The Devil's Cave: A Bruno Courrèges Investigation (Bruno Chief of Police 5)

wooden bench before a homemade table while Laurent went back into his house and came out with a tray bearing a large glass jug of a wine so dark it was almost black. With it came a fat sausage, a squat loaf of home-made bread, and four glasses, which Bruno recognized. They had once contained a popular brand of mustard.
    As Laurent took the knife from his belt to slice the sausage, Bruno explained that Fleurac had been until the phylloxera outbreak of the nineteenth century one of the best-known wines of France, exported to England and Holland. The De Beauroyre family, who owned the château, had been famous for their wealth but were bankrupted by the vine-killing disease. They sold out and others tried to replant the vines. Unable ever to get an appellation, the new owners cut their losses and took the subsidies in the 1960s that were available for digging up the vines.
    ‘Some of us keep a few rows of vines, just enough for ourselves and friends,’ said Laurent, pouring out the rich dark liquid. ‘It’s a strong wine, perfect after a day of hunting.’
    ‘It’s good,’ said J-J, smacking his lips. ‘Reminds me of a Cahors.’
    ‘It’s the same grape, a
côt
, some call it Malbec,’ said Laurent.
    ‘My grandfather always claimed it was the wine served at the wedding of Eleanor of Aquitaine to the king of England.’
    ‘No wonder she was such a formidable woman,’ said Isabelle. ‘Did you make the sausage, too?’
    ‘Me and Bruno together,’ Laurent said. ‘I shot the deer but he helped me haul it back.’
    ‘Where’s Amélie?’ asked Bruno. ‘Laurent’s wife is the real sausage maker. Laurent and I just provide the unskilled labour.’
    ‘She’s down at the market in Le Buisson, selling chickens. I’ll be heading down there soon to help her pack up. But I’ve got what you wanted, the first of the crop.’
    Laurent led the way to the side of the house and into the first of the plastic-covered tunnels. It was steamy inside, with a smell of jungle overlaid with sweetness. The floor was carpeted with strawberries, still mainly green but some just turning pink. He bent down and looked under a leaf to find a solitary red one, plucked it and handed it to Isabelle.
    ‘
Mon Dieu
,’ she said. ‘It tastes like perfume.’
    ‘
Marée de bois
, our local speciality,’ he said. ‘Most people grow Georgettes but we think they’re only fit to make jam. Come back in two weeks and you can eat your fill.’
    The next greenhouse looked at first as though there were no plants there at all, just rows of small humped cones of soil, with white buds peeking from each top. From a bench at the side of the greenhouse Laurent took a parcel wrapped in newspaper, put it in a plastic bag and handed it to Bruno. As Laurent added an unlabelled bottle of his wine to the bag, Isabelle could restrain her curiosity no longer.
    ‘Show me, Bruno.’
    He opened the bag and unwrapped a corner of the newspaper.
    ‘Asparagus, already? I love it and we don’t get them in Paris until May.’
    ‘That’s what we’re having for lunch,’ said Bruno, as theymade their thanks and farewells to dog and master. ‘There’s a micro-climate in this hollow, everything comes just that much earlier than elsewhere.’
    As they drove, J-J grumbled that nothing had come from questioning the staff at the château. Bruno told them of his concern about the new holiday village, the involvement of Foucher and Eugénie and Lemontin’s findings at Thivion, hoping to spark J-J’s interest. But before J-J even looked like rising to the bait, Isabelle asked about Eugénie.
    ‘So you met her before she turned up in nurse’s uniform?’
    Bruno described meeting her while riding, although he made it sound like a single encounter.
    ‘It sounds odd, making a nurse into a business partner,’ Isabelle said. ‘You’re sure she said she had shares in this investment company? And what’s the link to this Count?’
    ‘He’s a director of this Luxembourg investment company,’ he explained. ‘I think he’s also involved in this new hotel that’s just opened. I’ve got all the details in a file at home. It’s mostly what Lemontin put together, but I’m going to have to do some further interviews to give a decent report to our Mayor.’
    ‘This Count Vexin, the name rings a bell,’ she said. ‘Do you know anything more about him?’
    ‘Travels by helicopter, good-looking and obviously wealthy. That’s all I know so far.’
    ‘Sounds just