Read this a while back, forgot to rate it. >_>

Anyway, it is a very good chapter, but it drags on a bit.

It took thirty-seven days this time, I noticed. If you will give me one moment...

*flips through little black book of excuses*

I think Holidays (Excuse #5), Term Papers (Excuse #3), and Finals (Excuse #22) will work here.

Now, for the couple dozen of you still reading this, I'm happy to report that this is a larger than average chapter (~11,500 words), though I wouldn't be surprised if it's a bit heavy like the last one (I see you thar OW ).

I'll admit that I'm not quite as satisfied with this as some of my earlier chapters, but I'll bellyache about that after the posting. For now, let's simply enjoy the next installment.

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Part 4/7: Kid Gloves

October 18th, 2016, 5:40 PM

Harry Oldbag gave his empty shot glass a bitter stare. “I’ll admit, I had a bit of doubt that Wendy wasn’t being entirely truthful towards me,” he grumbled, “But I sure as hell wasn’t expecting things to turn out the way they did today.” He shook his head. “You understand, don’t you, Miles?”

A contemplative expression appeared on Miles Edgeworth’s face as he stirred his iced tea with a straw. “Yes, I understand,” he replied curtly. “I understand that you doubted the credibility of my witness and yet did not try to find the root of such doubts.” He sighed. “And it is that lapse in judgment which led to the farce of a trial session I had to deal with this morning.”

“Hey, that ain’t nice!” snapped Oldbag, bristling. “I did the best job I could do with the time I had! And I tried to get to the bottom of things, but Wendy simply shut me down and ran off before I could press any further!” He gave his ponytail a nervous tug. “You remember how it went down, don’t you, barkeep?! Tell him!”

Jack jumped slightly as he sat atop his personal chair; he’d been so busy trying to silently absorb his customers’ conversation that he hadn’t been expecting a direct question. “Well, I guess Mr. Oldbag is correct, Mr. Edgeworth,” he blurted. “She was acting mighty strange by the end of her visit... she stormed from my bar pretty damn fast, taking Detective Gumshoe with her to boot.” He shook his head. “She wasn’t going to let us stop her from leaving the building, that’s for sure.”

Edgeworth harrumphed loudly before giving his iced tea a cautious sip. “I still don’t believe you were wise to bring her down here,” he said finally. “If we allow every potential witness that comes through here to learn of this bar, it could lead to... unpleasant things.”

“Well, yeah, but... She was family!” Oldbag retorted, squaring his shoulders. “If you were willing to let me prepare her testimony for you, I figured you wouldn’t mind us having a drink together afterward!”

“Well, that was your error, not mine,” Edgeworth said deftly. “Additionally, I only assigned you with the task of preparing the witness because I assumed your familiarity would lead to a more truthful testimony than one developed by the police department or myself.” He frowned. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case.”

“Damn right that wasn’t the case!” snapped Oldbag, sputtering. “I’m surprised you expected me to prepare Wendy better than anyone else... me and her have been on the outs for years now!”

Edgeworth’s eyes widened; he obviously hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Is that true...?” he asked crisply.

“True?! You bet your damn britches it’s true!” retorted Oldbag, puffing.

“Well, I’ve never heard anything that would give me that impression,” he stated, crossing his arms. “In fact, when I asked you if you’d be willing to take on this assignment, you sounded quite eager... hardly the proper reaction if you and she were truly ‘on the outs’.”

Again, Oldbag gave his glass a bitter look. “I was eager because it’d give me a way to talk to Wendy for more than five minutes without her bailing on me,” he grumbled. “And the fact that you were willing to... trust me with such a task was a feather in my cap as well.” Suddenly, his head snapped upward. “But you should’ve known me and Wendy weren’t close anyway! This scalawag of a barkeep made me talk about her just last week, and you were there to see it!”

Edgeworth sipped at his tea, a thoughtful expression on his face. A moment later, he stated, “It is indeed true that the two of us had a drink together in this bar last Friday. However, you spoke not one word about your... relation while I was present. The entire conversation was, ironically enough, dominated by the subject of the Steel Samurai instead. Surely you haven’t forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten nothing!” shouted Oldbag, his fists clenched tightly in annoyance. “Tell him, barkeep! Remind him about what we talked about!”

“What we talked about?” repeated Jack, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the fog from his mind. Well, I did bring up the subject of Wendy Oldbag when we were discussing the Steel Samurai last week, but... “I’m sorry, Mr. Oldbag. We did talk about Wendy for a while; I thought that your being related to her would’ve provided you with special insight into the nature of the TV show, after all. However, all that occurred before Edgeworth entered my bar. He didn’t hear a thing about your strained relationship with Wendy. Right, Mr. Edgeworth?” He turned toward the man for confirmation.

“That’s right, Jack,” Edgeworth muttered, his lips twitching to form a slight smile. “In fact, I didn’t know that you were related to my witness at all until Winston Payne mentioned it to me in the lunchroom yesterday. He was already here when I showed up last Friday, so it makes sense that he would have heard about that.” Slowly, he shook his head. “It seems that Mr. Payne was glossing over details as usual... he was happy to tell me of your familial connections, but he failed to say a thing about how strained your relations were. Pity, that...”

“Really a shame,” muttered Oldbag, his head hung in defeat. “I apologize for Wendy’s shoddy testimony... and for forgetting to mention we were on the outs when you gave me the task in the first place.” He sighed heavily. “I guess it’s just a couple more apologies to add to the great pile of apologies I’ve been giving you over the years, Miles...”

A bitter expression crossed Edgeworth’s face as he gave the older man a slight nod. Absently, he proceeded to sip at his tea once again.

Though he may have been exaggerating a bit, Oldbag does have a habit of making errors, especially when Miles Edgeworth is involved, Jack thought darkly. He frowned as his two customers allowed the bar to fall silent. This quiet is really depressing. I’d better say something before the atmosphere tries to crush us all to death.

“I must admit that I was rather surprised when the news people said that Wendy had been accused of being the murderer herself,” he stated awkwardly. “Even though she’d been summoned to the courtroom, I didn’t think that there’d be a chance of the defense placing the blame on her.”

“Didn’t we all,” Edgeworth muttered sullenly.

Nervously shifting his weight atop the chair, Jack continued, “Well, it wouldn’t have been so bad if Donny hadn’t been having his lunch break here at the time. As soon as the news bulletin had ended; he was questioning me like mad to see if I thought she really could have been the killer.”

Edgeworth’s eyes narrowed. “And why would he be asking your opinion on Wendy’s culpability? Don’t tell me you’ve been giving him every scrap of information you’ve taken from your customers these past few days...”

“Actually, I’d been trying my best to keep the conversation from going into... an unsanctioned direction,” replied Jack, placing a hand against the back of his head. “Unfortunately...”

Edgeworth rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he let out an irritated sigh. “Unfortunately...?”

“Unfortunately I’d been so shocked by the news announcement that I hadn’t kept strict control of my language,” Jack replied quickly. Noticing Edgeworth’s still present glare, he added, “I believe I yelled something to the effect of, ‘Goddamn it, she didn’t sound like a killer when I talked to her last night!’” Fighting the urge to blush, he continued, “Quite an incriminating thing to say, I’ll admit, but it was certainly the truth. Wendy Oldbag seemed nothing but fond of the victim when we talked about him last night.”

“Wendy Oldbag’s... obsession over Jack Hammer was never in doubt,” said Edgeworth, irked. “Unfortunately, the defense managed to convince the judge that she was a possible suspect without even worrying about the subject of motive.”

Yeah, because the police department is so good at finding plausible motives before they arrest any suspects, Jack thought sarcastically. While I’m not sure if he’s guilty or not, I haven’t really heard anyone talk about Will Powers’ possible motive either.

Before Jack could think to voice this concern, Oldbag grumbled, “You know... it was pretty damn embarrassing, learning about how much she’d been hiding. I didn’t even get to witness it firsthand.” He gave Edgeworth a nervous glance as he added, “I’d just gotten finished handling my third open-and-shutter over in Courtroom Six when some bailiff came up and practically shouted the news in my ear. The guy started laughing after he did it, too. What would make him think a stunt like that was funny?!”

“Er, nothing...” replied Jack, resisting the urge to smile.

“And another thing! They made me go over to one of the witness lobbies so that I could watch her try and put that damn samurai suit on! By Jove, that was a humiliation if I’ve ever seen one!”

“Ah, yes. I heard about that,” said Jack. “The TV people said that her not fitting in the suit was the key to putting her out of suspicion... though I have no idea why.”

“We’re keeping that aspect of the case away from the public arena,” Edgeworth stated bluntly. “All anyone needs to know is that the witness had to fit into the suit for her to be deemed a possible suspect.”

Jack frowned in thought. For the suit to be important, the killer must have worn it while they were committing the crime. Perhaps the suit is that ‘one piece’ of evidence that Harry was talking about so earnestly late last night...

“It’s a damn shame that Wendy had to go back to work after that damn suit incident,” Oldbag grumbled. “Even though her testimony was shot full of holes, I wanted to bring her back here and see if we could talk things out right this time.”

“I still don’t believe that that would have been a good idea,” said Edgeworth, glaring. “A woman like her... I really don’t think she should have easy access to this building.”

For an instant, it appeared that Oldbag was going to yell again, but then his eyebrows drew upward and he let out a hearty chuckle. “I think I’m starting to see where you’re coming from, Miles. She might not have cared for the barkeep all too much, but she really took a shine to you!”

Jack’s eyes grew wide before he too let out a chuckle. “Really? The news people sure didn’t have anything to say about that. How bad was it?”

For once, Edgeworth nearly looked embarrassed. “Well, er...”

He fell silent as Oldbag made a show of leaning across the bar counter. “She called him ‘Edgey-poo’,” he said in a stage whisper. Returning to his normal posture, he added, “She really didn’t want to put that stupid suit on... she was begging him not to let the policemen do it—batting her eyelashes at him and everything.”

Jack merely had to picture Wendy Oldbag sweet-talking and batting her eyelashes for a second before he burst out in uproarious laughter. Only after a few seconds had passed was he able to force out, “It must have been hard for you, Mr. Edgeworth, trying to resist such a... lovely lady’s charms. I can see why you don’t want to be exposed to such temptation any longer.”

Ignoring Oldbag’s hearty guffaw, Edgeworth ground his fist into the table and growled, “That is nothing more than one of her... irregularities. There’s also the fact that she is emotionally... delicate. After all, Mr. Oldbag, you yourself mentioned that she left this bar last night in a mighty temper, accusing you and Mr. Keeper of somehow conspiring against her.”

“I guess that’s true,” Jack said levelly. “It makes sense though, considering what happened in the trial today...”

Edgeworth frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Before she got mad, I tried to ask her about the Steel Samurai’s director and producer... Sal Manella and Dee... Dee...”

“Dee Vasquez,” Edgeworth supplied dully.

“Yeah, Dee Vasquez. At the time, I’d been trying to ask her about something neutral that she would know a lot about. I didn’t know that she was trying to hide the fact that Manella and Vasquez were at the Studio on the day Jack Hammer was murdered.” He shook his head amusedly. “I only set her off because I stumbled near her secret by accident.”

“I see,” said Edgeworth, his tone dry. “How utterly amusing.”

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry if I’m making light of your troubles, Mr. Edgeworth. I can’t help but find these coincidences funny sometimes... it’s almost as if some force pre-planned it or something.”

Edgeworth shook his head. “I highly doubt that, Mr. Keeper.” He took another slow sip at his iced tea, his expression disheartened. “I just wish that Ms. Oldbag hadn’t been so dead set on keeping such an important secret. It gave the defense an advantage that I simply couldn’t overcome at the time.”

Oldbag looked at Edgeworth appraisingly. “At the time, you say? Does that mean you’ve managed to turn things around, Miles?”

“In a matter of speaking,” Edgeworth replied cautiously. “Upon reexamining the evidence earlier this afternoon, I believe that I’ll be able to prove that neither the director nor the producer has anything to do with Mr. Hammer’s murder.”

“Really?! That’s great!” Oldbag bellowed, giving Edgeworth a hearty slap on the back. “What are you going to do in court, then?”

Still somewhat shaken from the human contact, Edgeworth glared at Oldbag and Jack both before shaking his head. “Upon finding the data file for this evidence, I attempted to contact both Vasquez and Manella via phone. Unfortunately, I was only able to connect with the latter of these two.”

“Sounds interesting,” Jack interjected. “What did he have to say to you?”

“Not much,” Edgeworth stated tensely. “He’d been somewhat panicked at the time... I think he lost something, but, considering how poorly his voice carried over the phone, it was very difficult for me to guide the conversation.”

“Did he have a bad cell phone connection or something?”

“The connection seemed fine... he just had a habit of spitting into his phone.” Edgeworth rubbed at his forehead wearily. “Even when he was talking relatively clearly, he kept spouting words I couldn’t understand... I pride myself on my command of vocabulary, but even I don’t have a clue about what a ‘roffle’ is supposed to be.”

Oldbag looked thoughtful for a moment, and then sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “No idea, Miles. Did you work out what he needs to tell you, then?”

“No, not really. Since Mr. Manella was in such a state when I called him, I decided to schedule an appointment for us to meet early tomorrow morning... I will prepare him for the witness stand at that time.”

“I see,” Oldbag muttered. “What about the producer woman? Are you going to try and get a hold of her later?”

Edgeworth shook his head. “I see no need to.”

Oldbag’s eyes widened. “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Edgeworth smirked. “It’s quite simple. From what I’ve learned so far, I’m almost certain that, were I to prepare it, Ms. Vasquez’s testimony would be identical to that of Mr. Manella. Thus, trying to make contact with her and putting her through witness preparation would be a waste for both of us.”

“Avoiding redundant testimony in order to save valuable time? Brilliant!” Swiftly, Oldbag lifted his still-empty glass and mimed downing a shot.

Absolutely crazy, that man, Jack thought wryly. However... “I guess that is a pretty good idea, Mr. Edgeworth. On the TV, Mr. Grantor said that they were both in the same place during the murder, and that it was fairly removed from the scene of the crime. I don’t know exactly what you’re going to make them say, but it makes sense that it would be the same thing.”

“And you can get that producer lady up on the stand in a jiffy if you really need to,” added Oldbag, smiling. “A damn good plan you’ve got there, Miles.” Absently, he reached into his old tweed jacket and pulled out a battered-looking wallet. “I guess I’d better fly the coop,” he said matter-of-factly. “How much was that shot worth again, barkeep?”

“Two-fifty.”

Oldbag nodded as he flipped through a small wad of banknotes. “Here’re three for you, then,” he said, pushing three notes across the counter. “I don’t want any change; a couple of quarters ain’t worth much in this day and age anyway.”

“Er, thanks,” Jack muttered. Shaking his head, he stood from his chair, took the bills to his old cash register, and swiftly placed them inside.

“Let me just say one more time that I’m sorry about everything that happened this morning, Miles,” Oldbag stated seriously. “Of course, knowing you, I’m sure you’ll be able to fix the damage I caused and put that sneaky Will Powers away for good come tomorrow.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ll be able to do so as well,” Edgeworth replied haughtily. “However, I do thank you for your confidence in my abilities.”

Oldbag stood and let out a loud sniff; Jack noticed that his eyes appeared to be rather misty. “You’re a good man, Miles,” he said quietly. “It’s just too bad that a lot of people aren’t able to see it.” Drawing his battered suit coat closer to his body, he walked across the room and, with a final nod towards the counter, exited the bar.

Jack let out a light sigh as the chime rang and the door fell shut. “He never gets much of a break, does he?” he asked rhetorically. “It’s actually rather sad when you think about it.”

“A little. Mr. Oldbag actually was a highly respected prosecutor once, a long time ago,” Edgeworth said basely. “It’s a shame that his skills began to tarnish exactly when they did.”

That really must have been a long time ago, because Oldbag was just as melancholy when I started working here three years back. Absently, Jack looked at Edgeworth and noticed that his eyes were rather unfocused; apparently he was thinking hard about something as well. Again starting to feel awkward from the heavy silence, he eventually blurted, “You know, the news channel has been going on and on about the case all day. That’s why I turned it off before you showed up—they only have so much information, so after a while they were doing nothing but speculating and constantly repeating themselves.”

Edgeworth blinked several times before he said, “I expected as much. The nitwits running the news networks love to tear down their heroes, after all. They were probably rather disappointed when they found out I hadn’t gotten Mr. Powers the guilty verdict yet.” He scoffed. “Not that I’m prosecuting for their sake, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack repeated seriously. A moment later, he added, “They don’t ever really seem to be too kind to you anyway, which is actually somewhat strange considering their bias towards prosecutors.” He frowned. “Then again, they were actually staring to criticize both you and Mr. Wright rather equally by the time I turned it off.”

Edgeworth let out a dry chuckle. “I’m actually surprised they’re paying any attention to Wright at all,” he said bluntly. “He doesn’t exactly have much in the way of credential.”

“I guess that’s true,” said Jack. “Aside from Ms. Fey’s murder, that case against Payne a couple months back, and now, I haven’t heard his name come up at all. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume that those are the only three cases he’s ever taken!”

Edgeworth smirked. “Actually, those are the only three cases he’s ever taken. He barely qualifies as a rookie, in my opinion.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. He hasn’t taken any other cases? How the heck is he supposed to eat, getting paid so infrequently? And furthermore... “How do you know he hasn’t taken any other cases, Mr. Edgeworth? For all you know, he might just be defending people on charges too minor to make the news or involve high-level prosecutors such as yourself.”

“Recently, I’ve been keeping an eye on all of the cases that go through the district,” Edgeworth said bluntly. “Aside from his first trial and... that case, Wright’s name never showed up in the records.”

Wow... I sure as heck can’t counter that statement. But that means... “You must have been keeping an awfully close lookout for Mr. Wright’s name if you distinctly recall such information.”

“I guess I have been,” replied Edgeworth, his voice uncertain.

Jack considered the situation for a moment before nodding. “That makes sense. After what happened last time, it’s only natural that you’d take an active interest in the man.”

Edgeworth’s eyes grew unusually wide. “And what do you mean by that?!” he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

“I meant that you’d be keen on monitoring his progress,” blurted Jack, surprised at Edgeworth’s tone. “You’d also be able to note his ability against any other prosecutor he happens to come across.” Frowning, he crossed his arms. “What else could I mean by that, Mr. Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth frowned and shook his head. “Nothing, Mr. Keeper. Nothing at all.”

Judging by how unsettled he looks, I doubt that ‘nothing’ is an accurate answer. I’m not sure what other reason there could be, however.

Before Jack could think any further on the subject, he was interrupted by what sounded to be a crude rendition of jazz revival music. Absently, he watched as Edgeworth reached into a pocket and extracted the source of such noise—his port-wine colored cell phone. He lips pursed as he glanced at the phone’s viewing monitor, but he pressed a button and cradled it against his head all the same. “This had better be important,” he said heavily.

An excited male voice emanated from the earpiece; though Jack couldn’t make out the individual words he was certain that the caller was Detective Gumshoe.

Edgeworth’s eyebrows furrowed as he listened to whatever Gumshoe was saying. “Please slow down and start over again,” he commanded. “I can’t understand a thing you’re talking about when you prattle on and on like that.”

Gumshoe’s voice again came out of the phone, a lot more spacey-sounding this time.

Edgeworth’s eyes grew wide as he listened. “A case-cracking witness?! You’re certain about that?!” A few seconds pause; Edgeworth’s eyes grew, if anything, wider. “He saw the entire murder?! You’re absolutely sure?!” Another pause; this time Edgeworth’s expression settled back into a typical frown. “You used the word ‘kid’ to refer to him. Is he literally a child, or is that just your vernacular?” More dialogue; now Edgeworth let out a sigh. “No, vinyl is what old-fashioned records are made of,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant to ask you if the witness is a child or an adult.” Another pause. “Seven years old? That’s all?” He nodded to himself at whatever Gumshoe said next. “The fan from the missing photo... that makes sense.” Another brief pause. “His age won’t be an issue, of course; as long as his words hold up, the judge will have no means of recourse. Are you at the precinct building, then?” Another pause; this time, Edgeworth’s expression settled into a scowl. “You know I disapprove of you talking while driving. You might get yourself wrapped around a telephone pole someday.” He shook his head. “Exactly where are you, then?” More conversation; Edgeworth’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Well, I’m still at the Prosecutor’s Office... and if you’re only a few minutes away, you may as well bring him here.” Edgeworth moved the phone away from his ear after that statement; Gumshoe’s voice had risen to a shout. “I understand that you still want to take him to the precinct building,” he said seriously. “However, considering today’s... debacle, I’ve decided it best to place a higher priority on at least meeting with witnesses before they are placed on the stand, though I don’t wish to question such a direct eyewitness completely on my own.” More dialogue. “I plan to introduce myself and give him a brief description of the police and courtroom procedures; we will conduct the more in-depth preparations at the Criminal Affairs building just as you planned.” A smirk crossed Edgeworth’s face as he listened to whatever Gumshoe said next. “I was hoping you’d agree with me, detective... you should know by now that I have the best interests of the case in mind.” One last pause. “Until then, Detective.” Smoothly, he removed the phone from his ear and pressed a button to hang up.

Jack shook his head fitfully as Edgeworth returned the phone to his suit pocket; even though he’d only heard one side of the conversation, it was still packed with a lot of new and highly critical information in regards to Mr. Powers’ trial. A seven year old witness that saw the entire murder... if that doesn’t show people how harsh life can be, I don’t know what can. Wondering exactly what Edgeworth thought of the development, he commented, “It sounds like you’re going to have to change your entire game plan for tomorrow, Mr. Edgeworth. Of course, it’s not going to be easy to place a young child on the witness stand...”

Edgeworth frowned. “First of all, Mr. Keeper, it’s rude to eavesdrop. And second... if what Detective Gumshoe has told me is true, he is by far the most vital witness to this entire case. It is indeed a bit cruel to have a youth endure the scrutiny of the court, but if it’s his testimony that’ll best sway the judge, so be it.” He smirked. “You know that I’ll do anything to get my guilty verdict, after all.”

Oh, believe me, I know, thought Jack, recalling the last time Edgeworth had faced Mr. Wright in court.

Edgeworth must have noticed Jack’s discomfiture, because he added, “If it will put your mind at ease, I’ll have you know that I’ll likely only put the kid on the stand if Mr. Manella’s testimony somehow falls through. Though the statements won’t be as critical, an adult’s testimony should be more... stable than a child’s.” His eyes glanced upward thoughtfully. “Then again, Mr. Manella didn’t exactly seem like the epitome of stability...” He shook his head. “But that’s irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact that Detective Gumshoe and the witness should be at my office door in about ten minutes, and that’s only if he has the decency to not speed like a moron.” Standing up, he reached into an inside suit pocket and produced two banknotes. “For the tea,” he stated, placing them on the counter. “Good thing I didn’t let Oldbag talk me into drinking hard liquor,” he muttered. “The consequences might have been disastrous if I had.”

“I guess that’s true,” Jack said bluntly, “But you didn’t, and it appears that things are looking up for your case now,” said Jack, smiling.

Edgeworth nodded, and the ghost of a smile graced his face as well. “Indeed they are, Jack. Good day to you.” Turning around, he swiftly crossed the room and exited the bar.

This time, Jack shook his head in mild amusement as he watched the door close. Nice to see him leave in something approaching a good mood, even if it’s only because of a work-related development, he thought as he added Edgeworth’s bills to the growing pile of singles in his cash register.

“Of course, things are still going to be pretty rough for him if he has to put that kid on the witness stand,” he muttered. “Heck, I watched that happen once myself... though that incident is about as far from Mr. Powers’ trial as you can get.”

Absently, he turned around and let his gaze rake the entire barroom; aside from the two empty glasses sitting on the counter, there was not a thing for him to clean or otherwise maintain.

Looks like I’m going to have some time to myself again, he thought as he picked up the glasses and sat them in the bar sink. I might as well enjoy it.

Whistling to himself, he washed his hands and then quickly stole away to the bar refrigerator, whereupon he dug to the back of an upper shelf and grabbed a few choice ingredients.

“A loaf of sliced Italian bread... some beef bologna... sharp cheddar cheese... lettuce... and a bottle of cola on the side,” he muttered, taking each item into his arms before he slammed the door shut and sat them on the counter.

I don’t think my idea of ‘fun’ is very interesting, he thought as he produced a small plate and proceeded to make a bologna and cheese sandwich. But a meal is a meal, I guess. As soon as the top slice of bread was placed, he poured some cola in a glass and quickly shoved everything back into the fridge for later.

I wonder if I should turn on the TV, he thought as he quietly began to eat. I already saw everything the news people had to say about Mr. Powers’ trial earlier this afternoon. Of course, they might have something to say about the new witness, but I doubt they’ll get that information for a couple more hours, or reveal anything I haven’t already heard. He sipped his cola appreciatively. Of course, I could try and watch something else... maybe there’s a decent sports game going on... tennis or something...

His mind made up, Jack reached into a nearby drawer and took out his remote control, but before he could press any buttons...

“Alright, alright, I’m going inside! Stop pushing!” In spite of the distance between the counter and the door, Jack could clearly hear the high-pitched complaints of someone just beyond the other side.

Who the heck was that? Perplexed, Jack jumped to his feet and turned to look at the entranceway. He almost sounds like Mr. Payne after he’s had about one-half too many...

“It’s okay, pal, we’re almost there!” retorted a voice that was far more familiar.

It appears that Detective Gumshoe is using the rear entrance to get inside the building, Jack thought shrewdly. Rather odd, considering that he normally parks in B Block unless...

*BANG!* Jack jumped as the door burst open and bounced against its frame, only to be caught by the gray-clad arm of Detective Gumshoe himself.

“Here we are, pal, the Golden Gavel! If you’re in the Prosecutor’s Office and you happen to be thirsty, this is the place to be!” Smiling, he moved his arm higher up the door so that a much shorter person could walk underneath; a person that Jack realized was far too young-looking to even think about entering his bar.

“Unless he wants to come here,” chocked Jack, unaware that he was voicing the end of his thought. An instant later, the remote slipped from his fingers and made a clacking noise as it struck the hardwood floor. No longer able to speak at the sight of Gumshoe leading his companion—the newly found witness, the seven-year old kid—towards the bar counter, he merely thought, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you really bringing me here just because I’m thirsty?” the kid asked, his hand grasping for a scabbard that protruded behind the back of his yellow jacket. “This place looks just like the dungeon that Bloody Lizzie lived in at the beginning of Steel Samurai Episode 4!”

“Don’t worry about it,” replied Gumshoe, chuckling as he moved the kid’s hand away from the scabbard and guided him the rest of the way to the bar counter. “This is nothing more than a place of business!” Waving a hand in Jack’s direction, he added, “Besides, Mr. Keeper here doesn’t look anything like a ‘Bleeding Lizard’...”

“I told you, it’s Bloody Lizzie!” the kid yelled, pulling down the brim of his Steel Samurai baseball cap. “And he does look like her... he has the same long red girly hair she does!”

“Hey, don’t make fun of people’s looks, pal!” Gumshoe snapped admonishingly. Turning to Jack, he added, “Don’t take what Cody says too seriously... he’s still a bit upset about having to come here, you know.” Oblivious to the fact that Jack was staring at him with an expression of exasperated horror, he quickly lifted Cody up and planted him on a barstool.

“I didn’t say you could touch me, you smelly old dumbface!” Cody snapped as he again attempted to reach for the sword behind his back. “And this girly-haired guy is really starting to creep me out!”

Realizing that he was still staring, Jack blinked and quickly shook his head. “Uh... sorry about that,” he muttered lamely. “I’m just a bit, er...”

“What?” interrupted Gumshoe, taking a seat next to Cody. “You seem a bit off, pal... it’s almost like there’s something wrong with you!”

You bring in a seven-year-old into a bar, and you’re saying there’s something wrong with me?! Knowing it wouldn’t bode well if he started yelling in front of this... Cody, he held back his anger and said, “I’m fine, detective. But tell me... Exactly why did you choose to bring this... person into my bar?”

Gumshoe scratched his head in confusion. “Didn’t you hear me when I came in, pal? Cody here is really thirsty! Isn’t that right, Cody?”

“Yeah, that’s right!” exclaimed Cody, waving his arms. “So tell this girly-haired guy to get me something to drink, you dumb-faced old man!”

“My name is Mr. Keeper,” Jack quipped indignantly. “And this idi... er, person is Detective Gumshoe. It’d probably be best if you used proper names when speaking to people.” When Cody crossed his arms and failed to respond, Jack quickly leaned towards Gumshoe and muttered, “If he really is thirsty, wouldn’t the 4th story cafeteria be a better option for your... charge?”

“The cafeteria?” repeated Gumshoe, still woefully confused. “That place is expensive and full of noisy people. Besides, I’ve always liked the Gavel more anyway, so why shouldn’t he?”

“Because he’s a...” Jack trailed off as he stared at Gumshoe’s completely oblivious expression. “Oh, never mind. But you’d better tell Mr. Edgeworth you’re going to be late, and don’t expect me to save your butt if someone else walks in.” Sighing in exasperation, he turned back to the child and asked, “What would you like to drink, er, Cody?”

“I don’t know.” Cody shot Jack a sly smile as he fidgeted with a camera that was strapped to his neck. “What do you got, girly-hair?”

Jack bristled. “My name is-”

“There’re lots of drinks to be had here, pal!” exclaimed Gumshoe, effectively cutting off Jack’s retort. “I mean, just look at all of those bottles!” He gave the liquor shelves an energetic wave.

“Are you crazy, detective?!” snapped Jack, no longer able to keep his voice low. “Almost everything up there is-”

“-really really cool looking!” exclaimed Cody, looking at the drinks with an expression of awe. “It’s just like the Wall of Potions that the Shogun of Alchemy had in Steel Samurai Episode 9!”

Yep, this kid is definitely a fan of the show, Jack thought wearily. “I agree that it’s a beautiful shelf, but why I don’t I suggest you have-”

Before Jack could make a reasonable suggestion, Cody pointed and asked, “What’s in that bottle?”

Am I doomed to never finish another sentence?! Deciding that he wouldn’t be able to get away with ignoring Cody’s question, Jack sighed, examined the bottle that was being pointed at, and replied, “That’s an Irish Whiskey. It’s been aged for sixteen years.”

Cody’s mouth fell open upon hearing this fact. “Sixteen years?!” he gasped. “Are you serious?! That’s older than me!”

It sure is. “I’m perfectly serious. See the big number ‘16’ on the bottle? Not many whiskies are aged for that long, so people consider it to be rare.”

“Rare, huh...” Cody mused, the sly smile returning. “Can I have some, then?”

“What? No!” Jack knew better than to offer a bit of resistance in giving that reply.

Cody growled in annoyance. “No? Why do you say that, girly-hair?!”

Jack smirked. “Because I’m not allowed to sell it to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll... make you sick,” Jack replied thoughtfully. “I’m not allowed to endanger the public health.” Or corrupt a minor, for that matter. “How about a-”

“-What’s in that bottle?” Again, Cody pointed at the shelves before Jack could suggest something age-appropriate.

Sighing heavily, Jack looked at where the kid was pointing this time. “That’s a bottle of gin. It’s a far more common drink than that whisky.”

“I see... can I have some of that, then?”

Jack shook his head. “No, you cannot.”

“Again?! Why?!”

“I’m not allowed to sell you that either, and it too would make you feel sick,” Jack replied bluntly.

Cody puffed his cheeks up in annoyance. “Well, in that case... Hey, that one’s Japanese!” Excited, he pointed to yet another bottle.

“That’s a bottle of sake,” explained Jack, wondering if he was going to be trapped in this stupid loop forever. “And before you ask, I can’t sell that to you either, because it too would make you sick.”

Instead of getting angry, Cody merely shook his head in what appeared to be a chiding manner. “For a businessman, you’re not very smart, are you?” he asked mockingly. “In order to run a successful enterprise, you have to have products that are both safe and marketable. You aren’t going to keep this dungeon for very long if all your potion bottles make people sick and you’re not allowed to sell them anyway.”

For a few seconds, he sounded like a well-educated adult. Scary... Raising a finger into the air, Jack quipped, “Well, there actually are a few drinks that I’m allowed to serve you... they just aren’t on those shelves.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” chimed Gumshoe, finally raising his voice for the first time in several minutes. “I’m sure he can mix up something that’s just right for you!”

“Wait... you can mix these potions together?” asked Cody, eyes wide with wonder. “Awesome! Mix me up something good then, girly-hair!”

Mix something? But practically everything I know how to mix is alcoholic, too! I guess I could make him a virgin cocktail, but one of those would probably taste nasty to him. Jack’s stomach gave an annoyed twinge—how was he supposed to solve this dilemma?

“Are you okay, pal?” Gumshoe asked concernedly. “You look kind of out there...”

“I’m fine, detective,” Jack snapped irritably. And by the way... “Aren’t you going to call Mr. Edgeworth already?”

Gumshoe sighed and cast his eyes downward. “I was in such a hurry, I left my cell phone in my car,” he muttered.

“Then why didn’t you ask to borrow the bar phone?”

“I was too busy listening to your conversation,” Gumshoe replied seriously. “Also, that half a sandwich over there was distracting me,” he added, pointing to the plate that Jack had sat on the back counter. “I didn’t have anything to eat for dinner yet. Or lunch, or breakfast, for that matter...”

Jack shook his head and sighed. “I’ll let you have what’s left of my sandwich if you call Mr. Edgeworth right this instant,” he stated, grabbing both his plate and the bar phone and sitting them on the counter in front of the detective.

“Gee, thanks pal!”

“It’s no big deal,” replied Jack, ignoring his stomach’s rumble of protest. I suggest you move down a ways, though... the last thing this kid needs is to be able to listen in on Mr. Edgeworth’s side of the conversation.”

“If you say so,” Gumshoe replied, obviously oblivious to the ramifications of Jack’s statement. Stuffing the sandwich in his mouth, he quickly moved two seats over and fumblingly started to dial.

I hope that’ll be far enough to shield the kid’s ears, Jack thought worriedly. Mr. Edgeworth’s going to go nuts when he hears what happened.

“Hey, where’s my service?!” yelled Cody, sending Gumshoe an evil glare. “I asked for something to drink fifteen minutes ago! If you don’t get me something, I’ll-” Gritting his teeth, he attempted to unsheathe his sword again.

Jack merely let out a martyred sigh as he observed Cody’s irritation. This kid just isn’t going to give me a break, is he? he thought desperately. It’s not my fault that I haven’t dealt with someone his age since... Jack abruptly snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. “Very well, Cody,” he stated seriously. “If you will just give me a minute to gather the ingredients, I’ll mix you up something real special. You can even watch me as I make it.”

While not completely relieved, Cody appeared to relax somewhat at this statement. “You better not be trying to trick me,” he warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack replied tonelessly, before turning and opening his refrigerator. “First, I need a carton of milk and a bottle of chocolate sauce,” he announced, deciding it best to give Cody as much information as possible.

As Jack sat the two items on the bar counter alongside a pint-sized glass, Cody’s expression once again became irate. “All that talk and you’re just going to make me chocolate milk?!” he blurted disbelievingly.

Jack chuckled. “I guess it looks that way, but what I’m about to make you is just a little bit more complex than mere chocolate milk. If you’ll give me a chance to explain...?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Cody merely huffed and crossed his arms, his skepticism obvious.

Tough crowd. “Okay, then,” said Jack, already unscrewing the milk cap. “The first thing you need to know, Cody, is that this was the first special mixed drink I ever created... I perfected it a long time ago, before I could even imagine doing this for a living.” He paused so that he could pour the milk into the glass; he wanted to leave just enough room at the top for the other ingredients. “I was sixteen years old back then, and a little girl I knew always asked me to make chocolate milk for her. I always found it to be a bit annoying; making chocolate milk all the time, but she always told me I made it better than anyone else.” Smirking, Jack added a gratuitous amount of chocolate to the glass, procured a spoon, and started to vigorously stir the contents. “Another thing you need to know about this girl was that she liked to eat ice cream—specifically, ice cream that that tasted like mint. You like mint ice cream, don’t you, Cody?”

Luckily for Jack, Cody nodded and smiled. “I like the mint ice cream with the chocolate chips the best,” he explained cheerfully. “I make my dad take me to the ice cream shop every Saturday so I can have some.”

Every Saturday? Poor dad... Shaking his head, Jack continued, “Well, one day, the girl was in quite a temper, because her sister had eaten the last of the mint ice cream the night before. She was screaming really loud about it when I showed up... I can still remember my ears ringing. But anyway... I was only stopping by for a few minutes before I had to leave for school; so buying her more ice cream was not an option.” Turning around and opening a cupboard, he continued, “Desperately, I rummaged around for some sort of substitute... and that’s when I came across a bottle just like this one.” Smiling, he grabbed a small bottle of clear liquid and sat it on the counter so Cody could see.

“What’s that?” he asked warily. “Looks like the potion the Shogun of Alchemy used to make himself turn invisible.”

Jack frowned as he recalled the episode Cody was talking about. “I guess it does, a little bit,” he admitted. “But no. This is a bottle of peppermint extract... its main use is in baking and the preparation of hot drinks, but I didn’t have the time for such things when I first came across it, so I decided to make the girl some chocolate milk and add this to it instead.” Smiling, he unscrewed the cap and let half a dozen drops of the liquid fall into Cody’s drink-too much would make it intolerably bitter. “I was very lucky that day, as I added just enough of the stuff to make the girl happy—she said it tasted just like the mint ice cream she loved so much.” He let out a wistful sigh. “From that day on, I always had to make sure there was a bottle of this stuff on hand, because the girl asked me to make mint-chocolate milk nearly every time I saw her.” Reaching into yet another drawer, he grabbed a bendy straw and stuck it into the drink before pushing it to a spot within Cody’s limited reach. “Try it and tell me what you think, Cody... If nothing else, I’m pretty sure that this won’t make you sick.”

Frowning, Cody quickly pulled the glass closer to him and took a sip; after a brief pause, he made a satisfied noise and sipped again with much more gusto.

Quietly, Jack let out a sigh of relief. What do you know... he likes it! “Hey, Cody!” he exclaimed, noticing that he’d already consumed nearly half the concoction in just a few seconds. “I’m only sure it won’t make you sick if you take your time when you drink it!” When Cody released the straw and fixed Jack with a clearly annoyed glare, he laughed. “It’s good to know I can still make that stuff taste all right,” he said levelly. “Any questions?”

Cody rubbed his nose, his irritated expression dulled but still present. “I’ve got one,” he said testily.

“Shoot.”

“Did you make that story up?”

“No, it really happened,” Jack retorted sharply. “I try to make it a principle not to lie about such things. Lies can lead to bad things happening, after all.”

Cody huffed and crossed his arms. “That’s what all the grown-ups say. But can you prove that you’re not telling a lie?”

A request for proof? Looks like I’ve got another potential lawyer on my hands, thought Jack, raising an eyebrow. Vocally, he asked, “Exactly how am I supposed to prove that my story is true, Cody?”

Cody sipped his drink thoughtfully. “That little girl you kept going on and on about... doesn’t she have a name?!”

Jack winced. “I guess it sounds like a made-up story if I don’t provide a name, doesn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Very well then,” Jack replied dully. “If you must know... the girl’s name was Ema.”

Cody frowned. “Ema? I guess that’s a real name. But it’s not a very cool one.”

“Well, I always liked it,” said Jack, grimacing. “Of course, considering your age, you probably think all girls’ names are uncool... unless they’re crazy villain names like Bloody Lizzie, of course.”

“Well, duh,” said Cody, his tone patronizing. “Until the Steel Samurai came along, everybody had to be nice to Lizzie or she’d give them a taste of her Burning Axe of Vengeance! Of course, that’s not something you’d know about, girly-hair.”

Well, so much for hoping he’d use my real name after having something good to drink, Jack thought amusedly. “Well, I do know some things about the Steel Samurai,” he admitted, “But I wouldn’t dare suggest that I know more about his show than an obvious fan such as yourself. I’m still rather excited about next week’s show, considering how they...”

“Criminal behavior?! Are you sure this really counts as that, Mr. Edgeworth?!” Jack was effectively cut off by Gumshoe’s yelling into his phone; it appeared that Edgeworth was finally berating the detective with enough force for him to properly understand it.

Cody gave Gumshoe an appraising look. “That man’s big and smelly, but I don’t think he’s a criminal,” he said reverently. “But if he is...” He reached for his sword handle.

“I don’t think Detective Gumshoe counts as a ‘criminal’,” explained Jack, holding up a hand. “More of the misguided type, I’d say.” He shook his head. “I’ll make sure he’s all right, Cody. You just finish your milk.” Quickly, he walked the few steps to Gumshoe’s end of the counter, the better to hear.

“Well, yeah, I brought the witness to the Gavel... he wouldn’t stop talking about how thirsty he was,” Gumshoe stated, his confused look firmly on his face. A moment later, he blinked and added, “Of course I know the kid is seven years old! I told you that in the first place, Mr. Edgeworth!” Another pause; this time, Gumshoe’s expression settled into something grimmer. “The drinking age? It’s eighteen, sir. Everybody raised in this country knows that.” Another pause. “Well, it’s not like Jack let him drink anything bad... the kid had nothing but chocolate milk, from what I can tell.” Another pause; Gumshoe’s head drooped downward. “I know you can get chocolate milk in the cafeteria... but I thought that place would be crowded, so...” Another pause. “No, we’re the only two customers here. Why does that matter?” Gumshoe’s expression fell further as he listened to Edgeworth’s next explanation. “I guess I didn’t think about someone here being drunk. But that didn’t happen, so there’s no harm done, right?” Another pause. “His parents? I didn’t really ask him about them.” Another long explanation; this time, Gumshoe looked about ready to sink into the floor. “I don’t think I want to know what they’ll say if he tells them,” he muttered sadly. “Hopefully, that won’t happen.” Gumshoe sighed as he listened to the next explanation, though his expression seemed to perk up a bit. “I left my phone in the car, so Jack’s letting me use his,” he said bluntly. “It took me a while to get it from him, and then I had to remember your phone number... it took me three tries, but I finally got it right, didn’t I?” Gumshoe seemed to get a bit annoyed as he listened to Edgeworth’s next statement. “Well, I’d like to see you remember all your important phone numbers without a cell phone list, Mr. Edgeworth! It makes me feel like someone hit me over the head!” He sighed. “Yeah, that’s not important. Just come down here, and we’ll go to the precinct together. I was planning to tell them about Cody only when we showed up, so they probably won’t notice the delay. We can work things out before we get there.” Another brief pause and then, “I’ll be right here. See you soon, Mr. Edgeworth.” He let out a sigh as pressed a button to hang the phone up.

Smirking, Jack quipped, “Bit of a tough conversation, eh, detective?”

Gumshoe jumped upon realizing Jack was right in front of him. “You could say that,” he muttered, frowning. “He should be down in a couple of minutes... I hope he doesn’t make Cody too upset.” He sighed. “Guess it was a bit of a mistake to bring him here, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Jack muttered sarcastically. Deciding that Gumshoe had been berated enough for the moment, he quickly added, “But at least you were lucky in the fact that no one else was here. If Manfred von Karma or Chief Gant had showed up...” He let the statement hang in the air as he walked back to the other end of the bar.

“So, you came back, did ya?” asked Cody, shooting Jack an annoyed glare. “Good thing too, because my cups’ empty. Can you make me some more?”

“Sorry,” replied Jack, shaking his head. “Somebody’s coming down that needs to see you... and you still have to go to the Police Precinct Building, as well.”

For a moment, Cody looked as though he was going to protest, but he eventually rolled his eyes and let out a theatric sigh instead. “Alright, girly-hair,” he muttered. “I guess these creepy grown-ups are going to force me to act all nice, anyway.” Sighing again, he started to mess with the camera that hung around his neck.

“You know, that is a pretty nice looking digital camera,” Jack commented, hoping that Cody wasn’t planning on using it while he was in the bar. “Is it a recent model?”

“Yep!” exclaimed Cody, his expression immediately brightening. “My dad got it for me for my birthday last week. I like it a lot!”

“Really?” replied Jack, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know a lot of kids your age with a taste for photography.” Of course, he thought, I don’t know a lot of kids at all, but Cody doesn’t need to hear about that.

“Well, I think taking pictures is awesome!” exclaimed Cody, grinning widely. “It’s the only thing I like almost as much as the Steel Samurai, you know.”

“You don’t say,” replied Jack, his voice light. “What do you like to take pictures of then?”

“Well... my favorite thing to take pictures of is the Steel Samurai when he’s doing his live performances,” Cody answered. “I always take a picture when he lands the final blow! Whizzam!”

Jack’s eyes widened slightly upon hearing this fact. If Jack Hammer was killed by the Steel Samurai, and this kid saw the entire murder, camera at the ready... things don’t bode well for Mr. Powers tomorrow. Noticing that Cody was giving him an annoyed expression, he stammered, “You know, my friend saw one of those Samurai fights once. He said it was quite an experience... you must have a lot of cool pictures if you went to more than one show.”

“I’ve been to all the shows, girly-hair!” exclaimed Cody, sniggering. “I’ve got a perfect set of pictures, you know. If you want to look my collector’s album...” he trailed off as he patted his jacket. “Never mind, I already gave it away.”

Gave it away? What for? Deciding it best not to pressure the kid on this issue, Jack instead smiled and stated, “That’s all right. My friend showed me a picture as well.” After another moment of thought, he added, “You know, if you like looking at photographs, there’s a whole collage of them on that bulletin board under that window over there.” He pointed a finger in the direction of the ‘Evidence Board’, hanging on the wall at his right hand side. “If you promise not to touch, I’ll let you go over and look at the pictures.”

Cody glanced at the board thoughtfully before turning back towards Jack with a thoughtful glare. “I’ll be done looking at them in a few seconds if I’m not allowed to touch them,” he muttered. “Isn’t there something better I can look at?”

Sly little brat, aren’t you? After a few seconds of gazing around the room, Jack sighed, reached into his pocket, and grabbed a quarter, which he placed on the table. “If you must do something else, I’ve got a magic-themed pinball machine on the other side of the room. I don’t think you’ll have enough time to beat Mr. Riverboat’s high score, but you might as well give it a try.”

“Really?! Thanks, mister!” Before Jack could say another word, Cody grabbed the quarter, jumped down from the bar stool, and ran over to the pinball machine so that he could play.

He didn’t even spare the Evidence Board another glance, thought Jack, shaking his head. Quickly, he moved back to Detective Gumshoe, who was now staring at Cody with an expression of amusement.

“Looks like you finally figured out how to calm the kid down, pal,” he said admiringly. “Took you a long time to do it, though.”

“Well, considering my line of work, I haven’t had to deal with someone that young in a very long time,” Jack said levelly. “It took me quite a while merely to stop arguing with him.”

“He’s still a lot happier than when he was before I brought him here,” Gumshoe muttered. “The kid was fussing and sobbing up a storm when I led him over to my car... I had to show him my genuine police pistol just to get him to climb inside!”

Appalled, Jack blinked several times before he managed to hiss, “Were you insane, Detective Gumshoe?! Did you even think about the kid’s safety before you showed him something like that?!”

“Of course I did!” snapped Gumshoe, bristling. “I’ll have you know that I’m not that big of an idiot... I didn’t let the kid go anywhere near my pistol before I held the barrel to my eye and made sure it wasn’t loaded!” He let out a huff of indignation.

Before Jack’s already overloaded mind could process that piece of information, the door swung open and Miles Edgeworth reentered the bar. He stopped just inside the doorway, taking note of Cody obliviously playing with the pinball machine before storming the rest of the way across the room, his mood clearly far worse than it’d been when he last left the bar.

In lieu of a greeting, he stared at Gumshoe and harped, “All I had wanted to do was get a sense of this witness before you took him to the precinct for questioning, detective. Thanks to you, now we have to take him in and hope that we don’t run into... complications.”

“I know,” replied Gumshoe, his droopy expression clearly showing that he wasn’t confused about the matter. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to fix things up, Mr. Edgeworth.”

“I was hoping you would,” Edgeworth replied grimly. “If we’re lucky, there’s a chance that your next evaluation won’t be the worst you’ve ever gotten. Of course, that is all up to random chance.”

If Edgeworth’s the one that fixes Gumshoe’s salary, I wouldn’t exactly pass it off as ‘random chance’, Jack thought dismally.

“That’s alright,” Gumshoe muttered. “I can go without the flavor packets on the ramen noodles if I have to.” He tilted his head upward so that he could look Edgeworth in the eye. “I really am sorry that I dragged him here... and that I forgot my cell phone so I couldn’t tell you what happened right away.”

In lieu of a direct response, Edgeworth tensed and muttered, “By God, I’m sick of hearing people’s apologies.” Noticing Gumshoe’s hurt expression, he quickly added, “But I accept. Now go get our witness away from that foolish contraption so we can take him to the precinct building.”

After Gumshoe nodded and rushed to follow orders, Edgeworth turned to Jack and added, “Do you need me to pay you for whatever it was you gave them?”

Jack only needed a brief moment of contemplation before he shook his head. “Nah, I’m not going to charge you for some chocolate milk I gave to a seven-year-old kid,” he said levelly. “And Gumshoe didn’t even ask for anything... he was too busy calling you and making sure Cody got something he wanted.”

“Perhaps there’s hope for him, after all,” said Edgeworth, the faintest hint of a smile appearing on his face. It immediately faded, however, as he turned to face Gumshoe, now leading an unusually quiet Cody towards him.

“This, Cody, is Mr. Edgeworth,” explained Gumshoe, a bright smile on his face. “He’s the man we’ve been waiting for, you know!”

“Really?” Cody observed Edgeworth with a discerning frown. “Took you long enough.”

Edgeworth flinched; he obviously hadn’t been expecting that reaction. “I’m Mr. Miles Edgeworth,” he stated, his expression suddenly terse. “I am currently in charge of prosecuting Mr. Will Powers’ trial.”

Cody harrumphed and crossed his arms. “And you’re the guy in charge of dragging me to that other place everyone keeps talking about, right?”

“Yes, the Police Precinct Building. Once there, I will be in charge of filing the necessary paperwork to have you registered as a witness while Detective Gumshoe, among others, will be in charge of questioning you about what it is you saw on during the afternoon of Saturday the fifteenth.”

“If you say so,” muttered Cody, turning his head to one side. “I’d rather go home, though.”

“Well, that unfortunately isn’t a possibility. Hopefully this won’t take more than a couple of hours.”

Cody’s eyes grew wide at this statement. “A couple of... hours?!” he whined. “It only takes a few minutes on all the TV shows!”

“Unfortunately, real life isn’t as simple as a TV show,” snapped Edgeworth, gritting his teeth. “According to what Detective Gumshoe has told me, you saw every last moment of the crime as it occurred... we will have no choice but to examine your story to the fullest extent.”

Cody’s eyes quickly snapped back to Edgeworth’s face. “And what if I don’t want to do that?”

Edgeworth’s eyes narrowed. “Then we will have no choice but to take you to the precinct and make you do it against your wishes.”

Clearly angry, Cody snarled and took a step forward. “You can’t just force me to go wherever you want, pops. If you lay a hand on me, I’ll... I’ll...” He reached for his sword in a desperate attempt to unsheathe it, but it was too long for him to properly draw.

Jack nervously eyed Edgeworth to see what he’d do next, but to his great surprise, the man merely chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I last had a young child threaten me with bodily harm,” he said amusedly. “Unfortunately for you, after years of dealing with such intimidation, it no longer has any effect on me.” Turning to Gumshoe, he added, “If you would escort him to your car, detective...”

Gumshoe immediately complied, placing a hand on Cody’s shoulder and guiding him towards the door. “Come on, kid, we’ve still got ourselves a rendezvous to get to,” he said amusedly.

“Alright, alright, stop pushing! You know I don’t like being pushed!” yelled Cody, clearly upset. Edgeworth merely sighed and gave Jack one last nod before rushing to help lead the kid out as well.

Jack frowned as he watched the odd trio leave the bar. “And I thought I wasn’t that good with kids,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he sat back on his chair, grabbed his glass of now-flattened cola, and took a sip.

Maybe I’ll be able to find something good on TV now, he thought. A moment later, he groaned as he realized his remote was still on the floor, at least a foot out of his reach.

Before he could finish making the agonizing decision to either get off his ass and grab it or simply brood in silence, Jack was distracted by the sound of the bar door opening yet again. Wondering just who it could be this time, he quickly turned to see that it was merely his friend Donny, his facial expression one of rather extreme puzzlement.

“Hey, you’re just in time, Don!” he called as he watched his friend make the inevitable pilgrimage through the rarely used bar tables. “I’ll give you fifty cents if you come back here and pick this remote up off the floor for me.”

Donny looked thoughtful for just a moment before he shook his head. “No way, Jack,” he muttered. “Fifty cents doesn’t go far these days, and I’d rather sit next to the TV and change the channels myself.” He groaned slightly as he took the seat nearest Jack instead. “But first, I have a very important question for you.”

Jack frowned. “What is it, Don?”

Donny’s face took on a pained expression before he blurted, “Why did Mr. E and ‘Tective G just come out of your bar with some kid? I was walking down here and I saw them come out and leave out the back entrance.”

Upon hearing this, Jack let out a hearty laugh; had he been an outside observer, he would have found the sight of two adults and a child leaving his bar to be rather strange as well. Deciding it best to assuage his friend’s fears with an honest statement, he raised a hand and said, “It’s all right, Donny. That kid you saw was a witness to the Hammer murder trial, and he was here because he told Detective Gumshoe he was thirsty and the Detective was a big enough fool to bring him here.”

Donny thought about that a moment before stating, “I can believe that. I guess Mr. E had to come rescue him, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I guess I’m lucky that I didn’t show up earlier, then,” said Donny, scratching his chin. “The cafeteria was really crowded and noisy today... I don’t think my ears could have dealt with Mr. E’s yelling on top of that.”

Wow, I guess Gumshoe knew what he was talking about when he described the cafeteria... Shaking his head, Jack stated, “It could have been worse. Mr. Edgeworth couldn’t really yell too loud without scaring the witness, after all.”

Donny nodded in agreement. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, he blurted, “So how much does this kid know about the murder? Is it going to be enough to get that nasty Mr. Powers put away for good?”

I knew you were going to get around to digging for information sooner or later. A grim expression on his face, Jack replied, “You must realize that I didn’t mine the kid for information, Don. Legal issues aside, I don’t find it very nice to force a child that young to relive what he saw.”

“Hey, I understand that!” replied Donny, raising his palm in appeasement. “Believe it or not, I do have some common sense every now and then... I just figured you heard enough from this kid to get a rough idea of what he saw, that’s all.”

“Well, to be honest, I heard nearly nothing about the actual incident from the kid himself,” Jack replied basely. “Most of our conversation, if you can call it that, was about either the Steel Samurai or why he wasn‘t allowed to drink whatever he wanted off the back bar-it took us a few minutes of bickering before I decided to simply make him mint chocolate milk, of all things.”

“Mint chocolate milk...?” Donny appeared to be thoughtful for a moment before his expression drooped. “Man, that takes me back.” He vigorously shook his head, as though he were trying to clear something away. “So you don’t know how big of a witness this kid’s going to be?” he asked bluntly.

“Now, now, Donny, I didn’t say that,” replied Jack, his tone soothing. “While the witness said very little about the crime, I do recall Gumshoe saying that the kid ‘saw everything’. From the way Edgeworth and Gumshoe were talking, I’m also pretty sure he’s the first and possibly the only witness that saw the actual crime.”

“Really?!” asked Donny, his eyes strangely glistening. When Jack nodded, he let out a joyous cry and pumped a fist into the air. “If he really saw the murder, this case is in the bag!” he replied happily. “Wit that much information, Mr. E won’t let that scheming Mr. Powers away for sure!”

Jack merely laughed at the sight of his friend’s stereotypical exuberance. As soon as he was sure that Donny had calmed down, he stated, “You know, after what happened last month, it doesn’t seem quite right to say that a case like this is ‘in the bag’.” He allowed Donny to look reproachful for just a moment before he smirked and added, “This time, however, I must admit that I’m heavily inclined to agree.”

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Man, inserting all those HTML tags takes a lot out of me... *cracks knuckles*

The idea of having Gumshoe drag Cody to the bar has been floating around in my head since shortly around the fic's inception, though to set it up I had to have that redirecting phone conversation with Edgeworth, as Gumshoe explicitly stated that Cody was headed to the police precinct. (I didn't realize that until my last read through the case script... I though he just said 'You're coming with me.')

Now then, allow this self-centered old man a bit of commentary on the subject of his so-called work.

Edgeworth and (Harry) Oldbag: Of all the excerpts of this chapter, I find this the least satisfying, simply because I'm bending the canon to the fanfic more than I'm bending the fanfic to the canon. I also made sure to include another bit of foreshadowing towards Mr. Oldbag's (small) canon role. His guilt is not completely free-floating, I'll have you know.

Jack can't finish his sandwich: I noticed that I've never depicted Jack fulfilling his basic need for food before, so I decided to do so here. Admittedly, I could have actually had a TV segment in order to get a taste of public opinion, but I decided that what I had was filler enough without it.

Corruption of a Minor? Seriously? As I mentioned earlier, I had this planned for a long time... from what I see, it's the only chance I'm going to get to have Jack interact with a young child, as there's no reason for him to come into contact with the trilogy's other kiddie (Pearly) at all. (Well, at least on this side of GS3. ) I believe it's rather obvious from the games that Gumshoe would have the capacity to do something this foolish, in spite of the warp in canon I had to create to make it possible. I'll admit, this section seems more about humor than digging up seriously deep subtext, but I didn't have the heart to put Cody through even more excruciating interrogation than that which receives in canon. Still I found it to be amusing and fun to write, so I presume it was worth it.

Donny's corollary: I wasn't going to have Donny appear at first (settling for having his earlier visit mentioned toward the beginning of the chapter), but then I decided that, since he's actually rather invested in the outcome in this case, he should make more than his major appearance two chapters ago. I believe he'll only be mentioned in the next chapter, and if he makes another appearance it won't be until the last part of the Episode.

As for the next chapter, I endeavor to use my two remaining weeks of vacation time to write a large part of it; additionally, I got a laptop for Christmas and I found writing while sitting around the house to be easier than writing in my traditional computer chair. The next chapter (the name of which I have yet to determine) will dig into the nature of the doubts Edgeworth is feeling before the last day of trial, and I'm hoping to paint a real decent portrait of his slowly changing character. Until next time, readers.

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How to rate the fanfic? Sorry that I am really clueless.

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Very good chapter, even if it is a little slow. However I should tell you that there is a repeat of the same scene in here (when Donny first comes it and the scene following). Other than that, very good work!

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Oh, fantastic! You've updated!
Once again, I'm really impressed with the characterization, and how well it all seems to flow. I found it amusing at points, maybe slightly slow here and there, but it's still excellent. I'm almost inclined to give you EIGHT out of five stars now...

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A great chapter. Perhaps a little slow, but to be quite honest I thoroughly enjoyed it. I've been following for a while now and I will continue to read. You are a very talented writer. I love how this gives a whole new view on the events in the game and your characters are fun and interesting (often a rare quality in original characters). Nice work.

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Pretty good.

As others said, it was a little slow, but we can't have action-drama parts the whole way through. Man Edgeworth is a dick. I hate him.

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Does it mean that we just rank the fanfic by saying it in a reply? I thought there's a "Rate this Story" link or button somewhere.

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You rate the fanfic with constructive verbal criticism, Naruhoudou-kun. The Doctor's making up of stars is just a running gag he's been pulling the last few updates. It'd be very difficult to institute an official ratings system in part of a message board; it'd require quite a variety of additional coding.

As for the pace of the fic, it's fairly apparent that the last two chapters (with their 'guest appearances') have really bogged this story down. I'm planning on moving the timing of some things so that the next part is relatively streamlined (and far closer to 10,000 words than it is to 30,000). I should be able to hold off on using OC bar customers until the last chapter of the case, so that will keep things simple for Parts 5 and 6.

Edit: Scratch that. I thought moving an OC introduction from Part 5 to Part 7 would improve the next chapter, but it actually ends up making it worse. Thus, there will be an OC in Part 5, but only towards the end. Part 6, however, will have only canon customers. Forgive me.

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Thank you for the clarification. In that case, I think just reading the fanfic is already good enough than being unrealistic with the ratings.

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Yah the new part!
It wasn't slow in my opinion, pretty funny though. I love the idea of Cody in a bar, especially his little buisness speech.

DSL-69, the chapters of your fanfic may be far-between eachother, but that just means every time I see an update, a rush of excitement comes over me. I have always enjoyed this story from the first time I saw it (IT TOOK ME TWO DAYS TO READ ALL THE PARTS!) a couple months ago when I first joined this forum. Your chapters are EXTREMELY LONG! It takes me a good hour to read a single chapter (About 10,000 words) but I have to say your chapters are always BEYOND FANTABULOUS. I can't give enough praise for your story and I can't wait to see the next chapter. I hope the dreaded Writer's Block doesn't slow you down too much, though it seems you already have the chapter pretty much planned out. Seeing as I'm a realistic rater, keeping my scores from going like "OMG 100000/10", I still give this fanfic a firm seven out of five stars. Beyond, excellent, beyond god-like, borderline perfect. Then again, I enjoy long-running stories. (CURSE my affinity for getting firmly attached to the characters of a good story, but then again, that's why I LOVE the Gyakuten Saiban series so much.) However, I must say that this story is NOT for the attention-span-deprived. Keep up the awesome work!

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Loved to see some Cody action. I like when you get characters in unseen situations, like introducing a new character. Like Cody was a diffrent kind of witness in the game, he shows new sides of Jack aswell. Make sure someone takes him back to the bar after the case.

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A wonderful chapter, with nace pacing.

I did kind of feel somethign missing a the beginning, though... I assume this is because we join in with an already-running conversation.

*ahem*
SLOW
*ahem*

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Hardly.

Roald Dahl could produce two short stories in his younger days in 12 months. That's SLOW.

I'm about 75% done with the next chapter; I took about a two week break from writing this fic due to the stress of simultaneously returning to class and obtaining a weekend job (I literally never have a day off). I'm going to start writing again tonight; hopefully I'll have some progress posted in about one week. I may be lazy, but I'm no Ronald Dahl...

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I show my appreciation this way:

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Excellent I really enjoyed the story a lot. I just finished reading everything straight through, took me two days. I was up till five last night but that just goes to show how awesome your writing is. You have made it onto my favorite authors list. 10 out of 5

It's Roald - not Ronald.

Note: Bump'd.

Memo to self: Stop promising everything.

Stereotypically enough, my collegiate workload increased just as I got used to working weekends and attending school at the same time, sapping my ability to continue writing. The only thing I can brag about now time-wise is that this is only the second-longest ever interval between updates (I had one of 75 days when we switched to these forums, as the first post can attest).

Also, I must admit that there was one more reason my writing ability was so heavily muted, and that is... I didn't care too heavily for this chapter at all. As outlined in that edit to the post I made on 1/3, I decided to actually introduce yet another OC in this chapter, as I thought it the most logical way to present his purpose. Of course, after writing this version of the chapter for eight or nine thousand words I realized I probably could have done things better without mentioning him at all, but I am loathe to delete that much progress, especially considering how long it took for me to make it. I may rewrite this chapter if I ever get it to ff.net, but now that it's finished maybe it won't seem so bad. [/rant]

I thank everyone who's still around and reading this monstrosity, with a specific thanks to Dr. Miles for the lovely fanart (to me, Edgeworth looks perfectly annoyed by Jack's overbearing presence).

And now back to our regularly scheduled programing...

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Part 5/7: Edgeworth on the Edge

October 19th, 2016, 8:52 PM

“Now, before we go, I absolutely have to talk a little bit about this Steel Samurai murder trial thing,” prattled the woman on the barroom TV, unaware of how foolish her falsely high voice sounded.

Thank God she finally got around to it, Jack thought sullenly. If this Entertainment Show floozy had gone on for one more minute about celebrity love triangles, I would have torn my hair out.

“So anyway, from what I understand, the Steel Samurai—you know, that Will Powers guy, who everyone expected to get the guilty verdict—ended up not getting sentenced today after all! Isn't that just amazing?!”

I hope you're not expecting me to give you an answer...

“You see, the trial judgment ended up getting postponed because of a couple different things. First of all, the lawyer guy helping Powers figured out that Evil Jack dude might have gotten killed in Global Studio Number Two, when everyone else had said that it happened at Global Studio Number One! Isn't that neat?!”

“Yeah, sure,” Jack muttered dully. And I resent the phrase 'Evil Jack dude', too... I'd be taking a lot of flak for that if I weren't the only one here.

“Now, if the murder happened in that number two studio, it means that the Power guy couldn't have been the killer! You know why?!... there was a giant monkey head blocking his path! What are the odds of that, viewers?!”

“Pretty damn low,” Jack muttered grimly. Of course, the real news show already talked about the fact that Powers' path to the other studio was blocked... they just didn't mention that it was a giant monkey head doing the blocking.

“And that's not all of it, viewers! While this hasn't quite been proven yet either, it's also been rumored that the Evil Jack guy actually drugged the Will Power Guy, and then sneaked around in his Steel Samurai suit before he got killed! If that's true, it means that his killer must have stripped him down and put him in the Magistrate costume after he died!” The entertainment hostess let out a giggle as she fussed with a lock of blue-streaked blond hair. “It actually sounds kind of kinky, if you really think about it...”

“Sounds more disgusting than anything,” Jack muttered dully.

“So, with all these new things happening, this case is looking more and more confusing by the minute!” the woman exclaimed cheerfully. “Also, a lot of the fans of this cute little kids' show thing have been asking the prosecutor of the case, this Miles Edgeworth guy, to drop the charges against Mr. Powers because of all the stuff that occurred.”

Jack let out a harsh burst of laughter upon hearing this. Miles Edgeworth, voluntarily drop a case? There's no way that's going to happen.

“Unfortunately, this Worthedge dude doesn't want to play nice as far as this case thing is concerned,” the woman stated sadly. “They say he's a demon man... and he does kind of look like a blow-hard; I've seen the pictures... but that's no biggie! What matters is that people who like the Powers guy are really starting to get suspicious of two other people that work at the Global Studio place, people that were near that number two studio area where the crime thing might have happened!"

The people that Wendy Oldbag tried not to talk about during yesterday's trial, Jack thought resignedly. I wonder how badly this woman's going to butcher the facts about them.

“The first is this Sal Manella guy, who's in charge of writing the Steel Samurai show. He's a really creepy nerd-face that's only liked by Internet geeks, so there's a good chance he might have done it,” the woman stated, smiling as though her logic were self-explanatory. “Of course, he already got grilled by the Power guy's lawyer dude this morning, but you never know, viewers!” She gave the camera an overly elaborate wink before continuing, “And then theres this Dee Vasquez lady, who's in charge of producing the show. Now, she hasn't testified in the trial thingy yet, but she's a real cool chick, so I don't think she did it.”

Just as I thought, an analytical disaster. Does anyone even try to be objective anymore?!

“And that's pretty much it... well, except for the six or seven executives that were also near the studios at the time, but they've already proven they couldn't have done it, so, whatever!” She shook her head mock-sheepishly before concluding, “That's all for me this evening, viewers... if you want to catch some wacky sitcom action, just-” The woman's voice was quickly silence as Jack turned the TV off.

“That's about all I can take of that,” he muttered disparagingly. “Trying to learn more info from a gossip show... what was I thinking? The damn newspaper had more information!” Lazily, he reached under the counter and grabbed the latest newspaper that Donny had foisted into his possession, a copy of the evening-only District City Press. The oversized headline merely read 'Will Powers: A Misjudged Hero?', and was adorned not with an unflattering picture of the actual defendant but a snapshot of the Steel Samurai in action, bravely preparing for an attack from some unseen foe.

Since it was printed late in the afternoon, it has all the details about today's trial, including the rumors about Hammer's actions before the murder. Absently, he recalled just how hysterical Donny had been when he gave him the paper just a couple of hours earlier; nearly twenty years of being a Jack Hammer fan made it very hard for him to believe any of the negative rumors.

While the idea seemed a bit far-fetched, I don't think Donny was right in trying to convince me it was a lie. Again, he glanced at the Steel Samurai photo, admiring the fact that it completely hid the identity of the unkempt man inside. The purpose of wearing the suit was to make people think that Will Powers was inside, presumably to commit murder. But if Hammer was inside the suit when he died, it follows that he was up to something which led to his death. He obviously didn't commit suicide, though; the spear that stabbed him was too big and someone had to change his costume after the deed was done. I wish I knew why the hell he put on that suit... that'd probably lead to the reason someone killed him.

Absently, Jack's gaze shifted from the main newspaper article to a much smaller one, a piece titled, 'Steel Samurai Signs Off: death of actor signals end of series'.

The only thing that upset Donny more than having his dead hero's name dragged in the mud was the announcement that there'll be no new episodes of the show beyond this Friday's, Jack thought grimly. Between the murder of one main character and the potential imprisoning of the other, there isn't much they can do to keep the series going anymore. A shame the studio didn't film very far in advance...

Jack's thoughts were interrupted as the barroom door flew open, and the unreliable door chime decided to go off. Jack was only mildly surprised to see Miles Edgeworth approaching his counter; judging by the tense expression on his face, the stresses of the case were enough to stop him from working late into the night.

“Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth,” greeted Jack, his expression concerned. “What would you like me to get you?”

Edgeworth merely fixed Jack with a withering glare as he took the nearest seat. “A shot of whiskey, straight up,” he spat.

“Very well,” Jack replied, not at all surprised that Edgeworth was asking for something strong. Quickly, he turned and grabbed one of Edgeworth's favorite whiskeys off the shelf; he presumed that at a time like this Edgeworth wouldn't care exactly which one he received.

“I don't mean to pry, but you look rather miserable, Mr. Edgeworth,” he stated, carefully filling a shot glass. “Are you feeling all right?”

“First of all, I don't trust that 'don't mean to pry' line for a moment,” muttered Edgeworth, again fixing Jack with a glare. “And second... I'm fairly certain that you would look just as... unkempt as I do had you been the one dealing with today's farce of a trial.”

Jack frowned as he slid the whiskey glass to where Edgeworth could reach it. “You know, despite the fact it's a popular case, the media hasn't given up much in the way of solid information on it.” He tilted his head. “What I have heard is pretty brutal, though. They've been doing nothing but criticizing you and dragging your name through the mud.”

Edgeworth quickly consumed his drink before regaining the ability to answer. “The media isn't my problem,” he said disdainfully. “They'll drag my name through the mud no matter how obvious the defendant's guilt is.”

“That's true... but they've really been dishing it on now that Mr. Powers' guilt is actually in doubt.” He shrugged. “Typical, if you ask me... unable to tear down their precious celebrity anymore, they call him a hero and focus that negative energy on someone else.”

Edgeworth sighed. “How innocent Mr. Powers looks is not their concern.” He pushed his empty shot glass aside. “I believe that I will have a premium beer now, if you don't mind.”

“I don't,” replied Jack, automatically grabbing a mug and heading for the taps. “I'm actually kind of relieved, to be honest... it means you're not trying to get drunk as fast as you humanly can.”

“Believe it or not, I didn't come here solely to get drunk, or even to withstand the interrogation that you call small talk. I'm here to fulfill a previously scheduled engagement.”

In normal-people words, that means he's here to meet with somebody. “Really? With who?”

Edgeworth let out a weary sigh before admitting, “Well, since he's coming here anyway... I had an encounter with Prosecutor Riverboat a couple of hours ago, as I was attempting to leave the Police Precinct Building. The foolish man practically forced me to come here so we could 'have a nice drink together'.”

Jack frowned upon hearing that. “Well, that was tactless of him... I mean, you've obviously been very busy, getting ready for the third day of the Powers trial and all.”

“I tried to tell him as much,” Edgeworth stated crossly. “But Riverboat is hardly a tactful person... he seems to care about nothing but card games and, on rare occasions, his job.”

“I know,” Jack replied tersely. “Whenever he's the only customer in the bar he forces me to play poker with him, even though I end up losing most of the time. He says he's 'refining my talent'... but I think he just gets a kick out of winning so often.” He shook his head chidingly. “Here's your beer, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Edgeworth muttered, immediately taking a sip.

Jack pulled his chair over and sat down, wondering just what he could get away with saying next. I probably shouldn't pick his brains while he's in such a mood, he thought. If I want to talk about the case without getting my ears yelled off, I should stick to things that I already know about.

“You know, Mr. Edgeworth, I never heard anything about what happened with Cody's testimony,” he said lightly. “Did you even get the chance to call him to the stand?”

As Jack had expected, Edgeworth sent him another glare before making an attempt to answer. “We try to avoid divulging information about extremely young witnesses to the public,” he said seriously. “He'll be credited as an unnamed source in any official publications.”

“So he did get to the stand, then?”

“Yes... it was quite traumatic for him, dealing with the pressures of an open court. Unfortunately, the initial trial system doesn't make his testimony any easier to process.” He sipped his beer, his expression sullen.

Odd statement to make, there... he must have done some background research to know how courtrooms dealt with younger witnesses more than ten years ago. Shaking his head, he asked, “If you followed your strategy from yesterday, does that mean Cody was the one to change the direction of the trial?”

This time, Edgeworth merely made a bitter expression before giving the slightest of nods. “After some... heated exchanges, he revealed that he had some evidence in the memory of his camera. From there comes the accursed idea that Hammer was killed at one studio and moved to another.”

Right... from Studio Two to Studio One. “That was a rumor that everyone has been assuming to be true,” Jack said levelly. “Of course,” he continued, “That wasn't the only rumor they were talking about.”

“Obviously,” muttered Edgeworth, shrugging. “The public thrives on rumors... even if we were so bold as to release an exact transcript of every trial they'd assume that something was being kept from them.”

“But no one releases trial transcripts in this day and age,” Jack said. “Not to anyone outside the legal system, at the very least. They say it's the only way to go in a crime-ridden society such as ours, but I believe that-”

“-What's your point?” shouted Edgeworth, smacking a hand against the counter in his annoyance.

“The news people said that Mr. Hammer drugged Mr. Powers and took his Samurai Suit. Is that true or just a rumor?” He grinned uneasily.

Edgeworth stared at Jack for just a moment before he started rubbing his temples in annoyance. “I knew I should have tried to make Riverboat meet me in my office,” he grumbled. “Could have told him about that bellboy's tea service or something...”

Jack frowned. “Er, what?”

Edgeworth let out a begrudging sigh before spitting, “Yes, it's true. Detective Gumshoe finally found evidence of this occurrence several hours ago and reported it to me via phone.” He crossed his arms. “There. Satisfied?”

“Quite.” Absently, Jack shifted in his seat, his mind whirling with thought. So Jack Hammer really did drug Will Powers, and he really did steal one of his trademark suits... if that's the honest truth, then what evidence is there left to keep this case going?

Before Jack could even consider the risks of asking that question, Edgeworth cleared his throat and stated, “And now I'd like to ask you something, Mr. Keeper.”

Jack shrugged. “Very well. What is it?”

“Did Detective Gumshoe, by any chance, stop by earlier this evening?”

Jack blinked a bit in surprise; he had been expecting another thinly-veiled insult towards his nosiness, not an honest question. “I can't say I have,” he finally replied. “I mean, he was here two days ago, and yesterday he brought in Cody because he's a damn fool, but tonight I haven't so much as caught a glimpse of him. Is something wrong?”

Edgeworth sipped his beer and pulled a face. “Other than the fact that he is indeed a damn fool, I'm not sure. It was bad enough that it took him three days to notice that cursed bottle full of sleeping pills, but now he's acting even worse.”

Jack frowned. “How so?”

He barely spoke a word to me when we met again in the Precinct Building. He merely stammered a hello and introduced me to our latest witness before scampering away as fast as he could. I have the feeling he's trying to avoid me...”

Avoid him? I wouldn't be too sure about that, though it's undeniably out-of-character for Gumshoe to be less than cheerful when Edgeworth is around. He perked up a bit as the rest of Edgeworth's words echoed in his head. “New witness... that would be the producer, Dee Vasquez, right?”

This time, Edgeworth merely let out a hollow chuckle before nodding. “That would be correct,” he answered. “Unfortunately, I can't begrudge you for figuring out that one... she's the only major witness I have yet to question.”

“Indeed.” Jack leaned his chin against his hand in thought for another few seconds before suggesting, “Perhaps Gumshoe's still ashamed of what happened in the trial this morning... he obviously didn't do a good job of gathering all the evidence if these twists and turns keep happening.”

Edgeworth considered that for a moment before shaking his head. “He's definitely still ashamed, considering the dressing down I gave him this afternoon,” he said bluntly. “I mean, he's supposed to do a good enough job that these trials don't reach their second day, let alone a third.”

And he's supposed to do a good enough job that he arrests the right defendant, too, Jack added silently.

“He was also fairly upset that I didn't let him bandage my hand when I spilled hot coffee on it after the trial.” When Jack sent him a questioning glance, Edgeworth sighed and showed off the back of his right hand, which was splattered with angry pink blotches. “When I let him do that last month, I nearly got an infection, so I went to the first-aid kit in my car and applied a salve instead.”

Edgeworth must burn himself a lot if he keeps a supply of salve in his car, Jack thought idly. A moment later, he asked, “So you believe Gumshoe is trying to avoid you because of that?”

“As I said earlier, I'm not quite certain,” Edgeworth said heavily. “He doesn't like it when I'm angry, obviously... but usually he deals with it by following me around and letting out a pathetic string of apologies. For him to actually turn tail and run away... he must be hiding something.”

Hiding something? That sounds even less like Gumshoe than 'avoiding' does! I can't even come up with something terrible enough for Gumshoe to try and hide from Edgeworth... unless...

“Maybe he doesn't believe Will Powers is guilty any more,” he stated simply. “Mr. Wright's uncovered some compelling information these past two days... if Gumshoe's starting to agree with his side of the argument, he might not want you to be aware of that.”

For a moment, Edgeworth seemed stricken, compensating with an extra-large sip of his drink. A few seconds later, he finally muttered, “It would be like him to hide from me if he's starting to sympathize with the defense... he'd consider it a breech of trust.” Uneasily, he sipped his drink again, his eyes staring
upward. He managed to remain silent in this manner for nearly half a minute before he finally muttered, “I still don't know how Wright does it.”

Though Jack found Edgeworth's words somewhat strange, he decided it best not to point that out. Instead, he merely asked, “Does what?”

Edgeworth only made a weak attempt at a glare before he drained the remainder of his beer mug; the combined efforts of alcohol and fatigue were apparently starting to lower his defenses.

“Goes on,” he finally stated, after a few seconds' pause.

“Goes on? I'm afraid you lost me, Mr. Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth let out a low hiss of annoyance. “I'm talking about how he continues to fight,” he explained, his voice low and tense. “When faced with the evidence and the combined testimonies of Sal Manella and Cody Hackins, any other lawyer would have either given up the case or otherwise folded under the pressures of the trial. Heck, some of them Upton Washer types would have given up on the first day instead.” He shook his head. “But not Wright. No matter how many times I pushed that case towards a reasonable conclusion, Wright would pull something out of his ass and keep the trial going.” His gaze moved down to his hands, which were currently clasped together. “The sheer number of coincidences that have kept his side of the case from falling apart... it's enough to confound even someone as brilliant as myself.”

That's a pretty big concession, considering how full of it Edgeworth can be sometimes. Deciding it best to be blunt, Jack leaned forward in his chair and said, “So you're upset about actually having to face a skillful opponent for once.”

Edgeworth frowned. “Do you really think I'm that simple and petty, Mr. Keeper? There are many more factors contributing to my current... mood.”

Jack let out an amused chuckle. “Obviously. I mean, you already mentioned the rumors and your misgivings about Detective Gumshoe, and those things have nothing to do with Mr. Wright at all. And I don't think you're simple or petty... over the years, you've proven to be one of the most complex customers I've ever had to deal with.” He chuckled again before forcing himself to become serious. “In fact, you're so complicated that it's obvious you have more misgivings than just those few... considering your change of fortunes, I'd presume you're also worried about tomorrow's trial as well.”

Edgeworth merely crossed his arms. “And your logic is?”

Jack shrugged. “You've already mentioned everything I'm aware of as far as today goes, so that leaves only tomorrow to talk about. Simple.”

“I see. And you're already presuming that I'm going to speak of such things, as though it's the only remaining option I have. Rather rude of you, don't you think?”

Looks like he's getting a second wind as far as his silence is concerned. Better say something neutral. “I don't know... do you consider having a conversation to be rude?”

“A proper conversation is not rude,” Edgeworth said seriously. “Your relentless attempts to drag more information out of me, however, are not. This is not a courtroom, and I am not here to provide you with testimony.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess you have a point,” Jack admitted. “It's just... I've always felt that, aside from serving drinks, conversation is the main reason I'm here. I probably wouldn't have lasted more than a month in this place if everyone did nothing but sit and drink in silence.”

Edgeworth harrumphed. “You know, there are many bars in which the customers are merely there to socialize with one another, and the bartender is there solely to preform his skill. Are you claiming that there is something wrong with those places?”

Jack quickly shook his head. “No, but all those bars are in restaurants and dance clubs; they've got a bunch of employees and a truckload of customers. This place,” he stated, sweeping an arm around, “has always been a one-man operation. Thus, I've found it crucial for me to talk to and empathize with my small clientèle.”

In repose to this, Edgeworth merely held out his arms in an elaborate shrug. “That's very moving, Jack, but it isn't doesn't really change much. I'm here to see Riverboat; not... impart you with my every last so-called burden.”

“If you say so,” Jack said levelly. “But you know as well as I do that my customers tend to feel better when they talk their problems out... I've gotten you to willingly 'impart' such things to me before, after all.”

“True,” Edgeworth replied bitterly. “But tonight's situation is far more... precarious than those other times. The last thing I need is my words being spread amongst your other customers.”

Jack blinked several times before he let out a chuckle. “Your resolve must be weakening if that's your big concern. You should know by now that I'm damn good when it comes to keeping secrets under wraps.”

“Damn good and perfect are two different things,” Edgeworth stated irritably. “I must be certain that you will not let anything slip... even if someone like that damn security guard friend of yours puts you under pressure.”

“If anyone asks, I won't say a word,” Jack said, raising a hand in oath. “And I wouldn't underestimate my ability to hold my tongue in the face of coercion—if I recall, someone once offered me a life of luxury if I gave them all my secrets, and I turned him down in a heartbeat.” He felt somewhat guilty as Edgeworth visibly flinched; he was well aware that making a reference to Redd White's visit of last month was a decidedly low blow. “And while it'd be stupid of me to claim that I'm not curious about your... concerns, I also want for you to leave this bar feeling a little better about them as well.”

Edgeworth glanced around the room for several moments before he let out a weary sigh. “You're not going to give up on this, are you?” he asked.

Jack smirked. “Not really.”

Edgeworth stared at the counter for a short while longer before he gave a tiny nod. “Fine,” he muttered. “But I reserve the right to not talk about certain subjects, and the conversation ends when Riverboat shows up... or anyone else, for that matter.”

“I believe I can live with such terms,” Jack stated, fighting the urge to grin. Hopefully fate will be kind enough to leave us be for a decent stretch of time... getting Edgeworth to speak freely about his problems is like trying to pick some sort of crazy psychic lock. “Would you like another drink first?” he asked cheerfully.

Edgeworth frowned in thought. “Cola would be fine,” he answered. “Between you and Mr. Riverboat I have no wish to lose any more of my facilities.”

“Very well,” replied Jack, rising to his feet in order to quickly fill Edgeworth's request. A minute later, he quietly sat the new glass in front of his customer with a smile. “That good enough for you?” he asked.

“It should be,” Edgeworth said. “I suppose you'll be wanting me to start talking, then?”

“When you're ready,” Jack replied amicably. “I'm already acting 'rude' enough without forcing you to rush, after all.”

Edgeworth's lips quirked into a half-smile before he quietly took a sip of his drink. Only several seconds after he'd swallowed did he finally blurt, “The judge has turned against me.”

Jack's eyes widened in mild surprise; in this day and age, practically all of the district judges tended to err on the side of the prosecution. After a moment's pause, he finally asked, “How so?”

“He expressed a desire for me to reconsider my stance... in other words, he wants me to drop the current case, just like all of Powers' adoring fans.”

That seems fairly reasonable, Jack thought dully. Obviously; Jack Hammer's murder would still have to be resolved, but with a more likely suspect in the defendant's chair. Frowning, he asked, “If you don't mind telling me... which judge is it?”

A thoughtful expression crossed Edgeworth's face before he responded. “The white-bearded judge; Chief Gant's friend. Don't ask me to try and pronounce his name... it's a bloody abstraction.”

“That's the damn truth,” Jack replied seriously. “I got a peep at his ID once, when the Chief brought him along... craziest combination of consonants I'd ever seen.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “He always struck me as a rather spacey gentleman, though... are you absolutely certain he's 'turned against you?'”

“I am,” Edgeworth said simply. “That particular judge may have some... eccentricities in his manner, but he explicitly stated that my suspicion of Will Powers is something I should reconsider. And he is also regarded as one of the best judges in the district... the fact that he's doubting me is not something I can take lightly.”

“I see,” Jack said quietly. “Of course, if Will Powers is actually innocent, there's nothing you can do about that. Losing in the face of such a... contradiction shouldn't be much of a dishonor.”

“You should know better than to say that by now,” remarked Edgeworth, frowning. “The code I follow is absolute, and it would be a great dishonor were I to fail it.”

That damn code again, Jack thought grimly. Deciding to see if he could catch his customer off-guard, he asked, “So you consider your previous loss a dishonor even now?”

Edgeworth gave him a bitter look. “To be quite blunt, yes. And don't give me that angry expression,” he added, waggling a finger. “Just because circumstances ended up going against me once doesn't mean that I can magically shove aside years of what my mentor has taught me.”

Von Karma... of course. “Speaking of Mr. von Karma, I haven't seen him in nearly three weeks,” he stated. “Has he been feeling alright?”

Edgeworth let out a dry chuckle. “Manfred von Karma always feels alright,” he said evenly. “Illness is a sign of weakness, and von Karmas do not suffer from weakness.”

“Sounds like you took the words right out of his mouth,” Jack said relaxedly. “What's he been up to, then?”

Edgeworth grimaced. “A lot of smaller cases this week, thugs and thieves and the like. I don't think he minds the fact that their sentences aren't as long too much when he can put away so many of them.” A dark expression settled on his face as he sipped his cola again.

“I guess it's a bit of a downer, seeing him handle so many cases while you've only got one,” Jack said glumly. “Of course, your trial is a much bigger deal... perhaps it's best that it lasts this long.”

Another grimace. “Mr. von Karma doesn't think so,” he muttered.

“Really?” Looks like another piece to add to the puzzle...

“Of course. You must understand,” he added, “In my years of prosecuting, I've almost never had a trial go on for three days before. Even high-profile cases, such as that of Neil Marshall's unfortunate demise, are typically finished in two.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So when Wright managed to both drag this supposedly simple case into its third day and turn popular opinion against me, it caused him to become rather upset.”

Jack frowned. “So he lectured you.”

“Basically. I spent the last hour before I came here preparing things in my office... I was nearly finished when he barged in and demanded to know exactly what was going on.”

“Must have been rough.”

“A little, but I'm used to having such... discussions.” Slowly, his gaze shifted off to one side. “He's been rather upset since my prior defeat, though... I don't wish to disappoint him again,” he admitted.

Hard to argue with that, Jack thought grimly. From what I've heard of von Karma's boasting, he's raised Edgeworth for quite a long time. His younger daughter is the only person I've heard Edgeworth refer to as family... Manfred must be the closest thing to a father he has.

“Are you alright, Mr. Keeper?”

Jack flinched and quickly nodded. “I'm fine, just... lost in thought,” he muttered.

“I see.” He took a sip of his drink before adding, “I'm surprised you aren't badmouthing my code some more. You were quite adamant about telling me how foolish it was the evening of my... non-win.”

It was a loss, Edgeworth! Don't mince words! His tone neutral, Jack stated, “I think you've made it pretty clear that I'm not going to change your mind about that mantra of yours.” He shrugged. “The testimony of your new witness better be pretty damn good if it's going to prove Mr. Powers guilty, though... It has to counter everything that's been found today, after all.”

Edgeworth shrugged confidently. “If everything goes as I expect, the new details won't matter. As long as I can prove that no one else could have killed Jack Hammer, then the defendant's the only logical suspect left.”

Jack nodded warily. “I hope you know what you're doing,” he stated. “The death penalty is a heavy thing to deal with when you string it out on that sort of logic.”

An angry flush of red seeped up Edgeworth's cheeks upon hearing this pronouncement. “I'm well aware of the stakes I'm dealing with, Mr. Keeper,” he stated, his voice low with indignation. “Unlike you, I've actually been working in the justice system these past few years and not merely serving those that do.”

That hurt, Mr. Edgeworth, thought Jack, wincing. I can't say I didn't deserve it, though... Deciding it best to get away from heavy accusations, Jack quickly brightened his expression and said, “Good. Judging by your confidence, I presume you've already spoken to Ms. Vasquez, then?”

“Yes. Gumshoe notified me of her being brought to the precinct building about forty-five minutes after he confirmed those... rumors. The precinct workers did a considerable amount of the witness preparation this time, but I managed to ask her some questions as well.”

“I see. Was her testimony easy to prepare?”

Edgeworth shrugged. “Mostly.”

“And mostly means...?”

“Ms. Vasquez is a very terse woman, Jack. She had a tendency to answer my questions with statements too brief to go unpressed in the courtroom.”

“I see,” muttered Jack, shaking his head. “But you managed to get proper statements in the end, right?”

Edgeworth shrugged again. “Largely.”

Now we're going in circles, Mr. Edgeworth! Resisting the urge to tell him that out loud, Jack instead muttered, “Seems kind of odd that you aren't absolutely positive... in most cases, your witness interrogations fall neatly into place.”

“That's true,” Edgeworth began, “but Ms. Vasquez also had a tendency to stop me from making her repeat her statements too often. She claimed it would be a waste of my time.”

Jack made a thoughtful noise. “Don't you think that's a bit suspicious, Mr. Edgeworth? If she was exerting control over the questions, there's a good chance she's hiding something.”

Edgeworth sipped his drink and frowned. “That is only your opinion,” he said finally. “In a court case defined by testimony, I have no choice but to take my witnesses at their word.”

And we all know how well that worked last month, Jack thought darkly. Knowing better than to say that aloud, he instead asked, “So you're not worried about Ms. Vasquez's testimony at all?”

Edgeworth frowned and looked away. “I refuse to speak of those matters, Mr. Keeper. Talk about something else.”

He's stonewalling me? So he is worried, then, Jack thought simply. After his loss last month, he didn't confess any doubts toward Redd White's guilt, so either this Vasquez woman is more suspicious, which is pretty much impossible, or else something about him has changed, something that'd weaken his fanaticism a bit. Absently, he noticed Edgeworth was giving him an uncomfortable stare; he shifted in his chair and turned his gaze toward the floor. In all the cases Edgeworth's taken between his loss and now, he hasn't acted any differently than what has been normal for him, so something specific to this case must be the culprit.

“Aren't you going to say something anytime soon, Mr. Keeper? All this silence is getting to me...”

Quickly, Jack returned his gaze to Edgeworth's face; he was rather surprised that the man was unsatisfied with merely brooding in silence. “Just thinking again, that's all,” he said lightly.

Edgeworth's eyebrows rose in skepticism. “Right...” he scoffed.

Jack blinked in surprise. “Yes, right,” he affirmed.

Wait a second... right? Wright? That's it! That's the connection... duh! Deciding it best not to smack himself over the head in response to his unvoiced thoughts, Jack instead leaned forward and stated, “I'm just starting to realize just how hard it was for you, having to face Mr. Wright again.”

Edgeworth's eyes grew wide. “E-excuse me?!” he stammered.

“Well, the last time he beat you, he was the one at risk of going to jail,” Jack stated. “Simply arguing against him in court can't be too good for your well-being.”

A small sigh of relief escaped Edgeworth's lips before his expression changed to one of annoyance. “Oh? And you believe that you're an expert on my well-being, Mr. Keeper?”

“I'm an expert on the well-being of people in general, Mr. Edgeworth; I believe I've already mentioned that. There are a lot of reasons people drink, after all... being able to tell them apart comes with the territory.” He shook his head. “And besides, you already admitted that you find him confusing... it's only now starting to dawn on me how much you're being affected by that.”

Once again, Edgeworth appeared to be alarmed. “A-affected?!” he stammered, mouth dropping open in shock.

“Yeah, affected,” Jack affirmed. “I mean... the things you've been saying about Mr. Wright and Detective Gumshoe and the Judge... you're acting a lot less confident now then you have been during earlier parts of the trial. And since you've already admitted that Mr. Wright's the only reason the case has gone on for so long, it means that his presence must have at least an indirect effect on your outlook.” He scratched at his head uncertainly. “Am I wrong?”

Edgeworth huffed and lowered his head; it appeared that he was more tired now than ever. Several seconds passed before he finally admitted, “It's true that facing Wright has been quite stressful for me.” He sighed heavily. “Turning things against me like this, making the case so goddamn complex... as far back as I can remember, the man was always a magnet for foolishness such as this.”

“I see,” Jack said dully. It's nice to have my theory affirmed, but Edgeworth didn't really say anything new there, except for... “That's kind of an odd phrase you used there, Mr. Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth looked up and frowned. “Odd phrase? I don't follow.”

“You said that Mr. Wright was a magnet for foolishness 'as far back as you can remember'. I just thought that was kind of odd, since you only first faced each other in court a month ago. Then again,” Jack paused as an old memory rose to the front of his mind, “That wasn't the first time you ever saw him, was it?”

Edgeworth had been in the process of finishing his cola when Jack asked this question; immediately, he sputtered and started coughing in earnest.

As soon as he was sure that Edgeworth wasn't going to require CPR anytime soon, Jack crossed his arms and smirked. “That foolish reaction of yours only confirms my hunch, Mr. Edgeworth. After all, you pulled off the same act when you found out Mr. Wright had won his first trial, and that was over two months ago!”

Edgeworth bristled visibly. “And what does that prove?”

“It proves that you were visibly upset by Mr. Wright's appearance at least a month before you ever lost to him—or even faced him—in a court of law. That means that you obviously knew him, or at least knew of him, before then.” He shrugged. “My first instinct is to presume you met in law school sometime... but I'm already well aware that Mr. von Karma taught you how to prosecute all on his own.”

Edgeworth merely wrung his hands in response.

“Thus, I have no choice but to say that I'm clueless when it comes to the matter of exactly when you first met Phoenix Wright—but I do know that it was on an earlier occasion than the disaster of Mia Fey's murder trial.” He chuckled. “I'm right, aren't I?”

Edgeworth made as face as though he'd just bit into a salty lemon. “Your statement is technically correct,” he admitted. “And that is all that I will say on this matter, so it'd be best if you quit while you were ahead.”

Before Jack could even think of a response to this new information, the bar door opened and the chime went off. He let out a chuckle as he stood and looked across the length of the room—it was a good thing that he didn't have much else to ask, as Prosecutor Chance Riverboat had finally decided to show up.

As far as appearances went, Jack didn't consider Riverboat to be the most eccentric of his customers—though the existence of those such as Miles Edgeworth, Manfred von Karma, and Upton Washer might have had something to do with that. His dark suit was free from wild colors or elaborate ruffles, though a black bow tie gave it considerable resemblance to a fancy tuxedo. His short brown hair was carefully cropped above an angular face weathered only slightly by middle-age. In Jack's eyes, the only truly odd thing about him was the glasses he wore—their lenses were mirrored, so Jack could see nothing in them but a double reflection of the room as he approached the bar and sat on the stool to Edgeworth's right.

“I was wondering when you'd arrive, Mr. Riverboat,” stated Edgeworth, forestalling any attempt Jack could make at a greeting. “It was against my better judgment that I set aside time for this meeting... the least you could have done was arrived when you said you would.”

His expression neutral, Riverboat didn't do so much as turn his head. “Really?” he asked, his voice heavy and dull. “That's... a shame.”

Edgeworth let out a sigh of annoyance upon hearing this. “Do you at least have an excuse for your tardiness?”

This time, Riverboat did turn his head, though his expression remained the same. “No.” Before Edgeworth could say anything else, he amended, “When we made this arrangement earlier I'd said there was a chance that things would come up.” He laced his fingers together. “Things came up.”

Before Edgeworth could say anything more vitriolic, Jack stood and knocked on the bar to get their attention. “Play nice, gentlemen,” he said, before pointing a finger and adding, “It's good to see you again, Mr. Riverboat. Will you be wanting your usual?”

Riverboat allowed himself the slightest tilt of the head. “It's my personal creation,” he stated. “Is there a reason for me not to want it?”

Jack shook his head. “No, not really. Would you like some more cola, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“I believe-”

“He'll be having the same as I,” announced Riverboat, his gruff tones firmly overriding Edgeworth's response. “I'll be buying it for him, of course—my invitation to drink would be meaningless if I didn't provide Mr. Edgeworth with some of the best.”

“I see,” muttered Jack, frowning. “You okay with that, Mr. Edgeworth?”

Edgeworth scoffed for a moment, but quickly nodded.

“Very well then. One of my shakers is pretty big, so I'll make them together. Feel free to talk about whatever, Mr. Riverboat—our earlier conversation had just about come to an end when you showed up.”

As Jack started gathering ingredients, Riverboat quietly asked, “Were you talking about something important, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“It was nothing,” Edgeworth replied tersely. A moment later, he hurriedly asked, “So exactly how have things been going for you recently?”

Edgeworth seems awfully eager to change the subject, thought Jack, quietly placing bottles of strawberry vodka and sweet vermouth on the bar counter.

“You normally don't ask things like that,” Riverboat muttered, verbally echoing Jack's opinion. Again, he laced his fingers together. “I won third place in a hold'em poker tournament last Saturday,” he said levelly.

“Oh yeah,” chimed Jack, grabbing a bucket of ice and placing it on the counter as well. “Donny mentioned it to me a few days ago... He didn't tell me you did so well, however.”

“Well, it's typical of that kid to forget the big details,” Riverboat said. “I've played a few draw games with him and the other guards up in the cafeteria—he's always asking me if two pair beat three of a kind, the amateur.”

Well, that's not a very nice thing to say. Jack pulled out his largest cocktail shaker and sat it on the counter a bit more forcefully than normal; Riverboat looked over at this and gave him a knowing nod.

“If you only placed third, then who knocked you out?” Edgeworth's expression was rather pleasant as he asked this question; Jack presumed he was happy with the shift in subject matter.

Riverboat remained silent for a moment before stating, “I'm glad you brought that up, Mr. Edgeworth.” He twiddled his thumbs. “You ever hear of Zak Gramarye?”

Jack paused his vermouth pouring. “He used to be on TV. Part of a whimsical magic show, if I recall.”

“That's correct, except for the 'used to', part,” Riverboat stated dully. “But that doesn't matter. What matters is that the man is a poker genius. He doesn't have the time to play often, which is probably a good thing because he never seems to lose. He managed to catch me going all-in on a semi-bluff... I'm still not sure how; I have control of all my tells.” He pointed at his face as though it proved his point.

“Well, it's quite obvious that you still did fairly well,” Edgeworth said amicably. “Now if only you'd apply as much effort to prosecuting as you do to slight of hand and bits of paper...”

“I'll have you know that I've been doing good in the courtroom too,” Riverboat stated gruffly. “For four weeks I was dealing with trials related to Redd White and his shifty Bluecorp... that place was pretty much a corporate gang, so those cases were right up my alley.” Slowly, he made an adjustment to his bow-tie.

So he was given the task of cleaning up all that mess. Jack smirked as he finished filling the shaker with vodka and added the cap; chilling the cocktails always served as a cheap thrill.

Edgeworth jumped and tensed somewhat as Jack shook the drink as liberally as he could; obviously, he wasn't in the mood for loud noise. Only after Jack had poured the drinks and added the garnishes did he once again relax.

“Two strawberry vodka martinis, made wet with sweet vermouth, shaken with ice until cold, and served with maraschino cherries,” listed Jack, pushing the drinks towards his customers. “No matter how many times I make this drink, I still find it to be a rather unconventional combination.”

Riverboat raised a finger. “That's why I call it the Red Riverboat Martini.” Lazily, he turned towards Jack, who wrinkled his nose at sight of his own doubled reflection. “I'm not a conventional person.” He took an appreciative sip of the drink before turning his head back to Edgeworth. “I made it sweet because life often isn't.”

Edgeworth sighed before taking a sip of his martini as well; an instant later, his eyes squeezed shut in obvious dissatisfaction.

Riverboat lowered his head. “You never liked my drink, did you?”

Edgeworth grimaced. “Let's just say that your life seems sweet enough without dragging this concoction into the mix.”

Riverboat appeared thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “I'll give you that much,” he said. “And that's not counting what I accomplished in court last week.”

“What happened then?” asked Jack, aware of the fact that Riverboat wouldn't throw out a statement like that unless he wished to explain it.

“I managed to convict two members of the local Yakuza on racketeering charges. They must have been fairly new recruits... the police usually aren't good enough to get more than one of them at a time without using a sting operation or investigating a big-time killing.” For once, Riverboat actually frowned. “It's a never-ending battle, dealing with gang activity in this country.”

“The State is far from a utopia,” Edgeworth stated grimly. “Are those convictions going to lead to further arrests?”

Riverboat clasped his hands together. “Depends on whether the interrogators can squeeze anything more out of them or not. Usually the ones we catch are too loyal to talk, but these guys are new... they might let things slip if it improves their conditions a little.” He bowed his head. “When they do, you never know what's going to come out—a lot of these guys can have connections to all sorts of other gangs.”

Jack frowned. “I thought you just claimed that gang members were loyal.”

Riverboat gazed up thoughtfully before stating, “The criminal underworld is so big in this city, everything tends to run together. Heck, some of the Yakuza and Mafia families have such close ties that you can barely tell their members apart.” He gave his martini an appreciative sip before turning to Edgeworth and continuing, “That leads me to the reason I invited you down here tonight.”

“One moment,” muttered Jack, holding up a hand. “I was under the impression you invited Mr. Edgeworth here just so that you could have a drink together. Is that not so?”

“Of course it isn't,” Riverboat said. “You should know better than that by now, bartender... Mr. Edgeworth never would have agreed to this meeting just for the sake of having a drink... it's not his style.” He laced his fingers together. “It's not my style either... if you don't work to maximize your outcome, you just end up folding in the game of life.”

Jack shook his head. “I still don't have a clue what you're talking about.”

In lieu of a response, Riverboat turned to face Edgeworth instead. “It's rather simple,” he said. “When I met Mr. Edgeworth in the precinct building a couple hours ago, I got the impression that he was having doubts about the latest witness in his Samurai case.”

“What?! I never told you anything of the sort!” snapped Edgeworth, bristling with indignation. “What makes you think I would do something so foolish as to...”

“It's your eyes.” Riverboat intoned loudly. When Edgeworth merely gave him a blank stare, he added, “I may not be able to win every trial I argue or every poker game I play, but I've grown rather good at reading people's expressions. So, when I asked for your opinion of Ms. Dee Vasquez in the precinct building, I noticed you blinked and looked away before answering... that was all the information I needed. You know, Mr. Edgeworth, the eyes can give away all sorts of things...” He tapped his glasses. “That's why I keep mine hidden at all times.”

Edgeworth let out a growl of annoyance. “Will you stop bragging and get to the point?!” he demanded.

“Fine. I have a bit of information I'd like to give you before your last day of trial. Obviously, it's about Ms. Vasquez.”

Edgeworth blinked several times before responding, “I see. And exactly why would you have information on my witness?”

That's a good question, thought Jack, nervously scratching at his head. Chance Riverboat is a specialist in cases involving money and finance, largely in the sense that they tie into organized crime. Unless that means...

“Actually, I probably shouldn't call it information,” Riverboat said grimly. “More of a hunch, with some coincidences to back it up.”

Edgeworth's eyes narrowed as he growled in irritation. “If hunches and coincidences are all that you have, then you're only wasting my time. Such things are not permissible in court.”

Riverboat shook his head. “Even so, the more you know about the game, the better the strategy you'll be able to make. That is, if you'll still want to play at all...”

Edgeworth stared at Riverboat for a moment before letting out a derisive sigh. “Fine, I'll hear your precious rumor,” he conceded. Before Riverboat could say anything, however, he held up a hand and shot Jack a heavy glare. “But wouldn't you think it best, Mr. Keeper, if we received some privacy first?”

Jack took a startled step backwards. “Well, I guess it'd be-”

To both of their surprise, Riverboat interrupted with a hearty chuckle. “Since what I have to say isn't permissible in court, I see no reason to keep it a secret,” he stated. “Besides, what I have to say will probably sink through better if you're both here to assign value to it.”

Edgeworth again appeared annoyed, but he finally nodded. “Just get it over with,” he said.

“All right,” said Riverboat. He laced his fingers together and stared at them for a few moments before blurting, “If there's one thing you've noticed about Ms. Vasquez's reputation, it's that she's held in very high esteem. She's credited with keeping that studio of hers from going bankrupt, and nobody ever has anything bad to say about her. Am I right?”

Edgeworth nodded. “Indeed, that's what I've been hearing. She didn't strike me as the most sociable person in the world, but her success in the company appears to have made up for that. Is there a point to bringing this up?”

Riverboat looked up. “If you take things at face value, there isn't.” He paused. “But I've picked up some information that makes things a little bit trickier than that.”

“Yes, your hunch; we've already established that,” Edgeworth said disdainfully. “Would you get to explaining it already?”

Riverboat frowned. “Don't rush me.” He sipped his drink before stating, “I've been putting away creeps and lowlifes for twenty years now, Mr. Edgeworth. And in that time, I've picked up a lot of information about their business.”

“Their... business?”

“Gang business.” Riverboat answered. “You see, in the criminal underworld, it's all about gaining control... control over money, control over your rivals, control over the lives of innocent people... enough to make your head spin if you don't have the experience to know what's going on.”

Edgeworth made an indignant noise at this. “I have taken many cases involving organized crime before, Mr. Riverboat. I am well aware of the issues involved.”

Riverboat smirked. “Than you won't be surprised when I tell you that the business has had a big hand in all of Vasquez's positive publicity.”

“So... you're saying she's involved...” Edgeworth's eyes widened as his voice faded away; it was obvious that he was rather overwhelmed by this statement.

He's claiming that Ms. Vasquez has the support of organized crime? If that's true, it pretty much blows her credibility out of the water, Jack thought hastily. Deciding to fish for more information, he quickly asked, “And exactly what part of 'the business' is Vasquez benefiting from here?”

“The mafia,” Riverboat stated bluntly. “She's tied to the mafia.”

Before Jack could respond to this, Edgeworth jumped to his feet and slammed a hand against the table. “You can't be serious!” he shouted, his face somewhat pale.

Riverboat appraised him for a moment before replying, “I am, Mr. Edgeworth. When the stakes are this high, I know better than to bluff.”

Still standing, Edgeworth merely slammed his hand against the counter again. “But Ms. Vasquez is a talented producer!” he proclaimed. “What makes you so sure that she's only being praised because of organized crime?!”

Riverboat shrugged. “What makes you so sure she's not?”

“I... I've already cross-examined several people that were related to the crime, and nothing in their testimonies indicated that Ms. Vasquez was involved in such underhanded business.”

“That doesn't prove a thing,” Riverboat said bluntly. “If Vasquez is preventing her superiors from saying anything incriminating, it only follows that her subordinates are under even more pressure.” He lifted his glass and took a small sip. “If I recall, everyone was under pressure to keep her name away from the proceedings—the damn courtroom didn't even know she was near the crime scene until the end of the first trial day.”

Tensely, Edgeworth returned to his seat. “That flirtatious old windbag...” he grumbled.

“Exactly. Suspicious behavior, wouldn't you think? The fact that the police didn't mention her presence until it was brought up in trial doesn't sit well either.” He laced his fingers together. “I've learned a thing or two about her these past few years—and none of it is very good.”

“But that's not solid proof that she has these unscrupulous connections,” stated Edgeworth, crossing his arms. “Otherwise, they would have caught up to her long before now.”

“That is true,” Riverboat replied grimly. “But, if there's one thing I do know about this lady, it's that she's not the type of person you want to mess with.” He paused before adding, “You should know that as well, since you spoke with her and all.”

Edgeworth raised a finger as though he were about to let out another retort, but he shook his head and put it back down in silence.

I guess that means Edgeworth sees his point, Jack thought glumly. Almost makes me wish I had access to this woman, just to see how 'dangerous' she really is.

After a bit more silence, Edgeworth finally said, “Regardless of your claims, these connections are still merely rumored to exist. No offense, but I can't cast any suspicion on my witness without solid evidence to back it up.”

“I figured you would say something like that,” Riverboat muttered, lacing his fingers together. “Unfortunately, solid evidence on the business is almost impossible to come by—were that not the case, I would have been able to lock the Cadaverinis away a long time ago.”

Edgeworth smiled wanly. “Well, you can't just change the rules around so that solid evidence no longer needs to exist. Even someone with more dumb luck than you would be hard pressed to pull that one off.”

Riverboat lowered his head. “I rely on skill, not luck.”

“If you say so,” Edgeworth replied disdainfully.

Absently, Jack wondered if he was going to have to forestall another argument, but he was quickly interrupted by the sound of the door chime. Looking past his customers, he watched as Detective Gumshoe entered the bar and walked several paces before coming to a complete halt.

“I guess he noticed me sitting here,” Edgeworth muttered darkly.

Jack mentally agreed; normally, Gumshoe never approached the bar counter at anything less than an excited run. Curious as to just how accurate Edgeworth's suspicions were, he quickly waved an arm and called, “Don't just stand there, Detective Gumshoe! Come over and take a seat!”

For a moment, Jack wondered if Gumshoe had heard him properly, but he eventually nodded and approached the bar counter, the tenseness in his gait clearly apparent.

“Sorry, Jack,” he muttered, his gaze firmly fixed upon the ceiling. “I must have been... uh... daydreaming!” He gave the collar of his coat a stiff tug. “Yeah, that's what I was doing.” Slowly, he shuffled sideways and sat in the seat at Riverboat's right, using the man as a barrier between himself and Edgeworth.

Well, if that doesn't prove that Gumshoe's trying not to talk to Edgeworth, I don't know what will, Jack thought resignedly. But now I have to figure out why. Realizing that no one had spoke since Gumshoe sat down, he quickly asked, “What'll you have?”

“A beer is fine,” he said quickly. “We can't all afford fancy mixes like Mr. Riverboat here, after all.” He let out a forced chuckle.

I'm surprised Edgeworth isn't trying to get Gumshoe to talk to him, Jack thought as he grabbed a beer mug and started to fill it. He must be waiting for Gumshoe to break first. Deciding it best if he brought up the obvious contradiction, he turned towards Gumshoe and asked, “So, have you said hi to Mr. Edgeworth yet?”

Expectedly, Gumshoe's reaction was immediate; he jumped and fidgeted several times before forcing out a weak, “Oh, uh, sorry, Mr. Edgeworth! I guess I didn't see you there or something. I should get my eyes checked or something...” Another forced chuckle escaped his lips as he turned his head away from the other two customers.

“I highly doubt that, considering the way you deliberately set yourself apart,” Edgeworth stated coldly. “In fact, it only supports the pattern of avoidance you've been exhibiting in regards to me these past few hours.”

Gumshoe inhaled sharply. “A-avoiding you, sir? What makes you think that?”

“Normally, when you bring me a new witness to interrogate, you spend ages telling me just how important they are to the current case, even if I'm already aware of such things. Today, however, you merely mentioned the room she was in and left as quickly as possible. You didn't even give me any preliminary information on why she was taken in... I was forced to try and get that information from your pathetic excuse of a chief detective, and he didn't know a thing!”

Gumshoe shuddered visibly before turning to Jack and asking, “Is my beer ready yet?”

“Yes it is,” replied Jack, sitting it on the counter in front of him. “I don't say this very often, but I have a feeling you will be needing it.”

“Not you too, pal,” Gumshoe muttered before taking a sip.

“Getting back to the matter at hand, I think it's readily apparent that you were trying to avoid me,” Edgeworth said heavily. “Even taking into consideration how much you've failed me today, I find that to be distinctly unusual behavior.” He sighed. “Additionally, your body language makes it obvious that you're hiding something more, and I'm sure that Mr. Riverboat will back me up on that statement.”

“You look like a fish going all in on a junk hand,” said Riverboat, nodding. “The question is: How big of a stinker do you got?”

“Stinker? I don't smell!” After a moment of honest indigence, Gumshoe blinked and started scratching at the back of his head. “Oh, you mean the hiding thing.”

“Yes, that thing,” Edgeworth affirmed exasperatedly. “The thing that definitely exists, and therefore must exist for a reason. That thing.”

To Jack's surprise, Edgeworth's statement didn't cause Gumshoe to flinch or yell; instead, he sighed and lowered his head.

“I guess there's no point in playing dumb,” he admitted softly. “I seem to do enough of that without trying anyway.” Turning towards Edgeworth, he continued, “The truth is that I have something really important to tell you, sir.”

Edgeworth's eyes narrowed. “And you weren't able to tell me immediately because...?

“I'm afraid it's not something you're going to like very much, sir. I know I should have tried to tell you earlier instead of hiding, but... I couldn't gather the nerve to bring it up.” He shook his head. “I figured if I had a drink first, it'd make things a bit easier.”

“So you didn't expect us to be here,” Riverboat interjected gruffly. “Makes sense.”

“Yeah,” muttered Gumshoe, nodding. “I thought you'd still be working in your office, Mr. Edgeworth... You're always working late when cases get tricky like this one.”

“That would normally be true, but Mr. Riverboat... invited me to have a drink here tonight.”

Gumshoe sipped his beer before muttering, “I see. Of course, if you two weren't here, Jack would probably end up pulling half the story out of me anyway... I figured his poking around and the beer together would be enough to get me to talk to you for real.”

“If you say so,” muttered Edgeworth, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Now, would you be so kind as to actually tell me what this 'important thing' is?”

“Very well, Mr. Edgeworth.” Gumshoe took a long drought of his beer before blurting, “It's about Dee Vasquez, sir. Specifically, what happened before I took her to the precinct.”

Jack wasn't surprised to see Edgeworth flinch slightly upon hearing this; the last thing he need was more bad news in regards to his only remaining witness. This might be enough to push things over the edge, he thought warily.

Riverboat, on the other hand, merely leaned forward. “You've got information on Vasquez, detective? Then tell us. Now.”

“All right,” replied Gumshoe, nodding. “Just let me change seats first.” With that, he quietly picked up his beer and moved to the open seat on Edgeworth's other side; the one he would have immediately taken during any other visit.

“Now that you are comfortable,” Edgeworth began slowly, “I must repeat Mr. Riverboat's request that you tell us what happened before you brought Ms. Vasquez in for questioning.” He crossed his arms and glared. “I am trusting you not to omit any details.”

Upon hearing the word 'trusting', Gumshoe's mood appeared to brighten considerably. “Yes, sir!” he announced, pushing his drink away and giving Edgeworth all of his attention.

“It all started a few hours ago... a little after five, I think. I was still a bit stressed out by all the... uh, extra evidence I found, but I remembered you telling me that Ms. Vasquez would be the key to our winning the case tomorrow. I decided to ask the sweet old security lady if she knew where Ms. Vasquez was, but she looked like she was feeling really sad.” Awkwardly, he scratched the back of his neck. “After I comforted her for a little bit, she told me Vasquez was at Studio Two, so I went there.”

“One moment,” interjected Edgeworth, raising a hand. After a few seconds of awkward pause, he finally muttered, “You 'comforted' her?”

Gumshoe nodded. “I gave her a hug, in order to make her feel better. Couldn't figure out why she was so sad, though.”

Edgeworth nodded. “I see. Go on.”

“So, I was heading for Studio Two, and I saw that Ms. Vasquez was standing outside the trailer, and that she was talking to that lawyer and his assistant as well.”

Edgeworth nodded. “Wright and Ms. Fey, of course. Did you manage to interrupt their conversation?”

“That's the thing,” Gumshoe said grimly. “I'm not sure if she saw me coming or not, but Vasquez headed into the trailer before I could get within a hundred feet of her. A moment later, the lawyer and his assistant went inside as well.”

“I don't like where this is going,” Riverboat interjected gruffly. “Did you follow them into that trailer?”

Gumshoe shook his head. “Not quite. I guess I could have tried to get their attention before they went inside, but... even I could see that they looked pretty suspicious, so I decided to sneak up and listen in instead.”

“Seems a bit rude, if you ask me,” Jack said dully.

Gumshoe looked insulted by this. “You can't tell me how to my job, pal! Sometimes you've got to stay out of sight if you want to get the best information, you know.”

“For once, you're making sense, Detective,” Edgeworth said. “Please keep your judgments to yourself, Mr. Keeper.”

I guess I lack the credentials to participate in this conversation, thought Jack, embarrassed. If I want to say anything, I'll have to make sure it's important.

“If you would continue, Detective...”

“Right. Now, I didn't want anyone to see me, so I decided to stand just to the side of the trailer door. It took me about a minute to get there, and a little bit longer to get into place—I didn't want to step on too many flowers, and there was this bent fencepost that was really really sharp!”

“No offense, detective, but the state of that fencepost isn't very important to the case,” said Edgeworth, waving a dismissive hand. “If you would get to what happened next...”

“Okay,” said Gumshoe, his expression once again turning grim. “I didn't understand it very well, but it sounded like Ms. Vasquez and the others were arguing over something that happened... the word 'accident' kept coming up.”

“I don't trust the word 'accident' for a second,” Riverboat said grimly. “Did you hear anything else?”

Gumshoe sighed heavily. “It didn't take much longer for Vasquez to start sounding kind of crazy...”

“Crazy? Are you sure?” Edgeworth was clearly perplexed. “I spoke with Ms. Vasquez for quite a while after you brought her in, and crazy is one of the last words I'd use to describe her.”

“Sorry, sir, but I'm not making things up. 'Crazy' is the only way to describe it.” He sighed. “I tried to get a bit closer to the door... listen as hard as I could... when she suddenly shouts 'Boys!' and I hear all these people rushing into the room!”

Jack felt perplexed. Boys?!

“Wait a second, detective,” muttered Edgeworth, tiredly rubbing his forehead. “Didn't you just say that you were standing right outside the door when this happened?”

“That I did, sir. The people came in from the other side—there's two doors to that trailer, right across from one another. The rushing noise came from the other door.”

“I don't think that's the problem you should be worried about,” Riverboat stated tersely. “Who were these 'boys'? And why did they come into the room?”

“I just getting to that,” Gumshoe said, his expression downcast. He took a deep before continuing, “When I heard those heavy footsteps, I knew that something bad was going on. So I got out of the garden and walked up to the door. Luckily, it was only leaning closed, so I managed to open it up a little and take a look inside.”

“And what did you see?” asked Edgeworth, clearly starting to sweat.

“The 'boys' were men,” replied Gumshoe, his tone defeated. “Four men, in fact. Big fellows dressed in black suits; the shiftiest bunch of guys you'd ever seen.” He shook his head. “Ms. Vasquez said they were...” He trailed off and swallowed heavily. “Well, it's kind of hard for me to say this.”

“Why?” asked Edgeworth, annoyed. “Could you not hear this part? You were right by the open door.”

Gumshoe shook his head. “I heard them. It's just... I really don't want to have to tell you this, Mr. Edgeworth.”

Edgeworth let out a snarl. “I don't care, detective! What were they?!”

A tremble of Gumshoe's lip, and then... “She said they were 'erasers'! She was going to use them to get rid of that harmless lawyer and his sweet little assistant! Rub them right out!”

“What?!” Everyone save Gumshoe blurted the word together.

“I know!” shouted Gumshoe, his tone desperate. “I didn't want to believe that there was anything wrong with Ms. Vasquez, but you can't ignore something like that! That's why I put an end to things and hauled the woman down to the precinct building!”

Goddamn... Jack thought wearily. Edgeworth sure as hell can't dismiss Riverboat's 'rumor' now... that sounds like a scene straight out of an old mob movie. Noting that Riverboat was still silent and Edgeworth too stunned to say anything, he quietly asked, “What did the scary guys do when you took Ms. Vasquez away? No offense, but you don't make it sound like they'd leave quietly.”

“But that's what they did, pal. As soon as I burst on the scene, I made sure that they knew I had the goods on them—which I did, for the most part—and Ms. Vasquez sent them off. She seemed quite fine with having everything settled in court tomorrow instead.”

“Wow, that's... rather impressive,” Jack said slowly. “If you hadn't been there...” He rubbed at his stomach. “Doesn't really bear thinking about unless I want to make myself sick.”

A moment's silence passed before Riverboat cleared his throat. “A good thing you did, Detective, but you should have brought in the goons as well. That's four sources of information you let slip through your fingers.”

“I did everything I could, sir!” Gumshoe snapped indignantly. “They went away before I could even get call for backup... my only priorities were making sure Vasquez was sent in for questioning, and making sure that lawyer and his assistant were all right!”

Riverboat sighed. “You still could have done better, kid. But I guess it'll be enough to have her stuck in a courtroom... though it won't be me staring her down.” He turned to Edgeworth. “You're the one that has to put in the chips tomorrow... how much are you willing to risk?”

His eyes wide, his face extremely pale, it appeared that Edgeworth could do naught but sit in stunned silence.

Jack's stomach twinged anxiously. This isn't good. It looks like Edgeworth's right on the edge of a massive explosion... or a nervous breakdown. Making sure to keep his voice as calm as possible, he asked, “Mr. Edgeworth... are you all right?”

For a moment, Edgeworth continued to remain still. Then he blinked once, twice, and finally managed to mutter, “This is not what I expected to happen tonight... hearing all this... and at the last minute, as well...”

Gumshoe sighed. “I'm really sorry I waited to tell you, sir. I've already hurt your case so much by missing all that evidence... I couldn't standing having to make it even harder for you to win the trial tomorrow morning.”

“Win?” For once, Riverboat's flat voice betrayed an ironic note. “Now that you've been so kind to finally bring me some half-decent proof of Vasquez's business connections, it'll be kind of hard for anyone to pull off a guilty verdict in that Samurai case.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What do you mean, Mr. Riverboat?”

“It's simple. If Vasquez has enough clout to have a goon squad try to erase a couple of legals on her tail, what's stopping her from wiping out that Hammerhead guy as well?”

Jack tried to think of a possible response to that, but couldn't come up with one. That idea makes more sense than Will Powers being guilty, after all, what with Jack Hammer drugging him and everything... He frowned. But then he also took that Samurai Suit as well, and there's still no explanation for why he did that. Maybe has killed Vasquez wanted Powers gone and got Hammer by mistake? He shook his head. I can't be sure of anything, except that it isn't my problem to solve. Edgeworth, on the other hand... He glanced at Edgeworth, who, while no longer sitting still, was drinking the cocktail Riverboat had bought him with reckless abandon.

“I guess my drink doesn't taste so bad when the pressure's on,” Riverboat stated plainly.

“It'll be all right, Mr. Edgeworth,” Gumshoe said, though his voice was still devoid of its usual exuberance. “We'll win that trial tomorrow one way or another, right?” When Edgeworth didn't so much as turn his head in response, he repeated, “Right?”

Edgeworth put down his now-empty cocktail glass and sighed. “I'll don't what to say... except that I'll do what I must,” he stated grimly, allowing his head to fall into his hands.

After another heavy silence, it was Gumshoe's turn to ask, “Are you all right, sir?”

If Edgeworth heard the question, he didn't give any sign. Instead, he muttered, “Damn it, Wright... how could you get me into this mess?!”

Gumshoe looked confused. “Right? Damn what right? And how can you damn it wrong, sir?”

Edgeworth forced his head up before letting out a growl of resignation. “Forget it, detective. I would like to request something from you, however.”

Gumshoe sat up straight, a smile finally returning to his face. “Anything for you, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!”

“Good. I'd like you take me home. I've done everything I can in regards to this case tonight... and I have a feeling I'm going to need some rest if I want to face tomorrow.” He turned to Jack. “How much do I owe you?”

“Um, well...”

“I'll take care of it,” Riverboat interrupted smoothly. “I've got plenty of chips to spare after my third-place showing.”

“Really?” Gumshoe asked energetically. “Thanks, Mr. Riverboat, sir!”

“Your welcome,” Riverboat replied dully. “Just note that I'm going to need something from you as well.”

“From me? What?”

Riverboat laced his fingers together. “After the trial, I'm going to want some official statements on what you saw before taking Vasquez in. Whether Mr. Edgeworth wins that Samurai trial or not, we should see if can get those goons of hers in for a chat.”

Gumshoe nodded. “Whatever you say, sir!” He stood from his stool and tapped Edgeworth on the shoulder. “We're going to have to go now, if you want to get home before morning,” he explained cheerfully. “My jalopy doesn't go very fast on cold nights like this one.”

“Great,” Edgeworth muttered darkly, before rising to his feet as well. “I'll be seeing you, Mr. Riverboat, Jack...”

Jack nodded and replied, “See you soon, Mr. Edgeworth.” Riverboat remained silent.

As Gumshoe and Edgeworth made the journey across the room and out the bar, Jack allowed himself to sit in his chair once more. If I had more customers, I'd have to stand all day, he thought absently. It's almost worth the lack of tips...

“It's a damn good thing that detective showed up,” Riverboat stated, snapping Jack out of his thoughts. “He might be as short-sighted as the rest of the police department, but at least he's got decent information.”

“I guess so,” Jack said, frowning at the sound of Riverboat's criticism. He allowed himself one more moment's relaxation before asking, “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Riverboat nodded. “First, I want you to get me another Red Riverboat Martini,” he stated confidently. “And then...”

He reached into a the front pocket of his suit, and pulled out a deck of cards.

“You'll never be as good a player as me, but there's still time for you to refine your skill. Maybe if you make these games convincing I'll give you a bonus with your tab.”

Jack let out a resigned sigh. “If you insist, Mr. Riverboat.”

I still don't care for playing poker, he thought as reluctantly began to re-gather the ingredients. But when I compare it to all the stuff that Edgeworth has to deal with... it makes me damn thankful that I just have to play a game.

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Well, at least it was a huge update, if nothing else. I wish I could have made the ending a bit more climatic, but this isn't a villain confrontation I'm working with here.

Let's see if I can get some commentary out of the way while I'm here...

Why does Prosecutor Chance Riverboat exist? In the beginning (well... when I was writing early case two), I decided that I had to create some more prosecutors than the few the game exposes us to, if only to keep the universe believable. The first idea I came upon was that of a gambling prosecutor, who would focus on crimes related to money. As my knowledge of the series increased, I shifted the focus more towards organized crime (as we see that in both GS3 and GS4), but kept the gambling aspect the same, and added an appropriate pun-name, Chance Riverboat. In my earliest mental outline (when I figured chapters would be 3-4000 words long and that I'd be able to write 20-30 of them in a year), I would have introduced him (and the other two OC prosecutors) in a storyline between Cases 1-2 and 1-3, but that was quickly scraped in favor of having him show up in Case 3 instead. I considered introducing him in Part 1 or 2 of this episode, but neither spot seemed to fit, so I ended up sticking him in the only place in all GS1 where his knowledge of who is in what mob would be important. Obviously, he's here to increase the already heavy pressure on Edgeworth by giving him information on Vasquez's connections; since Edgeworth was unsettled from the very start of 1-3 Trial Day 3 I figured I could get away with doing this. At first, I was just going have Edgeworth tell Jack that Riverboat had given him this tip earlier in the day, but I felt that was taking away from Phoenix even more than this chapter was (as it would be implied that the tip would be the sole source of his stress). I still feel bad for messing with canon so much in this instance, but the first half of the chapter is there to show that Edgeworth's doubt and uncertainty is already there (caused by Phoenix Wright and the events of canon) before I drop an OC bomb on his head.

Additionally, I'm somewhat saddened by the fact that, as far as hobby and personality are concerned, Riverboat is pretty much a clone of GS4 Phoenix. My only defense here is that GS4 Phoenix didn't exist when I first thought him up. Please give me some feedback on this guy, because I really don't know how good of a character he is. [/wall of text]

On the subject of Gumshoe's behavior: Again, I wanted to increase the pressure on Edgeworth gradually, and I felt that this was a cool way to do it. I'll admit I'm probably bending canon some more by not having Gumshoe inform Edgeworth of Vasquez's arrest at an earlier time, but I figured it'd be in-character for him to suffer from nerves, what with having to further destroy Edgeworth's case. My favorite part of this whole chapter is having him 'testify' about the arraignment of Vasquez from his perspective, as it's interesting, enlightening, and it actually fits with the game for once. I only wish I could have made Edgeworth's final breakdown better...

I should probably talk about other things too, but I'm rather weary at this moment (combination of work and inserting 30 pages of HTML brackets). If you have any objections, just bring them up and I'll try to explain what I can.

Case 3 Part 6 will cover the outcome of the trial; while it will be largely similar to Case 2 Part 6, I'm going to change things up somewhat by including a new (canon!) character.

-DSL

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The suspense was killing me. Another great chapter. :] (sorry for short response, brain dead right now)

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Another Part.
I'm loving this. It's bloody good, although this part was a little down on your usually excellent standard, I don't know, I think Edgeworth and Jack talked too much at the start.
Whatever the case, still a great part of the best fanfic I've read yet.

*hugs DSL* Chapter update makes Allan happy. ^_^

As for Riverboat, I found him a better character then Prosecutor Oldbag, and he didn't strike me as too similar to Hobohodo. Maybe him and Phoenix could have a game if Phoenix ever enters the Gavel. The idea of him having mafia connections certainly makes him a bit more intresting. And I see he stole Payne's glasses.

I haven't had enough time to read it all the way through, but from the bit I have read, I ccan safely give The Golden Gavel NINE out of five stars!

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We need more tragic incidents.... um, nvm.

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Let me guess, the next canon character will be Nick?

Personally, I really like Riverboat. I love how he uses gambling metaphors and honestly, AJ Phoenix was the last thing to pop into my head. I didn't even notice the similarities!

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This is the best fanfic ever. There aren't enough fanfics like this! Seriously! publish this! I would SOOO totally buy this (okay, so I'm hyper after reading the whole thing. Yes, I read the whole thing at once. Oh well.). And Riverboat is awesome. And hobohodo didn't pop up into my mind at all, just to make you happy.

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This is well overdue, but a great chapter. The way you went about building the pressure on Edgeworth was very well crafted and I rather liked Riverboat. I didn't think he was that similar to GS4 Phoenix, but there is a similar timbre to the characters, so I can somewhat see where the comparison could be drawn. Excellent chapter, and I'm looking forward to the next update.

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Ah, yes, I did eventually finish this chapter. You can have Ten out of five stars. This fic is bloody incredible, and I can't wait for the next one.

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