"Ahh!"
Fujino had just reached the second floor when he heard a piercing scream.
Following the sound, he saw that it came from Norie Tanigawa, still dressed in her bathrobe. A group of people had gathered at the doorway in front of her, their faces filled with shock and horror.
Fujino stepped closer and peered into the simple room. There, lying on the floor in front of the balcony window, was Sunaoka, his body sprawled out in a relaxed "大" shape. A clear bullet hole marked his head, with a trickle of blood seeping from it.
"Ran! Call the police, quick!" Uncle Mouri snapped into action, instinctively turning to Ran, the go-to person for emergencies.
"Got it!" Ran fumbled in her pocket, pulled out her phone, and dialed the police in a flurry.
"Ran's got a phone now too…" Fujino muttered to himself, glancing at the device in her hand, his eyes narrowing slightly. The times sure were changing in weird ways.
---
Ten minutes later, the police arrived.
"Mr. Mouri! Long time no see!" The man leading the group wore a brown suit, with thick eyebrows, big eyes, a square jaw, and a distinctive coral-shaped hairstyle. A swarm of junior officers trailed behind him.
Fujino vaguely recognized him—probably Sango Yokomizo, a detective from Shizuoka Prefecture.
"Oh! Inspector Yokomizo!" Mouri Kogoro greeted him, then gestured toward the room. "This is the crime scene."
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Yokomizo glanced at the scene, then addressed the group lounging in the second-floor rest area. "Everyone, please head down to the living room for now. We'll need to ask you some questions later."
Fujino pulled out a pair of gloves and shoe covers from his pocket, handing a set to Mouri. "Here you go, Uncle Mouri."
"Man, Fujino, you're always so prepared," Mouri said, taking the gear with a mix of admiration and nostalgia.
"Better safe than sorry," Fujino replied casually.
Nearby, Conan squinted at Fujino, then down at his own bare hands. *Last time too… Why does this guy always carry so many white gloves?* He considered asking for a pair but quickly gave up, knowing Fujino wouldn't share.
"Mr. Mouri, who's this?" Yokomizo asked, noticing Fujino handing out the gloves.
"This is my buddy Fujino," Mouri said, clapping Fujino on the shoulder. "Lives across from me. He's a detective too!"
"Detective Fujino… Wait, I remember now!" Yokomizo's face lit up with realization. "You're the one who cracked that airplane murder case in Okinawa a while back—and landed the plane at the airport, right?!"
"That story's been making rounds in our circles. I thought the rumors about you and Mr. Mouri being tight were just talk, but looks like they're true!"
"Of course they are!" Mouri puffed up proudly. "Fujino and I are like brothers. We're that close."
"Ahem." Fujino coughed lightly, cutting off Yokomizo, who was leaning in so close his spit nearly hit Fujino's face. "Officer, shouldn't we check out the crime scene?"
"Oh, right, right!" Yokomizo snapped back to focus, stepping into the scene with the two of them. "I'm Inspector Sango Yokomizo from Shizuoka Prefecture. Guess it's no surprise Mr. Mouri's surrounded by impressive folks."
"So you're Inspector Yokomizo," Fujino said politely, though his mind lingered on the detective's earlier comment about the story spreading. It made sense—an amateur solving a case and landing a plane? That was a feat, even if it wasn't the damaged plane in question. Plus, with Japan Airlines hyping it up to dodge their own bad press about a dead pilot, Fujino's name had gone viral. Interviews had been nonstop, though thankfully a call from Momiji Ooka had kept most reporters from camping at his door.
At the crime scene, Fujino activated his "Eagle Eye" mode. *This time, the evidence includes shattered glass, the bullet in the victim's head, the mattress over there, glass shards on the floor, and some root-like fragments near the scratches. Interesting.*
He mulled it over as the forensics team, dressed in white coats, finished their initial work. "The cause of death is the gunshot wound to the head," one reported. "No burn marks around the wound and no debris from the bullet's exit suggest it was fired from a distance—likely a sniper shot."
Mouri and Yokomizo nodded, stepping over to the window. Mouri examined the bullet hole in the glass. "Judging by the height, it lines up with Mr. Sunaoka's stature."
"So, Mr. Sunaoka was standing behind the balcony window when the killer sniped him from across the way?" Yokomizo pushed open the balcony door and peered out at the canyon opposite. "That'd mean the shot came from the forest over there."
"We all heard a gunshot when it happened," Mouri added, stepping outside. "The sound came from that direction—across the canyon."
Fujino crouched by the body, his gaze locking onto the clues highlighted by Eagle Eye. No footprints this time for a full reverse deduction, but what he had was enough. The bullet in the victim's head couldn't be dug out yet—not that he'd want to; too gruesome. The mattress seemed irrelevant for now. That left the stuff under the victim's feet: glass shards from the bullet, scratches nearby, and some odd, tiny root-like things.
Normally, nothing would stand out, but Fujino noticed something off. The glass shards were too neatly clustered, with no stray fragments around. Either the bullet didn't shatter the window as expected, or someone tampered with it afterward. Then there were the deep scratches on the wooden floor—too prominent for a guy shot in the head and falling backward. Sure, they could've been there before, but Eagle Eye flagged them as key. And those twisted root-like bits? No clue what they were.
"Fujino, see anything?" Conan sidled up, eyeing the glass shards too.
Fujino glanced at the pensive kid. "What do you think those little things mixed in with the glass are?"
"Those tiny strands?" Conan pondered. "They look like plant fibers to me. Definitely not hair or anything else."
"You don't know either, huh?" Fujino sighed, disappointed, then called out, "Uncle Mouri! Conan's snuck in again!"
"Conan?!" Mouri spun around, spotting the kid and fuming. "You little brat!"
"Ah!" Conan shot Fujino a resentful glare. *Can't figure it out, so you rat me out?* Then he bolted.
"That little punk!" Mouri grumbled, then turned to Fujino. "So, little bro, find any clues?"
"Not much to go on yet," Fujino said, standing. "But I think the bullet in his head's the key. Inspector Yokomizo, could you expedite the bullet analysis?"
"The bullet?" Yokomizo rubbed his chin, then waved at the forensics team. "Hey, get that bullet out quick!"
"Out?" Fujino blinked. *Uh… okay, sure.* Very detective-show logic.
The bullet was extracted from Sunaoka's head and bagged. Yokomizo handed it to Fujino. "Here's what was in his skull."
"Thanks." Fujino took the evidence bag, inspecting it. The bullet's size was hard to gauge, but its yellow tip was sharpened, and a hole with threading had been drilled into the base. That level of modification… If it was done pre-shot, the killer had some guts. It sparked a theory: the glass scatter didn't add up, the floor had that scratch, and this altered bullet might've been tailored for a specific weapon.
"I think I've got it…" Fujino's eyes narrowed, glancing at the mattress. A method was forming in his mind. Next step: check the gun.
---
Thirty minutes later, they reached the canyon's opposite side—the killer's alleged spot. Rustling in the bushes put everyone on edge.
Mouri cautiously parted the grass, revealing… a wild Ran.
"Ran?!" Mouri stammered. "What are you doing here?!"
"Well, I saw Conan run off alone…" Ran explained sheepishly. "I got worried and followed."
"So why hide in the bushes?!" Mouri groaned.
"Because Conan—" Ran started, then looked around, realizing he was gone. "Conan, where'd you go?!"
"Over there." Fujino aimed his flashlight downslope, illuminating Conan.
"Heh!" Conan grinned awkwardly, pointing at a rifle. "Found the gun!"
"Co…nan…" Mouri stormed down, hoisted him like a puppy, and tossed him to Ran. "Ran, keep an eye on this brat!"
Fujino, Yokomizo, and the forensics team approached the slope. "Looks like this is the murder weapon," Yokomizo said, eyeing the rifle and the inn across the canyon. "Get it to the lab, quick."
"Yes, sir!" An officer picked it up, then paused. "Weird… the underside's dry."
"Dry?" Yokomizo frowned, turning to Fujino. "When did that rain stop?"
"It started when we got here—around 3 or 4 p.m.," Fujino said. "Stopped by 6-ish. Maybe an hour or two total."
"That's odd," Yokomizo mused. "If it rained that long, the gun should be wet underneath."
"True, unless it was placed here *before* the rain," Fujino suggested.
"Before the rain?" Yokomizo echoed, puzzled.
Fujino smirked inwardly—*Dry after two hours of rain? Right*—then straightened his thoughts. "I think I've figured out the killer's trick."
"What?" Yokomizo blinked.
Mouri, fresh from scolding Conan, gaped too. "You've already cracked it?"
Conan, perched in Ran's arms, stared at Fujino, curiosity piqued.
"The gun's dry underneath, meaning it's been here a while," Fujino said, standing. "It's a decoy. If the killer wanted to ditch evidence, they'd toss it in the river. Leaving it here—illogically—creates an alibi."
"An alibi?" Yokomizo rubbed his chin. "So the killer's someone from the inn?"
He paused, then frowned. "But if this gun's not the weapon, how'd they kill Sunaoka?"
"Yeah," Mouri chimed in. "We all heard the shot."
"You heard a bang," Fujino corrected. "Could've been firecrackers or something else. The canyon's too open to pinpoint it. What clinched it for me wasn't the gun—it was the bullet. That modified base with threading? It'd ruin accuracy or even fail to fire."
"If that's true, yeah, that kind of tampering wouldn't work in a gun," Yokomizo agreed. "So how'd that bullet end up in Sunaoka's head?"
"For silent, lethal precision, I'd say a powerful bow," Fujino said. "The threading on the bullet fits an arrowhead. Time to head back to the inn—I've got some things to confirm."
---
Back at the inn, Fujino flipped over the mattress at the crime scene. Underneath: a bullet hole, with traces of coconut fiber spilling out.
"That's it!" Conan's mind clicked, like a lightbulb exploding.
"Fujino, there's a hole under the mattress!" Yokomizo exclaimed. "How'd you know?"
Conan shot Fujino a curious glance too.
"Simple intuition backed by evidence," Fujino said, pointing at the glass. "I found plant fibers in the shards. In this room, only the mattress could block a shot at that height and leave fibers."
"Impressive…" Yokomizo murmured, half in awe.
Conan squinted. *Fujino's weird deduction style keeps leveling up.*
"Let's question their alibis now," Fujino suggested. "That'll pin down the killer."
---
In the inn's living room, Sunaoka's group—plus the lone staff member—sat on the sofas. Yokomizo's investigation confirmed only Fujino's party and Sunaoka's crew were staying here today.
Producer Katsumei Chozuka had been with scriptwriter Toshiaki Tahara discussing a script all morning, then hunted with Sunaoka until afternoon. They returned after the rain and joined everyone at the restaurant.
Tahara stayed in his room after the script talk, only emerging for dinner once the rain stopped.
Norie Tanigawa had been with Sunaoka in the morning, arguing over the script. She hit the archery range in the afternoon—nearly nailing Fujino with an arrow—then followed the group's schedule.
The old staffer, Yusaku Akashi, was on duty alone today and didn't recall much else.
Fujino listened quietly. When they finished, he stood. "Your timelines check out. And now, I know who the killer is."
"Detective Fujino, you've figured it out?!" Norie, now dressed, asked urgently.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Fujino said, eyeing the four. "The killer's one of you."
"What?!" they gasped. Katsumei protested, "Didn't the police say Sunaoka was sniped?"
"Yeah," Norie added. "How could someone teleport over there, shoot, and teleport back?"
"Sunaoka wasn't sniped from across," Fujino said. "That was an alibi trick by one of you. Here's how it went: The killer swiped a spare key from the lobby, slipped into his room, propped the mattress against the window, then went to the canyon and shot through the glass with the rifle, lodging the bullet in the mattress. They retrieved it, reset the room, cleaned up the glass, drew the curtains, modified the bullet, and fitted it to an arrowhead."
"An arrow?!" Katsumei blurted, eyeing Norie suspiciously. The others followed suit. "Only Norie here knows archery…"
"It's not her," Fujino said, mildly annoyed at the interruption, then pressed on. "The killer joined us at dinner, knowing Sunaoka's a lightweight. Once he was drunk, they slipped out with an excuse, grabbed the weapon from their room, entered Sunaoka's, shot him, posed him, scattered the saved glass, unscrewed the arrow, and left. They hid the weapon somewhere inconspicuous, rejoined dinner, then stepped out again. They called me, replaying a recorded line from Sunaoka's drama airing tonight, then tossed firecrackers or something off the cliff."
He turned to the group. "Your drama tonight had a line like, 'How about we discuss detective stuff in my room… Wait, what's that…,' right?"
"Yeah," Norie nodded. "That was in tonight's episode. So the killer…"
Fujino pulled out his phone and redialed the last call he'd received. A ringtone chimed through the room—from Toshiaki Tahara.
Tahara froze.
Fujino shook his head. *Calling me directly? This guy's not the sharpest tool.*
"Tahara?!" The group gawked.
"Neither Norie nor Katsumei had the prep time," Fujino said. "Tahara, got anything to say? There's probably glass from the scene under your shoes."
"Not bad, detective…" Tahara muttered, head dipping in defeat. "Thought my plan was flawless. Guess I lost."
(Chapter End)