Part 63: Case 5 - Rise From the Ashes - Investigation (Day 1) - Part 2

Case 5 - Rise From the Ashes
Investigation (Day 1) - Part 2

After the last scene, we are automatically dropped off back at the office.



: Huh? About what?
: My sister... She's not always like that you know.
: ... I just never expected to be defending another prosecutor again.



: She used to be so gentle, always smiling. Everybody liked her.
: I see... (Sorry, but I'm having trouble imagining that.) What happened to her?
: I don't know for certain myself... I think maybe she... Well, maybe not.
: (Sounds like there's something there that defies a simple scientific explanation.) Let's go check out this underground parking at the Prosecutor's Office, shall we?
: O-Okay!





: So this is the lot where it all happened?
: Looks like they're still investigating...
: (Funny that my first visit to the Prosecutor's Office should be like this...)
: Hey everyone! Keep up the good work!
: H-hey! What are you thinking?
: Well, they are going to be my coworkers three years from now after all.
: No harm in saying hello...
: Actually, there is. You know attorneys aren't supposed to examine crime scenes? I'm trying to not stand out too much, here, see?



: You 'specting to go unnoticed here, pardner?
: P-Pardner?





: What do we have here? Looks like a bambina got loose from the ranch and is up to no good!



: M-Mr. Marshall!



: (Marshall? Looks more like a sheriff to me...)
: Lookie here, bambina. I know how you feel. But this is my gang's gold strike,
: see?
: Strike...?
: This is our claim, our territory. And the goldmine is... evidence.



: You know what dreams the cacti out in the desert dream? You want to?
: (What's this guy talking about?)



: You head along home now. Happy trails, bambina!

And he leaves.

: ...
: ...
: Was that uh, hombre, a friend of yours?
: Uh... kind of... sort of... Yeah. He's a detective.
: (Who thinks he's a sheriff from the Wild West it seems.)



Let's look around.





: Um, excuse me! Officer!
: W-w-waaaait!
: What are you doing, Mr. Wright!?
: What am I doing? I just found this wallet, so I'm handing it over to the police...
: I don't believe it!
: This is real basic: anything at a crime scene is evidence! Let's be scientific about this, please!
: Just put it in your pocket.
: H-how is that scientific? (Sounds like theft to me!)

But hey, we pocket it.

: I'm called to duty already, and at my tender age! Here, I'll teach you the trick to examining evidence in detail, okay?
: (By the way her eyes are sparkling I can tell she's been waiting for this...)
: Okay, okay, now. Look at the Court Record!





This method of evidence examination will be in this case, and this case only, for...oh, the next three games or so.

: Now. Let's start examining! From every angle!



We can rotate evidence to look at points of interest from every angle.



: You should check it out! Press the Examine button.



: This... This is an ID card. (Detective Bruce Goodman, ID# 5842189...)
: See? Well? Isn't scientific investigation useful?
: I guess... Though I don't see what "science" has to do with it.

And the wallet transmutes into the ID.

: Let's be sure to examine every piece of evidence we find!
: (I guess I've got to be on my toes from now on...)







: "Detective Bruce Goodman, ID# 5842189"
: I wonder why they only use numbers for IDs.
: What else would they use?
: Letters, silly! They're the reason we have a written language in the first place!
: True...



: See? Wouldn't that be better?
: "YABADAB"? Well, it does have a certain ring to it...
: Exactly my point! Tee-hee!
: (It doesn't take much to amuse her.)



: This is where the cars leave the lot.
: The arrow on the ground makes it look more like an entrance.
: What are you talking about? It's plainly an exit!
: Well, maybe it's both. Kind of a dual purpose?
: Ah hah! The theory of relativity!
: What? Uh...
: I've got to write this down.
: Ah! Hey, hey, Mr. Wright!
: Maybe you know... Was Mr. Relativity, German? Or was he British?
: Mr. Relativity? Are you sure that was his name?



: Look! A door! This must mean something!
: I'm not sure that doors "mean" anything.
: No! It won't open! A mysterious lock!
: I fail to see what's mysterious about it.
: Mr. Wright...
: You need to learn to enjoy life more.
: Let's finish our investigation first, shall we?



: Ah hah! A ladder.
: Um... That's a stepladder.
: What's the difference? In scientific terms, please.
: S-scientific huh?
: Look at the basic nature of things, Mr. Wright.
: (This all seems so horribly familiar somehow...)





: Hey. Don't touch stuff we don't need to be touching.
: ...
: I can't hear anything!
: My ears! No, my ears!
: Maybe it's due to the barometric pressure...
: (What is she babbling about?)
: Hey!? What did you just say?
: See? You can hear just fine. The phone's broken!



: An oil drum. Looks like it's filled with water.
: I-it's heavy! I can't even budge it!
: The drum over here is on its side.
: Wait! I know! I'll hide in here and do a stake-out!
: I think you'll probably just get arrested. (In fact, you may not even have to hide in the drum to get arrested.)
: What? I'm not suspicious!



: This wall is in our way.
: It's got a faucet for water.
: Wait! I know!
: This "wall" is merely a facade, hiding the truth...
: This is no wall, but a water tank!!!
: (I fail to see how it makes any difference either way...)

We can look at the other half...



...but it doesn't really matter what we look at.

: Well, no time to waste! Let's get hunting for clues!
: Hmm... I wonder what this is?
: Well, pardner. Looks like you got no intention of going home quietly.





: Like I said before, this here's our claim. You'd best be moseying along.
: Unless you're fixing to bite the bullet.
: (Gah! Scary!)
: C-could you just tell us one thing...? Who owns that car?



: You want to know who rides that red mustang with the body in her saddle, eh?
: Please!
: No problem, pardner. 'Bout time for vittles anyway.



: Might just find you a cervesa you like.
: (Prospector's Office? Where does this guy think he is? And when, for that matter!?)
: Note to self: look up vittles, saloon, cervesa.
: (Maybe we should check out room 1202... the High Prosecutor's Office!)

We are faded to the other side of the room.



: You can look around here all you like, just keep your paws off our claim.
: (Right... great.)

He leaves again.

: Great! Maybe there are some clues around here, Mr. Wright! Let's check it out!
: Excuse me? Were you two all set?
: Us?



: Y-you're selling lunches? Here?
: This is a crime scene!





: Oh. Uh, thanks.
: And you, sir?
: Y-yes?



: Uh... thanks. (Interesting way of doing business.)
: This area is off limits to anyone without clearance.



: Uh... no, but you...
: You don't exactly look like the type to have clearance.
: Well, that's hardly a way to greet someone! Even if my days as the "Cough-up Queen" are over...
: C-cough-up? Huh?



: I'm quite connected to this case, you see. The images are burned into my eyes, you might say.
: Yes, all the sordid secrets...
: Secrets...?
: Dear me.
: You are a slow one, aren't you?





: Whaaaat!?





: Please! Cough-up Queen! Tell us what happened!
: The name is Angel Starr.
: Don't you go forgetting it. Or before you know it
: I'll have you whimpering at my heels.
: Y-y-yes, ma'am! (Yipes! She means it!)





: Somehow... I knew. Yesterday was a day of destiny... I knew something was going to happen...
: Just like I know that the Daily Special on Friday every week is salmon.
: Destiny...? Was yesterday special for some reason?
: You're a defense attorney, right? You should know then. You should know the foul methods of the evil ones who haunt this den of inequity!
: E-evil ones?
: Prosecutors! They have no qualms at all about blackening the name of innocents! And yesterday they paid homage to the most evil one of all!
: They gave an award for "King of Prosecutors"... What a farce!
: So, she's saying...
: There was some sort of prosecutor's convention yesterday.
: I was almost compelled to lace their lunches with something foul...



: Or is there some kind of scientific evidence of this, um, "evil"?
: Young miss... Mock me at your own risk!
: You'll soon find out why they call me the "Cough-up Queen"!
: Ew!
: The most heinous of all the evil ones, the one they awarded yesterday...
: It was in
: his car that they found the body! Proof that he devours the evilest lunches of all!
: R-really!?
: (Really what? I'm totally confused... One thing's clear. This lunch lady has a thing against prosecutors.)



: So, what exactly was it that you witnessed, Ms. Starr?
: It was a fascinating spectacle, to be sure! I now feel I know what they say when they talk about a "woman's wrath."
: To see Lana Skye wield that knife so...
: !
: Her knife flashed in anger, bringing him to a sad end.
: It was truly a sight to see.
: Y-you mean you saw the very moment of the crime!?
: The sound of his silvery ties to this world being cruelly cut still rings in my ears.
: And the rhythmic beat of Lana Skye's knife...
: Wait a second! You know Lana Skye?
: Hmph. Of course. It's quite a feat... becoming Chief Prosecutor.



: She... always travels light.
: (Now why would this pretty lunch lady know the Chief Prosecutor's name?)



: Um... Could we ask you a bit about yourself, Ms. Starr?
: I come here every day to sell lunches. I import only the freshest and best from the Far East.
: For some reason, the box lunches are a hit here.
: Why not make the lunches here rather than import them?
: Did you say something?
: N-no...
: Only true conossieurs can understand...

Not my misspelling.



: Ah... Nevermind... You win.



: Anyway, I come here every day to sell lunches.
: My boyfriend works in the security room here at the Prosecutor's Office.
: Y-your boyfriend?
: See the security room over there?
: The glass-walled booth?
: I sell my lunches and, since I'm here anyway, I drop in to see him.
: (Since you're here anyway... I guess selling lunches is more important than romance.)
: So, to scientifically analyze the data available so far... You, Ms. Starr, are
: a lunch vendor with an ulterior motive for coming here!
: (Useful analysis. Not.)



: Did you have a bad experience with a prosecutor, Ms. Starr? I sense some... hostility.
: Hostility? Hah! Perhaps.
: Prosecutors are all alike. And the bigger they get, the worse they smell.
: Kind of like 10-day old clams in the chowder.
: (I wonder if Ms. Starr was involved in some sort of legal trouble in the past?)
: That'd be a sure cause of food poisoning! Scientifically speaking, of course.
: I mean, now you're talking "Cough-up Queen"!
: (I thought she was just a lunch vendor, but now I'm not so sure...)

And the badge, of course.



: How about you? Do you think you can win?





: (A box of pickles...? Kind of a sad lunch if you ask me.)

Next time: Upstairs.