Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Chapter 551: Chapter 147 The Connection

Gideon’s POV

I watched Aria carefully as she spoke into that ancient rotary phone. Every gesture, every inflection in her voice screamed seasoned criminal - the kind who had spent extensive time navigating the dangerous waters between legitimate business and underground operations. My curiosity burned. Who was receiving that call? My gut told me she was alerting this Claire person that a federal investigator was suddenly digging into old family business. But I couldn’t be certain, especially since she’d deliberately chosen that vintage telephone that left no digital trail. I was genuinely surprised the relic still functioned in this modern precinct.

The moment she stepped out of the interrogation room, I turned to the detective, whose own connections made him invaluable for cases like this.

”I need to know who she contacted,” I said, my eyes fixed on the door she’d just exited.

”My friend, this woman is a master manipulator.” The detective’s weathered face split into a knowing grin. ”She thinks she’s outsmarted us, but she forgot something crucial - this building belongs to people with very long memories and very sophisticated equipment. I’m equally curious whether she reached out to any of her old associates.”

He approached the desk with the confidence of a man who’d spent decades navigating both sides of the law. Opening the top drawer, he gestured for me to come closer. Inside sat a caller identification device connected to the phone line, meticulously recording every number that passed through. The technology was as antiquated as the telephone itself, but in this business, sometimes the old ways proved most reliable. It might not pass federal evidence standards, but considering Aria’s flexible relationship with legal boundaries, I felt justified. I simply had to know who she’d contacted.

The detective manipulated the device with practiced ease and scratched the number onto a notepad. I committed it to memory before entering it into my phone’s secure notes application.

”This area code traces back to her hometown territory,” I observed. ”I believe I know exactly who received that call.”

The detective pulled a disposable cell phone from the drawer and powered it up. ”Let’s test your theory,” he said, dialing the number and activating the speaker function.

”Hello?” A woman’s voice cut through the static, commanding and distinctly irritated.

”Who’s calling?” the detective asked with deceptive gentleness.

”Claire. Who wants to know?” Her tone carried the razor-sharp hostility typical of family women who’d learned to guard their words carefully.

”Claire? Aren’t you related to Maia?” the detective couldn’t suppress his amusement at the obvious lie.

”Never heard of them. Don’t waste my time.” She was clearly preparing to disconnect.

”Isn’t this the Citadel residence?” the detective pressed, referencing another name.

”This is the Sullivan residence,” she snapped back with increasing agitation.

”Do you happen to have contact information for the Knightleys family?” the detective’s smile widened with each sign of Claire’s mounting frustration.

”Listen, kid, I don’t know any of these people you’re babbling about. Now leave me alone - I’ve got legitimate business to handle.” The line went dead with a sharp click.

”Was your instinct accurate?” the detective asked, clearly entertained by his encounter with the sharp-tongued matriarch.

”Absolutely correct!” I confirmed with a matching smile.

”So our target contacted an old associate and requested legal protection,” he mused, spinning a ballpoint pen between his weathered fingers. ”Could this Claire be documented in that client database?”

”Already searched extensively. Claire’s name doesn’t appear anywhere,” I responded.

”That file only contains records of ’clients,’ as Aria euphemistically calls the women who sought her underground medical services. Claire was never a client herself. We’re more likely to find our deceased person’s information in those records.”

His reasoning made perfect sense given the intricate web of connections and obligations.

”You’re absolutely right. I hadn’t approached it from that angle.” I moved toward the computer terminal.

I had initially searched only for Claire’s name, reviewing the ”Priority Clients” folders in chronological order until locating Sasha Mendez’s comprehensive file. Then Aria’s arrest had interrupted my investigation, forcing me to abandon the search.

I resumed scanning through the digital records systematically, but discovered nothing relevant.

The woman whose mysterious death I’d been investigating for an extended period remained completely absent from any documentation.

Disappointment crashed over me like freezing water. We desperately needed Aria to cooperate more extensively, but how could we apply the necessary pressure? My frustration intensified with each passing moment.

”Peculiar how this Claire appears to be treated as a special exception,” the detective remarked thoughtfully. ”Why would Aria maintain detailed files on everyone except her?”

”That’s precisely what I intend to discover.”

”Gideon, are you planning to return home tonight?” he inquired. ”I ask because we’ll need to wait for her family lawyer before we can continue questioning Aria formally, and that process might consume considerable time.”

”I can extend my stay another day,” I sighed with resignation.

”Don’t let this discourage you. I’m preparing the formal arrest documentation now and submitting requests for search warrants covering Aria’s residence and business locations. We might uncover significantly more evidence there,” he assured me with professional confidence.

”Excellent strategy. Would it be possible for me to speak with her privately in the holding area? Unofficially, of course?”

”You can, but exercise extreme caution not to compromise my arrest by crossing any procedural boundaries,” he warned sternly. I nodded my complete understanding.

He arranged for a uniformed officer to escort me to the detention cells.

I found Aria positioned on the concrete bench, feet elevated, back pressed against the cold wall in a posture of calculated defiance.

”I’m not discussing anything until my family attorney arrives,” she declared upon recognizing me.

”Come on, Aria, let’s be completely honest with each other. You understand that what I’m investigating won’t alter your current legal situation,” I said, leaning casually against the reinforced bars. ”Any activities you might have been involved in back then are beyond the reach of current prosecution.”

”I’m well aware of that fact. What I don’t comprehend is your motivation. If everything’s legally expired, why does federal law enforcement maintain active interest?” She shifted her position, lowering her feet to the concrete floor.

”Let’s call it professional curiosity about family history.”

”Curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back,” she replied with a thin, knowing smile.