by Peter Prasad
Was he taking too big a risk?
He wished he had a gun. If the dukka was going to hit the fan, he didn’t want to get splattered.
He outlined the events leading up to Stanley’s murder by poison. He knew that Semper’s coolness to the entire scene would be the nail in his coffin. The gushing blood from Stanley’s nose should rattle some teeth. He ended with bullet points on the CDs enclosed and the order for viewing them. His final sentence: “If you want to see the murder, go to disc three.”
He did not include his name; instead he signed it: Bronze Star Bullet Hole. He doubted it would stop a decent reporter from digging up the source. If this didn’t work, he might glue the letters to the Sonoma sheriff’s glass door.
He wondered if Belesto or Semper had the reach to stop him. He’d like to be a fly on the wall while Belesto discussed the matter with The Chronicle editorial review board. He sat back to ponder sending a set of CDs to the San Francisco all-news TV station. He decided against that, without quite knowing why. He wished he knew a muckraker reporter with fangs.
He called up Google Maps, switched to satellite view, and printed three copies of the Fransec layout. He used a red marker to denote the location of the burn pit. He wrote: “Victim’s body burned here.”
He hoped for a media circus as long as no one chased him with a whip.
With his compositions completed, Jake printed copies and stuffed them into manila envelopes with a set of surveillance CDs. He addressed two of the envelopes and went to the truck to put all three in his backpack with the skull. His backpack reeked of death.
He had a notion that he might be able to slip one of the envelopes to the Governor at the Taste event. Sending the CDs and letters to both newspapers was his back-up plan. Hap might have a third option, whenever they talked next. Meanwhile, Jake’s job was to run with the ball. He knew how to do that. He had yet to decide exactly how he would deliver the skull.
Jake paced the veranda. He trotted up to the feed barn and greeted the ewes. Thor, always alert, watched him and chewed at his paws. The bellwether ram eyed him too. Jake moved the sheep pellets to the side of the wall and tossed in clean hay. He’d come back to do a more thorough clean-out of the pens later.
He stopped in at the cheese shed and helped Marco load his station wagon with table cloths, brochures, cutting boards, knives, and two ice boxes filled with cheeses for the sampling table. Crackers were a distraction. They’d cube the cheese and use tooth picks.
As he turned to walk back to his cottage, Sandy stopped him. She reached into the station wagon and handed him a size large, emerald green polo shirt with logo: Spencer’s Sonoma Farmstead Cheese.
Jake admired the shirt and logo. He reached for it and held Sandy’s hand for a moment. “Thank you.”
“You too,” she replied
Wally was awake when Jake returned to the cottage. Wally agreed with his plan; he said he’d make another set of surveillance CDs, and hide the laptop and back-up hard drive.
“Be careful. Semper killed that lab tech guy. Bill pulled a gun on us. He’s seriously dented. They don’t give a damn. You’re already on their radar. One round at Redwoods is enough for you, bro.”
“It’s a public event, with plenty of security for the Governor. I’ll be fine. Remember, they don’t know what we know.”
The brothers fist bumped and Jake changed into his new polo and clean slacks. He trusted the shirt would get him into the Taste of Sonoma event.
At the Ramirez service station, Audra greeted him, but was busy stocking a shelf with bags of baked potato chips. In a display beside the cash register, Jake noticed a packet of gift bags for wine bottles, each with a different Santa face. Jake smiled and bought them all.
He stopped at a post office on his way to the Santa Rosa fair grounds. Inside he paid for postage and mailed the fat envelopes to both newspapers.
He felt like he was at a poker game with the high spade in the hole. He shook his head; he was already betting as if he did.
The Taste event was in an exhibition hall at the County fairgrounds. As Jake approached, he saw many of the buildings were empty. The gray sky had burned off, leaving endless blue, framed by elms and acres of well-watered lawn. He passed a signboard: Sonoma where we grow delicious.
He spotted a large banner: A Taste of Sonoma. Welcome Governor Pritchard.
The hall was made of cement blocks, painted white. The east-facing glass wall looked out onto the tree-lined street.
As Jake parked in the lot in back, he searched for the black delivery van. The lot was filling fast with winery and catering vehicles, but not Bill’s. Jake wanted to avoid a dust-up with the man in the parking lot. If Bill came at him with threats, Jake was ready to tell him to put a cork in it. Inside, Jake knew he had safety in a crowd.
He parked near the back door of the exhibit hall, convenient if he had to make a fast exit. He left the backpack, skull and third envelope on the floor of the truck and walked into the hall with the wine bottle gift bags.
Inside, when he found Sandy, her first move was to hand him a packet of hand sanitizer and point to the Men’s. Cleanliness ruled.
He scrubbed his finger nails, washed his hands twice and rubbed them with hand sanitizer. He looked at himself in the mirror; his worries did not show.
Others might see nothing in his eyes, but he was in battle mode, nervous as a cat, and without a weapon. He dried his hands. He did not like the smell of lavender hand sanitizer.
At the Spencer Cheese table, he roped an apron over his neck and Sandy tied it around his waist. He looked like an anonymous cheese guy. He decided to keep his head down and let the logo do the talking. “Are we selling cheese today or just offering samples?”
Sandy smiled. “We can take orders and deliver later. Our Tome is very good right now. It’s an Alpine cheese; all cow milk, and one hundred percent Farmstead Certified,” she said as she fussed with items on the display table.
Jake popped a cheese cube in his mouth. “Delicious, creamy, nutty. Is the rind edible?” He wanted her to practice on him.
“We make the cheeses and soak them in salt brine for forty-eight hours. It’s part of the curing process, the traditional Alpine way. Then they ripen in our cave. Yes, the rind is edible, but most people choose not to eat it. We wipe excess moisture from the rinds regularly and turn the cheeses as they age. The cheese you’re tasting today has ripened for sixty days.”
“What other cheese do you make?” Jake played the curious consumer.
“We slow-pasteurize the milk for all our cheeses. We make a softer, spreadable cheese that’s aged for two weeks.” Sandy handed him a small taste on a biodegradable spoon. As he nibbled at it, she continued.
“We make a rich, hardy cheese aged six months. It’s available by the slice or in shaved sprinkles for easy melting on pasta and pizzas. Want to try it?”
“I can remember that line, I think. This will be fun.” Jake tossed the small spoon in the recycle bin. “I’ll go find coffee for us,” he volunteered and turned to wander away.
He surveyed the event. Tanya would want details later. There were twelve different artisan cheese producers handing out samples: hard cheese, soft cheese, aged cheese, infused cheese, sheep’s milk, cow’s milk, goat’s milk, water buffalo milk, and raw cheese.
All the best chocolate makers, wineries, smoked meats, jams and gourmet foods of Sonoma were represented. He stopped at each winery table and handed a Christmas bottle gift bag to the server. “For the Governor,” he said and moved to the next table. Each of the winery reps took a bag from him.
Jake found the hot coffee set-up in a kitchen area beside the stage at the front of the hall. He watched a technician adjust lights on the stage. Another technician adjusted a TV camera mounted on a tripod. It looked like the Governor was planning a press event.
Jake scanned the kitchen and spotted six unattended cases of Fransec wine stacked beside the rear exit door. He assumed it was a recent delivery drop-off. He
guessed the Fransec people had not yet set up their sampling table and would come looking for it. He picked up a table cloth and found a roll of shipping tape on the shelf. No one was watching him.
He walked to the stack of Fransec cases and laid the table cloth over the top case.
He slipped his hand through the center hole on the tape roll and opened the back door. The parking lot was almost full and suppliers were carrying product into the hall through the other back door.
He looked for Bill’s van but did not see it. He scanned the room to be sure no one was watching him. He lifted the top case of Fransec wine and walked it out the door to his truck.
He imagined that he looked like every other food-rep carrying supplies. The green cap and apron completed his disguise. He hurried across the parking lot. He unlocked the door and put the case of wine on the seat.
He used a key to cut through the shipping tape that sealed the case of wine. He removed four bottles of wine to make a central cavity, wrapped them in the cloth and laid them on the floor of the truck. The central cavity was surrounded by eight wine bottles tucked into slots in the cardboard case divider. He ripped out the cardboard walls that separated the four empty slots. He began to smile at the horror that would greet the next person to open this case of wine.
He bent down and lifted the skull from his backpack. It fit snugly in the hollowed center of the case of Fransec wine. He covered the skull with the last envelope that held copies of the letters, map and a set of surveillance CDs. He pressed the lid of the box closed and taped it tight. It looked like an ordinary case of wine with no sign of the surprise inside.
He slid the case of wine onto the floor of the truck and locked the door. Now, how was he going to deliver this case of Fransec to the Governor?
Jake went back into the kitchen to get the coffee he had promised Sandy and Marco. As he walked out of the kitchen, juggling three cups of coffee, the back door opened.
He looked over his shoulder to see two women enter. They wore black Fransec logo shirts. “Here’s our wine,” one of them said. “Maybe Bill shorted us a case.”
Jake ducked under the brim of his cap and walked his coffees to the Spencer Cheese table.
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CHAPTER THIRTY
Jake felt giddy and tired but he put on a cheerful face for Sandy. The hall filled with dignitaries, food and beverage workers, and foodies up from San Francisco. The City folks were easy to spot; they wore black outfits compared to the casual blue jeans and flannel of Sonoma.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the two women set up the Fransec table. They sped through their tasks. He scanned the crowd for Wild Bill but could not find him. He preferred to have his enemy in sight.
Jake anticipated Bill’s arrival with the ‘magic bottle’ and was surprised he hadn’t appeared. He wondered if they’d find another way to deliver it.
Two TV camera crews arrived and parked their satellite relay trucks in front of the hall. One crew slowly marched past the food and wine tables, recording the delights for the evening news. The room buzzed in anticipation of the Governor’s arrival.
The mayor of Santa Rosa and another man walked to the podium. The crowd hushed and the TV lights blinked on, bathing the stage in a halo of light. “Welcome one and all to the fifteenth annual Taste of Sonoma Gourmet Food and Wine Show. My name is Ron Glasow, mayor of Santa Rosa.”
He pivoted to smile at everyone in the hall. “With me today is James Marbith, head of the Sonoma County Agriculture Board and one of our sponsors. Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to welcome you. Now, may the tastings begin.”
Jake was distracted by the first crush of visitors to the Spencer booth. Most knew little about farmstead cheese but they liked it. He and Marco chopped cheese cubes. The visitors’ job was to spear them with toothpicks.
A nice looking gossip columnist from The Chronicle dropped off her card. “My friends are mad for your cheese,” she said in a soft Scandinavian accent. Jake smiled at her.
Sandy did most of the talking. Marco busied himself cutting the rinds off. Jake hated seeing the rind go to waste. He knew the Dutch had several recipes for cheese-rind soup.
Through the plate glass, Jake saw several SUVs and a limousine pull up to the curb. The Governor, Lieutenant Governor, and several staffers climbed out of the cars and were led in with a Highway Patrol escort. The crowd parted with a round of applause.
Governor Pritchard, a birdlike man of seventy with piercing grey eyes, overflowed with energy. He had no trouble keeping up with the conversation, the one-liners, the cat-calls and requests. He worked the crowd like a six-armed man playing multiple games of ping-pong. He had a snappy rejoinder for everyone and a big, beaming smile. He could chew, nod, pose for pictures and pat a luminary on the back all at the same time.
The Governor started working his way along the rows of sample tables. The camera crews led the way, facing backward, recording his every comment and gesture.
He gave fair attention to each table. He sampled everything that was offered to him, but he snacked lightly. When handed a sample, he took a small bite and left most of the sample on the napkin. Obviously he’d worked food shows before and knew how to pace himself.
When he arrived at the Spencer table, Sandy raced through her presentation, offering the governor several nibbles of her cheeses. Marco came around from behind the table with his camera and took pictures of Sandy with the Governor. As he moved on, Sandy handed an entire wedge of cheese to the only woman in the Governor’s group. The woman smiled and slipped the cheese into her purse.
The Governor, his attendants and TV cameras moved along the row of food tables. He turned the corner and began to work the row of wine tables. He approached the Fransec table, the first in a row stretched along the back wall. He stopped, sipped from a pre-filled glass and listened to the presentation. He set the glass down on the table, barely touched. He and his group moved on.
As the crowd around the Governor cleared, Jake saw Wild Bill move to stand behind the winery’s two servers. He had shaved, combed his hair and wore dark slacks. He looked presentable in a Fransec logoed shirt. Wild Bill held a Christmas gift bag for a wine bottle. As Belesto walked past, Bill slipped the gift bag into his hands. They exchanged a look and said nothing.
However, the wine servers at the next table had seen the exchange. As soon as the Governor put down his sample glass at the next table, one of the servers handed him a gift bottle of wine in a Christmas bag. The Governor thanked her with a nod and passed the bottle to his woman staffer.
The same thing happened at each of the next ten wine tables. Jake had to swallow his laughter.
Wild Bill appeared to have missed it all; he had turned and was headed toward the exit door. Belesto trailed behind the Governor, slipping further behind and holding his gift bag. He looked awkward and out-of-place as though the whirlwind of the Governor’s entourage had flattened him.
When the Governor turned the corner to sample another row of tables that offered chocolates and jams, his female staffer was clutching several bottles of wine, each in a Christmas bag. A Highway Patrol officer held several more. She and the officer separated from the group and walked toward the kitchen. Jake followed them at a distance.
They exited the kitchen through the back door. When Jake stepped outside into the parking lot, he saw them approach a limousine. The patrolman spoke to the driver sitting behind the wheel. The back door popped open. He and the female staffer deposited their wine bottle collection on the floor of the limo. Jake watched this interaction as he walked past them toward his truck.
He unlocked the truck door and looked over his shoulder. The female staffer and officer opened the back door to the kitchen and stepped inside. Jake picked up the special case of Fransec, closed the truck door and walked to the Governor’s limousine. He tapped on the driver’s window. The driver looked up from his newspaper and opened the window.
“Another gift for the Governor. Shal
l I put this case in the trunk?” Jake asked him.
The driver reached over his paper, opened the glove compartment and pushed a button that opened the trunk. When the trunk popped open, Jake moved to the back of the limousine and placed the case of Fransec inside.
He closed the trunk, nodded to the driver and turned toward the kitchen door. He had delivered the package, evidence and all. If this did not get the Governor’s attention, then he might be a dead man.
Inside the hall, the Governor stood at the podium under the lights of the TV cameras. He was saying all the right things about the food, wine and the hospitality of Sonoma County. He graciously thanked everyone and gave a passionate shout-out to California tourism. He stepped away from the podium and the TV lights dimmed. Standing off to one side was Belesto holding a Christmas gift bag of wine. He looked thoroughly confused. Jake could see he had missed his moment.
Jake saw Wild Bill exit out the back door of the hall. He hadn’t recognized Jake in his green cap and green apron. Jake walked across the exhibit floor to rejoin Sandy and Marco.
Sandy held a guest list in her hands and reviewed it with a smile. She announced five new orders from restaurants in San Francisco. She was pleased with herself. Marco smiled as he covered the remnants of cheese in plastic wrap, wiped the knives and cutting boards clean. Jake helped him pack these utensils into storage boxes. All the materials would be used again at the next farmers’ market they attended.
The Governor shook hands with the Mayor of Santa Rosa, and exited out the back door of the kitchen with his security and staffers. Jake’s plan to hand him an envelope had proven impossible. At a public event, the man was like the calm eye of a hurricane packed three deep with attendants, security, TVs and hangers-on.
Jake had to trust that his limousine driver would remind him of the case of wine in the trunk when he reached Sacramento. If not, then he might get a reminder call from a reporter. If nothing happened in a few days, Jake would make the call himself. All Jake’s dominoes were in place and ready to tumble.