Crush - Alan Jacobson [90]
Vail crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair. “Why would some vintners be opposed to that?”
Cameron tipped the glass and drank. He licked his lips, then said, “Because Georges Valley is a premium brand, with a well-established quality and cachet associated with it. The fear is new wineries could come into the region and turn out low-priced, high-volume production wines. They couldn’t possibly get the yield they want from Georges Valley, so they would have to buy cheaper grapes from Contra Costa County, the Central Valley, and Livermore. They could then call their wine Georges Valley Reserve. But there wouldn’t be any Georges Valley grapes in it.”
“I haven’t heard anything about this,” Dixon said.
Lugo shook his head. “Me either.”
Cameron forced a smile. “Bad publicity. We keep it under wraps, but it’s gotten pretty contentious at times.”
“We’ll need the names of the players,” Dixon said. “All the board members.”
Cameron sat back. “I don’t think it gets that heated, that anyone would want to kill over it.”
“It’s business,” Vail said. “Business is money. Big money, is my guess. And people kill over money all the time.” But serial killers don’t kill over money, and they kill strangers, not people they work with on local boards. So this still doesn’t fit.
“I’ll have a list faxed over to your office,” Cameron said.
Dixon took the last sip, then set down her empty glass. “Who sits on the AVA board? What type of people?”
Cameron poured more wine for himself, then offered it around the table. But the cops had had enough. “Just about all are winery executives. The president’s position rotates every three years.”
“Do all AVA boards operate this way?” Dixon asked.
“They all vary in how they work. Georges Valley is different than most, I think.”
Vail was suddenly lost in thought, sifting through something her brain was trying to tell her. What was it? AVAs ... winery executives . . . she had seen something somewhere . . . Vallejo. Maryanne Bernal was a winery executive sitting on a nonprofit board. She would have to check to see which one.
“Did you know Maryanne Bernal?” Vail asked.
Cameron looked at Vail. “Yeah, she was a friend of Victoria’s. She was killed about three—” Cameron stopped himself. “You don’t think the two are related—”
Vail pursed her lips. “Can’t say, Kevin. Maybe, maybe not. But we’ll check it out. Maryanne was on a nonprofit board. Do you know which one it was?”
“Yeah, the AVA board.”
“Was she still on the board at the time of her death?”
“No, her time on the board went back a couple years before that, I think.”
Vail looked away. She had hoped Bernal was an active board member—that might have helped provide a needed link. Still, it was worth looking into. Victoria was on the board and she was killed. Maryanne Bernal was on the board a couple years earlier and she was killed.
“Connection?” Dixon asked.
Lugo started bouncing his knee. “What about the Black Knoll vic? Ursula Robbins. Was she on the board?”
Cameron looked off into the vineyard, as if it’d hold the answer. “Not sure. Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“We’ll check it out,” Dixon said. “Ray, you backgrounded her.”
Lugo nodded. “I don’t remember anything about her being on the board. But the winery she headed up is in Georges Valley. I’ll look into it.”
Cameron took a long drink. His cheeks were now flushed and his pupils were slightly dilated. Vail and Dixon shared a look.
“While you’re checking that out,” Cameron said, “there was something Victoria was working on. Something about corking. There was a lot of discussion about it.”
“Corking?” Vail asked. “Like in corking wine bottles?”
“One thing this AVA does, which is unusual, is that they pool their resources. Normally the member wineries are friendly competitors. But they realized a few years ago that if they work together to negotiate deals with third parties, they could get significantly better prices. Power in numbers. Get two dozen wineries together, you’ve suddenly got pricing power when bottling, buying corks, labels, barrels,