Crush - Alan Jacobson [125]
“The jewel in this ring was the position they’d get in the governor’s administration.”
Dixon nodded. “Okay.”
“So,” Vail said, “let’s back up. Nance and Fuller are concerned with my determination to go public with a serial killer on the loose in Napa. It brings in the media. More Feds. More scrutiny. And that’s clearly something they wouldn’t want because it’d jeopardize their future careers. Not to mention the nice payoffs on the side.”
Dixon slid the car into a spot outside the sheriff’s department. “There might’ve been more money on its way. Could it be the stakes were even higher than we know? Maybe Benezra’s PI only uncovered one root of the tree. This may go deeper and farther.”
“Sometimes a hammer is just a hammer, Roxxann.”
“Either way, it still doesn’t get us closer to the Crush Killer. Unless that tree is freaking huge, and we’re missing more than we realize.”
Vail got that stab in the gut again. “I think that’s what’s been bothering me.”
FORTY-SIX
The rest of the task force was still in the conference room, making phone calls and tossing around theories. Coffee cups and crumpled lumps of paper littered the table. When Vail and Dixon relayed what they had just learned, they all leaned back in their chairs to digest it.
“Just when I think we’re on the right track,” Brix said, “something gets tossed into the mix that makes us rethink everything.”
“You guys come up with anything on Superior Bottling?” Dixon asked.
“Record’s clean,” Lugo said. “None of their employees have ever had any brushes with the law. No complaints with the Better Business Bureau.” He looked down at the pad in front of him. “Chamber of Commerce thinks they’re model corporate citizens. I checked with a bunch of my winery contacts—from growers to vintners—at Oakville Winegrowers Association, Rutherford Dust Society, Stag’s Leap Wine-grower’s Association, Oak Knoll Winegrowers . . . bottom line is, no one had anything bad to say about them.”
“What you’re saying is you didn’t pick up any dirt on the grapevine,” Vail said.
Dixon smirked. “That was bad.”
“And,” Mann said, ignoring Vail’s pun, “I checked with my TTB office. No federal violations on record.”
“Fine,” Dixon said. “Then let’s focus on what’s most likely to give us something.”
“I think we should at least go there, talk with them,” Vail said. “Shake the tree.”
“I agree,” Brix said. He walked to the front of the room and dug through some papers. Pulled out a page and handed it to Dixon. “Here’s some background on César Guevara. But there’s something you gotta know. Silver Ridge uses them. So if you want me to hang back—”
“Why would you hang back?” Mann asked.
Brix put his hands on his hips. “All right, listen up. For those of you who don’t know, I’m a silent partner in Silver Ridge. My brother handles all of its business operations. I have no say in any of it—nor do I want to. For this very reason. Keeps things clean and simple. This hasn’t substantively affected Victoria Cameron’s investigation. Has it, Roxx?”
“No.”
“Anyone got any questions or concerns? Now’s the time.”
No one responded.
“Do you know anyone there?” Dixon asked.
“No, I don’t know anyone there, and no one there knows me. But they’d recognize my last name.”
Vail shook her head. “I think you should stay out of it.”
Dixon bent forward, resting both hands on the table. “But your knowledge could be useful.”
“Look,” Brix said. “I’ve got a lot going on here. Ray’s been as entrenched in the region as I’ve been. He practically grew up on a vineyard and is well versed in all aspects of wine production. Take Ray and you get the benefit of having an insider without the baggage I bring to the table.”
Dixon turned to Lugo. “How about it, Ray?”
Lugo appeared to be shrinking into his seat. “I’ve got a lot to do here, Roxx. I really should stay behind—”
“We won’t be long,” Dixon said. “It’s only a few minutes from here. C’mon.”
Dixon pulled on the door and held it open. Vail walked through and looked back to see Lugo reluctantly pulling himself from his