"I'll just drink alone." Uncle Maori really didn't want to spar with Tsuneo.
"Dad, this is your last bottle, okay?" With no outsiders around, Ran still had to rein in her father a little.
"Fine, fine, I got it."
Uncle Maori pulled out his ringing phone and answered.
"Hello, Maori Kogoro speaking."
"How about it? Come to my room and we'll keep talking detective stuff?" It was the actor who had returned to his room, Sunaoka Kazuyoshi.
"Oh, Mr. Sunaoka!"
"Wait—what's that…" Sunaoka suddenly hung up.
"Hello? Mr. Sunaoka?"
"Mr. Sunaoka?"
Uncle Maori called twice, lowered the phone, and frowned in confusion.
"What happened, Dad?" Ran asked curiously.
"Mr. Sunaoka called to invite me to his room to chat, but for some reason he just hung up." Uncle Maori was equally baffled.
Is that guy still drunk?
"Believe it or not, something's about to go down…" Tsuneo had finished his main course and was now calmly spooning ice cream.
"Yeah, you're definitely getting a stomach ache." Conan gave a deadpan smile.
Go ahead, eat mine too.
BANG!
Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the night, reverberating in the mountains and instantly drawing everyone's attention in the garden restaurant.
Even Tahara Toshiaki, who had been writing in the corner, walked over.
Everyone gathered at the wooden railing, peering into the darkness.
"It seemed to come from the other side of the valley," Tahara said, staring at the pitch-black forest.
"Who's still hunting this late?" Uncle Maori muttered. Do these people really love hunting that much, running around with rifles in the middle of the night?
"What are you looking at?" Tsuneo glanced at the dog-headed detective.
Conan was lying flat against the railing gap, big head swaying left and right, staring at something.
Beyond the railing was a sheer dozens-of-meters drop straight down to rushing water.
"No idea," Conan replied.
Tsuneo: …
At that moment, a villa French window opened. Tanigawa Noe, wearing a bathrobe and drying her hair, stepped onto the balcony and looked down curiously at the outdoor restaurant.
"Did something happen?"
"You heard a gunshot too, right?" Uncle Maori turned and called up.
"Yeah, I thought I misheard." Tanigawa nodded, then looked toward the neighboring room's balcony and said, "Sunaoka should be asleep by now, right?"
"Something happened." Tsuneo, holding Conan's ice cream bowl, was the first to spot a round cracked hole in that room's French window.
It was too far to tell if it was a bullet hole.
"There's a hole here—like it was made by a gun!" Tanigawa's face changed as she cried out.
"Really?!" Uncle Maori immediately dashed inside the villa, Conan hot on his heels.
Once inside, they saw producer Nagatsuka Katsumi still on the phone near the front desk.
"Uncle, keys!" Conan shouted, already sprinting upstairs.
"Owner! Hurry, bring the master key to Mr. Sunaoka's room!" Uncle Maori yelled at the counter.
Everyone rushed to the third floor. Manager Tanigawa Noe, still in her bathrobe, was pounding on Sunaoka Kazuyoshi's door.
"Any response?" Uncle Maori asked.
"No, he sleeps like the dead. Nothing wakes him once he's out," Tanigawa replied, worry creeping into her voice.
Click.
Tsuneo, one hand holding the ice-cream bowl, somehow unlocked the door with the other.
The elderly owner was too slow climbing the stairs.
The villa's doors weren't high-security; nothing a repairman couldn't handle.
"Nice!" Uncle Maori twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
The scene inside greeted them.
Tanigawa Noe, the least resistant, let out a piercing scream.
The late-arriving owner, keys finally in hand, trembled—this business!
"Hey, I'm calling the police!" Tsuneo already had his phone out and was dialing like a pro.
"Someone's dead—headshot. Address…"
The repairman handed the phone to the villa owner.
Uncle Maori had driven them here in circles; who knew the exact location?
Inside the room, actor Sunaoka Kazuyoshi lay fully dressed on the floor, face-up, eyes wide open in death, a bullet hole dead center in his forehead.
Yeah, he really was sleeping like the dead now…
…
Soon, the police arrived.
Leading them was an old acquaintance: the curly-haired, easygoing Yokomizo, who greatly admired Uncle Maori.
Everyone waited at the door of the third-floor room.
"Mr. Maori! Long time no see!"
"Mr. Tsuneo's here too!"
Inspector Yokomizo greeted them.
What a luxurious lineup today—the case should be solved in no time.
"Let's see the victim first."
Tsuneo glanced at the three people connected to the deceased:
Manager Tanigawa Noe, producer Nagatsuka Katsumi, scriptwriter Tahara Toshiaki.
The repairman had no memory of this case, but these three were definitely prime suspects.
"Inspector Yokomizo, this is the scene." Uncle Maori nodded toward Room 301.
"Please wait in the first-floor lobby for now. I'll have questions later." Yokomizo signaled two officers to escort the others downstairs, then entered 301 with Uncle Maori.
"He'd run his mouth when drunk, but no one hated him enough to kill him…" Tanigawa sobbed dramatically—real tears or crocodile, who knew.
"We're finished. I have to jump ship now!" Nagatsuka clutched his head, looking more devastated than the corpse.
As the drama's producer, he really did have to rethink his career.
"The show just got extended, and now this happens!" Tahara lamented.
Tsuneo and Conan stayed outside the room, observing everyone's expressions and words.
"Seems like all three had some grudges with him," Tsuneo said as the others were led downstairs, glancing at the body.
"Indeed."
(End of Chapter)
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