Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

coming to Europe,” mused Bruno aloud. “And Hubert got her letter asking to come and work for him at the end of May. She came to Saint-Denis on purpose, knowing that Bondino would also be here. But what did she have in mind?”
    “This file looks interesting,” said Pamela, who had been perusing it while listening. “It’s about the history of wine making in the Dordogne and Vézère valleys by some professor at a university in California. It says he has the Bondino chair of wine studies, and she underlined the concluding paragraph that says, ‘History therefore suggests that the Dordogne and Vézère valleys represent the last unexploited opportunities for quality wine production in Europe, with excellent climate and terrain, reliable water supplies and inexpensive land prices.’ So Bondino decided to come here to Saint-Denis just after his own professor delivered this paper. It’s dated in April of this year.”
    Bruno looked out when he heard the crunching of gravel in the courtyard as J-J braked his car. The detective opened the door but remained in the driver’s seat, his phone to his ear, nodding as Bruno waved a greeting and gestured for J-J to join them inside.

41
    J-J burst through the door of Jacqueline’s house, beaming with pleasure. “We’ve got him. I was right all along. DNA evidence. Those hairs under Max’s nails. They definitely came from Bondino.”
    “But those hairs could have come from the fight at the bar earlier that evening,” Bruno said.
    “Don’t you remember? He said Max never laid a hand on him. It’s on tape from the interrogation. He says he punched Max in the nose but Max never laid a finger on him in the fight. So how can he explain away his own hair?”
    “I don’t know,” said Bruno. “But the reason I called you here is that this Canadian girl is a lot more than she seems. Look at these family photos and these files—she’s Bondino’s cousin, and she knows it but he doesn’t. And it looks like she’s been stalking him. Pamela can explain it all; I’m going to look around because Jacqueline could be back within the hour.”
    Bruno found the garbage can in the kitchen. It was empty, but there was a large wicker basket beside the fire that seemed full of old newspapers. He fished among the first few, using his pen to sort through them, but they just seemed to be discarded copies of
Sud Ouest
. He stood up, but one of the papers camewith him, somehow stuck to his pen. He tried to shake it off, without success. He looked, and there were two strips of adhesive tape sticking his pen to the newsprint. Trying to peel them away he found five more small strips of the tape, each about a couple of inches long, all stuck to the paper.
    “Why would Jacqueline have these strips of adhesive tape?” Bruno murmured, thinking aloud.
    “Gift-wrapping,” Pamela said as she arrived in the kitchen. “That’s how I do it. If I’m wrapping a present, I cut off several strips of tape at a time so they’re ready when I fold the paper.”
    “There’s no sign of wrapping paper,” said Bruno. “She may already have dumped stuff in the main garbage can outside. Pamela, can you have a look while I finish checking something upstairs?”
    Leaving J-J looking at the files, Bruno went upstairs to find two bedrooms and a small bathroom filled with the usual feminine toiletries—soaps, shampoos, toothpaste and a hairbrush. He took a careful look but saw only the girl’s own long blond hairs. Jacqueline used one of the bedrooms to sleep in, the other as a dressing room, with her clothes and shoes in the cupboard. One item caught Bruno’s eye, an old Saint-Denis rugby shirt hanging forlornly from a nail. It must have belonged to Max. The chest of drawers was empty. The other room had a flimsy nightgown on the bed and a robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door. A small dressing table stood by the window, stacked with cosmetics. He looked in the drawers, which contained underwear and stockings. But then he saw something else, tucked away at the back, and pulled out a tightly rolled plastic bag that contained a spare hairbrush. He looked at it carefully.
    “J-J, can you come up here a moment?” he called. When the big
commissaire
came into the room, Bruno pointed to the brush in the plastic bag.
    “Look carefully and you’ll see short dark hairs on that brush. Obviously, they aren’t Jacqueline’s. My guess is they belonged to Bondino. She told me he spent one night