Pretend To Be a Good Person In the World of Conan

As soon as the door to the basement opened, the smell coming out of him made one frown.

The air purifier in the corner is humming, but the effect does not seem to be significant. The house is full of strong chemical odors. The smells of leather, plastics, paints, varnishes, etc. are mixed together, making people feel that they live longer. Seconds can be smoked to direct mutation.

The smell is unpleasant, but the items are neatly placed and cleaned.

Different kinds of materials are piled up here and there, with sewing machines and a table in the middle, a row of hangers against the wall, and a row of plastic mannequins. The ordinary custom clothes are hung on the hangers, and the more high-end ones are draped over the mannequins.

Shiraishi walked into the room and glanced at it, suddenly feeling that something was not right.

He looked around again carefully, and his eyes quickly settled on the corner of the room.

Miwako Sato covered her nose and looked around the room, trying to find the connection between this place and the kidnapping case.

The one who can get the standard briefcase and put the money in the Noguchi car is probably the employee here.

If this company is the site of the crime, the rare basement is obviously more suspicious than the two rooms above. I wonder if bloodstains can be found...

Just as she was thinking, a figure flashed before her.

Sato Miwako raised her head and saw Shiraishi walking to the wall, looking at the gorgeous clothes on the wall with a strange expression.

Sato rarely saw his expression like this. He walked over suspiciously. Shiraishi noticed that someone was approaching, turned his head and glanced at her, pointed to the wall and whispered, "This... seems to be a human being."

"..." Officer Sato looked at the plastic mannequin in front of him, thinking he heard it wrong, "...what?"

Shiraishi hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer, sniffed against the plastic mannequin wrapped in gorgeous clothes, raised his hand and pressed it again.

After a while he straightened up and took a half step back: "This is a man."

After a pause, perhaps realizing that his wording was wrong, he changed his words in Sato Miwako's horrified eyes: "I mean... this looks like a corpse."

...

The search warrant arrived shortly after.

There are four "plastic models" in the basement, without their clothes and wigs, their skins carefully pickled with chemical materials are different from other models.

Officer Sato watched with cold eyes for a while, then rushed upstairs aggressively, kicked open the door of Hiro Hiro on the second floor, and almost kicked it with the door and frame onto the opposite wall.

I thought I could catch the serial murder kidnapping suspect who just woke up.

Unexpectedly, before entering the room, he saw a fat man lying on the ground next to the desk.

The man had a pile of money scattered on his hand, and there was also a large pile of banknotes on the table. His eyes and mouth were wide open, and he looked like he died suddenly while counting the money.

The people who entered the room were stunned for a moment, and then quickly entered the state - the serial kidnapping and murder case may be difficult, but the situation in front of a person who suddenly died in the room was very familiar to them, and they quickly entered the state.

Even Conan is much more energetic than when he was in the basement just now.

Junko Fujii leaned against the door for a while, everyone in the room was busy and didn't have time to pay attention to her, but as soon as she moved around a little, the police's eyes came to her.

Junko Fujii realized that it was difficult for her to move and stood still.

After the bodies of the girls were found, Shiraishi's mission was completed.

He wanted to say goodbye more in his heart, but it felt a little strange to leave at this moment, so he decided to wait a little longer.

In Hiro Feida's room, all the windows were locked from the inside, and there was only one key on the door, which was placed on his desk, and there was no sign that the doors and windows had been pried.

Simply put, this is a secret room.

The cause of his death was the familiar potassium cyanide poisoning, but no poison was detected in the coffee cup or elsewhere, only the pulp of the deceased's right thumb, and several banknotes.

As soon as Shiraishi heard "thumb" and "banknotes", and thought about the habit of licking his fingers when counting money, his memory suddenly recovered.

This modus operandi really impressed him. Back then, he placed a box of wet sponges in the classroom and insisted that the representatives of each class use a healthier way to wet their fingers when counting papers.

Shiraishi walked around the small room. After he knew what he was doing, he decided to find a place to sit and rest—he remembered that there were three leather reception chairs by the door.

Just walking to the door, Shiraishi found that there was another person on the chair—Junko Fujii was sitting at one end of the reception chair, not thinking about it, and a little soot had fallen under his feet.

She noticed that someone was approaching, and looked up to see Shiraishi sitting next to her, looking like she had something to say.

Fujii Junko understood: "Come to persuade me to surrender?"

"..." She interrupted Shiraishi's unspoken words, turning his head to look at her.

Seeing that he didn't say a word, Junko Fujii thought that she had guessed right, sneered, and explained casually:

"Your eyes are too obvious. When you look at me, it doesn't look like you're looking at ordinary passers-by... That police officer brought me here because of what you said.

"And those 'plastic models' just now were all wrapped in clothes and wigs, and there wasn't much exposed, but you could tell at a glance, did you investigate beforehand?"

Shiraishi wanted to shake his head.

But he still had something to do, so he couldn't talk about the sky directly, so he nodded along with Junko Fujii's words: "Turn yourself in."

"Surrender? Why should I surrender?" However, the woman suddenly gave a bad smile and exhaled a cigarette. "Nothing I said just now was to admit that I was the murderer."

It's actually immoral to be so funny, but Junko Fujii is under too much pressure~www.readwn.com~ just sitting next to an honest person who seems to have a sense of justice, she did it without thinking .

She could almost imagine the youth's expression, and after speaking, she looked over with a little anxiety and joy.

But things were not what she thought.

The expression of the young man has hardly changed, let alone surprise or anger.

He just nodded kindly, like he was dealing with kindergarten children, but his mind followed her words: "Really, then don't go."

"…"

Junko Fujii suddenly had a feeling of asking her colleague whether to eat steak or sushi for lunch. The colleague replied that if you want steak, eat steak, and if you want sushi, eat sushi.

Is it an illusion?

Why does this person feel... so perfunctory.

Junko Fujii is actually very tangled.

She really wanted to kill Hiro Feida and end this series of murder and kidnapping cases by the way, but she didn't want to go to jail herself. Unlike those two gamblers, she still had a long life.

Originally, she planned to lead the police to notice the money and hacksaw in the other car after the crash. The paper bags and briefcases had the company's logo on it. Go to Feitian Handicraft Workshop.

At that time, I can pretend to be an employee who has just arrived at work, pretend to meet by chance when the police car comes to the vicinity of the workshop, and help them open the door of the company.

Then, as a passerby, he sneaked into the police pile, and when the police found Hiro's body and was in a hurry, he erased a little evidence he had left behind and asked Hiro to "suicide".

But now, 80% of the time, it was because the detective next to him discovered the clue, which led to him being brought over immediately, and at the same time being closely watched by the police, erasing the evidence was no longer as easy as imagined.