Chapter 58 — The Man in Charge: Cointreau
"Miss Chris, we meet again."
Vermouth turned around in surprise, a strange look crossing her face. "Didn't you leave? What are you doing back here?"
"I got to thinking on my way out — leaving someone as lovely as you, Miss Chris, all alone at a crime scene felt downright cruel. I never studied how to be a gentleman, but showing a little of it now and then can't hurt, don't you think?"
When Kaeya's words earned him a look of naked disbelief from Vermouth, he could only try another angle. "Fine. It's because when I stepped outside, I found it was snowing pretty hard, and I didn't drive here. I can't exactly walk back to the hotel, can I?"
Vermouth didn't question the explanation. He'd been gone barely ten minutes in total, and a round trip from the memorial service to the hotel entrance took about eight or nine; his clothes were slightly disheveled, probably from being waylaid by reporters angling for an interview; there was a light dusting of unmelted snow on his hair and his shoes were a little damp — proof that he really had stepped out of the hotel, though not much water had gotten in, which meant he hadn't stayed out for long.
"All right then," Vermouth said. "Once this is all wrapped up, I'll contact someone to come pick me up."
With police all around, she didn't say the name — or rather, the codename — of the person who would be coming for her.
Before long, it was Chris's turn to be questioned. Since the handkerchief Kaeya had received wasn't purple, the police had essentially cleared him of suspicion, so he settled comfortably off to one side to watch, occasionally chiming in to corroborate Chris's account.
After a while, seeing that no one was paying attention to their corner, Kaeya leaned close to Vermouth's ear and murmured, "The one who made the move today was that Kenzo Masuyama, wasn't it?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone was unmistakably certain.
"Oh~ And how did you figure that out?" Vermouth asked, with no small amount of interest.
"I saw it," Kaeya answered honestly.
But clearly, Vermouth didn't believe him.
"It's true," Kaeya insisted.
Ugh. She won't believe the truth, so I have to invent an excuse for her.
He then pulled out the phone he'd been clutching in his hand the whole time, scrolled to the early edition of tomorrow morning's paper that had been pre-loaded online, tuned the screen to a particular photograph, and handed it over to Vermouth.
Vermouth took the phone with mild puzzlement. It was a sneaked photograph from the memorial service — two people embracing in the moment the lights had dimmed.
At first she didn't notice anything unusual, and was still wondering why Kaeya wanted her to look at it, when he extended a single finger and pointed at the lower-left corner of the photo. Vermouth's gaze followed.
The moment she registered what she was seeing, her face turned ugly in spite of herself.
"I have to say — talk about bad luck, wouldn't you agree?" Kaeya remarked, seeing that she'd spotted it. He pocketed his phone, the very picture of teasing.
"......"
Vermouth was momentarily at a loss for words. The crime itself had been caught on camera and uploaded to the internet — someone being that unlucky was a rare thing indeed. The only thing in recent memory that came close was Tequila getting killed by mistake a while back.
And to top it off, it had happened right in front of someone the Organization was about to partner with. Honestly, Vermouth was starting to suspect the Organization had come down with a run of bad luck lately — she was half tempted to visit a shrine and cleanse the ill fortune away.
Vermouth drew a deep breath and collected herself from the shock of the sudden revelation.
The truth was, Pisco didn't matter. Anyone who became an obstacle to the Organization could be discarded — the Organization's old guard was no exception.
The only reason she'd been so startled was that she'd never imagined she'd one day read the news of Pisco's failure in the entertainment section. She'd even handed over her own handkerchief moments ago to help deflect suspicion from him.
But even knowing all this, Vermouth gave nothing away. While the police held her and the others in custody, she behaved herself, made no unnecessary moves, and had no intention of warning Pisco. The only thing she did was, while the police weren't looking, send the relevant information to Gin — letting him handle the cleanup of this loose end for the Organization.
Vermouth waited patiently for the police to release them. After all, without sufficient grounds, the police could detain a suspect for two hours at most. The questioning had eaten up some time, leaving a little over an hour — just enough to sound out a few things.
"What?" Vermouth was so startled by what Kaeya had just said that her voice rose reflexively. Noticing the police officers' gazes shifting their way, she lowered it again. "You're telling me you're not partnering with the Organization as a member of the Ragnvindr family?"
"When did I ever say I was? Give me a break. I'm just an orphan the Ragnvindr family took in — an outsider with a different name. The current head of the Ragnvindr family is my adoptive brother, and we don't exactly get along. How much authority do you think I'd have to negotiate on the family's behalf?"
Kaeya watched Vermouth's stunned expression and let out an amused little laugh, but he explained himself in time. "That said, rest assured — what I'm offering in this deal won't disappoint. I guarantee you'll get your money's worth."
"It had better be!" Vermouth could do nothing more than offer a brief warning. This was a partnership personally decided by the Boss — without good reason, she had no grounds to interfere.
The two chatted idly back and forth, and soon the two-hour detention period was up. With no further leads uncovered, the police had no real reason to keep the guests any longer and let them go.
Both Kaeya and Vermouth noticed Kenzo Masuyama slipping away inconspicuously toward the old building, and neither moved to stop him. Kaeya knew that with Conan's help this time, Haibara would almost certainly come through unscathed; Vermouth, meanwhile, had already notified Gin and knew he must already be over there preparing to silence the man — so neither of them bothered with the redundant gesture.
"Let's go," Vermouth said to Kaeya. "We'll wait by the hotel entrance. It should be over soon enough."
Sure enough, before long, Kaeya saw a Porsche 356A pull up right in front of him.
Kaeya climbed into the car behind Vermouth.
The moment he was inside, he caught a faint, lingering scent of blood, and guessed it came from the gunshot wound Gin had taken to his arm.
Watching Gin smoke his cigarette as if nothing at all were wrong, Kaeya felt a flicker of admiration. If he hadn't genuinely smelled the blood, he might have thought he'd misremembered the plot and that Gin wasn't actually injured at this point.
"So you must be Gin. Rum told me about you — the Organization's top killer. Though, from the look of things, you're injured right now?" Kaeya asked with overt curiosity toward the man seated to his front right.
At hearing that Rum had so casually leaked the Organization's information to an outsider, Gin's brow furrowed in displeasure.
And when the man mentioned his wound, he let out a cold snort, murder glinting in his eyes as he raised his Beretta with his left hand and aimed it at Kaeya. "Don't do anything unnecessary. That has nothing to do with your partnership with the Organization. The one in charge of this deal on our side is Cointreau. Don't go digging into other people's business again."
"Cointreau?" Kaeya repeated the codename with keen interest — the first time he'd ever heard it.