Chapter 18
Tim was feeling antsy. He had called Gibbs and let him know that there was a possibility of making more progress. Then, he was just waiting for a call from Jill, letting him know that this Dave had arrived. He was trying not to be too excited because it could fizzle. It could be that it wasn't Tony. It could be that it was just some random guy. It could be that by relying on this he had missed out on the one person who really did know where Tony had gone. That one person could already have driven through Amarillo and he'd missed it. It could be that...
His phone rang.
Tim scrambled to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Wow. You're quick. It's Jill. Dave just rolled on in. So you can come over. He knows you're coming."
"Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes," Tim said.
He hung up without another word, grabbed his stuff and ran out the door. He jumped in the car and drove over as quickly as he could get away with.
When he arrived at the truck stop, he didn't know which truck was Dave's, but he hurried into the store and saw Jill talking to a man. He walked over. Jill saw him as he approached and she smiled.
"You didn't waste any time, Tim," she said. "Dave, this is Tim. He's the one looking for his friend."
"Hey," Dave said. "Jill said you have a picture?"
Tim pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to him.
"He probably was a little more scruffy than this picture shows," he said.
Dave looked at it silently for just long enough that Tim was sure this was going to be the worst outcome that he had thought of.
...but then, he nodded.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the guy I picked up. He was really eager to get a ride. I don't normally give rides, but he was pretty open and even offered to let me check his bag. I told him I didn't want any noise. He was quiet the whole ride."
"How far did you take him?"
"End of the line. L.A."
"Did he tell you what he was going to be doing there?"
"He said he wanted to get into music," Dave said. "I don't know if he meant it, but I gave him a suggestion of where to start. He thanked me and went on his way... to wherever."
"Can you tell me where that was?" Tim asked.
"Sure." Dave got out his phone and pulled up a map of Los Angeles. He pointed to a street that seemed to be lined with bars and restaurants. "This is the place. It's far from high-class dining, but there are some bars there that do live music. Some that don't. Lots of wannabes play around there."
"Thanks," Tim said. "I still don't get what's going on here, but if that's where he went, maybe I'll find him."
"Well, good luck. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Little strange, but nice enough."
"Thanks again," Tim said. He looked at Jill. "Thank you, too. I don't know how long I could have been wandering around Amarillo trying to find word of him."
Jill just waved her hand at him. "Oh, it was easy enough. When you solve your mystery, let me know somehow, all right?"
Tim smiled. "Will do. Even if I have to use the CB, Cadillac Mama."
Jill laughed. Then, Tim turned to leave.
"Hey, Tim."
He turned back.
"Yeah?"
"You're heading out right now?"
"Yeah."
"Figured. Get yourself some coffee before you go. And pull up to pump 3. On the house."
Tim's mind had been all on getting to Los Angeles to find Tony, but suddenly, it was as if Jill had managed to drag him back to Amarillo, back to the present instead of the uncertain future.
"Oh... you don't have to do that," he said. "I'm not hurting for money or anything. I can pay."
"Course you can. Do it anyway."
Tim actually felt quite touched by the gesture.
"Thanks."
Jill smiled and nodded.
"Pump 3."
"Right."
Tim got a big mug of coffee, a few donuts (he paid for those) and then filled up his tank. He waved to Jill and pulled out of the truck stop, heading for California.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Five days later...
Tim took a breath and prepared for a day of walking up and down the street, asking people if they had seen Tony. It had taken him a lot longer to get to L.A. than he had intended. He had stopped at a hotel when he just couldn't stay awake any longer. ...and then, he'd ended up sleeping for nearly a full day. He had awakened at three in the morning and he had to admit that he was too tired to push himself like he was and he had stayed in the hotel until daylight came. Then, he had forced himself to eat breakfast before getting in his car and starting out again. But then, after only a few hours, he ran over something in the road and got a flat tire. That required pulling over, putting on the spare and driving slowly to a service station, only to wait around for long enough that he'd ended up having to stay the night in a little town with one motel. Then, it was back on his way again. He got to L.A. too late to start looking so he got a hotel and then had slept too long again. Still, he was finally there and he could get looking.
His first mistake was thinking that he could start asking people in the morning. Nothing was open on the street Dave had indicated. Nothing opened until at least noon and many were later than that. Irritated, Tim forced himself to wait until the afternoon when there were more people about. Then, he started walking and asking. This went on for a few hours until...
"Oh, yeah. I've seen him lots of times. He plays piano at Jack's bar down the street."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. He's pretty good, too. No Billy Joel, but he doesn't do too bad. Gets the crowd going with request nights and stuff like that."
Tim nodded, accepting that description as if he wasn't completely weirded out by what he was being told. Tony was playing piano in a bar? Why?
"Thanks. Which one is it?"
"Three down on the right. They won't be open yet, though. Jack doesn't encourage all-day drinking. It's weird, but he makes up for it by having good stuff."
Tim laughed because he knew it was expected.
"Thanks a lot."
"No problem."
Tim looked at the indicated bar. He walked over to it, but as the man had said, it was closed, not opening until four.
He decided to go back to his hotel room to wait. When he got there, he sat down on the bed. As he sat there, his mind was going a mile a minute, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd spent so much of his time the last few months only focused on finding Tony. To be told that he was playing in a bar was a strange discovery. It just felt wrong. But why would Tony be doing that in the first place? Why had he come here? Tim supposed that the easy answer would be the one Capt. Blaine would give, that it just proved Tony was dirty. But if Tony was dirty, he wouldn't be playing in a small bar in L.A. That's just not what he would do with himself if he was hiding from the law. Tony knew how the law worked. He'd know how to avoid it, and this was not the way. But why? Why would he have left in the first place? And to come here?
His mind was running in circles, to the extent that he didn't notice the passing of the time until it was six o'clock. He rolled his eyes at himself and hurried back to the bar.
It was packed on a Saturday evening, but he found a spot to sit. He didn't see Tony, but everyone seemed to be expecting him. He could hear them talking about what the theme would be tonight, would he actually avoid Billy Joel for one performance, and on and on. Tim ordered some food, but then, finally, it came around to seven o'clock.
...and there was Tony. Months of nothing, months of people assuming he was dead, and here he was. He looked... normal. He looked like himself. His clothes weren't the greatest, but he seemed fine. He walked in and then went over to the piano and started playing. At first, it was just instrumental. Tim wanted to walk over there and talk to him, yell at him, hug him, something, but what if Tony was being watched? He might ruin something if he did. So he stayed where he was and watched as Tony played some instrumental stuff.
Then, suddenly, he started playing a song that even Tim knew. "The Piano Man" by Billy Joel. He sounded pretty good, Tim had to admit. But at the same time, he just couldn't figure out what he was seeing. It was clear that Tony had been here for a while. People knew him. They knew what to expect. He was not new to this job. All this weirdness combined to leave Tim feeling more than a little troubled.
"It's all Billy Joel tonight! In my honor as a Joel!"
Everyone laughed. Tim sat there and watched.
The night stretched on into the early morning hours, and Tim was still sitting there watching as Tony played and performed and kept the audience going.
But then, finally, he heard someone say it was last call. Thank goodness.
"And last song!" Tony called out. "And I'm picking it!"
He started to sing another song. Tim really hoped that this would be the last song. He started to maneuver his way through the crowd to the tip jar on the counter. If this was Tony's, then, he'd have to come over to it eventually. People were leaving and the bar was getting quieter as Tony played his last song.
Finally, finally, he was done. People were leaving, the staff was clearing up, and Tony got up from the piano, stretching after what seemed like a long time to be playing the piano.
Then, he came closer and made eye contact. Tim could see that Tony was surprised to see him there. It was nothing to what Tim felt to see Tony in this place. He plastered a smile on his face.
"Man, Tony, what are you doing here?" he asked.
End of Part II