One of Every Color
"You can't keep me from
"I'm afraid I can't do that," the guard said once more. "Miss Gander is in questioning."
"She was in questioning all of yesterday evening. What could they possibly have left to ask her?"
The guard shook his head stubbornly. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I've been ordered not to allow any visitors. You're going to have to leave."
The bus halted, and
There is one other person I can ask.
But…I want to know the truth.
His phone rang, startling
"Nick!" Sure enough, Maya's bright voice rang in his ear. "What's going on there? I just read about you in the news--you're working for the mob!?"
"A client who works for the mob!?"
"Really? You should have told me sooner," she pouted at him. "I'm not so busy I can't give you a hand, you know."
He was tempted to take her up
on that--another welcomed, familiar face would probably do him a world of good
just about then. But he remembered
quickly enough just what he was up against.
If Miles did manage to find anything against Urami,
things could become ugly very quickly, and the last thing he wanted was for
Maya or even
And Edgeworth is coming over tonight, he reminded himself, swallowing back the little flutter in his stomach. For…dinner. The thought of having to explain anything concerning Miles and him to Maya was almost as unappealing.
"It's all right," he assured her. "This case has some…dangerous people mixed up in it. I don't want you to get in trouble for helping me."
"I'm not scared of the mob," Maya insisted.
"I know, I
Maya was quiet a moment, and when she spoke again her voice had lowered somewhat. "Okay, Nick. I understand."
Maya." She really is growing up, he thought. "I'm glad you called," he
added. "It's good to hear from
you. Maybe once this case is over I'll
come visit you and
"It's boring here--we'll come visit you," Maya replied, cheerful once more. "We'll go out for burgers like old times, okay?"
"Yeah…yeah, we'll do
"Sure thing. Good luck, Nick! We'll be rooting for ya."
"Thanks, Maya. Talk to you soon."
They each hung up, and
The bus slowed to a halt, and
Clouds were rolling in off
the horizon, thick and dark and huge.
Their steady approach was already sending a cold chill into the air, and
It's not very funny.
Miles stood with his arms crossed in a corner of the lab as he watched the technician go about her work. He could tell he was making her uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to wait outside for these results. He wanted to know as soon as possible.
The machine made a dull ping noise, and at the other end of the room a printer spat out the finished report. The technician retrieved it hastily and scanned the page.
"Well?" Miles asked impatiently.
"We have a match," she reported with relief--probably more pleased that Miles would be leaving than with the actual results. "The baby that died in the fire was the son of Jack Hoff and Chassie Gander."
She handed the paper over for Miles to see. He nodded to himself. "Good. Good work."
"Thank you, Sir."
Miles took the report with him as he exited the lab, and returned to the lobby where Gumshoe was waiting for him. He related the news.
"So 'William Gander' really was her son, huh?" Gumshoe said thoughtfully. "So what was'e doing with Hoff and Arky?"
"Just because I'm a prosecutor," Miles replied, "does not mean I understand what a criminal thinks. Who knows?" He tucked the paper into his briefcase as they turned to head for the door. "She tried to keep the birth a secret, so there aren't any records about the baby, let alone some kind of custody battle. And she still hasn't cracked to interrogation."
Gumshoe watched him as they walked to Miles' car. "Do you…still believe it was her?" he asked carefully, wary of offending him. "If the clinic report is real, and her own son was in the building…she couldn't have started the fire…right….?"
"I still have another day to decide what I believe," Miles said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "There's more evidence out there--I know there is. We just have to find it, and put it together."
"If only we knew where to look…."
Miles smirked at him. "You're not giving up on me already, are you, Detective?"
"N-No, Sir!" Gumshoe was quick to answer. "Not at all!"
"Good. Because I still need your help."
They climbed into Miles car, but before he started the engine Miles paused, frowning to himself. "Detective…." He set his hands on the steering wheel, watching the back of his palm. "Can I ask you something?"
"Hm?" Gumshoe nodded, looking perplexed by Miles' suddenly cautious tone. "Sure, Pal."
"What do you…." Miles glanced at him sideways. "…usually eat for dinner?"
Gumshoe blinked. "Dinner?"
"Yes, you know--the meal after lunch, before dessert. What do you eat?"
"Um…." Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck. "Microwave dinners, I guess. Hot dogs. Sometimes I order a pizza…."
Miles frowned. Phoenix does buy that cheap beer, so chances are he eats cheap, too. But I am not bringing hot dogs or pizza. "Let's say you were having dinner with…someone else," Miles tried again.
"Like a date?" Gumshoe immediately jumped to conclusions. He looked at his companion with something nearing shock.
"No--not a date," Miles corrected quickly. "Just dinner with…a fellow detective or something." This is not very convincing. "What would you want to eat?"
Gumshoe's brow furrowed in deep thought, giving much more consideration to the question than Miles thought was necessary. "Gee, I dunno, Pal," he finally said. "When me'nd the other officers get food, it's usually either at the deli or a bar and grill kind of joint. Steaks and burgers and such."
"I see." Miles sighed--that wasn't helpful at all. "What horrible nutrition…."
Gumshoe shrugged helplessly. "Uh…sorry?"
"Never mind." Miles started up the car and buckled his seat belt. "One of these days, I'm going to take you out for real food, Gumshoe. Your life expectancy will thank me."
"Oh, um, all right! Sounds great, Pal."
They pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, heading back towards the police station.
I guess I'll just have to think of something myself….
Just after five in the
evening, Miles called to ask what
He sounded rather irritated
about something, so
This last hour of preparation, however, he devoted to wardrobe. He could think of few things more emasculating than standing in front of his bathroom mirror, changing in and out of the few decent shirts he owned. I feel like a teenage girl, he thought with a dry wince as he put the blue one on again. Does everyone have such a hard time with this? I'm sure Edgeworth puts too much thought into his clothes. Probably has a full length vanity and everything.
Do I wear a tie?
Date or not, it's still two people sharing dinner, he reasoned as he moved through the apartment one last time. I should look…nice, right?
Miles stared back at him
through the open doorway. He had come
dressed far more casually, in khaki pants and a pale pink button-down
shirt. He glanced over
Miles' lips parted in a grin
as he stepped inside, handing
"Oh? I'm flattered."
"Well…the place needed
"Lasagna." Miles started
emptying the bags, and the smell of meat and cheese quickly filled the small
kitchen and started
Wow, a full course meal.
Mile shrugged. "It heats up well," he explained. "I usually make a lot and eat the leftovers for lunch at work. But Lasagna is too much effort to feed one person, so I only eat it when I dine out."
Miles pulled a bottle of wine
out of one of the bags;
"To repay you for the beer last time." Miles smiled as he retrieved a corkscrew for it.
"That looks…a little more expensive than the beer I brought…"
Miles shrugged, pleased with himself. "I figured you could use some real alcohol for once."
"No?" Miles frowned, for a moment looking honestly troubled. "Well, I suppose anything will do."
As he uncorked the bottle,
Miles stared at them for
nearly a full fifteen seconds, his brow furrowing. Finally he picked one up as carefully as if
it might bite him. He looked to
Miles opened his mouth, then paused, finding himself speechless. He was still frowning as he poured the wine into the cups.
"I almost have a full
"You really went all
"I don't," Miles replied easily. He paused for a bite of salad before continuing. "I just brought carryout and repaid you for the alcohol the other night. A date would be us going out for Italian, or to a movie, or down to the beach." He smirked. "And I would have worn a tie."
"You do. It's…charming."
"They are my only pair," Miles admitted. "I only wear them when I don't really want to be recognized."
"Does it work?"
"Don't you?" Miles turned his cup, reading the bits of
dialogue along the sides. When he
"At the office,
"They might after this case, for as high profile as it is."
When the two of us work together, there's no truth we
"After dinner," Miles told him, as if having read his mind perfectly. He took another sip of wine. "Let's just enjoy dinner, and then I'll tell you everything I know."
Relieved that he understood,
They returned to lighter topics as the meal slowly diminished.