Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

thoughts start churning. So she didn’t get back before one, maybe even later. And she can’t have been with Max; I’d have heard the motorbike.”
    “Did she ever say what she was doing that night?”
    “No, except that she was planning to help Max pick his grapes. She said something about his wanting to pick them at night, after the heat of the day. I didn’t pay much attention.”
    “But you’re sure that she wasn’t back here before one in the morning?”
    “Well, almost sure. It’s possible that I may have dropped off and didn’t hear her return.”
    “And when did she leave the following morning?”
    “The usual time, not long after eight-thirty. The
cave
opensat ten, but Hubert wants the staff there before nine to prepare for the day. That’s what she said.”
    “Do you like her?”
    “I’m not sure. She hasn’t been here long.”
    “You must have formed an impression,” Bruno said.
    “Hmmm. Do I like her? It’s too soon to say. Our dealings have been very matter-of-fact; we haven’t had the kinds of conversation that lead to intimacy or friendship, and I rather doubt we will. I suspect she’s one of those girls whose behavior is very different with men than with women.”
    “I think you’re right,” said Bruno. “Maybe that’s how it has to be for pretty girls, accustomed as they are to getting so much attention from men. You’d know that, Pamela.”
    “I think you just paid me a compliment, so thank you. But no, even when I was younger I don’t think I was that different when I was with men as opposed to women. It’s just the way Jacqueline is. Some women are like that.”
    “Did you ever come across any other boyfriends of hers, apart from Max?” Bruno asked.
    “She’s hardly had time for other suitors, has she?”
    “Remember I told you about the American, the drunk who was pestering her in the street? He had a fight with Max in the bar over Jacqueline. He seemed to think he had prior rights.”
    “I never saw him here. Max seemed to be her regular date. Rather good taste on her part, I thought.”

33
    Wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse when she opened the door to his knock, Jacqueline smiled a welcome and invited him in. She was made up and wearing fresh lipstick, which to Bruno suggested that she had her emotions well under control. Her laptop was open and running, and one of her big wine books was open next to it, a stack of manila files to one side. Perhaps the affair with Max had been just a casual thing, like that dalliance with Bondino. Bruno kind of liked this young woman, even if he wasn’t quite sure he approved of her.
    “I’m sorry to bother you, Jacqueline, because I know you were close to Max, but I have to ask you some questions about him. It’s just routine when there’s a death.”
    “That’s okay. I understand. And I wanted to thank you for dinner. I should have sent a note.” She sat down in an armchair and gestured to him to take a seat on a chaise longue opposite her. “I liked Max a lot, and our relationship might have grown into something more. He was so young and full of life.”
    “A few years younger than you, right?”
    “Well, so what?” She almost snapped the words out, instantly on the defensive. “He was mature for his age. And he could talk about things other than sports.”
Unlike most men
,she seemed to be implying as she looked at him almost angrily. Then she appeared to take hold of herself and sat forward, fumbling for a tissue from a box on the low table beside her and holding it to her eyes.
    “When did you last see him alive?” Bruno asked. He had observed many people under police questioning, had noted their shifts of mood and posture and manner, their varying attempts to exert some control over a process in which the police always had the upper hand.
    “Not long after we saw you, after that scene at the café. We walked back to where I’d left my bike and said good night.”
    “So you left Max, what, five minutes after you saw me outside the café?”
    “Maybe ten minutes, not much more.” She gave a timorous smile and put her hand to her cheek, as if remembering a tender moment.
    “And you came straight home, back here?”
    “Yes.”
    Bruno sat back, looking at her. She seemed to straighten her posture under his gaze. She was certainly acting, but why was she lying? Pamela had been almost sure she had not returned before one in the morning, and the fight at the bar had been before eleven. And what