"The deceased was Michihiko Suwa, 37 years old, a producer at Nichimi TV. The murder weapon was a pistol…" Inspector Megure said as he took notes. He glanced at the clock above the window and sighed. "A bullet hit him right in the head, went through the glass…"
"Inspector Megure, it's you again." Kazawa walked into the room with a smile. "Would you like some coffee? You've got to take care of your health with all this overtime work."
Inspector Megure looked up at the two who had entered and greeted them as usual. "Thanks. The station never gives us overtime pay for this kind of thing… Sorry for the expense."
"You've worked hard." Kazawa handed him the other cup of Buck, then looked toward the body surrounded by police. "The shooter had good aim."
"Oh? What makes you say that?" Inspector Megure's focus shifted to him.
"The blood spatter on the window." Kazawa raised his coffee cup and pointed to the vivid bloodstain. "Gunshot scenes are something I come across often. While precise blood analysis requires lab work, based on my observation, I'd estimate the shot was fired from around ten meters away."
"Ten meters?" Inspector Megure looked at where the victim had been sitting, gauging the room's length. "The shooter must've been standing in the corridor then… You sure this is accurate?"
Kazawa nodded without hesitation.
Ten meters was nothing unusual. This was a TV station, not a residential building—the floors were tall. Shooting from the 7th floor to kill someone on the 4th… the distance would definitely be around ten meters.
"But Akechi-kun, there are other bullet holes on the wall," a police officer collecting evidence pointed out. "Maybe the shooter just fired randomly and got lucky?"
Kazawa chuckled and sipped his coffee. "You can have forensics do a trajectory reconstruction, but I stand by my judgment. The killer is a skilled shooter. One shot, fatal, straight to the vital point."
Having made his case, Kazawa turned to Takashi Matsuo, who was standing across the room.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Matsuo's face twitched, and he jumped up suddenly. "Are you suspecting me?!"
"How could that be?" Kazawa narrowed his eyes in amusement. "Aren't both Detective Mouri and I good with guns? Don't be so sensitive, Mr. Matsuo."
As he said this, Kazawa felt secretly pleased.
Yes, yes, yes—make them choose between the three of us. That's the way to go.
This guy is even more slippery than the famous Mouri Kogoro. He locked onto me right away?
Matsuo gritted his teeth, made up his mind, and began to act according to the script he'd prepared in advance. "But if you want to know who killed him… it was me. It's all my fault!"
With his hands in his pockets, Kazawa glanced at Conan, who was also holding a hot coffee, staring intently at Matsuo. He smiled.
"He came to this room alone to wait for me…" Matsuo began, his voice breaking. Tears ran down his face. "He said he had something important to talk about. I told him we could just have dinner after the show and talk then, but he refused—said it was too important to let anyone else hear… That's why he stayed here alone. Suwa was the soul of our show… Why…"
His voice trailed off in sobs, looking absolutely heartbroken.
As he spoke, the officers who had finished documenting the scene zipped Suwa's body into a body bag, placed it on a stretcher, and began carrying it out.
Takashi Matsuo gripped the stretcher, holding back sobs, following it to the door, looking like he couldn't bear to leave his dear friend.
"Suwa's body is being carried out!" Before anyone in the room could react to Matsuo's performance, a sharp female voice rang out in the hallway.
Several reporters burst from the stairwell, surrounding Matsuo as he exited. Cameras zoomed in close on the stretcher and its barely human outline beneath the bag.
Everyone else in the room watching the TV broadcast: "…"
"Wow," Kazawa let out an ambiguous exclamation.
"What is it, Akechi-kun?" Inspector Megure turned around, thinking he'd discovered something new.
"No, just a little surprised." Kazawa looked at the microphones being thrust toward Matsuo on-screen and said in amazement, "This TV can only receive Nichimi TV's internal signal, right? So this is their own live news feed? A colleague dies in their own building, and the first thing they do is switch to a live on-scene broadcast... Wow."
Inspector Megure froze for a moment and then looked at the TV with a rather complicated expression.
"Is this what it means to be in media?" Kazawa sighed.
On the screen, the reporters surrounding Matsuo fired questions at him:
"Mr. Matsuo, how do you feel—hosting a show while the producer was murdered in this very building?"
"Mr. Matsuo, do you have anything to say to the murderer?"
"Could this have been an attack against the show out of dissatisfaction with its entertainment-focused take on crime?"
"There are rumors that Producer Suwa disagreed with you and planned to replace the host. Is it possible he was your fan…"
"Enough!" Matsuo shouted suddenly, eyes wide in fury. "Don't slander Mr. Suwa!"
Then he turned his head slightly, as though trying to suppress emotion, and said, trembling, "There have been rumors like that recently, but in the end, Mr. Suwa still stood by the purpose of our show. He wanted me to continue hosting, to maintain the variety-show style… Tonight, we were supposed to talk about it, that's why we agreed to meet…"
"This guy… the case hasn't even been fully investigated yet, and he's already disclosing everything." Inspector Megure scowled and ordered, "Tell him to stop talking—no, bring him in right away. This hasn't been clarified yet!"
"I solemnly swear—! I will carry on Mr. Suwa's will and defend my role with all I've got!" Matsuo had gone from grief to outrage. His emotional expression was dramatic, his articulation clear even through his shouting—evidence of excellent hosting skills. "We will use this show to investigate the incident and do our best to bring the murderer to justice!"
"Oh! Are you declaring war on the murderer, Mr. Matsuo? That's a bold move!" The reporter's tone was anything but discouraging—instead, it was filled with glee, like saying, Keep going! Give us more!
"If you don't like this show, then come after me!" Matsuo stared straight ahead and yelled into the camera, "You devil who killed Mr. Suwa—no matter where you are, I'll never forgive you!"
His tears streamed down his cheeks, painting the textbook image of a grieving colleague.
The storyline was complete, the logic held up, and the performance was vivid and moving.
"Is this what it means to be in media?" Kazawa sipped his coffee and sighed again.