“Explaining why she had so little in the way of belongings here,” I reply.
“They had an apartment ready and waiting in Buenos Aires. It’s quite apparent they were more than just comrades in their espionage. But enough of that for now. How are you, Kay? It’s good to hear you alive and well after what happened. I want to thank you for tasting the wine instead of me,” she quips.
“Anytime,” I quip right back at her, and now Merlin has appeared, rubbing against my ankles again.
“As it turns out, it was tampered with by a very rich disgruntled winemaker who wanted to destroy his competitor’s business,” she informs me.
I ask a few questions about this disgruntled winemaker, and he lives in a sixteenth-century chateau in France that’s filled with rare art, and landscaped with sumptuous gardens. That makes sense when I recall the trace evidence we found in the bottle of Bordeaux.
“This individual injected iso into several other bottles that the French police have seized,” she says. “We’re confident there aren’t any others.”
“Well, I’m glad all of us lived to tell the tale,” I reply.
“I was very pleased to hear you’d changed your mind, deciding not to quit.” She says the word ironically, and it wasn’t me who decided anything.
Elvin Reddy had a change of heart, refusing to accept my bogus resignation, and rumor has it he may be up for another appointment. What I have to say about that is good riddance. Whatever it is, Maggie won’t go with him, and I’ll figure out later how I’m going to deal with her day to day.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you back at Interpol, soon I hope,” Gabriella says, and we end the call as I pick up my drink.
“A toast,” I announce. “To Lucy, a happy belated birthday.” We clink our glasses together.
“And to you,” Fruge says with a nod. “Welcome back, Chief.”