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Roseline crossed her arms. No way would they reveal anything out here in the open. She needed to get Moretti secured in their vehicle before pressing him.
She adopted a more conversational tone. “Like my partner said, this is sensitive information. For privacy’s sake, it’s better if we speak in our car. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Moretti still hesitated, distrustful. “I’m not?—”
Callan moved closer and lowered his voice. “Or we could discuss this here and have all your gym buddies start wondering why you’re talking to the police. Up to you.”
That seemed to sway him. Moretti clenched his jaw. “Yeah, all right, fine. Not like I have a damn choice, right?” He slammed the trunk loudly before stalking toward their car.
Callan gave Roseline a small nod and a hint of a smile. Good cop, bad cop. She had to admit they made a solid team when using their different strengths. She maintained a neutral expression, though, staying focused as they followed Moretti.
He halted abruptly when they reached the vehicle. “You know what, screw this. I’m not getting in any damn cop car. You want to talk to me? Then do it right here.” He crossed his arms defiantly.
Roseline and Callan exchanged a look. They had hoped to get Moretti isolated, but he was too suspicious now to willingly get in their car. Fine then, they would have this conversation in public. But it was now or never.
Roseline faced Moretti, lowering her voice. “Have it your way. But you only get one chance to explain very specific and suspicious bank transfers. Refuse to talk, and we walk. And you can bet we’ll be digging deep into every aspect of your life until we get to the bottom of this.”
Callan moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Roseline. “Decide now. Are we discussing this like adults here and now? Or doing this the hard way?”
Moretti shuffled his feet, glancing around nervously. After a few moments, he responded. “All right, talk. But we have to make it quick.”
Roseline nodded. This would have to do. “Very well. Several months ago, you received large wire transfers from an offshore account in Cyprus. Over $400,000 so far into your secondary checking account.”
She scrutinized Moretti as she revealed the money trail they had traced to him. His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing again.
“I don’t know anything about that. You have the wrong guy.” He was trying to appear confident in his denial, but the quickening of his breaths gave him away.
Callan shook his head. “We know the funds are tied to you specifically. Records don’t lie, even hidden ones. If the money is above board, let us see a recent statement.”
Moretti licked his lips, a nervous tell. His shoulders straightened as though he intended to tell them to go to hell. A second later, though, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “All right, yes, payments came in. But it was legit, I swear. Earnings from an online gambling site…”
“Keep talking,” she said. “Unless you want to get in the car now? You know, since it’s dark out, and the windows are tinted.”
Moretti glanced around, grabbed the doorhandle, and slid into the backseat.
She shared a look with Callan before they both slid into the front seats of the idling car. She took the driver’s seat, and he took the passenger seat.
Once inside, he explained the shadowy poker ring in mumbled, hesitant phrases. But the details matched Roseline’s suspicions perfectly. This could be the break in the case they needed if she could connect the payments back to the Game Master. She focused on Moretti’s every word and shift in body language, determined not to miss anything.
Finally, he finished. “Okay, look… I did get some payments deposited. But it wasn’t anything worth calling the cops for.”
Bingo. Roseline realized she had been squeezing the headrest and made herself relax her grip.
Callan seized the admission smoothly. “So, you lied just now. Why, if the money’s legitimate?”
Moretti seemed to shrink under Callan’s icy tone. He struggled for words. “I just… look, it was earnings, all right? I was invited to join this exclusive online community a few months back. Private gambling site on the dark web.”
Roseline’s pulse quickened. Gambling. And on a hidden corner of the web? This connected to her investigation into the Game Master’s activity and finances. She maintained an impassive expression, though.
“Tell me more about the site.”
Moretti spread his hands, still defensive but more resigned. “That’s it, all I know. The buy-in was steep, but the pots were huge. Won some big payouts that ended up in that account. It’s not illegal to play poker.”
Callan leaned forward. “No, but an invite-only underground gambling ring does seem pretty damn shady. Who brought you into this exclusive web community?”
Moretti shook his head. “I don’t know, all right? First message came through anonymously on TorChat. Encrypted messaging, so no way to tell who sent it. The instructions were cryptic, but after figuring them out, I got access to the site. Been placing bets when I can ever since.”
Roseline’s thoughts raced. Anonymous messages over encrypted channels were the Game Master’s style. This could be a pivotal lead if she could connect him to the way this gambling ring recruited players.
