It was dark by the time Annie got back from Spokane. At the Cherry Court Motel, she glanced down the exterior hallway toward Jed’s room, but saw no lights on. She entered her room and without even turning on the light, slipped off her shoes and lay down on the bed. Riding in small planes had never been one of her favorite pastimes, and the turbulence they’d encountered on the way back as the storm moved in had brought her close to the edge of queasiness several times. She needed five or ten minutes to reassure her stomach that she was back on solid ground.
When she was ready to return to the land of the living, Annie got up, washed her hands and face in cold water, and only then noticed the blinking message light on the telephone. She called down to the clerk, who was clearly perturbed at a guest who had the unmitigated gall to receive so many messages—three from Dr. Butterick at the hospital, one from Gerald North, and one from Jed, instructing her to call him on his portable phone. Galen Rockwell, the one person Annie would have liked to have heard from, hadn’t called.
She tried the hospital first, but Dr. Butterick did not respond to his page. The switchboard operator couldn’t tell if he was tied up in surgery, or whether he’d left the hospital, but took down Annie’s name anyway. Next, she tried Gerald North both at home and at his campus office, but here again, got no response. She wasn’t terribly surprised. Friday evening was usually not an easy time to get hold of people.
Finally, she responded to Jed’s message.
***
Jed Delacourt nearly jumped a foot when he heard the ringing telephone. He glanced around quickly, then realized the ringing was coming from his own pocket. He took out the portable phone and answered it.
“I hate to admit it,” Annie said, “but it is convenient to be able to reach you on this blasted contraption.”
“I’m telling you, everyone should have one.” Jed took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He hadn’t noticed how nervous he was, searching through a strange office at night. Talking rapidly, he told Annie everything he’d learned, from the boxes of DDT to the story Steve wanted to sell to the Yakima newspaper. “I’m trying to follow up on the military angle now, looking through Steve’s files for anything that might lead us to the officer who had the documents.”
“What was that again? You were going so fast. What military angle?”
“That’s where Steve told the reporter that he had seen the documents—in some colonel’s desk, apparently a good friend of Steve’s. But I’m not having much luck. I tried the V.A., but Steve wasn’t a veteran, and…”
“Hold it, Jed. There’s no military connection.”
“But I just told you….”
Annie chuckled. “There’s no way you could have known. Steve’s ‘colonel’ is not exactly a high-ranking officer in the U.S. armed services. His name is Bob, he’s furry, weighs about twenty pounds, and has a penchant for fresh mice.”
“You’re kidding me, right? The colonel is a cat?”
“It’s kind of an in-joke. Everyone at the winery refers to Colonel Bob as the chief of security. And his favorite napping spot is on top of Taylor’s roll top desk in the winery. That’s got to be where Steve found the documents.”
“From the winery? Wait, I saw some papers that had to do with wine distribution, but I couldn’t make anything of it. Hold on.” Jed pulled out a folder he’d passed by earlier.
“I saw this, but it hardly looked like the key to a scandal.”
“Tell me what it says. Maybe I’ll recognize something.”
“Okay, there’s one piece of paper with a bunch of names listed. Fifteen in all.” Jed read the list.
“Those are all of the Yakima Valley wineries that were at the Wine Gala. They’re all within a fifteen- or twenty-mile radius of North Faire.”
“Okay, next to the names of the wineries are some numbers and letters. Two b-t-s, six b-t-s.”
“What does it say for North Faire?”
“Eighteen c-s. All the others say b-t-s.”
“Cases and bottles?”
“You think this is just a wine list for the party, then?”
“No,” Annie replied. “Why would there be eighteen cases of wine from North Faire, and only a few bottles from all the others? What else did you find?”
“Okay, there’s another sheet with dates and items listed. One oak barrel, two boxes labels, two hundred fifty corks…”
“Those could be the thefts that Taylor and Galen were talking about. Taylor thought Steve was behind it, but her brother was accusing Galen Rockwell.”
Jed shifted the telephone to his other hand. “Well, this looks like an inventory all right. With check marks and handwritten dates down the list.”
“So, the thefts weren’t random acts of vandalism, after all. That never did sound right.”
“Someone was bottling wine on the side?”
“With those quantities, a few bottles here and there, what would be the point?”
“Not money, certainly. And if they wanted it to drink, why not just steal the wine?” Jed laughed and said, “I know. They were going to put cheap rotgut red in the bottles, pass them off as the real thing, and make North Faire look bad.”
“Wait a second, you might be on to something.”
“I wasn’t serious…. who would go to all that trouble….”
Annie could feel her heart beginning to race. If her hunch was correct, many innocent people could be at risk.
“You said something about distribution. Was there anything about that?”
“No. I haven’t found anything that might say when or where the wine would be going. All I know is that Steve told the reporter that the plan was going to be set in motion late tonight, the fourteenth.”
“What do you think we should—wait… the first and the fifteenth. That’s when Galen said the distributor comes to pick up the North Faire Wine. Tomorrow’s the fifteenth. There will be a truck coming by at dawn tomorrow to pick up whatever’s on the North Faire loading dock.” She looked at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s still early. I’m going out there.”
“What? Annie, are you crazy? Steven Vick might have been killed because of what he knew. You don’t even know who you’re dealing with. You can’t stop them by yourself.”
“I won’t try and stop anyone. I’m pretty sure I do know who’s behind this, but I have to be sure. All I’m going to do is watch the loading dock and see who meddles with the shipment.”
“Wait, and I’ll meet you there.”
“No. Two of us probably would be seen. You finish looking through the files. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
“Okay. But be careful.”
***
The low buzz of the television was doing little to calm Jed’s nerves. It was clear now that the filing cabinet had been from Steve’s office. Most of the files contained his sales records, income tax receipts, nothing having to do with whatever story he was trying to sell to the newspaper.
At nine, the local television station broke in with a news update. Jed flinched when he heard that continued random violence would lead the headlines at eleven, but barely paid attention to the words. “No more than twenty minutes ago, a young single mother was the victim of a drive-by shooting,” the reporter said in a grim tone. “Multiple shots were fired into the woman’s one-bedroom bungalow, injuring her in the shoulder, but miraculously leaving her toddler daughter unharmed. Police have no suspects, but are assuming gang-related activity is involved.” Jed glanced up as a picture of the woman’s home flashed on the screen. In front of the broken front window was parked a lemon-yellow Chevrolet Vega.