S2E7 – The City’s Best Detective [#132 Investigation]
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Suzuki Tadashi

“Where was he killed, then?”

“A-At his barn, sir.”

“Okay then…” The man in black loose suit and pants stood up from his wooden seat. “I have one last question for you, since you were the most recent customer of Matsuda.” He tilted his head down for a second, and then moved his eyeball up, looking at the guy in front of him menacingly. “Who do you think killed Matsuda?”

“I-I-I…” The fat man in violet coat suit hesitated for a time. The fat man was old and half-bald from the top. He had pointed and white mustache on his dense face full of hanging fat skin. He tilted his head down in hesitation and gulped in. “Y-You see, h-he had a servant working for him.”

The black middle-aged guy menacingly narrowed his eyes. “A servant?”

“Y-Yeah.”

The two were sitting inside a grand wide garden with a fountain flowing at the back of the fat guy. On his left, some gardeners were cutting and decorating bushes and shrubs. On his right, a woman in black dress was walking toward them with a tray in her hands. She had a fair skin and a beautiful thin face. The tray had two cups in it, which were full of lavish brown coffee filled in them. She elegantly stopped in between the two of them in front of the table, moved her right hand up, took up the first cup and kept it in front of the black suit guy on her right, and then took up the second and kept it in front of the violet suit man, and with her eyes still turned down in service, she turned back and started to walk away elegantly. The man in black suit turned his head to his left, looking at the woman’s back walking away. “How many maids do you have?”

“About seventeen. All beautiful like her.”

He then turned his head to the front.

“Detectives like you should not look at girls so lewdly, sir,” The violet man smiled a little.

“Yeah.” The detective moved his back to the front a little, and held the saucer beneath the cup, and as he moved the saucer toward him, moved his back backward again and rested it on the soft wooden chair. “So, tell me more about this servant, sir.”

“That servant was about fifteen or sixteen, sir, and he had a decent face, mostly neutral and expressionless. And… I think he was lazy, since he was dozing off once when I last saw him.”

“Okay,” The detective nodded.

“That day, I was with him to get a horse, and we were talking. Matsuda was a friendly guy—both a great listener and talker. He was someone I can tell anything to, and he’d show his interest in it. So that day, when Matsuda and I were talking, and Matsuda saw him dozing off during work, he stomped there angrily and kicked the poor child.”

“Was the child hurt?”

“I guess he had bandages of white cloth the next day for some time. I saw him on the day of the murder, when he was in the market getting it removed by a doctor.”

“That means he had bandages at the day, and got it removed.”

“By the evening, yeah.”

“Okay then,” The detective moved his head down and sipped from the cup. “The coffee is good.”

“Our maids make really good coffee,” The rich guy said as he moved his hand to his cup, moved the saucer toward him, with his eyes fixed at the detective, and then took a sip up elegantly. “You see, we hire the best of the best.”

“Great.” The detective turned his head to the left, looking at the grand white mansion. “How much will be this mansion?”

“A lot.”

The detective nodded, his cup in his right hand, and his saucer in his left, just in front of his chest. He then turned his head to the front. “Do you know the name of that kid?”

The rich man turned his head from his coffee to the front, and shook his head negatively. “He was new, maybe. Matsuda never talked about him.”

The detective, his head still fixed at the grand white mansion, nodded.

The rich man turned his head to his coffee, sipping another hot drop inside, and then turned to the detective again. “What will happen to the kid once he’s caught?”

A small breeze of wind flew between them. The black hair of the detective flew a little in the wind before settling on his forehead again as he turned his eyes to the front. “Once a criminal is caught, he’s tried for murder in front of the judge, the judicial spokesperson of the king, and then the judge will tell him his punishment.”

“But… he’s just a kid.”

“Not in front of the law and the king.”

“A-And…” He hesitantly asked. “What… could be his possible sentence?”

“Possibly hanged to death. And I, the famous Miura Asahi, am gonna make sure he does.”

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