Maceration

by Brian Briscoe

  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 ba
gged 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.

  She removed the suit and held the two finds to the light,“ Do any of these look familiar to you?”

  “ That’s Peter’s chain. We always used to rib him about it. A sixty’s porn star we called him. The watch looks familiar and I’m sure I’ve seen it before. Could be Len’s?” Paul handed the bags back to Maxine. “ What happens now?”

  Maxine smiled at him, “ I would like you to not tell anyone about this. Is that clear?”

  “ As mud Maxine. I can see what’s happened here. Peter’s been drowned somehow in the press, and someone has pulled him out and taken him over to the vat, but why? Why would anyone do that? It’s insane.”

  “ Paul, murderers are not always sane people. They panic, make poor decisions. Or they make decisions for reasons only they understand. That’s a motif.” She turned to face him. “I’ve monopolised your time enough Paul. But, one last question.” They stood in the open doorway, “ If a person or persons pulled Peter from the barrel, wouldn’t they be covered in the stain of the pinot?”

  “ Most probably. Their clothes most certainly would be,” he said absentmindedly, as they made their way back into the blazing hot day. “ They’d stand out for sure.”

  Maxine faced the hot afternoon sun, shading her eyes.“ Once again, thank you so much for your help. We must meet again some time for a drink. I enjoyed last night.”

  Paul took her arm,” Yes we must. I’d like that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Maxine organised a forensic examination of the watch and cloth. A gathering at the winery was arranged for the next day and Maxine requested that two local constables attend.

  Robin was waiting with one of the constables when Maxine arrived the following morning. Paul arrived from the direction of the office with Len in tow.

  Robin arrogantly spoke first, “ I presume that you’re here to let us get on with our vintage. Accidental death?”

  “ Well actually, I can say beyond doubt, it wasn’t accidental. Peter was murdered.”

  “ What, that’s insane,” he turned to Len. “ You talk sense into this woman Len. We must get my wine fermenting and soon.”

  Len looked despairingly at Robin.

  “ Len what’s the matter. What’s going on?” Robin’s tone was surprisingly caring. He had sensed something different in Len’s mood.

  Maxine stated firmly,“ Are you going to tell him Len, or shall I?”

  Len looked to his brother, then to Maxine and Paul.

  “ Len, tell me what? Paul do you know what’s happening here?” Robin demanded of him quietly.

  “ Go on Len. It’s okay,” Paul gently took Len's arm. He was noticeably unsteady on his feet and Robin was worried.

  “ Maybe I’ll make a start for you Len,” said Maxine softly, as Len flopped into a chair. “ Paul confirmed your stained shirt to me yesterday evening. He confronted you later. Correct?”

  Len nodded his head. His hands fell to his side.“ I don’t know what got into me Inspector. Peter just laughed when I said we couldn’t afford to keep making his bloody pinot.”

  “ Len what have you done?” Robin lifted himself from the chair and crossed to his brother.

  “ Go on please,” Maxine interrupted, gently moving Robin to one side. “ Tell me everything. You were discussing his unprofitable wine?”

  He raised his strained face.“ I said to him that we had to use some of his, and your wine Robin, to make a cheaper wine to save the winery. But he wouldn’t have it. Just like you Robin!” He glared at his brother.

  “ Please Len,” encouraged Maxine.

  “He pushed me away. Just walked away, and left me, saying we’d never get any of his pinot. He said he was sick of my whingeing and if I couldn’t manage the books, he’d just have to talk to Robin and write me out of the business. He said I was useless. I couldn’t just take that Inspector. I give this place everything. I slave over every cent to try and make sense of our finances. If it weren’t for me we’d have gone under bloody years ago. They don’t understand.”

  “ So you had an argument with Peter. Here?”

  “ Yes, he’d come to the basket press to test his pinot.”

  “ What happened?”

  “ He stood on the stepladder to peer into the wine and I noticed his gold chain. It was hanging into the must. I just reacted. In one movement I grabbed the chain and his foot, and I just, tipped him in. I held him under by the chain. I kept his head submerged holding the chain. He struggled and thrashed about like a hooked fish.” Len began to sob.

  “ Is that when your watch was broken?”

  “ Yes, Peter grabbed the watch as he struggled. When he struggled no more I pulled him out. I thought I can’t stand this anymore. Peter and Robin’s wine ruining everything. So I dragged him onto a pallet and used the pallet lift to drop him into Robin’s vat. Ruin his crap too! I knew deep down someone would find out. And when Paul came and saw me last night and told me about the watch, I knew I had no other choice.” Len suddenly stood and yelled at his brother. “ You and your bloody maceration, and Peter with his ridiculous overpriced pinot!”

  “ Constable, please take Mr Felix to your car and read him his rights.”

  Maxine firmly but kindly led Len to the young constable.

  Robin grabbed his brother’s arm. “ Peter was our brother. This was our dream. His, mine and yours.”

  Len hatefully turned, and screamed, “ Your brother, not ours. Your dream, never mine.”

  The constable took Len. Robin turned to Maxine, shook his head and trudged off without saying a word.

  Paul took Maxine’s arm. “ I went home and thought about Len’s shirt. I saw him on the night Peter was killed removing his shirt and putting on his overalls. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. He didn’t see me. I didn’t say anything to you yesterday. I wanted to give him a chance to tell the truth. Will it help?”

  “ A little I think, but he’ll be making the warden’s wine now. I must be off. The Superintendant wants a full report as soon as possible. Doesn't like it when cases are solved too quickly. And Paul, thanks for all your help. I hope this hasn't left the winery in the lurch?”

  " We'll be fine Maxine. Robin's pretty tough."

  " Yes, you're probably right. He does look the type."

  She turned and made her way to the cellar door. Paul called after her, “ Arab Steed Saturday night?”

  Maxine stopped, turned and smiled, “Too many trendies on a Saturday, what about Monday?”

  Paul laughed, “ You’re on, see you there.”

  Author's note

  I hope you have enjoyed meeting Inspector Maxine Lake. For those of you who know of Adelaide would agree with me that it's the perfect setting for crimes of this nature. You could call it the Midsomer of Australia! And for those of you who enjoy a glass of red wine have a look for Adelaide Hills wines in your local bottle shop. I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised!

  Other books I have written available from Smashwords are works for children. 'Pi Day' http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/21830 'Go Claire Go' http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/24480 Carrie's Ghost And The Voyage Of The Land Of Cakes http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/26032