"I thought you said ten minutes?"

"I know...something came up."

Conan eyed the Chespin on his partner's shoulder, clearly interested, but not saying anything, "Right."

"Body was found upstairs in the master bedroom. We're still waiting for the autopsy results, but initial impressions from the responding officer say that no foul play was involved."

Harry strolled at a brisk pace alongside the assisting detective, a friend of his, who after welcoming him upon his arrival, had started to brief him on what was already known. He took note of the path what led to the massive mansion, the garden was surprisingly lackluster, filled mostly with the natural green grass that one would always expect to see, although he was flanked by rich orchards on both sides. A few neatly trimmed bushes rounded the place out.

He felt the Chespin gingerly climb down from his shoulder, touching down gently on the ground. Harry couldn't help but notice the way it looked between him and the grass, as if reluctant to run off. Only after instinctively giving a nod of the head, did the Chespin bolt away. "Already thinks of me as it's owner," he mentally sighed to himself.

"Oddly enough the door was locked from the inside. So at this point we're looking at what's probably a classic case of suicide. If I had to guess, I'd say suicide by poison, but again we're still waiting on a call from the mortician, so there's no way to be sure right now. There was a cigar in his mouth though."

"Time of death?" Harry inquired taking his first step into the mansion.

He stopped at the doorway to explain, "Believed to have been between 10 and 11 o'clock last night. The only one's still around here at that time were a couple of family members who've been staying here, a close friend of his, the butler and the housemaid."

"Alibis?"

"Everyone says they were asleep, except for the last two."

Harry held his chin thoughtfully, scanning the interior of the house. Generic rich people's paintings hung on every wall, interestingly there only seemed to be a single staircase, leading upstairs. The interior represented nothing, but wealth. He found it surprising that a man so well off would have simply taken his own life, "What does security say?"

"They're looking through the CCTV footage right now with some of our guys, but according to them, there's no way that anyone got through the main gate," he began to lead the way upstairs. "But they did mention something about a broken portion of the wall, just past the garden."

"Interesting," Harry followed, turning right to where the master bedroom was located. Immediately upon entry he could tell where the body had been, given the large imprint left behind in the carpet. "Conan," he turned to the detective, "find a room, pick anyone of our suspects and start questioning them. I'll be with you in a second."

Conan nodded, leaving the room to fulfill his duty.

Harry watched him leave. Then stood deathly still for a few moments. There was a lot that he immediately picked out with his eyes, "Endless fast food wrappers and a few beer bottles, unhealthy, likely obese," they flew quickly over to the bedside table. "Temezepam. Drug used to put people to sleep. An insomniac. Overdose perhaps?" he walked over and gave the bottle a quick shake. It was still full, "or perhaps not."

A gentle breeze whistled in through the one window in the room. Harry glanced at it curiously. "Too small for the average man to fit through. And yet..." he walked over and opened the window completely. Looking out across the morning sky, he spotted what he guessed was the broken part of the wall of the property. There was nothing, save for a greenhouse over the otherwise empty garden, between that and the mansion.

He turned his attention back to the room, suddenly having remembered that the door had supposedly been locked from the inside. Quickly, he pushed the door closed and bent down. He pulled out a small screwdriver and a hairpin from his pockets, slowly working through the process as he had been forced to learn years prior. "Bingo." It took a few attempts, but eventually he heard the lock clicking into place and a firm shake of the door confirmed that it was locked. "Suicide? I think not," he muttered to himself while picking the lock back open.

"Detective Goodman?" a voice asked after he had left the scene of the crime.

"Yes?"

"Detective Dyle has started questioning one of the family members in the dining room. I thought you should know."

"Thank you officer," Harry started to walk off, speaking as he went. "Do me a favor and put together a team to look around outside. Footprints, disturbed ground, anything incriminating, you take note of."

"So Mrs. Rivera, wh-"

"It's Miss, actually," she cut him off mid sentence, "my husband died a long time ago."

Conan took a second to recompose himself. "I apologize. Miss Rivera, why exactly have you been staying with your dad these past few weeks?"

"Same reason as everyone else. His birthday was coming up and we didn't want him to feel lonely."

"He lived by himself?"

Miss Rivera shot him a bored look, "Yes. He's been living by himself ever since Mom died a couple of years ago."

"They were close?"

"Yeah..." she sighed. "Yeah they were really close, he hasn't really been the same since she passed...Detective?"

"Yes Miss?"

"This isn't like an interrogation is it? Like I'm not a suspect, or anything, am I?"

"Well at this point, we can't rule-"

"At this point everyone is a suspect," he was cut off again, this time by Harry, who walked in and seated himself. "You, you're family and everyone else who was in this house last night."

A tense silence filled the room as he seated himself, directly opposite her.

Conan tried to relax the atmosphere with an awkward chuckle, "What my colleague meant to say was that we can't quite rule anyone out right now, given the fact that there's so little evidence, but be rest assured, once more things come to light, I'm confident that we'll be able to clear you name."

"Thank you," she smiled at him, before turning to Harry. "I never did catch your name did I? Detective..."

"Goodman."

"So Detective Goodman, would you mind filling us in on what you've found out so far?"

Harry fixed her with a tense stare, "That is information that I'm not privy to discuss with suspects."

"Uhm, Harry, maybe it'd be best if-"

"Don't try to defend her Conan, for all we know she murdered her father in cold blood last night. What was your motive, huh? Money? Revenge? Jealousy?"

Miss Rivera said nothing to retort his accusations, instead she merely settled more comfortably into her seat, "You know, I've definitively heard a lot about you Detective. Seen your name on the front page plenty of times. I am curious though, they say you can tell anything about a person just by looking at them," she stood up, "so, what can you tell about me?"

He could make out Conan shaking his head in the corner of his eye and reluctantly refused the offer, as tempting as it was, "No, I don't think I should."

"Right," Conan cleared his throat. "It might be best if we continue-"

"Oh, but I insist."

Harry faced Conan temporarily, "The woman insists." He turned his head back to Miss Rivera and settled his chin onto a fist. "Bags under your eyes, you don't get a lot of sleep, you're often stressed out. A lawyer maybe? No, you wouldn't be talking to me if you were one. Yet the way you carry yourself, the way your fingers move, the subtle cut, just under the knuckle of your right hand's index finger. You're either a chef, or a surgeon and given all the other facts and the mansion we are currently sitting in, I'm inclined to believe that you are the latter."

"Very impressive Detective, but I have the feeling you would have had a chance to look into my background, maybe they briefed you on the way you're really as good as I hear then tell me something personal, something that only I would know."

"Harry-"

"The tapping of your foot. You're impulsive. Impatience is one of your key qualities. You let it get in the way of your logic, the scar on your hand, a rushed decision in the middle of an operation. The very same happened a number of years ago, except it wasn't you who suffered the consequences, it was your patient."

"Harry," Conan spoke vainly after noticing the immediate change of expression on Miss Rivera's face.

"After that incident you were never the same, you changed. You're family did what they could to help you, but you pushed them away. Slowly becoming more and more distant."

"Harry."

"Your husband left after a few months. And then it was just you and your daughter, whom given your dejected personality, does not speak to you much, resulting in a shattered, dysfunctional family. And now-"

Harry was unable to finish before she stepped forward and landed a harsh slap firmly on his cheek. It dazed him slightly.

"Very good Detective. Just one flaw though, he died, he never would have left me," she walked out then, effectively bringing an end to the interview.

Conan stood up, the disappointment on his face obvious, "Nice work Detective."

"Thanks," Harry answered, sarcasm dripping from his speech. "Be a pal and fetch whoever's next, would you?"