Black Diamond Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bruno’s knee. “I’m so glad you agreed to come. I’ve been wanting to try this place.”
    The original farmhouse was still there, its honey-colored stone lit by carefully situated lamps, but most of it was obscured by a new conservatory that linked the house to theneighboring stables and barn. Through the big windows that had been built into the stables, Bruno saw a chef’s white toque and kitchen workers moving through glittering rows of stainless-steel ovens and shelving. The facing wall of the barn had been removed to leave it open to the elements, but lights picked out the huge beams of ancient chestnut. Paved in gravel, the barn gaped emptily as if waiting for warmer times and summer customers. Most of the conservatory windows were screened by thick curtains, but through two wide gaps Bruno could see customers around tables lit by candlelight and covered in white cloths.
    Pamela turned off the ignition, and in the sudden silence he heard a low shirring sound and looked up to see two curious windmills that bore none of the usual propeller blades. Instead, three curved and vertical blades whirled around a central axis, going remarkably fast in what was still a gentle breeze. The parking lot was dimly lit at ankle level by a row of solar-powered garden lights. A larger spotlight illuminated a large vegetable garden, picking out the bright orange of pumpkins and lines of fat cauliflowers. Behind the garden glinted some greenhouses with two more windmills beside them. Beyond the garden stood another small grouping of buildings, presumably where the staff lived.
    “They spent a lot of money on this place,” said Bruno, thinking about the likely size of the dinner bill.
    “Fabiola doesn’t want to be treated by the baron, so she’s asked us all to pay our own way,” Pamela said, as if reading his mind. “And don’t worry about me. Thanks to Fabiola I’ve got a tenant through the winter for once, so I’m feeling unusually prosperous.”
    She was suddenly backlit by the flare of headlights, and Bruno recognized the baron’s DS as it turned and parked. Hisfriend emerged and moved swiftly to the passenger door to hold it open for Fabiola, who was renting one of Pamela’s vacation cottages.
    “Fabiola came straight from work,” Pamela said. “Otherwise I’d have brought her. But I’ll take her back with me.” She looked at Bruno, her eyes twinkling affectionately. “And you too, if you’re good.”
    “You’ll get a reputation,” he replied, watching her as she swept her hair back from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear in a way he knew well. Usually she wore no makeup but for this evening she had applied a dark red lipstick and mascara and done something artful that made her eyes look larger. She was wearing a long black raincoat that flared from her hips, a white silk scarf and high heels that gave her the same height as Bruno.
    “You ruined my reputation months ago,” she said, taking his arm as the others joined them.
    The restaurant was more than half full, rare in Périgord for a weekday evening in winter, with an unusual mix of customers. Some were well dressed in suits and ties and cocktail dresses while others were in dowdy casual clothes that probably counted as Green chic. Among them Bruno recognized a couple of people who sold organic foods at the St. Denis market and his friend Alphonse the councillor, who patted his stomach and gave Bruno a thumbs-up of approval for the food.
    At the table beside Alphonse, Bruno noticed Didier, the manager of the truffle market in Ste. Alvère, dining in silence with a plump woman who wore a discontented air. There was a long table at the rear for a dozen that was filled this evening by a festive family group. A large balloon that read JOYEUSE ANNIVERSAIRE floated above a woman with white hair whowas beaming at the well-dressed children beside her as they attacked two large pizzas.
    “Welcome to L’Auberge des Verts,” said Guillaume Pons,