Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner-Chapter 797 - 484: It’s Up to You, Rokurou Beast!

Murata An was feeling very heavy-hearted.

It wasn’t just because the Police Department was restarting the investigation into the serial murders, nor was it just because she was questioned for accountability. The worst part was that she had to take the primary responsibility for the case, which meant her superiors would throw the blame on her, and her subordinates would also shift responsibility onto her.

But ultimately, it was her own decision, and there’s nothing to complain about, it’s just bad luck.

Previously, the police station always dealt with backlog murder cases like this, finding a scapegoat with a criminal record, recording a confession, and closing the case hastily.

The killer would leave the area knowingly, and even if they reverted to old habits and committed the crime again, it’s something that other police stations need to worry about. This has led to many serial killers who roam across regions and commit crimes for years, only being caught if luck runs out.

But this time it was different. Everyone in the Police Department could see that this killer was approaching a lone wolf terror attack level, consecutively assassinating political figures and leaving provocative messages. All it needed was an upper layer decision to handle it as a terror attack.

But for some reason, the high-levels at the Police Department remained silent. The Director of Criminal Affairs reorganized the Special Investigation Department, assembled elites to investigate the murder case, but didn’t treat it as a terror attack—such weakness in the ruling class was unprecedented.

Murata An wanted to redeem herself by applying to join the Special Investigation Department, intending to assist the investigation as a Criminal Police officer.

However, the Director of Criminal Affairs was not planning to give her this opportunity; after several evasions, he demoted her to logistics to handle paperwork.

This led Murata An to have grievances; she accepted orders in times of crisis, worked diligently, and even if there was no merit, there was hard work. After making a blunder and helping to bear the blame, not only did the leader not support her, but actually kicked her into the trash bin. How could she accept this?

The next evening, Murata An drank herself into a stupor in an izakaya, almost bursting with frustration. She grabbed a bottle and headed to the police station, storming into the Special Investigation Department meeting room, and shouted at the new head:

"You’re the next unlucky one! Don’t think about fighting for your career! You’re just a pile of dog shit—"

The new head of the Special Investigation Department was called Hijikata Masahiro, and upon hearing these words, his face turned green.

He himself knew that this was not a good assignment. The last time, the Special Investigation Department elites had no clues, not even identifying a suspect, and now the same batch was being sent again to continue the investigation. What good result could there be?

Most likely, more dead cases, with only two paths: public apology or finding a scapegoat.

Murata An had already tried this for him; the outcome of finding a scapegoat is a dead end, where the killer continues to commit crimes, increasingly boldly, never leaving Tokyo, forcing law enforcement to go all out, faking results is just embarrassing themselves.

Hijikata Masahiro had her taken away, with everyone watching coldly, no one came forward to speak for Murata An. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

You made your own decision, who can you blame? If you insist on thorough investigation, avoiding shortcuts, how would it come to this?

That’s what everyone thought.

Except for Fushimi Roku and Minamoto Tamako, they weren’t present at the meeting.

Ever since the Police Department announced the restart of the investigation, Minamoto Tamako instantly revitalized, feeling her investigation direction wasn’t wrong, thinking Horie Kei had a greater suspicion for murder, dragging Fushimi Roku along for surveillance.

Fushimi Roku didn’t want to suffer, so he specifically bought a small truck for surveillance purposes. It wasn’t expensive, but he spent quite a bit remodeling it. Inside, there’s a sofa lounge chair, portable ice bucket, wine storage cabinet... and even a small television that can play videotapes.

Minamoto Tamako leaned against the car window, using binoculars to spy on Horie Kei, while Fushimi Roku sat on the sofa inside the car, with his legs crossed, watching TV.

Kazama Tatsuya and others didn’t come along; they endured two weeks and couldn’t take it anymore, vying to take care of Taira Sakurako, even if Fushimi Roku threatened to dock their wages, they needed a few days off.

"Last time, it was just a little bit more persistence, and we’d catch Horie Kei’s tail!" Minamoto Tamako muttered unwillingly, "I just went home for a day, and the killer committed a crime, what does that mean?"

"It means your surveillance skills were poor, alerting the suspect to being watched." Fushimi Roku ripped open a bag of chips, speaking with crunching noises.

Minamoto Tamako glared back but had to admit Mr. Fushimi was right.

There’s no such coincidence in the world; Horie Kei most likely waited for her departure to commit crimes, meaning they wasted two weeks, completely competing in endurance against the killer... Horie Kei’s daily routine work is surely more relaxed than the surveillance team working in shifts.

"Well... this is indeed one aspect," Minamoto Tamako switched her tone, raising a small finger, trying to vindicate herself, "but from another perspective, Horie Kei’s suspicion grew larger!"

"What suspicion? He’s the killer." Fushimi Roku was very careless in making this judgment.

"Do you have any evidence to prove it?" Minamoto Tamako was curious, wanting to hear Mr. Fushimi’s reasoning.

Previously, although Mr. Fushimi didn’t follow a clear method in solving cases, he could at least see through people’s hearts and predict the general direction of events, finding the truth through unique avenues.

But this time, Fushimi Roku was going to disappoint her.

"Intuition."

To make this statement seem more convincing, Fushimi Roku licked the chip grease off his fingers, mimicking a famous detective-wiping-mouth gesture, and added, "Based on my past experience, the accuracy of intuition is 99.9, with infinite decimal places after the small dot."