Mayhem in Margaux by Jean-Pierre Alaux, Noël Balen Read Free Book Online Page A

acquire an impressive cellar by following the recommendations in the Cooker Guide . The inspector’s newfound passion had created a rather unexpected relationship between the two of them. Despite some differences of opinion, Benjamin and he had developed a measure of trust, and the winemaker was aware that their association stroked the inspector’s ego.
    “I haven’t tasted that wine,” Barbaroux admitted. “But from what you wrote, I also got the impression that it lacked a long finish.”
    “What are you getting at?”
    “I might as well tell you. I questioned the steward, Philippe Cazevielle, and he didn’t have anything complimentary to say about you. I believe he used the words ‘dictator of good taste,’ and ‘pope without a palace.’ He’s obviously a very touchy kind of guy, and he doesn’t take kindly to criticism of the work they do at the château. I don’t really think you were the target of the accident your daughter was in, but who knows?”
    “I don’t buy that. I already told you, anyone who reads my guide knows that my evaluations are subjective but considered and fair. I’ve spent my life establishing my reputation in this profession, and even when I’ve come off as a bit harsh, I can’t remember anyone holding a grudge. If every estate criticized in my guide reacted that way, I’d have to get a bodyguard.”
    “You can never be too careful, Mr. Cooker.”
    “Someone who’s angry with me over what I’ve written in one of my guide can find other ways to ruin my life. I’m sorry, Inspector, but I think you’re being a bit too cynical, even paranoid. I think Antoine Rinetti was targeted. My daughter just happened to be in the car.”
    “Perhaps. But let’s not overlook any possibility. As far as Rinetti is concerned, I got some interesting intelligence from a few colleagues in the Côte d’Azur. He’s a pretty complicated character. He’s from a well-known but penniless family in Nice, was a good student in high school, had leftist leanings in college prep school, majored in math at the university, and graduated with honors. In short, nothing much stands out up to that point.”
    “Yes,” Benjamin said. “He sounds rather ordinary.”
    “That changed when a British financial firm hired him as a researcher. His particular area was applied statistics. Rinetti devised a highly efficient management-control system adapted to the stock market. He earned the firm a lot of dough. When I say a lot, I mean a downright huge amount.”
    Barbaroux cleared his throat and continued. “After he’d been with the firm for three years, the Brits opened an office near Nice, and they made him director of research. The new job had an obscenely high salary and all the perks a rising star could lust for: stock options, a Ferrari, eighty-seven employees, a secretary recruited from the Élite agency, and an unbelievable expense account.”
    “Hmm. He’s still sounding ordinary. An ordinary person with money,” But Benjamin was clenching his jaw. Money couldn’t give a man substance, and a man of substance was what he expected for his daughter.
    “So Rinetti was living the high life, Barbaroux continued. And he started hanging out with all the crème de la crème between Cannes and Monaco. You know what that means down there. He made the inevitable acquaintance of members of the Italian mafia, crooked investors, stinking rich cougars, and casino sharks. They were looking for places to hide their money—both dirty and clean—and he was the man who could help them. He became indispensable, creating sham companies in Ventimiglia, Luxembourg, Panama, and Ireland. And before long, everyone was relying on him.”
    “All that to end up in the Médoc?” Benjamin said.
    “I haven’t finished. With all the dinners at the private clubs and the parties on Lebanese yachts, he soon became a collector of Monaco heiresses and thousand-euro hookers.”
    Benjamin was grinding his teeth now. “Ordinary, I