Crush - Alan Jacobson [113]
“Why didn’t you tell me my hair looked like I just came out of a wind tunnel?”
Dixon shoved the car into park and turned to Vail. “I was driving. It’s dark. I didn’t notice.” She pulled down her own visor and combed her hair into place. “How come you didn’t tell me mine was a mess?”
Vail looked at her. “Guess we’re even.”
They popped open their doors and strode up the walk. “I’m starving,” Vail said. She pulled her BlackBerry and texted Robby about meeting for a late—very late—dinner.
Dixon rang the bell. Within seconds, the large walnut door swung open.
“Good timing. Just got in a couple minutes ago.” He extended a hand. “Ian Wirth. Come on in.”
Wirth was a shade over six feet with small clear-rimmed glasses and a full head of close-cropped light brown hair. He turned and led the way along the dark wood floor into a paneled library. There was an ornate mahogany desk at the far end of the rectangular room and a smaller matching meeting table nearest the door. He motioned them to pristine glove leather seats. A pitcher of water and a pot of hot coffee sat in the middle of the counter behind them.
“Java?” Wirth asked.
“Sure,” Dixon said. She eyed the freshly brewed coffee and said, “I thought you just got home.”
“I called my housekeeper and had her take care of it before she left.”
While Wirth poured the cups, Vail noticed a large, framed sepia photo hanging behind the desk. “Grandfather?” Vail asked.
Wirth swung his head around, then turned back, a smile broadening his face. “Great grandfather. Józef Wirth. That photo was taken in Bialystok, Poland, sometime around 1725. My grandmother told me that the genealogist who worked on our family history discovered that there were seven families that migrated in a group from Poland in the 1800s. There were others who decided to stay, and they were eventually swept up in the Nazi roundup in 1938. I’ve got a whole book if you want—”
Vail held up a hand. “Not that I don’t find it interesting, Mr. Wirth, but—”
“Please, call me Ian.”
“Ian,” Vail said. “We’ve had a long day”—make that a long week—“and we just have a few questions to ask you. If you don’t mind.”
Wirth dipped his chin. “Of course.” He removed a creamer from the counter and placed it on the table. “You said you had questions about the Georges Valley board.”
Dixon dumped some milk into her mug and stirred it. “We spoke earlier with Crystal and she told us about Superior Mobile Bottling. The vote that turned a little contentious.”
Wirth bobbed his head. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“How would you put it?” Vail asked.
Wirth lifted his coffee, warmed his hands on its sides. “We’ve had some issues lately on the board. I’m really not supposed to talk about this—”
“The confidentiality agreement,” Vail said. “Crystal told us about it. It’s okay. We’re not taking notes. We’re not going to share any trade secrets. We just want some background for our investigation.”
“And what investigation is that?”
Dixon blew on her coffee. “Can’t say. But it’s got nothing to do with wrongdoing on the part of the board or its members. In fact, I doubt it has anything to do with the AVA at all. But we need some background. As Crystal put it, we’re fishing.”
“Just curious,” Wirth said. “What’d you think of her?”
Vail hiked her brows. “Crystal? Nice lady. Very interesting.” Great body. She should be shot.
“She’s my ex-wife. Did she tell you that?”
Vail didn’t know what to say.
“No,” Dixon said, “she didn’t mention it.”
Wirth sat there a moment, lost in thought. Then he shook his head. “Sorry.” Smiled, then nodded at the seat Dixon was occupying. “That was her favorite chair.”
“Right,” Dixon said.
“Don’t worry, it won’t color my answers. What do you need to know?”
“The acrimony on the board.”
“Ah, yes. Well, Crystal probably told you all about the controversy Victoria was stirring.”
“Controversy?” Vail asked. She felt a buzz on her belt. She stole a look at the display. Robby had texted her back:
call me when ur done.