Chapter 27
In the pitch-black stairwell, the beam of a flashlight illuminated the breaker box.
The box door was open, revealing a tangled mess of complex wires inside.
Amuro Tooru, with a flashlight clenched between his teeth, inspected the box by its small patch of light.
“Electrician” was not among his part-time jobs, but the wires in a breaker box were wires, and the wires in a bomb were wires, too. The skills to defuse a bomb should be able to fix a breaker box… probably.
It was so hot. A power outage in this forty-plus degree weather. Did the Beika Power Company have something on its mind?
The high temperature made one restless and irritable. The girl’s footsteps were as silent as a cat’s paws on the ground.
It wasn’t until a touch of icy cold pressed against his cheek that he belatedly turned his head.
“Good evening, Mr. Diligent Repairman.”
The dark-haired girl squatted down beside Amuro and, as if by magic, produced a popsicle that was still misty with cold.
“The last one. I rescued it from the refrigerator,” she said, holding both ends of the twin-stick popsicle and snapping it in half with a crack.
A perfectly even break. An’an nodded in satisfaction.
She took the flashlight from Amuro’s mouth and held the popsicle to his lips.
The rush of cold air in the sweltering heat felt like salvation. Amuro bit down on the popsicle, his tongue instantly flooded with icy, sweet water.
In that moment, the deep bond of neighborly friendship felt tangible, profoundly warming the undercover agent’s heart. To think she would so generously share even her strategic reserves. The four-course meals I’ve been making for her these past days have been gratefully repaid.
An’an never ate a meal for free. She held the flashlight to illuminate the area for Amuro, temporarily guest-starring as the repairman’s little assistant.
“The power went out right when I was in the shower,” the girl complained. “The hot water just vanished.”
Luckily, she had been near the end. If the power had gone out a little earlier, with the soap suds still on her, she would have transformed into a slippery fish in the pitch-black bathroom.
The flashlight could only illuminate a small area, so the two of them were very close. Amuro could smell the scent of shower gel on the girl.
A light white peach fragrance, a hint of sweetness within the coolness.
The heat was intense. The girl was wearing only a slip dress, her dark hair tied up in a bun, revealing her fair neck.
A few unruly strands of hair fell onto her collarbone, slipping into the neckline of her dress.
The blond young man’s gaze shifted away as if scalded. He tried to focus his attention on the breaker box, to fix the circuit as quickly as possible.
An’an knew nothing about circuit diagrams. She finished her popsicle, then began fanning herself with her hand, languid from the heat.
There was a night breeze outside, which was a bit more comfortable than the stuffy indoors. Even if it meant feeding the mosquitoes, they were at least doing it together.
Wait, that wasn’t right. An’an discovered something very unfair. It seemed only she was feeding the mosquitoes.
“Why?” the girl didn’t understand. “Mr. Amuro, did you spray mosquito repellent before coming out? The mosquitoes are only biting me, not you.”
Amuro hadn’t, but with the popsicle stick between his teeth, he couldn’t defend himself.
Silence was an admission of guilt. The dark-haired girl leaned in, her fluffy head moving closer to sniff, vowing to find the reason for the mosquitoes’ differential treatment.
She smelled a refreshing mint scent, a very clean smell.
“There’s no reason,” An’an fell into deep thought. “Why wouldn’t the mosquitoes like you? Mr. Amuro, you clearly smell very appetizing.”
Should he say thank you for the compliment? Amuro thought with a sense of resignation. Compared to the sharp scent of mint, it was perfectly reasonable that mosquitoes would prefer sweet white peach.
An’an finally came to a conclusion: “Mosquitoes are evil.”
This was an undeniable truth. Amuro nodded in agreement without hesitation.
As long as she was blaming the mosquitoes, she wasn’t blaming him. For tomorrow’s dessert, maybe he should make mint chocolate. An’an would probably like that.
The urgent task at hand was to fix the circuit. The popsicle gradually melted, and the last trace of coolness was mercilessly stripped away by the hot air.
Amuro Tooru became aware of an unfortunate fact.
“It’s not the apartment’s breaker box that’s broken,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m afraid an electrical box somewhere is damaged, affecting the power supply for the entire area.”
The undercover Public Security agent took out his phone. His intelligence network spanned both the red and black sides; he would see just who was deranged enough to be cutting power lines in the middle of the night.
In Amuro Tooru’s imagination, the cause of the power outage could have been a thief stealing cables, Kaitou Kid performing a magic show, or even Edogawa Conan kicking a soccer ball—he just never imagined it would be that man.
The reflection from the screen showed the undercover agent’s face drained of color. His fists were clenched so tightly they squeaked.
Scotch’s body double, Amuro gritted his teeth, why do you have to be involved in everything?!
How is he anything like Hiro? Hiromitsu was such a kind-hearted person. You detestable power-cutting thief, is this how you act as someone’s double?
An’an, who was about to melt from the heat, was baffled to see her neighbor suddenly burst into flames.
Th-this… could this be the legendary spontaneous human combustion? She panicked. Mr. Amuro, don’t die!
In the dead of night, when even the dogs were asleep, there were only the two of them in the dark stairwell. If something happened to her neighbor, Suspect An would be unable to defend herself.
Fortunately, Amuro quickly calmed down. No matter what, the girl was innocent. What did the pure-hate black-moonlight body-double literature that was all the rage at the distillery have to do with her anyway? He couldn’t take his anger out on her.
Seeing that the power wasn’t coming back anytime soon, and knowing that Beika Town hotels were notorious for not accepting guests in the middle of the night, Amuro Tooru sighed.
“Go sleep in my car,” he said. “The car has air conditioning.”
The white Mazda had an excellent cooling system. The cool air blowing from the vents brought An’an back to life.
The girl went limp, hugging a pillow and a small blanket as she lay down on the back seat. Before long, her eyelids began to droop.
Amuro Tooru finished dealing with his distillery affairs. He looked up and, through the rearview mirror, saw the sleeping dark-haired girl.
He couldn’t help but envy her quality of sleep. To be able to fall asleep so soundly and deeply, without a care in the world, even in an unfamiliar environment and sharing an enclosed space with an adult man.
It was just that she was a messy sleeper. The small blanket was bunched up beneath her legs, not covering her in the slightest.
The girl, murmuring in her sleep, turned over, and her slip dress began to ride up. Just as it was about to go past her thighs, Amuro reached out in time and pressed down on the hem.
He gently pulled the blanket out from under her legs and draped it over her, making sure she was properly covered.
That should do it, the blond young man thought, breathing a sigh of relief.
His relief was short-lived. The back seat of a car has always been the last resort for pitiful husbands forbidden by their wives from even sleeping on the sofa—a place guaranteed to leave one with a sore back, let alone a girl as soft and delicate as she was.
An’an had only been sleeping on her back for a short while before she started to roll around, and the blanket draped over her wrapped her up like a human burrito.
With a thud, the human burrito tumbled onto the floor of the car.
Amuro Tooru: “…”
What left him speechless was the fact that the girl didn’t even wake up.
For a moment, the police academy’s top graduate genuinely couldn’t tell if she was just an incredibly deep sleeper, or if the fall had knocked her out.
…
When An’an woke up, the sky was already bright.
She sat up groggily from the passenger seat.
Wait, the passenger seat? Wasn’t she sleeping in the back?
The dark-haired girl wondered for a moment, then pushed open the passenger door, preparing to get out.
A sudden pull on her wrist yanked her back.
Her: “?”
The girl turned around. She gasped.
A silver handcuff was locked firmly around An’an’s wrist, leaving a vivid red mark where she had tugged against it.
The other end of the cuff was secured to the blond young man’s wrist, his wheat-colored skin a stark contrast against her fair complexion.
An’an: “…”
Hold on, she thought, let me process this.
What were the odds that ‘Suspect An’ had attacked the Mazda’s owner in the middle of the night, only to be overpowered and handcuffed, now just waiting for dawn so he could take her to the police station?
Based on her understanding of herself, she was, nine times out of ten, the one at fault.
Although she didn’t know what she’d done, judging by the dark circles under Mr. Amuro’s eyes, he had clearly been through an ordeal.
The dark-haired girl gravely repented for a full three seconds.
With her repentance complete, she began to study how to pick the handcuffs.
Suspect An was never one to wait for her fate. She removed the hairpin from her bun and brought it to the keyhole, fiddling with it.
As she fiddled, she peeked furtively, like a thief, at her warden’s movements.
Amuro Tooru was sleeping restlessly, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, his messy blond hair falling beside his cheek.
It looked so soft, so touchable… Just one little touch. What’s the harm?
An’an reached out very gently, pinched a single strand of the young man’s blond hair, and rubbed it between her fingertips.
Fine, soft, and smooth. The texture was superb. Could he recommend his shampoo brand to her?
He’s like a big kitty, the girl thought. Mr. Amuro is seriously lacking in vigilance, to be sleeping so soundly and unguarded next to Suspect An. She was, after all, the creator of the Beika Town horror legend of three consecutive dead roommates.
To punish the blond young man for his lack of vigilance, An’an decided to escalate. She would not stop at just one touch, but would add two more. Three touches in total.
Could she maybe tie it into a little topknot? The girl slowly took out the hairpin she had been using to pick the handcuffs.
Amuro Tooru’s eyelids flickered open. His purple-gray eyes reflected the figure of the dark-haired girl, who looked like a thief caught in the act.
A flash of “How are you awake?!” panic crossed her eyes. The Public Security officer, having caught her red-handed, couldn’t help but wonder about Suspect An’s next move.
Would she hide the instrument of her crime and pretend nothing had happened? Or would she change the subject and ask about his shampoo brand?
It was neither. The girl slapped a hand over Amuro’s eyes and began humming a chaotic lullaby in his ear. “Sleep, sleep, my dear baby, close your eyes, and never wake up…”
The sweeter her voice, the more terrifying the lyrics.
Amuro grabbed the girl’s hand, interrupting her self-deceiving charade.
“Good morning, Mr. Amuro,” Suspect An said, her composure impeccable as she offered a calm and collected greeting. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Amuro Tooru: “…What do you think?”
The handcuffs linking their wrists jingled, an unspoken answer.
Her: “Does this count as false imprisonment?”
Amuro smiled. “It does not.”
He was Public Security. If he said it was legal, it was legal.
An’an’s little hairpin was confiscated, on the charges of picking a lock and attempting to tie a Public Security officer’s hair into a little topknot without permission.
Suspect An objected. Suspect An wanted to appeal. Faced with the suspect’s stubborn resistance, the blond Public Security officer deployed a weakness-targeting strike.
“It’s almost time for Café Poirot to open,” Amuro asked. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“I am not a person who gives in easily,” Suspect An said, taking a heavy bite of her sandwich. “But he promised to add two extra fried eggs to my sandwich.”
Edogawa Conan: Hasn’t she been easily bribed?
He took a bite of his own, standard-edition sandwich, glanced at the invincible-deluxe-royal-edition sandwich in the girl’s hands, and shot a mournful look at the busy blond waiter behind the counter.
This world of differential treatment.
…
“Good morning, Ran!” Suzuki Sonoko pushed open the door to Café Poirot.
After greeting her best friend, she looked down at Conan. “Good morning to you too, squirt.”
Edogawa Conan gave her a half-lidded glare. A world of differential treatment, double.
“Hmph, hmph, Ran, look what I brought!” Suzuki Sonoko said, one hand on her hip as she waved a brochure. “It’s the new resort hotel developed by the Suzuki Group! You, your dad, and the squirt should all come!”
The Suzuki Group: specializing in infrastructure for thirty years, its buildings are blown up and rebuilt, rebuilt and blown up, yet they never forget their original mission. A top-notch, conscientious enterprise in Beika Town.
“Especially the main event this time—an escape room! How could we possibly miss out on the great detective Mouri Kogoro?” Sonoko puffed out her chest. “I, the great detective Sonoko, will also give it my all!”
Edogawa Conan: The development of a dual-dart mode for my tranquilizer watch is now a matter of utmost urgency.
“Mr. Amuro, you have to come too!” Sonoko extended a warm invitation. “You’re Mouri Kogoro’s number one disciple! How could you be absent?”
“Besides that, there’s one other person I’d like to invite.”
Sonoko sighed as she spoke. “But I can’t get their contact information.”
There was someone the young lady of the Suzuki family couldn’t contact? Edogawa Conan asked curiously, “Who is it?”
“It’s that person—the most popular actor in the currently airing hit drama,” Sonoko said, cupping her face, her expression dreamy. “She plays the killer so realistically, it doesn’t look fake. If she could join the escape room game, it would be so exciting!”
“But she’s not signed with any agency. I heard her contact information is only with the police department, and she only answers calls to come in for a police statement.”
Sonoko let out a long sigh. “Do I have to go to a crime scene to invite her? Although, with Beika’s crime rate, I might run into her soon enough…”
She had clearly already mastered the secret to encountering Suspect An.
Sonoko was already considering whether she should just follow Mouri Kogoro around to find her. A murder case was practically guaranteed.
“Ahem,” Edogawa Conan cleared his throat, hinting wildly. “Sister Sonoko, have you noticed that there’s an extra person at our table?”
Sonoko: “You little squirt, are you trying to scare me with a ghost story… There really is an extra person!”
Next to Mouri Ran, across from Sonoko, a dark-haired, dark-eyed girl sat with her hands clasped, appearing as silently as if she had brought her own dark backdrop.
“An escape room?” Fan An asked with great interest. “Am I playing the killer?”