The loud beeping of your alarm jolted you out of your pleasant dreams, startling you awake.
You lifted your head out from beneath the covers to sneak a peek at the time. 11 am. Good, your alarm was right on time for once.
Rolling out of bed, you quickly changed and got ready for the long day ahead. You threw on a t-shirt, shorts, and a pair of socks, pulling your hair into a high ponytail once you were done.
You made yourself a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. As you ate, you made sure you had everything you needed today.
Notepad? Check. Pen? Check. Gifts? Check. Essentials such as your phone and wallet? Check.
You placed the dishes in the sink and began washing them. There weren't that many, so it only took you about ten minutes.
Drying your hands off with a towel, you stood over your purse with the journal and letters lying next to it. You were debating whether to bring them along or not. They had valuable evidence that Shinichi could probably use, but on the same note, Saguru had explicitly stated that they were for your eyes only.
You picked them up before deciding against it and setting them back down. You'd let Shinichi know of the evidence without letting it slip that your boyfriend had left you a secret journal and letters. That worked perfectly.
A sudden thought struck you, almost like a bolt from the blue. You sprinted upstairs and unlocked Saguru's briefcase, pulling out the documents he was working on the day before he died. You didn't know whether they'd be valuable or not, but this was a joint collaboration between him and Shinichi. Perhaps Kudo-kun would know something about this that you didn't. You also grabbed the official investigation report that held details about your boyfriend's death. Those would be essential to your investigation as well.
After checking that all the doors were locked and that the gas was off, you tossed on a pair of flats and headed out the door toward the train station. Beika was a forty-five-minute train ride away, with Shinichi's house being another twenty minutes away by car, so you had to leave early.
After navigating traffic through the crowded crosswalk and running up two flights of stairs, you made it to the platform just in time to catch a train about to leave. You stepped inside and realized that the train car was packed to the brim with people.
"Oh no..." you grumbled as you squeezed your way through the crush of people, muttering apologies the way throughout until you found a less crowded spot. It wasn't much, but at least you weren't squished up against some random stranger.
Not wanting to deal with the people around you, you pulled out your earbuds and plugged them into your phone. You opened up your playlist and found a song that suited your mood and leaned back, bopping your head to the beat slightly. There. It did the trick every time.
About thirty minutes later when your legs were about to collapse beneath you, a whole crowd of people finally got off and cleared the car, allowing you to finally take a seat and give your feet a much-needed break. You heaved a sigh and stared out the window at the modern Tokyo skyline sipping past with its gleaming, glass and steel skyscrapers.
Your victory was short-lived, however, as an announcement came onto the loudspeaker, saying that the next stop was Beika. You internally groaned and wept for your tired and aching feet, but slowly got up with your feet crying out in pain and walked toward the doors.
The train pulled into the station and the doors slid open once it had come to a stop. You rushed out the doors, avoiding the incoming people, and followed the crowd to exit the station, where you diverged to the side and quickly called a taxi.
The taxi would be here in ten minutes. You thanked them and hung up, leaning against the wall outside the station and enjoying the pleasant weather. The sun was out, shining pleasantly upon you and moderate cloud cover provided you with enough shade to prevent you from being scorched by the sun's rays. A pleasant breeze ruffled your hair and tossed it to the side gently.
You noticed a car approaching you that matched the description of your called taxi. A silver Toyota Corolla. You squinted your eyes and scrutinized the license plate on the front. It matched up with the one provided, and you jogged toward the curbside, waving at the taxi to get the driver's attention. It screeched to a halt in front of you. A click told you that the door had been unlocked and you climbed in, relishing the refreshing, cold air conditioner. You ran a hand over the upholstery and discreetly sniffed the air. You guessed this car had been bought recently, as it had that new car smell.
"Where to?" asked the driver. You gave him Shinichi's address and he nodded, stepping on the gas.
The ride to his house was silent. You arrived there ten minutes ahead of schedule, much to your surprise.
Stepping out of the car and into the sweltering heat, you thanked the driver and added a ten-dollar tip to the bill for getting you here ahead of time. The silver Toyota Corolla drove away and you turned your attention to the large manor in front of you.
Grumbling something about excessive flaunting of money, you walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. A few seconds passed, yet nobody came to answer the door. Frowning, you rang it again, only to yield the same result.
"Where in the world could he have gone?" you asked yourself, only to be interrupted by a small cough from behind you. You turned around to see a little girl, maybe seven or eight years old, with strawberry blonde hair and wearing a lab coat. A clipboard was tucked underneath her arm.
"Excuse me, but are you by any chance looking for Kudo Shinichi?"
"Uh, yes. Do you know where he is?"
She nodded and gestured toward the house next door. "He's at the Professor's house right now."
You turned to see the modern, avant-garde house next door. You swore you heard a small explosion and felt the ground shake.
"Forgive him. He's probably up to god-knows-what now. Follow me; I'll show you around."
Without waiting for your reply, she spun on her heel and walked toward the house with you trailing behind.
A gust of cool air greeted you as she pushed the door open.
"Kudo-kun, Doc, I'm back!" she called out into the seemingly-empty foyer. A few seconds later, Shinichi appeared out of the living room with a book in his hand.
"Welcome back, Hai- oh, I see (y/n) is with you as well. Did you just arrive, (y/n)?"
You silently nodded as he gestured you toward the sofa. It seemed he had gotten better at socializing, and interpreting social cues and norms.
"Thanks for having me over, Shinichi," you said, following the customary social norms. "I brought something for you guys."
You dug through and pulled out a bag of tea and another bag of coffee beans.
"Here, the coffee's for you, Shinichi."
He took it and examined the label, his eyes widening slightly.
"And it's the good coffee as well..."
You handed the bag of tea to the little girl, smiling at her.
"Oh, for me? Thank you," she said as she accepted it. "This is perfect timing. We just ran out. I'll go put this away now if you'll excuse me."
The strawberry blonde girl navigated her way around the coffee table and pulled open a door, making her way down the stairs. There was a moment of silence before you heard muffled yet loud yelling and a small crash. You could make out a few snippets of the following conversation.
"Doc, didn't I tell you to stop eating that fried chicken? You're on a diet, for god's sake!"
There was a quiet thump after that. It sounded like something being tossed into the trash.
"Your blood pressure's going to be through the roof if this keeps up! Furthermore, your overall health is going to plummet!"
"A-Ai-kun!"
"I knew it was foolish to let you out of my sight. Now here, eat this salad instead of that chicken for lunch!"
You heard a small grumble of protest as the little girl came storming up the steps, a clear aura of frustration surrounding her.
"My apologies," she snapped, adjusting her jacket as she sat down. "It seems that a certain someone can't control his unhealthy eating habits."
You and Shinichi looked at each other before you hesitantly responded.
"Ah, no, it's alright."
An important question popped into your mind.
"By the way, what should I call you?"
She sunk her head in thought.
"That's a good question. The name 'Shiho' was stolen from me. The name 'Sherry' was forced onto me."
She looked up at you, her face breaking out into a smile and taking you by surprise.
"But the name 'Haibara' is what my friends call me. So you can call me just that."
The unexpected deepness of her response left you stunned momentarily.
"A-alright, Haibara-chan. Do you mind if we get started right away?"
She nodded, and both she and Shinichi scooted in closer to you. You dug the notepad out of your purse, which already had some questions scribbled down.
"Shinichi, I'm assuming you know the details of Saguru's murder. Do you think he was murdered by a member of an organization? Or rather, the organization?"
You pulled out the documents and investigation report and handed them to him. He accepted them and looked over them, flipping through the various pages.
"From the looks of it, no. The organization in specific tends to kill by gunfire or poisoning. I've never heard of them killing somebody by strangulation. Haibara, have you heard of any such cases?"
She shook her head. "It's always done using a gun. If they're in a pinch, they'll use a knife to stab them to death. Recently, they've been taking to poison, but Hakuba-kun didn't die from any of those. I think we can rule the organization out of this."
You scribbled a paraphrased copy of their answers down.
The organization is not involved. He died from strangulation. They kill through poisoning, guns, and knives. Out of the question.
"Then, who do you think could've done it?"
Shinichi sank into his signature Holmes's pose: knees pressed to his chest and hands pressed together with his forehead resting against them.
"That's a difficult question. We know for sure that this is probably somebody with experience. The trachea and windpipe were expertly crushed and they were careful to dispose of everything, making this case admittedly near-impossible to solve."
"Could it have been fueled by a grudge or for revenge?"
"Possibly," he answered. "He did have a considerable amount of enemies at the time of his death, so it's not out of the question. But what strikes me as odd is that the list of suspects, although they're in Japan, their locations don't put them in an ideal position to commit a crime. For example, the person in Hokkaido. Even if they claim they have an alibi and that they were in Hokkaido this entire time, that claim is sure to be destroyed in no time via transactions for plane or train tickets to Tokyo. If they went by car, they can track every move they made through security cameras, and it's literally impossible to walk from Hokkaido to Tokyo in the timespan provided. Another example would be the suspects whose whereabouts are currently unknown. It's virtually impossible to stay off the grid in today's world. Every action you make is monitored and can all be traced back to you, whether it's through security cameras, receipts, credit or debit card transactions, or phone records. The only way possible would be if they paid for everything in cash and disposed of their receipts and the like afterward. This makes it incredibly unlikely to kill somebody without a trace, much less a famous person."
"How so?" you asked.
He took a deep breath and continued his lengthy explanation.
"Theoretically speaking, if somebody were to follow the latter process to kill him, fine. For the sake of explanations, let's go with it for now. First off, they've already bought a plane ticket to Japan and they're a criminal that has a history with Hakuba-kun. That's already suspicious. Even with cash, they'll have to buy it under a name. Assume they buy it under a fake name with cash. For now, the transaction is unable to be traced back to them. Even if the police and the plane company examine the flight records, the fake name renders their efforts useless.
"However, the moment they get off the plane and step foot into the airport, a monkey wrench has already been thrown into their plans. Airports have some of the tightest security in the world. In addition to metal detectors and x-rays, every move you make is monitored with cameras, and facial ID technology is being used to identify every passenger that goes through the airport. So unless they're a master of disguise like Kaito Kid, their plans are most likely going to end there.
"Let's take this one step further. Assuming they make it out of the airport undetected, there's living costs and expenses to consider. The only way to make transactions without them being traced back to you is through cash, but Japan is notorious for being ridiculously expensive. Sooner or later, they're going to have to take out money from the bank. But as a foreigner, that can be considerably difficult to do, which is why most people take out their money at home in their native country. A criminal will have no access to their bank account while in jail, so the moment the bank sees that there's been a withdrawal of £1000, for example, after months or years of inactivity, they'll notify the police. It'll probably end there.
"At this point, we're venturing into the what-ifs and the highly unlikely scenarios, but let's continue. Say they made a large withdrawal of money and for some reason, it slipped under the bank's radar. They've made it this far, and now it's just a matter of killing him. As far as I know and have seen, security at the Hakuba estate is insane. Security cameras, fingerprint scans, retina scans, and more. Hakuba-kun only let a select few people know of his plans, which he could count on one hand. In addition, that place is under high police surveillance at all times since the Superintendent General lives there."
He clapped his hands together.
"Practically impossible as proven."
"So what you're trying to say is that not one suspect is more suspicious than the other and that this case is leading to dead ends no matter which direction you look at it in?" you asked. He gave a curt nod in your direction.
You took a moment to mentally process this information.
"All the suspects are virtually in the same boat," you whispered to yourself. "How does this work...?"
Something struck you as odd as you reviewed his logic.
"What you just said applied to the scenario that the culprit was foreign. But what if they were Japanese?"
You picked the investigation report off the coffee table and flipped to the suspect list, ignoring your name at the bottom of it.
"I didn't realize this until now, but none of the suspects are Japanese. It'd be exponentially easier for them to kill Saguru since they don't have to deal with the extensive security foreigners have to."
"I found that odd as well," commented Shinichi. "So I took it upon myself to do some research on the criminals he'd arrested while in Japan. Turns out that most of them are still in jail and the ones that are freed have solid alibis to prove their innocence.
"The Japanese justice system is known for having a 99% conviction rate and it's because once you get yourself in trouble with the law, your fate is as good as sealed. The prosecutors will practically coerce you to plead guilty with the immense pressure they put on you. Very few have the strength to withstand it and very few get a light sentence."
Your heart sunk in despair. You came here thinking you'd get some answers, but instead, it only gave you doubt.
Shinichi seemed to pick up on your distress. He leaned over and cautiously rubbed your back in reassuring circles.
"Hey, don't worry. No matter how long this case takes, it'll be solved. You have my word for it."
His words gave you a much-needed boost of confidence and trust.
That's right. The best of the best are working to solve this. Plus, I have an advantage with the notes and letters.
You let out a shaky sigh and forced a smile onto your face. You stood up and thanked Shinichi and Haibara for their time before leaving. You called another taxi to take you home at the curbside.
As you waited, you filed this valuable information into your mind, searing each word into your memory.
I'll use this to my advantage and be the one to throw that culprit in jail.
Woohoo, finally getting this up and running.
This was probably the longest chapter I've written for this book yet.
Word count: 2965 words
Page count: 25 pages