Valentine Gala: Sweet's are ain't good. Part 4
The individuals who had attended the ill-fated Valentine gala were now being detained by the constabulary, congregated within the parlor in a state of brittle, suffocating suspense. Yoshimi Watanabe persisted in her inconsolable weeping, her frame convulsing with each sob, while Kaori remained anchored to her side, offering what meager solace she could provide to steady the distraught woman.
Within the culinary quarters, Mrs. Minagawa was engaged in the purgation of the soiled implements, her movements rhythmic and mechanical, devoid of spirit. Beside her, young Susumu added his own lamentations to the air, whimpering through his tears about a burgeoning ache in his teeth.
Simultaneously, Wakamatsu and Naomichi occupied diametrically opposed corners of the room, their visages cast in obsidian shadows, unreadable and grim. Upon the upholstery, Conan Edogawa, Ran Mouri, and Sonoko Suzuki sat in a tight row, each of them submerged in a profound cognitive labor, attempting to synthesize the tragedy that had unfolded.
Then, the sharp rasp of the glass portal sliding open resonated through the chamber.
Every gaze gravitated toward the threshold. A man transgressed the entrance—stout of frame, garbed in a tan, leather-textured trench coat and a matching leather bucket hat. He exuded an aura of unyielding authority. This was Inspector Juzo Megure.
The assembly regarded him with bated breath as he met their collective scrutiny. He cleared his throat, his vocalization grave and heavy with the burden of office.
"Katsuhiko-san expired moments ago… The catalyst appears to have been an agricultural toxin—administered as a lethal food poison."
"Food poisoning?" Ran and Sonoko echoed in a chorus of disbelief, their voices melding into a singular note of dread. Their countenances froze as the memory of the chilling syllables Leon had articulated the previous day surged to the forefront of their minds.
"Th-that is preposterous…" Conan whispered, his eyes narrowing to slits of skepticism. He had already hypothesized the presence of toxins during his preliminary inspection of the cadaver, yet the formal confirmation rendered the reality far more visceral—and infinitely more harrowing.
Ran and Sonoko were equally paralyzed, struggling to reconcile the horrific truth with their current surroundings. Ran found her voice first, her tone taut with urgency. "Ahnō?! Inspector Megure… was Katsuhiko-san truly victimized by poison?"
Inspector Megure locked eyes with the group and offered a solitary, grim nod of affirmation.
The room was instantly submerged in a ponderous silence. The gravity of the revelation anchored itself upon them—Katsuhiko Minagawa had been snuffed out, and the hand of a deliberate assassin had orchestrated his demise.
Uneasy glances began to circulate through the room, each guest silently scrutinizing the next, attempting to discern which among them harbored the soul of a murderer. However, Ran, Sonoko, and particularly Conan were haunted by a different specter—the exact words Leon had spoken.
Sonoko pivoted toward Ran, her expression a kaleidoscope of inner conflict. "You see, Ran… this is precisely what I was trying to articulate. It defies logical explanation…"
Ran offered a slow, deliberate nod. "Sonoko… is it possible your brother possesses some form of precognition? Does he see the future?"
"I am yearning to answer that myself," Sonoko replied, her confusion mirroring her friend's.
Conan, however, was the most profoundly unsettled. His mind functioned like a high-speed reel, replaying the events of the previous evening in agonizing detail—Leon's inquiry regarding Sonoko's destination… and then, that inexplicable moment when he lidded his eyes and rasped:
*"Murder… using poison…"*
Conan tightened his small fists, his fingernails digging into his palms as he sought to excavate every minute detail of that exchange. He was biologically predisposed to skepticism. Was it a mere statistical anomaly? A coincidence of cosmic proportions? Or had it been a pinpoint, supernatural forecast?
His thoughts threatened to spiral into chaos, but he forcibly anchored himself.
Focus, Kudo Shinichi… this is no time for metaphysical speculation.
Inhaling a deep, stabilizing draught of air, Conan reclaimed his composure. With the instinct of a seasoned investigator, he redirected his intellect to the forensic evidence at hand, beginning to weave the threads of his own deductions.
Inspector Megure then funneled his scrutiny toward the assembly, his gaze eventually alighting upon the woman still anchored to the sofa.
"Yoshimi Watanabe-san… the collapse transpired shortly after he partook of your hand-crafted chocolate, did it not?"
Yoshimi dabbed at her swollen eyes and offered a frail, defeated nod. "Yes… after consuming but a single morsel, he suddenly shrieked in agony… and then he simply plummeted to the earth…"
The room turned their collective attention toward her; her rubicund, tear-drenched eyes were windows to the shock and bereavement she was struggling to contain.
Then—
A masculine timbre suddenly erupted from behind them, severing the oppressive tension like a blade.
"The solution is manifest… this mystery is elementary at best."
Inspector Juzo Megure caught the cadence of the voice with startling clarity—it originated from the shadows directly at his back. He swiveled abruptly, visibly jolted by the sudden, unannounced intrusion.
His brows furrowed into a deep V as he tightened his grip and roared at the newcomer, "What is the meaning of your presence here?!"
The man who had just manifested was none other than Kogoro Mouri, who had hurtled to the scene of the crime after receiving an urgent communication from his daughter, Ran.
Kogoro stood with a towering, theatrical confidence—a robustly built man sporting a mantle of cropped obsidian hair and a sharp, razor-thin mustache. His coiffure was slicked back with practiced vanity, save for two distinctive bangs that cascaded over his forehead like twin scythes. Dressed in a formal cerulean suit, his presence exuded a volatile cocktail of legitimate authority and unadulterated bravado.
He hoisted a hand in a nonchalant salute toward the Inspector. "Having been summoned by the tidings of my daughter… I, the formidable investigator Kogoro Mouri, have manifested!"
Then, without a moment's hesitation, he thrust an accusatory finger directly at the weeping woman. "The solution was transparent from the outset. For you… you are the perpetrator of this heinous act."
AM N. NOT.(っ－＿－)っ♤♤DRAFT♤♤