A Beautiful Family by Marilyn Cohen de Villiers

Author:Marilyn Cohen de Villiers [Villiers, Marilyn Cohen de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Reach Publishers
Published: 2014-05-27T00:00:00+00:00

***

Ben looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Max Lieberthal shifted in his chair.

‘Mr Shapiro, it’s getting late. Please can we start without him?’

He picked up the phone and dialled Alan’s extension.

‘Mr Silverman’s office. Josephine Smith speaking.’ Damn. Alan still hadn’t returned, she told him. She was getting a little concerned, because he had been scheduled to return to the office that morning. Dear God, he sincerely hoped this wasn’t going to be a repeat of that episode when the twins had been born. In fact, if Alan had found a shiksa to delay him on this trip, he’d disown him. He smiled grimly. He hadn’t even told him about his inheritance yet, and already he was disowning him.

‘Look here, Max. It seems Alan has been unavoidably delayed. Leave the documents with me – with your list of queries – and I’ll go over them with him this evening. Then we can meet again tomorrow when I’m sure he’ll have the answers you require.’

Max Lieberthal hauled himself out of the chair and rocked back on his little feet. So little, Ben always expected him to topple over, like the Wobbly Man in Noddy. He really didn’t understand why Noddy was out of favour in schools nowadays. He enjoyed reading Jeremy’s old books to the twins, and they clearly loved Noddy and Big Ears. Children were children; he didn’t care what the experts said.

‘Mr Shapiro, I’d really rather go through the numbers with you. It gets quite complicated and...’

‘I’m not in my dotage yet, young man. I can still read a set of financials. Leave them with me, as I said, and I’ll see you back here tomorrow, at ten.’

Max Lieberthal nodded glumly and waddled out of the office.

Ben dialled Alan and Brenda’s flat, but, again, it just rang. Damn. He’d go around there and see what was going on.

Harcourt dropped him at the front entrance. He took the lift to the second floor and walked down to their front door. He was pleased to see that the paint work on the balustrade looked fresh and clean. He knocked at the door. Silence. He tried the handle – now why did he do that? If they weren’t there, the door would be locked. The handle turned. He could feel the hair rise on his neck. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He pushed the door open and walked in… and stopped… and stared. The flat looked like it had been hit by a bomb. They’d been burgled. He rushed out and banged on the door of the adjacent flat. A young woman answered.

‘Do you have a phone? Please. You must call the police.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘Alan and Brenda, next door, they’ve been burgled.’

‘No, they haven’t. They’ve gone.’

‘Gone? Gone where?’

‘They’ve gone. Left. Last Sunday, I think it was. Are you Ben Shapiro?’

He nodded. She disappeared into the flat and returned with an envelope. It was addressed to Mr Ben Shapiro.

‘Brenda gave me this. Asked me to post it, but I haven’t had a chance. Anyway, now you’re here, so I don’t have to.

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