"What's going on with these reporters? Why are they stopped at the door? Hurry up and go in to see who died!"
Organization Logistics.
A capable subordinate hid in the office with his supervisor, secretly watching the real-time situation at the front line.
After waiting for ages, they saw the shaking camera remain stuck at the entrance. The capable subordinate could not help shaking his head. "Do they even know how to be reporters? If the police won't let them in, go find a side door or climb through a window. Dragging their feet like this is killing me."
The supervisor tapped at the keyboard and pulled up the information this subordinate had submitted earlier. "The residents in that apartment building include the landlady, her grandson, another college student, and Calvados, who just moved in. A one-in-four chance..."
The two of them watched the image before them, praying that the reporters would push forward as soon as possible, while excited cold sweat broke out on their heads as though they were betting on horse races.
Inside the apartment.
Although the material tied to the key was a little strange, Mouri Kogoro still stuck to his down-to-earth principle and insisted on his view. "But this is a locked room. If it wasn't suicide, then it's not as if the guy could have been killed by a ghost."
Conan could not stand this headache-inducing uncle anymore, so he raised his hand and pointed. "Who said it was a locked room? Isn't there a transom window open over there?"
The moment he said that, there was a thunk on his head.
Mouri Kogoro withdrew the fist he had used to rap the fake elementary school student and snorted. "That transom window is only the width of a palm. Forget an adult, under