The ninja stared at me for a moment. "Say that again, outsider." he spat.

"What would you gain from killing me?" I repeated. "Ninjas do not kill unless it is required of them, or as a last resort. Meaning all you have done is spout off idle threats at me."

"You know nothing, outsider!" the ninja growled, but I could tell I hit a nerve.

"Then why are we still having this conversation?" I asked, tossing back my scarf. "If I had to die, you would've done it already. Clearly, there's something holding you back."

"Nothing but discipline." the ninja snapped automatically. "Trust me, I want nothing more than to plunge my kunai through your back."

"Then I'll ask again." I said. "What would you gain from killing me?"

The ninja snorted. "I suppose it would be proper to grant a dying man his last wish. Very well."



"A Zangaru ninja strikes swiftly, and leaves no trace behind." said the ninja. "You are a trace of our most recent job. Therefore, it is my task to remove you. There is no other reason."

"Need I remind you that if you wanted to kill me, you would've done so by now." I said.

"You have quite a death wish, outsider." the ninja snarled, giving me the evil eye.

"You sure you know what you're doing, Faraday?" asked Badd. "This guy looks like trouble."

"I've already demonstrated that I know more than he thinks I do." I said. "I am certain he has no reason to kill me. Besides, if anything goes wrong, I have my partner to back me up."

Badd gave me a half-smirk. "Just keep your wits about you, Faraday. I'm not always gonna be here... to pull your ass out of the fire."

"Let's focus on the present for now, Badd." I said, turning back to the ninja. "Now then, I have a few questions about your argument."

"You are only delaying the inevitable, but very well." said the ninja. "We'll play it your way for now."

With that, he repeated his argument.

"You are a trace of our most recent job."

" So you admit that it was the Zangaru clan that murdered Mr. Folovski?" I inquired.

"Even if we did, what good would it do you?" the ninja retorted.

"It would give me a reason to arrest you, for one."

The ninja laughed. "A Zangaru ninja is never caught without reason, outsider."

"Yes, I am aware of that." I said. "Let me ask you something else then. How am I connected to this murder?"

"You know too much." the ninja stated.

"About what?"

"Why should I tell you when you already know?"

That was a good question. He had no reason to expound on what he thought I already knew. But the question remained: What did he think I knew? The answer seemed painfully obvious. But perhaps it was a little too obvious.

"Add that statement to your argument." I said.

The ninja growled, and complied.

"You know too much."

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "I have to disagree with you there."

The ninja's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?! You already know about the Zangaru clan!"

"That's what you wanted me to say." I said. "And that in turn might give you reason to kill me, albeit it wouldn't be nearly enough. But that's not really what you're talking about, it is?"

The ninja merely stared at me, so I continued.

"You said earlier that I was connected to your recent operation." I said. "The only connection I could have in that case is if I already knew everything there is to know about this murder. But that is not the case."

I presented the autopsy report.

"As you can see from this report, our forensic team has been working around the clock trying to diagnose the cause of Mr. Folovski's death. They have reached no conclusions as of yet. If it's taking trained physicians this long to determine the cause of death, how can you expect me to know anything they don't?!"

"Hyah!"

As the ninja recoiled from my logic, a kunai flew past my ear.

"Th-that is not what I'm talking about, either!" he sputtered. "You know the clan was here! That is reason enough to kill you!"

"Is it?" I asked. "Because I have no reason to arrest you right now, at least not on the charge of homicide."

"What are you talking about?" the ninja growled.

"There's only one piece of evidence tying to the Zangaru clan, even though according to you, there should be none." I said. "And this is the evidence I'm referring to."

I presented the kunai Wren left for me.

" There was a kunai found on the crime scene, tipped with a special neurotoxin. It's obvious from this evidence that the Zangaru clan had intended to kill Mr. Folovski last night. There are two problems with this. One, there's no way to tell that the kunai is the murder weapon, as I stated earlier. There are multiple causes of death, and we don't know which one happened first. Second, for a clan of ninjas who leave no trace behind, it would be unlikely that you would let something like this go unnoticed. From this evidence, I am able to deduce that Mr. Folovski was not your true target! This was nothing more than another Zangaru trap!"

The ninja snickered. "Bravo, outsider. You figured it out. Now, I have reason to kill you."

"WHAT?!"

I recoiled from this revelation, feeling like an idiot. This was part of his plan! Badd drew his gun.

"You're not killing anyone today... pal." he rumbled.

"You honestly think that threatens me?" the ninja scoffed. "Both of you will be dead before you can..."

"Not so fast!"

Before he could finish, Wren appeared from nowhere and grabbed the assailant in a sleeper hold.

"So much for your so-called 'discipline'." she said mockingly. "He's right, you know. You have no reason to kill him."

The assailant sputtered angrily and gasped for air as Wren maintained her hold. Finally, he passed out.

"Now you see why you need me?" she asked.

"I still want to know what you're up to." I said. I then added: "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." said Wren. "Listen, that was some pretty good reasoning there, but you're not even close to scratching the surface."

"Oh, and I suppose you know everything, just like last time." I said.

Wren rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Actually, I don't have a clue."

"You don't?!"

This was quite a shock. Thus far, Wren had seemed confident and cocky, to the point where I knew she was hiding something. How was she on the same page we were?

" I'm not buying it." growled Badd. "How can we trust you?"

"Hey, how about some gratitude?" said Wren indignantly. "I just saved your asses."

"And we don't know why." I said.

"Do I need a reason?" Wren retorted. "I'm just as human as you are, you know."

"Meaning you have vices as well as virtues." I said. "If you want me to trust you, maybe you can start by telling me what you're after."

"And where's the fun in that?" said Wren coyly. "You have a sharp mind, Byrne Faraday. Use it."

With that, she disappeared, dragging the unconscious ninja into the shadows with her.

"That woman seems to have a talent for getting on my nerves." growled Badd, putting away his gun.

"Strangely enough, I've gotten used to it." I said. "Although I still want to know what she's after."

Badd raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"It could be important to the case at hand."

"Well, no argument there." said Badd. "Still, keep your head in the game, Faraday."

"I know, I know." I said. "Well, for now I suggest we put the Zangaru clan aside for a moment. Let's divert our focus back to the Russian Mafia. They are major players in this, as well."

"Do you think Mr. Tevya will have any information?" asked Badd.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Mr. Folovski's successor, Dirk." I said. "Although, he might be less than cooperative."

"Aren't they always." sighed Badd. "Alright, let's see if he's up and around."

"Mr. Faraday, sir!"

A group of officers suddenly rushed up to us.

"We heard some kind of commotion up here. Are you alright?"

"We're fine, but that guy over there needs a hospital." said Badd. "I want all of you on high alert. If any of you see something suspicious, you contact me right away, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" said the officer with a salute. While they got to work, we headed back to the main lobby.

"You have a lot of gall, knocking me out like that!"

I wasn't sure whether to call myself lucky or unlucky that our mafioso friend Dirk was up and about. While I did have several questions for him, it would be nigh impossible to get his full cooperation.

"Dare I ask how you got in?" I inquired. "You do realize you have no authority here."

"Then you have a double standard!" bellowed Dirk. "I saw you let the Storybook Orchestra in!"

"That was because they were willing to cooperate with the investigation." I said. "You, on the other hand, want to take command when you have no jurisdiction."

"No jurisdiction, phooey!" spat Dirk. "You are the one with no jurisdiction!"

I decided the only way to get him to talk was to trick him into a debate. "Alright then, prove it."

Dirk seemed puzzled. "Pardon me?"

"Evidence is important to any investigation and any trial." I said. "Unless you have proof that you should be in charge of this investigation, I am not going to yield."

Dirk snorted. "You really think I am going to play by your rules? I am an avtoritet of the Izmaylovskaya gang. I answer only to the Ivanov family."

"Then you'll have to leave." I said firmly. "Because as far as I know, you have no authority to usurp this investigation."

Dirk stared at me for a while in a mixture of anger and disbelief. Finally, he sighed.

"Very well, prosecutor. I'll play it your way for now." he said reluctantly. "But if the Ivanov family hears about this..."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes." I interrupted. "Just give me your argument and stop stalling."



"The police do not have the means to deal with the criminal underworld." said Dirk. "Harold was a high-ranking avtoritet in the Izmaylovskaya gang. Therefore, as his successor, it is my obligation to find out what happened and exact revenge. That is how it is supposed to work."

I restrained myself from pointing out the obvious. That was not going to get us anywhere. The only way to get any information out of Dirk was to steer the conversation in the direction I wanted.

"The guy's a broken record, Faraday." grumbled Badd. "You sure you can get him to talk?"

"This is hardly the most difficult testimony I've had to deal with." I said.

"Now that's true." Badd concurred. "Alright then, Faraday. Let's see the master at work."

I had to smirk. Back when Badd and I first met, I gave small seminars to new detective on how to testify in court. As such, I had a lot of experience dealing with tough witnesses. And Dirk was no exception. I turned back to him, and listened carefully to his argument again.

"Harold was a high-ranking avtoritet in the Izmaylovskaya gang."

" If I may ask, how important was he?" I inquired.

"How important?" Dirk parroted with a snicker. "You clearly have no understanding of the criminal underworld, prosecutor. Harold was practically a family friend of the Ivanovs."

"Oh, really? In that case, why aren't they here themselves?"

That threw Dirk for a loop. "Well, they sent me! I'm his brother, after all." he said, almost automatically.

That was just what I needed. "Add this to your argument, Mr. Folovski. I have a few questions."

"Dah. Dah, of course." said Dirk, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his brow.

"The Ivanov family sent me to investigate."

" " I exclaimed. "Mr. Folovski, I'm afraid that is not possible."

"You what?"

"Tell me, Mr. Folovski. When did you find out about the murder?"

Dirk wiped his brow nervously. "Well, let's see. It was probably at about 11:00 PM."

"Wrong answer." I said, presenting the phone record. "The crime was called in at 10:15 PM from an anonymous witness. This is due to the fact that Mr. Pur and your brother Harold Folovski were supposed to be alone last night. So my question is, how did the Izmaylovskaya gang find out about this murder forty five minutes after it was reported, if they found out about it at all?"

"Let's not forget the fact that they don't operate here in Los Angeles." added Badd. "Your story seems a bit sketchy, Mr. Folovski."

"Gah!"

Dirk recoiled, nearly dropping his handkerchief.

"Th-that has nothing to do with it!" he sputtered. "I came here with my brother to help him conduct business."

"See, now your changing your story." I said, folding my arms. "Before you said that the Ivanov family sent you."

"Th-they did!" Dirk snapped. "Here, I'll explain."



"In truth, the Ivanov family does not trust Pur." said Dirk. "He is shady, even by their standards. So when he scheduled a meeting with us, we were dubious. We alerted the Ivanov family, and they gave us a plan to get rid of Pur. Harold told me to act in his stead should anything go wrong."

I found it odd that Dirk didn't mention any of this before. Other than that, it seemed like a typical story of the criminal underworld.

"Mr. Folovski, is this the truth?" I asked. "Because you're not exactly credible at the moment."

"Of course it's true!" snapped Dirk. "Now, let me take over! It was my brother's dying wish!"

"Sentimentality does not grant you authority, Mr. Folovski." I said. "I wish to analyze this argument as well."

Dirk muttered something under his breath (probably some obscenity in Russian), and complied with my request.

"So when he scheduled a meeting with us, we were dubious."

" Did he mention what he wanted to talk about?" I asked.

"Well, nyet." said Dirk.

That reply seemed a bit too automatic for me. I decided to press further.

"Well, did he say anything when he requested a meeting?"

Dirk paused to think. "He told us to meet him in the Opus Opera House, alone. He said nothing else."

Right away, I knew something was wrong. "Mr. Folovski, add this to your testimony."

"Very well." said Dirk.

"He told us to meet him in the Opus Opera House alone, nothing else."

That was going to be important later. I let it go for now and continued to listen to his testimony.

"We alerted the Ivanov family, and they gave us a plan to get rid of Pur."

" I take it the plan involved this gun." I said, presenting the inventory I was given before.

"Dah, indeed." said Dirk, a twinkle in his eye. "Have you ever heard of Russian Roulette? It was quite a popular game back in my home country."

"I'm familiar with it, yes." I said. "But my question is, how did you get Mr. Pur to agree to the game?"

"I don't know." said Dirk with a shrug. "It was my brother's doing."

There was something that still didn't make sense. "Is it possible to cheat at Russian Roulette?"

Dirk smiled an evil smile. "You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for. Dah, I'm sure that was Harold's fallback plan in case he lost."

Now we were getting somewhere. "Add this to your testimony."

"But of course." said Dirk, seemingly in a better mood.

"A game of Russian Roulette would be played. Either way, Mr. Pur would lose."

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "If that's the case, then the roles should be reversed, should they not?"

"Reversed?"

"Exactly." I said, presenting the information on the pistol. "Indeed, the gun had been fired, and it did have fingerprints from both the victim and the defendant on it. But the bullet was found in Mr. Folovski's temple, and Mr. Pur is still alive. If the plan was to kill Mr. Pur, why is Mr. Folovski the one who's dead?"

"Nonsense!"

Dirk recoiled from my logic.

"Don't you get it? Pur knew!" he bellowed. "He killed Harold before..."

"See, I'm not so sure about that." I said. "Because that contradicts this evidence."

I presented the information on Pur's cane.

" This here is Mr. Pur's weapon of choice. It was found plunged straight through Mr. Folovski's chest. If Mr. Pur was the culprit, this would be the only wound found on Mr. Folovski's body. However, there is still the bullet wound in his head! Are you telling me that Mr. Pur shot and stabbed Harold Folovski at the same time?!"

"N-nyet!"

Dirk recoiled again.

"You're getting less credible by the minute, Mr. Folovski." I said.

"This is an outrage! I will not tolerate this!" Dirk boomed.

"You'd better." I said. "Because there's another flaw in your story."

"Impossible."

"Is it? Then what do you say to this?"

I presented the program for the Storybook Orchestra.

" According to this program, the Storybook Orchestra was supposed to perform today. Up until that point, the Opus Opera House had been closed for renovation. Mr. Pur is part of the Storybook Orchestra, and he should've known this. Why did he choose this place to meet?"

"Because it was abandoned, of course." said Dirk.

"Yes, it was abandoned. Abandoned and locked." I said. "Unless Mr. Pur had arranged with someone to let them in for this business meeting, this was not going to be the ideal place to meet. However, if someone did let them in, then there's no way they could've met up alone!"

"Then he lied!" Dirk shouted accusingly.

"And you didn't tell us this earlier why?" I said. "And don't say that it wasn't relevant, because it most certainly was."

"Gah!"

Dirk recoiled once again.

"I-it doesn't matter!" Dirk insisted. "I still have authority here!"

"I'm afraid I still don't believe you." I said. "I still have some questions for you, but they'll have to wait until later. For now, you are not allowed on the crime scene." I then flagged down an officer. "You there. See this man out."

"Yes, sir."

Dirk continued to rant and rave as the officer dragged him out of the building.

"Seems like someone has a hidden agenda." said Badd.

"Him and the Zangaru clan." I said. "But are they separate, or related?"

"There might be a connection somewhere." said Badd. "We just gotta keep looking."

"Right." I said.

"Mr. Faraday, sir."

The officer returned from escorting Dirk out the door.

"Report."

"We just got word from the paramedics. Ms. Polye seems mostly unharmed. She will be able to answer question once she's awake."

"Good. Keep me informed." I said. "In the meantime, let's talk to our friends in the Storybook Orchestra."

"What do you think they have to offer, Faraday?" asked Badd.

I took out the note we found on Harold's person. "We still need a translation of this. If we get that, it'll add another piece to the puzzle."

"Good thinking." said Badd. "I've been wondering about that note myself."

"Well, no time like the present to find out." I said. With that, we set out to find Peter Tevya.

Special shout-out to space coyote for the Byrne Faraday trivia.

Peter Tevya was not hard to find, mainly due to the fact he was still carrying his violin. He was talking to another band member about something in Russian, seeming a bit agitated.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I asked.

Peter turned to me and gave me a friendly smile. "Not at all, Comrade Faraday. Is there something we can help you with?"

"There is, actually." I said, presenting the note we found. "Do you think you could translate this?"

Peter took the note and looked over it quite thoroughly. At one point, his eyes went wide, and he began muttering to his comrade in Russian again.

"Something you want to share with us... Mr. Tevya?" asked Badd, taking the lollipop out of his mouth.

"Comrade Sonia and I fear that you may be in over your head, Comrade Faraday." said Peter nervously.

"I've already heard that one." I said, rolling my eyes. "What does the note say?"

"This is a receipt." said Peter. "It is for a payment of 10,000 rubles."

Badd whistled. "That's quite a hefty sum. What's the payment for?"

"The murder of Kalinka Polye."

"Wait, WHAT?!"

I recoiled in horror at this revelation. Kalinka Polye was supposed to be dead? What was going on here?

"Believe me, I am as shocked as you are." said Peter. "There is no one I can think of who would want Comrade Kalinka dead. She has nothing to to with the Izmaylovskaya gang."

"Well, who was hired to kill her?" I asked. "Does the note say?"

"Some group called the Zangaru clan." said Peter. "I can't say I've heard of them."

Now this was interesting. If the Zangaru clan were hired to kill Kalinka Polye, why was Harold Folovski the one found dead? Was this another one of their tricks? And furthermore, who hired them?

"Badd, get this note to forensics." I said. "I want an analysis of the letter ASAP. Seals, fingerprints, anything you can find."

"You got it... Faraday." said Badd, taking the note and dashing off. In the meantime, I had a few more questions.

"Mr. Tevya, do you know Ms. Polye personally?" I asked.

"Of course. The Storybook Orchestra has performed at the Opus Opera House many times, and she has always been accommodating." said Peter. "Again, I can't imagine anyone who'd want her dead. She's not the kind of person to make enemies."

"Oh?"

"I've known her for many a year, Comrade Faraday. And I can safely say that no one has ever had a quarrel with her." said Peter. "She is stubborn in her flexibility and tolerates everything and everyone, even the mafia. She even tells me that some of the most powerful crime lords in the city are patrons to the Opus Opera House."

Honestly, that wasn't as weird as Peter made it out to be, but I still got his point. "And I take it you don't believe Mr. Pur hired the Zangaru clan for this job?"

Peter shook his head. "Even if they didn't get along, Comrade Ivan prefers to do things himself. He fancies himself as a hunter in that respect."

"I see." said I. "Mr. Tevya, do you know anything about the Folovski family?"

"Only what Comrade Scarlet had told me." said Peter. "The Wolfe family has feuded with the Folovskis in the past, but I was under the impression that their rivalry had cooled down thanks to Comrade Scarlet's death."

"And that was two years ago, right?" I said, making notes in my organizer.

"Dah." said Peter.

I looked over what I had just written. It seemed that Ms. Polye had some explaining to do, since Peter was oblivious to whatever plot was being set in motion. It was odd that she managed to escape the night with only a mild concussion, yet Harold Folovski was killed in four different ways. Something was missing.

"Well, I think that's all for now." I said. "Thank you, Mr. Tevya."

"My pleasure, Comrade Faraday." said Peter with a bow. "But listen, I'd be careful if I were you. You may act like the conductor, but this is not your symphony. Do svidaniya."

With that, he and his comrade left. I just sighed and rolled my eyes. That forced metaphor was just a repeat of what Yuné and Dirk said before. How many times was I going to hear that line?

"Frustrated? I don't blame you."

Wren had reappeared out of nowhere.

"So, the Zangaru clan was hired to kill Ms. Polye." I said, not turning to face her. "Why is she still alive?"

"Ah ah ah. Client/ninja confidentiality, remember?" Wren scolded mockingly.

"Don't play coy with me, Ms. Zangaru. I'm not in the mood." I growled.

"Humph. You never are." pouted Wren.

"Do you honestly think this is a game?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Kinda." said Wren ambiguously.

"Kinda." I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't give me that look." said Wren, mimicking my expression. "Listen, do you have anything to do to pass the time while your partner gets the info you need?"

That made me more suspicious. "Why do you ask?"

"I dunno." said Wren with a shrug. "I thought maybe I could help you out in your investigation."

"I thought you weren't supposed to help me."

"I'm not even supposed to be talking to you. Do you think I give a damn about that at this point?" hissed Wren. "So, you got anything to do?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." I said, taking out the transceiver that was found on Polye's person. "If I can fix this radio, I can find out who Ms. Polye was communicating with last night. I just need some tools and a workbench."

"Alright, fair enough." said Wren. "You get what you need, and I'll tell Badd where to meet you."

Before I could ask how or protest, she threw a smoke bomb and disappeared. I sighed. Wren's insistence to help me was getting stranger and stranger each time we talked. As if the day wasn't long enough already. Shaking myself, I went in search of an officer to request what I needed to fix the radio, and hopefully get to the bottom of this mysterious assassination request.

It took a while for me to get everything I needed, mainly because all of the officers on duty were befuddled by my requests. Then again, I wasn't surprised. It's not usually a prosecutor's job to take a critical look at evidence like this. Not only that, but it might've been inferred that I was attempting to tamper with the evidence I found. Luckily, those doubts were put to rest when they saw the rest of my report, though they were still confused.

Nevertheless, I was granted a private room in the forensics lab to work on the transceiver, and see if I could get it up and running again. Engineering was always a hobby of mine, though to be honest, I think only Badd knew about it. It wasn't every day that my job and my intellectual pursuits collided like this, after all.

"Next time, tell me when you plan to run off like that."

I sighed. Once again, Wren had appeared seemingly from nowhere. I wasn't even going to ask how she got through the police headquarters undetected.

"Did you expect me to do this at the crime scene?" I asked, my eyes fixed on my work. "Besides, when did I need to tell you anything? We're not exactly partners."

"Are we not?" said Wren coyly. "And here I was lending you my services hoping you'd help me in return."

"Help you do what?" I asked indignantly. "So far, all I've been doing is trying to solve this case. I don't see how you exactly have a stake in anything."

"Oh, it's not just me. It's the Zangaru clan as a whole." said Wren. "See, they don't trust you."

"Your sister seems to trust me enough to try and warn me against taking this case." I retorted.

"That's not trust, that's just her logic at work." said Wren. "Zangaru ninjas don't kill any more than necessary."

"It seems then that your clan is facing some inner strife then." I said. "Because that ninja from before was trying to kill me."

I heard Wren chuckle a little. "Now you're starting to get it. Keep it up."

I wasn't a hundred percent sure what she meant by that, but if I was on the right track, then it would be prudent to ask some more questions.

"So, there's some internal struggle with the Zangaru clan." I said.

"Yep, you figured that much out." said Wren with a sigh. "It's a bit of a sticky issue."

"Care to elaborate?"

There was a long pause. I couldn't really tell what Wren was thinking.

"Ninjas don't earn other people's trust." she said.

I stopped, and turned to face her. "Pardon?"

"It's not in a ninja's best interest to earn the trust of others." said Wren. "Don't get me wrong, we're not invalids or anything like that. We'll cooperate with others when necessary. But we know they can never trust us. Because it is our nature to deceive."

"I, don't think I follow." I said, more than a bit confused. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Two months ago, I tried my best to get you to doubt me as part of an elaborate plot." said Wren. "Now, I'm trying to get you to trust me. Not exactly an easy feat for me."

"Why do you want me to trust you?" I asked.

Wren sighed. "Because I want to trust you. The Zangaru clan was involved in this murder, but I swear we did not kill anyone."

"You're right. It's very difficult to trust you." I said, getting back to my work. "Perhaps if you showed me some evidence proving your statement..."

"And I really wish I had that evidence." interrupted Wren. "Unfortunately, no such evidence exists. All I have is my word and my honor."

"Both of which would not hold up in court." I said. "Listen, I didn't say that I doubt you completely. I said it's difficult to trust you. You've earned some of my trust, but not all of it."

"You do realize you're putting your life at risk by putting any trust in a ninja." said Wren.

"Well, do you want me to trust you, or don't you?" I asked.

"Just stating the facts." said Wren. "If I may be blunt, I've got more riding on this than you know. I hope I'm not making a mistake putting my trust in you."

"An odd thing for a woman of your position to say." I said, but I understood where she was coming from. "As a prosecutor, I'm on the side of truth. If the truth is inconvenient for you, then that's just the way it is."

Before Wren could respond, I finished fixing the transceiver.

"There we are. Should be up and running again." I said. "Let's head back to the opera house and test it out."

Wren said nothing, but I could tell something was on her mind. "I'll see you there, I suppose."

She then disappeared once again. It seemed that our little conversation was far from over, but I still wasn't sure what was on her mind. Furthermore, I had a nagging feeling that it was important to this case. Well, there was only one way to find out. But first, I had to find out who was on the other end of that bug planted on Kalinka Polye.

If you're confused by Byrne's engineering hobby, don't be. It's sort of my pseudo explanation of how he managed to invent Little Thief.

"Faraday. Just in time."

I half-expected Badd to scold me for disappearing from the crime scene like I did, but surprisingly he seemed to be in a good mood.

"I take it you got some good news for me." I said, tossing back my scarf.

"Our friend Ms. Polye has fully recovered." said Badd. "She's en route to the theater right now."

"Good." I said. "Hopefully we can get some answers from her."

"No argument there." said Badd. "Anything on your end?"

"I just fixed the transceiver we found on Ms. Polye's person." I said, taking out the device in question. "With any luck, we can use this to track down whoever bugged her. But, I think we need some more answers from her first."

As if on cue, two paramedics arrived escorting the young Kalinka Polye straight to us. Although they were offering her support, she seemed a bit feisty and resistant.

"I told you, I've had worse than this." she stated firmly. "I am not crippled yet."

When they finally relented, she made a beeline to me and Badd. "I heard that you two are in charge, dah?"

"Indeed, madam." I said, presenting my badge. "Byrne Faraday, prosecutor. This is my partner, Detective Tyrell Badd. And you must be Ms. Kalinka Polye, owner of this establishment."

Polye's eyes sparkled. "Mr. Faraday, this is no simple establishment. This is the Opus Opera House, a home of beautiful music and thought-provoking theater."

"Um, yes." I said. It seemed that she was very passionate about her work. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"It's fine by me." said Polye. "But I am afraid I may not be at liberty to answer all of them."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Right away, I knew she was hiding something. I took out my organizer and began taking down her statement.

"Ms. Polye, to my understanding, the Opus Opera House was closed for renovation, correct?" I said.

"Dah." said Polye. "Well, to be honest it was a bit more than that. You see, I wanted to prepare a special show for the reopening. So, I used the space to practice my singing."

"You were going to sing tonight?" I asked.

"Dah." said Polye whimsically. "It is as my papa always said: Why bother owning a theater if you're not going to sing or act? It would be like owning a car and never driving it."

"Interesting philosophy." I said. "But anyway, were you here to practice last night?"

"I've been practicing every night since the theater closed for renovations." said Polye.

"And were you alone?"

Polye took off her black fur hat and started dusting it off. "What are you insinuating, Mr. Faraday?"

Badd stepped forward. "Ms. Polye, are you aware that there has been a murder?"

"MURDER?! IN MY THEATER?!"

Polye's hat flew out of her hands and landed back atop her head. Her shriek was deafening. Badd mumbled something, but I couldn't hear him due to my ears still ringing.

"Ms. Polye, please calm down." I said as I recovered.

"Are you brain dead?! How do you expect me to calm down after such horrible news?!" Polye yelled. "There are many thing I tolerate, Mr. Faraday, but this is not one of them."

"I've, gathered that much." I said. "Ms. Polye, who else was here last night?"

"I let Mr. Folovski and Mr. Pur use the space to discuss business." said Polye. "I had no idea they intended to kill each other."

"You didn't expect two members of rivaling factions in the Russian Mafia to kill each other?" I parroted in disbelief.

"This is a home of music and culture, Mr. Faraday." said Polye firmly as she dusted off her hat again. "Mr. Pur knows that, and he would never attempt anything. It is why the Storybook Orchestra are my best clients."

"Well, maybe Mr. Pur may know that." I said. "But what about Mr. Folovski?"

"I told him as soon as he got in here." said Polye. "This should not have happened."

"And yet it did." I said. "And what you said contradicts this piece of evidence."

I presented the gun.

" This gun was found near Mr. Folovski's seat, where he was found dead. It had indeed been fired, but the chamber was empty. Ms. Polye, are you familiar with the game Russian Roulette?"

Polye turned pale. "Nyet. Impossible. They should've known better..."

"Well, let me ask you this: What were you going to do if they didn't follow your rules?" I asked. "Mr. Pur has a reason because, as you said, the Storybook Orchestra are your best clients. They'd lose their business with you if he pulled a stunt like that. Mr. Folovski, however, has no such threat hanging over his head. So did you just expect him to follow your rules out of respect?"

"Um, well... That's..."

Polye was fumbling, nervously dusting her hat. Something was wrong here.

"Ms. Polye, what are you not telling me?"

"Nothing! I've told you everything!" Polye insisted, her face damp with sweat. "I had no idea this would happen."

"I think you did." I said. "And here's the proof."

I took out the transceiver.

" Does this look familiar, Ms. Polye? It was found on your person when you were found unconscious."

Polye's face lost all color. "Nyet. Give that to me. Pretend you never saw it."

"And why should I?" I said. "Because it might incriminate you?"

That shut her up.

"Now then, I have fixed this bug so that it can transmit back to whoever was listening in." I continued. "Let's test it out, shall we?"

I activated the transceiver. "Testing 1 2, testing 1 2..."

For a moment, nothing but static. Then, a voice was heard.

"Who is this? What's going on?"

"You tell me." I responded.

"Idiot! Don't provoke them!" Polye pleaded.

"So, you are still alive." said the voice on the other end. There was a lot of static, so I couldn't tell who the speaker was. "Not for long, though. The Ivanov family will see you dead yet, Cossack."

Now this was getting interesting. "What does the Ivanov family have against the owner of an opera house?"

"It seems you have a companion for your journey to Hell." was my only response.

Thinking quickly, I tossed the transceiver to Badd. "Keep them talking and track them down." I said. "Ms. Polye and I are going to have a little chat."

"Gotcha, Faraday." said Badd as he shuffled off. As I turned to Polye, she looked like she was fearing for her life. And it was time for me to find out why.

"Y-you have no idea what you've just done." Polye stammered.

"Care to clue me in?" I asked. "Because it seems like you have something to hide."

When Polye didn't respond, I continued.

"Someone apparently wants you dead, but from what I've gathered, there's no reason anyone would want to kill you. Also, it seems that you were bugged to gather some sort of information, but your contact was surprised to know that you were still alive. So, it's time for you to answer some questions."

"It won't make a difference." Polye said in an increasing state of hysteria. "We're dead. We're all dead."

"I'll be the judge of that, Ms. Polye." I said. "For now, I want to know what this is all about."

"That's the thing! You're not meant to know!" Polye yelled. "If you know, you die! Don't you-?"

"Oh, shut UP!"

Wren dove in out of nowhere and slapped Polye across the face.

"I hate self-fulfilling prophesies." she said with a snort. "If you continue to panic like this, then yes, you will die. So calm down and answer the questions."

Polye, dazed from the slap, just nodded and took a deep breath.

"She's all yours." said Wren.

"Right." I said, clearing my throat. "Ms. Polye, let's start from the beginning. Who's after you, and why?"



"It all started the night before last." said Polye. "I got an anonymous letter from Russia. The letter gave me instructions to follow, as well as a transceiver. I was threatened with death if I didn't follow the instructions, so what was I supposed to do?"

This wasn't giving me a lot to work with. Polye seemed to be dodging my question, still fearful for her life. It wouldn't be pretty, but I had to press her for more information. I listened again to her testimony.

"I got an anonymous letter from Russia."

" You wouldn't happen to have this letter on you, would you?" I inquired.

"Heaven forbid, Mr. Faraday." said Polye. "I burned the damn thing as soon as I could."

My brow furrowed. That didn't make this easy. "Well, do you remember what it said?"

"Whoever it was knew of my Cossack heritage." said Polye. "And it said that I was to spy on a criminal business meeting that would take place in my theater the following night."

Now things were falling into place. Whoever sent the letter knew of Pur's meeting with Harold Folovski. "Ms. Polye, add this to your testimony."

"D-dah." said Polye.

"I was asked to spy on a business meeting that would occur the following night."

That was going to be important later. I dropped the line of questioning for now and focused on something else.

"I was threatened with death if I didn't follow the instructions, so what was I supposed to do?"

" You mean besides informing the police?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I would be merely sending them to their graves." said Polye darkly. "This was the Russia Mafia I was dealing with. I mean no offense, but your forces are powerless against them."

"But you said the letter was anonymous."

"Dah, but I know it was them." said Polye. "Who else could it have been, looking into a criminal business meeting?"

I saw her point, but that statement still didn't sit well with me. "Ms. Polye, why would they go through you?"

"Well, they don't have any influence here. They needed to go through someone, dah?"

"She's got you there." said Wren. "C'mon, I know you're better than this, Mr. Faraday."

Wren was right. There was nothing fishy about Polye's statement, yet I couldn't shake the fact that it was wrong somehow. I had to change tactics.

"Ms. Polye, you said you were threatened with death, right?"

"Dah."

"So, if you did as they said, you'd keep your head."

Polye started dusting her hat again. "Well, that wasn't said specifically, but it was implied."

"I see." said I. "Ms. Polye, add this to your testimony. It is most vital."

"D-dah." said Polye.

"If I followed their instructions, I was going to keep my life. It's simple logic, dah?"

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "Ms. Polye, do you honestly expect me to believe that after what we've just went through?"

"It would help, dah." said Polye.

"I don't see how." I said, presenting the assassination receipt. "See, we found this on Mr. Folovski's person. It's a receipt for your assassination, paid to the Zangaru clan. Not only this, but remember what your contact said before? They were surprised that you were still alive. Ms. Polye, I believe you were marked as a target from the start!"

"N-NYET!"

Polye shrieked as her hat flew out of her hands once again. I highly doubted this was a surprise to her.

"I-I did as they asked! They should be off my back!" she insisted.

"Okay, now you're just lying to yourself." said Wren. "You already know that you're supposed to be dead, don't you?"

Polye shivered. "D-dah. It's true. But when I found out I was not dead, I thought nothing of it."

"Nothing of what?" I asked.

"Of what happened last night."

Slowly but surely, everything was falling into place. "Ms. Polye, care to tell us about what happened last night?"

"As if I had a choice." Polye sighed.



"I let Mr. Pur and Mr. Folovski use my theater for their meeting, as you already know." said Polye. "As they spoke, I remained backstage, listening through the floorboards. Just then, I heard a gunshot from below! Before I could react to it, someone grabbed me, and I screamed! And, that's all I remember."

"Something not adding up, Mr. Faraday?" asked Wren coyly.

"Yes, indeed." I said. I wasn't sure if Polye noticed Wren or not, but she didn't seem to acknowledge her presence. It was better not to ask. I didn't want my key witness to panic again. Instead, I listened to her testimony.

"As they spoke, I remained backstage, listening through the floorboards."

" How were you able to hear them from where you were?" I asked. "The transceiver itself is not the best quality, and I have to imagine the floorboards are quite thick."

"Dah, but keep in mind the theater was abandoned besides us." said Polye. "Trust me, when this place is empty, you can hear a pin drop no matter where it is. I've scared myself plenty of times while rehearsing."

"Fascinating." I said. "But that still doesn't mean everything was getting through."

"It was the best I could manage." said Polye with a shrug.

"Did you hear much of what they said?"

"Nyet, it was too muffled."

I wasn't sure where this was going, but something still felt out of place. "Ms. Polye, add this to your testimony."

"D-dah." said Polye.

"I was indeed able to hear them, but they were still quite muffled."

That would be important later. I decided to pursue another line of questioning.

"Just then, I heard a gunshot from below!"

" If you heard the gun go off, why were you so surprised before when Detective Badd told you about the murder?" I asked.

"Well, I know now what it was." said Polye. "I didn't know before."

That didn't seem plausible. "Well, what did you think it was?"

"I don't know." said Polye. "Like I said, I was knocked out before I could react to it."

"Looks like a dead end." said Wren.

"Not yet." I said. "Ms. Polye, did you hear anything else leading up to the gunshot?"

"A series of clicks, nothing more. And nyet, I didn't know what those were, either. I thought the transceiver was acting up on me."

"And did you do anything to try and fix it?"

"I don't follow." said Polye.

"Did you bang it, or turn it off and on to try and get it to work?"

Polye raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Faraday, I don't know how the thing works. All I did was place it in my dress, and supposedly my contact would hear everything."

That seemed unlikely. "Ms. Polye, I wish to hear more about the transceiver."

"Um, alright." said Polye, more than a bit confused.

"I don't know how the transceiver works. All the instructions told me was to wear it."

" " I exclaimed. "Ms. Polye, there's something odd about your statement."

"Odd? But I was telling the truth."

"Yes, you were." I said. "Which is why this doesn't make any sense."

I presented my notes on the transceiver.

"When we found this on your person, the battery had run dry." I said. "Now, if you had no idea how to work the thing, then whoever sent it to you probably kept it on for your convenience. The problem with that is no known battery, especially not for radio transmitters such as this, last beyond a few hours, let alone two whole days without recharging. In that sense, Ms. Polye, I do believe you were duped!"

"DUPED?!"

Polye shrieked again, louder than before.

"I-I was afraid of that, ever since I was grabbed." said Polye, shivering. "I know it. Any second, that woman is going to come out of the shadows and finish me off!"

"Woman?" I asked. "What woman?"

"Oh, she's talking about me."

That wasn't Wren. I spun around to another Zangaru ninja with emerald green eyes, looking quite cross. Polye screamed in terror, and tried to run away. However, she was blocked off by another Zangaru ninja.

"I warned you, Mr. Faraday." said the ninja. "Now, it's too late."

"You're bluffing." I said, standing my ground. "This building is crawling with police. And as I recall, you don't like drawing attention to yourselves."

The ninja didn't even bat an eyelid. "Well played, Mr. Faraday. Wren told me you were bright." She then seemed to smirk behind her cowl. "But this dance is far from over. Let's see if you're as good as my sister says you are."

"So, you are Yuné Zangaru." I said. "I thought you'd be more grateful for what I did for you and your clan a couple months ago."

"Why do you think I gave you a chance to live?" Yuné retorted calmly. "But it seems you didn't take me up on my offer."

"I have a job to do here, Ms. Zangaru." I said firmly. "And I plan to see it through to the end. Which is why I need to ask you a few questions."

"I am not under your custody, Mr. Faraday. You're under mine." said Yuné. "But since I cannot kill you, we are at a stalemate. So I will answer your questions, if only to make this a bit more interesting."

"That's all I need." I said. "First of all, there's no denying that the Zangaru clan had a hand in last night's murder. But who was your target, Kalinka Polye, or Harold Folovski?"

Yuné struck a meditative pose. I didn't know what she was thinking.

"It was not my mission, so I do not know." she said plainly. "But if I had to guess, it would be Ms. Polye."

Something about that didn't sound right. "If you had to guess? Doesn't the clan share information with each other?"

"Well, yes. But that doesn't mean anything." said Yuné. "Let me explain it to you as eloquently as I can."



"As you have already seen, we received a mission to kill Ms. Polye." said Yuné. "No more or less was said in the request. As such, our business is unrelated to Mr. Folovski's unfortunate demise."

Already, I knew that wasn't true. But there was still a bit of a dilemma. Was she lying intentionally or unwittingly? As much as I wanted to pounce on the lie, I had to get more information first.

"Considering your rebuttal, Mr. Faraday?" asked Yuné. "Just keep in mind, I do not take things lightly. If you try to ask me something irrelevant, there will be consequences. Is that understood?"

"I suppose my hands are tied in that respect." I said.

"Then good luck. You'll need it." said Yuné with a bow.

"Um, thank you." I said, mildly confused as she repeated her argument.

"As you have already seen, we received a mission to kill Ms. Polye."

" First of all, when did you receive this request?" I asked.

"A few days before the murder." said Yuné. "Is that truly relevant?"

"It might very well be." I said. "Secondly, if Polye was your target, why is she still alive?"

"You already know, Mr. Faraday." said Yuné cryptically.

The way she said that, I knew this had to be some sort of Zangaru trap. But what was it?

"Ms. Zangaru, add when you got the request to your argument." I said.

"If you feel it is necessary." said Yuné.

"We got the request a few days before the murder."

Somehow, that would be important later. It was time to attack the obvious hole in her argument.

"As such, our business is unrelated to Mr. Folovski's unfortunate demise."

" " I exclaimed. "Ms. Zangaru, do you actually believe that?"

"I wouldn't say so if I didn't." said Yuné. "Why?"

"Because that statement contradicts this piece of evidence." I said, presenting the kunai. "At the crime scene, one of the possible murder weapons was a kunai laced with poison. It was found in Mr. Folovski's neck. You cannot deny that the Zangaru clan had some hand in Mr. Folovski's murder."

"You're forgetting something, Mr. Faraday." said Yuné. "One, the kunai was not the only murder weapon, as you yourself claimed. Therefore, the Zangaru clan is not guilty of anything yet. Two, what ninja would be so careless as to leave something like that behind?"

That second point stuck out in my mind. It was almost as if she, wanted me to comment on it. Was this her trap? I couldn't take any chances.

"You know what? You're right."

Yuné struck a meditative pose. "I am?"

"Yes. No ninja would leave incriminating evidence lying around. But the Zangaru clan is different. Traps like this are their specialty."

"And your point is?"

"That there is a greater truth behind this murder that goes beyond Mr. Folovski and Ms. Polye!"

Yuné's shoulders tensed up, but she relaxed almost immediately.

"You have quite an imagination." said Yuné. "But can you prove that your speculation is anything more than that?"

"Not at present, no." I admitted. "But it is the only logical conclusion."

"How ironic that your logical conclusion is devoid of any logic." said Yuné. For some reason, it didn't sound like she was mocking me. Nor did she seem nervous at all. I, on the other hand, had no idea where to go. I seemed to have avoided her trap, only to run smack dab into a dead end.

Wren, meanwhile, was exchanging nervous glances with me and Yuné. Something seemed to have her on edge. Did it have something to do with what was mentioned before?

"Ms. Zangaru, I have been informed that there has been some, difficulty inside the Zangaru clan as of late. Is this true?" I asked.

"If it is, how is it relevant?" retorted Yuné.

"Your sister seems to think so."

"Not so fast! Leave me the hell out of this!" Wren snapped angrily.

"Peace, Wren." said Yuné sternly. She then turned back to me. "I suppose I have nothing to lose from indulging you. But at the same time, I have nothing to gain. So if this doesn't go anywhere, you will be sorry."

"I understand." I said, hoping against hope that I was onto something.



"As you're no doubt aware, ninjas have difficulty gaining the trust of others." said Yuné. "Usually, this is a moot point. However, it has gotten to the point where we do not trust each other. Ninjas who are branded as traitors have been systematically defamed. I assure you, it has nothing to do with this murder."

As Yuné spoke, Wren looked more and more tense. This somehow involved her, I knew it did. But I had my doubts that it was irrelevant to the case entirely.

"Shall we continue our little dance?" asked Yuné.

"Of course." said I.

"Then good luck." said Yuné with a bow as she repeated her testimony.

"Ninjas who are branded as traitors have been systematically defamed."

" Define traitors, and define defamed." I said.

"Well, I honestly don't believe any of this nonsense, so I'm not sure what traitors are." said Yuné. "By defamed, I mean that ninjas may be portrayed unfavorably, either by being sloppy or by sharing secrets."

"What do you mean you don't believe any of it?" I asked.

"Oh, my testimony is nothing more than baseless rumors other members of my clan have passed off as fact."

"Then why did you say that in your testimony?!"

I recoiled from her confusing tactics. What was Yuné trying to get out of me?

"It isn't my fault you thought I was saying what I actually believed." said Yuné with a shrug.

I growled. This was getting more and more difficult. If I had any chance of getting the truth out of this woman, I had to get creative.

"Ms. Zangaru, add all this to your testimony." I said.

"As you wish." said Yuné.

"I personally believe there are no traitors within our clan. But if there were, they would be defamed by being portrayed unfavorably."

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "Ms. Zangaru, if you believe that, why is there a problem in your clan?"

"Because everyone else believes it." said Yuné. "Where are you going with this?"

"There's something fishy going on here. And it has to do with this." I said, taking out the kunai again. "You said before that one of the ways a ninja would defame another was by portraying them as sloppy. Well, what's sloppier than killing the wrong target while the other runs free?"

Yuné struck a meditative pose. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I don't claim to know everything, but I do have a rough theory." I said. "I believe that your mission was to kill Ms. Polye, and your client was Harold Folovski. But Mr. Folovski double-crossed you, so you decided to kill him instead."

"Nothing but tall tales." said Yuné, still as calm as ever.

"Oh they are, are they?" I said. "Because you seem adamant that Ms. Polye was the true target, even though she's still alive. But at the same time, you're stringing me on about a conspiracy within your clan, which you say has no credibility. In a roundabout way, it's almost as if you're protecting someone."

"Not so fast! You pulled that out of your ass!" barked Wren.

"I am not that kind of prosecutor, I assure you." I said. "Based on all this, I'd say that Mr. Folovski's death was an elaborate plot to discredit the conspiracy, as well as get back at him for double-crossing you. And that means his blood is on the hands of the Zangaru clan!"

Suddenly, I felt the wind knocked out of me as Wren rushed forward and jabbed me in the stomach with incredible force.

"And to think I trusted you!" she spat. "You really have some nerve."

"Huh wha-?"

"Don't play dumb with me, prosecutor!" Wren yelled. "You think it was me, don't you?! Who else would Yuné defend?!"

I was too busy recovering from Wren's attack to speak.

"In the end, you're all alike." Wren scoffed. "Twisting the story to fit your reality. I'm guilty of everything just because I'm a ninja. I wasn't helping you. That was all just a ruse. I should've let you die, you bastard! Get this through your head! You're the traitor, not me!"

With that, she slapped me across the face and ran away. It was then that I realized my folly. Yuné was testing me, and it seemed that I failed. But at the same time, Wren was wrong. I didn't have all the facts yet. All I stated was a theory that I could barely prove. I didn't know why, but I had to set her straight, and get her back on my side.

"Wren, wait!" I called after her as I tried to chase her down. Oddly enough, Yuné made no attempt to stop me, although I didn't think much about it at the time. All that was on my mind was that I had to set everything right, and get back on the path to the truth.

Following Wren was a nigh-impossible feat, so I had to guess where she would end up. I decided to check in at the original scene of the crime. Sure enough, I was greeted by an angry voice.

"You've come to arrest me, prosecutor? I should kill you right now."

"Wren, I just want to talk." I said.

"Why? So you can try and trip me up with your fancy logic?" Wren's voice echoed from the shadows. "No thanks."

"Wren, my theory is only that." I said honestly. "I can't prove it."

"So what? That hasn't stopped you pricks before." said Wren, still hiding from me. "You already figured it out."

"I haven't figured out anything."

Wren laughed. "How are you so perceptive, yet so dense? You figured out that I was here last night!"

"I did?!"

That was something of a surprise. In no way did I suggest Wren was involved at all, merely that the Zangaru clan was. Why was Wren confessing this to me?

"Wren, you're jumping to conclusions." I said.

"The only reason I'm jumping to conclusions is that you haven't reached them yet." spat Wren.

I sighed. "Wren, listen. It would be wrong of me to arrest you now. I have nothing concrete against you. But if you were here last night, like you claim, I wish to hear your testimony. You're innocent until proven guilty."

There was a pause, after which Wren emerged from the shadows.

"You're willing to throw me a bone like that, prosecutor? After all, I'm your most likely suspect." she said.

"I don't know that yet." I countered, tossing back my scarf. "Which is why I want your testimony. What happened last night?"

Wren folded her arms. "I'll have you know that my patience with you has long since worn thin, prosecutor. If you so much as try to hoodwink me with irrelevant logic, your ass is mine. Got it?"

I merely nodded, and listened intently to Wren's testimony.



"The Zangaru clan was indeed hired for a mission last night." said Wren. "I accepted the task, and performed as well as I could have. That's reason enough to arrest me, isn't it? Only I could've been the killer."

"Wren, understand that you're not giving me a lot to work with." I said. "How do you expect me to trust you if I can't validate your story like this?"

"You're smart, you figure it out." said Wren.

I groaned. Now that I was on her bad side, she was being difficult again. I really had to find out if her anger against me was justified. The truth was hidden somewhere in this testimony.

"The Zangaru clan was indeed hired for a mission last night."

" A mission? Would that be the mission to murder Kalinka Polye?" I asked.

"Do I need to tell you that?" asked Wren, hands on her hips. "Of course it was that mission."

"If that's the case, why is Ms. Polye still alive?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"No, I don't." I said, folding my arms. "You see, the obvious conclusion would be that it's a typical Zangaru trap, but that doesn't make sense. Ms. Polye's only connection to the Russian Mafia is through an anonymous letter ordering her to spy on a meeting between to criminals. Killing Mr. Folovski seems like an ineffective plan. Meaning there's more to this."

"Not so fast! You're getting off-topic, prosecutor. Even if there was more to this, I still killed that Folovski prick." said Wren.

"Alright, let's say you did." I said. "Why?"

Wren glared daggers at me, but she didn't answer.

"It's a simple question." I said with a shrug. "Your mission was to kill Kalinka Polye. You instead kill Harold Folovski. Why? Connect the dots for me here."

"Look, it was a Zangaru trap. What about that is so hard to accept?" said Wren.

"I think you already know." I said. "But for the moment, add that to your testimony."

"Fine." Wren said with a snort.

"Folovski's death was part of a Zangaru trap to lure out the true target."

" By 'true target', I assume you're referring to Ms. Polye, correct?" I inquired.

"Who else would I be referring to?" asked Wren.

"You tell me."

Wren blinked in confusion. "Come again?"

"If this was a Zangaru trap for Ms. Polye, like you claim, then you've made it needlessly complicated." I said. "Mr. Folovski was found dead, here in this room. Ms. Polye was right above where we are now to listen in. She was later found unconscious in the amphitheater, and picked up by medical personnel. At what point were you planning to kill her, if she was the target at all? Furthermore, how did she make it from backstage to the amphitheater in the first place?"

"Not so fast! Look who's calling the kettle black!" Wren snapped. "You're the one making this needlessly complicated! What does this have to do with anything?!"

"Everything." I said, tossing back my scarf. "Because there's another wrinkle in your plan, if this was your plan."

I presented my notes on the anonymous phone call.

" Sometime after the crime was committed, the police received an anonymous phone call from a pay phone outside. The call, of course, was made to report the murder. Now, I would think you Zangaru ninjas would be more careful than that. Unless, that was your plan all along."

"What are you talking about?" said Wren.

"I know who made that call, and I know who relocated Ms. Polye's unconscious body."

"You're bluffing." said Wren. "But fair enough, I'll bite. Who made the call, and who moved the target?"

"There is only one person I can think of." I said, pointing my finger. "And that person is none other than you, Wren Zangaru."

"What?!"

Wren recoiled, dropping a smoke bomb as she did. When the smoke cleared, she looked absolutely baffled.

"Wh-what do you mean me? What is this nonsense?"

"You and I both know it's not nonsense." I said. "You see, I don't believe Ms. Polye is the target of the Zangaru clan. Otherwise, she would be dead by now. Something else is going on here, and I think that you know what it is."

"Not so fast! It still doesn't change a goddamn thing, prosecutor. I still killed Folovski!" Wren snapped.

"And what are you basing this on?" I asked.

"I know how everything played out." said Wren. "Let me walk you through it, step by step."



"I was perched outside, near that high window." said Wren, pointing to a small window pane overlooking the crime scene. "When I saw my opening, I threw my kunai and struck Folovski dead. Then, his gun went off. I didn't see anything else, because I was busy doing everything you said I did, supposedly."

Something about that testimony seemed off to me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. But I knew now that Wren was testing me. She wanted to see if I doubted her story. I accepted the challenge, and listened again.

"I didn't see anything else, because I was doing everything you said I did, supposedly."

" Supposedly?" I asked.

"C'mon, prosecutor. I may be a ninja, but I'm not that good." said Wren. "The scenario you posed is impossible. I couldn't have killed Folovski, snuck in, knocked out Polye, carried her to the amphitheater, and then called the police."

"So, you deny doing any of that." I said.

"All I'm saying is that it's impossible." said Wren dismissively.

"What if I were to say that it was possible?" I asked.

"Then I'd say prove it." said Wren.

"Well, that's easy enough." I said. "My theory is that you had an accomplice."

Wren wasn't too pleased with that answer. "What accomplice?"

"Why, none of than your sister, Yuné Zangaru."

"LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!"

Wren recoiled, another smoke bomb dislodging from her belt. When the smoke cleared, she was furious.

"It's the only logical explanation." I said. "She knocked out Ms. Polye and took her to the amphitheater while you threw your kunai at Mr. Folovski and called the police."

Wren paused for a moment, looking tense and agitated. Finally, she relaxed a little. "I'd like to add that to my testimony."

"Well, by all means." I said.

"Alright, so maybe Yuné helped a little with Polye."

That would be important later. Now, it was time to prove myself, and pass Wren's test.

"Then, his gun went off."

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "Wren, there is a contradiction here."

Wren's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You said the gun went off after Mr. Folovski died." I said, presenting my notes on the gun. "Now then, did you see where the gun was pointing when you threw your knife?"

"He was pointing at the other guy."

"Ah-ha. Therein lies the contradiction." I said. "Because the bullet was found in Mr. Folovski's forehead, not in Mr. Pur. If the gun went off the moment he died, the bullet should not have been where it was found."

"And I suppose you have an explanation for that, right?" scoffed Wren.

"Actually, I don't." I admitted. "But it does open up another possibility."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Someone is trying to set you up."

Wren was taken aback, but tried to maintain her cool. "I-I'm listening."

"Tell me, Wren. Do Zangaru ninjas utilize poison?"

"Occasionally. It's very rare." said Wren.

"I see." said I. "Would this be one of those rare occasions when poison is called for?"

"You mean for a Zangaru trap? That would be overkill, not to mention too much of a giveaway." said Wren.

"Then here is my proof that someone is trying to set you up."

I presented the kunai.

" The kunai found on the crime scene was coated with some sort of toxin. But as you said, it would be impractical to use in this situation. Therefore, it is highly possible that the knife wasn't poisoned when you threw it."

"I, don't follow." said Wren. "I still threw the knife."

"Ah, but were you aiming to kill anyone?"

Wren seemed puzzled. "Why else would I throw a knife, smartass?"

"How should I know? It's your trap, after all." I said with a shrug.

Wren paused for a moment, staring blankly at me. Finally, she removed her cowl, letting her long, black hair flow freely.

"You're really something, Mr. Faraday." she said. "I really thought you had it out for me. But you do realize you can't prove any of this, right? I might still be the culprit."

"I understand that." I said. "Which is why I hope to get to the bottom of this, and find the truth."

Wren sighed. "Fine. Against my better judgement, I'm giving you one more chance. After that, consider yourself dead."

"Why are you so willing to give me chances?" I asked. "Why do you want to trust me?"

"Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I think the last time we met was a fluke." said Wren. "And part of me wants to believe it was a fluke. There's no way a lawman would cooperate with a ninja."

She then turned to me. "But there's another part of me saying that opposites can attract. That our interests can align, even if we should be enemies. That maybe I've been living a lie this whole time, and..."

" Wren, I don't think you've been living a lie." I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I think in some aspects, we're both right, and at the same time, we're both wrong. There's nothing wrong with being both, even if it seems contradictory."

Wren's face turned red. "A-are you consoling me?"

"All I'm stating is the truth." I said. "If you want to see it as consoling, then you're welcome to it."

Wren moved closer to me, placing her arms around me. "You, really aren't that bad, Mr. Faraday." she whispered, drawing closer. Time seemed to stand still, and I wasn't sure how to react.

"Faraday!"

Impeccable timing, Badd. I said with a sigh of relief as my partner appeared. Wren released me, looking quite embarrassed.

"I, see you've made some progress." said Badd.

"More than you know, Badd." I said, clearing my throat. "What about you?"

"We got the guy on the other end of the transceiver." said Badd. "It's Dirk Folovski. He was hiding out in the alleyway."

"Well, this should be interesting." I said. "It's time we wrapped this up."

"We got him in custody upstairs." said Badd. "C'mon, we're burning daylight."

He didn't have to tell me twice. With Wren by my side, I dashed upstairs, ready to get to the bottom of this mystery.

"Let me go! I didn't do anything!"

Dirk Folovski was foaming at the mouth as two police officers tried to hold him down. Once again, he wasn't making this easy.

"Mr. Folovski, you haven't exactly been telling me the truth before." I said. "Why should I believe you now?"

"You." Dirk spat. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, you dog. The Ivanov family will hear of this!"

"Pardon me for sounding like a broken record, but the Ivanov family has no influence here in LA." I said. "Even if they did, do you honestly think they would bail you out? I mean, they didn't bail out Mr. Pur."

"And why would they?! He's guilty!" barked Dirk. "I, however, am not!"

"And, how do you know this? Were you there?"

"Well, nyet. Not really." said Dirk.

"Not so fast! I'm not buying that for a second." said Wren. "We already know you were on the other end of that transceiver."

"Ah, but I was not in the same room as Harold and Pur." said Dirk. "Here, I can explain."

"This ought to be good." grumbled Badd.




"It is true that I was here last night." said Dirk. "However, that was just to monitor Ms. Polye under the Izmaylovskaya gang's orders. I heard everything that happened, but I didn't see it. I only blame Pur because the Izmaylovskaya gang has not bailed him out."

This testimony had more holes in it than Swiss cheese, but he didn't seem to be aware of it. Meaning he was ready with explanations for the inconstancies. That being the case, I couldn't go after him outright. I needed more information first.

"Mr. Folovski, allow me to ask you a few questions." I said.

"Of course, of course." said Dirk, repeating his testimony.

"I heard everything that happened, but I didn't see it."

" For the sake of argument, what exactly did you hear?" I asked.

"I heard the conversation." said Dirk. "I heard the game of Russian Roulette. I heard Harold's gun go off. From there, nothing."

"I see." said I. "And didn't you find it suspicious that the transmission cut out after the gunshot?"

"Why should I have? Ms. Polye was supposed to be dead by that point." said Dirk with an evil grin.

That struck me as odd. I had to press him further.

"Mr. Folovski, why did the Izmaylovskaya gang want Ms. Polye dead?"

"I don't know. Who cares what they wanted with that filthy Cossack?" said Dirk with a shrug.

"Mr. Folovski, I find it hard to believe that the Russia Mafia would go through all this trouble to kill a woman purely out of racism." I said. "Not to mention that their plan seems to make no sense. What do they plan to gain from killing a woman they coerced into spying for them? And furthermore, why spy on this meeting at all? Weren't they the ones that arranged it?"

Dirk took out his handkerchief and began wiping his brow. "I-I don't see what you're getting at."

"Mr. Folovski, I do believe that this whole set up was a hoax, carried out by you."

"A hoax? Impossible!" snapped Dirk. "You have no proof!"

"I have all the proof I need, actually." I said. "And here it is."

I presented the transceiver.

" We already know that you were the person on the other end of this transceiver, Mr. Folovski." I said. "We also know that the transceiver was not working when Ms. Polye was using it. There's no other explanation for this other than you stringing her along. Do you deny that?"

"You are being ridiculous." said Dirk flatly. "That means nothing."

"Allow me to disagree." I said. "Because there's something else you neglected to mention. How were you planning to do away with Ms. Polye?"

"I hired someone from the outside."

"Would that someone be the Zangaru clan?"

"The who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Folovski." I said. "I have some evidence tying you directly to the Zangaru clan."

"I never even heard of them before." said Dirk. "How can you say we're related in any way? What evidence are you speaking of?"

" This evidence right here." I said, presenting the receipt. "This receipt made out to the Zangaru clan is for the assassination of Kalinka Polye. It was found on your brother's person."

" I have no knowledge of this!"

"Bullshit." growled Badd. "We already heard you threatening Ms. Polye over that transceiver. You knew she was supposed to die. Even if the labbies couldn't find anything else on that letter, we can safely say... that you were the one who wrote it."

"Damn you!"

Dirk recoiled from the facts presented.

"Th-this doesn't prove anything!" he sputtered. "I wouldn't kill my own brother!"

"I don't remember accusing you of that." I said, raising an eyebrow.

Dirk suddenly became calmer. "Well, of course you wouldn't. I mean, who would? After all, it was the Zangaru clan. They turned on me."

"Not so fast! You can't prove that!" Wren snapped.

"Do not deny it." said Dirk. "You ninjas may be good, but not even you can escape the Izmaylovskaya gang."

"Wren's right, Mr. Folovski. You need to prove your argument." I said.

Dirk snorted. "Fine. But you will see, Mr. Faraday, that I am right, and that you should have let me investigate."



"Kalinka Polye was supposed to be dead, but she is alive." said Dirk. "Meanwhile, my brother is killed. That can only mean the Zangaru clan is to blame."

"He might not be making sense... but he might be right." said Badd. "We don't know for sure that the Zangaru clan isn't responsible."

"I don't believe that for a second, Badd." I said. "Something is amiss here. I know you sense it, too."

"Yeah, but we got some evidence... against the Zangaru clan." said Badd. "You can't deny that."

He was right, I couldn't deny that. But at the same time, this was not over yet. I listened to Dirk's argument again.

"That can only mean the Zangaru clan is to blame."

" You're going to have to give me more than process of elimination, Mr. Folovski." I said. "Because we still don't know what killed your brother first."

"You mean you can't figure it out?" said Dirk with a laugh. "Remember, I heard everything. I heard the knife fly past. I heard the gunshot go off. The evidence points to the Zangaru clan striking first."

Wren gave me an odd look. She was seething with rage, but at the same time, she seemed nervous. She was worried that I would betray her trust. Dirk wasn't lying, but I couldn't turn on her that easily. There had to be some way to trip him up. After a moment, I had an idea.

"Mr. Folovski, I ask that you add this to your argument." I said.

"I don't see the point, but alright." said Dirk. "After all, we both know it's true."

"The evidence points to the Zangaru clan striking first."

" " I exclaimed, tossing back my scarf. "That is quite an accusation, Mr. Folovski. Can you prove it?"

"I told you, I heard everything..."

"Mr. Folovski, a Zangaru ninja strikes swiftly and leaves no trace behind." I said, presenting the kunai. "They could've easily snapped your brother's neck from behind, and yet you say it was the fault of this knife. How did you come by this information? Because I doubt a knife being thrown by a ninja would register on a primitive transceiver such as this."

Dirk was sweating bullets as he wiped his brow. "Why are you doing this? We both know that this is true!"

"I know it's true because of Wren's testimony." I said. "However, I don't know how you know it's true, unless you were in the room with your brother and Mr. Pur last night!"

Wren's jaw seemed to hit the ground, and Dirk was equally surprised.

"Y-you cannot prove this!" he bellowed. "It was that poison tipped knife!"

" Poison tipped?" I asked. "I never said anything about that. Once again, you're bringing up things that you're not supposed to know."

"The Zangaru clan still betrayed me! Kalinka Polye should be dead!" Dirk howled.

"And then what? Were you planning on blackmailing them?" I asked.

Both Wren and Dirk were speechless.

"It seems I'm right on the money." I said. "Once Ms. Polye was dead, you could've held onto the receipt and used it against the Zangaru clan. But of course, the Zangaru clan was not stupid. So they staged a fake assassination by knocking Ms. Polye out and calling the police."

"That still doesn't explain the kunai!" Dirk barked.

"Once again, you couldn't have known that unless you were in the room." I said.

"You're forgetting something... Faraday." said Badd. "How did this guy get in without anyone noticing?"

That was a tricky one. Polye did not open her doors for anyone except Pur and Harold. How did Dirk sneak in? Thinking back, I remembered Wren's testimony. Then, it all came together.

" It's quite simple, Badd. Mr. Folovski used the same window that Wren threw her kunai from. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he snuck in before his brother and Mr. Pur arrived."

" That is lunacy! Ms. Polye would've seen that the window was used!" yelled Dirk.

"And she wouldn't pay it any mind, because she knew that she had to play mole for the Izmaylovskaya gang." I said. "But, that begs the question of why you were there in the first place. I can only think of one reason."

"You can't be serious." said Dirk.

"Oh, but I am." I said, pointing an accusing finger. "You were there to assassinate your brother and make it look like he lost the game of Russian Roulette! But Wren saw you, and tried to stop you. So instead, you had a backup plan involving framing both the Zangaru clan and Mr. Pur so that your hands would be clean. Men, search him."

"Allow me." said Wren, cracking her knuckles.

"Nyet! Stop!" Dirk shouted in protest. Sure enough, Wren pulled out a vial containing some sort of liquid from Dirk's pocket.

"Well, we can ship it down to forensics, or you can tell us what it is." I said. "Your choice."

"You still can't arrest me!" Dirk insisted. "My fingerprints are not on that vial, nor on the gun or the knife! You can't tie me to any of this!"

"Well, of course not." I said. "They were wiped clean by that handkerchief you seem so attached to. Also, you used said handkerchief to make your brother turn the gun on himself in the confusion. It seems as though you were caught in your own tangled web!"

Dirk suddenly tore the handkerchief to shreds. "The law cannot touch me!" he boomed. "I am an avtoritet! My brother, he would've seized power from that accursed Wolfe family. That was my chance to usurp him. But that Cossack girl. She would've screwed everything up. So, I threatened her into allowing the meeting to take place. Little did she know that she was also signing her death warrant. After all, I didn't want any witnesses."

"Including us. Which is why you were willing to blackmail us." said Wren.

"It would've worked, too." Dirk spat. "And it still will! You'll see! You'll all see! The Izmaylovskaya gang will come to my rescue! I cannot be touched!"

Wren then slapped Dirk silly, leaving him out cold.

"So much for not being able to be touched." she said. "The Zangaru clan wants nothing more to do with him. He's all yours."

"Thanks." grumbled Badd as he handcuffed Dirk's hands behind his back.

"Well, I guess we're more or less done here." said Badd. "All we gotta do is drop the charges against Mr. Pur and prepare for Mr. Folovski's trial."

"Not much to prepare for." I said, looking over my organizer. "Also, we might have to make further inquiries into the Opus Opera House's management."

"There you go again. Thinking your laws are superior to everyone else's."

Sure enough, Wren was right behind us, with her sister Yuné by her side.

"Last I checked, Ms. Polye isn't immune to our laws." I said. "And besides which, I don't recall this being your business."

"Byrne, what did she do wrong, really?" said Wren. "So she let a few shady guys into her building. Big deal. She didn't hurt anyone."

"I don't recall you two being on a first-name basis... Faraday." said Badd.

Neither do I. I replied mentally. "Wren, I don't make the law. I just enforce it. You have to understand that."

"Sounds to me like a tacit admission that you support it." said Wren, folding her arms.

"Wren, that's enough." said Yuné. "We didn't come here to argue."

"So, what do you two want?" asked Badd.

"Well, I myself wish to apologize to you, Mr. Faraday." said Yuné. "I was wrong about you. I also wish to say that I admire your determination."

"Well, thank you." I said.

Yuné then elbowed Wren. Behind her cowl, I could tell that her face was turning red.

"Um, good job today, Byrne." she said, to which Yuné elbowed her again.

"Conceal only what needs to be concealed, Wren. That is the way of the Zangaru ninja." said Yuné sternly.

Wren sighed, and removed her cowl. Indeed, her face was bright crimson.

"Byrne, do you trust me?" she asked.

That was a hard question. "Well, I'm not sure. I mean, your job is to deceive others."

"Forget about that. My job isn't the only thing that defines me." said Wren. "Do you trust me?"

" Your job might not be the only thing that defines you, but it still defines you in some way." I said, tossing back my scarf. "But, all things considered, I do believe that you're one of the more trustworthy ninjas that I have come across. No offense to your sister."

"None taken." said Yuné.

Wren suddenly ran forward and wrapped her arms around me.

"That's all I needed to hear." she whispered. "I trust you, too."

"Care to explain... Faraday?" asked Badd, raising an eyebrow.

"I can." said Yuné. "Mr. Faraday, the reason Wren took this mission was to see you again. Your views have changed how she perceives the world, and she really wanted to confirm your stance."

"I, somewhat gathered that." I said. "But how could you have known that I would take this case?"

"We didn't. We just took a gamble." said Yuné with a shrug. "Ninjas are many things, but we're not omniscient."

"So the division amongst the clan you mentioned before..."

"Yes, it was because of you, Mr. Faraday. Ninjas do not usually earn the trust of others. It's not in our best interest."

"But I wanted to earn your trust." said Wren, finally releasing me. "And I wanted you to earn mine. I think deep down, I wanted to prove myself wrong."

I had to smirk. "Wren, you're not wrong. Until the day I met you, I thought the law was objective, even if it was unjust or unfair. You taught me that it can be subjective, and open to debate. We both gained something from that encounter last September."

Wren's face turned a deeper shade of red. "Y-you're just saying that to embarrass me."

"It seems to be working." I laughed. "Listen, when this is all over, the Opus Opera House should be reopening with the Storybook Orchestra and Ms. Polye performing. Do you wish to join me?"

"There's not going to be much point if you're investigating her." said Wren slyly.

I looked over to Badd, who merely shrugged. "Technically, she's right. Ms. Polye didn't really do anything wrong. But this still won't win you any points with Von Karma."

"Since when did you need that blowhard's approval?" asked Wren.

"Honestly, I don't." I responded with a shrug. "I don't know why Badd keeps bringing it up."

Badd snorted. "It's your call, Faraday."

"We'll leave Ms. Polye alone for now." I said. "Mr. Pur, however, did have an illegal weapon on his person. At the very least, he'll have to pay a fine."

"Glad to see you're not too far gone... Faraday." said Badd with a slight smirk.

"I'll think about it." said Wren. "Go anyway. If I show up, I'll show up."

She then leaned in, and gave me a peck on the cheek. "I'll keep in touch." she whispered.

With that, she and Yuné disappeared.

"Y'know, Faraday. I never pictured you as a thief... and yet here we are." said Badd.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's obvious to me that you just stole that woman's heart." said Badd.

"Ha ha, very funny." I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not the kind to joke, Faraday." said Badd. "But like I said before, this is outside my area of expertise. You gotta handle this on your own."

"Whatever you say, partner." I said, ending the discussion. I wouldn't admit it to him then, but deep down, I knew he was right.

Trucy looked tentatively at the clock. It was now 5:40. If she hurried, she could be at the Wonder Bar just in time to prepare for her usual show.

She made a quick double-check of gear, and poked her head out into the hallway. There sat Phoenix Wright, reading the newspaper and apparently oblivious to the world. The coast looked clear.

Ever so quietly, she tiptoed toward the door. She was about halfway there when she felt a twitch in her nose.

No! Not now! she thought to herself. She tried her best to hold it, but her throat started to tickle as well. It was no use.

"AAAH-CHOOOOOO!"

"And just where do you think you're going, young lady?" Phoenix asked, looking up from his paper. "Planning to pull a little disappearing act on me?"

Trucy's face flushed. "Um, I can *cough cough* explain..."

"I thought I made it perfectly clear, Trucy Wright." said Phoenix sternly. "I don't want you leaving your bed with that fever of yours."

"But Daddy~! I'll disappoint my audience~!" Trucy whined. "The show must *cough* go on!"

"Strange. You didn't seem to raise an objection when I said you could stay home from school." said Phoenix, raising an eyebrow.

"I feel much *ah-choo* better now!" lied Trucy. "Honest!"

Phoenix snickered and shook his head. "Truce, I don't have to have your special gift to see through that one. Now, go back to bed."

"No!" Trucy protested. "As a performer, it's my duty to entertain my audience! I can't let this little *cough cough* bug stop me!"

"Trucy, you had a fever of 105."

"Did fevers stop Troupe Gramarye?! I think not!"

If only you could see this now, Maya. It'd be like looking into a mirror. Phoenix groaned to himself. "Truce, stop being stubborn. I know this is important to you, but I'm sure everyone will understand if you took a sick day."

Trucy looked Phoenix square in the eye. "Daddy, this is what I live for. A magician must always be ready to perform, no matter what *ah-choo* happens. I don't wanna *sniff* give up."

Phoenix opened his mouth, but then he got to contemplating. Something about her stubbornness seemed oddly, familiar...

"You know what, Truce?" said he. "I had the same attitude back when I was a lawyer."

"What do you mean?"

"It happened five years ago, several months before your real father's trial." said Phoenix. He had to admit, it felt a bit awkward talking about the recent past as if it were an ancient memory. "My assistant, Maya, was training at Hazakura Temple."

"What's Hazakura Temple?"

"It's a place where spirit mediums go to train." Phoenix explained.

"She needed training? But I thought she's Master of the Kurain."

"All the more reason. Now let me finish my story." said Phoenix. "Anyway, she was training in this temple that could only be gotten to via a suspension bridge. I was staying in the temple across the bridge to give her moral support. That's when it happened."

"What happened?"

"A huge thunderstorm hit Hazakura Temple that night. And it just so happened that someone was murdered." said Phoenix. "I rushed to check and see if Maya was okay, when a lightning bolt hit the bridge."

Trucy gave Phoenix a look. "Daddy, you should know better than to *cough* run across a rickety old bridge *sniffle* during a thunderstorm."

Phoenix smirked. "But see, that's the thing. I didn't care. I was worried about Maya, and nothing was going to stop me. Well, except the bridge giving out and me falling down the cliff."

"Omigosh!" Trucy gasped. "How did you live?!"

"'Twas a miracle, Truce." said Phoenix with a laugh. "But see, that's why I see a bit of me in you right now. I think I'm a bit of a bad influence on you."

Trucy smiled. "I don't think it's you, Daddy. Remember when I first moved in and had your boring law office turned into the Wright and Co. Talent Agency?"

Phoenix laughed again. "I guess you're right. And nothing I said could talk you out of it."

"Just like you *cough* can't talk me out of this." said Trucy. "You weren't about to let your *cough* assistant down, and I'm not about *ah-choo* to let my audience down!"

"Not the same thing, Trucy." said Phoenix. "Listen, I'm not asking you to give up. When I fell off that cliff, I needed someone to substitute for me while I recovered in the hospital. Does that mean I gave up? Not in the slightest."

"Why did you need a substitute?"

"It's, a bit of a long story. Look, the point I'm trying to make is that sitting out for one day to recover is not the same as giving up. In every trial, I stopped at nothing to save innocent people from horrible fates. I know where you're coming from on this."

"Then why won't you let me go?"

"Because I don't want you collapsing on stage because you were too stubborn to listen to your father."

Trucy paused to think for a moment. "Well, okay. But only if you tell me the rest of that story."

"Alright, fair enough. Now, back to bed. I'll be with you in a minute."

Trucy made her way back to the room. As she did so, Phoenix had to chuckle to himself. They were not related by birth, and yet they had so much in common. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised if Trucy acted this way in front of her real parents. Sometimes, life could turn out to be quite interesting.

As Trucy got to her room and opened the door, she turned back to Phoenix.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Truce?"

"Are you still fighting now? You know, even though you're disbarred?"

Phoenix turned back to Trucy and gave her a big smile. "What do you think?"

Click clack, click clack, click clack.

In her private quarters, Thalassa Gramarye was only distantly aware of the noise from the train wheels. She was busy staring out the window, reflecting upon the last few days. She didn't want to. She would give anything to just erase the last few days from history itself. Alas, not even a Gramarye had that kind of magic.

Staring out the window, she began to see her reflection change shape. In her stead stood a man dressed in crimson, his brown eyes staring back at her, his expression neutral. His dark brown hair was straight and neat, although there were a few prominent split ends.

Thalassa fought back the urge to cry. Standing in the window was her deceased husband, a magician named Phoebus Justice.

It wasn't fair, she thought. Phoebus did not deserve to die so meaninglessly. A simple mistake in his act cost him his life. There was no warning, no explanation. For one moment, he was alive and well. And in the blink of an eye, all of his accomplishments and ambitions were stripped from him, as was his mortal coil.

She stared at the specter of her husband, and he stared back. There was silence. Then, her perception caught a flicker of emotion cross Phoebus' face. The emotion manifested itself in one word, a word that she feared above all else:

Why?

Thalassa bit her lip. She had no answer to that question. Where was the strength that Phoebus fell in love with when he was brought on as a guest to Troupe Gramarye so long ago? Where was the wisdom, the serenity, the cheerfulness that made her who she was?

"I didn't have a choice." she whispered to herself. "He's better off without me."

So you'd rather him be in the hands of a stranger? her thoughts echoed back.

"Whoever finds him can take better care of him than I ever could."

How do you know for sure?

"I-I don't."

Then you are lying to yourself. You don't know if you did the right thing or not.

Thalassa had no retort. She watched as Phoebus' expression became a small frown, his eyes filled with sorrow. What was he upset about? Was he berating Thalassa, or was he pitying her? Even with her advanced perceptions, she couldn't tell. And that made her all the more upset, all the more confused, all the more afraid.

She reached out towards the apparition of Phoebus. When her hand touched the windowpane, the image vanished, transforming back into a semi-transparent reflection of herself.

And at that point, she had noticed that the train had arrived in Los Angeles, where she had heard that Troupe Gramarye was currently performing. She shook herself, gathering up her things and got ready to depart. But as she got ready to reunite with her father, there was still feelings of doubt and mourning swirling around in her brain. She sighed, wondering if this would be the last time she would look at herself in the mirror ever again...

Thalassa felt her knees weaken ever so slightly as she approached the Sunshine Coliseum. Standing there waiting for her was her father, the great magician Magnifi Gramarye. She tried her best to brush all of her fears aside, and put on a pleasant smile.

"It's good to see you again, Father." she said.

"Likewise, my dear Thalassa." said Magnifi with a somber smile of his own. "I'm, very sorry about what happened to Phoebus. He was indeed a good man who did not deserve his fate."

You didn't need to tell me that. Thalassa thought to herself. "Th-thank you, Father." she said aloud, shuffling her feet. "Listen, I was wondering if I could rejoin Troupe Gramarye."

Magnifi's smile became broader. "Of course, Thalassa. You will always have a home with us. Never forget that."

"O-of course." said Thalassa.

Magnifi then raised an eyebrow. "Is something the matter, Thalassa? You look unwell."

"Oh, I was just thinking about Phoebus." Thalassa lied.

"GOTCHA! You should know better than to lie to me, child." chided Magnifi. "I noticed that you were rubbing your wrist, where one of your bracelets is missing. Did something happen?"

I abandoned my son. was what Thalassa wanted to say. Instead, she said; "I, don't really want to talk about it."

Magnifi walked towards his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "Thalassa, I am your father. You can tell me anything."

I abandoned my son, and now I feel terrible. "Father, I've been through a lot already. Give me some time to recover."

Magnifi gave Thalassa a stern look. "It's about Apollo, isn't it?"

Thalassa felt her heart freeze. He knew.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." she squeaked.

Magnifi sighed and shook his head. "Very well, I won't ask any more about it. But I expect you to tell me sooner or later."

I already hate myself, Father. I don't want you to hate me, too. Thalassa thought.

"Come, let's go see Zak and Valant." said Magnifi, putting an arm around Thalassa's shoulder. "I'm sure they will be glad to see you."

"O-okay." said Thalassa as she allowed Magnifi to lead her inside.



Zak and Valant were practicing a new illusion when Thalassa and Magnifi happened upon them.

"Ah, Thalassa. It's nice to see you again." said Valant. "Or, are you still going by Mrs. Justice?"

Thalassa flinched. "P-please don't call me that right now."

"Oh, terribly sorry. Faux pas." said the yellow-clad magician, using his scepter to obscure his eyes with his hat. "You have my deepest condolences."

"Mine as well." said Zak. "Thalassa, you aren't planning to return to Troupe Gramarye, are you?"

"Well, I don't really have anywhere else to go now that, Phoebus is gone." said Thalassa.

"Fair enough." said Zak. "Listen, if you need any support, always know that Valant and I are always here for you."

"Th-thank you, Zak." said Thalassa with a bow. "I'd, better get myself settled."

As she left the two magicians to their craft, she felt a weight on her chest. She didn't tell them about what happened after Phoebus' death. She couldn't. They'd hate her, just as she hated herself.

I abandoned my son, and now I feel terrible. Was it the right thing to do? If it was, why do I feel so guilty? Damn it, Phoebus. Why did you have to die...?

Time passed, not that Thalassa noticed all that much. On stage, she was just as radiant a cheerful as ever. But inside, she was in a hell she could not escape. Her heart felt as though it was being weighed down, and her mind was filled with questions. Should she try to get her son back? If she did, could she take care of him? If she tried and couldn't, would she be able to look at herself in the mirror ever again? Could she look at herself in the mirror now? None of these questions had answers.

And the worst part was that Magnifi knew, or at least had a general idea. But he breathed not a word to his disciples. This made Thalassa feel even worse. By keeping her secret to herself, she was hurting herself even more. But at the same time, she didn't want Zak and Valant to hate her. After all, who wouldn't hate a woman who abandoned her infant son?

These were the thoughts that dominated Thalassa's mind at every waking hour, and sometimes even in her dreams. But she stood firm, wearing a mask that fooled all except herself and her father. And even then, it didn't cover up everything.



One night after practice, Zak pulled her aside before she could head back to her hotel room.

"Thalassa, is something the matter?" he asked.

"No, not at all." said Thalassa, trying to sound confused. Inside, however, she was saying quite the opposite. "Why?"

"Well, it's just that Valant and I have noticed that you, well, how do I put this?" said Zak, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "You don't seem yourself. You haven't been yourself ever since Phoebus died almost three weeks ago."

Has it really been that long? It still feels like yesterday to me. "Zak, I loved Phoebus. And I miss him. But I can't grieve forever, can I?"

Zak sighed. "Thalassa, if something's bothering you, you can tell me or Valant. You know that, right?"

Would you say that after I told you how I abandoned my son? "Zak, you know I'm stronger than that. I'll be alright."

Zak wasn't convinced. "You sure."

"Zak, I'm fine."

Zak shrugged. "Well, alright then. Just try not to forget that we care about you, Thalassa. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." said Thalassa. But what she really wanted to say was: No, Zak. Come back. I'm not fine. I'm miserable. My husband is dead, I abandoned my son, and I'm so confused and scared. Please, help me.

As Zak left, Thalassa kicked herself. Here he was, reaching out to her, and she had to brush him away. All because she didn't want him to hate her. She had enough problems already. Adding that into the mix wouldn't help.



That night in bed, Thalassa couldn't get her conversation with Zak out of her mind. Should she have told him? Was it worth it to keep up this facade?

"It's better that he doesn't know." she whispered to herself.

Doesn't know what? That you're miserable? her thoughts echoed back.

"That I'm a horrible mother, and a horrible person."

You don't know that.

"I abandoned my son."

Would you be able to take care of him if you didn't?

"I-I don't know."

Then who's to say you're horrible?

"I didn't do the right thing."

Alright then, what was the right thing to do?

"I'm not sure."

If you don't know, how is anyone else supposed to judge?

Thalassa had no retort. She instead changed the subject. "I can't tell Zak or Valant. They'll hate me."

Father knows. He doesn't hate you.

"That's because he's my father. He's family."

And Zak and Valant aren't family?

"No. Well, not in the same sense of the word..."

Gotcha! You're lying to yourself, Thalassa. Zak and Valant care as much about you as your father does. They're worried. You should tell them.

"I can't."

Why not?

Thalassa fell the sleep without answering that question. Mainly because she couldn't without going in circles. But even if she didn't want Zak and Valant to hate her, she couldn't keep everything a secret forever. Someday, somehow, something had to give...

Friday night was Poker Night for Troupe Gramarye. It was a tradition started by Zak, who was always fascinated with poker. Every week, he would try to best Magnifi and Thalassa, and every week he failed. Even so, it was a fun activity for the troupe.

But tonight was different.

When Thalassa approached the table set up outside the Sunshine Coliseum, only Zak was there. Magnifi and Valant were nowhere to be seen.

"Zak, what's going on?" Thalassa asked. "Where are Father and Valant?"

"We agreed that you and I should have some alone time." said Zak, shuffling the cards.

"Alone time?"

Zak looked Thalassa in the eye. "Thalassa, we all know something's wrong. We all know you're not yourself. Maybe this is about Phoebus, maybe it isn't. Tonight, I plan to find out."

"How?"

"Well, it's like I always said." said Zak with a grin. "If you want to know a man, you have to compete."

Thalassa had to raise an eyebrow. "You mean you want to play a game of cards with me and find out what I'm thinking?"

"It hasn't failed me before." said Zak with a hearty laugh.

Thalassa sighed. There was no dissuading Zak on this, she could tell. Besides, even with all the turmoil, she was still a great poker player. How harmful could it be?

"Alright, if you insist." said Thalassa, taking a seat. With that, Zak smiled and dealt the cards.



"Full House."

"Four Aces."

Sure enough, Thalassa was right. They had played four hands, and each hand, Thalassa managed to beat Zak thanks to her perception.

"Alright, one more." said Zak, dealing the cards once again.

Thalassa studied her hand carefully. Ace of Hearts, Jack of Hearts, Ten of Hearts, Ace of Spades, Three of Diamonds. It was a decent hand, but which cards to get rid of? She looked at Zak, and perceived that his hand was pretty good, as well.

"I'll take two." she said, removing the two off-suit cards from her hand.

"And the dealer take three." said Zak.

When Thalassa drew her two new cards, she wish she hadn't. They were the King and Queen of Hearts.

"Alright, time for the showdown." said Zak, laying out his cards. "I have four Fours. What do you have, Thalassa?"

Thalassa couldn't answer. She stared long and hard at the cards in her hand, a memory beginning to surface in her mind...



"Well, did you tell your father yet?"

Thalassa Justice, who was currently with child, smiled shyly. "I don't know, Phoebus. I'm too nervous. Why don't you tell him?"

"Why me?" asked Phoebus, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "He's your father, isn't he?"

"I-I know." said Thalassa, beginning to blush. "I'm, just nervous. After all, we've only been married a year."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better about calling him? Thalassa, he's going to skin me alive!"

"Oh, he's not that bad." said Thalassa with a giggle. "Listen, let's settle this."

"How?"

"One game of cards. If I win, you tell Father. If you win, I will."

Phoebus gave Thalassa a chiding smile. "You really think I'm going to fall for that? You never lose at cards."

"Look, do you want to settle this or not?" said Thalassa.

Phoebus sighed. Of course, they both knew the answer. "Alright, fine. One game."

Thalassa dealt the cards, and looked carefully at her hand. She then looked at Phoebus. Her perceptions told her that he had a good hand as well.

"I'll take one." said Phoebus.

"And the dealer takes three." said Thalassa.

The cards were dealt, and Thalassa had to suppress a smile. Phoebus sighed.

"I have a Straight." he said, laying his cards out. "Dare I ask what you have?"

"Royal Flush of Hearts." said Thalassa, laying out her cards. "Read 'em and weep."

Phoebus chuckled and shook his head. "I knew it. Somehow, I knew it. Alright, I'll call Magnifi in the morning."

"Thanks, Phoebus." said Thalassa. "Oh, one more thing."

"What is it?"

"I love you."

Phoebus smiled back. "As do I, Thalassa. As do I."



"Thalassa?"

When Zak's words brought her back to reality, Thalassa found that her hands were trembling. There was no hiding now.

"I, can't."

"What?"

Thalassa laid her cards on the table, tears in her eyes. "I can't lie to you anymore, Zak. There's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" asked Zak.

Thalassa took a deep breath to collect herself. "Zak, do you remember when I said that Phoebus and I had a baby?"

Zak paused to think for a moment. "Yeah, I remember Magnifi saying something about that. Now that you mention it, where is he? You certainly didn't have him when you returned to Troupe Gramarye."

Thalassa sighed. "I don't know."

Zak raised an eyebrow. "How can that be?"

"When Phoebus died, I abandoned my son." said Thalassa. The words felt like she was slitting her own wrists. "I, just didn't think I could take care of him. Every time I saw him, I saw Phoebus, and it made me feel miserable. So, I left him."

"It sounds like you're still miserable." said Zak. "Thalassa, why are you telling me this?"

"I didn't want you to hate me." whimpered Thalassa.

"Thalassa, why would I hate you?"

"Because in a twist of tragic irony, I did something that no mother should ever do!" said Thalassa as she began to weep. "I feel like such a heel! And I'm afraid if I tell anyone, they'll think the same! I'm so scared and miserable, and I don't know what to do anymore!"

She was so busy crying, she didn't see Zak cross the distance between them. She squeaked in surprise when he pulled her into an embrace.

"It's alright, Thalassa." he said. "I don't hate you. It's impossible to hate you."

"Wh-what?" stammered Thalassa. "But I..."

"Thalassa, I can't tell you if what you did was right or wrong." said Zak. "That's for the future to decide. What I can tell you is that you shouldn't have to shoulder this alone. We were worried about you."

"Y-you mean you don't hate me?" asked Thalassa.

Zak released her and smiled. "Thalassa, who could possibly hate you? You're strong, kind, and caring. Your eyes do more than read minds. They're soft and gentle, like an embrace. Phoebus was a lucky man to have you as his wife. And it would be a shame to see the eyes that he fell in love with lose their flicker because you're in pain. I want to help you get through this, Thalassa. So do Valant and your father."

Thalassa paused for a moment. "Zak, could we stay like this for a while longer?"

"Anything for you, Thalassa."

Zak then wrapped his arms around Thalassa again as she did the same to him. Thalassa felt a great sense of relief and comfort. It was almost as if time had stopped, and this moment was all there was.

See? That wasn't so bad. her inner voice chimed in. Zak doesn't hate you at all. He wants to help you. He cares a lot about you. He...

Just then, an image of Phoebus came to her mind. She started feeling uneasy again.

Oh, great. Now what am I going to do...?

When Thalassa opened her eyes, she found herself not in her bedroom, but in a beautiful meadow. She looked around for a brief moment to see if anyone was around, but it seemed like she was all alone.

Then, a familiar voice shook her to her very core.

"So, you found someone to help you through this."

Thalassa spun around, and there stood her deceased husband, Phoebus Justice. Her knees became weak.

"Ph-Phoebus." she stammered. "I-it's not what you think. Z-Zak's just a friend."

Phoebus sighed and shook his head. "Thalassa, why do you feel the need to justify this to me? I'm dead."

"I-I know." said Thalassa. "It's just that..."

"You're having the same feelings for Zak that you had for me."

Thalassa bit her lip, and began shaking like a leaf.. "I-I can explain..."

"There's no need to explain." said Phoebus. "I'm dead, and you need someone to support you in your hour of need. Nothing wrong with that."

"No, there is!" Thalassa insisted as she began to cry. "I already abandoned Apollo, Phoebus! I don't want to abandon you, too! I love you!"

"Thalassa, you're not abandoning me. All you're doing is making yourself miserable." said Phoebus. "Why don't you do what makes you happy?"

"I abandoned our son, but that didn't make me happy." Thalassa sobbed.

Phoebus sighed, and put his hand on Thalassa's shoulder. "Thalassa, that was a no-win situation. You would've been miserable not matter what you decided. But this isn't the same thing. You're worried about abandoning me? Well, I'm worried that you're going to lose that beautiful smile that I fell in love with when we first met."

"But..."

Before Thalassa could continue, Phoebus put a finger to her lips. "You can still miss me, Thalassa. I miss you, too. But you can't be miserable forever. What do you want out of life now?"

Thalassa thought for a moment. What did she want?

"Well, I think I want to try again." she said after a pause. "I want to have another family, and prove that I'm a good mother and a good person."

"Then do that." said Phoebus with a smile. "I'm sure Zak would be very happy with your decision. He's very lucky."

Thalassa then blushed. "You know, I think Zak always had his eye on me. And I think the only reason he let me leave with you is because he wanted me to be happy."

"Exactly." said Phoebus. "And now, our roles are reversed. Do what makes you happy, Thalassa."

"I will." said Thalassa, wrapping her arms around Phoebus. "Thank you, Phoebus. I'll miss you."

"As will I, Thalassa." said Phoebus. With that, they shared one last, passionate kiss.

***

Thalassa awoke in her bed, and felt as though a great burden had tumbled from her shoulders. No more doubt clouded her mind. Although she missed Phoebus deeply, she knew not to let her self-imposed guilt hold her back. For the first time in a long while, she knew exactly what to do.

"We are gathered here today to join Mr. Shadi Enigmar and Ms. Thalassa Gramarye in holy matrimony. Whosoever believes that these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

Thalassa felt butterflies in her stomach. She half-expected someone to speak up, to force her into conflict again. But when nothing occurred, she breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was now behind her.

"Have you the rings?" the minister asked.

In a brief display of his craft, Zak produced the ring from behind Thalassa's ear. Thalassa had to stifle a giggle as she did the same. Even in moments like this, they had to show their craft.

"Do you, Shadi Enigmar, take Ms. Gramarye to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do." said Zak without hesitating.

"And do you, Thalassa Gramarye, take Mr. Enigmar to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"

Thalassa took a deep breath. This was it. This was the beginning of her new life, her chance to redeem herself.

"I do." she said breathlessly.

"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

As soon as Thalassa locked lips with Zak, time seemed to stand still. She briefly looked up, and saw an image of her first husband's ghost watching over them. She smiled to herself.

We went through so much together, even if it was for a brief time. she thought to herself. Thank you, Phoebus. And thank you for allowing me to share the love we had with someone else.

Don't try to fool yourself, Thalassa Enigmar. an inner voice echoed back. You were the only one holding yourself back.



A few years later, Thalassa found herself with child once again.

"So, did you tell Magnifi yet?" asked Zak.

Thalassa blushed. "No. I'm too nervous. Why don't you?"

"Me?! Do you know what Valant will do to me if he found out?!"

"You're not telling Valant, are you?"

Zak sighed. "Alright, we have to settle this somehow. What do you propose?"

"I thought you'd never ask." said Thalassa with a coy smile. "One game of cards. If you win, I'll tell Father. If I win, you have to tell him."

"Against my better judgement, I accept." said Zak with a wide grin.

They dealt the cards, and Thalassa took a good look at her hand. Ace of Hearts, King of Clubs, Queen of Diamonds, Jack of Hearts, and Ten of Hearts. It was a pretty good hand, and she could tell that Zak had a good hand himself.

"I'll take three." said Zak.

"And the dealer takes two." said Thalassa, discarding the cards that were off-suit.

As soon as she drew the two cards, she had to smile. King of Hearts, and Queen of Hearts.

Phoebus, you old devil. she thought to herself.

"Time for the showdown." said Zak. "I have Four Threes. What do you have, Thalassa?"

"Royal Flush of Hearts." said Thalassa, laying her cards on the table.

"Dang. Looks like I lost again." said Zak with a chuckle. "Alright, I'll tell Magnifi in the morning."

"Thank you." said Thalassa with a smile.

"Oh, Thalassa?"

"What is it, Zak?"

"I'm glad to see you smile again."

Thalassa's smile broadened. "Thank you, Zak."



A few short months after that card game, in the year 2011, another miracle was bestowed upon Thalassa.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Enigmar. It's a girl."

Thalassa looked at the small child as she cradled her in her arms.

"Wow. She looks just like you." said Zak. "Have you decided what to name her?"

"Actually, I have." said Thalassa. "A sort of reminder to myself. A reminder to always be true to yourself, and not to put up a wall between yourself and those you care about."

"So, what's her name?"

"Trucy."

Zak smiled. "Trucy Enigmar. I like it."

Thalassa looked down at her newborn child. "Hello, Trucy~."

The baby cooed and giggled as Thalassa cradled her. "Say, Zak. Maybe when she opens her eyes, you can introduce her to Mr. Hat."

Zak raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to startle the poor thing."

"Oh, I don't think it'll be that bad." said Thalassa. "Besides, I want her to be a great magician, and carry on the Gramarye name. She should have a taste of our craft."

"Well, mother knows best, I suppose." said Zak. "Besides, she has you with her. I think she'll be alright."

Thalassa nodded and looked down at her daughter. This was the chance she wanted. The chance to be a good mother, and to raise a proper family. Perhaps one day, when Trucy was older, she would take her to meet a man who was both a complete stranger, yet shared a lot in common with her. A man whose future was unknown, yet also bright. A man who shared a lot with his parents.

A man named Apollo Justice.

*ba-dump* *ba-dump*

Lauren Paups' heart was starting to pound as she saw the Tender Lender building in front of her. It had been almost a week since the incident at Gatewater Land, where she was involved in a fake kidnapping that turned into a murder case. And she was now standing before what might have been considered the catalyst of it all: A shady money lending facility with strong ties to the criminal underworld. She began to lose her nerve.

"No, it's alright Lauren." she muttered to herself, trying to boost her confidence. "It's not your fault. She won't kill the messenger. Besides, she might be wondering why Lance hasn't paid her. She should know what happened."

Taking a deep breath to gather her courage, she opened the door and went inside.



What she found was not what she expected. It looked like a standard office to be sure, but there were no customers or papers to be found. Instead, there sat a young woman in a brown dress and a bandaged head, setting a platter of cookies and a tea kettle on her desk. She looked up and noticed Lauren.

"Yes? May I... help you?" asked the woman in a sweet yet eerie voice.

Lauren gulped. "Um, are you Viola Cadaverini?"

"Yes." said Viola. "I do apologize... but you have caught me at an... awkward hour."

"Awkward?"

"It is currently my tea time." explained Viola. "It's my policy. No interruptions... during tea time. If you want to take out a loan..."

"Oh, it's not that." said Lauren. "I just want to, talk."

"Oh?" asked Viola, becoming intrigued. "What about?"

*ba-dump* *ba-dump*

Lauren's heart began to pound again. "No, it's okay Lauren. She won't get mad."

"Who are you talking to?" asked Viola, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, no one." said Lauren, becoming a bit embarrassed. "Um, should I come back at a different time?"

Viola paused to think. "Actually, why don't you join me, Ms...."

"Oh. Um, I'm Lauren. Lauren Paups."

"A pleasure... to meet you." said Viola. "As I was saying, Ms. Paups, why don't you join me? I usually have tea time alone. It would be nice... to share the experience... and my cookies... with someone else. Hee... hee... hee..."

*ba-dump* *ba-dump*

Viola's telltale laugh sent chills up Lauren's spine. She had heard plenty of rumors of Viola's dubious culinary skills. She was afraid that she wouldn't leave the room alive.

"No, calm down Lauren." she whispered to herself. "You can't show weakness. It's just tea. It's not going to hurt you."

"You're talking to no one again." observed Viola. "Are you alright, Ms. Paups?"

"Oh, fine, fine." lied Lauren, sitting across from the eerie money lender.

"If you say so." said Viola, pouring some tea for them both. "So... to what do I owe this visit?"

Lauren took a deep breath. This was it, now or never. "Actually, I come on behalf of Lance Amano."

"Oh, him." said Viola, her tone becoming sour. "He is very late on his payment. I was sure... he would've gotten the message by now."

"Well, actually, he won't be able to pay you back at all." said Lauren.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because he was arrested for murder."

Viola raised an eyebrow. "Murder? I heard that the Amano group got into some legal trouble about a week ago... but I don't remember murder being involved."

"Well, it's a long story." said Lauren, fidgeting in her seat. "You see, Lance tried to kidnap himself and get the ransom money from his father to pay off your debt."

"Why should he feel the need to do that?" asked Viola, more than a bit confused. "Up until recently, the Amano group has been very well-off."

"Yeah, but Lance was spending beyond his means. That's why he borrowed from you." said Lauren.

"How do you know all this, Ms. Paups?" asked Viola, sipping her tea.

"I, was part of it." said Lauren. "Lance got me and my father to help him with his plan. But then there was some sort of dispute. I don't know what happened, but Lance..."

Lauren bit her lip. Tears were in her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to continue.

"Is something wrong, Ms. Paups?" asked Viola, concerned.

"Lance, killed my father and tried to make me believe I did it." said Lauren as tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I-I really thought he was doing this for us. We were *sniff* very close. He said he was using the money so that we could *sniffle* run away together. But... but..."

"It was... all a lie." said Viola, tears marring her own vision. "He used you."

"*sniff* Yes." said Lauren, trying desperately to control herself.

Viola sighed. "Actually... I can relate."

"Wh-what do you mean?" asked Lauren, her sorrow slowly being replaced with curiosity.

"Before I took over this business... it was owned by a man named Furio Tigre." said Viola. "Last year, we were involved in a major traffic accident. I... almost died."

"Oh dear." said Lauren, positively speechless.

"My grandfather was furious." continued Viola. "He demanded that Don Tigre pay my hospital bill, which was... quite expensive. When I got out of the hospital... he offered me a job here. I worked for him... and made him espresso."

"Why did you do that?" asked Lauren.

"I thought... he really cared about me." said Viola, beginning to cry herself. "But in reality... he was only scared of my grandfather. He even committed murder... and used me as an accomplice to frame an innocent woman... just so that he could get the money to pay my bill. I felt so... betrayed. Hee... hee... hee..."

There was a lot of sorrow in Viola's laugh. Lauren began to panic again. "Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Ms. Cadaverini. I didn't mean to..."

"You have nothing... to apologize for." said Viola, smiling through her tears. "It's... perfectly alright."

Lauren was dumbfounded. "W-wow. You're, nothing like I expected." she said, sipping her tea. "I-I almost thought I wasn't going to leave this room alive."

"I get that a lot, sadly." said Viola, gazing into her tea. "Being the granddaughter... to a crime lord... is very lonely. Everyone... is afraid to talk to me. That's why..."

"You trusted Mr. Tigre so much." said Lauren.

Viola nodded.

"Wow. Compared to you, my problems seem so small." said Lauren glumly.

"Not at all." said Viola, shaking her head. "They aren't smaller. Just... different."

"Maybe so." said Lauren, finishing her tea. "Hey, thanks for listening, Ms. Cadaverini."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ms. Paups." said Viola. "By the way... we do have an opening her at Tender Lender. Are you interested?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll be alright." said Lauren. "After helping Lance kidnap himself, I'm trying not to get myself involved in any more crime." She gasped. "Oops! Was that out loud? I'm sorry, I..."

Viola smiled. "Hee... hee... hee... It's perfectly alright... Ms. Paups. The criminal underworld is not for everyone. Still, you are welcome to join me for tea any time. I really... enjoy your company."

Lauren gave Viola a small smile. "I'll think about it. Thank you again, Ms. Cadaverini."

With that, she left feeling a bit better than when she entered, and Viola was content with the prospect of a new friend. It's interesting what some empathy over tea can do for people.

The sun had begun to set. It was the end of a productive day for Sherry Blossom, a simple flower girl. She began walking home, whistling to herself.

As she walked, she heard footsteps behind her. Thinking it was nothing, she continued to walk and whistle.

She heard the footsteps again. Becoming fearful, she quickened her pace.

The footsteps became louder. She broke into a run.

The footsteps kept pace with her. She became confused and frightened. Who was chasing her?

Whoever it was, they caught up to her and tackled her, causing her to spill her basket of flowers to the ground.

As petals of all sorts danced in the breeze, there was a scent in the air besides that of flowers. An unmistakable scent.

The scent of blood.

Bright lights flashed, causing the flower girl to stir. When her eyes grew accustomed to the light, the figure that tackled her was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was surrounded by police officers. One of them walked up to her and flashed his badge.

"Ms. Sherry Blossom, you are under arrest for the murder of Dr. Daniel Ryan."

Yes, I know the pun names are bad. Deal with it.

Why am I here? I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this.

Kinda pitiful that these were my first thoughts stepping into the courthouse, huh? But, I can't deny it. That's how I felt. Well, that and the feeling of the world on my shoulders.

"Is something the matter?" asked a calm voice.

I looked up to see my boss, a man of infinite calm. Honestly, I couldn't compare to him. He was so composed, refined, nonchalant. I, on the other hand...

"N-no. Nothing's wrong, Mr. Gavin, sir." I said, smoothing out my brown dress (seriously, why didn't I buy a business suit before my first trial? Not that I looked underdressed or anything, but still).

My boss, Kristoph Gavin, merely laughed and shook his head. "Brisby, it's alright to be nervous. This is your first trial, after all."

"It's more than that." I said. "This is a murder trial. My client's life is on the line. If I mess up, her blood is on my hands. Why did you make me take this case?"

"Because you have potential, Brisby." said Kristoph, adjusting his spectacles. "Besides, you're making a mountain out of a molehill. This is a murder case to be sure, but we have a significant advantage."

"Mind telling me what it is?" I asked.

"Well, do you believe your client is guilty?"

"Not a chance." I said almost automatically.

"Then there you go. You're already on the path to victory."

If that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn't work. "You're more qualified than I am, Mr. Gavin. You should be helping this girl, not me."

"True." said Kristoph smugly. When he didn't follow up, I raised an eyebrow.

"There's a 'but' in there, Mr. Gavin. There has to be. Or do you somehow like seeing me a nervous wreck?"

Kristoph scoffed. "Brisby, do you think you're the only one who's a nervous wreck? What of your client?"

As if on cue, I felt a tug at my dress. I turned around, and my heart sank. Staring into my soft amber eyes was a little girl, barely a teenager. She looked like someone out of a fairy tale, with a yellow dress, green shawl, tangled pink locks, and sad blue eyes.

This was Sherry Blossom, a simple flower girl arrested for murder. Seriously, what's the world coming to when we're hauling in little kids for manslaughter?

"It's going to be okay, Ms. Blossom." I said softly. "We'll get through this somehow."

"You see? You seem more confident already." said Kristoph with a smile.

I looked over at Kristoph with a confused look. "You mean I didn't sound condescending or patronizing?"

"Not at all." said Kristoph. "Like I said, you're just nervous. I felt the same way at my first trial."

That didn't sit well with me. "You were nervous? You, the Coolest Attorney in the West? You gotta be kidding."

"I'm only human, Brisby." said Kristoph with a shrug. "The point is that everyone gets nervous in situations like this. Even if this wasn't a murder case, you'd probably be nervous. What matters is that you try your best, and prove to yourself that you can pull through. It's almost time. Make me proud."

With that, he headed to the courtroom. Nervously, I followed, my client not far behind.

Oh, pardon me. I haven't introduced myself. My name's Michaiah Brisby. I'm a defense attorney, hired by Gavin and Co. Law Offices. I know it sounds like I doubt myself, but honestly, that's not the issue. I know my own skills, my own potential. The problem is that alone will not guarantee victory. And if I fail, this innocent flower girl will suffer. I wasn't about to let that happen.

At least, not intentionally.

The atmosphere was alive with mumbling banter and cross conversation. Standing across from me was the prosecutor, an elderly gentleman wearing opaque glasses and a grey suit. Was it just me, or did he look kinda smug? Before I could explore further, the Judge banged his gavel, demanding our attention.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Ms. Sherry Blossom." said he. "Are both sides ready?"

"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor." said the prosecutor in a screechy voice. I tried to show my readiness, but the words were stuck in my throat.

"Ms. Brisby, is the defense ready?" the Judge asked sternly.

"Eep! Uh, yessir, Your Honor." I said practically in one breath.

The prosecutor snickered. "It certainly doesn't sound like it to me. Your Honor, I wish to ascertain the defense's readiness."

Kristoph sighed. "If you're trying to intimidate us, it won't work, Mr. Payne."

Sure as hell worked on me. I thought to myself, almost shrinking behind the banister.

"Stand firm, Brisby." said Kristoph. "This is a common tactic that Winston Payne likes to pull on greenhorn defense attorneys. You can't let him get away with it."

Easier said than done. I thought. Nevertheless, I straightened myself up and fixed my draping black ponytail. "I am indeed ready, Your Honor."

The Judge raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If this is so, then permit me to ask you a few questions about the case, Ms. Brisby."

"Um, sure."

"First of all, what is the name of the victim?"

"This should be an easy one." said Kristoph. "It says so right..."

"In the Court Record, right?" I said, finishing Kristoph's thought.

"Good girl." said Kristoph with a nod.

Right away, I checked the record. There it was, in black and white.

"Dr. Daniel Ryan, Your Honor." I said. "He was a forensic detective, specializing in chemical analysis and poisons."

"Very good." said the Judge with a nod. "Now, what was the cause of death?"

Cause of death, cause of death... Ah-ha! Right in the autopsy report.

"He was stabbed in the back some time between 4:30 and 5:00 PM." I said.

"Indeed." said Payne, sounding rather smug. "And the murder weapon was this pocketknife, found on the defendant's person and caked with the victim's blood."

"The court accepts the murder weapon into evidence." said the Judge. This sounded wrong note to me.

"Mr. Payne, why would my client have this? I'm pretty sure flower girls don't usually carry knives."

Payne scoffed. "You obviously haven't grown up here in LA, Ms. Brisby. The streets are dangerous, especially at night."

Okay, he kinda got me there. "E-even so, that's stretching it a little. There's no motive."

"Well, we'll just have to find out, won't we?" said Payne.

I had to smile at that. "That sounds like an admission that you don't know what her motive was."

" Th-that doesn't matter." insisted Payne. "There's more evidence pointing to Ms. Blossom being the killer."

He then presented two photos. One was of the crime scene, with a bloody wound in Dr. Ryan's upper back. The other appeared to be an overturned flower basket, and the flowers had blood splatter on them.

"I wish to draw the court's attention to this here." said Payne, pointing to what looked like a trail of footprints in the first photo. "These are Ms. Blossom's footprints. We followed them further along down the bank, where Ms. Blossom was on the ground with her basket overturned, as shown in the second photo. A DNA analysis shows that the blood in the second photo matches that of the victim. Your Honor, the conclusion is clear. Ms. Blossom was the murderer, and she was trying to flee the scene!"

"Eep!"

I recoiled and shrank behind the banister again. Even without a motive, this evidence was pretty damning.

"The court accepts both photos into evidence." said the Judge. "Mr. Payne, you may call your first witness."

"The prosecution wishes to call the defendant, Ms. Blossom, to the stand." said Payne. "She has some explaining to do."

"Very well." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Ms. Blossom, please take the stand."

"Brisby, get up. This is no time to panic." said Kristoph. "The trial has only begun."

Only begun? There was going to be more of this? I felt sick to my stomach. And seeing a timid young girl take the stand didn't help.



"Witness, please state your name and occupation." said the Judge.

The girl whispered something inaudible.

"Um, witness, please speak up." said the Judge.

The girl's mumbling became slightly clearer, emphasis on slightly. Payne seemed pleased with himself.

"Witness, if you don't speak up, I'll have to treat you as a difficult witness." the Judge said, losing his patience.

"Sh-sherry Blossom. I sell flowers." said Blossom.

"Ms. Blossom, were you or were you not in People Park between the hours of 4 and 5:00 PM on March 23rd?" asked Payne.

"I-I was." said Blossom meekly. "I always am."

"Then, give us a testimony about what happened during that time." said Payne.

"Wh-what is there to tell?" asked Blossom, sounding more confused than defiant.

Payne snickered. "Don't play innocent, Ms. Blossom. We all know that..."

" You're leading the witness." said Kristoph. "Honestly, I thought even you would be above that."

"Er, very well." said Payne, clearing his throat. "Just give us your testimony, Ms. Blossom."

"O-okay." said Blossom.

"Brisby, pay close attention." said Kristoph. "Your time to shine is about to arrive."



"At 4:00, I was selling flowers along the riverbank." said Blossom. "At five, I stared walking home. Suddenly, someone started chasing me. Before I could get away, they tackled me to the ground. The next thing I knew, I was under arrest."

The Judge closed his eyes in deep thought. "Mr. Payne, there's nothing in this testimony about the murder."

"Well of course. Do you expect the poor thing to incriminate herself?" said Payne.

"Hmm, you have a point." said the Judge.

Honestly, I wanted to scream. If Payne had a point with that circular logic, I was the Queen of Spain. My rage was interrupted by a chilling statement.

"Ms. Brisby, please begin your cross-examination."

I'm not gonna lie, that caught me off-guard.

"Y-your Honor, there must be some mistake." I said. "The burden of proof is on the prosecution, not me."

"Right now, your client is the prosecution's witness." said the Judge, shaking his head and giving me a stern look. "Meaning you must conduct the cross-examination."

I turned to Kristoph for help, but he just shrugged.

"This is how it works, Brisby." said Kristoph. "Don't fret. You may be able to turn this to your advantage."

I didn't see how, but I knew there was no use fighting it. I took a deep breath before proceeding.



"At 4:00, I was selling flowers along the riverbank."

" Did you manage to sell any?" I asked.

"A few here and there." said Blossom.

"To whom?"

"I-I don't know. Should I?"

That was a good question. If Payne was correct (not to say I agreed with him at all), she should know the identity of at least one of the people who bought flowers from her.

"Ms. Blossom, do you remember this man?" I asked, showing a picture of Dr. Ryan.

"Oh, yes. He's a regular customer."

That's exactly what I needed. "Your Honor, I highly doubt that this girl would murder someone who regularly does..."

" " Payne interrupted with a squawk. "You're too quick to jump to conclusions, Ms. Brisby. Let the witness speak for herself."

"Objection sustained." said the Judge. "Witness?"

"Well, I don't know him personally. He just bought flowers from me." said Blossom.

I growled. I thought I had something there. Now I was back to square one.

"Witness, add this to your testimony." said the Judge.

"O-okay." said Blossom.

"That man only buys flowers from me. I don't know him personally."

" Did you meet him again the day of the murder?" I inquired.

"No, I didn't." said Blossom. "I didn't expect him, either. It wasn't a day he usually showed up."

"Careful, Brisby." Kristoph warned. "There's a contradiction there."

He was right. I knew he was right. But if I called her out on it, what did that mean for my case?

"It's important that these things are cleared up, Brisby." said Kristoph. "Don't worry."

Easy for you to say. I thought. "Your Honor, I request that this statement be added to the testimony."

"Indeed." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Witness?"

"O-okay." said Blossom.

"That man wasn't there today. I wasn't expecting him, either."

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Ms. Blossom, I'm afraid no one in the court believes that."

"Huh?" asked Blossom, genuinely confused.

I presented the photo of the crime scene. "We all know that Dr. Ryan was in People Park on the day of the murder. If the murder did take place on the riverbank, where you work, you must've noticed something."

"B-but I didn't. I never said I did." said Blossom.

I sighed and shook my head. "Ms. Blossom, I want to believe you. But as you said, your shift didn't end until five. How could you have missed this?"

"P-please stop." Blossom whimpered.

"Why, because you're afraid I'll catch you lying to me?"

Blossom squeaked in terror, and pink petals seemed to fly out of her clothes. The audience sounded confused. Payne looked smug.

"Order! Order in the court!" bellowed the Judge, banging his gavel. "Ms. Brisby, you say that your client is lying?"

Crap. This was just what Payne wanted. I shrank behind the banister again.

"W-well, not lying per se." I said. "M-merely that we might be missing something."

"Brisby, you said lying." said Kristoph sternly. "You can't easily take that back."

Great. Now my coach was against me. This was not a good sign.

"Ms. Blossom, do you have a response to this?" asked the Judge.

"I-I'm not lying." whispered Blossom. "I didn't see that man in People Park. Honest."

Wait a tick. In People Park? No wonder I thought she was lying.

"It appears this isn't so much a lie as it is unintentionally misleading." I said. "Tell me, Ms. Blossom. Did you see Dr. Ryan at all on March 23rd?"

"Well, yes. I saw him on my way to work that morning. I see him most mornings. Why?"

"Because I think you're confused." I said.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Ms. Brisby." said the Judge.

"Don't you see, Your Honor? She's saying what we want to hear." I said.

"I couldn't agree more." said Payne with a sneer.

"I'm not finished." I said. "She thinks that if she admits that she saw Dr. Ryan that day, it'll incriminate her. But as it so happens, she saw him in the morning, outside of People Park. That fact is far from incriminating!"

"B-but..."

"There's still a problem? Right you are, Mr. Payne." I said, feeling some momentum building. "Because there's still no explanation for this."

I presented the autopsy report.

" The report clearly states that Dr. Ryan was killed some time between 4:30 and 5:00. If Ms. Blossom was on the riverbank that entire time, how could she have missed it? The answer is simple."

"It is?" asked the Judge.

"Well, sure." I said. "The answer is that she moved along the bank."

"Wh-what do you mean?" asked Payne.

"Well, I'm no flower saleswoman, so I can't say how it works exactly." I said. "But perhaps there are certain parts of the bank she's on at certain times of the day, in order to get more customers. Or perhaps she wanders up and down the bank. In both scenarios, it's entirely possible that she and Dr. Ryan missed each other entirely!"

"Gah!"

Payne recoiled from my logic. Blossom seemed to look quite relieved.

"Good show, Brisby." said Kristoph. "That ought to get the Judge thinking twice."

"It's not over yet." I said. "There's still something I need to ask, Ms. Blossom."

"Oh?"

"You were attacked before you were arrested, correct?"

"Y-yes."

"Are you willing to testify about it?"

" What does that have to do with anything?!" protested Payne.

"More than you know, obviously." I said. "Ms. Blossom?"

Blossom seemed to shudder. I don't blame her, but at the same time, I needed that information to build my case.

"Ms. Blossom, it's okay." I said soothingly. "I'm here to help."

"I was, so scared." said Blossom in a soft whisper.

"I know." I said. "But I need to know what happened."

Blossom shook her head. "I can't. I'm sorry."

I sighed. This wasn't going to get anywhere. "Very well, you don't have to."

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. "Brisby, what are you doing?"

"She's suffering enough." I said. "I don't want to push her."

"Sometimes you have to, Brisby." said Kristoph.

"I'll find another way." I insisted. "It's not like I'm dropping the subject."

" Unless you get her to testify, then you are."

I looked my boss straight in the eye. "I am not about to traumatize a little girl to save her, and that's final."

Kristoph shrugged. "Very well then."

"If we're done with this, I'd like to move on." said Payne. "The police have found an eyewitness who claims to have seen the deed, and was the person who called the police. Without further ado, the prosecution would like to call Ms. Daisy Cutter to the stand."

"Very well." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Ms. Cutter, please take the stand."

I briefly wondered if I was wrong not to push my client. Maybe I was. But at least I'd have the strength of my convictions to admit that if I lost. But if I had anything to say about it, that was going to be a big if. 'Cause I might've been nervous before, but I sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight.

Sorry if it doesn't look as authentic as it could be. The Witness Testimony smiley doesn't work.

"Witness, please state your name and occupation."

The woman standing at the witness stand was a rather attractive woman. Smooth complexion, golden hair, bright blue eyes, and a pretty white dress. She held a flower in her hand (three guesses as to what it was), and smelled it before answering.

"Daisy Cutter, home decorator." she said. "Speaking of which this courtroom could use some sprucing up. It looks so lifeless."

"L-lifeless?" asked the Judge in surprise. "Well, what do you recommend?"

"Nothing major." said Cutter with a shrug. "Maybe some lilacs for the balconies, or perhaps some..."

"Okay, that's quite enough of that." I interrupted before it got out of hand. "Don't you have more important things to talk about, Ms. Cutter?"

"My job is not important?" asked Cutter slyly.

"We're referring to the murder." said Kristoph. "You claim to have witnessed the events of the murder two days ago, correct?"

"Oh, that." said Cutter. "Yeah, I did see that."

"In that case, please give us your testimony." said the Judge. "Although after this case, I might consider hiring you. I certainly don't want my courtroom to be lifeless."

"No one does, Your Honor." said Cutter, sniffing her flower again. "But, one thing at a time, I suppose."

"This might be troublesome, Brisby." said Kristoph, folding his arms.

"You don't actually believe she won over the Judge with that irrelevant nonsense, do you?" I asked.

"You'd be surprised." said Kristoph with a shrug. "The important thing is that we have to discredit her story."



"At around 4:45, I was walking through People Park, as is my wont." said Cutter. "At the riverbank, I saw a small figure stab a much taller person in the back and scamper off. I called the police right away on my cellphone, and left it to them."

"Well, seems straightforward enough." said Payne.

"Don't be so sure." said Kristoph. "There might be something yet."

"We'll see." said the Judge. "Ms. Brisby, please begin your cross-examination."

Kristoph was right. This testimony was very sparse. I needed a lot more if I was going to discredit anything.



"At the riverbank, I saw a small figure stab a much taller person in the back and scamper off."

" Ms. Cutter, could you be a tad more specific about what you saw?" I inquired.

"Depends." said Cutter. "What else is there for me to say?"

"Well, for example, which direction did the murderer go?"

"Well, she ran past him, I know that." said Cutter.

" So, you knew the killer was female." I said.

"Well, I know now." said Cutter. "I wasn't sure back when I saw it."

"A bit convenient, don't you think?" asked Kristoph.

I couldn't have agreed more. "Your Honor, I ask that Ms. Cutter be more specific about the sequence of events."

"Very well." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Witness?"

"If you insist." said Cutter with a sniff of her flower.

"I saw someone run up to a taller figure, stab him, and run past him."

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Ms. Cutter, does this scenario not seem odd to you?"

"How so?" asked Cutter.

"Put yourself in the killer's perspective." I said. "You're on the bank of a river. You kill someone on that bank and run past them. What critical mistake are you making?"

"Killing in the first place?" asked Cutter with a sniff of her flower.

"Granted." I said. "But that's not what I mean."

I presented the crime scene photo.

"What does that prove?" asked Payne. "If you're claiming that the killer didn't dispose of the body, it's possible that they didn't have time."

"That's assuming that the killer saw Ms. Cutter, which was not indicated." I countered. "But, that's only part of the puzzle. There is something here that's a bit more important."

"The court wishes for specifics, Ms. Brisby." said the Judge. "Which area of this photo is this 'critical mistake' you keep talking about?"

" " I said, pointing to the footprints. "Ms. Cutter, maybe you don't know this, but my client travels this bank every day as part of her job. Meaning she knows that she could leave footprints. If she killed Dr. Ryan, wouldn't she try not to give the police an obvious trail to follow?!"

"*sniff* Ah-choo!"

Cutter sneezed, but it obviously wasn't from a cold. The noise from the audience became almost unbearable until the Judge banged his gavel.

"Order! I said ORDER!" he barked. "Ms. Brisby, I don't see what you're trying to say. From what I see, the witness's testimony is in accordance with the evidence."

"That doesn't mean it's true." I said. "Keep in mind, Your Honor. No motive has been established."

" That's irrelevant to the matter at hand." squawked Payne. "You haven't disproved the witness' testimony."

"Then I require more testimony." I said. "Ms. Cutter, do you know what happened after you called the police?"

"How is that relevant?" asked Cutter.

"Every detail is relevant." I said, not backing down.

Cutter looked back at me with a smile. "Girl, you're looking for something that doesn't exist. Who cares what happened after I called the police?"

"I care." I said. "And besides, it's the only thing you can talk about right now."

"Well, we can start with some nice snapdragons overlooking the Judge's bench..."

"I mean that's relevant to the case." I groaned, palming my face.

"Oh." said Cutter. "Alright, if you insist."

"Very good, Brisby." said Kristoph. "I'm glad you chose not to back down this time."

"Still getting on my case for that?" I asked. "Listen, if this testimony matches with Ms. Blossom's, I can make some headway in this case."

"And if it doesn't?"

"I'll find a way to get back to that point." I said. "Trust me, Mr. Gavin. You haven't seen what I can do when I really cut loose."

"I look forward to it." said Kristoph.



"The police arrived ten minutes after I called." said Cutter. "I told them everything I saw, and they got right to work. I saw a few of them head off in the direction the murderer was running, probably to chase her."

"Hmm. It seems that the attacker Ms. Blossom was afraid of was the police." said the Judge.

"It would make sense." said Payne.

It would, but did it really? And did Payne really believe that? It was time to play my trump card.

"Your Honor, may I approach?" I asked.

"You may." said the Judge.

I left my position on the banister and walked over to Payne.

"Mr. Payne, what do you think of this testimony?" I inquired.

"M-me?" asked Payne, a bit confused. "Well, I think it's perfect."

"Do you now?" I said. "Because I think you have reason to doubt it."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Mr. Payne, ten minutes elapsed between the murder and the arrival of the police." I said. "If my client was really the killer, don't you think she would've been long gone by the time they got there?"

"W-well, that is a point." said Payne nervously. "But shouldn't you cross-examine...?"

"I'll get to her in a minute." I interrupted. "Right now, I'm talking to you, Mr. Payne. Doesn't it seem convenient that you found your top suspect by following a set of footprints made ten minutes ago?"

"Um, well..."

"And let's get into proper procedure, shall we?" I continued. "If you remember, Ms. Blossom said that she was tackled to the ground. Murder suspect or no, the officer that did that should lose their badge, wouldn't you say?"

"W-well, it should be looked into." said Payne. "But what does this have to do with the witness' testimony? She didn't see the police apprehend the suspect."

"That's not the point." I said. "The point is that this testimony doesn't fit into the bigger picture, and you know it."

"Th-that... GAH!"

Payne couldn't argue with my logic. The audience was in an uproar.

"Order, I will have order!" yelled the Judge, banging his gavel. "Mr. Payne, are you saying the witness' testimony is false?"

"N-not per se, Your Honor. Merely, odd." said Payne.

"Odd indeed." I said, turning back to Cutter. "Which brings us back to you, Ms. Cutter. What do you have to say to this?"

"You don't have any proof that I'm lying." said Cutter. "Your little tricks won't convince anyone."

"Seems to have convinced Mr. Payne." I said. "I suggest you explain yourself."

"There's nothing to explain!" Cutter protested. "I don't know anything about this! How could I?!"

"Ms. Brisby, you're badgering the witness." said the Judge sternly. "Step down."

Reluctantly, I did so.

"Court will now enter a ten minute recess." said the Judge. "Afterwards, we will decide if more testimony is warranted from Ms. Cutter. Court is adjourned."

He concluded with a bang of his gavel. Ten minutes. Just enough time to collect my thoughts and figure out what to do next. Because right now, I wasn't winning. Merely surviving. And while that's a good precedent, it's not the same thing as winning the trial...

"Interesting tactic, Brisby." said Kristoph. "It's no easy feat to get the other side to admit they're wrong. I suppose that was you 'cutting loose'?"

"More or less." I said. "Admitting you're wrong doesn't undermine you as a person, but it undermines your position. If I can prove that the prosecution knows that something's wrong, and make them admit it, my case gets that much stronger. But I gotta be careful. If I can't prove my suppositions on the prosecutor's position, the Judge isn't going to look upon me favorably."

"I see." said Kristoph. "So, what now?"

"I was about to ask the same thing." I said. "Ms. Cutter's ignorance is her greatest strength. There's no reason to keep her on the stand. But I need her there."

"And why is that?"

"There's something about her I don't trust." I said. "And it has to do with what little she's given us. It's as if she's giving us enough of the truth so that she won't have to lie. Mr. Gavin, I don't know how to work around that."

"Alas, there's no easy answer to that, Brisby." said Kristoph. "Besides, it's all academic if the Judge decides not to keep her on the stand. Do you have a plan if that happens?"

I sighed. "Mr. Gavin, I don't have a plan, period."

"Then improvise, Brisby." said Kristoph. "This trial is far from over. You've come too far to give up now."

"Wasn't planning on it." I said. I know, famous last words. But what else was I supposed to say? I had nothing, not even a clear idea of what really happened to Dr. Ryan. How was I supposed to make a case with so little information?

The doors opened, and the bailiffs beckoned us back to the courtroom. Looks like I was just going to have to find a way.



"Court will now reconvene." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "I have reached the conclusion that it would not make sense to detain Ms. Cutter any longer. She clearly doesn't have the information we need."

Okay, worst-case scenario right there. I had to think of something fast.

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister with all my might.

That, in hindsight, was stupid. All eyes were on me, and I still didn't have a plan. After a long silence, the Judge gave me a look. He was not happy.

"Ms. Brisby, is there a reason for this interruption?" he asked.

"Um, yes, Your Honor. Why would I object without a reason?" I said, laughing sheepishly. No one was amused, least of all the Judge.

"Would you care to share this reason, Ms. Brisby?" asked the Judge.

"I request that Ms. Cutter remain on the stand."

"And why is that?"

Shoot. I didn't quite get that far yet. How could I justify this if I didn't have enough information?

Wait a tick. I think I answered my own question.

"Well, I can't speak for anyone else." I said. "But I still don't know what happened on the day of the murder."

" How could you not know?!" screeched Payne. "We've heard Ms. Cutter's testimony! It lines up with the evidence! What more do you need?!"

"I don't know." I said with a shrug. "And the reason I don't is because Ms. Cutter didn't provide it."

"And how is she supposed to know? She already said that she didn't see most of what happened!"

"Making her a lousy witness." I countered. "Even if she did report the murder, she claims that she didn't see anything useful to the case. How is she supposed to support your case, Mr. Payne, if she doesn't have the information you need to do your job?!"

"I-I... Augh!"

Payne recoiled from my logic, and the audience was in an uproar.

"Order! ORDER!" yelled the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Ms. Brisby, these are some bold accusations. Can you prove them?"

"Only if you give me a chance, Your Honor." I said. "I request one last testimony from Ms. Cutter."

The Judge paused to think. "Very well, Ms. Brisby. But this is your last chance. If you can't prove anything, you will pay dearly for wasting the court's time."

"I understand, Your Honor." I said.

"Now that was some clever improvisation." said Kristoph.

"This isn't over, Mr. Gavin." I said.

"Of course not, my dear." said Kristoph. "You still need to prove that Ms. Cutter has something to hide. Think you can do it?"

I took a deep breath. "I have to."



"You'd better have a good reason for this, girl." said Cutter, looking peeved. "The Judge said I was free to go."

"Well, I say you're not." I said. "You haven't given me a clear picture of what happened."

"And is that my fault?" asked Cutter. "I already told you everything I know. The police did the rest."

"Alright then." I said. "Tell me why you don't know more."

" I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning." said Payne.

"Anything else, and she'd just be repeating herself." I said. "As it stands, Ms. Cutter is your only witness, and she's not a particularly good one. I want to know why."

"Still looking for something that isn't there, I see." said Cutter with a sniff of her flower. "Your Honor, don't tell me you're allowing this."

"If Brisby's questions are as ridiculous as you claim, you should have no problem giving your testimony." said Kristoph.

"Mr. Gavin has a point, Ms. Cutter." said the Judge. "Please give us your testimony."

"B-but... Augh, fine." growled Cutter.

Well, this was it. If I couldn't rebuke Cutter's testimony, I was gonna crash and burn. There had to be something, and I had to find it.



"Look, this isn't all that hard." said Cutter. "All I saw was a small figure stab a larger figure and run off. I didn't know who they were, I didn't know what the backstory was. All I know was that there was a murder."

"So much for Ms. Cutter not repeating herself." said Payne with a snicker. "I certainly didn't hear anything new."

"Neither did I." said the Judge. "Ms. Brisby, you are aware that if it turns out you're wasting my time, there will be consequences, correct?"

"Trust me, I know." I said. "Just give me the chance to cross-examine the witness."

"Very well." said the Judge. "But remember, this is your last chance."

"Understood, Your Honor." I said. My throat felt dry. It was do-or-die time, and I had nothing new from Cutter. I needed to look at this from a different angle if I was going to make any headway. The only question was, which angle was that?



"All I saw was a small figure stab a larger figure and run off."

" Could you be a bit more specific?" I inquired.

"How much more specific do you want me to be?" asked Cutter.

"Break it down for me, step by step." I said.

Cutter seemed puzzled. "How do you expect me to do that? It happened too fast."

"It's not exactly rocket science, Ms. Cutter." I said. "I want as many details as possible, and you're not giving them."

"Because I don't have them!" Cutter protested, clenching the flower in her fist angrily.

"Ms. Cutter, I find that hard to swallow." I said. "Unless you saw the murder at the last minute, there's no reason for the lack of details."

Cutter smiled. "Well, why didn't you say so, girl? That's exactly what happened."

"WHAT?!"

I couldn't believe it. I simply couldn't believe it. This woman was making me look like a fool!

"Order, order, ORDER!" yelled the Judge, banging his gavel. "Ms. Cutter, you never mentioned this before."

"You never asked." said Cutter with a shrug.

"Cut the smarmy crap and add that to your testimony." I growled.

"You're an annoying little pest, you know that?" Cutter growled back. "You still can't prove anything."

"Well, it's not for lack of trying." I said bitterly.

"Don't lose your temper, Brisby." warned Kristoph. "You have to be in control."

"Easy when you say it." I muttered under my breath as I listened to this new chunk of testimony.

"I didn't see the short figure stab the large figure in the back until the last moment."

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Your Honor, it seems we managed to gloss over something in the midst of all this, shall we say, misdirection."

"What do you mean, Ms. Brisby?" asked the Judge.

"My client is not all that tall, Your Honor." I said, presenting the crime scene photo. "And yet, she supposedly managed to stab Dr. Ryan in his upper back, which should be out of her reach."

" That means nothing!" protested Payne. "She could've tackled Dr. Ryan to the ground first!"

"That's right, she could have." I said with a smirk. "But, that is not what Ms. Cutter said. In fact, she hasn't said anything to that effect. It's almost as if she's being purposely vague about the whole thing."

"I-I know what I saw!" insisted Cutter, apparently using her perspiration to water the flower in her hand. "I saw someone stab a person taller than her!"

"Okay, then let's get more specific." I said. "Was the victim standing, or on the ground?"

"What does that matter? He was stabbed either way!"

"This isn't a matter of me quibbling, Ms. Cutter. This is a matter of you being straight with this court." I said firmly. "I'm starting to think that the reason you haven't given any details is because you have something to hide!"

"*sniff* Ah-choo!"

Cutter sneezed, and I knew I hit a nerve. It took several bangs of the Judge's gavel to get everyone settled.

"Order! Order in the court!" he yelled. "Ms. Cutter, I will not tolerate you withholding information for any reason."

"You actually believe her?!" yelled Cutter. "I've been telling the truth!"

"And yet the details are still sketchy." I said.

"The devil's in the details, my dear." Cutter retorted, waving her flower at me.

"It certainly is." I said. "Which is why I have a question about a certain piece of evidence."

"And what piece of evidence is that?" asked the Judge.

" " I exclaimed, presenting the pocketknife. "None other than the murder weapon. It's true, we didn't establish if Ms. Blossom could reach Dr. Ryan with this weapon, but that's only because we have no details from Ms. Cutter. Until proven otherwise, I cast doubt on this being the actual murder weapon."

"On what grounds?" asked Payne. "You have to be more specific than height differentiation."

"Oh, there's more to it than that, I assure you." I said. "And I can explain it right here."

I presented the second photograph.

" I wish to draw the court's attention to this photograph provided by Mr. Payne." I said. "Notice that the flowers are covered with blood. But the question is, how did that blood get there?"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" asked Payne. "The defendant caught the blood in her basket to hide her crime."

"And the only way she could do that is if the victim were standing upright at the time he was stabbed." I said. "Also, Ms. Cutter forgot to tell us about that little tidbit."

"Th-that doesn't mean anything." sputtered Cutter, watering her flower with her sweat.

"Doesn't it?" I asked. "Because it would take time to drain all that blood into the basket. But you said she just rushed in, did the deed, and rushed off. Meaning the blood got there a different way."

"W-well, maybe she dropped her knife into the basket." said Cutter.

I shook my head. "Now you're just grasping at straws, Ms. Cutter. Mr. Payne already said that the knife was found on my client's person, not amongst the flowers she spilled. No, the blood is there specifically to frame Ms. Blossom for murder."

"Now who's grasping at straws?" snapped Cutter. "I didn't do anything!"

"Why so defensive, Ms. Cutter? I didn't accuse you." I said.

"Don't get smart with me." said Cutter. "There's no one else here to pin it on, so you're going after me."

"Perish the thought." I said, becoming more puzzled by her behavior. "All I know is that you're hiding something. I don't know what it is."

"Oh, don't you?" asked Kristoph. "Quit toying with her, Brisby. It's obvious she's lying."

"I know she's lying." I said. "But I don't know what about."

"I know you're not this dense, Brisby." said Kristoph. "She's jumping to conclusions. She thinks you're accusing her. Why would she think that?"

Only one thought came to mind. But if it was wrong, I risked losing everything. I had to be careful.

"Ms. Cutter, all I'm accusing you of is perjury." I said. "You give us these vague statements and half-truths, and have dodged every attempt I made to extract even the most minute details. You called the police, giving them as many details as you did this court, and sent them after the wrong girl."

I slammed my hand on the banister and then pointed an accusing finger. "If you think I'm just jumping to conclusions, then prove me wrong. Tell me and the rest of the court what you're hiding. Right. Now."

Cutter didn't say anything, but instead stared at her flower. "So smart, yet so stupid."

She sniffed the flower, and then threw it at me. To my surprise, the flower flew through the air like a knife, and embedded itself in the banister right in front of my chest. I shrank behind the banister, fearing for my life.

"You're just like Dr. Ryan. Too smart for your own good, but too dumb to know when to quit." said Cutter. "Pray that we never meet again. Otherwise, I'll make you wish you lost."



"Well, I certainly didn't expect that." said a bewildered Judge, still dumbstruck by the events that transpired. "Mr. Payne, where's Ms. Cutter?"

"We're filing for her arrest right now, Your Honor." said Payne. "She has been disarmed as well. Apparently, she was holding several throwing needles disguised as flowers. We'll be sure to run an extensive background check."

"Very good." said the Judge. "Ms. Brisby?"

"Yes, Your Honor?" I asked, peering over the banister.

"I am more than willing to put you in the Witness Protection Program if you so desire." said the Judge.

"I know I may not look it, but I'll be fine." I said. "Thank you for your concern, though."

"Are you certain?" asked the Judge.

"Most certain." I said. I had my reasons for refusing protection, but I wasn't willing to get into them. Especially not with Kristoph.

"I don't see why, but I'll abide by your wishes." said the Judge. "Now, in light of all this, the court finds the defendant, Ms. Sherry Blossom..."



There was a loud cheer from the audience, and confetti rained from the balcony. I have to admit, the change of tone gave me whiplash. The cheering continued until the Judge banged his gavel.

"Court is adjourned."

"First off, I wish to congratulate you on winning your first case, Brisby." said Kristoph. "I am most impressed with your performance."

"I'm truly flattered, Mr. Gavin, sir." I said. "It is an honor to work with you."

Kristoph paused. "Yes, about that."

I raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Mr. Gavin?"

"Well, I think perhaps you did your job a bit too well."

If you think that didn't make sense, join the club. Neither did I. "Too well? What do you mean?"

"I don't think you should be taking anymore cases for a while."

Words cannot describe how shocked I was by this turn of events.

"Mr. Gavin, what are you saying?" I demanded. "What the hell did I do wrong?!"

"Ms. Cutter thought you were onto something." said Kristoph. "That's why she gave up."

"Look, if this is about the Witness Protection Program thing, I assure you..."

"It's not about that, although that is part of it." interrupted Kristoph, adjusting his spectacles. "This was more than a simple murder, otherwise Ms. Cutter wouldn't have given up. She thinks that you know something more."

"But I don't." I said, getting more confused.

"Exactly." said Kristoph. "But you gave the impression that you did. An impressive bluff to be sure, but it gave the media the wrong impression. Now they think we'll be pursuing this case."

"Well, won't we?" I asked.

Kristoph sighed. "If the city thought that Gavin and Co. was looking into this case, we would become a target. I certainly don't want that."

"And why not?"

"That is not the kind of publicity Gavin and Co. needs. We're defense attorneys, not private investigators."

I couldn't help but feel just a tad insulted by this. "So because you want to protect your company's image, I'm gonna be demoted to pushing pencils, is that it? I'm sorry, Mr. Gavin, but I don't think it's right for me to be penalized for doing my job."

"This is not up for debate, Brisby." said Kristoph sternly. "Besides, I thought you'd want to avoid the spotlight after Ms. Cutter threatened you. Especially since you refused to be put into the Witness Protection Program."

"I have my reasons for that." I said through gritted teeth.

"So you like putting your life on the line? You're more daring than I thought."

I knew that was a loaded question, but in a twisted sense, Kristoph was right. Now I realized why he was such a great defense attorney. He could talk a snake out of shedding if he wanted to.

"Alright, alright. You win, Mr. Gavin." I conceded reluctantly.

"Good, I'm glad we're in agreement." said Kristoph. "Once again, good work today, Brisby. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he left.

Of course, we weren't in agreement. Not in the strictest sense of the word, anyway. But he had a point. Laying low was the best course of action for me. Not even quitting my job at Gavin and Co. would change anything. At the same time, though, I still had a little something called intellectual curiosity. Kristoph thought (or knew) that Cutter was hiding some sinister motive, and he wasn't exploring it for the sake of image. Was it right to ignore it? To play it safe and avoid the risks? Honestly, I wasn't sure.

"Excuse me."

A soft voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned around to see Sherry Blossom, offering me a daffodil.

"Thank you for today." she said.

For a moment, I forgot my anger. "It was no problem at all, Ms. Blossom." I said, accepting the flower.

"Will you be okay?" asked Blossom.

I sighed. "I think so. The important thing is that you've been found innocent."

Blossom then smiled. "You're a nice lady, Ms. Brisby."

I had to smile back. At that point, I decided to take Blossom's legal fee out of my own pocket. Yeah, I know it's sappy, but I'm a sappy person. That's why I became a defense attorney in the first place. And also why Kristoph's little slap on the wrist pissed me off so much. I could only hope that it didn't last too long...

"Well, I suppose there's no point in prolonging this trial." said the Judge.

The defendant looked disappointed. He knew the truth. His attorney knew the truth. But no one else did.

"If you have something planned, now is the time to use it." he said to his attorney. "We know what really happened. I did nothing wrong."

The defense attorney flipped a coin in his hand and shrugged. "Can't help you there, Mr. Moschet. There's no way we can make the Judge believe us without the prosecution rebutting it."

"Fie on the prosecution." growled the defendant. "They have the wrong man."

"If we keep fighting with that attitude, we're gonna lose more than we can afford." said the defense attorney. He then turned to the prosecutor. "I fold."

"I shouldn't be surprised." said the prosecutor. "It seems to take less and less effort to beat you, Herr Putnam. I'm beginning to wonder why you're still employed."

"Guess that's the million dollar question, ain't it, Pretty Boy?" said the defense attorney with a complacent sneer.

"Well, it appears everything is settled." said the Judge. "The court finds the defendant, Mr. Rhys Moschet..."



"The sentence is fifteen years in prison, pending appeal. Court is adjourned."

With a final bang of the Judge's gavel, the defendant, Rhys Moschet, was led out of the courtroom. He felt no anger, merely disappointment in the performance of his attorney. It should've been simple to prove that he wasn't a killer. That he was merely unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time. But his attorney did a horrible job of making that point. As he left, he knew it wasn't over. And he wasn't the only one...

A month.

An entire month since my first case, and Kristoph was still chaining me to my desk. This is not what I signed up for, and he knows it. Or at least he should. I made it abundantly clear the countless times we debated the subject since the case. And yet, he hasn't even made an indication of when I could take cases again.

Well, this time I was going to put my foot down. If he wants a pencil pusher, he'll have to look elsewhere, because that's not me.

As soon as I got to work, I marched straight to Kristoph's office. I was about to knock when I heard a voice behind me.

"Someone looks uptight."

"You're quick on the uptake." I said sardonically, reaching out to knock again.

"Gavin's busy right now. Conference call."

"Gee, how convenient." I growled, rolling my eyes. There was a pause.

"So, you planning to stand there all day?"

"Beats the alternative." I said.

I heard a chuckle. "Funny. Gavin never said you were this stubborn."

I turned to face the man talking to me. He was an young gentleman with bright blond hair and icy green eyes. He wore a red pinstripe suit and a green visor cap, and he was flipping a coin absently. "You think this is funny, smart guy?"

"Hey, hey. Easy." said the gentleman. "Didn't mean to ruffle your feathers there." He then extended his hand. "Name's Curtis Putnam. I'm a defense attorney."

"Michaiah Brisby. Charmed, I'm sure." I said, accepting the handshake.

"I heard about you, Birsby. I gotta say, you got style."

"Yeah. So much so that I get punished for it." I grumbled. "I don't get it. The media moved on from that case a long time ago. Why won't Mr. Gavin?"

"You're asking me?" said Putnam. "Or are you just griping?"

"You always have to be this nosey, Mr. Putnam?" I asked.

Putnam chuckled. "Wow, you really are green." he said with a flip of his coin. "Being nosey is part of the job, Brisby."

"You don't say." I said, rolling my eyes. I really wasn't in the mood for this. "Look, don't you have anything more important to do?"

"Don't you?" Putnam countered. "Because right now, you're just standing in front of Gavin's door."

"Correction: I'm standing in front of Mr. Gavin's door talking to a smart aleck lawyer." I growled.

"Ooh, good sense of humor. I like that." said Putnam with a smirk. "Seriously, Brisby. You could be standing there for a long time. Why don't we go grab some breakfast or something?"

"Tell me, is this how you talk to all women, or just me?"

"Hey, now. No need for that, beautiful."

"Cool it, Curtis."

Another voice made its way into the conversation. There stood an older gentleman wearing a black pinstripe suit and a yellow visor cap. His dusty brown hair was a bit messy, and his sharp blue eyes looked anything but happy.

"Hey, mind your own business, Evan." said Putnam, flipping his coin.

The gentleman sighed. "Curtis, if you keep pushing your luck like this, you're gonna end up with a hand print across your face, maybe several. I would've hoped that you'd be better than this."

"Tch." was all Putnam said. He then winked at me and moved off.

"Sorry about that." said the older gentleman. "Been a rough patch for all of us, it seems."

"Guess so." I said. I then extended my hand. "Michaiah Brisby. I'm new here, relatively speaking."

"Nice to meet you in person." said the gentleman, returning the handshake. "Evan Ods. I work as a legal advisor around here. Usually Curtis', since he's the only one who needs it."

"Wow, I feel sorry for you." I said.

"He's normally not like this." said Evan. "He's been taking a pounding in the press, so he decided to take it out on you."

"Lucky me." I sighed.

Evan smiled, and pulled a pair of dice out of his pocket. "Luck is an interesting thing, Ms. Brisby. Or do you prefer Michaiah?"

"Doesn't matter." I said.

Evan shrugged. "Anyway, what few people know about Lady Luck is just how fickle she is. She can spin that wheel of fortune faster than you can blink, and make the decision to do so faster still."

"Is there a point to this philosophy lesson?" I asked.

"Read this."

Evan handed me a newspaper clipping from a few weeks ago. It read as follows:



"That was an op-ed piece in the Daily Polis, written by a freelance journalist." said Evan. "Wanna guess the name of the lawyer who took that case?"

I didn't need to guess. I already knew. "Curtis Putnam, right?"

"Give the girl a prize." said Evan, rolling the dice around in his palm. "Ever since then, Kristoph has been pretty steamed. Especially since Mr. Moschet didn't call him back when he filed for an appeal. He's on the phone right now, trying to re-negotiate."

Well, this sounded interesting. "So you're saying maybe I can convince him to let me take the case."

"Hey, whoa. Hold your horses, Michaiah." said Evan. "You have no idea how badly Curtis screwed up. Kristoph might want to fix this himself."

"That doesn't mean I can't try." I said. "You should know how long I've been trying to get on another case, Mr. Ods."

"I can get a general idea." said Evan. "Oh, by the way, I prefer Evan, at least among coworkers."

"Oh. Okay then." I said. "The point is that I didn't apply to this firm to be a desk drone."

"No one says that you did." said Evan, rolling the dice in his hand from one palm to another. "Look, I see where you're coming from, and I agree with you. But I also know Kristoph. And I can tell you from experience that if his ego is bruised like this, he sees this as his problem. Meaning he feels that he has to fix it."

Before I could respond, Kristoph emerged from his office. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"So, what's the good word?" asked Evan. "Did Mr. Moschet relent?"

"He's considering it. That's a start." said Kristoph. "But he has been very disenfranchised by Putnam's performance."

"I don't blame him." said Evan. "So, you gonna take his case yourself, or what?"

Kristoph adjusting his spectacles. "Honestly, I'm getting quite tired of cleaning up Putnam's messes like this. Sometimes it doesn't seem worth the effort."

"I know what you mean." said Evan. "Hell, I sometimes wonder why you keep him around here. Then I remember it's Curtis we're talking about."

If that was a joke at Putnam's expense, it went over my head. I decided to make my move.

"Well, why don't I go in your stead?" I asked.

"Oh, Brisby." said Kristoph. "Sorry, I didn't see you there." Then he paused, and a smile crossed his face.

"Actually, it's about time you got back in the game, Brisby." said he. "I'll have you represent Mr. Moschet."

Those were the magic words. "Well, it's about time." I said as I shook Kristoph's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Gavin. You won't regret this."

Evan sighed and shook his head. I got the feeling he knew something I didn't, but I didn't care. After all this time, I finally got a case.

"I'll get the files from Curtis. See if he has anything useful." said Evan. "Though I doubt it."

"While you're at it, Ods, why don't you assist Brisby with this case?" said Kristoph.

Evan raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I mean, he knows I'm Curtis' legal aide, right?"

"Not necessarily." said Kristoph. "Besides, Brisby's still green. She needs someone with experience to advice her."

"Good point." said Evan. He then turned to me and smirked. "Well, looks like we're tackling this together. Just give me a sec to get the files from Curtis, and then we'll hit the Detention Center."

"Sounds like a plan." said I. We then went our separate ways to get prepared. I have to say, this was quite the lucky break for me. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want this case for the sake of having a case. But now, I could show off my true talents, and help make things right. That's what I signed up for when I became a defense attorney, for whatever good or bad those goals bring.

"Excuse me, I'm here to see Rhys Moschet. Tell him his lawyer is here to see him."

The guard looked at me, a tad perplexed. "Mr. Moschet says he hasn't hired another lawyer yet."

"Well, now would be a good time for him to do some window shopping." said Evan. "Just tell him to meet us."

"Er, just a moment."

A short while later, a very peculiar man emerged on the other side of the glass. Honestly, I'm at a loss as far as describing him goes. He wore a long white cloak decorated with red symbols of varying nature. And really, that's all I can say. His facial features were completely obscured by a white hood, and the rest of his body was under that cloak.

"The guard tells me you wish to represent me." the figure said in a wispy rasp.

"Yes." I said, showing my badge. "Michaiah Brisby, attorney at law. I was sent by Mr. Gavin to take your case."

The figure's boney hands made themselves known as he started pressing his fingertips together. "So he won't take the case himself. Pity. I was hoping for that."

"He has his reasons." said Evan. "Let's just say that this isn't the first time Curtis screwed up."

"Hmm. I see." said the figure. "Well, I suppose you'll do. Rhys Moschet, at your service. Or more accurately, you're at mine, Ms. Brisby."

"Um, sure." I said. I looked over the newspaper article Evan gave me before. It seemed as good a place as any to start. "So, tell me about this case. According to this article, you've been accused of manslaughter."

"Wrongfully accused, I assure you." said Moschet. "It happened at Tyche Casino quite a few weeks ago. Though I am not usually a gambling man, I had recently retired and found myself with an abundance of free time. So, I decided to try my luck."

"Let me guess. You lost at a Blackjack table?"

"Roulette, to be more precise." said Moschet. "I lost to the man I allegedly murdered, Mordred Hawthorne."

"Giving you a motive that the prosecution wasted no time hammering into the ground." said Evan, rolling his dice around in his palm.

"It never feels good to lose, Mr. Ods." said Moschet. "But rest assured, this was not a matter that I felt anyone needed to die over."

"Then why are you the one in here?" I asked. "There were probably other people at that table who had just as much of a motive as you did."

"Quite astute, Ms. Brisby. But the story is far from over." said Moschet. "See, after the game, I retired to the restroom to freshen up. When I got out, I bumped into Mr. Hawthorne in the hallway. And then, it happened."

"What?"

"Mr. Hawthorne was killed, of course."

He said that as if it were painfully obvious. Well, maybe that was true, but there was something missing. "What specifically happened, Mr. Moschet?"

"Well, that's where the story gets complicated." said Moschet. "When I crossed Mr. Hawthorne, there was a bright flash. As I recovered, I heard a noise. I presume it was Mr. Hawthorne's demise, because when I recovered, he was dead with blood dripping out of the back of his head. I also saw that my cane had blood on it, as did my robes."

"And here I thought that was just decoration." I said half-jokingly.

"It is." said Moschet.

Okay, that was embarrassing. I cleared my throat and moved swiftly on. "So, that was when the police arrested you?"

"Well, to be more accurate, the incident was reported to security, who detained me until the police arrived." said Moschet.

"And you didn't see anyone else in the hallway."

"Bright flashes have a habit of impairing eyesight, Ms. Brisby."

Great, another wise guy. That's just what I needed.

"He admitted to the police and at the trial that he wasn't a reliable eyewitness." said Evan. "While the honesty was appreciated, it didn't win Curtis any points with the Judge."

That meant we needed to find out from someone else what happened in that hallway. I decided to change the topic.

"Mr. Moschet, did you know Mr. Hawthorne personally?"

Moschet leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. "Not per se, Ms. Brisby. I know of him, to be sure. But he wasn't much more than a footnote in my research."

Now this was interesting. "Research?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I used to be a high-profile writer for Oh! Cult! magazine. Rhys Moschet, the Scholar of the Strange, they called me." said Moschet.

"I can't say I've heard of that publication."

"It a magazine specializing in the occult, hence the title." said Evan. "Spirits, magic, all that good stuff."

"And I was a top contributor." said Moschet. "I even won an award for my in-depth piece on Kurain Village. After that, I decided to go out on a high note. So, I retired."

"Fascinating." said I. "Anyway, you mentioned that Mr. Hawthorne was a footnote in your research."

"Oh, yes." said Moschet. "According to my research, Mr. Hawthorne once lived in Kurain Village."

"And?"

"And that's it. Like I said, merely a footnote."

"On a side note, this wasn't brought up during the trial." said Evan.

I could see why. On face value, this wasn't important, neither to me nor to the prosecution. But I had a feeling that I couldn't ignore this.

"Is that all you wanted to know, Ms. Brisby?" asked Moschet.

"For now." I said. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Moschet."

"This is now in your hands, Ms. Brisby. Do not disappoint me." said Moschet.

With that, he left.

"Well, I'll call up Kristoph and tell him the good news." said Evan, pocketing his dice and taking out his cellphone.

"Right, you do that." I said. "Meanwhile, I think we need to visit the scene of the crime. Tyche Casino, was it?"

"I know where that is." said Evan. "It's where Curtis goes when he feels like playing hooky."

The more I heard about Curtis Putnam, the less appealing he was. "I'm starting to see why he lost this case."

"Trust me, Michaiah. You don't know the half of it." said Evan as we left the Detention Center.

You wouldn't believe that such a nice place was in such a bad part of town. When we first stepped into the place, I felt like I was in Las Vegas. Red carpet, marble walls and columns, this place just reeked of class.

"I shudder to think how much it cost to build this place." I said. "Though why build it in such a seedy part of town is beyond me."

"Seems awfully quiet, though." said Evan. "I guess the case has been..."

"Hey there!"

We were suddenly ambushed by a lanky-looking man wearing a plaid yellow suit and tweed pants ensemble. He had bleach blond hair, pronounced buck teeth, and dark brown eyes, one of which seemed to be bruised. At least, that would explain the black circle around it.

"Welcome to Tyche Casino, where the Wheel of Fortune spins for all!" said the man. "Sven Sampson's the name, but my friends call me Lucky. Usually, they're right. But enough about me, what can I interest you in today?"

"I, take it you own this place?" I asked.

"You know it." said Sampson. "If ever you wish to speak to the manager, that's me! Now, what game strikes your fancy?"

"Sorry to disappoint, Lucky, but we're not here to play." said Evan.

Sampson gave us a nervous grin. "Oh, come now, Ods. Why else would you be here?"

"I think you know." said Evan, narrowing his eyes.

Sampson turned pale. "Th-this has to be a mistake. The murder was resolved weeks ago."

"Mr. Moschet apparently disagrees." I said. "He's appealing his case."

Sampson sighed. "And here I thought it was just bad luck."

I shrugged, and showed him my badge. "Allow me to introduce myself. Michaiah Brisby, attorney at law. Mr. Moschet asked me to represent him."

"Why you and not Putnam?" asked Sampson. "Oh, right. Stupid question."

"Well, let's move on to some smarter ones, then." I said. "Let's start off with this place. What can you tell me about it?"

Sampson perked up, his eyes sparkling. "I thought you'd never ask." he said, leading into what I could only describe as a salesman pitch. "Here at Tyche Casino, we can boast a No-Shenanigans Policy. All of our equipment and games are specially designed so that there can be no foul play. No tricks, only luck."

"Interesting." I said. "Does that include the Roulette table?"

"Oh especially the Roulette table, Ms. Brisby." said Sampson. "It is our star attraction, after all."

Well, this was new. "And tell me, who usually runs the Roulette table?"

"Why, I do, of course."

That sounded important. I made a quick note about the Roulette table in the Court Record. "Mr. Sampson, what can you tell me about the night of the murder?"

"Nothing I haven't already told the police." said Sampson. "It was a night just like any other. I was managing the Roulette table, as I normally do. After one particular game, there was a noise from the restrooms. I called security to investigate it, and well, you know the rest."

So Sampson didn't actually see the murder take place. Good to know. "Let me ask you this. Did anything strange occur at the Roulette table during that night?"

"Not really, no." said Sampson. "I mean, there was an instance where someone decided to bet with jewels instead of the tokens we provide, but that happens all the time."

No way was I letting that one go. "These jewels. Did they belong to the victim, Mordred Hawthorne?"

"How should I know? I didn't know any of the people playing that night." said Sampson.

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You don't know your own clientele?"

"Well, usually I do." said Sampson. "But that night, there were only new faces at that Roulette table. None of them had ever set foot in this casino before."

Again, that sounded like a really weird coincidence. "Just for future reference, Mr. Sampson, that counts as something strange."

"Maybe to you." said Evan, rolling his dice around in his palm. "But when you work with luck, nothing seems strange. Even the most bizarre coincidences are normal."

"So, everything that happens here is just luck?" I asked. "Sorry, I don't buy that."

Sampson smirked and shook his head. "Oh, don't be such a wet blanket, Ms. Brisby. This is a place of pure luck. Anything can happen here."

Up to and including murder, apparently. "Mr. Sampson, may we speak to the security?"

Sampson chuckled nervously. "Oh, you don't want to speak with them. They really have nothing to contribute."

That didn't sound right. "Didn't you call them to investigate the murder? They were the first on the scene."

"Oh, right. I did say that, didn't I?" said Sampson, looking around. Suddenly, something caught his eye. "Oh, would you look at that! So sorry, Ms. Brisby, but I gotta fly. Bye!"

With that, he dashed off.

"Evan, is there anything weird about the security detail here that I should know about?" I asked.

"Not weird per se. It's just something Lucky doesn't like to talk about." said Evan, rolling his dice from one hand to the other.

"Yes, I gathered that." I said. "Do you know what he's hiding?"

"Let's just say the company he keeps is not really on the up-and-up." said Evan. "We'll get a chance to talk with them later. Right now, we need to plan our next move."

"Well, why can't that be our next move?" I asked.

"Lucky might be talking to them right now." said Evan. "Probably why he rushed off so fast. No, we need to know what the police picked up."

"Then perhaps we should pay the precinct a visit." I said. "Please tell me Mr. Putnam made a note of who was in charge of the investigation."

Evan shrugged. "Curtis isn't exactly one to take notes. The files I managed to get off of him are very skimpy."

"Great. Of all the rotten luck." I grumbled.

"Yes, luck is the ultimate scapegoat, isn't it?" said Evan.

"Will you give those luck-related proverbs a rest already?" I growled.

Evan laughed. "Sorry, Michaiah. It's part of my charm."

I sighed. This was going to be a long day. "We'll just have to ask when we get there, I suppose." I said as we left the casino.

"May I help you?" asked the officer at the front desk.

"Yes." I said, showing my badge. "Michaiah Brisby, attorney at law. I'd like to meet the detective in charge of the State v. Moschet case a few weeks ago. He's appealing his case, you see, and I'm going to be representing him in court tomorrow."

"Sorry, Ms. Brisby. But Detective Gumshoe is in a meeting with..."

The officer paused.

"Yes? With whom?"

"Well, this is an odd coincidence." said the officer. "He's in a meeting with Prosecutor Brisby right now."

That was quite unexpected. "W-wait, what? Are you sure?"

"Someone you know?" asked Evan.

Before I could answer, three individuals made themselves known. Two of them I knew all too well, the third not so much.

The first was a man not much older than me, not that you'd be able to tell. He looked very pale and sickly, and yet he stood tall even with his walker in hand. His short brown hair was neatly combed, but his baby blue eyes have long since lost their luster. He looked very spiffy in his navy blazer, but one could still see the dark green hospital gown he wore underneath.

Accompanying him was a spitting image of myself, if I wore my hair in pigtails and dressed in a hospital uniform. The one I didn't recognize was a bulky fellow with messy brown hair and a hastily-shaven beard. He wore a green trench coat, and he had a sort of gentle giant quality to him. I don't know, that's just the vibe he gave off.

The sickly gentleman seemed to be as surprised as I was. "Chai? What on Earth are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." I said. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Sorry, kinda out of the loop here." said Evan. "You two know each other?"

"We should." I said. "Evan, this is my older brother, Noah. He's a prosecutor."

"Huh. Awkward." Evan muttered before extending his hand. "Evan Ods, legal advisor."

"Charmed, I'm sure." said Noah in his usual sickly rasp, accepting the handshake. "Oh, and this here is Chai's twin sister, Sophia. She looks after me due to my, er, condition."

"It's n-nice to m-m-meet you." stuttered the nurse.

Evan smirked warmly. "Hey, there's no need to be shy."

Sophia gave Evan a stern look I knew all too well.

"Um, Evan? That's how she normally talks." I whispered.

"Oh." said Evan. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. You w-weren't the f-f-first one to make that m-m-mistake." said Sophia.

"Now, let me ask you again, Chai." said Noah. "What brings you here?"

"She was asking for Detective Gumshoe, Mr. Brisby." said the officer at the front desk. "She's looking into Mr. Moschet's case."

"Is that right?" said Noah. "My, my."

"What? What's wrong?" I asked.

"Wait, didn't you ask me about that case, sir?" said the bulky fellow.

"Wow. Even more awkward." said Evan.

That was an understatement. I certainly had nothing against my brother, but the thought of going against him in court had my heart doing cartwheels. This just wasn't my day.

Noah cleared his throat. "Michaiah, perhaps I should introduce you to Detective Dick Gumshoe. I was just talking to him about Mr. Moschet's case."

"Um, nice to meetcha, pal. I think." said Gumshoe, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Pleasure is all mine." I said, still more or less in shock. "Wow, what are the chances, huh?"

"I'm not touching that one." said Evan, rolling his dice around in his palm.

There was an awkward silence. I decided to break it by asking a few questions.

"So, what are your thoughts on the case so far, Noah?" I asked.

Noah paused for a moment. "Well, while there are some questions left unanswered, I'm convinced that Mr. Moschet is guilty. Mind you, I'm basing this solely on evidence."

"And what evidence is that?"

"Detective, the autopsy report if you please."

Gumshoe looked a bit apprehensive. "Are you sure I won't get in trouble for this, sir?"

"The files are hardly classified, Detective Gumshoe." said Noah.

"If you say so, sir." said Gumshoe, handing me the file. According to the report, Mordred Hawthorne died some time between 8:30 and 8:35 PM on April 9th. The cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head. No sign of a struggle.

"The murder weapon was Mr. Moschet's cane." said Gumshoe. "There was blood on the cane as well as on the suspect's clothes. A simple luminol test confirmed this."

I nodded as I jotted all of this down into the Court Record. "What about motive? I heard that the prosecution's argument was that he was sore that he lost at Roulette."

"That seems to be the case." said Noah. "The estimated value of the jewels Mr. Hawthorne used to gamble that night was roughly five million dollars. Anyone would want to get their hands on that."

"Wow. That'd have me rolling in instant noodles for the rest of my life." said Gumshoe with a dopey grin.

"Um, Detective Gumshoe? What does that have to do with anything?" I asked.

Gumshoe seemed to get my point. "Oh. Um, sorry pal."

"So anyway, what about witnesses?" I inquired. "Who testified at the trial?"

"According to my notes, we heard testimonials from Detective Gumshoe, the defendant, and the owner of the casino where the crime took place, 'Lucky' Sven Sampson."

That didn't sound right. "Wait, what about the security detail? They were the first on the scene, weren't they?"

Noah looked perplexed. "Detective Gumshoe, you'd better have a good explanation for this oversight."

"Well, they weren't there, sir." said the hapless detective. "Mr. Sampson said they were taking care of something else. He said that he took down their statement before they left, and included it in his own testimony."

"And this didn't strike you as suspicious in the slightest."

"Well, if you've got someplace to be..."

Noah wasn't buying it. Before he could scold the detective, however, he suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching his chest and wheezing heavily. Sophia quickly took out a pen needle and jabbed it into Noah's arm. As the medicine entered his bloodstream, Noah started to regain his composure.

"Um, are you going to be okay?" asked Evan.

"I apologize." said Noah. "It's part of my condition. Nothing to concern yourself with." He then turned back to Gumshoe. "As for you, you'd better compensate for this oversight. Get your ass back over to Tyche Casino and meet with that security detail face-to-face. Report any new findings to me."

"Yessir! Right away, sir!" said Gumshoe with a hasty salute. With that, he was gone in a flash.

"H-h-how did someone s-s-so absentminded b-b-become a d-d-detective?" asked Sophia.

"I have no idea." said Noah before turning to me. "Anyway, it is time we took our leave. We'll see you tomorrow, Chai."

Noah then hobbled off, with Sophia waving a quick goodbye as they left the station.

"Is he really gonna be alright?" asked Evan.

"It's complicated." I said. "Let's just say that Noah was always a fighter. Anyway, that's not relevant right now. This could be our big chance."

"You think Lucky lied to the police?" asked Evan.

"There's something about his security that he doesn't want other people to know." I said. "You yourself said that his friends aren't exactly paragons of virtue."

"And you think that has something to do with this case."

"We won't know until we speak to the security ourselves." I said. "C'mon, let's head back to Tyche Casino and see what's what."

"Hey hey. Look what the cat dragged in."

I had to palm my face. Just as we got back, who should show up but that insufferable prick, Curtis Putnam.

"So, what brings a pretty thing like you to a place like this?" he asked, flipping his coin.

"Do you not remember me asking for your notes?" said Evan. "Michaiah is taking the case you bungled."

"Bungled nothing, m'boy. There was nothing he could do."

Just then, a scraggily looking fellow marched up to us. He had messy red hair, a full red beard, and eyes of green. He wore what must've once been a nice tweed jacket and slacks, but was all dirty and torn up.

"And you are?" I asked.

"Oh, pardon me." said the man. "Jeremiah Smiley's the name, bettin's my game."

"And what exactly gives you the authority to say that there was nothing Mr. Putnam could do?"

"Because I bet that Moschet character was guilty, and I was right."

Was this guy for real? I turned to Evan, hoping he could help.

"It's best to ignore him." said Evan. "Smiley doesn't know what he's talking about half the time."

"I have twenty five bucks saying I do this time!" Smiley fired back. "Because I know that Moschet character was the murderer."

"And let me guess. That's why Mr. Putnam threw the case?" I inquired.

"Hey, I take offense to that, Brisby!" Putnam barked. "I wouldn't trust Smiley with a lead even if he was all I had to go on."

"I bet fifty bucks that you would!" exclaimed Smiley.

"And that's why." Putnam continued. "Smiley bets on anything and everything, even when it doesn't make sense."

"So then why did you throw the case?" I asked.

"I didn't throw the case. I folded." said Putnam, flipping his coin. "If I continued fighting, I would've lost a lot more than I did."

Was that even possible? I decided not to ask.

"He would've lost anyway." said Smiley. "Because Moschet was guilty."

"Alright, how do you figure?" I asked. "Did you actually see it?"

"Didn't need to." said Smiley, brushing his knuckle against his jacket. "Because see, I saw what happened at that Roulette table the night of the murder."

"Okay, what happened?"

"That Hawthorne character rubbed his victory into everyone's faces." said Smiley. "Everyone was mad, but no one was madder than Moschet. I could tell."

"So what?" I asked. "That doesn't mean he was driven to murder."

"Ten to one says he was, little missy." said Smiley. "See, he felt he was cheated."

"Cheated?"

"Yes, cheated. I know the feeling, and I've seen it many a time 'round here. Lucky may claim No Shenanigans, but I always bet two-to-one that somebody complains anyways."

I had my doubts about this story, mainly because my client never gave me any indication about this development. I had to get a second opinion before pursuing this line of inquiry.

"Well, I'm not giving up that easily." I said. "I believe Mr. Moschet is innocent, and I intend to prove it."

"I got a grand that says you don't." said Smiley.

"Spare me." I sighed.

"I'll take that bet." said Evan.

I gave Evan a confused look. "Huh?"

"Call it a vote of confidence." said Evan. "Well, Smiley? We have a bet?"

"Do frogs eat flies?" responded Smiley as the two shook on it.

"Count me out." said Putnam. "Brisby's unpredictable. I'd rather play favorites."

"That's the trouble with you, Putnam. No sense of adventure." said Smiley, slapping Putnam on the back. "You'll lead a boring life if you don't take a little risk."

"Better that than losing my shirt." said Putnam. "I'm heading back to work before Gavin notices I'm gone."

He then shoved past us and left, while Smiley moseyed on over to the Blackjack table.

"Unpredictable? I don't know whether to feel flattered or insulted." I said.

"That's the idea." said Evan. "C'mon, let's go see the security."

"That is, if Mr. Sampson will let us." I said.

"I got two bucks saying he will." said Evan with a smirk.

"Now don't you start." I growled as we ventured further into the casino.

"C'mon, pal. Can't you call him or something? This is important to the case."

"I'm sorry, Detective Gumshoe, but he is not in."

It looked like Gumshoe wasn't having much luck meeting with security. It made me wonder what Sampson wanted to keep secret.

"Looks like we'll have to cut out the middleman." said Evan.

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked.

"No, but it's smart." said Evan. "Lucky's not budging on this, not even with the police. We're kinda running out of options here."

"Well, alright." I said. I then grinned and added; "By the way, you owe me two bucks."

"Guess I do." said Evan with a shrug. "C'mon."



Oddly enough, the door to the security room was open when we got there. Even more odd, no one seemed to be inside.

"I guess Mr. Sampson was right. He's not in." I said.

"Not possible." said Evan. "Not for a place like this. The security here can't afford to be lax in this part of town."

"You got that right, Ods."

A slick voice startled me out of my wits, and I heard the door slam. My throat felt dry as I turned around to see who trapped us. Standing before me was a man wearing a red pinstripe suit. He had tall black hair, a long black mustache, and hungry brown eyes that stared daggers at me.

"Now, let me ask you something." said the man. "What exactly are you doing snooping around here?"

"Looking for you, actually." said Evan, rolling his dice around in his palm. Seriously, how was he so calm at a time like this?

"No kidding? You really have some balls, Ods." said the man. "People who look for trouble fall into two categories: Stupid and brave. You'll benefit from remembering that next time you cross the underworld. That is, if there is a next time."

If? Oh no, oh no!

"Hey, cool it." said Evan. "You know me better than that."

"Yeah? Well I don't know this broad you saw fit to drag into this." said the man, fiddling with his mustache. "Hey, speak up, dollface."

Speak up? My throat was as dry as a desert, and he wanted me to speak up? I'd say he was kidding if I wasn't already fearing for my life.

"I-I'm Michaiah Brisby, attorney at law." I said meekly. "A-are you in charge of security around here?"

"Among other things." said the man. "Name's Randle Rivales. And don't you forget it."

Well, no wonder Sampson wanted to keep a lid on this. The Rivales were one of the major crime families in the city. One of the nastiest too, from what I heard. Now I was really in for it.

"Alright, let's get down to brass tacks." said Evan. "Mr. Moschet is appealing his case, and we believe that you have some details that were missing last time."

Randle snorted. "What details? I gave my statement to Lucky before I was called elsewhere. The Don's word takes precedence over everything else. That's how we do things in the criminal underworld. Now quit wasting my time. I'm very busy."

He then opened the door and stepped out of the way. Confusion overtook my fear.

"Wait, you're letting us go?" I asked. "But we know Mr. Sampson is working with the criminal underworld."

Randle gave me a look. "You're new around here, aren't you, dollface?"

"I, guess." I said, unsure of what else to say.

"Anyone who's a regular around here knows that I run security." said Randle. "And there's no harm in knowing, despite what Lucky thinks."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a legitimate contract to work here."

I never expected to hear that from a criminal. "Wait, a contract? As in a legal contract?"

"Well, technically." said Randle.

"Technically."

"Look, I didn't make the contract, and I don't speak legalese." said Randle. "All I know is that Don Rivales had to pull a lot of strings to make that contract work for all of us."

Now this was interesting. Maybe he was reluctant to talk about the case, but perhaps I could get some answers if I learned about the casino. "So, tell me more about this contract. For starters, how did you convince Mr. Sampson to go along with this?"

"Actually, he came to us." said Randle.

I wasn't sure I heard that right. "I'm sorry, he came to you?"

"Hard to believe, I know." said Randle. "But see, Lucky didn't have a lot of money when he first built this place. This part of town was the cheapest land he could afford. And there's a reason for that."

"Let me guess. This is a dangerous part of town?"

"Even by this town's standards, dollface." said Randle. "Now, after he built the place, he was flat broke. He couldn't afford any security. So he called upon Don Rivales, and we worked out a deal."

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"

"Not much. Just a 50-50 split of the profits."

"And you're sure this is a legally binding contract and not blackmail?"

"Like I said, I don't know the details." said Randle. "If you're that curious, you can ask Lucky for a copy. But you have to let him know that you know about me beforehand."

"I figured." said I, making a note of the contract in the Court Record. "He seems to be afraid of being associated with you."

"He's always been like that." said Randle, fiddling with his mustache. "I wouldn't mind it so much if he wasn't so lazy."

"Lazy?"

"There's a reason we asked for a 50-50 split." said Randle. "It's because we soon discovered that Lucky needed more than security. He needed a maintenance team as well. Seriously, I bet he opened this place just so he could have an excuse to play games all day."

"Are there any other staff members who are not tied to organized crime?"

"Just some schmucks Lucky knows from college working the other tables. None of them are too bright."

"And none of them testified at the trial." added Evan.

"Like I said, they aren't too bright." said Randle. "They didn't have anything worthwhile to contribute. The fuzz said so themselves. At least, that's what Lucky told me."

This looked like a good opening. "And what about you? You didn't testify at the trial, and yet you were the first on the scene."

Randle began twiddling his mustache nervously. "Look, dollface. I already told you, I gave my statement to Lucky. We don't need to make this complicated."

"In case you haven't heard, the police want to hear about what happened from the security personally." I said. "There's no way you can escape this, Mr. Rivales. Not even a call from your don."

"Hey, don't bring Don Rivales into this, dollface." growled Randle.

"She has a point." said Evan. "You're testifying tomorrow whether you like it or not. The cops are going to make sure of it."

Randle snarled. "If you ask me, this charade has gone on for too long. Moschet should just accept his punishment so that we can put this all behind us and get on with our lives."

"So you believe he's the murderer?" I asked.

"I just believe what I saw, dollface." said Randle, brushing me off. "Now go bug someone else."

With that, he ushered us out of the room and slammed the door.

"Charming." I grumbled. "Now what?"

"I think we're gonna have to wait for the trial to know what he saw." said Evan. "In the meantime, Lucky has some explaining to do."

I sighed. After all we found out about "Lucky" Sven Sampson, this upcoming interview was not going to be fun. Still, we didn't have any other leads. So, back we went to the manager's office, hoping that Gumshoe was done with him.

As we reached the door to Sampson's office, Gumshoe was being sent away. He didn't look happy.

"Well, this is just great. How am I supposed to break this to Mr. Brisby?" he bemoaned.

"Negotiations broke down, huh?" I asked.

"H-hey! Mind your own business, pal!" Gumshoe snapped before realizing who he was talking to. "Oh, it's you. Sorry about that. But still, you shouldn't be getting in the way of police work."

"You know, you can charge Mr. Sampson with Obstruction of Justice." I said. "Because the head of security is here. We just met him."

"Look, I don't need you telling me how to do my... What did you just say?"

"The head of security is here and on duty."

Gumshoe stared at me as if I had two heads. After a pause, he marched right back into the manager's office and read him the riot act. After some banter, he came back out.

"Let's keep this between us, okay pal?" he said. "I don't want Mr. Brisby to think you helped me."

I shrugged and just decided to play along. "Mum's the word, Detective Gumshoe. Good luck."

"Thanks, pal." said Gumshoe before marching off to the security room. Evan and I then went inside to see Sampson, who looked very agitated.

"I hope you two realize what you've done." he growled. "You made this more complicated than it needs to be."

"Lucky, just how long were you planning to keep your involvement with the Rivales a secret from the cops?" said Evan, rolling his dice around in his palm. "All of your regular customers already know."

"Do you know what the cops will do to me if they realized I had to hire gangsters to help run this place?" asked Sampson.

"Yeah, we know." I said. "But I don't think you do."

"Huh?"

"We just spoke with Mr. Rivales. He says you have a legally binding contract with the Rivales family." I explained. "As far as the law is concerned, they have a legal right to work here."

"Yeah, as if the cops are gonna buy that." Sampson muttered. "Look, unless you two have something else to say, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"Well, we actually do have a few more questions for you, Mr. Sampson." I said.

"Great." Sampson groaned. "Just what I need. As if this day couldn't get any worse."

I wasn't exactly jumping for joy, either. But, there would be time for that later. I decided to open up with the contract.

"Mr. Rivales said you had a copy of the contract." I said. "May we see it?"

"As if I had a choice." grumbled Sampson, taking out a single sheet of paper from his drawer. I took a careful look at it. Indeed, there was a lot of legalese and confusing language, most likely by design. I had trouble deciphering it, but from what I could gather, it promised that both parties would take fifty percent of the revenue generated by the casino.

"Looks pretty legal to me, even if the terms are difficult to make out." I said. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is that the last thing this casino needs is a legal battle." said Sampson. "After that last one with Moschet murdering Mr. Hawthorne, we were barely able to pay the bills. We can't turn any profit if we continue to have this kind of reputation."

Okay, he had a point there. "So basically, you were trying to save face."

"No thanks to you." Sampson spat. As if any of this was my fault. Ah well, moving on.

"We actually heard a testimony about the Roulette game that was played before the murder." I said. "Something about Mr. Hawthorne gloating about his victory and Mr. Moschet feeling cheated. You didn't comment on this before."

"Should I have? That always happens around here." said Sampson.

I turned to Evan for any help he could give me, but he simply shrugged.

"No one wants to blame luck, because it's not something they can control." he said. "But more often than not, it is to blame."

This was getting monotonous. "Look, was there anything else that happened at that game that we should know about?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary." said Sampson. "Mr. Hawthorne just got lucky."

Something told me that wasn't the whole story. I then remembered what Noah said about the jewels Mr. Hawthorne used to bet, and decided to bring that up.

"Mr. Sampson, what's your policy if someone brings in outside money to place a wager?" I inquired.

"Oh, simple. I have to appraise the money first. If it's okay, I allow it to be used." said Sampson.

"And you appraised Mr. Hawthorne's jewels?"

"Well, of course I did. I couldn't let anyone swindle me at my star attraction, could I?"

"What were they worth?"

Sampson paused to think for a moment. "Overall, I judged them to be about $5 million. All of them were authentic. At least, from what I could tell."

"From what you could tell?"

"Well, there was one jewel in the pile that I don't think was worth much of anything." said Sampson with a shrug. "But Mr. Hawthorne insisted on adding it to the pot, and as you know, the customer's always right."

He could've saved me a lot of time mentioning this before. "What was this jewel in question?"

"It wasn't anything I saw before, I can tell you that much." said Sampson. "It was this small green stone that looked like a raindrop or something. Probably belonged on a necklace."

This I could not ignore. I updated my entry on Mr. Hawthorne's bet in the Court Record. "Was anyone interested in that jewel?"

"If they were, I couldn't tell." said Sampson.

Well, that was enlightening. "I think we're about done here." I said.

"Right. Now get going, both of you." said Sampson.

We were more than happy to oblige.

"Yeesh, what a grouch." I said.

"At least we got a bit more to go on." said Evan. "None of this was mentioned in the previous trial."

"Yeah, I gathered." I said. "Anyway, let's pay another visit to our client. I think he might know something."

"Couldn't hurt." said Evan with a shrug as we left the casino.

"It's good to see you again, Ms. Brisby." said Moschet. "I take it you have good news for me?"

"Depends on what you mean by good." I said. "We haven't been able to get a clear story from anyone, and we probably won't until the trial. In the meantime, I have a few more questions for you."

"Very well." said Moschet. "I'll answer what I can."

Hopefully, that was going to be enough. I decided to start with the Roulette game.

"I heard there was some trouble at the Roulette table on the night of the murder." I said. "Something that involved you and Mr. Hawthorne."

"And what of it? I told you before, no one likes losing, but it didn't drive me to murder."

"I believe you, Mr. Moschet. But nevertheless, this needs to be cleared up. What happened at that table?"

"Must I repeat myself?" said Moschet, pressing his fingertips together. "I lost to Mr. Hawthorne, he celebrated his success, and I didn't see him again until before he was murdered."

That wasn't enough to go on, despite what Moschet seemed to think. "I need some specifics, Mr. Moschet. For example, I heard that Mr. Hawthorne wasn't a good sport about winning."

"I'm an adult, Ms. Brisby. I think I can handle that sort of thing without killing anyone." said Moschet.

This was getting nowhere. "Mr. Moschet, the court isn't just going to take your word on this. They didn't last time, after all. I need more to work with."

"Why must I provide what you already have?" asked Moschet. "Don't you have Mr. Putnam's notes?"

"Yeah, for all the help they provide." said Evan. "Trust me, Mr. Moschet, you don't know Curtis like I do."

"Well, regardless. I have nothing else to say that Ms. Brisby doesn't already know." said Moschet.

I wonder if other lawyers have clients as difficult as Mr. Moschet was being. It looked like I needed some evidence to jog his memory. Luckily, I knew just the thing.

"Mr. Moschet, I think there is something you can contribute." I said, presenting my notes on the jewels Hawthorne used to place his bet. "Do you remember the wager Mr. Hawthorne made the night he was murdered?"

Moschet leaned forward with interest. "How could anyone forget? It made the rest of us look cheap by comparison. What of it?"

"There was a jewel in that pile that supposedly had no monetary value." I said. "Mr. Sampson said so himself."

"Oh, you mean the Magatama." said Moschet.

Well, this was a surprise. "The Magma-what now?"

"Magatama, Ms. Brisby." Moschet corrected. "It is a sacred gem from Kurain Village, and a major part of their iconography. Legends say that whosoever has the item in their possession can stare into the souls of man and uncover their secrets."

I couldn't help but be a teensy bit skeptical about Moschet's story. But who am I to debate with an occult writer?

"That's, interesting and all." I said. "But Mr. Sampson said the gem was worth nothing. Why would Mr. Hawthorne gamble it away?"

"If you want my professional opinion, he knew about the Magatama's true power." said Moschet. "After all, he did live in Kurain Village for a time."

"All the more reason he'd want to hang onto it." said Evan. "It'd be pretty tricky to have a poker face against someone with one of those things."

"I claim not to know how Mr. Hawthorne's mind works." said Moschet. "All I know is what I saw. And although it was quite a blow for me to see such a marvelous occult treasure slip away, I certainly wouldn't want to kill him for it."

That was probably going to be a problem. Now there was a new motive on the table, one that would be that much harder to disprove. Still, the argument sounded ridiculous. Who else but a total nut case would ignore five million dollars worth of jewels and instead be concerned about some worthless stone that supposedly had magical properties?

"Well, I think that's all we need for now." I said. "We'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Moschet."

"I look forward to it." said Moschet as he disappeared again.

"Are you sure that's gonna be enough?" asked Evan.

"No." I admitted. "But it's all we got until Mr. Rivales takes the stand. At least we're better off than Mr. Putnam was."

"Michaiah, being better off than Curtis just means you're not willing to give up no matter what happens." said Evan, rolling his dice from one hand to another. "It's an admirable trait in a lawyer, but we're still not in the best position here. The prosecution is probably more prepared than we are."

"I know how to deal with prosecutors, Evan." I said. "I'm not worried about Noah."

"Well, maybe you should be." said Evan. "Don't forget, he knows just as much about you as you know about him, what with you two being siblings and all."

"Perhaps, but he never faced me in court before." I said.

"Considering that this is just your second trial, that's not much of an advantage to you." said Evan, to which I gave him a look. "Listen, it's not that I don't have faith in your abilities, I do. I just want to make sure I bring you down to Earth a little."

I guess I couldn't fault him for that. "Thanks for the concern, but I know what position we're in. I just need to make the best of it, that's all."

"And I'm pretty sure you will, with a little bit of luck." said Evan. "C'mon, let's go report to Kristoph."

With that, we headed back to Gavin and Co. Law Offices in silence, giving me time to reflect. Luck wasn't really my problem. I had plenty of luck. It's just that all of it was bad. With all the annoyances and complications I had to go through just to get this far, it almost wasn't worth it. I just hoped that things would go my way at tomorrow's trial...

Call me silly, but I felt content standing in the courthouse once again. It really felt like where I belong.

"Well, today's the big day." said Evan. "You nervous?"

"Maybe a little." I said. "Mr. Rivales' testimony could make or break our case. We just have to hold out for that."

"I'm still not convinced you can pull this off, Brisby."

I turned to see Putnam standing at the door. Who invited him?

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I said sardonically.

"Hey, if I couldn't prove that old coot's innocence, what makes you think you can?" asked Putnam, flipping his coin.

"Well, she's actually gonna try, for starters." said Evan.

"Was that a shot?" asked Putnam.

"You have to ask?" Evan fired back.

Putnam suddenly smirked. "Oh, no. You're not tricking me into throwing my money in with Smiley."

"Now would I do something like that?" asked Evan.

"I wouldn't take the chance." said Putnam. "Well, I'll be watching."

He then sauntered out. Evan sighed and shook his head.

"The only reason I never steered him wrong before is because he never let me steer him period." said he.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that with me." I said. "I'll probably need all the help I can get."

"We'll see." said Evan. "Luck and skill are two parts of a winning combination, after all."

"Tell me, did you write a book of these proverbs or something?" I asked.

Before Evan could answer, the bailiff came in to let us know that the trial was about to start. Right now, I wasn't sure what would happen, only that I would keep fighting until the bitter end.



The loud muttering from the audience was but a dull hum to me as I approached the bench. Standing right across from me was Noah, Sophia right by his side. She was administering some medicine to Noah when the Judge banged his gavel.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Rhys Moschet." said the Judge.

"The defense is ready, Your Honor." I said.

"Just a moment, Your Honor." said Noah as Sophia administered the last of the medicine. "Alright, now the prosecution is ready to begin."

"Um, very well." said the Judge. "In that case, please give us your opening statement."

"Delighted to do so, Your Honor." said Noah. "I just wish to say that I will not be going easy on you, Michaiah. Consider this your true first foray into the world of law."

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Noah." I said.

"Now then, the court has already rendered a verdict on this case once." said the Judge. "Therefore, I will not stand for irrelevant testimony during the retrial, nor will I stand for a simple repetition of evidence from the last trial. Mr. Brisby, please call your first witness."

So, nothing irrelevant, and no repetition of last time. Sounded simple enough. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I just jinxed myself thinking that.



"If you would please give us your name and occupation, we would be most obliged." said Noah.

"Detective Dick Gumshoe, Homicide division." responded the detective. "I was the officer in charge of this case."

"Now then, Detective Gumshoe. Would you be so kind as to outline the details of this case for us?" asked Noah.

"Yes, sir." said Gumshoe. "The crime took place on April 9th at a small gambling parlor called Tyche Casino. In a game of Roulette, the defendant, retired journalist Rhys Moschet, lost to the victim, lifelong jeweler Mordred Hawthorne. A few minutes after the game, the two gentlemen met in the hallway leading to the restrooms. There was then a commotion from the hallway, and the security was sent to investigate. They found Mr. Hawthorne dead, and Mr. Moschet with a bloody cane in his hand. The autopsy report will have the details."

"The court accepts this into evidence." said the Judge. "Now then, were there any witnesses?"

"None that we know of, sir." said Gumshoe. "But when the security arrived on the scene, the defendant and the victim were the only two people in the hallway. We have a picture taken by the security cameras."

He then presented a black-and-white photo to the court. Indeed, it looked pretty damning. Towering over Hawthorne's body was the cloaked figure of Rhys Moschet, holding his cane aloft. Blood streamed from the back of the victim's head. The time stamp was April 9th, 8:35 PM.

"The court accepts this photograph into evidence." said the Judge with a nod.

"That evidence was key last time around." said Evan. "You'd better tread lightly Michaiah."

"Is that all, Detective Gumshoe?" said Noah.

"Not by a long shot, sir." said Gumshoe with a dopey grin.

"Then please provide the court with your testimony."

"You got it, sir!" said Gumshoe.



"As I said before, there was no one else in that hallway." said Gumshoe. "Furthermore, a luminol test shows that there were traces of blood on the defendant's clothes and cane. The head wound also matches up with the gem on Mr. Moschet's cane, proving that it was indeed the murder weapon. Not only that, but Mr. Moschet had a clear motive."

I hated to admit it, but that testimony was pretty solid. There was nothing there I could deny.

"Remember, Chai. We don't want to hear anything that we already heard before." said Noah.

"Meaning we have to get a bit creative." said Evan.

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"Try muddying the waters a bit. At the very least, it'll buy us some time."

Better than nothing, I suppose.

"Ms. Brisby, please begin your cross-examination." said the Judge.

"I look forward to seeing how you'll handle this, Chai." said Noah, placing his hands behind his back. "Go on, show me what you can do."

Hey, ask and ye shall receive. Well, here goes nothing.



"Not only that, but Mr. Moschet had a clear motive."

" Just for argument's sake, what was my client's motive?" I inquired.

"Well, as I mentioned before, Mr. Moschet lost a game of Roulette to Mr. Hawthorne." said Gumshoe. "We have reason to believe that he was sore from losing."

"But he wasn't the only one at that Roulette table." I said. "Everyone else who played that particular game also had a motive."

" " Noah rasped, clearing his throat. "The evidence speaks quite clearly, Michaiah. Mr. Moschet not only had the motive, but also the means and the opportunity."

He had me there. It was time to get creative. "So, Detective Gumshoe. Would you say that Mr. Moschet killed Mr. Hawthorne because he felt that he should've won?"

"I guess that's a pretty logical conclusion." said Gumshoe with a shrug.

"You guess. Meaning you don't know?"

"Well, I wasn't there, pal! I can't afford to gamble on my salary!"

The Judge banged his gavel and gave me a stern look. "Ms. Brisby, stop badgering the witness."

"Um, yessir." I said, shrinking behind the banister.

"You can't push every little detail like that, Michaiah. It makes you look desperate." said Evan.

"Now you tell me." I grumbled. "Your Honor, I wish for this addendum to Mr. Moschet's motive to be added to the testimony."

"I hope you're going somewhere with this, Ms. Brisby. For your sake." said the Judge. "Witness?"

"Yes, sir." said Gumshoe.

"We believe that Mr. Moschet was sore about losing."

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Detective Gumshoe, indulge me in a hypothetical question. Would you kill someone over a game of Roulette?"

"I already told you, pal. I don't gamble." said Gumshoe with a chuckle. "The way my paycheck is, I can barely afford my instant noodles."

"Okay, bad example." I said. "My point is that losing a game like this wouldn't drive someone to murder. That is, unless there was suspicion that the game was rigged."

"I'm not sure what you're driving at, Chai." said Noah.

"Perhaps you know this already, but Tyche Casino has a No-Shenanigans policy." I said, presenting the Roulette wheel. "This is especially true for their star attraction, the same Roulette table Mr. Hawthorne and my client played at before the murder. Whoever wins or loses, there's no one to blame but your own luck. Meaning my client's motive is gone!"

" " Noah exclaimed, clearing his throat. "Chai, you're making assumptions. Why assume that your client would handle this in a mature manner? Many crimes are carried out in the heat of the moment, after all."

"Ah, but you're forgetting something, dear brother." I said coyly. "The murder took place some time after the game had concluded, in the hallway leading to the restrooms. If this was a crime of passion, wouldn't Mr. Moschet have tried to kill Mr. Hawthorne right after the game was over?"

Noah laughed, trying to disguise it as a cough. "You've been watching too many old westerns, Chai. Mr. Moschet would've been restrained by security long before he got to Mr. Hawthorne if he tried that. The fact that we're having this trial proves your hypothesis to be false!"

"Yipe!"

That could've gone better. I hid behind the banister as the audience began to mutter amongst themselves.

"Order! Order in the court!" bellowed the Judge, banging his gavel. "It appears that there are no real flaws with Detective Gumshoe's testimony."

"That being the case, I would like to call my next witness." said Noah. "Mr. Sven Sampson, owner of Tyche Casino. He knows precisely what happened before the murder took place."

"Very well." said the Judge. "Mr. Sampson, please take the stand."

"Wow. That brother of yours doesn't screw around." said Evan. "You okay, Michaiah?"

"Just give me a minute." I said.

Evan shrugged. "Seems like we can't make much headway until all the facts are on the table." said he. "Jumping to conclusions is not going to help us any."

"Hey, you can't blame me for trying." I said sheepishly.

Evan smirked. "Well, try a bit harder, Michaiah. Remember, we've only begun to fight."

"Witness, if you would state your name and occupation, we'd be most obliged." said Noah.

"Name's Sven Sampson, but my friends call me Lucky. I own Tyche Casino." said Sampson. Maybe it was just me, but he seemed a lot more calm and in control than he did the day before.

"Mr. Sampson, are you familiar with the events leading up to the murder on April 9th?" asked Noah.

"Yes, sir." said Sampson.

"Then please provide the court with your testimony."

"You got it." said Sampson with a wink.

"Something's not right here." said Evan. "Lucky knows that Randle Rivales is scheduled to testify. He shouldn't be this calm."

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"Once he lays down all the facts he can, disqualify him as a witness. Prove that we need Randle Rivales on that witness stand."

"No problem." I said.

Evan raised an eyebrow. "No problem?" he parroted.

"Well, I'll have to wait for an opening." I said. "But once I get it, I'll make sure Mr. Rivales testifies."

Evan gave me a stern look. "Michaiah, nothing that happens in this courtroom is for certain. Even if you have a plan, you have to be prepared if something goes wrong."

It wasn't exactly news to me, but it was sound advice. I was beginning to wonder why Putnam never listened to him. Ah well, it didn't matter. What mattered was Sampson's testimony.



"It was a normal busy night, just like any other one." said Sampson. "I was running the Roulette table as I normally do. Both Mr. Moschet and Mr. Hawthorne played that table, although I didn't know who they were at the time. Mr. Hawthorne used jewels to bet on Red 23, while Mr. Moschet bet on 00. Mr. Hawthorne won, and made no secret about it. Some time afterwards, I heard a commotion from the hallway and sent security to investigate."

This was tricky. Nothing in his statement was particularly helpful.

"The prosecution submits the jewels used in Mr. Hawthorne's bet as evidence." said Noah. "It is proof that Mr. Moschet had a motive to kill Mr. Hawthorne."

"The court accepts this into evidence." said the Judge. "Ms. Brisby, please proceed with your cross-examination."

I needed to get a better look at those jewels later. Right now, it was time to get some more information from Sampson.



"Mr. Hawthorne used jewels to bet on Red 23, while Mr. Moschet bet on 00."

" Mr. Sampson, I wish to ask you about these jewels." I said.

"What about them?"

"Could you specifically tell the court what the bet was, exactly?"

"Certainly." said Sampson. "The jewels Mr. Hawthorne used to bet totaled approximately five million dollars."

"And you looked over each one to make sure it was real, correct?"

"But of course. I'd be a fool to let anyone swindle me at my own table."

"How many jewels were there?"

"Twenty, plus one that didn't seem to be worth anything. But, Mr. Hawthorne insisted on using it."

I had to be careful here. If I pressed the issue on the Magatama, it would further cement my client's motive. I needed to keep it under wraps, and find something else to work with.

"Your Honor, I ask that the witness add this to his testimony." I said.

"Very well." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Witness?"

"Sure thing." said Sampson.

"There were twenty one jewels in total, worth about five million dollars."

I checked over the Court Record to see anything I could use. I then spotted a contradiction. According to the police report, there were twenty gems, not twenty one. What's more, the Magatama was among them. This could not be ignored.

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Mr. Sampson, are you sure you did your math right?"

"Um, didn't you just hear me?" said Sampson. "I said I wouldn't dare let anyone swindle me. That means I count every last penny in the pot, and that goes for jewels, too."

"Well, you might want to double-check your figures." I said, presenting the jewels. "Because I only see twenty jewels here."

"Well, technically it was twenty." said Sampson. "Like I said, one of them wasn't worth a cent."

I shook my head. "Mr. Sampson, you clearly said twenty one. It doesn't matter what they were worth."

Sampson started glancing every which way as he began to sweat. "L-look, I know what I counted. I counted twenty stones, plus one that was worth nothing. That's twenty one."

"Perhaps I should clarify." I said. "I'm not talking about monetary value, Mr. Sampson. I'm talking about the physical jewels that were on the table. According to the police record, there were only twenty jewels!"

"I have two words for you, missy! Im-Possible!"

Sampson might have continued to deny it, but his actions spoke louder than his words. He sprang nearly ten feet into the air (alright, that might've been an exaggeration) as he recoiled from my logic.

"Order! I said ORDER!" yelled the Judge, banging his gavel. "Mr. Brisby, is that report correct?"

"It most certainly is, Your Honor." said Noah with a knowing smirk.

"Uh oh. This ain't good." said Evan. I had to agree.

"I suggest you use your imagination a bit, Michaiah." said Noah. "If there were only twenty jewels recovered by the police, and Mr. Sampson claims that there are twenty one, that leaves only one explanation. The missing jewel was stolen!"

"Damn it all!"

I had no one to blame but myself for that one. I shrank behind the banister, waiting for the Judge to draw the inevitable conclusion.

"Mr. Brisby, are you saying the defendant stole one of the jewels?" asked the Judge.

"That would be a good inference." said Noah.

"C'mon, get up, Michaiah." said Evan. "You can't let him get away with that."

Of course, he was right. I straightened myself out and prepared my counterattack.

" " I proclaimed. "Noah, I think there's a problem with your theory."

"A problem?" asked Noah. "And what might that be?"

"It's simple, really." I said. "The problem is you don't have proof that my client stole anything from Mr. Hawthorne."

Noah gripped the banister firmly, his eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean you have proof to the contrary, Chai."

"The burden of proof is on you, dear brother." I said. "But since you asked, there is a piece of evidence that makes your theory more difficult to prove."

The Judge banged his gavel. "The court would like to see this evidence, Ms. Brisby. What proof can you offer that Mr. Moschet might not have stolen the jewel?"

" " I exclaimed, presenting the security photo. "This security photo was taken at 8:35 PM, supposedly after the murder. See how Mr. Moschet is standing? If he really was intent on stealing from Mr. Hawthorne, he would be kneeling down and collecting the spoils. So that means he most likely did not steal a single stone from Mr. Hawthorne!"

"That is ludicr- awack!"

Noah's protest was interrupted by a sudden wheezing fit. Sophia quickly administered some medicine as the Judge banged his gavel.

"Order! I will have order!" he shouted. "This is a bit unexpected, Ms. Brisby. This matter was not covered in the previous trial."

"If I m-m-may be b-b-blunt, Your Honor." said Sophia as Noah recovered. "The r-r-relevance of this r-r-revelation seems t-t-t-tenuous."

"Tenuous?" parroted the Judge.

"Allow me to explain." said Noah, now fully recovered. "The missing jewel has not been found as of yet. And although Mr. Sampson has an odd way of presenting it, he did tell us that twenty jewels had worth, and the last one should be ignored. I do believe a certain detective will have to receive a cut in pay to make up the difference. Besides which, you still have more testimony to provide, correct, Mr. Sampson?"

"That's correct." said Sampson.

"Then please proceed."

"Keep on your toes, Michaiah." said Noah. "This one is going to be difficult."



"As I mentioned before, I reported a commotion to the security some time after the game was settled." said Sampson. "As it turned out, Mr. Moschet had apparently murdered Mr. Hawthorne in the hallway. We restrained Mr. Moschet and called the police. The head of security was called away for other matters, so he gave his statement to me."

Bingo. This was just what I needed to get Sampson off the stand. All I had to do is make Noah agree.

"Your Honor, may I approach?" I asked.

"You may." said the Judge.

I walked around the banister and marched straight up to Noah.

"Noah, what do you think of this testimony?" I asked.

"What do I think?" said Noah. "I think it's reasonable."

"Really? You didn't think that yesterday." I said. "There was a key witness that was left out of the previous trial. Someone you insisted on getting a statement from."

" " Noah rasped. "Did you not already hear Mr. Sampson? The police already have that statement."

I gave Noah a look. "You really think I'm going to fall for that, Noah? I wasn't born yesterday, you know. Why would a witness leave a crime scene when they know they're important to the case? Is that not suspicious?"

Noah looked ashamed. "Well, I suppose it is. Are you saying that this witness is our culprit?"

"Not at all." I said. "I'd be stupid to say that. After all, the security was called after the murder had been committed. It would make no sense to do so if they were already there. No, there's another reason."

"And what might that be?"

" " I exclaimed, presenting Randle Rivales' profile. "This man is the head of the security at Tyche Casino. He is also a member of the Rivales crime family. If the police got wind of this, well, I could only imagine the legal headache Mr. Sampson here would have to go through. Ergo, it may be very possible to charge Mr. Sampson with Obstruction of Justice for having his security guard duck out to protect his casino's reputation!"

"Michaiah, you've gone... ack!"

Noah was launched into another coughing fit, and Sophia responded by giving him another injection of medicine. The Judge banged his gavel, and he looked none too pleased.

"Order, order!" he bellowed. "Mr. Sampson, you have some explaining to do!"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Sampson protested. "The statement I got from the head of security was accurate! He just, couldn't make it to the trial, that's all."

"That's not what we're arguing." I said. "We're arguing that he skipped out on the crime scene when the police arrived. By trying to avoid this sort of confrontation, you've made this more difficult than it needed to be!"

"You gotta be kidding me!"

Sampson sprang up into the air as he recoiled from my logic.

"This sort of behavior will not be tolerated, Mr. Sampson." said the Judge sternly. "The witness is hereby excused. Court will now enter a thirty minute recess."

He concluded his proclamation with a bang of his gavel. It appeared that things were indeed looking up for me.

"V-v-very n-n-nice work, Chai." said Sophia as Noah recovered. "B-b-but don't get t-t-too comfortable."

"She's right, you know." said Evan. "Lady Luck just might decide to turn on us any minute now. You've gotta be vigilant."

Geeze, can't a girl have some moment of accomplishment? I mean, I know the trial was far from over, but I did what I set out to do. Now, all we had to do was hear from Randle Rivales, and see what direction this case would go...

"Not bad, Brisby. Not bad at all."

As soon as we got to the Defendant's Lobby, there was Curtis Putnam, leaning against a wall and flipping his coin.

"You could learn a thing or two from her, you know." said Evan. "For one, she listens to what I have to say."

"Well, of course she does. She's still green." Putnam countered. "Besides, she makes too many risky plays to be a safe bet."

"In case you haven't noticed, Mr. Putnam, this isn't a game." I said indignantly. "A man's life is on the line."

"Whose life? Moschet's?" said Putnam. "The old fogey wasn't scheduled to be hanged. The way I see it, he wouldn't lose much if the Judge upheld his sentence."

That threw me for a loop. I thought Putnam was many things, but I never thought he would be so cold.

"He still doesn't deserve to be in jail, Mr. Putnam." I said, my voice filled with determination. "I intend to prove it."

"You can try." said Putnam. "Later."

He then walked out of the lobby without another word.

"How can you stand working with that guy?" I asked Evan.

"Let's just say I've had worse." said Evan with a shrug. "Speaking of which, do you have a plan if Randle messes up your case?"

That was a good question. "I'm not even sure how he can mess it up. We haven't heard a thing from him that's useful."

"Well, that's about to change." said Evan. "And you need to be ready."

That went without saying. But how does one prepare for the unpredictable?



"Court will now reconvene." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "Mr. Brisby, have you prepared your next witness?"

"Indeed I have, Your Honor." said Noah, clearing his throat. "When we last left off, the defense illustrated a valid point about how one key witness did not testify last time. I intend to rectify this by calling Mr. Randle Rivales, the head of security at Tyche Casino, to the stand."

"Nice of him to save us the trouble." said Evan, although he still seemed a bit unnerved. "What's he planning?"

"Very well." said the Judge. "Mr. Rivales, please take the stand."



"Witness, if you would be so kind as to state your name and occupation." said Noah.

"Randle Rivales. I run security at Tyche Casino." said Randle. "I do some other odd jobs too, but this trial isn't about that."

"Of course." said Noah. "Now then, Mr. Rivales. It is abundantly clear to this court that you were the first on the scene of the crime."

"I was."

"Then please give us your testimony on what you saw."

"Not a problem."

"This is it, Michaiah." said Evan. "This is the turning point. Brace yourself."

He didn't need to tell me twice.



"I got the call from Lucky around 8:35 or so about a commotion in the hallway." said Randle. "When I got there, Moschet was towering over Hawthorne, bloody cane in hand. I then restrained him and waited for the fuzz to take over. I refuse to comment on my disappearance on the grounds that it may incriminate me."

"Well, that sounds straightforward enough." said the Judge.

"Before we proceed, Your Honor, I wish to make a disclaimer." said Noah. "This trial is not about Mr. Rivales' criminal record, and this court should not tolerate any attempts to make it so. Therefore, I request an increased penalty on the defense for any irrelevant questions."

" Noah, who the hell do you think I am?!" I exclaimed, more than a bit insulted. "I wasn't planning on bringing that up!"

"Then you'll have no problem with the penalty, since you won't be getting them." said Noah.

"He's got you there." said Evan.

My only response was a low growl. Sometimes, Noah knew just how to get under my skin.

"The request is granted." said the Judge. "Ms. Brisby, begin your cross-examination."



"When I got there, Moschet was towering over Hawthorne, bloody cane in hand."

" So, would you say that the security camera footage is a representation of what you saw?" I inquired.

"More or less." said Randle, fiddling with his mustache.

"Well, in that case, why didn't you see this sooner? Weren't you watching the security cameras?"

"Yeah, there's a bit of a problem with that, dollface." said Randle. "See, that particular camera blanked out at around 8:30."

"And you didn't find this odd at all."

Randle raised an eyebrow. "Dollface, it's the hallway to the restroom, not a high-security safe. How was I supposed to know that there was a murder taking place there? I didn't hear a thing about it until Lucky called me."

That was a good point. And it also matched up with Moschet's story about a blinding flash before the murder. But I couldn't bring that up. Not yet.

"Your Honor, I ask that Mr. Rivales add this to his testimony." I said.

"Agreed." said the Judge with a nod of his head. "Mr. Rivales."

"Obey the don. That's one of my rules." said Randle.

"The camera blanked out at around 8:30, and I didn't know what was going on until Lucky called me."

" Do you know what happened to the camera at 8:30?" I asked.

"Not a clue, dollface." said Randle. "It didn't appear to be malfunctioning or anything. There was just a bright flash and then it was back to normal."

"How long did that flash last?"

"Five minutes, give or take." said Randle, fiddling with his mustache. "Lucky kinda cheaped out on the lenses for the cameras. It takes them awhile to adjust automatically."

Well, this was interesting. There was more corroboration to Moschet's story, but it still left an important question: Where did the flash come from? That was a question I had to answer later.

"Mr. Rivales, please add this to your testimony." I said.

"Sure, dollface." said Randle.

"The camera was working fine, so what it did manage to see is accurate."

" " I exclaimed, slamming my hand on the banister. "Mr. Rivales, are you certain about that?"

"You lie to the don, you get rubbed out." said Randle. "That's how it works in the underworld."

"Interesting." I said. "Because this autopsy report clearly states that Mr. Hawthorne was hit in the back of the head, not the front. Why then does this picture, which you claim is accurate, show Mr. Moschet facing Mr. Hawthorne as he towers over him?"

Randle began twirling his mustache nervously. "Look, dollface. There are plenty of explanations for that..."

"None of which make sense." I said. "Unless you think my client is some criminal mastermind who knew about the security cameras, even though he had never been to Tyche Casino before according to your boss, Mr. Sampson!"

"W-well, that's very inter- *snap* yeouch!"

Randle stretched his mustache too far, and it snapped back into his face. The audience was in an uproar as the Judge banged his gavel.

"Order! Order!" he bellowed. "Mr. Brisby, there's a clear discrepancy between the pieces of evidence you presented! What do you say to this?"

"Truth is stranger than fiction, Your Honor." said Noah. "Mr. Rivales is right, there can be several explanations for this. One of which is that he knows about Mr. Moschet's motive."

I was speechless. This came out of nowhere!

"Mr. Rivales, is that true?" asked the Judge.

"This is mainly secondhand, so I can't really say for certain." said Randle. "But yeah, I think I know why Moschet would want to off Hawthorne."

"Then please provide your testimony."

"Sure thing."



"According to my boys, Moschet and Hawthorne had a deal." said Randle. "I don't know the details, but I think it has something to do with the jewels. Anyway, it looks like the deal went south, and Moschet took things into his own hands. That cane he had probably provided the flash he needed to blind the cameras and do the deed."

The cane? What was he talking about? And what was all this about?

"You don't have a plan, do you?" asked Evan.

I gulped. "No." I sighed.

"Well, don't let that stop you. I know you'll think of something."

I hoped he was right.

"Ms. Brisby, please proceed with your cross-examination." said the Judge.

"Yes, Your Honor." I said.



"According to my boys, Moschet and Hawthorne had a deal."

" And why exactly were your boys spying...?"

" " Noah interrupted. "I thought we were clear, Chai. No profiling."

"He's right, dollface." said Randle. "I'm the only Rivales you're dealing with. Leave the rest out of it."

"R-right." I said. "So, tell us more about this deal."

"I don't know the details, but I think it has something to do with the jewels."

" How could they make such a deal? I though Tyche Casino had a No-Shenanigans policy." I said.

"You said it yourself, dollface." said Randle, twirling his mustache. "This was the first time either of them set foot in the casino. They didn't know the ropes."

"Oh. I did say that, didn't I?" I said, feeling very embarrassed. "Please, continue."

"Anyway, it looks like the deal went south, and Moschet took things into his own hands."

" And you're certain that's what happened." I said.

"Well, what other conclusion could one draw?" said Randle. "You don't just stiff someone on a deal and expect to get away with it. That's how it works in the underworld."

"Mr. Rivales, you haven't even shown any proof of this deal." I said.

"You want proof, dollface?" said Randle. "I have proof that Moschet knew he was gonna be swindled."

"That's, not the same thing." I said.

"Just play along for a moment, dollface." said Randle. "You'll see that this is a waste of time."

"That cane he had probably provided the flash he needed to blind the cameras and do the deed."

" Why say that?" I inquired.

"Take a closer look, dollface." said Randle. "You'll see that the cane has a light fixture built into it."

I observed the cane more closely, and sure enough, Randle was right. The diamond on the end was actually a blinding light bulb. It was possible that Moschet created the flash himself!

"I see you're already drawing the same conclusion as I, Michaiah." said Noah. "A cane like that has no practical use for a retired journalist, other than to blind a murder victim."

The Judge then banged his gavel. "It seems that the defense has no qualms with Mr. Rivales' testimony."

Oh, I had a qualm, alright. It was that this testimony completely ruined my case! Was Moschet lying to me this whole time?

"Stand your ground, Michaiah." Evan said sharply. "We need to cast some doubt on this testimony."

"How can I do that when even I am questioning my own position right now?" I asked.

"It might look bleak now, but even long shots can win by a nose." said Evan.

"Not helping!" I growled.

Evan sighed. "Look, Randle and Lucky both have something to gain from this. Figure it out, and we can easily buy ourselves more time."

What would they have to gain? They didn't care about Moschet or Hawthorne. All they cared about was...

Wait a tick. That was it!

"Ms. Brisby, is there anything you wish to say before I render my verdict?" asked the Judge.

I nodded. "There is, Your Honor. I believe that Mr. Rivales has ulterior motives."

" What did I say about profiling?" scolded Noah.

"You wouldn't object if you saw the proof I have, brother." I countered.

"Then let's see this proof." said the Judge with a bang of his gavel. "What is Mr. Rivales' ulterior motive?"

" It's Tyche Casino itself." I said, presenting the contract. "According to this, Mr. Sampson and the Rivales family split the profits evenly. However, because of this case, profits have been low, and both parties have been hurt."

"Now wait just a minute!" snapped Randle, nervously twiddling his mustache. "That ain't the Rivales' only source of revenue!"

"No, but it's the only legal one." I said. "And for a criminal family, that could be more dangerous than anything else. Because if profits go down and you can't pay the bills, you'll have to be audited. And no crime family, no matter how tough they are, wants to deal with the IRS. So in other words, you need Tyche Casino to survive. And in order to do that, you have to sweep this whole incident under the rug and get it over with as quickly as possible! Meaning neither you nor Mr. Sampson give two figs about what really happened the night of April 9th!"

"N-now dollface, let's not be hasty- *snap* oouch!"

Randle's mustache once again snapped back into his face as he recoiled from my logic. It took several bangs of his gavel to get everyone settled.

"Order! Order in the court!" the Judge proclaimed. "Ms. Brisby, I am quite shocked. You just discounted the key witnesses to this case!"

"Not all of them, Your Honor." said Noah, clearing his throat. "We still have yet to hear from the defendant himself."

" Before that, I want to speak to him in private." I said. "There's something about this case that I need to square away with him personally. As such, I request a postponement."

"Any objections, Mr. Brisby?" asked the Judge.

"None, Your Honor." said Noah.

"Then the trial shall be postponed until tomorrow morning." said the Judge. "I expect both the prosecution and the defense to clear up all loose ends by then. Court is adjourned."

With that, he banged his gavel.

"Nice work, Michaiah." said Evan. "Now we have all the time we need."

I was in no mood to respond. I merely gave Evan a quick nod as we left. Even if Randle's story was a complete fabrication, I needed to clear the air with my client. I wasn't going to let him get away with lying to me, no way, no how.

When we got to Kristoph's office to give our report, I was still in a bad mood. And the fact that Kristoph was actually amused by this turn of events (or at least it sounded like it to me) didn't help.

"I honestly don't see what the problem is, Brisby." said he. "You have already proven that Mr. Rivales' testimony is biased, and besides which, there's no substantial proof for it. The case is yours to win."

I took out the op-ed piece and threw it on Kristoph's desk. "Pot, kettle. Have you two met?"

Kristoph raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Brisby."

"Oh, there's a big shocker." I growled, rolling my eyes. "Listen, if I win this case for the sake of salvaging this company's image, we're just gonna be brushing things under the rug just like Tyche Casino. I like to think I'm better than that."

Kristoph laughed. "Brisby, come now. Do you honestly doubt your client based on this highly suspect testimony from Mr. Rivales? He's obviously lying."

"My brother planned for that testimony." I said. "He wouldn't do that if it wasn't true."

"Prosecutors can lie, Brisby. And they can also be deceived." said Kristoph, adjusting he spectacles. "If you continue to entertain these doubts, you'll just end up fulfilling someone else's plan."

"Right. As if I'm not doing that already." I scoffed, folding my arms. "Mr. Gavin, I didn't pass my Bar Exam by doing everything half-assed."

"Neither did I, Brisby." Kristoph countered. "It would be best to remember to whom you are addressing. And in my professional opinion, you are making a big mistake."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I insult your precious ego?" I asked mockingly, to which Evan elbowed me in the ribs.

"That's not what he meant, and you know it." he growled. He then turned to Kristoph. "Maybe we should wrap this up before somebody says something they'll regret later."

"Agreed." said Kristoph. "You're both dismissed."

With that, we left Kristoph's office.

"Tell me, Michaiah. Do you always say stupid shit when you're in a bad mood?" asked Evan as we walked.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Kristoph is not an idiot, you know. Far from it." said Evan. "He has a point. We have no reason to believe that Randle is telling the truth. But instead of listening to him, you decide to shoot your mouth off. I'm almost afraid to ask what the hell you were thinking."

"Trust me, my mind's not a nice place to be right now." I said. "I know I should be outraged at someone, but I don't know who yet. I hate that."

"Doesn't mean you should take it out on your boss." said Evan. "Hell, I've disagreed with Kristoph plenty of times, but I know how to be civil about it."

If he had a point (which he probably did), I honestly didn't care. "Let's just get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Evan merely shrugged as we walked out the door.



"Ah, Ms. Brisby. How nice to see you." said Moschet, who was waiting for us. He didn't look perturbed in the slightest.

"Mr. Moschet, we need to talk." I said.

"I should say so, by that look on your face." said Moschet. "Although I'm not sure why you decided to stop the trial. I would've willingly taken the stand."

Did he watch the same trial I did? Because it didn't sound like it. "Mr. Moschet, are you sure about that?"

"Why, of course." said Moschet. "I told you, I'm not guilty of anything."

I wasn't sure whether or not to believe him. I needed to get more specific.

"Mr. Moschet, remember what Mr. Rivales said at the trial?" I asked.

"Oh, that." said Moschet. "I thought I told you before, Mordred Hawthorne was nothing but a footnote in my research. How likely is it that I would track him down and make a deal with him like that?"

"Yeah, that does sound unlikely." I said. "But still, you admitted that you had your eye on that Magatama thing Mr. Hawthorne had. You still have a motive."

"Oh, we both know that's ridiculous." said Moschet. "Why would I kill a man over a simple jewel that even he admitted was worthless?"

"It has worth to you, doesn't it?"

"How was he supposed to know that?"

I didn't want to do this, but he really wasn't leaving me with a choice. I showed him the cane.

"Mr. Moschet, why is there a light fixture in this cane?" I asked.

"That's just a decoration, Ms. Brisby." said Moschet.

"Really?" I said. "Because you said before that there was a bright flash before Mr. Hawthorne was murdered. There's reason to believe that it came from this."

The room suddenly felt colder. "You doubt my word, Ms. Brisby?" Moschet hissed.

"Give me a good reason not to." I answered.

"Very well. I didn't do anything wrong. Good enough?" asked Moschet.

"In a word, no." I said. "Mr. Moschet, if you want me to be your attorney, you have to be honest with me."

"And I am." said Moschet. "Which is why I can say that yes, I did cause that flash."

It took me a moment to process that, but when I did, I was not happy.

"Then you lied to me before." I said angrily. "You've been lying to me this whole time."

"And I'm telling you, I haven't." said Moschet. "Yes, I caused the flash. But I didn't do so to kill Mordred Hawthorne."

"Then why?"

"Because he didn't deserve the Magatama."

I had to palm my face. "Do you listen to yourself talk, Mr. Moschet? You just reinforced your motive!"

"My motive to steal, not my motive to kill." Moschet corrected. "When I saw him gambling with that Magatama, I knew he didn't know its true worth. If he did, he wouldn't have tried to gamble it away. I was planning on following him later, but when we met in the hallway, I couldn't pass up the chance."

"So you attempted to blind Mr. Hawthorne in order to steal it from him." I said. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Well, if I did, you might not have taken my case."

"Mr. Moschet, you are so right." I said, my anger coming to a boil. "You kept saying you didn't do anything wrong, and now you want me to believe that attempted theft isn't wrong?!"

"I didn't have the chance to steal anything." said Moschet, drumming his fingers against each other. "The theft didn't occur, so I didn't do anything wrong."

"That's not the point!" I yelled. "You attempted to steal someone else's property!"

"Something that he wouldn't have missed."

"You lied to me about it!"

"All I did was neglect to mention it."

"That still counts as lying, Mr. Moschet! If you think I'm going to tolerate this, you are out of your mind!"

"Okay, that's enough."

I heard a distant clacking as Evan suddenly tossed his dice across the room.

"I don't like this any more than you do, Michaiah." he said as he walked over to scoop up his dice. "But one thing's for sure. Mr. Moschet is being more honest with us than Randle was. He's the guy we should go after."

"So, what? We let him off the hook?" I said.

"No. We put a plea bargain on the table." said Evan. "Mr. Moschet, we're willing to talk to the prosecution about reducing your charge to assault if you plead guilty."

The room felt even colder. "I will not agree to this. I am innocent on all counts."

"Let me put it to you this way." said Evan, scooping up his dice and rolling them around in his palm. "Either you allow us to plea bargain, or the prosecution will exploit the hell out of this little incident you tried to cover up and we lose."

Moschet held up his hand. "Wait, wait! There's something else."

"Oh?"

"That Magatama does not belong to Mr. Hawthorne. He stole it."

Now I was getting confused. "Okay, I thought you said he thought it was worthless."

Moschet sighed. "Ms. Brisby, it appears we have a communication problem. What I said was that he admitted to its lack of monetary value, but he was willing to gamble it away regardless."

"Still not following you here." I said. "How do you know he stole it?"

The room became even colder than before. "He told me himself, when we met in the hallway. He said it belonged to his daughter, and that he was trying to get rid of it."

"Then, why didn't he just give it to you?"

"Because he knew I would give it back."

I don't know about you, but I felt completely lost. "Are there any cliff notes to this story?"

"That you'll have to figure out yourself." said Moschet. "It would be quite difficult to tie my article to the case."

"Um, okay then." I said. "We're done for now, Mr. Moschet. But I want you on that stand tomorrow, and I want you to tell the whole truth, attempted theft and all."

"And you shall." said Moschet. "Good day, Ms. Brisby."

With that, we left for Tyche Casino. I was still very disgruntled. Even if Moschet had good intentions, even if he didn't steal anything or kill anyone, he still attacked someone and lied about it. This case was getting more complicated by the minute, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. And let's not forget that there was still Randle Rivales, who blatantly lied on the stand and almost got me to believe it. Furthermore, Noah let it happen. How could that be? I had to find out, no matter what.

"Keep looking, Detective Gumshoe. It must be around here somewhere."

"We combed this place from top to bottom, sir. We still aren't finding anything."

We arrived in the middle of Noah briefing Detective Gumshoe about, something, while Sophia remained by his side. I couldn't really tell what they were talking about, but then again, I had other things on my mind. Evan decided to speak up.

"Are we interrupting anything?" he asked.

Sophia was the first to address us. "A-a-actually, you a-are." she said. "W-we are in the m-m-middle of an i-i-investigation, if you don't m-mind."

I was in no mood for this. "Well in fact, I do mind." I said sharply. "Noah has some explaining to do."

Sophia tilted her head, as if she had no idea what I was talking about. "E-explaining? What is there to e-e-explain?"

"Don't do this to me, Sophia." I groaned. "Look, that last testimony from Mr. Rivales was a bunch of baloney. I know it was."

"Um, w-we know that already." said Sophia. "Y-you've already proven that by showing his bias. Why a-are you s-still hung up on i-it?"

"Because I though you and Noah would catch something like this before letting him take the stand." I said.

"Who says that I wouldn't?"

While I was talking to Sophia, Noah had dismissed Gumshoe and turned to me. He still had his confidence and poise, and that made me all the angrier.

"So then you allowed Mr. Rivales to lie." I said. "You let him speak on the stand, despite knowing that he was spouting nothing but falsehood, and you tried to pass it off as truth. I thought you were better than that!"

"Tell me, Chai. Did you get a chance to talk to your client?" asked Noah.

"Don't change the subject on me, Noah!" I snapped. "I do not have the patience for this!"

"And I don't have the patience for your temper tantrums, but you don't hear me complaining." said Noah. "Now, did you talk to Mr. Moschet or not?"

"Well, I did. But..."

"And was he as innocent as you said he was?"

"Well, no. But..."

"Then it appears you're the one speaking from an erroneous position."

"Oh, and I suppose you're just an innocent angel in all of this?" I said. "Mr. Moschet and Mr. Hawthorne didn't know each other personally. They never would've met up to hash out a deal. How could you let Mr. Rivales get away with saying that?"

"Chai, he did say the information was secondhand." said Noah.

"Oh, sure. Pass the buck." I said. "You knew he was lying. Don't try to tell me he wasn't."

"Was he now?" asked Noah. "Are you sure he was talking about a meeting before the game?"

"What else would he me-"

It then hit me like a sack of rocks upside the head. How could I have been so stupid?!

"Wait, so when Randle was talking about the deal with the jewels, he wasn't referring to a deal about the game." said Evan. "He was talking about that meeting in the hallway!"

"Exactly correct." said Noah. "But by assuming that he was talking about something else, you ended up looking like a fool."

I sighed, feeling quite ashamed. "So, you knew about that the whole time, huh? About how Mr. Moschet wanted that Magatama."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Chai. Is that the name of the missing jewel or something?"

I perked up. It seems that Noah didn't do all of his homework.

"Noah, do you by any chance read Oh! Cult! magazine?" I asked.

"O-oh!" Sophia pipped up. "I-I didn't know you w-were into s-supernatural ph-phenomena, Chai."

"Um, actually, I never heard of it until my client mentioned it to me." I said.

"Oh. W-well, that m-makes sense." said Sophia. "After all, Rhys Moschet w-was one of their t-top journalists b-before he r-r-retired. He even w-won an a-award f-f-for..."

Sophia trailed off, and I could see a spark of realization in her eyes.

"What is it, Sophia?" Noah asked.

"Noah, we m-might want to r-review our evidence." said Sophia. "S-something is a-amiss."

Noah furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?"

"P-p-positive."

Noah turned back to me. "We'll have to pick this up another time, Chai. It seems that my nurse wants to play advisor again."

I knew he was joking, but that's because I'm his sister. "Alright. And, I'm sorry about accusing you and all."

"I know." said Noah as he and Sophia moved off.

"Wow. Turns out Randle wasn't lying after all." said Evan.

"Yeah, but my client was." I said bitterly.

"Chin up, Michaiah." said Evan. "We have an ace in the hole. Your brother doesn't know about the Magatama."

"But he did know about Mr. Moschet's attempt to steal from Mr. Hawthorne." I mused. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds like a big contradiction."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Evan.

"We need to see Mr. Rivales." I said. "He might have some answers."

"Sounds like a plan." said Evan. So with a sense of relief from learning that my brother was not crooked (I was just being stupid), we headed on over to the security room.