Detective Conan: Becoming a Tycoon in Tokyo! [38]

By the time Matsumoto Kiyonaga reached the room, Toshihiko was already kneeling helplessly beside Sayuri, his face pale with panic.
Shōichi stood off to the side, silent, his expression calm—almost indifferent.

He looked as though none of this concerned him.

Matsumoto shoved Toshihiko aside and knelt down, staring at his unconscious daughter.

Forensic Officer Nagamune immediately stepped forward and pushed Matsumoto back.

Move. This is my job—don’t interfere.

“Get out of my way! My daughter’s not dead—she doesn’t need a coroner!” Matsumoto bellowed, eyes blazing, shoving Nagamune aside like a raging lion.

Unfazed, Nagamune said coolly, “A forensic officer doesn’t only examine corpses. I’m trying to save her life.”

“I don’t need you!” Matsumoto shouted again, fury consuming any sense of reason.

At that moment, Nagamune knew—he wasn’t dealing with an MPD administrator anymore, but a desperate father. And desperate family members lashing out during an investigation were nothing new.

He ignored Matsumoto and pushed forward, kneeling beside Sayuri.

He gently pried open her mouth, and his eyelids twitched. “Judging by the odor, it’s sodium hydroxide. Her mouth’s badly burned, but she’s still breathing. If we act fast, she can still be saved.”

Nagamune touched the lemon tea can—it was still scalding hot.

Moments later, the ambulance arrived and rushed Sayuri away.

As soon as she was gone, Matsumoto lost all restraint. He lunged at Shōichi, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up.

“You did this, didn’t you!?” Matsumoto roared, eyes bloodshot.

Shōichi calmly brushed off his hands, frowning slightly. “Don’t slander me. I know you already misunderstood me—otherwise you wouldn’t have started that investigation. But blaming everything on me every time something happens? That’s getting old.”

The same excuse, the same tone.

Shōichi was untouchable. He’d never even killed a chicken in his life.

“You just threatened me,” Matsumoto spat, trembling with fury, “and now my daughter’s been attacked. Do you think I’m a fool? That I’ll believe this isn’t connected to you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Shōichi said evenly.

His sheer composure only enraged Matsumoto further.

“I’m not like the others you’ve trampled before. I won’t sit back and take your threats!”

Shōichi shrugged lightly. “Whether you take it or not isn’t my concern. But the MPD runs on evidence. And unless you can prove something, accusing me is defamation. I’ll take you to court for it.”

“Hmph!”

Matsumoto let out a harsh snort.

No Mouri Kogoro this time—no obedient hound to cover for you. Let’s see how you wriggle free now.

Even the Emperor had to answer to the law.

“I found a capsule in the lemon tea,” Forensic Officer Nagamune announced, holding up a fragment with tweezers.

Inspector Megure stepped closer, examining it. “The culprit likely hid the capsule in the drink. Once it dissolved, it released the poison—delaying the timing of the crime.”

“So,” Megure continued, “the culprit must be one of the people who handled the lemon tea.”

Toshihiko’s face went pale. “You mean… I’m a suspect?”

“Exactly,” Megure said grimly.

There were four suspects in total:

The bridesmaid friend who’d bought the lemon tea—her fiancé had once been Sayuri’s first love.

A male classmate visiting the bride—no clear motive.

Toshihiko—the groom.

Administrator Matsumoto—no known motive either.

And notably absent from the list: Sumitomo Shōichi.

He wasn’t even under suspicion.

Shōichi leaned back in his chair, lazily sipping lemon tea, looking completely unconcerned. Only Matsumoto’s eyes stayed fixed on him with pure hostility.

Shōichi, noticing the glare, merely smiled faintly.

If you’re innocent, there’s nothing to fear.

He noticed Haibara hadn’t taken a sip since she arrived and handed her his can. “Here, it’s still warm.”

But Haibara only accepted it silently, feeling the unnaturally high temperature—then set it down without drinking.

Matsumoto’s gaze never left Shōichi.

Finally, Shōichi said, tone mild, “Administrator Matsumoto, your daughter handled that drink herself. Perhaps it’s another suicide.”

“Impossible!” Matsumoto barked. His glare could’ve killed.

Every time—always “suicide.” Did Shōichi really think everyone was that stupid?

“Megure, seal the area,” Matsumoto ordered coldly. “Everyone who entered that room is a suspect. No one leaves until the culprit’s found.”

“Yes, sir!”

Megure snapped a salute, and several officers who’d been attending the wedding in formalwear quickly switched into uniform and began securing the perimeter.

Shōichi sat comfortably, as though watching a play.

With a faint smile, he said, “Shouldn’t we invite Mouri Kogoro? Without him, I fear you’ll still be fumbling for answers by nightfall.”

At the mention of that name, Inspector Megure stiffened.

“Rest assured,” he said stiffly, “even without a detective, the MPD will find the culprit.”

No way was he inviting Mouri Kogoro now—Shōichi’s personal shield. Whenever Kogoro appeared, Shōichi miraculously walked free.

“Inspector Megure, Sayuri-san committed suicide,” Forensic Officer Nagamune interrupted.

Megure’s brow twitched. Couldn’t this guy at least pretend to be tactful when his superior’s superior was right there?

Meanwhile, Shōichi applauded cheerfully. “Well said! As expected of the MPD’s finest forensic sergeant—your reasoning is impeccable.”

Nagamune displayed the sealed bag containing the capsule. “Analysis confirms sodium hydroxide. It must’ve dissolved before she drank it. When sodium hydroxide meets water, it releases immense heat. The burns in Sayuri’s mouth were severe—no sane person would drink something that hot. Hence, it had to be suicide.”

“Bravo! Bravo!” Shōichi clapped loudly, grinning. “What an excellent deduction! Since it’s suicide, we can leave now, right? Toshihiko and I would like to visit the hospital.”

“No! Absolutely not!” Inspector Megure roared.

To him, the culprit had just exposed himself.

If Shōichi weren’t involved, Nagamune wouldn’t be so eager to declare suicide.

Shōichi gave a small sigh, gently brushing past Megure as if to leave.

Meanwhile, behind the sofa, Conan had been aiming his watch’s tranquilizer dart at Sonoko. But at that very moment, Megure stepped into his line of fire—and the dart flew straight into Megure’s neck.

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This is a fan translation of 柯南：我在东京当财阀 by 倒霉的菜狗. Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!