“Up the stairs. Crystal’s waiting for us.”
They walked into Crystal Dahlia’s all-glass office and dispensed with the pleasantries. Crystal grinned. “And how’s your friend. Agent Vail?”
“Back in Virginia.”
“Did she enjoy her stay out west?”
Dixon and Brix shared a knowing look. Dixon said, “Not particularly.”
“Oh,” Crystal said, her smile fading. “I’m sorry.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Dixon said. “Circumstances beyond our control.”
“So how is Silver Ridge, Lieutenant Brix?”
Brix threw out both hands, palms up. “Who can complain? The economy sucks, sales are down a bit. But the wine is great. I’m told this will probably be a good year for the grapes if the weather goes as expected.”
“I’m told the same thing.”
“If you don’t mind,” Dixon said. “We’ve got some pressing business. No pun intended.” She waited a beat, then said, “Your board—the Georges Valley AVA.”
“I told you, my presidency is almost over.”
“Yes,” Dixon said. “But we need some information about Superior Mobile Bottling. César Guevara, in particular.”
Crystal placed well-manicured red nails on her desk. “Our contracts VP has dealt with him more than I have.”
“That’s Ian Wirth?”
“Good memory. If you wait a few minutes, Ian will be here if you’d like to talk with him. I’m due to hand over my file as part of the transition to the new president.”
Dixon checked her watch yet again. “A few minutes?”
“Any minute now.” Crystal picked up her phone and dialed an extension. “When Mr. Wirth arrives, please send him up to my office . . . He has? Excellent.” She placed the receiver back in its cradle. “Ian just came in the front doors.”
A moment later, Wirth was in Crystal’s office, taking a seat beside Dixon.
“Ian, good to see you,” Crystal said, eyeing him with a lingering gaze.
The look was not lost on Dixon, who recalled that Crystal was Wirth’s ex-wife.
“Ms. Dixon, good to see you again,” Wirth said. He held out a hand to Brix. “Ian Wirth.”
“Redmond Brix.” He stood and shook firmly, then retook his seat. “Good that you’re here. We’ve got some questions and Crystal thought you might be able to help us out. We know you were your board’s primary negotiator in its dealings with Superior Mobile Bottling. But how much did you interact with César Guevara?”
Wirth smirked. “Quite a lot. I negotiated our last contract with him and had ongoing discussions with him about its potential renewal.”
“And was he aware that you were one of the three on the board who was against him getting this contract?”
Wirth leaned back in his seat. “If he was, he never let me know it. And I played my cards close to the vest. Besides, I was speaking and negotiating for the entire membership, not me, or Victoria, or Todd.”
“I know you’re aware that the two others who opposed this contract are dead.”
“Hold it a second.” This from Crystal, who was suddenly paying attention. “What are you saying?”
“Victoria Cameron and Isaac Jenkins were the victims of a serial killer,” Brix said.
“I heard something on the news—”
Brix held up a hand to quash Crystal’s panic before it could work itself into a frazzle. “He’s been caught, and he’s no longer a threat.”
“Yes, that’s what they said.” Crystal’s gaze shot from Brix to Dixon, and back. “But I thought Victoria had a stroke.”
“We didn’t want word getting out until we had things under control,” Brix said. “The victims’ names still haven’t been released, so I’d appreciate if you’d keep that to yourselves until we’ve had a chance to meet with the families.”
Dixon said to Wirth, “Did you ever have any indication that Superior was engaged in anything other than legal activities?”
Wirth’s chin jutted back. “No. Should I have? I mean, our business with him was strictly related to bottling, and nothing else.”
Dixon placed a hand on his forearm. “Ian, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this. We’re not accusing you of anything. Like I said at lunch, we’re still investigating something that may or may not be related to John Mayfield.”
Wirth’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Brix asked, “Was there ever a time when Superior closed down for annual maintenance?”
“Annual maintenance. You mean on his rigs?”
“On anything,” Dixon said.
Wirth thought a moment. “Nothing I’m aware of. But our business with them is seasonal, so it’s conceivable he went off line. I’d have no idea.” Wirth sucked on his top lip. “But he did periodically make trips out of the country. There were a couple times when our appointments got rescheduled because he had to leave unexpectedly for a week or ten days at a time.”
Dixon said, “So there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for him being gone.”
“Maybe,” Brix said in a low voice. “I’m not so sure.”
A thought wormed its way into Dixon’s head, but she didn’t want to discuss it until she and Brix were in private.
“Is there anything else you can tell us about Guevara?” Brix asked.
Wirth did not hesitate. “He’s a shrewd businessman. He understands his product and what it saves his customers. At the same time, he does what it takes to get our business. And I have to admit, even though I was resisting the renewal of his contract, it wasn’t because they didn’t do a fine job. There were other forces at play.”
Dixon smirked. There were, indeed, other forces at play—more than Ian Wirth knew. “Has he ever been to your home, know where you live?”
“No, why?”
“So he wouldn’t have a need for your home address.”
Wirth eyed her cautiously. “No.”
Dixon slipped a hand inside her pocket and pulled out Robby’s photo. “Ever seen this man?”
Wirth studied the picture, then shook his head. “Should I have?”
Dixon tucked away the photo. “I honestly don’t think so.” She rose and extended a hand to Crystal. “Once again, Ms. Dahlia, a pleasure. Thanks for all your help. “Ian, thank you. We’ll call you if we have any other questions.”
She hurried out of the winery, anxious to share her thoughts with Brix.
AS SOON AS DIXON hit the front door, she said, “Add it up, Redd.”
Brix glanced back over his shoulder at the glass structure embedded in the mountainside. “Already have. Guevara’s involved with a drug cartel. He owns several rigs that can easily be attached to large trailers and used for long haul transport.”
“I think we’ve got enough for a search warrant.”
“If we get the right judge. Let’s work on it, see how far we can get. Whether Guevara’s there or not, it’ll get us in the front door so we can take a closer look around.”
“If we’re going to find Robby, I don’t think that’ll help us. We need Guevara. And we need to find him without going down the usual roads because I doubt they’ll lead anywhere. APBs and subpoenas on his credit card transactions will be useless. He’s too sophisticated for that. But somehow we need to find out what he knows.”
Brix sighed. “You know what my brother would say?”
Dixon shrugged.
“He’d say, ‘Good luck with that.’”
“Yeah,” Dixon said. “But here’s the thing. Luck hasn’t once factored into this investigation. I don’t think it’s something we can count on.”