"We'd like to see the original files." His partner speaks up and pulls out a notepad. "Not the doctored versions your men provided."
Matvey shifts his weight but doesn't say anything. He knows better than to speak unless I tell him to, and in this situation, covering up a murder is easier than letting justice take its course. If Rashid let even a tiny detail of our real relationship with Volodin slip to the wrong detective, this entire casino, and perhaps my entire family, goes down.
"Doctored is a strong word." I keep my voice calm as I chuckle. "We provided exactly what was requested. Security footage from the night in question."
"Security footage that's been edited." Rashid's tone has a bite to it. "Files are missing timestamps and have gaps in the recordings." He narrows his eyes on me as if this isn't the first time we've done something like this, and I can see the tension in his neck and shoulders. Whatever his superiors are saying about this investigation must be rattling him, but I don’t give a fuck. The only copy left of those files remains on private family servers. There is no trace of the real footage.
"We had some technical difficulties that night." I gesture toward the monitors. "Equipment malfunctions happen. I'm sure you understand."
"What I understand is that you're covering up a murder that took place on your property." Rashid takes a step closer. "And you're making it very difficult for us to do our jobs."
"Your jobs," I say, pausing for emphasis. This man has pushed back one too many times, and knowing what I have to do the minute I walk out this door, I'm in no mood to deal with hisbullshit. "Let's talk about your jobs, Detective. How much do I pay you monthly to make problems disappear?"
His jaw tightens. "That's not relevant to this investigation, and you know it. This has nothing to do with that."
"Isn't it?" I push off the desk and walk toward him. "Because I pay a hefty amount of money to your secret accounts every month to ensure you and your partner have cushy lives. And it'd be a shame if anyone found out about that fight ring you have going underground, or what about the hookers at the after parties? I'm sure your lovely wives would be devastated to know what sexually transmitted infections they're at risk of contracting."
The partner takes a step back but Rashid holds his ground. "Are you threatening us?"
"I'm reminding you of our arrangement." I stop right in front of him. "You handle things quietly. You keep the attention off my operations. And in return, everyone stays happy and well-compensated."
"This isn't something we can just make disappear." Rashid's voice lowers to a growl and he bares his teeth like a rabid wolf. "A woman filed a report. She gave a detailed statement about witnessing a murder. We can't ignore that. The facts are going to come out, and when they do, it's gonna take you down too. I can't flush my career in the shitter over this."
This cocksucker is really trying to stand up to me? I chuckle again and pull out my phone. The numbers programmed into my contacts list fly by as my thumb swipes upward, and I find his wife's contact info and click on it.
"See this?" I say, showing him her pretty face. "She's quite a lovely woman. It'd be a shame if someone found her dead in an alley, wouldn’t it?"
Rashid swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing hard. "You leave Gracie out of this."
I rise slowly and slide my phone back into my pocket as I narrow my eyes on him. "Let me deal with the woman. You focus on finding the actual perpetrators and stop coming around here snooping for more information. Go back to the detectives and tell them our software glitched and that's all we have."
"That's not how this works." Rashid crosses his arms defiantly, but his lower lip trembles now. I've put him in his place and yet he still stands stubbornly. "We have protocols to follow. Witnesses to interview. Evidence to collect."
"Then collect evidence." I walk over to the computer where Matvey has been standing silently. "I'll even help you."
I pull up the security footage from the night of the murder. The same snippets I've been reviewing for the past two days. A car pulling into the parking lot. Two figures walking toward the back of the building. The grainy image of one man's face caught at an angle that's barely visible.
"This is one of them." I pause the footage on the clearest frame. "His name is Baron Sarkov. Low-level enforcer for what's left of Malcom's crew. Find him and you'll find who killed Yakov Volodin."
Rashid leans closer to the screen and studies the image. "This is all you have?"
"The cameras don't cover the alley where it happened." I close the file. "But this is enough to start looking. That man's been operating out of a warehouse on the east side for the past month. I can give you the address."
"In exchange for what?" His partner asks what they're both thinking, and I'm frustrated that I have to say this over again.
"You get the fuck out of my casino and stop coming back, and keep your cop buddies out too. This is what I fucking pay you for, assholes. Now leave."
They exchange a glance, but Rashid still isn't happy about it. The nugget I gave him would've taken the police days to find. It's something to chew on now, at least, and he knows it. Besides, they're on my payroll, which means they have to play by my rules.
"We'll look into Baron Sarkov," Rashid finally says. "But the woman has to stay in the system. We can't just erase her statement without raising red flags."
"I'm not asking you to erase it." I walk back toward the door. "I'm asking you to let me handle her while you focus on finding Baron and whoever else was involved."
"What does 'handle her' mean?" Rashid's voice carries a warning.
"I have no intention to kill her." I open the door and look back at them. "She works for me and she's scared. She made a mistake going to you instead of coming to me first. I'll fix it."
"We can't obstruct a witness." His partner sounds nervous now. "The major general will want to interview her more at length, and?—"
