Was it said that if you want to hide a tree, you should hide it in a forest?
The victim’s notebook was found in a drawer of Burr’s desk, tucked between a pile of other notebooks.
“The handwriting is definitely different from Burr’s. The writing in this notebook belongs to the victim.”
The ‘O’s in the dense handwriting lacked the characteristic left-and-right flicks unique to Burr.
“The format, the style—everything matches the notebooks we saw in the victim’s room. Most importantly, the date of that day is written here. This is undoubtedly the notebook.”
Lure affirmed this as well.
“Is the real dying message written in here…?”
I swallowed hard and turned the pages of the notebook one by one. The first page was just ordinary lecture notes. Then the second, and the third.
“They must have been tired. It’s the exact same handwriting I use when I’m sleepy.”
As we turned the pages, the neat handwriting began to gradually fall apart. There were ink stains scattered throughout the pages. As Lure said, it looked like the traces of someone studying while nodding off.
Finally, on the last page we reached…
“What? There’s nothing here.”
A sentence cut off unnaturally, as if the writer had fallen completely asleep while scribbling. Below a jagged ink line was a large ink blot. That was all.
The culprit’s name was nowhere to be found, no matter how hard I looked. This was really the victim’s dying message? The thing the culprit desperately tried to eliminate?
“It just looks like someone fell asleep while studying hard, doesn’t it?”
Lure said with a frown.
“I can see why the culprit didn’t try too hard to hide this notebook. Even if someone found it, no one would think it was evidence in a case.”
Honestly, I agreed.
‘But it can’t just be an ordinary notebook.’
If it were truly a normal notebook, the culprit wouldn’t have gone out of their way to take it. I tried to find some sort of clue with Lure, but it wasn’t easy.
“Could these slanted letters be some kind of code?”
“Lure. If you were right on the verge of death, would you be leaving a sophisticated code?”
“Hmph.”
Some time passed. Lure suddenly asked.
“Sir. By the way, is the writing in this notebook done with oil-based ink?”
“If my deduction is correct, yes.”
After all, it would have been written by the victim with a quill until the very last moment.
“I should check.”
“Eh?”
There wasn’t even time to react. Lure reached out and began to fiddle with the letters in the notebook.
“If I rub it, I’ll know. Whether it smudges like the forged dying message or not.”
“You really…, sigh.”
It was absurd, but it had already happened.
‘It’s not an era where fingerprints are considered vital evidence anyway, so…’
I quietly watched what Lure was doing.
The letters certainly didn’t seem to smudge.
“How is it? It’s not wiping off?”
“Yes. It doesn’t seem to smudge. But just in case, I’ll rub it a bit more.”
Lure rubbed it a few more times with her hand, but there was still no sign of the letters fading.
‘So this is indeed the real dying message the victim left using a quill.’
That was true, but… what on earth did it mean?
It was exactly at that moment, while I was lost in deep thought.
“Sir…”
“Yes?”
“Something is strange.”
Lure looked at me with an expression that seemed like she was about to cry.
“Suddenly, my hand is incredibly itchy!”
Startled, I grabbed Lure’s wrist.
The tips of her fair, slender fingers were swelling up in red blotches.
“Lure! Don’t touch it!”
I shouted hurriedly.
“This is… poison.”
Only then did a chill run down my spine.
‘You idiot.’
I cursed myself.
‘What was I thinking, just letting her touch a piece of evidence?’
I had been so preoccupied with the idea of a dying message that I hadn’t considered other aspects. This was an object from a murder scene, something that was by the victim’s side in their final moments!
“P-poison?”
Lure’s face turned pale.
“T-then, am I going to die?”
“No. That won’t happen!”
I immediately dragged Lure to the bathroom and washed her hands. After thoroughly washing them several times in cold water, the swelling seemed to subside a little.
“How is it? Does it feel a bit better?”
“It’s less itchy than before.”
Lure answered calmly despite her trembling.
“At least it doesn’t feel like I’m going to die right now.”
“Let’s go meet someone who knows about this poison and get proper treatment. Then you’ll be fine.”
“Sir. Do you know what this poison is?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think I have an idea.”
I remembered the rash on the culprit’s hand. And the testimony of the warden, who said his own hand was also itchy, claiming it was a grass rash.
“Now, the outline of the case is finally becoming clear.”
I whispered in a low, heavy voice.
***
“Inspector! Wake up! You’ll get a crooked mouth sleeping in a place like this!”
“Urgh…, hmm?”
Detective Beren blinked his eyes open. He saw an unfamiliar ceiling. Somehow, he couldn’t quite grasp the situation.
“What is this…”
Through his blurry vision, he saw two officers looking down at him with pathetic eyes. Those fools were definitely the ones he had sent to guard the front of the crime scene…
“Ah!”
In an instant, something came to mind.
“I definitely came to help that dim-witted detective with his investigation…”
“Are you finally coming to your senses?”
An officer said as if he found it pathetic.
“That dim-witted detective you mentioned called us. He said the Inspector slipped while climbing the stairs and asked us to take care of the unconscious Inspector.”
The other officer clicked his tongue.
“Tsk, tsk. Really, why do you keep making work for yourself at your age? And until this late at night. No wonder you missed your footing.”
The detective, finally regaining his senses, pushed himself up and clutched his head. His stomach churned and his head throbbed. Irritation surged within him.
‘There’s a limit to looking down on someone. How dare they talk to a superior like that?’
But for now, he suppressed his rising temper. It wasn’t the first or second time other police officers ignored him, and there was a much more urgent and important matter at hand.
“The detective, where did that damn detective go?”
His head was a bit foggy, but he remembered the general sequence of events.
The memory of that damn detective blocking his way just before he collapsed was also vivid.
‘I offered to help search for evidence, and he acted extremely suspicious.’
He blocked the path leading upstairs and treated him like a common thief.
He had been so infuriated. He didn’t remember exactly how he missed his footing on the stairs, but that damn detective was surely largely to blame.
“Ah, that detective just left after calling us.”
“What? He left? The guy who said he’d find evidence all night?”
‘And he just left me here after I collapsed?’
He was extremely displeased. Did youngsters these days have no basic manners? Especially when that detective might have played a part in his fainting!
In fact, it wasn’t just a part; it was 100% the detective’s fault, but even without knowing that, it was enough for Detective Beren to grit his teeth at the detective named Haze or whatever.
“That damn detective. He doesn’t even have the basics!”
“Well, from what I heard, it couldn’t be helped because he found very important evidence. He said he needed to meet a witness urgently.”
“Ha! What time is it now, and he’s meeting a witness?”
Detective Beren roared.
“He’s doing all sorts of things. He woke someone up in the middle of the night to ask for testimony?”
“Surely that wouldn’t be the case.”
“…!”
Unexpectedly, an answer he hadn’t anticipated was heard.
“I wouldn’t do something so rude. Detective.”
The detective, who had returned at some point, was standing behind the officers with a composed demeanor.
“I just briefly went to see someone who wasn’t asleep at this hour.”
If it was a witness who would still be awake at this hour…
“Do you mean the warden? The one called the Skunk?”
Since he was always on night duty, there was a high probability he would be awake at this time.
“He didn’t seem to have very good feelings toward you, though?”
The detective glared at the detective with suspicious eyes.
“You didn’t go and threaten him in secret, did you?”
“Haha. Of course not.”
“Now that I think about it, that young lady assistant is nowhere to be seen. Suspicious indeed.”
Detective Haze had long since lost the detective’s trust.
“I fully understand your suspicion, but it couldn’t be helped.”
The detective said with a confident attitude.
“To keep my promise to you, I had no choice but to move a bit aggressively.”
“Promise to me?”
“Did I not say that if you gave me just one night, I would uncover the culprit?”
At the implication of those words, the detective’s eyes widened.
“You, can you take responsibility for those words?”
“Of course. Tomorrow morning, please summon all the witnesses.”
The detective declared confidently.
“I will reveal the full story of the incident in front of everyone.”
***
The day broke and dawn arrived.
“I did as you wished.”
The detective said irritably.
“Since all the witnesses are gathered, go ahead and speak. Who on earth is the culprit?”
The detective’s eyes, asking as if he were about to run out of breath, were hollow.
‘It seems he couldn’t even sleep because he was so curious all night.’
I felt a bit bad, but I had stayed up all night as well. I hadn’t been able to sleep a wink while looking into various things based on the new evidence and organizing the case.
‘I should hope it was worth it.’
I scanned the faces of the gathered witnesses. Zapord, looking at only me with anxious eyes; Rosie McDowell, looking similarly frightened; and the warden, Mr. Squonk, who stood frozen like a stone statue with a pale face.
And the black shadow.
“Look at this.”
In front of them, I took out the victim’s real dying message that I had found during the night.
“It was in Mr. Burr’s room.”
“…….”
The culprit remained silent, but I caught that fleeting moment of agitation.
“This is the victim’s notebook.”
“Th-the date matches the day the incident happened! This is….”
Just before everyone’s gaze shifted to the culprit, the culprit spoke up first with a composed response.
“Ah, it’s a notebook I was supposed to borrow from Allen. I suppose I must have taken it without realizing it in all the confusion.”
It was exactly the predictable answer.
“Mr. Burr. Did you know there was poison on that notebook?”
Lure, standing behind me, waved her bandaged hand.
“When we analyzed the components, we found poison in the ink the victim used. Thanks to that, I got a rash on my hand too. Just like you, Mr. Burr!”
The black shadow silently gripped one hand with the other.
“When I showed my hand to Mr. Squonk, he said it was the same poison. Right, sir?”
“…That’s right. It is Coniine.”
The warden spoke with difficulty.
In just one night, he looked as exhausted and distressed as if he had aged ten years.
“It’s a poison that can be extracted from hemlock.”
“What! Such a poison was found in the victim’s notebook? Tell me more in detail!”
“Coniine is a poison that causes itching and rashes when it touches the skin. But the real danger is when it’s ingested. It paralyzes the respiratory muscles.”
“Paralyzes the… respiratory muscles? The respiratory muscles?”
The detective’s eyes widened.
He had realized the meaning of that statement.
“Then, the fact that the victim died of suffocation without any wounds was perhaps…!”
“…One who ingests this poison loses the ability to breathe and slowly suffocates to death. It would be extremely painful, but after the post-mortem anesthesia wears off, no traces remain on the body. That is why Coniine was often used as a poison to grant an honorable death.”
“I see. The victim was murdered with that very poison. That’s why….”
The detective struck his own thigh in frustration.
“Dammit! Why was I unaware of the existence of such a poison?”
“It has an extremely foul odor and a peculiar color. It’s not a poison commonly used for murder, so it’s understandable that a detective wouldn’t know it. In fact, it has no particular advantages as a poison. The required dose is higher than cyanide, and making someone ingest it naturally is harder than with cyanide. In a normal situation, one would use cyanide. Except—.”
Lips trembling with a sense of betrayal spat out the words.
“Unless the culprit was someone trapped in a military academy where it’s difficult to obtain other poisons, and who was asked by some idiot to help clear away the hemlock.”
The warden glared at his student of yesterday.
Finally, finally, it had come to this.
Lifting the corners of my mouth, I finally uttered the words I had been waiting for from the moment I faced the culprit.
“Mr. Edward Burr. I hereby accuse you of the murder of Mr. Allen Hessington.”
The time had come to reveal the disgusting reality of the culprit hiding within that black shadow.