Read Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes (Chef Maurice Culinary Mysteries Book 2) for Free Online Page B

look, then grabbed Alf by the shoulders and dragged him back inside.
    “You’ve gotta believe me. I’m not stupid, I know a gun when I see one!”
    PC Lucy looked over Alf’s head at Patrick. “So what do we do now?”
    “Well, if we set off right this minute, he won’t be hard to follow, what with the tracks in the snow—”
    “I meant about Alf.”
    But Patrick was already pulling on his coat and gloves.
    “Wait, you’re not seriously going after that guy, are you?”
    “He’s up to something, I’m sure of it. And why not?”
    He’s got a gun, thought PC Lucy, then shook herself. People didn’t just carry guns around, not here in England. There had to be another explanation. Plus the police made sure people didn’t just go around carrying illegal weapons.
    She looked down at her badge.
    Dammit.
    “Fine. But we’re not approaching him, okay? We’ll just see where he’s going.”
    They left Alf wrapped in a blanket in the corner of the kitchen, with strict instructions to lock the door behind them.
    “One moment.” Patrick stopped, strode over to the hob, grabbed a large stockpot and poured the contents down the sink.
    “Oooooaawwww,” said Alf, at the sound of his night’s work sloshing down the plughole.
    “Right, now we can go.”

    The Bourne Hall wine cellar door was located behind the main staircase in the hallway. It was seven feet tall, made of solid oak and carved with a tasteful border of grapes and vines.
    “I was just getting the canapés ready and thought I’d ask Sir William if he wanted the little Yorkshire puds first or last, you know how they’re his favourite, so I came out”—Mrs Bates waved at the kitchen door, which faced the cellar from across the corridor—“to check with him, but the cellar door was all closed and wouldn’t budge. I knocked and knocked, but the master, he ain’t answering!”
    Gilles tried the doorknob.
    “Locked,” he said gravely. He gave a loud rap on the door. “Sir? Sir William? Is there a problem?”
    “’Course there’s a problem,” sobbed Mrs Bates. “It’s not like him not to answer, especially not with guests and everyone waiting for him.”
    She hammered on the door with her fists.
    “Does he usually lock the door when he’s down there?” said Arthur.
    The butler shook his head. “Not normally. Only when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
    Chef Maurice bent down and put his eye to the keyhole. It was all black. He gave the keyhole a good sniff too.
    “In the case of poisonous gas,” he explained as he caught Arthur’s look.
    There was the clatter of footsteps on the stairs.
    “What’s going on?” It was Bertie, looking puzzled, closely followed by Paloni, straightening his bow tie.
    “The master’s gone and locked himself in the cellar and ain’t answering!”
    “Maybe the door’s jammed with all this cold weather,” said Paloni. “Happened to me once in Vermont, at this—”
    “Then why’s he not answering?” Mrs Bates pounded on the door again. “Sir William, if you can hear me, you open up this door right this minute!”
    “What is happening?” Ariane floated down the stairs. Her eyes were slightly red from sleep. “Who is in there?”
    “We think Sir William might have had an accident,” said Arthur. “He’s locked the door, and isn’t answering.”
    “Well, isn’t there a second key?” said Resnick, who’d caught the end of the conversation as he hurried down behind Ariane, his bow tie hanging around his neck and his jacket undone.
    “I believe there is a spare key in the safe in Sir William’s study. I will see if I can procure it,” said Gilles, disappearing back down the corridor.
    “You!” said Bertie, advancing on Paloni, who gave him the look a bull would give a particularly uppity sheep. “You were down there with him a moment ago. What happened?”
    “What? Nothing!”
    “What do you mean, nothing? You mean he was completely fine when you left him?”
    “Of course he