It was a gray, dismal day, the kind where the rain fell in a steady, rhythmic drone that seemed to leech the color from the world.
Inside the Mouri Detective Agency, the atmosphere was thick with a restless sort of boredom.
"Where are Heiji-niichan and Kazuha-neechan? They're so late," Conan muttered, stifling a wide yawn.
"I've been waiting here for an hour and a half already," Tsuneo added. Since they had all agreed to grab lunch together, Tsuneo—a man who took his meals very seriously—had shown up early, only to find himself stranded.
"They said they'd be here by one o'clock at the latest."
Ran glanced down at her wristwatch, her brow furrowed with worry. It was nearly two o'clock now, and there was still no sign of the pair from Osaka.
"Did you try calling him again?" Kogoro Mouri asked, lazily flipping through the pages of a newspaper.
"I did, but his phone seems to be dead," Ran replied. "I called Heiji's mother in Osaka, and she said they caught the eight o'clock flight this morning. They should have been in Tokyo ages ago."
"The eight o'clock flight?" Kogoro looked up, skeptical. "If they were aiming for a lunch meeting, that's a bit excessively early, isn't it?"
"Oh, I remember now! Heiji mentioned yesterday that they had to stop and see someone named Kusukawa first. He used to be a subordinate of Kazuha's father, and now he works at a detective agency here in Tokyo."
Ran recalled the brief mention of Mr. Kusukawa during their phone call the previous night. Still, even with a quick visit, they shouldn't have been delayed this long.
"Something's definitely gone south," Tsuneo remarked, knocking back a glass of juice in one go. Lunchtime had long since passed, and he was starting to think he'd need to find some chocolate just to keep his blood sugar from bottoming out.
"Oh, stop being so dramatic. What could have happened?" Kogoro shot a sideways glance at the Repairman before turning back to Ran. "You're talking about Kusukawa from the Haido Detective Agency, right?"
"Do you know him, Dad?" Ran asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Horses, cars, boats—if you can bet on it, the man loves it. He's a gambler through and through," Kogoro explained.
"But why would Heiji-niichan and the others go to see a man like that first?" Conan asked, his detective instincts already tingling.
"Because he sent a letter to Kazuha's father saying he had something incredibly important to tell him. But then he went silent. Heiji and Kazuha were asked to check in on him since they were coming to Tokyo anyway."
Ran pulled two ice cream bars from the freezer and handed them to Conan and Tsuneo.
"The more I hear, the more it sounds like a disaster," Tsuneo said, his mood improving slightly thanks to the cold sweet. "A subordinate who suddenly goes radio silent? That's a massive red flag."
"Don't worry so much. They're probably just caught up in a long conversation," Kogoro said, though he reached for the office phone anyway. He dialed the number for the Haido Detective Agency.
"Ah, Mouri-san! Good to hear from you!" the agency director on the other end greeted him warmly. After all, the "Sleeping Kogoro" was a giant in the industry, and his name carried significant weight.
The conversation was brief. Kogoro hung up, his expression turning serious.
"Things just got a bit strange."
"The director says nobody has seen Kusukawa for several days. Heiji and Kazuha showed up there around ten-thirty this morning, got Kusukawa's home address, and headed straight there."
Kogoro looked over at Tsuneo. The casual skepticism was gone, replaced by a flicker of genuine concern. Could they actually be in trouble?
Haido Town, 4-Chome, Hatoba Manor.
"This should be the place, right?"
Tsuneo pulled his car up to the old apartment building, the wipers fighting a losing battle against the downpour. The Mouri family piled out after him.
"Good grief. In this weather, we're the ones out here hunting for guests who were supposed to find us," Kogoro grumbled, ducking under the eaves of the building to escape the rain.
"It's fine, Dad. It's better than just sitting at home doing nothing," Ran said with a supportive smile.
Conan remained silent, his expression grim. He couldn't shake the feeling that Heiji was in over his head.
"Room 202. Kusukawa."
The group climbed the stairs and arrived at the door. To their frustration, a note was taped to the frame.
'I should be back before noon. If there are any registered letters, please leave them with the landlord.'
Kogoro rolled his eyes. It was well past noon. Clearly, a gambler's sense of time was as unreliable as his bets.
"It looks like Mr. Kusukawa has run into some real trouble."
Tsuneo knelt down, joining Conan in inspecting a small piece of adhesive tape near the doorframe.
"I know what that is," Ran said, nodding. "You put a piece of tape there as a marker. That way, you know if someone has snuck inside while you were out."
"And look at this mark on the door. This looks like the brim of a hat, doesn't it?" Tsuneo asked, standing up.
The door was grimy, and there was a distinct, damp smudge where someone—likely Heiji, whose hat was probably soaked from the rain—had leaned their head against the wood.
Conan stared at the tape, his frown deepening. The dust settled on the adhesive suggested that the door had been opened and closed multiple times recently.
Clack! Clack!
Tsuneo didn't wait. He gripped the handle and gave it a firm twist. The door was unlocked.
Conan was even faster than the man who had opened the door. He kicked off his shoes and bolted inside.
"The lock hasn't been picked, and the room hasn't been tossed," Kogoro observed, walking in and scanning the perimeter. "Maybe he hit the jackpot and ran out to celebrate. That would explain why he's been missing for a few days."
It was a classic Kogoro deduction—logical, but perhaps too optimistic.
"There are pencil indentations here," Conan said, picking up a notepad from the desk. He held it up to the light.
Someone had used a pencil to rub the paper, trying to reveal the impressions left by a note written on the previous page.
"That Osaka brat probably did that," Kogoro remarked.
Conan was already at work with a pencil of his own, lightly shading the paper. The notepad wasn't thick, and the pressure of a pen usually left marks two or three pages deep.
'Kenbashi-cho, Ito.'
"What do you think? Should we call the police and ask for the address of the Ito residence?" Conan asked, looking up.
"No, I have a much faster way," Tsuneo said.
He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he tapped into a database. It was already three o'clock. When am I going to get lunch? Tsuneo thought irritably. That Osaka brat is going to get a piece of my mind when I find him.
Inside a pitch-black attic.
"Is... is it in here, Kazuha?"
"Not there, Heiji! A bit more to the left!"
"Left? Here?"
"Ow! That hurts! Where exactly are you poking me, Heiji? I said to the left!"
Following a string of highly questionable-sounding dialogue, Kazuha's voice suddenly spiked in volume, startling Heiji.
In reality, their situation was far worse than their words implied. They were sitting on the dusty floor, back-to-back, their wrists bound tightly by heavy steel handcuffs.
Heiji had been trying to use a safety pin to pick the lock of the cuffs, but in the dark, he had accidentally poked Kazuha's skin.
With her sudden cry, the safety pin slipped from his fingers and disappeared into a narrow crack in the floorboards. It was gone.
"This is bad... Kazuha, do you have anything else on you that we can use to open this lock?" Heiji whispered, his voice tight with desperation.
The situation had officially become critical.
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