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