Crush - Alan Jacobson [122]
Dixon drove up the curving driveway and parked in the visitor’s lot. “We’re early. Let me take you the long way around, show you the view.”
As they walked along the path from the car, they came to a large circular pond with a fountain shaped like a short martini glass. Water cascaded over the edges and landed in the surrounding pool. Large, glistening, silver railroad-spike-shaped sculptures stood erect along its periphery.
“What are those things sticking up?” Vail asked.
“Hell if I know. They’re cool looking, that’s for sure.”
Beyond, the vineyard-blanketed rolling hills stretched for miles in all directions.
“Carneros,” Dixon said, holding a hand against her forehead to shield the sun. “And the Napa Valley. Off in the distance is San Francisco.”
Vail followed suit and brought up a hand as if ready to salute. “Stunning.”
Dixon tapped her on the shoulder. “The view gets better as we go up.” She led Vail up the four flights of cement stairs, which featured a trickling waterfall along its centermost rim. At the crest of the top step was a short landing and another flight of stairs. But just ahead was a cement bridge that featured an expansive pool on both sides, with water jets that shot bursts of narrow water streams at a 45 degree angle.
“Impressive,” Vail said, slowing to watch the water arc through the air.
In front of them was the winery—and their appointment with Marc Benezra. The building was completely enveloped by clumps of wild grasses, save for the glass-walled entrance and a large V-shaped windowed bay jutting out by the left side of the mound.
They walked through the doors and found a richly appointed wood entry with freestanding metal and blown-glass artwork. They moved past the gift shop into the tasting room, an irregularly shaped area sporting smooth columns and floor-to-ceiling windows. Seated at one of the small tables on the far side of the room was a dark-suited man. He rose and buttoned his coat.
They approached and introduced themselves. Benezra was a shade over six two, with horn-rimmed glasses and a sharp-featured face that was all business. “Thanks for switching our meeting place,” he said. “One of the employees here is a client I’m meeting at ten thirty, so this gave us more time to chat.”
Vail took a seat in one of the ultramodern wood and metal chairs. “No big deal. This is my first time here, and if we hadn’t met here, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the chance to see it.”
Benezra took his seat. “Quite the treat, isn’t it?”
Vail looked behind Benezra at the wall of glass and the view beyond.
“We’ve got some questions,” Dixon said. “About Isaac Jenkins and the lawsuit he and Victoria Cameron were discussing with you.”
Benezra’s face widened into a smile. “You must know I can’t talk about that without my client present.”
Dixon nodded, as if she agreed. But then she said, “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your clients are dead.”
Benezra’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly. “When? How?”
“Very recently. As to how . . . we can’t say just yet. But their deaths are being kept quiet. For now. I’m going to have to ask you to respect that.”
Benezra’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s—” He stopped, revelation relaxing his facial muscles.
Vail nodded slowly. He had just put it together. Cops coming around to ask about two clients who are suddenly dead. She figured he had realized there were suspicious circumstances surrounding their deaths. And he’d be right.
“So,” Vail said, “I’d strongly suggest you help us. That’s all I can say.” Benezra still looked stunned by the news. “I still can’t discuss anything to do with Isaac’s business. Does Todd know?” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed his phone.
Dixon placed a hand on Benezra’s. “You can’t discuss this with Mr. Nicholson.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Dixon. Remove your hand.”
Dixon kept it there. “This is a very serious matter, Mr. Benezra. Lives are at stake. This is much larger than your deceased clients.”
Benezra sucked on the inside of his cheek, then nodded and dropped the phone back