Read Online Belshazzar's Daughter by Barbara Nadel - Free Book Online Page B

Every summer for fifteen years the two families had gone on holiday together.
    Wonderful holidays. There had been other benefits too. The Sarkissian boys had always been studious. Their diligence had rubbed off on Timur’s elder son, Halil, the accountant.
    Cetin, on the other hand …
    Timiir stretched to the side and tapped Suleyman on the elbow. ‘Do you know Arto Sarkissian?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘A fine doctor. My son grew up with him. Inseparable, they were, as children.’ He became gloomy and he showed it. ‘Pity he didn’t follow his example when it came to choosing a career!’
    ‘Timur!’
    Suleyman cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say really. One could never be sure when the old man was joking and when he wasn’t. Cruel jest, it seemed to Suleyman, was the principal form of communication between this father and son. He didn’t begin to understand and had the feeling that he wasn’t really meant to either.
    ikmen interrupted his sergeant’s musings by handing him the car keys once again. ‘Here, you drive him back. I’ll help you down the stairs with him and then I must get on!’ He slipped his arms gently around his father’s waist and hauled him slowly to his feet. ‘Come on, Timur, time to go.’
    ‘Oh, wonderful!’ said the old man, his voice dripping with what sounded very much like resentment. ‘Back to your lovely wife and beautiful children!’
    ‘You love it!’
    Suleyman followed the ikmens out of the office and down towards the stairs. He watched the two men descend, locked in an embrace, both swearing loudly and copiously at each other.
     
    He saw her, but she didn’t see him. The window, although only dimly and inadequately lit, threw back a yellow, glittering glow into the tiny cubby-hole shop behind. It was well stocked. Mr Avedissian, her employer, made sure of that. The stock wasn’t just anything either. All was gold without exception and the workmanship was
    of the finest, from the tiniest signet ring right up to the great Egyptian-style collar that took centre stage in the latest display. The patrons of Avedissian’s were, with few exceptions, wealthy and powerful. Only the best was good enough. Not surprising that this minute cupboard-like shop had attracted Robert’s attention all those months ago when he had been searching for some jewellery for his mother. Not for tourists, Avedissian’s; there was not even the slightest whiff of popular influence upon its glittering, high-class shelves. It had been just what he wanted, and so had the assistant who had served him. Just what he had, and still, wanted.
    He looked at her dark, delicately sculptured profile, her smooth skin lit and warmed by the soft iridescent gleam bouncing off the precious items around her. A princess in her treasury, bathing her beauty in the warm fires of great wealth. A thick black curl flopped forward on to her broad forehead. One long, perfectly manicured hand pushed it away, back over on to the crown of her head.
    The movement was lazy, sensual, typically her. She was arranging a display of rings, her face set, intent upon the task in hand. Absorbed, and yet he knew that at least part of her mind would be elsewhere. Maintaining that perfect profile, sustaining the most alluring stance possible, took concentration. A very high degree of self-absorption, self-love.
    He pushed the door open. Glowing colours assailed his eyes. Before he found Avedissian’s it had not occurred to him that gold could be so variable. White gold, cold and hard as silver; red gold, warm, fiery, sexual; yellow workaday, familiar gold; and then, most mysterious of all, green gold, unnatural to the eye, jealous, evil. Green gold was Natalia’s favourite.
    The bell above the door clanked rustily as he entered and she looked up. Enormous, round, brown eyes, ringed with black kohl, protected by lashes so thick they were almost feathers. Her mouth opened slightly, but she did not smile.
    He had not expected her to.