It’s human nature to feel panic when falsely accused of murder.
Wada opened his mouth, his voice trembling:
“Of- Officer, I had no motive to kill Mr. Nakazono! I’m innocent.”
If he had learned to laugh hysterically like Byakuya, he might have had a chance.
If he was lucky enough to find evidence, he might be able to clear his name.
Now, all the evidence pointed against Wada. His pale and hollow explanations were the worst possible approach.
Just then, Mr. Iijima stepped forward.
He was like a valiant warrior, striking his teammate:
“Hiding it won’t help, Mr. Wada. You secretly sold the art here, and Mr. Nakazono demanded a huge compensation when he found out. Isn’t that a motive to kill?”
“Ah, this...”
The suspect’s stuttering response made Detective Mōri frown:
“Is what he said true?”
Wada was extremely panicked. He never expected his colleague to throw him under the bus. His heart was pounding wildly:
“This is unrelated to the murder. I didn’t kill him!”
Detective Mōri didn’t believe words, only evidence:
“Alright, alright, once my officers find the murder weapon, the truth will be revealed.”
The murderer had killed Mr. Nakazono at close range, so they must have blood on them.
Once they found hair and DNA in the armor, they could easily identify the true criminal.
Conan glanced at Suzuki Byakuya. Seeing that he didn’t move, Conan quickly started searching for evidence.
Their previous contests had been like this, as if Byakuya was deliberately letting him find the clues first.
Then, after Conan presented his argument, Byakuya would refute it with a reasonable and logical argument.
If the murderer was Mr. Wada, the entire case would be too simple.
Seeing Suzuki’s furrowed brow, it was clear that there was something else going on!
There must be something in the scene that could overturn the case, it was just a matter of time before it was discovered.
Conan crawled on the floor, quickly spotting the ballpoint pen behind the statue:
“Hey, officer, there’s a ballpoint pen here.”
Detective Mōri walked over and picked it up, not forgetting to praise him:
“Good job, kid.”
He examined the pen back and forth, muttering:
“This pen is quite high-end. How come the search team didn’t see it before?”
Director Ochiai leaned closer and explained:
“This is a special edition ballpoint pen we made for the museum’s 50th anniversary. All staff who participated in the event have one.”
Detective Mōri nodded, pulling out his little notebook for recording case analysis and drawing on it with the pen.
After comparison, the ink color and thickness matched the note:
“This pen must be the one Mr. Nakazono used in the surveillance footage.”
Suzuki Byakuya looked at the evidence and shook his head slightly.
The ballpoint pen that had emitted red light earlier had been secretly put in Director Ochiai’s pocket.
The one Detective Mōri found was deliberately placed there by the old man to mislead them.
This alone couldn’t convict anyone, it only proved that he was a suspect.
Byakuya found the deductions frustrating and decided to observe the situation further.
If he couldn’t find any leads, he’d point out the visible clues and let the police make their own judgments.
However, Conan noticed his shaking head.
Suzuki seemed to disapprove of the pen as evidence…
Ah, I get it!
Conan stroked his chin, the feeling of incongruity in his heart growing stronger.
Assuming Mr. Wada was the perpetrator, he should have known there were cameras. Unless he was intellectually challenged, why would he deliberately leave time after stabbing him to allow the victim to write his name?
If he claimed to have murdered him to copy the artwork, that excuse was too far-fetched.
Conan had seen Mr. Wada’s recklessness in the museum lobby.
He treated the paintings very casually, and his past of reselling them showed that he had no respect for art.
How could someone like him possibly murder someone to copy artwork?
Conan remembered the ballpoint pen earlier, his eyes lit up.
Mr. Nakazono wrote the murderer’s name on the paper before dying, then threw the pen away.
But the pen in Detective Mōri’s hand had its tip retracted.
No one would have the time to retract the tip in that situation.
Conan seemed to have realized something and approached the search team police officer.
He snatched the note with Wada’s name on it while they weren’t paying attention.
Sure enough, there were very faint scratches on it.
I understand now, this was a framed murder!
“Hey, you little rascal, what are you doing?”
Mōri Kogoro was furious at Conan’s recklessness, picking him up by the back of the neck like a chicken.
At that moment, two officers walked in.
“Report, sir, we found this armor in Mr. Wada’s locker.”
They pulled open the cloth bag, revealing the bloodstained armor inside.
Wada was stunned, his eyes widened in surprise:
“How is this possible? Who put the armor in my locker?”
The evidence was irrefutable, but he was still trying to argue.
Detective Mōri was disgusted by this type of criminal, his expression stern:
“With the note written by the victim and this bloodstained armor, you dare to argue?”
“It wasn’t me… It really wasn’t me, I’m innocent!”
“You dare to argue further, arrest him!”
Mōri Kogoro approached the armor, feeling a bit regretful:
“Such a pity, a good piece of art has become scrap metal.”
Iijima walked over and explained proactively:
“Don’t worry, it’s a decorative replica, not the real thing. It’s great that the other artwork hasn’t been damaged.”
Conan’s expression changed when he heard this.
He noticed that the paintings near Mr. Nakazono’s body had been moved beforehand.
If Wada was the murderer, he wouldn’t have cared if the art was splattered with blood.
If anyone in the museum cared so much about the artwork, it could only be…
Conan’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked into the distance.
Director Ochiai!
This was his specialty, convicting the guilty.
Now, assuming that Director Ochiai was the murderer, he had made an appointment to meet Mr. Nakazono.
He hid in the armor, and when the victim arrived, he slashed him.
On the table were a note with “Wada” written on it beforehand and a pen that didn’t work.
Mr. Nakazono was injured and hit the wall, accidentally discovering the paper and pen.
He hurriedly wrote his name but found that the pen didn’t work. Angry, he threw the pen down.
Since the pen was far from the body, the director had ample time to replace it, which would shift the blame to Wada.
Conan was a seasoned Sherlock Holmes fan and remembered what Holmes once said to Watson:
“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
Now, all he had to do was confirm that the director had the ballpoint pen!
Seeing Detective Mōri preparing to escort Mr. Wada away, Conan acted decisively, shouting “Oh my!”
Immediately, everyone in the room turned to look at him.
He took the drawing board from Ran Mouri, his legs clamped tight, and approached Director Ochiai:
“Where… where’s the restroom?”
“Go out this way, turn right, there’s a staircase, go all the way down and you’ll find the restroom.”
Taking advantage of his small stature, Conan used his cuteness and said:
“Old man, you told me, but I can’t remember. Can you write it down?”
Director Ochiai, unaware of the trap, took the drawing board and pulled out his ballpoint pen.
He was about to write, when he suddenly realized that the pen in his hand was out of ink.
Seeing the director’s panic, Conan grinned.
Sorry, Mr. Suzuki, I won this time!
Suzuki Byakuya, who had been silent for a long time, finally spoke up:
“Wait, the murderer isn’t Mr. Wada.”
Detective Mōri had a high opinion of Byakuya’s abilities.
He had even applied to his superiors to hire Suzuki as a criminal investigation consultant.
Previously, he thought Byakuya had no leads, since he had been silent the whole time, and hadn’t asked any further questions.
Now that Byakuya questioned it, he naturally had to give him some face:
“Suzuki, why do you say that?”
Conan tilted his head, a smug smile of victory on his face.
After using his trick to expose the director’s pen, Suzuki was able to identify the murderer.
Although he was a few seconds late, he had still lost.
A small misstep, Mr. Suzuki, what a pity.
The final winner is me, Conan Edogawa!
Suzuki Byakuya’s brow smoothed out, but he gave a completely different answer:
“The murderer is you, Mr. Iijima.”
Conan’s heart skipped a beat when he heard this!
…