“I haven’t heard anything about this,” Dixon said.
Lugo shook his head. “Me either.”
Cameron forced a smile. “Bad publicity. We keep it under wraps, but it’s gotten pretty contentious at times.”
“We’ll need the names of the players,” Dixon said. “All the board members.”
Cameron sat back. “I don’t think it gets that heated, that anyone would want to kill over it.”
“It’s business,” Vail said. “Business is money. Big money, is my guess. And people kill over money all the time.” But serial killers don’t kill over money, and they kill strangers, not people they work with on local boards. So this still doesn’t fit.
“I’ll have a list faxed over to your office,” Cameron said.
Dixon took the last sip, then set down her empty glass. “Who sits on the AVA board? What type of people?”
Cameron poured more wine for himself, then offered it around the table. But the cops had had enough. “Just about all are winery executives. The president’s position rotates every three years.”
“Do all AVA boards operate this way?” Dixon asked.
“They all vary in how they work. Georges Valley is different than most, I think.”
Vail was suddenly lost in thought, sifting through something her brain was trying to tell her. What was it? AVAs ... winery executives . . . she had seen something somewhere . . . Vallejo. Maryanne Bernal was a winery executive sitting on a nonprofit board. She would have to check to see which one.
“Did you know Maryanne Bernal?” Vail asked.
Cameron looked at Vail. “Yeah, she was a friend of Victoria’s. She was killed about three—” Cameron stopped himself. “You don’t think the two are related—”
Vail pursed her lips. “Can’t say, Kevin. Maybe, maybe not. But we’ll check it out. Maryanne was on a nonprofit board. Do you know which one it was?”
“Yeah, the AVA board.”
“Was she still on the board at the time of her death?”
“No, her time on the board went back a couple years before that, I think.”
Vail looked away. She had hoped Bernal was an active board member—that might have helped provide a needed link. Still, it was worth looking into. Victoria was on the board and she was killed. Maryanne Bernal was on the board a couple years earlier and she was killed.
“Connection?” Dixon asked.
Lugo started bouncing his knee. “What about the Black Knoll vic? Ursula Robbins. Was she on the board?”
Cameron looked off into the vineyard, as if it’d hold the answer. “Not sure. Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“We’ll check it out,” Dixon said. “Ray, you backgrounded her.”
Lugo nodded. “I don’t remember anything about her being on the board. But the winery she headed up is in Georges Valley. I’ll look into it.”
Cameron took a long drink. His cheeks were now flushed and his pupils were slightly dilated. Vail and Dixon shared a look.
“While you’re checking that out,” Cameron said, “there was something Victoria was working on. Something about corking. There was a lot of discussion about it.”
“Corking?” Vail asked. “Like in corking wine bottles?”
“One thing this AVA does, which is unusual, is that they pool their resources. Normally the member wineries are friendly competitors. But they realized a few years ago that if they work together to negotiate deals with third parties, they could get significantly better prices. Power in numbers. Get two dozen wineries together, you’ve suddenly got pricing power when bottling, buying corks, labels, barrels, you name it.”
“Corks,” Vail said. “We’ll look into it. Anything specific?”
Cameron took another drink. “Nope. I just remember her mentioning something about it. Maybe it’s significant, maybe it’s not.” He looked down at his glass. “If you don’t mind letting yourselves out, I think I’m just going to sit here and finish off these bottles.”
Lugo rose, placed a hand on his friend’s left shoulder, then led the others off the property.
THIRTY-FOUR
On the way back to the car, Dixon called Detective Eddie Agbayani in Vallejo and told him about the connection between Maryanne Bernal and the Georges Valley AVA board. Dixon, being lead investigator, made the executive decision to add him to the task force. It was something she should have done upon the discovery that Bernal was one of the Crush Killer’s victims. Vail certainly hadn’t suggested it, nor had Brix, but Vail wondered if Dixon’s relationship with Agbayani gave her pause. Still, the short delay in adding him had not had any ill effects on the investigation, and, their prior relationship notwithstanding, Agbayani appreciated the appointment.
“Are you okay with seeing Eddie regularly at the task force?”
“Hopefully, for our sake, this task force won’t be around much longer. But as to Eddie, I imagine we’ll have our awkward moments. The thing is, he’s a really good guy. I miss him. I miss the intimacy, sharing things with a life partner I can trust. No games.”
Vail chuckled, with a tinge of sarcasm. “I had a life partner once. Turns out I couldn’t trust him and he had a whole arsenal of games up his sleeve.”
“This is your ex?”
“Was my ex. Yeah.”
“But now you’ve got Robby.”
Vail smiled. “Yeah. I do. I lucked out.” A long, hard yawn stretched her jaw wide. She shook her head. “Sorry. I need something to wake me up, I feel like my blood’s gone stagnant.” She turned to look out the window. “Is there a Starbucks around?”
“You won’t find any chains around here.” Dixon turned the ignition key and the engine turned over. “We’ve got some good cafés, but enough abusing your body.” She twisted her wrist and grabbed a look at her watch. “I’ve got something better. We’re entitled to a little downtime. Instead of breakfast, let’s take an hour now.”
THEY ARRIVED AT DIXON’S GYM, a Fit1! chain that featured a vast array of free weights, ellipticals and treadmills, and Ivanko machines. No saunas or juice bars. Plenty of sweat and body odor to go around, however.
While Vail bought an inexpensive pair of shorts and a T-shirt from the front desk, Dixon signed in, paid a one-day guest fee for Vail, then handed her a towel and locker key. “We’ll do some weights, then shower. I promise, you’ll feel a whole lot better.”
Vail chuckled. “I’ll feel better just from putting on the new clothes Robby bought.” She slung the towel over her shoulder. “I was beginning to ease back into my regular workout routine after my surgery. You really think we can get in and out in an hour?”
“We’ll do what we can do. My regular routine is about two hours a day. I usually come after work. No way would I get in a full workout before a long day at work.”
Thirty cardio minutes later, sporting a reddened face and a half-drained water bottle, Vail joined Dixon in the free weights area, where Dixon was hoisting a curl bar loaded with iron discs.
“How goes it?”
Dixon puffed. “Good. Feels. Good.”
“I’m gonna run to the restroom, then do a few machines.”
“I’ll. Be. Here,” Dixon said as she strained the last rep.
Vail walked away and Dixon set down the barbell, then walked over to the shoulder press. She stacked the bar with weight on both sides, then sat on the bench. But she needed a partner to spot her. Given her irregular hours, she often did not cross paths with the same people when she was able to make it to the gym. Nevertheless, she usually found someone willing to help—and she never hesitated to return the favor.
Behind her, a lean, well-built man in a ripped tank top stood at the weight rack, large hands wrapped around thick dumbbells. He lifted them off the metal framework with a clean jerk, then proceeded to start curling.
He must have seen Dixon looking at him in the mirror, because he smiled.
Dixon grinned. A bit too much—it was her flirt smile. She stepped forward and said, “Sorry to interrupt.”
The man set the weights down on the ground with a thud. His eyes flicked behind her to the bench, then back to her. “Need help with that? A spot?”
She smiled again. She rotated her body toward the bench, then back to her new acquaintance. “Would you mind?”
He waved a hand in front of him. “Not at all.”
As he approached, her eyes widened. She liked what she saw. Raw attraction—she didn’t even know the guy.
“You a regular here?” she asked.
“Every day for the past five years. You?”
“I try to get in at night after work, but I don’t always make it.” She extended her hand. “Roxxann Dixon.”
“George.” He removed his glove and took her hand in his. “George Panda.”
Soft hands, firm handshake. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Maybe I can get you to return the favor when you’re done.”
“I’m not sure I’d be much help spotting you.” That was an understatement. Then again, he was probably flirting with her just like she was with him. “But sure, it’s a deal.”
Dixon slipped on her gloves, settled herself onto the bench, and placed her hands beneath the bar. She got a good grip, took a deep breath, and then realized she was wearing her lower cut fitness top, which, when she lifted the weight, might show significant cleavage. But as the song in The Producers says, “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
Dixon hoisted the bar and huffed and puffed as it rose and fell. Panda kept his hands at the ready, but they weren’t needed until Dixon strained for the twelfth rep, which went up slowly and with considerable groaning. She locked her elbows.
Before she could speak, Panda said, “Go one more. I’ll help.”
She lowered it slowly, then strained to raise it again. A yell escaped her throat and she arched her back. “Ahh!”
“C’mon, Roxxann,” Panda said, “you can do it. Just a little higher.” He had his hands under the bar, poised to take over if she got into danger.
She brought it up fully, her arms quivering involuntarily, and that was his cue. She gasped, “Take it!”
Panda did exactly that and settled the heavy bar into the weight cradles. She let her arms fall to her sides and stuck out her tongue for effect.
“Great job.”
She shook her arms, then swung her legs around and sat up, facing him. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He looked around, then clapped his hands together. “Tell you what—instead of spotting me, how about you let me take you to dinner?”
Dixon felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Wow. Uh, I’d love to,” she said before she realized she was the one speaking.
“How about Saturday?”
“Saturday? I—well, maybe I could take a raincheck on that? Things are really busy at work, and I just don’t know what my schedule’s going to be.”
“Hey, Bear, what’s up?”
Approaching from the right was a large man, pushing six-four, a smidgen leaner than Panda, with a buzz cut and a military gait. He carried a near-empty Platypus two-liter water bottle.
Dixon turned back to her new workout partner. “Bear?”
“Roxxann, this is a buddy of mine. James Cannon. Bear’s my nickname.”
Dixon squinted. Then she tilted her chin back. “Ah. Panda. Bear.”
Cannon gave Panda a shove. “George here didn’t like it when I’d yell out, ‘Hey, Panda,’ in the gym. Some of the bodybuilders gave him a hard time. They thought it was a pet name or something.”
“And let me guess,” Dixon said. “Your nickname is Cannon.”
“Actually, I go by ‘Bob.’” He laughed. “Just messing with you. Name’s Jimmy.”
“I thought you were working out.”
Dixon turned; Vail was coming up behind her, eyes bouncing from Panda to Cannon.
“We were. I mean, I was. Karen, this is George, and Jimmy.”
Panda extended a hand. This time he didn’t bother to remove his glove. “George Panda.” Cannon shifted the water bottle to his other hand and took Vail’s palm firmly.
“Karen Vail. Good to meet both of you. But,” she said, nudging Dixon in the side, “we’re running out of time. We should shower, get back to work.”
“You two work together?” Panda asked.
Dixon swiped at her forehead with a towel. “I’m an investigator with the district attorney’s office.”
“I knew someone who worked for the DA.” Panda shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”
Cannon leaned back and appraised Vail. “Let me guess. You must be one of the attorneys.”
Vail smirked. “God, no. I’m with the FBI. Out of Virginia.”
“FBI,” Cannon said. “Very cool.”
“Visiting the wine country?” Panda asked.
“That was the plan,” Vail said. “Work kind of got in the way.”
Panda’s gaze flicked from Vail to Dixon. “Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”
“Nothing we can talk about,” Vail said. “And believe me, it’s nothing you’d want to hear about anyway.”
Cannon bent his head to the side and asked Vail, “I feel like we’ve met before.”
Vail shook her head. “I’ve only been in town a few days.”
“And what do you two do?” Dixon asked.
George tightened the Velcro strap on his glove. “I’m a consultant.”
“Are you with a company, or out on your own?”
“Totally solo.” He moved to the other glove, adjusted the strap. “I worked for a corporation years ago and swore that was the last time I was ever going to answer to anybody.”
Cannon moaned. “Oh, not the big, bad corporation story again.”
“I’m not gonna tell them the story, Jimmy, don’t worry.” Panda turned to Dixon and Vail and held out an open hand in explanation. “It’s just that people think they know better than you, but they’re either wrong or just plain clueless. I got tired of it, is all.”
“And you?” Vail asked Cannon. “What do you do?”
He set the water bottle down at his feet. “I’m a winemaker. Herndon Vineyards.”
Vail’s eyes traversed his body. “You don’t look like any winemaker I’ve ever met.”
Cannon pursed his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Dixon wrapped her towel around her neck. “Never heard of Hern—Hernd—”
“Herndon. Herndon Vineyards. You will hear of us, guaranteed. We’re a closely held, private startup. We’ve got some of the best soil outside of Rutherford, with well-bedded sandstone and high gravel and volcanic content, and excellent runoff. Warm days, cool nights. We’re planning to debut our first release in two years. It’ll be the best Cabernet you’ve ever tasted. Believe me—couple years, everyone’ll know who we are.”
Panda shook his head. “You gave me a hard time about telling my corporation story and you bore these nice ladies with your company’s sales pitch?”
Cannon gave Panda another playful shove. “My sales pitch beats your ‘woe-is-me evil corporation story’ any day. Beats your consulting stories, too.”
“Speaking of which,” Dixon said, “what kind of consulting do you do? What industry?”
Panda placed a hand on the upright of the shoulder press machine. “Despite what Jimmy says, I think consulting’s a pretty good gig.” He fiddled with the iron plate. “I do critical thinking, strategic solutions. Pay’s damn good, so no complaints.”
“I’m into critical thinking, too,” Vail said. She pointed to her wrist, where there was no watch. “And we’d better get back to doing that. I’ll meet you in the locker room.” She extended a hand to Panda. “Good meeting you, George. Jimmy.”
“Same here,” Panda said.
Cannon quickly glanced from Dixon to Vail. “You, uh, you two doing anything for dinner?” He indicated Panda. “Maybe the four of us could—”
“Thanks,” Vail said. “I’m busy. But thanks for asking.” She made eye contact with Dixon
and waved a thumb over her shoulder. “Meet you inside.”
Cannon tucked his chin back and watched Vail walk off. “I think I just got rejected.”
“New experience for you?” Dixon said with a laugh. “Don’t take it personally. She’s seeing someone.”
Cannon turned to Dixon. His face seemed to harden. “Yeah.” He bent down to pick up his water bottle. “Catch you later, Bear. I’m gonna hit the showers.” He tossed a tight nod at Panda, did not acknowledge Dixon, then left.
Crush (Karen Vail Series) Page 25
