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“Someone owned the jewelry shop. They had to lease that building, right? We should go to City Hall and see if we can find any information about it.”
Cassie didn’t want to argue. She was reeling from the information, too. As much as she tried to avoid thinking about it, she kept coming to the same conclusion: It looked like David had taken money from Aguilar over several years.
But David was a good cop. A good person. He’d never take money, and if he did, there had to be a compelling reason. But Cassie also couldn’t stop thinking about David’s letter. About how he hadn’t wanted them to look into his death. To just let it go. She felt so naïve for thinking she knew better.
With that thought in mind, Cassie joined Harris in going to City Hall. The drive was painfully silent, so Cassie looked up some information on the building to pass the time.
Construction had begun in 1909, and city employees occupied its halls in 1912. Over the years, renovations had taken place, and in 2001, they installed a roof garden. The pictures were breathtaking. However, it was nothing compared to the real thing.
As Harris hurried through the doors, Cassie stopped to gaze at the massive structure. At the time, critics had called it pretentious, and while she didn’t disagree, the building certainly made an impact. It had all the grandeur of classical architecture, with purely decorative Corinthian columns adorning the outside standing at a whopping seventy-five feet tall. From here, she couldn’t see much detail of the relief sculptures, but she knew they were there.
Cassie hurried inside, met by an impatient Harris. “What were you doing?”
Cassie couldn’t answer. The interior of the building was just as glorious. High vaulted ceilings and floors that gleamed with a mirror finish. It was like stepping back in time. Architecture was far from her specialty, and yet Cassie couldn’t help but appreciate such classic beauty.
What would it have been like to work here back when it was brand new? There’d be fewer ghosts, at least. Not that they were paying her much mind. The few who lingered in the grand entrance seemed stuck in a time loop, unable to escape the daily grind that had consumed them when they were alive. She felt sorry for them, but they added to the atmosphere of the building.
Not that anyone else could see them like she could.
“Cassie.” Harris was holding open the doors of an elevator. Two other people were already inside. “Come on.”
With an apologetic grimace, Cassie slipped inside the elevator and watched as Harris punched the number for the first floor. In silence, the four of them rose to the next level, where only Cassie and Harris got off. Cassie wanted to see the rest of the building, but Harris was already marching down the hall, toward her destination.
It turned out they weren’t in City Hall, but the other half of the building that housed the Cook County Clerk’s Office, specifically the Recordings Division. Harris knew exactly where to go, and after pausing briefly at the threshold of one of the rooms, she walked inside and up to the front desk.
On the other side sat a man who looked like he belonged in a basement next to a boiler, sipping on black coffee and rummaging through garbage and loose papers to fulfill his requests. He had pale skin and gray eyes—the effect enough to make Cassie pause, wondering if he was actually alive—though they were hidden behind large bottle-cap glasses. His mousy brown hair was greasy and flecked with silver. Even so, Cassie could see his strong jaw and high cheekbones. He’d definitely turn some heads, if only he’d take a look in the mirror once in a while.
“Can I help you?” he asked, not bothering to look up.
“I hope so, sir.” Harris’s voice was full of charm. Cassie had never heard her so amiable. “I’m looking for information on a public building. I’d like to know who owns it, so I can speak to them about possibly purchasing it.”
They had not discussed any of this on the way in, and Cassie suddenly felt at a loss for what to do. Silence seemed to be the best solution. She plastered a smile on her face for good measure.
The man looked up, taking in Harris with complete disinterest. He pulled a packet of papers from his desk and slapped them on the counter. “Fill out the information here. We’ll send you a copy of the documents within a week, if they’re available.”
“Ah.” Harris’s face fell. “Is there an expedite fee? I’d be happy to pay.”
That caught the man’s attention. For the first time, he seemed to take Harris in, from her high ponytail to her long jacket and that smile that looked as dangerous as it did disarming. His eyes shifted, and he spotted Cassie, who didn?
?t look like she belonged with the badass in front of him. Still, she stood a bit taller under his gaze.
“No expedite fee. It’s a week or nothing.”
Cassie felt a tingle in the back of her neck. The man was lying, but she wasn’t sure why. Harris didn’t look like a cop, but then again, this wasn’t some boiler room-turned-office, which meant the guy behind the desk would have to be more discerning about who he let cut in line. Someone else would need to vouch for them to make sure they weren’t working with the police. Someone like—
“Jonesy sent us.” As soon as the name popped into her head, she blurted it out. She had no idea who the hell Jonesy was, but the guy behind the desk seemed to recognize the name. “He said you’d help us.”
“He sent you, huh?”
“Yep.” Cassie forced herself to look nonchalant, almost bored. Harris kept the smile plastered to her face, but when she glanced at Cassie, there were questions in her eyes. “So? What do you say?”
The guy huffed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a hundred dollars to get it by the end of the day.”
Harris swooped in. “Two hundred and you work on it now.”
The man’s eyes twinkled. He opened his mouth. “What about—”
“No.” Harris’s congenial demeanor was gone. “Two hundred is far more than you expected to make today. Don’t be greedy.”
