Dante patted his chest as if feeling for documents. “Unfortunately, I appear to have left that with my attorneys.”
“Hmm,” Theo said, given we didn’t have any basis to demand that information from a lawyer. “Are you aware a commercial building belonging to Mr. Buckley was damaged yesterday?”
“I was not,” he said. But nothing in his expression changed. “Isn’t that a tragedy.” It wasn’t a question.
“Two men were killed,” Theo said.
“Doubly tragic,” Dante said blandly.
“How long have you known Mr. Buckley?” Theo asked.
“For a time. We’re business associates.”
“It’s odd he didn’t tell you about the warehouse,” I said, “given you’re business associates and he sold you this condo a few hours ago.”
We both looked at Dante, who hadn’t broken a sweat, but didn’t look happy about the line of questioning.
“He’s not a friend,” Dante said. “We’ve only been involved in discrete business transactions.”
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“That’s a rude question, isn’t it?”
“It’s a simple question,” I said. “You aren’t from Chicago, and I’m sure you know how I know that. So where are you from?”
“New York,” he said, practically daring me to make an issue of it.
“You have a vehicle licensed here?” I asked, thinking of the New York plates on the vehicles at the port.
“I don’t drive.” His smile was thin. “I have drivers.”
“And do they have vehicles?”
“You’d have to ask them.”
I looked around at the other demons in the room. Half were busy studying the skyline. Half stared back at me with bored expressions. This was like pulling teeth, and it was trying my patience.
“What brings you to Chicago from New York?” Theo asked, probably sensing my growing irritation.
“Business,” Dante said.
“What kind of business?”
“Empire building. The kind of business that makes a man wealthy enough to afford this,” he said, and flicked a hand toward the windows.
“The name of your company?” Theo asked.
“Don’t have one. I’m a sole proprietor. A…What do you call it?” He snapped his fingers like a bad-mannered customer.
“Entrepreneur?” offered one of the other demons.
“Right. Entrepreneur,” Dante said. “Myself and my associates are looking forward to extended business dealings in Chicago.”
“Dante,” Theo said, “as I’m sure you’re aware, Chicago doesn’t have good experiences with demons. So we’re going to ask you, politely, to leave town right now.”
Dante looked at us for a long time. “No,” he finally said, the word falling heavily as a stone.
“Apologies,” Theo said. “I asked a question, but should have made a statement.” His face went hard. “Get out of Chicago.”
