A/N: WHEEEEW THIS TOOK A BLOODY LONG TIME TO COME OUT. It's Heiji's fault. He likes being difficult to characterize. Well, you have the beginnings of a mystery~ I'll have to figure out how this one ends myself...I suck at making cases, but I'm TRYING.
ALSO! THE LATEST MANGA CHAPTERS ARE OUT AND I WAS SO GLAD THAT IT DIDN'T RIP MY CANON APART. I was worried for a bit that I was going to have to go AU bc Heiji would confess at the weird lodge place or something but then it didn't happen and I was like wheeew (but i was also kind of disappointed that IT DIDN'T HAPPEN BECAUSE UGH I'VE BEEN WAITING SINCE THE MOMENT I MET THEM)
"Oi, Kudou," the first thing the Great Detective of the West did was try to ask a favor from his long time rival, a testament to exactly how much he didn't want to be caught up in a murder case this time. "Can't you handle this one?"
Conan looked at the scene and narrowed his eyes, considering. Then he shook his head. "No good. Occhan's fallen asleep, and there's no way Ran's going to let me anywhere near the body on my own."
Right on cue, Ran snuck up behind the faux-child and put her hand over his eyes. "Jeez, Conan-kun! This is not something a child like you should see. I always try to tell tou-san to stop dragging you into this terrifying mess but he refuses to listen!" Conan squirmed and wriggled, but then Ran wrapped an arm firmly around his middle and hoisted him off his feet.
"But I'm helping Heiji-niichan investigate, Ran-neechan!" Conan, blushing, protested.
"It's way past your bed time anyway. And just look at you," She ran her fingertips gently over his cheek. He turned even redder. "Those bags under your eyes are going to get even bigger. Honestly, Conan-kun, is it just jet lag or have you been staying up to read Kamen Yaiba again?"
Traitor. Heiji's eyebrows twitched as he glared at the retreating figures. Now he didn't even have the help. Lovely.
"Hey, Heiji," Kazuha came up behind them, twisting her hands, "Should I call an ambulance? Or the police? Or-?"
Heiji knelt down next to the body with a long sigh, and placed two fingers against the woman's jugular vein.
"Just the police," he announced, after a moment. "The ambulance won't be able to do much for her."
Kazuha's brows knitted together briefly before she stopped a waiter. A few words exchanged later, she whipped out her phone and dialed.
The woman was definitely European. It was an asphyxiation, or maybe cardiac arrest, somehow. The bitter, almond-y smell wafted to his nose and he drew back, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve.
"Cyanide," Heiji said, half to himself. His fingers lingered at the edge of his cap, just a moment. And then he twisted it to the proper deduction position.
There was nothing else particularly strange or worrying about the body, except maybe
"I've sealed off the restaurant and alerted the police," Kazuha declared determinedly when she'd gotten back.
He flashed her a grateful smile but couldn't resist jabbing at her. "You've done well, young padawan."
Kazuha punched him. Hard.
Rubbing his now sore arm, Heiji approached the table the victim had been sitting at.
Dammit. Why'd he just have to…
With that violent ahou...
"A woman has been murdered. We've already alerted the necessary authorities. Though I'm not police, I am a private detective, so I would like you all to answer some questions, starting with your name, where you're from, and what you do." Heiji declared in english to the table where the woman had fallen. He didn't think he could solve an entire case in french, and Parisian police being able to understand Japanese was probably too much to hope for.
"My name is Stephen," the man nearest to them stood. His face was drawn, pale, and he stared at the body with wide eyes. "That is my wife, Julie."
Heiji noted the heavy accent. Cockney. "I see. My condolences. Your friends?"
"This is Monsieur Gillenormand. My great-uncle. He is the one who invited us here. He owns this hotel, actually. " An inconspicuous looking elderly man raised a hand.
Heiji sized him up. Explained the flurry of waiters in the general direction earlier, though.
"Jeanine Gillenormand, his granddaughter," The quiet-looking college student with hair cropped short piped up. "I study music."
"I'm Martine Dubois," The tired-looking blonde woman at Jeanine Gillenormand's right offered, english slightly accented with lilting french tones, "Writer for a travel journal based in Normandy. This is my daughter Isabelle." Her hand covered the eyes of the four year old girl in her lap.
"Hugh Lowell," A big man in a striped shirt extended his hand, shook Heiji's firmly. "Carpenter. American. You speak good English."
"Well." A high, lilting voice interrupted.
Heiji raised an eyebrow.
"'You speak English well,'" The four year old chirped happily in correction.
"Yes, yes," Hugh Lowell blinked. "What a bright little girl."
Her mother flushed red and shushed her.
"Uh, yes, thank you." Heiji continued, scribbling down some hurried notes. "Can you tell me exactly what happened just now?"
"We came to dinner at my uncle's request," Stephen said, "Julie was telling everyone about the shenanigans of our youngest daughter when she suddenly started to behave as if she was choking, and then…" He shut his eyes and shuddered.
Heiji bit his lip. "What was the last thing she ate or drank?"
"Let's see…" Hugh Lowell was deep in thought. "We'd just finished dessert when she said she wanted to show us some family pictures…"
"I think she had a lemon parfait," Kazuha piped up from the side.
Heiji turned to stare at her.
"What?" She flushed. "It looked delicious. I thought Ran-chan would like to try some. She seems to love making lemon flavored desserts."
Heiji looked with slanted eyes at a certain miniaturized detective, who was currently falling asleep standing up.
And no wonder…
Damn, just hearing about Nee-chan and Kudou being all lovey-dovey was making him think of-
He threw that thought right out the window. "And did anyone touch the lemon parfait before she was able to eat it?"
"Just the waiter," Mlle Gillenormand said, shrugging.
"I'm the waiter who brought them the food," a man in his early thirties came up to the table, bowing. He was a harassed looking young man with glasses.
"...I see. And can everyone account for where they were-"
"This is the police!"
Heiji turned.
The man in the doorway was young. Younger than Heiji had expected a detective inspector to be, tall and fair-haired. There was a charming (but evil, Heiji insisted, later) look in his eye and even Heiji had to admit that he was rather good-looking.
"Detective Inspector Dupont, at your service," A smirk that would make any woman's stomach flutter, "Who was it that reported the crime?"
"Uh, me." Kazuha said awkwardly, from the side.
"Ah." The inspector strode to her side and bowed extravagantly. "A lovely young lady."
"Uh." Kazuha was growing increasingly speechless (and red) even as Dupont bent over her hand and kissed it.
Heiji glared at him through narrowed eyes (that might have been literally on fire). "Oi, detective inspector, there's a bloody case to take care of here. So how about you stop flirting with the ahou and get your ass over here."
