4
His eyes shot open and an unfamiliar ceiling filled his vision. Yuma put a hand to his neck. Sticky sweat covered his palm.
He must have had another nightmare. He couldn't fully remember this one, but he had the feeling something had been chasing him.
Who was it? Was it Kozushima, come back for revenge? Or that great detective, hunting him as a murderer?
“...It doesn't matter. Either way, it was only a dream.”
The words that came from his mouth were so weak it was hard to believe they were his own.
Yuma sat up in the bed and looked at his watch. It was almost 1:00 P.M. He'd gone to the room at around 9:00 A.M., so he'd slept for about four hours.
The sleep had done a bit to alleviate the fatigue weighing down his body. He also felt like his brain was working a bit better.
“...So what do I do now?”
Perhaps because his mouth was dry, the monologue came out in a rasp.
He had wanted to somehow cover up Kozushima's death, making it look like a heart attack or a suicide. But as soon as Oita's death was found, that plan fell apart.
Everyone would assume that Kozushima and Oita were killed by the same person.
“In that case, I'll just use that to my advantage,” Yuma mumbled, trying to psych himself up.
Someone other than himself had committed murder in the Tower. They had brutally stabbed Oita to death. Having thought that far, Yuma put a hand to his forehead.
Was Oita the killer's only target? No, that was unlikely. Oita could be a bit stubborn at times, but he was fundamentally a good person. It was hard to imagine someone could hate him enough to commit such a horrible murder. In that case... The image of Kozushima Tarou, grinning maliciously, flashed across Yuma's mind.
Kozushima. The real target was Kozushima. But Yuma had beaten them to it, so they killed Oita instead.
Why had the killer targeted Oita as well as Kozushima? Surely, the words “SPIRITED AWAY FROM CHOGATAKE” written in blood had something to do with it.
As Kozushima's accomplice, Oita had done something to earn the culprit's hatred. That was why they had murdered him so brutally and left those bloody words at the scene.
That was where Yuma hit a dead end. Just what could Kozushima and Oita have done? How did it connect to a thirteen-year-old serial murder case? And more importantly, how could they have created the locked room and started the fire?
Feeling his forehead warming, Yuma stood up and headed to the bathroom. Peering in the glass above the sink, he made eye contact with a man with a stubbly chin and deep, dark bags under his eyes.
“You look terrible,” he told his reflection as he washed his face. The cold water cleared some of the fog surrounding his brain.
The important thing right now wasn't why or how. It was who. Who killed Oita?
If everyone continued along the line that Kozushima was murdered by poison, it was only a matter of time before he was exposed as the culprit. The only way to prevent that was what he'd already realized...
Yuma looked back at the toilet. He had to find the real culprit, sneak the pill case hidden in the water tank into their belongings, and frame them for Kozushima's murder. That was his only option.
At that moment, a cold shiver ran down Yuma's back.
Oita's killer may have been thinking the same thing. They might have been trying to puzzle out who had killed Kozushima and pin the blame for Oita's murder on him.
If he only killed Kozushima, there was a chance he would be shown leniency. He had only committed the crime to save his sister's life, so he probably wouldn't be sentenced to anything as harsh as life imprisonment. That thought was present in the back of his mind. But if he'd killed two people, that would be a different story. Not only would he certainly never be released, he could even be sentenced to death.
He had to find Oita's killer before they found him. Ideally before the evening of the day after tomorrow, when the police arrived and they would no longer be able to move freely.
As his thoughts aligned, it became clear just how dangerous Yuma's position was. But however grand his ideas were, Yuma was just a doctor. He had no idea how to identify a murderer.
The room had been flooded by the sprinklers. Oita's chest was covered in blood. One of the door's latches was broken and almost torn clean from the wall. Poplar fluff was scattered around Oita's body. Letters had been written in blood on the tablecloth. Where should he start? He couldn't even find that.
The crime scene was so bizarre and ominous. It was like he'd wandered into a mystery novel.
“A mystery novel...”
Yuma muttered, locking eyes with himself in the mirror.
If he was a character in a mystery novel, what role would he play? The culprit pursued by the great detective? Or a pathetic scapegoat, framed by the real serial killer?
No, neither of those were acceptable. Yuma shook his head. For his sister's sake, he had to find the one who'd murderer Oita and make them take the fall for his crime.
So, should he try to be the detective? That was ridiculous. There was no way he, who was already completely stumped, could handle such an ambitious role. Then... Yuma gasped.
“There's one important role still open.”
The man in the mirror smiled. For the first time since Yuma made up his mind to commit the murder, he didn't look afraid.
Yuma grabbed the shaving cream and began to clean himself up. After making sure he hadn't left a hair in place, Yuma slammed both palms to his cheeks, producing a satisfying smack.
The sooner the better. He had to act before his role was stolen by someone else.
Yuma dried his face with a towel and left the bathroom, then put on the jacket he'd left hanging on the chair and left the room. Just to be safe, he locked the door before going downstairs to the Fifth room.
Yuma took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then knocked on the metal door engraved “Fifth”. After a dozen seconds of silence, a voice asked through the door
“Who is it?”
“Ms. Aoi, it's Ichijou.”
“Dr. Ichijou? Do you need something?”
“Yes, I have something important to discuss. May I come in?”
“Let you into my room? Do you realize the situation we're in? Mr. Kuruma already explained. Since we don't know who the culprit is, we need to be careful.”
Despite her words, Tsukiyo didn't sound at all concerned.
Yuma had expected that he wouldn't be allowed into Tsukiyo's room right away. Whether he was able to persuade her now would be the deciding factor to whether he could get “that role”. Yuma moistened his dry lips.
“But Ms. Aoi, you know I'm not the culprit. We were together the whole time Mr. Oita was killed. Well, it was more like you were interrogating me.”
“I see, so we both have alibis.”
“Yes, we have secret alibis we aren't sharing with anyone else. So can you let me into your room?”
Tsukiyo didn't reply. Maybe she wouldn't let him. His palms started to sweat.
Just as Yuma was about to give up, the sound of the lock being unlocked echoed off the glass stairs. The door slid open, and Tsukiyo, peeking out through the gap, winked at him mischievously.
“Secret alibis. I like that. You could write a short story with that title. Please, come in.”
Yuma said “Thank you” and entered the room. A teapot and cups had been set out on the low table between two plush sofas.
“I was working through various theories over tea.”
“Have you figured anything out yet?”
“That's a secret. A great detective never reveals her theories until the story's halfway point. Oh, since you've come all this way, why not have some tea, Dr. Ichijou? I'll make some more.”
“There's no need to trouble yourself.”
“Don't be shy. You came to talk about the case, didn't you? In that case, let's discuss it over tea. Like Miss Marple.”
“Well, if you insist, I'll take you up on the offer.”
“I told you I like Christie before, didn't I? I'm a Poirot fan, but to be honest, I prefer Miss Marple as a character. Of course, I like her long stories like 4.50 from Paddington and The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side, but my personal favorite is The Thirteen Problems. People from all walks of life gather in Miss Marple's house and tell her about strange cases they've encountered in the past, and Miss Marple solves them all in a prototype of the 'everyday life' mystery subgenre invented by Kitamura Kaoru in his debut Flying Horse and solidified with the successes of Antiquarian Bookshop Biblia's Case Files and Coffee Shop Talleyrand's Case Files, a pair of recent entries in the field of light mystery about the proprietresses of two different types of store who solve mysteries given by their customers...”
As Tsukiyo added tea leaves to the teapot, Yuma tuned out her endless discussion of the mystery genre and looked around the room. The room was laid out almost identically to the Fourth room, except that all the mystery novels that had been in the bookshelf against the wall were now piled up on the floor. A reclining chair sat next to them, and there was a large suitcase on top of the bookshelf.
“Did you read all those books already?” Yuma asked.
Tsukiyo turned away from the steaming tea leaves.
“Not all of them. As soon as I first entered the room, I moved the recliner over there and picked out some books that caught my eye to read. I've already read everything on that shelf, but it was quite nostalgic.”
“I see. And why did you put your suitcase on the bookshelf?”
“Isn't it easier to take out your belongings if they're at eye level? I put a lot of my great detective's tools in there, so I want to be able to access them quickly.”
“Is that so?”
She was as elusive as ever. As he was thinking that, Tsukiyo came over with a cup of tea.
“Here. It's Earl Grey. To be honest, I wish I had some scones to pair it with.”
Tsukiyo sat opposite Yuma, gracefully picked up her cup, and took a sip of tea. Yuma followed suit. The refreshing flavor soothed his nerves.
Tsukiyo gave a satisfied sigh, then lowered her head to look straight at him.
“Well then, Dr. Ichijou. Tell me straight. Why have you come to my room?”
Yuma put the cup back on its saucer and met Tsukiyo's gaze.
“I'll be direct. Ms. Aoi, would you allow me to be your partner?”
“Partner...?”
Tsukiyo looked confused.
“Um, Dr. Ichijou... I'm sorry, but regarding that, how do I put it...? It's a bad time.”
“So you already have a partner?”
It was too late. Yuma bit his lip.
“No, that isn't it. I'm just not particularly interested in that right now. And besides which, I don't think it's appropriate to try to woo a woman in a situation like this...”
“Not like that!” Yuma shouted.
“It's not?” Tsukiyo asked, on guard.
“I didn't mean romantically. I want to be your partner in the investigation.”
Tsukiyo blinked a few times, confusion clear on her face, then she gave a smile that looked, in direct defiance of her earlier claim, somewhat perverse.
“You want to be my Watson?”
“Yes, I do.”
A partner who stands at the detective's side and supports their investigation. At that moment, there was no better role for Yuma. It would help him to find out who killed Oita, an if he played his cards right, he might be able to divert suspicion away from himself. No matter what, he had to become Aoi Tsukiyo's Watson.
As Yuma waited for her reply, fists clenched in his lap, Tsukiyo leisurely crossed her legs.
“I see, just as Watson was always by Holmes's side, great detectives always have partners. Poirot had Hastings, Mitarai Kiyoshi had Ishioka Kazumi, and...”
Tsukiyo narrowed her eyes and counted off several more great detectives and their partners on her fingers.
“But Dr. Ichijou, do you really believe you can be my Watson?”
“What do you mean?”
“At first glance, the Watson figure of a mystery novel might seem like a supporting character with no purpose but to follow the detective around and be amazed by their brilliance, but if you read carefully, the role of the detective's partner is extremely important.”
“What sort of role do they play?”
“Due to their high intellect, great detectives often behave in quite eccentric manners. Detectives with lots of common sense like me are actually quite rare.”
Yuma had his own opinions about that, but he politely nodded and said “I see.”
“As a result, great detectives often offend others and cause problems during their investigations. The role of the Watson is to be an affable figure who can mediate between great detectives and those involved in the case, ensuring the investigation proceeds smoothly.”
“I served as personal physician to the ever-cranky Mr. Kozushima, so I'm confident on that front. Besides, Ms. Aoi is extremely socially adept, so surely there's no need for me to mediate anything?”
Tsukiyo, being highly receptive to praise, gave a haughty huff and an “I suppose that's true.”
“But the Watson role has another, much more important task. One far more valuable than mediating between the great detective and others.”
“What's that?”
Yuma asked hesitantly, and Tsukiyo turned up the corner of her lips.
“To inspire the great detective.”
“Inspire?”
“That's right. A casual remark from the Watson, an ordinary person, stimulates the detective's little grey cells and triggers a valuable inspiration that catapults them towards the truth of a difficult case. It's a common scene in mystery novels. For example, in the timeless classic The Tokyo Zodiac Murders, Mitarai Kiyoshi falls into despair at his inability to solve the case, so his partner, Ishioka Kazumi, tries to distract him by bringing up something he saw on the news. This is what prompts Mitarai's realization of that story's legendary trick. In other words, even though the Watson themself is an ordinary person, they're a catalyst whose presence causes the great detective to shine even brighter.”
“A catalyst...”
As Yuma repeated the words, Tsukiyo looked at him provocatively.
“Dr. Ichijou, can you be the catalyst that enables me to shed light on this case?”
“Of course I can.”
Yuma's answer was instant, and Tsukiyo leaned back on the sofa, clasping her hands over her stomach.
“Prove it.”
If he didn't satisfy Tsukiyo here, he would never be accepted as her Watson. Yuma cleared his throat, swallowed spit, and slowly opened his mouth.
“I think there's a possibility Mr. Oita wasn't killed between 6:00 and 6:30 this morning.”
Yuma spoke the first idea that came to mind.
“How fascinating. What do you mean?”
Tsukiyo sounded bored.
“The basis for the claim that the crime occurred between those times in Ms. Tomoe's testimony that she greeted Mr. Oita at 6:00 A.M., and that when she returned to the first floor at 6:30, the door to the dining room was already shut and nobody went in or out afterwards. And the basis for our assumption that Ms. Tomoe herself isn't the culprit is Sakaizumi's testimony that he was speaking with her via the intercom from 6:30 A.M. onwards.”
“That's all correct. So what sort of hypothesis would cause the time of the crime to differ?”
“What if Ms. Tomoe and Sakaizumi were accomplices? The two of them worked together to kill Mr. Oita, then lied to give each other alibis. The two of them are close, you know. Ms. Tomoe, who killed Mr. Kozushima and Mr. Oita for some reason, had a false alibi, which was supported by Sakaizumi, who has feelings for her. Ms. Tomoe seemed quite frightened when she saw Mr. Oita's body. At the time, I thought it was a natural reaction to seeing her coworker killed, but it may have actually been because she was the culprit.”
“You mean to say that Mr. Oita was actually murdered much later?”
“Yes. She killed Mr. Oita between 6:30 and 7:00, and after writing that ominous message, she set the tablecloth on fire with a lighter. She then immediately ran outside and pretended to try and open the door. Thinking about it that way at least explains how the fire was started in a locked room.”
“And how did they lock the room?”
Tsukiyo asked without waiting a second. Yuma went “Uh...” He hadn't actually thought of that.
“Well... Maybe they placed a bar or something in the room to make it look like it was latched, then retrieved it after the door was broken down-”
“That isn't it.”
Tsukiyo cut off Yuma's stream of consciousness theory.
“After the door was broken down, I carefully watched everyone for suspicious activity, and I didn't see any sign of Ms. Tomoe or Mr. Sakaizumi retrieving the jam. Besides, you haven't explained how they blocked the door from the outside in the first place.”
“Well... it's still possible that they were accomplices and committed the crime between 6:30 and 7:00.”
“So when were the omelettes and the coffee in the sub-kitchen prepared? They would have had to cook the omelettes one after another in the main kitchen, then send them up via the service elevator, then make the coffee. That would be a hard job without two people.”
“Is must have been before the crime.”
“So in other words, the omelettes and coffee were already finished and in the sub-kitchen by 6:30. The two of them committed the crime afterwards. That's your theory?”
Yuma was intimidated by the clear skepticism in Tsukiyo's voice, but he answered “Y-Yes...?” Tsukiyo sighed deeply.
“Dr. Ichijou, do you really think that I, a great detective, didn't already consider the possibility that there was an accomplice?”
“Huh? Well, I-”
“Of course, it occurred to me at once. That's why I tested it.”
When Yuma repeated “Tested it?”, Tsukiyo scratched at her temple.
“Dr. Ichijou, do you think that when I ate the omelette and drank the coffee in the sub-kitchen before, it was just because I was hungry?”
“Was it not...?”
“No!”
Tsukiyo said in exasperation.
“I was checking their temperatures.”
Yuma gasped.
“I see you understand my meaning. Yes, I was checking when breakfast was made. The omelette and coffee were both still warm at the time. That means it hadn't been long since they were made. In short, the testimony that Mr. Sakaizumi and Ms. Tomoe made breakfast between 6:30 and 7:00 is true.”
Tsukiyo delivered the proof with a gentle flourish of her hand.
To think that her strange behavior had been motivated by such meticulous logic. Yuma was once again reminded of the skill of the great detective before him.
“I can't completely deny the possibility that they were accomplices, but there is no doubt that the crime was committed between 6:00 and 6:30 in the morning. Which means the mystery of the fire starting in the locked room still hasn't been solved.”
The temperature of Tsukiyo's voice dropped several degrees.
“Now, then. Unfortunately, it seems you can't give me any inspiration, Dr. Ichijou. I'm afraid I must decline your proposal.”
Her overly polite refusal stood before Yuma like a wall.
If things continued like this, he would never be able to become her Watson. He would never be able to find out who killed Oita, and he would never be able to protect himself.
Anxiety sent blood rushing to his head. His face was burning hot and sweat poured down it. Tsukiyo stood up and made her way to the door, which she opened.
“You don't look too well. Why don't you go back to your room and rest?”
Because you can't stay here. The unspoken rejection tore his heart open. Yuma bowed and bit his lip hard. The tips of his canines broke skin, sending sharp pain through his jaw. The taste of iron spread across his tongue.
“...Aren't you interested in what Mr. Kozushima was planning to announce?”
Still with head bowed, he looked up at Tsukiyo. The artificial smile on the great detective's face instantly vanished.
“You know, Dr. Ichijou?”
“I know the general idea. Mr. Kozushima let me in on it during a checkup some time ago.”
“Why did you keep it a secret, then?”
“Nobody asked.”
“Don't give me that. Mr. Kozushima was a billionaire celebrity scientist and world famous mystery collector. He held an extravagant banquet at his home and invited a number of unique guests for an announcement. That could be a major clue to the truth of this incident. You know that much, don't you?”
“Yes, I do. But I promised Mr. Kozushima that I would never leak information before he made his announcement.”
“More nonsense. Mr. Kozushima is dead. Your promise with him has expired.”
“You've got it backwards. It's because it was a promise with a dead man that I felt I couldn't break it.”
Yuma raised his head, speaking in a flat, emotionless tone. His and Tsukiyo's eyes met across the room.
As a mystery fanatic and a great detective, Tsukiyo was interested in Kozushima's planned announcement. He had to take advantage of that.
Yes... He had been naive, trying to become her partner by currying her favor. Aoi Tsukiyo was a fanatic who was obsessed with being a real-life great detective. If he wanted to stand beside her, he should have confronted her head-on and proved his worth from the beginning.
“So why have you decided to tell me now?”
“It's important keeping promises, but I think it's more important to keep the murderer who killed Mr. Kozushima and Mr. Oita from escaping.”
Yuma said something he didn't mean. He realized that leaking the information now would make him look suspicious, but he had no other choice.
“So if there's someone who can make use of my information to solve the case, I'll tell them.”
Tsukiyo closed the door and returned to sit back on the sofa.
“As I've said countless times now, I'm a great detective. I can use this information more efficiently than anybody else.”
“If possible, may I see for myself? Mr. Kozushima and Mr. Oita both helped me out more than I could ever repay. I want to find the culprit who took their lives and see to it they're punished.”
“So basically, you'll give me the information if I allow you to become my partner, is that it?”
Tsukiyo's expression was tinged with contempt.
“Information is important, but in a mystery novel, the ones who deliver it are always the police or informants, not the Watson.”
“Don't get me wrong, I'm not demanding you give me the position of Watson just for the information. I want us to compare our opinions on the information, then decide whether or not I'm really good enough to be a Watson.”
After a few quizzical blinks, Tsukiyo smiled innocently.
“I see, how interesting. So, Dr. Ichijou, will you tell me what it was Mr. Kozushima wanted to share?”
“An unpublished manuscript. He found a famous person's unpublished manuscript and wanted to publish it.”
“You mean he had an unpublished mystery from a famous author!?”
Suddenly, Tsukiyo rocketed off the sofa and leaned over the low table, bracing herself with both hands.
“Please calm down. Looking at who Mr. Kozushima invited to share it with, that seems like a reasonable conclusion.”
“How are you not freaking out right now!? The fact that Mr. Kozushima was the one planning to announce it means the author is probably dead. That means it's a posthumous work. Whose work is it? Is it a short story or a full novel? What is it about? How did Mr. Kozushima get his hands on it in the first place?”
The blushing Tsukiyo talked quickly.
“I wasn't told any of that.”
“Is it by a foreigner or a Japanese author? When was it written? What kind of story is it? Does it feature a famous detective? Is it honkaku? Or social school?”
Tsukiyo leaned in ever closer, the blood vessels appearing in her eyes. The dignified demeanor of a great detective was nowhere to be seen.
“I told you, I wasn't told the details. Calm down a moment, I can't talk like this.”
As Yuma tried to calm her, Tsukiyo suddenly came to her senses and said “Excuse me” before sitting back down. However, her eyes continued to shine with expectation as she looked at Yuma.
“All I heard was that he'd gotten his hands on a famous person's unpublished manuscript, and that he was planning to present it to everyone last night.”
“So you have no idea what the manuscript's contents actually are.”
Tsukiyo made no effort to hide her disappointment.
“Yes, that's right. But...”
Yuma added after a pause.
“Mr. Kozushima did tell me that if the manuscript were to be published, it would completely overturn the history of mystery novels.”
“The history of mystery novels, completely overturned!?”
Tsukiyo was back on her feet, giving cheers that sounded more like banshee cries.
“What exactly did he mean? If it would completely overturn history, that means it can't be by just any writer. An author of that caliber would have to be... Doyle? Christie? Or maybe even... Poe?”
Tsukiyo mumbled to herself, looking down at her hands with unfocused eyes. She looked like a woman possessed. Yuma's slight fear was controlled by a sense of accomplishment. Everything was going according to plan.
Tsukiyo remained calm and insightful when investigating cases, but the moment the subject of mystery novels came up, she lost all control. It was like she transformed from a great detective to a humble mystery fan. In that state, much of her usual intelligence went out the window. If he could be the one to guide her out of that state, the role of Watson would be within reach.
“Certainly, uncovering the posthumous work of an author of their caliber would be a big deal. But would it really overturn the history of the genre?”
Yuma saw Tsukiyo's expression tense somewhat.
“No, it wouldn't. All it would mean is that a new page would be added to the history book. But that would still be a grand and wondrous thing.”
“Yes, but I think the hint is in his insistence it would 'completely overturn' history.”
“Completely overturn... so it's more than just the discovery of a manuscript from a super-famous author. The manuscript has value beyond the quality of the story...”
Tsukiyo brought a hand to her mouth. Yuma fixed his eyes on her and said
“That's right. A mystery that was just good would be one thing. But I think there are works and authors who are appreciated for more than just their content. Those who created new genres.”
“...Works that create new genres,” Tsukiyo repeated numbly. “Hard-boiled, social school, everyday life mystery, narrative trick. The work is the origin of a new mystery genre on the level of all those, making the author deserving of the highest praise.”
“Yes, I thought the same thing. But even if it would 'overturn the history of mystery novels', I don't think it would 'completely overturn' it.”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose that's true. And if it's unpublished, it's difficult to prove when it was written...”
“There is one thing that bothers me.”
Yuma called out to Tsukiyo, who had furrowed her brow and was on the verge of disappearing back into her own mind.
“Mr. Kozushima only ever said the author was 'a famous person'. I'm sure an avid mystery fan like Mr. Kozushima would have said if he got something from a famous mystery novelist.”
“You mean the author of the manuscript wasn't a mystery writer!?”
Tsukiyo's eyes went wide.
“I think it's possible.”
“A novel written by someone who isn't a mystery novelist, but who is famous, that will completely overturn the history of the mystery genre...”
Tsukiyo, who muttered feverishly to herself, suddenly started as though she'd been struck by lightning.
“Maybe I was wrong about everything. Since it's an unpublished mystery novel, I unconsciously assumed it was written in the late 19th or early 20th centuries. But... it might have been written earlier. Much, much earlier...”
Tsukiyo looked up at the sky, her mouth not fully closed.
“Overturn the history of mystery from its very foundation. The first ever mystery story was The Murders in the Rue Morgue, a short story by Edgar Allan Poe published in the April 1841 issue of Graham's Magazine. A mother and daughter living on the fourth floor of their home on the Rue Morgue are brutally murdered. The daughter, strangled to death, is found stuffed upside-down up the fireplace chimney, and the mother is found in the backyard with her head most of the way severed. Furthermore, the door to the crime scene is locked and the windows are nailed shut, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. Le Chevalier C. Auguste Dupin confronts the baffling mystery of the locked room murder. The short story is a prototype of the mystery genre, dedicated entirely to the solving by deduction of a criminal case, and it is there that the history of the mystery genre begins.”
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Tsukiyo spoke in the unemotional voice of a narrator. Then she suddenly lurched forward and grabbed Yuma by the shoulders with both hands. Yuma froze in her grasp.
“But what if a mystery novel had been written before The Murders in the Rue Morgue? If such a manuscript were to be found, it would completely overturn the history of the mystery genre!”
“T-That's right,” Yuma managed to nod, overwhelmed by Tsukiyo's energy.
“But how could he prove that the manuscript was written before 1841? ...I see, the author must have died before 1841. That's why Mr. Kozushima didn't call them a 'mystery writer'. The concept of a 'mystery writer' didn't exist during their life. Ah, a mystery novel written by someone who died before the publication of The Murders in the Rue Morgue. What would happen if something like that were published? There would be an uproar among mystery fans, no, among the entire global population!”
“That being the case, the manuscript must be incredibly valuable.”
“It isn't 'valuable'. It's a priceless treasure!”
“I mean, I can only imagine how much money it could make.”
As Yuma muttered to himself, Tsukiyo's eyes, which had been looking up as though in prayer, snapped back to him.
“Yes, I can't even guess.”
“That sounds like enough motive for murder to me. If they could steal the manuscript, they'd become incredibly rich, and if they're a mystery fan, then they could own a priceless treasure.”
“You're right. Maybe those bloody letters in the dining room were just meant to confuse the investigators and distract from their true motive of stealing the unpublished manuscript.”
Tsukiyo, having returned to great detective mode, raised her index finger to the level of her nose.
“Well, Ms. Aoi? What do you think? I think I was able to support your deductions quite well.”
When Yuma asked, Tsukiyo paused in thought.
“Yes, thanks to you, I was able to make a solid deduction.”
“It sounds like you still need a conclusive answer. In that case, let me tell you why you absolutely need to take me as your Watson.”
“I need to?”
When Tsukiyo asked, suspicious, Yuma winked at her.
“Of course. When you say 'Watson', you're talking about a doctor, aren't you?”
Tsukiyo looked confused for just a moment, but then, a smile of genuine amusement spread across her face.
“Watson has to be a doctor, eh? I see, you're right. I've been a fool.”
After a dramatic shrug of her shoulders, Tsukiyo held out her right hand.
“Well then, nice to meet you again, Dr. Watson.”