So of course the bastard didn't call me back about how the Missing Detective Writer case turned out. I heard about it in the news on Monday morning: Shinmyou-sensei wasn't really kidnapped. Here's the story:

Shinmyou-sensei had contracted a terminal illness, and knew he didn't have much longer. So, before he died, he really wanted to see a reader solve his mystery cases an' come to him with the answer. So he an' his wife moved into a hotel in Tokyo from where he wrote an' sent the chapters with the codes in 'em. He was hopin' someone'd find his code and figure out where he was. As he got weaker an' weaker, though, his wife started typin' the chapters an' his messages started getting' more urgent.

The next chapter came in only a few minutes after I'd hung up with Kudou, and he solved it in a few minutes. So he an' Mouri an' the police rushed over to the hotel, where it turns out that Shinmyou-sensei had died just minutes before Kudou got there.

The really terrible thing about all that, though, is that Shinmyou an' his wife had apparently kept their intentions an' location so secret that they hadn't even told their daughter what they were doin'. Kudou got involved in the first place because the daughter hired Mouri to find her father.

So I guess she was relieved that her father hadn't actually been kidnapped, but to have him die minutes before she got there, after not havin' seen him for months—ouch. Neither father nor daughter got what they wanted, in the end.

Okay, I know I said I'd start with Kudou's arrival at Osaka, but I'm actually just gonna throw in a mention of the phone conversation we had between the case that weekend and his visit the next weekend, 'cause it's kinda funny. It's typical Kudou.

So anyway, that Monday I was at Kazuha's house, which is pretty weird in and of itself. I hardly ever go to Kazuha's house. We're usually always at mine. That's partly because my okan (again, that's 'mother' for you uncultured Tokyo people) is such an amazing cook, and partly because she and Kazuha are practically best friends. It's kinda scary, actually. They're always chattin' and textin' each other. Okan buys Kazuha's favorite food when she goes shoppin' so there's always Oreos and Cherry Coke in our fridge for her, an' if I so much as think about eatin' 'em my own okan will yell at me. Okan even gives Kazuha money to buy me clothes.

Yeah, that's right. Kazuha dresses me.

It's pretty messed up.

Well, so, anyway, we were at Kazuha's house. It was the Monday after the Missing Detective Writer case. We were finished with homework, an' she was lyin' on her bed listening to music with her headphones in, and I was pretty bored. And Kazuha kept yellin' at me—first to stop talkin' to her while she was tryin' to listen, then to stop touching all the stuff on her desk, then to stop starin' at her.

That's when I realized Kudou'd never called me back about my invitation. That jerk! So I whipped out my cell phone and called him.

Or I guess it's more correct to say I called the Mouris. I had to pretend I really wanted to see the crazy old man again (couldn't say I wanted Ran-neechan; Kazuha had opened her eyes and was glarin' at me).

"The little guy didn't tell ya? I invited y'all to Osaka! You can come stay at my place. How about this weekend?"

Mouri was a grouch about it, but in the background I could hear neechan talking excitedly, and one or two monosyllabic noises from the guy I really wanted to see.

"Make sure ya bring you-know-who with ya! Ku-Ku-Co—yeah, that's the one!"

Kazuha harrumphed and rolled over.

I really don't get her sometimes.

Ahh, whatever, movin' on again.

Mouri grudgingly agreed to visit that weekend, then hung up on me. Since it was Monday, we had one more week to kill (no pun intended) before Kudou got there.

It was a fairly normal week. I hung out with some o' the guys on the Kendo team on Tuesday night. They're all right. None of 'em are as good as me, though. Or as smart. I don't really see 'em that often outside of practice, 'cause I'm either solvin' a mystery or lurking around the police station tryin' to find one. In fact, I do miss a fair amount of practices, too, which is really bad 'cause I'm taisho (that means captain) of the Kendo team. The coach is always threatenin' to kick me off the team. Except he won't, because I'm the best he's got.

Wednesday I just went home an' read this new mystery novel. Thursday Kazuha had an aikido tournament, so I went after my kendo practice got out and did my homework while I watched. And let me tell ya, that girl kicks some serious ass. You wouldn't think it, 'cause she's so skinny, but—well, let's just say that we used to wrestle and fight a lot when we were really little, but once we were about seven years old that got really embarrasin' so we stopped, and then one time when we were ten (Kazuha had been doin' aikido for about four years now) we had a BIG fight an' I pulled her hair, an' then she slapped me an' then I pushed her and then she grabbed my elbows and then all of a sudden I was eatin' grass. An' then I got in trouble for fightin' a girl. So I haven't touched her since. Not without a katana in easy reach, anyway.

I saw most of the tournament. Kazuha got into the final round, but before her match I got a call from Otaki-han down at the police station.

See, the week before, a department store owner named Nagao Hidetoshi was found strangled in his back yard in Toigama City, an' the police still hadn't found the killer. The weird thing about the case was that after Nagao died, the killer'd stabbed a knife through his front shirt pocket, wallet, and inta his chest.

Otaki-han told me over the phone that the police had jus' found another victim killed in exactly the same way: a woman named Nishiguchi Tayo, a bartender in Hirogashi. So I left Kazuha's match to meet him at the police station.

Luckily, my oton was too busy to notice me comin' in. I went straight to Otaki-han's office, where he had already laid out the photos of the victims.

Both Nagao and Nishiguchi were strangled to death, then stabbed in the chest through a front pocket with their wallet in it. The cases occurred over ten kilometers apart, and so far the police hadn't found anything that Nagao and Nishiguchi had in common.

"Your father's calling it a serial killing case," Otaki-han said gravely. "Chief Toyama's worried there might be a mass panic in the city if people find out."

"Because you can't find anythin' linkin' the two victims, you're worried the killer's just strikin' at random," I said. "Could it possibly be that the second murder was a different person, who used the same pattern as the first to disguise his crime?"

Otaki-han shook his head. "Your father thought of that, too. But the public wasn't informed that the first victim was stabbed through his wallet in the chest after death. There's no way someone could have copied the method so exactly."

"He did, did he?" I mused. "…If my oton's personally involved in this case, why didn't he tell me about it himselfr?"

Otaki-han frowned. "You're seventeen, Hei-chan," he said in a conciliatory tone. "He probably didn't want you involved."

"Oh yeah?" I growled. "My oton—"

"Yes?" said a grave voice from the doorway. "What about your father, Heiji?"

I whipped around. "Oton!"

Yup, my oton was standin' in the doorway of Otaki-han's office. Glarin'. As usual. I have very few memories of that man smilin'.

"What are you doing here, Heiji?" he said.

"I came to ask you a favor!" I add-libbed quickly. "I got some friends from Tokyo comin' to visit on Saturday—the famous detective Sleepin' Mouri Kogoro an' his kids! So I was wonderin' if you'd help me give 'em a tour of Osaka. Could you pick us up from Tsuuten Tower an' drive us around a bit?"

My oton's frown deepened. If that's even possible. But I could tell he was intrigued. Mouri was pretty famous, after all, an' I'm one o' the only ones who knows he's a fraud.

"Mouri Kogoro, huh?" he repeated. "Yes…I think I can do that. I'll have to see if a car's free."

"That's great!" I grinned. "Thanks, Oton!"

"Hm." He turned around. "I have to get back to work. Otaki, if you're headed out, could you drop Heiji off at home? And tell Shizuka that I'll be working late tonight, I'm afraid."

"Yes, sir!" Otaki-han said. An' he ushered me outta his office, pretendin' not to notice my silent pleas to keep talkin' about the case. I grilled him about it the whole ride home, but he didn't know anythin' else. An' it was clear that as things stood I wasn't gonna get a chance to do much investigatin' on my own.

So it was just my okan an' me for dinner. Which is not that uncommon. It wasn't bad though. My okan's pretty awesome. And she makes the best takoyaki in the entire world. We had the news on during dinner, but there were no updates about the case. Just a lot of crap about pop stars and politics an' shit like that.

By the way, Kazuha won her tournament. I saw her in school the next day. I guess she was kinda pissed I had missed it.

I tried to go to sleep early Friday night, knowin' Kudou'd be comin' the next day, but I was also sure I'd have that dream again, 'cause ever since Mouri'd accepted my invitation to come, it'd been gettin' worse. I was so jittery I couldn't lie down—as soon as I managed to get my mind off the serial killing case, I couldn't stop thinkin' about Kudou dyin'.

I finally went down to the basement to practice Kendo on the dummy we keep down there for my okan an' me. Then I ate the leftover takoyaki in the fridge, and after that I passed right out.