Free Night Watch by Linda Fairstein

that.”
    Luc looked down at me and nodded. “I’d prefer they be here. I’d like to be with them, especially before I head to New York.”
    “I know that,” I said, sensing tension after his meeting with Brigitte. “Did you have an argument with Brigitte? I mean about taking the kids with her.”
    “Brigitte never argues. She’s used to getting her way.”
    She left Luc a few years ago for reasons he had never articulated. He wasn’t over her, and maybe never would be. I expected photographs of his two sons to be all over his home—Luc adored them—but I had no clue why he still kept a picture of Brigitte in the single drawer of the table beside the bed.
    “Have you spoken to Jacques Belgarde?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Not even to tell him about the guy with the gun?”
    Luc glanced at his watch. “Trust me. He’ll be in before the kitchen closes. He’s got a better nose for black truffles than most pigs, and we’re serving some tonight.”
    “Why don’t you sit down with me?” I said, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “You look so anxious.”
    “Shortly, darling.”
    The headwaiter crossed the threshold from the dining room. “Monsieur Rouget, the guests at table six would like to see you.”
    “Problem?”
    “Not at all. A little stroking perhaps,” he said with a wink. “They knew your father. I think they just want to reminisce.”
    “Papa’s my lucky charm, Alex. I’m bringing him to New York for the opening. His old customers will come out in droves,” Luc said, the spark returning to his eyes. “This is a world he created, and he’s electric at making it work.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    “As soon as Jim—my wine guru—arrives, I’ll bring him in and we’ll order. Think of something fabulous the kitchen can create for you.”
    My thoughts were everywhere except on the dinner menu. I opened my evening bag and took out the small notebook that I carried everywhere. My list-making habit was almost obsessive, and within minutes I had worked up a full page of questions I wanted to ask Captain Belgarde about Lisette and his findings. I was still jotting down ideas when I heard Luc’s voice, and stuffed the papers away.
    He reentered the bar, followed by a tall, stocky man who looked more like a fullback than a wine merchant. Luc motioned him to the seat beside me, and I slid over to let him in as he put the two bottles of wine he was carrying on the table.
    “Alex, this is Jim Mulroy.”
    “Happy to meet you,” I said.
    “My pleasure. Luc’s talked about you a lot.” He rubbed his palms together and smiled at Luc. “Open these up, will you? I think I’ve found something unusual for New York.”
    While he examined the labels, Luc signaled to the bartender to come over and uncork the bottles. “Bordeaux?”
    “Don’t say it.” Jim held up both hands. “Pretentious, stodgy, dull. Your young customers think it’s old-school and over-branded. Taste this, my friend.”
    “Domaine de Jeuget. Never heard of it.”
    “I don’t know how I got so lucky. Three hundred fifty years this family’s had the vineyards. Just a small estate, Luc. It’s not a château. The old guy who runs it took me down in the cellars. I’m telling you, there are cobwebs on everything except the barrels, and they probably predate Napoléon.”
    Jim sniffed the cork before handing it to Luc.
    “Fresh and alive, isn’t it?” Jim went on. “There are no chemicals, no manipulation. He does it just like his father and grandfather did before him, keeps it in barrels for thirty months. No oakiness, but a nice subtle aeration.”
    Luc poured a bit into a glass. “How much does he produce a year?”
    “Six, maybe seven thousand bottles of St. Julien.”
    I was watching this dance between them and admiring Jim’s enthusiasm. “Is that a lot or a little?”
    “It’s a miniscule output.” Luc laughed at me. “Think of Mouton Rothschild. They put out something like one hundred and seventy thousand