Chapter 21: The Case is Solved
"Yes, Matsuo-san, the producer, was indeed present backstage throughout today's live broadcast. I saw it myself. Except during the brief ad break at 8 PM, Matsuo-san was there the whole time." Kogoro Mouri's sharp gaze cut through the air.
Sweat began to bead on Matsuo Takashi's forehead. "Mouri-san, are you joking? I've already explained—I only went to the restroom during that time. Besides, the ad break was just five minutes. We all had to run downstairs because the elevator was broken, which took way more than five minutes."
The editing team swiftly spliced a video showing Officer Takagi's test run from the 11th floor to the 3rd-floor mixing room. The footage proved that a round trip would take at least seven to eight minutes.
Seeing himself on the broadcast, Takagi jumped in excitement. "I'm on TV! I'm on TV!"
Kogoro grinned, his rugged charm captivating the female viewers watching at home. Many thought, *What a dashing man.*
"Running from the 11th floor to the 3rd-floor mixing room would indeed take too long. However, running to the 9th-floor storage room is a different story. That timing would work perfectly. Matsuo-san, isn't that right? This room behind me must be familiar to you—it's the scene of your crime."
The camera panned, revealing a dusty storage room. Matsuo's pupils dilated, and he fell silent.
Kogoro directed the cameraman to point the lens outside the window. The audience saw the third-floor's massive bloodstained window, visible from the storage room's vantage point.
Conan observed silently, immediately realizing Mouri's deductions were spot-on. He slumped like a deflated balloon, his energy drained.
The outer walls between these rooms were perfectly shrouded in shadows. Without close inspection, no one would notice anything unusual.
Kogoro fiddled with the room's supplies—ropes, pulleys—before assembling a makeshift rigging system by the window. He secured a dummy weighing about the same as Kwon Ji-yong, attached it to the wires, and slowly lowered it out the window.
The storage room, converted from an abandoned prop room, had everything needed for such a setup, making preparation remarkably convenient.
While working, Kogoro explained, "Two days ago, you learned that Suwa-san had caught a severe cold and planned to take leave yesterday and today. That's when you decided to execute your plan. Before leaving work the day before yesterday, you visited the third-floor mixing room under the pretext of discussing business with Suwa-san. Secretly, you opened the only window in the room, then left work with him as usual."
Suwa Michihiko, now seated in the audience, looked utterly shocked. "That's exactly what happened! But how did Mouri-sensei know?"
The broadcast shifted to a montage of concerned performers and guests in the waiting lounge. In the VIP suite, the Suzuki sisters and Yukihiro Karasawa watched intently, while Sonoko exclaimed, "Wow, sis! Sis! That dashing man on TV is Ran's dad! I almost didn't recognize him. Why didn't Ran tell me her dad had become so handsome?"
In another, even more opulent suite, a woman seated in the center lit a slender cigarette and exhaled gracefully. Watching the broadcast, a sly, blood-red smile spread across her lips. "Interesting," she murmured.
Her butler, Satou, bowed respectfully beside her.
"You then set up the system I just demonstrated in this very room. The tools here made it all too convenient." Kogoro continued, his hands deftly manipulating the rigging.
"During today's Golden Music Festival, you constantly checked your phone and watch. During the one break in the live broadcast—the five-minute ad break—you made your move. Matsuo-san, you hid in this storage room on the 9th floor. Using your phone, you summoned tonight's challenger, Kwon Ji-yong, under the guise of needing to discuss urgent tuning issues. You likely threatened that failing to show would sabotage his performance and career. Naturally, Kwon Ji-yong arrived on time."
Matsuo, standing on the stage, was drenched in sweat but still managed to retort, "This is all just wild speculation, Mouri-san."
Kogoro ignored him, continuing relentlessly. "When Kwon Ji-yong entered, you ambushed him with a blow to the head, knocking him unconscious. You then tied him to the rigging system and used the pulley to lower him to the open window of the third-floor mixing room."
"After that, you took a handgun, aimed at the spot where you'd already struck him, and fired. A single shot. Bang. His head was blown apart. You then retracted the wire, leaving his body inside the room, creating the illusion of a locked-room murder."
Kogoro demonstrated by lowering the dummy into the third-floor mixing room. He then dismantled the equipment and checked his watch. "The entire process took less than three minutes. Ingenious, I must admit."
"But Matsuo-san, your arrogance was your downfall. You staged additional details to frame Kwon Ji-yong for drug use, stuffing substances into his mouth to make it appear as though he'd hallucinated and shot himself. But your fatal mistake was underestimating forensic science. The traces of the drug powder found here on the 9th floor were identical to those found at the scene, confirming this as the real crime scene."
Matsuo's voice quivered with desperation. "That powder could belong to anyone! Maybe some addict snuck in here. That's hardly proof of anything! You can't prove I committed this crime! You're just a lousy detective making baseless accusations!"
Kogoro's expression darkened. "Matsuo-san, perhaps you're unaware: a gunshot fired downward leaves blood splatter and bullet holes distinct from those of a suicide. The forensic evidence is clear. There's blood on the outer wall and a bullet mark on the ground below, both impossible in a suicide." He displayed photos to the camera.
Takagi rushed outside with a flashlight, quickly verifying the evidence on the third-floor wall. The audience erupted in shock.
"Moreover," Kogoro added, "Kwon Ji-yong's phone—your method of luring him here—is missing. Given your limited time, you couldn't have hidden it far. I'd bet it's still on you."
"And let's not forget the bloodstains on the rigging, your fingerprints on the dismantled tools, and the gunpowder residue on your handkerchief. The evidence is overwhelming, Matsuo-san. Care to explain each point?"
Matsuo collapsed to his knees, tears streaming as he finally broke. He could no longer argue against the mountain of evidence.
Viewers finally understood the truth: the mastermind producer Matsuo Takashi had orchestrated the murder. People stared at their screens in disbelief.
Miyamoto Takeichi, watching in the Tokyo TV station's control room, turned pale and fainted. The shame of harboring a murderer overshadowed the glory of Kogoro's success.
In contrast, Li Hyori watched Kogoro with curious admiration. Meanwhile, Yoko-san, Boa, and Ran had already transformed into ardent fans, cheering as if they'd solved the case themselves.
At that moment, Kogoro Mouri's reputation skyrocketed nationwide. Viewers across Japan would remember the suave, middle-aged detective with a sharp mind and undeniable charm. A legion of new fans began forming the "Mouri Supporters Club."
Kogoro sighed, asking, "Tell me, Matsuo-san, why throw away everything you had to commit murder?"
Matsuo's face twisted with madness as officers restrained him. "Why did I kill him? Because that talentless fool dared to defile my masterpiece!" he roared. "The Golden Music Festival is my life, my faith. I dedicated my soul to this stage, only for him to tarnish it with his incompetence. My family was threatened; money couldn't sway me. This stage is sacred, and I'd rather die than let it be desecrated!"
As officers led him away, Matsuo shouted one last plea. "President Miyamoto, please—continue the Golden Music Festival!"
The audience was stunned. Many, moved by his passion, began to sympathize with him.
A Special Thank You!:
I want to extend my deepest gratitude to [Matthew], for supporting me on Patreon!