Epilogue:  Convictions

"You have the right to remain silent;

Anything you say or do can be held against you….."

                                                                                (The Miranda Rights)

For the second time that evening (night? early morning? whatever), flashing lights danced in patterns across Conan's glasses from where he sat watching through the window.  He leaned against the back of the padded bench, kneeling with his chin resting on his folded arms.  It was funny how the rain softened things; the droplets running down the glass blurred the edges of everything outside—the squadcars, the uniformed figures here and there, the gurney with its still, still passenger being loaded into the back of the ambulance…..

Yamashii Ne.  Too much anger had caught up with her, along with a bad heart.  It didn't seem fair somehow; she had been the instigator and the actual killer in this case, but instead of going to jail she had escaped justice with her death.  Her brother, on the other hand, was a shivering, broken figure weeping in the back of one of the squad cars, and would pay the price of an accomplice to murder. 

Conan wondered privately if the old man would live very much longer, now that both his siblings had died.  He sighed, closing his eyes against the flashing lights and the muted commotion outside.

It was something that he had thought about before, something that seemed a lot more visible now that he was seeing things from a child's eye view again: that the guilty got off far too often and that the innocent paid far too much.  Yamashii Tora was hardly an innocent; the man had acted in complicity regarding the driver's death, no doubt about that… but if his sister had not come up with the idea, it was unlikely that he would ever have even thought of taking any sort of twisted revenge for his dead sibling.   And the motive…..  He had been more horrified than anyone else about the real reason behind their revenge, and in his own way had been a victim too.  Yamashii Ne had a lot to pay for—but she was dead, as dead as the driver Shen Wen Li or her sister Ushi and far beyond mortal justice.

Sometime it was harder, being left behind, wasn't it?  Of course, if *anybody*  knew about that, he would…..  In his prison behind Edogawa Conan's closed eyes, Kudo Shinichi wondered silently how Ran's night had been.

Outside the window the rain continued to fall, a soft hush of sound; it smoothed over the sound of vehicles pulling away, the voices on the sidewalk and the constant, scratchy mutter of a squadcar's radio.  If you listened close enough you might be able to make out individual words, but it had been a long night and the boy with his head down on his arms suddenly just didn't feel like making the effort.  The rain was soothing; beneath its susurrus he could almost let wakefulness slip away, could begin to drowse like the child he seemed to be…..

He could almost hear Ran's voice, calling him the way she did now when it was time to go to boring, boring school (not like before, not *Shinichi* anymore… never now)—'Conan?  Conan-kun?  Time to get up now, Conan-kun…..  Conan-kun?'  She never called him Shinichi now, of course, except when he spoke to her in his clandestine and all-too-infrequent phone calls; he missed hearing his real name a lot, far more than he had ever thought he would... missed hearing her voice saying it.  All he ever got to hear now was 'Conan-kun?'

"Conan?  Hey, Conan-kun?  Wake up—"

THAT wasn't Ran—

*Oh.  Takagi… right.  Must've almost drifted off.  Big surprise there, it's what—past midnight by a couple of hours now at least, I guess.  No real idea of the time.*  With a groan he allowed his own weight to pull him down, back onto the seat proper.  Takagi had just walked into the café; he closed the door behind him and looked down at the boy with concern in his eyes.

"You okay?  You look pretty bushed."  Takagi wasn't exactly model-material himself just then; droplets spattered down from the ends of his disheveled hair and the tip of his nose, and a previously-unnoticed smear of something black smudged the left side of his shirtcollar.  "Y'know, if I take you back to Ran-kun looking like you've just been dragged through a hedge backwards she'll use me for karate practice—"

Conan shrugged, pulling his glasses off and rubbing at his tired eyes.  "Better plan on running, then; we both look like hell."  He vainly tried to smooth his own hair, then gave it up as a lost cause.  "And when Sato sees you looking like that--  Uh, speaking of which, don't we need a ride?  And what about your car?"

Takagi swung himself down into a seat, squelching a little; drops began puddling on the tabletop as he yawned and leaned forward to rest his chin on his hands, looking rather worn.  "Never mind that—"  He glanced around, but everyone in earshot seemed busy with their own devices for the moment.  "I have a few questions for you while we've got the chance.  How'd you know the woman who hit Yamashii Ushi was the driver's daughter?  That's one I couldn't figure out—"

Conan took a look of his own around; it seemed safe enough.  The rest of their fellow passengers were busy gathering their things and finishing up cups of tea or coffee, discussing the night's climax in low tones here and there.  This would be one bus-ride they wouldn't forget soon… "That was a fluke, really; when we were up examining the driver's body I noticed a photograph on the dashboard—a wedding photo, the kind people have made in studios, you know?  It had her and her husband's name on it and she had written 'To my father, with love' on the bottom corner.  Once Mufune mentioned her name….."

Takagi nodded, his dark eyes appreciative.  "Right, I get it; you made the connection.  Okay, one or two more for you:  what about the diabetes?  I got the impression you knew about that—is that why you offered the sister chocolate?"

The boy smiled a little, a thin smile with no humor in it.  "Uh huh; I got a good look at her brother's hands before that, but she wasn't the sort to let a kid get too close to her so I had to find out some other way."  At the detective's blank look he elaborated, holding up his own grubby hands to the light.  "Fingernails.  You can tell a lot about a person's health, especially an older person, by their fingernails.  A diabetic's nails are frequently blotched light and dark; somebody with severe heart disease usually develops dark brown streaks and speckles after a few years as well….."  The young eyes grew a little somber; "If I *had* been able to see hers a bit closer, maybe I would have found some other way of drawing her out…  I never wanted her to die, Takagi—"

The older man shook his head wearily, leaning back and dropping his voice even further.  "Conan—Kudo--?  I wouldn't worry about it.  From what her brother said out there in the squadcar she had been warned repeatedly that her heart couldn't take any stress at all.  Do you really think she would've made it to the stationhouse for questioning?  I doubt it.  And with her age and diabetes on top of it all….."  He sighed, rubbing at his eyes again.  "It's done, and I wouldn't spend time feeling bad about it; maybe in a way it was a mercy."  When he looked up, Takagi's eyes were a little distant.  "And more of a mercy than she deserved, really….. her brother's taking it pretty hard.  If I were a doctor, it'd be *him* I'd be worried about at this point."

Conan nodded silently; once more behind the little-boy mask Kudo Shinichi nodded as well, agreeing.

"So… now what?"

"Hmm?  'Now what' what?"  The transformed high school student glanced up at the older man, who seemed to be a bit hesitant; Takagi's somewhat boyish face was tired but his expression still showed curiosity.  "We solved the murder, we've got a ride back—what's left?"

The detective blinked.  "I was sort of wondering… well, now that I *know* about you and all that—are you going back to pretending to be a little kid around me?"  He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he was fighting back a headache.  "That'll be kind of hard to handle after tonight—"

His companion sighed and leaned forward, propping his own chin on his cupped hands; in that position he looked every inch the seven-year-old… until you saw his eyes.  "Takagi, I can't stop playing my part—I can't just quit being Edogawa Conan because I feel like it, not until it's safe—you remember what I told you?"  He dropped his voice even further, glancing around.  "If I get caught… I won't be the only one who pays."  One eyebrow quirked up as he faced the older man; "Come to think of it, now that you know you're not exactly out of the line of fire….. so I'll just have to keep on being Conan-kun for a while longer, until… I don't know.  Until something changes, I guess."

He sighed again, watching the play of apprehension and sympathy on the other man's face.  "I've managed this far; I can keep on with the charade until it's no longer necessary, one way or the other.  But Takagi?"

"Hm?"

"You know what to look for now; if you hear of anything suspicious, anything that looks like it might relate to… them… you'll—"

The other man cut him off.  "—I'll let you know right away."  He grinned a tired grin down at the boy.  "What do you think I am, an idiot?  Of *course* I'll let you know."

A small grin of his own crept onto Conan's face.  "Actually, I pretty much think you're *toast* at this point, once Ran-neechan sees me…..  Takagi?"  Now he seemed to be the one who was hesitating.  "What about—other cases?  Even without your knowing about me being—well, ME and all that—I seemed to get involved in them around you on a pretty regular basis.  You do know you'll have to keep on acting the same as before, don't you?"

Takagi was grinning a little more widely now.  "Yeah, yeah, I know—but I can promise you I'll pay a lot more attention to what you say now than I did before… and if I have the chance, I'll ask your opinion."  He chuckled.  "A good detective shouldn't be wasted….. even if he can't pass the height requirements for being a cop just yet….. deal?"

Conan gave him a rather dirty look for the short joke, but nodded.  "Deal."  He sighed, tension going out of the small shoulders.  "That'll make my life that much easier—and Takagi?  Just for the record?  I'm glad it was you who found out and not, oh, Shiratori or somebody like that."  He yawned, sliding down in the seat until his chin was just above the tabletop.  At Takagi's questioning look, he added, "Oh, Shiratori-san's not a bad guy and all that—he's just… well, not quite as flexible as you are; I'm not really sure how he'd take the truth about me.  Not the most sympathetic guy in the world either…"

Across from him the older detective snorted, and the sound had a certain note of exasperation in it that made the boy's ears prick up.  "It's nice to hear somebody who doesn't think the man walks on water or something…" he muttered, eyes dropping.

"Really?"  Conan fought back a snicker; he wasn't exactly blind, so he had a pretty good idea where that comment was coming from.  "Having girlfriend problems, Takagi?"  As the man opened his mouth indignantly to deny everything, the faux gradeschooler shook his head and waved a finger in front of his nose.  "Uh uh…..  Remember, I've been watching you two all this time and I'm NOT an innocent little boy.  You've got it really bad for Sato, don't you?  And Shiratori's your rival; any idiot could see that."

At Takagi's rather frantic sputtering, Edogawa Conan shook his head again.  "Cool it; you're only trying to fool yourself.  Besides, what's the problem?  She's your partner, isn't she?  You've got plenty of opportunities to get the point across to her if you really want to—"

Detective Takagi Watari drew a deep breath, beginning a reply that might have been almost good enough to convince even the young man/little boy grinning at him… and then ground to a halt before the first word was out.  Who WAS he trying to fool, anyway?  Instead he sought refuge in moroseness.  "Fine, he muttered; "YOU try and get her to see you as something other than her partner.  I mean,  last night… right after we caught that bomber guy… there was a moment when I was pretty sure she—but—ah, hell; the Captain came in and sort of broke things up."  He heaved a sigh that sounded a lot more unhappy than he probably was aware of, wondering how they had gotten onto the subject of relationships.

"So?" said Conan practically, his dark blue eyes fixed on the downcast face opposite his.  "So you missed one chance; take the next one, why don't you?  Trust me, Takagi, you only get so many chances… if you miss one, be sure you don't miss the next; it may be all you'll ever have."

 And for a moment—just for a moment—Takagi could swear that the boy slumped in the seat across from him was overshadowed by someone else, someone he had only met a couple of times before: once on a crowded transatlantic jet and once more in an equally-crowded high school auditorium, each time during a murder investigation.  Dark haired and with the same eyes, the same expression of pain that wouldn't quite allow itself to become despair; not yet, not while there was still hope, however thin..…

And then the moment passed, and the expression faded away as if it had never been there.  In its place was only the face of a little boy named Edogawa Conan, age seven, who turned and smiled brightly up at Detective Mufune as he came dripping in through the door.  A blast of damp, rain-ridden wind came in with him, blowing tousled bangs across eyes that caught Takagi's for a bare second and winked once before returning to the other man's face.  "You're awfully wet, Mufune-keiji; is it still raining?" he asked cheerfully in his Conan-voice.

The younger of the two representatives of Metro's Finest groaned.  "I don't think it's ever going to stop…..  Takagi-san?  The next time you get caught up in a murder investigation and need backup, can you pick a night with better weather?"  He shivered, wiping water from his face.  "Are you two ready to go?  I'm about dead on my feet."

Takagi made a face and stood up, trying to shake the previous moment off.  "Not quite—still got a couple of pieces of paperwork to do.  Can you give me fifteen minutes?"  Most of everything had been taken care of, but there were still the final crime-scene closure forms to fill out.  "Tell you what—you two keep busy and I'll try to finish things up, okay?"  He shot Conan a bright smile with only the barest hint of anything other than innocent friendliness in it;  "In the meantime, Conan-kun, why don't you tell Mufune-keiji here *all* about the great detective Kogoro Mouri?  Mufune, did you know that this is the kid Megure-san keeps talking about, the one the Sleeping Kogoro is training?"

Conan shot him a *very* dirty look under the cover of straightening his glasses; Takagi merely grinned back.  *Sorry 'bout that, Kudo, but it makes a good cover for you, doesn't it?  Now he won't wonder too much about some of the stuff you said—you're already KNOWN to be a lot brighter than most kids your age.  Megure talks about you quite a bit down at the stationhouse.*

He turned to walk back through the roomful of passengers, his mind on something other than paperwork.  *And… thanks for the advice, too.  You know what, Kudo?  I think… I just might take it.*  Takagi smiled to himself, thinking of a pair of beautiful dark eyes that looked just as good sighting down the barrel of a gun as they did looking up at his in the prelude to a kiss.

*Yeah; yeah, I really think I might.*

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

It was (as has been stated before) a dark and rainy night.  Detective Sato Miwako and Mouri Ran were both deep in exhausted slumber in the back of their taxi when a large **baWHUMP!!bump!** and a pungent exclamation from their driver brought them to abrupt wakefulness.  *Rrrgh?* thought Sato, flailing sideways into Ran, who let out a sleepy yelp.  "W-what's wrong?"

"@#%&!!  %$&@!!!"

Cursing from the front seat made the situation fairly clear after a moment or two of slumber-fogged translation; and somehow Sato was not really surprised to find that they had, of course, blown a tire.

AGAIN.

The very idea made the hangover throbbing in her temples worse than before; that was no less than three in under twenty-four hours.  Sato figured that at this point the gods owed her a flat-tire-free existence for the rest of her life.  "Do you have a spare?"

"@##%$#!!"

She wasn't quite sure, but that seemed to indicate a negative answer.  It was hard to see out the rain-streaked windows, but—wasn't that the service station a little ways up the road?  "Can you make it to the cemetery?  It's just a little further—if you stop along here you'll get caught in the mud, we're getting into farmland out here---"

By now Ran-kun was awake, rubbing sleepily at her eyes and grimacing against her own hangover.  The driver's next response made her blink, but as they limped down the side of the road comprehension slowly dawned.  "Another flat tire?  Sato-kun, that's— that's just—"

Her companion sighed.  "I know, I know; Somebody has it in for us tonight."  She glanced at the heavens outside the window; they rumbled back with freshening thunder.  "Know any good prayers?"

Ran chuckled despite her headache.  "Um… well, I think they'd kind of clash with what the cabbie's saying…..  Are we almost there?"

"Just about.  S'cuse me, sir?"  Sato reached forward to tap the steadily-cursing taxidriver on one shoulder.  "Look, if you swing around behind the cemetery instead of in front there's a more solid road—the one we took in earlier looked like it had a lot of pot-holes in it."

"@#%%!!!"

"You're welcome."  She sighed, rubbing at her straggling hair and wishing she had taken more aspirin; Sato wanted a shower so badly she could taste it.  She squinted at her wristwatch, which smelled quite strongly of rain and hot-sauce and seemed to have stopped.  "Ran-kun?  What time do you have?"

The young woman peered through the darkness.  "It looks like… 3:14 a.m." Wet gravel churned beneath uneven wheels as they bumped their way up the cemetery's back road, pulling to a squelching halt beside the rear gate.  "Now what?  Should we start looking for your keys?"

The driver turned off the ignition with a last muttered curse and turned to face her.  "Well, I dunno about you two ladies, but me?  I'm takin' a nap.  When it gets light I'll call one'a the other drivers out with a spare, but 'til then there ain't nothin' much to do but take it easy."  At the slight look of trepidation on the younger of his two passengers' face, he grinned sardonically and shook his head.  "And you two don't have a thing to worry 'bout around me—Momo-san's been trusting me to drive home his customers for *years.*  And, well…."  He gave them a somewhat hurt look.  "Let's just say that if Momo-san's tastes have changed, well, I'll be one of the guys that are disappointed the most….."

Sato blinked.  *Oh.*  She shuffled around in her purse for a few seconds, pulling out a rather damp wallet.  "Well, I can lay those fears to rest, anyway—we're not, ahh, quite what you think we are."  With a flourish she flipped her wallet open, displaying her badge.  "See?  And as far as I know, Momo-san's still… Momo-san."  Beside her there was a faint "Oh!" as Ran belatedly caught up with the conversation, turning a little red in the process.

The cabbie broke out in a rather stubbly smile (he could do with a shave) at that news.  "Really?  GREAT!!"  With a beaming grin that Sato would hardly have believe possible given his vocabulary a few moments earlier, he tilted his head a little to one side; an earring flashed in the dim light.  "I don't suppose he said anything about what he's doing next Tuesday, did he?"

"Uhhh…. No…. no, sorry….."

"@#$!!  Oh well….."  The taxidriver gave a sigh, then turned back around and slumped down in his seat in a more comfortable position.  "Glad to know some things just don't change, with any luck.  You ladies try'n get some rest, okay?  The sun'll be up in a couple of hours and I don't think this rain'll hold past morning."

Sato looked at Ran; Ran looked at Sato.  Both shrugged; it sounded like a good idea to them—and Sato's house-keys weren't going anywhere.  They could look for them after sunrise a lot better than they could stumbling around among the markers in the dark….. and besides, their heads still ached…..

Fifteen minutes later three sets of snores were making the droplets running down the windshield vibrate with their intensity.

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

*Two more paragraphs on this one, check off a couple of items on the next, then sign and check off the closing docs….. man, seems like the guys down in Data Management come up with a new form every week.  What's next, we have to make a photo-documentary every time we close a crime scene?*  Takagi initialed what seemed like the thousandth in a series of check-boxes and sat back with a sigh, glancing around the room.  Already several of the passengers had left, picked up by their families or friends; once the weather had let up enough to allow communications to resume, the cell-phones in the room had suddenly seen hard usage.

Well, that was okay; *they* could go home, *their* excitement for the night was over with.  With a mental groan he put pen back to his paperwork.  *They* didn't have to fill out a damned six-page probable-cause form in triplicate—

"Excuse me--?"  Takagi looked up from his paperwork.  *Oh man, NOW what?*  The three gaijin tourist girls stood there looking a bit ill-at-ease—that is, all but the one who had addressed him.  It was the calmer of the three, the one who had been looking so dubious (not, he noted thankfully, the one who had made the enthusiastic blam-blam-blam noises several hours before on the bus).

"Uh, yes?  Can I help you, miss—"  He consulted Conan's drawing with one quick glance, then blinked; those gaijin names…...  "—um, Miss?"

"We can go now, right?  I mean, we don't have to stay around any longer—?"  Her Japanese was remarkably good; behind her the other two looked hopeful, and the one with the sketchpad settled her backpack a little more comfortably between her shoulders.

Takagi nodded.  "There should be another bus along any minute now….."  Apparently the main Metro bus station had been all-too-eager to make their passengers as happy as possible (at least the ones who had been proven not to be murderers) and as soon as the weather had allowed they had sent out a replacement vehicle.

The first young woman looked pleased, if more than a little tired.  Pushing a straggling thread of hair out of her eyes, she cocked her head to one side.  "Officer?  We--- ahh, well, we're here on vacation….. and we were wondering…..  We really wanted to see as much of Japan while we were here as possible, and some of our friends told us we just HAVE to try and…. um……  Well, do you know if there are any old ruined temples in the hills around Tokyo?"

*Ruined temples?*  "Uh…….. no, I'm afraid I don't—"

"There's the old Shunokeru temple, the one up by that flooded quarry, but it's been abandoned for the last fifty years at least," piped up a helpful voice by Takagi's elbow; he glanced down to see Conan's rather scruffy head beside him; apparently he had somehow managed to slip through Mufune's clutches (an impressive feat, since the younger detective was a confirmed Sleeping Kogoro fan).  "Ever since all those priests died mysteriously, nobody's wanted to live out by it—"

The young woman looked nervous.  "Abandoned?"

"Right.  It's supposed to be haunted."

"…haunted?"

"Uh huh."  The boy grinned a little.  "By youkai and akuma and bakemono and…"

Now the young woman was looking distinctly worried; she glanced behind her at her two companions, one of whom looked like she was about to explode and the other who seemed to be considering running for her life.  "Bakemono?  Akuma?  Youkai?"

Conan was enjoying himself.  That grin of his widened, reminding the officer beside him that this was actually a teenager; teenaged boys *loved* to tease, didn't they?  "Right.  All the locals say not to go there, especially on a full moon….."

It occurred then to Takagi that there'd be a full moon sometime during the following week.  He shot a warning glance at Conan, who ignored it utterly.

"Full moon?"  That was the one with the sketchpad; her eyes widened a little more and then took on a calculating look.  "I wonder if I could do some sketches and then…..  maybe a manga series or….. watercolors?  Or I could put the details in with colored pencils and ink them the next day—"  Her Japanese seemed to be pretty good too, considering that she was talking to herself for the most part.

The first teenager's shoulders slumped in defeat.  She looked back at Conan with a certain amount of pleading in her eyes.  "I don't suppose there's a big fence around the place is there?  An electric one, or armed guards maybe?  Or… do the local police arrest any trespassers before they can get too far in?"  The last vestiges of hope seemed to be fighting a losing war with resignation on her face, while behind her the other two got into an enthusiastically muttered conversation that seemed to contain the words "oekaki board" and "doujinshi."  The first young woman winced, her eyes still fixed on the boy.  "Is there?  Do they?"

"Well, no…..  I mean, it's got a pretty good road and all— my neechan Ran and her dad and I were going to go look at it a few weeks ago, but we had car trouble and had to go back."  The boy looked up at her innocently.  "Why do you want to visit a mysterious ruined temple in the hills above Tokyo, anyway?"

She sighed.  "We're anime fans."  She seemed to consider that explanation enough. 

The two other young women nodded cheerfully and the one with the sketchbook added with emphasis "—AND manga fans."

Takagi frowned to himself; maybe he was missing something here, but…  "Uh, Conan-kun?  This doesn't really sound like a good place to wander around at—I mean, mysterious legends, completely abandoned, a bad reputation with the locals…..  Shouldn't they stay away?"

The boy shrugged, his eyes wide and blue.  "Um….. maybe.  I heard that the *last* bunch of tourists that went up there during the full moon disappeared and were never seen again—"

The first young woman closed her own eyes in defeat.  "Oh, wonderful; that's all we needed to hear.  I *wish* you hadn't said that."

Behind her the other two looked at each other; the more genki one (the one who had made all the gun-noises) punched the air in triumph, chortling.  "YES!!!"  She bounced out of the café, her two friends trailing reluctantly behind her; Conan waved a cheerful farewell to them as the door slammed shut, snickering just a little.

Takagi shrugged and turned back to his paperwork, shaking his head.  Tourists…..

*Let's see…. Where was I?  Oh yeah--  more paragraphs, then the check-boxes on Form 6-17, then the closing doc signatures…..*

* * * * * * * * *

Before Detective Mufune would allow either of his passengers to climb in his squad car he sniffed, pointed at their rather encrusted shoes and politely requested that they remove them…. and place them in bags.  Sealed bags.  In the trunk.  When they protested, he snickered hard, ignored their wounded looks (not to mention Takagi's seniority as an officer) and suggested that if they didn't like his policy of not-driving-with-cow-manure-in-his-squadcar they could always wait for another bus.  There was sure to be one along any minute—

At that they agreed to his demands and, locking their smelly shoes in the trunk, climbed aboard and promptly fell sound asleep.  Remarkably, the trip to the cemetery was accomplished without incident.

Stranger things have happened…..

* * * * * * * * *

"Well, I'm off— See you at the stationhouse tomorrow… uh, well, today really, I guess….."  Mufune-san released the brake on his vehicle; the tires took a moment to pull free of soggy gravel and mud, spinning a bit before they caught.  "Will you two be alright out here?  The tow-truck guy said he'd be out around seven-thirty—"  He eyed their half-awake faces and nodded.  "Guess you two'll be catching a nap, then.  Oyasume, Takagi-san; nice working with you, even if you *do* smell like—" 

Takagi briefly shot him a dirty look as he closed his car door and the younger officer laughed before grinning down at the shortest member of the party.  "And hey, Conan-kun?"  The sleepy-eyed little boy blinked up at him, not having to fake his drowsy act at all.  "When you get big enough to join the Force, look me up, okay?  You're one smart little guy." 

Detective Mufune hesitated, a little unsureness creeping into his expression; Takagi felt his radar suddenly come back online and he saw Conan's shoulders stiffen as well.  "Back there in that café, I could *almost* swear I heard you talking sort of like a—well, you sounded a lot older, that's all."  He shook his head, bemused; "Must've been wishful thinking—It's been a long night."

"You can say that again," muttered the boy in a heartfelt (and very, very quiet) tone as he hunched down on the seat beside Takagi and peered past him, waving.  "Bye, Mufune-keiji!" he chirped.  Takagi settled for a tired smile and a nod as the car-window rolled back up and the vehicle slowly headed down the gravel road towards the highway. 

"Takagi?"

"Hm?" answered the detective absentmindedly; there was something niggling at the back of his thoughts, something he had forgotten…..  What was it?  Something important that he should have just done—

-- something to do with the fact that his feet were feeling a bit cold and damp, with how he had carefully stepped from one vehicle to the other without more than a couple of steps on the wet ground--

"Takagi?  You… DO realize he drove away with our shoes still in his trunk, don't you?"

Aaargh.  Takagi leaned forward and banged his head on the steering wheel a few times; it felt soothing, somehow.  "Let's just pretend that didn't happen, okay?  We can get them back from him later—"

The little boy with the young man's eyes laughed beneath his breath and nodded.  "Uh huh….. Wonder what his trunk will smell like in a few days?"

Takagi brightened.  "Yeah….."

Which (considering Mufune's snickers regarding their personal aromas) wasn't really too bad a thought to bear in mind as they both settled down to nap until sunrise.

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

Birdsong was really not a nice thing to wake up to when you had a hangover; it really wasn't.  Detective Sato Miwako groaned as the first horrible, evil, brain-destroying rays of sunlight pierced through the rain-wet windows and set her eyes on fire.  Light was worse than the birdsong…..

*Moan…..  Somebody just shoot me now, okay?*  Beside her Ran-kun made a muffled sort of "aaargh" noise and buried her head ever further in her pillowing arms.  In the front seat the taxi-driver snored horribly, almost drowning out the birds.  Why his snores hadn't bothered either Ran nor herself Sato had no clue; it was just one of those things.

Maybe a little fresh air would help—the rain had finally stopped, though droplets still ran down the glass from the puddled taxi-roof.  As stealthily as possible Sato eased the door open, trying not to wake her companion; but Ran simply slid slowly over in an extended huddle onto the rest of the car-seat, curling around her purse in an improbable pose and muttering something that sounded like "….mumble mumble don't *wanna* ride the pony mumble mumble….."

That was fine with Sato.  Shielding her eyes from the hateful and too-damned-bright sunlight, the detective closed the door quietly and spent a few minutes leaning against the car and getting her bearings.  *Let's see….. house keys.  If I dropped them where I think I did they're in the parking lot on the other side of the cemetery.  Might as well deal with that now—and—I should stop by Matsuda-kun's marker one more time.*

*I need to say goodbye.  Maybe more than I did yesterday—*

Slowly, careful of both the soggy ground underfoot and her aching head, Sato Miwako opened the cemetery gate and began to make her way through the damp morning towards a part of her past.

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

The voice summoning Takagi Wataru out of the depths of sleep was, regrettably, not one that he wanted to hear... but it wasn't one he could ignore, either.  Mother Nature had picked that time to call.

With a groan and a few muttered words about too much coffee, too many hours and the current lack of bathrooms, the detective pushed his car-door open and staggered out into the morning light—only to land with a cold, mud-slick **SPLORCH** in his sock-clad feet on the muddy gravel of the parking lot.

*RRRGH!!  COLD!!!*

*Blargh.  Nature really IS a mother…..*  He staggered slowly off into the copse of trees and underbrush outside the cemetery fence to take care of matters as circumspectly as was possible.  A few minutes later (and feeling much better), Takagi splooshed his way back to the car, wondering if he should strip his muddy socks off before climbing back in.  The world seemed to be conspiring to remove his footwear for some reason; someday he would probably figure the whole reason behind that out, but at the moment it was all just a pain in the ass.  Or the feet.  Or somewhere.

*Blargh.*  Takagi wasn't especially much of a Morning Person.  He stared moodily down at his cold, wet feet and sighed.

But as he reached for the door-handle, something—some flicker of movement, it looked like, back quite a ways in the cemetery—caught his eye.  *Mmph?  Somebody there?*

*Somebody with a towel, maybe?  Or dry socks?  Better go check--*   Yeah, that was definitely a human figure in the distance; he could just make them out between the markers and trees.

Conan was still sleeping the sleep of the exhausted; the poor kid ('the poor guy', Takagi corrected himself) was probably worn to a thread, all things considered.  His smeared, sleeping face and disheveled hair made him look more like the child he was supposed to be than ever, all traces of his real age having been utterly stolen away by weariness.

Takagi half-smiled; *Let him sleep.  You're a big, bad, grown-up cop, Takagi-keiji; you can check this out on your own.*  Making sure that all the important bits were zipped and buttoned properly, the detective trudged squelchingly through the gate and into the place where everything had begun the night before…..

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

"Hello, Matsuda-kun.  It's me again."

The marker for Matsuda Jinpei, former partner of one Detective Sato Miwako, looked oddly clean in the cool morning light; the occasional scrap of soaked leaf clung here and there, but the stone glistened with condensation and rain as if it had just been polished.  Sato stared expressionlessly at the reminder of what might have been, had things turned out differently; if Matsuda-kun had lived, would things have been better for her?  Worse?  Much the same?  How could she ever know…?

Well, she couldn't—there was no way to tell and never had been since the beginning of the world; you could guess, but might-have-beens were a lousy substitute for the real world.  You could grow awfully hungry, trying to live on might-have-beens.

That's what she had been doing, she supposed absently as she leaned down to brush away an errant twig from where the name had been carved:  living on might-have-beens, trying to subsist on maybe-memories and suppositions.  And Sato Miwako had managed okay, really she had….. for someone who had been slowly starving her heart to death for three long years.

"You'd have called me an idiot for that, wouldn't you have, Matsuda-kun?  And laughed at me too; I wonder if you and your old partner Hagiwara-kun ever get together wherever you are and talk about how stupid I've been, to—to refuse what's been in front of me for so long?"  Sato wiped at her eyes; they stung, and not just from the hangover or the long night behind her.  "Matsuda-kun?  I wish you could meet Takagi…..  I think you'd like him, I really do.  You'd probably think he's too polite and all that, or that maybe he doesn't put himself forward enough, like Shiratori-kun does—"

The cool breeze slid around her in the quiet cemetery, flickering through her tangled, damp hair like mischievous fingers; Sato could almost hear words in it.  She shook the fancy aside, trying not to let herself get carried away—the dead didn't come back to tell you advice, not really… and besides, if Matsuda-kun *had* managed to return, he would have probably been in search of a beer and a good place to put his feet up, not a heart-to-heart talk about relationships.

He *would* have called her an idiot.  And then, maybe, if things could have been different….. things WOULD have been different.  But they weren't, and they wouldn't be, and they couldn't be.

"I… like him, Matsuda-kun; I really do.  I—think I could love him.  I like the way he does his job; he has compassion, but he does what he has to… just like you did.  I like the way he laughs about the stupidest things and blushes so easily… I like… how he likes *me*.  Takagi—and you know, maybe I really am an idiot, because I never think of him by his first name—he's just, just Takagi."  She laughed to herself (and for anyone else who might be listening, however improbable that was.)  "When he's with me, things are better; when he's not….. the whole world is out of sync, just a little; just enough."

Another gust wind made her shiver in her thin, skimpy outfit; Sato hugged her arms close around her as it slipped past.

"And you know what?  I'm tired of being alone; it really gets old after a while.  First I lost my father and—and then I lost you before we could really ever get started.  I'm tired, Matsuda-kun; tired of being afraid to reach out and tired of starving when I don't have to." 

Sato drew a deep, cleansing breath of the morning, letting something inside her loosen that she hadn't even known had been knotted, freeing it at last.  "You'd laugh at me, but I guess I'm—ready to turn around, ready to start walking forward and to stop looking back."

"I guess I'm ready to let you go."

The breeze died away, leaving a stillness behind that seemed to encase the entire world for a split-second in silence.  And in that stillness she almost thought—she could almost *swear*—there were words in the silence, familiar and amused and laconic and very, very far away:

took you long enough; so turn and look behind you, dummy—

and she did—

* * * * *

What do you do when you're suddenly given something you've wanted so badly that you've lost all hope whatsoever of getting it?

Well, first off, you lose the powers of *speech,* apparently.  Standing at the edge of the path about four meters behind Sato, Takagi hadn't the faintest idea of what to say.  All he could do was blink at her, feeling like the soggy ground beneath his feet had just crumbled and disappeared.

Sato-san was a mess.  Her hair was sticking up in odd directions, her eyes were—yeah, they *were* bloodshot, and she seemed to be wearing something very odd and skimpy that took Takagi RIGHT back to that assignment where she had played bait for an assailant that attacked prostitutes—

He immediately squashed that thought, or tried to.  But he couldn't help but notice that she looked awfully good in a skirt that short, and—WHAT the hell was she DOING in the cemetery anyway, dressed in a—uhhh---?  It was almost enough to distract him from what she had just been saying about….. him…..

Takagi's brain fused at this point, but he couldn't help but notice that Sato had legs.  It was funny, he had seen her in skirts plenty of times but all of a sudden she— and her eyes, bloodshot or not, were so enormous that he could fall right into them and never come out…..  and WHAT the hell was HE doing, thinking about that???  Shouldn't he be saying something about the conversation he had just overheard?  He wanted to, but none of his grey cells seemed to be working very well at the moment.

Sato really *did* have beautiful eyes.

"Do you really?" he heard himself asking.  Funny, his mouth seemed to be operating on its own—

"W-what?"  Sato-san brushed a straggle of hair back; she had grown very pale except for two red spots high on each cheekbone.  "Do I r-really what?"

"Um….. LIKE me.  Love me.  You said—"  Takagi ground to a halt; apparently there weren't any words in his native tongue that were up to handling situations like this.  *Dammit,* he thought hazily, *I knew I should've taken that refresher course in English--*

The red spots on his partner's face were spreading, or maybe they were just being joined by the blush that seemed to be creeping from her neckline (and Takagi wrenched his eyes upwards at this point) and heading higher; she was becoming a sort of rose-color all over.

That looked beautiful too.

"I….. "  She seemed to be as tongue-tied as he was, but she had been talking so easily only a minute or so before—  and now she took a deep breath, wetting her lips as though they had gone dry on her.  "Yes.  Yes I do.  I mean--  I-----"

Later on, Takagi would have been hard pressed to explain what happened just then; Sato had just been standing there, her hands balled tightly into fists as she tried to say something that just wouldn't come out---- and then all of a sudden she had *stumbled,* staggering forward and losing her balance almost as if she had been pushed from behind-----

Takagi found himself crossing the few meters between them without a thought, pulled like someone had shoved him from behind (except that he didn't need any such impetus, no problems with that at all).  He was right there, catching his partner by the black silk-clad shoulders as she headed nose-first for the soggy gravel and helping her to straighten…..

….. and her face was right before his own, with her wide, dark eyes only inches from his and they were so full of something that looked like astonishment but was so very much, much warmer—

His partner's hands came up then, and it was just like before in the alley when they had caught the Tokyo Bomber; they cradled his face on either side of his cheekbones and drew him down to where he needed to be, his arms wrapping tightly around Sato's waist as he closed his eyes in surrender.  The kiss that followed didn't seem to be a new thing for either of them, somehow, but a continuation of what had almost come before…..

….. of what had been going on *all the time since then* inside of their minds.

It seemed to last almost that long, too, like the deep breath a runner takes after the end of a race is finally reached at long last.  When they drew back a little, catching their breaths, it was only to lean against each other again (just like they always had as partners and as friends, trusting in each other's strengths) with Takagi's chin resting on top of Sato's head.  Her cheek lay against his shoulder; it seemed to fit there very easily.

They both seemed to fit against each other so well, in fact, that it seemed strange that it had taken them so long to find it out.

So of course, it was only natural to explore this odd fact and to try the whole kiss thing again, and again, and again….. until they got it right.  And if that took a little time, well, that was okay.  They had plenty of time to work on it together.

They *were* partners, after all.

* * * * *

The breeze slipped beyond the two figures; it swirled the leaves underfoot into little drifts that spiraled up, hung suspended, and then flattened out one after another.  It walked past them in the way that errant gusts of wind can, almost looking as if unseen feet were scuffing the ground before it died out altogether at the edge of the path that led out through the cemetery gate.

take care of yourselves, you two; and Takagi-san?  When she calls you an idiot, pay attention; she's usually right.

And then the leaves lay still on the sodden gravel walkway, and the only sound to be heard among the markers was birdsong.

* * * * *

"Takagi?"

"Hmm?"  He smiled against her hair, noticing somewhere behind the fizzing haze of happiness that his feet didn't seem to be feeling so chilly anymore.  Everything seemed to feel better—warmer, at least.

"… WHY are you so wet?  And where are your shoes?"

"……………"

"……..and… did you know that you lost your wallet?"

*Ooogh.*  "…..You found it?"  The gods *were* smiling on him that morning.  Now if she just didn't ask about—

"Yeah, I did…….  Takagi?  I hate to ask this, especially now, but….. WHY do you smell like—"

*Crap.*  He sighed, holding her a little closer as he took an experimental sniff.  Damn, he could still smell it even without his shoes; his pants-legs must have gotten a liberal coating.  Huh; funny, though—there were a lot of other odors too, and they were coming from…..

"Sato-san?  Before I answer that, why on earth do you smell like—like—"

"—food?"

"…..Uh huh; hoisin sauce…… and oyster sauce…….. and something with red peppers in it….. and onions……. and—beer?  And-- *why* are you wearing that….. that….."

He felt her arms tighten just a bit, one hand smoothing his unruly hair and gently tangling in the strands just behind his neck.  "You don't like it?" she murmured, amusement and embarrassment fighting it out in her voice.

"….I, uh….. you look……"  She was laughing at him; he could tell.  Takagi gave up.  "Sato-san?  I've got an idea:  I won't ask you about *your* night if you don't ask me about *mine,* okay?"

Still chuckling, she nodded against his shoulder.  "I'm going to have to tell you about some of it, though; I lost two sets of handcuffs."  Takagi's eyebrows rose as she continued cheerfully.  "There's a would-be thief cuffed to a bolted-down table in a café not really too far from here, and I left a mugger chained to a street-sign a little ways past the edge of town."

Now his eyebrows really WERE up.  "Sounds like you and Ran-kun had a busy night.  Is she still with you?"

"Mmm-hmm; in the back of the taxi." He could feel her smile against his shoulder; the warmth flooded through him all over again as her fingers gently stroked the nape of his neck.  "She's asleep."

"Yeah?  Conan's asleep in my car too—we had a pretty busy night ourselves.  Caught a murderer."  THAT got her attention; she would have pulled away and looked up into his face if one of his hands hadn't suddenly smoothed gently down the length of her spine, making her shift a little closer instead.  "Don't worry, Sato-san; I'll tell you the rest later….."

She was still smiling; he could tell that too.  "Takagi?  Don't you think you can stop calling me 'san'?  I mean, we've been partners for a long time now, and—um—"

He chuckled, almost giddy with happiness.  "I don't know……  Are you sure we know each other that well?  I mean, remember how you said that you wanted us to just stay friends?  I wouldn't want to impose on our friendship—"

"—Takagi—"  She sounded ever so slightly annoyed.

"—and dropping an honorific, that's a big step, isn't it?"  He fought down a wave of laughter that kept wanting to sneak out, continuing on blithely.  "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything—"

"--TAKAGI—"  Yeah; definitely annoyed.

"—and besides, what if *I* don't feel like we're close enough friends for that?  I just don't know; maybe instead we ought to MMPHhh!……...mmmmm….."

Teasing detectives, Takagi was finding, seemed to produce wonderful results.  This looked like it could be the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship…..

* * * * *

On either side of the cemetery, two watching figures drew back a little, not wanting to intrude.  Mouri Ran tugged her thin silk jacket a little tighter around her shoulders as she saw Conan's jaw drop; she couldn't quite tell the rest of his expression—they were too far apart for that—but it occurred to her that it was a good thing he wasn't any older or she'd be having to answer some awkward questions about her current outfit.

As she beckoned for him to swing around to one side of the embracing pair of detectives and follow her, she yawned; Ran had awakened just in time to see Sato close the gate behind her.  It had taken a few minutes for the young woman to shake sleep off enough to follow…  It was just as well, from the looks of things.  About *time* too, she thought fondly, smiling.

A crunch of leaves announced Conan's arrival just behind her; she turned around, feeling rather self-conscious in her scrap of a skirt.  *Thank God he can't see the tattoo…  Is he okay?  His eyes are absolutely bugging out—*  "Conan-kun?  Are you alright?"  And THEN she took in his appearance, which was… awful.  His hair looked like someone had dunked his head in syrup and then attacked it with a set of mixers; the small face was smeared and grimy, he seemed to be rather damp and was absolutely enveloped in some sort of ragged jacket-looking garment—and for some reason he wasn't wearing any *shoes* and he—

She sniffed.

Fish, OLD fish—and cow… manure.  "Conan?  WHAT happened to you?"

He still wasn't saying anything; his dark blue eyes seemed to have glazed over slightly and were tracing a path from her head to her toes over and over and over--  "Conan-kun?  Are you alright, Conan-kun?  Say something!"  *Where in the world did Takagi-san take him?!?  I ought to—"

….. and then she thought of just where SHE had been during the previous night, and the company she had kept….. and then there was the tattoo…..

He seemed to be coming out of his little trance.  "Uh… uh….. R-Ran?  Neechan, I mean?  That's an… interesting outfit.  *Why* do you smell like a restaurant… with a bar in it?"  He seemed to be turning rather pink, and he reached hastily up to pinch the bridge of his nose as if to stop a nosebleed.  Maybe the poor kid had caught a cold and had the sniffles; he was awfully damp…..

She attempted a smile, glad to see her Conan-kun no matter what he smelled like.  "Tell you what; we'll both go back to the apartment, take showers, change clothes, and then we won't have to worry about what either of us look or smell like… or where we've been, okay?"

"Um……. Okay.  Maybe that'd be a good idea."  He seemed to be having a hard time with those sniffles…..

Ran sighed, stealing a glance back at the couple that still stood together in the center of the cemetery.  From a distance, Takagi reminded her of Shinichi a little; he had that straightness of posture, and the way his hair got all windblown was similar…..

"Ran-neechan?  What are you thinking about?" the small voice asked from beside her as she unlatched the gate.

She ushered him through.  "Just… things.  People and things.  Well," she amended, seeing the question in his eyes, "Shinichi, really… and relationships."

Ran could hear him swallow hard; he was always so concerned about her and Shinichi-kun for some reason.  "…Relationships?...  You and Shinichi-niisan have a, a relationship—don't you?"

The young woman opened the door to the taxi; the driver was still snoring away.  "I guess we do, but—I think I need to talk to Shinichi about that the next time he calls.  It's been so long since I've seen him….."  She smiled down sadly at the top of the boy's scruffy head.  "I—don't want him to think I've forgotten him, no matter how long it takes before he can come back.  But you know what, Conan-kun?  I need to know that *he* hasn't forgotten me TOO."

"….. oh….."

The detective's daughter slid into the backseat after him, stifling another yawn.  The boy seemed to be awfully quiet (and seemed to have gotten his sniffles under control as well; that was good) as she continued.  "When he calls, we talk….. but not enough.  I *miss* him, you know… I really do.  If he calls when I'm not there, you be sure and tell him that, okay?"

"….. okay.  I will….."

There had been a time, some months before, when Ran had found herself thinking some very, very strange and wild ideas regarding Shinichi's disappearance and Conan's appearance; sometimes she had almost thought that…..

….. but no.  She shook her head inwardly; for the moment, at least, she was pretty sure that she had been wrong.

Pretty sure.

Almost certain, in fact.

Almost.

"Ran-neechan?"  Conan was looking at her inquiringly; his small, rather dirty face looked a little sad and wary under the smears, and she reached across to smooth the hair back from his brow as he stared up at her.  "Shinichi-niisan misses you too.  I know he does."

At that she sighed, leaning back against the seat and allowing her eyes to droop closed.  She was so tired…..  "Then why doesn't he SAY so?  He's such an idiot sometimes….."

And the little-boy voice agreed with her softly, ruefully.  "He is, isn't he?  He really is."

At that she chuckled and turned her head to regard him, opening her eyes; he stared solemnly back, and she reached over impulsively to hug him tightly to her as if he had been a warm, rather smelly teddy-bear.  "Never mind, Conan-kun; it'll all work out."  From over the tousled head that suddenly bent itself closer into the crook of her arm she could see the distant silhouette of Takagi and Sato, still together in the middle of the cemetery; she smiled, closing her eyes.

 "It'll all work out.  It always does, somehow."

Conan-kun said nothing; he simply curled up close against her, his face averted.  And that's how they stayed as they each drifted off, sound asleep and taking comfort in each other's familiar warmth.

* * * * *

The other taxi arrived an hour or so later; Ran woke up just enough to give her address, then curled back up around Conan and drowsed during the entire trip back.  At one point they ran over a bump in the road and she roused slightly.  "….. zzzzzzzzzz….. Mrmmmph?"

The warm weight against her side snuggled a little tighter, arms clasping around her waist.  "G'back to sleep, Ran—"

She sighed and allowed herself to sink back into the depths of sleep, never quite waking up.  "Okay, Sh'nichi….."

"…..zzzzzzzzzz….."

* * * * *

All stories have loose ends; this one was no exception.

Most of the other bus-passengers made it home safely and without undue problems; their lives continued normally….. except for the three gaijin girls, who finally DID manage to make it to the old ruined Shunokeru temple in the hills above Tokyo (despite the rather desperate warnings of the locals, who frantically waved their arms and pointed at the rising full moon in warning).  Later on, strange flashes of light were seen coming from the ruins accompanied by terrible screams ("I *TOLD* you not to open that!!  WHY did you open that?  No, no, NEVER pick up anything that glows— Aaiiieeeee!!!"); the locals shook their heads wisely the next day, knowing that the three would never be seen again (outside of the occasional sticky red patch, the bloodstained sketchpad and the bones that would surface among the rocks several days later).  However, the villagers told themselves, the three young women HAD been anime fans; one might possibly consider the thought that this was, really, the way that they would have preferred to go.

Conan and Takagi would both mysteriously manage to miss seeing any mention of this in the newspapers over the next few weeks.  The ruins were eventually bought by a quite secretive military organization which bulldozed over them and built a high-security underground facility surrounded by a very tall fence.  Occasionally strange noises were heard at night there, especially during a full moon…..

But that's a story for another time.

Detectives Takagi and Sato eventually managed to make their way back to the stationhouse after a ride in a towtruck, some hot (or possibly cold) showers and two changes of clothes; Takagi managed to get his shoes back….. eventually.  And Mufune managed to get the smell out, too….. eventually.

Their new relationship (Takagi's and Sato's, not Takagi's and Mufune's) did *not* go unnoticed.  In fact, Detective Takagi's male co-workers went quite ballistic for a little while, making his life a living hell and causing him to be seen increasing his life insurance benefits with a curiously hunted look on his face.  That look, however, eased when Sato came into view; in fact, they both noticeably seemed to be a lot happier than before, and eventually the pressure from Takagi's fellow cops lightened.

Not before giving him a few very, very bad moments, however…..

A good part of the tension let up when Sato's best friend Miyamoto Yumi started a betting-pool concerning just how long it would take for one of them to pop the question (and just which one would do it; the odds ran highest in Sato's favor but Takagi was steadily gaining as time passed and he grew more self-confident.)  It was notable if a bit puzzling that, after the two of them had spent a week-long undercover assignment posing as a married couple in a resort, they would both blush and begin to grin sheepishly every time anyone mentioned the word "handcuffs."

Shiratori-san sulked. 

Megure-san beamed a lot beneath his moustache.

Ran and Conan's lives went back to as close as normal as was possible…..  Conan got a completely accidental glimpse of Ran's tattoo during a trip to the beach, nearly drowned and would periodically go red and tongue-tied when she spoke to him for quite a while thereafter.   To make matters unutterably worse, Hattori Heiji happened to be along on the same beach trip, saw it too and ribbed him unmercifully for a very, very long time.

Yamashii Tora died three nights before his arraignment of a heart attack in his sleep.

……..and a day or so after everyone had made it back safely, Mouri Ran picked up the buzzing phone receiver in her and her father's apartment.  "Moshi moshi, Mouri Detective Agency—"

"Ran?"

"Shinichi?"  She felt a shy smile steal across her face, then bit her lip as she began to gather her courage.  "I was hoping that you were going to call—"

She could almost hear him smile back from his end of the line; "I'm sorry; I don't call enough, do I?  And….. um, well…..  I've been kind of thinking about—well….."

She waited, puzzlement creeping in.  Shinichi sounded almost—hesitant? nervous?  "About what?"

"…… you, actually."

Her eyes went wide.  "Really?  Me?  Why?"

On the other end of the phone line he gulped; she could hear it clearly.  "……um……. Well, I…. sort of miss you, you know?"

The detective's daughter nearly dropped the phone in shock.  Recovering, she felt a warm tingle sweep through her heart and began to smile as she sank down on the couch, clutching the receiver. 

"Really?  Why don't you tell me about it?" she teased….. 

If Ran thought she had been able to hear him smile over the phone, she could *certainly* hear him beginning to sweat; somehow, though, it didn't bother her at all as Shinichi began to reply rather shyly from wherever he was.  Momo-san had said it, and Momo-san was right; sometimes you just needed to talk to each other.

Things were looking up.

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

OWARI

YSABET'S NOTES:  Hi again!  Sorry this took so long, but I figured that if I posted the fourth chapter without the epilogue you'd all lynch me… and with good reason, seeing how much they're tied together.  So—did it work out alright?  This was my first real crime-and-punishment murder mystery; it was hellaciously difficult (I had to stick to a timeline so everybody'd meet up back in the right place at the right moments too) and y'all would not BELIEVE how many notes I wrote while doing this thing.  Do you know, you have to work out murder mysteries *backwards*??  It's very odd, but also very addictive; got another one in mind, possibly titled "Blowing Out the Candles".  Later, though…… I wanna work on Windfall!

I finally got Takagi and Sato to kiss.  I have been thinking about that damned scene for MONTHS; I feel *so* much better now…..  I didn't expect her old partner to stick his nose back in like that, but he just sort of insisted—and who was I to say no, after all?  Besides, Takagi and Sato needed a little nudge.  As for Ran and Conan, a nudge in *their* cases wasn't such a bad idea either.  Hope nobody got too offended by the tattoos….. **sticks out tongue**

Many thanks, by the way, to the Three Gaijin Tourist Girls, who got roped into their untimely deaths because they teased me about something so many months ago that NONE of us can remember what it was— we all just recall that I promised to kill them off gruesomely in a fic!  They are as follows:  Hauntress (the Voice of Reason); Magik (the Artistic Type); and Icka (the Genki One).  Thanks for not killing me too, y'all!..........  Y'all?  Um, y'all?  Hello?  Hauntress?  Magik?  Icka?  Why are you all looking at me like that?  Uh oh……

Um, right.  Anyway.  Also huge heaps of thanks to Becky Tailweaver, Loqui and Morgan for proofreading this monster…..  It's SO hard to remember all the damned details sometimes!  Oh, and by the way, can anybody out there spot all the jokes in the names?  There are a few—there are ALWAYS some in my fics.  Yamashii, Momo Joen…. Shunokeru….. a few others as well.  **grins**

Let's see, one or two last things……  You can read about fingernail-marks and related health problems at http://wi.essortment.com/fingernailsnutr_rjbo.htm.  You can also find stuff on Apitherapy (venom treatments of arthritis and other ailments) at http://www2.primushost.com/~spectrum/apitherapy.html.  Oh, and by the way:  I'm allergic to bee-stings.  Totally terrified of bees, too; I hate the little buggers and will run like hell when they come near me.  So what happens to me while I'm working on this story?  One fell from an overhang above me while I was camping a couple of months back and dropped RIGHT down my cleavage, stinging me upon arrival.  Time for benedryl and lots of sting-ointment…..  So it goes.

See y'all later!  **Ysabet climbs on Metro bus and rides off into the sunset, looking nervously around for bees**