The next morning.
Through Kogoro Mouri, Conan learned that the culprits behind yesterday's ten-billion-yen heist had been gunned down.
All except for Tsukasa Bezuka, a former racecar driver.
The long-haired security guard, Mr. Kishii, who'd given that odd testimony, was also found shot dead in an alley near his home.
Ballistics confirmed both were killed with the same handgun.
In Bezuka's home, the police uncovered a blueprint of the bank, the armored truck's transport schedule, and notes detailing their escape route—damning evidence.
As for Mr. Kishii, a known gambler, he likely played the inside man, opening the truck's compartment.
Two robbers, one insider—now two were dead.
Most likely, an internal dispute had erupted, and the surviving robber was almost certainly involved.
"In the room where Bezuka died, they also found a pink lipstick tube. Tests confirmed it matches the one on the evidence mask. And…"
Kogoro paused, and Conan picked up the thread. "It's the same brand as the one used by Masami Hirota at the bank counter, right?"
"Exactly," Kogoro said, his deduction unusually sharp. "I'm thinking she used lunch as an excuse to slip out to the bank's back door and join the robbery."
Masami Hirota had submitted her resignation that morning. She'd worked at the bank for barely half a year, which, in hindsight, seemed like a deliberate move to scope out the place.
Conan sank into thought.
If this woman spent six months planning, would she really leave her lipstick at the crime scene? And that mask—it had too many inconsistencies.
Could someone else have pulled off the heist, planting evidence to frame her?
The realization hit him: Masami Hirota might be in danger. Conan bolted out of the agency.
"Oh, it's you, Mouri," Officer Megure said, answering the phone at the police station.
Using his voice-changing bowtie, Conan secured Masami Hirota's address and raced to a high-rise apartment building on his skateboard.
…
"503, Hirota—this is it!"
Conan found the spare key under a potted plant by the door and activated his signature skill: breaking and entering.
"If I'm right, she's in serious danger right now."
Inside, the apartment seemed empty. The detective cautiously searched for clues.
Soon, he spotted something off.
A power outlet in the corner of the living room was half-blocked by a table.
Conan pried off the outlet's cover with ease, revealing a key to a storage locker inside.
The ten billion yen could be hidden there!
Before he could think further, a hand chop struck the back of his neck.
Conan crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Akemi Miyano picked up the key, took two steps, then froze as a child's voice rang out behind her.
"You can't go, Masami Hirota."
She turned to see Conan.
"If you go, you'll be killed," he said, rubbing his neck, his eyes still hazy.
"I told you to hit harder," a familiar voice called from the other side of the living room.
Conan whipped around.
A man in black peeled off his mask.
"Sorry, Mr. Tsuneo," Akemi Miyano said with an embarrassed smile. She just couldn't bring herself to hit a kid too hard.
"Tsuneo, what are you doing here?!" Conan gasped, the lingering daze from the blow vanishing.
Was this guy actually involved in the ten-billion-yen heist?!
"Breaking and entering's a crime, detective!" Tsuneo stepped forward, hoisting Conan up by the collar.
"You—" Conan started, but then noticed his wristwatch aimed right at him.
"You can't—"
Thwip! A dart hit the detective's forehead, and he slumped into a deep, blissful sleep.
"What do we do now?" Akemi caught Conan as Tsuneo tossed him into the air, then looked to him for answers.
"Dump him somewhere off the car, then we head to the meeting."
Tsuneo donned his mask, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he clenched his fist.
…
Three hours later, as dusk settled, the appointed time arrived.
Akemi Miyano parked her car in front of an abandoned warehouse.
Her face set with resolve, she stepped inside.
"Where are you? Show yourselves!"
Sometimes, people are strange like that—knowing something's impossible but charging forward anyway.
"Well done, Masami Hirota."
"No—Akemi Miyano."
Gin stepped into the warehouse doorway, Vodka at his side.
The boss's cold smirk was as striking as ever, his black trench coat radiating menace.
"Can I ask one thing? Why kill those two?" Akemi asked, baffled. They'd already been paid, so why go out of their way to murder them?
"Heh," Gin sneered. "That's just how we do things."
Vodka chuckled at the naive woman before them.
This nameless fool—did she really think she could question Gin?
"Enough. Hand over the money," Gin said, cutting the small talk.
"I hid it somewhere else. Where's my sister? Bring her here first."
"We had a deal—after this job, my sister and I walk away from the Organization!"
Akemi demanded her sister's release.
"Heh. Your sister's one of the Organization's top minds. She's not like you. We still need her services," Gin said, dismissing her absurd request.
No one takes Sherry from Gin…
"You…" Akemi froze as the dark barrel of a gun aimed at her.
She'd known she might be betrayed, yet she'd jumped in headfirst. Now, her heart sank, cold and bitter.
She lowered her head, her expression a mix of resignation and defiance, tears welling in her eyes. "Please… help me," she whispered.
"Help you?" Gin's smile grew colder. Whatever nonsense this woman was spouting, he was ready to pull the trigger.
As for the ten billion yen, he already knew where she'd stashed it. Once this disobedient pawn was dead, he'd retrieve it at his leisure.
"She's probably talking to me."
From a shadowed corner of the warehouse, a figure slowly emerged.
"Who are you?" Gin's eyes sharpened, his focus intensifying. Even Vodka drew his pistol.
"Me?"
"Just an ordinary guy who's been waiting a long time and is getting a bit sleepy."
The figure stepped into the light, revealing his true form.
(End of Chapter)
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