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

himself here. He had a rough start, with that terrible hunting accident.”
    “Yes, Laurent Quillebaud. I saw him come into the world.”
    “He seemed like such a bright young man,” Benjamin said, interested now in continuing the conversation.
    “Yes, he could have had a bright future,” the doctor said.
    “It was too bad about his illness,” Benjamin said, leaning in.
    The doctor was quiet for a few moments. Finally, he spoke. “He warned me. I should have taken him seriously.”
    “Warned you about what?”
    “I can’t forget what he said: ‘I will choose the time of my death. I won’t give that luxury to the one some call God.’”
    “When did he say that?”
    “When I gave him his lab results. His T-cell count had dropped, and he was showing other symptoms, although most people couldn’t tell. He had put off seeing me too long. He needed treatment right away, but he said no. He thought it was too late. I’m amazed that he was able to put so much energy into his work when he was that sick.” The doctor was gazing out the window.
    “He had AIDS,” Benjamin said. “So he preferred committing suicide to dying a slow death?”
    “He didn’t realize that there are effective treatments for AIDs these days. But it may have more to do with his wife having left him a year earlier, taking their son with her.”
    “One disaster leads to another.”
    “That’s for certain. He proved that by choosing the time and circumstances of his departure: shooting himself during a hunt, knowing full well that questions would be raised. I think he was angry—angry at the world, but also angry at his wife and angry at Dujaray because he didn’t think he was treated right when he was working for him. And in the end, he probably figured Périthiard, with all his money, could replace him with someone else.”
    The doctor looked at his desk and started shuffling papers. “So much for patient-doctor privilege. I’ve known you for less than an hour, and I’ve already broken my oath. Mr. Cooker, no wonder you know all those winemaking secrets. You have a way of getting information.”
    “If you’ve read my guides, then you know that I never reveal our vintners’ secrets.”
    “True enough… On another subject, I’m writing a brochure for water drinkers—you know, the ones who go on tirades against wine and don’t want any of us to enjoy life. I’d like people to know that wine is a healthy drink. The piece isn’t especially long, just long enough to contain the pertinent information.”
    “I hope you’re telling people not to mix water and wine?” Benjamin said, causing Virgile to roll his eyes.
    The doctor smiled. “Yes, one must never water down the wine. The real point I want to get across is that moderate consumption—one glass a day for women and two for men—can be good for the health.”
    “You don’t need to convince me, doctor. You’re preaching to the choir.”
    “Exactly, Mr. Cooker. But did you know that one or two glasses a day can reduce your risk of depression, as well as your risk of developing colon cancer? Wine has anti-aging properties. While consumption of other alcoholic drinks can increase a woman’s chances of developing breast cancer, red wine in moderate amounts can actually lower that risk. One study has even found that a chemical found in wine can improve your sensitivity to insulin. That means you’re not as vulnerable to diabetes. Quite an impressive argument, don’t you think, Mr. Cooker?”
    “Indeed, doctor. I just hope the alcoholics I’ve met don’t use it as justification to drink even more.”
    “I’m just saying that a moderate amount is fine, Mr. Cooker. Those water drinkers should get off their high horse.”
    “Please send me a copy of the brochure when you’re finished.”
    “You can count on it. In the meantime, let me prescribe something for you.”
    The doctor stood up and took a wine bottle and three glasses out of his armoire.
    “It’s