“Look at how easy it is: You make a mold of the hit man’s fingerprints with putty or something, then just put it in a plastic—”
“P-preposterous!” Spit flew out of his mouth as the secretary yelled in rage. “Even if I did know how to fake fingerprints, I couldn’t possibly take a mold of the hit man’s fingers without being killed! Fukuzawa, I’ve heard enough. Just get rid of this brat for me.”
But Fukuzawa didn’t say a word. He silently stared at the boy across from him, who then smiled back.
“You’re kinda sharp, old guy. Anyway, how the secretary got the mold of the hit man’s fingers was simple. He was the one who hired the assassin.”
The employer?
The one who hired the hit man wasn’t a third party interested in overturning the company? Then why is the hit man even here?
“The assassin won’t listen to anyone unless it’s an order from his employer. Plus, the employer would be able to get his fingerprints without even rubbing putty on his fingers. He could get the hit man to hold something made of a soft material and have him come to the building at a specified time.”
“Wait. This hit man isn’t your usual street thug. He’d need to be paid an obscene amount of money. Your average office worker wouldn’t be able to afford him.”
“Then don’t pay,” the boy said impatiently. “You could just tell the hit man to come here for a meeting or to discuss payment. Then all you need to do is get his fingerprints and make up some sort of excuse to get him to come on another day. After that, you can have your guards catch the hit man once he figures out it’s a trap and tries to escape. Then, bam. Saved yourself some money. You can’t beat free. Even cheaper than the boxed lunches they sell at the train station… Man, all this talk about food is making me hungry. Can I go grab something to eat?”
“I’ll treat you to whatever you want after this, but finish talking first,” Fukuzawa replied patiently.
“Tch. Fiiine. The reason he hired a high-level hit man was probably because they’re tight-lipped. I mean, as you can see, he isn’t telling us who hired him, and he probably still hasn’t even figured out he was set up.”
It made sense. The more qualified and expensive the hit man, the harder it would be to get him to sell out their employer. That was what made them so expensive, after all. On the job, Fukuzawa had crossed blades with a few assassins before, but the highly skilled ones never betrayed their employer. There were even some who, after being captured, committed suicide with poison that they had hidden on their person.
So the secretary used this to his advantage?
“But, hey, I’m sure he’ll talk once he knows he was tricked, so how about asking him yourself?”
Fukuzawa instinctively looked back. The hit man was on the other side of that closed door, still tied to that chair on the ground.
“L-lies! Everything you say is a lie!” screamed the secretary. “A murderer’s confession is inadmissible! It would be no better than a delusion at worst and an assumption at best! If you truly believe I was behind this, then prove it!”
“Ha-haaa! I was waiting for you to say that.” The boy’s lips mischievously curled. “People who ask for evidence during a murder are usually the ones who did it. Hmm… If you need proof, then how about these piles of documents? The reason you’ve been lining up these papers was so that nobody could come in here. Why, though? Because there’s something in here you don’t want them to find. After all, you still have evidence to forge even after killing her. I mean, it would be unnatural if there were fingerprints on the president’s clothes but nowhere else in the room, wouldn’t it? You’re doing this to buy time.”
“That’s your evidence?”
Fukuzawa placed a finger on his chin and began to ponder.
“That’s a lie! I refuse to let someone call me a criminal for simply arranging some papers! I was organizing these! Or are you saying you can prove that wasn’t what I was doing?”
“Sure am.” The boy nodded as if it were obvious. “When I first walked in, I switched out one of the documents with a guide on pinworm removal when you weren’t looking, but you didn’t even notice. What happened to your special methodology with how you had to line up the documents in a certain way?”
“Wha—?”
The secretary couldn’t even manage a single word; it got stuck in his throat. Fukuzawa’s gaze turned sharp. “Is he right?”
“He, uh…”
/> Fueled by rage, Fukuzawa quietly took a few steps toward the secretary.
“Th-this is a misunderstanding!” the secretary cried. “I—I just didn’t feel like bringing it up at the moment! I was planning on giving him a stern warning later for his prank, so I let it go for now, but—”
“See?” The boy ducked his head. “I didn’t switch any of the documents.”
The secretary instantly stopped breathing. His pale expression got even worse until he was as white as snow.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Fukuzawa took another step forward.
“Th-this is, um…”