The Postcard Killers Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rome. Where did you say you met him?”
    Dessie sighed with relief. At least he was who he said he was, even if he smelled.
    “He looked me up,” she said.
    “
Why?
Why did he look you up? What did he want with you? He came to the apartment?”
    All the old irritations came crashing back on Dessie like a fist in the stomach. All these questions, the insinuations, the
     same accusing tone that had finally driven her to finish it with Gabriella.
    “I really don’t know,” Dessie said, trying to sound calm and in control of the situation.
    “We’re thinking of talking to him to see what he knows,” Gabriella said, “so you’re free to interview him if you like.”
    “Okay,” Dessie said, feeling that it was time to hang up.
    “But we’re looking after this case, not some freelancing Yank,” Gabriella said. “And be careful, Dessie. These are murderers,
     not your usual pickpockets and burglars.”

Chapter 12
    Saturday, June 12
    SYLVIA RUDOLPH TILTED HER HEAD to one side and smiled beautifully. Her eyes lit up.
    “You have to let us show you our very favorite place in Stockholm. They’ve got the most wonderful cakes, and their hot chocolate
     cups are as big as bathtubs.”
    The German couple laughed, their mood lightened by the thick joint the four of them had just shared.
    “It’s on Stortorget, the square in the Old Town that’s got a ridiculously dramatic history,” Mac said, putting his arm around
     the German woman. “The Danish king, one Christian the Tyrant, had the whole of the Swedish nobility executed there in November
     fifteen twenty.”
    “More than a hundred people lost their heads,” Sylvia said. “The mass murder is still called ‘the Stockholm Bloodbath.’ ”
    The German girl shuddered.
    “Ugh, how horrid.”
    Mac and Sylvia exchanged a quick glance and smiled at each other. “Horrid?” This from someone whose forefathers started two
     world wars?
    The Rudolphs held each other’s hand and walked quickly up toward Börshuset, the old Stock Exchange Building, and the Nobel
     Museum located in it. The Germans followed them, giggling and stumbling.
    In the café, actually called
Chokladkoppen
, “The Chocolate Cup,” they ate cinnamon buns and drank homemade raspberry juice.
    Sylvia couldn’t take her eyes off the German woman. She really was incredibly beautiful. Unfortunately she was light blond,
     almost platinum, but that could be sorted out somehow.
    “Oh, I’m so glad we met you two,” Sylvia said, hugging the German man. “I have to have a souvenir of today! Mac, do you think
     the jeweler in that department store is still open?”
    Mac sighed, raising his eyebrows as he always did at this point in their script.
    “Oh, dear,” he said. “This is going to be expensive.”
    The German took out his wallet to pay for the pastries, but Mac stopped him.
    “This is on us!”

Chapter 13
    THEY WALKED DOWN TO THE quayside together, following the water until they came to the greenery of Kungsträdgården. The German
     woman seemed to have gotten the munchies badly after the marijuana, because she stopped to buy an ice cream at one of the
     kiosks along the way.
    Sylvia took the opportunity to sidle closer to the man while his girlfriend was busy licking her ice cream.
    “She’s amazing,” Sylvia said, gesturing toward the woman, who was dripping melted ice cream on her clothes. “If I were you,
     I’d really want to give her a token of my appreciation…”
    The German smiled, a little uncertain. He was not exactly a bad specimen either. He looked like a handsome villain from some
     film, maybe a member of the old Baader-Meinhof Gang, something like that.
    “ ‘Appreciation’? How do you mean?”
    Sylvia kissed him on the cheek and touched his left wrist.
    “She hasn’t got a nice watch…”
    Sylvia suggested they get a little cash, so they stopped at the bank. She hung on to the man, memorizing his PIN as he keyed
     it in at the ATM.
    NK, the department store,