The Love Killings by Robert Ellis Read Free Book Online

apartment with a view of the square and Center City. The river’s only two blocks away, so if this were April or May and you jogged and had any spare time, you’d be in the right place.”
    She was making a joke and had a look going.
    “But this is December,” he said. “And so I’m not.”
    She laughed. “You’re in a real nice neighborhood, Jones. Cafés, restaurants, it’s quiet here. Not a lot of traffic. You need any help getting your bags upstairs?”
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “The elevator’s a little shaky.”
    Matt climbed out of the car, then opened the rear door and grabbed his duffel bag and briefcase. When he looked in on Brown, she was writing something down on the back of a business card.
    “It’s my home number,” she said, “just in case. I live five minutes north of here in the museum district. Call me if you need me. My cell’s on the front with our office numbers and the address.”
    “What about my cell number?”
    “Doyle already gave it to me. Oh, and it’s supposed to get colder tomorrow. A real deep freeze. The office is on the other side of town. If I were you, I’d take a cab in the morning.”
    “When’s morning?”
    “Eight sharp.”
    Matt thought about what he was wearing: a pair of slacks and a casual dress shirt. He hadn’t brought a suit and had forgotten to pack a sports jacket.
    “What about the dress code?” he said. “I’m a G-man now.”
    She gave him a quick look. “A temporary G-man who grew up in Jersey and lives in LA. With that kind of résumé what you’re wearing will do just fine.”
    Matt closed the passenger door, and Brown lowered the window.
    “Thanks, Kate,” he said. “Thanks for making everything so easy.”
    She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She smiled and nodded and pulled away from the curb.

CHAPTER 8
    Matt flipped the business card over and glanced at her name and title printed on the front: “Kate Brown, Assistant Agent in Charge.” Slipping the card into his pocket, he watched her drive off until she vanished around the corner on Twenty-Second Street. The sidewalks were nearly empty, and he noticed the silhouette of a man walking toward him two blocks away. Matt waited for him to step beneath a streetlight, then grabbed his bags and entered the building.
    It wasn’t his shadow. It wasn’t the man he’d seen on his flight and at the airport. His hair wasn’t black, but blond, and he carried a knapsack and had the build, at least from a distance, of someone who worked out in a gym.
    Matt found the elevator and listened to the cables creak all the way up to the fourth floor. As he stepped out into a dimly lit hallway, he could hear the sound of someone’s TV bleeding through their door. Apartment 4B was just down the way on the left. After unlocking the deadbolt and the handle lock, he switched on the lights and walked inside.
    The place was nicer than he expected. Much nicer. Whoever furnished the rooms had taste and seemed to know that the people staying here were away from home. The kitchen was to his right directly behind him. Someone had stocked the fridge with milk and eggs and almost anything he might need for a day or two. He grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap, and took a swig. Then he checked the cabinets and found cereal and coffee. As he walked through the living room, he noted the large bay window and gazed outside at the square across the street. From four stories up, it looked like a very cold and lonely place. Like an arcade on a Jersey boardwalk that was closed for winter and wouldn’t open again until spring.
    He turned back to the room and took another sip of beer. The art on the walls, the black-and-white photographs, all seemed so familiar. One of the three photographs was by Minor White. It was an incredible shot of a road heading toward the hills and lined with white poplar trees that looked as if they were burning. An actual print of the same photograph hung in the Blackbird Café, one of