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

would die at a very young age. Are you still with me?”
    “Yes, yes. I’m closing my eyes to concentrate better.”
    “In the end, it was the grandson, Joseph de Fumel, who developed the estate, adding an orangery, operational buildings and very large grounds. He also contributed greatly to the renown of Haut-Brion wine abroad, trading with England and Sweden. He was guillotined in 1794. From then on, the same lot was reserved for the Moniales: The estate was sold as state property, and Charles-Maurice Talleyrand bought it in 1801. At the time, he was Napoleon’s minister of foreign affairs, as you know.”
    “Is he the one who limped? The one Napoleon called ‘shit in silk stockings’?” Virgil asked, knitting his eyebrows.
    “The description is terse but rather well summarized. Tallyrand was a grim man but brilliant. He is even said to have made a recommendation about Haut-Brion that some should follow more often: ‘Before raising such a nectar to one’s lips, hold the glass high, and look at it, sniff it at length, and then, set your glass down, and talk about it!’ Nice, isn’t it?”
    “Very perceptive and well formulated,” Virgile said, nodding.
    “Tallyrand did not stay in Haut-Brion for long. He sold everything in 1804. He had other things to do, and he didn’t have a farmer’s soul. You have to be a little bit of a farmer to love a land like this one, even if is your coffers are full of gold, and you’re chock full of honors. As was the Larrieu family, which was next in line. They were a dynasty of jurists with a number of more or less happy successors throughout the 19 th century. After Joseph-Eugène Larrieu and his son Amédée came Eugène, who inherited in 1873 and went on to impose a near-military discipline on his winemakers. This was an important step, since the Larrieu family bought the third that belonged to the Countess of Vergennes and united the domaine again. They always had energetic stewards, and you have to admit that were it not for Eugène Larrieu’s authoritarian determination, the estate would have suffered more from the Phylloxera and mildew epidemics that ravaged all of Bordeaux’s vineyards. He managed the estate with an iron fist until 1896, but he had no heir. His vines were prolific, but he was dry.”
    Benjamin was in brilliant form, and the ups and downs of Haut-Brion’s history loosened his tongue. He enjoyed initiating Virgile into this world with its codes that were sometimes difficult to decrypt. He went on to talk about the various problems linked to the joint ownership of the property and the Compagnie Algérienne, a bank that owned the château for a time before selling it to the extravagant André Gibert. He was a stickler for rules but loved experimenting. He also lacked an heir, so the estate ended up in the hands of the American financier Clarence Dillon after several months of harsh negotiations. On May 13, 1935, the Château Haut-Brion was transferred to the Dillon family. Over time, the majority of its heirs were attached enough to the estate to forget the bustle of New York and show an interest in its operations. Some even settled there.
    “OK, I’ll stop there! I think I’ve overwhelmed you,” Cooker said, getting up rather carelessly.
    They returned to Bordeaux at dusk. Benjamin dropped his assistant off at the Place de la Victoire and drove down the Cours de la Marne to reach the Saint-Jean train station. He double-parked and ran to the departure hall to get some pictures made in a photo booth. The harsh flash surprised him as he tried to put on an impassive, dignified expression. The result was astonishing, to say the least. The four small pictures showed three-quarters of his face. He had raised eyebrows, one eye was half closed, the other red, and he had a splotch of white light running across his forehead. Benjamin was quite amused by his startled look. “Clearly, reality is nothing but an illusion,” he thought, slipping the photos into