"Conan, stop messing around!" Ran called out, her voice a mix of exasperation and apology as she ushered the boy to the side.
If he keeps this up, the Inspector is going to give us another earful, she thought, sighing.
"Sticky?"
Inspector Megure stepped toward the bed. Keeping his gloved hands steady, he reached out and lightly pinched the fibers of the blanket.
He was right. There was a distinct, tacky residue clinging to the fabric.
"Mouri, old friend," Megure began, his brow furrowing in thought. "Do you think it's possible the culprit wrapped Mr. Itakura in this blanket first, then bound him to the chair with layers of adhesive tape to fix his posture in place?"
The theory held weight. It was a plausible way to manipulate a body.
"And that would explain why there's residual glue all over the blanket," Megure added, nodding to himself.
"Inspector! There are signs of tape usage here as well!" Officer Takagi called out. He was crouched by the workspace, his fingers tracing the edges of the desk and the frame of the chair. Both surfaces felt uncharacteristically sticky.
The pieces were beginning to fall into place.
"The killer likely restrained Mr. Itakura completely, then waited for his heart condition to claim him," Megure reasoned. "After that, they simply had to wait for rigor mortis to set in before removing the tape and restoring the room to its original state."
Megure nodded, satisfied with the logic. This case wasn't an impenetrable mystery; it was a matter of connecting the dots—provided one didn't settle for the easiest answer at first glance.
"Takagi! Go talk to the hotel staff immediately. Find out if anyone has been looking for Mr. Itakura in the last two or three days."
"Sir!"
The police moved with practiced efficiency, but the results were disappointing. No suspicious individuals had come looking for the room in person.
However, there had been two phone calls of a similar nature.
"In other words, three days ago, the culprit used the exact same method you did to track down Mr. Itakura's hideout…" Megure turned a deadpan stare toward Kogoro.
Between chess, shogi, and go, you managed to pin down his hotel and room number. You're really something else, Mouri.
"Inspector Megure, if the culprit used the same method…" Kogoro leaned in, whispering into the Inspector's ear about the video emails Itakura had sent to the representatives of the three gaming companies.
Kogoro had gleaned his information from that video; it was highly probable the killer had done the same.
"Which means… it's one of those three!"
Megure's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the three men standing nearby.
Watching from the sidelines, Conan offered a small, internal nod. His subtle guidance had paid off; these two were actually showing some sparks of intelligence today.
I need to wrap this case up quickly, Conan thought urgently. I have to get my hands on that diary disk in Itakura's bag!
That disk likely contained the only lead he had on the Syndicate's movements.
"Excuse me? You aren't seriously suggesting we're suspects, are you?"
Katsumichi Sugai's expression twisted into one of pure shock as he felt the weight of the police's suspicion.
"We're the ones who paid Mouri Kogoro to find Mr. Itakura in the first place!" Ryusuke Soma added, his voice rising in indignation.
"What kind of killer murders someone and then hires a world-famous detective to find the body?" Naito Teipei asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
"That… is a fair point," Kogoro muttered, rubbing his chin. It did seem counterintuitive.
"Officer Takagi, does that disk say 'Diary' on it?" Conan piped up, reaching out to tug on Takagi's pant leg while pointing toward the open luggage.
Takagi walked over to the bed and retrieved the floppy disk. Written clearly across the label in bold letters was the word: DIARY.
This…
The label was so blatant that it practically screamed for attention. Could there really be clues hidden inside something so obvious?
"Takagi, did you find something?" Megure asked.
"Yes, sir. It seems Mr. Itakura had a habit of keeping a digital diary."
Takagi didn't waste a second. He moved to the computer and inserted the disk, his fingers flying across the keyboard to access the files.
"The killer wouldn't have left any incriminating evidence behind, would they?" Kogoro asked, standing behind Takagi.
To him, the label was almost too big. If the killer had any sense, they would have snapped the disk in half. Either the culprit was careless, or they hadn't seen it as a threat.
"Let's see… it looks like he's been writing daily entries for the past five years. The most recent one is from three days ago," Takagi reported, scrolling past a mountain of text to reach the end.
"Today, the hotel staff said some very strange things to me. Has one of those three managed to track me down already? No matter. I'll just have to move to another hotel."
Kogoro read the text aloud from the screen.
The suspicion surrounding the three men intensified instantly.
"Officer Takagi, let me help you put the disk back!" Conan chirped with a forced innocence, reaching out as the disk ejected from the drive.
He's been writing since five years ago… there has to be something in there about Tequila!
But before the pint-sized detective could snag his prize, Megure's hand intercepted it.
"The case isn't closed yet. We should hand this over to the Forensics Division for a full analysis," the Inspector stated firmly.
Conan's face fell. Dammit.
Fine. If that's how it's going to be, I'll just have to solve this right now!
"That's strange. Inspector Megure, please take a look at the victim's lower legs!" the forensic examiner called out.
On the left calf, there was a clear, distinct indentation from the elastic of a sock. However, the right leg had no such mark. Instead, there were several scratch marks—likely made by the toenails of the left foot.
It was a common habit for people who were too lazy to use their hands—using one foot to shuck off the sock of the other.
But the victim had been found with both socks on. The contradiction was jarring.
Conan tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling as he replayed every detail of the crime scene in his mind. A few minutes later, his gaze drifted to the go set arranged on the floor. A sharp, confident smile played on his lips. He had it.
The police had scoured the room, but no physical evidence of the killer's identity had turned up. The hotel staff couldn't confirm who had called or visited a few days prior.
"It looks like we'll have to take photos, secure the evidence, and continue the investigation at the station," Megure sighed.
"Please wait! We can't let the culprit just walk away!"
Before Kogoro could make a move to leave—likely to catch the latest Yoko Okino special—Conan's tranquilizer dart found its mark in the nape of the man's neck. Kogoro wobbled, slumped into a seated position, and fell silent.
"Mouri? Is it finally time?!" Megure exclaimed.
The Inspector had been lamenting Kogoro's lack of insight all night, but right on cue, the legend had arrived.
The Sleeping Sleuth was wide awake.
"Mr. Itakura used the last of his strength before he died to leave us a message," 'Kogoro' began, his voice deep and resonant as the deduction commenced…
"So? Can you guess who the killer is?"
Across town, Tsuneo was finishing his dinner, listening to the live play-by-play of the investigation through his phone.
Hiroki had cut the audio at the pivotal moment, seemingly wanting to test Tsuneo's own deductive skills.
"Itakura was desperate to get his socks off before he died," Tsuneo analyzed calmly between bites. "He was trying to achieve a specific goal—likely using his toes to manipulate something."
"Mhm. That part is easy enough to figure out. What else?" Hiroki pressed.
"What else?" Tsuneo paused. "The case is straightforward now. The dying message he left is something the killer either didn't notice, or simply didn't understand."
"And that detective used that exact point to identify the culprit."
Tsuneo's mind, however, kept drifting back to the software Suguru Itakura had been developing. A sense of unease settled in his gut, dampening his mood. He felt a sudden loss of appetite, managing to finish only half a pot of rice before setting his chopsticks down.
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