A Reason to Be Glad
"You see, Officer Matsuda already told Xia Yu a while back that she looked just like the person who saved his life three years ago," Venti said. "And today, the moment Officer Matsuda arrived at the scene, the very first person he laid eyes on was Mr. Amuro — and he seemed awfully fixated on your face. So I couldn't help wondering whether there was someone else he knew who looked like you, Mr. Amuro..."
At that point, Venti scratched his head sheepishly. "But looking at it now, I suppose I was overthinking it. Really, it's not as if the world is full of people who happen to look alike."
"No, indeed. The world isn't full of look-alikes." Amuro Toru echoed the words softly, and his eyes — already deep and unreadable — took on an even more impenetrable glint, betraying nothing of what actually lay behind them.
So Matsuda was rescued three years ago by someone who looked like Miss Xia?
He knew Matsuda had been in an accident back then, and that sheer luck was the only reason he'd survived. But he'd had no idea anyone else had been involved — and if this person resembled Miss Xia, he seemed to have been a man, at that. Could it have been Cointreau?
The very thought made Amuro squirm with discomfort. Cointreau, that kind-hearted? Risking his own life to save a police officer he'd never met? Or had it been someone else entirely?
And if it wasn't Cointreau, then what exactly was the connection between that man, Cointreau, and Miss Xia?
Tch. Why does Cointreau always have to be everywhere? That man is like a ghost that refuses to be exorcised.
But come to think of it — the accident three years ago reminded Amuro of something. The culprit who had killed Hagiwara Kenji, and nearly killed Matsuda Jinpei in the same incident, had struck again not long ago. This time, however, his plan had been sabotaged barely moments after it began, and the man himself had been shot dead by a sniper the instant he was taken into custody.
At the time, Amuro hadn't been able to figure out who could possibly have both that level of marksmanship and a motive to do it.
Now, knowing that Matsuda might be entangled with Cointreau — and that Miss Xia appeared to have been caught up in that bombing case recently as well — Amuro had very good reason to suspect that it was Cointreau who had put down that culprit.
After chatting with Mouri Ran for a few more minutes and confirming that Conan really was unharmed, Venti and the others exchanged farewells and left the scene in their separate groups.
Amuro saw the Mouri family home, then headed back to his own apartment.
Once there, he thought it over for a while — and in the end, he took out his terminal and placed a video call to Cointreau.
The enlarged screen above the terminal flashed dialing, and it rang on and on. Just as Bourbon was deciding that Cointreau wasn't going to pick up and reaching to end the call, it connected.
Cointreau's disguised profile appeared on the screen, his focused face lit by the glow of the computer in front of him — clearly still hard at work. Judging from the angle of the video feed, he must have set the terminal down on a desk beside him the moment the call went through.
However wary Bourbon might be of Cointreau, watching him work late into the night without even bothering to remove his disguise left him momentarily speechless. "It's this late and you still haven't taken off the disguise. Doesn't it bother you?"
Cointreau kept his eyes on the computer and answered without turning his head. "It's fine. Bordeaux — Alhaitham — has been doing some work lately. Improved the materials."
"Oh? Sounds like you two get along rather well." For someone as cold as Bordeaux to agree to such a small favor for Cointreau was remarkable enough.
Then again, he hadn't expected Bordeaux's research skills to be this formidable. Another breakthrough in so short a time!
"He had no way to refuse." Cointreau didn't bother explaining why refusal hadn't been an option. He glanced at the screen, where Bourbon sat smiling, lifting his wine glass as if making casual small talk — and cut straight to the point. "So, what do you want, calling me out of nowhere? I'd have thought that after I threatened you recently, you'd be avoiding contact with me for a while."
"I just got my hands on a piece of information..." Bourbon set down his glass and sat up a little straighter, studying Cointreau's expression on the screen. "Three years ago, there was a man who looked very much like you — a man who risked his life under a bomb to save a police officer. That was you, wasn't it?"
Bourbon was seventy percent certain he hadn't guessed wrong. Miss Xia and Cointreau both had faces far too distinctive — it would be a stretch of absurd luck for an unrelated stranger to resemble them so closely.
He had expected Cointreau to deny it or brush him off. To his surprise, the man on the other end of the screen admitted it outright.
"Mm. That was me." Cointreau confirmed Bourbon's guess without a flicker of concern. "Though you got one detail wrong. I was never in any danger."
"But as I understand it, the situation was extremely precarious — the bomb supposedly detonated the instant that officer cleared the Ferris wheel gondola. I keep wondering: if it really was you, why would you go to such lengths to save a police officer? Don't tell me that besides that sister of yours, you have other family in the world?"
"I told you — a situation like that is nothing to me." Cointreau's gaze slid sideways, those ice-cold eyes fixed on Bourbon as he sat there playing at idle speculation. One brow lifted. "Besides — knowing that the officer I saved was him, shouldn't you be glad?"