DEAD FLAT: 3: Uncorked by Lise McClendon

Author:Lise McClendon [McClendon, Lise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thalia Press
Published: 2020-02-27T00:00:00+00:00

Pascal left early the next morning to return to Domaine Souvenir-Valmy. He hadn’t had a chance to snoop around properly the day before. Merle reminded him of the left-field idea of hers that someone had pushed Poulin from an upstairs balcony. The least he could do was find out if that was even possible.

His own agenda was to find another foreman, someone in charge of another aspect of the business. He had hopes of a business manager but Poulin appeared to be the type to do all that himself. When Pascal arrived at the winery, he went to the tasting room door again and knocked loudly.

After repeating his banging on the ornate wood door several times, he heard footsteps inside. It was ten o’clock. Someone had to be working at this hour.

An attractive woman of about forty opened the door, her blond hair tied up on her head under a scarf. She wore navy slacks, a black blouse, and an outdoorsy vest in purple. She removed her glasses to look him over.

“Oui?”

The introduction was met with a stony face. Pascal said, “I am here, madame, to talk to the chef de cave. Is that possible?”

She nodded curtly but didn’t move.

“And is he available?”

She glared at him. She still hadn’t given him her name. It dawned on him, belatedly, that she was the cellar master or chef de cave.

“Pardon, madame. C’est vous?”

As a reward, she put out her hand. “Véronique Lalande. Chef de Cave.”

Her hand was cool to the touch, just like her attitude. “Madame Lalande. Could we talk inside?”

She led him through a door in the back of the tasting room. It was an elegant tasting room, he noticed, the public face of the winery. Through the door, there was a series of hallways leading to offices. At the end of the hall, she opened her own door and waved him inside.

“I appreciate the time, madame,” Pascal said, sitting where she indicated on a hard, wooden chair opposite her desk. “This must be a difficult period for the winery.”

She sighed. “We are all shocked and saddened. But the winery must go on.”

“My condolences. Were you and Monsieur Poulin close?”

A tricky question right out of the box but time was short.

She blinked, taken aback. Then she glanced out the window at the vineyard. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Yes, we were close.”

“Was Poulin married? I never heard.”

“Not for many years.”

“I see. Well, I am consoled somewhat that he had you to rely on, in business and in life.” Pascal was pouring on the charm. It seemed to be working but as usual it was a fine line. He couldn’t overdo it.

“What is it you want to ask me, Monsieur d’Onscon? Besides prying into my personal life.”

He bowed his head in regret but continued. “When you say, ‘the winery must go on,’ what do you mean? Who now owns the winery?”

“There was a family trust. Pierre-Yves ran it but his sons and a few other family members were part of it.

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