Maceration (2 page)

Maxine laughed,“ Very funny
Paul. I may do just that.”

Chapter Five

Paul left Maxine at the winery’s
tasting centre. An impressive, renovated hundred-year-old bluestone
barn. A vaulted glass atrium extended from the rear, bathing the
inside with glorious light.

The centre was closed, and
quiet. Her fault. She strolled around admiring the trophy cabinet
until she was disturbed by the sound of shouting. From an office,
hidden from view, she could clearly hear Len and Robin arguing.

“
Robin we
can’t afford to not bottle Peter’s wine first. We’re in deep shit
for heaven’s sake. The bank’s going to foreclose if we don’t
repay,” implored Len, collapsing into a chair.

Robin pointed a finger
threateningly, “ Don’t give me that. They’ve invested too much
money with us to have it all go belly up. You know that, they know
that and I know that. So we’re going to do it my way for once.” He
turned to look out over the sweeping vines. “ The one good thing
that’s happened over all of this is we no longer have to pander to
Peter’s bloody ego.” Robin turned to face his brother. “ And you,
you are not going to stop me. Peter’s wine doesn’t get made, and
his grape is going to be mixed with mine to make my Maceration
Carbonic and you’d better not get in my way!”

Len wrung his hands, he was
sweating profusely but he knew he was beaten, “What was it all for?
What was it all for?” he cried.

“
Shit Len, you
never used to be such a snivelling bastard. Get a hold of
yourself.”

Maxine had heard enough. “ Maybe
you’ve turned him into one. Bullies have a propensity to do
that.”

Robin, shocked at her presence,
turned on Maxine, “ Listen here dearie. Our finances have nothing
to do with you, and how my brother and I talk to each other is up
to us. Now piss off!”

Len stood, strain screwing and
twisting his face, “ Inspector Lake thank you for your concern but
really my brother and I have this mutual understanding.”

“
Mutual
understanding my arse,” spat Robin, as he turned, pushed past
Maxine and left.

“Charming,” said Maxine,
approaching Len," Finances that bad?”

Len sighed, “ Inspector, if we
don’t sell our whole vintage and get forward orders for next year’s
vintage, we’re sunk. He’s got no idea.”

“Well, what would you do
Len?”

“Inspector, I’d get rid of both
their wines. I’d make a very small boutique, high-class pinot, a
quarter the size of Peter’s bottling, and a quarter of the price.
Get rid of Robin’s crappy Maceration Carbonic and use the entire
remaining grape to make a successful ten-dollar blend that will
sell. That’s what I would do Inspector.” He turned to face the
window, a look of anguish on his face.

Maxine rested a hand on Len’s
shoulder, “ If it’s any consolation Len that’s what I’d do too. But
I’m no winemaker.”

Chapter Six

Maxine took the breathtaking
drive, winding through Norton Summit back to Adelaide. The drive
gave her time to think until she reached her East Terrace
apartment. She rang Superintendant Faraday to inform him of the
situation and proceeded to do some of the chores she'd put off for
weeks. She found that simple tasks often aided her thinking. It
cleared her mind and enabled her brain to focus. At around
six-thirty she decided to relax with her iPad and study tomorrow's
racing form.

The winery had stirred her red
wine juices, and as luck had it she had a Peter Felix in her rack.
She found the bottle she wanted and held it up to the light. Her
mind drifted to the sight of its maker, dead with his eye staring
directly at her. She pushed the gruesome thought out of her
mind.

As she reached for her bottle
opener her iPhone sang. Maxine put the bottle down and touched the
screen, “ Maxine Lake.”

“Van here Maxine. Just thought
I’d fill you in about the vigneron,” he answered, as Maxine flopped
into a cane chair positioned overlooking the expanse of Victoria
Park.

“There are a few things that
worry me about this one.”

“
Thought it
wouldn’t be just a pissed winemaker falling into his vat. Strangled
was he?”

“
It’s hard to
tell the significance of the marks on the neck, but there’s one
thing I know for sure.”

“
What’s that?
Drank himself to death?” Maxine laughed.

“
Well sort
of,” he paused. “He drowned.”

“
Wouldn’t that
be expected being in a vat full of wine?”

“
Yes, but I
don’t think he drowned in that vat. It’s complicated. I think you’d
better come over.”

Maxine sighed,“ Thought the
bottle of red I was just about to open was too good to be true.”
She lifted herself from the chair.

“
Bring it with
you I’ve got two glasses.”

Chapter Seven

Maxine found Van in his lab. She
held up the bottle in greeting.

“
Ah, pleased
to see you dressed. You do care. Now look at this.” Van smiled and
called Maxine to his computer. He noticed the bottle. “A Peter
Felix, very appropriate. I’ll pour, you read.”

Maxine looked at the computer
screen to see two opposing tables. “Well, what’s this? I failed
year three maths.” She took a glass from Van and nosed its contents
lovingly.

“
It’s a
comparison of the composition of two liquids found in or on the
body of Peter Felix. The left is taken from the fluids in his
lungs, hence the drowning. The right extracted from nose, mouth,
ear cavities and skin.” He took a generous gulp of the wine.
“Lovely wine. Now you can clearly see that the liquids are
different, meaning that Peter Felix drowned somewhere other than in
the vat where he was found. And, as from my vast experience I can
say that a corpse normally doesn't walk by itself
then...”

“
It means he
was murdered. Well that’s certainly spoilt my day, cheers,” Maxine
interrupted, congratulating Van.

“
He could have
possibly been held under in another batch of wine, if we take the
neck markings as any indication, but I’m uncertain. Suit up and
come and have a look. You haven’t eaten yet have you?” he queried,
with a disarming wry smile.

“
I’ve been in
homicide too long to eat before viewing a body. Lead on
Macduff!”

Maxine suited up and followed
Van into the mortuary. An attendant was reassembling Peter Felix.
They waited without speaking as he finished his skilled task.

“
Roll him over
please,” Van requested. “ Now Maxine, notice the marks around the
base of the neck. I don’t think they were inflicted by hand
strangulation. They’re too thin. And if you look closely there’s a
sort of broken chain pattern to the marks.”

Maxine leaned over Peter’s
corpse. “ Could be a chain of some sort. Some blokes wear
chains.”

“
Lots of men
wear chains Maxine and yes it could be. As for the knees, I think
the bruising is post-mortem as well.”

“
So, he died
in another vat of wine, and was carted to the one where he was
found. As for the marks on his neck, anyone’s guess.”

She studied Peter Felix’s death
mask. “ Come on Van, let’s get out of here and go and eat
something. We’ll take his wine. Have a mini wake. What do you
reckon?”

“
I’d love to
Maxine, but honestly I can’t. Wife, children, T.V. and tuna
mornay.” He laughed. Their conversations often evolved like this. “
You’re welcome to join us if you like. Julie makes a mean tuna
mornay”

“
Thanks Van,
but I don’t think Julie would appreciate it. I’ll wander down the
Arab Steed for a counter tea. Have a quiet night. Thanks again for
getting onto this so quickly.”

“
Not a problem
Maxine. I’d better be off. The wife’s waiting.”

Maxine smiled, “ Yeah sure.
Slippers, pipe and a glass of port no doubt!”

Chapter Eight

A mixture of trendies, students,
baby boomers and homeless shuffled past the Arab Steed in an
endless procession. Maxine finished her chicken salad accompanied
with the remaining wine. She tapped her iPhone screen and rang a
number.

“
Paul Lange
here.”

“
Inspector
Lake Paul. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve got a couple of questions
bothering me.”

“
Where are
you? I could do with some fresh air. Let’s meet.”

“
I didn’t mean
to spoil your night but I’m outside the Arab Steed
Hotel.”

“
Oh that’s not
far, I’m in Parkside.” And before Maxine could continue he
disconnected. She hadn’t expected to locate Paul so quickly but was
pleasantly pleased with the prospect of his company. Once more the
winery fantasy seemed an attractive prospect.

She spotted Paul striding along
Hutt St admiring his tall, slim figure. He was a bit of a hunk and
looked very much the winemaker with chinos and chambre shirt.
Maxine dismissed these pleasant thoughts as she waved an
encouraging greeting.

“
Thanks for
coming. Can I get you a drink?” she suggested, as he sat across
from her.

“
Yes please, a
glass of sauvignon blanc, New Zealand.”

“
Not very
patriotic for an Australian winemaker,” Maxine chided.

“
They make the
best,” he said, winking at her as he sat.

She returned with the white wine
for him and a Cooper's Pale Ale for herself. She sat and asked the
question that was bothering her.

“
Why would
Peter Felix have traces of two types of wine on his person? Can you
think of any reason?” She looked closely at him as he
responded.

“
He was a
winemaker Maxine. There could be many reasons,” he replied, nosing
his wine.

“
Yes I realise
that, but what worries me, and I’ll be frank here Paul, is that two
different types of red wine were found in Peter. One type was found
in his lungs and one about his body.”

Paul winced, “ Oh I see. But
that means he must have been dead before he fell into the vat.”

“
Precisely
Paul, you should have been a detective. I think Peter may have been
murdered.” Maxine watched him as he processed this information. He
showed no sign of recognition.

“
Well Maxine.
The only other wine in volume currently at the winery is Peter’s
pinot in the basket press. I did think it was funny that he was
found in Robin’s wine. He normally has nothing to do with Robin’s
vats apart from tasting.” He gave Maxine a concerned
look.

“
Something
wrong Paul?”

“
Well yes
Maxine it’s obvious,” Paul said, leaning forward. “ Surely you’ve
worked it out.” He raised an eyebrow.“ Well if the only other place
of any substantial wine is the basket press well surely that’s
where Peter drowned.” Maxine looked to her beer and studied the
exploding bubbles. “ Isn’t that right Maxine?” he
persisted.

“
Yes, I think
that is right, but my question is how did he get from the basket
press to Robin’s vat? Now, tomorrow I’d like to view the press,
undisturbed. Is that possible?” she asked, lifting her
eyes.

Paul thought for a while, “
Probably. Len visits the bank on Thursday afternoon and Robin plays
golf at Mount Lofty. Should be clear after lunch. That suit?”

“
Perfect. I’ll
meet you at two-thirty. Now, drink up. Let’s go for a walk. I’ve
eaten far too much.”

Chapter Nine

The basket press stood like a
sentinel guarding the oak barrels that honeycombed the cellar.
Hard, cool flagstones supported the weight of presses and
barrels.

“
Peter’s
Basket Press,” exclaimed Paul, lovingly patting its side. “ It’s
very old. Peter purchased it from Langhorne Creek and restored
it.”

Maxine circled the press. She
used a stepladder to peer inside. The pungent aroma was
overwhelming. The pressing was waiting expectantly for her to
decide when the screws could be turned on. No winemaking until she
said so, including the pinot. She ran her eye round the barrel
until she noticed a piece of cloth attached to the inside of the
metal rim that ran around the top. She removed a pair of protective
gloves from her pocket and a plastic bag and carefully extracted
the beige cloth from the rim.

“
Found
something?” Paul called.

“
Did Peter
wear moleskins?” she asked.

“
Every day.
Let me see.” He took the bag. “ Definitely his. Ripped his knees as
he fell in?”

“
You’ll do me
out of a job soon,” she replied, taking the bag. “ Possibly. Now
how do we drain this?”

Paul was shocked, “ What, you
can’t do that. This is Peter’s Pinot. It’s our best wine.”

“
Paul, you
don’t know how long Peter was swimming in his pinot. Do you think
you’ll win a Jimmy Watson trophy with this? I can see the reviews
now, the wine displays a beautiful deep blood red colour, a wine
exemplifying Peter’s life and soul, literally!”

Paul’s chest deflated, “ You’re
right, of course. We have a sludge pit.”

Chapter Ten

Maxine always carried a hygiene
suit with her at all times and suited up to enter the press. It was
a tight squeeze to push between the large screw into the open space
below and she was not accustomed to such a pungent musty smell. She
took a small torch and carefully scanned the lining of the press.
It was clear, but on examining the press mechanism itself, Maxine
found what she had hoped for, a gold chain. She extracted and
bagged the chain and was about to exit the press when she noticed a
metal object. She carefully retrieved and bagged the item. She was
relieved to exit the claustrophobic confines of the press.