Jiangxia Tongzhi stopped beside the housekeeper and looked into the room.
The old Hatamoto patriarch was lying motionless on the floor, blood pooling from his abdomen.
There were also strange marks just inside the doorway.
Jiangxia crouched down and spotted faint, parallel streaks of blood across the floor—someone had tried to wipe it up. Poorly.
Conan was already squatting near the bloodstains, frowning as he studied them. He picked up a bloodied rag from the corner.
Hattori Heiji noticed something else—he'd seen dry breadcrumbs scattered on the floor, now soaked in the patriarch's blood.
…
After a quick evidence sweep and whispered huddle, the group locked the room and returned to the dining area to regroup.
Jiangxia had just sat down when he felt something beneath his foot.
He looked down and spotted a blood-stained handkerchief under the table.
It was finely made, but one corner was torn. In another corner was an awkward bit of embroidery—clearly not professional, more like a handmade gift from a well-meaning amateur.
Jiangxia immediately thought of the rag Conan had picked up earlier at the crime scene.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced toward Ichiro Hatamoto at the next table—and caught him sneaking a very nervous look in his direction.
Jiangxia quickly figured out the murderer's brain circuit.
A classic attempt at pinning the pot.
He bent down and, testing the waters, picked up the bloody handkerchief.
The moment Jiangxia straightened up—
Ichiro Hatamoto pointed at him dramatically and shouted, "Ah! That—! That's the same color as the scrap the kid picked up earlier! Why's it soaked in blood?! Have you been in my grandfather's room?!"
Everyone turned to look, their eyes locking onto the handkerchief in Jiangxia's hand.
There was a collective gasp. But none louder than from Natsue Hatamoto.
She'd already had a bad feeling when she saw Conan holding that scrap earlier. Now, seeing the full handkerchief, her face went ghost-white.
"I… I made that for Takeshi," she said softly.
Takeshi froze for a second, then patted his pocket.
The handkerchief he'd kept there was gone.
Takeshi had never gotten along with the Hatamoto patriarch. Now, with a fresh murder and his bloodied handkerchief suddenly in the spotlight, his brain stalled.
He looked blankly at Jiangxia. "...Did you take it?"
Jiangxia raised his hands, casually denying: "I didn't kill anyone."
It was the exact kind of thing a guilty person with something to hide might blurt out, completely missing the point and looking even more suspicious.
Just now, there had been too many people hovering around the patriarch's room. Ichiro hadn't had enough time to dispose of the murder weapon.
So after killing, he didn't manage to chuck the pot into the sea.
Jiangxia had his ghost buddy watching him like a hawk. As long as the physical evidence stuck around, once they got off this floating murder barge, the pot would still land squarely back on Ichiro Hatamoto.
And now, if people thought he was a suspect… even better.
He'd hang back and let the ship's resident detectives take the wheel.
This murder series wasn't over yet.
…
Ichiro Hatamoto's plan hadn't changed.
He still wanted to pin the whole murder pot on Takeshi. That's why he stole the handkerchief in the first place.
He dropped the bloodied cloth near Jiangxia not because he thought Jiangxia was guilty—but because he knew Jiangxia had "detective physique."
So, what better way to hinder an enemy than to get the rest of the family suspicious of him?
From Ichiro's point of view, the ship was full of Hatamoto family members, and Jiangxia was just some outsider with no standing.
As long as they got suspicious enough to restrict his movements and keep him from investigating freely… Ichiro figured he could still pull off the blame game on Takeshi, just like he'd once believed the old patriarch would eventually let him marry Natsue.
Jiangxia got the gist of Ichiro's twisted little plan.
He mentally slapped a temporary "tool person" label on Ichiro.
Then he stood up, acting calm. "How about I—"
But just then, Ichiro's biological mother, Mariko Hatamoto, suddenly let out a cold little laugh.
She stared at Takeshi and said, "Why would an outsider go out of their way to kill someone? If you ask me—the murderer has to be Takeshi."
*Goal #1: Top 200 fanfics published within the last 31 - 90 days by POWER STONES.
Progress: 47/60(approx) for 10 BONUS CHAPTERS
Goal #2: One BONUS CHAPTER per review for the first 10 REVIEWS.
Progress:2/10*