Chapter 4 - The Clean Sweep
When I unlocked the door to the Narvarte apartment at 11:00 PM, the place looked as if a hurricane had passed through it. Drawers were yanked open, papers were scattered across the mahogany floor, and the wall painting in the study had been ripped down, exposing the wall safe.
Mónica stood over the open safe, stuffing wads of cash, land titles, and jewelry into a leather duffel bag. Standing beside her was Rodrigo Salgado—a slick, thirty-five-year-old man wearing an expensive tailored suit, holding a crowbar.
"Looking for something, Mónica?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe with Gabriel at my side.
Mónica jumped, nearly dropping a velvet jewelry box. But within seconds, her shocked expression transformed into a snarl of sheer arrogance. She clutched the duffel bag tight against her hip.
"You're too late, Mateo," she sneered. "We already initiated the title transfer deed to an offshore buyer in Panama. By morning, the 6.4 million pesos will be laundered through three separate corporate accounts. You have no leverage."
Rodrigo took a step forward, slapping the crowbar against his palm in a blatant attempt at intimidation. "Listen to me, pencil-pusher. Walk away. You’re an accountant. You don't know how this city works. If you pursue this, my contacts in the prosecutor's office will ensure you get tied up in legal fees until you're bankrupt and homeless."
Gabriel stepped out from behind me, pulling out his iPad and pressing play on an audio file.
Rodrigo’s smug smile vanished as his own voice echoed through the room: “Make sure the old woman stays medicated enough so she can’t talk to the doctor, Mónica. Once Trejo stamps the deed, we sell the Coyoacán plot to the resort developers.”
"Where did you get that?" Rodrigo gasped, his face draining of all color.
"You left your tablet synced to the house Wi-Fi network, Salgado," I said, stepping closer to him without an ounce of fear. "Every text message, every voice note, every fraudulent wire transfer between you, Mónica, and Notary Trejo over the last eighteen months is currently being analyzed by the Financial Intelligence Unit."
Mónica’s breath hitched. "You... you hacked my accounts?"
"I am the chief auditor of a multi-national firm, Mónica," I said coldly. "Did you really think you could play with numbers in my house without me finding the trail?"
Before Rodrigo could swing the crowbar, two plainclothes detectives stepped into the apartment from the hallway, their badges displayed prominently on their belts.
"Rodrigo Salgado, Mónica Flores," the lead detective announced. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit grand fraud, extortion, money laundering, and primary involvement in felony elder abuse."
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"Mateo! Wait! Please!" Mónica screamed as the officers forced Rodrigo to the floor and pulled her arms behind her back. "We can talk about this! I was confused! Rodrigo forced me to do it! He threatened me!"
"Save your lies for the judge, Mónica," I said, walking over to her and snatching the leather duffel bag from her grasp. "You wanted my mother's estate. Now you can settle for a six-by-eight cell in Santa Martha Acatitla."
