The Vintage Caper

unfamiliar châteaus. It was frustrating. He wanted to know, not guess. And so, having both time and money on his hands, he decided to treat himself to a six-month course at the Université du Vin at Suze-la-Rousse, an establishment of higher learning conveniently situated in Côtes-du-Rhône country.
    He found that it was a distinct improvement on law school. The subject itself, of course, was much more agreeable. His cosmopolitan fellow students—French, English, Chinese, some Indian pioneers, and the inevitable Scot—were much more interesting. The field trips to Hermitage (home of the “manliest” wines on earth), Côte-Rôtie, Cornas, and Châteauneuf-du-Pape were delicious and instructive. He began to pick up some French, and he even briefly thought of buying a vineyard. The time passed quickly.
    But he wasn’t ready to bury himself in the French countryside, and after years of traveling he was feeling the tug of America. How had it changed while he’d been away? How had he changed?
    In one respect, not at all. His fascination for the ingenious, bloodless crime remained, and as the end of his course drew near his thoughts turned more and more frequently to the idea of going back to work—but with a difference. Memories of the Congolese jail were still vivid. This time, he thought, he would operate on the legitimate side of the fence, as an investigator and a consultant on criminal matters. Or, as he liked to think of it, a poacher turned gamekeeper.
    For a man who liked the sunshine life, the choice of Los Angeles as a base was almost inevitable. L.A. had everything: delightful climate, money and extravagance, a high incidence of multimillionaires involved in dubious deals, the wretched excesses of the movie business, an abundance of pretty girls and celebrities—all the ingredients for mischief and amusement were there. And it took only a short reconnaissance before he found the ideal place to live.
    The Chateau Marmont, tucked away off Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, was intended to be L.A.’s first earthquake-proof apartment building. Alas, it opened in 1929, when the financial tremors from Wall Street and the Depression made selling apartments impossible. Rooms were an easier sale, and so the Chateau became a hotel with apartment-sized suites.
    This, for Sam, was one of its great attractions, but there were many more: the absence of domestic responsibilities, the charm and efficiency of the staff, the discreet entrance, the convenient location, the relaxed atmosphere. Unlike most modern formula hotels, the Chateau had character, a distinct personality. And there were suites available for permanent guests, the lifers. After a trial stay, Sam became one of them. He moved into a suite on the sixth floor and started looking for clients, which wasn’t too difficult in L.A. Somebody rich was always in trouble.
    The fact that money wasn’t a problem allowed him to choose only those cases that interested him: the more unusual swindles and scams, the more mysterious disappearances and hoaxes, the more daring high-end robberies. He had found his niche, and it wasn’t long before he had gained a reputation in certain circles as a man who got results and kept his mouth shut.
    Elena’s call came through as he was recovering from a vigorous half hour in the hotel’s attic gym.
    “Sam, it’s Elena.” She hesitated. “Sam, am I interrupting something? You’re out of breath.”
    “It’s the sound of your voice, Elena. Always does it to me. How are you?”
    “Busy. That’s why I’m calling. I need to talk to you. Can you do lunch tomorrow?”
    “Sure. Do you want to come up to the apartment? Just like old times?”
    “No, Sam. I’m not coming up to the apartment, and it’s not going to be just like old times. It’s work. Remember, work.”
    “You’re a hard-hearted woman. I’ll make a reservation downstairs for 12:30. Hey, Elena?”
    “What?”
    “It will be good to see you again. It’s been a long time.”
    They were both smiling as they put down their phones.
    Sam had reserved his usual table, which was set apart and partially screened from general view by the exuberant plant growth that made the courtyard such a green and pleasant place. He watched as Elena was shown to the table, and saw heads turn as everybody else took a long look at her. Was she famous? Who was she meeting? You never knew at the Chateau. Celebrity sightings were part of the décor.
    Sam kissed her on both cheeks