QB1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

beautiful. French Oak for 18
months. The best we’ve ever done.” We clinked glasses and swirled
the wine around in the glass. Billy flipped open his cell and
placed a call. “Mary, Tommy’s here,” he spoke into the cell. “Yea,
he just walked in.” He smiled and listened while she spoke. “I
know! The hero arrives! I almost fell on the floor. Last person in
the world I thought I’d see. Why don’t you make us some sandwiches
and come down. Okay, darling. She’ll be down in a few minutes. I
want to hear all about it. I know you’re sick of telling it by now,
but this one’s for me.”
    When my Aunt Mary arrived with the food, I
told them both about yesterday from the start with Roger and the
early morning FBI episode. “That was a day to remember, Tommy. No
wonder you feel burned out. Now where are you staying? You know
you’re welcome here.”
    “Thanks Billy but I’m staying at my buddy’s
Scott’s house. He’s back east on business, but he’s giving me his
place.”
    “Well, can you come for dinner? We’ll put out
a spread for you.” I said I’d try and we talked for an hour before
some customers started coming in. I told them I’d call tomorrow and
confirm. Uncle Billy also gave me a mixed case of wine and wouldn’t
accept any money for it. There were kisses all around and I said
goodbye.
    I drove to downtown Sonoma. Put on a Giants
cap and sunglasses and strolled around the antique, galleries and
specialty food shops. Walked into a cheese shop and bought some
salami and cheese. I watched three guys making cheese in big vats
out back. I strolled down to Sebastiani Winery and did a quick tour
and tasted their wines. Bought a couple of bottles. I walked back
to the car and decided to go into my favorite wine bar on the
corner. I sat down at the bar and ordered a glass of Zinfandel. Big
alcohol, big fruit, I love Zins. I looked over at a copy of the
Santa Rosa newspaper sitting in a pile. I could see a picture of
Roger holding up his hands, with a picture of Hinton beside it on
the front page. Butcher Killer Slain read the headline. I grabbed
the paper and opened it to page two to see a picture of me from my
cop days.
    I looked around and there was hardly anyone
in the place. It was only 3:30. I spotted the piano and asked the
bartender if I could play it.
    “We only have one requirement; you got to be
able to play it.” We both laughed and I took my glass over. I’m not
very good at the piano. I’m a guitarist. I use to be in a band when
I was high school and college. I dabble at the piano, but there is
one song I do play. I played and sang Crocodile Rock by Elton
John.
    “I remember when rock was young; me and Susie
had so much fun.” The few people in the bar clapped when I
finished. And then, a beautiful woman sat down on the stool beside
me. Blond, blue eyed, freckles, just pretty much a knock out.
    “Pretty good,” she said. “What else don’t you
know?” We both laughed. Perfect teeth.
    “That’s pretty much the repertoire,” I said.
“Maybe a little blues?”
    “Oh good, you play the chords and I’ll play
the bass line,” and we played. The moment we started I saw I was
way outclassed. The bass line carried the song but it sounded
great.
    At the end, I scooted over and said, “Now
you. You’re the piano player.” She thought for a second and played
“Walking in Memphis.” She played and sang it flawlessly to a big
ovation, well at least to the half a dozen people in the bar.
“Where did you come from? I didn’t see you sitting here.”
    “I heard you playing from outside and decided
to poke my head in.”
    “You must be a professional. You’re
fantastic.”
    “I’ve played some professionally. I use to
entertain on a cruise ship.”
    I held out my hand and said, "I’m Tom
Mullins."
    She said, “Oh wow, I thought you were Ray
Charles.” I still had my sunglasses on. We laughed as I took them
off. “I’m Liz McNulty, and we shook hands.”
    “Can I buy you