Spilt Wine

39. Surprises

Monday 28 April 1986

Grattien had been surprised, as many had, by the mood of the celebration on Saturday. He quickly settled in and became part of the crowd, and he frequently had information being offered by the wine people who knew him. The information was often tempered by, But that is only my suspicion or This is what I heard, or This is the common opinion. He learned there was a broad concern about some of the operations at Grotkopf. Rather than spoiling his enjoyment, he responded with requests to come to his office early next week when concentration is easier. Then, he asked for recommendations on which wine he and his wife should taste next.

He had several times sought out Catherine in the crowd to confirm she was still safe and sensed no danger. On one of these occasions, we talked about a change of plans with the barge. With it nearly the end of April, it now made more sense to head up to the first winding hole, turn around and head down to the basin in Saint-Usage to await the early May docking.

So, at eight thirty on Monday, Grattien arrived and drove us across the plain toward the barge. On the way, he told us that the audit of the pharmacy in Paris had found a discrepancy in a new drug, he couldn't remember its name, but one used by veterinarians to put down large animals, very large dogs, even horses. Four vials were missing. "The lab confirmed on Saturday afternoon that this drug was the cause of the deaths of both Francine and Pierre."

"Does this mean their bodies are now released?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, but Paris is still unsafe – we have no trace of Philippe. He is now the suspect in all the deaths. Tissue samples from Laurent Grotkopf are being sent to the Paris lab."

A quarter-hour later, Grattien dropped us at the entrance to the towpath at the Aisery lock. "Our brigade in Saint-Jean-de-Losne is expecting your call for the return trip."

"We'll have to wait above the last lock for l'éclusier to have lunch, but with no delays from traffic, we should be moored in the basin and secured by fourteen thirty." 

Grattien watched us aboard before he backed out and left.

I unlocked the wheelhouse, put the picnic hamper inside and started the engine. "I'll get the springs. You go forward, take the turns off the bow line, and flip it off the bollard. I'll meet you up there and give the bow a push off."

The bow swung slowly out from my push as I walked aft to the stern bollard, lifted the line off, flipped it aboard and stepped up onto the deck. We motored away from the bank, and I had settled into the centre of the canal with the engine up to 1200 rpm when Catherine had finished coiling the lines on the foredeck and returned to the wheelhouse.

"The surveyor missed this." I held up a broken door latch and pointed to the starboard door. "It fell apart in my hands."

"That looks easily replaced." Catherine started down the steps with the hamper. "Do you want another coffee?"

"A nice long one would be good."

Shortly after she had descended, a loud truncated scream came from below. "Daaa ..." Then, there were the sounds of scuffling and banging.

"Are you okay? What is it?" I pulled the lever into neutral and then quickly astern, revving the engine to its limit. "I'll be right down."

"No, you won't," came a male voice from below. "Put the engine back where it was, or your delicious little slut will get hurt. Very badly hurt."

"He has a gun, Daa –" There came the crack of a hard slap.

"Shut up, bitch."

I pushed the lever back through neutral and wound the engine back up to 1200 as my mind wound up faster.