Crush - Alan Jacobson [101]
“I didn’t think so,” Brix said. “Still, I’ll check out his story, just to be sure.”
“And that means we’re still nowhere,” Dixon said.
Vail turned and headed into the parking lot, toward Brix’s car. “Not nowhere, Roxx. Just not where we want to be.”
THIRTY-SIX
As they settled into Brix’s Crown Victoria, Ray Lugo phoned to tell Brix he was on his way to Sonoma to hand deliver new information. His ETA was ten minutes.
While waiting, Brix emailed Vail his camera photo of Ortiz, and then she and Dixon walked over to the visitor’s bureau, which backed up to City Hall in the square’s parklike center. The interior office space was pleasant, filled with maps, signage for events and area promotions, and brochure racks.
Vail and Dixon showed the staff Ortiz’s picture and asked if they knew him. Both women said they had seen him around, but had never observed any unusual or unruly behavior.
As they left, Vail said, “I didn’t think that’d get us anywhere.”
“You never know when you’re going to run across a victim who escaped alive, someone who’s too scared to go to the cops. Or one guy who heard another guy bragging about his kill.”
By the time they returned to the car, Lugo was pulling alongside Brix, who was leaning against the front quarter panel of his Ford.
Lugo got out, holding a manila folder above his head. “Kevin called me. He was going through Victoria’s things and found her file of board notes.” He handed them to Dixon. “I started to go through them but then remembered you were meeting with the board president today.”
“We were supposed to have already met but we pushed it back to chat with Miguel Ortiz.”
Lugo shook his head. “Let me guess. Waste of time.”
“It was worth a shot,” Brix said with a shrug. “I’ve got some things to follow up on, but yeah. Looks that way.”
Lugo nodded at the folder in Dixon’s hand. “Hopefully that’ll help you out when you meet with that board president.”
Vail consulted her watch. “Speaking of which, let’s get going.”
Vail and Dixon took Lugo’s car, leaving Brix to partner with Lugo, and headed to Wedded Bliss Estate Wines, where the Georges Valley AVA board president served as chief executive. While en route, Vail reviewed the file Lugo had brought them.
After several minutes of struggling to make out the handwriting and abbreviations, Vail stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders.
Dixon tapped the papers. “Anything in there?”
“Some of it’s tough to read. Lots of shorthand and scribbles in the margins.” Vail turned a couple of pages. “One thing stands out. Something about SMB. It says ‘SMB better deal. No: VC, TN, IW. Won’t carry.’”
“‘Won’t carry.’ Sounds like a motion.”
Vail traced backwards through the notes with an index finger. “Yes. Motion by PO. Second DY.” She turned another page, then went back. “Doesn’t say what the motion was.”
“Is there a date?”
Vail flipped back to the prior page. “January fifteenth.”
Dixon nodded. “Okay, we’ll start with that. Keep looking.”
A few moments later, Vail said, “There are notes talking about ‘natural vs. fake. Big difference.’” She looked over at Dixon. “What do you think, are they talking about breasts?”
Dixon smiled. “There’s definitely a big difference, but something tells me that’s not what the board was deliberating.”
“Probably not. But it looks like it was another point of contention according to the margin notes.”
“Good,” Dixon said. “We’ve got some things to discuss with our board president. Let’s see what she has to say.”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, they arrived at Wedded Bliss Estates Winery. The driveway was long and narrow, and bordered on both sides by a continuous row of wine bottles, mounted single file and upside down, in the top of the wall.
“Neat idea,” Dixon said. “That’s pretty cool.”
As they continued on down the road, Vail realized they hadn’t yet seen the best Wedded Bliss had to offer. She pointed ahead. “Now that’s pretty cool.”
The building was carved into the side of a mountain—but that wasn’t its most unusual feature. Where the