Stormwind (The Storm Chronicles Book 3) by Skye Knizley Read Free Book Online Page B

the locals.”
    “I think you’ll need a clean coat, a suit that hasn’t been slept in and a haircut, but hey, some people like the scruffy look; maybe you’ll get lucky. Let’s roll.”
    Raven turned toward the back stairs. She was just through the door when she heard Levac mutter, “Who’s scruffy looking?”
     
     
    THE SHELBY RUMBLED THROUGH AFTERNOON traffic like a wolf stalking prey, the black and grey paint glistening in the pink-tinted sun. Raven tilted her shades back to look up at the oddly colored sun, ignoring how much it hurt her sensitive eyes.
    “It usually happens only a couple times a year,” Levac said. “This year is a little strange with two so close together.”
    “It’s annoying,” Raven replied, lowering her shades. “I have enough blood red in my life. The sun is supposed to be yellow and the moon is grey. I drew it enough times growing up to know the difference.”
    “Cheer up, Ray,” Levac said. “It’s a normal thing and will be gone in a few days.”
    Raven glowered behind her glasses and continued to guide her new Shelby through traffic toward one of the better sections of the city. Soon they were passing along the tree-lined streets of Logan Square; a low-key upper class neighborhood far enough from skyscrapers and industry to make it seem quietly quaint, but close enough to make commuting convenient. Levac pointed out Franks’ apartment building and Raven pulled into an empty spot between a Fiat 500 Abarth and a Toyota Prius.
    Franks’ apartment building was an odd combination of twenties revival mixed with Gothic elements such as a wrought iron security gate, gargoyles at the corners of the building and high, arched windows.  It was a strange-looking building, even for the ritzy part of town. Rumor was that Igor Steinmann had designed the place before moving to New York. The man was a wacko.
    Raven led the way past the security gates and through the heavy wooden doors into the building. Ice cold air hit her in the face and she shivered. The air conditioner was turned up to second ice age. She huddled in her jacket and approached the attractive young receptionist who was wearing a leather jacket.
    “Good afternoon,” she said, her breath spilling from her mouth. “How can I help you?”
    Raven pulled out her badge and placed it on the wide desk. “I’m Detective Storm; this is Detective Levac. We have a search warrant for Mr. Wade Franks’ apartment and a request that the temperature be turned up to somewhere above ‘meat locker’.”
    “I don’t believe Mr. Franks is in,” the receptionist replied, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “And I’m sorry but the air conditioning seems to be broken.”
    Raven picked up her badge. “Franks’ is out because he’s lying on a slab in the morgue… which is a bit warmer than your lobby. Can we have the spare key to his apartment, please?”
    The receptionist put a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. “Mr. Franks is dead? Oh my!”
    “I’m afraid so, ma’am,” Levac said. “We would really appreciate that key so we can get on with our investigation and be out of your hair as quick as possible.”
    “Certainly, Detective,” the receptionist said.
    She opened a section of her desk and rifled through a collection of antique keys, eventually pulling out one labeled “Franks, 404” in large black letters.
    “Here you are. He’s on the fourth floor at the end of the hall,” she said, handing the key to Levac.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” Levac said. “Just one more thing, could I have your name for the file?”
    The receptionist smiled and Raven stifled a grin. Levac’s Codumbo routine always charmed young women.
    “Melanie. Melanie Clark.”
    Levac smiled back and made a note in his rumpled notebook. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
    “Thank you, Melanie,” Raven added. “Come on, Rupe.”
    The two crossed to the elevators and Raven looked up at the numbers as the