Detective Conan: Becoming a Tycoon in Tokyo! [25]

"I'm sorry, but where you're going next depends on whether or not you're the murderer," Satō said flatly.

Ever since hearing from Miyamoto Yumi about Shōichi’s car-stealing stunt, Satō had taken a strong dislike to him—clearly, this guy was nothing but trouble.

Shōichi gave a light shake of his head.

This lady officer really had no respect for him at all.

"I don’t mind skipping dinner, but there’s a child here who hasn’t eaten yet," he said mildly.

Wasn’t it you who dragged her out? Satō thought grimly. Still, she wordlessly pulled a bread roll from her pocket and handed it to Haibara.

Haibara murmured a quiet thanks and began nibbling in tiny bites.

Shōichi gently patted her head and slipped a pair of headphones over her ears. “We can’t slack off on your studies, even in the car,” he said softly. “Listen to some French.”

Haibara nearly choked on her bread.

What a suffocating parental figure.

Satō drove straight to the apartment building.

When they arrived, she turned to warn him, “There’s some unpleasant stuff upstairs. The child should wait here. We’ll have an officer stay with her.”

“No need,” Shōichi replied calmly. “It’s good for children to experience the world.”

Living in this city, afraid of a corpse? Impossible.

Satō frowned at how casually he said that. She really had to wonder how the Sumitomo family raised their kids.

Inside Okino Yōko’s apartment, before Shōichi could even take stock of who was there, a familiar voice spoke.

“My conclusion is—the deceased died by suicide,” the forensic examiner announced blankly.

Inspector Megure’s expression darkened.

This examiner again. Shōichi was only a suspect, yet the man rushed to label it a suicide every time.

Megure kept his composure, but Satō didn’t bother hiding her irritation.

“Nagamune-san, remember your position clearly! You’re a forensic examiner for the MPD, not someone’s lapdog!”

Forensic Examiner Nagamune adjusted his glasses calmly. “I’ve always known exactly where I stand.”

Mouri Kogoro, on the other hand, was already losing his temper.

Especially when it came to his idol. He charged at Shōichi—only to freeze mid-stride and slump limply into a chair.

“Nagamune-san is correct,” Mouri Kogoro declared confidently. “The deceased, Fujie-san, indeed committed suicide.”

“Mouri-kun, again?” Megure sighed.

But Kogoro pressed on, calm and eloquent. “It was a simple trick using ice. He froze the knife handle into a block of ice, stood it upright on the floor, then sat in the chair and fell backward onto it—creating the illusion of a stabbing. You can still see the dent from the impact. The air conditioner was set high to melt the ice faster.”

Megure frowned. “But why would he take his own life?”

“He was still in love with Miss Yōko,” Kogoro explained smoothly. “He wanted to reconcile, but mistakenly embraced Miss Yūko, who was sneaking around looking for dirt. When she fled, he thought Miss Yōko had rejected him completely. In despair, he chose suicide—to make it look like she was responsible.”

Okino Yōko stood dazed, while everyone assumed she was just shocked.

Yamagishi clenched his teeth, silent.

The logic held. The evidence lined up. There was no sign of murder—it really did look like suicide.

Still, how long would it take for the ice to melt at that temperature? And how long to set everything up?

Yōko had been home most of the week, turning down offers while deciding on her next contract.

And Kogoro… before Shōichi showed up, he’d been shouting wild accusations. Now that Shōichi was here, he was performing right in front of him.

Such an embarrassing display.

Haibara stared intently at Kogoro.

Strange—his mouth wasn’t moving. So where was the voice coming from?

Shōichi gently guided her aside and pointed behind the sofa.

Haibara peeked—and nearly saw black.

A boy about her height was crouched there, holding a bowtie and speaking into it—completely unaware of Shōichi’s sharp gaze.

Shōichi sighed softly, a little disappointed he hadn’t even gotten a sip of tea yet. “Since the case is solved, can I go now? It’s strange—every time something happens, you summon me even though I’ve done nothing. Almost makes it feel like prejudice.”

He truly considered himself a patient man.

To be suspected this much and still stay calm—his self-control had improved.

Everyone else just thought he was being passive-aggressive.

Megure stared at the body for a while, then exhaled heavily. “You may go home now, Shōichi-san.”

Fine—suicide it was.

Forensic Examiner Nagamune began packing up his equipment, smug.

I said it was suicide from the start, and none of you believed me. Maybe I should be a detective instead.

Shōichi turned and waved lightly at Satō. “I didn’t drive here. You promised to take us to the Beika Hotel for dinner.”

I never said that, Satō thought bitterly.

Megure gave her a helpless nod.

So under Takagi’s worried gaze, Satō still had to take him. After all, police were meant to “serve the public.”

Shōichi came and went as casually as if the MPD were his personal rest stop.

By now, Satō genuinely felt like his chauffeur—pick him up, drop him off, smile through the pain.

“I’m not driving you home afterward,” she said stubbornly.

“Of course,” Shōichi replied easily. “Once you drop us at the hotel, consider yourself off duty.”

Satō’s brows twitched.

Why does he sound exactly like a boss talking to his subordinate?

That tone grated on her nerves.

Haibara quietly picked up her bread again.

See? I told you before—it’s not just me who can’t stand him.

Shōichi scrolled on his phone, then said casually, “You know, the police should really listen to their experts more. Take Nagamune-san, for instance—he used his ‘professional methods’ to determine suicide. That should’ve been enough to close the case. But instead, you had to wait for Detective Mouri’s deduction to believe it. That’s the real problem. The MPD isn’t incompetent—there are plenty of talented people here. It’s just that no one ever listens to them.”

Satō’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

She seriously worried she might lose control and ram into a telephone pole.

Haibara stopped chewing and quietly tightened her seatbelt.

---

T/N: hehehhe

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!