Date: Sunday, October 14th, 2018
Time: 2:57 pm
Location: Courtroom No. 6, Los Tokyo District Courthouse
You know that brave new world of uncorrupted law we were supposedly marching towards? Yeah, I don't think that was quite panning out. Calvin Lewis, the Chief Prosecutor, and the only person I respected in this place, is now on indefinite stress leave. He was only in the role for a year and a half.
The state brought him in from New York in the hopes of overhauling the system we have here, but the deep-seated corruption obviously started to get to him. The amount of work needed to fix everything was overwhelming. From what I've heard, the US's system is far from perfect but it's a utopia compared to what we have here.
To the man's credit, he did clean house, letting anyone go who was suspected of corruption but, from what I can tell, the remaining prosecutors were up to a lot of the same tricks. They may not have been bribed or blackmailed, but they still forged or withheld evidence so they could blindside the opposition. Having a near 100% conviction rate was still seen as a badge of honor and anything below 80% was considered worthy of derision.
In the meantime, the state is looking for a new Chief Prosecutor to serve in the interim, although no one has volunteered. Well, other than me. I offered to as a joke, just to see if they'd let me do it with no prosecutorial experience. They weren't as amused at the notion as I was. Probably for the best. It sounds like a tough job with not enough extra money to make it worth my while.
Since the prosecutor's office requires daily team meetings to assign cases, and Ira is the most senior prosecutor on the team, they have placed him in charge of chairing the meetings until they find a suitable replacement. As I have grown accustomed to in the short time I've worked with him, Ira has made this extra undesired work everyone else's problem, complaining ad nauseam about the responsibility.
Ira was at the head of the boardroom Friday morning, assigning cases, when I finally heard the name that I was waiting for. It was the last case on the docket.
"Uh oh," he said, laughing. "Here's a doozy. Anyone here interested in taking a Saturday morning case against Phoenix Wright?" Everyone was silent. "No takers?"
I was dumbfounded. Are these people for real? "Is everyone joking?" I asked.
Ira looked at me. "Did you want to take it, new guy?"
"Sure, why not?" I asked rhetorically.
He checked the case off his list. "Your funeral, but I won't try to change your mind. Less work for me, trying to find someone else."
I laughed. "How bad could he possibly be?"
"Well, he beat Miles Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma so badly that they fled the country to practice elsewhere," Ira responded. "They were our top prosecutors before they left."
Those two were von Karmas, by blood or by law. Who knows why they do the weird things they do? "I doubt that's why they left. The guy has just been lucky anyway."
Winston Payne, a mousy but arrogant guy, who I never had the displeasure of facing in my defense career spoke up. "Mr. Godot, Phoenix Wright is the real deal. He's the second coming of Mia Fey. I hadn't lost a case for seven years before I was matched against the two of them."
I scoffed. "Phoenix Trite is more like it," I said derisively. Everyone in the room let out an "ooh" in unison and murmured to each other. I chuckled. Trite: that's a good nickname. I like that.
"You're talking a big game for someone who has never prosecuted a case before," Ira countered.
"Look, I'm just not scared of the kid. He's only 26 and serves on a criminal case once a quarter. I'd be amazing too if I went to court that infrequently."
I know age doesn't really matter. When I was 26, I was the top lawyer at Grossberg Law Offices. When Mia was 26, she had served on and won at least twice as many cases as Trite. The difference was, we both had to work our asses off. We didn't just luck out or have help.
"Mr. Godot, I have a proposal for you," Ira offered. "How about you face Phoenix Wright whenever his name comes up?"
"I will. Anytime. You don't even have to ask me," I agreed.
Ira smiled. "Fantastic! Fewer cases to assign."
After the meeting, I got to work investigating the crime scene of my first case as a prosecutor. With the police at my disposal, I didn't have to investigate crime scenes anymore, but old habits die hard. Furthermore, the detective assigned to the case was known to be a bit of a buffoon. Surprising. With a name like Dick Gumshoe, you'd expect detective skills to be in his DNA.
I had only met him once before I was poisoned, when he testified during Mia's first case, but I still introduced myself to him. With my new look, he didn't recognize me. Besides, at the Fawles trial, he was too busy gawking at Mia to notice me. You and me both, buddy.
"Detective Dick Gumshoe, sir," he said deferentially, saluting me as he did.
"Nice to meet you, pal. Are you always so formal to the prosecution team?" I asked.
"Mr. Edgeworth would threaten to dock my pay if I wasn't." He sighed. "I miss that guy."
"Yeah, he sounds like a peach," I said drily. "Phoenix Wright still here snooping around?"
"No, he and his assistant left about an hour ago. Are you two friends?"
I scoffed. "Not quite." Damn, I was hoping to talk with Trite before the trial. To get into his head a bit. Looks like I'll need a workaround. "Actually, I'm glad you're here, Gummy. There's something that's been weighing on me and I feel like I can trust you."
"Sir?" he responded, perplexed.
I let out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm just so nervous to face Phoenix Wright. I'm new to the district, but back in my home country, I had never lost a case. Just case after case. Win, win, win, win, win." I shook my head, sadly. "I'm just not ready to fail for the first time in my career."
"Really, you too? I had no idea," he replied, awestruck.
"Yeah, I've kept in on the down low. Mr. Edgeworth told me how ashamed he was losing his first case to the guy. He told me not to do it." I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess justice is that important to me. I had to take the risk anyway."
"You and Mr. Edgeworth are friends?" he asked.
Not exactly. "Yeah, the best of friends. I stay with him whenever I'm in... Europe." Where did they say that guy moved to again? I can't remember.
"A friend of Mr. Edgeworth is a friend of mine," Gumshoe said proudly. "Your secret is safe with me."
"I knew I could count on you, Gummy. Anyway, I better finish my investigation and head back to the office. Gotta be prepared. I'll see you at the trial tomorrow." I waved to him in salute, and he saluted back.
When I turned around, I smirked. I don't trust that guy with a secret as far as I can throw him. Word will get out.
After a thorough investigation of the crime scene and a review of the files back in my office, I felt pretty confident about my odds of winning. Trite's client, Ron Delite, had been accused of stealing a sacred urn from Kurain Village, while under the persona of notorious local thief Mask DeMasque.
The prosecutor's office had wanted to get this guy for six months now. Mask DeMasque had already completed five successful heists, and they wanted to nail a single suspect on all five charges rather than splitting the charges across several trials. This case was for all the marbles.
The defendant seemed far too shy and unassuming to be a flamboyantly dressed famous thief, but when I went to see him at the detention center, Ron straight up admitted to me that he was him. His wife Desirée came by at the end of the meeting to visit him and, well, she was way out of his league. So, if he could bag someone like her, maybe he was more capable of surprises than he initially appeared.
I felt confident about my chances until I got a call from Gummy at 9 am yesterday morning, that is. One hour before the trial. They had evidence of Mask DeMasque's presence at the site of the theft at 1:00 in the morning on October 12th, and at the site of a murder at the exact same time. If Ron Delite was Mask DeMasque, and there was a copycat on the loose, then he was guilty of at least one of the two crimes and the copycat the other.
If Ron Delite kept Trite as his attorney for both cases, no matter what, I would have to lose one of them to him. Well, there goes my dream of a 100%-win rate.
I had a good idea who the copycat Mask DeMasque could be too. There was this insufferable private investigator named Luke Atmey who was investigating the crime scene while I was there, and he seemed far too familiar with the details of the case. Maybe he was just the "ace detective" he proclaimed to be or maybe he was guilty of one of the crimes at hand.
I decided to pursue the theory that Ron Delite was the murderer and that Luke Atmey was the thief. There wasn't enough clear evidence one way or the other and I figured it'd be most embarrassing for Trite if he lost a murder case rather than a grand larceny case. I wouldn't tell him about the murder until after the trial either. It was my right as a prosecutor to withhold evidence. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
When I arrived in the courtroom yesterday morning, I could see that Gummy had done a good job at talking up my reputation. Trite seemed uneasy by my presence. Maya was assisting him, as usual, and I heard her whisper that I was the one they had heard about. The judge knew who I was even though we had yet to meet under my current persona.
"Your reputation precedes you. What kind of cases have you dealt with so far?" the judge had asked me.
I laughed. "None."
"What did you say?" the judge asked confusedly.
"I've never prosecuted a case before," I answered. I already had my fun so there was no sense continuing with the lie.
"N-Never? But you said you've never lost before."
"Exactly. I've never lost. I've never won before either," I explained.
"Quite arrogant for a beginner, aren't you?" the judge chided.
"Even the mightiest of redwoods begin their lives as mere saplings," I quipped.
The judge asked me about my unusual mask, and I brushed off his question with some sort of analogy about masks and hearts. I don't remember; it was yesterday. I spouted out so many off-the-cuff analogies and metaphors trying to disarm and bewilder both the judge and Trite, that I can't remember half of them.
I finally got to introduce myself to the man himself, as well. "So, we finally meet, Mr. Phoenix Trite!" I declared.
Phoenix looked confused. Maya didn't seem to recognize me either. I had hoped that I made enough of an impression on her during our two pre-coma interactions that she would, but I did look decidedly different. She never saw me in court or in my formal attorney wear either.
"N-Nick! Is he a friend of yours?" Maya asked curiously.
"No. I don't have any friends that call me 'Trite.'" Phoenix replied, bristling at the nickname.
"I've returned from the depths of hell to do battle with you," I taunted. Unsurprisingly, that remark seemed to keep him quiet. He was even more baffled by me than before.
The first case went exactly as I predicted. Trite was easy to lead to the conclusion I wanted. I pretended to put up a good fight though, asking him for proof of all the wild accusations he threw out during the course of the trial. I felt like a broken record with the number of times I had to ask him for supporting evidence for his many stabs in the dark. He seemed to be throwing arguments at the wall, hoping that one would stick.
Despite Trite's protestations, I also wouldn't allow Desirée Delite to bring forward the urn she claimed to find at Atmey's agency as evidence of his guilt. She had a clear incentive to implicate someone else other than her husband, so her gesture couldn't be taken at face value.
By the end of the trial though, Trite had implicated Luke Atmey as Mask DeMasque and I let him do it. To prove Atmey's guilt, I had confirmed on the record with Trite that Ron Delite was indeed innocent of the thefts because he was at KB Security, the location of the murder, while the theft of the scared urn of Kurain had taken place.
Once the verdict was announced, and Trite had his glory, I met him in the defendant lobby to pull the rug out from under him. I had Ron arrested and told Trite that the alibi of Ron Delite that he confirmed with me during the trial, and which had allowed his client to achieve his not guilty verdict, made him the most likely culprit of the murder. Phoenix was completely mystified by the series of events.
I was feeling pretty smug about the whole result until today, when I had to face off against Trite again, during the murder trial of Ron Delite. About two hours into the second trial, it became apparent that I had bet on the wrong horse. Luke Atmey was the murderer and Ron Delite was actually Mask DeMasque.
It appeared that Luke Atmey had committed the murder and had doctored security footage to make it look like the urn was stolen at the exact same time. In reality, the urn was not taken at the same time, and both Ron and Atmey were at the scene of the murder. Ron was directed to the crime scene by Atmey so he could be implicated, and Atmey had doctored the footage to give himself an alibi for his true crime of murder. Not only had I followed the wrong conclusion, but I had been tricked by the machinations of the true murderer.
I wasn't sure what to do. I still cared about justice being served, but I didn't want to lose both cases against Trite. Atmey's grand larceny case was going on in the courtroom next door, so I allowed Trite to retrieve him so he could testify. I told Trite that, if he didn't go retrieve Atmey right away, they would declare him guilty of the urn theft, which would make him ineligible to be accused of the murder.
While proving that the footage was doctored would make Atmey eligible as the suspect of both crimes, that couldn't be proven without Atmey's testimony. Yet, if he was found guilty of grand larceny, he could not be compelled to testify on the murder case due to the doctored footage being the key piece of evidence used to convict him on grand larceny charges.
I gave Trite a chance to question and implicate Atmey, but I wasn't going to make it easy on him. I knew Atmey was guilty. In reality, probably from the first time he said, "I'm Luke Atmey, zvarri!" However, Phoenix would have to prove this with decisive evidence. I wouldn't just let him win with some of the cockeyed arguments he was spewing out.
He had no evidence that Atmey was at the scene of the crime and, without it, he couldn't be implicated. Even though I made the wrong decision yesterday, Ron Delite was going to be found guilty of the murder, as he was the most likely alternate suspect besides Atmey. If Trite couldn't figure it out, I would still win, even if it wasn't the just result.
Trite was ready to concede when Maya came to his aid in the 11th hour, channeling Mia. I was in awe when I looked at her. She had told me about channeling, but never before had I seen it in action. It all happened so quickly. One minute, Maya was standing there. I looked away for a moment, and there Mia was in her place. Mia was wearing Maya's clothes, and her hair was styled the same as Maya's, but she was unmistakably Mia. Same angelic face, literally, I suppose. Same height. Same, uh... curves.
Mia silently observed for a moment, gathering the facts of the case, but she didn't say anything. At least, nothing that could be heard from my side of the room. Before the judge was about to hand down the verdict though, Mia objected on behalf of Trite.
I don't know who the judge thought Mia was right now, clearly not Maya, but he let her object and cut him off anyway. Like Trite, he could be easy to push around if you were firm and authoritative with him. He even let me set up a drip coffee machine at my bench and I brewed coffee throughout both trials.
There was no way he would let me get away with that back when I was a defense attorney. Technically, Mia was on the side of the beleaguered defense right now, the side the judges rarely allowed grace to, but he was probably just in awe of her too.
"Unfortunately, your Honor, you're forgetting something. Earlier, after the last cross-examination, this witness made a number of remarks!" Mia exclaimed.
"Y-Yes, but these comments appear to have no importance whatso-" the judge remarked before she cut him off again.
"Very well, then we shall prove their importance via cross-examination. At any rate, as long as the witness has made these remarks, we, the defense, assert our right to question them! Is that alright with you..." she paused as she looked over at me.
Her eyes bore a hole right into my soul and I could tell that she recognized me too. Even with my new look and my new role, she still knew it was me. Would she say it though? Would she say my real name? Despite all the effort I put into concocting this new persona, I wanted her to. It had only been two months, but I was already tired of the charade. I wanted an excuse to stop it. I couldn't give it up on my own though. I needed to be caught.
"...Prosecutor?" she continued. She didn't say it. She kept looking at me and I stared back, not saying anything. The way she looked over, her eyes pleading with me, I knew what I had to do.
"Is something the matter? Mr. Godot?" the judge asked after I had not responded to her request for 15 seconds.
"Ah, nothing," I replied quietly.
"Oh, sir lawyer! It looks like you're one step too late! If you think such falsehoods will do anything to me, Luke At-"
"Let's hear it," I agreed, cutting Atmey off.
"Huh?" Atmey replied with surprise. If I refused the request to cross-examine him, I would win the case. Atmey was banking on my competitiveness to save him. He didn't know that there was something more important at play.
"It's true that the witness made some 'remarks.' So then... let's hear this last bit of cross-examination," I explained.
Through cross-examination of one of Atmey's seemingly innocuous statements, he was shown to be the likely culprit of the murder and was dragged out of the courtroom to await his own murder trial at a later date. As he was escorted out, he laughed hysterically, continuously remarking on his own genius.
Ron was declared not guilty of the crime. Not only that, but he admitted that he was indeed Mask DeMasque and had committed several thefts. However, he was unable to be retried in court due to the double jeopardy rule. He was found not guilty of the five thefts yesterday and would have to steal again to be convicted of grand larceny. For now, he would walk.
I looked like a fool. The cases went as badly as they possibly could have. If I had just tried to convict Ron of grand larceny like I initially planned, I would have won. As the thief, he would have been ineligible as a murder suspect due to the doctored security photos Atmey created, and Atmey wouldn't have been able to testify to doctoring the photos without admitting to the murder. If I was the prosecutor on Atmey's murder case, I would have won that too.
This whole time, I could have won two cases. Instead, I won neither. I got too blinded by my desire to beat Trite and make him look stupid. Worst of all, my failure played out in front of Mia.
Date: Saturday, January 12th, 2019
Time: 11:12 am
Location: Visiting Area, Los Tokyo Maximum Security Women's Prison
After seeing Mia at my first trial with Trite in October, I was left with mixed feelings. I was so happy to see her again. However, the way she looked at me, I could tell that she was ashamed. Ashamed by my willingness to put justice aside in favor of winning. I knew she was right. That's not how I had ever done things before. I could be a bit of a showman at trial, a little arrogant maybe, but I never pulled any crap like that as a defense attorney.
However, seeing her also made me angry. Not with her but with Trite. The way he bumbled through his cases against me, I didn't know how he achieved nearly the same win record she had. By the end of that second trial, it suddenly became very clear.
Not only did he have a magatama, but Maya was there to channel Mia on all his cases. Any time things got a little tough, she'd just summon Mia and get her to figure it all out for him. He took over Mia's firm and her legacy, but he'd clearly be nothing without her.
Still, as displeased as I was with how he was using her, seeing her, I vowed to be a better man. Well, I'd at least try to be one. After losing those cases, that alluring 100%-win rate was no longer a possibility. If I lost again, it really wouldn't matter anymore.
I had many other cases without Trite on the other side of the courtroom. I had to. If I took as few cases as he did, I'd be fired. Not only was he entitled but lazy too. Following those cases, I was at about a 65% hit rate. Not bad compared to my defense days, but the worst win rate in the whole prosecutor's office. After I made such a big show about beating Trite, it made me kind of a laughingstock in the office. I mostly didn't care. Mostly.
It stung knowing that I was the absolute bottom of the barrel in the prosecutor's office when I used to be the top lawyer at Grossberg Law Offices in my prime. However, I just kept thinking of Mia's face. I couldn't pull any more tricks knowing how she'd react.
From then on, I'd analyze the facts of each case I prosecuted and try hard depending on whether or not I thought the defendant was guilty. If I thought they were innocent, I'd let things go. Not bringing forward any argument or piece of evidence that could cast doubt. If I thought they were guilty, I'd throw everything at them until they were begging to go to prison. I probably should approach all my cases with equal effort but, if an innocent defendant had a bad attorney, I felt an obligation to put my thumb on the scale in their favor.
Unfortunately, the times when I needed to really hold on to that integrity and follow it, were the times when I was least likely to do it. The only time I could see Mia was at trial with him. Whenever I was against Trite though, well, winning felt like the only option. I couldn't lose to someone like him. Again.
Almost three months after my first cases with Trite, I served on my third case against him this week. A retrial of a case from December. I had told the other prosecutors that I'd take on any case against him, so they assigned me to the original trial. When I got to the courthouse though, and looked at who I was actually facing, I backed out last second. It wasn't him at all.
I may be blind without my visor, but I could clearly see that the "Phoenix Wright" I was supposed to be facing was an imposter. He was probably half a foot taller, 50 lbs heavier, 20 years older, had a ridiculous Brooklyn accent, and was tanned within an inch of his life. Other than the same crappy blue suit and Guido haircut, they really looked nothing alike.
In hindsight, maybe I should have told the judge and my replacement that they had the wrong guy. I wasn't even sure if he was a licensed attorney. I just found it so God damn funny that they had mistaken this guy for Trite that I couldn't do it. Best of all, when this schmo lost the case, the newspaper wrote a big smear article about Phoenix Wright's worst law performance yet.
The retrial went his way though. I lost, yet again. In fairness to me, the actual murderer was Furio Tigre, an infamous local loan shark and the same guy who posed as Trite in the original trial. He obviously had been highly motivated to avoid punishment, by any means necessary.
He was also a complete moron who got tricked into admitting his crime. Trite showed him the victim's ear medicine, claiming it was the cyanide bottle used to poison the victim, and Furio Tigre corrected Trite, smugly explaining that the actual poison bottle looked much different. How am I possibly supposed to win under these conditions?
If he was the accused, I would have won handily, but the retrial was to determine the innocence of Maggey Byrde, some broad Gummy was trying to woo. He was the one who pushed for a retrial. I didn't like losing, but I had to respect the hustle. Hope it works out for those two.
I was pissed but, with Mia in my head, I tried to look on the bright side. At least Maya seemed to think my impression of one of the witnesses, this pervy old geezer, was funny. It would have been a lot cooler if she finally recognized who I was too, but I digress.
While everyone cowered in fear at the brute that was Furio Tigre, I was the one who found him and wrangled him into the courtroom by myself in 30 minutes flat. Looks like all that working out was paying off. Of course, when something impressive like that happened, Mia wasn't channeled to see it. Trite must have used her expertise during his investigation instead.
Oh yeah, and Jean Armstrong, a French restauranteur who looked awfully familiar to Giuseppe Armstrong, the Italian chef who violated me on my first restaurant date with Mia all those years ago, hit on me during the trial. I'm not sure if that's really a highlight, I'm still not interested, but at least someone finds me attractive in my doddering old man state.
Anyway, I didn't have time to wallow regardless. I had other matters to attend to. Last Thursday, the first week of January, I received an alarming call from Lana.
"Go for Godot," I answered.
Lana laughed. "Wow, that's the lamest greeting I have ever heard."
I rubbed my face and chuckled. "Oof. Harsh. I kind of have a whole 'thing' going here at the prosecutor's office; you obviously don't get it"
"Clearly not. My skin is still crawling from the cringe," she joked.
"I assume you're calling for a reason. Not just to bust my balls."
"I am. Dahlia's being executed tomorrow."
I smiled. "I heard. A little behind schedule though. I thought she was slated for December."
"She was. Her birthday was on Christmas Day. She managed to convince them to push the execution to the new year. I've heard she's been successfully pushing the date back for years."
"I'd expect nothing less. It always seemed fitting somehow that the literal Anti-Christ was also born on Christmas." I paused. "Is that the only reason you called?"
She sighed. "No. I think you might have been right. I overheard Dahlia and Morgan talking this morning. I couldn't get all the details. However, they seemed very excited about a prison visit Morgan's having with Pearl next week. Saturday at 11:30 am."
I wrote the details down on a sticky note. "Did they say anything else noteworthy?"
"Not much more. I didn't want to seem like I was eavesdropping. Just something about putting 'the plan' into motion."
I groaned. "I really wish I wasn't right."
"It definitely doesn't sound good. What's your plan?"
I thought for a moment. "I'll be at the prison a little before their meeting that day. I'll see if I can wrangle some sort of listening device so I can overhear their conversation. I'll sit at a table nearby and pretend like I'm visiting with you."
"Good idea. I'll pretend like we're friends," she said teasingly.
I scoffed. "Man, were you always this mean?"
She laughed. "I think so. Mia may have softened my rough edges a bit."
"You and me both. I'll see you next week."
I arrived at the prison at 11:00 am this morning and was frisked by the guards. They tried to take away my cell phone, my listening device, the ballpoint pens, and the book of crossword puzzles I brought with me. I guess they were pretty strict during inmate visits at the maximum-security prison. When I showed them my prosecutor's ID badge and told them I was here on official business, they let me bring in my contraband.
Both Lana and Morgan were seated in the visitors' area at separate bolted-down tables. There were a few other prisoners talking with or waiting for their respective visitors and three guards stationed in the room. I sat down across from Lana and slapped the book down on the table.
"Hi...friend. What's this for?" Lana asked, reading the cover of the book.
"I thought we could do some crosswords during our visit." I ripped a page out of the book for each of us and handed her a pen.
She nodded in understanding. "Ah, of course. I'm not big on talking to you either."
Lana worked on her page while I pretended to work on mine, fiddling around with the settings on the listening device and placing the earbud in my ear.
Lana looked up from her puzzle. "She's here," she whispered.
I wanted to look back, but I waited until I saw a tiny figure in Japanese robes pass by our table, escorted by a guard. Morgan was stationed at the back table in the left corner of the room. I increased the frequency settings of the device. I'd have to keep adjusting it to pick up Pearl's voice and Morgan's voice and avoid listening in to the conversations of others in the room.
"Mother!" Pearl exclaimed as she seated herself at the table.
"My dear Pearl," Morgan replied quietly, in a deeper, almost regal way. "You mustn't be so loud in here," she lectured.
"I'm so sorry, mother," Pearl replied timidly.
"Did your cousin bring you here today?"
In the corner of my eye, I saw Pearl nod. "Mystic Maya and I took the train. I love trains."
"Of course you do, my dear. Is your cousin around?"
"No. She's at the comic book store down the street. Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick are going to take me to lunch today and then we're having a sleepover," Pearl said softly but excitedly.
"That's very nice of them," Morgan replied disinterestedly.
"I wish we could go somewhere together again," Pearl remarked sadly.
"I wish that too, darling. In March, I'll have to go away for a long time, but I will see you again."
"I'll miss you," Pearl said sweetly.
"You too, dear," Morgan said emotionlessly. "Pearl, would you be able to help your mother with something?"
"Of course," Pearl replied enthusiastically.
"I had planned some special spirit training for your cousin before I was taken away. I never got to take her. Will you make sure she completes the training?"
"I'll do anything for Mystic Maya."
"I know, dear. I left instructions for her training in a letter. It's hidden in my jewelry box back at the Village. Do you know where that is?
Pearl hesitated. "I-I think so."
"Were you going through Mother's jewelry?" Morgan asked sternly.
"A little," Pearl admitted sheepishly.
Morgan's voice softened upon having a realization. "That's okay. They're yours now."
"Really?"
"Yes, but don't lose anything," Morgan warned. "All those items are very precious to Mother."
"I won't, Mother. I promise," Pearl agreed.
"The letter is underneath the lining of that box. You'll need to take everything out and remove the lining to find it."
"Okay."
"Don't show the letter to anyone. Not even your cousin. She has to be tested for her training."
"I won't let you down," Pearl said resolutely.
"That's a good girl," Morgan replied warmly.
They chatted for about a half-hour more, but not about anything that seemed relevant. Mostly about the Village, Pearl's schooling, and her training. At the very end, Morgan requested that Pearl come back at the end of the month to confirm the instructions. The plan was to happen on the first Thursday in February. Something to do with the moon cycle, Morgan had said. Then, Morgan was escorted back to the prison and another guard led Pearl outside.
"Shit," I said under my breath, removing the earbud and placing it on the table.
"What did she say?" Lana asked. She had quietly completed two crosswords while I listened to the conversation and absentmindedly filled in random letters on my page.
"She wrote some plan for Pearl and left it for her back at Kurain Village before she was arrested. I'm not sure yet, but I think Morgan and Dahlia are planning to hurt Maya somehow. She told Pearl not to show anyone the letter."
"That's concerning," she said worriedly. "What are you going to do?"
"I'll have to get to the letter first. Pearl is staying in the city tonight with Maya and Trite."
"Who's Trite?" Lana asked curiously.
Damn. I forgot that Lana knew him too. He was the lawyer on her case. "Uh, Phoenix Wright," I mumbled out.
"Oh, Phoenix! Yeah, he's a really nice guy. My sister loved him," she said gushingly.
"Yeah, he's the best," I said shortly.
She smirked. "Someone's jealous."
"Takes one to know one," I threw back.
Her smile faded. "Point taken."
"Sorry," I said remorsefully. Mia's gone so we're not in competition anymore. Lana was never blatant about it, but I could tell that she was always waiting in the wings for us to break up. Don't think Mia would have just switched teams if we had but, when it comes to Mia, I completely understand desperation.
"It's okay. Grief effs with your brain," she said plainly.
"It truly does," I remarked quietly. "Thanks for your help. Really," I said sincerely.
"Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else. You know where I'll be."
I took the next available train to Kurain Village. It stopped about a half hour away, so I had to walk along the side of the road to the Village from there. There were buses that traveled from the train station to the Village, but the next one would be four hours from then and I couldn't wait.
When I arrived, the place looked desolate. There was a temple and many traditional Japanese-style buildings but no one was around. I could understand why. It was cold here in January. The Village was in a mountainous region but also near the coast. The elevation and cold sea air were a powerful combo.
I knocked on the door of the closest building and was greeted by a stern-looking older woman. She looked me up and down with disdain. "Who are you?" she asked skeptically.
"A tourist," I answered humbly. "I've been told that the Village offers tours."
"Next one isn't until tomorrow morning. How did you get here? There's no bus at this time."
"I took the train and then walked from the station."
She shook her head disapprovingly. "Typical man. Doesn't care to research the ways of the Village before showing up. Just barges in uninvited."
Christ. Mia wasn't lying about the gender dynamics of this place. Men get treated like trash and then leave and then the women regard them as even bigger trash for leaving. It seemed like a vicious cycle.
I needed her help, so I ate shit and played dumb tourist. "Gee, I must have misread the schedule," I said vacantly, scratching my head.
She sighed. "I'll show you around," she reluctantly offered. "I have to prepare supper in a half hour so that's all of my time I will give."
"Thank you kindly," I said in a folksy voice. Okay, maybe I'm laying it on a little thick.
The woman never introduced herself nor asked me my name. She led me through the Village, pointing out various statues, artifacts, and buildings. Many buildings were residential so I couldn't look inside, but she did show me the interior of the one-room schoolhouse, where Mia and Maya used to go to school.
I smiled, imagining a little version of Mia working diligently at her desk. Going up to the chalkboard of the old-school Victorian classroom to write an answer on the board.
The last two stops of the tour were Fey Manor, where Maya lives, and the Branch Manor where Pearl lives and where Morgan's old room was, presumably.
"I don't think we'll have time to view both, so I'll show you Fey Manor first. It's the most elegant building in the Village," she said proudly. I'm surprised she's letting a dolt like me look at it.
As she showed me the various rooms of the manor, I tried to rush her through the tour. I needed her to have enough time to show me the Branch Manor after. I wanted to drink everything in, the place where Mia grew up, but I mostly resisted the urge.
I couldn't help but linger though when I was sideswiped, just before we exited the manor, seeing several ornate cremation urns on a hutch in the main living area. "Are those former Masters?" I asked dourly.
"Yes, some of them." She pointed to the first urn. "This was Mystic Ami the Seventh. She was the former Master. The mother of the current Master." She pointed to the next urn. "This was...well, she could have been the Master if she hadn't abdicated," she said derisively. "The daughter of the current Master. Was a pity what happened to her though."
Understatement of the year. "I think I heard something about that in the news," I said solemnly.
"You probably did. She became somewhat famous after she left. I hope it was worth abandoning her duties and traditions."
I silently seethed. Never hit a woman. Never hit a woman.
"Well, I suppose I have a few minutes left to show you the Branch Manor," she continued. "That's where the branch family lives. They are the family next in line if the main family is unable to perform their duties."
The inside of the Branch Manor was almost as nice. A little smaller, not quite as fancy, and with no channeling chamber inside. It was the second nicest building in the Village. However, I could understand how it would seem inadequate when placed directly next to Fey Manor, making the two buildings rife for comparison. My guide showed me the rest of the building and was about to lead me out when I stopped her.
"Is it okay if I use the bathroom?" I asked politely.
She scoffed. "Not in here," she said adamantly.
"Is there a public washroom I can use?" My guess was no, but I don't know what my plan was if she said yes.
She paused. "No, there isn't." I looked at her expectantly, fully anticipating that she'd direct me to the woods like a dog. "Fine, but be quick," she eventually agreed. "Down the hall and to the left. I'll wait for you outside."
I nodded and started walking down the hall. When I heard the door close, I walked into Morgan's room and located her jewelry box. I lifted on the liner, taking the jewels with it and found a sealed letter inside.
I hesitated for a moment. If I open it, Pearl will know that someone read it first. I didn't have a choice though, so I gently opened it, tearing it as minimally as possible. Inside was a picture of Dahlia. I barely resisted the urge to rip it to shreds, instead dropping it face down on the floor. With the photo were instructions written across three half-pages of thick letterhead.
The instructions read: Be careful my dear Pearl. Once night falls at Hazakura's Inner Temple, Maya should be there completing her training. As soon as you hear the lights out bell, you must channel her spirit. Leave everything up to her. Her name is Dahlia Hawthorne. She is our ally and Maya's channeling guide. The whole plan relies on her. Here is a picture of her. Use it when you channel her. I know you can do it. Once this is done and Maya has finished, burn the papers in the incinerator. Also, make not a sound nor tell anyone about this letter. Gravely roast the Master in the fires of Hades and bring our vengeance to fruition.
This was demented. Morgan plotted to kill her niece. She wanted her daughters to be the ones to do it. With Maya out of the picture, Pearl will be next in line to become Master. Most effed up was Dahlia plotting murder from beyond the grave. To be expected from her, but still. This must be Dahlia's revenge on Mia for locking her away.
I don't know what to do exactly, but I don't have much time to decide. If I leave the letter, Pearl will follow the plan. If I take it, she'll tell Morgan on her next visit and then what? Morgan is set to be executed in March and murder from beyond the grave is now on the table. Pearl could channel her any time from then on and infinite new plans could be generated that I won't be privy to. I'll have to outsmart the plan. To come up with a counterplan.
I resealed the letter and put it back where it was, restoring the contents of the box where they were. Once I was certain everything was in its proper place, I met my tour guide outside.
"You took a while," she said severely.
"Sorry, I got lost," I said empty-headedly.
She shook her head. "Please tell me you at least flushed."
I stifled my laughter. Wow, they really have no faith in men around here. "Gee, I'm not sure. Want me to go back and check?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "I need to return to my duties, and you'll probably just get lost again. Pearl will deal with it when she gets back."
She turned around, leading me out of the Village and to the road, while I contemplated my next move.