“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.”
Dixon, who had started backing out of her garage, stepped on the brake. “You—”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going. I’ve got the time. I’m still on vacation. I just won’t officially work the case. If push comes to shove, I’ll just be an observer following you around. Okay?”
“Works for me.” Dixon continued backing out, then headed toward 29. “So your boss. You gonna catch heat for this?”
“No doubt about it,” Vail said. “But I’ve had hotter.”
“You’ve . . . what? That doesn’t make sense.”
A few seconds passed. Vail giggled.
Dixon looked over at her. “You okay?”
“I’ve had hotter,” she repeated. “Last night, with Robby. Oh, my god. You wouldn’t believe—”
“You trying to make me jealous?”
“Sorry.” Vail tried to wipe the grin from her face—but Dixon started to laugh, and then they both lost it. Five days of pent-up stress tumbled out in a tsunami of laughter.
Vail rested her forehead on the dashboard as her body convulsed—and then she began coughing. As she fought for breath, Dixon’s phone began ringing.
Dixon cleared her throat to steady her voice, motioned to Vail to be quiet, then pressed the Bluetooth speaker to answer the call. “Dixon.”
“Investigator Dixon, this is Ian Wirth. You told me to call if I thought of something else.”
Vail and Dixon glanced at one another. Vail had to look away to avoid another laughing—and coughing—spasm.
“Absolutely.”
“Can I meet you somewhere? I’d rather talk in person.”
“How about at the sheriff’s department? Do you know where that is?”
“I do. I can be there in fifteen.”
VAIL AND DIXON ARRIVED a few minutes after Wirth, who was already inside, at the second floor rotunda, in front of the glass reception counter.
“Follow us,” Dixon said. She swiped her prox card, then pulled open the thick wood door. Dixon led the way to the break room, where Agbayani and Lugo were seated at a round table sipping cups of coffee.
Dixon nodded at them, then made introductions. “These detectives are on the task force, Ian. They can hear anything you have to say.”
He scanned their faces. “Are you sure?”
Dixon placed a hand on Wirth’s shoulder. “You’re comfortable with law enforcement. I trust these guys with my life.”
Wirth thought a moment, then took a seat. Dixon and Vail followed, filling out all the chairs at the table.
“Thanks for coming down, for calling us,” Vail said.
Wirth glanced again at Lugo and Agbayani, then said, in a low voice, “Isaac Jenkins was talking with an attorney. I don’t know if that’s relevant or not, but I just thought you should know.”
Vail and Dixon both leaned forward. “Isaac Jenkins?” Vail asked.
“Isaac Jenkins,” Lugo said. “He was the male vic—” He stopped himself and looked at Dixon.
“Was?” Wirth looked from Lugo to Dixon to Vail. “Is he dead? Another stroke?”
Vail ignored the question. “How do you know Isaac?”
“Isaac’s with Todd Nicholson. His partner.”
“His partner. In business?”
“Isaac and Todd are a . . . couple. But yes, they’re partners in business, too.”
Vail felt perspiration sprout across her forehead. They were onto something. Just like Robby said last night . . . a connection we weren’t aware of.
“What business?” Dixon asked.
“Isaac’s the main investor in Georges Valley Reserve Select Wines. Todd’s very . . . agreeable. Isaac’s really the driving force behind Todd.”
Vail rubbed her forehead. “Okay, I’m not clear on a few things. Todd was against Superior getting the contract, right?”
“It was more that Isaac was against it. Todd voted the way Isaac wanted.”
“Why—wasn’t it Todd’s winery, too?”
“Todd loves the process, the challenge of growing quality grapes and turning them into reasonably priced, well-respected wine. That’s why he’s such a good winemaker. But he doesn’t know anything about running a business. Isaac didn’t really care about wine. I mean, he likes it, but he’d just as soon buy it than grow it. But it was Todd’s dream, so Isaac, who’s independently wealthy, bankrolled it. And he couldn’t let Todd run the business, he’d drive it into the ground. So that was their arrangement. Todd knew how to make great wine. Isaac knew how to run a great business.”
“Would you excuse us for a minute?” Dixon asked Wirth.
He nodded and Agbayani, Lugo, Vail, and Dixon walked into the hallway.
“This info’s a game changer,” Agbayani said. “We now have three people on this winery board who were against Superior getting this contract renewal. Two of the three end up dead. Although it doesn’t explain the fact that our male vic, Isaac Jenkins, wasn’t on the board.”
Dixon shook her head. “Even though Todd Nicholson was the board member, it might as well have been Isaac Jenkins, because the person who was really calling the shots was Jenkins. So the killer knew this somehow and got rid of Jenkins to clear the way for Superior to get the contract.”
“Whoa,” Vail said, holding up a hand. “You’re jumping to conclusions. We don’t know that.”
“It does look kind of obvious,” Dixon said.
Vail rubbed a hand across her mouth. “No. I mean, yes, it looks obvious. But something’s not right. Something isn’t adding up.”
“What’s the huddle about?”
It was Brix, walking down the hall.
Dixon angled away from the doorway. In a low voice, she said, “We’re discussing some new info we got from a witness.” She canted her head, indicating Wirth sitting in the break room.
Brix’s eyes flicked past her to their witness. “Well, let’s do it in the conference room. I’ve got a techie waiting for us who’s gonna go over texting stuff. I’ve been trying to get her in to talk to us, and she’s billing the department a hundred fifty an hour. So if you’re done with this guy, kick him loose and meet me in there.”
Dixon and Vail rejoined Wirth in the break room.
“Ian,” Dixon said, “we have a meeting we’ve got to get to. But you started to say something about Isaac hiring an attorney.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if it means anything, but he was looking at suing to get Crystal removed from the board.”
“Remove Crystal—why?”
“You’d have to ask him. But I got the sense Victoria was involved with the attorney, too.”
“The attorney’s name?”
Wirth pulled his Windows Mobile Phone from its holster and poked at the screen. He scrolled, poked again, and said, “Marc Benezra. Downtown Napa.”
Dixon wrote down the name. “Okay. Now listen to me, Ian.” She shoved the pad back into her jacket pocket, then looked up at Wirth. “We’re not sure what’s going on here, with your board, and the players involved in its business dealings. But something’s amiss. I can’t say any more. But you seem like a good guy. Keep a low profile for now. Don’t tell anyone you met with us. Don’t say anything to anyone. Okay?”
Wirth looked at Dixon out of the corner of his eye. “Should I be . . . concerned?”
“A little bit,” Vail said. “No one’s said anything to anyone about you specifically. But just . . . be careful.” She glanced at Dixon, then turned back to Wirth. “Ian, if we tell you something, do we have your word you won’t tell anyone? And I mean, anyone. No one.”
Wirth studied her face. His cheeks sprouted sweat. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”
“I can understand that,” Vail said. “I need you to summon those cop instincts you developed being around your father.”
He bit his bottom lip and spoke with it sandwiched between his teeth. “Okay.”
Vail leaned forward and held his gaze. “Remember we talked about Victoria’s stroke? Well, Isaac also had a stroke.”
Wirth’s mouth fell open. “Are you saying—”
“I’m saying he had a stroke,” Vail said. “Now, given that information, I want to reiterate that we have no direct information indicating you’re in danger . . . of also having one. Having said that, of the three people who opposed Superior’s contract renewal, two are now dead. Be aware of your surroundings. Be careful. If something doesn’t seem right, you call us. Okay?”
Wirth nodded without saying a word.
“Can we get him a uni to keep an eye on him?” Vail asked.
“I’ll have to ask. I don’t know if the sheriff will go for that.”
“I have private security,” Wirth said. “For the winery. Retired Secret Service. I’ll take care of it.”
Dixon called over to a deputy who was standing across the room at the coffee maker. “Greg, can you escort Mr. Wirth out?”
“Hang on to my number,” Dixon said. “Remember, call if you need anything. Anything.”
Wirth nodded uncertainly, then walked out with Greg.
“You’re worried about the guy,” Dixon said.
“His colleagues have been brutally murdered. And no one knows. The rest of them don’t even know to be careful, that someone might be targeting them. I think we may need to get them all together and level with them.”
“If we do, it’ll be all over the news. If we’re going to do that, let me find a way of using it to our advantage . . . as a way to catch this jerkoff.”
Vail watched as Wirth disappeared into the stairwell. “You’d better think of something fast.”
FORTY-FOUR
Befo
re joining the others, Dixon got Marc Benezra’s phone number and explained to his assistant that they needed to meet with him today. The woman fit them into the attorney’s schedule for ten o’clock, one hour from now.
“We’re all set,” Dixon said.
Vail, a dozen feet down the hall, was tapping out a note to Jonathan. “Excellent. Can you tell Brix I’ll be right in? I’ve just gotta finish this email.”
“Roxxi, you got a minute?” It was Eddie Agbayani, coming down the hall.
Dixon turned. “What’s up?”
Agbayani stopped in front of her and shoved his hands in his rear pockets. He looked down at his feet.
Vail sensed the awkward tension and glanced up from her email.
“When this is over,” Agbayani said, “when we catch this guy, maybe we could have dinner. Talk. Just the two of us.”
Roxxann rubbed at her brow. “I don’t know, Eddie. Yes. Maybe . . .” She shook her head. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Is that where we’re at? You have to think about whether we can sit down and talk?”
“Eddie, I can’t do this. Not now. Let me—yes. I’m sorry. You’re right, we should talk. As soon as we get some time, let’s have dinner.”
Vail shoved her BlackBerry in its holster, then pushed through the conference room door. The rest of the task force was there—Mann, Gordon, Lugo, and Brix. And a woman they hadn’t yet met; presumably, she was the person they were there to see.
A moment later, Dixon and Agbayani entered and took their seats.
Brix stood at the front of the room by the whiteboard. Their assignments were still laid out in colors. A few had lines through them, while others were encircled because they were still pending resolution. Unfortunately, there were more circles than lines.
In the fluorescent lighting, Brix’s sun-weathered, deeply lined face looked ashen. He resembled a man who was carrying the weight of several deaths on his shoulders—the unsolved murder of his boss’s son and the pressure of going public with the Crush Killer versus the impact of keeping it under wraps. And time was running out before the decision might be made for him. Once that happened, his stress would increase several fold as the media descended on him.
Crush Page 29