Chuck and Jimmy entered the studio but didn't search on their own; they were waiting for someone. The front desk had been contacted in advance, and she would come over to help retrieve the documents soon.

Jimmy also glanced around; there were no surveillance cameras inside or in the hallway of the studio. It seemed if there was information to be found, finding the right person would still be a problem.

Speaking of which, Diego had a great eye—the receptionist was very pretty, appearing to be around 30, Latin American, with wheat-colored skin and dark long hair slightly curled at the tips.

Upon opening the filing cabinet in Diego's office, some medical records were taken out, "Strange, one folder is missing." The receptionist mumbled to herself while searching the office.

Chuck, "What's going on? Which files are missing?"

The receptionist, "There should be three medical folders; now there are only two. The latest one that's currently in use is gone. It should've started recording from the middle of last year."

Chuck and Jimmy exchanged glances—it seemed the problem lay right here. "Keep looking, and also, do you still have the appointment information here?"

The receptionist, "Yes." She took out a registration book from the filing cabinet, handed it to Chuck, and continued to search for the most recent medical file.

In the end, they still couldn't find the missing folder; it was helpless. It looked like the missing folder contained the case they were looking for, but fortunately, the information in the registry was still intact.

Jimmy returned to Federal Square, and Chuck took the registry back to the police station. They had more manpower to extract all the booking information and compare it with their system to identify the relevant individuals. Jimmy didn't get involved in this tedious task; he had already uncovered the crucial information for the case and didn't need to handle everything himself.

As the long week neared its end, Jimmy packed up and prepared to head home. It was the weekend, and it was time to relax. It had been a long while since he had gone out for a stroll. Ever since getting his own apartment, Jimmy spent significantly more time at home than before.

Back when he was in Little Rock, it was normal to go out after work, even if just to pass the time. But after moving to New York, he felt a bit of the cautiousness he had when he was first reborn. Jimmy didn't go out as often, and after buying his own house, he leaned towards being a homebody even more.

After a simple dinner at home, Jimmy changed clothes and headed out. There was a speakeasy bar not far from his place. He had been there once and liked it, quite reminiscent of Justin's Camelot Bar and the underground bar at the Intercontinental Hotel, despite a different decor and environmental setup.

Unlike those two bars that featured live singers, this one just played music. Perhaps it was the wrong time, but Jimmy didn't see any resident singer, though there was a small stage indeed.

The dim environment featured a row of custom chandeliers just overhead the bar, illuminating only a portion of the bar area; the surrounding wall lights were also very dim. Each nearby table had a candle-like small lamp. Yet, the lighting was sufficient for one to see the pathways and furniture clearly, thus avoiding any bumping around.

Most people there were in pairs or groups, all settled directly in the table area beside the bar, leaving few people at the bar itself. Jimmy took a seat at the bar and ordered the day's special honey ginger cocktail, slowly whiling away his leisure time.

Soon, the bar was nearly full. In New York, many people frequented bars in the evenings to have a drink and chat; although there were many patrons, it wasn't overly noisy. Jimmy was quite pleased—it could become a future haunt of his since it not only had a nice ambiance but also was close to his apartment.

Soon after, three women entered. They checked the situation and directly made their way to the spot next to Jimmy. Unfortunately, there were only two seats left, so one of them had to stand between the two, leaning on the bar with her arms and whispering to chat.

Jimmy was a bit amused watching them. There was a bouncer at the door, and the bar kept track of how many vacancies they had; normally, they shouldn't have admitted extra people. Standing without a seat can really affect the mood; it's better to wait outside than to come in and find no place. He wondered how they got in.

After taking a sip of his drink, he suddenly noticed that the unfortunate girl standing in the middle looked very familiar, so he tentatively called out, "Nia? Nia Miller?"

Nia turned and looked at Jimmy, furrowing her brows at him, surprised to run into someone she knew while out with friends.

"Hey, Detective Jimmy," Nia changed her frowning expression to a smile and greeted Jimmy.

Jimmy raised his glass and gently clinked it against hers, "So it really is you, your friend?"

Nia nodded, "My old classmate." The girls beside Nia also glanced at Jimmy, then their heads came together as they whispered something and chuckled softly together, seeming very happy.

It was normal for police to come to bars after their shift, and since Nia was there with friends, Jimmy didn't disturb them and reached out to operate an antique horse racing game sitting nearby, watching the spinning horses gradually come to a stop. As someone left, a round table freed up, and Nia and her group moved over and sat down.

Jimmy ordered another Penicillin, and, well, speaking of giving such a name to a mixed cocktail—it was hard to say whether these bartenders lacked creativity or had too much. The whiskey-based drink, slightly sweet with a spicy flavor, tasted completely different from the whiskey Jimmy usually drank.

After a while, at Nia's invitation, Jimmy also moved over to join them, Nia's two old classmates, both models, had come for New York Fashion Week. It seemed that the quality of girls from Nia's school was quite high.

Jimmy chatted with them for a while and then excused himself to leave the bar, regrettably heading out alone.

On Monday, after Jimmy started work, he received a call from Chuck and went to the police station; Chuck led Jimmy to the conference room where Nia was already operating the projector.

Nia: "By checking the appointment information at Diego's Studio, we confirmed the information of over a hundred clients from the past six months; most of the identities were verified, but some left anonymous phone numbers and could not be traced in the system."

"Here's the surveillance footage from the building's entrance, corresponding to the appointment times. Since the previous videos have been destroyed, we only have the last month's footage."

Jimmy nodded, and Nia continued to play the surveillance footage, searching for records of those who used untraceable phones and couldn't be identified based on their provided information, checking before and after their appointment times.

Given the building's heavy traffic, they couldn't pinpoint which individuals had gone to Diego's Studio; after watching two videos, Jimmy gestured for Nia to pause.

Jimmy turned to Chuck, "Chuck, checking the surveillance like this is pointless. Diego is a plastic surgeon; which means after their surgeries, they usually leave bandaged up, so we can't see their faces at all. As for their looks upon arrival, they aren't relevant anymore."

Chuck nodded, "Another point I'm worried about is if the shooter came after having a facial surgery with Diego, implying he has recovered, adding the recovery time, it could have been over a month now. The surveillance we have now couldn't possibly capture his looks."

Jimmy: "Exactly, so I have an idea. Let's directly review the surveillance footage after Diego's death. The gunman would surely have hurried to retrieve the records. In theory, just watching the surveillance from the days following Diego's death and then identifying the individuals in it should work. From Diego's death to when we obtained the records, two weeks have passed, so the time span is too broad; let's systematically identify people appearing in the videos in phases. We might need the building's security staff and employees to help identify other people in the footage, temporarily excluding those who work in the building and focusing on those they don't recognize."

Chuck nodded and looked at Nia, "Nia, contact the building's property management staff and ask them to assist with the investigation at the police station."

Nia nodded, tidied up the files on the table, and then left the conference room.

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