Backstabbing in Beaujolais (Winemaker Detective Book 9) by Jean-Pierre Alaux, Noël Balen

often do I have to tell you?”
    “Well, when she and Périthiard called it quits, she went straight to Annabelle. And here everyone thought Annabelle would go for Fabien Dujaray, considering how much time they spend together at the office. But no, Solène was the one she wanted.”
    “I see the grapevine’s in working order. Anything else I should know about?”
    “Some of the vines at Vol-au-Vent have been damaged.”
    “What do you mean damaged?”
    “Well, I really should say vandalized.”
    “Be more specific, Virgile.”
    “An odd row here and there, near the manor house, where it’s visible.”

    Benjamin woke up several times that night and looked worse for wear the next morning, when he came down to the kitchen for his tea. He told Virgile he was having chest pains and trouble breathing.
    “We should get you to a doctor,” Virgile said.
    “I’ll be okay,” Benjamin said. He was panting now.
    “I’m trying not to freak out, boss, but you’re really scaring me.”
    “I said I’ll be all right.”
    “I don’t care. I’m not listening to you. You need to see a doctor.”
    Benjamin grumbled but was too weak to resist as Virgile helped him to the convertible and raced him to the town of Quincié, calling a local doctor on the way. Dr. Morgonet met them at the car and helped Virgile usher Benjamin into his office and onto the table. Then he calmly examined the winemaker.
    “Sir, it’s nothing to worry about. Your EKG is normal. Your pulse is fine, and I don’t see any other cause for concern. You appear to be having a garden-variety panic attack. Are you working too hard? I suggest that you try to slow down a bit. But all in all, I’ve seen worse.”
    “Are you saying I still have a few weeks to live, doctor?” Benjamin joked as he buttoned his shirt.
    “I think so. But do try to slow down. Prolonged stress can have adverse effects on your health. Now, can I have your name, please? Are you insured?”
    “Cooker. Benjamin Cooker…”
    Dr. Morgonet grinned and took two steps back to get a better look at his patient. “The Cooker Guide Cooker? I read in the paper that you’re working with Guillaume Périthiard. Is that true?”
    “Yes, in a way.”
    “It’s an honor to treat you. I’m a loyal reader of the Cooker Guide .”
    “I’m happy to hear that,” Benjamin replied, hoping the doctor would end the conversation so he could get out of the office.
    “So how do you like our region? Your client is shaking things up around here: taking on Dujaray, hiring his son, making a Régnié, and even opening bouchons . No wonder you’re having a panic attack. The man must be breathing fire down your neck.”
    “I’m just a consultant, doctor.”
    “Well, he sure seems to have something to prove.”
    “What do you mean, doctor?”
    “You’re aware that he comes from around here, right? His parents were insurance brokers. They ran a small office in Lyon, not far from the Place Bellecour. They had some reasonably well-off clients, and they did all right. They never spent much, and they saved a lot—enough to retire comfortably. They weren’t brilliant, but they were people you could trust.”
    “It’s hard to imagine the Guillaume Périthiard I know having such a modest background,” Benjamin said.
    “I knew Guillaume when he was young. He had a certain predisposition for pleasure and indolence. A serious case of hepatitis kept him from graduating from high school, and his pride kept him from going back. He had always been bored at school anyway. But oddly enough, he was capable of applying himself in the workplace. He took a menial job in a tile factory in Villeurbanne and proved himself. Unfortunately, his parents, who had always wanted him to get his education, took his decision as an affront. He was ostracized by the family. They were even cool to him when he brought his fiancée around to introduce her.”
    “That would help to explain why he’s so intent on making something of