.
"Doh, I'b at da dry big rage. If you cub out to da Palms on da Horizon, da cubhouse is ride awe da bain road."
No, I'm at the driving range. If you come out to the Palms on the Horizon, the clubhouse is right off the main road.
"I hab to take by sister to da airport, Bud udder dan dat doh."
I have to take my sister to the airport, but other than that, no.
"Bye Ride." Bye Wright.
UPDATED 10JUL2015—Very minor edits.