31: Chapter 31 Underground Casino

While Shaun was deep in thought, Ballard said, "The technical team is still investigating, but regardless, Joseph White is suspicious."

As they spoke, the car pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse.

Shaun looked at the rusty roll-up door outside the window, then at the trash-filled alleyway, and finally turned his gaze to Ballard.

"Where is this?"

Ballard killed the engine and pulled two pairs of gloves and two pairs of shoe covers from the glove box.

"A Colombian stronghold. An underground casino. Closed during the day, open at night."

"Joseph White was here three days before he died."

Shaun took the gloves and asked as he put them on, "How do you know?"

"I checked his credit card records. He didn't make any purchases here, but he withdrew cash from an ATM in the next block. The surveillance footage from that ATM caught him walking in this direction."

Shaun got out of the car after her.

The alleyway was filled with a rotting stench, whether from trash or dead rats, it was hard to tell.

A few stray cats crouched on the wall, watching them with wary eyes.

Ballard walked up to the roll-up door and knocked on the small service door.

Only then did Shaun notice the inconspicuous small iron door next to the roll-up door, painted the same gray as the wall; it would be impossible to spot without looking closely.

No one answered.

She knocked three more times.

Still no one.

Then she pulled her badge from her pocket and flashed it in front of the peephole.

"Police, open up!"

They waited five seconds.

The door cracked open, revealing a cloudy eye.

"What do you want?"

Ballard didn't waste any words and shoved Joseph White's photo right in front of the crack.

"Have you seen this man?"

The eye stared at the photo for three seconds.

"Never seen him."

The door started to close.

Ballard kicked the door.

The small door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, and a scream came from behind it.

Ballard's move took even Shaun by surprise.

Seriously, was Ballard always this fearless?

But Shaun didn't have time to dwell on it; he just followed her inside.

Behind the door was a narrow hallway where a thin, small Mexican man was crouched on the floor, clutching his nose, with blood seeping through his fingers.

Ballard stepped over him and kept walking inside without looking back.

Shaun glanced at the man and followed her.

At the end of the hallway was another door.

Ballard pushed it open.

Inside was a large space, at least two hundred square meters, with over a dozen gambling tables, slot machines lined up against the wall, and a dusty bar in the corner.

The lighting was dim, and the air was filled with the smell of mildew and the stale scent of cheap cigarettes.

No one was there.

But Shaun noticed that the chips were still left on several of the gambling tables, and there were cigarette butts in the ashtrays.

"Empty during the day, but lively at night."

Ballard said as she started wandering around the casino, her eyes scanning every corner.

Shaun followed behind her, unable to help but worry, "This kind of investigation..."

"Is illegal." Ballard didn't turn around. "We don't have a search warrant."

Great!

His partner actually knew it was illegal!

"Then why..."

"I had a tip from an informant that Joseph White was here before he died." Ballard crouched down, looking under a gambling table. "An informant's tip isn't evidence, but it gives us a reason to look for clues."

She stood up, brushed the dust off her hands, and said calmly, "After we find the clues, we'll apply for a search warrant."

Shaun said nothing more.

He knew what Ballard was doing.

This was skirting the edge of the law—or rather, it wasn't even skirting it; it was an illegal search.

But then again, if they waited to get a warrant, any evidence that needed to be destroyed would have already been long gone.

Ballard walked behind the bar and started rummaging through the drawers.

Shaun stood where he was, his gaze sweeping across the entire casino.

Then his gaze stopped on one spot.

On the wall next to the bar hung a corkboard pinned with all sorts of miscellaneous items.

Sticky notes, business cards, bills, and a few Polaroid photos.

Shaun walked over.

His eyes landed on one photo.

It was a group photo of a few people gathered around a gambling table. The lighting was poor and the resolution was low, but one face was clearly visible.

Joseph White!

He was standing on the far edge, wearing casual clothes, holding a drink in his hand. His expression was a bit stiff—not a natural smile, but rather one forced out.

Next to him stood a dark-skinned man, arm around his shoulder, smiling broadly.

That man...

Shaun ripped the photo off the corkboard and held it up to the light.

Dark skin, sharp features, wearing an expensive suit.

Shaun didn't recognize him, but perhaps his partner would, so he called out, "Ballard!"

Ballard poked her head out from behind the bar.

Shaun handed the photo to her.

Ballard took it, glanced at it, and her pupils constricted slightly.

"Carlos Muñoz, a Colombian, a target of our investigation. When was this taken?"

Shaun flipped the photo over, and on the back, scrawled in ballpoint pen, was a line of text: 3/12, Welcome Carlos.

March 12th.

Five days before Joseph White died.

Ballard tucked the photo into her pocket and said, "That's enough. Let's go!"

Shaun followed her out.

When they reached the door, the Mexican man was still crouched on the floor, holding his nose, watching them with a terrified expression.

Ballard stopped in front of him.

"Tell your boss the police were here. We're going to get to the bottom of what happened with that dead cop and his Colombian friend."

Shaun had a feeling that Ballard was deliberately painting a target on her own back.

Perhaps she was doing it to draw the snake out of its hole, but...

Shaun couldn't shake the feeling that he would be dragged into it too.

He even started thinking about whether he should go stay at Hill Manor for a few days to avoid retaliation from the Colombians.

On the floor, the Mexican man nodded frantically, looking absolutely submissive.

Ballard pushed the door open and walked out.

Shaun followed her out and took a deep breath.

The rotting stench was still there, but suddenly, he didn't find it quite so unbearable.

He composed himself before getting back into Ballard's car.

Ballard was already in the car and had started the engine.

Shaun opened the passenger door and sat down.

As soon as he got in, before he could even catch his breath, Ballard began to analyze: "That Carlos—Joseph White was still here five days before he died."

"And they were quite close. Arms around shoulders in a photo—that's not something ordinary business partners would do."

Shaun leaned back in his seat.

His thoughts were becoming clearer.

If Joseph White was that close to the Colombians, then...

"Could that fifty thousand be payment from the Colombians?"

Ballard responded immediately: "It's very likely payment for him doing work for the Colombians."

"Alright, next, there are many more places to go..."

Ballard said, looking at Shaun, who looked lazy and ready to sleep, "We still have a half-hour drive ahead, so you might as well get some sleep..."

Finally!

This Ballard actually knew how to show concern for her partner...