Gah! Sorry it took so long to update, I was busy writing my oneshot Restitution: Angels and Demons, something a lot different from Beyond the Murder Cases (it's about B and Light, if you like Beyond the Murder Cases, you might like it). I'm working on two other oneshots too, so progress of BMC might be a little slower than usual. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Many thanks to all who reviewed/will review, I really appreciate ^.^

I wish you all jam and sugary coffee.

Chapter 4

"Misora. You were up here?"

Naomi Misora. What do I think about you?

In B's mind, she was nothing but a puppet, a lackey, a dog doing the bidding of a master much more worthy and deserving of his competition, nay, his attention even. It almost disgusted him to have to deal with such rabble; the people of the common world, whose heads were stuck in the trivial concerns of normal people. That's one thing B had always respected about L; he didn't care how he was portrayed to the world, he was just himself, who he was.

Yet there was something about Misora that B liked. A spunk, a kind of relaxed, sure demeanor, even if she was sometimes unsure of her deductions. She was probably a lot more disturbed or nervous than she let on, and the fact that she could control the aura she gave off was at least worthy of note. And she was rather intelligent, at least compared to most people. Intelligent enough to follow his clues, but not intelligent enough to figure out his true purpose behind the clues. Only person who might be that smart is L. We'll just see about that, won't we?

"After you left the room, I discovered something interesting, and was unable to wait. So I came to get you. Are you quite finished?"

"Y-yes…" she stammered. B turned and walked off, chuckling quietly to himself for no real apparent reason. He almost-skipped down the stairs, then stopped. "Oh, Misora…?"

"Y-yes?"

Maybe you're less strong than I thought you were. You that worried about me? "Why didn't I hear the toilet flush before you left the room?"

Her hesitation confirmed B's initial thoughts; that maybe such a question was socially awkward. He shrugged. He didn't have time to concern himself with that. "It's rather rude to ask a girl something like that, Ryuzaki."

"Huh, is it? Nevertheless… if you forgot to flush, it is not too late, You can still go back. The genders are equal when it comes to sanitary behavior."

He cocked his head, wondering if she would choose her pride or letting on that she was on the phone. She chose the latter. Somewhat foolish of her, but since she probably knows I heard… "I was on the phone. Just a regular check-in with my client. But I did not want you to hear some of it."

"Oh? But either way, from now on, I recommend flushing. It provides good camouflage."

"I suppose it does."

The awkwardness of that entire situation was almost completely lost on B. His mind was just not built that way.

When they reached the bedroom, B got back onto his four limbs and crawled easily over to the bookshelves. He slid into a more comfortable position and glanced at Naomi.

"You said you found something new?"

"Yes. Something new – no, let us be bold. I have uncovered an important fact. Look here," he said, pointing to a set of manga.

"What about it?"

"I love this manga."

"You do?"

"I do. You're Nikkei, aren't you?"

"Nikkei…? My parents are both from Japan. My passport's American now, but I lived in Japan until after high school…"

"So you must know this manga. Min Ayahana-sensei's legendary creation. I read every issue as it was serialized. Shiine is so adorable! I liked the anime just as much as the manga. Love and courage and hope – Holy Up!"

"Ryuzaki, are you going to go on like this for a while? If so, I can wait in the other room.."

Ha, well that was subtle. "Why would you do that when I'm talking to you?"

"Er… um, I mean, I liked Akazukin Chacha too. I watched the anime. I also experience the love, courage, hope and Holy Up."

"Good. We shall discuss the pleasures offered by the anime another time, but for the moment, look here."

The purpose of that strange prelude was simple, really. The trickiest part of his entire operation was giving Naomi little nudges towards the right answer without seeming too knowledgeable or too suspicious and involved. A way to do that was to say and do absurd things. That way, in Naomi's mind, she would at least subconsciously distance him from the killer (the other way was to try and seduce her, but that wasn't B's style at all). After all, you wouldn't think such a cold, calculating criminal would be such an ADHD cretin, would you?

Naomi grunted and leaned down closer to look at the shelf.

"Notice anything?

"Not really…"

I'm disappointed. Surely this is easier than the other hints I've dropped. B stared at her, looking her up and down, adeptly hiding the slight disdain he was feeling. It's so simple.

"I don't see anything… something about one of these comics?"

"No," B said, trying to make sure to keep any smug notes out of his voice.

"Hunh? No? What do you mean…"

"Not one of these. Something that should be here, but isn't. Misora, you are the one who figured this out! Any messages from the killer are indicated by the absence of what should be here. You're the one who figured out that this must refer to the body of Believe Bridesmaid. I didn't think I would need to explain this to you. Look closely, Misora. They aren't all there. Volumes four and nine are missing." B was somewhat dissatisfied that he'd had to give such an obvious hint. Undermines my brilliance.

"Akazukin Chacha ran for thirteen volumes. Not eleven."

"Hmm… right. But… Ryuzaki, so what you meant the killer took those two volumes with him It's certainly a possibility, but it seems equally likely they were missing in the first place. Maybe he planned to pick them up soon. Not everyone reads manga in order, you know. I mean, he seems to have stopped halfway through the Dickwood series up here…"

"Impossible," B said assuredly. This will be difficult… I'm going to risk looking suspicious if I press too hard. No, at this point she just thinks I'm a creep. She won't suspect anything, I don't think, not after I convinced her that I love this manga. "No one on earth would ever skip two volumes in the middle of Akzukin Chacha. I am absolutely sure of this fact would pass muster in court. Or at least, if the members of the jury knew much about Japanese comics."

"What a biased jury," Naomi quipped.

Pretending to ignore her but slightly amused, B continued. "The killer has obviously taken them with him.

"But you have no proof of that at all, Ryuzaki. It's equally possible he just loaned them to a friend."

Stubborn. That's good. "Akazukin Chacha?! You wouldn't even loan it to your parents! You'd tell them to but their own! The only possible explanation is that the killer took them away!" It didn't matter that the explanation was totally illogical; it only mattered that Naomi at least consider what he was saying. "Furthermore, no one on earth would ever want to read volumes four and nine! I'd bet my jam on it!"

"If you're referring to the jam you were eating earlier, a jar of that only goes for around five bucks."

Well, technically, that was specially made jam ordered off the Internet that costs $8.99 a pop but… "So it follows, Misora, that when the killer removed those two volumes from the room he had some other, completely unrelated reason for doing so.

Naomi gave a resigned sigh. "Since it is true that those two volumes are missing, ignoring logic and the possibility for the moment and following along the hypothetical… it's still strange isn't it? I mean, Ryuzaki, this bookshelf…" she gasped slightly and stared hard at the bookshelf. B nodded slightly. "Ryuzaki. Do you know how many pages there are in volumes four and nine of Akuzukin Chacha?"

"I do. 192 and 184 pages."

Naomi glanced at B, somewhat stunned, then resumed scanning the bookshelf, look for a book thick enough to contain 376 pages. She found it (Insufficient Relaxation by Permit Winder) and pulled it off the shelf. Of course, it was 376 pages long. B watched patiently as Naomi flipped through it. "What is it, Misora?"

"Oh… I was wondering if the killer had put a book on the shelf to replace the two he took off, and if that book was the real message…"

Her voice trailed off. B guessed she was wondering about whether the killer did it or if it was just Believe Bridesmaid's obsessive tidiness. B decided he should probably keep her going along the mental path she was on. "Not a bad idea. No, rather a good idea. Nothing else makes sense." B reached out his hand and grinned as she jumped slightly. She handed over the book. B grabbed it delicately with his thumb and forefinger, then opened it and flipped through it. He had memorized the book earlier, but he needed to refresh his memory. "I see!"

"Eh? You found something?"

"No. There's absolutely nothing here. Don't look at me like that. I swear, I'm not joking. This is just an ordinary entertainment novel, not a message, or even a metaphor like the Wara Ningyo. And of course, there are no letters of any kind hidden between the pages, nor anything scribbled in the margins." He slightly accentuated the word margins.

"The margins?"

Cocking his head to the side, he said with the slightest hint of a purr, "Yes, there was nothing in the margins but the page numbers."

"Page numbers…" Misora echoed. "Ryuzaki, assuming those cuts on the victim's chest were Roman numerals, what did they say?" B let his eyes slide shut for a moment. "16, 59, 1423, 159, 13, 7, 582, 724, 1001, 40, 51, 31. What about them?"

"I was just wondering if they were pointing at the pages in this book, but… two of the numbers were four digits. The book's only 376 pages long. They don't match."

"yes… no, Misora, what if it wraps around? For example, 476 could mean 376 plus one hundred, which would indicate page one hundred."

"…meaning what?"

"I don't know… let's try it out…" he rattled off the numbers, looking like he was thinking but not really. "…I see."

"That there's nothing there?" B detected slight annoyance in her voice.

"No… there is something there. Something very specific, Misora." Handing back the book, he instructed her to open the book to page 16. They went through all the pages and made mental notes of the first word on every page: Quadratic, ukulele, tenacious, rabble, table, egg, arbiter, equable, thud, effect, elsewhere, and name.

"So."

"So… what about it?"

"Take the first letter of each word."

"The first letter? Um…" She flipped through the pages, and came up with qutrteaeteen. "Qurt tea teen? What?"

"Very similar to the second victim's name, don't you think?"

"I suppose… there is a vague resemblance… Quarter Queen… only four letters are different."

"Yes…" B knew that he would have to somehow push her in the right direction while acting skeptical. Difficult. "Four out of twelve is too many. One third of them are wrong. If even one letter is different, then the entire theory falls apart. Unless it matches perfectly, it's not worth calling a message. I thought there might be something there, but it may well be just a coincidence." Of course, B knew that there were too many similarities for a detective such as Naomi to simply pass off as coincidence. "But, for a coincidence…"

"Still, Misora… if it doesn't match, it doesn't match. We were very close, but…"

"No, Ryuzaki." B smiled. "Think about it. All four wrong letters match up with the numbers over 376. They're all the numbers where we had to wrap around."

Naomi flipped through the pages once more, murmuring to herself. "Three times through, and on the fourth lap… we don't use the first letter, but the fourth letter. Not T, but A. And with 582…" she did the same process with all of the other wrong letters, which turned the jumble of letters into 'Quarter Queen'.

B nodded. "Nice work, Misora. Very good deduction. I never would have thought of it."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

L stood across the street from the first crime scene, gauging whether or not he should walk in and try to get some reaction from B. He had to know if B recognized him; depending on if he did or not, it could help L figure out why he did what he did; in case seemed more aggressive than previously observed, and thus L would have indirectly put Naomi in jeopardy. He was dressed back up in his pothead attire, planning to go into the crime scene and watch B's reactions. While B was an expert at hiding his reactions, he might make a mistake, or even tell L (indirectly, of course) that he recognized him as L's contact who came to Wammy's. L also wanted B to know that L was on his tail, and that he would be apprehended soon because of that. Normally, L wouldn't go to these lengths, but this case was personal.

Finally, he walked across the street, not noticing or caring as a car whizzed by him, honking loudly. He almost tripped on the curb and hissed when one of his chains got wrapped around his leg. Good grief… he untangled himself then walked up the front walkway. He opened the door and rounded the corner.