Free Treachery in Bordeaux (The Winemaker Detective Series) by Jean-Pierre Alaux, Noël Balen Page A

boulevards and the inevitable bottleneck as they neared the Barrière de Pessac intersection. He asked a few questions about Le Corbusier, whose name he vaguely recognized, although he had never seen any of his work. Cooker offered an explanation that he tried to make impartial, without any value judgments. The young man would have to make up his own mind, and he did not want to influence him on a topic about which he was no specialist. Le Corbusier had left his mark in the Aquitaine region, from the first experimental houses he built in Lège-Cap-Ferret in 1923 to the futurist buildings constructed in Pessac two years later. The winemaker did not feel especially moved by these structures, but their innovative spirit commanded respect.
    Through this winding discussion, Virgile discovered his employer’s passion for antiques and painting. The assistant’s attention sharpened when Benjamin talked to him about the two paintings of the Château Haut-Brion and the Mission Haut-Brion, especially when he mentioned the mysterious third painting. The young man did not comment, though. He finally admitted that he didn’t know exactly what an overmantel was. Cooker was happy to explain.
    “It’s a painting or a decorative panel. At the beginning of the 17 th century, these panels were often set in moldings and had mirrors. Overmantel used to refer to the decorative woodwork that went along with the artwork, but now it has come to mean the entire piece, which often hangs over a fireplace. Painted canvases most often have a frame with a small mirror underneath. In French, it’s called a trumeau , which comes from the Old French trumel , which meant leg fat, or for a butcher, a beef shank. The word evolved to mean the part of the wall between two windows.”
    “That’s wild,” Virgile said. “You could make a fortune on game shows!”
    Cooker smiled and asked him to slow down when they entered Pessac. They crept along the Avenue Jean-Jaurès, a ribbon of pavement bordered on both sides by waves of vineyards whose undulating movement broke the monotony of the suburbs.
    “Turn at the next gate to your right,” Benjamin said.
    “Are we going to …”
    “Yes, we are,” Cooker said, suddenly curt.
    Virgile skillfully maneuvered the car and drove slowly under a brown stone archway, stopping in the shadow of Château Haut-Brion. His hands were still grasping the steering wheel when he looked up like an incredulous and timid child, visibly impressed to find himself in the heart of an estate whose prestige had long been the thing of dreams. Benjamin was barely out of the car when a tall, thin man, who was wearing a twill suit and appeared to be in his 40s, greeted him with notable respect. Benjamin asked if it was possible to disturb the steward.
    “I am sorry, Mr. Cooker. He is absent, but you are always welcome at Haut-Brion. Is there anything I can do for you?”
    “I won’t be long. I just need to make a topographical check for the next edition of the guide, and I need to take some notes from the top of the plateau.”
    “Would you like me to accompany you?”
    “Thank you. That will not be necessary, I know the way.”
    The winemaker and his assistant took off on foot amid the rows of grapevines, climbing the hump of greenery without saying a word. It would have been like being in the countryside, were it not for the incessant dull humming from the north. It sounded like a distant storm brewing in the heat, but in reality it was the barely muffled sound of Bordeaux, mixed with the peripheral grumblings that spread across the suburbs.
    They reached the top of the hill in no time. Benjamin caught his breath while he scanned the urban landscape that extended below. He knew immediately that his intuition was correct and that he had finally found what the old Ténotier was referring to. Why didn’t he figure it out sooner? Virgile observed his employer’s satisfied stiffness without understanding what was going on.
    “Of