Crush

Wirth took the card and looked at it. Vail sensed there was more he wanted to say. “Is there something else, Ian?”

“You can’t tell me what the investigation is about, but you’re asking a lot of questions. Questions that, when I put them together with the fact that Victoria is dead, lead me to think that you believe she was murdered.”

“She had a stroke,” Dixon said.

Wirth pursed his lips and nodded. Kept his gaze on the card. “My father was a cop, did you know that?”

Dixon and Vail shared a look. Vail had a feeling she knew where this was going. We may have to come clean with this guy. He sees through this. And if we can convince him it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep it quiet, it might be better than if he were to talk to others about his assumptions . . . or worse yet, start investigating her death himself.

“If the cause of death was not a stroke,” Vail said carefully, “would that change what you’ve told us?”

“No,” Wirth said. “See, I grew up with a father who was a cop, then a detective. In Sacramento. I spent a lot of time with him, I learned how he thought, how he saw people. How he saw the world.” He looked at Vail. “I know to be straight with cops when they come asking questions.”

“Good,” Dixon said. “That’s always best.” She tapped her card with a finger. “Call me if you think of anything else that may be related to Victoria’s stroke.”

They stood from their chairs. “But if you have a theory on Victoria’s death,” Vail said, “I think it’d be best for all concerned if you kept it to yourself.” She looked hard into his eyes.

“You were never here,” Wirth said.

Vail nodded, shook his hand, and left with Dixon.

FORTY-ONE

“Was that smart?” Dixon asked as she pulled out of his driveway.

“A guy like that, if we confide in him, he may confide in us. He understands what we’re trying to accomplish. He may not be a LEO, but he grew up with one. I think he’s an ally. We may now have a set of eyes in the enemy camp.”

As Dixon headed down 29, Vail coordinated dinner plans with Robby. Dixon dropped her at Bistro Jeanty, advertised as “serving classic French haute cuisine” in Yountville, a pleasant town just off the main drag. With art galleries, gift shops, specialty restaurants, bed-and-breakfasts and modest homes, the area was its own little haven sporting an eclectic mix of young newlyweds and middle-aged empty nesters on a weekend getaway.

Vail settled down at a table with her back against the wall, facing the entrance of the restaurant. The place was still busy, despite the late hour. A few moments later, Robby appeared in the front door. His eyes scanned the tables, found Vail, and his face broadened into a wide smile.

He swung his hips through the narrow spaces between tables. He was wearing a long leather jacket, which, once he reached Vail, was slipped off his shoulders by a hostess who offered to hang it for him nearby.

Vail and Robby embraced and he gave her a kiss. His lips were warm.

“When did you get that jacket?”

“When I got us a new wardrobe, at the outlets. I saw it and said, what the hell, I’m on vacation.” He settled into the chair and spread the white napkin across his lap. “This place okay?”

“Looks great.”

They gave the waitress their dinner choices, then ordered wine—Whitehall Lane Cabernet for Vail and Rombauer Fiddletown Zinfandel for Robby.

After the woman collected the menus, Vail reached across the table and took Robby’s hand. “So what’d you do today?”

“What I’ve been doing every day. Visit a winery, taste, have lunch, drive down the road and taste some more. Today I went into Healdsburg. Beautiful drive.” He stopped and looked into her eyes. “Wish I was doing all this with you. I feel bad you’re stuck working.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m just doing my thing, trying to find another killer.” She looked down at the table. “Except . . . I’m not—this one is different. I just can’t get a handle on him. This offender is . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right. It’s beginning to really bother me.”

She recapped what they knew, and what they had learned about the potential monetary motives. As she finished, the wine glasses were set down in front of them. Robby took a drink from his Rombauer Zin, then nodded his approval. “This is really, really good. Try it.”

Vail took the glass from him, swirled it, then sniffed. “Pleasing nose. Berry jam, I think.” She tasted it, letting it drift over her tongue. Her eyes widened. “Yes, very good.” She thought a moment, then said, “I’d describe it as fruit forward with sweet blackberries. And currants, too.” She handed the glass back to him. “That’s fabulous.”

Robby eyed her. “For someone who’s missed out on a vacation of wine tasting, you seem to have the lingo down.”

“I squeezed in some tasting here and there with Roxxann. While we were out investigating, of course.”

Robby grinned. “Of course.”

Their server, accompanied by an assistant, slid their dinner plates in front of them. “Is there anything else we can get for you?”

“We’re fine,” Robby said. “Thanks.” After the servers turned and left, Robby cut into his cote de porc—pork chop with caramelized onion sauce. “So, this case. Seems to me you’re still missing some information. Maybe you need to dig a little more. Maybe one of the victims that doesn’t seem to be connected to the AVA board is, in fact, connected somehow. A silent partner, someone pulling the strings behind the scenes.” He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. “Bottom line is, don’t press. You may not be as far from the answers as you think. When you find the missing information, things will quickly fall into place.”

Vail looked down at her wild mushroom pasta. “That’s always the case, though, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “This just feels different. I can’t put a finger on it.” Vail stuck her fork into the pasta and twirled it. “I’d better figure it out soon. Gifford’s sending me home tomorrow night.”

Robby sat back in mid-chew. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I—I guess I forgot. I’ve been kind of busy.”

“What are you going to do?”

Vail shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far. But just because he says I have to leave doesn’t mean I have to. We still have some vacation left.”

“Karen, be honest with yourself. If you’re still here, do you really think you can divorce yourself from this investigation and go driving around wine tasting and sightseeing with me?”

Vail chewed her food and swallowed before answering. In a low voice, she said, “No.”

Robby winked at her, then cut another slice of meat.

THE WAITRESS BROUGHT dessert menus and set them on the table. Robby caught her before she left. “I think we’re going to get something to go.”

“We are?” Vail said.

Robby nodded. “Yes, we are.” To the waitress, he said, “We’ll have the Montbriac. And the check.”

Vail looked at the menu for an explanation: Creamy bleu cheese from the Auvergne region, served with a sundried fruit compote.

Robby handed the waitress his credit card. “Okay?” he asked Vail as the waitress collected the menus.

“Yeah, sure.”

Robby leaned forward and took her hand. “Do you trust me?”

Vail’s body tingled at the warmth of his touch. “Always.”

FORTY-TWO

Robby stopped at the door to their room. Key in hand, he turned and said, “Wait here.”

“Wait? For what?”

“You said you trusted me.”

“I do.”