Cantina Valley (A Ben Adler Mystery Book 1) (31 page)

32

Ben spent the entire evening on his computer digging through the case, trying his best to understand what was happening in Cantina Valley.
 
He specifically concentrated on Vlad Grankin and his business relationships.
 
Now Ben knew why the man simply called himself an entrepreneur.
 
Although Maggi had said the man was a billionaire, Grankin was actually worth closer to three hundred million.
 
Still a considerable sum.

The next morning, Ben drove over to Marlon’s place to pick him up.
 
Instead, the Bigfoot hunter wanted to drive in his massive SUV.
 
Ben didn’t blame the guy.
 
Leather seats and an engine that would not crap out was far superior to his old pickup—until the first EMP strike.

Now, after having gone to all of the neighbors in Cantina Valley with smaller properties, the two of them sat in Marlon’s SUV and watched the light rain tap the windshield.

“What do you think?” Marlon asked Ben.

“Well, those with smaller acreage, have not been contacted,” Ben concluded.
 
“I looked at a map of the valley last night.
 
All of our properties butt up against the Coast Range—from your property to Jim Erickson’s place and on to my homestead.”

“And to the Compound,” Marlon said.

“Right.
 
Let’s assume Grankin wants this land for wine.
 
Is that the best land for wine in this valley.”

“I have no clue.”

“Me either.
 
But I know someone who might know.
 
Drive to Springdale Winery.”

“I like the way you think.
 
Wine for lunch?”

“Something like that.”

On the way to the winery, one of the Springdale trucks passed them from the other direction.
 
Ben made sure that Sonya wasn’t driving.

They got to the winery and saw that a sheriff’s deputy truck was one of the only vehicles in the parking lot.

Getting out of the SUV, Marlon stopped Ben with a grab to his arm.

Marlon said, “Thanks for hanging out with me.
 
I’m guessing this is your way of providing security.”

“It’s the best way,” Ben said.
 
“Some security types think it’s better to maintain distance emotionally with their protected.
 
But I feel the opposite is true.
 
I’m much more likely to take a bullet for a friend than someone simply paying me for my services.”

“Good to know.
 
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Together they went into the winery, but nobody was there, including any sheriff’s personnel.

Then Sonya came from the back office, surprised to see Ben.
 
“Did we have a lunch date?”

“No, Sonya.
 
I have a question for you about wine.”

She looked disappointed.
 
“Ask away.”

The three of them went to a small table and sat down.

Ben said, “I know that the Willamette Valley is extremely fertile, but explain why it makes such great wines.”

“It’s pretty complex, Ben,” she said.
 
“There are three types of soil in the valley—volcanic, sedimentary and loess or silty loam.”

“What’s the difference,” Ben asked.

“Well, the taste of the wine depends on the terroir,” she explained.
 
“That’s essentially the land, which includes the soil, the terrain and the climate.”

Marlon chimed in.
 
“What do you have here at Springdale?”

“Most of our grapes are grown in sedimentary soil,” she said.
 
“Which gives our pinot noir a darker color and hints of coffee or chocolate.”

“Would this be true of the entire Cantina Valley?” Ben asked.

“Not at all,” she said.
 
“My guess is the flat areas along the Cantina Creek would be mostly sedimentary like we have here, but the soil on the western edge, based on only a guess, would be volcanic.
 
Probably jory, which is basalt-based volcanic soil.”

“What kind of wine does that produce?” Marlon asked.

“Jory is high in clay and iron,” she said.
 
“It’s a nutrient rich soil.
 
You can grow almost anything in it.
 
It finishes with a strong cherry.”

“You like the volcanic,” Ben said.

“Absolutely,” Sonya said.
 
“If you put a wine from the Dundee Hills in front of me, I’ll pick it out a hundred percent of the time.
 
It’s superb.”

Ben glanced at Marlon, who had a smirk on his face.

“What are you boys up to?” she asked.

“Do you know anything about a guy from Portland named Vlad Grankin?” Ben asked her.

Sonya backed up in her chair, almost tipping it over.
 
“Don’t tell me you plan on working with that man.”

“What do you know about him?” Ben asked.

“I think he’s dangerous,” she said.

“Has he approached the owners of Springdale to purchase the winery?” Marlon asked.

“Yes, he has.
 
He’s a bully.
 
When the owners turned down a number of really high offers, he finally gave up.
 
But then strange things started happening.”

“Like what?” Ben asked.

“Suddenly the IRS and the EPA and the Fish and Wildlife Service started coming after us,” she said.

“Sounds like my problems,” Ben said.

She nodded.
 
“I didn’t tie the two together, but you’re right.
 
And these were totally bogus charges.”

Ben explained what had happened in the past couple of days, from the shootings to the raid on the Compound and the confiscation of Marlon’s computers.

“Child pornography?” Sonya asked.
 
“Where did they pull that from?”

“Their asses,” Marlon said.

She put her hand on Ben’s hand and said, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Ben said.
 
“It wasn’t the first time I was shot at.”
 
Finally, things were starting to click in his mind.

Ben’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he stood up to see who was calling.
 
But, since he had no contacts built into the phone, he had to simply recognize the number.
 
He drifted toward the front door to take the call.

“Yeah,” Ben said.

“This is Maggi.
 
Thank God you’re finally somewhere I can reach you.”

“I’ve been with Marlon contacting everyone in the valley to see if Vlad Grankin has made offers for their property.”

“And?”

“And the only people who have gotten offers are those along the western edge of Cantina Valley,” Ben said.
 
“Besides me, that includes Marlon, Jim Erickson, and maybe those at the Compound.
 
Is there any way you could go visit with Kevin Engel in custody to see if he was made an offer?”

Hesitation on the other end.
 
Finally, Maggi sighed and said, “That’s why I’m calling, Ben.
 
There’s been an incident at the holding facility.”

“What kind of incident?”

“They found Kevin Engel unresponsive in his cell this morning,” she said with considerable angst.

“How?
 
I thought your brother was in the same cell.”

“He was.
 
But he was transferred yesterday afternoon after a hearing.
 
Della managed to get Tavis off, but Kevin was a bigger problem, based on his correspondence on the short wave.”

“Is Tavis out?”

“Not yet.
 
They put him in with a couple of other guys who are scheduled to be released later today.
 
According to Della, they didn’t want Kevin communicating with the others.
 
I don’t know why.”

Ben had an idea.
 
“Will Kevin be all right?”

“They don’t know.
 
He’s in intensive care now.
 
Della is all over it.”

“Good.
 
Kevin’s sister lives in Baker on a ranch.
 
Can you make sure she’s notified?”

“Sure.”
 
Maggi paused and seemed to be occupied with something.
 
Then she said, “What are your plans?”

Ben felt the thick plastic business card in his left front pocket.
 
He pulled out the card that simply said ‘Vlad Grankin, Entrepreneur.’
 
“We have a theory about Grankin,” Ben said.
 
“We’re running that down now.”

“Be careful,” Maggi said.

“I will.
 
Get your brother out of custody.”

“That’s the plan.”

Ben flipped his phone shut and shoved it, along with the business card, into his front left pocket.

Just then the front door opened and Sheriff’s Deputy Lester Dawson came in, surprised to see Ben.

“I saw the SUV out there and thought it might be Marlon’s,” Lester said.
 
“What are you boys up to?”

Glancing back to Marlon and Sonya at the table, Ben simply shrugged.
 
“Learning about soil.”

The deputy wandered to the table, his eyes focused on Sonya, and said, “I went out to the vineyard to find your foreman, but he’s not there.”