Page 39

They’ll Find It

What was her mother thinking?

Padma was reviewing the details of The Matchmaker’s bio-data questionnaire her mother had completed on Padma’s behalf and was astounded by her answers. For one thing, why was her mother so focused on profession? She’d repeatedly told Padma to have an open mind, yet her mother listed specific preferences for criminal lawyers, international tax accountants, and podiatrists. Apparently, Padma wasn’t the only one with problematic feet.

For physical attributes, her mother had written ambulatory. For the love of God.

Brenda knocked on her door and poked her head in. “They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

Padma bounced in her chair. “This is so exciting, Brenda. Do you realize how important this is to our careers? If I’m right about this, and we’ve uncovered an internal theft ring, you and I can write our own tickets at Indo-USA Gaming. We’ll be legends.”

She smiled her new smile. “Mark my words, if we get that money back, our careers are set.”

Padma watched as Brenda absorbed the implications of that comment and congratulated herself on her cunning. She knew if she was going to succeed in proving and recovering this multimillion-dollar theft, she needed Brenda to be properly motivated to be her “inside woman.”

She’d learned from her mother how to dangle promises of promotions in front of the ambitious. Then cut them loose because they knew too much. Like, really loose. As in, permanently loose. That’s what her mother would do.

Brenda’s phone buzzed. “They’re here.”

She looked at Padma. “I’ll escort them to the maintenance room. Meet you there.”

Padma made a pit stop in the ladies’ room. She peered at herself in the mirror. Her acne was relatively calm, thankfully, the redness covered by heavy-duty concealer. She sniffed her armpits and did a quick wipe with a paper towel. She frowned at her reflection and recalled a TikTok she’d seen where a woman had made herself big before she went into a meeting. Padma shrugged, bent over to her toes, inhaled deeply, and then unfolded herself, stretching her fingertips to the ceiling. She felt her lungs inflate, her shoulders broaden, and her spine lengthen. She lowered her arms. Wiggled her hips and smiled. She could do this.

She arrived at the room, swiped her key card, sucked in her stomach, and pushed open the door. Brenda stood to the right, a few feet from the group of men huddled around the slot machine. The door clicked closed behind Padma.

A face popped up. Then another. The third and fourth men slowly turned toward her. At least Padma thought it was slowly. She may have mentally turned on a slo-mo filter in her mind. She hoped she hadn’t gasped out loud. She felt as if she’d mistakenly walked in on the casting call of The Indian Bachelor, if there were such a thing. The four men were each tall and trim in dark suits and crisp white shirts. Their hair fell in luxurious waves over liquid brown eyes. Was a wind machine blowing? She was sure they smelled fabulous.

Where had these bio datas been all her life?

Which one was The Fiscal Falcon? Any of them would do. This was the meet-cute she’d been longing for. Her life might turn out to be a Bollywood rom-com after all. Mr. and Mrs. Falcon, Padma Falcon. Mommy and Daddy met when Mommy called Daddy to help her catch some bad guys. Her mother could book the honeymoon.

Two of the men moved apart, and there stood a short, skinny, sallow-skinned man with thinning hair, a prominent nose, thick-rimmed glasses, and a smile of crooked teeth. He thrust his hand toward her. “Farid Nadir. They call me The Fiscal Falcon.”

Fuck.

Padma wasn’t used to being eye level with men. Even in heels she always had to look up. But she was eye to eye with this guy.

“So, Paddie.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I hear you lost us some money.”

“What! No, I did—”

He put his hand up to stop her. “Right, doll.”

His broad smile revealed the gaps on both sides where molars used to be. His gaze moved to her cleavage, and Padma instinctively tugged at her neckline. His eyes slid down to her feet. “Heels. Nice.” He licked his lips.

Ew. Padma stepped back and, struggling to maintain her balance, was grateful when Brenda spoke, calling their attention to the center of the room. Brenda began their briefing by familiarizing the five men with the room. She had set up workstations around the perimeter, each outfitted with a desktop computer and stationery supplies. A table in the middle held folders and binders.

“Each computer station has access to the closed-circuit footage we have from our two hundred cameras we have positioned inside the casino, and those outside that provide coverage within a one-mile radius of the premises. We’ve downloaded the past six months for a start but can go back as far as two years if required.”

Four men scanned the computers. Farid scrolled through his phone.

Brenda held up a binder. “Here on the center table we have copies of the HR files on the two employees, Dave Brand and Hank Montgomery. It holds their employment records and Dave’s timesheets. Hank, being management, didn’t complete timesheets. Over here, we have photos of the two men for your reference.”

Brenda pointed to the two easels holding the poster-size pictures of the men that had been on display at their funeral receptions.

“As well—”

Farid held up his hand again, pocketed his phone, and stepped toward Brenda. “Let me stop you right there, doll. I appreciate the work you’ve done. Very thorough. Now let’s get down to business. Correct me if I’m wrong, but my understanding is: you have potential overpayments of ten million dollars, and you have four dead guys. Right?”

“But only two were employees,”

Padma said from behind him.

Farid turned and stepped toward Padma. “But the two employees knew the other two?”

Padma wanted to take a step backward but forced herself to stand still. “One employee died in an accident, and the other employee, Hank Montgomery, along with two of his friends died in a separate event. A boat explosion.”

Even saying the words out loud made Padma cringe at the likelihood it was a coincidence.

“And the first employee and the second employee knew each other?”

“It seems so.”

“And all four dead men knew each other?”

Padma recalled the funeral photo, their arms around each other’s shoulders, holding a string of fish and standing on a bright, sunny dock. “It seems so.”

Farid reached in his pocket and withdrew a package of pink bubble gum. Padma watched him tear it open, unwrap a chunk, and pop it in his mouth. He winked at Padma. “I developed a taste for it when I quit smoking.”

He started to chew. Padma cringed as she watched the pink blob bounce around his mouth. She was revolted but also a little mesmerized. Farid returned the package to his pocket, turned his eyes to her, tongued the wad aside to his cheek, and put his hands on his hips. “This is what is going to happen. We are going to get that money back. We start with the senior employee and the people he left behind. If they don’t know where the money is, they’ll find it. So the only thing I need to know from you two is”—he pointed his forefingers at Brenda and Padma like a double-barreled shotgun—“who did this Hank Montgomery love?”