Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

teach you, but you’ll have to be patient.” She poked him amiably in the ribs. “It would certainly get some gossip going.”
    “Well, there’s a project for the winter,” he said, a little surprised at how much he was looking forward to the idea, and not only because of the riding.
    “Do you know this is one of my favorite buildings in the neighborhood?” he asked her as they turned into her driveway. “I remember when I first saw it in the sunshine, it just looked so warm and welcoming, surrounded by flowers in the courtyard and nestled into its hillside.”
    “I feel the same way, Bruno. But we’ll see how welcoming the stables feel after I get you to clean them out.” He pulled up at the entrance to her courtyard, the old stone buildings glowing brightly in his headlights. He walked around the back of the van to open her door.
    “Thank you, Bruno, for everything. I’ll have the coffee ready at eight,” she said as they reached her house. She turned to kiss him good night but somehow they turned their heads the wrong way, or not quite enough, and Bruno felt himself kissing her mouth and realizing that her lips were relaxing against his own. Uncertain, he moved his head and kissed her on the cheek, then started to back away.
    “Goodness, that was a nice surprise,” she said, flustered. “Now, where’s my key? Silly me, of course I didn’t lock the door.” She opened it and went in, turning around to say, “Until tomorrow.” Then she closed the door.
    He stood watching the door for a moment, wondering just what had taken place, and remembering the frisson of pleasure that had run through him when he realized he was kissing herlips.
But remember your rule
, he told himself.
Not in your own backyard
. Maybe he could bend the rule this once, now that Isabelle seemed out of his life after her prolonged silence. But he’d thought it was over before, and then she came back. Would she again, though? God, it was hard sometimes. He went back to his van, telling himself to think about the pile of dishes that awaited him.
    As Bruno crossed the bridge and turned onto the main street of Saint-Denis, the
mairie
was dark. He saw Ivan placing the chairs on the tables of his Café de la Renaissance. The blue neon light of the Bar des Amateurs at the end of the street was still glowing. And by the light from the wide window of a real estate broker, he noted a quick blur of movement. When he slowed the van to take a look he saw two figures scuffling in the small alley beside the
maison de la presse
. He pulled in beside a darkened pharmacy and stepped out, feeling slightly ridiculous as he realized he was still wearing the old towel around his waist. He whipped it off, tossed it into the van and began to run toward the sound of a slap and a woman’s cry, and the growl of a male voice.
    “Good evening,” he called loudly. The scuffling figures broke apart. “I’m a policeman. Might I be of assistance, mademoiselle?”
    “It’s nothing; friends having an argument,” said Bondino in his accented French, the words slurred by alcohol.
    “Hello again, Bruno,” said Jacqueline. “It’s okay. He’s just leaving.”
    “I heard a slap,” Bruno said. “That didn’t sound friendly to me. Are you sure, Jacqueline?”
    “Yes, yes. He just wanted to take me for a last drink, a nightcap. I can handle this, Bruno.”
    “Monsieur Bondino, you’re staying in Les Eyzies, right? You’re in no condition to drive back there tonight.”
    “He’s moved to the Manoir, here in town,” said Jacqueline. “Listen, it’s okay, really. I’ll see he gets back all right. He’s just drunk.”
    “Did you slap him?”
    “Yes, just to sober him up. It’s not a problem. I’m sorry, Bruno. When I got to the bar I didn’t realize how drunk he was.”
    “I think you’d better go back to your bike and go home, Jacqueline. I’ll see that Monsieur Bondino gets back to the Manoir.”
    She shrugged and turned, and began walking slowly down the street that led to the
cave
. Bruno scrutinized Bondino, who was slouched against the wall. “Thanks again, Bruno, for everything,” Jacqueline called, too loudly for so late at night. He waved at her, distracted.
    “Come on,” he said to Bondino. “Let’s get you back to your hotel.” He took Bondino’s arm and began leading the stumbling drunk to his van. Bondino jerked out of Bruno’s grip and lurched off after Jacqueline, swinging an aimless arm as if to sweep Bruno