Raisins and almonds - Poisoned Pen Press (UK)

1 Kerry Greenwood
Then, possibly, Simon would die because Chaim was too
tired to stand.
An hour, perhaps, had gone past. Bert had tried his hand at
negotiation. Phryne could not think of anything to say, so she
sent a constable for some water, which she intended to drink.
Chaim must be thirsty by now. If he saw her drinking, he might
be moved to bargain. A glass of water, for Simon’s life?
There was a flurry of feet on the steps and a woman’s voice
screamed ‘Simon!’
‘Stay back, Julia,’ warned Chaim. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
‘Simon, you’re hurt…’ Julia came to a skidding halt next to
Phryne. ‘Chaim, what is this?’
‘Julia, you are in time to watch your son die,’ said the murderer.
‘Why, Chaim, why?’ she demanded, taking a step towards
him. ‘Bubelah, are you all right?’
‘I’m all right, Mama,’ he said valiantly.
‘You chose the wrong man,’ said Chaim. ‘You know it now.
When you had to choose, in Paris, between two poor men, me
and my brother, you chose wrong, Julia.’
‘No,’ she said faintly. ‘I chose right.’
‘Wrong,’ he snarled, and Julia jumped back from his contorted
face.
‘All right, I was wrong, I was wrong, now let Simon go,’ said
Mrs. Abrahams. ‘You let him go, Chaim, and I’ll go away with
you, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll lie down on this floor for
you, let my son go!’
‘Too late,’ said Chaim. ‘Once that would have made me happy,
but not now. Come closer if you want him dead,’ he added.
‘Phryne,’ whispered Julia Abrahams, ‘do something!’
‘I’m thinking,’ said Phryne.
The police marksman would be in position by now. If she
could get Simon away for only a second he would have a clear
target and would fire, and police marksmen seldom missed. But
Chaim was strong on his legs, had Simon in what looked like an
unbreakable grip, and had more grievances to air. She doubted