Arthur Keene was still gathering his documents.
Brenda Shaw had stopped taking notes.
I stood beside the service station, wondering whether Mr. Harlan would fire me the moment the guests left.
Antoine showed Dominic the label.
“Your requested vintage, sir.”
Dominic nodded absently.
Antoine began preparing the bottle for service.
Then his movements slowed.
I noticed because I’d watched him open hundreds of bottles.
He was never hesitant.
Tonight, he examined the neck, turned the bottle slightly, and looked toward the rear service station.
“Is there a problem?” Dominic asked.
Antoine didn’t answer immediately.
“Sir, may I verify something with the cellar?”
Celeste sighed.
“For heaven’s sake, we don’t need another delay.”
“I apologize, madam.”
“What could possibly be wrong with a bottle of wine?”
Antoine looked toward Mr. Harlan.
The manager approached.
They spoke quietly.
I couldn’t hear every word, but I caught enough.
“The closure,” Antoine whispered. “It appears to have been disturbed.”
Mr. Harlan frowned.
“Are you certain?”
“No. But I didn’t open it, and this isn’t how I expected to find it.”
Dominic heard that.
He pushed his chair back slightly.
“What do you mean, disturbed?”
Antoine turned toward him.
