Everyone in the bar turned their attention to the scene.
A man… who didn't seem to care about the life of his own girlfriend.
"What the hell did you just say, bastard?" asked the man, still gripping the shotgun tightly.
"Didn't I say it clearly? I said you can kill her. I don't care."
Bazt pulled a small device from his pocket. A blinking green light flashed on it.
It was a next-gen tracker. Once activated, it would send location and audio feed straight to Alicia.
"I haven't given the signal yet, but if you kill her, all you'll get is the full police force crashing down on your very illegal little operation."
Bazt wanted to smile, but he kept it to himself.
"Oh my… you're such a bad boy, darling~" said Margaret, who had stayed silent until now—always choosing her man.
"You're here to talk, right? Come into my office," the man said, lowering his weapon and walking away.
His anger was obvious. He had walked right into Bazt's trap.
Earlier, after a not-so-gentle interrogation, Bazt had forced Pamela to call her husband's boss.
[Since it was someone close to her, she would take the risk.]
With that in mind, he told Margaret the plan. He hoped he'd be the target, not her.
Everything else went just as he expected.
"Hey, so this is the famous detective, huh? Haha! Everyone knows what happened to Wally."
Some people began mocking Bazt as he passed. They thought the case was already closed.
"Yeah! He bet his life in a game you always lose! Hahaha!" added a pink-haired girl sipping her drink.
The back halls were more "decorative." Several rooms echoed with the sounds of couples enjoying themselves.
Outside each door stood janitors—who clearly doubled as security guards.
"This way. It's here," said the man, stopping in front of a door.
Bazt and Margaret entered the boss's office—surprisingly, it was the total opposite of the rest of the place.
A clean and organized room, cream-colored walls, air freshener, and several tasteful paintings.
"I'll be clear with you from the start. I had nothing to do with that son of a bitch's death."
His answer was cold and direct. Bazt had already expected as much.
This man wasn't the killer, but Bazt still needed every piece of info he could squeeze out.
"We haven't asked you anything yet, sir," Bazt replied with a firm tone.
"What questions? I'll tell you what happened. That bastard worked here. He got drinks at half-price, but he couldn't even pay for that 'cause he kept gambling."
The man burst into rage in front of both detectives. He clearly didn't like the victim.
"Can you tell us more about your relationship with him? How did you meet? How did you get along?"
This time Margaret stepped in. That question could reveal what led to the man's death.
"Wally was a good kid. Like everyone else, he had his flaws. I gave him a job here at first, just so he could get a meal."
The man glanced at a photo on the desk. In it were the victim, Pamela, and two others.
Bazt memorized it quickly—every face, every detail.
[Office Photo.]
"Later, he met Pamela, who also worked here. They got married. I even thought they might be able to escape this shitty place together."
The man paused, his face showing real sentiment.
"But one day, Wally came in excited. Said someone had taken him to a casino and he was gonna make a fortune."
"The next few weeks, he kept showing up with cash. He bought booze in bulk. I was happy for him."
The man slammed his desk with a clenched fist, took a breath, and kept going.
"But then he started losing. Again and again. We tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. And look at him now… dead and still owing me money."
"I see, sir. We'll ask a few more questions, then we'll leave."
The interrogation was brief, but they learned a few things:
[The casino was located near the city.]
[The debt was way too high for him to pay alone.]
"What do you think?" Margaret asked as they exited the office.
"It's obvious he's not the killer. We need to dig around the casino."
"Hey, you guys are detectives, right?" One of the security janitors approached them.
"Yes, we are. Who are you?" Bazt asked, analyzing the man.
"My name's Yimmy. I used to work with Pamela in customer service. I'm not as good or amazing as her—she's a goddess—but I'm not bad either."
Yimmy pulled out a card and handed it to Bazt.
"I was afraid to show this, but... one time Wally invited me to play with him. I refused, of course—but this is the casino he went to."
[Casino Card.]
"Thanks, Yimmy. Anything else you can tell us?"
"Yeah… Wally had a gambling buddy. Not as popular as this place, but the guy's name was Lex."
Yimmy showed them a photo—it was one of the guys from the office picture.
"One day he disappeared. Wally said he didn't know what happened to him. But I think it's connected."
[Missing Person.]
"Alright. Don't worry. We'll handle it." With that, Bazt and Margaret left the building.
They had a new goal: check out the casino and investigate.
"Okay, more questions than answers. Should we head to the casino and dig for info?" Margaret asked.
Bazt didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone and called Alicia.
{"Hello? We haven't found anything. You got something?"}
"Yeah. I found the casino where the victim used to gamble. I'll send you the location when you get here. Bring everyone."
{"Everyone? I don't think we need the whole team just to ask a few questions at a casino."}
"Who said we're going there to ask questions? We're going to play. And we're going to bet."
"Wait, what?" Margaret asked, alarmed.
{"What? Why would we—"}
Bazt smiled calmly. Confidence sparkled in his eyes.
"Because I already know who the culprit is."