Tsuneo was in the middle of preparing dinner when Hiroki's voice crackled through the phone.
"It looks like Conan-kun has stumbled into another case," Hiroki reported.
"Standard procedure," Tsuneo replied, using his finger to measure the water level over the rice. "Even if that little Reaper stayed home, Beika City wouldn't know a moment's peace."
He adjusted the water slightly. If I'm making soup-soaked rice, the grains really ought to be a bit firmer, he mused.
"The victim this time happens to be one of the targets I've been monitoring," Hiroki continued. He had been keeping tabs on several individuals by piggybacking through the channels used by Vodka and Gin.
"Who is it?" Tsuneo paused, his interest piqued.
"Itakura Suguru. Professionally, he's a games software engineer. The Black Organization commissioned him to develop a specific type of software," Hiroki explained.
Tsuneo's eyes narrowed. "What kind of software?"
To him, this was one of the many enigmas surrounding the Organization that remained shrouded in shadow.
"I'm not entirely sure yet. I managed to slip into Itakura's laptop and discovered he had a habit of keeping a diary. I've gone through it from start to finish," Hiroki said. "The entries don't specify the software's function, but he did mention that for the sake of all humanity, he had to stop its development."
"Now I'm curious," Tsuneo said, turning on the stove to begin braising the beef. It was rare to find something Hiroki couldn't instantly uncover.
"Based on the diary, I've already located where the software is being kept. Once I can get it onto a computer, there won't be any secrets left," Hiroki added, his own curiosity evident.
Itakura Suguru was a man of undeniable talent; he wouldn't have made such a dramatic claim without reason. Software that must be stopped for the sake of humanity? It defied easy guessing.
"I shouldn't need to head over there myself," Tsuneo said, shaking his head. "Just keep a close eye on them and find out what that software really is."
"Has Conan-kun realized Itakura is connected to the Organization yet?"
Through the communication devices at the scene, Hiroki could hear everything happening, though he couldn't read Conan's thoughts. If the boy managed to get his hands on the diary disk Itakura carried, it wouldn't be long before he followed the trail to the villa where the software was stored.
Beika Hotel, Room 2004
Inspector Megure, a familiar face at any tragedy, had already arrived. He cast a sideways glance at the deceased, a look of weary pity on his face.
Poor fellow. To be sought out by Mouri-kun... what rotten luck. Rest easy; we'll catch whoever did this.
"The victim's name is Itakura Suguru, forty-five years old. A software engineer by trade," Officer Takagi reported, scribbling notes in his small handbook.
"And the cause of death?" Megure turned to the forensic examiner.
"It's not fully confirmed yet, but there are no obvious external injuries. Given that he was taking coronary artery dilators, it's highly likely he suffered a heart attack," the examiner replied. "I estimate he's been dead for about two days."
Megure nodded solemnly. Officer Chiba had already checked with Itakura's primary physician, who confirmed the man's heart condition had been deteriorating rapidly. He had even been scheduled for surgery. A fatal heart attack was a very strong possibility.
"Two days... and the hotel staff didn't notice a thing?" Takagi found the detail unsettling.
"He was the type who absolutely loathed people wandering around while he worked," Naito Teiping chimed in. The balding man seemed to know the victim well.
"Exactly," Sugai Katsumichi agreed with a nod. "I once moved a document on his desk by maybe ten centimeters, and he flew into a total rage!"
"He wouldn't even let them change his bedsheets at home, let alone let a hotel maid into his room," Soma Ryosuke added.
It seemed Itakura Suguru had been plagued by severe OCD; even the slightest change to his environment was intolerable to him.
Megure turned his attention to the three men. "Mouri-kun, who are these gentlemen?"
The Great Detective briefly explained that he had been commissioned to find the "missing" Itakura.
"Ah-le-le! This uncle was really, really obsessed with being clean, wasn't he?"
Conan had begun his usual routine.
"What are you getting at now?" Megure asked, looking down at the elementary schooler with a flat expression. Sometimes he wondered if he should just recruit the kid into the First Investigation Division early. The boy showed zero fear in the face of a corpse—far more composed than most of their new recruits.
Mouri has thick skin, and I suppose the kid he's raising is no different, Megure thought.
"Well, look!" the pint-sized detective said, pointing. "This uncle is slumped over the desk with his mouth open like he's sleeping, but there isn't a single drop of drool on the table. Genta gets his textbooks all wet when he naps!"
Conan looked up, an expression of sudden "realization" on his face. "Oh! I know! Mouri-ojisan probably wiped it away by accident!"
Sensing Megure's suspicious glare, Kogoro immediately barked, "Hey! You brat, don't go making things up! I know how to preserve a crime scene!"
"It's not just the lack of traces on the desk," Megure mused, following the logic. "I've rarely seen a heart attack victim remain perfectly seated in their chair like this."
The chair was a standard wooden hotel chair—not a large armchair with supportive sides. If a body went limp, it should have slumped or fallen over.
"I've also noticed something odd," the forensic examiner added. "The victim's hands are clutching his throat. However, if his upper body had been pressed tightly against the desk at the moment of death, the physical evidence would look different."
He gestured to the body. Normally, if a person died and slumped forward, their hands would be flattened between their chest and the desk. But Itakura's hands were positioned perfectly over his throat, showing no signs of being compressed by the weight of his own body.
"It's... off. Very off," the examiner concluded.
"Are you suggesting he died somewhere else and was moved?" Megure asked thoughtfully. No marks on the table, a bizarrely rigid posture...
"But Inspector," Kogoro argued, "the state of rigor mortis seems to suggest he died right here at this desk."
"Were there any signs of the victim being restrained?" Megure asked. He suspected someone might have tied Itakura to the chair, forcing him to stay upright so he couldn't reach his medication or call for help.
"We haven't found any rope marks," the examiner said, checking the body again. "However, judging by these areas of congestion, it appears the victim's body was subjected to pressure over a large surface area."
"Ah-le-le? That's weird... why does this blanket on the bed feel so sticky?"
Conan was standing by the bed, holding up a corner of the blanket and looking toward Ran with wide, innocent eyes.
He was definitely hitting his "Ah-le-le" quota for the day.
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