Free Late Harvest Havoc by Jean-Pierre Alaux

deployed from Marlenheim to Thann.”
    Benjamin listened without saying a word.
    â€œTwo television stations in Paris have sent in crews. This business is getting a lot of attention, boss, and Roch has changed his tune. Now he’s convinced that you can help him.”
    â€œConvinced, is he?” Benjamin said, lighting a little Corona. “And just yesterday I was a suspect. Makes you wonder about his judgment, doesn’t it. Well, if he doesn’t want to get transferred to Lozère or Guyana, he’d better start hustling.”
    â€œWhat do we do, boss?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, nothing?”
    â€œAs I said: nothing. Nothing for him, anyway. I do have work on my schedule. This morning I’m planning to rewrite my tasting notes from yesterday, and this afternoon, I’m headed to Germany for the Fritz Loewenberg assignment.”
    â€œRoch isn’t going to be very happy if you take off for Germany without getting in touch with him. Don’t you think—”
    â€œVirgile, since when has the gendarmerie paid your salary?”
    â€œI know, boss, that what Roch did was a slap in the face. To think that you, the creator of the Cooker Guide , would do anything to harm a vineyard… To you, pulling up good vines is nothing less than sacrilege.”
    â€œI can’t tolerate this atmosphere anymore. The distrust is evident everywhere we go. Everyone is suspicious of his neighbor, his winemaker, his pastor, and God knows who else! Let’s get out of here, Virgile. We’ll come back when things have calmed down. This isn’t a good time to be in Alsace.”
    â€œOn the contrary, boss. I think we’ve come at just the right time, and I still have a lot to learn about the customs of this land that you described as being so peaceful. Peaceful, my foot! You go on ahead to Goldröpfchen, but I’m staying here. Honestly, you don’t need me to do your Moselle vinification.”
    â€œYes, indeed I do, Virgile.”
    â€œGive me forty-eight hours. If I have no serious leads, I’ll drop the whole thing and meet you. Okay?”
    â€œGood Lord, how did I wind up hiring such an obstinate boy?” Benjamin said, throwing his half-consumed Corona in the gutter.
    â€œSo I can stand in as your conscience when you need to take a break,” Virgile said, grinning at his boss.
    â€œNot only strong-headed, but impertinent to boot!”
    Virgile was already jogging down the picture-postcard street. The weather was unpredictable at this time of year, but tourists were still plentiful. They were busy admiring the merchandise in the shop windows and ducking into the stores to make their purchases. Above the shoppers, puffs of smoke hovered over the steeply pitched rooftops. A couple of storks flew down and took refuge on one of them. As Virgile rushed past all of this, two high school girls gave him the eye and smiled. For once, he didn’t notice.
    Virgile was convinced that this city was within his grasp. He also knew that despite his boss’s grumpy façade, he had the best of intentions. Benjamin would undoubtedly give him carte blanche, provided he delivered results. He would account for his time. He would have to rent a car, an economy model, watch what he did and said, and not do any harm to the Cooker image.
    But then he realized that he had one more thing to do. The winemaker’s assistant circled around the shops and homes and ended up where he had started. He spotted his boss at the intersection of the Rue de la Grenouille and the Rue du Chasseur. Benjamin was just ahead of him and heading toward Avenue d’Alsace. Virgile whistled twice, and the winemaker turned around, a surprised look on his face. The young man gestured toward the Rue du Chasseur. Benjamin frowned but waited. When Virgile caught up, he took the winemaker by the elbow and led him to the police station.
    â€œLet’s make a report