No one responded.
“Do you know anyone there?” Dixon asked.
“No, I don’t know anyone there, and no one there knows me. But they’d recognize my last name.”
Vail shook her head. “I think you should stay out of it.”
Dixon bent forward, resting both hands on the table. “But your knowledge could be useful.”
“Look,” Brix said. “I’ve got a lot going on here. Ray’s been as entrenched in the region as I’ve been. He practically grew up on a vineyard and is well versed in all aspects of wine production. Take Ray and you get the benefit of having an insider without the baggage I bring to the table.”
Dixon turned to Lugo. “How about it, Ray?”
Lugo appeared to be shrinking into his seat. “I’ve got a lot to do here, Roxx. I really should stay behind —”
“We won’t be long,” Dixon said. “It’s only a few minutes from here. C’mon.”
Dixon pulled on the door and held it open. Vail walked through and looked back to see Lugo reluctantly pulling himself from his chair.
SUPERIOR MOBILE BOTTLING operated out of a large warehouse in an industrial area of American Canyon, a few miles south of the sheriff’s department. Vail and Dixon left Lugo in the car and walked up to the concrete tilt-up building that featured an oversize gold crest above its entrance, emblazoned with a large seriffed S in the middle, sandwiched between a smaller M and B.
Dixon had decided on a straightforward, direct approach. If Guevara ducked them, they would leave and Lugo would then come in under the guise of a vintner inquiring about their bottling services and fee structure.
Dixon pulled open the glass door and stepped into a small, well-appointed reception room. Tastefully decorated with high-resolution photos of grapes on the vine, it also included industry-specific pictures of buffed stainless steel machinery involved in the various production steps of mobile bottling.
A woman with platinum hair and a face that had seen its share of facelifts walked in through a side door. “I’m Sandra. How can I help you?”
“Roxxann Dixon, Napa County District Attorney’s office. This is my associate, Karen Vail. Is Cesar Guevara available for a brief chat?”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“We were in the neighborhood and were hoping he could help us with a case we’re working on.”
“I’ll go see if Mr. Guevara can meet with you. He was out back doing some maintenance on one of the trailers—”
“Perfect,” Dixon said. “We’ll just go on back ourselves. If he’s in the middle of something mechanical, I’d rather not drag him away from his work. We just have a couple background questions. Around the side of the building?”
Sandra seemed a bit flustered. “I—yes, but I really should—”
“Thanks,” Dixon said.
Vail was already through the door and signaling Lugo with a tilt of her head. Lugo slowly climbed out of the car and joined them as they walked down the asphalt roadway that abutted the long building.
Lugo slowed his pace. “Why don’t I wait out here, have a look around the periphery?”
“We can look around after if we want,” Dixon said, motioning him along. “I think you’d be more valuable with us.”
“Or, I could talk with the front office personnel while you’re in with Guevara. Sometimes they’ll give you more than the main guy.”
“We met her,” Vail said. “I didn’t get the sense she knew anything important.” She gave Lugo a playful shove with her forearm. “You okay?”
Lugo swiveled to look over his shoulder. “Fine.”
“They probably park the rigs indoors,” Dixon said. “With the cost of that equipment, I’d imagine they don’t take any chances with someone hauling off their trailers.”
They walked briskly. Vail was sure Sandra had, by now, notified Guevara of their presence. Whether that mattered or not, she wasn’t sure. It depended on whether Superior had done anything wrong. And all indications were they had not—other than being at the center of a contentious political squabble among business partners.
Dixon, a stride ahead, turned back to Vail and Lugo. “Security cameras.” She indicated small surveillance devices mounted atop steel poles at various points in the lot. They were all aimed at the building.
A few feet ahead was a gray rollup garage door. It was in the up position, revealing three highly polished full-size semis parked alongside one another.
They walked in. A radio was playing music with a Latin beat. Vail knelt down and looked beneath the rigs. She saw two sets of feet a dozen yards away, one male and the other female.
Vail motioned to the others that Guevara was ahead, between the farthest two trailers. They turned left down the aisle between the trucks and saw a man of medium build, strong jaw and prominent forehead. He had a red flannel shirt on with the sleeves rolled up.
He turned to face them as they approached. Vail led the way, followed single file by Dixon and Lugo.
“Mr. Guevara?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Karen Vail.” She held up her credentials. Dixon moved alongside Vail and displayed her badge, then thumbed the area behind her. “And this is Sergeant Ray Lugo, St. Helena PD.”
Guevara had a blue rag in his hands. His eyes narrowed as he moved his head to the side to see Lugo. “Is there a problem?” Guevara asked.
“We just have some questions,” Vail said. “We’re hoping you can shed some light on a few things for us.”
Guevara spread his hands. “Ask away.” His eye caught Lugo, and his gaze lingered there.
Vail turned to face Lugo, then swiveled back to Guevara.
“Why don’t you tell us about your company.”
Guevara stole a look at his watch. “Superior is the leading mobile bottling company in California. We bottle mostly in the Napa Valley, Sonoma, Healdsburg, and Mendocino, but if the price is right, we’ll also do Contra Costa and El Dorado Counties. We’ve got eight rigs, all state of the art. Nobody comes close to the services we offer, the quality of work we do. And no one can match our prices. Simply put, we’re the best.”
Vail added it up. There’s a lot of money tied up in those trailers.
“Now, what did you really come here to ask?”
Dixon lifted her chin. “We’ve been talking with the board of directors for the Georges Valley AVA. We know about the disagreement over renewing your contract. How has your relationship been with the board?”
Guevara’s eyes flicked over to an area behind them. To Lugo. His gaze returned to Dixon and he shrugged. “No problems. We show up, we bottle, box, and offload. Bottle, box, offload. Same every year. They have lots of wineries. We work good with all of ’em.”
“Any problems with any of the board members?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m thinking, like, Victoria Cameron?”
Guevara rubbed his hands on the rag. “No. No problems.”
“She was pretty much against you getting your contract renewed,” Vail said. “You’ve got a lot of money invested in your equipment. Be a tough loss, a financial hardship, if she got her way. Any idea why she was so determined not to renew the contract?”
“I don’t get involved in that stuff. That’s their business. My business is bottling.”
“Where were you last Friday, around six?” Vail asked.
“Here, cleaning the corking machine.”
“How late did you stay?”
