Matsuo Takashi's mind went blank. Words failed him. Before he could even think of a rebuttal, the photographers and reporters around him suddenly came alive with energy.
The live broadcast cameras instantly zoomed in on Haruki's impossibly delicate face.
"Mr. Hayashida Yoshiki! Is what you said true?!"
"You only walked around the crime scene, right? How did you deduce the killer's method so quickly?"
"Do you have any evidence to support your reasoning?"
"And why did you place suspicion on Mr. Matsuo?"
"Will you take responsibility for this deduction?"
The reporters swarmed forward like sharks scenting blood, bombarding him with questions.
Haruki involuntarily took half a step back, but Eri Kisaki immediately stepped in front of him, raising a hand to block their advance.
Still, the crowd pressed closer, their enthusiasm undimmed. Microphones were thrust forward, demanding answers.
After a brief pause, Haruki finally spoke.
"I think there should be evidence."
He lifted his gaze slightly, voice calm but carrying through the chaos.
"First, let me explain why I believe the suspect is Mr. Matsuo. To accurately hit a target on the fourth floor from the seventh, the perpetrator would need considerable shooting skills.
"It just so happens that Ms. Nagai mentioned on the show that Mr. Matsuo is a shooting enthusiast — that his marksmanship rivals that of professionals.
"Furthermore, it's strange that Suwa, as the show's director, wasn't backstage during the program but in the mixing room. Mr. Matsuo himself said they had agreed to discuss something there beforehand.
"I believe that's why Mr. Matsuo made sure to confirm Suwa's location during the broadcast.
"And his brief disappearance during the VCR segment — that's no coincidence either.
"All of these signs are enough to make one suspect Mr. Matsuo."
He paused, his expression unreadable.
"However, everything I've said so far is just speculation."
"So, let's talk about evidence."
Haruki crossed his arms slightly. His tone turned sharper, more analytical — reminiscent of Kudo Shinichi mid-deduction.
"If this deduction is correct, then the method itself is riddled with flaws. The crime took place within four minutes, and this particular method would require at least two minutes to execute.
"Dealing with the gunpowder residue afterward in less than two minutes would be impossible. Perhaps a plastic film was used to contain the smoke, or maybe he changed clothes — but even then, the timeframe doesn't fit."
He glanced toward the ceiling, as if replaying the crime in his mind.
"Also, although I don't know why Suwa was asked to stick his head out the window, the medium used to signal him was likely a mobile phone. We can check who made the last call to him."
"Oh, and one more thing," Haruki added, turning to Inspector Megure. "The staircase on the seventh floor is stacked with material boxes. The weapon — or the key evidence — might be hidden there."
Matsuo Takashi's body trembled. His face drained of all color.
Inspector Megure gave him a long, searching look, then barked an order:
"Quickly! Search the seventh-floor staircase!"
A uniformed officer saluted and rushed off.
The moment he was gone, Matsuo's legs gave way. He fell to his knees, voice breaking.
"There's no need... I confess."
The surrounding reporters froze. The sudden silence was almost deafening.
"It's all because of that Suwa," Matsuo muttered bitterly. "He collaborated with Futaba Publishing to invite you, Mr. Hayashida Yoshiki. I thought you were just a mystery novelist... What a mistake. I really thought this method was flawless."
Haruki's gaze softened slightly.
"No matter how clever the method, Mr. Matsuo, every crime leaves traces."
"..."
Matsuo lowered his head in defeat. There was nothing more to say.
Inspector Megure motioned to his subordinates to take him away, then turned back toward Haruki, a warm smile spreading across his plump face.
"Oh, you truly live up to your reputation as a mystery novelist! Solving the case this fast — impressive work!"
Haruki gave a modest smile. "I just happened to notice a few things. I'm glad it helped."
Megure chuckled. "In any case, thank you for your assistance, Haruki. But we'll need you to come down to the station later to give your statement—"
"Inspector Megure, let's leave the statement for tomorrow. We're planning to celebrate at a restaurant," Eri Kisaki interrupted gently before Haruki could respond.
Megure paused, then nodded, his tone warm and accommodating.
"Alright then — tomorrow it is. After all, it's us police who should be apologizing for troubling you."
He seemed to be in unusually high spirits. When he'd first heard about the shooting, his heart had sunk. Kudo wasn't around this time, and he'd braced himself for a long, messy investigation. Who could have guessed things would wrap up so neatly — almost breaking his record for the fastest solved case?
Smiling to himself, Inspector Megure led his team back into the patrol car. But just as they were preparing to return to the precinct, his phone rang — and his expression froze.
"What did you say?! There's been a murder at Tropical Land?!"
"Alright, I'm heading over immediately!"
The moment he hung up, the sirens wailed again, slicing through the night as the police car sped toward the amusement park.
Meanwhile, Haruki and Eri Kisaki had finally escaped the relentless reporters at Nichimai TV Station. They slipped into the parking lot, where Eri's red Mini Cooper waited under the dim streetlights.
As they got in, Eri glanced sideways. "Are you alright, Haruki?"
Haruki blinked, surprised. "Why are you suddenly asking that, Auntie Eri?"
Eri hesitated for a moment before replying softly, "...I'm worried you've experienced too much today."
Seeing his calm expression reflected in the window, she wanted to say more — but instead, she simply smiled.
"It's good that you're fine. Let's go. What do you want to eat?"
Haruki tilted his head slightly, as though thinking. "How about yakitori?"
Eri chuckled. "It seems our dinner earlier was too light. Alright, yakitori it is."
With that, she started the engine and eased the Mini Cooper out of the lot.
They had arrived at the station early for the show's recording, and dinner had been little more than a few healthy salads — too modest to satisfy after such a night.
Now, under the soft hum of the car's engine, the streets glowed with neon lights that shimmered like reflections on wet glass. Tokyo at night was dazzling, a mixture of color and quiet — perfect for a slow drive.
Eri occasionally turned her head to study Haruki. He was gazing out the window, his expression calm, almost too calm. The city's lights painted faint reflections across his face.
She sighed inwardly.
This child's parents had both died of gunshot wounds — each one to the temple. It was precisely because of that past that Eri had worried today's case might reopen old wounds.
"Haruki," she said softly.
He turned to her. "Hmm?"
Eri smiled faintly. "Let's ask Ran to come out with us in a couple of days. I feel you two cousins should properly get to know each other."
Haruki nodded. "Okay."
"Then it's settled," she said, her smile deepening as the car merged into the glowing river of Tokyo's nighttime traffic.