Phoenix goes through the facts for our dimwitted judge and our seething prosecutor: April was tapping Mia’s phone, but had an alibi herself. But the other man was not with her, so he could be the murderer. In addition, Phoenix is very certain this time that he’s right, since Edgeworth went out of his way to hide this other man’s existence. Now, this is all dependent on the bellboy not seeing this man in the room, but it’s not like it’s impossible that he was there with her and the bellboy just didn’t see him. He could have been in the bathroom for all we know. I know, I know. I’m wrong, and the other man is the murderer. But it makes me feel better to point out these things. Especially since Edgeworth isn’t bothering–he’s too busy sputtering at Phoenix and trying to fix his sweat-ruined foundation makeup.

The judge, by some miracle, sees the reason in Phoenix’s argument and adjourns so the case can be further explored. In the lobby, Maya is all impressed with Phoenix. “I think I might be your newest fan!” she tells him, grinning. Phoenix is basically like, “Yeah, whatever,” as he sees Edgeworth discreetly going through a door marked “Custodial Staff Only.” As if Maya is reading his mind, she points out how cool the other attorney was, too. Though she talks about Edgeworth’s wide eyes and “trembling lips,” which is a little creepy. Maya wonders if she gets to go home now, because she’s apparently an idiot, but Phoenix reassures her that even though she’s still stuck in jail, he now has a “great lead” for who the real killer is. He also mentions that April May was arrested. For what? Perjury? Wire fraud? Being an attractive female? Phoenix adds a copy of April’s testimony to his evidence list, stuffed with lies as it is.

To his chagrin, Phoenix’s first stop in his afternoon of investigating is the detention center, but to visit April May, not Maya. Given that she’s in jail because he had the audacity to catch her perjuring herself, April’s not too thrilled to see Phoenix, either. As she did in their first meeting, April pretty much refuses to answer all of Phoenix’s questions, only now her refusals lack the fake sweetness and tit-jiggling, since she’s now openly hostile to “spiky-head.” Heh. Phoenix also gets the idea that April can’t stand lawyers–though it’s entirely possible that she just can’t stand his pink-tie-wearing ass. Phoenix quickly grows weary of being referred to as “scum-sucking” and “bottom-feeding,” so he decides to move his investigation elsewhere. And for some reason, a nine-dollar iced coffee sounds so good right now.

At the Gatewater, Phoenix finds the bellboy lurking around April’s room. Anyone else find it a little odd that he’s still here? Doesn’t he have work to do? Anyway. Phoenix apologizes to the bellboy for putting him on the spot, like he ever issues this kind of apology to other witnesses he rips apart. Nope, just the man-candy ones. The bellboy, actually, thinks it’s great that he got grilled on the stand, since it’ll earn “rep” for the hotel. “Our reputation will swell as the hotel where the murderer used a wiretap!” he gushes. Phoenix is quick to remind the bellboy that April hasn’t been charged with murder. But the bellboy will not be deterred from his dreams of becoming the famous bellboy who brought iced coffee to the murderer. He is clearly in this for the glamour. Color me a fuchsia shade of surprised.

The bellboy has also turned on April May in a big way–suddenly, he knew all along that she was a scheming, evil murderer. Just so we’re all clear on his perving out over her being a total act. Meanwhile, he characterizes the man who was with her at check-in as a “lady killer,” like himself. “We both carry the scent of…danger,” he says. Yeah. Danger must smell like lilac and rosewater. He adds that he would be able to identify this man, if only Phoenix had a photo to show him. That seems a little circular. “Find me a photo of the man you don’t know the identity of yet, and I will confirm what you already probably know at that point, given that you’re showing it to me!” He just wants Phoenix to come back for a massage.

Whatever you say, Phoenix.

Phoenix’s third stop is Marvin Grossberg’s office, but the lawyer is once again not there. There are two extremely obvious changes to this room: the gay cowboy painting is gone from the wall, and there is a photograph lying conspicuously on the desk. Phoenix tries, and unconvincingly fails, to remember what the painting looked like, before turning his attention to the desk. There are actually two photos there, labeled on the back as Exhibits A and B of something called the DL-6 Incident. The first is of a middle-aged woman who Phoenix thinks he has seen before. He adds it to his evidence, then looks at the second, which is a picture of our murderer. Unless there’s some other guy out there with lavender hair and a pink suit. Actually, it is exceedingly likely that there are many, many other guys like that in this game. But still, this is the murderer. Phoenix has to decide whether to switch it with the first photo he picked up, since there’s some code among attorneys that it’s only acceptable to steal one piece of evidence from another attorney at a time. Photo in hand, Phoenix returns to the Gatewater.

Sure enough, the bellboy immediately identifies the man in the photo as the man who was with April May at the hotel. He even offers to sign an affidavit to this effect. He is, Phoenix notices, way too excited about this. Phoenix takes the bellboy’s affidavit–which, I would imagine, is written as a sonnet–and goes back to the detention center to throw it in April’s face.

April starts screaming at Phoenix the moment he walks in, but clams up when she sees the bellboy’s affidavit. Phoenix can choose to either “ease her fears” about being seen with this man, like he’d want to do that, or to push her into providing more information. He, thus, threatens that he will take the photo of the man to the press unless she starts talking, making up some bullshit about how his reputation will be ruined in the process. Why he would think she gives a shit, I don’t know, but she does, and consents to answer Phoenix’s questions. Phoenix squeals with glee and pumps his fists in the air at this, because he’s a doofus. Thank God Edgeworth isn’t around to see this.

“That man…” says April, “He’s my boss. Redd White, the president of the information gathering conglomerate, Bluecorp.” Phoenix mulls the name over in his head, though he doesn’t say enough for me to know if he actually remembers where he heard the name before. Let’s assume he hasn’t smartened up in the last two seconds and doesn’t remember. April goes on that it’s like a “detective agency,” the same way that Phoenix is “like” a respected defense attorney. Phoenix asks if he was the man who was with her on the night of the murder–like he doesn’t already know–but April clams up again. “I’m…I’m scared to talk. I don’t want to end up like her!” she cries. Well, she pretty much just admitted that he’s the murderer. If I had hooters like hers and I’d seen how Mia ended up, I’d be scared too. What if he’s a serial killer with a fetish for murdering girls with double-D cup sizes? Maybe he’s trying to rid the world of sexy ladies, one pair of boobs at a time! Phoenix tells April she doesn’t have to talk, but asks for the address of Bluecorp so he can speak with her boss himself.

Wow.

Privately congratulating himself on finally getting somewhere with his case, Phoenix heads over to Redd White’s office at Bluecorp. The office is…oh my. I’m not even sure where to begin. Should I go with the obvious, and point out the familiar gay cowboy painting on the wall? Or perhaps the trophy case, with three–three!–penis-shaped trophies? How about the statue in the corner, of a naked man–with wang in full view–holding up a green, globular Bluecorp logo? But that would be to ignore the finest feature of the room: Mr. White’s desk. On the surface it is a normal, if very highly polished, slab of wood. But the legs holding up Mr. White’s work area are the headless bodies of naked men, crouched and hugging their knees. I’ve…I’ve got nothing. This is the single gayest room I have ever seen. Edgeworth, Squall and Milich Oppenheimer could be having a threesome right on top of the desk and it wouldn’t be any gayer.

The occupant of this outrageously flaming room pops into view, all fake smiles and handshakes (and ass grabs, I would bet). Seeing Redd White in the living, er, pixels presents a slightly different view than we had from the tiny photo of him, or even the still of him clubbing Mia over the head. Now we can see that Mr. White has giant fake diamond buttons on his pink suit jacket, and that his indigo tie is studded with rhinestones. He is also sporting ugly gold rings on every finger, which makes him look like he’s wearing brass knuckles as a fashion accessory. The overall effect is that he looks like a used car salesman. A used car salesman who loves naked dudes.

Mr. White demands, in a very cheery, car salesman-like way, to know who Phoenix is and what he wants. He declares Phoenix’s name “splendiferous” and then says something about Phoenix finding his “giantesque” vocabulary impressive. Between this exchange and the room the two men are standing in, I’m guessing Mr. White has a complex about being found large and impressive. He introduces himself unnecessarily, talks about how important he is some more, and offers to show Phoenix his penis. No, not really, but I can only see him from the waist up and I’m not discounting out the possibility that he isn’t wearing pants.

Once Mr. White has ascertained that Phoenix is a lawyer, he asks to get down to business. Phoenix first asks him about April May. Mr. White calls April his “secretariat,” as if she is a group of secretaries, or a famous race horse. “What a shock it was to hear what she has done!” he laments. Phoenix asks if he’s referring to the wiretapping. “Indeed!” he says. “She is paid to answer phones. Tapping them is NOT in her job description. She does gather information for us as part of her duties. But, I assure you, we do not condone illegal methods!” Phoenix figures out, all by himself, that April is being thrown under the bus by her boss.

Mr. White completely sidesteps the question of where he was on the night of the murder, and basically dares Phoenix to put him on the stand if he wants to know the answer. Phoenix considers this, but then moves on to something more pressing: that gay cowboy painting on the wall! First, I make Phoenix blurt out, “It’s a very striking piece of art,” to which Mr. White responds, “Magnificentatious, isn’t it?” That was worth the trouble of me having to type out that word. But to the point, Phoenix says he’s seen the painting before. When he asks why it’s hanging in this office, when he saw it in someone else’s office just the day before, Mr. White calls him a useless, powerless nobody. “Just like that sorry excuse for an attorney, Grodyburger!” Phoenix barely registers what this means when the screen blacks out, and he realizes he’s just been punched in the jaw. It actually sounds like he’s been backhanded, but I’m sure it makes Phoenix feel more manly if he calls it a punch. “Well, Mr. Lawyer,” Mr. White says, still smiling. “What will you do, eh? Charge me with assault? Charge away, I welcome it! For it is YOU who will be found guilty!” Wow, dude’s got balls. That he lets other men play with, if his office is any indicator. “Heed my exposition!” he says. At least he’s up front about it, unlike most RPG characters. “The police, the courts, they all do my bidding!” He realizes that Phoenix thinks this is nuts and says so. “You came here from Grodyburger’s, I presume?” he goes on. “Then you must ask him: Why is it that this painting of his hangs here? Perhaps then he will tell you? Perhaps he will explain how a man can live life purely for personal profit!” And with that, Phoenix is unceremoniously thrown out of the office, with a head full of both questions for Mr. Grossberg and new décor ideas for his office.

Phoenix’s next step is to return to Grossberg’s office and get some answers about what he just heard. Grossberg is there now, looking very unhappy and muttering to himself about what a sorry state he is in. Phoenix discovers that Grossberg feels just wretched for bailing on poor Maya, but that doesn’t mean he has changed his mind about representing her. Phoenix has the option to ask about Redd White, which leads into him pointing out the big empty space on Grossberg’s wall where the painting used to be. Phoenix knows this means Grossberg and White are connected, like there’s any doubt of that at this point, but what is the connection? Phoenix has three choices: “He’s giving you information,” “He’s blackmailing you,” or the obvious favorite, “You’re lovers.” As much as I don’t want the mental images associated with the third option, I have to choose it. “It’s not something I can claim to understand,” says Phoenix, like he doesn’t fantasize about other men during every waking moment, “But you and Mr. White are lovers, aren’t you!” Phoenix theorizes that Grossberg gave the painting to White as a token of love. Grossberg basically says, “Hey, just because you love the dong doesn’t mean I do,” but promises to reveal his secrets to Phoenix, whose blue text shrieks with delight, “I knew it! They are lovers!” Oh, Phoenix.

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“Redd White is a man who makes his living through intimidation,” says Grossberg. “Bluecorp is a company that excels in finding people’s weaknesses, I’m afraid.” Weaknesses, eh? Maybe Redd White knew Phoenix was coming to visit him, and set up his office in the naked man motif to capitalize on Phoenix’s weakness? It would explain a lot. But to the point, Grossberg admits that he has been paying off White for 15 years, due to White’s knowledge about this DL-6 Incident. This, he says, is the reason he cannot represent Maya. He also says going after Redd White will be a tall order. “He has information on everyone,” he goes on. “It gives him an iron grip! He owns judges, attorneys, prosecutors, police…and politicians.” So…this means White’s dirt on Grossberg consists of a manila envelope full of X-rated photographs of the two of them in room 124 at the Back Door Inn?

The truth is much less entertaining. DL-6, Grossberg explains, is the police department’s code for an old case involving a murder in which a spirit medium tried and apparently failed to channel the victim. Grossberg says that he represented the medium, Misty Fey, in her efforts to clear her name after this humiliation. I’m not sure if this was a civil lawsuit against her by the police department, or what, but it seems a little weird that Misty Fey would need a lawyer to help her prove that her power to channel dead people was not fraudulent. But helping Miss Cleo lawyer up isn’t what he’s been hiding from for fifteen years–it’s the fact that he let this highly embarrassing information about failed spirit channelings slip to Redd White in the first place. For the price of a gay oil painting and enough money to keep himself stocked in velvet smoking jackets and imported cigars, Grossberg helped to publicly humiliate his own client and the police department. “In secret, [the police] began looking for the one who sold them out,” Grossberg says, shame all over his pouchy face. “Of course, White heard about it and came to me. Only this time, the offer was blackmail.” And now he doesn’t even have his precious painting! Fate has been cruel to this fat, wealthy man.

But Grossberg, in, I guess, an attempt to help Phoenix and set things right, tips Phoenix off that the information he needs to break this case open might be in Mia’s office, as she had been keeping tabs on Redd White for years. Phoenix decides to see if this hint is worth anything and returns to the office. On Mia’s shelves, Phoenix finds a variety of files in alphabetical order. The first one he finds is labeled “Fey.” Phoenix reads aloud: “‘I have tarnished the Fey name.’ Leaving only those words, my mother vanished. I was determined to find the ones who made my mother blame herself in this way. Using the E.S.P. that runs in my family, I held an audience with the dead. Finally, the names of two men surfaced. One was Marvin Grossberg, a lawyer who sold my mother’s information for riches. The other was the man who sold that information to the press. This parasite, who makes his fortune on threats and coercion… His name is…” And the record stops. Handy that everything else in this diary of Mia’s is intact, except for two words. Why did she even write this stuff down? In case she died and her plucky but inept young assistant would have to take up her mantle? Was she keeping meticulous written records for a tell-all autobiography?