Cabernet Sauvignon

The baker stood staring out of his window, the aged man was surprisingly tall and spry looking, with pale skin and a dignity to his character that went beyond his stained apron and worn workman hands. The squad car pulled up outside his shop, He barely saw it in the ethereal reflection of the window and the distorting droplets of rain crawling there way down the thick glass. Past the reflection he saw a single man step out of the car, a tall man whose black suit was hidden under his long brown coat and his eyes shadowed under his fashionable brimmed hat which he pulled ajar to deflect the downpour from his face.

The door opened and the bell jingled throughout the shop as was normal, the police officer removed his hat and bowed his head lightly.

“Good evening Mr. Vagin” he said with as much grace and courtesy as could be expected of an officer this far from a major city “I'm sorry for the delay, I understand there was a break in last night?”

The Baker nodded in response, gesturing him behind the counter to a separate room in the back of the shop. They both stumbled in the darkness trying to make out the vague outlines of counter tops and bread baskets, while electric lights had been installed in the shop last year the Baker was not made of money and would not be turning them on for anything less then his most distinguished guests. The officer thanked Mr. Vagin as he entered the portal into a smaller, perfectly lit room of leather browns and maroons. While the half of the room further away possessed nothing but a simple wooden table covered in the smattering dough and flour of years of work the other side looked like something from a gentleman’s club. The officer placed his hat on the stand just in the room and sat down in a comfortable looking wooden chair next to the well fed fireplace and admired the typewriter and desk opposite him as the Baker sat in its adjoining leather chair.

“Its a lovely building to have here Mr. Vagin, my wife comes up here every month when she visits her parents but always finds you closed” he said as he pulled a small leather notebook from his coat pocket, his shadow from the fire behind him was cast large with his movements drowning my body the inky blackness of the outside night.

“my apologies” he said in a raspy response while reclining into his chair. “I’m often having to close due to an illness, it will be a bit stale but you are more then free to take some of today's left over rolls for her”

“I’m sure she would like that very much, thank you sir!” a smile came across his face and he nodded happily before regaining his composure with a cough.

“Anyway sir, I’m to understand you called us last night”

“That is correct Officer”

“Yes” he mumbled as he scribbled into his notebook “I’m sorry it took me so long to come out here to check but your a good while from the town and we are short staffed with all the disappearances lately.”

“I understand completely officer, please no need to apologize” The baker responded as politely as he could despite knowing they could have gotten here sooner.

“And you said you attempted to fight off the thief?” he said with an element of doubt, the baker did not respond, just gave a risible glare to the officer before he continued.

“and is that how you received the wounds?” he pointed to a series of bruises on the arms and neck with a couple of small marks on his left side. The Baker nodded in response and he continued to jot down notes. “could you describe the night to me please Mr. Vagin?”

The baker’s head reclined back and he let out a long sigh as he tried to remember how the night went. He painted the image of his bakery in the twilight of night. He had awoken early and was dealing with a more specialized customer who’s business only allows him out in the dead of night and who was on his way home for breakfast with the wife. Once the money had changed hands and he turned his he locked the front door, closing the curtains to the shops front windows and making his way up the oak stairs the officer could see ascend to the second story just by the desk, a series of strange noises came from the cellar.

“And that is how the intruder entered the building?” the officer interrupted.

“I believe so yes” he was clearly disgruntled at having been shook out of his story and took a moment to regain himself “It is where I keep my ingredients you see”

the officer nodded and gestured for the Baker to continue his story.

The Baker told of the creaking of the older cellar stairs that are in a slight state of disrepair and how with each step down into the blackness of the void, illuminated only by his candle he could hear the rattling of locks and the grunts of an intruder. That is when he saw his silhouette in the darkness, a man dressed all in black had broken one of his windows and had just finished unlocking the holding of his secret ingredient. The bakers eyes almost glistened as he spoke about it, a tall bottle made of blush glass with a deep brown cork protruding from the top containing the most delicious concoction on gods earth he said.

“And what would that be Mr. Vagin?” the officer interrupted again but the Baker was too lost in his description. The contents of this bottle where the most delectable blend of flavours he had ever tasted. A beautiful Cabernet Sauvignon he had purchased at great cost from a colleague of an acquaintance back in Tuscany some 20 years prior.

“I put the smallest drop in all of my cake glazes you see” he said with an element of pride

“but I will have to swear you to secrecy sir?” the baker’s tone lost its pride and entered into a joke at which the policeman smiled and nodded appropriately.

“And so Mr. Vagin did you attack the man or did he attack you?”

“I obviously attacked him, he was making off with the last of my secret ingredient”

the description was kept vague from here on out and the officer gave way to the bakers fancy as he described himself lunging at the intruder and swinging at him brutishly before being pushed aside by the much stronger younger man who ran from his basement through the broken window into the faint glow of the sun as it threatened to rise above the fields and the baker would have to open again without his locally famous red glaze that brought him so much business.

The officer gave condolences to his loss and asked the baker if he could see the downstairs cellar.

“Of course” he gestured the open doorway “After you Officer.”

He stood and made his way over the cellar doorway, lighting and borrowing the candle from the side of the table next to it and beginning down into the darkness himself, followed closely by the baker who’s footfalls matched his but caused a lot less of a squeaking noise then he had described in his terror. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs he noticed the broken window, boarded up with exceptional care about 5 feet off the floor. The wooden panelling was clearly new compared to the dank, roughly hewn stone walls building up with slight elements of Mold and greenery growing in its own cracks, the officer could not believe how understated the Bakers description had been in its age and was considering turning down his offer of the bread rolls. He turned to inspect the rest of the room, the far corner contained piles upon piles of old ammunition boxes from the war, whose labels had been sloppily painted over with the words, flour, sugar, starch and other baking goods. His candle flitted opposite them to a much more jumbled pile of older items, clothing and books, a large mirror reflecting his tired face and the contents of the room back to him from there bedrock of more ammunition crates though this time they had no labels painted onto them. From the floor he could see almost black droplets of what he assumed to be either the bakers or the thief's blood. He followed the trail of the splatters until he saw the display case for his Cabernet Sauvignon, slightly raised on a wooden plank was a pillory surrounded by the old red stain-age of years of opening the bottles and extracting the fluid within. It was as the officer turned to ask an explanation for this from the baker that he felt a strong sharp pain ripple through the back of his head and blackness poured its way over his vision as the candle was blown out.

The officer awoke in the pillory, his head aching from the attack and the cold wind of the unheated cellar creeping up his now inexplicably naked body. There was the red flow of fading sunlight outside creeping through the wooden slats of the covered window just enough for him to see the pile of jumbled belongings in front of him. It wasn't long before his dazed confusion turned to anger and he began thrashing and banging what he could of his body in an attempt to break free. Making so much noise and being so focused on escape that he did not hear or see the baker come down the stairs and appear in front of him until. Wearing the same stained bakers clothing as before but with a wry grin he would never have expected to appear on that wizened old face.

The officer was about to scream, he was about to shout all the profanities in the known universe until god himself heard the call of this mans rage but something stopped his voice. Fear had gripped his throat in a clenched fist and would not release it once he realized that in all of the rooms moss covered walls and crates he could still see reflected in the mirror, the one thing he could not see was Mr. Vagin standing in front of him, only his own face curled into twisting mass of fear and regret.