Crush - Alan Jacobson [106]
“What alternatives are there?” Vail asked.
“Synthetic corks or screw tops.”
“Screw tops—like a twist-off on a bottle of soda or tea?”
“Yes. We don’t like that model, for that reason. Screw tops solve a lot of the problems that come from natural or synthetic corks, but they’re cheap looking. They fit more with a cut-rate label than the quality of a Georges Valley wine. There’s something about a twist-off top that just doesn’t fit with a fine bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, or a highly regarded blend such as ours.”
Dixon nodded. “Same could be said about those synthetic corks, right?”
Crystal’s face firmed. “No. Not right. Not in my opinion. You still have the feel of opening the bottle with a corkscrew. The only difference is that the good ones are made of thermoplastic elastomer.” She waved a hand. “That’s not entirely true. There are other differences. Cork comes from tree bark, a very specific oak tree grown in the Mediterranean and Portugal—and the trees can’t have their bark stripped until they’re twenty-five years old. After that, they can only be harvested once every ten years or so. But there are nearly twenty billion bottles of wine produced each year. There just isn’t enough natural cork to go around.”
“So it’s a supply and demand issue.”
“On the surface, yes. But there’s much more to it.”
Dixon leaned back and placed a hand on her chin. “Doesn’t cork allow some air to get into the bottle, which promotes natural aging of the wine?”
“It also allows TCA into the bottle, which causes what’s called cork taint. It ruins the wine, gives it a moldy smell that tastes like wet cardboard.”
“TCA?” Vail asked.
“Trichloro-something. It’s a fungus that grows because of naturally occurring chemicals found in cork. Depending on who you believe, between 3 and 20 percent of bottles are ‘corked.’ Basically, those bottles are ruined by TCA contamination. The winery can avoid that by using the thermoplastic elastomer, or synthetic, corks that I mentioned. Some synthetics aren’t as good, and they actually let more air into the bottle than natural cork. But the ones Superior uses are, well, superior. They don’t have that problem.
“Then there’s also the issue of cost. With our volume pricing, we can get these synthetics at about four cents apiece, compared to fifteen to seventy-five cents for natural cork. Add it up over the millions of bottles our members produce, year after year, and you’re talking real money.”
Vail hiked her brow. “So it seems like the synthetic would be the way to go.”
Crystal grinned—that same deeper-meaning half-smile. “One would think. But there was considerable debate over whether to renew that three-year contract with Superior.”
Dixon shook her head. “What does Superior have to do with the cork issue?”
“They only have one trailer that’s still equipped to handle natural cork. They’ve refitted the rest of their trucks to synthetic-only because they’ve developed custom machinery that allows them to bottle faster with the synthetic.”
“So,” Vail said, “there are a couple people on the board who didn’t want to renew the Superior contract. Did Superior know this?”
“Absolutely not. The business of the board and its member wineries is confidential and we don’t discuss it outside the boardroom. We each sign confidentiality statements preventing us from discussing board business with anyone who’s not a board member.”
Vail wondered if Crystal had herself signed one of these statements—here she was telling them all about the board’s deliberations. But she wasn’t complaining. Still, it made her wonder who might also have thought it was okay to tip off someone at Superior that their contract renewal was in jeopardy.
“Who usually deals with Superior?”
“Our Contracts VP. Ian Wirth.”
“And who’s the board’s contact person at Superior?”
Crystal hesitated. Her eyes moved between Vail and Dixon. “Why?”
“Same reason it was five minutes ago,” Vail said. “We’re investigating something and this information may or may