Conversations Among Ghosts

By Ysabet

Chapter 2:  Criminal Minds

"It's the battery, I'm telling you!"

"No way—where'd you learn your mechanics from, old episodes of Giant Robo?  It's the bearings!"

"Look, if it was the bearings we'd be seeing an oil-drip-----"

The small figure slid out from where he had been lying beneath the faintly smoking car; dark blotches smeared his childish face, the usual glasses having been long since abandoned.  The dark-haired young man in shirtsleeves craned his head to one side of the hood, groaning as the boy indignantly held up greasy, blackened hands; unfortunately for his peace of mind, the faint light of his wristwatch-flashlight showed the oil stains clearly.  "What's this look like, huh?  I've been having a hard time keeping it from getting in my eyes!"  The faux gradeschooler grinned a slightly sarcastic grin of triumph.  "Bearings.  Told you so."

Detective Takagi Wataru swore under his breath.  Shoving himself out from under the hood of his somewhat worse-for-wear automobile the young officer sighed and wiped sweat from his eyes (incidentally leaving a smudge of black across the bridge of his nose in the process).  "Well, that's it—nothing we can do but find a tow-truck."  He aimed a kick at one tire, then swore again as he connected.  "@$#*&!!!"

Dusting gravel and greasy sand from the seat of his pants, his erstwhile companion rolled his eyes.  "Oh, that's mature."  The young policeman shot him an annoyed look.  "Y'know, Kudo, I think I liked you better when I just thought you were a regular little kid….."

A pause; then Kudo Shinichi grinned up at him with Edogawa Conan's little-boy smile, all big eyes and cuteness.  "Okay!  So what'll we do next, Takagi-niisan?  I'm hungry—can we find something to eat?"  The chirpy, childish voice made the officer jump slightly; he glared down at the boy and growled "Don't do that!  This is hard enough as it is—"

"Some people are just never satisfied—and don't call me 'Kudo' in public, okay?  You never know who might be listening."  The teenager-turned-gradeschooler wiped at his face, smearing the smudges even further around his smirk.  After a moment, though, the smirk faded into a slightly apologetic smile; "Sorry about that—I don't get much chance to joke around with anybody over a meter tall, and it's a nice change—" he added in a somewhat conciliatory tone. 

The boy shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for something to wipe them on; a battered Kleenex came to his aid, and he surveyed Takagi (who was now on his hands and knees, peering beneath his car and muttering).  "You know, we're both a real mess—and we're stuck out here.  Got any ideas?  I wasn't joking when I said I was hungry….."

The detective climbed to his feet with a sigh, clicking off his flashlight.  It was true dark by now; the warmth of the afternoon had finally given way to cricket-chirping twilight and an overcast sky, and if the smell of oil hadn't overpowered every other scent in the vicinity it would probably have been a nice evening.

*Yeah…* thought Takagi wistfully, brushing at the gravel on his knees; *and here I am wasting it with the Boy Wonder here, instead of spending time with Sato-kun.  Miwaki-kun.  Can't believe she almost kissed me.*  For a moment his eyes glazed over a little as he relived the moments in the alleyway when her hands had come up to cup his face, pulling his lips down towards hers…..  He drew a deep breath in of the crankcase-scented air, remembering Sato's voice, her touch, the soft brush of her warm breath against his skin as his eyes had closed…..

"Umm… Takagi?  You okay up there?"  The tentative young voice brought him back to himself with a jolt.  "Uhh… yeah—sorry 'bout that."  He blinked sheepishly down at the dirty young face upturned to his.  "Hey—we can't go anywhere with you looking like that—wipe your face, will you?  You look like somebody used you to clean a garage with.  Where'd you learn about cars at, anyway?"

Conan scrubbed half-heartedly at his face with the handkerchief supplied by the young man.  "My dad—he taught me a few years back—taught me to drive, too—much good it does me like this—"  The voice was muffled by the scrap of cloth; he finished, handing it back and grinning a little lopsidedly up from a somewhat less blotchy face.  "Thanks.  Better?"

The detective peered at him critically through the darkness.  "Guess so—at least we won't get mistaken for transients."  He sighed, closing the hood with a bang and scowling at the car.  "Cheap piece of foreign pot-metal…..  That's the LAST time I buy anything other than domestic."  With a grumble he shrugged himself back into his jacket and locked the car door behind him, turning to join the boy who waited impatiently for him beside the road.

As Takagi approached, Conan cocked an eyebrow up at him.  "No cell-phone on you, huh?"  A grumbled reply containing the words 'dead batteries' was answer enough; he sighed, wondering how long it would take Ran to become concerned.  It all depended on whether or not she and Sato-san got distracted or went straight back to the Mouri office/home; they got along awfully well, and things had been pretty stressful lately…..

The older man squinted down the darkened road at the lights in the distance.  "I—think that's a service station up that hill; hard to tell from here.  Oh well; guess we hoof it at this point."  His short companion grunted in agreement and they began the long walk through the evening.

"So….."  Takagi shoved his hands into his pockets, staring straight ahead as he walked.  "You mind if I ask a few more questions?"

Conan snorted, a most unlikely noise for a seven-year-old.  "I'd be disappointed if you didn't, actually.  Go ahead."  They walked on for a few more yards while the detective considered; then an uneasy look crossed his face.  "Uhh… are there any more kids like you?  I mean, well, not kids exactly, but—"

The boy chuckled.  "One.  Can't tell you who, though—it wouldn't be fair without their permission."

"Oh."  The dark-haired man frowned, chewing on his lip in concentration; then his face cleared and he grinned a triumphant grin, white teeth flashing in the dark.  "Hah!  You don't have to tell me—I can guess."

Conan glanced up at him, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs.  "Really?  No way!"

Takagi shook his head.  "I always knew there was something funny about that kid—she tries a little too hard, maybe; but I have to admit she's a good actress—if I didn't know better, I really would think she was a real kid."

Dark blue eyes narrowed as they peered up at the young officer through slightly smeared glass lenses.  "Huh; I've always thought she was too… stiff.  You know, kind of a cold fish?  I mean, I like her okay and all that, but….."  A cool, faintly rain-scented breeze blew a strand of hair across his eyes and he wiped at it impatiently.

The detective grinned down at him.  "Cold fish?  I wouldn't say that.  She sure likes you—I've seen how those other boys glare when she pays attention to you, Ladykiller!"  He chuckled, head up and shoulders back as he strolled along through the dark.

Understanding dawned slowly, as slowly as a drop condensing from a beaker into a test-tube.  "You….. think that Ayumi is like me?"  Conan's head slowly swiveled on his shoulders until he was looking at the back of the officer's head; his steps slowed, faltering to a halt.

Takagi frowned back at him over his shoulder.  "Well, yeah…..  I mean, no little girl is that cute—those big, innocent eyes are a dead giveaway…..  What *are* you laughing at?"

The boy waved weakly at him from where he had collapsed against a roadside post, completely beyond the power of speech.  Muffled chortles of laughter sounded through the still night, silencing the crickets; the young policeman sighed as his face fell.  "Got it wrong, huh?" he said gloomily.  "Damn."  He lowered his head a little and sulked while his companion tried to get his breath back.

Conan shook his head, staggering a little as he got back onto his feet; his chest hurt from laughing so hard.  "Ayumi-kun's just Ayumi-kun, a normal little girl, and so are Genta and Mitsuhiko." 

The detective looked startled; "THEY'RE little girls?!?"

"No, you idiot—real kids, I mean!"  He rolled his eyes and resumed walking, falling into step beside the policeman.  Takagi grinned a little as he noticed that the top of the boy's head didn't even quite make it to his own waist.  "So… you did say 'she'….. that'd be the other little girl, the blonde—what's her name, Ai-something?  Quiet little thing."

Beside him Conan made a sour face.  "You wouldn't think so if you'd been the one to knock over a Coke onto her keyboard…..  Yeah, you guessed it; Haibara Ai.  And I'll warn you ahead of time, she is not going to be happy that you figured me out, not one bit; be careful around her, okay?"

Takagi's grin widened.  "Makes you nervous, huh?"

His companion scowled horribly.  "She made me short."  At the detective's widened eyes he explained.  "She used to work for the Black Organization; she's the scientist who developed APTX-4869, the drug that put me back in gradeschool.  Her bosses held her sister as a hostage for her good behavior, but when they killed her off Ai decided to take her own poison rather than wait for the Black Org's… attentions.  They are not nice people."  He laughed shortly, glancing up at Takagi's astonished face.  "Yeah, she took her own stuff—they had locked her up, and the way she saw it they were probably going to torture her for every scrap of information they could squeeze out before they killed her.  Poison was quicker and probably less painful….. and besides, she had a good idea about what had happened to me.  She didn't really know if it'd work for her or what kind of reaction she'd have to the capsule—maybe death, maybe… this."  He shrugged.  "But she was willing to gamble.  So she joined the ranks of the Terminally Short and got away from her captors."

By now the policeman was looking at him sideways, his face a little grim.  "She risked suicide to get away from people that were going to kill her anyway?"

Conan shook his head emphatically.  "No—she committed suicide to get away from them.  It just didn't—quite—kill her."  He frowned, looking up at the clouded sky above.  "When she took the capsule, as far as she knew she was going to die—she had no idea of the odds or even if what happened to me was a total fluke.  It was all or nothing."

"Whew….."

"Yeah, well, that's Ai-kun.  She's had a rough time—her sister was the only family she had.  Problem is, for some reason the Black Org guys still believe she's alive somewhere… she's almost been killed a couple of times by the same guys that got me.  A little while back, when she was temporarily turned back to her adult self, she—"

Takagi nearly stumbled over his own feet, he stopped so quickly.  "Whoa, whoa!  'TURNED BACK?'  You mean that this—" and he waved a hand over Conan's head, bringing about an annoyed snort "—isn't permanent??  I thought you were stuck like this-----"

The boy grimaced.  "You sure ask a lot of questions, don't you?"  He sighed, absentmindedly wiping his small hands down the front of his pants and leaving grimy smears behind.  "We've run across two kinds of temporary cures; one only lasts a short while—less than half an hour at best, and it's a one-time deal.  The other one lasts somewhere around twenty-four hours….."

"Huh.  So why aren't you---"

"—popping pills like a junkie and using the second cure over and over?"  The young-old eyes closed for a moment in a flash of pain.  "Because it's dangerous… and it hurts like hell.  Think about it." and he blinked up at Takagi, lines of weariness settling oddly in the childish face. 

"Can you imagine what a person's body has to go through to get like this?"  A thumb jerked towards his chest.  "Your bones have to change shape, your internal organs, everything—even your skull.  And your heart has to keep beating through all of the misery…..  Every change is risking death all over again."  He shuddered.  "The first time it happened to me, I was pretty sure I had died.  And it's worse, going the other direction….. you know how much it's going to hurt."  The snort of amusement that escaped the small figure held little humor. 

Conan crossed his arms, hugging the memory tight to himself while the young man beside him eyed him askance.  That look of pain in his young face…. Takagi had seen that sort of expression before.  Usually, though, it was in the aftermath of a shooting or kidnapping or something else equally traumatic.

Their steps rustled the dew-wet grass underfoot as the faintest grumble of thunder reverberated overhead.  He cast around rather desperately for a change of topic.  "Ahhh…. So….. What's it like, being a gradeschooler all over again?"  *Brilliant, Takagi—yeah, THAT'LL take his mind off being short.  Sato-kun's right—you are an idiot.*

Oddly enough, though, the boy seemed not to notice—or maybe he was just grateful for the chance to talk about something else.  "Weird.  Very, very weird.  Boring, most of the time—but it has its moments."

"Yeah?  Like what?"

"Recess….."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Oh, crap."  Hands on hips, Conan surveyed the service station with a jaundiced eye.  "As if this day needed something else to go wrong….."

The sign on the door said CLOSED—PLEASE COME BACK LATER! HAVE A NICE DAY! in cheerful, bright red characters.  It might as well have said CLOSED—YOU'RE SCREWED! as far as the despondent pair standing under the lone streetlight were concerned.

Takagi muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath regarding the service station's staffmembers; as if in answer, the damp evening breeze swirled a drift of dead leaves around his feet.  Heaving a sigh, the officer shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward a little; it was beginning to get rather cool out.  "Well….. guess we'll just have to catch a bus to Headquarters."  He indicated the bus-stop at the curb with a nod as another gust blew the leaves across the pavement towards the street.  "Could be worse.  Could be raining."

The boy looked a little dubious, but shrugged.  "I suppose….."  They plodded silently across the asphalt; the young policeman managed to turn his slight snicker into a cough as his companion hiked himself up onto the metal bench with a plop!, short legs dangling.  *Don't laugh at him, Takagi—he can't help being a runt right now.  Besides, this is one 'little kid' you don't want mad at you!  Piss him off and he'll probably hack into your credit card account or something like that…..*

He noticed that Conan was eyeing the service station a little speculatively; "What's up?"

"Well….."  The boy had that look in his eyes, the one that Takagi had seen before—usually about two minutes before he did one of those things that made him less childlike, like finding the bloodstains that everyone else had missed or something.  "I was just wondering if the station has a phone---"

"Fat lot of good that'll do us with nobody there."

"--- and an open window anywhere---?"

Takagi frowned, turning the thought over in his head a few times.  Normally he was a stickler for the law; normally he wouldn't dream of doing anything like what certainly sounded like breaking-and-entering… normally.

A faint, distant rumble intruded on his hearing; was that thunder?  Now, what had he just said about 'could be raining'?  There was that smell in the air, the one you got just before a storm…

A fat drop landed on his knee.

Takagi hated getting wet.

Beside him, the boy watched with interest at the struggle on the young policeman's face as his common sense, training and ethics fought with the basic desire to not get caught in the rain.  Apparently his common sense was turning traitor and joining the let's-not-get-wet faction, since at last he sighed and turned to look dubiously at Conan.

"It's breaking and entering, you know….. and I AM a police officer….. and no matter how you look at it, it's illegal….."  Takagi could hear the capitulation in his own voice. 

The small face grinned up at him.  "Only if we get caught… and it's for a good cause, right?  You wouldn't want Sato-san to worry, now, would you?  She's had enough excitement for one day."  Conan pulled his glasses off, wiping the spatters of rain away with his shirt-tail; he squinted up at the transom window over the main door.  "And besides… Ran'll kill you if I'm too late getting back.  She won't be too thrilled with me, either; might even find myself being grounded--- God, what a thought."

Takagi blinked, recalling Ran's karate skills with a certain amount of trepidation.  "I… don't want to upset Sato-kun any more today, that's true…."  A single cold drop ran down his neck into his collar, making him shiver; he sighed, giving in.  "All right, but if we get caught I'm telling everyone we saw a burglar and gave chase."

"Fair enough."  The boy's eyes gleamed in amusement under the streetlights; a thin rumble from the cloud-cover overhead heralded the approach of heavier rain as it began to fall in earnest.  "Let's take a look around back, why don't we?  This transom window's locked, but maybe…"  Without waiting for an answer, he splashed through the first shallow puddles and around the corner; a somewhat bemused Takagi followed, wondering if this was really such a good idea after all.

For a service station, it had been kept fairly neatly; crates, oil cans and other assorted debris were at a surprising minimum, though the concrete and asphalt behind the building was heavily stained with oil.   The young officer glanced nervously behind him towards the road; there were very few cars along this stretch—it was just as well, too, considering what he was getting involved in…..

A grunt behind him made him turn back around, to see his diminutive companion hanging precariously from a windowsill by his fingertips.  "Need a boost, Conan-kun?"  Glancing up at the rain with a grimace, he stepped to one side beneath the back door's overhang.

In answer the boy dropped back to the ground with a splat! of mud and water.  "Don't bother," he said with a sigh, wiping his fingers against his pants as he ducked into the door's alcove to escape the rain.  "This one's also locked—but I saw a phone on the desk in there.  If we can just find an open window---"  In exasperation he smacked one small fist surprisingly hard against the back door…..

….. which gave a resounding creeeeeeaaaak as the lock popped; the door swung invitingly inwards a few inches.

Two wide pairs of eyes stared at each other; as one, they glanced towards the open doorway, then back out at the falling rain.  It was really coming down now, and the puddles were growing; Takagi was conscious of an uncomfortably steady trickle of cold water down his neck.  "Maybe it won't hurt if we make just one call---" he murmured, reaching to push the door wider…..

….. just as, with a growl of engine noise and a plash of curbside drainage, something that sounded remarkably like a bus pulled slowly to a halt at the roadside bus-stop just beyond the building.  It WAS a bus, brightly lit and in plain sight, which of course meant that THEY were in plain sight too.

The bright young cop-on-the-scene that had lived in the back of Takagi's brain since his rookie days (not that long ago, really) immediately popped up with a crime-scene description while the rest of his brain cowered:  Suspects were witnessed forcibly entering a darkened service station; probable motive robbery.  Primary suspect observed to be an Asian male with dark hair and eyes, wearing a badly stained and soaked black jacket and white shirt; secondary suspect was a preadolescent boy with brown hair and blue eyes… Suspects were apprehended and dragged away in chains (preadolescent suspect was later released for reasons of obvious and blatant innocence; older suspect was retained in confinement and fed bread and water while awaiting trial plus dishonorable discharge from Metro police force.  Suggestion for sentencing:  Seppuku.)  He felt a trickle of cold sweat join the rain-drops dripping off his chin.  "Uhhhh… Conan…. Kudo….."

"Right with you."  The boy had already stepped quickly back from the door and was leaning nonchalantly against the wall as if he had been doing so for simply hours; Takagi could practically see him blinking up with those wide eyes at whoever-it-was that would come to arrest them for burglary ('Oh no, Officer-san… we were just waiting for the rain to stop, honest!  You aren't (sniffle) going to put us (sniffle) in jail, ARE you?')  He found that he was gritting his teeth.

"Come on---"

"Urk?"  A small hand had caught his sleeve, and Takagi found himself being towed through the rain towards the bus-stop.  "What are you doing??" he hissed, digging in his heels; Conan swore briefly under his breath as their abrupt halt in the middle of a puddle splashed them both with muddy water.  "STOP, you idiot—they probably saw us trying to get inside—and stop swearing like that—little kids don't swear!"

The small hand still tugged at his sleeve, showing surprising strength.  "Get a grip, Takagi-kun—" muttered the boy; "If we act suspicious, we'll be suspected—if we act normal, we'll be treated like we're normal.  And you wouldn't believe some of the words the kids at school pick up---"  He gave the sleeve another yank, pulling the older man along like a reluctant dog on a leash.  "C'mon, Takagi!  You want the bus to leave without us?"

"Uhhhh---"  Visions of the eight-or-nine-kilometer walk back into town through the rain (and beside a sulking teenager/little boy, to boot) flashed through his mind; he shuddered and surrendered without any more struggle, fishing around in his pockets for his wallet as the bus-doors opened with a rubber-gasketed squeak of hinges.

*Left back pocket—right back pocket—huh, that's weird… front jacket pockets, no… inner jacket pocket--- no… Oh, no way…..*

No.  Wallet. 

He skidded (splashed) to a full stop.  "AAAAGHH!!"

Already half-way up the metal steps, Conan looked back irritably; droplets hung from his soggy bangs, streaking his glasses and dripping off his chin.  "Takagi, you're talking in grunts.  WHAT is the problem?"

"I… umm…."  Frantically he felt around the lining of his coat in case his pockets had developed a hole; no good, he had a little change in his pockets, that was all.  The young officer looked wildly around, checking the ground.  Nothing.  "I, uh, seem to have… errr… lost… my wallet."

A pause.  "You've….."

"Yeah.  'Fraid so.  I'll just have to come back and look for it later.  Crap.  It figures….."  He sighed, fishing out his change.  *It just might be enough…..  No, a little short…..*  "Kudo—Conan-kun, do you have any money on you?"  Through the doors of the bus he could see the driver peering suspiciously at them.  It looked wonderfully warm and dry in there…

A distinctly unchildlike look of annoyance on his face, the gradeschooler felt around in his own pockets.  "I've got… three hundred yen.  Will that help?"  Without waiting for an answer Conan tossed the coins to Takagi from a grimy hand, then wiped the rain from his face again.  As he did so, it seemed as if he wiped away something *else* as well with practiced ease—the face that turned towards the bus driver was not the one that had seconds before looked at his companion but was distinctly young, wide-eyed and bedraggled—the face of a little boy caught out in the rain.

Takagi swallowed; it was just a little unnerving, seeing something like that happen right in front of a person.  He shook his head once, spatters of water flying, then followed Conan up the steps.

The bus driver (a middle-aged man with a rather sallow, hangdog face) eyed them both with distaste as they squelched their way down the aisle; but their money had just been enough to cover the fare, so he shrugged fatalistically and closed the door. 

The bus started with a lurch just as they took seats in the very back; Takagi nervously brushed back his dripping hair for the hundredth time, cheeks burning as the lights of the vehicle showed just how much of a mess he actually was for the first time.  His clothes smelled of motor oil, mud and… something else; he had somehow acquired a small rip in his left pants-knee, his hands were stained and his shoes caked with things better left unknown.  The young policeman sniffed carefully, wiping drops away from his face; they had walked alongside a bit of pastureland--- there had been cattle, hadn't there?

Takagi took a deeper sniff, then shuddered, deliberately looking away from his feet.  Apparently there had.  He wasn't going to think about it.

The bus was nearly empty, save for a small scattering of passengers; at least that was a mercy.  An elderly couple quietly chatted with each other up front near the driver, a teenaged girl wearing the usual anonymous t-shirt-and-jeans uniform complete with backpack accessory listened to the whine of her headphones halfway down one side, and three rather burly construction-worker types sat staring stolidly out at the rain on the other.  Nobody paid much attention to anybody else, and the growl of the old bus's engine merged with the steady mutter and hush of the rain to drown any conversation out in a sort of rumbling white noise.

Just as well, really, all things considered.  The last thing he wanted anybody to know right now was that he was a cop.  After all, Takagi thought ruefully, he didn't exactly represent a shining example of Tokyo Metro just at the moment.  And as for his companion…..

Drip.  Drip-drip.  The small boy beside him gave a shudder, then another.  Takagi frowned, looking down at the small, dark head.  "You okay?"

The head in question tilted back as Edogawa Conan—no, Kudo Shinichi, he had to get used to the idea—looked up at him with a rather wavery smile.  "Yeah, just a little cold.  This kid's body doesn't hold as much heat as my old one did—not as much mass."  He shivered again as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, then sneezed loudly.

One of the burly types further up the bus turned around to regard the two of them; a healthy growth of 5 o'clock shadow darkened his bristly jaws, and the man's heavy brows drew down as he took in Conan's soaked state.  He leveled a flat stare at Takagi.  "Kinda bad weather to take a kid out in, isn't it?"  His two companions also turned to eye him with disfavor; the young officer suddenly felt like a child abuser as the boy beside him sneezed again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Conan beat him to it.  "It's not my niisan's fault… our car broke down," he informed the workers in his usual little-boy voice, the clear young tones making Takagi jump slightly.  "We tried and tried to get it to start, but it just wouldn't go, and then we got rained on."  He shivered a third time, and the first worker's eyes softened a little as he grunted in sympathy.

*Hang on--- his 'niisan'?  Me?*

"Here—catch!"  A bundle of stained, somewhat smelly grey cloth struck Takagi in the chest; bemused, he opened it out a little.  It was a jacket, very much the worse for wear but dry; the heavy-browed man that had tossed it nodded his head.  "Was gonna throw it away when I got home anyway—I tore the sleeve half off onna crate earlier.  You can use it to keep the kid warm if ya want."  With a gruff nod he turned back to his companions.

"Uhhh… thanks."  Takagi quirked one eyebrow at his little 'niichan', offering the ragged garment.  "Here, wrap this around you, okay?  At least it's dry…"  It also smelled rather strongly of fish, indicating that their benefactor worked the local docks rather than a construction site; Conan wrinkled his nose but snuggled down gratefully into the dry folds.  "Thanks!" he piped up, his gratitude genuine even through the assumed childish tones.

*Great; I smell like cattle, and now he smells like dead fish.  We're both filthy as well as soaking wet, and we don't have any more money.  This is going to be like that time I got back to the stationhouse after I had to chase that suspect through a garbage dump, only worse---*  He sighed, glad that Sato-kun couldn't see him just then.  *Wonder what she's doing right now, anyway?  She's probably dry and warm, drinking coffee somewhere…..*

Now he sneezed; the explosion began a dull throbbing in one temple.  *Great; I'm probably coming down with a cold, too.*

The sound of the tires splashing through the deepening puddles was oddly hypnotic; apparently there were few stops along this line, and Takagi found himself nodding off a little, lulled by the steady drone of engine and rain.  The small, damp figure beside him was silent save for the occasional sniffle.

Outside the windows, the rain continued to fall.

***********************************************************************

"Well, this is just wonderful."  Officer Sato Miwako surveyed her squadcar dourly as rain dripped continuously off the tip of her nose.

Mouri Ran closed the trunk, wiping sodden hair away from her eyes.  "It could be worse, I suppose….. at least you have a spare tire….."

"That's true.  And I do know how to change a flat."  They had picked up something—a nail, maybe—about four kilometers away from the city edges; it hadn't been long before the tire gave way, and they had swerved slowly onto the curb to assess the damage.

Of course, this was *after* the rain had started falling…..

*Where on Earth is Takagi-kun?* wondered Sato, peering back along the highway for the dozenth time.  *I thought he was right behind me---*  She sighed irritably; there was something she needed to see him about… but apparently it would have to wait.

"Well," she said briskly, trying to rinse tire-grime from her hands in the steady downpour, "I guess we can head back in now….."  *Back to the station, soaking wet and not exactly clean—maybe we can stop somewhere and dry out a bit first?  And at least wash our hands?*

Apparently Ran-kun had been thinking along the same lines, as she tried vainly to squeeze some of the sogginess out of her t-shirt and said mournfully "I—don't suppose you'd want to stop somewhere for some coffee or something--?"

Sato shook her head, sending water flying.  "You took the words right out of my mouth, Ran….."  She winced as another roll of thunder shook the sky overhead.  "Let's get going before anything else---"

SPLAAAAASSSSHHH!!!

"---happens---"

An utterly drenched and dripping Officer Sato Miwako stared openmouthed and outraged at the bus that had just driven past; later she would swear it had swerved to hit the deep puddle beside them with the greatest possible force.  Behind her she could hear Mouri Ran distinctly and carefully saying a number of words that she must have picked up from her father; they seemed to fit the occasion rather well.  She turned back to the detective's daughter, wiping mud from her forehead with the back of one soggy hand.

"Let's… just go.  Now."

"Right."

Mouri Ran and Sato Miwako squelched their way back into the squadcar, dripping messily and refusing to look at each others faces; with what would have been a defiant squeal of tires (had it not been so damp), they drove off in search of coffee and civilization.

***********************************************************************

A lurch and the pneumatic groan of brakes startled him out of his near-doze; Takagi swayed in place a little as the bus pulled over to a curbside to allow several bedraggled, dripping passengers onboard.  *Uhh?  Must've fallen asleep.  Where are we?*  He peered through the foggy window; if the sign by the bus-stop was to be believed the city was a mere three kilometers away.  *Good.  Can't wait to get dry—feel like I've managed to get soaked in places I didn't even know I had.  Brrrr….*  He shivered; his muscles had stiffened and chilled during his little nap, and he felt cranky and irritable.

Takagi gradually became conscious of a warm weight against his side; he glanced down to see the small, indistinct huddle of smelly cloth leaning against him.  *Wh--—oh, right.  Conan.  No, Kudo.  Um, both, I guess.  Sound asleep, too…..*  The child who was not a child had sunk down so far into his enveloping borrowed jacket that only the top of his head and the faint glimmer of one glasses-lens was visible among the folds.  Spiky, damp brown hair stuck up in a severe cowlick, making him look even younger than he was.

*'Younger than—'  Heh; LOTS younger.  He's even pretty small for the kid he's supposed to be, isn't he?  Sort of a shrimp.*  Staring down at the diminutive form, Takagi thought about what it must be like to suddenly lose your body, your physical *self*, and deal with being trapped in such a small, helpless shape.  He repressed a shiver, wondering how the hell Kudo managed—

With a rustle of cloth, the small figure beside him shifted in his sleep, the childish face turning a little to one side.  Conan's glasses had slid down his nose and were perched precariously on the tip, ready to fall off; carefully Takagi hooked them with one finger, folding the frames and pocketing them for safekeeping.

In the faint streetlight-flicker, the face seemed so very young and innocent; just a tired little boy, curled in sleep.

*Nobody'd believe what lies behind that face…..  No wonder he's managed a whole year without being caught; he looks awfully damn cute, doesn't he?  Guess that cuteness is kind of a self-defense ability most kids have, to keep their parents from drowning them when they hit the Terrible Twos.  It's also no wonder he seems to have Ran-kun so wrapped around his finger…..*

*I wonder… if Sato-kun and I ever… I mean, I wonder what kind of kids we'd…..?*  He felt himself blush.

As if in answer to Takagi's thoughts, the boy stirred a little.  "…R-Ran…?" he murmured, sleepy eyes blinking open and squinting in confusion against the changing light.  He pushed the jacket back, his half-awake gaze alighting and then fixing on the young officer.

It was uncanny, almost *eerie*, thought Takagi, watching the slideshow of expressions and identities that chased each other across that little-boy face:  Awareness, followed by the usual childish Conan-mask, followed by memory and realization, followed by relief (relief?), followed in turn by the look that he was beginning to recognize—the look that belonged (no matter the apparent age) to one Kudo Shinichi, age eighteen…..

The boy became aware of how he had been leaning against his companion at about this time; he shifted back upright, muttering a quick "sorry…" as he shoved the hair back out of his eyes and then groped for his glasses.  "Mmph?  Uh—"

"Here.  They were heading for the floor, so I put them away."  Takagi offered the frames.  "Why do you wear 'em, anyway?  I don't remember you wearing glasses when you were--- err---"

Conan blinked up at him, sliding the glasses back into place with one finger.  "Disguise…" he offered, obviously not yet quite awake.  "It's not much, but if it's good enough for Clark Kent—"  He yawned.

The young policeman chuckled, then sneezed.  He looked around a little, noting the new passengers settling into their seats as the bus began its slow acceleration.  An elderly woman shuffled past him, making her way towards the very back of the bus; as she drew level she wrinkled her nose and an expression of horror crossed her age-spotted face.  She hurried on, her steps suddenly becoming remarkably less feeble.

Belatedly Takagi recalled his and his companion's states of dishevelment….. and their 'atmospheres'.  *Crap.  Sure hope nobody gets on that knows me…..*

So far so good; aside from the offended obaasan, three American female tourist-types and a white-collar factory worker had boarded.  The teenagers were all gabbling together in excited English; he could occasionally catch familiar words, as in 'manga', 'bishounin' and 'Shonen Sunday'….. Takagi's eyebrows went up as the tallest young woman in the trio began imitating the firing of what seemed to be a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher (she was making all the right sound-effects, anyway)…..

"Anime fans."  The small voice beside him was barely audible; the comment ended in a sniffle.

"Huh?"  Takagi eyed the boy dubiously.  "Anime fans?  They've got those in America too?"

"Yeah; there's a doujinshi convention going on today.  Mitsuhiko-kun wanted to go, but his mom wouldn't let him—she said there's too much hentai stuff there for a boy his age.  I dunno, *kids* these days…"  The little boy shook his head, shifting to tuck one leg beneath him; his other leg dangled well off the ground, swinging a little as the bus moved.

The young officer declined to comment, stifling a snicker.  As the bus gained speed he continued to watch the young American girls.  The more genki one seemed to be trying to persuade the other two into something they were most unwilling to try; if violent headshakes and horrified looks all around were any indication, she had little chance of getting her way.  One of the teenagers (a vaguely Asian-looking girl, somewhat shorter than the others) seemed particularly nervous—she spent a few moments getting some point across in what had to be particularly vivid idiom, as the genki girl finally settled down in her seat in resigned agreement.

"She wanted the other two to go with her to an old shrine in the hills outside Tokyo…" said Conan quietly, humor coloring the words.  "And her friend pointed out that that's how almost all the really bloody supernatural anime massacres start—with young women visiting old shrines in the hills outside Tokyo….."  He snickered to himself.  "She's right, too.  If I were her I'd watch the first girl, though—I don't think she's quite convinced yet."

Takagi blinked; sure enough, that was how it happened nine times out of ten…..  And considering the somewhat sneaky glint in the genki girl's eyes, he'd stay on his toes too if he were them.

Trying to ignore the continuing sounds of enthusiastic gunfire imitations (Takagi wondered if they might possibly be rehearsing a 'Dirty Pair' skit), he stared out at the sodden landscape.  It was too dark to really see anything much, but from the frequency of the streetlights they looked to be approaching the city limits…..  "So, Ku--  err, Conan… um, Conan-kun?"

The boy glanced up.  "You can keep calling me that—it's okay; I'm used to it by now, anyway.  What?"

"Where'd you learn English?"

A sigh.  "School, and my mom and dad taught me a lot as well…..  Remember, I used it on that airplane case, back when I was, ahh, taller?"  The last part of the sentence was spoken in a somewhat softer tone.  "I've always been pretty good with languages; English is a pain, but it's useful."

The young Americans had quieted a little by now; the third female (the one with the huge artist's sketchbook sticking out of her backpack) glanced over towards Takagi and his erstwhile charge; her eyes softened at the sight of the child as she offered him a smile… and then sniffed; her eyes widened and she hastily turned around.

"Damn cattle….."

"Yeah.  Damn fish….."

They both sighed.

***********************************************************************

'Arrested'.  It was such an interesting word.

In fact, thought Sato-kun, as she froze with her long-awaited cup of coffee just below her lips, in a few moments it was going to be one of her *favorite* words, since she was planning to put it into action the hard way—upside someone's head and in spades.

*Arrested.  Arrest, arresting, arrested.  He arrests, she arrests, they arrest….  If I don't get to drink my coffee, you can bet damn WELL I'm going to arrest…..*

They had been in the small roadside lunch-cafe for—how long?  Five minutes, max? when the greasy-haired, mufflered perp had burst in through the doors, waving a ridiculously small, oddly gaudy handgun and shouting "EVERYBODY DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!!!" at the top of his lungs.

*Now THIS is a man who's watched way too many police dramas…..  Let's see; next he'll charge over to the register and demand all the money in a bag.  Then he'll make some threats while the manager is obliging, and I can maybe take care of things while his attention's diverted…..*

It wasn't that Sato discounted the danger—he was a robber, and he was armed… apparently.  It was just that, the gun-laws of Japan being what they were, it was remarkably difficult for your average citizen to obtain a handgun nowadays.  Cops tended to get quite good at spotting fake weapons.  And of course, there was the little fact that she had picked up a Police Action Adventure Set for her cousin's kid's birthday-party two days ago, and the toy revolver had looked an AWFUL lot like the piece that this perp was sporting.

*Look, it's still got that cute little gold star sticker on the butt—he hasn't even taken off the Police Action Crack Shot bull's-eye decals, for crying out loud---*  Sato-kun sighed and began to lower her coffee cup…..

…..just as a heavily-laden waitress came out of the double kitchen doors with three trays balanced along her arms.  One look at the perp and she shrieked; her hands flew up, and suddenly the air was filled with flying coffee, hot tea, rice---

--chopsticks, china plates, hot sauce—

-- beef chow mein, teriyaki chicken, soba noodles, miso soup, sushi--

***CLATTER-SPLATT!!-CRASH-CRASH!!!-SPLUT-TING-TING-SPLAT!!!***

A veritable blizzard of condiments and consumables rained down around, over and on top of the robber and the cash register—and, incidentally, Sato and Ran in their front booth.  Ran, who had sat stock-still from her first sight of the perp, ducked as far down as possible even as Sato did the same.

***BOPP!!***

The resounding thwap of their two heads meeting over the tabletop added an odd counterpoint to the squishy splats, shatterings and splashes of the descending lunches.  Dazed, Sato shook her head hard as her ears rang with the robber's scream; apparently he had gotten a particularly large pot of tea right in the teeth.  Wiping sukiyaki from her face, she dove for the flailing perp's arms and managed (with much slipping, swearing and sliding) to handcuff him tightly to a nearby table-leg.

The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.  And all the while the rest of the restaurant's patrons and employees had sat frozen, their eyes bugging out…..

Silence, broken by the scalded robber's moans and Sato's harsh breathing.

"Umm… Sato-kun?  Are you all right?"  Ran asked tentatively, trying vainly to shake shrimp-fried rice from her hair.  No-one else dared say a word.

"Fine.  Fine!"  Answered the officer brightly; she bent over and picked up the gun, hot sauce dripping from her sleeves.  Sure enough, a Police Action Adventure special.  "Well….. isn't someone going to call the police?"  She smiled cheerfully at the manager (who had somehow managed to miss most of the edible fallout).  The man goggled at the noodle-bedecked young woman before him; a thin trickle of oyster sauce was dripping from one side of her hair and there were scraps of steamed cabbage bedecking her shoes. 

"Aren't you… err, that is….. aren't you…a…??"  His confusion was understandable; she HAD pulled out a set of handcuffs, after all.

Sato smiled at him, every tooth showing.  At least it looked like a smile at first glance.  "Would someone be kind enough to lend us some clothes?  We seem to have spilled our drinks…" and she nodded significantly at her companion, who was dabbing ineffectively at a heavy coating of teriyaki sauce that had managed to make its way down the front of her shirt.  "And I believe we'd like some more coffee, too.  Right, Ran?"

"Uh, r-right.  That'd be nice."  Ran was looking distinctly nervous; Sato was acting weird.  Now the young police officer was turning back to the manger and smiling that too-brilliant, amazingly sharklike smile again:  "Clothes?" she suggested as one of the waitresses hurriedly dialed for assistance.

Only too happy to comply (and escape a stare that looked as if it was skirting imminent hysteria, plus weaponry), the manager nodded and bowed simultaneously.  "Right, right, of course…  If you would care to wait in my office….."  He scooted out the restaurant door as if on ice skates, leaving the dripping pair to his employees.  After all, there was a clothing store of sorts right next door…..

…..well, it did sell clothing, among *other* things…..

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was with a blankfaced stare that Sato Miwako examined the garments that had been provided for her several minutes later.  Allowing the clothing to slip into her lap, she blinked up at the cringing manager.  "You're kidding."

Ran was still in the Ladies Room, trying to remove chunks of tofu from her hair before they became permanently attached; what she had to say when she saw their new wardrobe was going to be quite interesting.

"So."  Sato sat back, one soy-sauce stained hand clutching the offending articles of clothing; they slid silkily through her fingers, and were all in shades of black with an occasional leavening of white or scarlet lace.  "Your next-door-neighbor is a… bordello?"

"NO!  N-no, of course not….."  The manager waved his hands frantically.  "A—a lingerie shop, nothing more, I swear---  I picked out the most, errr, modest things they had---"

She had to give him that; the satin jackets, camisoles and miniskirts were, in general, enough to save one's modesty… just (apparently the shop that had provided them was one of Tokyo's many 'intimate apparel' boutiques)  And they were dry, and clean, and didn't smell like the Daily Special…..  "Fine.  Thank you."  Sato dripped her way messily into the bathroom, handing over a bundle of silky clothing to a highly-occupied Ran as she passed.  A muffled "Arigatou" came from the sink as the other young woman shut off the water, pushing soggy hair from her face.  Without bothering to examine her new clothing, the detective's daughter disappeared into one of the stalls.

Several moments passed, filled with the rustling of cloth from each woman's respective stall…..

"Um, Sato-kun?"

"…yes, Ran?"

"Is this… some kind of a joke?  Or maybe a mistake…  I mean, I'm not sure, but I think you've given me your undergarments."

"………….."

"Sato?  Sato-kun?"

A sigh.  Sato explained.  All in all, Ran took it fairly well.

Miniskirted and somewhat scantily clad, the two women eyed each other as they stepped out of the stalls; at least the clothing fit well enough.  "You know….. said Ran slowly, "we can either let ourselves be embarrassed over this--- or we can brazen it out."  She shrugged, tugging at her skirt.  "If I start blushing now I may never, ever stop….."  The detective's daughter had a sudden rebellious light in her eyes; the set of her jaw made her look remarkably like her attorney mother.

Sato hesitated, then squared her shoulders with a what-the-hell nod.  She was still feeling slightly off-kilter and edgy due to adrenaline, and besides—if they managed this right, nobody she knew would see her dressed like this anyway.  Not even Takagi-kun (although a tiny voice from somewhere in the back of her brain made certain suggestions about that which she smacked down for later consideration).

Each taking a deep breath, the two young women marched defiantly out of the Ladies Room back into the restaurant.  The staff and clientele stared—the manager stared—even the robber stared.  Ran and Sato stared back, arms folded and shoulder to shoulder in their new outfits.  For a long moment no-one said anything at all…..

Sato leveled a diamond-hard glare straight at the manager's face.  "We," she ground out, "are just concerned citizens who happened to be present during an attempted robbery.  You can tell the police when they arrive that we'll be getting in touch with the authorities later this evening.  Understand?"  Mentally she congratulated herself on leaving her father's antique handcuffs at home that morning.

The eyes of the staff, clientele and robber swiveled towards the manager, whose eyes had glazed over; he shook himself from his contemplation of Ran's lace-edged camisole with an effort.  "…Of… of course."

"Fine.  We'll be on our way then.  And—ah—thank you for the… garments.  I'll be sure to drop a reimbursement in the mail later."  Still smelling strongly of Hoi-Sin sauce, the two lingerie-garbed young women turned as one towards the door; they were outside, in the squadcar and peeling away from the parking lot before the manager could even begin to formulate a reply.

***********************************************************************

Another stop, another set of passengers….. 

The bus was still mostly empty, though; this time the driver had gotten up and was  Conan yawned, idly eavesdropping on the American girls again (they were deep in a discussion over the merits of various seiyuu celebrities now).  *Man, this trip is taking forever.  Wonder what time it is?*

Beside him Takagi was peering out the window through the downpour, frowning;  "What's wrong?"

The young officer shook his head, a slightly mystified look on his rather boyish face.  "Just thought I saw a squadcar pull out of that restaurant…" he muttered.  "Not sure—oh well."  He shrugged.

A clatter and slight commotion at the front of the bus caught both their attention just then; passengers boarding.  The driver had exited the vehicle to assist some elderly person or other up the steps, an old woman with a walker, carefully supported from behind by a grey-haired man with a raddled, lined face.  The driver moved politely aside to allow his passengers to pass; breathing heavily, the old woman rested for a moment against the side of the driver's seat as her companion fumbled first with change and then with the walker, placing it before her.  Without a word the two continued down the aisle, passing the driver in silence to find seats near the front.

As they passed, Conan noticed something odd: as they passed, the driver started slightly, staring hard at their faces; he seemed to be struggling with some thought or memory.  After a moment, though, he shook his head and tugged his cap back down over his graying hair as he headed back to his seat. 

Conan mentally shrugged; nothing to worry about.  He settled back with a bored sigh.

One last thing caught his attention, however, as the busdriver took his place; the man *jumped* slightly in his seat, jerking forward with a faint exclamation and a reflexive reaching of a hand behind him towards his back…..  Then he squared his shoulders and settled back into the seat.  The last passenger (a young mother with a thin, crying infant) sat down, and the bus was on its way again with a shudder.

Beside him he heard a muttered imprecation.  Takagi had just pulled his Incident Book from his inner jacket pocket and was morosely examining the blurred writing.  Apparently the ink hadn't been waterproof.  "Guess I'll need a new one of these," he said glumly.  "Damn; this was my lucky notebook, too….."

Conan gave him a Look from beneath his bangs.  "You have a lucky notebook?"  Takagi just flushed slightly and refused to reply, stuffing the soggy block of paper back into his pocket.  He swayed a little as the bus lurched over a bump.

"Conan?"

"Hmm?"  The boy glanced up; Takagi had gone back to staring out the windows.  "What?" he asked absentmindedly, thinking that maybe another nap wouldn't be such a bad idea…

"Does Ran know about you?  I mean, about how you're actually Ku—ITAII!!  What was that for?!?"  The boy had punched him in the side with one small, sharp fist.  Angrily the young cop glared at him, only to find himself facing a pair of very wide awake, heated blue eyes.

"Don't ever talk about that in a public place!!" he hissed, the quiet, sharp tones so completely unchildlike that Takagi's rebuttal froze on his tongue.  "You don't know who could be listening—and no, she does not know, and I plan on keeping it that way."  The boy shook his head in sudden exasperation; "What the hell brought that question on??"

"Sorry…" muttered the young man, rubbing at his side (the boy was surprisingly strong for his size).  "I was wondering what they were doing…  She really doesn't know?  Isn't that, well, kind of awkward?"

Conan slumped back against the seat, shifting as the bus lurched heavily again.  "You have no idea.  I mean, I have to keep this goddamn act up all the time.  It gets really, really wearing… but I don't have a choice."  He sighed, running a grubby fish-smelling hand through his hair; Takagi found himself watching that hand—it was so small.  "I told you about the, ah—" (and the boy glanced around him at his fellow passengers, who all seemed to be intent on their own business) "—Organization, so you *know* what I'm up against; if it ever got back to them that—"  The bus lurched again; Conan paused, gripped the edge of the seat with one hand, and continued: "—that I was still alive, she'd be in danger and so would a lot of other people.  So no, she doesn't know, and that's how it has to— AAACK!"

THIS time the bus had swerved sharply, throwing the boy hard against Takagi; the young officer grabbed the small body reflexively, hanging on as the heavy vehicle bounced off a curb and wobbled along the side of the road.  A shudder and resounding screech indicated that a roadsign had been sideswiped and was digging into the bus's metal sides; the shaken passengers shouted in varying stages of alarm (several had nodded off), and as the bus staggered to a gradual halt they began calling for the driver…..

….. who seemed to be in trouble; he was fighting against his seatbelt, arms flailing wildly, grabbing at his throat—

"Takagi!"  The boy grabbed at his companion's arm and pointed.  Swearing, the young cop stumbled to his feet and headed for the driver, half-aware of the small figure following right behind him.

Cries and imprecations filled the air as people picked themselves up from wherever the rough stoppage had put them; the three American girls were large-eyed but apparently unhurt, the teenager with the headphones was complaining loudly and waving her shattered CD player in one hand.  The dockworkers were looking hard at towards the driver, and the white-collar type was hunting for his glasses beneath the seats.  The elderly couple were huddled together, looking stolid and a little frightened, the man holding tightly to his withered companion with a shaking arm.

*Sure hope nobody has a heart attack or something like that—heart attack?  Is that the problem here--?!?*  Takagi reached the driver; the man was making thick, choking sounds and clawing at his windpipe with both hands.  His back was arching and his sallow complexion had become an ugly, blotchy red; as his eyes rolled back and he fell over limply to slump over the seatbelt, the young policeman worked hard to unfasten the buckles…

… as the driver's head fell forward to strike the steering-wheel with a dull thud.  His arms hung loose and slack at his side, and he half-slid from the seat in the utter, boneless flaccidity of the unconscious into Takagi's grasp.  The officer gently pulled him down to the aisle floor, tearing open the driver's collar and feeling anxiously for a pulse.

Nothing; *Dammit!*  Without thinking about it he got ready to begin CPR, clearing the man's airway and tilting his head back—

"Blotches… he's gone clammy, his lips look swollen—Takagi—"  He ignored the low mutter beside him, compressing the man's chest rhythmically and forcing air into his lungs; behind him he could hear an alarmed clamor of voices as his fellow passengers tried to figure out what was happening.

*Breath, dammit, breath!  Oh c'mon, guy, don't die on me--*

Too late.  Not even a flutter of pulse.  Takagi kept on for a few more minutes, unwilling to give up.  *Please--*

"Takagi.  Takagi.  Stop it—he's gone."  The quiet voice at his shoulder made him pull back with a frustrated snap, and he jerked his head around to stare into Conan's serious face.  "That's enough, Takagi."

It was enough, and more than enough.  Not all the CPR in the world would help now.

"He's dead."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Detective Takagi Wataru slumped on the bench at the front of the bus, listening vaguely to the excited babble behind him.  The baby was crying, the three American girls were talking together in an incomprehensible jangle of English, the dockworkers were arguing whether or not someone should go call for help---

*Not necessary… we're already here, supposedly.*  He had shown them his badge (it had fortunately weathered the rain somewhat better than his Occurrence Book, though in the same pocket), which had quieted things down a bit.  The use of the white-collar worker's cellphone had not gotten through to anywhere, though, not even Emergency Services—apparently the worsening storm outside the windows was knocking out communications all over the place.

Takagi sighed, rubbing tiredly at one eye with the back of a rather stained and dirty hand; he had a feeling that his appearance had not added to his fellow passengers' opinion of Tokyo Metro.

Well, fine; he could deal with that later.  Right now he was more concerned with the limp figure that lay sprawled across the bus floor.  The young officer grimaced at the sight, then glanced over at the object that had apparently ended the driver's life so horribly…..

A bee.  Just an insect, small and half-crushed, lying in the driver's seat.  They had found a card in the man's wallet listing medical conditions and allergies, and an extreme reaction to bee-venom had been first on the list.  The poor guy had croaked from anaphylactic shock, a truly hideous way to die.

*Death by bee-sting; that's really pathetic.*  The insect must have flown in and landed on the seat when the driver got up to help the old lady up the stairs—

"No it didn't."

"Huh?"  Takagi hadn't even been aware that he had been thinking out loud.  "It didn't?"

Conan frowned up at him; the boy had crouched beside him while he wrote the details down in his still-soggy Occurrence Book with an oddly expressionless face, watching the still-warm corpse as if expecting it to sit up and talk.  Ignoring the somewhat horrified attempts of several of the passengers to draw him back away, the apparent gradeschooler had carefully examined the driver's seat, the bee that Takagi had found, the carpet below the seat, the steering mechanisms….. everything.

It had been… interesting, watching him examine the scene of the death—seeing the little boy that he had known as Conan for all these months, but for the *first time* really seeing him…..  And all the while, knowing that the mind behind the eyes was actually that of one of the present day's great detecting geniuses, no matter his appearance…..

Oh yeah; it had been interesting.  But—why all the concern?  Wasn't it obvious that the guy had died as a result of his allergy?  What the hell did the kid—that is, Kudo—mean by "No it didn't" fly in?

He eyed the boy, quirking one eyebrow in invitation.

Conan turned to stare down at the half-crushed bee.  "Look at it, Takagi," he said softly.  "It's not damp at all—bees are hairy, and you'd expect some moisture to show up on its body-hairs.  But there's none.  And also—" he tugged at the man's jacket with one small hand, drawing him down closer; the policeman knelt, frowning.  "Touch it, Takagi—"

Hesitantly the young detective brushed the tiny, deadly carcass with a finger.  "It's—stiff," he said, surprised.  "Sort of dry."

"Right."  The boy drew a deep breath, turning a most unchildlike, serious gaze on his companion.  "It's dead, and it's been dead a long time.  See that mark in the center?  If I'm not mistaken, that's from a pin—this bee was a specimen, mounted in a collection somewhere—hell, there's even dust on the wings!"

As he spoke, the clear, treble tones seemed to deepen a little, becoming less and less boyish; the words were more clipped, more certain, and the dark blue eyes shone cold and sharp as they picked out details.  It was what some people would call uncanny… and it was nearly enough to make a grown man shiver.  Takagi wondered briefly if Kudo—Conan—realized what kind of reaction he drew from those watching him.

*No, of course not; he's paying attention to the case, and only the case…..  That's all that matters, right now, to him.*

And there was a case, apparently.

"So…..  If the bee was dead, it didn't sting him.  No other bees, huh?"  Takagi recalled the boy's cursory glance around the bus floor.  "Then something else killed him."

"One other thing—"

"Huh?  What?"  Takagi looked up from his contemplation of the dead bee, meeting the edged, laser-blue gaze.

The boy shook his head.  "Nobody dies of anaphylactic shock that quickly, not normally; no bee carries that much venom.  His reaction was too quick for the stimulus to be anything but local—it didn't start a while ago and just suddenly peak or anything like that.  Whatever killed this man was not natural.  Therefore….."

Takagi stood slowly, finishing his sentence for him; the passenger's voices faded into a blur of meaningless background noise.  "Therefore….. this is a murder."

***********************************************************************

To Be Continued……

Ysabet's Notes:  Don't kill me for this one, okay?  Any random weirdness and character-bashing is the result of dealing with Mental Health Site Reviews documentation and WAAAY too many autopsy reports at work— I had to take the stress out somewhere, right?  (sweatdrop)  Errrr, anyway…… if you think things are strange now, just wait.