Miles Edgeworth: In Too Deep
A/N I don't own Ace attorney, blah, blah, blah. This is a one-shot. Yay for one-shots! So, I had a hard time thinking p a name for this one, so... excuse the not so great title...
"Have you found any clues yet, Detective?" Miles Edgeworth stood at a crime scene holding a black, beaten-up-looking umbrella over his head while Detective Gumshoe poked around, getting soaked in the process. "Any identification on the body?"
"Uh..." the detective squinted, having a hard time seeing through the pouring rain. Of all the days for a man to be murdered... He squatted next to the body of a well dressed man. He had a black suit on that was fancier than Edgeworth's. He spotted a wallet dumped out next to him. Gumshoe took out an evidence bag and put it in using the evidence bag itself to protect the wallet from being contaminated by his own DNA. "Aha!" Underneath the wallet was some sort of driver's license. He slipped it into another evidence bag before getting up to show it to Edgeworth. "Here it is sir." He held it out, and Miles glanced at it.
"Devan Manning... His name sounds familiar, but I can't quite..." Edgeworth's eyes narrowed in thought for a moment before he nodded. "He's that gallery owner."
"Gallery owner, sir? I've never heard of him... I'm not much into the arts..."
He rolled his eyes. "Of course you're not, Detective. Well, Manning was this gallery owner who came out of no where. He just showed up one day and rented out a building. The next day it was filled with rare paintings."
"Oh... So he was really rich then?" Gumshoe looked down at the wallet in his hands. It was empty. "Looks like it was probably a mugging then... Damn muggers... We never catch 'em. Especially when they don't take any credit cards..."
"Don't be so sure, Detective," the prosecutor replied, his arms crossed. "Sometimes things aren't what they seem."
Sighing, the detective leaned against the alley wall. "They never are. Somehow when you or Wright are involved things get really complicated. I swear, its bad enough people murder each other, but do they have to do it in such a complicated way?"
The corners of Miles' mouth twitched in amusement. "Just keep looking for more clues, Detective."
Gumshoe sighed and went back to searching. He took a moment to squeeze out the bottom of his coat. He was absolutely soaked. He had brought an umbrella to the crime scene, but Mr. Edgeworth had forgotten his that day, so... He let out a sigh. There was nothing here. "I can't find anything, sir. It's the rain, it probably washed any clues away... It even washed the blood from the bullet wound away." He gestured toward the victim's head, where a neat clean little hole was.
"But don't you think that's odd, Detective?" Edgeworth asked. "Shouldn't there at least be some traces of blood left? There should at least be some blood mixed with water on the ground, shouldn't there? There isn't a drain anywhere near here for it to have disappeared to."
The detective scratched the back of his head, thinking. "I guess there should be, sir..."
"Ergo, it's very likely this wasn't really the crime scene."
Gumshoe blinked. "Wow, sir. I never would have thought of that!"
"Which is probably why your salary is so low," he replied bitingly. "How is it that you get assigned to so many cases?"
The detective stared down at the ground while he answered. "Powers of persuasion, sir... And... The right criminal is always caught in the end..."
"Thanks to Wright. Sometimes I think he should get your job instead!" Edgeworth tapped his fingers on his crossed arms, agitated. He always ended up doing Gumshoe's job for him. Why did he bother keeping the detective around? Why should he keep getting the detective's job back for him when he gets fired? Catching sight of the detective's depressed face, he sighed. "Let me take a look around... Hold this."
Gumshoe brightened. "Alright sir!" He took the umbrella and held it over Edgeworth as he investigated the scene.
Immediately, Miles noticed something that the detective hadn't. "Evidence bag."
He fumbled and finally placed a bag into the prosecutor's outstretched hand.
"Its some sort of pin," Edgeworth said, examining it. "It looks familiar..." He held the back up for the detective to see.
Gumshoe took it and examined it for a few moments. "I've see this before, sir."
"Uh... I don't remember."
Miles sighed. "Of course you don't..."
"Sorry sir..." He stared at it a few more moments, trying to remember. He flipped it over and squinted. "Huh... Made in Italy... Think it's the victim's?"
"Maybe," Edgeworth replied. He turned his attention to the victim in question. "This was no mugging, detective."
"Huh? You sure?" Gumshoe blinked. "How do you know?"
"Look at the wound. If it were a mugging, the victim would have been close to the murderer, right? They usually hold the gun to the head."
"Right..." the detective stared blankly at the wound, as if the answer would suddenly announce itself.
The prosecutor was determined that the detective would have to figure at least something out on his own... "So then, what's wrong with the wound?"
"Um..." He thought for a few moments. "Oh! Powder burn! There'd be a powder burn! And there's no way the wound would be that clean!" He grinned, looking proud of himself. The grinned vanished in a few moments. "So where was the real crime scene?"
"That would be what we have to figure out, now isn't it?" Miles stood up. "I think that's all we can find here. Come, drive me to the gallery." He waved his hand, and some forensic specialists came to start checking out the body and moving it. Gumshoe followed after the prosecutor, careful to keep the umbrella so it would block every drop of water from hitting Edgeworth. He opened the squad car door for him and waited for him to get in before closing the umbrella and climbing into the drivers side.
After giving Gumshoe the directions to the gallery, Edgeworth sat in silence as the detective drove. He was aware of the detective glancing at him frequently using the mirror as if to start a conversation, but he ignored him, staring out the window instead, being in no mood for idle chatter with the detective.
Within a few minutes, they arrived at the Gallery de Manning. There was a hostess standing at the front desk who glared at Gumshoe disapprovingly.
"You can talk to the manager sir, but you'll have to leave the riffraff outside." She stared pointedly at the detective.
Gumshoe scowled, then looked down self-consciously at his raggedy old coat that was soaked with water. He didn't have a mirror, but he could just imagine how scruffy he looked with his hair plastered to his head from the rain. He was about to flash her his police badge when Miles put a hand on his arm.
"It's alright, Detective. I can talk to him alone."
"Yes sir... If you're sure..."
Edgeworth nodded and he was lead away to the manager's office.
Gumshoe sighed and helped himself to some complimentary mints as he waited for the prosecutor to return. By the time the two got back, the entire bowl had been eaten. The hostess gave him an ugly glare, but he shrugged it off as he looked toward Miles expectantly.
"I have a hunch," he said. "Drive me back to my office."
"Yessir!" The detective followed Edgeworth out to the squad car. It had stopped raining, leaving the air heavy feeling. He got into the drivers seat. "So what did you find out, sir?"
"Manning left the gallery yesterday with a man named Vincent Giovanni, and Vincent was wearing that pin I found."
Gumshoe stared st him expectantly, then frowned. "That's it, sir? Then what took you so long."
He looked slightly embarrassed. "That hostess... She wouldn't let me talk to the manager until I gave her my phone number... I gave her yours instead, by the way."
"Oh..." The detective shrugged. "Alright then..." So now he would have that nasty hostess calling him? Well, better him than Mr. Edgeworth, he supposed... "So what's your hunch?"
"Hm?" Edgeworth glanced over from the window, which he had been staring out. "Oh, I'll tell you later, if it turns out to be correct..."
"Oh," Gumshoe sighed, disappointed. Edgeworth never did tell him any of his hunches unless they were right... He pulled to a stop in front of the Prosecutors' Offices. "Want my help, sir?"
"No, it's quite alright, Detective. It's getting late. Just go home."
"Yes sir..." He sighed, clearly disappointed. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Goodbye, Detective." Miles turned and walked into the building. Gumshoe would have just gotten in the way... He always did. He made his way up the stairs to his office- he tended to avoid elevators. Sometimes he wished his office wasn't so high up...
Walking into his office, he immediately headed for his files. He sifted through the letter C until he found what he wanted. He searched through the file for a moment before smiling to himself. Of course, all his hunches were correct... Now he just needed to confront the criminal, and the case would be done. His hand went to his cell phone, but he hesitated, then shook his head. He didn't need Gumshoe for this. The bumbling detective would mess something up somehow.
Gumshoe sat in his small dingy apartment and sighed. He wasn't much use to Mr. Edgeworth, was he? Why couldn't he ever figure things out? Scowling, he rubbed his temple, as if that would help the answers come to him. He was determined to figure this out.
"Manning comes out of no where and opens an art gallery. Some one shoots him and tries to make it look like a mugging... A professional job maybe?" He frowned, thinking things through. "That pin... I've seen it before... But where? Think, Gumshoe! Think!" His eyes closed for a moment as he racked his brain for information. They snapped open again. "Aha! It's that family crest! So that Vincent guy works for them, right? I gotta tell Mr. Edgeworth! Wait... He probably has it figured out by now..." He bolted to his feet. "Mr. Edgeworth wouldn't... I know he hates crime, but he wouldn't go that far, would he?"
"Ah, Miles Edgeworth. Your reputation precedes you." The man at the door gave him a slight bow. "Would you like to come in?"
Miles stepped in and nodded at the man. "Your reputation precedes you as well... Vincent Cadaverini!"
"You're quite mistaken, my good sir. My name's Vincent Giovanni." The man furrowed his brow. "What would make you think I was connected to people like them?"
"I know all about you, about what you did," Edgeworth replied, crossing his arms. "The Cadaverinis had some kind of deal with Manning, didn't they? That's how a nobody like him could just open up a gallery out of no where and have it filled with paintings. But the deal went sour, and Manning was becoming a problem, so you had him 'erased'."
"That may be what the Cadaverinis did, but I am not one of them, I assure you."
"There's a witness who saw you leave the gallery with Manning," the prosecutor stated matter-o-factly.
"So? Do you have some sort of evidence that I killed him?"
"You dropped your pin. Your pin with the Cadaverini family crest on it!"
"You think it's mine?" Vincent snorted. "Do you have any proof of that?"
"A witness saw you wearing it." Edgeworth's eyes narrowed. "You did it, didn't you?"
Vincent stared him down for a few moments. "That crest's supposed to be a secret. The cops keepin' tabs on us? The boss isn't going to like that..."
"So you confess," the prosecutor pressed. "You're a Cadaverini."
"Yes, I am... Who was the witness? Who saw me leave with Manning?" He stepped toward Edgeworth, staring at him intently.
"I... I'm not going to tell you that!" Edgeworth took a step backwards. Had he made a mistake?
"Oh boys, why don't you come in here and join in on this chat?"
Two men wearing suits walked into the room. One of them stood between Edgeworth and the only exit from the room.
Miles' eyes widened as he caught sight of the pistols in their hands.
Vincent pulled out a gun of his own. "You some kind of an idiot, Edgeworth? You really thought you could take down the Cadaverinis?"
"You are criminals, and criminals should be brought to justice," the prosecutor scowled, putting on a brave face in front of the gangsters. He couldn't show them his fear... It would be all over then...
"You're a fool. The police can't touch us. You should know that." Vincent laughed. "Now, tell me who saw me leave with Manning!" When Edgeworth shook his head, he laughed. "Fine then, looks like you'll be taking a dirt nap!" He cocked his gun.
"Nobody move, pal!" Someone burst through the door. It was Gumshoe with his gun out. He swept it around the room, taking the scene in. "Just drop your weapons, and nobody gets hurt!" He pointed his gun straight at Vincent, seeing how he was aiming at Edgeworth. The other two grunts took aim at Gumshoe and waited for the order to shoot.
Vincent pointed his gun down toward the floor. "Nobody gets hurt, eh Copper?" He hesitated for just a moment. "Nobody except you two!" He whipped his gun up again.
Edgeworth squeezed his eyes shut and he threw himself to the ground as he heard the sound of a gunshot. It brought back so many bad memories... It was just like that time in the elevator. A screamed echoed in his ears and he forced himself to open his eyes. Vincent was on the floor in front of him, dead. In the next instant, he heard three gunshots. He glanced back and his eyes widened in horror as he saw Gumshoe falling backwards, hand clenched to his chest.
"Detective Gumshoe!" Miles cried, crawling over to him. He looked across the room to see one of the men dead, the other still alive. The latter lifted his gun.
"Now its your turn, you moron!"
Edgeworth dove toward Gumshoe's pistol just as he fired. He felt the shot whiz over his head as his hand closed around the gun's handle. He lifted it and took aim at the gangster.
"You don't have the guts to pull the trigger!"
The pistol felt heavy in his hand. Could he kill another human being? As the gangster took aim, he realized that he had no choice. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the trigger. Gunshots echoed through his ears, and his mind flashed back to the boat. Two shots, and then a splash... He opened his eyes as he realized he heard a thump, not a splash. He looked over to see that the man fell to the ground.
The bile rose in his mouth as he smelled the metallic tang of blood. His eyes swept over the four prone shapes, and he felt that he was going to be sick. "Gumshoe!" He rushed over to the detective. "Gumshoe, wake up!" He put a hand over the bullet wounds in his chest, trying to feel for a heartbeat. "Dick!"
Miles stared dully at the floor of the hospital. How could he be so stupid? How could he have done that? What kind of idiot just burst into the house of a Cadaverini? He wrapped his arms around his stomach feeling like he was about to retch.
"Miles? I came as soon as I heard..."
Miles looked over to see Phoenix Wright standing above him.
"Wright... This is... It's all my fault..."
"Have they said anything?" Phoenix sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"No, nothing..." He looked up at the clock. It was early in the morning. How long had Gumshoe been in surgery? He lost track... "The nurses don't look optimistic." He glanced at the grim faced nurses who immediately tried to make themselves look busy. Tears came to his eyes and he went back to staring at the ground. "Wright... This shouldn't have happened."
"Yeah," he replied. "You're right. Things like this should never happen... But things will be alright... Gumshoe's always been lucky, right?"
"Right... I just hope... I just hope his luck hasn't run out..."
They spent the next hour in silence. Edgeworth looked up as he heard a sharp 'SNAP!' "You WILL let me see him NOW!"
"Franziska?" Phoenix got up and walked over to the whip-wielding prosecutor.
"Phoenix Wright! These fools won't let me see Scruffy!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but... His condition isn't stable... We're not even sure if..." The nurse trailed off.
Franziska turned and stomped toward Miles. "That foolish fool hardy fool! How could he foolishly go and get foolishly shot? That-That fool!" Tears came to her eyes. "How could he do that, Little Brother?"
Edgeworth winced. So she didn't know that it was his fault?
Wright came and stood next to Franziska, putting a hand on her shoulder. "He'll pull through, I promise..."
"It's my fault," Miles said softly.
She glanced at him sharply. "Don't be a fool, Miles Edgeworth. How could this be your fault?"
Swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat, he began to tell the story. The story about what an idiot he was, going to a gangster's house without telling anyone, without a weapon, or even backup. About how he thought he could take on a family like the Cadaverinis. He choked up once or twice as he explained how the detective had burst in to save him, and the shoot out after that.
Once he finished the story, no one spoke. Everyone was in complete silence, and Miles went back to staring at the floor. His eyes snapped up as he heard footsteps coming toward him.
It was a surgeon. "Miles Edgeworth?"
He nodded faintly.
"Could you come with me please?"
Edgeworth nodded numbly and followed after the surgeon. His heartbeat quickened as his heart jumped into his throat. Was this it? Was the surgeon going to tell him the unthikable? Was Gumshoe... Dead? His knees almost failed him as they walked down the silent white corridor. He kept waiting to hear Gumshoe's voice calling from one of the rooms. But everything remained silent. He finally got up the courage to ask. "What happened?"
"Two bullets to the chest," the doctor replied. "He was in surgery for hours..." He opened a door and ushered Edgeworth inside.
On one of the beds was Gumshoe. He was so still... He wasn't... He couldn't be...
Miles fell to his knees. "Gumshoe! How... How could this have..."
"Th-that you sir?"
"Gumshoe? Gumshoe! You're alive!" He got up and ran over to the bed.
Gumshoe stared at him for a few moments. "You can't kill me that easily, sir."
"I'm so sorry, Gumshoe!"
The detective blinked. "Sorry?"
"This is all my fault!" Edgeworth exclaimed. "If I hadn't been such an idiot..."
"What are you talking about sir? If anything, this is my fault... If I had been able to figure out things sooner..." He sighed. "Now I feel like a train's hit me..."
"Still... I should have known better!"
"Everyone makes mistakes, sir... I should know!" Gumshoe grinned for a moment before it faded. "You know... I... I never had to kill anyone before, sir. It's not a good feeling... But I guess we had to, huh."
"Yes, Detective... We had to... Because of my dumb mistake... My dumb mistake that put you in here!"
"Stop." Gumshoe's voice was stern. "Stop blaming yourself! It isn't your fault!" For once in his life, he sounded irritated at Edgeworth. "I knew what I was getting into when I burst through that door, sir! I was trained for it!"
"You shouldn't have... You should have just let me get shot... It's what I deserve for being such an idiot." Miles stared at the ground, unable to meet the detective's gaze.
"No, pal... I would never let a friend of mine get killed! Never!" His eyes narrowed. "Listen, I've had to put up with a lot from you, but I won't put up with any of this blaming stuff! Friends don't blame friends, and that's a fact!"
"F-friend?" Edgeworth looked at Gumshoe, surprised. "You consider me a friend? After... After all I've done to you? Your salary reductions? Working you so hard? I even made you carry around your umbrella for me! I've been so terrible to you..."
"'Course we're friends, sir!" the detective grinned. "As soon as I get out of here, lemme take you out for a drink!"
Miles shook his head. "No, Detective... I should be the one buying you a drink."
"Well, sir... Guess I won't turn down a free drink..."
"Forget the drink... I'll buy you a full dinner. At one of the best restaurants in town."
"Wow, sir... You'd do that? For me?" Gumshoe's grinned broadened. "I haven't been to a fancy restaurant in... well... Actually, I've never been to a fancy restaurant..." He yawned. "Can't wait... I'm gonna be in here a long time though..."
Miles smiled. "I'll let you get your rest, Detective. I'll be back to visit you later... I'll bring Franziska and Wright with me."
Gumshoe let out another yawn. "Alright sir... See you later..."
"Oh... And Gumshoe?"
"I think it's about time you got a raise."