Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(22)

“Interesting. Is he really out of town?”

“We’re getting sloppy. After what we learned about texting and cells, we should’ve had a tracer put on his line before I made that call.”

“But we’ve still got these little problems called ‘probable cause’ and ‘a warrant.’”

Vail shook her head and looked off at the countryside, which had once again transformed into the Napa Valley she had come to know: plots of well-tended vineyards merging with rolling hills and mountains in the distance. Wineries on both sides of the road.

Vail’s phone buzzed again. “Ian Wirth. Returning my call.”

“Maybe we’ll get some answers about Herndon.”

Vail brought the handset to her ear. “Ian, this is Karen Vail. We . . . yes, we saw the news. And yes, that’s the guy. So you can rest a little easier now. But what I called you about was information . . . No, a related case. Are you available to meet for a bit?” Vail rotated the phone away from her mouth and faced Dixon. “Taylor’s? Know where it is?”

“Tell him we can be there in twenty-ish.”

Vail relayed the info, thanked him, then hung up.

“Taylor’s is a straight shot down 29, in St. Helena,” Dixon said. “Owner renovated an old, dilapidated hamburger stand and started serving Ahi and halibut burgers. And, of course, for the health challenged, good old artery-clogging red meat and mouth-watering shakes.”

“Sounds like a place I should visit before I leave town.” Which isn’t that far off now. The mere thought made her curl her fingers into a fist. “Are we wasting our time with this, Roxx? I mean, I’ve gotta find Robby. And it’s down to hours now.”

“It’s not down to hours, not while I’m on the case. I’ll keep working it. Remember, I used to be a detective. I know how to do this shit.”

Vail tried to smile, but the thought of leaving town before finding answers brought tears to her eyes. She turned toward the window and let her forehead rest against the glass.





14


Taylor’s Automatic Refresher was as Dixon had described it. A half dozen red picnic tables were arranged in front of the hamburger joint, where a long line of customers stood staring at the menu or chatting among themselves.

Dixon parked and found Ian Wirth near the front of the line. They ordered, then grabbed a table.

Wirth set down his glass of iced tea. “So you found the killer. The guy who murdered Victoria Cameron, Isaac Jenkins—”

“John Mayfield,” Vail said. “The Crush Killer. Now you see why we couldn’t be straight with you about what was going on.” Vail and Dixon had told Wirth the causes of death had been strokes, but Wirth’s father had been a cop, so he was wise to their subterfuge. They admitted there was more to what was going on, and advised him to be careful.

“The victims’ names haven’t been released yet,” Dixon said, “so keep that info to yourself till we can deal with the families.”

“Of course.” He tilted his head. “But you didn’t ask me to lunch to talk about John Mayfield.”

“No,” Dixon said. “We need some information on setting up a winery.”

Wirth glanced from Dixon to Vail. “You two thinking of going into business?”

Dixon laughed. “No. And I can’t say any more because—”

“Because it’s an ongoing investigation,” Wirth said. “Why do I get the feeling this Crush Killer thing isn’t quite over?”

Vail sighed. “You know we can’t say any more. But as to Investigator Dixon’s question . . . ”

“Obviously I know a fair amount about it. What’d you want to know?”

Their food was ready: Ahi tuna burger, rare, with ginger wasabi mayo for Dixon; Wisconsin sourdough burger, with bacon, mushrooms, and cheddar for Vail; marinated grilled mahi mahi in corn tortillas for Wirth.

And a double rainbow chocolate shake for Vail. Hell with the calories. I need the chocolate. No, I need Robby. The chocolate will have to do for now.

Dixon lifted the bun and examined her burger, seemed pleased, and continued. “Ever hear of a start-up, Herndon Vineyards?”

Wirth held his tortilla with both hands. “No. Should I?”

“Not necessarily,” Vail said. “But it would’ve made our jobs a little easier. So here’s the deal. We want to find the owners of this start-up. They’re supposedly due to release their first wine in a couple years. Wouldn’t they have to file paperwork to get approval to operate a winery?”

“Your easiest call might be to the valley appellation organization, in this case the Napa Valley Vintners, who regularly announce new winery members. That’s assuming that this new winery decided to join the organization. It’s not mandatory. So if you hit a goose egg there, you have to go the more bureaucratic route. Operating a winery is regulated by the TTB, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau. For some reason, it’s part of the Treasury Department. As you can imagine, it’s the government, so there’s a ton of paperwork to fill out and regulations to follow.” He leaned back a bit and looked at Vail. “No offense.” Wirth bit into his tortilla.

“None taken.”

“Herndon Vineyards,” Wirth said, “would have to go through the federal application process.”