The Brodsky Affair: Murder is a Dying Art Read Online Free

of discovery or adventure, and the possibility of making a fortune. Life was meant for challenges, obstacles to overcome, like debts, banks to satisfy and contesting unreasonable tax demands. The only questions he could ask himself were what, when and how?
    Sipping his pint, he continued to surf through an array of North European auction houses until his concentration became distracted by a blast of cold air breezing down his neck. The door swung open and Tamsin Greene walked in.
    “I thought I’d find you here.” She swung her hand aloft for a high-five, leant forward and stuck her tongue energetically into his ear. “Hi Jack, how’s it going?”
    He experienced a feeling of irritation at being interrupted. Tamsin stood back looking at him. At thirty-four, her slender figure stood at five-feet-eight-inches, and when she took off her raincoat, she attracted admiring glances from the few men in the bar.
    As usual, she seemed not to notice. Her dark hair was prettily dishevelled. She made even the simple gesture of brushing the damp from her cheeks look stunning. Her femininity shone through liquid brown eyes that many thought made her look vulnerable. He knew her well enough to know that was not true. There wasn’t much Jack Manton didn’t know about her. Tamsin’s father, Igor Beauvais, had been a French-Russian whose own father had fought against Franco in the Spanish Civil War. Her mother, Bonita, was pure Spanish. During her early years, they had lived in Seville and Tamsin was one of three children, with an older sister, and a younger brother.
    Tamsin had easily learned the family linguistic interplay of Russian, French and Spanish. Her father, a banker, had died tragically in a train crash when she was fourteen. Although he left the family well provided for, her mother never recovered from the trauma. Three years to the day, she committed suicide by overdosing on barbiturates.
    Tamsin was left emotionally scarred. For a time after that, she had not cared whether she lived or died, nor did she ever want to study again. In spite of that, she was awarded a scholarship to study applied linguistics at London University. Yet, academic success failed to free her from the feeling that she could never trust anyone totally. The tragic loss of her parents and the wreckage of her marriage to a husband, who was revealed as a serial adulterer, had changed her outlook on life.
    She reasoned that whatever or whoever you loved, it would at some time in the future be separated from you and cause pain. Behind that steely disposition though, she hid a deeper yearning for a stable and lasting relationship.
    Later, she worked as a language tutor in a foreign language school in central London. She spoke four languages fluently including Russian, her major, and could manage most others with little difficulty. They had met at a cultural exchange evening held at the Russian Embassy.
    He looked up at her. “I might have guessed.” He refused to smile. “Want a drink?”
    “Well, I’m not here for ballroom dancing.”
    “White wine spritzer please, George.”
    George nodded. “Ice?”
    Tamsin turned. “No thanks, it’s too bloody cold out there. Well, how’s it going today, Big Shot? Is the art world trembling at your discoveries?”
    Manton grimaced. “No, but I shall be unless I come up with something quick.”
    “Usual problem?”
    “More so. It’s the bank’s turn this morning.”
    “Don’t they ever leave you alone?” She sounded mollified and put her arm around his shoulder.
    “Tams… I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time to chat. I’m up to my neck in shit right now and I have to get on… please.” He pulled her arm away from him.
    “You can be a right tetchy bastard at times, Manton. I’ll drink up and leave you to it. Look, I’ve class to take in an hour and I’m finishing early tonight. So when I’m done, why don’t we meet up for a curry?”
    He didn’t look up. “Okay. I’ll pick you