Chapter 57: The Sumitomo Group is the Culprit!

“He, Ri, Ko, Go, Ro?” Heiji repeated the name, one syllable at a time.

Were Shoichi’s Tokyo henchmen about to start throwing their weight around in Osaka?

Facing Heiji’s suspicion and wariness, “Kogoro Mouri” drove the knife in deeper.

“Actually, Hattori Heiji’s analysis was right on the mark. He’d already deduced that Mr. Takahashi committed suicide. What I’m going to explain now is why Mr. Takahashi took his own life—and why he wanted to frame Mr. Shoichi.”

“I didn’t!” Heiji protested. “I never said Mr. Takahashi died by suicide.”

Don’t drag me into this, too. I don’t want to be one of Shoichi’s henchmen.

Shoichi gave Heiji a puzzled look. “Are you going to retract your earlier deduction? There are plenty of people here who heard what you said.”

Heiji’s mouth twitched.

Every clue pointed to Takahashi’s suicide, but with Shoichi involved, murder could never be ruled out. Heiji knew that was just his own bias.

But there really was arsenic on Shoichi’s sleeve.

And beside the body stood a man who killed people for a living, with a bloodstained knife in his bag.

Could anyone believe he used that knife to butcher chickens?

Heiji certainly couldn’t.

“I only said it was possible. We still need something else to confirm whether it’s true,” Heiji said.

“Conan, bring it out.”

“Got it!”

Conan popped out from behind Kogoro Mouri and handed Heiji the paper he’d fished out of the restroom trash can.

Covering his nose, Shoichi leaned in to take a look.

“Well, well. Takahashi was in debt for quite a lot,” he remarked.

It was an overdue-payment notice from the bank.

The letter stated that Takahashi owed Sumitomo Bank a total of one billion yen in principal. If he failed to repay it, the bank would take drastic measures, repossessing and auctioning off his house and his shares in the newsstand business.

At the sight of the words “Sumitomo Bank,” Heiji immediately suspected a setup.

Mr. Takahashi owed money to Sumitomo Bank, had died at a Sumitomo family banquet, and had argued with members of the family.

Detectives never believed in coincidences.

“Wait, how could Mr. Takahashi owe that much?” someone asked, bewildered.

Takahashi was a wealthy man. He already had enough money to live in luxury. Why would he need a bank loan?

“Is this payment notice genuine?” Heiji asked.

Shoichi took out his phone. “I’ll check for you.”

Once the call connected, he said, “Find out whether Uetsuki Takahashi of Osaka took out a loan from Sumitomo Bank.”

“Certainly.”

A few minutes later, the bank had its answer. Shoichi turned on the speakerphone.

“Mr. Takahashi borrowed a total of one billion yen from Sumitomo Bank. I also checked his bank accounts, and it looks like he may have taken out loans from loan sharks as well.”

Shoichi asked, “Did you send him a payment notice?”

“Yes,” the bank employee replied. “The government is currently dealing with the bad-debt crisis at the Housing Loan Companies and has been forced to inject funds. The Ministry of Finance has ordered banks to reduce their nonperforming loans, so collection efforts have intensified.

“Banks have been pursuing overdue debts particularly aggressively lately. And because the collateral was overvalued during the bubble years, it’s no longer enough to cover what he owes. He was required to make up the difference.”

As soon as the employee finished speaking, everyone turned to Sumitomo Taro.

Sure enough, Takahashi’s death had everything to do with the Sumitomo family.

If Sumitomo Taro hadn’t set off the copper-market debacle, the banks wouldn’t have intensified their collections. Mr. Takahashi might not have been driven to suicide.

“See?” Shoichi said to the others, his voice faint. “The payment notice is genuine. Mr. Takahashi couldn’t repay his debts, so he took his own life.”

“Mr. Shoichi is right,” “Kogoro Mouri” added.

Eyes closed, he leaned back in his chair, inscrutable.

“As for the arsenic on Mr. Shoichi’s cuff, Mr. Takahashi put it there himself. He wanted to pin his death on Mr. Shoichi. If I’m not mistaken, Mr. Sumitomo Taro’s clothes should have some on them, too.”

“That’s right.” Sumitomo Taro nodded.

He raised his sleeve. “There was white powder on it just now, but I accidentally brushed it off. Still, a forensic examination should be able to detect traces.”

Heiji furrowed his brow, his gaze shifting between Shoichi and Sumitomo Taro.

“Even if the bank was pressing him to pay, would Mr. Takahashi really have framed Mr. Shoichi and Mr. Sumitomo Taro for his death?”

True, the bank demanding repayment was Sumitomo Bank.

True, the bank had stepped up its collection efforts because of the bad debts caused by the Sumitomo conglomerate.

Shoichi continued speaking into the phone. “Can you find out what Mr. Takahashi did with the money?”

“Please hold.”

It didn’t take long for the employee to reply, faltering, “Mr. Takahashi used all the money to speculate on copper prices. After the price of copper collapsed, he went bankrupt.”

At that, everyone fell silent.

So even Takahashi’s bankruptcy was the Sumitomo conglomerate’s doing.

Now even an innocent bystander would think the Sumitomo conglomerate had killed Takahashi—not just Heiji.

The copper-market debacle had left him buried in debt. Then their bank had lent him the money, saddling him with enormous loans before aggressively demanding repayment.

Even if they hadn’t poisoned Mr. Takahashi themselves, they’d driven him to his death.

The Sumitomo conglomerate was the real culprit.

“Cough.” Shoichi coughed without changing expression. “Now we have a good reason for Mr. Takahashi to frame me. He must have hated my uncle.”

Sumitomo Trading, which had speculated on copper, was separate from the Sumitomo Group as a whole. Sumitomo Bank had also suffered heavy losses, making Shoichi a victim as well.

“Come to think of it, Sumitomo Trading was a victim, too,” Sumitomo Taro said.

He went on solemnly, “It was those foreign short-selling organizations, along with a few shameless individuals and small groups, that drove down copper prices. Copper is now worth far less than its fair value, pushing countless people to the brink of bankruptcy and tearing families apart.”

The villains were those foreign short-selling organizations and certain shameless individuals.

That shameless villain certainly wasn’t Shoichi.

He had merely followed along and picked up a little profit after the tide had become impossible to turn. The money he made meant the Sumitomo conglomerate lost a little less.

Shoichi nodded.

Right. The villains were all overseas.