Iris made her measurements of the room. It was exactly ten feet wide as it was supposed to be, but it was only ten feet long. The wall adjacent to the mechanical ducts Ramone had described was tiled, but there was a large grated panel near the floor by the toilet. She crouched down next to it and shined her light into the grate. Between the louver slats she could just make out the smooth gleam of sheet metal. It must be the cold-air return, she decided, and made a note on the plans.

As Iris closed the door to John Smith’s office, she couldn’t get Suzanne’s voice out of her head. “Those bastards chained the doors up tight in the middle of the night.”

Whoever he was, he was long gone.

CHAPTER 20

Outside, East Ninth was hot and crowded as all the other worker bees filed out of the surrounding office buildings and into the scattered diners and restaurants for lunch. Iris lit a much-deserved cigarette and walked two steaming blocks to Panini’s for an overstuffed pastrami sandwich. After elbowing through the crowd at the counter and fighting for paper napkins and condiments, she found a bench near a window and dug in.

“Hey, stranger!” a voice called from across the room. It was Nick.

Iris grabbed a napkin and wiped the mustard off her chin. Her stomach flipped with his easy smile. He’d driven her home four days earlier after a work happy hour. She had been sloppy drunk, and she’d given him a sloppy kiss. He didn’t seem too impressed at the time. Her cheeks flushed as he pushed his way through the crowd toward her.

“Hey, Iris. Where’ve you been?”

“Hi, Nick.” She felt flattered he had even noticed her absence. “Mr. Wheeler decided to let me out of the office. I’ve been working down the street at the old bank building.”

He set his tray down next to hers. With his wavy hair and rumpled khakis, he was almost annoyingly handsome. “Wow. How’d you swing that?”

“Brad volunteered me. I think he was trying to help.” Iris felt herself sitting up straighter and wishing she’d worn a cuter top. Shit. Is that a mustard stain? She crossed her arms to hide the blemish.

“Trying to help you do what?” he smirked.

“Hmm? Oh, keep me from going crazy, I guess.”

“Is it helping?” He raised his eyebrows at her with a slow grin. She could still feel his warm lips on hers.

“Uh. Sort of.” She kept her eyes on her sandwich. What was really driving her crazy was not knowing why he had just dumped her at her house after kissing her.

“Hello there. Can I join you guys?” A beautiful blond walked up with a petite salad in her hand. Iris recognized her from the office.

“Hey, Amanda. Grab a seat.” Nick patted the bench next to him. Amanda had on a silk blouse and white skirt that fit her perfect ass like a glove. Iris could never wear white. Within minutes of pulling on anything pristinely white, she would sit in a pool of ketchup or fall into the greasy latch of a car door. Iris could never keep up with a white skirt.

“Do you know Iris?” Nick asked.

“Of course. You’re over in engineering, right?”

“That’s me.” Iris was certain there was a piece of spinach in her teeth.

“I’ve been meaning to stop over and talk with you,” she said with a saccharine smile.

“Really?” Iris was confused. Amanda was an architect and in charge of parading around like a model as far as she could tell. “About what?”

“Amanda’s a staff liaison,” Nick said with a mouth full of roast beef.

“Liaison to who?” Iris frowned.

“Exactly. You see, Nick? The entry-level staff doesn’t even know who’s running this firm.”

“Well, that’s not . . .” Iris began.

Amanda kept right on talking: “The younger staff is the future of this company, and it’s up to us to set our goals. The partners really want to see more out of us.”

“More,” Iris repeated, trying not to show her irritation. She had just worked the entire weekend for free. What more could they possibly want?

The “partners” were the old men who sat in their offices all day, hogging the windows. The only one Iris had ever talked to was Mr. Wheeler. She pondered that fact for a moment and then realized it wasn’t quite true. She had talked to another gray-haired guy in a suit a few weeks back. He’d caught her in the hallway skulking to her desk.

“Good morning, Iris,” he’d said with a creepy smile.

“Oh . . . uh, hi!” she’d replied because she didn’t know his name. It didn’t help that she’d been hungover and fifteen minutes late that morning.

“So . . . How are you adjusting to life here at WRE?”

It had been a reasonable question, but she couldn’t help but think that he’d seemed to enjoy watching her squirm.

“Um. It’s great.” She forced a smile. “We’ve got some really interesting projects going.”

“Don’t we though?” His twisted grin had hinted that he knew she was full of shit. “Better get to it then, hmm?”

With that he just sauntered back behind some closed door on the other side of the office. She’d sort of blocked the whole exchange out, but on some subconscious level, she’d been avoiding any direct contact with the partners ever since.

Amanda continued yammering on about increasing work hours and opening stock options to the entire staff. Iris pretended to be interested while she tried to figure out how she was going to stuff the giant sandwich in her mouth with Nick sitting right there. There was no feminine way to do it. Besides, Iris couldn’t see herself staying at WRE long enough to become fully vested in stock options anyway, so it was hardy an incentive. Nick and Amanda were talking like lifers. It was depressing. She was sure they’d be very happy together.

After lunch, the three of them headed back toward the office, Amanda chatting all the way. Iris found herself lagging behind to keep from pushing the blabbermouth into traffic. At the first opportunity, she waved her good-byes and trotted across East Ninth Street toward the bank. After listening to Amanda drone on for twenty minutes, she could really use a smoke.

“Iris, wait!” Nick called from behind her. He jogged up to her side. She shoved her cigarette pack back in her bag. No one at work knew she smoked. It was frowned upon.

“Yes?”

“I need to see inside the old bank. Can you give me a tour?” He cocked his head at her funny, or maybe the sun was in his eyes. She couldn’t tell.

“Really? Why?”

“Mr. Wheeler wants to get my opinion on whether any of the historical interiors can be salvaged. WRE might advise the county to restore some of it if the sale goes through.” He held up a large camera bag she hadn’t noticed before.

Iris nodded. “Sure. Come with me.”

Wheeler seemed to be taking a real interest in the project. Maybe her hard work would actually get noticed. Oh shit. He wanted to save the “interiors,” and she’d just demolished a bookcase. At least she’d saved the chairs.

Iris led him into the alley behind the building. Ramone buzzed them in, and she escorted Nick past the loading dock to the main lobby. She filled the awkward silence with chatter.

“The First Bank of Cleveland closed in 1978. They chained the doors in the middle of the night, if you can believe that, and left all of this stuff behind. Furniture, coffee mugs, pictures, files. It’s all perfectly preserved. I can’t believe that in twenty years nobody came along sooner and stripped it clean. Somebody must really care about this place. I mean, what vacant building has an armed security guard? I guess they’re worried about someone stealing it all. I don’t know who would want to steal this stuff, though.”

Besides me, Iris thought. She’d taken Beatrice’s file that morning. Then there was Suzanne’s key. It wasn’t stealing, she protested. She was just trying to help some little old lady get her things back. The little steel doors in the safe deposit vault ran through her head, along with the flashlight up on the fifteenth floor.