Chapter 6: What Are You Doing in My Car?

“I…”
“I know you have no family left in Japan, but don’t be too sad. Just stay here with me for now. You can repay the money slowly, and you can think of Miss Yuko as your sister,” Shoichi said.
I could also be like a father to you.
“Sniffle…”
Ai swallowed her words and held back her tears.
Ai Haibara had no other relatives, and saying she wanted to find Shinichi Kudo would be far too suspicious.
She buried her face in Yuko’s embrace and cried.
What should she do? Was she really going to live in the home of a member of this organization?
What if her identity was discovered?
Ai felt her life had turned utterly bleak.
Exhausted from crying, she eventually fell asleep in Yuko’s arms.
Yuko gently patted Ai’s back and said, “She’s in a very fragile state right now.”
“You should take her to the bedroom to rest first. I have to go to work,” Shoichi said.
“All right, Mr. Shoichi.”
With a new mouth to feed at home, Shoichi resolved to work harder.
After changing into a suit, Shoichi rode his motorcycle to work.
Not having a driver’s license for a car was troublesome. How odd it was for an employee at such a major bank as Sumitomo Bank to commute via motorcycle.
“Good morning, Manager Shoichi.”
“Good morning.”
“Good morning, Manager Shoichi.”
“Morning.”
Greeting the staff he met along the way, Shoichi entered his office and brewed a cup of coffee.
Turning on his computer and radio, he started listening to the stock market updates, then leisurely leaned back in his chair to play on his handheld game console.
“Hello, this is Shoichi.”
“There’s something wrong with the money.”
Shoichi straightened up and asked, “What’s wrong with the money?”
“Why could I only withdraw four billion yen?” The voice on the other end was cold, and Shoichi could clearly sense the anger behind it.
“That’s all normal loss,” Shoichi replied.
“Normal loss?”
Gin’s voice was murderous.
Since when had losses been this high? If losses were this big every time, would the organization even need you?
“Ahem, the recent exposure of Sumitomo Bank laundering Yamaguchi-gumi’s dirty money means I have to be cautious about the impact,” Shoichi explained.
“Besides, I’ve only just arrived in Japan and haven’t set everything up yet. Once everything is ready, there definitely won’t be such huge losses.”
“Let’s hope so!” Gin’s words sounded like they were clenched through gritted teeth.
Eight billion yen reduced to four billion—there’s no way you actually paid taxes properly, did you?
“You can rest assured,” Shoichi said.
After hanging up, Shoichi yawned out of boredom.
Being involved in the underworld offered no future; painstakingly stealing ten billion yen from a bank only to lose six billion to me in the end?
But this could only happen once; if it happened more often, Gin wouldn’t play along anymore.
Taking a sip of coffee and looking out the window, Shoichi was in a good mood.
Now he sat in a luxurious office, far better off than those who risked their lives alongside Gin.
Though not involved in crime, collusion was still necessary.
Seeing that the copper price had dropped to 2,800 dollars per ton on his computer, Shoichi frowned and shut it off.
That damned market was unreliable; copper prices were bound to fall further.
After a full day at the bank, he headed home.
“This strange weather—yesterday it was raining, and today there’s such heavy snow,” Shoichi muttered, tucking his neck in.
This was the world of detective science—nothing could be done about it.
He had to keep clothes for all four seasons on hand, experiencing spring, summer, autumn, and winter all within a week.
Strapping on his helmet again after mounting his motorcycle, Shoichi hesitated.
There was so much snow on the road; it would definitely be slippery. What if he crashed and got hurt?
For his own safety, Shoichi planned to hail a taxi.
“Huh?”
Suddenly, Shoichi spotted a green car parked by the roadside, its door open and the keys still in the ignition.
Was there really an unattended car here?
“Thank you so much for taking care of us. I’ll be sure to repay your kindness someday,” the plump Fumiyo Edogawa was thanking Ran and Kogoro Mouri.
“Um, ma’am…”
“What is it, Ran? Are you going to miss Conan? Don’t worry, I’ll have him write you letters,” Fumiyo said.
“No, it’s…”
“Is it because you’re reluctant to say goodbye? Then have a proper farewell with this child.”
“Ma’am, your car just drove away by itself,” Ran said, pointing at the departing vehicle.
“Huh?”
Fumiyo turned around in shock to find the car that had been behind her was gone.
Only a blank check remained where it had stood.
“My car!?” Fumiyo was dumbfounded.
My son is still in the car!
“Auntie, what exactly are you—uh?”
As the car started moving, Conan wanted to ask who that woman was and why she was pretending to be his mother, but when he turned around, it was a man.
Was he an accomplice of that woman?
“Why are you in my car?” Shoichi retorted.
“Your car?”
Conan’s mind went blank.
Wasn’t that woman’s car? How had it become yours?
Shoichi said angrily, “If it’s not my car, then whose is it? Tell me, brat, why are you in my car?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Hearing Shoichi’s confident and angry tone, Conan wasn’t so sure anymore.
His words sounded too certain.
I was definitely sitting in that woman’s car; she was outside talking to Uncle Mouri and the others. Had I lost part of my memory?
Damn it. Could it be a side effect of that drug? Erasing a chunk of my memory?
What exactly have I been doing all this time?
Conan was troubled.
“Can I get out of the car first?” Conan asked.
“No problem.”
Shoichi pulled the car over to the roadside, and just as he was about to open the door, a white-gloved hand knocked on the window glass.
“Hello, you’re parked illegally. Please show your driver’s license.”
Shoichi rolled down the window, revealing a shy smile.
The traffic officer smiled kindly back and reached inside to grab Shoichi’s arm.
“Open the door!”
Conan watched dumbfounded at the scene before him.
Wasn’t this just a routine illegal parking check? Why were they dragging him out?
“You’re driving without a license again. Tell me, where did you steal this car from this time?” Yumi Miyamoto asked.
“What do you mean steal? You’re being really rude.”
Yumi Miyamoto didn’t care about manners; she turned to Conan inside the car.
“Kid, where did Shoichi get this car from?”
“I don’t know.” Conan’s mind still hadn’t caught up.
He hadn’t had time to process what was happening.
Yumi Miyamoto asked, “Then what’s your relationship with Shoichi?”
“I don’t know him.”
“Good, now you’re involved in child trafficking too!” Yumi Miyamoto glared angrily at Shoichi.
They say those born into wealthy families tend to have twisted personalities.
“I’m innocent!”
Not today.
Yesterday, maybe.