Among other things, all telephone numbers that Japanese Telecom had issued over the past fifty years were stored there, including all recorded data relating to the subscriber. The ordinary phone book, where everyone could choose what was published about them, if at all, was a joke.It didn't take long for Conan to find what he was looking for:

Tokyo Police - Central Information System - Last Search Order

Connection no. : 37-524-6868

Name: Taniguchi

First name: Yukio

Bank details: account number 48 52 07 93

Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishicredit institution

Last registered address: 3-23-1 Azabu-Cho

Beika-ku, Tokyo 106-0047

Japan

He had made a note of the address, printed out a map of the city, and slipped Kogoro a second time. Now he was racing through the dark underground shaft towards his goal. He didn't know what to look for there, but he was determined to find it.

-----

House3-23-1 Azabu-Chowas one of the typical apartment houses that were found by the hundreds in the suburbs of the Japanese capital: an unadorned low-rise building with tiny rooms that are directly accessible from the outside via a wobbly flight of stairs were to be entered.A grotesque cross between a shoe box and a rabbit hutch. The whole thing in the possession of a predominantly older landlord who knew exactly that he would also be able to rent out the last hole - the need for living space in Tokyo could not be met; Accommodation of this quality was among those that were most affordable.

A strange mixture of prostitutes who received their suitors in the anonymous little chambers, worn-out men in cheap suits who did business with the yakuza, and other dodgy characters, who mostly acted in the dark and only extreme, gathered in such tenements reluctantly expose to daylight. The sediment of urban society. The accessories that were at home nowhere and everywhere in the city - this is where they found their refuge.

Conan stared in disbelief at the shabby building that loomed somberly before his slender frame. In his confusion it seemed like a big question mark, the manifest of his doubts about the identity of Yukio Taniguchi.That the always friendly Yukio should be at home in such a nasty dump, he, the blond figure of light who could not be surpassed in grace, beauty and purity?

Conan searched the doorbell signs for Yukio's name and finally found his apartment on the second floor. Yukio's apartment was terribly shabby: the obtrusive pink color of the door, which evoked the blossoms of the most famous tree in the country, peeled off the wood like sunburned skin. The fragrant, glorious sakuras of the Japanese spring couldn't be more strange to this place. Conan felt as if he smelled putrefaction, a sweetish aroma that quickly turned into disgusting putrefaction.

He was getting restless. The more repulsive things turned out to be, the more attracted he was. He was on to something really hot, he felt it in every fiber of his shrunken body. He tricked the door lock and stepped into his competitor's refuge. Conan's elementary school day was short, so he could take a good look around while Ran and Yukio were still in class.Inside it was very quiet and dark as only a small dirty window next to the door let in pale light. The apartment, which consisted of a single room with an attached bathroom, was extremely sparsely furnished: a sloping wardrobe, a notched desk - and a mattress for sleeping. Even for a dormitory or the home of a die-hard bachelorette, this apartment was extremely barren. But why did Yukio even live here, and even alone? Didn't his parents live anymore? Or was he so at odds with them that they preferred to go their separate ways?

As he had done in Ran's room, Conan set about digging through the innards of that room and scouring every square inch for clues. That turned out not to be too difficult, as Yukio's place was not only sparsely furnished, but also quite tidy. Not to say, almost eerily empty.

After a few minutes, Conan had searched every nook and cranny without coming across a tell-tale note or an enigmatic object.His shoulders slumped in disappointment. Wasn't it just an ordinary, somewhat neglected house in which a completely unsuspecting young man lived, and everything else just the figment of his unleashed imagination? "This is nothing more than the typical rage of the horned man," he heard Sonoko say inwardly. "You probably just can't stand being the loser for the first time!"

Conan was already thinking that his search for clues would come to an abrupt end here, when he was caught by a brightly colored piece of paper that lay crumpled up on the floor of the wastebasket. A whole range of it, to be precise.

He carefully pulled it out and unfolded it. At the sight of the artistically transfigured flower pattern that was now spreading before his eyes, he had to smile involuntarily. This case was flowery indeed, both in terms of those involved and the circumstantial evidence.

He almost carelessly thrown the paper away, but his unerring eye for the essentials did not let him down this time either: In one corner there was a gold-framed, exclusive-looking sticker that pointed to the seller of this bouquet.Conan caught his breath when his eyes fell on the writing:

Taniguchi Flower Corp. - Official Japanese retailerwas written there in fine, gilded letters.

At that moment Conan's penny dropped.

On that morning when Ran first spoke about Yukio, he had a vague idea that the name Taniguchi was known to him from somewhere. Now the proof lay in front of him in black and white that he could still rely on his instincts. Taniguchi Flower Corp. was a large company specializing in importing expensive foreign flowers. The founder's family, the Taniguchis, had made considerable fortunes with the business. The Flower Corp. was not so much the focus of public interest, however, as their flowers were among the most expensive products on the Japanese market and were therefore only affordable for a small, select clientele.

What did that mean now? First of all, it was clear that Yukio was not what Conan - and most likely Ran- him - had thought him to be all along: an ordinary high school student.Shinichi's friend was being courted by the offspring of a wealthy dynasty of florists. Flowers were not Yukio's passion, but his capital.

Conan cursed himself. Why hadn't he noticed before? Obviously his hurt pride had kept him from thinking clearly as usual and from adding one and one together.Taniguchi. Had Ran not been involved in the case, he would probably have known where the wind was blowing in five minutes, not a few weeks. Damn crap! He had wasted valuable time. Sherlock Holmes would certainly not have allowed himself such a lapse. Its cool mind had never been heated by love for a woman. Really enviable, Conan thought with approval, and tossed the paper back in the bin.

What was the point of all this? This morning he still thought that Yukio was so normal that it was almost noticeable. Then it turned out first that he lived alone in a shabby apartment, and then that he was one of the richest sons in the whole country!What was next?

Conan looked around. The room had revealed its secret to him and there was nothing left to discover. A wild suspicion shot into his mind: What if the Taniguchis evaded customs on a large scale or did not pay taxes and now wanted to establish smooth contacts with the Japanese police through Ran and her father? He wasn't going to bribe her, was he? Conan dismissed the suspicion as badly constructed. Yukio might as well hide his wealthy background because he didn't want the money to stand between him and his friends. But did that mean he had to mutate from prince to beggar and stay in such an inn? It was all very strange.

Conan's stomach rumbled audibly. "A little break is just the right time," he thought. "That didn't hurt Sherlock Holmes either. Perhaps after a quick bite to eat I will understand what Yukio's goals are."

The little detective was just opening the door and turned to leave when the sound of a familiar voice rose to him from the street: Yukio - he had to be at the foot of the stairs.He was probably on the phone. Conan froze and glanced at the clock: after two; the lessons at Tantei were long gone. He quickly withdrew into the dark.

"... Yes ... Yes ... Tonight the time has come: I will finish my work ... Well, Sorata. I almost won. Be prepared that the Lexus will be mine from tomorrow ! ... "

He was now in the doorway. Conan hid in the tiny bathroom and peered out through the crack in the door. A chill ran down his spine.

"This afternoon? No, I don't have time. I have to go to Dad to pick up the keys ... You say something! You're jealous, aren't you? ... ha ha ... I'll have my fun though See you later, buddy. Mata ne. "

Conan hadn't understood a word of what Yukio was talking about with his interlocutor. But he had heard his voice. And their boastful impulses didn't match the humble, meek man that Ran Yukio had always described to him.On the contrary...

While Conan was still crouching on the toilet and pondering how Ran fit into this story, the high school student next door quickly slipped out of his uniform and got himself comfortable sportswear from the closet. He threw a towel and a water bottle in his backpack, then he was on his way again. He didn't go to the bathroom, which Conan acknowledged with a relieved sigh.

Meanwhile, the parts were becoming more and more a whole. An hour ago, had he had doubts whether he was suspecting Yukio for no reason at all? It was now clear that this boy's bewitching moss-green eyes hid more secrets than the Sheherazade's most intimate diary. Conan got goosebumps: This case actually got exciting. He had to go after Yukio.

He followed him at a suitable distance back to the subway station, where they took the line towards the city center.