Belshazzar's Daughter Read Online Free Page A

became aware of what seemed like hundreds of pairs of eyes watching him. Children, lots of children. Eight? Ten? No, more! It reminded him of home, the comfort of the couch, the endless litter of toys in the little ones’ bedrooms. The same, but different. Here there was squalor, hunger in the eyes of these children, the awful stench of too many bodies crowded together in a tiny space.
     
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    ‘It was about midnight,’ Mr Abrahams continued, his voice heavily accented and obviously unused to long expositions in the Turkish language. ‘We, all persons, are sleeping. And then it comes, screaming, terrible, from Meyer apartment.
    All waking now. Rivka, my wife, very frightened. She say me “go look”. So I go.’ He paused, his bottom lip beginning to tremble, pain, great pain crossing and then settling into his eyes.
    ikmen put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Please go on, Mr Abrahams.’
    ‘The door is open and first I see Leah Delmonte. She live downstairs. Leah screaming, screaming like, like … crazy!
    She sick on dress too. I go her and then I see. Leonid on bed, Inspector, but not Leonid.’ Mr Abrahams cast his eyes down towards the ground beneath his feet. ‘Like someone cut and pull him body with swords. Terrible. Blood and, and smell too. Like meat. Leah screaming, but not look at Leonid, Mr Meyer. She look at wall. Because on wall …’
    Shaking violently now, overcome by the horror of his recent experience, Mr Abrahams broke down in tears.
    ‘There was a large swastika drawn on the wall, sir,’
    Suleyman whispered softly into ikmen’s ear. ‘Looks like it might have been drawn in the victim’s own blood.’
    The night was hot, but ikmen suddenly felt a chill ripple through his body. He turned again to the little weeping Jew.
    ‘Thank you, Mr Abrahams. I realise it must have been hard.’
    His words seemed so trite under the circumstances. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’
    The two policemen pushed gently past the traumatised little man. From the apartment a dozen necks craned to watch them go.
    ‘You catch him, yes, Inspector!’
    ikmen turned. Abrahams was ramrod stiff now, pulled up to his full height, his face trembling with fury.
    “I will do everything I can, Mr Abrahams.’
    Avci was barring the door to the Meyer apartment, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. It was difficult for ikmen to believe that this giant of a man was only twenty-one years old, younger even than his own eldest son. Though alert, Avci was not on this occasion looking his usual cheerful Neanderthal self.
    ‘Hello, Inspector,’ he said as ikmen and his deputy approached. Both men nodded briefly in reply and Avci moved smartly to the left to allow them admittance. As he did so a short, fat man wearing pebble spectacles emerged from behind him.
    ‘Hello, Cetin!’ His voice was spirited, jolly even. He looked down at the bottle in ikmen’s hand and smiled broadly. ‘I’m glad to see your habits are still as disgusting as ever,’ he said, holding his hand out in the direction of the brandy. ‘May I?’
    ikmen placed the bottle in the man’s sweaty palm and lit a cigarette. ‘Hello, Doctor. What’s all this about then?’
    Dr Arto Sarkissian uncorked ikmen’s bottle and took a long, satisfying draught from its depths. ‘Wonderful!’
    He recorked the bottle, wiped his wet mouth upon the sleeve of his shirt, and returned the brandy to its rightful owner. ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘it’s all very fascinating actually, Cetin. Horrible, but fascinating. In fifteen years I’ve never seen anything like it.’ He clapped his fat hands up to his fat cheeks. ‘You’ll see in a minute, but, just to summarise …’
    There was an awful stench somewhere on the air. Even through the thickness of his cigarette smoke ikmen could smell it. Burning mixed with blood.
    ‘The victim received blows to the head. Some sort of blunt instrument, I should imagine. Considerable force was used, breaking the skull and exposing