"Fingerprints?" Hearing about such crucial physical evidence, Inspector Megure immediately perked up. "Whose are they?"
The young officer reported, "We compared the fingerprints collected from the wineglasses. One set belongs to Mr. Sotomura, and another belongs to Miss Yamazaki."
Inspector Megure did not know who those two were, but when he saw that two of the three presidents seated across from him had visibly jolted, he immediately understood. "You're the owners of those fingerprints?"
"I did go to the Wine Cellar." The Sommelier frowned. "But wait a second, what do you mean by that? Mr. Kusaka is dead, so you suspect us of being the killers?"
Yamazaki Yumi also pressed her lips tightly together and said with apparent displeasure, "I didn't kill anyone."
Of course, that was only on the surface. In truth, she was so delighted she could practically jump for joy!
"I only gave it a try, and now that man is really dead?"
Yamazaki Yumi found it hard to believe. Ever since everyone had split up, she had vaguely sensed this might happen. Yet when she later saw a large group of police officers taking a boat to Island Arrival, she had still felt as though she were dreaming.
"My greatest worry has been dealt with just like that, and my hands are completely clean... This island really isn't as simple as it looks!"
After staring blankly for a long while, an indescribable joy finally surged vividly into her heart. As a company president, she naturally had connections with many people in society. Some helped her; others stood in her way.
Thoughts often surfaced in her mind: How wonderful would it be if certain people could just disappear? But having lived into her thirties or forties, she had long accepted that such things were ultimately mere fantasies—self-comfort