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Murder at the New York Library / Murder in Harlem / Murder in Central Park – Part 05

A gazebo perched atop a small hill overlooked the lake, with four long benches surrounding a rectangular wooden table. Couples huddled together, sipping coffee in the cold, while groups of students chatted happily nearby. Victorique and Kazuya sat side by side, the former indulging in the last remaining piece of red velvet cake. Kazuya spread out his notebook, awaiting Victorique’s insight. Behind them, Carlos fiddled with his hat, wondering what the best angle was.

Finally, Victorique spoke up, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

She eyed Kazuya with surprise. “You still don’t get it?”

Kazuya gave an awkward nod. Perhaps out of sympathy or some other reason, Victorique reluctantly extended the last piece of red velvet cake to him. Her small, chubby hand was trembling.

Kazuya shook his head gently. “You can have it all.”

Victorique sighed in relief and took a big bite. Bits of red sponge cake clung to her mouth.

“The vendor at that stand is the one who killed Dempsey.”

“What? How did you figure that out?” Kazuya asked as he wiped her mouth with a handkerchief.

Letting him do his thing, Victorique said, “You see, the vendor first pretended to bump into Dempsey and then splashed him with orange juice. She returned to the stand, and when Dempsey approached, she called out to him, like how she called Carlos earlier, ‘Sir, would you like some juice and a sandwich?'”

“Okay,” Kazuya replied. “So, you deduced that the woman who bumped into him and the vendor at the stand were the same person? That’s why you guessed the vendor was a red-haired woman. But… why?”

“Bees, you see…” Victorique narrowed her eyes.

“What about bees?”

“They’re attracted to sweet scents. The culprit pretended to bump into Dempsey and splashed orange juice on him to attract bees. Then, when Dempsey approached the stand, she released the bee. You see, Kujou, bee stings aren’t usually fatal, but if you’re stung again, it can lead to anaphylactic shock and even death. Dempsey, due to his beekeeping background, might have been stung by bees as a child, making him prone to shock. Of course, bee stings don’t always lead to death, but unfortunately, Dempsey did die.”

“I see…”

“In the dead of winter, bees flying around isn’t natural. You need to prepare a few bees and warm the air to keep them alive. In that regard, the juice stand is perfect. By the hot sandwich maker, you can keep the bees warm.”

“Right.”

“Do you know the name of the vendor?”

“Y-Yeah. I saw her name tag. It said Nancy Doldor.”

“I see. Make a note of it.”

Victorique’s emerald green eyes flickered.

A cold wind blew, rustling the trees. The lake’s surface sparkled with frozen colors. The sun dimmed, casting a chilly atmosphere. Despite being in the city, it felt like being in the depths of a forest.

Puffing on her pipe, Victorique let out a sigh. “With this, we’ve managed to identify the culprits in the three murder cases.”

“Yeah. You solved them all so quickly. Benny Sander, a student from New York University, killed Nitti at the New York City Library. Michael Kenton, a cook, killed Fiume in Harlem. And Nancy Doldor, a vendor, killed Dempsey at her juice stand. Now what?”

“It means the three gang murders were committed by different perpetrators. But I don’t see any connections or motives.”

Carlos leaned forward. “Ah, forget the small stuff. Let’s just go already! Look at the sky!”

Victorique sighed as she looked up at the sky, and Kazuya bit his lip.

Winter days were short, and the sun was already beginning to set, casting an amber hue across the gray sky.

“There’s not enough time,” Victorique said. “There’s still something important left undone. And as things are, on Saturday this week—tomorrow night until the afternoon the next day—the fourth culprit will appear and target the fourth victim… namely, Carlos.”

“Don’t stress about it so much, little detective. We’ve identified the culprits in the three cases, haven’t we? It’s almost sunset already, so let’s get moving,” Carlos interjected. “Whoever’s coming for me won’t show up until tomorrow evening. You can think about that until tomorrow. If I don’t bring you back along with the truth of the case, I’ll get in trouble with the boss!”

“Yes… Rokushou…” Victorique murmured painfully. “Kujou, I have this uneasy feeling in my gut. I get the sense that something… something extremely serious is hidden in these cases.”

“Yeah… I feel like something’s off too. I mean, the three culprits have nothing in common. We don’t even know their motives.”

Victorique nodded. “I initially thought of this as an incident confined to Little Italy, a small-town affair where a father rises up in response to the crisis of his family being killed.”

“Yeah.”

“But that’s not the case. I feel this sense of foreboding that this is connected to something bigger… something that covers all of Manhattan Island.”

They exchanged worried glances.

Kazuya nodded firmly, feeling the need to protect Victorique, and she looked up at him with a shudder, her emerald gaze meeting his jet-black eyes.

“As Carlos said, let’s first inform them about the culprits in the three cases and get Rokushou back. Then we can investigate the truth behind this whole thing.”

At that moment, Carlos’s voice echoed overhead.

“To Little Italy!”

He was standing beside a yellow cab on the main street.

Carlos crammed Victorique and Kazuya into the back seat, loaded the old black bicycle onto the trunk, and got into the passenger seat. After telling the driver their destination, he turned to the two in the back seat.

“Just talk to John Smith. Since we know the culprits, they should return the kid. Alive, I think.”

With a wry smile, he clenched the cigar between his teeth.

---

Meanwhile…

Nico rushed out from the office district of Newspaper Row in Manhattan, hurrying towards Little Italy.

“This is bad! Really bad… Oh, this is bad… But… um!”

Clutching the freshly printed evening edition of the Daily Road, he paced frantically near the red traffic light.

When the light turned green, he dashed across the street but halfway through, he glanced back anxiously at the newspaper building. Then, facing forward again, he sprinted towards Little Italy at full speed, his long arms swinging wildly.

---

The yellow cab carrying Victorique and Kazuya sped down Manhattan Island, weaving slightly as it made its way south. After narrowly avoiding collisions with store signs and stalls, they finally arrived at Little Italy.

The cab pulled up in front of a modest building labeled Italian Furniture Sculpture Import Association. As they stepped out of the vehicle with pale faces, they were greeted by a gangster on lookout with a faint smile.

The winter sunset streamed through the gaps between the buildings, casting an eerie glow on Victorique’s silver hair and navy and burgundy dress.

Pushed by Carlos, they entered the building once more and climbed a sturdy set of stairs, up to the second and third floors. While Victorique remained calm, Kazuya kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings.

Just like in the morning, young gang members armed with weapons lurked behind sculptures and tables, their figures appearing darker and more sinister in the fading light.

Upon reaching the fourth floor, they were ushered to a corner where numerous lamps hung down. Eventually, the wall adorned with a buffalo head slowly opened, revealing John Smith.

“Tell me the results of your investigation,” he commanded, a cigar clenched between his teeth.

Victorique nodded calmly. She leisurely took out her pipe, lit it, and took a puff, exhaling slowly. She narrowed her green eyes.

“First, three weeks ago, Nitti was killed by a student from NYU. His name is Benny Sander. He rigged a bomb in a brand of cigarettes that Nitti loved, dropped it on the library floor, and had him pick it up. A few steps later, it exploded.”

“Oh.”

“Next, two weeks ago, a restaurant cook in Harlem named Michael Kenton murdered Fiume. After feeding Fiume and his companion poisoned fried chicken, he served spaghetti laced with the antidote only to the latter. Lastly, a week ago, Dempsey’s murder…”

“Hmm?”

“It was committed by Nancy Doldor, a vendor at the park’s juice stand. She poured orange juice on Dempsey to attract bees with the sweet scent, then released bees she had kept warm at the stand. Dempsey, being from a beekeeping family, had been stung before and was susceptible to anaphylactic shock.”

“…”

“That’s all… Kujou?”

Kazuya handed over the notes summarizing the investigation. Carlos took them and politely handed them over to John Smith.

John Smith silently smoked his cigar.

“As promised, you will return the child,” Victorique said grimly.

“…”

“Oh? Or perhaps the Godfather is just a silly man who can’t keep his word?”

The gangsters immediately stirred at her provocative remark, readjusting their weapons.

Raising a hand to calm them, John Smith said, “Carlos.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a brisk manner, completely different from when he was guarding Victorique and Kazuya, Carlos made a call on the wall-mounted phone.