"Little man, do you have a theory?"
Inspector Yumitsu looked down at the boy with genuine curiosity. He had already begun to notice that this child possessed a talent for observation that far exceeded his years—and perhaps even some of the professional detectives on his force.
"I was just wondering," Conan said, looking up with wide, innocent eyes, "why exactly Mr. Genda is so convinced that he's the arsonist."
The neighbor's young son, standing nearby, couldn't help but let out a snicker.
"Ah-le-le?" What kind of voice was that? This four-eyed kid was hilarious. Even in kindergarten, no one talked like that anymore.
"The reason, huh?"
Inspector Yumitsu instinctively reached for a cigarette. Realizing he was still inside someone's home, he offered a quick word of thanks to the hostess and led the group outside onto the porch. Only then did he strike a match, exhaling a plume of smoke before stepping aside to make a phone call.
Earlier, when Yumitsu had confronted Genda by the patrol car, the man had immediately bowed his head and apologized, effectively confessing to the crimes. But now that the theory of the delayed-ignition light bulb had surfaced, the confession tasted sour.
"What's the word?" Heiji asked the moment Yumitsu hung up and walked back to them.
"The team at the station started questioning him as soon as he was booked. Their response? 'He doesn't know,'" Yumitsu said, shaking his head.
According to Takanori Genda's statement, he believed a "second version" of himself—a darker persona hidden deep within his mind—was responsible for the fires. He claimed his childhood sleepwalking had returned with a vengeance. He had done nothing but apologize to the interrogators throughout the entire session.
"Oh, and there's another detail," Yumitsu added, tapping ash into his portable tray. "Because of these 'episodes,' Genda sought professional help. He went to a psychiatric clinic. The doctor in charge of his case? Akira Morozumi—the victim's husband."
"And the other two?" Tsuneo asked, leaning against the car. "Do they have any connection to Mr. Genda?"
If the other two suspects were strangers to him, the case against the psychiatrist was practically closed. Mental manipulation and gaslighting were standard tools for a man in his profession.
"We aren't sure about Keiko Gondo, the sister, yet," Yumitsu replied. "However, we've confirmed that the Feng Shui master, Souo Tsugami, is an acquaintance of Genda. In fact, it was he who recommended Genda go see Dr. Morozumi in the first place."
"Tsugami and Morozumi were college classmates," Heiji muttered, the pieces clicking into place. "So it's safe to assume the Feng Shui master has some medical background too. Whatever a psychiatrist can do to a mind, he could likely do as well."
"So, what's the next move?" Tsuneo asked. He could feel the weight of the long day pressing on him. A definitive resolution seemed unlikely before dawn.
"I'm heading back to the station to check on Genda's condition personally," Yumitsu said, carefully securing the evidence bags. "If there's any progress, I'll contact Mori directly."
The shards of the light bulb and the perfectly geometric ash were too important to leave to chance. He also needed to verify if the fortune-teller sister had ever crossed paths with Genda.
"The pressure must be immense," Heiji remarked, watching the Inspector drive away.
It was rare to see an officer so steadfastly believe in a suspect's innocence when a confession was already on the table. Proving it, however, was going to be an uphill battle.
"As for that yakiniku... I know a place in Haido," Tsuneo interjected, looking down at the two "shrunken" detectives. "It's excellent, though it's a bit on the pricey side."
"I don't think I've actually eaten anything since lunch," Heiji admitted, his stomach finally winning the war over his focus.
"How pricey?" Conan asked, looking up suspiciously.
He knew from experience that when Tsuneo decided to eat, the bill could rival a small mortgage if he wasn't careful.
"Don't worry about it! Let's go, Master Kudo!" Heiji laughed, hoisting Conan into the car.
"Hey! This 'repairman' is the real tycoon here!" Conan grumbled. He knew for a fact that Tsuneo kept a ridiculous amount of cash stashed away in his closet back at the agency.
Sizzle—
There were few sounds in the world more beautiful than high-grade beef hitting a hot grill.
The trio spent the first thirty minutes in focused silence, moving with the efficiency of soldiers at a mess hall. Only once the initial hunger was sated did they turn their attention back to the arson.
"The horse from the first fire," Heiji said, flipping a piece of kalbi, "had clear marks indicating a Guan Yu statue was originally seated on its back. The fire just consumed it."
"Exactly," Conan added, nodding. "But in the subsequent three fires, the horses recovered at the scenes were generic. No bases. No Guan Yu."
"That means the culprit didn't want the police to realize the horse was specifically the 'Red Hare,'" Tsuneo noted between bites. "Strip away the legend of the Red Hare, and all you're left with is a generic red horse."
"And in police code," Heiji said, recalling the reports he'd seen at the station, "a 'Red Horse' is slang for an arsonist."
After the first fire in Rashin District, the discovery of the red horse had immediately hit the front-page headlines. The media had framed it as a taunt, a signature left by a serial pyromaniac. At that point, the second and third fires hadn't even happened, yet the narrative was already set in stone.
"It's classic media sensationalism," Tsuneo said, taking a sip of soda and smiling. "People love a narrative. It's like how people talk about me. Everyone assumes there's some deep, dark secret why a 'famous' detective is spending his days as a repairman."
He laughed. "Some of those trashy tabloids even invented scandalous relationships between me and my clients."
"And are you saying there aren't any scandalous relationships?" Conan asked with a dry, knowing smirk.
Heiji also raised an eyebrow. He had seen Tsuneo "at work" once. The sheer intensity of the "repairs" had been enough to turn a person's face red.
"Even if there were, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Tsuneo replied smoothly, ignoring their pointed stares. "Anyway, back to the point. Genda only started doubting his own sanity after that first fire. He's had sleepwalking issues since he was a kid, which made him the perfect target for gaslighting."
"He was funneled toward Dr. Morozumi by the Feng Shui master," Heiji summarized the timeline. "We still don't know if the sister, Keiko Gondo, is involved, but the pattern is clear."
"The first 'arson' was likely an accident or an unrelated event," Conan mused. "But once the culprit—whoever it is among those three—met Genda, they saw an opportunity. They saw a way to use the 'ABC' trick to mask a murder."
The change in the horse figurines proved it. The first was a legitimate Red Hare antique, likely belonging to Genda. The others were cheap imitations, designed to keep the 'Serial Arsonist' story alive long enough to reach target 'D'—Mrs. Morozumi.
"It's despicable," Heiji muttered, gripping his tongs. "Even a fortune-teller can perform a degree of psychological manipulation. All three suspects have the skill set to have broken that man's mind."
The architects of this madness had planned everything perfectly. All that remained was for the detectives to find the crack in their design.
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