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Phoenix leaned in through the cab’s front window to pass a handful of bills to the driver. “Would you mind waiting for me?” he asked. “I’ll call down to the doorman or something if I don’t need you.”
The cabbie touched the tip of her cap. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Thanks.” He turned away from the cab and stared up...and up...at the building in front of him.
Of all the places he expected to be at three o’clock in the morning, standing outside the high-rise apartment building where Klavier Gavin lived had to be pretty low on the list. Still, at least that meant the young prosecutor was taking him up on his “call me anytime” offer.
The doorman was eyeing him lazily as he walked up, and Phoenix produced his ID. “Name’s Phoenix Wright. I’m here to see Klavier Gavin?”
“Yeah, he called down that you’re expected.” The doorman swung the door open and stepped aside. “Welcome to the Delacroix, Mr. Wright.”
Phoenix nodded his thanks as he stepped through the door and into a luxurious lobby. He tried not to stare too much at the wealth on display around him (just one of the gold-plated planters would sell for enough to keep the Wright Anything Agency afloat for three months or more), and instead glanced around at the sparsely-occupied lobby to see where Klavier was.
“Eighth floor, Mr. Wright. Apartment B.”
“Right, of course,” Phoenix said, turning back to the doorman. “Thank you.”
He hurried across the lobby toward the elevator, conscious of the fact that he was woefully underdressed for this environment—underdressed in a cheap way, that is. He could see several people lounging in the small sitting areas also dressed in hoodies and jeans, but those were definitely designer hoodies and jeans. Not the old, comfortable clothes Phoenix had found at a thrift store back when he and Trucy had been living off his poker winnings.
The elevator was just as ostentatious as the rest of the building. It was flashy and showy and screamed generational wealth so loud that Phoenix couldn’t hear himself think. He pressed the button for the eighth floor—leaving a fingerprint on the gold plating—and barely felt the shift in gravity as the elevator smoothly moved upward.
There were only four apartments on the eighth floor—each one probably bigger than Phoenix’s house—and B was the first one on the right side. He took a deep, steadying breath and pressed the doorbell, trying not to wonder if Klavier’s front door cost more than Phoenix’s entire wardrobe.
Then the door swung open, and all the thoughts of the luxury around him flew right out of Phoenix’s head.
Phoenix had always suspected that Klavier could be dragged through the mud by his heels, and still somehow come up looking ready for a photo shoot. Even now, in the middle of the night, the baggy sweater and messy hair seemed artistic instead of slovenly...if you didn’t see his face. If you didn’t see the swollen, red eyes, the pale skin, the way his lips were trembling when he finally met Phoenix’s gaze.
“He’s gone,” the younger man said quietly. “I didn’t know who else to call.”
Phoenix gently nudged Klavier back into his apartment and pulled the door shut before tugging the younger man into his arms. Klavier nearly melted against him, hands clenching in the back of his sweatshirt, face buried in Phoenix’s shoulder.
“You smell good,” Klavier mumbled.
“I’ll let Trucy know,” he replied, gently patting his back. “She picked out the detergent.”
He waited until the kid seemed steadier, then gently pushed him back and held him at arm’s length. “What happened?”
Klavier sighed. He turned to lead Phoenix deeper into the apartment, to a spacious living room. “The prison called last week to tell me that he’d fallen ill,” he explained, throwing himself onto one of the leather sofas that sat in front of the electric fireplace. “I tried to visit, but he refused me, of course. And then around midnight I got the...the call. Pneumonia.”
Phoenix gingerly sat at the other end of the sofa, giving Klavier time and space to pull himself back together while his thoughts drifted to a very different Gavin.
Kristoph.
He’d thought they’d been something like friends at one point, though he’d always sensed that Kristoph carried a darkness deep within himself. Even now, he wasn’t sure how much of their relationship was genuine sentiment and how much was Kristoph waiting for the perfect opportunity to silence him.
“Are they letting you see him?”
“Not according to his last wishes,” Klavier replied with a shrug. “He wanted his body taken straight to the crematorium. No visitors.”
“Are you okay with that.”
“Not really. But, I don’t even know how to begin to fight something like that, Herr Wright. I just...I just want him back.” His voice broke, and Phoenix moved closer to pull the younger man into a hug. “He was a terrible person. He hurt people—he killed people. But he was...he was still….”
“He was your brother,” Phoenix answered. He held Klavier as the kid cried against his shoulder, feeling the grief pouring off of him in waves. The brothers’ relationship hadn’t been great the last few years, especially after Kristoph’s conviction, but there had been a time when Klavier had idolized his big brother. Before the dark age of the law; back when Kristoph was a little better at hiding his darkness and cruelty.
“I can make some calls,” he finally said. “Kristoph was a convicted criminal. It should be easy enough to bypass his last wishes to give you a chance to say goodbye.”
Klavier sat back, shaking his head. “I keep thinking, Herr Wright. If they’re not letting me see the body...what if he’s not dead? What if this is just another ruse of his? He’s not really dead, and this is just...what? Revenge? His escape plan? Witness protection?”
“Witness protection?” Phoenix couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Klavier, I don’t think—”
“He could have made a deal,” Klavier cut in. “He’s good at those. He could give up everything he knows for a change in identity and transfer to a minimum-security facility. They could easily fake his death if they’re not letting anyone see the body, and you know as well as I do that records can be manipulated.”
“Klavier.”
“This would be just like him, to fake his death so he never has to see any of us again. He can just keep watching from the shadows, like we’re his favorite little puppet show. We would never even know, and he’d just be laughing at us.”
“Hey!” Phoenix grabbed both of Klavier’s shoulders, giving him a little shake to snap him out of his spiral. “Listen to yourself. Kristoph was a cruel and manipulative man, but even he couldn’t orchestrate something like that. It’s much more likely that they told you the truth.”
Klavier was staring at him. Eyes round, tears trailing down his cheeks. “I know, but...but what do I do?”
Phoenix sighed. “Have they notified the press yet?”
The younger man shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “The woman I spoke to said they’d make their statement in the morning, in time for the morning news.”
He stood up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Good. I need you to pack a bag. Grab everything you need for a few days. Where’s Vongole?”
“She isn’t here.”
He paused to glance back at Klavier, who gave him a sad smile. “He wouldn’t even let me have his dog. She’s with one of our cousins.”
Phoenix forcibly tamped his anger down. He could never understand cruelty like that. Kristoph was leaving his own brother with nothing, not even a chance to say goodbye. “All right. Do you need any help packing?”
“Where am I going?” Klavier asked helplessly.
“The press knows where you live. I doubt you’ll want to be here when the news breaks.”
Klavier’s eyes widened and he finally nodded. He stood up, and Phoenix reached out to steady him when his steps wavered. “Where am I going?”
“I’m figuring that out, just grab whatever you need. Clothes, makeup, hair dryer...I should have brought Trucy, she understands all that stuff.”
“I keep a travel bag,” Klavier offered.
“Good. Go get it. Make sure you have enough for at least a week.” He turned Klavier around, hands on both of his shoulders, and gave him a gentle push. Action was the best cure for grief, in Phoenix’s opinion. The kid needed a task to focus on. “If you miss anything, we’ll get later. We’re not going far.”
“Ja, okay, I’m going.”
He watched Klavier walk over to an open door, and only then did Phoenix take in the full scope of the apartment.
It was two stories tall, with the living room open all the way up to reveal a modern-looking chandelier in the ceiling. Stairs along one wall led up to an open area, and he could just barely see the thick glass walling off a small recording studio.
But this was no time to ogle at the wealth around him. Phoenix dialed in a number by heart and put the phone to his ear. It barely rang once before it was picked up on the other end.
“Phoenix. I heard. I’m already the way.”
“Wh-Miles? What do you mean?”
“To get you and Trucy. You heard about Kristoph Gavin?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling.”
“I received an early copy of the press release for his death. You’re listed as one of his previous associates. I’m bringing you both to my place for safety.”
Phoenix swallowed. “Yeah, about that….” God, he hadn’t thought of that. “Got room for one more?”
Miles sighed over the phone. “I’ve already told you; you can’t adopt a prosecutor.”
“Yeah, but you can.”
“Phoenix.”
“Come on, he won’t take up much room,” he teased. “You have that big house all to yourself, even when Franziska’s there. What’s one more stray?”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope!” Phoenix replied cheerily. “It’s all three of us or none of us, Edgeworth.”
Miles sighed again. “Fine. Where are you?”
“At the Delacroix. I have a cab waiting, but—”
“Send it away. I’ll pick you up as soon as I have Trucy.”
“Roger that. Thanks, Miles.”
He waited for Miles to hang up, then used Klavier’s landline to call down to the doorman to send the cab away. By the time he was finished, Klavier had finally emerged from his bedroom with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a guitar case in one hand. “Can I bring this?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t see why not,” Phoenix replied. “We’d better get downstairs. Edgeworth is picking us up.”
Klavier froze in his tracks. “You called my boss?”
Phoenix gently took his arm, tugging on it until Klavier’s feet started moving again. “It’s not just you. Trucy and I are coming too, and Apollo would be there if he was in town. It’s just the safest place to be at a time like this. He lives in one of those snooty gated communities; nobody will find us there.”
He wasn’t saying it, but he was worried about Kristoph’s enemies, too. The families of the innocent people he’d framed for murder. The ones who would see a death like this as a great injustice, and turn their ire on Kristoph’s innocent friends and family. He just didn’t want the kid to have to think about that at a time like this; the media was enough of a worry.
Klavier had calmed a little by the time they reached the lobby, but the tears threatened to return when the doorman ushered Trucy in and she ran to throw her arms around Klavier.
Phoenix quietly took the younger man’s bag and guitar, leaving Trucy to lead him out to the car where Miles was waiting.
“Thanks for this,” Phoenix said as Miles grumbled about bringing a guitar to his house.
“It’s just temporary,” Miles retorted, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Klavier couldn’t hear them. Trucy had already pulled Klavier into the back seat and shut the doors, and from what Phoenix could see she had pulled a pack of tissues out of thin air and was pressing them into his hands. “You can’t keep him, Wright.”
Phoenix winked, patting Miles on the shoulder. “Try and stop me, Edgeworth.”