Several of the men exchanged glances with one another but said nothing.
Guru Bob appeared to brace himself as he announced, “My grandfather was Anton Benoit.”
There were a few gasps, followed by a brief silence.
“Felon!” Henri shouted suddenly, and pushed his chair back from the table. He stood and scowled at Guru Bob as he spewed a stream of French insults.
Both Derek and Gabriel stood immediately.
Guru Bob’s expression remained calm.
“Henri, s’il vous pla?t,” Felix said with a world-weary wave of his hand. “Be patient. Let our guest explain himself.”
Henri’s jaw was clenched as he appeared to weigh his odds with Derek and Gabriel. He was bigger than both of them, but it wasn’t from muscle. He had to realize his chances of defeating either one of them in a fight were close to nothing.
Not that I expected Derek or Gabriel to lay one finger on Henri. They were only here for intimidation purposes. I hoped.
“Henri,” Felix chided, “it is too nice a day to quarrel.”
“Coquin,” the big man muttered, causing Felix to roll his eyes. Henri made a show of doing the old man a favor by sitting, but it was obvious to me that he’d done so because of Derek and Gabriel’s clear intention to take him on if necessary.
Derek and Gabriel sat as well. Madame Cloutier refilled Gabriel’s wineglass, and he winked at her. Despite their friendly interaction, the tension around the table was now as thick as the grilled sausages we’d just eaten.
“I never met my grandfather,” Guru Bob said when he had the attention of the group again. “But I heard the stories of his escape from France and how he took all of the villagers’ belongings with him for safekeeping. I assumed, wrongly, that everything was returned after the war. Recently, though, I found out how wrong I was to assume such a thing.”
“Blaireau,” Henri muttered.
Gabriel stood, looked at Henri, and raised an eyebrow. “Dude.”
Henri gave an ill-tempered shrug. “Désolé.”
It was a poor apology. I tried to recall some of the French words my sister had taught me while I was visiting her in Paris, but blaireau didn’t come to mind. I had a feeling it wasn’t a compliment. But why was this guy insulting Guru Bob? Didn’t he get that the man was bringing him good news?
“Brooklyn, dear,” Guru Bob said, leaning forward to grab my attention. “Do you have the photographs?”
“I do.” I pulled them out of the bag I’d set beside my chair and handed them to him.
Gabriel, instead of sitting down again, walked a few feet away from the table and leaned his back against the outside wall. From that position he had an excellent, unobstructed view of the whole table and the still-grumbling people. He folded his arms across his chest and watched the interactions from there.
“We recently excavated one of our storage caves to expand its size,” Guru Bob explained. “Behind what we thought was a solid stone wall we discovered a chamber that had been sealed off for the past seventy years. Inside we found the body of a Frenchman. Jean Pierre Renaud. Did you know of him?”
Felix laid his head in his hands. He muttered a few words in French, then glanced up, his eyes wet with tears. “He was a friend. When I arrived here and sought him out, I couldn’t find him. So I thought perhaps he’d moved away and lived a good long life elsewhere.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” Robson said. “The sheriff’s department is investigating, and I will be happy to pass along any information I receive from them.”
He nodded. “Merci.”
Guru Bob took a deep breath and let it out. I could tell this wasn’t easy for him. And I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.
“We discovered a number of other items behind the stone wall. I’d like you to see them.” He passed a few photographs to his left, a few to his right, and a few to the people sitting across the table. The looks on their faces ran the emotional gamut from devastation to delight.
“Gerard, look,” Beatrice whispered. “It is my father’s escritoire.”
“The Botticelli,” Solange cried. Tears formed in her eyes, and she pressed a hand to her lips.
I didn’t dare look at Derek, but I knew what he was thinking. It really was a Botticelli painting! My next immediate thought was, Gabriel needs to beef up the winery security right away.
“These are my mother’s candlesticks,” Henri said, slapping the photograph with the back of his hand. “She died of a broken heart, knowing she would never see her beautiful things again.”
“While my words cannot possibly ease the pain you feel, please know that I am truly sorry.” Guru Bob’s compassion for the other man was clear in his voice.