Vail 02 - Crush (43 page)

Dixon tapped her fingers on the dash beyond the steering wheel. “People have killed for a lot less.”

“The jewel in this ring was the position they’d get in the governor’s administration.”

Dixon nodded. “Okay.”

“So,” Vail said, “let’s back up. Nance and Fuller are concerned with my determination to go public with a serial killer on the loose in Napa. It brings in the media. More Feds. More scrutiny. And that’s clearly something they wouldn’t want because it’d jeopardize their future careers. Not to mention the nice payoffs on the side.”

Dixon slid the car into a spot outside the sheriff’s department. “There might’ve been more money on its way. Could it be the stakes were even higher than we know? Maybe Benezra’s PI only uncovered one root of the tree. This may go deeper and farther.”

“Sometimes a hammer is just a hammer, Roxxann.”

“Either way, it still doesn’t get us closer to the Crush Killer. Unless that tree is freaking huge, and we’re missing more than we realize.”

Vail got that stab in the gut again. “I think that’s what’s been bothering me.”

T
he rest of the task force was still in the conference room, making phone calls and tossing around theories. Coffee cups and crumpled lumps of paper littered the table. When Vail and Dixon relayed what they had just learned, they all leaned back in their chairs to digest it.

“Just when I think we’re on the right track,” Brix said, “something gets tossed into the mix that makes us rethink everything.”

“You guys come up with anything on Superior Bottling?” Dixon asked.

“Record’s clean,” Lugo said. “None of their employees have ever had any brushes with the law. No complaints with the Better Business Bureau.” He looked down at the pad in front of him. “Chamber of Commerce thinks they’re model corporate citizens. I checked with a bunch of my winery contacts—from growers to vintners—at Oakville Winegrowers Association, Rutherford Dust Society, Stag’s Leap Wine-grower’s Association, Oak Knoll Winegrowers . . . bottom line is, no one had anything bad to say about them.”

“What you’re saying is you didn’t pick up any dirt on the grapevine,” Vail said.

Dixon smirked. “That was bad.”

“And,” Mann said, ignoring Vail’s pun, “I checked with my TTB office. No federal violations on record.”

“Fine,” Dixon said. “Then let’s focus on what’s most likely to give us something.”

“I think we should at least go there, talk with them,” Vail said. “Shake the tree.”

“I agree,” Brix said. He walked to the front of the room and dug
through some papers. Pulled out a page and handed it to Dixon. “Here’s some background on César Guevara. But there’s something you gotta know. Silver Ridge uses them. So if you want me to hang back—”

“Why would you hang back?” Mann asked.

Brix put his hands on his hips. “All right, listen up. For those of you who don’t know, I’m a silent partner in Silver Ridge. My brother handles all of its business operations. I have no say in any of it—nor do I want to. For this very reason. Keeps things clean and simple. This hasn’t substantively affected Victoria Cameron’s investigation. Has it, Roxx?”

“No.”

“Anyone got any questions or concerns? Now’s the time.”

No one responded.

“Do you know anyone there?” Dixon asked.

“No, I don’t know anyone there, and no one there knows me. But they’d recognize my last name.”

Vail shook her head. “I think you should stay out of it.”

Dixon bent forward, resting both hands on the table. “But your knowledge could be useful.”

“Look,” Brix said. “I’ve got a lot going on here. Ray’s been as entrenched in the region as I’ve been. He practically grew up on a vineyard and is well versed in all aspects of wine production. Take Ray and you get the benefit of having an insider without the baggage I bring to the table.”

Dixon turned to Lugo. “How about it, Ray?”

Lugo appeared to be shrinking into his seat. “I’ve got a lot to do here, Roxx. I really should stay behind—”

“We won’t be long,” Dixon said. “It’s only a few minutes from here. C’mon.”

Dixon pulled on the door and held it open. Vail walked through and looked back to see Lugo reluctantly pulling himself from his chair.

SUPERIOR MOBILE BOTTLING operated out of a large warehouse in an industrial area of American Canyon, a few miles south of the sheriff’s department. Vail and Dixon left Lugo in the car and walked up to
the concrete tilt-up building that featured an oversize gold crest above its entrance, emblazoned with a large seriffed S in the middle, sandwiched between a smaller M and B.

Dixon had decided on a straightforward, direct approach. If Guevara ducked them, they would leave and Lugo would then come in under the guise of a vintner inquiring about their bottling services and fee structure.

Dixon pulled open the glass door and stepped into a small, well-appointed reception room. Tastefully decorated with high-resolution photos of grapes on the vine, it also included industry-specific pictures of buffed stainless steel machinery involved in the various production steps of mobile bottling.

A woman with platinum hair and a face that had seen its share of facelifts walked in through a side door. “I’m Sandra. How can I help you?”

“Roxxann Dixon, Napa County District Attorney’s office. This is my associate, Karen Vail. Is César Guevara available for a brief chat?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“We were in the neighborhood and were hoping he could help us with a case we’re working on.”

“I’ll go see if Mr. Guevara can meet with you. He was out back doing some maintenance on one of the trailers—”

“Perfect,” Dixon said. “We’ll just go on back ourselves. If he’s in the middle of something mechanical, I’d rather not drag him away from his work. We just have a couple background questions. Around the side of the building?”

Sandra seemed a bit flustered. “I—yes, but I really should—”

“Thanks,” Dixon said.

Vail was already through the door and signaling Lugo with a tilt of her head. Lugo slowly climbed out of the car and joined them as they walked down the asphalt roadway that abutted the long building.

Lugo slowed his pace. “Why don’t I wait out here, have a look around the periphery?”

“We can look around after if we want,” Dixon said, motioning him along. “I think you’d be more valuable with us.”

“Or, I could talk with the front office personnel while you’re in with Guevara. Sometimes they’ll give you more than the main guy.”

“We met her,” Vail said. “I didn’t get the sense she knew anything important.” She gave Lugo a playful shove with her forearm. “You okay?”

Lugo swiveled to look over his shoulder. “Fine.”

“They probably park the rigs indoors,” Dixon said. “With the cost of that equipment, I’d imagine they don’t take any chances with someone hauling off their trailers.”

They walked briskly. Vail was sure Sandra had, by now, notified Guevara of their presence. Whether that mattered or not, she wasn’t sure. It depended on whether Superior had done anything wrong. And all indications were they had not—other than being at the center of a contentious political squabble among business partners.

Dixon, a stride ahead, turned back to Vail and Lugo. “Security cameras.” She indicated small surveillance devices mounted atop steel poles at various points in the lot. They were all aimed at the building.

A few feet ahead was a gray rollup garage door. It was in the up position, revealing three highly polished full-size semis parked alongside one another.

They walked in. A radio was playing music with a Latin beat. Vail knelt down and looked beneath the rigs. She saw two sets of feet a dozen yards away, one male and the other female.

Vail motioned to the others that Guevara was ahead, between the farthest two trailers. They turned left down the aisle between the trucks and saw a man of medium build, strong jaw and prominent forehead. He had a red flannel shirt on with the sleeves rolled up.

He turned to face them as they approached. Vail led the way, followed single file by Dixon and Lugo.

“Mr. Guevara?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Karen Vail.” She held up her credentials. Dixon moved alongside Vail and displayed her badge, then thumbed the area behind her. “And this is Sergeant Ray Lugo, St. Helena PD.”

Guevara had a blue rag in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he moved his head to the side to see Lugo. “Is there a problem?” Guevara asked.

“We just have some questions,” Vail said. “We’re hoping you can shed some light on a few things for us.”

Guevara spread his hands. “Ask away.” His eye caught Lugo, and his gaze lingered there.

Vail turned to face Lugo, then swiveled back to Guevara.
Something’s going on. Do they recognize each other from somewhere?

“Why don’t you tell us about your company.”

Guevara stole a look at his watch. “Superior is the leading mobile bottling company in California. We bottle mostly in the Napa Valley, Sonoma, Healdsburg, and Mendocino, but if the price is right, we’ll also do Contra Costa and El Dorado Counties. We’ve got eight rigs, all state of the art. Nobody comes close to the services we offer, the quality of work we do. And no one can match our prices. Simply put, we’re the best.”

Vail added it up. There’s a lot of money tied up in those trailers.

“Now, what did you really come here to ask?”

Dixon lifted her chin. “We’ve been talking with the board of directors for the Georges Valley AVA. We know about the disagreement over renewing your contract. How has your relationship been with the board?”

Guevara’s eyes flicked over to an area behind them. To Lugo. His gaze returned to Dixon and he shrugged. “No problems. We show up, we bottle, box, and offload. Bottle, box, offload. Same every year. They have lots of wineries. We work good with all of ’em.”

“Any problems with any of the board members?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m thinking, like, Victoria Cameron?”

Guevara rubbed his hands on the rag. “No. No problems.”

“She was pretty much against you getting your contract renewed,” Vail said. “You’ve got a lot of money invested in your equipment. Be a tough loss, a financial hardship, if she got her way. Any idea why she was so determined not to renew the contract?”

“I don’t get involved in that stuff. That’s their business. My business is bottling.”

“Where were you last Friday, around six?” Vail asked.

“Here, cleaning the corking machine.”

“How late did you stay?”

Guevara looked ceilingward. “About eight, I think.”

“Anyone else here with you?” Vail asked.

“Sandra left at five. I don’t know if anyone else was around. I’ll have to check.”

Not the kind of answer we like to hear.
“Was there anyone here that you saw? Anyone who was scheduled to work?”

Guevara locked eyes with Vail. His jaw muscles tightened. “I’d have to check.”

“You have to check if you saw anyone? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I don’t remember.”

This guy is beginning to piss me off.
“Who sets the schedule for your employees?”

Guevara folded his arms across his chest. “Why is that important?”

“It’s important because I asked the question.”

Another firm stare from Guevara.

“Ray,” Dixon said. “How about you go have a chat with Sandra up front and see what she knows?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Guevara asked.

“For what?” Dixon said. “To ask questions?”

Guevara tossed the rag on the floor. “I don’t know. It sounds like you think we’ve done something wrong.”

Dixon shrugged. “We’re conducting an investigation, Mr. Guevara. Right now we don’t have reason to think anyone at Superior has done anything wrong. But you’re being evasive in your answers, and that does make us suspicious. Like you’re trying to hide something.”

Guevara spread his arms. “I got nothing to hide. I don’t remember seeing anyone here with me. But it’s a short list of people who might’ve been here. I promise you I’ll look into what you asked and call you back with the answers. Good?”

“What about Monday? Where were you from noon till four o’clock?”

“I’ll check that, too.”

“And Wednesday, around six?”

“I’ll have to get back to you.”

“When was the last time you were in Vallejo?” Vail asked.

Guevara shrugged. “I drive through there once a week.”

“Know anyone there, any family?”

“There’s a supplier we use there. Other than that and the freeway, I’ve got no reason to go there.”