Black Diamond - Martin Walker [19]
“Once we accept a basket it leaves the market hall through that hatch in the wall and goes onto a table in the hall behind us. Anything to be tested is put on the left and goes to Madame Pantowsky in the lab. Items for shipment are left on the right for Jean-Luc and Alain, who pack them for shipping. Nobody but us is allowed through that door.”
“So in theory, you could have the cheap truffles added at any stage by any of the staff.”
“In theory, yes, but I trust them all. I presume you’ll want to question them?”
“Of course, but that’ll be later. Is it possible that this sleight of hand could be done on a crowded market day?”
“Yes, but even when it’s crowded the public can’t get close to the hatch. And every basket is weighed. Anybody trying to take out good scraps and put in bad ones would have to make an exact match of the weight. I don’t think it’s possible. Once we accept a basket, we weigh it. The weight and basket number are the two identifiers we put on the label for each basket. Everything is checked at packing, so if the weight changed, Jean-Luc would spot the difference and call me.”
During this exchange, Bruno had been drafting a diagram of each step in the process, from the arrival of a hunter with a basket of truffles through to final shipment. He showed the diagram to Didier.
“Is there anything I’ve left out? I want to make sure I have every single step tracked.”
“No, it’s all there, except for a final bid. Once we’ve fulfilled all the orders on hand, we then let the renifleurs bid for any stock that’s left over. It’s like an auction. I don’t like to keep stocks here, so we try to ensure that everything gets sold.”
“Where does that happen?”
“Here in the market hall at the end of the day. We list each sale by weight, quality, price and name of buyer, and of course the date.”
“I’d like to see those records, please.”
Didier seemed to hesitate. “All the logbooks and records were put into storage at the mairie.”
“So I’ll be able to find them there?”
Didier nodded. “They’re not very well organized. I don’t have any secretarial help.”
“Why not? The truffle market makes enough money, and I’ve never heard of a mayor who wouldn’t like to find someone a job.”
Again Didier seemed to hesitate, and then spoke slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “He seems happy enough for me to do it as part of my duties. Of course, my figures are then checked by the town auditor for the taxes and social security charges.”
Bruno resigned himself to a day in a dusty basement file room. “The complaints refer to truffles bought in two different ways,” he said. “The hotel group bought from you direct, but the brasserie bought its truffles from a renifleur who attached one of your quality assurance certificates to his shipment. Would he have got that in such a bidding process?”
“Yes. But he could then have substituted some cheap tailings for what we’d approved. He’d have to open the vacuum-sealed bag we use, put in the cheap stuff and then get another vacuum pack. He’d have to steam off our quality label from the original pack.”
“Why not use a steamproof glue for your labels so he couldn’t do that?”
“Good idea. I’ll look into it, see what special glue we might need.”
Bruno paused. The procedure seemed sound enough as a safeguard against adulteration. That left the human element.
“Tell me,” Bruno said, “just as a hypothetical, if you ever wanted to cheat the system, how would you go about it and not get caught?”
“I really don’t know,” Didier replied with a shrug that turned into a confident half smile. “I’ve asked myself that and I don’t see how because at the end of the day the final step in quality control rests with the customers. If they aren’t happy, we’re out of business, and I’m out of a job.”
Didier switched his half smile to full beam and spread his arms wide. Bruno forced himself to smile back.
“Who designed this system you have?”
“I did, and had it approved by the mayor. We’ve had three years with no trouble.”
“Until now.”
Didier’s smile