Nightshift 34: File Room 1

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

[from here]

"I think the easiest way to go about this is to split up. I'll check for my file, and you two pull yours?" Edgeworth took out the patient list in his notebook, scanning it again. The correlation he had thought was there was weaker than he had thought it was. It was still worth checking into.

"I'll also look for your previous file, Wright. And one more thing - if you see any files with German names, pull those? I know it's a long shot, but it's the best way I can think of to find von Karma's file. I'd like to take a look through it."

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[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

"I'll try," he answered, voice still self-consciously quiet in the dark, reaching for the top drawer of one of the filing cabinets and pulling at it. It moved a few millimeters, then stopped with an unmistakably locked 'clunk.' Now, ordinarily, Phoenix was a reasonably polite, discrete individual. Ordinarily, he gave establishments their due, respected personal property, and did not engage in destructive or otherwise commonly frowned-upon behaviors (practicing law notwithstanding).

However, the promise of a clue regarding some imminent mystery had a way of throwing all of that right out the window.

Frowning, he rattled at the handle again, finally turning off the flashlight, pocketing it, and grasping the metal handle with both hands as he braced a foot against the drawer below it. He began to jerk at the door with sharp, hard tugs, gritting his teeth, only hoping that this was the file where the 'A's were. It was the furthest cabinet to the left, though, so that at least seemed likely.

In the end, it took nearly a minute of rattling, pulling, kicking, and on one one occasion (involving an unexpectedly pinched finger) cursing at the file drawer before it yielded and screeched open. Phoenix exhaled deeply, leaning a shaking arm of the face of the drawer as he retrieved his flashlight and peered inside. Beginning of the alphabet, just like he'd thought -- and there was 'Appleby, Herb' right near the back of the first drawer. He allowed himself a self-congratulatory grin, pulling the file and tucking it under his arm before beginning to flip through the rest of that drawer for anything even vaguely German-sounding. He settled on an 'Amsel' and closed the drawer, finding that the next one down opened immediately. It must have been one lock for all three, he figured, settling down to sorting though the next row of files.

[ham_fisted]

Gumshoe was still gnashing his teeth, though his anger had simmered down considerably once they had approached the file rooms. It struck him that this was his cue to tell them something, but thanks to his mixed feelings about what had just happened, he found himself struggling to remember something his mind had long since misplaced.

Aah, it couldn’t have been that important. This room was safe – cozy, even! – and on top of that, they’d arrived at their intended destination. This would normally have lifted his spirits. The weak smirk on his face vanished pretty fast.

He hung his head, avoiding Mr. Edgeworth’s gaze. Without thinking, he began tugging on the ‘G’ cabinet, almost ready to rip the handle off before he realised he was going after the wrong name. He scratched the back of his head, staring at the lines of drawers and trying to remember for the life of him what that name was the nurses had given him. It took a moment for him to think of checking the notebook in his pocket. He crossed out the name ‘Peter Snide’ and propped the pen behind his ear.

...

Ah-ha! It started with ‘C’, he was sure of it! He managed to pull out the specific drawer and rifle through it, scanning each name carefully...

There it was! Coleman!