Crush

“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, you name it.”

“Corks,” Vail said. “We’ll look into it. Anything specific?”

Cameron took another drink. “Nope. I just remember her mentioning something about it. Maybe it’s significant, maybe it’s not.” He looked down at his glass. “If you don’t mind letting yourselves out, I think I’m just going to sit here and finish off these bottles.”

Lugo rose, placed a hand on his friend’s left shoulder, then led the others off the property.

THIRTY-FOUR

On the way back to the car, Dixon called Detective Eddie Agbayani in Vallejo and told him about the connection between Maryanne Bernal and the Georges Valley AVA board. Dixon, being lead investigator, made the executive decision to add him to the task force. It was something she should have done upon the discovery that Bernal was one of the Crush Killer’s victims. Vail certainly hadn’t suggested it, nor had Brix, but Vail wondered if Dixon’s relationship with Agbayani gave her pause. Still, the short delay in adding him had not had any ill effects on the investigation, and, their prior relationship notwithstanding, Agbayani appreciated the appointment.

“Are you okay with seeing Eddie regularly at the task force?”

“Hopefully, for our sake, this task force won’t be around much longer. But as to Eddie, I imagine we’ll have our awkward moments. The thing is, he’s a really good guy. I miss him. I miss the intimacy, sharing things with a life partner I can trust. No games.”

Vail chuckled, with a tinge of sarcasm. “I had a life partner once. Turns out I couldn’t trust him and he had a whole arsenal of games up his sleeve.”

“This is your ex?”

“Was my ex. Yeah.”

“But now you’ve got Robby.”

Vail smiled. “Yeah. I do. I lucked out.” A long, hard yawn stretched her jaw wide. She shook her head. “Sorry. I need something to wake me up, I feel like my blood’s gone stagnant.” She turned to look out the window. “Is there a Starbucks around?”

“You won’t find any chains around here.” Dixon turned the ignition key and the engine turned over. “We’ve got some good cafes, but enough abusing your body.” She twisted her wrist and grabbed a look at her watch. “I’ve got something better. We’re entitled to a little downtime. Instead of breakfast, let’s take an hour now.”

THEY ARRIVED AT DIXON’S GYM, a Fit1! chain that featured a vast array of free weights, ellipticals and treadmills, and Ivanko machines. No saunas or juice bars. Plenty of sweat and body odor to go around, however.

While Vail bought an inexpensive pair of shorts and a T-shirt from the front desk, Dixon signed in, paid a one-day guest fee for Vail, then handed her a towel and locker key. “We’ll do some weights, then shower. I promise, you’ll feel a whole lot better.”

Vail chuckled. “I’ll feel better just from putting on the new clothes Robby bought.” She slung the towel over her shoulder. “I was beginning to ease back into my regular workout routine after my surgery. You really think we can get in and out in an hour?”

“We’ll do what we can do. My regular routine is about two hours a day. I usually come after work. No way would I get in a full workout before a long day at work.”

Thirty cardio minutes later, sporting a reddened face and a half-drained water bottle, Vail joined Dixon in the free weights area, where Dixon was hoisting a curl bar loaded with iron discs.

“How goes it?”

Dixon puffed. “Good. Feels. Good.”

“I’m gonna run to the restroom, then do a few machines.”

“I’ll. Be. Here,” Dixon said as she strained the last rep.

Vail walked away and Dixon set down the barbell, then walked over to the shoulder press. She stacked the bar with weight on both sides, then sat on the bench. But she needed a partner to spot her. Given her irregular hours, she often did not cross paths with the same people when she was able to make it to the gym. Nevertheless, she usually found someone willing to help—and she never hesitated to return the favor.

Behind her, a lean, well-built man in a ripped tank top stood at the weight rack, large hands wrapped around thick dumbbells. He lifted them off the metal framework with a clean jerk, then proceeded to start curling.

He must have seen Dixon looking at him in the mirror, because he smiled.

Dixon grinned. A bit too much—it was her flirt smile. She stepped forward and said, “Sorry to interrupt.”

The man set the weights down on the ground with a thud. His eyes flicked behind her to the bench, then back to her. “Need help with that? A spot?”

She smiled again. She rotated her body toward the bench, then back to her new acquaintance. “Would you mind?”

He waved a hand in front of him. “Not at all.”

As he approached, her eyes widened. She liked what she saw. Raw attraction—she didn’t even know the guy.

“You a regular here?” she asked.

“Every day for the past five years. You?”

“I try to get in at night after work, but I don’t always make it.” She extended her hand. “Roxxann Dixon.”

“George.” He removed his glove and took her hand in his. “George Panda.”

Soft hands, firm handshake. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Maybe I can get you to return the favor when you’re done.”

“I’m not sure I’d be much help spotting you.” That was an understatement. Then again, he was probably flirting with her just like she was with him. “But sure, it’s a deal.”

Dixon slipped on her gloves, settled herself onto the bench, and placed her hands beneath the bar. She got a good grip, took a deep breath, and then realized she was wearing her lower cut fitness top, which, when she lifted the weight, might show significant cleavage. But as the song in The Producers says, “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

Dixon hoisted the bar and huffed and puffed as it rose and fell. Panda kept his hands at the ready, but they weren’t needed until Dixon strained for the twelfth rep, which went up slowly and with considerable groaning. She locked her elbows.

Before she could speak, Panda said, “Go one more. I’ll help.”

She lowered it slowly, then strained to raise it again. A yell escaped her throat and she arched her back. “Ahh!”

“C’mon, Roxxann,” Panda said, “you can do it. Just a little higher.” He had his hands under the bar, poised to take over if she got into danger.

She brought it up fully, her arms quivering involuntarily, and that was his cue. She gasped, “Take it!”

Panda did exactly that and settled the heavy bar into the weight cradles. She let her arms fall to her sides and stuck out her tongue for effect.

“Great job.”

She shook her arms, then swung her legs around and sat up, facing him. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He looked around, then clapped his hands together. “Tell you what—instead of spotting me, how about you let me take you to dinner?”

Dixon felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. “Wow. Uh, I’d love to,” she said before she realized she was the one speaking.