The time limit was- at most- half a day.
It couldn't be called long—what's more, as things stood, that was a generous estimate, and it was amply possible that the police received a report from the hospital, and barged in at this very moment. While it wasn't as if there was nothing Kyouko-san said that I could sympathize with, I couldn't think it very realistic at all.
Even if Kyouko-san was the fastest detective, normally in investigating these cases, wouldn't you need a few days at the very least—no, well, if it demanded multiple days, before being the fastest, she was the forgetful detective, so that was impossible from the get-go.
In the end, In the end, receiving old Wakui's dying message- scratch that- near dying message, and inheriting what could possibly be his will, it looked like it would be quite difficult for Kyouko-san, an individual with no organizational power, but the woman in question didn't seem ruffled.
"Don't worry, Oyagiri-san. It'll be alright– even if it was a provisional contract through oral promise, an employment relationship was established between you and Wakui-san. Unfortunately, you were unable to protect Wakui-san, but if you succeed in identifying the culprit and having them turn themselves in, I foresee it being plenty possible for you to cheat… negotiate the job payment from Wakui-san."
She said. Not that anyone here was worried about working for free. What's more, for a moment, she used quite an improper word there—it was almost like a high-pressure sale, and a right mess.
That being the case, it's not like I could just say it was futile because we wouldn't make it in time anyway, leaving Kyouko-san behind in Atelier House and taking my leave—I didn't know what her plan was after the basement investigation was over, but I could only assist her to the best of my abilities.
Possible or impossible aside, there was no doubt I resonated with Kyouko-san's behavioral principle of succeeding old Wakui's will. It wasn't like I would be able to do much… a match of endurance aside, mental labor was out of my expertise. Whatever the case—it was thus impossible to determine when the bells would ring; a case investigation with a time limit had begun.
Naturally, when that happened, I thought Kyouko-san would move to her next action non-stop, but,
"Well then, Oyagiri-san, please wait here a moment. Before we get into a full-blown investigation, I'll go take a shower."
She said something so carefree my ears might come off, and of all things, she entered the bathroom in the inner living space. When the place she headed was a bathroom, there was no possible way I could chase her—it was a surprise that the searches to that point hadn't been 'full-blown', but she was going to take a shower in this situation? No, admittedly, recalling her intense movements while saving old Wakui, perhaps she did sweat up a storm, but—this race against time was no place for a bath, even an amateur in investigations like me could tell.
Just how did Kyouko-san plan to explain herself if the police arrived at this very moment—as a detective, she might be able to stand her ground, but I couldn't think anyone would be able to provide any logical explanation as to why they were taking a shower in the victim's room.
In the first place, the notion of washing away one's sweat in the bathroom of a complete stranger who she'd never even spoken to before was considerably shameless, and similarly, taking a shower in the midst of acting alongside a complete stranger such as myself was an act that made me doubt my nerves. This wasn't at the level of being flippant.
In regards to a lady's personal grooming, there are some things that are difficult to stick one's mouth into—but whatever the case, left with nothing to do, all I could do was loiter around old Wakui's basement workplace, nervously imitating an investigation.
What's more, it was after Kyouko-san had finished without oversight, so I couldn't find any new lead or piece of evidence—in the first place, it wasn't as if Kyouko-san even found anything while making a mess of the whole room.
I didn't have the tools for a scientific investigation, nor the know-how for a formal one; there was, of course, a limit to the information that could be obtained with the naked eye, and—as things stood, my deductions hadn't progressed.
If there was anything it had to be then… that binder she had open when she explained how she concluded the 'culprit is in our midst'. When her on-site investigation had gone on at a pace I couldn't follow with my eyes, only once did she slam down on the brakes… what was that?
In that regard, Kyouko-san didn't tell me anything. Perhaps there was some vital clue in there—a lead to reach the culprit who stabbed old Wakui. The culprit was a resident of Atelier House, that's why Wakui covered for them—Kyouko-san's reasoning, now that I was here, calmly thinking about it on my own, while it wasn't an impossible route by any means, it still had to be quite forced.
Even if I recognized that old Wakui was covering for someone, as Kyouko-san had said with confidence, that subject could be family or friend—to conclude them the culprit despite that was no joke to the irrelevant-in-most-cases residents of Atelier House.
Was there some basis apart from that—no, there probably wasn't. Kyouko-san wasn't a god or anything—and it was precisely because she was no god, she did only what she could. Perhaps she had decided so.
Whatever she could—as best she could do it.
In the case the culprit wasn't a resident of Atelier House, they would be out of Kyouko-san's range, there would be no choice but to leave it to the police. Although, if the one Wakui wanted to protect was an Atelier House resident, at that time—
If hypothetically, it went as Kyouko-san deduced, and the culprit lived here, in that case, what would the motive of the crime be? Why would an art-aspiring resident receiving financial support from Wakui stab a painting knife into him, their so-called benefactor—it was simple if I was it as a burglar after his money, but in this case, the motive was a complete unknown.
Talk about paying back the favor.
While I didn't know what the culprit intended, stabbing old Wakui, he was injured in such a way, it wouldn't be strange in the slightest if he died had Kyouko-san not found him, and even now, we couldn't get our hopes up. At the point they left an old man in that state and fled, it was inevitable I assumed they intended for him to die—what sort of circumstance would have them want to kill someone they're so greatly indebted to? … Was I being too rational?
This wasn't a detective novel, and it could be at-times impossible to decipher everything logically—in reality it was, well, possible to impulsively harm someone who's taken great care of you. And calling Wakui the grand benefactor of the residents, what is this feeling, come to think of it, I was unilaterally taking his side—He was also an individual of fierce temperament, the sort who would fly into a rage and destroy a work of art. While living in the art world making frames, he was the one to impulsively destroy art and frames.
It was hard to think he didn't incur and grudges with that personality—to take that to the extreme, old Wakui could have been the one to smack the culprit, and the culprit fought back, that line of legitimate self-defense was plausible. Albeit, there were no traces of a struggle at the scene… but considering his possibility, at least I thought it was plenty possible.
If like at the museum, he let his emotions rule for a brief moment, and that was the result of him getting into a fight with someone, I could see a scenario where the victim would cover for the assailant—and while I was putting together my own reasoning,
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Kyouko-san returned to the work-site.
Thinking she really did keep me waiting, I turned towards the voice and winced back—no, my heart didn't race at Kyouko-san out of the bath, it wasn't something so glossy.
I wondered who had just appeared.
Of all things, Kyouko-san's characteristic white hair had been dyed brown—what's more, the clothes she wore had changed entirely.
Up to a moment ago, she was in a somewhat-loose skirt, yet now, she was in a pair of slender pants and a jacket, she had changed into formal—on closer inspection, the pink blouse under the jacket was the same, but by pairing it with that jacket, the impression it gave off had magically changed.
Did she change in accordance with the job?
Even if that was the case, I found it hard to believe she had such an unwieldy change of clothes prepared… and the clothes aside, what about her hair? Why did she turn that white hair a light brown—while it completely changed her impression, was it supposed to mean something? Did she wash away her white dye in the shower?
"Oh, this?"
Kyouko-san touched her hair.
"I dyed it. Rather, I borrowed the shower room so I could dye it."
"That's why—"
So that was—her intent. No matter how I looked at it, entering the bath at this time was irrational, but I see, she did have a goal. But that didn't get rid of the fundamental question of why.
In the first place, where did she even find brown hair dye?
"No, it's not as if I was carrying something like that around with me, I just substituted a paint that was lying around."
"That's paint?"
Are her follicles alright? The base was white so she could color it as vividly as a canvas, but looking at it from a hair-care point of view, I felt considerably anxious.
But it seems that was just my presumption as an amateur and, "It's alright," Kyouko-san declared.
"They sometimes call paints pigment, don't they? Originally, paints were an ornamental coloring made to rub on your face—there's no way something that's fine to rub on your face would be no good for your hair, right?"
"Oh really—"
(TL: This doesn't really work in English, but the Japanese word for pigment consists of the Kanji 顔料, face material. It's for faces.)Well, there were different types of paint, so it couldn't be unconditional, but naturally, Kyouko-san must have picked out a harmless paint.
"Then what about the clothes? Were you keeping a change somewhere? Or is that also borrowed?"
"Borrowed, I guess you could call it borrowed…"
Kyouko-san hesitated for a bit. What could I be, I wondered, but hearing her next words, the reason became clear.
"Yes, the truth is, I took apart some of Wakui-san's clothes in a closet in the back room, and sewed and fit them. A so-called hand-made haute couture."
I see, that makes things awkward. Borrowing paint was understandable, but arbitrarily cutting up his clothes was too far—a closer look showed the jacket's lining to be strangely Japanese-textured. She must have made it out of his work clothes.
I thought she was taking a long, comfortable bath to wash away the sweat, but to think she put together a full set of clothes… putting together a stretcher and assembling apparel, this was almost like a high-level home ec class.
Isn't this person's hand-crafting power way too high? I'm beginning to believe that rather than detective, there's a job out there she's far more suited to.
"Oh no, I just threw it together, they're improvised clothes after all. It might look well crafter at a glance, but it's pretty much like papier mache, and where you can't see, the inner stitching and such is quite arbitrary. If I move to flashily, it is fated to fall apart. In that sense, wearing it makes my heart race."
"But… why did you do that? Dying your hair and changing clothes… that's practically a disguise."
"It is a disguise."
Kyouko-san stuck up a finger.
"We have no time after all—no time to gradually make our way by filling in the outer moat. From here on, I think I'll go around asking the residents of Atelier House."
"You're going to ask all of them?"
"Yes, direct negotiations."
Well, that was proper—more legitimate than I thought.
Perhaps she was just fast, and the actions she took weren't all too strange—what was so fast it seemed strange was fundamentally detective work by the cook. Since she determined the residents were the suspects, naturally, her next action was to hear out the circumstances from them.
"But you haven't narrowed down the suspects, have you? Pointing out, 'You are the culprit' is one thing, but if you go around asking, 'are you the culprit?' I don't think you'll find anyone who honestly says 'yes, I am'…"
In that case, Kyouko-san wouldn't even have to do anything for them to turn themselves in.
"Yes. And so, instead of as a detective, I shall take on a different title, and go around hearing their stories- that white hair is a tad too conspicuous for the job."
I see, in the case one of the residents knew of the 'forgetful detective,' they might identify Kyouko-san from her characteristic white hair—to take that even further, there was even a possibility that among the residents of Atelier House was a previous client of the Okitegami Detective Agency. In that case, Kyouko-san would be the one who couldn't tell—she'd have forgotten them.
In that case, even if she feigned her standing, she'd be seen through too easily—that white hair was better off kept hidden.
The formal wear was because she planned to impersonate that sort of occupation, huh… was she taking some form of public survey or something?
"If I can hear them out five minutes each, it should be enough. We should be able to pay a visit to every room in five hours at most—though if the culprit is identified before that, naturally, I've nothing left to say."
"T-that may be true… but are you okay with that?"
"Yes? About what?"
As she blankly asked back, my words piled for a moment, but I simply had to confirm it.
"I kinda got the feeling that your white hair, was to you, your identity as a detective, or rather… something like your flagship as a detective. Are you okay with haphazardly coloring it out like that, what's more with paint… I was just wondering."
I thought so at first, but come so far, I found it hard to believe it was just fashion.
There had to be some circumstances behind her white hair—but boldly she wore it without an attempt to hide it away, without wearing a hat, she showed it off to the world, surely her principles were embedded into it, so I thought.
"You say some silly things, Oyagiri-san."
Kyouko-san said with a truly amused laugh.
The identity, the flagship.
"The true show of a detective can't lie in anything apart from solving crimes."
Hearing that—in my heart, I quietly revoked a previous statement. There was no job in the world she was more suited for than detective.