NOVEL NEXT Ch. 45
Chapter 45
Tamako questioned everyone one by one and learned that only four people had been close to the skeleton: Yoshimura Yu, Hidenori, Miu, and Instructor Shirata. The first two had been dragged over by Miu; Shirata had only approached to keep order, telling the cadets to show the dead some respect while he tidied the remains.
Three minutes vanished in the blink of an eye. Before Tamako could examine anything further, Instructor Shirata ushered the staff and cadets out of the cave.
She tried to block their exit, but Fushimi caught her sleeve.
"Enough. Let it go. Everyone's exhausted. Ask your questions later—evidence doesn't sprout legs," he said, hands tucked into his sleeves as he yawned hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. "As for the bones, call the local precinct and let the pros handle it."
"B-but what if the thief hides the evidence?"
To Tamako, anyone who sneaks off with something and denies it is, without question, a thief.
"If they were going to hide it, they'd have done it already—long before you showed up. Or do you plan to frisk everyone one by one?" Fushimi walked on. "Whatever you want to say, say it in private. Save people some face."
Tamako's brows drew together; things suddenly felt more complicated. She trotted after Fushimi. "Do you already know who stole the bullet?"
"No idea."
"You totally know! Tell me, tell me! How did you spot it? I didn't see a single clue!"
"I literally said 'no idea.' How did that turn into 'I know' inside your head?"
"It's this cold-reading trick I read about—you can tell if someone's lying by their micro-expressions! Pretty cool, right? That's the magic of deduction!"
Tamako never missed a chance to preach the gospel of mystery novels.
Chatting as they went, the two cut across the forest in the opposite direction from the column. They'd driven up, so naturally they'd drive down—no trudging for them.
Fushimi opened the car door. "On what basis did you decide I was lying?"
"You couldn't look me in the eye!" Tamako buckled into the passenger seat, radiating confidence. "The book says if a suspect averts their gaze, they're lying."
"..."
Fushimi shut his door, turned, and stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes. "Fine. Ask me again while looking straight at me."
"Do you know who took the evidence?" Tamako asked obediently.
"No," Fushimi said.
"Liar!" she declared instantly.
"And the reason this time?"
"Same book: if they stare too hard without blinking, that's also a sign of lying." She beamed, certain she'd cracked the code of human nature.
Reading people isn't so hard after all. Fushimi once claimed criminals are "fundamentally illogical"—clearly just sophistry! As a future famous detective and inspector, I'll expose every sin with my fiery eyes!
Fushimi's face was a study in disdain. He'd once seen stalls hawking masterpieces like Daily Cold Reading Tricks, Hypnotize Anyone in Twenty Steps, and Practical Social Skills for Instant Trust—sandwiched between martial-arts manuals and household hacks. He'd assumed only grade-schoolers and the cerebrally underdeveloped believed such drivel. Apparently Tamako did too, and with gusto.
"Impressive," Fushimi drawled, easing onto the gas. "With skills like that you'll make detective in no time and become the department's star inspector. Congratulations in advance."
Tamako floated on the praise. Her calves, taut in hiking boots, no longer ached; her stuffy nose cleared; she nearly achieved a cranial orgasm of delight.
"Ehehe, not that amazing... I still need two years on the job before I can test for detective, so I'm only a tiny bit away from being a famous inspector."
She swung her legs under the dash, her cowlick bobbing, savoring every sugary word.
After a moment she decided good fortune should be shared. "You were awesome too, Fushimi-kun! That speech was incredible—just a tad harsh, but it hit me right in the heart!"
"I was talking nonsense."
He didn't believe a word; he'd simply said whatever served him.
"Such heartfelt words can't be nonsense. You're just being tsundere... 'A cop's most important trait is listening to the voice of those who suffer; therefore, you must become the strongest person.' Wow, I'd never come up with that—my life creed in a single sentence!"
Eyes sparkling, Tamako whipped out her little notebook. "Look! I wrote it down. I'll use it to remind myself to stay strong no matter what!"
Fast-forward to reality: Tamako wasn't that fragile.
"Are you in grade school? Only kids copy slogans into notebooks," Fushimi said with a sidelong glance.
Tamako huffed. A grown woman doesn't bicker with tsunderes. Back in high school she'd have made him eat those words—at the very least forced a retraction! She was only twenty-one; she still had growing to do. Maybe she'd hit 160 cm next year.
They drove down the mountain and back to the tiny inn. Tamako borrowed the lobby phone, reported the exact location of the bones to the local police, and only then followed Fushimi upstairs.
The moment they stepped inside they tore off their coats and dived under the kotatsu. Fushimi grabbed a cushion, flopped onto the tatami, and closed his eyes. "Close the curtains. I'm napping."
Tamako almost protested—who sleeps in broad daylight?—then remembered he'd stayed up all night nursing her. Let the man rest. She rose and drew the curtains; the room sank into dim gold, lit only by the kotatsu's soft glow.
Tamako slid back under the quilt. She stared into space, then snapped alert.
"Wait—doesn't this mean we're... sleeping together?!"
Blood rushed to her face. She couldn't even glance at the boy beside her. Her toes curled under the quilt. She folded into a ball on the tabletop, heart hammering loud enough to hear.
A lone man and woman sharing a room—what would people think?
She peeked sideways. The dim light painted the boy's profile in soft amber; black strands of hair brushed his cheek. His breathing was even, lashes ridiculously long.