Tatsumi Seimaru and Mrs. Tatsumi stood off to the side, stunned. In theory, they felt they ought to help their relative. Even if neither of them was related to Lawyer Tatsumi by blood, they shouldn't be thinking of their own relative as a murderer.
But in reality, one look at him told them everything. Lawyer Tatsumi's expression had not changed, but sweat was streaming down his forehead. Even a three-year-old could see his guilt and panic.
Tatsumi Seimaru: "..." No, it couldn't be true, could it?!
Stuffing his dead wife into a car and driving her back and forth—how terrifying. His stepfather's younger brother was a ruthless man.
Though the ruthless man was panicking, he clearly was not about to surrender on the spot.
Lawyer Tatsumi was indeed a man who had seen all kinds of situations. After taking several deep breaths, he calmed down. "You say she was next door to my office, so she was really there? That's just your assumption. As for the staples, those things are everywhere. Maybe they got stuck to her when she was taking apart gift wrapping, or perhaps they were something the murderer accidentally dropped.
"In any case, none of this has anything to do with me, a victim's family member—I think you've had things too easy in the past and have never been sued, which is why you dare to slander people so recklessly at the crime scene."
Curacao: "..."
...Hopefully Uzo was a good scriptwriter who followed the rules of the stage and would not suddenly revise the script because of the murderer's reckless words, adding a scene where he buried a pile of bombs in the house and prepared to die together with the police or something.
She quietly edged closer to the door.
Hashimoto Maya gave her a