by Peter Prasad
Jake took two steps toward the stairs and looked over his shoulder. Wild Bill leaned against the doorway, watching him. Jake assumed he’d overheard the entire conversation.
Bill stared at Jake and snarled in a flash of yellow teeth. Wild Bill extended his first finger and bent his thumb in the shape of a pistol. He pointed at Jake. “Pow, you’re dead, asshole.”
Jake reminded himself that this was not the time or place. He turned away from Bill’s ugly stare and trotted down the stairs. Jake did not look back. He didn’t need to. He could feel both men’s eyes on his neck.
***
Vannie woke from a nap in her own bed, in her own pajamas and a robe, with a towel wrapped around her now-dry hair. She dialed Tanya’s number again. Tanya picked up.
“What’s up, girl friend?”
Vannie burst into tears. Through sobs she managed to tell Tanya what little she could remember about waking up in Semper’s bed at Fransec. And of the other times.
Then she gushed about everything she knew about Fransec. Tanya waved at her kitchen staff to stay busy and she stepped outside with her phone.
“How many bottles did you smash?”
“At least eight. I ruined his carpet.”
“If you go ‘sexual harassment’ you’ll get into an expensive ‘he said—she said’.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t know what I want. Maybe a job with a better winery. I want to work in the industry but I refuse to be a victim. He’s just too perverted.”
“So do you have any secrets on him? Jake mentioned his wine is crap.”
“I don’t know much. I’ve seen invoices. He’s making big bucks.”
“Is he stashing cash somewhere?”
“He’s an asshole. He promised to take me to Europe.”
“Unless you have it in writing…”
“No. He’s got a storage locker at A-Haul-Rents by the freeway. They called for payment last week.”
“I’ll mention it to Jake. He and Wally think Semper is the devil.” Tanya took note. It was a lead. Maybe it would help Jake.
Vanessa began to cry again.
“Toughen up, girl friend. When you’re feeling better, come in and we’ll get bi-coastal. Next round is on me.” Tanya had remembered Vanessa’s penchant for Mojitos and Manhattans, side by side.
Vannie clicked off and dried her eyes. She decided to spend the afternoon updating her resume and calling all the people she’d met in the industry in her short run as Fransec’s marketing manager.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Semper sat alone in his office at Fransec and studied a spreadsheet by the fading afternoon light. He’d moved to Vannie’s desk and two men were replacing the carpet as he worked. With 20 new carpet tiles and some touch-up paint, his office would be good as new. He didn’t care anyway; he didn’t own it any longer.
The Barron’s auction had exceeded his estimates. After expenses, commissions and a $9,900 ‘thank you’ to Belesto, he was up $150,000 in a single day. He expected his European clients to stock their cellars before Thanksgiving. All in, he’d net $450,000 for the month and $3.5 million for the year in wine sales. In addition, he had the biggest deal of his life pending.
He was running out of Shawn Red that was the base for his new Fransec. He doubted he could cream the auction market much longer. He was growing tired of milking the Fransec brand. He had 50 acres of grapes ripening in the field but two years away from being bottled.
He photographed the Panama check for $1 million with his phone and emailed the picture to his bank. There, it was done. He was selling out, lock, stock and barrel. Ka-ching. Semper giggled.
Semper felt a surge of serenity for the first time in months. He needed a vacation. Europa beckoned. He would holiday on the Continent, and unwrap a handsome North African boy for Christmas in Paris. Then he’d set up shop in Switzerland.
Secretly he wanted to charge through Europe’s leading wine cellars, waving his checkbook and spouting bon-mots, bullshit and promises. He was ready to play at being the big buyer and blender from California to the hilt.
Any investigation into his wine-making was hearsay. All the evidence had disappeared in the fire pit long ago. Bill had seen to that. The inquiry by the wine board had been dead for weeks. Belesto had seen to that, for another ‘donation’, of course. He’d had Bill empty the rental storage locker and burn the containers.
Semper was moving too fast to worry. “Now you see me, now you don’t,” he giggled.
That inquisitive local dairy dork who’d been snooping around could go fade into a pile of manure. At the auction, Belesto had sent his investigator over to shut the kid down. Bill reported that Timmons had scared him good.
Bill wanted to kill him and burn him in the pit. Semper didn’t really care, and Bill was crazy enough to do it. Semper’s bags were packed. Europa beckoned.
He drummed his fingers on the desktop. He’d left the Panamanians a few barrels of Shawn Red in the barn. He began humming what he thought was a French melody.
He confirmed three more funds transfers into his account. That meant he was officially out of wine. 2013 had been a profitable year for Koch Semper. Two more discounted payments would trickle in tomorrow.
What to do with Bill? He could stick around and keep an eye on things and live in his van under the oaks. He could eat the three remaining goats for all Semper cared. Bill had proven useful but he was making less and less sense every day.
Merry Christmas, Bill. Semper clicked a few keys on his laptop, entered his password, and transferred $45,000 to Bill’s bank account. He wrote a brief email announcing the gift for services rendered and appreciated. See you next year.
Even Semper was shocked by his own generosity. He’d let the new owners decide what to do with Bill. They’d probably fire him.
Now, what to do with his kewpie doll? The little bitch had puddled wine in his parlor. And he had a video collection that delighted him. He’d enjoyed her immensely but he didn’t want any tag-along baggage in Europe.
Vannie had awakened a flicker of charity in him. After all, he was looking at $24 million from the Panamanians. This once, he could afford to be generous.
At that moment, a tiny piece of the conscience that remained in Semper glimmered. He inhaled deeply, absently sniffed his fingers, and added $25,000 to Vannie’s bank account. He’d never paid so much for an anal virgin, nor would he again.
He wrote her a brief email explaining that he’d sold the winery. The new owners would contact her. Please check your bank balance. Keep the T-shirt. Merry Christmas.
He reached for his cell phone and called Cristobel. When he answered, Semper mentioned he’d finalized the deed of sale and transfer of inventory. And thank you for all that money.
He added: “Fuel up your private jet. Let’s head down to Panama for a meet-and-greet. It’s on my way to Europa. I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow.”
As for Werner Belesto, Semper decided to wait until he had landed in Europe. He cleaned out the contents of the locked drawer in his desk, dropping everything into a monogrammed carryall. On his way out the door, Semper realized his loyalties were not to the terrior of Sonoma after all. He felt free as a gay goat.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jake was in a cold fury by the time he got to the truck, and the ninety minute drive to Sonoma didn’t cool him down. Fantasy scenarios ran in his head, with Jake as prosecuting attorney delivering eloquent arguments to a judge, or jury. But what evidence did he have?
The surveillance tapes had been gained illegally. They would not be admissible in court—case dismissed. And Jake was up against Werner Belesto, and maybe the vested powers of the state of California. That case would never get to trial.
Jake had yet to find hard proof of adulteration: no jugs of grain alcohol, no flavoring agents, no berry juice. He assumed Semper had them stored off-site. He could follow Bill on his deliver
ies. He might lead Jake to a storage facility. But if he were spotted, he’d face the pistol again.
Perhaps he and Wally had jumped into this thing too early. Submitting evidence to the wine board now seemed naïve. But that’s what a citizen is supposed to do. Timmons had made it clear that the investigation was going nowhere.
Timmons also said Semper would tie them up in court if Jake and Wally went public with any negatives against Fransec. So much for money and power. Jake reviewed options in his head as he drove across the Golden Gate Bridge, north on Highway 101.
He needed slam-dunk evidence. A burned goat carcass didn’t say much, in the end.
He reviewed what he knew about adulteration. Most of it was from newspaper articles about medicines. Most of it was in third world countries. Adulterers rarely got caught until humans died. A large number of dead patients usually got attention.
He needed irrefutable evidence that tied these river rats together. And he sensed he was running out of time. Depending on how this played out, Wild Bill might be coming after him next.
If you tugged on a ball of string labeled adulterated wine, how did it unravel to include poison, easing Semper’s legal troubles and advancing Belesto’s career?
Jake didn’t want to run to Hap and ask for help on his first investigation. Aside from Hap, Jake wondered if anyone else could help him. He doubted that a County health inspector would find much at Fransec. Semper was too clever for that.
Jake doubted the Feds would be interested in a case about tainted wine, though Semper was a coke-head and a pervert. The young woman in the videos appeared to be older than sixteen, and again, the tapes were illegal in court.
The Sonoma Chamber of Commerce? That thought made him laugh.
The media? He could play the ‘public outcry’ card.
Publishing his surveillance videos to You Tube didn’t look like an option. Semper and Belesto would sue. At best, he’d ruin the Fransec brand at the risk of his own dairy.
If he couldn’t hit a bulls-eye, best keep his powder dry. He could see the sniper on the roof, but Jake didn’t have him in his crosshairs—not yet.
By the time he made the exit off Highway 101 back to the dairy, Jake had a plan.
At the cottage, Wally was reviewing his notes from the surveillance tapes. Jake opened a beer, warmed his dinner in the oven, and sat to eat as he briefed Wally.
“Belesto made a big show of supporting Fransec at the auction. He was pushing their wine values up, bidding higher, but he never bought anything. Fransec was selling for $150 a bottle in 20-case lots.”
Wally whistled at the money.
“As I was leaving, an investigator from Belesto’s office warned me off.” Jake pulled Timmons card from his top pocket.
“Ron Timmons. He said they ran their own analysis and it proved nothing. He said if I didn’t drop it, Semper would sue me. They’re all in this wine swindle and Belesto stands to gain politically. But the poison is the wild card.” Jake shook his head.
“Think they’re experimenting on goats, refining it?” Wally asked. “I could get samples from animal control, but I can’t test for that here.”
“The tapes aren’t permissible in court. We need evidence with fingerprints and blood splatter.” Jake sighed.
“Who do they want to poison?” Wally wondered.
“Beats me. Let’s keep surveillance rolling and see what we get.”
Neither wanted to wait until Semper’s team gave them a body, dead by poisoning.
As soon as Jake changed back into jeans, his cell phone rang. It was Tanya.
“Hey, darling,” Jake answered.
“I love you too, but this is business,” she said. Jake gulped.
“Semper’s secretary called me. The creep has been up her butt, literally.”
Jake didn’t say a word.
“He’s got a storage locker over at the A-Haul rental lockers. Think you should check it out?”
“What for, butt plugs? Oops… forget I said that. How’d you know about my interest in Fransec?”
“Hap told Sonya who tells me everything. We’re family, Jakey-Bakey, you’re one of us now.”
“Thanks for the promotion. Free hot roast beef with that?”
“Catch a bad guy and might-could….”
“OK, well, I need evidence, a warrant, a judge and a sheriff. Or I can break in. Got the locker number?”
“So, you’ll have a look? She said number 114.”
“Kiss. I’ll call when I know more.” Jake put his work boots on.
***
He was back in 30 minutes and called Tanya to update her.
“Fransec had a locker. They emptied it last week. I spoke with the manager. A dozen wineries have lockers there. So is Semper’s secretary okay?”
“She’s twenty-one and got in bed with a pervert for all the wrong reasons. He date-raped her.”
“Well, I’ll bring you his nuts if I get my hands on him. We’ve got eyes on the winery office now. All quiet except for a carpet change. Looks like a bad wine spill.”
“Yep. My gal pal did some hammer therapy on the place. She smashed several bottles of his wine and ruined his carpet.”
Jake laughed at that. “I’ll update Hap. We’d better start watching Semper for anything. I’ll tell you more latter but he might try to skip town.” Jake paused for a moment. “So, Tanya? Are you a P.I. now?”
“Nope. Just your shadow.” Tanya giggled and clicked off.
Jake sensed it was another defining moment in his new love relationship. He felt stronger; he was building a team to rely on.
***
Jake and Wally watched the carpet men depart and Semper moved back to his desk with his laptop. He sat quietly, tapping his fingers to music only he could hear. Semper’s cell rang. Jake and Wally listened to half the conversation.
“Yes, a profitable auction for all,” Semper said.
“Yes, I wired your contribution.” Semper paused. “Now Werner, no cold feet on this.” He paused again.
“What? I’ll tell you how. Take the magic bottle from Bill at the Taste event. Get back to Sacramento and pour him a glass. You’ll have reason to call nine-one-one. Got that, Governor?”
Semper paused and spoke louder. “You win. You step right in. Empty the bottle down the drain and dump the glass. Don’t even say he drank anything. Say he had a headache.”
Semper set his phone on the table top and switched to speaker. The tone was too faint to be recorded. Semper let Belesto run on, while he opened his briefcase and put the container of poison on the table top. He went to the storeroom and returned with two bottles of wine.
“Yes, I’ve considered all that. The plan’s air-tight. The formula tested and undetectable. It’ll be hours before they autopsy him.”
After another pause, “Stop worrying. Focus on your priorities, Governor, due to the untimely passing of Pritchard.”
Semper was on a roll, barking into the phone. “The poor man had a massive seizure from overwork. You take the oath of office, Werner. You deserve it. Show a little leadership. Launch new legislation. Make some investigations go away. Then we all win.”
Before hanging up, Semper concluded, “No. I won’t be there. My man Bill hands you the bottle in a Christmas gift bag. Happy holidays. Just do it. Enjoy the show.” Semper clicked off.
Jake looked at Wally. He watched a slow smile grow on Wally’s face. Jake nodded, Yes. “So this is all for Belesto? To kill the governor? With poisoned wine from Fransec, no less?”
“We need more,” Jake replied.
Together they watched Semper through the pinhead camera in the air conditioning duct. Semper removed a syringe with an extra-long needle from his briefcase and filled it with clear liquid from the poison vial. He pushed the needle through the foil at the top of the bottle and through the cork. He injected the poison into the wine. He applied a red dot of nail polish to the label of the poisoned bottle, another dab on top of the bottle to hide the needle mark.
Jake was struck by Semper’s calm, as though his activity was the most common thing in the world. He slipped the magic bottle into a Christmas gift bag on his desk.
It was an hour later when the brothers saw more activity. Semper went to the sink, picked up two wine glasses, returned to the table and opened the other bottle of wine.
He poured two glasses, and inoculated one of them with a syringe filled with poison. He pushed the poisoned glass across the table. He returned the syringe and vial of poison to his briefcase. He sipped from his glass of wine.
He turned toward the door when he heard the crunch of gravel. Jake and Wally heard it too. Semper stood, crossed the room and opened the door. Off camera, he and Wally heard him bellow: “Come in, Stanley. Thanks for coming so late in the day.”
Stanley walked into the room and followed Semper to the table. “I brought everything you requested, Dr. Semper, notebooks, formulations, everything.”
“Excellent, Stanley. I have a big check for you. I’m not challenging any of your receipts. All approved.” Semper smiled at him sweetly. They shook hands.
“Thank you, sir,” Stanley sat at the table opposite Semper. Semper raised his wine glass toward Stanley and took a sip.
Stanley reached out to touch the glass of wine in front of his seat. “But first things first,” he said. He opened his briefcase and took out two notebooks and a pad of yellow paper.
“For delivery, my notebooks on the lab results for our special project, including the formulation.” He handed Semper the notebooks.
Semper pulled a folder from his briefcase, removed a document and a check. He laid both on the table top. Stanley reached for the check and examined it carefully. He looked at Semper and smiled.
“I need your signature and then this check is yours.” Semper said, indicating the signature line on the document. “Fifty thousand plus a ten thousand dollar bonus. I bet you didn’t expect that.” Semper smiled sweetly. “Now I can get rid of those damned dogs.”
Stanley stared at Semper and wiped his eyes. Jake felt sorry for the man. He could see all his fear and nervousness lifting like mist off a hot asphalt road. Stanley reached for his pen and signed the document. He picked up the check, holding it with both hands. Slowly he began to smile.
