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“Oh great, you’re already here.” A frumpy, older man trots over to Miles Edgeworth with a smile. “I hope I didn’t make you wait long.”
“Hmph, how rude. Luckily, I just arrived myself,” Edgeworth dismisses. Between the two of them, he realizes, he’s the one that stands out far more. Wright’s torn jeans and stained hoodie blend in with much of the crowd seamlessly, whereas the bespoke ornateness of his own suit doesn’t even match the performers much less the average patron. For a short moment, Edgeworth considers toning down his attire in the future; he just as quickly discards the thought, as if everyone else takes no pride in their appearances, that has nothing to do with him.
“Fantastic,” replies Wright, as if they’re here on some sort of excursion. “Well come on. I already bought some tickets, because I knew you wouldn’t.”
Wright makes an about face and starts walking off right in front of him. “Wright!” Edgeworth calls in his most authoritative courtroom tone. Wright continues walking. “Wright, I will not be walking after you,” he claims, ramrod straight.
If Wright goes off any further, he’ll surely lose him in this vulgar, screaming rabble.
“Nng.” Edgeworth marches after him.
Wright stops, eventually, at some sardine-packed spot, and Edgeworth elbows his way next to him. Wright pats him on the back when he arrives, which makes his skin crawl.
“I can respect,” Edgeworth huffs, “That you would want to meet in public. I can understand, even, why you would insist on choosing the location. However, no part of me can conceive why you would choose- ” His face folds into a glower of disgust, as he looks from his ruined shoes to the portable toilets to the patron vomiting in a trash can; hears the ear-splitting, migraine-inducing screams coming from every safety unregulated attraction to form a violent surround sound experience not unlike some fantasy curse; smells the – oh god what even is that? - “A carnival.”
Wright has the gall to chuckle at him, that way he does where he glances just to the side and Edgeworth can see his whole chest heave, soundless and yet a far mark from silent. Condescending despite having no ground to look down from.
Edgeworth will prosecute this man one day. He’s certain of it. Edgeworth knows the secrets of his workplace; he can’t play piano to save his soul. Not to mention the company he keeps. No one can be called as a witness in a murder case this many times and not look suspicious, so it would do Edgeworth no good to form any sort of working relationship that may one day interfere. That said, for today, he needs Wright on his side.
They shuffle forward with the crowd. “Tell me exactly what testimony you intend to deliver with regards to upcoming trial of the State v Libera.”
Wright looks up and pulls down his unwashed hat further to shield his eyes from the sun. “Little early in the morning for witness tampering, isn’t it, Miles?”
The use of his given name is only meant to goad him. As such, Edgeworth bites his lip and sternly refuses to react. Wright only looks more amused with him. “I would appreciate that you not throw around baseless accusations of such nature.”
Wright smiles half apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t realize those rumors actually got to you.”
Edgeworth can’t help but grasp his arm. “It’s not that. Regardless, as the prosecutor of the case, my work not only allows but requires that I review all accepted evidence and coach key witnesses. Even if it weren’t, which it is, discussing the case is the only reason we’re here.”
“Is it?” Wright asks, and he meets Edgeworth’s eyes with that smug smirk of his that claims he knows something Edgeworth does not.
Edgeworth releases his arm and instead crosses them in irritation. “Yes.”
Wright shrugs. “If you say so.” He looks away again, as if trying to recall. “I was working that night. A drunk woman stumbles in at about, let’s say 11:30.”
“Be specific, Wright,” Edgeworth admonishes through gritted teeth.
“A brunette about 5’2” with dull green eyes, looked to be Caucasian and early to mid 30s matching the description of Ms. Lila Libera wandered in drunk at about 11:35.”
Edgeworth nods. Despite Wright’s clear sarcasm in affectation, these are exactly the details Edgeworth needs confirmed now rather than have any ambiguity come up in the courtroom left open to be pressed by some cowardly and tedious defense.
“She was already drunk when she entered the, ahem, establishment?”
“That she was,” Wright confirms. They both shuffle forward with this slow-moving crowd again.
“And there was an incident on the premises.”
Wright stays silent.
“Involving you,” Edgeworth prompts.
Wright scratches the back of his head. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
Edgeworth twitches. “What do you mean, you don’t think so?”
“I mean,” Wright starts, “Hardly anything happened that I’d call an incident.”
“Your fracas with the late Fray Maudoup?”
“Who, the guy she was with?”
The dead guy she was with! Edgeworth tramps down his fury. It’s not his first case anymore. He knows he must exert… patience and… care… so as not to repeat…
“Yes,” is all he can grit out.
“To be fair, I never caught that guy’s name,” Wright replies with a shy smile, as if this wasn’t all his toying with him. “Oh, I got it,” he says.
But he’s not talking to Edgeworth. He’s talking to a man in front of them and reaching into his pocket. Edgeworth immediately readies himself to defend, only for Wright to pull out a set of fraying pink fair tickets. Edgeworth watches Wright count out a number of them, bewildered, until he looks around and sees where they’ve stopped moving forward. Edgeworth’s eyes go wide and a sharp, squeaky inhale sound comes out of his nose. He pushes back from the gate they’ve arrived at and storms off.
“Hey, Edgeworth, wha-”
As if Wright has any place being surprised here! “Bumper cars?! You led me to a line for bumper cars?”
Wright purses his lips. “I don’t think you’re really getting the whole limited time fair thing.”
“I don’t think you understand that I am a barred attorney - which is more than I can say for you – and not a child.”
Wright’s calm humor never waivers, despite the low blow. He only chuckles again with that knowing look. He’s probably thinking Edgeworth looks an awful lot like a child yelling about bumper cars, of all things, as if this entire setting isn’t Wright’s fault. Maybe that’s why a carnival: to humiliate him. Inconvenience him. Push forward the difference in their age and experience. Well, Phoenix Wright will have a damned hard time doing that. Miles Edgeworth is a prodigy. With the backing and resources of his guardian, he passed his high school equivalency at thirteen years old, graduated university at sixteen, became a barred lawyer at nineteen, and by twenty was already prosecuting cases alone. Miles Edgeworth has spent his entire life being condescended to by elders, and if disgraced Phoenix Wright thinks hisimpudence is any way special, then he is the one who is naive -
“Jesus, Edgeworth. Calm your lapels. You could have just told me you hate ‘em at the beginning of the line.” Wright has the audacity to clasp him by the arm as if to guide him. “Come on. We can play some nice, stationary games. I know you like the water gun one.”
Edgeworth huffs. “Where would you even get such an idea?” He squeezes his eyes shut tight. He’s going to get wrinkles. He won’t be distracted by Wright’s incessant idiocy. “What will you tell the court when you’re asked about your altercation with M. Maudoup?”
Wright’s eyebrows lift. “I’d say their question is misleading.”
Edgeworth taps his fingers. “In that case, what will you say when you are asked about the interaction you had with M. Maudoup that same night you saw Ms. Libera?”
“Who told you it was the same guy, anyway?” Wright counters, handing four tickets over to some carnie in a booth. The slovenly fool – the one in the booth – holds out a set of three plastic rings to both of him.
“The police force, obviously, Wright.” Edgeworth keeps his arms folded until the staff member gives up and places the set on the counter in front of him.
Wright takes his set of rings. “Ah, the police are dogshit.”
Edgeworth bristles like a cat before he can gather his senses. “Would you repeat that?” he warns.
Wright tosses his first ring at a bottle. “The police are dogshit,” he says again. The ring spins around a bottle’s neck, almost landing before bouncing off at the last moment. “And I’ve seen how you treat your own guys enough to know you know it.”
“The LAPD are this city’s finest, and the trust held between its detectives and our prosecutors is absolute.”
Wright gives him a long, doubtful look and throws his second ring without aiming. “Is that why you’re out here investigating by yourself?”
“That is collaboration. It is also well within my job purview.”
“Mhm.” Wright looks back to the bottles and tosses his last ring. “And why you keep evidence away from them?”
Edgeworth tenses. “At times, it is safer with me.”
Wright reaches for one of Edgeworth’s rings, since he’s clearly not using them. “Safe from who?”
Edgeworth sighs. “We’re getting off topic again. Are you saying you do not believe the man who you saw with Ms. Libera was not the same as the deceased?”
Wright tosses another ring, and once again it lands around a bottle neck only to spin right off. “I honestly don’t know.” The man sighs as if he really means it, as if Edgeworth’s inconvenience isn’t his sadistic amusement. He tosses another ring.
“When the court asks, you will say he is.”
Wright purses his lips again. Pulls his hat down again. Stalling, no doubt, as is his way. The man takes the last ring and holds it out to Edgeworth.
“Just throw one.”
“The topic at hand, Wright-”
“It’s a waste if you don’t go at least once.”
Edgeworth snatches the plastic out of Wright’s taunting hand. “If I throw the damned thing, will you say you saw the deceased?”
Wright’s mouth opens into a shocked smile. “That’s your quid pro quo, Edgeworth?” he laughs. “God, if you want me to falsify testimony, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Edgeworth scowls and tosses the damned thing away from him. “It’s not falsifying; you’re just being difficult.” The ring clatters. They both turn to watch it land on a bottle and spin around its neck slowly, going lower and lower… and then bouncing right off. Edgeworth bangs his fist on the counter so hard the flimsy little booth shakes.
Wright shrugs it off easily despite Edgeworth’s new turmoil. “Oh well. Let’s try something else.”
“You must know it’s all rigged, don’t you?”
Wright snorts. “Oh do I.”
They stroll on, Wright’s hand on his waist -where it doesn’t belong, getting his grubby hands on Edgeworth’s very expensive and nice coat- steering him around the booths.
“Do you have a valid reason to believe the man you had an altercation with is not the deceased?”
Wright scratches his chin with his other hand. “No, not really. I just don’t have any reason to believe he is, either, and you’re not exactly presenting me with any evidence.”
“Yes well, you didn’t exactly ask to meet at the station,” Edgeworth rebuts. “However, I can assure you the autopsy report matches the dental records to Maudoup.”
Wright abruptly plops himself down on a stool and yanks on the material of Edgeworth’s coat to pull him down to his level. Edgeworth glares murderously, to no effect.
“And if that’s true, the most it proves is who the body is. Doesn’t say anything about who I spoke to.”
Edgeworth hates this man. “You would recognize a picture as easily as you would in identifying Ms. Libera, would you not?”
Six tickets exchange hands, and a carnie tells the two of them to wait for other players. “That’s different. I knew Lila.”
And that… is new information. Edgeworth locks onto it. “How did you know the accused?”
Wright is dismissive, as usual. “She wasn’t a regular, but I’d seen her in the Borscht Bowl before.”
“Do you know why she frequented that establishment?”
Wright shrugs with one shoulder. A child sits down on his other side. “For the borscht, I assume.”
“Anything else?”
“The great music?”
“Try again, Wright.”
Wright laughs, more nervous than condescending, which makes Edgeworth raise an eyebrow. He’s getting somewhere. Now he just has to wait and see.
Another child sits down, filling up all the stools. A carnie sets up the targets and rings the start bell.
If Wright’s silence implies Ms. Libera really was there for the music… Edgeworth pulls his trigger. “How well did you say you know the accused?”
Wright is trained on his own target. “Only acquainted enough to recognize her.”
“And get into a fight over her,” Edgeworth reminds him. He’s read Wright’s file. He wonders if this is history repeating itself. Perhaps he even has a type… That man.
“Some guy was trying to take a drunk girl. What kind of person would I be to not ask questions?”
“How noble of you,” Edgeworth scoffs. “And yet they left together, did they not?”
“Lila told me she knew him and trusted him to get her home, so I backed off.”
“Hmph.” It didn’t matter how well he attacked the target; Wright’s meter is still ahead of his. It’s driving him crazy. “And at no point in this interaction did you learn his name?”
“Nope.”
The bell dings. Wright is obvious winner. He breaks out into a smile so big the sun reflects off of it and jumps up from his seat. He points to some trivial toy above the carnie’s head. “That one! I’ll take that one.”
The staff looks at him with flat disdain as if he’s embarrassed to even bear witness to this, much less be forced to be a part. Edgeworth can relate. He eyes Wright then looks meaningfully at the two boys seated next to him and then back at Wright. “Sir, are you sure you need this?”
Edgeworth goes from sitting to straight in an instant. “This man won your game fair and square. I witnessed it myself. Do you intend to still cheat him out of a dirt cheap plushie produced with child labor overseas in order to cost this roving deathtrap thirty cents?”
“Uhh…” Now the staff is giving Edgeworth that look. “Just take it.”
“No wait, hold on.” Wright’s hand is covering his mouth for some reason. “You’re right. Give it to one of the kids. You’re totally right.”
The carnie eyes them both warily, and neither child seems particularly interested in the “dirt cheap” stuffed bee they neither won nor chose. Still, Wright must deem this moment a time to escape, because he takes Edgeworth by the hand and drags him away to the dart booth.
Edgeworth shakes him off with an offended flourish and shoots one of his darts the moment they’re handed to him. “So the accused told you she trusted the man she was with to escort her safely, and that’s the reason the fight stopped.”
He smirks when his first attempt easily hits a balloon. True that though he wouldn’t participate in any of this debasement if it weren’t absolutely necessary to ensure a smooth case, darts suits him best.
“The conversation.” Wright on the other hand, becomes embarrassingly clumsy once introduced to sharp objects. His first dart doesn’t even hit the board. He’s so bad at it, in fact, that Edgeworth has to wonder if it’s some sort of act.
“Fine, fine. And the conversation only involved you, the accused, and who the court has identified as the deceased, correct?”
Wright misses again. “Yep.”
“Are you certain? Because another witness who saw the disturbance claims there was a young girl.”
Wright’s whole face goes dark. He has one dart left. And he can’t attack Edgeworth in broad daylight, but after those two throws, he may be able to pass off an accident. Of course, these darts are of no quality and unsharpened, plus from this short distance, even if he has plausibility, he’d pick up no speed. Keeping all this in mind, Edgeworth concludes that it wouldn’t be worth Wright’s time to stab him.
Then Wright smiles again. “Catching me in a “contradiction,” huh?”
Edgeworth throws his second dart. “I can assure you, I am not. You are not the one on trial, Mr. Wright. Getting these sorts of details straight with the witnesses before they give their testimony to the court is exactly why I do this sort of thing.”
“So you want me to include this girl in my testimony?”
“I’m just ironing out the kinks, so to speak.”
Wright throws his last dart. “Who is this other witness?”
Edgeworth refrains. “Due to privacy and safety constraints, I cannot reveal that information.”
Wright has a glint in his eyes as if he already knows. His face shifts to one of hitherto unknown determination. But he’s already out of darts. “Then tell me what their statement is.”
Edgeworth figures for the sake of his case, he can do that much. “This another witness claims that you had shoved Maudoup away from Ms. Libera, took him by the arm, and manhandled him face down onto a table. Then a young girl – the witness claims she couldn’t have been older than thirteen and was likely closer to nine, in either case by no means old enough to be in such a place at such a time – came and whispered something into your ear, and that is when you let go of the man.”
“Edgeworth,” Wright says, “I think we’re playing different games.”
“I can assure you, Wright, for me, this is no game.”
“Oh, I wish that were true.”
Edgeworth’s final dart hits its mark perfectly. He declines a prize as he has no place for such junk. He almost saw something half decent, but on closer inspection, it was a Jammin Ninja keychain. Disgraceful.
“It is. I take every case seriously. If I didn’t, I would feel no need to perform such due diligence.”
Wright just shakes his head again. “Tell your other guy to change his testimony. There were no little girls at the Borscht Bowl.”
Edgeworth nods. “I can do as much. It’s just that…” Wright looks at him. “The description this witness gave matches your daughter.”
Wright smiles. “We’re blocking the booth. Do you want to go somewhere where it’s easier to hear each other?”
Thank god. “Yes, let’s leave this place. We can speak in my car.”
“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting out so easily.” Damn it all. Of course Wright wouldn’t simply cede this field advantage. “Come on.”
Edgeworth, now on the scent of a possible lynchpin he needs to secure, can do nothing but follow Wright away from the booths and back towards the rides.
“You know,” Wright starts, “When I was younger, I had this assistant. She used to drag me to all sort of places like this and make me pay for her. At the time, I thought she was being a real pain, but looking back, it was good for me. Almost any time she pushed me to do something, it was good for me. You should try to learn this now instead of later.”
Edgeworth rolls his eyes, both at the old man reminiscence and the obvious change of subject. Still he steps into line with Wright and waits for the correct moment to get back on topic. “It sounds like a rather unprofessional work relationship, given she was your employee.”
“Oh, she was more like a friend.”
“Friends have no place in work, Wright.”
“And you have no life outside of work, so where else would you keep them?”
Edgeworth bites back a retort and just glowers instead. The man is not exactly wrong; if Edgeworth were to have any friends, the only time he’d meet them is if it were relevant to his work. Obviously, he doesn’t need friends, but saying that out loud makes him sound childish, which is something he knows for a fact by way of hearing his younger sister scream it on more than one occasion. So there’s nothing to do for it but bite his tongue and continue to wait as they move forward in line.
“It’s good to get out there. You never know where you’ll see something important.”
“You do see an awful lot.”
To that barb, Wright only shoots him a look of faux innocence. He gives the staff member the last of his tickets. “It would actually be eight for the both of…” The young woman trailed off at Edgeworth’s cold glare. Then, evidently deciding it wasn’t worth it, she said, “Go on ahead. Keep your hands and feet inside the compartment and wait for the bar to come down.”
The Ferris wheel compartments are closed, so he and Wright will be encased in a private room of sorts for the duration of the ride. Granted, the confined space makes Edgeworth a touch uncomfortable but not so much it will distract him from his work.
He begins the second the ride is moving. “I can understand not wanting your ward’s name to come up in this case. As such, I will ask the other witness to omit her presence from their testimony. However, you must tell me what she said that caused you to let go of Maudoup and release Libera into his custody.”
“I let him go because Lila said it was fine.”
“If that is your story, you are free to stick to it under oath. However, I need to know the facts of this case before I prosecute it.”
“Why?” Wright asks. “What’s it matter?”
“It matters because this is my job.” Five seconds in, and his knuckles are already white around the bar because of this man.
“You’re prosecuting her either way. A man’s dead either way. What’s it matter why I let them leave together? Maybe I just didn’t want another fight.”
Edgeworth grits his teeth. It matters because Wright isn’t like that. He wouldn’t blindly rush to someone’s defense and withdraw because of something like good sense; those two factors simply didn’t go together. “I believe you are hiding something, Mr. Wright.”
Wright turns to him. They’re so close in this compartment that their sides are pressed together, and the simple act of looking his way has Wright breathing Edgeworth’s air. “What’s the problem there?”
Edgeworth feels a new shot of adrenaline. He turns to face Wright the same. “Are you more involved in this case than you let on?”
Wright looks actually taken aback, as if Edgeworth caught onto something he never expected he would have. “Not at all. I’m just a minor witness.”
There’s nothing minor about disgraced Phoenix Wright. “Then why? Why are you hiding something from me if you don’t fear it would incriminate you… or your daughter?”
That look of determination returns for the second time. Before today, Edgeworth had only seen it in old pictures. “Don’t bring Trucy into this.”
“I won’t. So tell me what’s really going on in this case.”
“Edgeworth…” Wright moves in impossibly closer so their foreheads nearly touch. “In your game, you lose some material to get the better trade in the end.” Edgeworth feels sweat forming on his brow. “In mine, it’s all about how much skin you’re willing to put in.” Wright’s hand wanders -no, moves very intentionally- to Edgeworth’s wrist. “If you want something from me, I’m going to need some insurance.”
Edgeworth gulps. He’s completely alone with Wright in this chamber, locked and suspended in air where no one could interfere, and for the first time, he considers he may have been led into some sort of trap. He hears his own heart thudding in his temples. Blood diverting surely as he goes into fight or flight, and in a moment of aggravated passion, he grasps onto that man, both fists in that disgusting sweatshirt and –
He has no idea why he just did that.
Wright, for his part, looks shocked as well. He releases Edgeworth’s wrist (which gives Edgeworth the wherewithal to let go of his hoodie) and touches his lips. They look away from each other and stare out into the distance in front of them, the entire fairgrounds visible. Both are silent as the ride creaks forward and starts its descent.
Then Wright bursts out laughing again. “Jesus Christ, Edgeworth, when I said trade skin in the game, I didn’t mean that-”
“No I did not mean it like that -”
“Really I just never even thought you'd make that kind of offer, my god-”
“I did not. That was not any sort of – I was not –”
“Oh so you did that just because you wanted to?”
“No, I didn’t mean that, eith- I had no intention to-”
Wright looks terribly, terribly red and is doing the best to hide his face, but despite it, the bastard won’t stop laughing at him. Edgeworth braces down with his whole body hunched over the safety bar and considers garroting the man with his drawstring.
Wright looks up wipes a tear from his eye, finally composing himself. “I can’t leave you empty handed after that, can I?” He smiles in a way that makes him look ten years younger, and Edgeworth’s breath catches in his chest. “Trucy told me that Lila was only faking drunk.”
Edgeworth’s eyes widen, and he recalibrates, reentering the entire reason for this conversation, for showing up at the fair today at all. Edgeworth had anticipated that Ms. Libera’s attorney would first claim innocence, and when that fell through, would make a plea of self-defense. With the state of events set as M. Maudoup being murdered by a small woman too inebriated to even walk straight, anyone with a speck of imagination could craft a narrative that would have Libera charged with at worst voluntary manslaughter. But if she wasn’t drunk, that changes everything. If anything, pretending as much implies that this was not only murder but carefully premediated. For the sake of his case, Edgeworth needs this.
He lets out a shaky breath. “How does she know?”
Wright only shrugs at him. “I don’t know. She just has an intuition about this sort of thing.” And Edgeworth will hold off on any judgements about Wright’s ward having developed an intuition about who is drunk or not for later. “I’m sure if you asked, she’d tell you it came off as too intentional or her walk didn’t match her normal drunk walk or something like that. I don’t think it would do you any good.”
“I promised I would not compel her to testify, and I won’t. However, I ask that you amend your testimony to say you do not think she was as drunk as she was acting.” Wright looks conflicted about that. “Are you perhaps hesitant to do so because you are close to the accused?”
Wright looks down. “No. Hardly know her. It’s just… I don’t think she did it.”
“Do you have more information still? If you’re hiding any details, spit them out.”
“Nothing like that. It’s just a hunch.”
“You’re deliberating over a hunch?”
Wright chuckles again, back to his silent, knowing one that is standard to him. “Back in my day, I would have taken her case.”
“Over a hunch?”
“Yeah.”
Edgeworth sighs in exasperation. “But you know nothing that could bolster her defense?”
Wright smirks. “Not at the present, no.”
Their ride stops at the bottom. Edgeworth and Wright wait for the compartment to open and the bar to lift before dismounting and exiting according to the sign.
“Are you going to buy more tickets?” Edgeworth asks.
Wright just shakes his head. “What am I, made of money? If you want to keep going, you buy the next round.”
Edgeworth bristles. “And I am not made of time. It just seemed as though we have yet to reach a conclusion.” Even as he says it, he’s already started stomping off in the direction of where he parked.
Wright rolls his eyes and follows after him. “Then we’ll just have to meet up again sometime.”
“The only time you and I will be seeing each other again is when we meet in court - properly. Do not call me again unless you have new information relevant to the case.”
“What? You called me.”
“Yes, and I suggested we meet at the police station. You were the one to insist on this inane location, and you’ve spent the whole time acting like you’re trying to tell me something with it, and I for one am not in the mood for your hints and mixed metaphors.”
“Is it really so hard to believe that I just wanted to go to the carnival with you?”
“Yes. That is patently ridiculous. But if you won’t tell me the real reason, then I don’t actually care.”