Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan.

Notes: For the select few who are already familiar with my DC-related works thus far, I guess its pretty much noticeable that I'm keen on pieces that are... A little bit different than the norm. This is probably gonna go down as one of them – my first crack at Bourbon. Its been a while since I thought of writing something about him, but when I finally got down to it, I had a hard time pegging his personality since there's not much official content about him that I could work with, and even those didn't offer enough details to set him apart from the other detectives in the franchise, at least in my opinion. The same can be said for Azusa, though that's because she strikes me more as the generic type.

Do note that in Japan, café and bar employees often refer to their boss as "Master" or "Mama", for male and female respectively. I'll be using that here.

Tooru Amuro wipes the residual water and soap off his hands with a towel as he comes out of the kitchen, just in time to see a group of customers off with the customary bow and sendoff. Café Poirot had just been relieved of customers, for the time being at least. Understandable, as it was way past rush hour already. Business usually picks up later in the afternoon, making this a golden opportunity for every staff in the café including the owner to catch their breaths or to follow up on some chores.

There is no time for rest for Amuro though. Moments like these are better spent following up on his other job. As a private detective? No. His other job.

Roaming the café instinctively with his keen eyes, Amuro spotted the owner in his permanent station behind the register, routinely checking today's sales thus far. Over at the couch seat that had just been vacated, Azusa Enomoto is taking a break after wiping and resetting it. She looked awfully drained, taking orders, cooking and serving them all by herself since Maki, another part-timer and the one usually assigned in the kitchen, texted this morning that she'll be running late, but promised to make it in time for the busier afternoon shift. Both the owner and Azusa have cordial relations with Detective Mouri upstairs, one a regular drinking and mahjong buddy, the other a damsel who sought for aid a couple of times in the past. It doesn't take a genius of Amuro's caliber to figure out who between them would spill the more in-demand beans.

"Holding up?" Amuro asks Azusa, pulling the chair directly across her to sit with the backrest in front of him.

"Managing," the brown-haired waitress replied, smiling meekly at her colleague while fanning her chin with the collar of her baby blue shirt.

Not long after, the owner inserts himself into the budding conversation, a tray with two glasses of water in tow. He couldn't have picked a better time to help establish the mood. "Thanks for the hard work, you two. I probably wouldn't be able to manage things today if one of you called in sick, especially you, Amuro-kun," the owner said, the latter part jokingly, while serving the refreshments.

"Sorry about that, Master. I guess my body's just not built for the cold," the blonde reacted, taking up an abashed guise, scratching his temple and all.

"Did you live in Okinawa before moving to Tokyo? I wouldn't be surprised if you got your tan there."

"Uhh, no. I've only been there once back in high school."

"Oh, I see... Anyway, I need to drop by the hospital for a bit to see my nephew, but I'll be back in a couple of hours. Can you guys hold the fort while I'm gone?"

Azusa nods emphatically, getting ahead of Amuro in answering this time. "No problem, Master!"

"Well, I'm counting on you two then." The owner pulls his apron over his head and stashes it behind the counter, taking his pouch bag in the same sequence before finally heading out, giving Amuro an encouraging pat on his way.

Thus, Amuro and Azusa were officially left alone in the shop.

Looking to build on his momentum, Amuro sinks his chin on his arms, quietly assessing Azusa while she sips some water. She needed it after spending her remaining energy answering. From her overwrought breathing alone, it was easy to tell that she's already bone-tired, and yet her eyes kept stealing glances at the front door, still waiting for customers as if her heart is just as empty without anyone hunkering down the seats, trying to keep a strong appearance for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. He would have to ask Vermouth more about that later for future reference.

Then again, Azusa's blind diligence is probably among the traits that make her even more charming than she already is. She's a textbook eye candy: cute, sweet, hard-working, kindhearted and a bunch of things in between. And she makes a heck of a spaghetti to boot - she let him try it a few days ago when she invited him to her pad. It doesn't take a genius of Amuro's caliber either to work out why a lot of male customers keep ordering multiple cups of ¥230 coffee just to get her to serve them if not bring her gifts. As a man, Amuro wouldn't deny that she's one of those things that make his dull cover at Poirot a tad bearable, and had he pursued further a more normal lifestyle like the part he's currently portraying, he could easily see himself asking her out on a regular basis.

For Bourbon however, she only reminds him of that bimbo Rye beguiled in order to get into the Organization. You can find bimbos anywhere without looking for them specifically.

"Is something wrong, Amuro-san?" Azusa asked, noticing his perusal but undoubtedly clueless about his contradicting views of her.

"Nothing... Just a little bored, I guess," he answered. Half of it was actually true.

"Bored? Now that's a surprise," she said, chuckling in disbelief.

"Huh? How so?" Amuro lifts his face up in interest.

"Hmm..." Azusa takes a closer look at the blonde, cupping her chin with her thumb and index finger, obviously imitating Detective Mouri whom she had seen in action firsthand. "You just don't look like a guy who'd get bored so easily. To me, at least."

"Is that so?" He nods slowly, acknowledging her remark. "What type of guy do you take me for then?"

Azusa turns her eyes off him, avoiding eye contact as her cheeks turn rosy. "Y-you kinda put me on the spot there..."

"Oh, come on. Don't leave me hanging here. Whatever it is, I won't laugh or take it personally, promise."

"Errr... You've probably heard them from someone else... What I'm gonna say..."

Amuro grins teasingly, firming his gaze at his flustered co-worker. "I want to hear it straight from you."

"F-fine! But I'll hold you on that promise, okay?" Azusa consented, giving in to his attrition at last. She covers her face for a few seconds as she takes a deep breath, trying to loosen up until her cheeks didn't feel so hot anymore. "W-well... Let's see... For starters, you're very smart. You easily notice all these little things and become very interested in them, but I guess that's because you're a detective too. And you say strange things too, like when you made a pun about hiding the claws behind an innocent smile the other day. A-a-and you're very good looking and kind too..." She couldn't sustain her composure on that last part, uttering it as low as she could before her face retreated back to her palms.

"O-kay, I'll definitely take that." Sussing that she was becoming uneasy with the course their conversation was taking, Amuro jumps onto the nearest, most durable boat within range. "It feels just like yesterday though," he began after a sigh, "when Taii-kun dropped by at our café doorstep for the first time."

"It sure is. He was a really sweet and intelligent cat. Remember when he brought along that weird receipt?"

"Of course. I had to chase that receipt down but alas, it was gone for good the moment it flew away."

"Errr... That was my fault. I should have given it to you sooner," she admitted. "Anyway, the kids said it was like an SOS sign, and they had Taii-kun send it to us when the delivery truck stopped by the neighborhood so we could give it to Mouri-san. A-nd they also said you were pretty cool back there when you saved them." Azusa flashes him a flattering grin as she added the last bit.

"It was purely coincidence that I found them struggling against crooks on my way home," Amuro lied, just like he did when he said he didn't find the receipt and how he wound up on that street by chance. Just like how the kids, presumably just Conan Edogawa in particular, lied to her about the receipt being meant for his adoptive father later on. Detective Mouri would take hours at best to figure everything out, from the corpse stashed inside the delivery truck to the method used to create the note, granted that he reaches the peak of what he can really do.

"But I really wish I had been there to see you beat those bad guys up. They were raving about your awesome boxing moves!"

"There's nothing special about it, really... Just something I had to learn in PE class way back when."

"Well, if so say so..." Deciding not to pry too much about her co-worker's background, Azusa's face suddenly sinks into a frown, palpably reminded of the cat that had once been part of their life at the café now that the topic about the receipt he brought is exhausted. "To be honest, I really miss Taii-kun. I've only had him for a week before Masuko-san claimed him," she confided.

"I feel for you." Amuro extends a hand towards Azusa and, sensing no resistance from her, lays it over her hand. Despite the painstaking work she does everyday, Azusa's hand was surprisingly soft. He could get used to this if he allows himself. For his gesture, she beams at him weakly. "By the way, have you heard about Masuko-san getting injured a week after taking his cat back?" he brings up the case that happened not long after once he was sure she's okay.

"Yes, Conan-kun told me all about it this past Thursday," she answered in a gossipy way.

"He did, eh," Amuro said wryly, drawing his hand back. "How much did he tell you?"

"Hmm... As far as what I was told, it was supposed to be an argument between Masuko-san and a friend that got out of hand."

"That's what I heard too... Apparently, the guy who originally found Taii-kun and gave it to Masuko-san's wife as a gift took it as an insult when Masuko-san tried to return the cat to him. Things got pretty rough, but at least Masuko-san just wound up in the hospital and not the morgue. I find it rather ironic though... That Taii-kun, after Masuko-san claimed him from you, was again left with noone to take care him, albeit temporarily."

"About that, I actually volunteered to take care of Taii-kun while Masuko-san's recovering at the hospital, but Conan-kun said his neighbor already has that covered."

"Oh yeah? Then I guess we shouldn't worry too much." Again, how the boy keeps himself informed of all sorts of things at once astounded Amuro, but at the same time, it irritated him badly, reminding him of how his sworn enemy used to be.

"Yup. In any case, I'm so relieved that he's going to be okay," Azusa told him, sounding sympathetically optimistic as if she was talking about a blood relative, even though she really was more concerned about the pet that, for a short while, had been hers. "But how did you know about all that? Conan-kun told me that Masuko-san asked the police not to publicize the incident since all of it was just a misunderstanding." She blinked at him a few times when it occurred to her.

"Mouri-sensei gave me the specifics yesterday over sandwich and orange juice. At least the details he was informed of," he lied, the truth of the matter being that he heard it straight out of Inspector Megure when he called Kogorou the night after the incident, furiously reminding him to tell his charge not to meddle with police business. The inspector was careful not to divulge anything critical even to an old friend as per standard protocol, but the reprimand alone gave Amuro all the references he needed to put together the image of the boy making monkeys out of those older than him and spearheading the investigation until a solution is found. He expected no less from Vermouth's favorite kid.

Moments later, while Amuro was pressing Azusa for details about the third case involving the poor Calico cat, a couple of customers came in. Two men in business suits to be exact: a hunched, balding man in his fifties holding his worn brown coat, and a younger, willowy, cropped-haired fellow in a gray suit that looks too cheap to be authentic, The bald one's an engineer working on a development project a couple of blocks south of the café while the thin one, a cost engineer from the same company. Said development project was on the news recently following an on-site accident that wasted a week's worth of labor and left a construction crew with a broken leg in its wake. The local government and the media continues to milk it to get attention for various advocacies surrounding public safety and political-slash-corporate conspiracies and most of all, for themselves. "Great. These two again. They sure know how to foul up the mood around here," the blonde detective thought with annoyance. They've been a regular Poirot for the past two weeks, talking about gray suit's in-laws and figures playing around seven digits, ranting about their annoying bosses for the heat they're taking and how the injured worker should be held accountable for the incident instead, and openly flirting with Azusa as well. Mainly gray suit, his companion merely a wingman who hopes to get lucky once he had his fill.

"Welcome!" Azusa cheerfully greets, seemingly revitalized upon the sight of familiar faces occupying the table at the left-hand corner of the window. But her façade finally crumbles once the two started murmuring to one another while pretending to read the menus left on the table, her lips sinking to a concerned frown. At least she's not so dense as to be oblivious to their prurient gazes everytime she takes their order or their age-old tactic of audaciously ignoring everyone who would try to wait their table, including Amuro a couple of times, until she finally comes over. Either that or they'd outright call her while she's tending to another table. One time, gray suit even brought her a frivolous gift that she had to refuse not out of sheer politeness as much as her fear of him taking things the wrong way had she accepted it. Funny, they still took things the wrong way anyhow. Amuro takes her sudden hesitation as his cue.

"I'll take this one," he kindly offered, confidently in a low voice.

"You sure?" Azusa asked back, looking all astonished. "But they'll probably just tell you 'they're good' until I finally come over. Maybe I should take their order instead."

"If you keep pampering lechers like these, they won't stop until they finally get what they want from you. Besides, I gotta make it up to you for my absences and sudden half-days, don't I?" he reasoned, standing up so she couldn't refuse him any further. "Just finish your drink and move along, alright?"

"Okay." She nodded at him with a genuinely relieved smile before ducking to the kitchen, taking the glasses of water with her.

After wiping the moisture that was left on their table, the man also known as Bourbon brings out his order pad and pen and paces hurriedly towards the unsavory customers. Time to put up yet another act to overlap what is already a grand performance. "Good morning and welcome to Café Poirot, sir. May I take your order?"

"The usual blend will do for now," says brown suit, languidly as if he just wanted to get it over with.

"Pineapple juice and BLT sandwich for me. And make it fast," adds gray suit, looking disappointedly at the waiter who obviously wasn't the one they're expecting to see.

"One order of Caffè Americano, pineapple juice and a BLT sandwich platter. Is that right?," Amuro repeated, pretending to jut the items down. He really didn't need to; it's just a waste of paper on people who are a lot filthier than trash. This country could use a little less filth. "If anything else strikes your fancy, please don't hesitate to call." Once they've confirmed it, he recouped the menus from them and bowed humbly, just as any professional waiter would, before he left. As he had expected, disparaging murmurs trailed after him, more specifically from the man in gray, telling him to take a hike so they could be alone with the pretty waitress. If only he had the slightest idea of how Bourbon could get back at him for such trifle, maybe he would think twice about crossing him like that. "That neck of his looks pretty flimsy," Amuro thought with a smirk. "But I wouldn't do that. It'd be a waste of effort for someone already standing on a foundation that would soon crumble on its own weight."

When he arrived to the kitchen to relay the order, the detective-slash-waiter finds Azusa waiting anxiously for him behind the dividing wall. She had been observing him from the moment she got to the kitchen, worried that the her "admirers" might cause some trouble with her sudden avoidance.

"How did it go?" she asked as soon as he got back, her conjoined hands held up to her chest in anticipation.

"Well, they sounded like they wanted to break my leg into three separate pieces like what happened to that construction worker, but at least I got their order without shedding blood," he joked, trying to get her to loosen up. She was acting a little too concerned than what was necessary, but that's understandable anyway.

"Stop messing around! You really had me worried, you know," Azusa chided, smacking his arm. "Anyway, what did they order?"

Amuro promptly repeated the items listed in his memory.

"You didn't write it down again," the waitress deduced, resting her fingers on her temple.

"Why write if I can remember it?" he explained, a self-satisfied grin in his face as he moves towards the fridge for the bacon.

"Because that's how we usually do it? But I guess we can get away with it this time," Giving her argument up, Azusa sneaks ahead of the taller Amuro to get the remaining two-thirds of the classic ingredient trio from the lower compartment. "Seriously though, thanks for covering for me, Amuro-san." She looks up to him as her hand reaches down for the lettuce on instinct, rewarding him with a radiating smile.

"Like I said, I'm only making it up to you," he replied, giving back a genuinely good-humored expression for once. She makes it so easy for him to let loose his old self even for a second. A side who didn't know what society's dreaded shadow looked like. "In the meantime, we should start working on their order so we can get rid of them as soon as possible."

"Right!" she said with an energetic nod, now completely revitalized and ready to get back to work.

Finding the specific meat needed, Amuro brought it over to the tap, letting it thaw for a bit while he prepared the coffee. Azusa, meanwhile, began slicing tomatoes on the station beside the sink, stealing glances at her colleague and the bacon with the corner of her eye from time to time. Being in this job for a long time now, her reflexes have already been trained to perform basic chores perfectly by itself while her attention's focused on another. It comes quite handy in the food business especially when orders become hectic and in avoiding wounds or amputated fingers. But since only one seat is occupied at the moment, she decided to indulge her curiosity towards her co-worker. "Say, Amuro-san?" she began once they were well underway with their respective chores.

"Yeah?" At the time, he was pouring blazing hot water into the espresso.

"Why did you choose to work here and be Mouri-san's apprentice?"

"Well... Working here makes it easy for me to keep up with Mouri-sensei. As busy as he is, it would be hard for me to take notes if I worked someplace else," he answered without hesitating or having to think about it for a stretched period. It was the plain truth, after all. Stripped of the minute details that give it a different meaning altogether. Even if they run a polygraph on him, it would still come out as the truth. He wouldn't have to lie perfectly. "But why do you ask?"

"I dunno... Its just that... I think with your level of intelligence, you can start your own detective agency and make lots of money taking cases Mouri-san rejects," she explains, taking the bacon out of the pack once defrosted and shearing into strips proportional to the bread that's been prepared beforehand. "You can even be a superstar like him too and appear on TV and commercials! I'm sure the producers would line up to have a handsome guy like you become the face of the detective business!"

"I've considered that, but Mouri-sensei showed me that I still have lots of things to learn when he corrected my deduction during my former client's suicide case." Amuro still has a lot of things to learn, alright. A lot of things to learn about the kid he's taking care of, and his possible connection to a pair of rodents - one already disposed of (or so he believes), another supposedly disposed of but he wouldn't buy it even if it costs only ¥1. As for Kogorou Mouri, he would have to show him a lot more to lure back his interest because, from the moment Amuro drew the line from Kamon Hatsune to Banba Raita and finally, to Kogorou and his family, all he can see is hype. After producing a glass of pineapple juice, Amuro readies both beverages on a tray. "I'll just deliver these to those fine gentlemen over there," he said as if he really meant the compliment.

No less than four minutes after Amuro took the engineers' order and the atmosphere didn't improve in the slightest bit. From the moment he emerged from the kitchen with their drinks, Amuro could just hear their scorn echo straight from their minds when he came out instead of his colleague. Not that things would be any different had the cast been complete; they've had to throw out a few of Azusa's unscrupulous suitors several times before, especially after she got featured in that magazine along with the café. These two haven't crossed the boundaries of decency yet, but Amuro's confident that it'll only be a matter of time before they do. Until then, he must continue playing the part of the friendly waiter. And every role must be treated punctiliously, for a single moment of carelessness is often times a good movie's undoing. He learned that from one who is considered the greatest actress of her generation.

"Here's your coffee." Arriving just in time to overhear the engineer's concerns over "getting found out", Amuro puts the coffee before him carefully to minimize the noise of impact. "And your pineapple juice." He does the same with the quantity surveyor's colder beverage. "The sandwiches will follow shortly, Until then, please enjoy your drinks." After another courteous bow, Amuro was about to withdraw when the man in the gray suit suddenly stopped him. They're about to step out of the line.

"Say, Azusa-chan's in, right? Would you mind calling her? I have this little present I wanted to give her personally," he inquired, his malicious intent seething from his voice.

"You look awfully tired, pal. Why don't you take a cigarette break or something? Let Azusa-chan humor us for a few minutes?" his wingman suggested, though he was obviously far from being concerned.

"Look, I'll give you half your daily salary up front if you do what we want. Let's not make this difficult, shall we?" gray suit demanded, seemingly growing impatient with Amuro's presence by the second. As if he could bribe his way for pocket change, or any amount for that matter. Azusa has been a good friend to him ever since he signed up for this job. He owed her at least her safety. That, of course, wouldn't hold up if circumstances call for it.

"I'm sorry, but like other establishments, we're not allowed to accept service tips," Amuro started with a mock-up grin. They crossed the line a little too early than he had predicted, but now that they did, there was no point curbing up. "As for Azusa-san, she is here alright, probably grilling the bacon for your sandwich right about now, but I'm afraid our café doesn't offer that kind of service. Perhaps you should try your luck at Ginza-cho instead. Some hostess clubs there tend to open a couple of hours ahead of what's posted on the door, granted that your wad is thick enough." Tooru Amuro's curtain is drawn, and the dangerous man it belies takes center stage. Its been a while since his last real performance at the Bell Tree Express, so he's quite excited to get his feet wet again.

"What the-" The quality surveyor staggers off his seat, furious. "How dare you talk to me like that?!"

"Where the hell is your manager?! We'll make sure you pay for this!" threatened the engineer in the brown suit after spitting what little coffee he had managed to drink in surprise.

"As you can see, my boss isn't here, but he did give me a go signal to chase out customers who would openly disrespect not only this café, but its personnel as well, even if they have money." the waiter answered on a politely demeaning note. "Oh, we also refuse to serve customers whose money is obviously obtained through illicit means."

"Are you implying something?!" said gray suit, closing in on him as if sizing him up, but all it did was allow Amuro a better look at his guilty countenance.

"Well, its no secret that you two are loaded. I bet you saved up hundreds of thousands by buying sub-standard materials from an inside source which," Amuro pulls out his phone and runs gray suit's name, which he had seen several times through his ID and some receipts, through a web search and, in a matter of seconds, was certain that his brother-in-law runs an unheard of cement and tiles business. Just as the detective thought. "Is related to your in-laws. I'm guessing that's the family discount." Its amazing, how many puzzle pieces one can pick up just by waiting tables. How many secrets can be divulged if one is so diligent to collect every sentence being thrown about carelessly in a cozy retreat like a café and put them all together.

"N-nonsense! Nobody would believe a minimum-wage failure like you!" he kept denying.

"Maybe so..." Amuro snickers, mocking this ceaseless effort. "But I believe the police would be all too happy to look into it anyway, especially with the coverage its receiving from the media and the public at large. And with enough persuasion, I'm sure the construction worker who got injured would attest to that even if you paid for his medical bill so he'd shut up."

The cost engineer was left speechless after that. He tried to keep an intimidating front, but his eyes wavered, unable to hold it steady, much less look Amuro straight in the eye. Burning in the hot water he himself boiled, he was sweating underneath his cheap sheep wool and his throat, croaking nervously as he wondered how in the world did a lowly waiter find out about the money he embezzled. His companion did even worse, perspiring just as badly but opting to remain silent in his seat as if screaming their confession. Even the air-conditioning wouldn't help their bodies hide these little signs of culpability.

"That's not even taking into account the fact that we're only a flight of stairs away from the agency of one Kogorou Mouri who, by the way, happens to be my mentor in the field of detection," added the man called Bourbon, showing no reservation nor leniency at all towards pests who spread viruses wherever they land.

After a while, the man in the gray suit scowled at Amuro and said they were leaving, his colleague following like a tail tucked between the former's legs. The decorous waiter that he is, Amuro went as far as seeing them out the door and repeating the same formality he gave the customer that came before them, all while ignoring their empty threats and curses. If they're smart, they'd start packing now. As overt as their scam is, it'll only be a matter of time before the firm they're working for and the police corner them, unless they're just as dumb to let such easy targets get away. "There goes half my daily wage," he joked, as if he actually cared about his salary at Poirot, or the embezzled money, or the injured worker. For him, that altercation was nothing more than a simple, run-of-the mill warm-up. It was fun to see their despaired faces for a few seconds, but no way does it compare to the fun he was having before they arrived.

Funny thing is though, the person they demanded to see appeared moments after they absconded the premises, holding the sandwich platter. "Amuro-san, their order's- Oh, they already left," Azusa said, looking somewhat disappointed.

"They were being mean, insisting to see you and all," Amuro explained with a shrug. "Told them we're not a hostess club and they got pretty pissed off."

"I see. But what are we going to do with these?"

"I'll just take them to Mouri-sensei later along with the untouched juice. But we'll have to flush the coffee down the drain."

"Did somebody just offer me free food?" suddenly honks in the so-called Great Detective himself, Kogorou Mouri as he bounded down the stairwell, his hands tucked in his side pockets. Coincidentally, he was also wearing a gray suit, only a darker shade. Not a cloud of uncertainty loomed over Amuro when the image of a heavily-drunk Kogorou acting the same way as the customers he just scared away dawned on him.

"Uhh, not so loud, Mouri-sensei. People might think you're using your celebrity status as a meal ticket," Amuro warned.

"Oh..." Kogorou coughs, remembering where he had slipped his tact in. "To be honest, I was just coming down for late lunch. A man as busy as I am has to find time to eat at some point. Is the Master in?"

"Yeah. Busy drooling over your desk," thought Bourbon. There hasn't been any incoming requests today, both on the hotline and the webpage Amuro still manages. "He left about an hour ago to visit his nephew at Beika General. But you arrived just in time. We've got BLT sandwich and pineapple juice fresh out the kitchen if you're okay with it."

"Bet some of Azusa-chan's admirers ordered that, huh?" Kogoro said following a wry snort.

"Pretty much the gist of it." As if you didn't catch a glimpse of the last scene on your way, you phony. "Anyway, you should probably step inside before the food gets too cold."

For once, Kogorou actually remembered to get the morning paper from the mailbox, something his daughter, his charge, or the staff at Poirot would usually do for him. Amuro welcomes in a trio of girls in school uniforms while waiting for him. They were pretty vocal about how lucky they are to have stumbled upon a hot waiter on the day they decided to cut classes. When Kogorou finally came over, he would open the door for his "teacher" and walk him to a comfy couch seat before letting Azusa serve the dish that was meant for the embezzlers. He didn't feel like drinking juice, so the café staff offered him a fresh black coffee instead, on the house.

"What did those punks do this time? Copped a feel at Azusa-chan's hips?" the mustachioed detective asked flatly as he flopped down the couch, making the waitress blush a little.

"Those punks are actually company men well over forty. They insisted to see Azusa-san too much and went over the edge," Amuro said in behalf of his co-worker, who immediately went over to take the school girls' orders, much to their disappointment. He hated dealing with fans just as much as Azusa hated dealing with hers, even if she didn't admit it. "If you got here a couple of minutes earlier, you probably would've heard everything they said."

"Keh! Old perverts! Refusing to accept that Father Time already has their number!"

"Takes one to know one, I guess..."

"You sayin' something?" Kogorou eyes Amuro skeptically as he helps himself with the sandwich.

"Uhh, no. Not at all," he said with a friendly grin. "That aside, I also happened to hear them conspiring about embezzling money from their company through purchase of sub-standard materials for a cheaper price and keeping the rest of the budget for themselves."

"Oh yeah? What firm are they working for?"

"XX Construction, as far as I could recall."

"The one working on that apartment building downtown?" Coincidentally, it was also on today's paper, at the bottom of the headline.

"Right. I suspect that it is somehow connected to the contractor's hospitalization."

"Everybody has their two cents on it, the governor, some lower house schmucks... I even had to turn down an interview." Kogorou gnaws at the bread with distaste all over his face, not with the food but with the money and the politics stirring the scandal. "If they really used cheap materials for that," he was speaking with his mouth full, "the inspectors shoulda noticed it already when they checked the site out." Barely chewing every bite, he finishes his first helping. "Hey, this sandwich is damn good! Did Azusa-chan prepare this?"

"As expected from you, Mouri-sensei. You figured out who made it with just one bite," Amuro humored him. He didn't have any interest with those matters either, nor with upholding the law, but since he had brought it up already, casually at that like most detectives do when comparing notes, he was suddenly curious to see how far would this issue progress if he wound up the key inside Kogorou Mouri's head. And he kind of want to get back at the engineers too, just for being such lousy customers. "But if we're talking about six, seven digits of revenue here, they're likely to pay the inspectors to shut up, right?"

"No doubt about it..." The famed detective takes a sip from his coffee. As the heat courses through his throat, he realized what Amuro was trying to do. "Hey, are you suggesting I stick my nose around this case?"

The waiter arches up a skin-deep smile, as if muttering a sarcastic praise. At least he's not so slow on the uptake. "I just think a timely case like this would help cement your legacy further, no pun intended. Nobody wants to live in an eggshell anymore with all the earthquakes we're experiencing recently, hence the media coverage this particular incident's receiving." By the time he mentioned something about legacy, he could hear the motor inside Kogorou's head clicking to life. Only a few more rotations to go. "Even if you're not officially hired by the firm, just imagine all the attention and honor you'll get just by playing a small part in exposing this scam. An exclusive interview with Nichiuri TV would be the least of it. Of course, considering your affiliation with the station, they'd probably get Yoko Okino-san to do it, if she didn't volunteer first." Letting go of the fanciful gold key, Amuro mentally counts to three and waits for the gears to start running on their own.

He counted a second longer than he had to.

"Fine, fine! I'll wire Inspector Megure, see if I can get him to forward it to someone in Division 2!" Though his voice may have been gruff when he agreed, Kogorou's face was plastered with a smug, ear-to-ear grin that caught even the girls on the other table's attention, though not in the way he would've hoped for. Pitiful as usual, Bourbon concluded. His ego will be the death of him.

While the renowned detective's busy jubilating over a glory he hasn't even attained yet, Azusa moves over toward her colleague, having received all the students' orders. "What is it this time?" Amuro asked in a low voice.

"An order each of Tofu salad, Carbonara and Poirot Special Spaghetti, two glasses of orange juice and a strawberry shake," she enumerated in the same way while handing him the sheet.

"How long did you say it'll take?"

"Fifteen to twenty minutes."

"Hmmm... We could finish everything on time if we started cooking now," Amuro estimated before turning to his "mentor". "We'll just take care of this, Mouri-sensei. If there's anything else you'd like, please don't hesitate to say so."

"Oh, okay. I guess I should make that call now before I forget about it again. What's the name of that thieving pervert again?" After Amuro whispered the surveyor's name to his ear as well as the name of his in-law, Kogorou pulls out his cellphone from his coat's breast pocket and dials the direct line to Inspector Megure. He could've just called Division 2 directly, but experience gave him this premonition that, God forbid, Homicide will have a hand at this scandal somewhere down the line.

Meanwhile, the Poirot staff drifted to the kitchen, one delighted to see more patrons filling the once-empty tables, the other waiting to see if his new toy would live up to its promise, both of them intent on doing their job in earnest. The real afternoon shift's just to begin.

Thirty minutes later, Mouri Detective Agency:

Conan Edogawa had just arrived home after getting dragged into an absent classmate's home by the Shounen Tantei-dan under the notion of an "investigation". There was really no harm in obliging the children, but these days, he'd rather get home as soon as he can. Anybody'd sympathize if they live in a building knowing that there's a member of a group of murderers around the neighborhood, particularly downstairs, being overly-friendly with their loved ones. He was confident that he could take down Bourbon anytime, should he try something on Kogorou, or most especially, Ran while he's not around, but he didn't want to be too confident and take any chances against someone formidable and unpredictable at the same time.

Seeing the desk devoid of the detective that usually works, or drinks, or watches TV on it, Conan checks it for any clues as to where Kogorou could be. "We're falling a bit short on household expenses this month so I doubt Ochan would go to the pachinko parlor at this time of the day unless he doesn't want to hear the end of it from Ran," he surmised, finding no new notes or documents lying about. To make the chase a lot less tiresome, he decided to just call Kogorou's cellphone, but for some reason, it was having trouble connecting. "Strange. Reception's usually pretty good here." Conan paced around the office for better coverage but when he stopped in front of the home phone, he was suddenly struck by this perplexing sensation he usually feels when he senses something odd around him. He scanned the room for what could have triggered it, until his attention was drawn to phone itself. He examined the unit and immediately noticed that the receiver had deliberately been tampered with, the seam on the side widened by a millimeter. He scurries for a screwdriver to take it apart.

"A bug," he told himself, locating the tiny device and plucking it out with his fingers. "Its been placed carefully, but the receiver was put back together sloppily. Even Ochan would notice it if he gripped it tightly. I'd get it if an amateur somehow managed to sneak in here and installed this, but the one person I know who has the best opportunity to do it isn't an amateur... Unless he actually wanted this to be found." At the ominous thought, Conan dropped the bug on the floor and crushed it with his powered sneaker. "I better go check at Poirot."

Chapter End.

Additional notes: This was supposed to be another one-shot, but I decided to cut the whole story into chapters so it wouldn't seem too long. Thank you for reading and I hope to see you in the next chapter!