Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright: The Frigid Melody

The Colour Out of Snow pt. 1

The world was a monochromatic wash of black and golden yellow, the snow glowing under the light of the street lamps, and Luke nestled into his scarf and coat to keep himself warm as he hurried past the Sacred Well – somehow not frozen in the cold – and up the path to the street. As it had been last night, the freezing air was pierced by violin music emanating from who knows where and the shrill sounds cut into Luke's head like a needle pressed right into his ears.

He could see his friends' bodies shadowed in the glow cast from the Kings' Arms. Trucy was tapping on her chin and peering around at the ground, idly kicking her foot back and forth, her form distinguishable by her hat and the shape of her cloak. Mr Wright was easier to notice thanks to his near-incandescent hat, squatting beside a crumpled heap in the middle of the street.

He wasn't alone.

Luke squinted, trying to make out any details he could recognise. Dark ponytail, white coat...

"Dr Wallace?" he asked just to make sure, his breath billowing out into the air like a dragon.

"Nice of you to join us, Luke," Phoenix commented without looking back at him. "The Doc was just getting us all caught up on the crime scene."

Luke plunged his hands into his pockets, idly hooking that stone around his finger again, and took a deep breath as he drew closer to where the pair were kneeling.

It was hard to tell even from a small distance, and on such a dark night, but the man lying in the snow in front of them wasn't moving. Thank goodness the tinny smell of snow was drowning out however terribly the blood he'd heard about smelled.

"...so he..." Luke swallowed. "...he really is dead?"

"Not breathing," said Dr Wallace, "doesn't have a pulse, stone bloody cold and oh yes, a puncture wound on the neck." He straightened up and dusted the snow off his knees. "I've been asked to conduct a proper post-mortem examination, but for now I can confirm that this man is morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead."

Every word felt like a punch in Luke's face and he recoiled from the doctor in self-defence.

"Yes, I..." he said nervously. "I get the point."

"Trucy, I better not see you looking," Phoenix called over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Daddy!" Trucy replied. "I'm keeping my eyes good and averted, just like you told me!"

Phoenix cradled his chin and rested one knee down in the snow to keep his balance.

"Are we to assume that puncture wound is the cause of death?" he asked.

"It's difficult to tell at this stage," Dr Wallace sighed. "Like I said, I've been asked to perform a post-mortem. Without disturbing the body, I can't make out any evidence of blunt force trauma or strangulation, although it wouldn't surprise me if all that blood was hiding it."

He squatted down again and ran a finger through the snow beside the corpse.

"Judging by the state of the body," he said, "I'm hazarding a guess that he's been dead for around an hour."

"Did you take a photo of the crime scene?" asked Phoenix.

"That was the first thing I did when I arrived," Dr Wallace replied. "Wanted to capture the scene as I found it. I'll get my photos printed for you by tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," Phoenix said bluntly.

Luke looked back over his shoulder to where Trucy was now twisting her foot on the snow, hands clasped behind her back.