Vail held up a hand. “Not that I don’t find it interesting, Mr. Wirth, but—”
“Please, call me Ian.”
“Ian,” Vail said. “We’ve had a long day”—make that a long week—“and we just have a few questions to ask you. If you don’t mind.”
Wirth dipped his chin. “Of course.” He removed a creamer from the counter and placed it on the table. “You said you had questions about the Georges Valley board.”
Dixon dumped some milk into her mug and stirred it. “We spoke earlier with Crystal and she told us about Superior Mobile Bottling. The vote that turned a little contentious.”
Wirth bobbed his head. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“How would you put it?” Vail asked.
Wirth lifted his coffee, warmed his hands on its sides. “We’ve had some issues lately on the board. I’m really not supposed to talk about this—”
“The confidentiality agreement,” Vail said. “Crystal told us about it. It’s okay. We’re not taking notes. We’re not going to share any trade secrets. We just want some background for our investigation.”
“And what investigation is that?”
Dixon blew on her coffee. “Can’t say. But it’s got nothing to do with wrongdoing on the part of the board or its members. In fact, I doubt it has anything to do with the AVA at all. But we need some background. As Crystal put it, we’re fishing.”
“Just curious,” Wirth said. “What’d you think of her?”
Vail hiked her brows. “Crystal? Nice lady. Very interesting.” Great body. She should be shot.
“She’s my ex-wife. Did she tell you that?”
Vail didn’t know what to say.
“No,” Dixon said, “she didn’t mention it.”
Wirth sat there a moment, lost in thought. Then he shook his head. “Sorry.” Smiled, then nodded at the seat Dixon was occupying. “That was her favorite chair.”
“Right,” Dixon said.
“Don’t worry, it won’t color my answers. What do you need to know?”
“The acrimony on the board.”
“Ah, yes. Well, Crystal probably told you all about the controversy Victoria was stirring.”
“Controversy?” Vail asked. She felt a buzz on her belt. She stole a look at the display. Robby had texted her back:call me when ur done. i’ll pick a place and text u the address.
“Victoria was the most vocal opponent of using Superior. She was also an aggressive power broker. She was due to take over the presidency, as part of our board’s three-year rotation. She was leading a group of three board members who wanted concessions from the other members of the AVA and they were using this Superior contract as leverage.”
Dixon took a sip of her coffee. “Leverage for what?”
“She and her cohorts would agree to renew Superior’s contract—if the board supported their efforts to convince the government to modify the proposed AVA law that sets forth the minimum grape requirement for our AVA standard.”
Vail held up a hand. “Kevin Cameron told us something about this. The minimum requirement refers to that 85 percent rule?”
“Yes. The Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau requires that a minimum of 85 percent of the grapes used in wines that are listed as coming from our AVA have to be from the Georges Valley district.”
“Your minimum is 85 percent,” Vail said, “but Napa’s is 75 percent?”
“Correct.”
“And the purpose is to protect consumers?”
“Well, yes—but it also supposedly protects the Georges Valley brand, because people who buy a Georges Valley wine expect a certain quality that comes from the area’s soil, microclimate, and weather patterns.
“But,” Wirth continued, “there are three higher volume vintners in our group—including me and Victoria Cameron—who want to be excluded from that minimum requirement because our brands existed well before the law was passed. But if they enforce the minimum, our brand, Georges Valley Estate Wines, Victoria’s brand, F&M Georges Valley Family Winery, and one other, Georges Valley Reserve Select, would disappear overnight. Our business models are based on importing quality, but less expensive, grapes from the central valley.”
“But there are no Georges Valley grapes in your wine,” Vail said.
“That’s correct. We couldn’t charge what we charge for our wine and use predominantly Georges Valley grapes.”
Vail set down her mug. “Isn’t that misleading?”
“That’s their argument. Our position is that our brands have been around for twenty years, well before this minimum grape law was proposed. It’s unfair to penalize us—put us out of business by losing our brands—because of an administrative issue that some people have pushed through politically.”
Dixon blew on her coffee. “Why would the government allow that kind of exclusion?”
Wirth shook his head, then held up a hand. “Exclusion isn’t exactly the right term. We want our brands grandfathered in. But if our association doesn’t endorse their application, the government probably wouldn’t want to get involved in our own internal dispute.”
“So,” Vail said, “Victoria was trying to broker a deal in which she and her allies would ratify the Superior Bottling contract, and in turn, the AVA board would endorse the grandfather clause. And what’s in it for the other members who don’t have a stake in this grandfather clause?”
Wirth spread his hands. “They want Superior to get the contract. We’ve been using them for almost three years and they’ve done a good job. They turn out a quality product, they’ve got the best pricing on the market, and they’re a one-stop shop.”
As Vail reached for her coffee, her stomach rumbled. “Sorry.” She threw a hand against her belly. “We haven’t eaten.”
“And we’ve taken enough of your time,” Dixon said. She pulled a card from her pocket and placed it on the table. “If you think of anything else about what we discussed, give me a call.”
Wirth took the card and looked at it. Vail sensed there was more he wanted to say. “Is there something else, Ian?”
“You can’t tell me what the investigation is about, but you’re asking a lot of questions. Questions that, when I put them together with the fact that Victoria is dead, lead me to think that you believe she was murdered.”
“She had a stroke,” Dixon said.
Wirth pursed his lips and nodded. Kept his gaze on the card. “My father was a cop, did you know that?”
Dixon and Vail shared a look. Vail had a feeling she knew where this was going. We may have to come clean with this guy. He sees through this. And if we can convince him it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep it quiet, it might be better than if he were to talk to others about his assumptions . . . or worse yet, start investigating her death himself.
“If the cause of death was not a stroke,” Vail said carefully, “would that change what you’ve told us?”
“No,” Wirth said. “See, I grew up with a father who was a cop, then a detective. In Sacramento. I spent a lot of time with him, I learned how he thought, how he saw people. How he saw the world.” He looked at Vail. “I know to be straight with cops when they come asking questions.”
“Good,” Dixon said. “That’s always best.” She tapped her card with a finger. “Call me if you think of anything else that may be related to Victoria’s stroke.”
They stood from their chairs. “But if you have a theory on Victoria’s death,” Vail said, “I think it’d be best for all concerned if you kept it to yourself.” She looked hard into his eyes.
“You were never here,” Wirth said.
Vail nodded, shook his hand, and left with Dixon.
FORTY-ONE
“Was that smart?” Dixon asked as she pulled out of his driveway.
“A guy like that, if we confide in him, he may confide in us. He understands what we’re trying to accomplish. He may not be a LEO, but he grew up with one. I think he’s an ally. We may now have a set of eyes in
the enemy camp.”
As Dixon headed down 29, Vail coordinated dinner plans with Robby. Dixon dropped her at Bistro Jeanty, advertised as “serving classic French haute cuisine” in Yountville, a pleasant town just off the main drag. With art galleries, gift shops, specialty restaurants, bed-and-breakfasts and modest homes, the area was its own little haven sporting an eclectic mix of young newlyweds and middle-aged empty nesters on a weekend getaway.
Vail settled down at a table with her back against the wall, facing the entrance of the restaurant. The place was still busy, despite the late hour. A few moments later, Robby appeared in the front door. His eyes scanned the tables, found Vail, and his face broadened into a wide smile.
He swung his hips through the narrow spaces between tables. He was wearing a long leather jacket, which, once he reached Vail, was slipped off his shoulders by a hostess who offered to hang it for him nearby.
Vail and Robby embraced and he gave her a kiss. His lips were warm.
“When did you get that jacket?”
“When I got us a new wardrobe, at the outlets. I saw it and said, what the hell, I’m on vacation.” He settled into the chair and spread the white napkin across his lap. “This place okay?”
“Looks great.”
They gave the waitress their dinner choices, then ordered wine—Whitehall Lane Cabernet for Vail and Rombauer Fiddletown Zinfandel for Robby.
After the woman collected the menus, Vail reached across the table and took Robby’s hand. “So what’d you do today?”
“What I’ve been doing every day. Visit a winery, taste, have lunch, drive down the road and taste some more. Today I went into Healdsburg. Beautiful drive.” He stopped and looked into her eyes. “Wish I was doing all this with you. I feel bad you’re stuck working.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just doing my thing, trying to find another killer.” She looked down at the table. “Except . . . I’m not—this one is different. I just can’t get a handle on him. This offender is . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right. It’s beginning to really bother me.”
She recapped what they knew, and what they had learned about the potential monetary motives. As she finished, the wine glasses were set down in front of them. Robby took a drink from his Rombauer Zin, then nodded his approval. “This is really, really good. Try it.”
Vail took the glass from him, swirled it, then sniffed. “Pleasing nose. Berry jam, I think.” She tasted it, letting it drift over her tongue. Her eyes widened. “Yes, very good.” She thought a moment, then said, “I’d describe it as fruit forward with sweet blackberries. And currants, too.” She handed the glass back to him. “That’s fabulous.”
Robby eyed her. “For someone who’s missed out on a vacation of wine tasting, you seem to have the lingo down.”
“I squeezed in some tasting here and there with Roxxann. While we were out investigating, of course.”
Robby grinned. “Of course.”
Their server, accompanied by an assistant, slid their dinner plates in front of them. “Is there anything else we can get for you?”
“We’re fine,” Robby said. “Thanks.” After the servers turned and left, Robby cut into his côte de porc—pork chop with caramelized onion sauce. “So, this case. Seems to me you’re still missing some information. Maybe you need to dig a little more. Maybe one of the victims that doesn’t seem to be connected to the AVA board is, in fact, connected somehow. A silent partner, someone pulling the strings behind the scenes.” He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “Bottom line is, don’t press. You may not be as far from the answers as you think. When you find the missing information, things will quickly fall into place.”
Vail looked down at her wild mushroom pasta. “That’s always the case, though, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “This just feels different. I can’t put a finger on it.” Vail stuck her fork into the pasta and twirled it. “I’d better figure it out soon. Gifford’s sending me home tomorrow night.”
Robby sat back in mid-chew. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I—I guess I forgot. I’ve been kind of busy.”
“What are you going to do?”
Vail shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far. But just because he says I have to leave doesn’t mean I have to. We still have some vacation left.”
“Karen, be honest with yourself. If you’re still here, do you really think you can divorce yourself from this investigation and go driving around wine tasting and sightseeing with me?”
Vail chewed her food and swallowed before answering. In a low voice, she said, “No.”
Robby winked at her, then cut another slice of meat.
THE WAITRESS BROUGHT dessert menus and set them on the table. Robby caught her before she left. “I think we’re going to get something to go.”
“We are?” Vail said.
Robby nodded. “Yes, we are.” To the waitress, he said, “We’ll have the Montbriac. And the check.”
Vail looked at the menu for an explanation: Creamy bleu cheese from the Auvergne region, served with a sundried fruit compote.
Robby handed the waitress his credit card. “Okay?” he asked Vail as the waitress collected the menus.
“Yeah, sure.”
Robby leaned forward and took her hand. “Do you trust me?”
Vail’s body tingled at the warmth of his touch. “Always.”
FORTY-TWO
Robby stopped at the door to their room. Key in hand, he turned and said, “Wait here.”
“Wait? For what?”
“You said you trusted me.”
“I do.”
Robby tilted his head. “Then wait here.” He slid the key into the lock, slipped into the room, and shut the door.
Vail stood there, hands on hips. What the hell is he up to? She grabbed the knob, then withdrew her hand. In the next instant, the door pulled open. A dozen candles flickered around the room’s periphery. They shimmered at the swoosh of air as Robby swung the door closed.
“What’s this?” Vail asked.
“I think it’s our room. Or did I take the wrong key?”
She gave him a mock punch in the shoulder. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean.” He opened the bag containing the dessert and set it out on the table. “You’ve been working hard and haven’t really had any time to just relax, clear your mind.”
“The massage and mud bath—”
“Shhh,” he said, then placed his fingers over her mouth. He removed her jacket and tossed it on the floor. Then he removed her blouse and carried her over to the bed.
The low-level, flickering yellow light from the candles provided barely enough illumination for her to see. He joined her on the bed, took the plastic spoon, and dipped it into the creamy cheese. Slathered it on her stomach . . . followed by the fruit compote, which he drizzled on top.
She giggled.
“You don’t mind if I eat first, do you?”
She closed her eyes and relaxed . . . for the first time in days. “No, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”
FORTY-THREE
The morning came and Robby was lying on top of her—or, just about. They had fallen asleep, the candles had burnt out hours ago, and they hadn’t moved all night.
The room’s clock radio was on—probably set by the prior guest—and it was a good thing. She had not been in the state of mind to fiddle with it when she got into bed last night.
Vail gently rolled Robby over, slid off the bed, and shut the alarm. She would let him sleep in. She showered and dressed, gave Robby a kiss, and he stirred.
“I’ve gotta go. Roxxann is picking me up.”
“See you tonight.”
She winked. “Yes, you will.”
VAIL CLIMBED INTO DIXON’S CAR. Dixon shoved her key into the ignition and turned over the engine. “You know,” Dixon said, “it’s been kind of fun working with you on this case. That sounds bizarrely morose, but when this case is over,
I’m going to miss partnering with you.”
“I feel the same way. But there’s something I forgot to tell you. My boss, he wanted me to come home tonight.”
Crush (Karen Vail Series) Page 31
