The Killer Turns Himself In
Conan's head snapped around, his eyes locking onto Lisa with a mixture of bewilderment and burning curiosity. He was desperate to know what crucial clue she had uncovered—and how on earth she'd managed to pin down the murderer so quickly.
At the same time, an uneasy premonition stirred in his chest. Could it be that Lisa solved cases the same way Sister Xiaxi did?
Before Inspector Megure could even open his mouth to ask, Lisa extended a finger without a moment's hesitation, pointing squarely at the guest in Box No. 2—Honma Kyota—and declared flatly, "Mr. Honma. You're the one who killed him, aren't you?"
As she spoke, she cast a meaningful glance toward the cold body sprawled a short distance away.
Mr. Honma Kyota bristled at the accusation that had come completely out of nowhere, raising his voice in a vehement denial.
Inspector Megure, meanwhile, looked at Lisa with hopeful eyes and pressed her. "Miss Lisa, if you're so certain Mr. Honma is the killer... does that mean you've found conclusive evidence?"
Under the weight of every gaze in the room, Lisa calmly lifted a lock of her hair—then denied it with crisp, effortless certainty. "Evidence? Ah... sorry, I don't actually have any."
Conan had been watching Lisa expectantly, waiting for a convincing answer, and at this utterly unforeseen response his body tilted sideways all on its own.
Having just been accused, Honma Kyota grew only angrier. "You have no evidence—so how can you go around calling me a murderer?!"
His eyes blazed with resentment and fury, making it abundantly clear just how incensed he was by Lisa's charge.
Lisa, however, seemed entirely unbothered by his reaction. She turned to Inspector Megure and said, "It's true I don't have any evidence—but I wasn't just saying that on a whim, you know."
Her tone was firm and self-assured, as though she were following a set of standards and logic all her own.
Before Honma Kyota could fire back, she laid out her reasoning. "As it happens, these photos gave me the idea. Our victim here had been tailing us—no, looking at these pictures, it's clear the person he was actually following was little Sonoko. Given Sonoko's family, his objective was obvious at a glance: he planned to kidnap her and demand a ransom."
"And then there's all that rope and such in his bag—he came thoroughly prepared. That's not the look of a first-timer. Clearly, he's a repeat offender. At the very least, this certainly wasn't his first time."
With that, Lisa folded her arms and paced slowly over to stand before Honma Kyota. Looking him dead in the eye, she asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "So, here's the question. Tell me—could the murder of this man have something to do with the cases he committed before?"
Her gaze was full of probing scrutiny and doubt, and it carried a weight that pressed on anyone who watched.
Honma Kyota went pale, a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead, but he forced himself to stay composed. "How should I know? That's a question you ought to be asking the killer."
"So you're maintaining that you didn't kill this man?" Lisa confirmed, putting just a touch more weight behind her words.
Honma Kyota gave a cold snort, crossed his arms over his chest, and answered, "Of course. That's all nothing but your word. I don't know this man at all. And as you just admitted yourself—you have no evidence."
By this point, Honma Kyota had managed to steady his nerves somewhat; he was no longer as rattled as he'd been in the moment Lisa had so precisely named his motive for murder.
What he didn't know, however, was that in those few short minutes, that fleeting flash of tension on his face had already been caught—completely—by both Conan and Inspector Megure.
Conan in particular, with his keen eye, had noted Honma Kyota's abnormal reaction to Lisa's line of questioning, and from it he drew his conclusion: Lisa had not been wrong.
Which meant this man was very likely the true killer.
But how had she known? From start to finish, she'd presented no underlying evidence whatsoever—and even watching the whole thing unfold, Conan found himself at a loss.
Just as Honma Kyota said, there was still a lack of hard proof of his guilt.
Lisa had no intention of going down that road anyway. After all, such a short stretch of time wasn't nearly enough for her to dig up any decisive clue.
Instead, she simply walked over to Honma Kyota's side and motioned for him to look at the victim lying on the ground. "Since you claim you don't know him, then just say one thing to the victim—one sentence, and I'll believe you truly have no connection to him."
"What kind of sentence?"
"Just tell him: 'You were a good person.' There, how about it? That should be simple enough."
Lisa's voice was soft and gentle, but to Honma Kyota's ears it might as well have come from a witch pressing a vial of deadly poison to his lips—a single swallow, and his heart would seize with agony.
Everyone around them watched in silence, patiently waiting for his response.
He was right, of course. It was only one sentence.
But as he stared down at that detestable face on the floor, Honma Kyota swallowed hard—and found that no matter what, he simply could not bring himself to say you were a good person to that face.
At last, Lisa let out a sigh that broke the heavy silence hanging over the room. "Mr. Honma. You've had your revenge—but that doesn't change what's already happened. Turn yourself in. It's the only way left for you."
Honma Kyota looked down at the body, his heart flooded with hatred. This was the man—the man who had murdered his son, that young and innocent life, in cold blood.
Lisa was right. The revenge had succeeded, and he had felt a joy and satisfaction he hadn't known in years—but what came right on its heels was a hollow, aching emptiness, as if he'd lost something far greater instead.
Now, gazing down at the kidnapper's body, an endless wave of grief and remorse rose within him. He understood at last: even with his vengeance complete, nothing could bring his son back.
And now the time had come for him to pay the price. Perhaps—perhaps that would let him breathe a little easier.
"I understand..." Honma Kyota's lips moved falteringly for a few moments, as though something in him had finally come clear. Then, at last, he spoke—confessing both the method and the reason behind the murder, his voice rough with weariness and resignation.
With that, the case came to a clean resolution. Though it felt a little anticlimactic, catching the culprit without much effort left Inspector Megure and his men in high spirits.
Only Conan stood off to the side, utterly dumbfounded.
Seriously—why? Lisa had said barely a handful of sentences, and the killer just... confessed?
And another thing: how had she zeroed in on the culprit in an instant like that?
Unable to contain his curiosity, Conan trotted straight over to Lisa's side and asked her exactly that.
The police hadn't left yet, and at his words everyone—including Honma Kyota himself—turned as one to look at Lisa. Clearly, they wanted the answer to that question too.