“Product tampering,” Annie replied, trying to remain calm. Galen stood by silently. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, considering the methodical thefts of bottling supplies, and the additional cases of wine added to North Faire’s distribution. I assume you’ve laced the wine with the DDT we found along with the documents Steven Vick got hold of. How did that work? Did Martin Grubenmacher con Steve into acquiring the pesticide from the Nu-chem warehouse? Did Steve think he was providing it for some other purpose?”
Annie could see that Dr. Marchand was smiling, but there was no humor in his smile. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because you’re the one who planned it.”
He laughed loudly. “And why would I want to tamper with wine? What a ridiculous idea. Are you suggesting I’m trying to bump someone off by sending twenty cases of bad wine into the marketplace? My least favorite wine critic, perhaps?”
Annie took a deep breath. She could feel her heart racing. It was hard to talk and also plan what to do. “There have been cases of product tampering that were intended to kill a specific victim, while making the harm appear random, like the cyanide-laced painkillers in Seattle a few years back. But I didn’t see that happening here. With so many cases of tampered wine being shipped, there might be tens, even hundreds of innocent victims. A lot of death for a single intentional murder, don’t you think? And I would have my doubts that a lethal dose of pesticide could go undetected in wine.”
“Hmmm,” was all he said.
“But if the wine tasted bad, and was found to contain even slight amounts of DDT, what result would that have on the local wine industry? Stock would be pulled. Rumors would run rampant. With representative bottles from all of the local wineries, the regional industry would be devastated.”
“But I was thinking of investing here. Why would I want to destroy a business I’m thinking of buying?”
“You had no real interest in investing here. You have significant money already invested in small wineries in California. Those wineries are suffering badly from the phylloxera infestation. My guess is that you wanted to buy time, Dr. Marchand. Prevent Northwest wines, which have not been affected by the root louse, from gaining market share while your holdings go bankrupt, and while it takes you five or more years to replant your vineyards. You had to arrange for Steven Vick to be killed, because you found out he was planning to go to the media and expose your scheme before the tainted wine could hit the market. Close enough?”
“Quite perceptive, Ms. MacPherson. I should have hired you as my assistant, rather than that dolt, Grubenmacher.”
“So, it is true,” said Galen.
“I’m afraid so.” He removed a small, snub-nosed handgun from his pocket. “And you were right. The amount of DDT in each bottle was minute, but it would have shown up when the wine was tested. Now, if you’ll both come with me now, my car’s right outside. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I can’t afford any more deaths tied to North Faire. It starts to look suspicious after a while, you know. Oh, and don’t bother to bring the shotgun. Taylor told me you fill it with blanks to scare the birds.”
Galen stood his ground, and Annie could see he was seething with anger. “How did you get keys to the winery?”
The doctor jangled the key ring in his hand. “There are lots of things one acquires in the middle of the night. You, of all people, should know what a heavy sleeper Taylor is. Out like a light. Snores, too. All too easy to lift her keys and have a copy made. She never even knew I’d taken them. And you. You were so gracious when she broke off your affair six months ago. She said you never even asked her if there was someone else. She really thinks you’re a gentleman. Dull as dirt, but a gentleman. She and I have been having quite a time. Oh, don’t think that Taylor was in on any of this. She didn’t have a clue. I believe she actually thought I was spending so much time with her because I loved her.”
“Why DDT, doctor?” Annie had to keep Marchand talking. She didn’t know what else to do.
“I’m surprised you don’t know. You seem to have deduced the other parts of the plan. I think I was being quite clever with that. There have been Federal studies lately showing a high level of residual DDT in the groundwater near the Yakima River.”
“And North Faire has the deepest well in the region,” Galen said. “That’s why you centered your plan at North Faire.”
“Very good. You two make a good team.”
Without warning, Galen Rockwell lunged forward, swinging the shotgun with full force. The blow struck Marchand’s hand, sending the pistol flying to the ground.
Annie bolted. She remembered the stairs up to the crusher- stemmer. The catwalk platform was near the top of the fence. If she could make it to the top she might get over the fence, and the equipment would shield her as she dropped to the ground. Annie tripped once as she grabbed the handrail and started up the metal stairs, but quickly regained her footing and kept going. Four or five steps up she thought she was going to make it. Then a hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her down.
She landed on her right hip, and slid down the metal stairs, kicking as hard as she could with her free foot. She aimed for arms, a groin, anything she could make contact with. She landed a kick in Marchand’s stomach, and as the wind was knocked out of him, she got her leg free and scrambled to get up.
She stumbled on something as she darted for the other side of the yard, then realized it was the gun. She picked it up and tried the trigger but nothing happened. There must be a safety, or something she didn’t understand about firing the gun. She flung it high, hoping to send it over the fence. She looked around, but couldn’t see Galen.
“Annie, over here.” The winemaker was standing near the side door to the winery, which he’d managed to unlock. Marchand was still on the ground, but he was blocking her way. Annie found herself near the barrels of recently crushed grapes. As Marchand started to get up, she grabbed the first she came to. It was hard to tip over, incredibly heavy, but once some of the lees had poured over the edge, the barrel fell, sending a cascade of sticky pulp toward Marchand. It slowed him down long enough for her to get past him and into the winery. Galen slammed the door behind them as they escaped into the barn.
Inside, it was pitch-black. Annie couldn’t tell which direction Galen had gone. She crawled behind and underneath one of the steel tanks and tried not to move.
She heard Marchand enter through the side door. Somehow, he must have retrieved the gun, because a shot rang out in the darkened building. Annie crouched lower behind the tank.
Someone moved on the catwalk that ran above the tanks, but all Annie could see was a flash of white. There was the sound of footsteps running up the ladder onto the catwalk. Suddenly, Annie was dazed as all of the lights in the winery went on at once. Galen was in the back of the building near the electrical panel and standing on the catwalk near an open vat of red wine was Taylor North, holding a gun on Charles Marchand.
“I heard everything,” she said, her eyes wild. “You never meant to invest in North Faire. You never meant to marry me. You were using me.”
“Taylor, no.” Marchand, his hands empty, tried to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was trapped on the cat- walk, with Taylor blocking the stairs.
“Last night, in the hospital, after Annie left, I started remembering. I remembered fighting with Steve, but I always knew I didn’t kill him. There was someone else… someone else. I could never have killed Steve.”
“Of course not, Taylor. Now put the gun down. We can talk.” Annie began to hear the faraway sound of a siren, out on the highway.
“You killed Steve,” Taylor was mumbling, over and over. “My Steve. You murdered my husband….”
Marchand, all routes blocked, abruptly turned and dove into the open vat of wine, the crusty cap collapsing under his weight. A minute later he came to the surface, gasping for air, arms flailing. As the siren drew closer down the gravel road to the winery, Taylor aimed the gun at Marchand’s head and fired five shots.