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They had parted ways in Okinawa two days ago, and Yukiko had already returned to New York.
Seeing her suddenly appear here, and with Kudo Yusaku no less, was genuinely surprising.
If they were here to help with the case, shouldn't they be heading to Okinawa instead?
Given his past experiences of being toyed with by the two of them, Conan felt a bad premonition creeping in.
"Little brother, is Detective Mouri at home?"
Kudo Yusaku smiled as he asked the dazed Conan.
This trip was mainly about investigating the case, but also about checking how much his dear son still remembered from his training in Hawaii.
"Oh, it's Kudo Yusaku and Yukiko. What brings you two here?"
Mouri Kogoro looked puzzled.
Chasing idols like Okino Yoko was his daily routine. Solving cases and hogging the spotlight was his greatest joy.
The Okinawa police had gone out of their way to invite Kudo Yusaku instead of him, which left a bad taste in his mouth.
Still, as a gentleman, not kicking them out immediately was his last shred of courtesy.
"To be honest, I was invited by the Okinawa police to investigate that large-scale villa murder case. I ran into some difficulties along the way, so I came to ask Detective Mouri for your insight."
Kudo Yusaku spoke modestly, his gaze drifting toward Conan.
In the world of Detective Conan, the true intellectual giants had long seen through the truth. Mouri Kogoro was just a tool. The one actually solving cases was Conan.
And Kudo Yusaku was one of the few who saw that clearly.
Coming to ask Mouri for help was really just a way to pass clues to Conan.
"Oh come on, Mr. Kudo, you're flattering me. Who am I to enlighten you? Let's just say we'll look into it together."
"As for the Okinawa case, I saw the news. I don't know that much."
Information obtained solely from the news was never enough to uncover the truth.
Mouri Kogoro often assisted the police and knew very well that what aired on TV was only what the police allowed the public to know.
Sensitive details were always deliberately hidden.
Sure enough, as soon as Mouri finished speaking, Kudo Yusaku pulled out a thick stack of documents.
Conan immediately leaned in, and Yukiko thoughtfully picked him up and held him.
"According to the Okinawa police's examination of the scene, most of the victims were killed with a bladed weapon resembling a katana. In addition, several victims had sniper rifle bullets in their bodies."
"There were also signs of an explosion near the entrance to the second-floor living room, but the type of explosive couldn't be identified."
"Based on my deduction…"
Just as Kudo Yusaku was about to continue, Mouri Kogoro cut him off mercilessly.
"I get it. The killers were a group of bandits passing by. They urgently needed money for some reason, so they targeted the villa owner."
"One sniper stayed hidden to provide cover, while the rest rushed into the villa with blades and brutally slaughtered everyone, then made off with the cash and jewelry."
"In other words, this was a home invasion robbery turned mass murder."
Uh…
It almost sounded plausible, but no one there could really agree.
"Dad, that's impossible. The news said the villa's bodyguards were armed. If the killers charged in with blades, wouldn't that be suicide?"
Ran Mouri brought over the tea and refuted her father's theory.
Cold steel against firearms was clearly a disadvantage.
"Then they must've been martial arts masters, like ninjas in movies. In and out, killing without a trace."
Mouri Kogoro forced an explanation.
"Martial arts masters?"
Ran murmured softly, Steven's figure flashing through her mind.
Ever since she had concealed the truth from the Okinawa police, she and Vermouth had agreed never to mention what happened that day again.
After returning to Tokyo, Ran tried to act as normal as possible so Conan and her father wouldn't notice anything unusual.
But something like that wasn't so easily forgotten.
"Detective Mouri, judging from the wounds on the victims, it was likely the work of a single person. And with clear explosion marks but no explosive residue found, doesn't that sound familiar to you?"
Seeing Mouri grow more and more outrageous, Kudo Yusaku felt utterly speechless.
"Steven!"
Mouri Kogoro and Conan spoke in unison, disbelief written all over their faces.
During the previous Tokyo Metropolitan Police explosion case, no explosive components had been found either.
With Jodie's testimony, it had already been confirmed that Steven was responsible.
"Could it really be him?"
Ran's eyes widened, her emotions a tangled mess.
She couldn't let that incident go. She hated what Steven had done, yet at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from worrying about him.
"What's wrong with me?"
Ran asked herself silently.
Was it emotional dependence, filling an emotional void, the thrill of novelty, or simply pressure and a desire to escape reality? Even she couldn't tell anymore.
"That's impossible. Even if it were Steven, even if he had three heads and six arms, there's no way one person could use blades, a sniper rifle, and explosives to kill over thirty well-trained bodyguards and walk away unharmed. It sounds like a fairy tale."
Yukiko ran through it in her head and leaned more toward Mouri's theory.
After all, no matter how strong someone was, a knife couldn't beat a gun.
"Exactly. I think it's way too unbelievable. And why are you so sure the killer was Steven?"
Mouri Kogoro thought for a moment, staring intently at Kudo Yusaku.
"Besides the thirty-plus victims, there were actually two survivors at the scene. I've already confirmed it with them and had them help sketch the killer."
"As for their identities, I promised to keep them confidential."
As he spoke, Kudo Yusaku pulled out a sketch from the bottom of the file and placed it on the table.
Though it was just a simple line-drawn portrait, the face was unmistakably Steven's.
…
Tokyo outskirts, a certain villa.
Achoo!
Steven leaned against the headboard and let out a violent sneeze.
"Aren't you supposed to be amazing? It's only been a few days and you're already weak enough to catch a cold. Let's see if you dare brag in front of me again."
Vermouth, about to get up for a shower, glanced back and rolled her eyes at him in disdain.
"Tch. You're the weak one. Your whole family's weak. Keep running your mouth and I'll make you beg again like you did earlier."
Steven snorted, tugging Vermouth into his arms.
He was more than satisfied with the organization's treatment.
Luxury cars, beautiful women, a huge villa, plus a hundred thousand dollars a month in pocket money.
Sure, the work was dangerous, but even ancient death warriors weren't treated this well.
"Enough already. You've got me all sweaty. Not showering would feel gross."
"And if you're sick, stay away from me. I don't want to catch some unknown virus from you."
Vermouth shoved Steven aside and got up, slipping into her nightwear.
"Didn't it already spread into your body just now? Doesn't look like your stomach's reacting at all."
"I told you, I'm not sick. I just suddenly felt uneasy, like one of those black-and-white memorial photos got hung up on a wall somewhere."
Men can't admit they're weak. Women can't admit they're careless.
Steven wasn't just being stubborn. He'd felt something, sharp and sudden, though he couldn't tell whether it was a blessing or a curse.
"You just reminded me," Vermouth said with a lazy smile. "Gin gave instructions. When you took out Jo Murakami, you left a survivor. He said you should be hung up on the wall too. So tell me, which head of yours should I blow off?"
Her smile turned wicked. In the next second, her expression flipped cold. She pulled a gun and pressed it straight against Steven's manhood.
"....."