Crush

Guevara looked ceilingward. “About eight, I think.”

“Anyone else here with you?” Vail asked.

“Sandra left at five. I don’t know if anyone else was around. I’ll have to check.”

Not the kind of answer we like to hear. “Was there anyone here that you saw? Anyone who was scheduled to work?”

Guevara locked eyes with Vail. His jaw muscles tightened. “I’d have to check.”

“You have to check if you saw anyone? Either you did or you didn’t.”

“I don’t remember.”

This guy is beginning to piss me off. “Who sets the schedule for your employees?”

Guevara folded his arms across his chest. “Why is that important?”

“It’s important because I asked the question.”

Another firm stare from Guevara.

“Ray,” Dixon said. “How about you go have a chat with Sandra up front and see what she knows?”

“Do you have a warrant?” Guevara asked.

“For what?” Dixon said. “To ask questions?”

Guevara tossed the rag on the floor. “I don’t know. It sounds like you think we’ve done something wrong.”

Dixon shrugged. “We’re conducting an investigation, Mr. Guevara. Right now we don’t have reason to think anyone at Superior has done anything wrong. But you’re being evasive in your answers, and that does make us suspicious. Like you’re trying to hide something.”

Guevara spread his arms. “I got nothing to hide. I don’t remember seeing anyone here with me. But it’s a short list of people who might’ve been here. I promise you I’ll look into what you asked and call you back with the answers. Good?”

Not really. But it’s apparently the best we can get right now.

“What about Monday? Where were you from noon till four o’clock?”

“I’ll check that, too.”

“And Wednesday, around six?”

“I’ll have to get back to you.”

“When was the last time you were in Vallejo?” Vail asked.

Guevara shrugged. “I drive through there once a week.”

“Know anyone there, any family?”

“There’s a supplier we use there. Other than that and the freeway, I’ve got no reason to go there.”

Vail took a flier, played a hunch. “Mr. Guevara, is your mother still alive?”

Guevara’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want with my mother?”

Vail shoved her hands in her back pockets. “Just a question.”

“I can’t see how she’s got anything to do with this conversation.”

“That’d be kind of hard for you to judge, though, since you don’t know why I’m asking. Wouldn’t you think?”

“My mother has nothing to do with me, my business, or my family. Next question.”

Interesting.

Dixon dug into her pocket. “I’d appreciate if you get that other information for us later today or tomorrow.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I have something to tell you.”

Dixon handed over her card. Vail watched Guevara take it, then took special notice as his eyes flicked back over to Lugo. The look said he wasn’t happy. Whatever was going on with Lugo, they would soon find out.

UPON LEAVING, Vail suggested they grab lunch while they could, since once they returned to the sheriff’s department, they would likely get sidetracked with work. Dixon recommended Azzurro Pizzeria on Main Street in downtown Napa, a fifteen-minute drive from Superior Mobile Bottling.

“Best pizza I’ve had in a long time,” Dixon said. “The flavors burst all over your tongue.”

Vail laughed. “Burst all over your tongue?”

Dixon unfolded the menu. “You’ll see. My fave’s the Verde. Spinach, garlic, chilies, and ricotta. If you like mushrooms, the Funghi is absolutely killer.” She looked up at Vail. “Sorry. You’ve got me doing it now.”

Lugo was quiet while they consulted the menu and then ordered. The waitress brought their iced teas and then moved off. Vail and Dixon made idle chitchat about the area, including their favorite pizza restaurants they’d eaten in across the country.

Finally, with Vail itching to address what was on her mind—it was bothering her like a piece of food stuck between her teeth—she turned to Lugo. “Ray,” Vail said nonchalantly, “do you have a history with Cesar Guevara?”

Lugo looked up, as if suddenly realizing others were at the table with him. “A history?”

“Do you know him?”

“Why are you asking?” Dixon asked.

Vail had to tread carefully. She had a knack for alienating people, and Lugo was a good guy and well liked. She didn’t want to start something that would undoubtedly leave a bad taste with everyone on the task force. Clearly, Dixon had not picked up on the silent interplay between the two men. Did I imagine it? She tore open a packet of Splenda and dumped it in her glass. “I just thought I noticed Guevara giving him some strange looks.”

Lugo took a drink from his iced tea. “Really?”

He’s not making this easy. Careful . . . “So you didn’t notice him giving you looks, like he was pissed at you or something?”

Lugo pursed his lips and shook his head. “No.”

“So you don’t know him then.”

Lugo bobbed his head. “Sort of yes, sort of no. We worked the vineyards as migrant workers back when we were teenagers. But we weren’t friends or anything.”

“Have you seen him lately? Run into him somewhere, grab a beer?”

“I haven’t talked to him in twenty years.”

Nowhere to go with that answer. He’s either telling the truth or he’s a good liar. Regardless, without causing hard feelings, Vail had to drop it here. But the more she thought about it, the stronger her sense that there was something going on between the two men. If Superior Mobile Bottling and/or Cesar Guevara continued to remain under suspicion, she would have to convince Dixon to take the next step: check out their colleague’s story. Get his phone LUDs and see if any of Guevara’s contact numbers showed up.

Their pizzas came and Vail acknowledged the “bursting flavors.” If there was one thing about this trip she found enjoyable—other than her limited time with Robby—it was the food. She even had to admit to Dixon that the Funghi pizza was “killer.”

Now if she could just find the real killer—the Crush Killer—she’d be happy.

FORTY-SEVEN

When Vail, Dixon, and Lugo returned to the conference room, all of the task force members were present except for Burt Gordon, who had left to follow up a lead. Brix finished a phone call, then riffled through a short stack of papers, removed a document, and brought it over to Dixon.

“The board list you got from Crystal Dahlia. We should divide up the names, start running backgrounders on them.”

Vail rubbed at a kink in her neck. “Actually, if now’s a good time, we’ve got some stuff to go over with the group.”

Brix glanced around. No one was on a call, so he stood and said, “I need everyone’s attention.” He nodded to Vail.

“We just paid a visit to Cesar Guevara, the principal at Superior Mobile Bottling. We didn’t come away with