QB1

by Pete Bowen

  “I know, Mr. Mullins,” Roger said.

  I sat there thinking and said, “let me call my attorney maybe he has a suggestion.” I’d been on the phone with Dominic Laverney half a dozen times this afternoon with legal questions during the debriefing. I’ve paid this guy a lot of money over the last few years but damn it, he’s good. He answered on the first ring, I put him on speaker “Dominic, we’re buried here,” I said. I explained the situation.

  He said, “I called your cell and by the way your mailbox is full. You and little Roger are the most wanted people in the world in this news cycle. You can’t possibly handle this yourself. Turn all communication over to a public relations company. I have the structure of a deal worked out for you. The PR company will represent you in all business communication and even negotiate the right opportunities for you. You probably need an agent too.”

  “What opportunities?”

  “Oh my God, Tom, TV, books, movies. The world is your oyster at this point. You need help.”

  I called the PR company. Told them we were hunkered down unable to move. I agreed on a fee for initial work and had them send a contract back to the attorney for review for future representation. Even though it was past 5 PM they would have someone over inside an hour that could act as a spokesman for us. I called Velma and told her about it and she agreed that it seemed like a good plan. She wasn’t happy about spending money but she never is.

  Friday morning, our spokesperson read a statement outlining what happened the day before. Our representative, the owner of the public relations company representing us answered questions and then asked the public to respect our privacy over yesterday’s tragic events. Of course, they didn’t. Roger and I were heroes. Everyone wanted to climb on board that train with us. The press continued to sit outside our homes and at the agency. The phone continued to ring at the office. I should be happy, I thought. I was miserable. I finally threw in the towel. I suggested Roger and his family try a weekend family vacation. Packed a bag and headed north out of the city. Maybe, drink a little vino. Change my mojo.

  Chapter 6

  The sign said Open but the parking lot was empty at Limestone Vineyards in Sonoma. I walked in to the empty tasting room. I heard someone moving around out back and I yelled, “What do I have to do to get a drink around here?”

  “Be right with you,” I heard a voice call. The big bald headed guy came out with two trays of glasses. It always amazed me how much the guy looked like my Dad. “Holy shit, it’s little Tommy Mullins!” He came around the bar and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey, Uncle Billy.”

  “The hero of the day. What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to get away from being the hero of the day, I guess.”

  “I can’t tell you how proud Mary and I are of you, Tommy. You took out a very nasty piece of shit.”

  “Yup, he was, Uncle Billy. I’m just not feeling very good about it.”

  He hugged me to him. “Tommy, it’s not an easy thing to go through for most guys.” My Uncle had been a cop for 30 years too, starting in San Francisco and moving to Santa Rosa before buying this small winery. “You did your job, end of story. You’re a hero, whether you like it or not. How’s little Roger taking it?”

  “He seems to be fine.” Billy walked behind the bar and poured two glasses.

  “This new Cab is 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 a drink, Liz McNulty?”

  “I could probably force one down. What are you drinking?

  “A really good Zin,” I said.

  “I’ll have what you’re having. You going to play something else?" she asked.

  “No, I suck. Please play something else.” I ordered a couple of glasses and she played, “I’ll Always Love You”. It was better than having Whitney Houston in the room. I was floored. She got a standing ovation from the crowd.

  I believe I fell in love with her at that moment.

  She acknowledged the people in the bar and grabbed her glass and my hand and said, “Show’s over. Let’s go sit down.” I laughed and toasted the people in the bar. Picked up my glass and we found a table in a corner.

  “Wow, you’re something special, Ms. M
cNulty.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Mullins.”

  “Forget about it,” giving it the Sopranos lilt. “So, no more cruise ship entertaining?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m working on a recording project now, doing house music with a partner. I’m excited about it. We’ve gotten a lot of positive reaction to it. We’ll see.”

  “So what brings you to Sonoma on a Friday afternoon?”

  “Oh, I just needed a change of scenery. I’ve never been here before. I read about the Sonoma Mission Inn and wanted to indulge myself for a couple of days.”

  “Where you from,” I asked?

  “I grew up in Mission Viejo. Went to UCLA and then lived on cruise ships for the last two years. And you?”

  “I live in San Francisco on Ocean Beach, about halfway between the Zoo and the Cliff house.”

  “Isn’t it really foggy there?” she asked.

  “Yea, I love it. I’ve lived in the same house all my life, across the street from the beach. I surf. Run along the beach. I just can’t imagine living anywhere else. My father actually gave me the house before he died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s a nice thing to do for a son.”

  “He was a great Dad. He was always there for me. He raised me alone when my Mom died when I was eight. And he left me financially secure for the rest of my life when he died. I have a lot to live up to be as good as he was.”

  “We’re both orphans, she said and smiled. You have any brothers and sisters?”

  “No, I was a late life surprise for my parents. They had given up trying to have kids. My Mom was 44 when I was born.”

  “Wow, that must have been a surprise. You don’t hear about that happening very often.” We finished our glasses of wine.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked.

  “Yea, I am. I just had fruit and yogurt for breakfast. What did you have in mind?”

  “Well there are half a dozen good restaurants around the square. I bought some food for the weekend. We could have a picnic.” I hesitated. “Or, we could go up to the house where I’m staying and cook something on the grill. I’m a good cook and the place has an incredible view.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “How do I know you’re not going to rape and dismember me?”

  “I don’t do that on the first date. Besides, they caught that guy.”

  She smiled. “What do you have to grill?”

  “We can stop at Safeway, maybe get some salmon or steak and some veggies, salad.”

  “Got any wine?”

  “I stopped at my Uncle’s place and got a case earlier. He owns a winery.”

  “How about some Rombaurer Chardonnay? It’s my favorite.”

  “We’ll pick up a bottle at Safeway.”

  So, we left and she followed me to the store and then up to Scott’s house. I found the key and we went in. Scott’s house does have a spectacular view and the sun was setting over the Sonoma Valley. The sun was setting over the fields of vines below us. “Wow, this is beautiful,” she said. I got out some cheese and bread and poured a couple of glasses of wine. We sat on lounge chairs soaking in the view and the wine. “Was this a set up?” she said. “Were you stalking me?”

  “Damn it! You saw through my ruse.”

  “I just hope you’re not a liar. She looked at me. You better be able to cook.” I laughed.

  “You’ll see. I can cook better than I can play the piano.”

  “I hope so,” she laughed.

  “Oh, that hurts.”

  “Is the hot tub hot?” she asked.

  “Should be, he’s got it on solar panels.” I got up and took the cover off the tub and saw the steam rise. “Looks like it.” I fired up the gas grill and went in to spice the salmon fillets and assemble the salad. When I came back out again her clothes were on her chair and she was in the hot tub. I said, “I’m sorry this is not a clothing optional establishment.”

  “Too bad, don’t look, prude.” We both laughed.

  “A little rosemary and olive oil on your salmon?” as I put the fillets on the grill.

  “Sure, that’s a good sign you may know what you’re doing.” She leaned back in the tub resting her head on the side.”

  “This is pretty close to perfect; hot tub at a perfect temperature, incredible view and a man doing the cooking. Can you hand me my wine?” I retrieved her glass and handed it to her.

  “What are you looking at,” she said as I handed it to her.

  “The bubbles,” I said as the water jets obscured everything below her bare shoulders. She looked unbelievably sexy. I sipped my wine and fed her a piece of cheese. “You got about 5 minutes till dinner, girl.”

  “I guess I’ll need a towel,” she said.

  “Well, you’re going to have to get it yourself. I’m sick of waiting on you,” as I sat down and stared at her. We both laughed. “Jesus, my work is never done,” as I stood up, walked over to the grill, flipped the salmon and went looking for a towel.

  She came to the table in just the large beach towel knotted around her. I placed the dish in front of her. I had placed a small flower on the plate as garnish with the salad and salmon. “Oh, is the flower edible?” she asked.

  “Yea, it’s an aphrodisiac.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” I said dismissively, chuckling. “It’s just the flowering part of the rosemary.”

  “You’re a wiseguy,” she said taking a bite of her fish, “Ummm good.” She pulled my head over to her, kissed me on the mouth and said, “in fact, it’s delicious.”

  Dinner didn’t last long. About half way through she was sitting on my lap. The towel fell away and we moved quickly to a bedroom. Kissing, licking, passion I hadn’t experienced in a long time. When it was over, it started again and then again. Darkness fell over the room and after the intense play and a lot of wine, we slept.

  I was out cold, just exhausted. Later, from somewhere deep in a dreamland, I heard someone talking. As I listened and tried to understand what he was saying I realized I knew this person. It was my attorney. I lifted open an eye and saw an answering machine beside the bed. I picked up the phone and said hello.

  “Tom, is that you?”

  “Yea, what’s up, Dominic? I turned my phone off.”

  “I’ve been trying to get you all day, Tom. There is a lot going down.”

  “Listen Tom, are you near a TV? Roger is about to go on Jay Leno.”

  I sat straight up in bed. “What the fuck?”

  “Early this afternoon, offers started coming in for TV appearances. NBC put $100,000 on the table for exclusive rights for Roger to tell his story. There are options for additional opportunities that if this goes well might earn him a lot more. NBC flew him and his family down to Southern California for taping. He’ll be on next, turn the TV on.”

  “Holy shit! I’ll call you back.” I found the remote for the TV at the end of the bed and turned it on. Found Leno, just in time to hear him introduce America’s youngest private detective and hero, Roger Goody. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Out walked little curly red haired, freckled Roger in a black suit with an open white shirt. He shook hands with Leno and sat down next to him. His legs were far from the floor. He looked like a midget. The TV audience laughed as he sat with a big smile just looking out at the camera.

  “Hello Mr. Leno,” he said in his squeaky adenoidal voice. The crowd again laughed. I should mention here that as much of huge pain the ass Roger is to me, people and especially women, find this kid adorable. I don’t get it. I may be a little too close to him to think of him as adorable.

  “America’s youngest detective had a pretty big week. Here you are on the front page of the Los Angeles Times,” said Leno. The screen flashed to the picture of Roger holding up his hands in front of the SWAT team from yesterday.

  “Yea, that was a pee your pants moment,” he said glancing away from the monitor. The crowd went nuts, laughing and clapping. Roger flashing a big smile.


  “Well, lets back up a little and tell us about what happened,” said Leno.

  “Okay, I work for a private investigation company that is owned by next door neighbor Thomas Mullins.”

  “What about school?”

  “I’m home schooled and I take some college classes in Math. I only work at the agency part time. Or at least they only pay me part time.”

  “And you do private investigation cases?” asked Leno.

  “I don’t have a license or anything, more like work in the office and on the computer but sometimes I ride with Mr. Mullins.”

  “So what was going on in this Butcher case?”

  “Our agency was working on another case. We were watching a man who we thought was guilty of another crime. Mr. Mullins and I were observing this man yesterday and he was acting very strangely. Yesterday while we were following him, he picked up a woman…” Roger stops talking and looks over at Leno. He gets up, stands on his seat and whispers into his ear.

  “Ahhh,” says Leno, “allegedly a woman of ill repute.”

  “Exactly,” say Roger. The crowd laughs and claps.

  “Go on, Roger”.

  “The man takes the woman back to his house and we became very worried for the woman’s safety. Mr. Mullins told me to stay in the vehicle and call the police while he went into the house. While there he determined the woman was being attacked. So he confronted the man.”

  “You didn’t stay in the vehicle, did you Roger?” said Leno.

  Roger breaks into tears. “I was very worried about Mr. Mullins. I went to the door and saw Mr. Mullins holding a gun and the man holding a large knife against the throat of the woman. Mr. Mullins said put the knife down. The man said a bad word and said, “I’ll cut her head off”. Leno hands him a tissue and Roger wipes his eyes.

  “And what happened, Roger?” The crowd wasn’t laughing now.

  Mr. Mullins said, “I know.” Roger hesitated. “And then he shot him.” He pointed to the center of his forehead, “right here.” The TV audience went crazy.

  “And this turned out to be the man who had killed seven women in the Bay Area. What happened then, Roger?”