Bruno 02 - The Dark Vineyard

whiskies, Balvenie. I was in that famous
cave
of yours earlier and saw thatthey had some, so I wanted to share it with you.” He filled the three glasses and raised his own to J-J and Bruno, and the three men sipped.
    “Tastes of smoke and the sea,” said Bruno. “A fine drink for winter, and for a last toast to a good hunting dog.”
    “If you ever need a favor from the RG, here’s my card with my direct line and e-mail. And if you ever want a change from this charming little valley of yours, Bruno, we can always use a good man.”
    “You’re not the first to try to lure him away,” said J-J. “Forget it, he won’t come.”
    “Any news on the murder case?” asked Bruno.
    “The boys found a couple of prints we can’t identify on a glass in the kitchen. The strands of hair under Max’s fingernails are from someone’s head; they’re not pubic hairs. They’ll need DNA analysis if we ever get a suspect. Bondino is still at the Manoir. He came back from a trip to Nevers, said he’d been looking for oak for wine barrels. We checked it out, and he was there, all right. He said he went straight to bed on the night after the fight and got up early for a meeting with some wine
négociant
in Bordeaux. That also checked out. The hotel staff said they gave him a wake-up call at 6 a.m. with coffee and he was out the door by twenty past. He volunteered to give us his fingerprints, so I don’t think he’s our man.”
    “Did you check whether he had a key to the hotel?” Bruno asked. “He could have come and gone through the night without alerting the staff.”
    “Yes, he has a key. He’s a very good customer, they tell me. Messy in his habits but tips well.”
    “Well, good luck with this new case, and I’ll hope to see you two again sometime in happier circumstances,” said the brigadier, shaking hands and heading for his car. “If you’re coming to Paris, give me a call. I know you’re all rugby-crazydown here so I’ll see if I can get you some tickets for the next big match.” He climbed into the backseat and then lowered the window. “And take a look inside the mobile unit, in the evidence case. There’s a couple of bottles of that whisky, one each, with my thanks.”
    As the brigadier was driven away, J-J said, “I hope you’re not tempted to take him up on his offer. You’d shake my faith in human nature. If you leave, how could I hang on to my little fantasy of giving up all this
merde
and enjoying the nice quiet life of a country cop, inquiring into stolen apples and dead dogs?”
    “It’s amazing where dead dogs can take you, even out here,” said Bruno, looking at his watch. “Good news. We’re invited to dinner with a charming lady who thinks we need a good home-cooked meal after all our hard work.”
    “I was wondering who you’d taken up with after that lovely inspector of mine went off to Paris.”
    “I haven’t taken up with anyone,” said Bruno, grinning. “I’m just a battered old romantic nursing a broken heart.”
    “Can we take my car, or is it on another one of your country lanes that likes to wreck my suspension?”
    “She drives her old Citroën back and forth with no trouble, and my van takes the path just fine.”
    “Right, we’ll take your van, unless you’re planning on staying the night and we need two cars.”
    “We’ll just need the van.”
    “Fine. You can tell me about our hostess on the way. Do we have time to buy her some flowers?”
    “She grows her own flowers, and I’ve already got some wine. You could always give her your bottle of whisky.”
    “A word of advice to you, Bruno, from an older and wiser man with the experience of many years of marriage,” said J-J, putting an avuncular arm around Bruno’s shoulders. “Never letyour women get accustomed to really expensive presents. You don’t want to spoil them.”
    “Particularly if you want to keep the whisky to yourself,” said Bruno.
    As they climbed into Bruno’s van, J-J’s phone rang, and he put out his hand to stop Bruno from reaching for the ignition. He listened to the caller, his eyes on Bruno’s face, and then he said, “Pick him up and take him to the gendarmerie. I’ll interrogate him in the cells there.”
    He closed the phone. “No dinner for us. You’d better call your friend and tell her something came up. And let’s get moving. You know I told you we’d taken Bondino’s fingerprints? We’ve found his thumbprint on one of the glasses that were in