Crush - Alan Jacobson [118]
“What business?” Dixon asked.
“Isaac’s the main investor in Georges Valley Reserve Select Wines. Todd’s very . . . agreeable. Isaac’s really the driving force behind Todd.”
Vail rubbed her forehead. “Okay, I’m not clear on a few things. Todd was against Superior getting the contract, right?”
“It was more that Isaac was against it. Todd voted the way Isaac wanted.”
“Why—wasn’t it Todd’s winery, too?”
“Todd loves the process, the challenge of growing quality grapes and turning them into reasonably priced, well-respected wine. That’s why he’s such a good winemaker. But he doesn’t know anything about running a business. Isaac didn’t really care about wine. I mean, he likes it, but he’d just as soon buy it than grow it. But it was Todd’s dream, so Isaac, who’s independently wealthy, bankrolled it. And he couldn’t let Todd run the business, he’d drive it into the ground. So that was their arrangement. Todd knew how to make great wine. Isaac knew how to run a great business.”
“Would you excuse us for a minute?” Dixon asked Wirth.
He nodded and Agbayani, Lugo, Vail, and Dixon walked into the hallway.
“This info’s a game changer,” Agbayani said. “We now have three people on this winery board who were against Superior getting this contract renewal. Two of the three end up dead. Although it doesn’t explain the fact that our male vic, Isaac Jenkins, wasn’t on the board.”
Dixon shook her head. “Even though Todd Nicholson was the board member, it might as well have been Isaac Jenkins, because the person who was really calling the shots was Jenkins. So the killer knew this somehow and got rid of Jenkins to clear the way for Superior to get the contract.”
“Whoa,” Vail said, holding up a hand. “You’re jumping to conclusions. We don’t know that.”
“It does look kind of obvious,” Dixon said.
Vail rubbed a hand across her mouth. “No. I mean, yes, it looks obvious. But something’s not right. Something isn’t adding up.”
“What’s the huddle about?”
It was Brix, walking down the hall.
Dixon angled away from the doorway. In a low voice, she said, “We’re discussing some new info we got from a witness.” She canted her head, indicating Wirth sitting in the break room.
Brix’s eyes flicked past her to their witness. “Well, let’s do it in the conference room. I’ve got a techie waiting for us who’s gonna go over texting stuff. I’ve been trying to get her in to talk to us, and she’s billing the department a hundred fifty an hour. So if you’re done with this guy, kick him loose and meet me in there.”
Dixon and Vail rejoined Wirth in the break room.
“Ian,” Dixon said, “we have a meeting we’ve got to get to. But you started to say something about Isaac hiring an attorney.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if it means anything, but he was looking at suing to get Crystal removed from the board.”
“Remove Crystal—why?”
“You’d have to ask him. But I got the sense Victoria was involved with the attorney, too.”
“The attorney’s name?”
Wirth pulled his Windows Mobile Phone from its holster and poked at the screen. He scrolled, poked again, and said, “Marc Benezra. Downtown Napa.”
Dixon wrote down the name. “Okay. Now listen to me, Ian.” She shoved the pad back into her jacket pocket, then looked up at Wirth. “We’re not sure what’s going on here, with your board, and the players involved in its business dealings. But something’s amiss. I can’t say any more. But you seem like a good guy. Keep a low profile for now. Don’t tell anyone you met with us. Don’t say anything to anyone. Okay?”
Wirth looked at Dixon out of the corner of his eye. “Should I be . . . concerned?”
“A little bit,” Vail said. “No one’s said anything to anyone about you specifically. But just . . . be careful.” She glanced at Dixon, then turned back to Wirth. “Ian, if we tell you something, do we have your word you won’t tell anyone? And I mean, anyone. No one.”
Wirth studied her face. His cheeks sprouted sweat. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”
“I can understand that,” Vail said. “I need you to summon those cop instincts you developed being around your father.