“You sure we’re going to need that?” Vail asked. “We’re not talking about protected information.”
“Not personally. But it’s proprietary information important to Silver Ridge’s business. A place like this is going to want to protect its guest list. Eventually, they’d turn it over. But this makes it a whole lot faster and easier.”
As they got out of the car, Vail sighed and shook her head. “This is where my vacation started. And ended.”
“How so?”
“We were first on the scene, so to speak. We were on the tour and pairings dinner.”
“How’d you score a Silver Ridge tour? Pretty exclusive. And expensive.”
“It’s both. Robby’s got a friend here who’s got connections.”
“Nice friend to have.”
They took the warrant into the main building, walked through the large, windowed tasting room with low- hanging fiber-optic lights, and asked for the administration office. After Dixon badged the secretary, they were handed off to the wine sales manager.
A tall woman with chic black-rimmed glasses, she leaned back in her chair and appraised Vail and Dixon.
“I take it you’re not here to join our wine club.”
Vail glanced at the placard on the woman’s desk. “Thanks, Catherine. Perhaps another time. We would, however, like a copy of your guest list, specifically those people who’ve purchased tickets for wine cave tours or the wine-pairing dinners during the past five years.”
Catherine removed her glasses and studied Vail’s face. “You were here the other night, when Miguel found —”
“The dead body, yes,” Vail said. “I don’t know why, but wherever I go, violence seems to follow me. Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself.”
Catherine gave her a look Vail took to be somewhat hostile.
“So,” Dixon said. “Your guest list. We’ll also need a list of all your employees going back ten years.”
Catherine thinned her lips into a tense smile. “That’s not going to happen. I’m sure our customers don’t want their names ending up in some police file associated with a murder investigation—”
“I thought you might say that,” Dixon said. “So I had this prepared. Just for you.” Dixon grinned politely, then handed over the warrant as if it was a gift certificate.
But, of course, it wasn’t. The woman perused the document, then gave Dixon the same look she’d previously reserved for Vail. It didn’t look any better the second time around.
Catherine leaned forward, pressed two buttons on her phone, then lifted the receiver. “I need you to do something for me.” She proceeded to give the person instructions on what to print and where to find it. She tossed the warrant back at Dixon, who fumbled it before getting it in her grasp. To Dixon’s credit, she merely refolded the document and placed it on the desk. “No, no,” she said. “This is yours, for you to keep. Our gift to you.”
“Thanks so much for your cooperation,” Vail said. “It’s people like you that make our job just a tad bit tougher.”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, lists in hand, they started back toward their car. Vail shoved the paperwork in her purse, then stopped as they passed through the tasting room. She went over to a sommelier who was handing a customer his just-purchased case of wine.
“Would you like a tasting?” the man asked.
“I’d love one,” Vail said.
Dixon joined her at the counter and gave her a questioning look.
The sommelier—whose name tag read Claude, turned to the wall of wine bottles behind him. Vail leaned closer to Dixon. “Go with me on this,” she said.
“Oh,” Claude said, now facing them. “I’m sorry, will that be two tastings?”
“Just the one,” Vail said. “My partner doesn’t drink.”
Dixon cleared her throat.
Claude lifted a bottle and cradled it in two hands so they could view the label. “I’m starting you off with our Pinot Noir, from our vineyard in the Carneros region.”
Claude poured it. Vail lifted the glass to her lips.
“No, no,” Dixon said. “I may not drink,” she said, eyeing Vail with a sharp look, “but I sure know how to taste wine.” She took the glass from Vail, placed it on the countertop, then swirled it rapidly. The red liquid shot centrifugally around the edges before coming to rest. “Aerates it,” Dixon said. “Releases the nose.” She handed the glass back to Vail.
“The nose?” Vail asked.
“The scent,” Claude said.
Come to think of it, Claude’s nose was a bit outstanding as well. Large and bulbous.
Vail took a sip. It slid across her tongue and down her throat effortlessly. “Very nice. Strawberries and . . . peach?”
“Yes, yes,” the man said. “Very good.”
Vail flared her nostrils. “A big, broad nose, too.”
Dixon rolled her eyes.
“Go ahead and take another sip. This time let it flow over the palate, see how the taste buds on different areas of your tongue pick up different flavors.”
Vail brought the glass to her mouth. Stopped, sniffed the wine. “So tell me a little about the winery,” Vail said. “Who owns it?”
“Oh,” Claude said, his face brightening. “It’s owned by two brothers and their sister, but Gray is the main one. He’s here every day—in fact, he was in here not five minutes before you came in.”
“Does Gray have a last name?”
“He’s always gone by Gray, or Grayson. He’s very friendly with all the staff. Good man, I’ve known him about eleven years now.”
Vail lifted the glass again to her lips. “Good to know. And Grayson’s last name?” She tilted the glass and took a mouthful, as Claude instructed. Concentrated on tasting it—couldn’t really see a difference—then swallowed.
“Oh, sorry,” Claude said. “Brix. Grayson Brix.”
Vail started coughing. Violent hacking, struggling to take a breath. She put her hand out and grabbed the counter, then bent forward to steady herself as she fought to keep her throat from closing from the burn of alcohol.
Dixon took the wineglass from her, then said to the sommelier, “Did you say Grayson
“Is there a problem?” Claude asked.
Vail cleared her throat. In a raspy voice, she asked, “Any relation to Redmond Brix?”
“Anilise is their sister. Redd is the other brother, the silent partner. He’s also a lieutenant at the Napa County Sheriff’s Department—”
“Yeah, we got that part,” Vail said. She turned to Dixon and, still trying to get the burning edge off her throat, said, “I think we’d better get back.”
They turned and started to leave. Claude called after them. “The tasting fee is ten dollars—”
“Yeah, about that,” Vail said as she neared the doorway. “Tell
THEY WALKED IN SILENCE to the car. Vail’s hands were clenched and she was walking briskly through the parking lot.
As they approached the vehicle, Dixon said, “Well that’s kind of disturbing.”
“How could he keep that from us? He’s a cop, doesn’t he realize he has an obligation to be straight with us?”
