Half an hour later, Aogi’s body was wheeled out on a stretcher to the waiting ambulance, where it was then driven off to the lab for autopsy. His suite was roped off with yellow tape, and police officers stood outside to prevent anyone from entering besides authorized personnel.
Megure turned to Yusa. “Beg your pardon, but could you please move Ran-kun to another room? Due to investigative purposes, we’re also roping off the eighth through fifteenth floors.”
“Yes, sir. You heard him, Ran, let’s go.”
“Okay, Miss Yusa.”
“It’s Yusa to you,” She replied, helping Ran into a wheelchair before pushing her down the hall to the elevators. “Mrs. Kisaki, we’ll be up on the sixteenth floor, three floors up.”
“Alright. Be careful, girls.”
“We will.”
“Inspector Megure!” Takagi called, bursting into the room an hour later. “The autopsy results have come back!”
“Good work, Takagi,” said Megure, taking the envelope and opening it, flipping through the results. “Hmm, as I expected.”
“What does it say, Megure?” Kogoro asked.
“It seems that the cause of death was actually blood loss from the slit throat, though the slit throat was not an instantly fatal wound. The victim died around two or three hours ago, at approximately six thirty PM.”
“And what about the blood smeared on his hand?”
Megure scanned through the documents. “According to the analysis, white cloth fibers were found underneath the fingernails of his left hand, suggesting that he had grabbed onto his attacker’s clothing after his throat was slit, resulting in the smeared blood.”
“Was there anything about the mark we found?”
“Yes. Here’s an enlarged photo of it.” Megure handed Kogoro a photograph. Conan peeked over Kogoro’s shoulder to see.
It was a closeup of Aogi’s bloodied palm, where the stamp was pressed into the blood. It looked somewhat like a curly squiggle around a triangle, the whole thing being the size of a coin.
Kogoro frowned. “Hmm, I could’ve sworn that I’d seen this before. Now, where was it----?”
Conan’s mind raced, until he finally recalled what Kogoro was referring to. “Say, Uncle Kogoro, doesn’t this look like the logo of this Red Venus hotel? See, the squiggle is the ‘R’ for Red, and the triangle thing is the ‘V’ for Venus.”
“I see,” Megure said. Then it hit him. “Ah! But then doesn’t that mean that the culprit is a hotel employee?”
Sato spoke up. “That’s a possibility, for certain. We interviewed some of the employees, and noticed that they all have the hotel’s logo embroidered somewhere on their clothing.”
“So if fibers of white clothing were found under his nails, along with the hotel logo, then wouldn’t that mean that Aogi grabbed onto an article of white clothing belonging to an employee, also having the hotel logo?” Shiratori deduced.
“Alright, it’s decided!” announced Megure. “I want all employees wearing an article of white clothing with the Red Venus logo on it to be taken in and questioned for their alibis!”
“Yes sir!”
Conan sighed in exasperation. It’s about time you police officers figured that out.
Another hour later, the suspects had been narrowed down to three individuals, all who now stood before Megure.
“Now, I’ll ask each one of you again. What are your names, age, your profession, and what were you doing in between six to six thirty?”
“My name is Chizuru Minamoto, twenty-nine years old,” a young woman said. “I’m a waitress here at the hotel, and I was in the kitchens picking up an order at six twenty.”
“Is there anyone who can verify your alibi?” Megure asked.
“Yes, all of the kitchen staff, and the customers whom I brought the order to.”
“Very well. Next!”
The man stepped forward. “Gunjo Otoribashi, forty-three years old. I work as a custodian here in the hotel. At around six, I was in the supply closet getting a mop.”
“Is there anyone who can verify your alibi?”
“No, I was alone.”
“Okay. Next!”
The third suspect, an older man, cleared his throat. “I am Furuta Masaoka, age fifty-seven. I am the head steward of the hotel. I was downstairs in the basement fetching a bottle of champagne from six to six thirty.”
“It takes that long to get a bottle of champagne?”
“Master Aogi was very specific about which kinds of champagne he preferred, and the cellar was rather dark.”
“I see,” Megure murmured. “Well, thank you all for your cooperation. Sato, would you please show them to another room? And have an officer inspect their clothing.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sato lead the three employees out the door and down the hall, into a room far away enough from the crime scene and interrogation room so that they wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on the investigation.
Kogoro leaned in towards the Inspector. “Inspector Megure, if you ask me, that custodian is the most suspicious. He must’ve known that there would be no way to prove that he didn’t go to the supply closet, and thus used that excuse as his alibi for the murder.”
“Now, now, Mouri-kun, let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. We still have to see which one of them has blood on his or her clothing. That’ll be the deciding piece of evidence.”
Conan’s eyes narrowed as he listened in on the two adults. No, the culprit was bound to have noticed the blood smear on his or her clothing, and would’ve found a way to erase the evidence before the police could inspect it. Even if we do a luminol test, there won’t be any reaction to traces of blood if they’ve managed to change their clothing. So how can we prove which one is the culprit?
As he pondered the situation, an officer dashed into the room. “Inspector Megure, sir!”
“Yes, what is it?”
“All of the suspects were searched for bloodied white articles of clothing. None were found, sir.”
“What?!” Megure hollered, so loud that Kogoro, Conan, and the officer winced. “That can’t be! Search again!”
“Yes, sir!” The officer raced back out of the room and down the hall.
Conan watched him leave, and his eyes narrowed. It’s as I thought; the culprit has gotten rid of the evidence by now. So how can we prove who’s the murderer? How?!
Pacing back and forth, he finally gave up and pulled out the brown folder, flipping through the photos of the body and the crime scene for any clues he might come across. He squinted at the body, glared at the overflowing bathtub, and scrutinized the body’s bloodied hand with the Red Venus logo stamped into the blood.
Suddenly, something caught his eye, and he looked closer. Sure enough, it was there, just as he had suspected. Ah ha, it’s just as I had first suspected. This final piece of evidence will reveal the mystery behind the entire case. A triumphant smirk spread across his lips, and he quietly slipped away, looking for a way to put his plan to action.
Sneaking behind a potted plant, Conan flipped open his tranquilizer watch, and aimed carefully for the back of Kogoro’s neck. Sorry, Unc, but I need you for this plan to work. His finger hovered over the trigger, and he pressed down, firing the needle-like tranquilizer dart.
The dart flew through the air, embedding itself in the back of Kogoro’s neck.
“Aiee!” Kogoro yelped, his arms and legs spasming for a split second, before he lost consciousness and tumbled backward, landing in a chair as though he had suddenly decided to sit down.
“Gotcha,” Conan whispered, making his way to hide behind the chair as he pulled out his voice-changing bow tie.
Meanwhile, Megure was beyond delighted. “Oh, Mouri-kun! That position, has it come again?”
Conan replied, using the bowtie to change his voice to sound like Kogoro’s. “Yes, indeed it has, Inspector Megure. I have figured out the identity of Akitoshi Aogi’s murderer.”
“You have? Who is it?!”
“Before I reveal the truth to you all, would you please gather the three suspects into this room?”
Megure turned to face Takagi. “You heard him, Takagi! Go get the suspects and bring them here. Drag the all the way if you have to!”
“Yes, sir!”
Five minutes later, all the police officers and the three suspects stood around the room before Kogoro, the suspects standing right in front of him.
Conan, pretending to be Kogoro, cleared his throat from behind the chair as he spoke into the voice-changing bowtie. “Now then, I, Kogoro Mouri, shall begin the act that shall reveal the solemn truth to all who stand in this room. The murderer who killed Akitoshi Aogi is none other than------you! Furuta Masaoka!”
His audience gasped, and Masaoka’s eyes flew wide open beneath his bushy grey eyebrows. “M-me?!”
“Yes, it could’ve only been you.”
Masaoka recollected himself, and managed to keep his voice calm as he spoke. “Where’s the proof then? I suggest you gather actual evidence before you claim that I killed my employer. What reason do I have to kill him?”
“Before I answer that final question, allow me to present solid evidence that you are the killer, Mr. Masaoka,” said Conan.
“Please do, Mr. Detective.”
Conan closed his eyes, before opening them again. “Inspector Megure,” he began. “Could you please tell us what you found on the left hand of the body?”
“After thorough analysis, we identified that the imprint in the blood was indeed the logo of the Red Venus, and that he had white cloth fibers under his nails, no doubt from grabbing his murderer with his bloody hand just before he collapsed and succumbed to blood loss.”
“Was there anything strange about anything? Particularly that imprint.”
“Yes, there was. Though it was without a doubt the logo of the Red Venus hotel, it was stamped backwards.”
Conan smirked. “Indeed it was. You see, the stamp we saw was easily readable. However, if you take a look at the logo and imagine the imprint it would leave, the imprint would actually be backwards, so you’d have to look in a mirror to read what it says. In other words, the white clothing that Aogi had grabbed, most likely a glove, and actually been worn inside out.”
Masaoka’s eyebrow twitched. “And what does that have to do with me? You can’t claim that I’m the murderer just because I wear white gloves as part of my uniform. Besides, didn’t you police officers state that there wasn’t any blood on any of my clothing? You even did luminol tests.”
“That’s very true,” Conan admitted. “They didn’t find any traces of blood. On your clothes, that is. But what about on your skin?”
“What?! My skin?!”
“Yes, your skin. From what I deduced, you wore the glove inside out to prevent any blood from getting on you when you slit Aogi’s throat. Then, after leaving the scene of the crime, you put the gloves back on the right way so that no blood could be seen. After all, you’d attract attention if you walked around with bloody hands. Then, after secluding yourself, you got rid of the gloves and replaced them with clean ones.
“You probably also washed your hands, because the blood on the gloves had gotten on you when you put them back on the right way. However, you were interrupted, and didn’t have the time to thoroughly clean off your hands. Meaning that if what I deduced is correct, the traces of Aogi’s blood left on your skin should react to a luminol test.”
Masaoka’s eyes bulged, and his mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish’s. Finally, he sighed, lowering his head. “Fine, I admit defeat.”