Curacao gazed at the blurry, slightly shaky footage on the screen and sighed softly.
Destroying the surveillance cameras had been satisfying in the moment, but the consequence was that she could no longer get firsthand information from the scene. She could only settle for the live broadcasts sent out by reporters.
Fortunately, as the case unfolded, more and more reporters were arriving at the scene. Whenever there were enough people, competition followed, and once competition started, the quality went up.
Curacao switched through several webpages before finally finding one that was relatively passable. She stopped and began watching.
"It's all Vodka's fault, that idiot. He was being watched and didn't notice a thing," Curacao muttered. "Now I'm stuck watching this boring footage too."
As she spoke, she suddenly saw police officers escorting a middle-aged man out of the Driving Range at the far end of the corridor.
The man wore his oily hair in a middle part, with glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were unfocused, faintly tinged with despair.
The reporters, who had been waiting for ages, immediately perked up and began snapping photos in a frenzy.
Curacao, meanwhile, sat up in surprise. "Why him?!"
To the reporters, he was a complete stranger.
But Curacao had watched the first half of the case and had a clear grasp of all three suspects. Section Chief Yasui, whose flaws had been so obvious that he seemed suspicious beyond suspicious, had instead been placed last on her list of suspects.
"So it really was a reverse-reverse cliché..."
Countless thoughts flashed through Curacao's mind, but she could only accept the result and prepare to revise her Anti-Crow Notebook and her previous assumptions.
But just as she finished sorting out her thoughts, a commotion broke out in the Driving Range. The two young