(illustration by Anja)

The Hobo

 

Prologue

 

 

He’d been in the alley behind The Pits every day for a week now and Angel was beginning to be sick of the sight of him….and the smell.  Huggy was away; treating Foxy to a week in Hawaii paid for by Sweet Dancer who came in at Santa Anita at long odds.  Huggy put two hundred on him because of the name – Foxy danced at the Bunny club.

 

Despite the grime and the straggling matted beard, Angel could see that the hobo was still a young man. He was painfully thin and grateful for any scraps that Angel gave him.  Angel never got to see his face clearly; he had an old army peaked hat that he pulled down over his face whenever Angel came out of the kitchens. “Like that radio guy in the TV program, you know the one about those crazy army docs.” Angel told Huggy later. “He was wearing fatigue pants and an army shirt…they were faded and pretty ragged.”

He didn’t speak either; just grunted and shuffled away to devour whatever he’d gleaned.  He had a bottle with him but Angel wasn’t sure that there was anything in it.

 

The day Huggy came home the hobo was there again. Angel greeted Huggy with a quick rundown of the week’s events. “No fights, no rip-offs; a nice quiet week.”  Angel told him about the hobo and Huggy followed him out back.  As the door opened they saw him. He turned to look at them for a moment and then he was gone.

“That’s weird,” Angel said, “I had the feeling he was maybe waiting for you to come back.”

 

Huggy watched the forlorn figure walk away.  Why do I get the feeling I know you?

He went back into the bar and reached instinctively for the phone; then shook his head and lit a cigarette.  The hobo’s face haunted his mind.  He was sure he’d seen him somewhere before. Two months ago he would have called Hutch, back when things were still normal.  But in the past couple of months the whole world seemed to have been stood on its head and Huggy no longer knew where the reference points were. He went upstairs to his office and started to check the accounts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One  (two months earlier)

 

Starsky squinted against the sunlight reflected on the bright clear blue of the pool; he turned to focus on the bougainvillea that cascaded down the wall of the pool house and fought back the tears.

“You are asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for.” He said quietly.

The other man reached across the table and touched his arm.  “I’m not asking you to turn against your world Davey; I’m asking you to take time out and help me. I could say…”

“You could say that I owe you, is that it?  Well go on, say it! Tell me how if it hadn’t been for you I would never have learned some of the things I know. Tell me how you gave me a job when I came back from hell.” His voice rose with every phrase. He tried to choke it back but it came out anyway. “Tell me how you saved my life so now it’s my turn.”

“I’m not going to say any of that. I told you the day that you were accepted at the Academy that I was proud of you and that I would never stand in your way or cause you trouble in your new career.  I told you I’d never call in any markers.” He laughed, “How could I? You don’t have markers with me, but maybe I have a couple with you. I owe you Davey and now I need you.”

Starsky sighed and sipped his drink; he stared at the bougainvillea again.

“Davey, please, I’m asking you because I don’t now who else to turn to.”

Starsky turned to him and said quietly, “OK Bennie; tell me all about it.”

“Not yet. You want to swim, maybe? Relax a little Davey, I have a couple of things to deal with and then we’ll talk…over dinner.”  Starsky watched his old mentor walk into the house.

Something wasn’t right and Starsky was trying to work out what it was that made him feel uneasy. Fear!

He tried to tell himself that he’d been frightened before and managed to overcome it. But this time something was lurking deep in his subconscious and it was the dark shadow of fear. His worst nightmares could leap out of the shadows when he least expected it.

He stood up and shucked off his clothes; Bennie’s place was totally isolated from the outside world and he could skinny dip without worrying. He dove into the pool and swam the length underwater.  As he surfaced to catch his breath he thought he saw a shadow on the water; but he put the idea out of his mind and launched himself under the surface again. He swam for about five minutes before easing himself out of the pool and lying in the sun to dry off.

He basked in the sun for a while. He was woken by the feeling that someone was watching him.  He opened his right eye carefully and a grin spread across his face. Bennie was holding out his jeans. “Cover that impressive body, Davey, and come inside; dinner’s ready.”

Starsky dressed quickly and followed him into the house.

The two of them walked in through the big sliding glass door that led into the dining room.  Elena was sitting at the table smiling. Bennie sat next to her; “what more can I want, my daughter on my left and Davey on my right,” he lowered his voice, “in what should be your rightful place.”

Starsky sat down without comment.

Something made him look out of the window; a movement or a shadow, he wasn’t sure what it was, but fear was stroking the back of his neck with cold fingers.

Bennie was speaking, but Starsky didn’t hear what he was saying. He was watching Elena.

 

Elena.  Starsky fell for her the first time he saw her and he knew even then that she was forbidden fruit.  Back when they were kids she was out of reach; she went to a pricey school somewhere on the east coast where the kids were ‘encouraged to achieve their potential’ whatever that was supposed to mean. She came back to the west coast to go to college but she was still out of reach in Berkeley; and she was still there when Starsky was shipped out to do Uncle Sam’s dirty work in the jungle.  He was pretty sure he spotted her in the crowd of protestors waving banners and chanting their derision of the President and the war. He was in the hospital by then and had no argument with their protests.

By the time Elena returned to Bay City, Starsky was a cop and Bennie’s daughter was not the right kind of girl for him. He heard she got married; and he saw the report of her husband’s death. He lost track of her and got on with his life.

Elena sensed his gaze and looked across the table to catch his eye. Starsky looked away; something didn’t ring right. Once again fear tickled his spine.

 

“Davey?”  Bennie interrupted his thoughts.

He’s one of the few I allow to use that name.  “I’m still here, Bennie.”

“Are you?  Looks to me like you’re miles away.”  The older man touched Starsky’s arm. “Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

Starsky chewed carefully, taking his time before deciding what to say. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“And I need more time to think about it.”

 

 

 

It was early evening when Starsky drove up to his house in the canyons and parked under the big eucalyptus tree that seemed to hold it up.  He cut the lights and sat for a moment thinking over what Bennie had proposed.  This decision was going to be the toughest one he’d ever made; tough and scary.  In a way it didn’t surprise him; right from the start with Bennie he’d known what the older man expected of him.  Starsky knew he owed Bennie one; but Bennie had never called in the marker. He’d given the kid a chance when he needed a job and he’d taken Starsky back when he came back from Nam too damaged to be able to hold down a conventional job.  And when Starsky had finally felt ready to do what he had always wanted – follow his father’s footsteps and join the Police – Bennie hadn’t stood in his way. Like father, like son; Mike Starsky kept his friendship with Joe Durniak and Joe had paid for the funeral. Dave Starsky kept his friendship with Bennie; but so far the outcome wasn’t the same.

 

‘I always knew that you were like the son I never had, Davey.’

‘It’s all yours if you want it.’

‘I respect you for that decision Davey. You’ll be a good cop.’

Bennie’s words from the past echoed in Starsky’s head as he sat in the car.

 

 

The only problem was that this time he couldn’t ask Hutch for advice.

‘Sleep on it Davey; tomorrow is another day and we’ll talk.’

 

He cut the lights and climbed the steps to the front door. As he walked into the living room he realized how tired he was; he put his blue windcheater and holster on the coat rack by the door. He undressed and stuffed underwear and the day’s T-shirt into the laundry chute; he hung his jeans in the closet. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

The sound came from the deck.  Starsky opened one eye and squinted at the clock. Three fifteen; he rolled over onto his back and listened to whatever it was had woken him up. There was no wind that night so it wasn’t the tree moving against the walls of the house. He focused his hearing and heard another muffled sound.  The hair stood up on the back of his neck; someone was out there, on the deck behind the house.

He held his breath and realized that he was scared.

He had always regarded his home as inviolable; a place of refuge from the stress and frequent horrors of his work. He held his breath and listened again.  Silence reigned and he tried to convince himself that it was probably one of the squirrels that had recently taken up residence in a tree in the yard next door and came to glean the scraps he left out for them on the deck.

He allowed himself to go back to sleep.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Hutch was halfway down the stairs from his apartment when he heard his ‘phone ring.  He was already late and he wondered whether he should go back and answer it or go on to the office as usual. But since the reason he was almost an hour late was that Starsky seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be coming to get him; he decided to go back upstairs.  He grabbed the ‘phone and barked “Starsky where the fuck….” He was interrupted by Dobey growling like a grizzly bear that hadn’t been fed for a week. “That’s what I want to know. Get over there and see what he’s doing.” Although Dobey was doing his best to sound angry, Hutch knew that he was worried about Starsky.  His partner had recovered pretty well from being shot yet again; but that was the physical recovery.  Both Hutch and Dobey knew that the psychological effects of the injury had hit Starsky harder than he cared to admit.  He had nearly lost a leg in Nam and the one thing that scared him was the possibility that one day he would be so damaged that he couldn’t continue as a cop.

 

Hutch held his breath as he turned the key and sent up a silent prayer when the engine started; he drove to the canyon where Starsky had chosen to live.  For someone who was almost aggressively urban Starsky had found an unlikely house.  It was in a quiet road in the hills and the most noise he was likely to hear was the dawn chorus. Hutch loved the house and was secretly jealous of Starsky for having found it.  Starsky called it his ‘tree house’.

 

Hutch turned into the street and slowed down.  The Torino wasn’t parked under the tree.  He pulled up into the empty space and ran up the stairs.  The key was under the flower pot as usual.  He let himself in.

 

He went straight to the bedroom.

 

“Captain, it’s Hutch.  He’s not here. There’s something wrong; his car’s gone but….no he never puts it in the garage – there isn’t room…Captain, listen, the bed’s not made and there’s just no sign of him.”

 

Hutch stared at the room again.  It didn’t look like Starsky had put up a struggle. Maybe he hadn’t even come home and was out with a woman – Hutch hoped so; there hadn’t been many since Terri broke his heart by dying.

On the other hand…

He went back down to the garage to double check that the Torino wasn’t in there after all.  He opened the door carefully and looked around. Starsky’s washing machine was open and a pile of clean clothes lay in a basket waiting to be taken upstairs to be ironed.  The big black Harley was in pride of place and as he expected the Torino was nowhere to be seen. Hutch went back to his car and reversed off the driveway.  As he slid onto the road he spotted one of Starsky’s neighbors walking a big black Labrador. He slid down the window trying to remember the man’s name…the dog was called Ginger; he remembered that much because he thought Starsky was kidding the first time he’d called the dog over to be fussed.

“Excuse me; I was wondering if you saw my partner leave this morning.”

The other man shook his head. “Not this morning, more like three am.  Ginger got pretty worked up when he heard the car start up.”

Hutch thanked him and drove on. Where were you going at that time of morning Starsk?

 

 

As Hutch turned into the street he prayed that he’d see the Torino parked bang in front of the precinct entrance in Starsky’s ‘magic’ spot.  There were three black and white patrol cars lined up along the sidewalk and the only Torino in sight was the brown sedan that belonged to the department; a car so unlike Starsky’s Gran Torino coupe that it was hard to believe they carried the same badge.

 

Hutch entered Dobey’s office without knocking.  The Captain was staring at the ceiling and nodded to Hutch to sit down.

“Have you heard from him?”

“No Captain.”

“Who’s he dating right now?”

“He isn’t.  He hasn’t really dated anyone since Terri.”

“Well where in the hell is he then?” Dobey roared.

 “I wish I knew Captain. There’s something wrong; I can feel it, I…uh…I can’t explain.”

Dobey didn’t need an explanation.  He’d never seen two cops work closer than these two. Two young men from backgrounds so different that all the odds were that they would never have been able to spend more than an hour in the same room together, had become the closest knit team in the BCPD.  Their partnership extended working hours. Dobey knew that there were some cops who harbored suspicions about how far that friendship went – but their Captain had seen enough of their heartbreaks to know that they were fiercely heterosexual in their dating habits even if it was obvious that they loved each other like an old married couple. Both men seemed to be endowed with a specific supernatural ability to anticipate his partner’s every move. Seeing Hutch so totally confused by Starsky’s disappearance made Dobey feel bad too; worse, it worried him. He tried to comfort Hutch (and himself) by pointing out that Starsky had gone off on his own before and would probably do so again.

“Yes,” Hutch said in a dangerously low voice, “but that time you knew where he was and what he was doing.”

That hit Dobey hard. It was true.  A while back Starsky had gone so far undercover that not even Hutch was allowed to know where he was.  Dobey had to juggle an increasingly worried and desperate Hutch with his clandestine meetings with Starsky. He’d hated the way Hutch had been kept in the dark; but things had worked out OK in the end Hutch even got some of the credit for the arrests that Starsky facilitated. Hutch looked up sourly as if he was reading Dobey’s thoughts; “the Harley is in the garage this time.”

Dobey sat back in his chair. “Then what are you waiting for – get out there and start looking for him!”

Hutch slammed the door on his way out; the other cops in the squad room exchanged worried glances and watched him as he ran down the hallway. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

When he first woke up Starsky thought he had cramp but as soon as he tried to stretch his aching back the painful reality hit him. He was bound in the cruelest of positions; his wrists were fastened in the small of his back and his ankles were attached too; and a cord joined the two sets of shackles causing him to arch painfully or to lie with his face mashed into whatever was beneath is face. He arched and saw that he had his face in a tin plate of grits. A voice said ‘eat, pig!’ He was hungry; he did as he was told before he blacked out again.

 

 

Now Starsky was cold.  It was night; he could tell by the tiny window high on the wall of his prison. When it was dark – he was cold; when it was light – he was hot. Stiflingly hot, because apart from the window there was some kind of door opposite him; he caught glimpses of light where it didn’t quite meet the ground; but the door never opened. He figured that the temperature changes meant he was somewhere out on the desert.

 

How long had he been there? 

He had a feeling that something was missing; a part of his memory.

He’d lost count of the changes from light to dark and from hot to cold. He was given food and water at irregular intervals and hardly enough to keep hunger at bay. There was a hatch in the wall that opened to reveal a tin plate and cup.  He ate what was offered. When the next food was delivered a voice said ‘plate!’ and took away the used utensils.  He had to eat with his hands; his captor was taking no risks with letting him have anything he could use to escape. . 

 

He knew he wasn’t alone; he heard what they did to the other prisoners at night.

 

He stank.  He was naked and covered in flea bites and he stank. He remembered the stories some of the guys in the rehab had told him about being POWs to the Viet Cong.  Being kept in ‘the coffin’ deep enough for a man to crouch but not stand; dark and fetid.

 

He was here; shackled to the wall with a chain just long enough for him to get to the food hatch, and to the bucket that was now overflowing in the far corner.  He no longer bothered to try to use it; clearly no-one was going to remove it and its nauseating contents. Surrounded by his own filth. But at least he wasn’t in ‘the coffin’. ‘Nam was in his past; and this was now and he had room to move. Not much; but he could at least stretch his arms and legs now.

 

************************

 

Hutch was fuming as he left the building. He sat in his car and tried to calm down.  He could tell that Dobey was being straight with him this time and that just made him all the more angry with himself for exploding the way he had. Something didn’t add up though, and Hutch was too angry to start to work out what it was. He decided to go and see Huggy.

 

The Pits was quiet at this hour and Huggy was engrossed in one of his private battles with a pinball machine when Hutch ran down the stairs. Huggy didn’t look up; a cigarette hung from his lower lip and his eyes were narrow with concentration.  The flippers rattled and the machine buzzed. Huggy swore and turned to look at Hutch. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this thing sensed a cop!” His expression changed when he saw the worry on Hutch’s face. Huggy led the way to the bar and served Hutch a beer without a word. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned across the bar.

“I guess this is about Starsky?”

“What do you know Huggy?”

“You first.”

Hutch sighed and swallowed half his beer. “I know that he’s been worrying about something recently.  I know that he was going to see Bennie.  I know that there was something he didn’t want to tell me.” He put down the empty glass and looked Huggy in the eye. “Now you tell me what you know.”

Huggy refreshed the glass first.

“Word on the street is that Bennie is looking for a way out; he had a heart attack a couple of years ago and now he wants to ease out of the business.  There’s a new organization that is interested in his territory but Bennie doesn’t like the way they operate so he’s told them no dice.”

 

Hutch finished his beer slowly. “I’m going to talk to a few people; if you hear anything let me know.”

Huggy watched as Hutch walked back up the stairs; as soon as the cop had left the bar the conversations seemed to start again and Huggy was all ears hoping to hear something that would help find Starsky.

 

Hutch did the rounds of every informer and pimp and hooker he could think of.  Nobody could tell him anything about where Starsky might be but the word about Bennie’s troubles was spreading.

He went home tired and worried. He called Starsky’s number but he didn’t expect his friend to answer. He was about to hang up when the line clicked and a recorded voice announced “Dave Starsky is no longer available.” Hutch stared at the phone as if it had bitten him. It wasn’t Starsky’s voice and yet it was familiar.  He raced back down the stairs and drove like a bat out of hell to the precinct.  He ran into Dobey’s office and grabbed the phone before the astonished Captain could object. Hutch punched a button; “Joe, it’s Hutch, I need a trace on the call I’m going to make from line 2.”

He punched the button for line 2 and dialed Starsky’s number. This time the phone rang for a full five minutes before Joe’s voice came onto the speaker; “there’s no-one there Hutch.”

Hutch slammed the phone down and sat back in his chair.  Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes and Dobey leaned forward. “Now maybe you’ll tell me what that was all about.”

“I called Starsky’s place and there was an answering machine…it…it said that he was ‘no longer available’. Captain, Starsky doesn’t have an answering machine.  He won’t even use a service if he goes out east; you know that. So I thought maybe Joe would be able to trace the call – that maybe someone had done something to Starksy’s line but…” his voiced trailed off as he saw the expression on Dobey’s face.

“I’m not cracking up Captain! I heard that announcement.”

Dobey smiled and stood up; he walked over to Hutch’s chair and touched the younger man on the shoulder; “I know how much this means to you Hutch. Come and spend the evening at my place; eat some of Edith’s good cooking and play with the kids and try to relax.”

Hutch shrugged. “Thanks Captain, but I’d be lousy company; I’ll go home and try to get some sleep.”

 

Dobey walked out of his office and into the squad room; the night team had just arrived. “Jackson, Pollack, get out on the streets and see if anyone knows something they don’t want to tell Hutch.” The two men stood up and left without a word.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

Reid Walters was following the California to New Mexico section of Route 66 a couple of years ago when he found the ghost town; a perfect relic of the days when “downtown” was a general store a saloon a bank and a county jail.  Reid set up his quarters in the old saloon and put his captives in the jailhouse.

The woman had told him to get the cop out of the way.  What she didn’t know was that Reid was a psychopath who got his kicks from tormenting others with the horrors from his own past. Reid was having a great time with this victim.  The others were buried in the local cemetery and he had already decided where this one would go.

He went into the nearest town for supplies and to make phone calls or check a mailbox a couple of times a week; or sometimes he went to a truck stop nearby – making sure to buy his goods in different places each time so no-one questioned why he was buying so many batteries. He bought food and kerosene and plenty of beer.  He’d rigged up an old diesel generator that someone had left in the store and he had light and enough power to keep a fridge cold. He cooked on the range in the saloon’s back kitchen; feeding it with brushwood and broken up chairs and tables to keep the fire going. When he went into town he bought hamburger and hot dogs and beans.  He had to keep his prisoners alive so that he could enjoy himself with them, so he fed them; mostly beans and stale bread and the brackish water from the tank under the windmill pump out back. He had beer and sodas in the icebox; but he wasn’t wasting them on his prey.

 

He crossed the dusty street of the ghost town and opened the jailhouse door. He could smell how bad it was in the cell by now. He sat down and listened.  His prisoner had given up yelling at him. Reid checked to make sure he was still conscious; he didn’t want to lose this one. He hadn’t even started to have his fun.  The jailhouse had two cells; one was the classic style with bars like a cage; the other had been built for the more violent inhabitants of the town; it had four brick walls with a tiny window high up on the outside wall and a thick wooden door with a small observation hatch and another one for passing food. Both hatches were tightly closed.  Reid opened the observation hatch.  His prisoner was sitting against the wall; his head was slumped on his chest; but Reid could see that he was breathing – strong regular breaths.  Reid closed the hatch and walked away.

 

Starsky waited until he heard the footsteps cross the room and the outside door swing open then closed.  He lifted his head and eased his aching neck muscles the best he could.  He wondered what was going to happen next.

 

The light from the window faded.  The knowledge that Hutch must be pulling out all the stops to find him helped him keep his courage together.  He began to doze.

 

The outside door opened and the light shone under his cell door; he stiffened in anticipation of the night’s horrors.

Heavy footsteps walked past the door and he heard the clank of bars as an iron cell door opened then slammed shut.  There was silence for a few moments and then it started.

A man’s screams split the silence. Starsky listened, transfixed, as the man screamed and pleaded for mercy.  The light under the door dimmed and the screams increased.

The light strengthened again and Starsky could hear the agonized moans of a man in more pain than he cared to imagine.  The cell door slammed and the heavy footsteps came closer.  They stopped outside the door and Starsky held his breath. The hatch in the door opened long enough for something to be thrown into the cell; then the footsteps left and the outer door slammed. Starsky could just reach the crust of bread that had been thrown to him. He bit into it and spat it out again…the distinctive taste of blood made it unpalatable.  Later the feeding hatch opened and he took the plate of beans and the cup.  It was better than nothing but right now even one of Hutch’s seaweed specials would have been a luxury meal.  He ate quickly and left the empty plate where it could be recuperated if and when the hatch opened again.

 

 

Reid placed the tape recorder on the table and checked the battery levels.  They’d hold out at least for tomorrow night.  He removed the tape and spent a few minutes deciding which one he would use next. There were four fresh graves in the cemetery and he had plenty of choice.

 

**************************

 

Hutch sat staring at his telephone willing it to ring.  He picked it up and tried Starsky’s number again.  This time the line rang four times before a recording clicked in: “the number you are calling is unavailable; please check with information.”  He slammed the receiver onto the body of the phone and swore. He went over to the cupboard under the sink in the kitchen and dragged out a bottle of brandy that was left over from a party when Huggy had insisted on mixing some lethal punch. He poured a good shot and downed it in one.  He picked up the phone again; was it possible that after all this time he had misdialed?  He called the number again.  He got the busy signal. He broke the connection and waited, convinced that Starsky was trying to reach him.  After an hour he tried again.  “The number you are calling is unavailable…..”  Hutch finished the bottle and slept on the couch.

 

Hutch wasn’t sure if the banging was in his head or on the door to his apartment. Carefully, his brain sloshing around inside his skull, he walked over to the door and opened it.  Jackson was standing on the top stair and he looked grim.

“Dobey sent me to find you.  He’s waiting for us at Goldberg’s place.”

 

Hutch ran his hand over his face; his stubble scratched his palm.  “Do I have time to freshen up?”

“Sure, Goldberg’s been cold for at least twenty four hours.  Freshen up and I’ll call Dobey to say we’ll be there in an hour.”

“Forty minutes,” Hutch said stripping as he opened the door to the bathroom.  He swallowed a couple of aspirin; shaved and showered, he was dressed and in the car with Jackson ten minutes later.  Jackson made a brief detour at a drive-in burger joint to get Hutch some much-needed coffee and drove on to Bennie Goldberg’s place in the San Fernando Valley.

 

Dobey was waiting for them.  Bennie Goldberg’s body lay on the floor of the hall; it looked like he had opened the door to his killer and he had a neat bullet hole in his heart.

Hutch shook his head. Starsky was missing and his one-time mentor was dead.  The two had to be linked.  He turned to Dobey, “what do we have?”

Dobey held out a plastic bag that the forensics used for gathering evidence, “this!”

Hutch felt sick.  The bag contained the murder weapon….a Smith and Wesson .59 automatic. It was the same model that Starsky used.

Hutch sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

“You don’t think it is his, do you?”

Dobey answered by handing the evidence bag to the waiting forensics technician. “I want all the details on my desk by mid-day! All of them!”

The technician left the room.

 

Jackson and Pollack were already looking around at the crime scene.  The lab team had taken prints from the front door and from a few other things in the hall. Hutch went into the living room to see if anything could give a clue about what had happened. He saw a glass with a lipstick stain on it and called a technician to collect it. “It might be nothing – but then again.  Bennie wasn’t wearing lipstick, so someone else was here.”

 

Dobey guided Hutch out to his car.  As they drove away Hutch noticed another technician taking a cast of a tire mark on the lawn that had been softened by the sprinkler system.

Dobey drove to the precinct in silence. He led Hutch up to his office and closed the door.

“I don’t like the look of this. The sooner you find Starsky the better.”

Hutch sat back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Captain, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We both saw the gun, Hutch.”

Hutch’s anger subsided before he had a chance to let fly.  Dobey was right; if the murder weapon was Starsky’s gun then Hutch had better find his partner before anyone else did.

 

“I’ll start asking around again.”

“Hutch,” Dobey sounded worried, “start with that cousin of his.”

Hutch turned in the doorway. “Good idea; Harvey might know who the lipstick belongs to even if he can’t help us in any other way.”

 

Al looked up from the chore of doing his taxes when heard the clunker drive into the lot. Just what he needed, another guy down on his luck hoping to get a few hundred for a gas guzzler that he couldn’t afford to run any more and that wouldn’t be worth what he asked for even if Al managed to sell all the parts as ‘new’.

The LTD had a dented front fender; some of it was tan and some of it was light blue. Al grinned; at least this clunker wasn’t for sale, he pushed the papers into a drawer and walked out into the yard.

When he saw that Hutch was alone the grin melted off his face; Hutch only came here alone if Al’s nephew was in trouble or wounded.  He watched as the tall blond cop unfolded himself from the car and walked towards him, hoping that the worry didn’t show in his face.

“Do I have to call New York?”

Hutch shook his head.  He knew that Al dreaded the idea of having to tell his sister-in-law that something had happened to her eldest son.

“He’s disappeared, Al. I was hoping maybe Harvey…..”

Al cut him off. “I haven’t seen Harvey for days. Apparently Bennie wanted him in Vegas last week on some kind of errand.”

Hutch took Al by the arm and looked around quickly. “Is Rosa here or at home?”

“We’re safe; today is her beauty parlor day.” He led Hutch into the office.

“What’s happening Hutch?   I don’t mind telling you I’ve never seen Harvey look so troubled since Dave was reported MIA as he was when he took that call.”

Hutch considered that throw-away remark. He knew Starsky had been badly injured out there; he knew the role that Al and the family had played in keeping the worst from Starsky’s mother for as long as possible – he had never heard that his friend had been MIA. He filed it in his mind under ‘another thing to find out about when I get the chance’ and looked Al in the eye.

“You don’t know about Bennie?”

“What about him?”

“He’s dead.”

Al closed his eyes and mumbled a few words in what Hutch was pretty sure were Hebrew. “God rest him,” Al said; “how did he die?”

“He was shot, Al and…and that’s why I’m trying to find Starsky. It doesn’t look good.”

Al stood up. “Now wait just a minute; are you trying to tell me that you think Dave….”

Hutch held up a hand signaling ’stop’ and Al collapsed back into his chair.  “I’m sorry Hutch, Bennie was one of my oldest friends we went way, way back; and I don’t need to tell you how fond he was of Dave. I’m listening to you now.”

Hutch hesitated.  “All we have is that Starsky told me Bennie wanted to see him about something. I haven’t seen Starsky since; there’s no sign of a struggle at his house.  Either he didn’t get home or…” he hesitated, how was he going to put this? “Or, he didn’t go home. That’s why I hoped that Harvey would have something for me.”

“There’s something you aren’t telling me isn’t there?”

For a moment Hutch thought ‘it runs in the family’ and then reminded himself that Al was Starsky’s uncle by marriage.

“Yes; Bennie was shot with a single bullet; an accurate shot.  And the gun was by the body; a Smith and Wesson automatic.”

Al swallowed hard.  “That’s what Dave carries, isn’t it Hutch?”

“Yes. Look, Al, until the lab has a result it means nothing. But either Starsky is in danger or he is in trouble.”

“Or he’s in both.”

“Yes.”

The two men sat staring at each other for a while; Al spoke first. “I guess you’ve already spoken to Huggy; who else?”

Hutch reeled off the list of snitches and contacts he’d managed to contact so far.

“Ok, I’ll talk to a few people too.  I know people who know some of these sources of yours – if they didn’t want to talk to you they might talk to the people I know, if you see what I mean.”

Hutch nodded; he knew only too well how often someone would tell Huggy a bit of information but be totally unavailable for Starsky or Hutch.

“What about Harvey?”

Al was already reaching for the ‘phone.  “He gave me a number in Vegas,” he said as he dialed.

“Is Harvey with you?... Who’s asking?.... I’m his father....oh I see, when?...OK….thanks… no, no message.” He put the phone down and Hutch didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that the news wasn’t good.

“Harvey left Vegas two days ago and no-one’s heard from him since.  Hit the streets again Hutch and I’ll see what I can do my end.  Listen, leave your car with Merle and I’ll lend you something – that way you have a reason to come here.”  He led Hutch down to the lot and selected an old VW bug about fifty-fifty rust spots and color; “you drive over to Merle’s place, I’ll fill this with gas and join you there.”

 

 

It took Merle exactly ten minutes to disconnect the radio from Hutch’s car and fit it into the Bug.  Hutch drove away with the distinct feeling that Merle was laughing as he crashed the gears.

The VW rattled and shook every time Hutch changed gear; the engine was so noisy that Hutch had the speaker volume up to full in case anyone tried to get in touch with him. 

 

The first name on the list was ‘Starlight’. Al had a last known address in a flea pit hotel somewhere down near the rail road station. Hutch parked the VW across from the entrance and took a good look at the neighborhood. It was one of those areas that had seen better days. The hotel must have thrived when all long distance travelers arrived in LA on the train before modern air travel made catching a plane like taking a Greyhound in some people’s minds. Hutch locked the car carefully and went into the hotel.

The lobby doubled as a bar.  Hutch walked over to the counter and waited for someone to appear.  A woman too old for her too-tight too-short skirt took up position beside him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the heavy make-up and the carefully adjusted wig.  He could smell her cheap perfume too.  He said nothing and she banged on the counter. “Eddie, there’s a nice young man wants to buy me a drink!”

Eddie appeared.  He was a one-eyed black man with long greasy gray hair that mingled with his equally filthy gray beard; he had an ugly scar that kept his bad eye closed and the other eye stared at Hutch and then at the woman beside him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t even have the energy left to give this boy a blow job!”  The old whore swore and returned to her seat. Hutch beckoned Eddie over. “I’m looking for ‘Starlight’”, he said.  “I was told I’d find him here?”

Eddie grinned and called over to the hooker who was trying to light her cigarette with an unsteady hand.  “Hey Stella, I was wrong, someone recommended you!” he mixed a glass with more vodka than pineapple juice and handed it to Hutch. “That’s all it takes; you won’t even have to pay her; there’s a booth if you don’t want a room.”

Hutch showed him his badge. “I’ll pay for her drink.” He said.

 

Stella took the glass in two hands and drank from it greedily. “Oh look at those baby blue eyes; sweetie does your momma know you’re out playing?”

Hutch smiled and patted her hand. “I left home a long time ago, Stella, and my mom knows I’m a cop.”

“A cop?” Her voice changed to the defensive.

“Yes; Al Kauffman gave me your name.”

Stella left enough of the mixture in her glass to drown the butt of her cigarette. She shot a glance at Eddie and said in a low voice “not here.  Meet me in a half hour in the eastbound waiting room across the way.” Hutch stood up and said loudly enough for Eddie to hear “well I guess my information was wrong. You were nowhere near the scene of the crime ma’am.”

Stella lit another cigarette.

Eddie waited until he was sure that both of them had left before turning to the small cord and plug switchboard behind the counter. He connected an outside line to the back office phone and went to make his call.

“I thought you’d like to know there’s a cop interested in Stella. She’s still in the lobby….OK, I’ll give her another drink.”

He came back to the bar and mixed another of Stella’s personal poisons.  He plunked the glass down on the dirty table and smiled at her ‘this one’s on the house, Stella; drink it then get your ass out of here!”

Stella savored her second free drink of the day; she didn’t see the young man who followed her when she teetered out of the hotel and clattered across the street to the station building.

 

Hutch killed time by getting coffee and a slice of pie in the station automat.  He glanced up at the clock; another five minutes and then he’d go and meet Stella in the waiting room.  The announcement made him abandon his pie; he threw a note on the table and ran out onto the main hall. The announcement was using the code for emergency services to go to one of the tracks.  He followed the hasty but calm staff to the eastbound track. The crowd was being pushed back by the station security staff. “Come on folks; there’s nothing to see.”  Hutch flashed his badge and was allowed to approach the edge of the platform.  Stella was lying on the rails and it didn’t take an expert to see that she was dead. He turned to the crowd and held up his badge. “Did anyone see anything?” he yelled. A middle-aged black woman stepped forward. “It looked to me like she was pushed by a young man.  He’s not here now though.” Hutch took her to one side. “Would you be able to identify him, ma’am?”

“Well officer I have a train to catch. My daughter’s having her fourth baby in Chicago and I have to go over and look after the others.” Hutch led her over to the stairs up to the street. “Ma’am if you would be willing to look at some photos I’m sure the BCPD would be happy to buy you an air ticket to Chicago.”

“Well I don’t know I like the idea of airplanes….”

Hutch tried to keep calm; “my partner is missing ma’am and that woman might have had some information to help me find him; whoever killed her tried to stop her talking to me.”

“In that case; I’m willing to fly to Chicago.”

Her name was Nellie Harrelson.

Hutch picked up her suitcase and walked her to the VW chatting all the time in the hope that he could distract her from commenting on the car.  He failed.

“Wait a minute,” she said and stood square on the sidewalk, “you said you’re a cop!”

“I am a cop ma’am.”

“Well that ain’t no cop’s car.  Show me your badge.”

Hutch sighed and asked himself silently how she might have reacted to the Torino; he pulled out his badge and gave it to her.  She fished in her purse and finally pulled out a pair of half-moon glasses which she perched on her nose before holding the badge at arm’s length and comparing it with the man standing next to her.

“It says here that you are Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson and you’re a detective so I guess that thing,” she pointed to the VW, “is your undercover vehicle.”  She handed him back his badge and Hutch grinned. “Yes ma’am it is.  I usually drive a…uh…”

“Don’t tell me, let me guess, a Volvo.”

“Well no.” He gave up; it wasn’t worth explaining that he usually drove an LTD that looked like it had been rescued from the city dump. He opened the passenger door and waited while she installed herself; he went round to the back of the car automatically and stopped just in time to avoid making a fool of himself – he walked to the front of the car and opened the hood; he put the case in the trunk and eased himself behind the wheel.

Nellie didn’t miss a thing; she looked at him out of the corner of her eye and asked “you sure this is your car, young man?”

“No ma’am, I stole it from a used car lot this morning. There’s an APB out on me and if we get stopped by a patrol car I advise you to hit the floor.”

Nellie laughed.  “Just get me to your precinct in one piece.”

 

Hutch led Nellie to his desk and pulled up a chair for her. “May I get you some coffee, ma’am?”

“Yes please, black no sugar.” Hutch went over to the coffee pot and sniffed the contents.  He changed his mind and asked one of the other cops in the room to go down to the canteen and get fresh coffee for his witness. He picked up two of the volumes of mug-shots and placed them on the desk. “Take your time ma’am.” He left her and went in search of Minnie.

Minnie was sitting in her office poring over a word puzzle; she looked up when Hutch walked in. “My favorite blond; have you heard anything about my sweet Starsky?” Hutch smiled “I love you too Minnie.  No, not yet but I have a witness to the murder of a witness who might have known something about a murder.”

“The witness to the murder of a witness…” She raised an eyebrow and adjusted her eyeglasses.”

“And I need a little help.”

“Ask Minnie.”

“The lady should be on a train to Chicago right now and she needs a flight out there.”

“Leave it to me.”

Hutch kissed her and ran back to the Squad Room. Nellie was staring at a photograph; but it wasn’t in the mug-shot book. Hutch sat down and took it from her gently.  “The one on the left is my partner, the one on the right is his cousin; they are kind of alike sometimes.”

“Well I’m not sure which one it was; but it was one of them.” Hutch dropped the photo onto his desk as if it had burned his fingers.  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He didn’t bother to knock. “Captain, we have a big problem.”

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

Starsky was learning to blank the sounds out of his mind.  He concentrated on anything; the flea bite itching on the sole of his foot; reflection of the moon on the wall opposite the window; his burning hunger and thirst; anything that made it possible not to listen to what was happening in the other cell.

But some nights he couldn’t blank them out and tonight was one of them.

Last night, or maybe the night before, there was no moon and he had lost count of day and night, after the screams had stopped there was a sickening thud and he heard something being dragged along behind the heavy footsteps.  Tonight there was a new victim.

She was pleading with him not to do it again.  Her raw cry of pain meant that she hadn’t succeeded. The sounds made it obvious what was happening; someone was having a great time and someone else was suffering.

Her moans continued for a while before she cried out again. This time her whimpering was in time with his grunts.

The there was silence. The heavy footsteps stopped out side his door and the hatch opened. “Your turn soon.”  The door slammed and Starsky could hear the woman sobbing in the dark. When her sobs finally stopped he leaned back against the wall and tried not to think of what he had heard.

The next night it started again. He could hear the instructions clearly; telling her what to do to please him. The man grunted and the woman whimpered.  The heavy footsteps stopped by his door and the hatch was opened. “You’re next,” the hatch slammed closed; the footsteps left and their owner was laughing.

He spent most of the night reminding himself who he was; it would be so easy to lose track of that in this place.

 

Reid put the tapes into a box and took them to the deserted bank; the safe was still there and he put the box where no-one would ever think of looking for it.

It was time for him to check in with the lady.  He drove into town and used a call box.

The return call came through five minutes later.  “There’s a problem. The cop’s partner is on the right trail; send the first photo.”  Reid took note of his instructions and put the apparatus away.  His prisoner could wait a couple of days for his next entertainment.

 

 

Light began to glow in the window and Starsky woke up slowly.  He was alerted by the sound of an engine starting up. He listened carefully trying to identify it and decided it was a Chevy pickup; maybe two or three years old. The truck drove away and he listened to the silence.

 

The shadows had moved right round the wall of his cell when the pickup returned; he closed his eyes and waited. He was allowed another night of relative peace. That made two nights of peace – but no food or drink, either. He soon had the kind of migraine that seemed to wrench the pain up from his neck to his eyeballs; he was dry heaving too. He lay on his side and tried to blank out the pain.

 

******************************

 

Dobey motioned to Hutch to sit down. “I’m listening.”

Hutch explained as much as possible how Al had led him to Stella and how Stella died before she could tell him anything. He told Dobey about Nellie and handed him the photo that she had taken from Starsky’s desk. “She isn’t sure which one she saw…but she is sure it was one of them.”

A black man can’t go white with shock – but Dobey came close.

“Find some photos of both of them and see if she can be more precise.”

“Minnie’s already booked her a flight, Captain, she’s got to leave in an hour. I don’t have time.”

Dobey picked up the ‘phone on his desk and punched an internal line.  “Get Hutchinson a ticket for Chicago for tomorrow – and make sure you have Mrs. Harrelson’s destination address.

He looked at Hutch. “Now go get those photos.”

Hutch ran out of the office without bothering to shut the door. Dobey weighed up whether he preferred that or Starsky’s maddening habit of hooking the door to a slam-shut with his foot.  Under the circumstances he would be happy to hear the door slam.

 

Hutch’s first stop was his apartment.  He ran to his bureau and dragged out the photo album that he and Starsky had put together a couple of years ago – one copy each. Starsky had said “this way if one of us goes the other will have these good memories.” Hutch leafed through the album.  Photos of Starsky squinting into the sun as he held up a beer bottle to the camera; photos of Starsky in various silly hats; photos of Starsky….

In the end he selected one of the most recent.  Starsky was sitting in his ‘peacock chair’ staring at the camera; his damaged left eye seemed slightly too big and his lopsided grin was not quite there. There was a twinkle in his deep blue eyes that wrenched Hutch’s heart; he couldn’t help thinking how incredibly charismatic his partner could be. 

 

The next job wouldn’t be so easy.  He drove over to Starsky’s place in the hope that he wouldn’t have to confront Al and Rosa with the situation. He searched all Starsky’s albums but the most recent photo of Harvey had been when he had shaved his head in the mistaken belief that women found bald men sexy. (Starsky won twenty bucks for that one!). Swearing, Hutch resigned himself to having to go back to the used car lot.

 

The gate to the lot was closed.  Hutch walked over to it and tried it but it was locked and he could see that the office was closed too.  He got back into the VW and drove to the neat little house a few blocks away where Starsky had spent his teenage years.  Hutch played it over in his mind.  For all Starsky’s teasing about his aunt Rosa’s terrible cooking, Hutch knew how much his partner loved his uncle and aunt.  Starsky’s relationship with his cousin Harvey was better than the one he had with his young brother Nick and the two young men had shared a lot of experiences before and after Starsky drew the short straw in the draft lottery. Hutch parked and sat in the car for a moment.  He had to decide how he was going to explain why he needed a recent photo of Harvey.

Rosa opened the door and Hutch could see the worry on her face.

“Hutch, don’t stand there on the step, come in and sit down.  Let me get you coffee. I made a honey cake, you want a slice?” Hutch accepted the coffee but refused the cake.  Starsky used his mother’s recipe for honey cake and Hutch loved it – but who could tell what crazy variation Rosa might have dreamed up. Al was reading a paper; Rosa placed a tray on the low table in front of the couch and settled next to Hutch. Al put down the paper and folded it carefully. Hutch could see that he was reading about Bennie’s murder.

Hutch wasn’t sure where to begin. First off he had no idea what, if anything, Rosa knew; second, he didn’t really know just how involved in Bennie’s operations Al had ever been. Starsky had always explained Bennie as “one of Uncle Al’s shadier friends” and left it at that.  Hutch had swallowed the instinct to remark that he had always grown up regarding any used car dealer as shady enough….he didn’t need to; Starsky had said it for him.

Rosa handed him a coffee cup; her hand was shaking.  Hutch noticed and said nothing. Al served himself and Rosa held her own cup unsteadily.

Al spoke first.  “Have you heard anything Hutch?”

Rosa’s cup rattled on the saucer.

“No; I uh…I met someone but she couldn’t help me.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” It was Rosa who asked sharply. She and Al exchanged glances.  Rosa continued; “I know about all about the list, Hutch.”

“Couldn’t.” He turned to Al, “I found Stella; but she was killed before she could tell me anything.”

Rosa dropped her cup. “Dead! Stella? Oh my God!” she started to cry and Al went over to put a hand on her shoulder. He looked at Hutch.  “They were old friends.  Yes I know what you’re thinking; but Stella wasn’t always like that. She was a beautiful girl back when she was with Bennie. It was what they did to her that made her like that.”

“They?  Who’s ‘they’ Al? And maybe you’d better tell me the story from the beginning.”

Al drank his coffee and looked at Hutch carefully.  He told himself that this was Dave’s partner; the one person in the world that his nephew was willing to trust with his life and most of its secrets, but he still didn’t know if Hutch was capable of understanding all that he was going to tell him.

“I have to ask you a few things first, Hutch.”

“Fire away.”

“First I need to know how much you really know about Dave’s life before he met you.”

“I know that he came to live here when he was thirteen because he saw who killed his dad.  I know that someone connected with those people tried to kill him a few years ago. I know about his time in Nam – how he nearly died and how he nearly lost his leg and his eye and about the medals he keeps hidden in his bureau drawer; and how in a way he outranks me ‘cos he came out a Lieutenant…and yes Al I know he still rolls a joint now and then! I know that he ran with Harvey before he went to Nam and again when he came back. And I know that they worked for Bennie.  I know that neither of them was suspected of, let alone accused of, any crime – Starsky would never have been accepted into the Academy if he had been. I know that he loves you and Rosa almost as much as he loves his mom. And I know that he’s more likely to believe and trust Harvey than Nick.” Hutch put his cup down. “Did I miss anything?”

Al smiled. “No I don’t think you did. If anything it’s me who missed something; I underestimated how much Dave trusts you. This isn’t going to be easy though. Not for you and not for me and Rosa either.

“It happened a long time ago.  Bennie and I were friends and I was dating Stella.  Somewhere along the line I met Rosa and Harvey was born a year later.” Al winked at Rosa who grinned. Hutch thought how lucky they were to still be together, and happy.

Al helped himself to cake and this time Hutch accepted a slice. “When Dave arrived here he was frightened; rebellious and a first class pain in the ass.  He needed to be reassured and tamed at the same time; it wasn’t easy.  Harvey did his best but Dave was so withdrawn; and then they had some kind of fight and Harvey gave up and ran with his old buddies at school. The breakthrough came out of the blue. The kids were doing homework; we made them stay apart otherwise the teacher would have got two versions of the same assignment. Suddenly we heard Dave explode.  He was throwing things round his room and howling like a wounded animal.  I went up to see what was going on and he was throwing a full-scale temper tantrum…just like a toddler.  I remembered seeing Mike deal with him once when he was little so I figured I’d do the same. I grabbed hold of him and held him as tight as I could. He just went limp and started sobbing in my arms. He was nearly fourteen and he cried himself out like a little kid. I just kept him by me while he slept it out. When he woke up I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. Poor kid it all came out; how terrified he’d been in that alley; how he thought he should have saved his dad; how he thought he’d let his mom down by letting her send him out here; how he wondered how Nicky and Eva would be without their big brother to look after them.  I talked him through it all and after that things were fine.  He patched up whatever fight he’d had with Harvey and they ran like twins from then on.”

Hutch smiled. That was Starsky all over. Even now he was capable of slamming his fist into a wall to vent his pent up anger.

“Did I ever tell you what he did to Prudholm’s apartment?” he asked with a grin.

Rosa shook her head. “Wasn’t he the man who started killing cops because he thought Dave had killed his son?”

“That’s right.  Prudholm lured us to his apartment; he’d set it up so that I should have got a rifle bullet in the head…but it didn’t happen.  He telephoned to see if Starsky was weeping over my body.  Starsk went nuts; he started smashing the furniture and flinging stuff around. I just stood there; to be honest I didn’t dare get in the way.”

 

The three of them were silent for a moment, thinking of the volatile young man they all loved.

 

Al waited before he went on.  “That’s when John Blaine took him on. He lived down the road and I knew he taught kids to box and because he was a cop I hoped he’d be some kind of figure for Dave to look up to.  John taught him to channel that anger into boxing and the kid was good. He got a few bloodied noses on the way and John taught him a few moves that would have gotten him thrown out of the ring if he’d tried them in a match.  And John took him to watch the Rams and Dave was hooked. He was already over the moon that the Dodgers came to LA and then he got into football too. John knew a few people and Dave started going to training sessions; he got onto the High School team and fine-tuned his fighting skills a bit more.”

Hutch knew exactly what he meant.  Starsky had a way of putting his head down and running a tackle if the opposition was taller than he was.

 

“Dave graduated High School because of John too.  John told him that if he got his diploma he could try for anything later on when he felt ready. He could have got a scholarship on the strength of his football but he didn’t want to study any more. John was annoyed; Dave’s a whole lot brighter than most people realize.” He sipped from his cup a stole a glance at Hutch and saw that Dave’s partner still had a lot to learn “Dave was really obsessed with cars.  Hey he was nearly sixteen and his uncle ran a used car lot! He learned to drive in about three days; he got his license as soon as he could and then he needed a car.  I used to buy auction lots; stuff that had been written off but could maybe be used for parts.  One day the truck brought in the wrecks and there was a Mustang.  Dave decided it was going to be his car.  But he needed money…and that’s when he and Harvey started to work for Bennie.”

 

Hutch knew he wasn’t going to be able to move things on.  He relaxed to listen to the rest.   Let him take his time

“Back in High School, Dave fell in love; trouble was so did Harvey. And they picked the same girl; Bennie’s daughter, Elena.”

 

Never heard this one. Bennie had a daughter – the lipstick on the glass?

“I didn’t know about that.” Hutch said quietly. Is he ever going to tell me about Stella?

 

“Bennie saw what was happening so he sent her to a snooty school out east and then she went to Berkeley. By then Dave had been shipped out and Harvey had a girl in every bar.  You see Hutch; Bennie didn’t want either of those boys to be hurt; he loved Elena like crazy – but he was never sure if she was his kid or not. Stella was her mother.  Bennie was good to Stella; but she was always had a problem with drink. Then it happened.  You have to understand LA was a tinderbox in the sixties.  The Watts riots hid a lot of other things; including a few scores that were settled. Bennie was being muscled by a new gang; call them the less charismatic side of the Black Panthers. Stella was in a bar when they moved in; I guess you could say they taught her a new way to powder her nose. Bennie was frantic until she reappeared.” Al smiled at Hutch; “kind of like Dave when Forrest got to you.  He tried everything; sent her to a fancy spa in Switzerland; another place in England; but nothing worked. She’d be fine for about a week and then she’d be out on the streets doing anything to get what she needed.  She disappeared again and he gave up; but she always kept in touch with Elena, and Harvey kept an eye on her.”

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

Reid parked the pickup on the side of the road and walked on a few hundred yards; at the sound of a truck engine he held out his thumb and did his best to look pissed off.

The truck rolled by; the driver had a pretty woman sitting beside him.  Reid walked backwards for a few more yards and a car appeared glimmering over the horizon as the air reflected on its heat.  He stuck out his thumb and struck lucky.  The driver was a good ol’ boy on his way to Barstow; he took in Reid’s hard luck story about a broken fan belt and offered to drive him to the nearest mall. “They got a service station and one of them auto stores; I guess they’ll be able to help y’all. I can’t wait around to bring ya back here but I guess you’ll find a ride easy enough; seems to me there’s always some tourist wanting to drive the old route.”  He dropped Reid at the mall and drove away.

Reid walked around the parking lot for a while and then he spotted the car he was looking for.  He forced the lock easily enough and ducked down to find the wires.  The car started easily and he eased it out of the space.  It was a hog to drive; heavy rear end and lousy acceleration.  He drove along steadily and headed back to his pickup.

 

He drove the car off the road and continued for about a half mile.  He didn’t want to have to walk too far in this heat.  He parked it where it couldn’t be seen from the road and walked back to the truck. Once he was parked alongside the stolen Ford he waited for the worst heat of the day to pass. 

It was late afternoon when he stood on the roof and scanned the horizon with his high powered binoculars.  No sign of life unless you counted the coyote playing with her cubs too far away to give a damn about what was going on here.

He opened the Ford’s gas tank and slipped a length of rope into it and waited for the gas to soak up to form a fuse.  He lit the end and ran to the pickup.  He was about a hundred yards from the Ford when it burst into flames.  He waited for the fire to burn out before taking a few carefully chosen photos.

 

He drove into town and left his film to be processed.  The notice said ‘two hours; discreet service’, the clerk said three, and no they didn’t look at the photos they just developed them, “we have one of the new machines, does it all for you. We just put them in the envelope.”

Reid spent the time buying supplies and filling the pickup’s tank.  He collected the photos, selected the best shot and put it into the envelope that was already stamped and ready to be mailed to a drop off in Bay City.

He stopped at the County Sheriff’s office to report “what looked like a car burnin’” and drove back to his lair.

 

Back in the deserted saloon he unpacked the food and supplies and set about cooking his prisoner’s meal.  He took it to him and went to prepare his next move.

 

**********************************

 

 

 

 

 

The envelope was addressed to Captain Harold. C. Dobey and marked ‘personal’ on the top left hand corner.  Minnie didn’t open it but left it on his desk.

 

Dobey was late into the office that morning.  Rosie was running a fever and Edith wanted to stay home with her so he had to take Cal to school.  He didn’t stop to see if Hutch was in the Squad Room but went straight ino his office though the outer door.  He sat down and started to go through the stuff on his desk. He tried to keep his mind on the reports that his team had left on his desk.  Two pickpockets; a dealer caught red-handed selling more sugar than heroin to kids outside a high school and an unidentified female body in a canyon. He picked up the envelope.  There was no stamp and the address was written in neat block capitals. Too neat; the kind of writing used by an anonymous correspondent or a blackmailer.  He slid the paper knife under the seal and opened the envelope carefully; then replaced it on the desk.  He picked up the phone to call Minnie. “The envelope on my desk; did you see who brought it?”

“No, it was with all the other post when I got in this morning, Captain.”

Dobey suppressed his anger. “And you didn’t notice that it has no stamp?”

“No.  I saw it was marked personal though.”

“Find me a something to get the contents out with and come to my office.”

 

Minnie handed Dobey the tweezers that she’d collected from the lab and stood back.  He pulled the contents out of the envelope and Minnie sat down before she fell in shock. “Oh my god, Captain.” 

She left the room still in shock and managed to keep her tears to herself until she was able to lock a door in the women’s rest room. “Starsky, baby!” she sobbed; “honey when you said you’d keep a fire burning for me I never thought it would come to that.”

 

Dobey stared at the photo.  The first thing he thought of was how he was going to break it to Hutch. Dobey knew about losing a partner; he’d never forgotten seeing the body hanging from the meat hook. He felt the tears rising and he told himself to stay calm.  He tried to convince himself that this photo didn’t mean that Starsky was dead.

He sent the photo down to the labs to see if there was any chance of them finding a clue as to where it had come from; and to see if they could enlarge it enough to prove that it was a fake – a set up to make them give up hope.

The lab technician left Dobey’s office with his ears buzzing from the roared orders to ‘get this thing authenticated’.  Dobey watched him leave then grabbed his hat off the coat stand and stomped out of the room.  He drove home in silence. He needed to talk to someone about this – and Edith was the one he knew he could open up to. 

 

Edith watched him walk up from the driveway.  After nearly twenty years of marriage she knew when her husband had something weighing on his mind. She opened the door and hustled him into the study.  “The children are watching the TV, Harold.” She said as she closed the door. He sat down heavily and she stood behind him kneading his shoulders and waiting for him to tell her.

“Is there news of David?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Dobey sighed and reached up to hold her hand. “I don’t know. Hutch had some kind of a lead and he’s been chasing it. But I got something today that worried me.” He pulled her round to sit on his knee and told her about the photo.

 

 

“Does Hutch know?”

“Not yet. Minnie and the lab agreed not to say anything if he got to the office before me.”

“You have to tell him, Harold.”

“Yes.” He reached for the ‘phone but Edith stopped his hand.

“Go and spend some time with the kids; I’ll call him and invite him to supper.  Cal has his music group and Rosie is invited to a sleepover tonight; we can talk to him without the kids hearing.”

“Rosie has a sleepover party?  Well I guess I’d better go and help her choose her PJs.”  She laughed and kissed him. As she picked up the phone she could hear her daughter’s high-pitched giggle contrasting with her father’s low growl.

 

“Hello Mildred, how are you?...I’m fine… could you patch me through to Hutch please?”

Hutch answered immediately and accepted the supper invitation without bothering to ask himself why Edith Dobey would contact him by a patch through.

 

Later Dobey called the lab to see if they had any news – good or bad; they didn’t.

 

Hutch arrived looking careworn; Edith smiled as she opened the door and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Although she was only maybe six or seven years older than Hutch she saw him through the same eyes as her husband did – a cross between a well-loved friend; a sibling and a surrogate child. She led him into the living room. “Why don’t you two have a drink and talk while I finish fixing dinner,” she said. “It’s nothing fancy, Hutch, just a stew and a lemon chiffon pie.” He smiled bravely, if Starsky had been there she would have made her chocolate cream pie and he noted her tact in the choice of tonight’s dessert.

 

Dobey poured two whiskies and handed Hutch his glass.  “I got something in the mail this morning; I thought you would prefer to see it here and not at the precinct.”

Hutch sipped his drink and prepared himself for bad news. “That bad, huh, Captain?”

“I don’t know Hutch.  It could be a hoax or it could be a message.  Look, why don’t you tell me what, if anything, you’ve learned today.”

Hutch drained his glass and twirled it thoughtfully in his hand. “I spent most of the day with Al and Rosa. Captain how is it I’m still learning stuff about Starsky that I didn’t know and yet he seems to be able to read me like a book?”

“I warned you about that the day I put you two together, remember?  I told you that if Dave Starsky had chosen you to be a friend he’d open up to you; but that he keeps things to himself and there are some things maybe he’ll never tell you. But I also told you that he’d be the most loyal friend you’d ever have in your life. I guess you learned that after Forrest got to you.” Hutch nodded. The memory of Starsky nursing him through cold turkey would be there forever; burned into his memory along with the shame of being no better than some of the reformed addicts who would always be prey to ‘just one shot’ when things were rough. He knew that he’d managed to resist seeking out heroin; but his alcohol consumption had increased and Starsky had removed his car keys more than once and driven him home from The Pits. He sipped the whisky and held out his glass, ‘maybe I should take a little water in this one Captain.” Dobey picked up the pitcher of ice-water on the table and filled the glass.

Hutch told him all that Al had explained about Stella. He also showed Dobey a recent photo of Harvey; and grinned. “It’s amazing isn’t it? You see a photo of Starsky with his dad and you say ‘that’s where he got that hair and those eyes’; then you see his mom and you think ‘no maybe the hair came from her side of the family’ and then you look at Harvey and you see the same hair and the same mouth.  I can see how people would confuse them even if Starsky is taller and more muscular.”

Dobey nodded; “you’re booked on a flight to Chicago tomorrow Hutch; let’s hope Mrs. Harrelson can tell the difference.”

Edith called them to the dinner table and Dobey put aside showing Hutch the photo

until after they had eaten.

 

Hutch let the photo drop from his hand. “Can we be sure it’s his?”

“No, not until the lab has enlarged it as much as possible to look at all the details; that’s as long as the enlargements aren’t too blurred to see anything.”

“And do we know where it came from?”

“It wasn’t mailed.  I hope maybe the lab will get prints off it. The envelope won’t be of any use to them for that, Minnie and I both handled it plus whoever delivered it.”

 

Hutch looked at it again. Maybe there was some clue in the background; something that could give him an idea of where to start looking for his partner. He willed himself to focus on the background and not the subject of the picture.

But all he could see was the photo itself. The burned out carcass of what looked all too like a Ford Gran Torino to be comfortable.  He stood up shakily.

“I need to get an early night Captain.  I’m flying to Chicago early tomorrow.”

“Call in when you get there.  Take your time, Hutch.  I’ll put everyone I can spare on to finding him.”

“I know.”  He stopped in the kitchen to kiss Edith good night and to thank her for dinner before walking to his car and driving home in silence.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

This time the light moved round his cell three times before he heard the car return.

The heavy steps came into the building and Starsky waited frozen by the terror of the idea it was his turn to be dragged to the other cell.  The steps passed by his door.

He listened to the silence; waiting with bated breath for the first cries of pain. The hatch opened and a plate was pushed in.  He took it and stared at the hamburger and a baked potato that looked and smelled fresh. “You’re gonna need your strength.” His jailer said and as he slammed the hatch closed he laughed.

Starsky ate carefully, knowing that if he rushed it the food would just come back up the hard way. He had only just finished when he heard the footsteps cross the room and the cell door clang closed again.

He pressed himself up against the wall to try to hear what was happening next door.  Someone was dragging something heavy across the floor; he heard chains clinking and a few sounds too faint for him to identify; but the light coming in under the door dimmed once and there was a buzz when it did.  He sank down into himself and waited. His jailer seemed to be preparing his fate.

 

 

When he was satisfied that everything was in place Reid went to the dark cell and opened the hatch.

“Enjoy your meal?”

Starsky glared at him and threw the empty plate at the hatch.  Reid laughed. “I’ll be back for you soon.” He slammed the hatch closed.

Starsky sat back against the wall and waited. He was resigned to his fate, whatever it was.  But the screams and cries he had heard made him sure that it wouldn’t be a quick and easy end.

 

The sound of the bolts on his door being shot back made him sit up. The door opened and he saw the silhouette of his jailer against the blinding light of the outer room.  He squinted and tried to shield his eyes with his hands. He’d been in the dark for so long that the effect of the sudden light was to bring on one of his sudden impact migraines. He felt as if the room was spinning and he fell over

Reid grabbed Starsky by the arm and half dragged him out of the room.  Each movement shot through Starsky’s body and up to his head to hit the pain spot behind his eyes like one of Fraser’s famous left hooks.

Reid pushed him into the other cell and let him fall to the ground.  “You stink,” he said.  The next thing Starsky knew was the force of a hose on him. The water was freezing cold but the pressure was strong and he couldn’t stand up against it.  He soon felt like that water had got in as deep as his bones; he shivered. His head felt like it had exploded inside a tin can.  He lay in a pool of water and Reid heaved him to his feet and pushed him up against the wall. He attached Starsky’s hands behind his back to a ring that had been firmly fixed in the brick at waist level. “Wait there.”  Starsky blinked through pain heavy eyelids as the man walked out of the building.

 

In countries where they consider torture to be a normal part of police procedure they

do a lot of research into what a man can and can not withstand. Reid had read all the literature coming up from South America, especially the fact that eleven hours without sleep was considered ‘optimal’ for weakening a victim’s resistance. He looked at the clock and he set the alarm for six am; he had things to do before he got some sleep.

 

It was a fine morning; Reid breathed in the already warm air as he crossed the deserted street and reflected on what a beautiful day it was for having a little fun.

He had been reading about a new game to play and he couldn’t wait.

 

Starsky was standing against the wall; his head was slumped forward and there was a dribble of bile in his beard and a pool of vomit on the floor at his feet. Reid had the perfect excuse.

“You’re filthy again! I wash you all nice and clean and you throw up.  Ok buddy, time for another shower.”

Starsky raised his head at the sound of his voice and tried to take in what was happening.  He felt like he’d been dragged backwards behind a truck; his throat and the back of his nose burned from the bile that he’d brought up in the last horrendous fit of retching.  Before he had a chance to really understand what was happening he was being slammed against the rough brick by the force of the water from the hose. When Reid was satisfied that his prisoner was clean he stopped the hose. He detached Starsky from the wall and pushed him out of the cell and into the daylight.  Reid attached his hands behind him and tied him to an old hitching rail.  “I‘ll be back when you’re dry; then we’ll go back inside and have a little fun.”

The sun was already hot; Starsky’s naturally tanned skin would normally have protected him for a while but he had been in the dark for so long that he knew that it wouldn’t take long for him to get sunstroke in the condition he was in.  His head was spinning but he made an effort to get a good look at where he was.

It looked like an old set from a cowboy movie. Trouble was the only other person out here was his jailer and he was for real.  Despite his weakness he looked around for a way to escape; and saw what he would have to do if he got the chance and it didn’t look good.

 

He had no idea how long he was out there but the sun was hot and he was thirsty.  He was capable of twenty four hours without food or drink but he had been deprived for longer than that before his last meal and his tongue was beginning to swell with thirst. And he was totally exposed to the sun. He knew that there was no point in trying to lick the sweat off his face for a few precious drops of liquid – it would be salt and his parched lips would just get even more burned by the sun.

 

Reid released Starsky from the hitching rail and shoved him back towards the jailhouse. He stumbled on the step and got a swift kick in the thigh to make him move.  He struggled to his feet and continued forward, driven by sharp jabs in the small of the back. He didn’t know what the guy was using but it hurt!

 

Reid was ready to have a good time.  And he knew how to do that. He tied Starsky to the iron ring on the wall and blindfolded him.

Starsky waited for pain…or death.

 

They started on another prisoner again.  Starsky could hear the steady rhythm of blows and a man groaning. Then the victim started to beg them to stop and a chill ran down Starsky’s spine.  He listened in disbelief as the man’s voice pleaded with his tormentor. ”Please…no…I’ll do whatever you ask…don’t …no…no nooooooo”

The last scream of pain was punctuated with by a buzzing sound and despite the blindfold Starsky sensed that the lights dimmed for a second or two.  They’re using electricity on him! The pleading continued and then the voice said “OK; Ok….I’ll do it.”

Harvey!

 

Starsky stood blindfolded and thought about what he had heard. Someone had been torturing his cousin to make him do something….and they wanted Starsky to know about it.

 

Reid left the machine running and left the room. 

 

Starsky waited.  He could hear Harvey sobbing in the other cell but there was nothing he could do to help him.

He stood against the wall; cold and tired and getting hungrier and thirstier all the time. His sense of time was fading. He allowed himself to doze as best he could standing up.

He was awakened by the sound of chairs scraping on the concrete floor and voices.  Two men were discussing something and he made an effort to hear them.

 

“He’s nearly ready to do it.”

“Be careful you don’t go too far – don’t want him to be too weak to do it.”

“Yeah, but if he arrives on the doorstep looking like shit they’ll take him in so fast his feet won’t touch the ground.’

One of the men laughed. “That’s true enough. When the old man sees one of his blue-eyed boys looking like he was hit by a truck he’ll have him in the house and being cleaned up and be all over him to know who did it.”

“I need to give him one more session; really make sure he understands what he’s gotta do.  He’s heard enough to believe it’s the only way to save the other one’s life.”

Starsky couldn’t hear what was said next but he heard he next exchange.

“When he’s done it, bring him back here and get rid of him.”

“I’ve already started digging.” Another laugh.

 

Starsky tried to get things straight in his mind. From what he’d heard he was pretty sure that he was the man they were talking about.  Or was it Harvey?  Or was that really Harvey he heard?  Hutch?  Where was Hutch and why hadn’t he found Starsky yet?  Wait a minute; Hutch who? Now that was a question he could use to try to keep his mind together.

The questions went round and round inside his brain like the kind of game kids play; write the first line of the story, fold the paper and pass it on.  He tried to get the possibilities straight in his mind.

He didn’t get very far.  The cell door clanged and the blindfold was ripped off his face.  Once again the unfamiliar light blinded him but he could see his jailer clearly for the first time, he understood who the man reminded him of; Bluto from the Popeye cartoons was standing in front of him.

“Water, please,” he croaked.

Bluto smiled and held out the hosepipe. “Sure thing!”

He held the hose in front of Starsky’s face and let a little of the water drop down onto his nose. Starsky stuck out his tongue to catch what little he could and Bluto let him drink a few mouthfuls before stepping back and training the full force of the water on him.  It slammed him back against the brick again.  There was nothing Starsky could do to avoid the steady painful torrent; he tried to let his body relax to minimize the pain.  When Bluto was satisfied he removed the shackles and dragged Starsky back out to the hitching rail to dry out.

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

Hutch couldn’t sleep.  The photograph of the burnt out Torino haunted his eyes every time he tried to close them.  By five a.m. he had tossed and turned for six hours and now he had to stay awake because he didn’t want to oversleep and miss his flight. At six thirty he dragged himself out of bed and dragged on his running things.  The cool air coming off the ocean slapped him awake as he walked out of the building.  He jogged steadily and forced himself to sprint the last hundred yards.  He took the stairs back up to his apartment two by two and set the kettle going for coffee before stripping off and taking a shower. He was at the airport in time for his eight thirty flight to Chicago. The drone of the jets lulled him to sleep and the steward had to shake his shoulders to wake him to fasten his seatbelt.

He found the car-hire desk and was relieved to be allocated a non-descript compact.

Hutch found a map in the glove compartment and looked for the best route to Nellie Harrelson’s address.  It looked simple enough on the map but a couple of one-way systems and a detour because of a major construction site threw him way off course.  He finally found the neat tree-lined suburban street and parked in front of the house he was looking for.

 

He could hear kids giggling and squealing in the backyard and the splash of water suggested that they had a pool of some kind to play in.  Hutch wondered whether anyone would hear the doorbell, but he rang it just the same.

Nellie opened the door a couple of minutes later. “Come on in Detective Hutchinson.  I was just about to fix some lemonade for the kids; can I offer you some, or would you prefer iced tea?”

“Whatever you are having will be fine with me, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?  I told you to call me Nellie, didn’t I?”

Hutch followed her into the backyard carrying the tray she had given him as they passed through the kitchen.  She called the children out of the inflatable pool and served herself and Hutch with iced tea. The children grabbed their glasses of lemonade and sat quietly, staring up at Hutch as they sucked at the straws.

He looked at them and wondered what it would be like to have kids; thinking of that made him think of the dangers of his job, and that brought him to Starsky.

He fished in his pocket for the envelope.  “I found a couple of pictures for you to look at: maybe you can be more accurate about the man you saw at the station.”

Nellie took them and laid them on the table in front of her.  “Shelley,” she said to the oldest of the children, “go and find gramma’s glasses for her will you darling? I think I left them on the kitchen table.”  The child went into the house and re-appeared a couple of minutes later with a beautifully embroidered glasses case.  Nellie took out her glasses and pushed them up her nose. Hutch looked at the needlework and was impressed. She smiled at him; “Shelley did that for me for my birthday; she’s only eight but she has a real talent.” She picked up the pictures and looked at each one carefully.  “Those two young men are very like each other, are they brothers?”

“No; they’re cousins.  One of them is my partner. Their moms are sisters, I guess they have a few things in common.” He didn’t want to identify Starsky in case she automatically discarded him as the man she’d seen.

“Yes I remember you told me that before.” Nellie hesitated and laid the photo in her left hand down on the table.  “Then I hope this is his cousin,” she said quietly as she handed him the other picture.

Hutch looked at the photo in his hand. “Yes ma’am, I mean Nellie, it is. Now all I have to do is find him and…”

“You sound worried.”

“I am; both of them are missing.”

The kids were back in the pool, screaming and throwing water at each other. A stray splash caught Hutch’s leg and he laughed.

He stood up to shake Nellie’s hand. “Thank you for your help. When you come back to LA you’ll need to come and sign a witness report.”

Nellie nodded.  “I hope you find them both.” She said as she closed the door.  Hutch walked back to his hired car thinking ‘so do I’.

 

Hutch had booked himself into a small hotel near the centre of town.  He walked to the lake and sat staring at the way the city had changed since he’d been here as a kid with his parents.  His father came to conferences in Chicago, and his mother came to shop and see old friends; they dragged their unwilling son along to be dumped in art galleries and museums when he would have preferred to go to a ball game or better still to have been allowed to stay with his grandfather on the farm.

If I’d had kids I’d have let them do what they wanted to do in the vacations.

 

He ate dinner along the street from the hotel and decided to get an early night. There was message from Dobey to call him, Hutch decided to leave it until the morning. He took a shower, settled into the bed and reached for the remote control for the TV mounted on a bracket high on the opposite wall.

 

“News is coming in from California about the gangland killing of Bennie Goldberg.  Bay City Police Department has announced that they have a suspect.  The suspected killer is…..”

Hutch stared at the screen in horror that slowly turned to anger.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

Harvey woke up in a hospital bed and looked around to try to work out where the hell he was and how he got there.  He tried to sit up but the pain pushed him back onto the pillows as firmly as his mother did when he was kid sick in bed. He reached for the cord draped over his bed and pushed the button on the end of it; a minute later a nurse came into his room.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said as she started to check his pulse and blood pressure. “You’ve had a rough time but you’re going to be just fine.”

“What happened to me; I feel like I’ve been in a fight with a truck.”

“I’ll get the doctor; he’ll explain everything to you.” She left the room and her rubber soled shoes squeaked on the linoleum. Harvey stared at the ceiling and waited.

 

The doctor turned out to be a woman in her early fifties with a gentle voice.  She explained that he was in the Barstow General Hospital and as soon as they knew who to contact he could go home.

“What do you mean ‘as soon as you know who to contact’?” Harvey was sitting up by now and she was examining his ribs.  She looked up; “you had no identity with you; we have no idea who you are or how you got here.  You were found on the road a few miles out of town.”  She continued to examine him while she spoke.  “You have a couple of broken ribs and your shoulder was dislocated. You were unconscious when someone found you and you had a slight concussion,” she stopped to read the results that the nurse had written on the chart, “but you are fine now. So once you tell us who to contact we can send you home. But I’ll let you sleep for a while first.”  She left the room.

Harvey lay back against the pillows and tried to remember what had happened.  It wasn’t a car that hit him; he was sure of that.  He knew something terrible had happened and he had to remember what it was. He closed his eyes and tried to put the sequence of events straight in his head.  Elena had told him that Bennie wanted him to go to Vegas to try to organize some resistance to the people who were trying to change the way things were run in Southern California.  He’d made contact with Big Billy Manzini for the next day and he had a little fun at the tables before following an enticing pair of legs up to their owner’s hotel room.  The next thing he knew some nut had him tied up in some cruddy motel and he could hear a man being badly beaten in the bathroom.  As he played through the rest of what he remembered he understood that he needed to make a phone call. He pressed the buzzer again and an orderly came in to put the ‘phone within reach for him.

“It’s Harvey. I need help.  I’m in the General Hospital in Barstow and I need to get out of here fast.  Come and get me; I’ll explain when you get here.”

 

He closed his eyes and heard the man screaming.

Oh Dave.

 

*****************************

 

Huggy put the phone back on its cradle and searched for his car keys.  The place was pretty well empty so it wouldn’t matter if he left the new bar tender in charge for an hour or so. 

When he was kid Huggy dreamed of a Cadillac.  He had to wait until the Pits was running well before he could indulge himself; then aided and abetted by his friends, Dave Starsky and Merle ‘The Earl’, he chose a creamy white late fifties convertible.

He appreciated the solid clunk when the door closed and listened to the engine purr into life.  He eased into the afternoon traffic and drove out of the city.

It took him a while to find the right road to the hospital once he hit Barstow but he got there as fast as he could.

Harvey was dressed and waiting for him. “Thanks for coming, Huggy? I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Tell me about it on the way back to my place.  I assume that’s where you want to go.”

“Yes, I need to be someplace safe, Huggy.”

“Like I said; my place.”

 

Huggy waited while Harvey dealt with the formalities of his discharge. The two men walked to Huggy’s car in silence.

Huggy was waiting for a red light to change when Harvey said, “take me to Bennie’s place.”

Huggy turned to look at him.  “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Bennie’s dead.”

Harvey went pale and muttered something under his breath.

“Hutch is working on the case.”

“Hutch?” Harvey said hoarsely, “just Hutch, where’s Dave?”

“Good question.” Huggy stared ahead not wanting to think about the way things were turning out.  “He disappeared about the same time that Bennie was killed.” He turned to look at Harvey, “and things don’t look too good.”

Harvey drew a breath. “What do you mean?”

“Bennie was shot with a Smith and Wesson .59. Sound familiar?”

A sad stare was the only answer Huggy got.  Harvey slept most of the drive back to the city. Huggy snuck sidelong glances at him now and then and wondered what the hell was going on.

 

Huggy showed Harvey where he could find all he needed in the apartment and headed back to The Pits. Driving in the heavy rush hour traffic he ran over what Harvey had said.  He needed help but he couldn’t contact the police. Huggy understood one thing loud and clear, Harvey was scared and he had done something so terrible that he didn’t even want to talk to his old friend about it.  When asked why he hadn’t gone to his family Harvey shouted “I have to keep my dad out of this!”

Huggy also noted that Harvey hadn’t mentioned his cousin.

 

*************************

 

Dobey was about to leave the office when the phone rang. It had already been a very long day.  He gave it a sour look and replaced his hat on the coat rack. As he passed it the rack swayed slightly and he half expected to see Starsky grab it and suspend himself precariously between the wooden S-hook and the door handle. He shook the idea out of his mind. The likelihood was that if Starsky ever came into this office again he’d have his hands secured behind his back.

 

“Dobey,” he growled into the receiver as he let his heavy rump drop into the chair.

“What the hell’s going on Captain?” Hutch’s angry voice asked. “What the hell….”

“The evidence is against him, Hutch.  It’s his gun.  I don’t need to tell you that, you saw the handle as clearly as I did. The only prints are his and the track on the lawn came from steel belted double layered tires you know as well as I do how proud Starsky is of those sixty buck beauties.” He listened to the silence.  “Hutch; are you still there?”

“Yea I’m here.  It stinks, Captain; it stinks worse than last week’s fish in the canteen and you know it! So why did you let them put it out on the TV? Did you warn his family….it was on the national news Captain, what’s Lily going to think?”

“I spoke to her; in fact I was with Al and Rosa when I spoke to her.  Harvey has disappeared too and we think it is linked.”

“But you let them announce on the national TV that Starsky is the suspect Number one for killing Bennie Goldberg.”

“I had no choice Hutch; my career is on the line; and maybe yours too.”

“My career isn’t on the line Captain because I quit!”

“Hutch calm down.  You can’t quit like that. Come back in and we’ll talk about this reasonably.”

“I can’t be reasonable about the FBI being on my partner’s tail for something he didn’t do.”

“Come home and help me prove it then. Listen Hutch, there are things I can’t tell you over the ‘phone; things Al told me.  Starsky is in trouble whether he is innocent or guilty; and he’s in danger. I need you here on the case.” And so does Starsky.

Hutch said nothing for a moment.  He was thinking of how his partner had stood by him when he was accused of murdering his ex-wife.  The smoking gun was by the body and it was his; but Starsky never doubted him and he fought for him all the way.  He ran his hand over his face and drained the miniature that he’d taken from the bar while talking to Dobey. He couldn’t quit.

“OK, I’ll come back, but don’t count on me staying one day longer in Bay City than I have to if I can’t clear Starsky.”

“We’ll deal with that if we have to. Get the first flight back tomorrow and…Hutch…are you there…..” the burring tone told him that Hutch had hung up.

 

Hutch woke with a hangover and after a quick cold shower he slammed his things into his bag and threw a last glance around the room to check that he hadn’t forgotten anything. He pressed the elevator button impatiently and when he saw that it was up on the twelfth floor and he was on the third he swore and ran down the stairs.  He paid his bill and remembered to ask for the expenses slip. He drove back to the airport and checked in the car in record time.

“Here are the keys; the car is in bay twenty five. Send the bill to the Bay City Police, attention Captain Dobey.” He flashed his badge to silence the clerk’s protestations and ran to the airline desks to get the first ticket back to LA. He had time to sit in a coffee shop and down enough black coffee to get the aspirin he’d begged from the check-in clerk to work before his flight left. 

Just after noon, Hutch was sitting in Dobey’s office listening to what the lab had found and the FBI’s case against Starsky.

He held up a finger. “Wait just a minute here.  How is it the FBI is on this case anyway Captain?” He glared at the two agents in their standard issue suits.

One of them held up a hand to silence the Captain.

“This is an FBI case because Goldberg had connections out of state.”

Hutch opened his mouth but closed it again.  Harvey had gone to Vegas and disappeared; Al thought that Bennie had sent him, but supposing he hadn’t.  Supposing Harvey was involved in something and that included setting up Starsky. He wanted to find out more about Harvey’s visit to Nevada before he went any further.  He stood up.  “I need to talk to someone.” He turned to the two FBI agents, “and when I’ve spoken to them I’ll decide if I want to speak to you.” He sketched a salute to Dobey and slammed the door behind him.

 

Hutch sat at his desk and tried to calm down; he couldn’t, with a sweep of his arm he sent everything on his desk flying to the floor and stormed out of the Squad Room leaving Minnie shaking her head and gathering up the files and pencils to replace them in some kind of order on the desk. Hutch walked along the hallway and down the stairs without seeing or hearing anyone or anything. The only thought in his mind was that Starsky was being set up; he was sure of that, even if he had no idea of the how, the who, or the why.

He drove in an angry fog to The Pits and parked the car at a crazy angle behind the kitchen door.  The sound of plates smashing and someone shouting made Huggy look up from the racing pages spread out on the bar. Hutch appeared with Angel following behind shaking his head.

“Give me a drink, Huggy.” He sat on the bar stool and stared at nothing.

Huggy knew Hutch well enough to recognize the cold fire of anger in his eyes. He reached for a glass and a bottle of vodka; he pushed the drink towards Hutch and fixed one for himself.  This was going to be a long evening.

Hutch drank steadily and held out the glass for a refill. Huggy poured in silence, knowing that it would only make things worse if he asked questions before Hutch was ready to answer them.  He gestured to Angel to keep an eye on things and he walked round to stand by Hutch, “come upstairs where we can talk in private.”

 

Hutch looked at the bed over on the other side of the room and almost wished he could see Starsky lying there no matter what state he was in.  He flopped into the armchair and held out his glass.

“So what have you heard?”

Huggy poured and sat down; he took the time to light a cigarette before speaking.

“What I’ve heard doesn’t make sense.”

Hutch felt his temper oozing out of his pores. “Huggy!”

“Ok. What I heard is that everything points to Starsky.  The people I spoke to have it on very good authority that Bennie wanted to hand over his operation to someone younger. He had a team picked out.” Huggy paused to take a long drag on his cigarette and blow the smoke out in a thin stream that spiraled up to the ceiling and fanned out along it in the current coming from the window.

Hutch drained the glass.  “And I’m sure you know who the lucky chosen are.”

“I’ve heard names, but I don’t buy it.”

Hutch stood up abruptly; he swayed slightly before pacing across to Huggy and grabbing him by the collar. “I want those names, Huggy!”

Huggy put a hand on Hutch’s and looked him in the eye. “No you don’t, Hutch; believe me, you don’t.”

Hutch let him drop back on the chair. “Aw come on Huggy; its been what, five years since they…” He stopped. What was he talking about? A couple of years ago Starsky had gone undercover – or so he said – to help Bennie get trouble off his back. Hutch was drunk enough to believe anything and sober enough to know that he was not really capable of rational thought. But this was too ridiculous; no way could Starsky have been playing a double game all this time. No way! He looked at Huggy.  Could he really trust him?  After all Huggy and Starsky went way back, and who knows how much Huggy might have owed to Bennie too. He picked up the bottle and went back to his chair to pour another drink.

“Who told you, Huggy?”

“Elena.  She was there.”

The lipstick on the glass

“She was there? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She was with her father when Starsky went to see him; when Bennie offered him the deal and when Starsky lost his temper and refused.”

“Starsky loses his temper a lot – but he doesn’t kill people when he does. I suppose you know where I can find Elena.”

“Sure.” Huggy write an address on a piece of paper and slipped into Hutch’s jacket pocket.  “You ain’t in any condition to go out there tonight, Hutch; and Elena will still be there in the morning. Get some sleep.” He nodded towards the familiar bed. Hutch said nothing and Huggy decided to leave him alone.

 

Hutch drained the bottle and gulped the last of the whisky; down in the still quiet bar Huggy heard the thumps as the bottle and glass fell to the floor. He lit another cigarette and switched on the TV set over on the far wall. It was a repeat of an old ‘B’ movie– the last refuge of the insomniac and the lonely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter ten

 

Starsky was getting weaker all the time.  The alternating hose downs and drying sessions left his body sore and aching.  His condition wasn’t helped by the erratic feeding schedule either.  Sometimes he was given no more than dry bread and water after a period of starvation; sometimes he was given a plate full of food that his stomach had to fight to retain.  And he had nowhere to relieve himself.  He was kept shackled in his own filth and he began to crave the hose.

 

This morning was different.  His jailer dragged him out to the hitching rail.

“Turn around.”  He did as he was told; standing with his back to the man giving the orders.  In a cop’s worst nightmares there is the moment when a bullet hits him in the back; Starsky didn’t want to go that way; but right now he wasn’t sure he gave a flying fuck what happened any more.

He braced himself when he heard the click. Nothing. “Stay still.” Maybe the guy was having trouble taking aim? He waited and heard another click.  Nothing happened; he was still standing there and he was still alive. He put up no resistance as he was pulled back to the cell.

He sat against the wall and tried to understand what had happened.  A gunshot broke the silence; Starsky wondered if the other prisoner had been put out of his misery.

Later his jailer brought him a plate of beans and a piece of half-stale bread.

 

 

*********************************

 

 

 

The second photo was addressed to Hutch. Once again it was in an envelope with no mailing indications on it. It lay on Hutch’s desk for two days before he came into the office again.

 

Waking up with a hangover was beginning to be a bad habit. Hutch took a moment to remember where he was. He rolled off the low bed and gathered up the clothes he had discarded on the way there.  He had no memory of getting undressed. He looked around to see if there was any trace of possible company during the night. Only Huggy’s tamped out cigarette in the ashtray; he sighed with relief that he hadn’t done anything he might regret later. He went into the bathroom and took a shower.  As he toweled himself dry he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. His hair was a mess and his unshaven chin made his mustache look dirty. He opened the cabinet above the basin and found Huggy’s spare electric razor. The buzzing and the vibration on his face sounded and felt like a gang of hell’s Angels was riding through his brain. He slapped cold water on his face and retrieved his clothes to get dressed. Five minutes later he was drinking strong black coffee and making an effort to nibble a slice of dry toast.

Huggy was attentive but he seemed distracted, as if there was something on his mind that he didn’t know how to express.  Hutch had seen that before with Huggy. The bar owner lived on the edge of two worlds; the one inhabited by his friends Starsky and Hutch and the world that he had left behind when he broke out of the ghetto with his winnings. Starsky left it behind too.

Hutch poured more coffee into his cup and looked up. “Spit it out Hug.”

“I can’t.  I promised not to tell anyone. And until I get let off that hook I can’t tell you.”

“Does it have anything to do with Starsky?”

Huggy suddenly took a close interest in a speck of dirt on the mirror behind the counter. Hutch finished his coffee and left.

He had no desire to go to the precinct. He didn’t want to sit at his desk staring at the empty chair opposite him and wondering where Starsky was.

He set out to find Elena.

 

The address Huggy had given him was in the kind of neighborhood where his old LTD and the VW he was driving now were both likely to make any inhabitant that saw him call the police immediately.  He managed to arrive at Elena’s house without trouble. It was a Californian Spanish style house with a big lawn running down to the sidewalk and oleanders lining the path to the double front door made of what looked to Hutch like solid oak.  He pressed a button and heard the discreet chime echo inside. He waited on the step and when no-one came to let him in he decided to see if there was another entrance. Dodging an automatic sprinkler that switched on just as he walked past a bed of rose bushes he made his way to the back of the house. A woman was on a lounger by the pool; her eyes were hidden by huge framed sunglasses and she was wearing big headphones that were attached one of the new portable Hifi sets that Hutch dreamed of being able to afford. He walked over to her and his shadow touched her face. She reached out and switched off the machine.

“Tall; blond and well built,” she said in a husky voice, “you must be the famous Hutch Dave talks about.”

Hutch felt the blood rush to his face. Her mouth twitched to a smile. “He also said you blush easily.” Hutch felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth; he tried to say something but all he could manage was “I..uh…uh….”

Oh shit what else did he tell her about me….and why?

“And the stammer; what was it he said; something about boyish and vulnerable.” She took off the sunglasses and looked him in the eye. Hutch was struck by the intensity of her gray-green eyes. She held out an elegantly manicured hand and he helped her to her feet.

“D-did S-Starsky really tell you that.”

She wrapped a sarong round her waist and winked.  “Dave has always told me everything about the people he loves.” She smiled again; “oh don’t worry; he loves you like he loves his brother. No, scratch that; more than he loves Nicky. He trusts you!”

She led Hutch into the house; “help yourself” she said indicating the bar cabinet. “I’ll have gin on the rocks.”

Hutch found the gin and the ice and selected a heavy hand engraved crystal glass. He half filled the glass with ice and poured in the gin.  There was beer in the fridge and he chose a Bud. Elena returned almost as soon he had opened the can; she picked up her glass and took a sip. “Perfect.”  She sat in the couch and crossed her legs giving Hutch a tantalizing glance of a dark shadow that didn’t match his memory of her bikini.

“Come and sit down and tell me why Huggy sent you.”

“I think you know.”

Elena took another drink. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning is always nice.”

“Ah the beginning; how far back do you want me to go? Dave’s first time?  It was mine too.  Oh you’re blushing again.  Did I embarrass you?”

Hutch tried to put the image of Starsky and Elena fumbling at one another’s clothes.

He noted the color of her lipstick – the same as on the glass at her father’s house.

She put down the glass. “Ok enough teasing.  This is tough for me too, you know.”

Hutch leaned forward.  He wanted to reach out and touch her; he wanted to kiss her, he wanted….he wanted to know the truth however bad it was; and he wanted to fuck Elena. But he had a feeling that the lady was more dangerous than she seemed.

“You were at your father’s house the night he was killed.”

“Maybe.”

“You were there.  You had a drink; and left lipstick on the glass.”

She raised her glass in a mock toast.

“You were there and you saw who killed your father.”

She turned away.  Hutch thought he heard her stifle a sob. “Elena! You know who it was; for the love of…” She was crying. He relented and put his arm around her and she turned to nestle her face against his shoulder. “I didn’t see, I heard. I was upstairs. I needed the bathroom. I went upstairs and…oh Hutch.  I thought he’d come back to tell daddy that he’d thought the offer over and that he was going to accept.  I didn’t think he would…I didn’t think he could…I didn’t go downstairs; I thought he and dad should talk about it alone. I heard the door open and then I heard the shot. So I thought it couldn’t have been him. But that car is one of a kind, Hutch, isn’t it.  I heard the door slam and I looked out the window and I saw him drive away. And when I got downstairs daddy was dead.”

 

*****************************************

 

 

 

It was late when Hutch walked into the Squad Room. The night shift cops were playing cards round a desk and one of them looked up when Hutch walked into the room. The expression on Hutch’s face made him swallow the pleasantry he had been about to say.

 

Hutch sat down at his desk like an automaton. He stared at the pile of papers in front of him and sighed deeply.  The other cops exchanged glances and went back to their game; muttering their bids and bets as if they didn’t want to disturb him.

 

He saw the envelope and touched it carefully as if he thought it would sting him. He opened it and pulled out the big glossy picture. He dropped it as if his fingers had taken an electric shock and let out a hoarse cry.  One of the other cops looked up. “Are you Ok Hutch?”

“Leave me alone.” Hutch didn’t sound Ok but the other cop knew better than to rile him. “Sure, come and join us when you’ve finished.” He made it sound as much a question as an offer. Hutch said nothing and picked up the paper he’d dropped. 

 

The other cops exchanged knowing glances; each one of them dreaded the idea that his partner might disappear or be killed. They understood the need for a belief that your partner would be there when you needed him; they understood that a partner was the person with whom you trusted your life.  They also knew how close the Starsky and Hutch duo was. The jokes and snide remarks aside; they knew that those two were exceptional cops and that their close partnership was both the reason and the result of their success.

 

Hutch slipped the photo into the file with the one of the burned out car. He rolled a witness report form into the typewriter and spent the next fifteen minutes putting the what he had learned so far on record. He pulled the form out of the roller and signed it. 

He needed coffee. He went over to the pot and saw the memo on top of the in-tray on Robinson’s desk. He put down the mug and picked up the paper.

“As of 9a.m. Tuesday 17^th June, David Starsky is considered the prime suspect in the murder of Bennie Goldberg. The FBI has requested that an all state APB be released; the BCPD has succeeded in getting a twenty four hour delay on that in order to arrest former detective Starsky without the risk of injury or possible death during an arrest.  Starsky is to be regarded as armed and dangerous but BCPD officers are asked to shoot only in self defense.” There followed a description of Starsky. He picked up the sheet and saw the list of evidence against Starsky noted on another sheet of paper. It repeated what Dobey had already said: ballistics had confirmed that the bullet came from his gun; the only prints on the gun were Starsky’s…and the tire tracks on the lawn were left by the Torino. Hutch swallowed and stared sourly at the metal basket.

He didn’t need to think twice. What was there to think about? If anything it was the excuse he had been looking for.

He ignored the coffee and went back to his typewriter.  This time he selected a clean white sheet of paper and started to type. It didn’t take long. He ripped it out of the machine and signed it. He walked into Dobey’s office and put the file on the Captain’s desk. He placed the typed page on top of it and after making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything he walked out of the office and out of the building.

 

He was emotionally numb.  He sat in the car and weighed up home against The Pits.  He decided on home.

 

 

 

 

Chapter eleven

 

Harvey slept for a few hours.  The memories of what he had done were still haunting him.  He switched on the TV set and went into Huggy’s kitchen in search of coffee and aspirin. He knew he had to speak to his father; but he didn’t want to put him in danger. These people would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. He heard the announcer mention Dave’s name and ran to see what they were talking about. He sat down with a bump and splashed hot coffee down his chest making him swear. He had to do something; and he had to do it fast. But how?

He was still sitting with a coffee stain down his shirt when Huggy came home.

 

Huggy was tired. What with Hutch and the paperwork for the tax people and a dead night in the bar he needed to get some rest.  He took one look at Harvey and knew that he wasn’t going to get any.

 

“Hey man,” Huggy said as he lit a cigarette, “what’s the matter, you seen a ghost or something?”

“Dave…Dave..they said he..he…but he couldn’t have done. Huggy I know he couldn’t have done it.”

“You want me to call Hutch?”

“No!” the vehemence nearly knocked Huggy over; he sat down before Harvey hit him with another outburst.

“Ok, no Hutch. But if you can prove that Starsky is innocent…”

“Sure I can; at least I think I can. But I’m in trouble too Huggy, and I know what I did could take me to Death Row.”

For a horrible moment Huggy thought he knew which of the new categories Harvey had committed…murder of a police officer.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

*********************************************

 

 

 

The file was on his desk and the letter was on top of it.  Dobey had always dreaded a moment like this.  Both of them had come close to carrying out the threat more than once. But neither of them had carried it out. He picked up Hutch’s badge and gun and put them to one side; then he read the letter again:

 

Captain,

 

Hard as it is for me accept it is obvious to me that Starsky is guilty of Murder One.

I can not be expected to arrest him; I considered him to be my closest friend. I’m shocked to realize that he must have been playing a double game, that he was still involved with the mob and Goldberg.

I enclose my report; my final report.

I hereby resign from the Bay City Police Department; please arrange for all money owed to me to be credited to my checking account as soon as possible. I can not stay here. If I have to return to give evidence for, or against, Starsky I will do so; I will send you a contact address or phone number in case you need me to come back here for the trial.

 

Signed

 

Kenneth Hutchinson.

 

 

Dobey opened the file.  The picture of Starsky’s badge and ID card lying on the rug beside Bennie’s body fell onto his desk.  He thought he understood why Hutch had quit; he wanted to quit too.  This was getting out of hand.

 

He put Hutch’s letter, his gun and his badge in the bottom drawer of his desk; filed under ‘later’. 

 

Jackson and Pollack were reading the memo and discussing the Goldberg case in low voices.  Neither of them wanted to have to arrest Starsky and neither of them relished the thought that another cop might deem him to be armed and dangerous and resisting arrest.  Jackson looked up as Dobey’s shadow touched his desk.

“Captain?”

“The two of you meet me in the bar across the street in ten minutes.” He left the Squad Room without returning to his office.

 

Dobey was sitting in a booth at the back of the bar. It was a bar the cops used a lot when they weren’t in the mood for the cafeteria; Dobey didn’t mind being seen with his men here.

 

Jackson and Pollack arrived and took their places on the bench opposite their captain.

“This is between us,” Dobey said in a low voice. “Hutch has quit and I need you two to take over from him and Starsky.” He slid the buff folder with the latest photo across the table. “So far I haven’t shown this to anyone and I want to avoid having to do so.”

“Take over?” Jackson asked. Pollack picked up the folder and opened it; he whistled and handed it to his partner. Jackson looked at Dobey. “Take over and withhold evidence, is that what they did when they wanted things to turn out right for them?  Maybe Starsky did it more than we thought – maybe he was on the other side all the…”

Pollack shut him up. “Don’t be stupid.  Starsky is on of the most honest guys I know. I’d trust him with my life more than any other cop on the force,” he glared at his partner, “including you and Hutch!”

Jackson’s anger subsided. “Sorry, I know that Dave wouldn’t do anything like that. But Captain that photo is going to make the DA’s day.”

“Not if he doesn’t see it; and unless Starsky resists arrest I don’t see any reason why he should.” He looked at each man in turn; he had weighed his words carefully and both of them had immediately understood the underlying meaning of ‘if he resists arrest’; why would Starsky resist if he was innocent?

Dobey continued. “You two are now assigned to our most important case; the Goldberg murder.  I want you to find out who did it and I want you to find Starsky.”

“Where do we start?”

“Start with Elena Goldberg or whatever she calls herself these days. And you’d better check out the report Hutch gave me about the old lady he went to see in Chicago. From what she said, Starsky’s cousin Harvey is in trouble too.  But something doesn’t ring true. You’re detectives; you find out what it is.  Report to me at home or leave a message for me to meet you here. This is not something I want the rest of the precinct to know about.”

Dobey left the booth.

 

Jackson and Pollack finished their beers in silence.  “Where do you think we should start?”

 

 

 

 

********************************************

 

Huggy was listening.  Harvey was semi hysterical and it took a while to unravel the threads of what he was saying. One minute he was talking about how he could hear what they were doing to Dave and the next he was blubbing about Stella. In the end Huggy said, “tell me about Stella or tell me about Dave but for the love of shit, Harvey, one goddamn story at a time!”

 

“Ok; I’ll tell you about Dave.”

“Wait a minute.  I need coffee.”

Harvey waited while Huggy made pot of coffee and brought it over on tray with two mugs and sugar.  He poured for both of them and handed a mug to Harvey.

“Ok.”

 

“I guess you heard that Bennie wanted to retire?”

Huggy nodded.

“And you maybe heard who he had in mind to take over from him.”

“I heard that someone was high on the list.”

“Yea, Dave.  Bennie wanted Dave to take over and clean up the operation and then close it down. He figured that Dave was the right person to try to get a deal with the DA for Bennie to be able to retire to Palm Springs or someplace like that without any trouble following him. Then Dave could maybe go back to New York and we’d all live happily ever after. Bennie really didn’t like the way things were going and he knew that there was an outfit that was trying to muscle in.”

“Is that why he sent you to Vegas?”

“He didn’t send me to Vegas…Elena did. She said that her dad wanted me to go and see Manzini to see about Bennie’s Vegas interests.  I never got that far, Huggy.”

“Elena sent you!” Damn! I sent Hutch to see her.”

 

“Yea. Like I said I never got that far. I was hijacked. They kept me in the dark and they told me that they’d got Dave I could hear what they were doing to him. Huggy, they were torturing him. They told me that if I agreed to what they wanted they’d stop hurting him. One day I didn’t hear anything.  One of them took me into another room and they fixed me up like they were going to do it to me too. I’m a coward, Huggy, I know I’m not worth the half of what Dave is worth.  I could never have handled going to ‘Nam; and I wouldn’t have survived what he went through.  But I couldn’t let them kill him. I knew that much…so I agreed to do what they wanted.”

 

Harvey broke down and sobbed. “God forgive me, Huggy, I saved Dave’s life but I killed Stella.”

 

Huggy lit another cigarette.  “Wait a minute; you’re saying they had Starsky when they took you?”

“Yea; maybe they took us both out there at the same time; but it was Dave I could hear.”

“How do you know it was him?”

“He’s my cousin, Huggy; I’ve heard him cry in pain before, remember. If it wasn’t him someone did a pretty good impersonation.”

 

Huggy remembered. He remembered when Starsky had returned from the war; leaning heavily on a cane and twisting his face in pain as he walked.

 

“If Starsky was out there then, who killed Bennie?”

“I don’t know; but I have a pretty good idea who arranged it and who made sure the cops thought it was Dave.”

 

“Tell me about Stella.”

Harvey reached for the coffee pot and poured the last trickle into his mug. Huggy stood up. “Ill make some more; I think we’re going to need it.”

 

Harvey seemed to be talking in a trance.  He recited the whole sequence of events as if he had been a detached observer; Huggy began to suspect that he had been drugged.

Harvey went back over the days of captivity; how he could hear what they were doing to Dave and how they told him that only he could stop it. At first he had resisted, but the threat of pain made him crack.  “I said I’d do whatever they wanted from me as long as they let Dave go.” he said hoarsely.  “I believed they would let him go Huggy; I really believed them.” He choked back a sob of shame and humiliation.

“They cleaned me up and they brought me into town.  They took me to the station.

Stella came down to the track and it didn’t look like she was looking for a train. There were a lot of people down there waiting on the train from Chicago – and waiting to take it back east.  I knew what I had to do to save Dave’s life. I walked over to her; I think she recognized me,” he shook his head, “maybe not. I stood behind her and waited.  The tracks started to rattle – you remember that sound Huggy? When we used to put our pennies on the tracks, you know? Then I saw Stella on the tracks.  I ran out of there and that’s the last I remember.”

“Wait a minute… who do you mean by ‘they’?”

“I don’t rightly know. Two men; I didn’t recognize them and they made sure I never saw them properly.  The guy they left behind with Dave, I’d recognize him though.  He was built like something out of a cartoon – the big ugly bad guy.”

Huggy caught his breath.  The description rang a warning bell in his memory. He tried to remember the name that went with it, but he couldn’t. All he could remember was that the man was a psychopath.

 

He needed to learn more from Harvey – if Harvey was capable of telling him.

“You said you saw Stella on the tracks. Are you sure it was you who put her there?”

“Huggy I was there, I pushed her; I know I did!”

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

The phone went on ringing.  Huggy hung up and went back to his customers. He had been trying all day and well into the evening but there was still no answer. He figured that if he didn’t get a reply by the time he closed the bar he’d swing over and call in person.  Harvey needed all the help he could get and it couldn’t wait.

 

As soon as he could get away Huggy drove over to Venice Place.  The scruffy battered LTD that Hutch called a car was nowhere to be seen; but that didn’t bother Huggy; in recent weeks Hutch had left it wherever it refused to start and taken a cab or called Starsky to get home. Huggy sat in his car and looked up at the windows.

They were dark.  He sighed and drove home

 

*************************************************

 

 

Hutch parked the VW in a long term parking area and stalked over to the courtesy bus stand.  He’d call Merle or Al sometime and tell them where they could find it; but not now, not yet; when he was ready

His flight was posted but not being called so he took his time to walk to the gate.  An hour later he was flying over the Nevada desert with the stub of a one-way ticket in his pocket.

 

He had no idea what he was going to do; but he had his savings and he could always go and live on the old farm that his grandfather had left to him and his sister in joint trust. Now that his father was dead he knew that he was the only person still interested in the farm.

The plane cut through turbulence and Hutch pushed himself back against the seat and remembered the last time he’d been in a plane; a crazy open biplane with Starsky playing Snoopy to a black Red Baron. He smiled to himself remembering Starsky vacillating from scared of heights panic to boyish silliness as they searched the desert for a ‘fort’.

Where are you Starsk?

The ‘plane started its descent and Hutch tried not to remember the last time he had come to Duluth. His father’s death wasn’t unexpected; it was even a relief for everyone in many ways.  He’d pay a courtesy visit to his mother – if she was not otherwise engaged with Bridge with her Country Club friends or some kind of meeting to arrange a charitable function in aid of people she hoped she would never actually have to meet.

 

 

******************************************

 

Huggy kept trying Hutch’s number all night and even took a detour on his way to The Pits to see if his car was in place. It wasn’t and he got no reply either.

By mid-day he would have been worried if he’d had the time.  The lunch-time crowd was good that day and he worked non-stop from eleven to three thirty. Before leaving the bar he tried Hutch’s number once more; although he knew it was no use.

 

He started the car and pulled out of the alley.  He started to turn left but changed his mind at the last minute and swung right making a delivery truck driver honk in anger as he had to brake.

 

The desk sergeant nodded to Huggy as he walked into the precinct. The tall skinny and outlandishly dressed black man was no stranger to the cops in the building; they all knew that he had a privileged relationship with Starsky and Hutch and their captain.

Huggy took the elevator and found himself face to face with Jackson.

“Hi Huggy; have you heard something about Starsky?”

Huggy shook his head; he didn’t want to share what Harvey had told him with anyone but Hutch or Dobey. And truth was he had never trusted Jackson and his partner.

Jackson walked straight into the squad room and Huggy saw him speak to his partner. Pollack looked up briefly then turned to say something to Jackson. 

Huggy knocked on Dobey’s door.

“Sit down Huggy; I’ll be with you in a minute.” Dobey had his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and he waved at a chair with his free hand. Huggy helped himself to a goblet of water and sat down.

 

“No I’m not accepting his resignation!”  Dobey slammed the phone back onto its cradle. “What can I do for you Huggy?”

“I came to find Hutch; I need to talk to him…at least someone I know needs to …I uh..”

“Hutch says he’s quit.” Dobey sounded angrier than ever, “so maybe you or your ‘friend’ had better talk to me.”

“I don’t know Captain. It was tough enough getting Harv…getting him to agree to tell Hutch what he knows”

Dobey flattened his hands on the file on his desk. “Huggy, if you know where Harvey is the best thing you can do is take me to him. He’s in trouble, big trouble.”

“I know; at least I know what Harvey thinks he did.”

“Thinks?  Huggy we have an eye-witness.”

“He’s at my place.”

“Let’s go.” Dobey stood up.

 

Dobey drove.  They were only a couple of blocks from the precinct when the radio announced that a patrol unit had spotted ‘the suspect Harvey Kauffman.’ The two men exchanged worried glances and Dobey grabbed the mike. “This is Captain Dobey. Nobody, I repeat nobody approaches Kauffman. Keep him tailed I’m on my way. He turned to look at Huggy.  “The light is under your seat; it’s a magnetic hold, just slam it up on the roof.” As he spoke he hit the siren and accelerated.

The patrol car reported that Harvey was walking along Vicente and it was following at distance. Dobey swung the wheel and swerved across the traffic to take a short cut. “Pull the light off the roof, Huggy” he said as he cut the siren, “we don’t want to scare him.” He picked up the mike again: “All units; this is Captain Dobey.  I’m coming up behind Kauffman and the rest of you stay out of the way.”

Huggy was impressed with Dobey’s driving skills; the captain wasn’t in Starsky’s league – but few people had been ever since Starsky was about eighteen years old. Dobey wove through the traffic until he was driving alongside Harvey.  He touched the horn and Harvey automatically turned to look to see who had honked.  Huggy waved to him and Dobey signaled to pull over. Harvey stopped in his tracks.  Dobey stopped the car; he rolled down his window and leaned across Huggy. “Get into the back Harvey; everything’s going to be just fine.” Harvey looked over his shoulder as if checking to see if he was being tailed before opening the back door and getting in.”

Dobey called in as he started the car. “Everything is under control.”

I hope.

 

Harvey clutched a glass of whisky and blurted out all that he had already told Huggy.

Dobey listened in silence, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling as if he might see the explanation for all this mess in the patterns the paintbrush had made round the light.

Harvey waited for the captain to say something. Read him his rights; tell him he was under arrest, anything.

“Harvey; we have an eyewitness who saw you push Stella. We can’t avoid that. We also can’t avoid the fact that your life is danger; whoever made you kill Stella doesn’t want you around to tell the tale.  That’s why you were hit by the car; they wanted you dead. We need to get you someplace safe.”

“Arrest me; they can’t get to me in prison.”

“That’s not such a bad idea. And we do have to tidy up Stella’s death.” The three of them stood up. “Are you going to cuff me and read me my rights?” “Do I need to?”

“No; I’ll come quietly.” They were still laughing when they got into Dobey’s car and drove back to the precinct.

 

********************************************

 

 

Hutch parked the hired car in front of his parent’s house. He had grown up in this house but it still seemed like a foreign land.  He slung his bag onto the bottom stair.

Agatha came out of the kitchen, adjusting her coat and obviously about to leave.  She had aged and her black hair was graying round her face. “Your mother didn’t tell me you were coming Mr. Kenneth; but I can fix you something.”  “No, you go on home; I can manage.” As she passed him she smiled. “You haven’t come home have you?”

“No, Agatha, I can never live here.”

He wandered out to the back yard, eating an airport-bought sandwich without really tasting it, if there was anything to taste.  He had discussed it enough times with Starsky. ‘What would you do if you had to go back to where you came from?’ Starsky either laughed it off by saying he’d join the NYPD, or he suggested that they both run away to South America and rob banks. Now Hutch was back home and he didn’t have a job any more. He didn’t want to join the local cops; that was for sure. He’d had his fill of running after low life thugs and junkies. Tomorrow he’d go arrange to transfer his money to a local bank; then he’d go out to the farm and see what he needed to do to make it habitable. Then he’d think about his future; maybe he could go back to college and pick up where he should never have left off.

 

The sky in this part of the world seemed endless. There wasn’t a horizon, not like the sky over the ocean; here the plains stretched out to infinity and the rare clouds seemed to hang in the sky as if some giant artist had pinned them to the background to form a huge collage of nature.  The car stumbled over the rough terrain and Hutch swore as he fought to keep it on the dusty road. He’d see if the truck was still running and arrange for the rental company to come and collect this sedan that was totally inappropriate to the surroundings.

And if he did it under duress?

He closed his mind to the thoughts fighting to get in; in the end Starsky had let him down. He had considered going back to Bennie and that was enough for Hutch. Hutch never had completely understood how Starsky could reconcile being a cop and going back to help Bennie out a few years back. He sighed; so many people had let him down in his life. His dad turned out not to be the hero he had dreamed of, but just another workaholic doctor. His mother wasn’t a runaway princess, even if she behaved like one sometimes, and his wife turned out to be a bitch. Hutch had clung to Starsky’s friendship and integrity and now even that was taken away from him.

He pulled up in front of the old farmhouse and climbed out of the car.  The key was still hanging on the nail in the barn. Hutch let himself in to his new life.

 

The house reeked of stale air and Hutch threw open all the doors and windows letting the sunlight caress the old wooden surfaces. He made an inventory of all that he needed to do to make it habitable again. There was no electricity, but it only needed a call to get it connected again; he could be sure of water from the wind pump if nothing else. He brought his bags in from the hired car. 

The old truck was in the barn; there was a gallon can of gasoline on the workbench but Hutch was pretty sure he wouldn’t need it. His grandfather always filled the tank before driving back from wherever he had gone.  The last time Hutch had used the house he had done the same thing and there was no reason to think that anyone else had driven it in the past three years.

Three years! Was it really three years since he and Starsky had come out here to spend a long weekend; Starsky grouching about being too old to play cowboys and where in the heck were the Indians anyway and jumping out of his skin at every sound that cracked the silence. After a day or two the ferociously urban city boy had mellowed and was happily doing odd jobs around the place.  Hutch discovered that his unpredictable friend was not just a good mechanic but his love for modeling meant he could turn his hand to most woodworking jobs too.  Starsky had grinned at him ‘I loved shop’… it wasn’t until Sharman reappeared in his life that Hutch understood why.

He turned the key and the truck’s engine started first time. Starsky had given it his attentions too and Hutch was still relieved to hear the engine turning over normally, not roaring like a caged dragon the way Starsky preferred his vehicles to do.  Will I ever get over him?

 

Hutch drove into the nearest town. From the diner he called the utilities to have the electricity and the phone reconnected, giving his former address in California as a reference. He called the car hire company and arranged for someone to come and collect the car. “Yes, I know it will cost me extra, but I don’t need it where I am and I don’t have anyone to drive it back for me.” He sat at the counter and drank sour coffee and ate a piece of synthetically sweet lemon pie before driving off to buy food and other supplies.  He bought a postcard and addressed it to Dobey. He wrote his address and phone number and added ‘contact me if I’m needed at the trial.’ He posted the card and drove home.

 

The radio in the truck would only pick up a C&W station and something that sounded too much like the ranting of the preacher in his childhood to make him want to stay tuned. He switched it off and pulled onto the parking lot in front of a car accessory store. He found a radio with a tape deck and waited in the warm afternoon sun while the mechanic fitted it.  “You want to add a CB, mister?” No he did not; he was no longer one half of the team known as Zebra Three; he was finished with call signs for once and for all. He strolled over to the neighboring store and surveyed the array of rifles and hunting knives. He didn’t want any of that either. Hutch would be happy if he never saw a gun again.

He drove home singing along with Neil Young.

 

 

 

Chapter thirteen

 

Silence. It was almost as unbearable as the screams and pleading that he had listened to unwillingly for so long. He no longer had any grasp of how long he had been here.

His beard was thick and no longer itched. He was getting thin and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before his body started to burn the reserves of energy in his muscles. He was being starved to death.

He hadn’t been hosed down for a long time either and even though he should have been inured to it by now the stench of his own excreta sickened him. His piss was so strong it burned him and if and when he peed the pain in his back indicated the sad state of his kidneys. He was beginning to want to die.

Davey must have been about nine years old; his father showed him the photos that he had brought back from the war carefully. Mike Starsky was a gentle father and he didn’t want to scare his son – but he wanted him to understand how cruel man can be to man. ‘I hope you never have to see anything like I saw there Davey.’

Now he was remembering the horrors that he had seen in his turn.  The prisoners released from the bamboo cages, wasted and hollow eyed like the men and women in the pictures his father had shown him. And the terrified women and children running from his platoon…he had resisted and it nearly cost him his life.

He had always been scared of the dark as a kid, and now he was wasting to death in the dark.  His soul cried out to be rescued before it was too late. His past was playing out like a bad movie in his memory, did this mean he was dying?

 

The human body develops amazing capacities for survival but mind and matter have to work together. A healthy person can withstand mistreatment and deprivation for a surprisingly long time.  The body has an ability to go into almost total shutdown under certain circumstances in order to preserve the last hold it has on life.  A drowned man may revive after he has been taken out of the cold water and his body temperature rises.  Deep coma can be as healing as it can be destructive. Equally important to survival is a mental attitude that refuses to give up. A will to live keeps some people alive despite the most acute diagnoses.

Anybody who had ever met Dave Starsky would tell you one thing about him; he was stubborn. The toddler who threw temper tantrums because he couldn’t tie his shoe-laces grew to be a teenager banging his head and his fists against authority. The teenager turned into a young soldier who screamed at the surgeons in the field hospital enough to convince them not to amputate his leg; and who would then spend grim months learning to walk again. His determination made him a dangerous opponent and it also made him an excellent cop.

 

Huddled against the cold damp wall of his prison; weak with hunger and thirst and enfeebled by the constant mistreatment to which he had been subjected, Starsky had lost all track of time and space; and of his own being.  He was also beginning to lose his grip on the world. Constant darkness punctuated by the cruel bright light if the sun high in the sky had confused him.  He was determined not to lose his mind. But he was also aware that he was losing control. Finally he knew it was time to let himself drift; to take refuge in his body’s natural defense instinct.  The darkness enfolded him like the rug his mother would wrap him in when she held him on her lap after a nightmare.

 

If and when he woke again he’d be ready to fight another day.

 

**************************************************

 

 

 

Reid finished packing the pickup. Everything was ready; he drained his last cool beer and threw the bottle into the back of the truck.

 

He walked into the old jailhouse and opened the hatch. His prisoner was slumped against the wall; his head hung to one side and Reid couldn’t see any sign of movement.  He opened the door and the prisoner didn’t react. The stench was pretty bad and Reid let the air circulate for a while; he stood over his victim waiting to see him wake up.  His prisoner still didn’t react.  He knelt beside him and checked the man’s breathing.  He undid the shackles and hoisted Starsky over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of feed. He threw him onto the flatbed of the truck and drove away.  Ten minutes later he stepped back to admire his handiwork and take the last photograph.

 

Reid stopped at Needles to post the last envelope and headed for home.

 

 

***********************************************

 

 

Starsky started to float back to the surface of his consciousness.  The first thing he was aware of was the weight on his back; and the fact that his left arm was numb from the elbow down. His arm was numb because it was folded at an odd angle under his face.  He tried to move and found that he was trapped. He tried to breathe and his nostrils were filled with a new smell; it wasn’t his filthy body but the odor of damp earth. He opened his eyes to total darkness. His arm was crooked under his face forming an air pocket that had saved his life. He made a tentative movement with his right arm and panic ran through him like an electric current.  He tried to move his legs and felt the weight holding him down. Something moved across the back of his neck. Slowly he understood that he was buried alive. Something ran across his face…he resisted the temptation to scream and put all thoughts of worms out of his mind.

 

He lay still and considered his options.  Either he risked using up what little oxygen he had and tried to force his way out of his grave, or he gave up.  Starsky had never given up on anything in his life and he wasn’t going to start now.  He flexed the fingers of his left hand to bring the feeling back and as soon as he could he braced himself against the earth below.

Starsky had seen enough in his career as a cop to now that most killers don’t take the trouble to dig a full six feet under for their victims; he prayed that Bluto was too lazy to have bothered to dig too deep in the hot sun. He also knew that the earth was dry and sandy.  He pushed hard and managed to turn over. It’s now or never….

He pushed his hands up and his weakened abs didn’t let him down; with a last painful effort he pushed again and sat up, forcing the earth away from his face and chest.  He was right; Bluto didn’t bother to dig a real grave. He lay in the evening sun and breathed carefully; using each breath to expand his aching lungs a little further. His head was spinning as he tried to stand up and he fell heavily against a rough wooden marker. He rolled over onto his knees and eased himself upright using the marker as a support. He looked around.

Boot Hill!

He felt like something out of the horror movies he loved to tease Hutch with.

 

He crawled to the edge of the cemetery and looked down at the town below him.  It was deserted.  The pickup was nowhere to be seen and he knew that he was alone.

His first priority was to find water; to maybe get some of the filth off his body but most of all to re-hydrate himself. He started to walk towards the ghost town and another attack of dizziness got the better of him. He sat on the ground and waited until he felt able to walk a few more yards. The skinny moon was coming out from behind a cloud when he finally crawled into the saloon.

 

He woke staring at the underside of a table.  His mouth and throat were parched and even his eyes felt dry and scratchy.  He needed water and he needed it urgently.  He looked around in the vain hope that there was a source of water.  He spotted a small bottle of water on the floor by the table. He was oblivious to the pain in his hands as he opened the bottle but as he raised it to his lips he saw the state of his fingers. His nails were torn and bleeding. He sipped the water carefully; despite his terrible need for liquid he knew that he had to take it slowly or his stomach would reject whatever he offered it. He held each sip in his mouth, allowing the water to moisten his gums and soothe his swollen tongue. The fire in his throat was going out but the water flushed the flames down his esophagus and into his stomach. He sank to the floor and tried not to fight the cramps.

When he woke again it was dark outside and in the mid-way between moonset and sunrise the desert night was a cold as the day had been hot.  He needed something to cover him if he was going to escape from this place. He couldn’t do much in the dark; he went back to sleep.

 

Then next time he woke he drank a little more water and explored his surroundings.  His water bottle was emptying fast; he tried the faucet behind the bar and nearly cried with relief when a flow of cool clear water came out. He saw for the first time that there was a kitchen behind the bar-room.  He checked a fridge that was rumbling and rattling in the corner. It wasn’t empty and he looked at the contents. He was hungry, starving, but he new enough to be careful; careful not to upset his stomach and careful not to leave a trace of his presence. The fridge meant that his jailer intended to come back. Day turned to night and back to day again. Starsky had been sipping water for about twenty four hours now but he had only relieved himself once. His body was regaining some of its lost strength but he didn’t think he was in any condition to try to escape yet.  The problem was Bluto; supposing he came back and found that his prisoner was still alive, Starsky tried not to think of that. He needed to get out of here though and until he felt strong enough he also needed to find somewhere to hide in case the man-mountain returned.

 

Warily, he explored the ghost town; taking regular rests and sips from his water bottle. He was beginning to feel hungry again and he knew he would have to risk raiding Bluto’s supplies. He found a place to sleep, and he took a freshly filled water bottle and a packet of crackers with him. He settled down.

 

The sun shining through a hole in the roof woke him; he drank more water and peered out into the street below him.  There was no sign of anyone else so he risked going down to the saloon to replenish his supplies. He found an old back pack with a big drinking gourd which he filled with fresh water; he stashed the remains of the crackers in the pack and hoisted it onto his shoulder; ignoring the chafing on his raw skin. He was about to step out into the blazing sun when he heard the engine.  He scuttled out of the back of the saloon and into his hiding place – a big old barrel that had been set to catch precious rainwater if and when the rains came.

The pickup rumbled into town and stopped outside the saloon. Starsky could hear footsteps. Two people; the heavy tread had to be the man he still thought of as Bluto, but the other footsteps were lighter. A woman’s voice confirmed what he had already understood.

“Are you sure no-one ever comes here?”

“Sure. I can leave my stuff here for months and when I come back it’s all where I left it.” The footsteps crossed the salon room. “Damn!”

“What?” She sounded alarmed.

“Someone has been here; my old back pack is gone.”

“Maybe a hobo passed through.”

“Yea, well I guess I won’t miss it.”

“Show me where he is.”

Starsky heard them walk out of the place and the engine started again.  He climbed out of his barrel and slipped to a vantage point at the corner of the building. When he saw Bluto’s passenger he knew that he was in deep, deep trouble.

 

He sat in the dirt and considered his best route out of here before they came back to look for him.

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

The last thing Dobey wanted right now was an investigator from IA in his office. But since he didn’t have a magic lamp there was no point in wishing he wasn’t here. He tried to keep calm but he was never too happy when his men were being called into question.

 

“Look at it from our angle, Dobey.  Starsky has a doubtful background.  OK his father was a cop in New York but the kid did most of his growing up here; brought up by Al Kauffman who just happens to be a very old friend of Goldberg. And one of Goldberg’s most faithful soldiers is none other than Harvey Goldberg. And Harvey used to be one half of a team known in the underworld as the Persuaders. And the other half of the team….”

Dobey had heard enough. He thumped a fat fist on the desk and leaned forward to eyeball the IA office whose name he already wanted to forget.

“I know about Starsky’s past. Chief Ryan knows about Starsky’s past.  We also know what he has on his files here.  He came into the force as one of the best graduates from the Academy,” Dobey opened the file in front of him and found the page he needed. He pushed it towards the other man. “Read it; it’s the class list.  I see Starsky and Hutch up at the top there; and I see your name right down near the bottom. You’re in IA because no Captain wanted you in his team; so you ended up sifting the dirt.” He took another page from Starsky’s file. “And this, have you ever seen this?” the other man looked at it briefly and nodded. “Captain Dobey I am quite aware of Starsky’s war record.”

“At least he has one” Dobey growled; “I did a little research into you. Not only did you just about scrape through the Academy you were conveniently flunking college in Canada when your draft papers arrived.”

“There was nothing illegal…”

“No there wasn’t; but the difference is that one of the people in our conversation is a decorated Veteran and one of the finest cops on the BCPD; and the other is a cop more by luck that judgment.”

The other man blanched for a second before regaining his composure. “I am not under investigation Captain; but Starsky is. As I was saying; Starsky’s record is fine as a cop, but it also full of details that many people would find suspect. He went to see Goldberg.  We have reason to believe that he had been meeting with Goldberg on a regular basis recently – but there is no investigation at the moment that would justify that. And even if there were, Starsky is on Robbery Homicide; he isn’t necessarily assigned to mob investigations. So why did he go to see Goldberg so often?”

Dobey shook his head.

“Now let’s look at his partner, Hutchinson.  Starsky disappears, Hutchinson does a little light investigating into what might have happened – he even visits a witness; and then he disappears. He ups and goes…”

“Hutch quit.”

“But why?  Because he thinks Starsky is guilty? Captain Dobey I stopped believing in Santa Claus a long time ago. Hutchinson would stand up for Starsky even if he’d seen him pull the trigger and you know it! So where is he and why has he quit?”

He paused letting the effect of his accusation take hold. “I’ll tell you what I think, Captain, I think Hutchinson has gone to join his partner and that the two of them are planning to change career.”  He took a sheet of legal notepaper from the file he was holding. “It appears that more than once they have talked of quitting the force to go rob banks in the south.”

Dobey couldn’t help himself. He laughed out loud. “You really are a fool aren’t you?  You know what some of the others call those two? ‘Sundance and the Kid’; and you know why?  Because of the way they joke about that.”

The IA man looked blank. Dobey grinned. “Don’t you ever go to the movies?

Now get out of my office and don’t come back unless you have solid proof of your case against my men!” He stood up and signaled that the interview was over.

 

************************************************

 

 

‘Starsky would be impressed’ Hutch said to himself as he surveyed the results of his day’s work. He had cleaned the farmhouse from top to bottom, filled the fridge and the cupboards with enough food to see him through a few days and even run a check on the truck’s engine and topped up the levels of oil and brake fluid.

He awarded himself a beer and sat in the porch listening to the sounds of night time on the prairie. It was wonderful to be away from the city jungle; to know that he didn’t have to be anywhere tomorrow or any day.  He was free to do what he wanted.  He was going to start with a vegetable garden.  He had done his best with his covered deck or ‘winter garden’ as he had pompously called it, but he couldn’t grow his own tomatoes and beans and corn. He was going to dig and water and tend his crops and…and try not to miss Starsky!

 

He finished the beer and stared into the distance. It didn’t matter what Starsky had done he was still the best friend Hutch had ever had. The only real friend I ever had.

Looking back over his life Hutch thought about the people he had called friends.  At school, even at High School he had been on the edge of the circles rather than in them.  People he thought were his friends were only interested in him for what he could bring them. Jack had been an exception; but they drifted apart after Jack went on to medical school and Hutch dropped out. Even his ex-wife had never really been a friend.  The only person who had stuck with him through thick and thin was Dave Starsky.

Hutch shook his head; his heart was telling him that he shouldn’t have walked out, that he should have stayed to clear Starsky’s name; just as his partner would have done for him. Hutch said it out loud as if trying to convince himself, ‘because there was a witness; Elena was there.’

His heart went on arguing with his head; ‘but you knew she was lying about something, why not that?’  ‘Because of the other evidence, I guess.’

The other evidence; Starsky’s gun with his prints on it – well Hutch’s gun only had his didn’t it, and anyone who ever saw a cop show on TV knows about wearing gloves or clamping a dead man’s hand on the gun. No not that….

The tire track? So Starsky went to see Bennie; try turning that hog of a car in a tight corner and you soon understand why Starsky once let out a whoop ‘hey the rear end actually followed the front this time!’  The evidence was all circumstantial so why had he accepted it?  The answer didn’t lie in whether or not Hutch thought Starsky was guilty; but in his growing dissatisfaction with the job.  He was tired; weary of running around the sleazy parts of the city of angels; dealing with the underside of the Hollywood Dream and risking his life in the process.  It wouldn’t be long before one of them stopped a bullet that killed him; and Hutch no longer wanted to be the one. Using the accusations against Starsky had been the get out clause he needed; and he’d taken it. Again he asked himself what Starsky, his stubborn ‘I’ve started this, I’ll finish it’ partner, would have done.  He sighed; he knew the answer. ‘But he always wanted to be a cop, it’s in his blood; I fell into it because it seemed to right. I’ve never known him run away from anything; but I have in the past; I went to college to avoid the draft as much as anything else, I dropped out when the going got tough and I was ready to quit the Academy until Starsky helped me over that god-damn wall.’

He took the bottle to the trash can and picked up the hoe he had been using; he still had a couple of rows of squash to plant.

 

*************************************************

 

 

Harvey had been processed and now he was sitting in an interview room with Jackson and Pollack.  Pollack looked familiar and Harvey tried to remember where he’d seen him. Pollack saved him the trouble; “Joe Pollack, we were in the old Foulmouth’s math class.”

Harvey relaxed. That math teacher had been the bane of his existence; he taught a general class for the slower students and Harvey was reassured to see that one of his fellow victims of the man’s halitosis had got so far in the world. Dave loved math – he’d been in a different class and followed courses in trig and all kinds of stuff that was as clear a Chinese to Harvey. Pollack’s acne-ridden face came back to him and he held out a hand. “I guess we’ve both changed a little over the years.”

“Yes, and gone our separate ways too.” Pollack chuckled, he and Dave had joined the good guys, but he wasn’t too sure about Harvey. “Dave took a while to recognize me too.”

Harvey felt at ease with Pollack but he wasn’t too sure about Jackson. The other man was leaning on the table and staring at him. “Which of my two heads is green?” Harvey fixed Jackson with his cool blue stare as he asked the question. It broke the ice.  Jackson laughed.  “Sorry; I’m just trying to figure out how it is you look so like Starsky but you don’t look like him at all.” Pollack rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Jackson looked at his partner, “look at him. He uses his eyes like Starsky; he kind of smiles like Starsky,” it was true one corner of Harvey’s mouth was raised in a slightly lop-sided grin, “but he doesn’t really look like him… but they are both…” He swallowed it. When Hutch had come out with the line everybody thought Starsky was going to slug him, did he dare say it himself? Harvey raised an eyebrow – Starsky again. Jackson looked at his partner helplessly; Pollack winked at him and finished the sentence; “black curly headed Jews.” He laughed, “I guess I’m allowed to saying it seeing as I fit part of the bill,” he ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. Harvey smiled at both of them.  “I heard about that; I never knew if Dave was mad because of what Hutch said or because someone had implied they were gay.” He turned to Pollack. Our mom’s are sisters. Dave is like his dad though.”

“That’s what I meant, Jackson said, “I’ve seen a photo of Starsky with his dad when he was a kid – sizes one and two.”

“Yea, but see him alongside Aunt Lily and you’d say ‘just like his mom.’” Harvey reached into his jacket and pulled out his cigarettes; he offered the pack to the two cops, Pollack accepted and Jackson shook his head. Harvey lit the two cigarettes and said “but we aren’t here to talk about my family tree, are we?”

“No. We need to hear it all, Harvey. What you told Dobey, what you told Huggy…and what you haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Ok.  Where do you want me to start?  I guess you know about the time before Dave joined the force.”

Pollack nodded.

“So let me tell you about my cousin and the man we knew as ‘Uncle Bennie.”

For the next hour Jackson learned more about Dave Starsky than he had ever imagined.  He also came to understand why he had stayed in contact with a powerful member of the Los Angeles underworld. But neither he nor Pollack believed for one moment that Starsky had killed Bennie Goldberg.

Pollack lit his fourth cigarette and seeing that Harvey’s pack was empty he offered him one.

Harvey concentrated on the flame at the end of his cigarette and narrowed his eyes against the heat. He raised an eyebrow; “Now I’ll tell you about Stella and her daughter. Bennie married Stella, and she gave him a daughter, Elena.”

Pollack glanced at Jackson signaling ‘did you catch the way he said that?’ Jackson nodded imperceptibly.

“Bennie adored her; he gave her the best. He was protective and when Dave started getting the old complaint for her Bennie sent her away to some snooty school.”

“The old complaint?”

“Yea; you know – like an itch you can’t scratch in public.” The two cops got it.

“Dave was really hot for her and she led him on. By then Stella had gone; and Elena was a real cock tease, like mother like daughter I guess.”

Jackson pricked up his ears. “What happened to Stella?”

“Word is that before she met Bennie she was easy, if you know what I mean. Bennie had troubles with a rival outfit sometime in the early sixties and they got to Stella.  She came home with a bad habit. Bennie did his best but she ended up leaving him. She was back on the streets. Bennie did his best to protect her; and to keep Elena from knowing where her mom was. Stella kept in touch. She sent Elena cards for birthdays that kind of stuff; and I knew where she was. One of the first things I did for Bennie was keep an eye on her. I don’t know how it happened but Elena found out Bennie wasn’t her father and she exploded. She talked me into taking her to meet Stella; Dave came with us. Elena went flying at her mother like a wild cat and Dave managed to pull her off; but not before Stella had a black eye and a bloody nose.  I can still see him grab Elena from behind and pull her off her feet to get her away from her mom. Elena stormed off and refused to speak to either of us again. She really hated Dave for stopping her from beating on her mother; the last thing she said to him was that she’d make him pay. One day she’d make him pay.”

Pollack left the room.  Jackson knew he had gone to see what he could find on Elena Goldberg. “Harvey, do you think she has finally got her revenge?”

“Yes…I don’t know how, but I think she made me a part of it. She hated her mother and she hated me and Dave. And I think she still does.”

“Did you ever find out who Elena’s father was?”

“No, but my dad thinks it happened when Stella went to visit family in Chicago.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter fifteen

 

Reid stopped the truck and led the way to the old cemetery; she followed behind swearing when her expensive cowboy boots slid on the grit and dust. Reid was enormous and behind him she looked like a Barbie doll. The ungainly figure stopped and she could see from the pitch of his head that something wasn’t right.  She walked up to stand alongside him and stared and the pile of disturbed earth.

“You fool!” she said just before she shot him. He collapsed onto the ground and she kicked some of the dirt over his face before walking away.

The keys were in the ignition; she had to struggle with the seat to get it close enough for her feet to reach the pedals.  The truck cabin stank of him; she opened the windows and drove back to the ghost town.  Starsky had to be somewhere.

 

Starsky was putting together some kind of survival kit; he found a hunting knife and some twine in a box in the saloon. He heard the shot and looked up, he had to move fast because whichever of them was still alive was going to come looking for him. He helped himself to the crackers and was looking for a can opener for the beans when he heard the truck engine in the distance.  He grabbed the back pack and staggered out of the room to take refuge behind his rain barrel. The truck was coming along the street, leaving a fine plume of dust behind it; it was moving slowly and Starsky knew that the driver was looking for any sign of life. He ran low and as fast as he could to the side of the building and watched the truck roll by. He saw Elena’s face framed by the window and pulled back before she could see him. Instinctively he looked at the ground; the sun was ahead of him; his shadow wouldn’t give him away.

She parked outside the jailhouse and Starsky calculated rapidly whether he stood a chance of getting to the truck and taking off in it before she managed to put a bullet in him too. She disappeared into the building and he made his way to come level with the truck.  Staying low he went over to the driver’s door and looked in. The key was gone. He climbed into the cab, ignoring the discomfort as he sat on the hot vinyl, and reached below the steering column to find the wires; his expert fingers worked on some forgotten instinct and made contact; he slipped the gear into drive and floored the gas. For some reason he noticed that the trip odometer had been reset and showed five miles.  He hoped that was the distance to the nearest town.

The first bullet hit the tailgate; the second missed his head by a whisker, the third broke a brakelight and the others didn’t get a chance.  He looked in the rearview and saw Elena’s tiny figure jumping up and down like an angry cartoon.

He drove along the road until he could no longer see the ghost town. He had no idea where he was but the sun showed him the difference between east and west. He headed west.

Starsky spotted a truck stop up ahead but the fake leather sticking to his bare ass reminded him that he wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. He swore under his breath and stopped. He thought about it for a while.  For all he knew the people at the truck stop knew Bluto and would recognize the truck; ‘plus I must look like something out of a horror movie and I’m naked.’ He discounted Elena; even if she came after him on foot the odometer told him that he’d covered enough ground for it to take her a few hours.

 

He pulled the back pack off the seat and half fell out of the cab. He took his time; he was weaker than he wanted to admit. There were no vehicles in front of the place but the lights were on as if the owner was waiting for a crowd.  Starsky leaned against the wall and made his way to the doorway.  A door slammed at the back of the building and he listened to someone walking across the concrete area between the truck stop and a trailer parked behind it.  He figured that whoever ran the place must live there.

He slept on the flatbed; protected by the same tarp that Bluto had used to cover what he believed to be Starsky’s dead body. He woke feeling chilly and stiff and looked at the tarp; it was too big and stiff to be used as a makeshift garment. He sipped some water and ate a cracker – he knew he was going to have to be careful with his rations.  He climbed down from the truck and started to walk in the opposite direction to the sunrise. Wherever he was, west was where he needed to go. He disabled the truck as best he could to delay anyone using it to follow him.

He walked away from the main road; the dirt was hot under his feet and he could feel the sun licking at his butt – he didn’t relish the idea of sunburn there. He made his way round to the back of the trailer and settled where he could watch the comings and goings. He needed to know who lived there and what the schedule was. Someone had to be in the truck stop all the time – the sign said ‘open all nite’. He nibbled another cracker and sipped his water.

He must have dozed off; the sound of the screen door slamming made him pay attention. He watched the woman let herself into the truck stop and waited to be sure that she wouldn’t see him if he crossed the yard. Keeping low, as usual, he made his way over to the back of the trailer and looked in through the window.  There was no sign of anyone else.  The back door of the truck stop creaked and Starsky just had time to hide behind the trash cans. The woman walked back to the trailer and slammed the door.

Starsky took a good look round.  He couldn’t risk going inside; something moved just out of his sight line and he turned warily to see what or who it was. He saw an answer to one of his problems; but he’d have to bide his time.

A man came out of the trailer, his hair was wet and Starsky guessed he must have been in the shower earlier when he’d checked the window. It was the man he’d seen in there the day before and Starsky figured that he was in charge of the truck stop. A couple of minutes later he heard the front door of the trailer open and close and a car drove away.  It was now or never.  He ran to the line and grabbed the pair of fatigue pants that was hanging to dry. There was an old hat on the ground and he stole that too.

He pulled the pants on and winced – he had sunburn in a place no man should ever get sunburn – but the pants fit him pretty well although he had to roll up the legs a little before he ran back to retrieve his back pack. He sabotaged the truck and walked out into the desert and hoped that LA wasn’t too far away.

 

******************************************

 

Elena watched the truck disappear and threw the gun to the ground in fury. Her boots hurt her feet and she only had one option…walk out of here.  The sun was high in the sky and she knew that it would be better to wait for the cool of the evening.  She had Reid’s supplies after all. ‘And how far can he get anyway, the state he must be in.’

She might as well get some sleep.

It took her two hours in the morning sun before she spotted the truck. She pulled the gun out of her purse and checked the clip, she still had four bullets and she might need them. Her feet were aching and she could feel blisters on her heels and toes. She was thirsty and had started to wonder if she was going to get out of this hell hole alive but anger had driven her this far.  She stomped up to the truck half hoping that he would be there so she could kill him.  His strength had taken her by surprise. Reid was sure that he’d buried a dead man, but he’d not only risen from the grave he’d managed to escape.  The truck was empty; she took the key out of her pocket and climbed in. She couldn’t believe her luck.  The engine started but she saw that the gauge was down to zero.  She rolled up in front of the pump just as the motor spluttered and died of thirst.  She waited; a man of about forty came out and started to pump gas into the tank. He showed no interest in who she was or where she’d come from. If he recognized the truck he didn’t make any sign of it.

“Going to Vegas or the coast?”  Elena didn’t hear him; she was too busy wondering how she was going to be able to put a foot to the ground to go inside to buy something to drink and to pay him. He spoke again. “I was just wondering which way you were going ma’am.”

She looked at him blankly. “Vegas; I’m going to Vegas.  Listen, I uh…I hurt my ankle this morning, it’s OK when I drive but it kind of hurts when I walk. How much do I owe you?” He read the total off the pump; she pulled out a couple of notes and said “bring me out a couple of cans of soda and keep the rest OK.” He nodded and walked into the shanty building that served as a truck stop and store. He re-appeared a couple of minutes later with three cans of Coke. Elena took them and was about to drive off when it occurred to her that he might have seen Starsky. “Did anyone else pass by here this morning?”

The man missed a beat, and Elena noticed. “No, I ain’t seen anyone here since the fat guy last filled up his truck.” He had a gut reaction that whoever had stolen the fatigue pants from the line this morning was trying to get away from this woman; and pretty as she was, he could see why. She had a cold air to her that scared him.

She drove away swearing under her breath. He laughed as he watched her go; she may be beautiful but she was dumb; if she was going to Vegas she was headed the wrong way. He also noticed the thin trail of gas forming like a snail’s track behind the truck.

 

Starsky heard the engine and turned round to see the dust trail about a mile behind him.  In the dry desert silence sound traveled fast; he had time to duck behind a rock and watch Elena drive past and out of his sight.

 

 

 

********************************************

 

 

 

Starsky had been trained to survive in the jungle but the principles were the same. The lessons were surfacing from the depths of his memory.  Stay out of sight of the enemy; find food and water where you could and learn which plants were safe and which weren’t. Add to that the skills he had learned on the streets of Brooklyn.

He had also learned to survive with the minimum of water; how to hold each gulp in his mouth and ration the amount he swallowed each time; fooling his tongue and sending messages to his brain to make it think he had been drinking as much as he needed.  He was going to have to start using all those techniques now. He’d been walking for two days. He traveled when it was coolest, grabbing a few hours sleep in the darkest part of the night when the moon gave way to the sun. When the sun was highest he tried to find shelter; but the desert had little to offer and the hat was often the best he could hope for.

 

Starsky was sitting in the precious shade of a rock and sipping from his dwindling water supply.  He had to plan his strategy now; it would help if he knew where he was. Now and then he heard the rumble of a truck as it made its way along the blacktop in the distance.  He dare not take the risk of hitching a lift. On the other hand if he got to the highway and saw one of the rare signs that gave the distances to the next town he would have an idea of what he was up against. He stood up and swayed slightly; his head was spinning and his knees felt like they were going to give way at any time.  His feet has stopped bleeding, that was something; he had literally walked through the pain barrier. He tipped the hat over his eyes and checked which way his shadow fell.  It was behind him now so he knew that he was still going the right way.

He walked on.

He swayed again.

And fell………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter sixteen

 

Something was snuffling around near his feet.  Starsky tried to open his eyes but they were sore and swollen and his eyelids were stuck together with a crust of sleep and seeping blisters.  He had slept into the day and the sun was burning in under his hat.

He groaned and managed to raise himself onto one elbow. He licked a finger; his tongue was dry and rasping on his skin, and wiped his eyes the best he could. It hurt like shit but he managed to open his right eye enough to see that a coyote look up from snaffling the last cracker in his bag. The animal stared at him and Starsky slumped back on the ground. He crawled to the back pack and found his water bottle.  He had no choice; he took one last drink before he poured the last drops onto his cuff and wiped his eyes. The water soothed the pain but he was too weak to go any further. He dragged himself back to the rock and huddled in its shadow; the sun circled him like the Indians round a wagon train in a movie.

 

It was the dusk of another day when he felt strong enough to try to go a little further.  The moon was waxing and the thin crescent that had lit his first night of freedom was now a silver half dollar in the indigo desert sky.  Stars twinkled and Starsky tried to remember what someone had told him about sailors navigating by the night sky. He swore and continued in what he was pretty sure was the right direction. As the sun rose he was relieved to see his shadow leading the way. He was crawling now; his knees were as bloody and sore as his feet. Up ahead he saw a clump of cactus and he fixed it in his gaze, willing himself forward to the only chance he had of finding something to quench his thirst.

He was in luck, the cactus was covered in fruit. Starsky knew that it would be dangerous to try to drink the cactus water; but the prickly pear is a delicacy and the cactus was covered in fruit.  He ignored the pain as the spines dug into his hands; he harvested a supply of prickly pears and settled down with his knife to enjoy his feast.

It tasted a little like papaya and Starsky ate three of the fruits before the cramps hit him.  For an awful moment he thought that he had picked the wrong part of the plant. He doubled over in pain and struggled to breath against it. His stomach calmed down and he sat up. ‘Idiot, you haven’t eaten anything much in days and you gorge yourself on ripe fruit!’ He laughed, ‘and you’re beginning to sound like your mother’. He packed the back pack with as many prickly pears as he could gather and took the time to rest and let the food revive him.

 

He made his way as best he could.  There were days when he could hardly walk; when he knew that he had hardly covered any distance; days when he understood that he’d been in the same place before. He counted time by the progress of the moon.  He had been in the desert for at least a week, maybe two. He squinted into the glare ahead of him; he made out the shape of a car. The possibility of rescue gave him the strength to walk towards it.

 

*********************************************************

 

 

When Harvey had finished telling his story to Jackson and Pollack they escorted him to a safe house and went to meet with Dobey. The only other person who knew where Harvey was being hidden was Huggy; despite the FBI agents’ protests Harvey had insisted on that. “I’m sorry but after my cousin, Huggy is the only person I trust right now.”

 

Dobey listened to what his detectives had to say. “Does Harvey have any idea where he was being held?”

“No, Captain. He thought it was a motel; but he never got a chance to see anything. They kept him blindfolded.”

“And he is sure,” Dobey hesitated; weighing his words carefully because he didn’t want to have to think about what he was saying; “sure that it was Starsky he could hear.”

“He’s sure Captain.”

 “What do you think about Stella? Do you think he killed her or was he set up?”

Jackson spoke first. “He thinks he did it. He gave a real detailed statement; he said he wanted to save Starsky’s life.”

Dobey sighed and pushed an envelope across the table. “I got this today.”

Jackson opened the envelope and Pollack watched his partner’s complexion go from tan to white via gray and green. He looked at it and felt sick. They were looking at a freshly dug grave. There was a wooden marker and someone had used chalk to write Starsky’s name.

“It could be a fake.” Pollack tried to sound convinced.

“It could,” Dobey said, “but after what Harvey has told you and the pictures we had already…”

“Harvey is convinced he is still alive. I don’t know why, Captain, but I think he’s right.”

Pollack looked at the photo. “I think I know where it is. See in the background – those buildings.  Yes, I’m pretty sure I know where it is.”

Dobey stood up. “Then what the hell are you waiting for get out there and check it out.”

Jackson and Pollack left the room. “You want to tell me where we’re going?”

“Route 66.”

Jackson stopped and stared at his partner. “Route 66; what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I did it a few years back.  Funny thing is it was Starsky’s idea; he was going to take a vacation following the old road but he ended up in the hospital and when I had a couple of weeks leave I borrowed his plan. If I’m right, this place is out near Needles.”

 

They didn’t get the chance.  The City throws up new crimes every night and even the death of a local mobster gets sidelined when other cases require attention.

 

**************************************************

 

 

 

Starsky stared at the burned out wreck. The shape was familiar; had he once driven a car like this? Was it his car?  He walked round it trying to piece together a clear picture of what it must have been. It was Ford; the badge had somehow survived the flames; a two-door model. He was convinced that if he could identify the car it would give him a reason to believe that he hadn’t lost his mind. He walked round it again; running his hand along the fenders and the hood. He stepped back to look at the grille; the lights were shattered, the glass burst by the heat of the flames but there was something there. It was one of the Fords with a foreign sounding name. He closed his eyes and saw bright red paint. He swore; whatever this wreck was it had nothing to do with him so why did it make him feel so sad? As he turned away he caught the sun’s reflection on a corner of the trunk – there was a tiny bit of paintwork that hadn’t been carbonized. The car was once green. For some reason he found that comforting. It was time to move on.

 

He decided to take the risk and follow the road.  A truck slowed and stopped up ahead. He hesitated. The truck didn’t move.  He hesitated again before deliberately walking away from the road and into the dust.

The trucker watched the forlorn figure as he trudged into the distance; he climbed down from his cab to check out the wreck. The metal was warm from the sun but he could tell that the burnout wasn’t recent.  He figured the drifter didn’t have anything to do with it so he didn’t bother to mention him when he sent out a CB call for ‘bears to come check a wreck’.

 

The image of the burnt out car haunted him. It was so familiar and yet he knew it wasn’t right.  The little patch of green paintwork had comforted him; but again he had no idea why. He worried at the impression of a memory of the car and something terrible happening…something he was sure he might have done. The truck rumbled off into the distance and he continued his journey towards the setting sun. That night as he slept leaning against a rock the car grew in his nightmares to become larger than life; as if it was important to him to know what part it played in his life. In his nightmare the car seemed to change color and as he stared at it he saw that it was covered with bright red blood. He woke with a start; silence echoed in the desert night and he knew that the gunshot was in his dreams. It was fear not the chill of the desert night that made him shiver.

 

He continued to follow the sun. He was living on prickly pears and his gut was responding accordingly. He needed to find something else to eat and he resigned himself to following the road again. Just until I find food.

The opportunity came a couple of days later. A camping car was parked off the road shaded from the sun by a high rock formation. He approached it carefully; there was no sign of anyone.  He found a place to hide and waited. The camper had a rack for cycles on the back and it was empty. He crept up to listen for the sound of life inside. He stood on tiptoe and peeped in through the window.  The camper was empty. He tried the door and to his relief it was open. He grinned; who would expect to be robbed in the middle of nowhere after all. He filled his water bottles and grabbed a book of matches before checking that he had left no evidence of his visit. He slipped out of the camper and was already a mile further towards the sunset when the cyclists returned.

 

During the next few days he stole food whenever the opportunity arose. He learned to scavenge in the trashcans behind the truck stops that seemed to be more and more frequent as he moved towards the sunset. One day he found himself on the edge of a small town. 

He followed roads, taking care to keep out of sight of the passing traffic, and stole food and replenished his water supply wherever he could.  Passing through one place he spotted a truck delivering to a small store, the owner was occupied chatting with the driver and helping him to unload the truck; Starsky slipped in through the back door and stuffed a few bars of chocolate and a six-pack of soda into his back pack. As he passed the till he stopped. The money didn’t interest him but his hand hovered over the small pistol.  He changed his mind. As he left he took a pack of tobacco and papers and a couple of throwaway lighters.

The towns were merging to form the suburbs; in a valley close enough to the city for him to see the lights twinkling in the distance he came to a farm. He waited in the hills above the house and watched the comings and goings of the people who lived there.  It was some kind of commune; they had a couple of fields that they worked in and there were two or three goats in a field. His opportunity came when the group loaded their produce onto a trailer attached to an old VW camper and drove off.  He used the terrain and the low-growing scrub bushes as cover in case they had left someone behind and approached the house. There were a few plants growing in a trough by one of the windows; he smiled and harvested enough to add to his smokes.

 

It was getting harder to travel without attracting attention to himself. Dogs barked in the night and flashlight beams sent him scurrying into corners and alleys.  He learned to take refuge behind trash cans and in the depths of alleys. Finally he found himself in the heart of the city.

 

He was home and something told him that he had never been in so much danger in his life.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

Dobey had to accept the facts as they were. Correction, he had to let the Chief of Police think that he accepted them; the truth was he had no intention of accepting them until he’d heard Dave Starsky tell him his version of the events.

And that was his problem right now. Starsky had disappeared and evidence was beginning to suggest that he was truly gone for good. It wasn’t just the picture of the freshly dug grave that he was staring at.  Any fool can dig a mound of earth and pretend to have buried a corpse in it. What really worried Dobey was the transcript of all that Harvey had told him and Jackson and Pollack. 

Dobey read the last line of Harvey’s testimony to Jackson.  “They were beating him to death and the only way I could stop it was do as they told me.”

Something was wrong, but what?

Jackson and Pollack had been put onto a new case.  Chief Ryan considered the investigation into a series of rapes in the school where the Senator’s daughter was a student to be more important that tracing a killer cop who was probably dead anyway. He had told Dobey that ‘the Feds are on it anyway; if they find him they can hang him out to dry.’

 

Dobey wasn’t going to let that happen. And he didn’t have Hutch here to help him either. That made him angry. Hutch would have followed his instincts to find his partner. Dobey piled the papers neatly on his desk and closed the file; he needed to talk to Edith.

 

Edith Dobey had been married to her husband long enough to sense his mood from the way he got out of the car when he drove onto the driveway in front of their neat house in the newly expanding tracts that were stretching the city limits further and further away from it’s heart and underbelly where he had worked for the past twenty years. She had married an ambitious young man who hoped to go to law school; the Korean War had put an end to that ambition and he joined the police when he returned from his tour of duty.  By the time their first child was born Harold had worked his way up the Bay City beat and was about to take his detective exams. Now Cal was in his teens and Rosie was a giggling bundle of charm who adored Harold’s two star detectives.  Edith knew how much it hurt her husband to think that Starsky might have turned back to his mentor – and that Hutch seemed to have walked away rather than fight for the truth.

She wiped her hands on her apron and told the children to go upstairs and wash up before supper. By the time Harold walked in the front door she had set the food on the table and she knew that it would give him the chance to decide what he wanted to tell her.

 

************************************************

 

 

Hutch was in town picking up supplies. It didn’t need his cop’s training to tell him that blue Pontiac was following him. The town didn’t give him the opportunities to play the kind of games that Starsky had taught him. He decided to play the fish on the hook. He pulled into the parking lot in front of a diner and went in. Sure enough the Pontiac slid into a space a few yards further along the line.  Hutch took a seat where he could watch who came in.  He was distracted by the waitress who asked “What will it be sweetie?” He stared at the menu without really seeing what was written on it. “I’ll take the special and a cup of coffee, please.”

When he looked out of the window again the Pontiac was empty.  He scanned the few people who had come into the diner while he was taking to the waitress.  He hadn’t really seen the driver of the Pontiac but instinct told him that it was the man sitting at the counter with his back to the room. Hutch took him in; a fat balding guy who looked older than he probably was, somehow he had ‘failed reporter in a small town’ written all over him. Hutch waited.  His special arrived and he looked at the plate; it looked good and smelled even better. He congratulated himself in finding a diner that had decent food for the days when he didn’t want to cook for himself. He cut into the chicken and took a bite.  It tasted even better than it smelled. He ate slowly, giving ‘Pontiac’ a chance to make his move. Hutch had started on his second cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie à la mode that was nearly as good as his grandmother’s cooking when ‘Pontiac’ slipped off his stool and brought his coffee over to Hutch’s table.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Hutch chewed his pie and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee; he swallowed: “it’s a free country”.

“It is Ken isn’t it?” the guy sounded friendly enough and Hutch looked at him properly.  First thing he noticed was that the man was not as old as he had thought; second thing he noted was that he seemed familiar. He decided to keep his cards close to his chest. The other man smiled.  “Yes; I knew it was you, Ken Hutchinson.  Remember me, Bart Donaldson;”

Hutch smiled and hoped it was convincing. He was trying to remember who Donaldson was. It came to him. The school misfit; Donaldson had taken refuge in writing the school newspaper when it became obvious that no-one was going to pick him for a team or a play or any other extra-curricula activity. Hutch also remembered the way Jack sneered about Donaldson; ‘doesn’t matter if he can’t get the grades – his dad owns the TV station’.

“Weren’t you the school journalist or something?”

“Was and still am if you see what I mean.  I run the station these days; took over from my old man when he got cancer a couple of years ago.  I saw about your old man by the way – that was tough.”

Hutch made some remark that seemed socially appropriate; an echo of his well-bred upbringing. ‘Always show an interest in other people Ken, and they will be polite to you’.

“So what brings you back here?  I thought I heard you had some kind of legal work in California.”

“I was a cop.” Why do I get the feeling he knows that anyway?

“Was?  What happened?”

“I uh…I decided to take time out.”

“Take time out – oh very Californian. I guess here we’d say you quit; like you quit med school eh Ken? Got too much for you, so you walked away.”

Hutch stood up and tossed a couple of bills on the table – enough to pay for his lunch and keep the waitress on his side when he came here again.

Donaldson followed him, calling to the waitress as he left, “put it on my tab Jenny, OK?”

Hutch walked deliberately slowly; if Donaldson had something to say he could say it here in the parking lot. He turned with his back to the sun and waited.

“Local boy returns…come on Ken, talk to me. I see the stuff from the networks you know; this is a big story for me.”

Hutch turned and looked at him carefully; he raised his hand and took a second to decide whether to punch him out. He settled for pushing Donaldson back with a jab of his forefinger. “A big story! Is that all you see?”

Donaldson regained his stance; “no, but I do see a local guy who quit being a big city cop to come back to his grandaddy’s farm. Come on Ken; it’s a story.”

Hutch missed a beat. “OK.”

“I’ll come out to your place tomorrow if that’s ok with you.”

Hutch didn’t see why not and named a time.

 

 

Donaldson arrived with a skinny young man wearing his hair in a straggly greasy pony tail that looked like a rat’s tail. He immediately set to work getting his camera into place.  Hutch looked at him sourly. “I didn’t realize we were going to be filming” he said to Donaldson.

“It’s a TV station Ken; not radio.”

“Ok” but he didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

Donaldson started off by talking about when they were at high school; what their ambitions had been and Hutch commented now and then. Soon the conversation came round to Hutch’s career with the BCPD. They talked about how and why Hutch had joined; his difficulties at the Academy and how he had been befriended by Dave Starsky. “He literally got me over the wall; physically and mentally. He’s…was…the best friend I ever had.”

“Was?”

“I- uh uh;” Hutch’s stammer kicked in with a vengeance and Donaldson signaled to his assistant to stop the camera for a moment.

“Do you want to take a break?”

“No, I’ll be OK. It’s just kind of hard to get this straight in my mind.” He didn’t see Donaldson’s furtive signal to restart the camera.

“I mean I knew about Starsky’s background; you know he wasn’t exactly squeaky clean when he came to the Academy. But he had a great record from ‘Nam and his dad was a cop back in New York and I guess that’s why the authorities were willing to forget his connections with the other side.”

“Connections?”

“He ran with Goldberg for years when he was a kid and even after he came back from the war. It’s funny; Starsky had two mentors; Goldberg and John Blaine. Blaine’s a cop and he kind of picked Starsky up and brushed him down when he first went out west. You have to understand; Starsky came back from Nam badly damaged. He’d nearly lost a leg and an eye and he had to work real hard to get fit enough to even find a job let alone go to the Academy and be a cop.  And I really believed him when he said that he had always wanted to be a cop. I guess I trusted him too much.”

Donaldson caught the whiff of a scoop; “trusted him?”

“Yes; I trusted him with my life – and he saved it a few times too. He got me out of the worst situation that I could ever imagine happening to me.  I can’t tell you about it but he was so loyal and he…he kept me alive.  I guess I thought I’d finally found a friend I could believe in.”

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know.  But Starsky’s gun killed Benny Goldberg and Starsky’s prints were on the gun. Put that together with the fact that there were tire tracks from his car outside the house and an eye-witness to him being there and…I have to accept that he was lying to me all those years.” 

Donaldson picked up the cold anger in the last remark. “You believe that Dave Starsky killed Bennie Goldberg?”

“On the evidence I have to say yes…”

“You don’t sound convinced; you could have stayed on the force and maybe proved him innocent.”

“I could have stayed on the force; but I don’t know if I could have proved his innocence…”

 

Suddenly Hutch seemed to realize the enormity of what he had just said. He ran his hand over his face and stood up to walk away from the piercing eye of the camera.

Donaldson nodded to his assistant and five minutes later they were driving away from the farm.

Hutch took the bourbon out of the cupboard and didn’t even bother to look for a glass.

 

Donaldson knew what he had to do. He spent the next four hours on the ‘phone and secured his future with one of the networks.

Within the next twenty four hours people all over America had seen and heard former Detective Kenneth Hutchinson of the Bay City Police Department imply that his ex-partner was guilty of murder.

 

 

Out of a population of over two hundred million people, for a few people Hutch’s words fell like a hailstone in a mid-summer storm.

In New York, Lily Starsky staggered in her kitchen and dropped her coffee cup. Her son Nick, living with her while he was ‘between jobs’ yet again; found her on the floor and called the emergency services.  It wasn’t a heart attack but the shock kept her in hospital for four days.

In Bay City; Al and Rosa Kauffman stared at the television screen in silence before Rosa sobbed; “that WASP!”

In Bay City, Harold Dobey told his wife that he still didn’t believe Starsky was guilty.

In Bay City, Huggy Bear and Harvey Kauffman swore to find Starsky and prove that Hutch was wrong.

 

Elena Goldberg raised her glass to the TV set and drained it in triumph.

 

And a hobo staggered into bay area of the city.

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

 

Harvey was back in the county jail; the DA’s was putting on pressure to bring him for arraignment and Dobey was doing his best to hold back the time as far as he could.  It wasn’t easy. The DA had Nellie’s statement and a couple of other eye-witnesses had come forward to corroborate that Stella was pushed to her death by a young man with whom she seemed to have been arguing. None could make a positive identification of Harvey when shown his photo. All except one; Kyle Jarrett was a junkie who paid for his fixes by picking pocket.  He was arrested for snatching a tourist’s camera and brought in to be booked; the same day that Harvey was being processed for his own safety.  Kyle muttered something to the cop who was taking his prints and he was put into the same cell as Harvey only to be removed a couple minutes later.  But two minutes was enough despite his half doped state.  He made a positive ID of Harvey as ‘the guy I saw pushing the old lady onto the rails.”

 

The DA was ecstatic. He slapped the file down on Dobey’s desk. ”I’ve got Kauffman ; now all I need is his cousin!”

“Don’t count on it.” Dobey growled as he left the room.  He opened the file.  Jarrett’s testimony was convincing enough at first glance but Dobey was an experienced cop with a sense of justice.  He believed in bringing the guilty to court – but he also believed in the principle of a man being innocent until proved guilty; and Jarrett’s drug-confused testimony didn’t prove anything to him. He knew where to turn.

 

Dobey didn’t come to The Pits that often and Huggy knew instinctively that he had something important to discuss. He joined the Captain of Detectives at a table and brought a jug of beer and two glasses. I hope this is good news.”

Dobey drank his beer before he said anything. “Huggy, I know that Starsky and Hutch have always come to you. I guess it’s my turn; I need to find out about a junkie.”

“A junkie. Hey come on Captain that’s about half the population of this part of town.”

Dobey took an envelope out of his jacket pocket. “This one should be easy for you to find.” Huggy glanced at the rap sheet.  It was way back in his past and he’d almost forgotten about it; but the fact remained that he and Kyle Jarrett had been arrested together for possession of marijuana. “I’ll see what I can do. When do you want the information?”

“Yesterday would have been nice Huggy but I guess I can hold the DA at bay for twenty four hours.”

Huggy raised an eyebrow. “The DA?”

“Your ex-friend Kyle has positively identified Harvey and he says that Harvey was with another man who looked like his brother. And you and I both know that doesn’t make sense.”

Huggy’s face lit up with a wide grin as he read the second rap sheet.  Kyle was last arrested by Starsky and Hutch; if he’d recognized Starsky he would have said so.”

“You think someone put him up to this statement?”

“I think someone gave him enough dope to make him willing to ID the President of the United States as the killer if asked.”

Huggy laughed. “From what I’ve been reading, a lot of people would believe that!” He put down his glass and stood up; “I’ll get the word out that I need to see Kyle.  It’s the best I can do, Captain.”

 

Huggy was too late; Kyle was sprawled half on, half off the bed; the needle was hanging from his arm.  As soon as the cops and the coroner’s team had gone, Huggy turned to Dobey and said, “take good care if Harvey while I’m away.”

“What do you mean Huggy? Away?”

“Captain I’ve had this trip planned for a couple of weeks; my horse came in and my lady has vacation time. I’ll be back in a week.”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

Starsky was in the docks area and that meant seaman’s shelters and missions.  As he turned a corner he saw that his luck was in.  A mobile soup kitchen was parked a couple of blocks away.  He shuffled to join the other shabby and tattered outcasts of the modern city and stood in line to take a Styrofoam cup of hot soup and a slice of bread. The woman who handed it to him smiled an automatic smile and repeated her litany “We have medical aid if you need it. There’s a mission two blocks away if you want a shower and a bed.”

He took his precious food and moved on. Exhaustion finally caught up with him and he found a place he figured he could risk getting some sleep.

 

He woke with the dawn and the clatter of the city putting on a daytime identity. His bench was in a bus shelter and a group of people were waiting for the bus. They kept their distance from him; mixing pity with disgust. He waited for the bus to drive away before setting off in the same direction.

 

 

 

Starsky moved on; he only had one person he could turn to now and he was determined to get to him in one piece.  He stopped to steal a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of milk from an unattended shopping trolley in a supermarket parking lot and made his way across the city to a familiar park.

 

 

 

The sound of car doors closing and an engine running alerted him. He peered into distance; it was a patrol car. Silently he rolled off the bench to the cover of a bush.  He didn’t think they could have spotted him; it looked like a regular patrol checking out the park for comatose drunks and overdoses. One of the cops stopped and poked at his meager belongings with his night stick.  Starsky held his breath; if they found the remains of his stash they’d be looking for its owner.  The other cop stepped up to join his partner. “Leave it Larry; it’s probably all some poor bum’s got left in life.”

“Yea,” the cop swung his flashlight beam in a wide arc, “poor bastard, he’s probably hiding from us in case we force him to a flophouse.”  The two of them left and Starsky waited to hear the car drive away before returning to his bench.

 

He decided to make the park his base. He spent the day foraging cardboard boxes from behind a delivery dock and sifting through a dumpster skip for old newspapers to make his nights a little warmer.  He was still wearing the clothes he’d crossed the desert in and the ocean chill was getting to his bones. By evening he had constructed his home in the settlement of shanty lean-tos that had appeared in the park over the past couple of years ever since the soaring gas prices made the economy turn down.

 

He sat in his shelter and smoked an unadulterated cigarette; he needed to think this out clearly. The sun was setting over the ocean and his mind went back to a beach further up the coast that he had come to think of as his private haven. He hoped he’d be able to go back there one day.

The next morning Starsky started out early; he used the alleys and side streets instead of the main roads and worked his way through the blocks that were familiar until he arrived in the alley. He sat behind a trash can and watched the back door of the bar.

The door opened and a short dark man walked out to take a break.  Starsky slipped back into the shadows but Angel sensed his presence. “Hey! Is there someone out there?” Starsky stayed where he was.  Angel finished his cigarette and went back into the bar. Starsky waited and watched, hoping that Hutch would arrive and park in the alley before going to see Huggy. 

He came back every night.

And every night Hutch wasn’t there.

He overheard Angel and one of the delivery guys from the beer depot discussing Huggy’s trip.

“He made a packet on the horse; he’s blown it all on Foxy and a luxury week in Hawaii.” Angel said.

“You figure they’ll go visit a volcano?”

Angel leered; “I figure they gonna have their own personal volcano right there in the room!”

 

Starsky leaned against the wall; Huggy was away for a week and he had no idea which day he had left.  He decided to move closer to the bar.  He settled himself near the part of the beach where the muscle men showed off in the day and the drifters settled at night.

 

He could go back every day and wait.

With luck Hutch would arrive before Huggy and he would be safe again.

 

A man sat on the bench beside him and handed him brown bag; “I figured you could use some of this, keep it, I stole two”.  Starsky hefted the bottle in his hand and knew instinctively it contained a full pint of escape. “Thanks,” he said as he raised it to his lips.  The booze was cheap but it did the trick. He drank in silence and let the world fade out of focus.

It got to be a habit.  Start the day foraging for food. He found a spot a few blocks from The Pits and watched and waited and hoped. He found that if he put a paper cup in front of where he was sitting people would drop coins in it. Usually by late afternoon he had enough for another pint or a joint or two depending on where he went to find supplies.

 

He was holding onto his sanity as best he could; clinging to the hope that Hutch would appear like the big blond hero in one of the comic books he loved as a kid and sweep him away to safety.

The hope of finding Hutch kept the chilly fingers of fear off his heart.

He was still clinging to that hope when he saw the front cover of the weekly news magazine in a trash can.

It was a photo of Hutch looking relaxed; he was holding a beer bottle and it looked like he was talking to a friend.  Starsky looked around and saw that the coast was clear and grabbed the magazine and slipped into the waistband if his pants.

 

He sat on his bench and looked through the magazine; someone had torn it apart; all that was left was the page with the photo and the caption: Hutch telling the world that “I doubt that I could have proved his innocence…”

 

Innocence of what?

Can I prove it?

Me and thee; that’s what I answered when he asked who we could trust back there in Frisco.

Me and thee; he told me things he’d never told anyone else. He trusted me then.

Me and thee; and I told him some of the things I was ready to share but… I guess I have to go back to the old buddies…the pre-Hutch people.  It’s Huggy or no-one now.

 

He finished his booze and his grass and sank into a bad trip where every demon and terror from his past came to haunt him and drive him into the sea.

 

The water woke him.  His first reaction was to think that somehow Bluto had found him and dragged him back to captivity. But water was washing over his legs. He sat up and his skull ran concentric circles with his brain. He was lying on the shore and the sun was shining in his eyes.  It was reflecting off something; he squinted up and saw the horseback cop staring down at him. “You OK?”

He nodded and instantly regretted the movement. “Yeah” he managed to croak.

The cop smiled. He was used to seeing these down and outs on the beach but it was his job to keep the place ‘clean’ for the daytime users. “I’m going to ride along my beat now,” he said, “takes me about thirty minutes. You’re here when I get back and I’m going to have to take you in.”

Starsky watched the horse walk along the sand and stood up carefully. His head ached and the sand clinging to his wet pants legs made it feel as if they were soaked in slow-drying cement; and they were still ragged and filthy. He staggered up the beach and made his way to the alley.

He wasn’t sure if he could make it. His legs felt like his body was dislocated from his brain. He used walls and street furniture to keep him from falling until he slumped beside the trash cans.

 

 

The delivery truck was late; Huggy swore and lit another cigarette.  This was the second time this month that he was in danger of running out of beer; he tapped a cigarette out of the pack in the top pocket of his bright yellow jacket and screwed up his eyes to focus on the tip as he lit it. Something caught his attention; a pile of rags or something over by the trash cans. He didn’t have time to take a closer look because the truck was at long last nosing its way up the alley. Huggy swallowed the temptation to tell the driver how he felt and checked the delivery against the note. Six barrels of beer and two of cider rolled into the cellar below the bar ready to be connected to the pumps that would take the pressurized alcohol up into the taps. As the truck drove away Huggy walked into the bar muttering about the increase in price since the last delivery and blaming it on the rising gas prices. He forgot about the pile of rags.

 

The truck’s motor set off vibrations in Starsky’s skull; they rattled his brain around making his head ache.  They followed his spine and set his gut to spasm. He rolled over and vomited. He managed to stand up but he needed to lean against the wall to get steady enough to walk. He needed a drink.  The truck was open and there were cartons of bottles waiting to be delivered.  He looked around quickly and saw the driver talking to Huggy; he snatched a bottle and sidled back into the shadows.  He drank until his head stopped spinning.  He sat sipping the day away.  By early afternoon he was anesthetized to anything and everything that went down in the alley.  The bottle fell from his listless hand and rolled into the gutter.

 

Huggy heard the clink of glass on pavement and remembered the bundle of rags.

He walked down the alley and spotted the bottle rolling on the ground.  He picked it up and heard a snore.  The hobo was in a drunken stupor; more asleep than awake, more dead than alive. Huggy instantly understood that this was the man that Angel had seen while he was away.

 

 

Julius had trained Huggy to be patient; he taught him how to watch and wait before playing his winning hand or throwing down cards he knew were no longer worth anything.  Julius also taught him how to read people; how to see when a gambler was lying or desperate. He’s seen something in the hobo’s face and now understood what it was. Huggy had to be patient.  He didn’t want to frighten the hobo but he needed to find him. He was sure the man had been seeking him out; maybe he knew something.

 

Huggy understood the psychology of the street. He knew that most of the bums and drunks just wanted to be left alone to make their way through the city.  Those that wanted help would check in to the shelters and missions. The junkies would make contact with a supplier; sometimes they were known to a local blood bank. Most often they would have one last meeting...with death; and then no-one could help them anymore.  Angel said that this hobo kept coming back. “I had the feeling he was maybe waiting for you to come back.”

Huggy thought about it for a moment.  If the hobo wanted to make contact he had a strange way of doing it.  The man moved and Huggy stepped back so that he would be seen easily.  The hobo looked up at him and turned away. Huggy could smell the fetid odor of stale vomit and booze and smoke. The man’s clothes were stained and his beard encrusted with the detritus of a drunk. Huggy resisted the urge to turn away.

“If you’re hungry, I can find you something to eat.” He said gently.  The hobo leaned his head to one side as if he was thinking about it.  Huggy pulled out the cigarettes and a dirty hand with broken tattered nails reached out of the shadows. The hobo was wearing the kind of gloves with half–fingers and for a second Huggy thought he saw something flash. He offered the cigarette pack and it was snatched from his hand. “That’s Ok, I have plenty more inside.” Huggy said as he tossed a book of matches to the hobo. The man lit his cigarette and Huggy had a glimpse of the sadness in his eyes.

 

Huggy left a plate with a sandwich and an open bottle of beer by the kitchen door; he left the hobo the time to eat and retreat. When he went out to retrieve the plate and bottle the man was nowhere to be seen. But Huggy knew he would be back; the first move had been made in the ongoing chess game of the street.

 

The food was welcome and Starsky ate it quickly, watching over his shoulder like a feral animal guarding his prize. He drained the beer in one and wandered away. He knew that Huggy was back.  He went back to his night-time haunts.

 

Three days later, his mind fuzzed by the effects of a bottle of cheap wine he lurched into the alley ready to make contact.

 

It was the wrong alley.  As the fogs lifted from his brain he realized his error. And it was too late.

Starsky and Hutch had dealt with enough of the casualties of the everyday violence of street life in the past.  He had never dreamed that one day he would be on the receiving end.  He could see them working their way along the alley; kicking boxes out of their way.  They were young, they were fit and they were armed with baseball bats.  They were looking for a victim; any poor bum who couldn’t resist. They spotted Starsky and one of them let out a whoop, a bad version of a rebel yell.

Starsky looked around in panic, hoping against hope to see an escape route; all he saw was the walls of the buildings that formed the alley, and a wire fence.  In theory he could take the fence in an easy jump and a quick scramble…in theory. In practice he was weak with malnutrition and had the kind of hangover that nightmares are made of.  He shrugged and decided to go for it anyway.

He could hear their footsteps as they ran along the alley; he launched himself at the wire mesh and managed to get about twelve inches off the ground. He started to climb but strong young arms pulled him back and down. The first blow got him square in the gut; he doubled over and fell to the ground curled instinctively in a protective fetal position. The second blow got him in the kidneys; the third hit the back of his head. He felt a shoe make contact with his face. Two more kicks made his eyeball seem to explode.

He heard their footsteps move away.

Somehow he found the force to find his way out of the alley and into the doorway leading down to Huggy’s bar and as he went under his last thought was that to hope that someone would find him before it was too late.

 

 

 

It had rained in the night – one of those heavy storms that soak a man to the skin within minutes, only to move on and leave the night air cool and lethal.  The hobo in the doorway was shivering and he was either sound asleep or unconscious.  Huggy’s first reaction was to go inside and call emergency; but something made him hold back. He still had a gut reaction that this guy was trying to make contact with him and that turning him over to the emergency services and probably the cops would be a kind of betrayal to this sense of trust he had. He crouched down beside the pathetic figure and shook his shoulder gently. The man groaned and Huggy slipped his arms under his shoulders to pull him up to his feet.  It wasn’t easy; skinny as he was the hobo was no fly weight and as Huggy pulled him upright he got a glimpse of well-developed abdominal muscles surrounded by equally well exposed ribs. Half pulling half pushing, Huggy stumbled the hobo down the steps and got him inside.  It was too early for anyone else to be there; Huggy eased the hobo to the nearest chair and as he moved away the man’s head fell forward and hit the table with a thump. Huggy pushed him back upright and left him lolling to one side, his arms flopped back behind the back of the chair, his head rolled back and his eyes staring unfocussed at the ceiling.

“Can you hear me?”

No response. Huggy walked over to the bar. He poured a shot of brandy and brought it back to the table; holding the man’s head gently he pushed the rim of the glass against his lips. The hobo sniffed and opened his mouth allowing Huggy to pour some of the reviving alcohol into his mouth.  Huggy noticed that his teeth were too good for the average down and out; he figured that whichever way you looked at it this guy needed a drink.

The hobo swallowed and choked.  He gagged and Huggy pulled back; the hobo swallowed again and one hand began to grope for the glass. Huggy wrapped his fingers around the glass and watched as the man drank again. He clutched the glass in both hands and drained it as if his life depended on it. Huggy was willing to believe that it probably did.

He waited for the hobo to put the glass down but the man sat hugging it to his chest like a lifebelt.  Huggy sensed that he was scared.

“I won’t hurt you.  You’re in bad shape but I guess you’ll live without going to Emergency, and I don’t think that’s what you want. I have a place upstairs; you’ll be safe there and we can get you cleaned up and…..”

“Huh…..”

His words froze in his throat.

“Huh…..” the hobo spoke again.  Huggy ignored the stench and leaned close to him.

The hobo fell off the chair.

It only took Huggy a couple of seconds to realize who he was looking at.

 

The first thing Huggy needed to do was get Starsky cleaned up.  He ran into the bathroom and set the shower running. He went back and helped Starsky back to his feet. The pungent stench of dirty clothes that had been slept in for days mixed with all the worst body odors imaginable. Huggy closed his mind to it and eased Starsky to his feet.  Starsky’s dead weight was heavy against him and although Huggy was at least four inches taller it wasn’t easy moving Starsky into the bathroom.

Starsky fell to the floor nearly dragging Huggy down with him.  Huggy helped him up to his feet again and after a couple more false starts they arrived in the bathroom. Huggy sat him on the toilet seat and started to undress him. Starsky was naked under the threadbare T-shirt and the army fatigue pants. For the first time Huggy noticed that his feet were bare; the pants were so long that they trailed around his feet. Huggy threw the clothes to one side and transferred Starsky to the edge of the tub. He lifted Starsky’s legs over to turn him to the shower and helped him stand up.

The shower was no more than a fitting on the bath tub faucets and as Huggy raised the head to aim the water at Starsky the effect was electrifying. Starsky let out a yell and slipped as he fell back against the wall in an attempt to avoid the steady stream of water. He slid down into the tub and wrapped his arms around his chest in the oldest gesture of self protection in the world.

Huggy switched off the water and replaced the shower head on the hook between the faucets. He sat on the edge of the tub and looked at Starsky; His eyes were wide with fear and despite the beard Huggy could see that his mouth was moving soundlessly. Huggy leaned forward and touched his shoulder; Starsky relaxed slightly. “Let me help you out of there and we’ll start again, OK?”

Starsky held out his arms like a frightened child and allowed Huggy to help him out of the tub.  Huggy wrapped him in a towel and sat him on the toilet seat again.

“How about I start by cleaning up your face a little?” He took a washcloth and soaped it. Starsky didn’t resist as Huggy wiped the grime off his face. He winced when Huggy touched the swollen area around his eye. Huggy stopped and fingered the area below Starsky’s eye; “I don’t think there’s anything broken but I guess it’ll be all the colors of the rainbow in a day or two.”

Huggy looked at the state of the rest of Starsky’s body.  His fingernails were surrounded with grime; some were long others broken and split.  It looked like he’d torn a couple of them in some kind of struggle.  His feet were black; the skin of the soles was as tough as leather and the dirt had worked into them.  Starsky had always had an evenly tanned body, the result of living in California for so many years, but Huggy noticed something odd. It looked as it Starsky had been sunburned…and that didn’t make any sense taking into account his naturally dark skin tone.

He put the plug in place and started to run water into the tub. He had some bath salts that he kept for days when he felt too tired to go home and needed to relax. He threw the entire contents of the box into the water.  When the tub was filled deep enough Huggy tested the temperature and helped Starsky to his feet. “I’m not going to force you Dave; it’s up to you.” Starsky used Huggy as a support as he climbed into the bath and sat down. Sighing deeply he rested his head on the edge of the tub behind him.  Huggy slipped a folded towel behind his head to support it. Huggy gathered his clothes and took them into the other room.  He found a trash bag under the sink in the kitchenette and stuffed the filthy rags into it.  He routinely checked the pockets and found a throwaway lighter and a pack of rolling tobacco and papers. He put them on the table and tied the bag.  Later he’d find somewhere to dump the contents or even take them where he could burn them without arousing anyone’s suspicions. He went back into the bathroom.

 

 

Starsky hadn’t moved. He was still propped up in the tub; his hands under the water and by his side. He seemed more dead than alive.

 

“Come on Dave, let’s get you out of there before you wrinkle up like a prune.”

Starsky allowed himself to be lifted out of the water; Huggy noted that it was black and that at least some of the grime had lifted from Starsky’s body. “I’ll get some more bath salts and we’ll do that again; unless you feel better about a shower later.”

Starsky made no comment.  Huggy walked him to the bed and helped him settle. As soon as Starsky’s head hit the pillow he was asleep.

 

He didn’t sleep peacefully. Huggy sat and watched as he tossed and turned and whimpered in his sleep. Finally he seemed to let go of whatever it was and was quiet. Huggy moved over to the desk and thought hard about what he should do.  He wanted to get Starsky somewhere safe; there was a limit to how long he could keep him hidden up in this apartment over the bar.  Starsky had managed wean Hutch off heroin up here but that had only taken a few miserable days. As long as Starsky was the subject of an arrest warrant for murder he was in danger.

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

Hutch was enjoying his simple life. He hadn’t installed a TV set and so he was totally ignorant of the media flurry that his conversation with Donaldson had set off. He spent his days working on his vegetable crops or going for long walks.  He took off for a weekend to fish in the creek his grandfather used to take him to.  He was, as Starsky would no doubt have pointed out wryly, becoming a real Huck Finn.

He kept his visits to the town to a minimum; he needed the solitude to get his ideas and thoughts into some kind of order and to decide what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He sat down with a notepad and started to write in two columns.

Column one: qualifications

Column two: choices.

Column one soon filled up. He had good grades at High School even if he’d only averaged Bs in sciences and a C in Math.  For a moment he could hear his father’s voice. “How can you hope to go to medical school with grades like that Kenneth?”  He hadn’t had the courage to say then “I don’t intend to.”  His grades in English were what pleased him; he would maybe try for pre-law or even Literature and then what. “A teacher?  Those that do can, do, Kenneth; those that can’t, teach. Is that what you want from your life?”

He continued the column; good grades in his first year at college; A&S playing the field wide to keep the old man fooled that he might go into med school after all.

And then there was the extra-curricula stuff. He’d been on the team at school, a letter for baseball; and at college he’d made the squad a couple of times even in the face of the competition from the black kids there on sport scholarships to make up the numbers required by the recent Supreme Court decisions.  His father had a word to say about that too. But then the old man had hated the idea of the Country Club being opened up to Jews.  “I suppose they had to make an exception for the judge; couldn’t exclude him from the Club.”  He knew what the old man thought of his best friend – Dave Starsky the Jewish kid both from the streets and the world of hard knocks.  His father had met Starsky; he had done his best to ignore him and seemed to take it as a personal insult when Starsky piled his breakfast plate with bacon the next morning. Fortunately the old buzzard never met Huggy

 

Hutch went on writing:  graduate of the Bay City Police Department Academy.

The image of Starsky floated into his memory; he was surrounded by his proud family, his Uncle Al and Aunt Rosa and of course his mother who had flown all the way from New York. They’d spotted Hutch standing alone and Starsky had pulled him over to join the group in the photo.

They were assigned different uniform beats; Starsky had worked his way up to Detective by his wits and natural ability and nagged at Hutch to go for the exams as soon as he could.

And we were good, the best.  Now I look back and I wonder how it was that Starsky had so many good leads; how he always seemed to know who to ask. What was the deal with Bennie?

Hutch stared at the blank page under the heading ‘choices’ and decided he needed to take a break before tackling that one.  He took a beer out of the fridge and went to sit on the porch; he rocked in his grandfather’s old chair and listened to the sounds of the local wild life returning to nests and burrows. He put off all decisions until the morning.

 

The day broke with a crash of thunder and streaks of lightning seemed to split the sky apart. Hutch reached out for the lamp by the bed but when he pressed the switch on the cable nothing happened. Listening to the rapid fire on the roof he was pretty sure that this was freak hail not just rain. He cursed and rolled out of bed in the dark. The storm was working its way across the plains and he sat on the porch to watch the show.

As dawn broke the sky was shades of mauve and pink with black shadows of clouds that scudded across the horizon. The hail had stopped and Hutch surveyed the damage it left behind; the truck’s windshield was shattered. The crops seemed to have survived though.  Hutch decided to go into town and get it fixed. He could have breakfast in the diner and do a little shopping while it was being dealt with.

 

 

He stared at his scrambled eggs and thought about the sheet of paper headed ‘Choices’; he had to fill that page. He tossed a bill onto the counter and went to see if the truck was ready. He paid the bill without thinking and drove back to the farm.

 

Choices: go back to law school. Start a truck farm and grow organic stuff.

Find Starsky.

 

 

 

Find him and then what? Hutch scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it at the trash can angrily.  He changed into a sweat suit and his running shoes and went out to try to clear his mind.  Running was a way of blocking everything out of his mind.

He needed to concentrate on his breathing, or the rhythm of his feet on the ground or…anything but the nagging doubt in the back of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to put it out of his mind he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something didn’t add up.  Something was wrong – like the spot the error puzzle in the comics section of the paper when he was kid. Something he’d seen, or hadn’t seen.  Something wasn’t right.

The electricity still hadn’t come back and Hutch had to take a cold shower.

He dressed and went out to work on his crops. Maybe the organic truck garden wasn’t such a bad idea after all. No stress; no danger.

 

Start a truck farm.

 

The phone was ringing; he had two possibilities: ignore it, or run in and catch it if he could. Only two people knew where to reach him, Donaldson and Dobey, and right now he didn’t want to talk to either of them. He went on hoeing the tomato rows.

Later, his back aching from the unaccustomed movements, the electricity working again, Hutch lay in a hot tub and listened to the radio.  The music helped him relax and when he woke the water was cold. He climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist.  His arms were brown from the elbows down – he had a farm boy’s tan!

He fried eggs and mopped them up with the last of his bread. Tomorrow he would have to go into town and buy more supplies but right now all he wanted to do was sleep.

Hutch’s slept deeply and woke refreshed. He made coffee and decided to have breakfast in town again. Donaldson was in the diner and Hutch hesitated before taking the only free stool at the counter. Donaldson grinned. “We made the networks; I’m taking off for Chicago tomorrow.”

Hutch ordered his breakfast.  “What do you mean ‘we’?” he asked as he stirred sugar into the coffee to make it palatable.

Donaldson raised his cup in a mock toast; “I forgot you don’t have a TV out on the farm. ‘We’ means you and me…thanks to the interview I’ve got a job with CBS, they’re basing me in Chicago for now but who knows.”

“Interview?” Hutch took a moment to understand that Donaldson was talking about their chat of a few days ago. “You mean you sent it in?  All of it?”

“All of it. Hey Hutch when the press work out where you are they’re going to be clamoring for an exclusive line on the case; and just remember, I got to you first. As soon as I’ve finished negotiating with them in Chi…” He didn’t get the chance to finish because Hutch had grabbed him by the shirt collar. Hutch pushed his angry face close to Donaldson’s. “Just what the fuck are you talking about?”

Donaldson pulled back and Hutch released him.  He looked around sheepishly at the other clients who were staring at them. He recognized a few old men who knew him as Berry Hutchinson’s grandson; they shook their heads as if to say ‘what would his grandfather think?’ Hutch poked his finger into Donaldson’s chest; prodding to punctuate his words. “I think you and I need to go and talk somewhere private...now!” Donaldson stood up. “Put it all on my tab,” he called as he led Hutch out of the diner and across the road to his office.

“Now explain.” Hutch said. His anger hadn’t subsided and Donaldson recalled that at school if and when Ken was crossed his rage was as cold as a Minnesota winter storm. He held up his hands in a sign of surrender.  “Ok, it’s easy.  The camera was running all the time we were talking and when you said that you didn’t believe your ex-partner was innocent it was too good to be true.”

“So you sent it to the networks and they showed it.”

“Yes; made the nationals. I guess everyone from New York to LA knows that he’s done for now.”

Hutch swallowed hard. “I don’t know that I said he was guilty…if I recall I said that I said I didn’t think I could prove his innocence and that is not the same thing.”

“Sounds like it to me, Hutch. Now if you’d have said that you couldn’t prove he was guilty; I mean you know the law, innocent until proven…”

 

 

Chapter Twenty One

 

 

Huggy sat and watched Starsky sleep.  He went down to the bar to take over from Dianne who had put in more overtime than he had intended.

 

Business was good and Huggy didn’t have much time to think over what he knew and the implications of it all.

He was wiping the last glasses and about to grab his keys when the door opened and someone started to come down the steps.  He cursed, the bar was officially still open. “I’m not too late for a nightcap am I Huggy?” Elena said as she walked across the room. 

Huggy shrugged. “I was just going to have one myself. It’s on the house, what will it be?”

“Vodka, straight.”

Huggy served her and gave himself a shot of whisky. “What are you doing in this part of town Elena after all these years?”

“I heard you had a nice place and I was in the neighborhood.”

“Sure you did, for old time’s sake, is that it?”

“Maybe I just felt like looking up old friends.” She raised her glass and smiled. Huggy said nothing. He lit a cigarette without bothering to offer her one. She drained the glass and stood up. “I guess I was wrong; the old crowd doesn’t hang out here after all.”

He watched her leave and as she disappeared up the stairs a chill ran down his spine.  What did Elena know?

 

He locked up and went back to the vigil in the apartment. Starsky was still asleep; lying on his back with his arms flung out behind his head.  He was snoring.  Huggy stopped and listened. Starsky wasn’t snoring, he was choking!

Huggy slid his arm under Starsky’s neck and held it up while he propped a pillow behind it.  He could smell the acrid odor of alcoholic vomit and he knew he had to act quickly. He turned Starsky’s head to the side and slipped his long middle finger into his throat.

Starsky gagged and a thin stream of bile and vomit flowed over Huggy’s hand.  He laid Starsky’s head down again and ran in to the bathroom to wash his hand and bring back a facecloth. Starsky hadn’t regained consciousness but he was still puking gently, reminding Huggy of a baby regurgitating its feed. Huggy rolled him forward to allow gravity to stop him from choking again and started to clean the mess. He had to get Starsky off the bed in order to put fresh sheets on it – he couldn’t leave him lying in this mess. Starsky moaned and mumbled something about a hose before curling into a protective fetal position and going quiet again. Huggy put an arm under his shoulders and lifted him again.  Starsky was limp, a dead weight that belied the resemblance to a rag doll. Huggy struggled to balance his weight against Starsky’s and finally managed to lift him off the bed.  He carried him to the armchair.

When he had remade the bed Huggy reversed the operation and got Starsky back under the covers. Once again he noted the bad physical state his friend was in. He wasn’t just thin; there were faint marks on his back that looked as if he had been dragged across some rough surface; his skin had been blistered and the effect was like a blotchy sunburn – especially on his shoulders. In fact that was what had struck Huggy as strange and now he was able to put his finger on it – Starsky was brown all over his body; there was no contrasting area where normally he would have been wearing swimming trunks. He had been exposed to the sun naked.

Huggy knew that he was going to have to sit up all night in vigil to make sure that his friend didn’t choke again. He made himself a pot of coffee and started to work on his accounts.

 

Morning made its way through the window opposite the bed; Starsky opened his eyes and looked around. The place seemed familiar, it wasn’t a flophouse and it wasn’t a prison cell either; apart from that he had no idea where he could be. He closed his eyes again and reveled in the sensation of a clean sheet against his skin.

He could smell fresh coffee; the aroma came nearer and he opened his eyes to see a familiar figure smiling and holding a cup out to him.

“Huggy? How did you find me?”

“I didn’t Dave; you found me and from what I’ve heard you’ve been looking for a while.” He held out the cup and Starsky sat up carefully. His body was sore and his head was throbbing; he took the cup and sipped gratefully.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Huggy asked with a wide grin.

“Tylenol.”

Huggy went into the bathroom and returned with a bottle of aspirin “that’s the best I have”; Starsky shook two onto his palm. He tossed them into the back of his mouth and swallowed more coffee. Huggy took the cup and refilled it. “The question of breakfast still stands – you look like you haven’t eaten properly for days.”

“It’s been mostly booze and cigarettes for a while; ever since I…I…” he didn’t get a chance to finish. Huggy caught the cup before it spilled all over the bed. Huggy laughed “nothing changes; the aspirin won’t stop your head from aching but at least they knock you out until it feels better.” He pulled the covers over his patient and left him to sleep. He felt confident that this time there was no danger of Starsky choking. He went down to the bar and went through the routines of being a bar owner.

 

Huggy had to decide what to do. With Starsky back in town the deal had changed but Huggy still didn’t know what the game was. He decided to wait to see what Starsky wanted to do.

In the meantime he had a bar to run.

Dianne and Angel arrived and the day got going.

 

Starsky woke up again; his head had stopped aching and he rolled carefully off the bed.  Standing up brought a wave of dizziness and nausea and he reached out a shaky hand to steady himself on the bureau.  Once again he didn’t remember where he was; but wherever it was seemed safe.

He looked around the room and saw what he needed.  He padded across to the kitchenette and picked up the bottle.  There wasn’t much left but it was enough. He drained it and sat down until the nausea and the trembling had stopped. He was ready to take a good look at the damage now.

He needed a drink, or a joint; or both.

He also needed clothes.

He looked around the apartment and it started to come back to him.  He knew where he was. He’d found Huggy; he was safe again.

Starsky wrapped the sheet around him like a toga and started to search the kitchen area to see what he could find to eat – and drink.  He was overambitious as he bent down to take his prize from the cupboard and hadn’t taken into account how weak he was; he fell and banged his head on the leg of the table;  it didn’t knock him out but it left him disoriented and he sat on the floor waiting for the room to stop spinning.

 

Huggy heard the thump and hoped no-one else had.  He couldn’t leave the bar right away, there were too many people waiting to be served and Dianne was already looking hassled.  As soon as he felt he could leave her he ran up the stairs and opened the door. Starsky was sitting on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him; he had the bottle to his lips when Huggy walked in.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Huggy said as he sat on one of the chairs at the table.

Starsky continued to drink steadily; “no but it feels good when I do. I need a smoke too.”

Huggy said nothing; he shook out two cigarettes and lit them before handing one to Starsky who drew the smoke into his lungs and blew a long stream up into the air above him. “What did I do, Huggy?”

The question came as such a surprise to Huggy he didn’t know what to say. He missed a beat; and Starsky noticed.

“Huggy?” he sounded scared. “Just what did I do?  Hutch thinks I did it, whatever it is.”

He finished his cigarette and helped himself to another which he lit from the glowing stub.  He coughed and took a moment to recover. He spoke quietly.

“I saw it in a newspaper – or a magazine; I don’t remember. I saw his photo and I saw that Hutch said he can’t prove my innocence. But Huggy what does he think I did?”

The silence hung in the air like the smoke that was gathering above their heads.

Huggy looked away. Starsky blew out more smoke and sucked at the bottle again.

“Bennie.”

Starsky stared up at him. “That’s not enough Huggy; what about Bennie. They think I’m involved with him again; they think maybe I took him up on his offer?”

Huggy leaned forward. “What offer? You mean that wasn’t just a story I heard; he really was going to hand it over to you?”

“That’s what he told me last time I saw him.”

”And you said…”

“I said I needed to go home and think about it. Trouble is I don’t know what happened after that.”

“Someone killed him…and they have you as suspect numero uno.”

Starsky drained the bottle. He took another cigarette but hesitated…I guess you don’t have anything a little stronger than a Camel do you?”

Huggy smiled and found the pouch that he kept for those mellow moments with Foxy.

Starsky rolled an expert joint and smoked it slowly. He grinned; “if they are going to take me in they can take me in for possession too!”

He took another toke and blew a smoke ring.

 “I’ve been framed Hug…and I think Harvey is involved too. I heard…I don’t know what I heard but….”   He didn’t finish; the mixture of dope and booze took him out for the count.

But Huggy had heard what Starsky said and it rang a bell. Once again Huggy gathered Starsky up and put him to bed.

 

Starsky woke the next morning with a hangover. And his hangover had a hangover!

Huggy found him kneeling by the toilet with a dribble of vomit running down his chin. Starsky used Huggy as a support to pull himself to his feet. “Feel so dirty,” he muttered.

Huggy hesitated, then leaned over to run the bathtub faucet.  Starsky looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You’re gonna give me a bath?”

“Well you weren’t too enthusiastic about the shower when I put you under it the last time.”

Starsky stared at the ceiling as if trying to figure something out. “I have a memory of something bad happening in a shower.” Whatever he said after that was lost in a wracking cough. Huggy raised an eyebrow. “You gotta cut down on the cigarettes Starsk.”

“Yeah; later.” He stood up and looked in the mirror. “I guess I’ll try the shower.” He put a hand on Huggy’s shoulder and climbed into the tub. Huggy turned the mixer and the water started to fall onto Starsky’s shoulders.  He stood still and let it run down his body but it seemed to Huggy that Starsky was bracing himself, ready to resist an attack. He handed him a facecloth and soap. “I figure you can do it for yourself.”

 

Starsky soaped his body and then stood under the shower again. “Am I still a prisoner?”

His question caught Huggy off-guard. “A prisoner?  No; where’d you get that idea?”

“They kept me naked; they kept me naked and they hurt people and I could hear them…I c-c-could hear them….” He stared at Huggy and then turned away.

 

Huggy said nothing. He handed Starsky a towel and helped him out of the tub.

“I’m going to get you something to eat; then I’m going to find you some clothes.”

“’K, I’m not going anywhere dressed like this.”

“I gotta to tell you that judging by your tan I think maybe you did.”

Starsky looked down at his body and a flicker of a smile showed behind the beard. “Yeah, and come to think of it I got sunburn in a place no man wants to get burned.  Shit Huggy, I need to get my head together and remember where the fuck I’ve been!”

“Coffee maker’s working up here. I’ll go fix you breakfast.  I guess we’d better take things easy; when did you last eat a real meal.”

“Dinner; I ate dinner at Bennie’s place.” He seemed to register what that implied and sat down heavily on the bed.  Starsky put his head in his hands and scratched his beard. “Huggy; I went to Bennie’s and then…I really don’t know what happened.”

 

Huggy went down to the kitchen and made scrambled eggs; grilled bacon and toasted a couple of English muffins; he put maple syrup and butter on the tray and took it all up to the apartment.  Starsky had managed to make coffee, and he’d found Huggy’s supply of cigarettes. Huggy put the tray on the table. “I brought you a selection.” Starsky picked at the eggs. “I guess my gut can’t take too much at a time yet.”

 

“I’m going to find you some clothes; try not to make too much noise up here if I’m not back before Dianne arrives at ten; I don’t want anyone to know you are here.”

“Neither do I; not yet.”

 

Huggy checked his mirrors regularly as he drove out of town and up into the hills.  He was one of Starsky’s known contacts and he had hung around with him long enough to know that he could be under surveillance in the search for a missing cop.  Satisfied that he didn’t have a tail he swung into the canyon road and continued until the turn he wanted. 

 

Huggy parked a little way down the street from the house; he glanced around to check if anyone was watching. The coast was clear and he ran across the street and up the steps to the front door and hoped that the key was in one of its habitual places. It was; he sighed with relief and opened the door carefully.  He knew that the police had their methods for checking if a house had been entered or not; there was no thread on the latch. He let himself into the house and crossed the living room to the bedroom.

It didn’t look as if anyone had been here for weeks. He opened the closet and selected a couple of pairs of jeans; a gray zipped sweatshirt and a soft denim shirt; he picked up a pair of sneakers and stuffed everything into a duffel bag that he found on the shelf of the closet. He rummaged in a couple of drawers and took out a few changes of underwear and socks. As he left the house he decided to grab a jacket off the stand and stopped and stared at what was underneath it. He put the find in the duffel and closed the door. He pocketed the key and after checking the street again he ran to his car and drove away.

He knew now what he had to do. But first he needed to get some clothes to Starsky.

Now I know what doesn’t add up

 

Starsky watched as Huggy drove away.  He wrapped the towel around his hips and went down the stairs to the bar.  Clutching his prize to his chest he climbed the stairs with less energy than he had come down them; he still needed to pace himself.

 

When Huggy came back to the apartment Starsky was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.  He showed no sign of noticing Huggy come into the room.  Huggy noted the bottle and sat on the edge of the bed. “You with me Dave?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Starsky turned to look at him. “No.” He turned away again and his shoulders were shaking; Huggy knew there was nothing he could do. He’d heard about when Starsky first returned from Viet Nam; Rosa had found him crying but it wasn’t until years later that they discovered the terrible truth about how he had been injured.  After Calley came to trial and the other stories were able to surface. It seemed to Huggy that there was something similar going on in Starsky’s head right now.

“I have to go out for a while.  Nobody knows you are here. I went to your place and got you some clothes. I brought your shaving kit too – but maybe you should keep the beard for a while.” He didn’t mention what else he’d found – and he took it with him.

 

Starsky lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling again.  There were cracks in the plaster and he traced them with his eyes; giving him something to focus on, something to help him block out the terrible memories of what had happened to him and what he might have done. There were cracks in his memory too; and that bugged him.

 

He rolled off the bed and picked up the familiar clothes that Huggy had left on the chair.  The jeans were faded and the last time he’d worn them Hutch had deemed them to be almost obscene; now they hung loose and his belt buckle fastened two holes tighter than before. He winced as he pulled the shirt over his arms. He went into the bathroom to take a look at the damage.

The man who stared back at him from the mirror seemed like a total stranger.  His matted beard and shaggy hair made him look like an escapee from the state mental institution. His eyes seemed to be sunken into his skull and his cheeks were hollow. Huggy had brought his shaving stuff, but he didn’t want to shave. The beard was his protection; a disguise that he could hide behind until he was ready to face the world again.  He picked up the toothbrush and squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste on it. He savored the freshness against his tongue. He was still scrubbing at his teeth when Huggy returned.

Huggy stared at the strange sight; Starsky seemed to be in a trance; his mouth was foaming white with toothpaste and the foam was dripping from his beard. Starsky was working the toothbrush around his teeth but he seemed to be totally unaware of what he was doing.  Huggy took the toothbrush from his gently and filled a glass with water. “Time to rinse,” he said as he handed it to Starsky. Starsky rinsed his mouth out and spat into the sink. “I guess I got carried away,” he said as he walked back into the other room. He sat at the table and waited for Huggy to sit on the other chair.

 

“Hug, where’s Hutch?”

Huggy sighed and lit a cigarette. Starsky reached across and took one for himself.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.” Huggy said quietly.

Starsky didn’t argue; he smoked in silence then went to lie on the bed and go back to sleep

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Two

 

Jackson and Pollack had been reassigned weeks ago; Chief’s orders.

“Dobey I need all the available men on the cases that are active here.  With Starsky and Hutchinson gone we are short two detectives. I think we can assume that Starsky is dead and Hutchinson will not be coming back. The Goldberg case will just have to go to the files as unsolved.”

Dobey had obeyed reluctantly; he decided that he would continue the investigation into Starsky’s disappearance on his own. As soon as the chief had declared the case as unsolved the only charges against Harvey were for killing Stella - and the case was going to be a long time coming to court. The DA’s office had bigger fish to fry; a big corruption case was overshadowing half of City Hall; the apparently gratuitous murder of an old hooker went way down the pecking order.  Harvey was released on bail and had gone to live with his parents.

Hutch was still in Minnesota.

Dobey kept in constant touch with Harvey; it was part of the bail agreement that Harvey checked in with Dobey at least once a week, but they spoke nearly every day. Always the same thing; Harvey was sure that his cousin was still alive and in danger.

Harvey was working for his father, keeping a low profile doing the accounts and selling used cars to the younger clients. Harvey was still a persuader and his smile clinched more than one deal.

 

Harvey gave a full description of the man who had kept him prisoner and an APB was issued for Reid Walters. The LVPD was also alerted and the FBI issued an alert in California and Nevada following from the fact that Harvey had been taken when leaving Vegas.

 

In the end it was the local Sheriff in Needles who alerted the FBI.  A couple of trekkers had reported that their camp had been raided; the search led to one of the ghost towns near the old Interstate highway and there they had found a corpse in the cemetery. The hulking body had decomposed badly but there was enough left to identify him as Reid Walters; and death was caused by a single gunshot wound.  Forensics identified the bullet as a .59 probably fired from a Smith and Wesson. The FBI was ready to crank up its search for a renegade cop now suspected of two murders, but Dobey wasn’t buying it.

 

Dobey strode into the Federal building and asked to see Special Agent Madison. He was told which floor to go to and took the elevator; it was hot, the air conditioning was set low to preserve energy as part of the government’s economy drive in the face of the hike in prices since the oil producers had gotten difficult. He stepped out of the elevator wiping his face with his handkerchief and walked down the hallway to Madison’s office. He didn’t bother to knock; Madison was expecting him.

“Captain Dobey,” Madison began, “I can understand your concern but you have to understand that this case is no longer in your hands.”

Dobey looked at her sourly and sat down without being invited. Madison was wearing the same kind of sober dark suit that the other agents wore, with the subtle difference that her skirt revealed shapely legs. She had a reputation as a being a lot harder than her thick golden-blonde hair and perfect movie star figure might suggest. Dobey was not impressed by her physique – or her blatant attempt to use it to influence him.

“I have something new.” He said and dumped the photograph on the desk. “Did anyone investigate this?” He punctuated the question by stubbing his fat finger on the detail of the photo that had caught his attention. Madison drew the photograph towards her and looked at it carefully.  “No, I don’t think they did.” She picked up her ‘phone.

“This is Madison in LA. I want a forensics team out to the place where they found Reid. Tell them to start digging.” She looked up at Dobey and smiled; “I’ll have the results copied direct to you Captain. If he is there it will at least close the case; and if he isn’t…”

“If he isn’t I’ll find him!” Dobey left the room without bothering to say goodbye.

 

 

Walters had a long record for violence. He had been accused of rape and torture but walked when the defense lawyer managed to make his victim look like a whore. His past record included complaints from neighbors when he was a kid – puppies disappeared when Reid was around. But that wasn’t what caught their attention; it was Reid’s last known employment. According to the information the two detectives had found, Reid worked for Elena Goldberg in San Francisco for two years before moving to a security job at one of the casinos in Vegas.

“There’s a link, Captain; but I’m damned if I know what it is.” Pollack said.

 

Harvey was sweet talking a young couple into trying out an old Continental that had been on the lot for about a year. “It’s almost an antique; you know we’re giving it away at this price but, well Mona was an old family friend and, “he lowered his voice as if he was moved by what he had to say, “she only really used it for shopping and to go to help out at the soup kitchen.” The young man looked at him. “It looks to me like that car lived a little; are you sure the mileage is straight?” Harvey looked hurt; “of course.” He held up the key, “take it for a spin around the block – it’s a good car and a smooth ride.” He smiled at the woman who was obviously pregnant, “perfect for a baby.”

 

Huggy shook his head and leaned on his car to wait for Harvey to clinch the deal.  He watched as the three of them got into the car and waited.  Five minutes later the Continental returned to the lot and Harvey led the young couple into the office.

They watched the new owners drive away and Harvey led Huggy into the office.

“I need to ask you some details Harvey; about what you heard.”

Harvey answered his questions and things fell into place in Huggy’s mind. “Mind if I use your phone?”

Harvey shook his head. Ten minutes later they were on their way to Dobey’s house.

Huggy drove in silence; he needed to rehearse all he had to say in his mind. Harvey sat beside him; his mind was full of the memories that talking to Huggy had brought back. He still didn’t know what Huggy was doing; but he trusted him.

 

Dobey opened the door and led them into his study. Edith and the kids were at a movie and they had at least an hour of privacy.

“Ok Huggy, tell me what’s going on.”

 

Huggy took a deep breath.  “Starsky’s back.”

 

Dobey sat down and wiped his hand over his face. 

Harvey leaned on the wall and slowly slid down it, his hands over his face to hide his tears.

Huggy waited.

 

Dobey said after what seemed like an hour. “I think Harvey needs a drink.”

“And a cigarette, if you don’t mind, Captain.” Harvey said almost inaudibly. Dobey nodded. “Go out in the back yard; Edith won’t tolerate smoke in the house.”

Huggy led Harvey out through the back door of the kitchen and Dobey went into the den to grab a bottle of whisky and three glasses. The three of them sat on the Dobey’s barbecue terrace and stared at each other.

 

“I guess I’d better start at the beginning. When I came back from Hawaii Angel told me that there had been a hobo in the alley most nights. Angel thought he was waiting for something.  Well he disappeared and then about a week ago he came back.  He wouldn’t let me get close to him but if I left him food he took it.  Then the other day I found him out there; he was soaked and sick and someone had beaten him up. I brought him in and that’s when I saw who it was.  I wanted to clean him up but as soon as I tried to get him into the shower he panicked – he seemed terrified of it. I got him into the bath and cleaned him up.  He’s had a real bad time, that’s for sure. He’s drinking and smoking too much too.

He told me that he’d been kept prisoner and that they kept him naked. But that’s not what is really important.” Huggy looked at Harvey; he was pale and sipping his drink carefully; he was smoking his second consecutive cigarette.

“Harvey, you said you heard them torture Starsky.” Harvey nodded.

“Well, in his clearer moments he says that he heard them torturing you…and a woman.”

Dobey put down his glass. “Wait a minute. That doesn’t make sense.  If Starsky heard them torturing Harvey then he was already there when they took you.”

“But they didn’t hurt me Captain.” Harvey looked confused.

Huggy drained his glass. “And who was the woman?”

Dobey stood up and refreshed their glasses. “I have a call to make. You two stay here and see how much of what Starsky told Huggy ties in with what happened to you Harvey.” He went inside.

 

Madison answered on the second ring. “Captain I was about to call you. They have found something; four bodies”

“Is one of them a woman?”

“Yes,” she missed a beat, “how did you know?”

“Never mind. Let me know what the autopsies reveal as soon as you get the results. I’m at my home number,” he gave it to her.

“And Captain.”

“Yes?”

“Starsky wasn’t one of them.”

 

 

Dobey rejoined Huggy and Harvey who were sitting in silence. “There’s something else, Captain,” Huggy said, “I can prove that Starsky didn’t kill Bennie even if he can’t.”

“Wait a minute Huggy; what do you mean ‘even if he can’t’?”

“He doesn’t remember anything about what happened. He went to dinner at Bennie’s place but after that…it’s a blank.” Huggy thought that now was not the time to tell anyone abut Bennie’s offer. “But I have the proof that he didn’t.” Huggy stood up and reached inside his jacket; he laid Starsky’s gun on the table.

Dobey stared at it for a moment. “Where did you get that, Huggy?”

“I went to his house to find some clothes for him. It was on the coat stand under his jacket; where he always puts it when he gets home.”

“You went to his house?” Harvey and Dobey said it in unison.

“Sure; where else was I going to get something that fits him without people wondering why a skinny guy six foot four tall is buying stuff that wouldn’t fit him? Anyway, I figured that if the FBI or IA or whoever was going to search the place they’d have been and gone and left it behind.” He grinned, “I guess they didn’t search too hard if I found the gun and they didn’t.”

Dobey frowned. “They didn’t go in there. Hutch didn’t see it either.”

“He didn’t expect to Captain. He told you that it looked like Starsky hadn’t been home. He didn’t know what Dave was wearing when he went to see Bennie did he? And if he didn’t know, he couldn’t have known that Starsky had come home and hung up his holster under the jacket I pulled off the rack. Dave says they kept him naked and when he managed to escape he couldn’t find his clothes.  I figure he wasn’t wearing any when they took him.”

Dobey thought for a moment.  “Hutch said that the bed hadn’t been slept in – but maybe whoever took Starsky smoothed it to make it look that way. Ok now I’ll tell you what we’ve got.  Harvey,the description you gave us fitted a man called Reid Walters and there were wanted notices out for him in three states. We got lucky; a couple of days ago his body was found in a cemetery out in some ghost town off the old Route 66. He’d been shot with a bullet that matched the one that killed Bennie.  I took a look at the crime scene photo and saw something. A grave marker…it had Dave’s name on it.

The FBI got a team out there and they have just dug up four bodies; three men and a woman; they are still trying to get IDs but Reid had a record for torture and I think we have the answer to what you and Dave heard, Harvey.”

“But we don’t know who killed Bennie or Walters, do we Captain; and Starsky is still pretty vague about where he’s been.”

“I know that Huggy – but his house was under surveillance until last week when the Chief insisted I put my men on other cases. I guess you got lucky! But that means we know Starsky couldn’t have gone home and put the gun there himself.”

Harvey interrupted. “Is Dave still using the Smith and Wesson he always had?”

Both men looked at him. Dobey answered. “Yes; he started off with a department issued Beretta but he didn’t like it. He started using the S&W and I never thought about it, why?”

“Because that gun is Dave’s personal weapon, Captain; and it is one of a pair. Bennie bought them.  He gave one to Dave when he was called up.”

Huggy swore. “We need to get Starsky out of my place.  Elena’s already been to the bar and I think she knows he’s back.”

Dobey put down his glass, “Will you two stop talking in riddles.”

“Sorry Captain,” Harvey said, “the other gun …Bennie gave it to Elena.”

 

Dobey broke the silence.  “Is Elena behind this?” he said quietly, “I’m asking both of you.”

Neither man needed to answer; their faces said it all.  Dobey grunted. “Then we need to get Starsky to the last place she would think of looking for him.”

 

Chapter Twenty three

 

Starsky was asleep when they walked into the room. He was snoring gently and the empty bottle hung from his hand.  Huggy picked it up and dumped it in the trash can with the others. Dobey and Harvey exchanged glances. Huggy shrugged. “It’s been like this since I found him. He’s been surviving on the streets.” He decided not to mention the joints he’d supplied; not in Dobey’s presence anyway;

Harvey was standing staring down at his cousin. “He’s so thin. What did they do to him?”

 

The three of them sat down to plan the evacuation. They would have to wait for the bar to close before they could get Starsky out. Dobey took Harvey to buy groceries and the two of them took the supplies to the house before returning to join Huggy.  Dobey called into the precinct to see if there was any word from Hutch. He had tried to contact him, leaving a message on a machine that announced curtly that ‘Ken will call you back if he recognizes your name and number’ as soon as Huggy had told them that Starsky was alive. So far Hutch had not returned the call.

Dobey left them after they had agreed on how to keep in touch. “It’s up to you two to keep him protected and get him fit again”.

 

Huggy went downstairs around four thirty and returned with a tray full of food and a couple of jugs of beer. “I told them I had a card game going on up here.” He said with a grin.

Starsky turned over and grunted.  He started to scrabble at the covers as if he was trying to get out of it.  “Not dead…no…won’t…no….” Harvey sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Starsky’s wrist. “It’s over Dave; you’re safe now.”

 

Starsky’s eyes snapped open. “Harvey? How come you’re not dead?”

Harvey laughed.  “I could ask you the same question.”

Starsky sat up and groaned as his head reminded him of the booze he’d finished while Huggy was away.  He blinked and stood up carefully. “Well that can wait – right now I need to pee.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

Harvey looked at Huggy; “he’s been like that all the time – up and down like a Yo-Yo.”

 

Five minutes later Starsky reappeared wearing a clean T-shirt and smelling of toothpaste. “I’m hungry.” He sat down opposite his cousin and grabbed a sandwich. He bit into it, opened it and gave the contents a puzzled look, added a liberal dollop of mustard and bit again. This time the sandwich was to his liking and he chewed quietly. “When will someone explain what’s happening to me?” he said sadly.

Huggy sat down opposite him. “You want the story so far?”

“Yeah.” 

Harvey nodded too. “There’s bits of this I still don’t understand Huggy.”

“That makes three of us.” Huggy smiled; “maybe you should go first Harvey.”

“OK”

The sound of shouting from the bar stopped all story telling for the evening. Huggy ran to the top of the stairs and came back looking more than worried.

“We need to get him out of here now.” He said. He ran to the window and looked down the fire escape; the alley was empty except for his car. He threw a set of keys to Harvey. “Take him to the house now. I’ll follow on with his stuff.”

“But if we take your car…”

“…I’ll call a cab. Now get out of here while you can.”

Harvey helped Starsky to his feet and the two of them climbed out of the window – the last thing Huggy heard was Starsky’s plaintive “I hate heights”. He closed the window and watched the car drive out of the alley; then he hustled all the evidence of Starsky’s presence into a bag and flung it out of the window so that it landed in the dumpster by the kitchen door. He knew that the garbage truck wouldn’t be by for another two days.  He emptied the beer jug and scraped the remains of the food into a trash bag which followed the same trajectory as Starsky’s clothes. Two minutes later he was walking down the stairs, keeping as calm as possible.

 

 

A masked man had Dianne. The other clients were standing back and Huggy saw why. A second man had the room covered with a machine gun.  Angel was lying on the floor at the entrance to the kitchen and Huggy could see that he was bleeding.

Huggy took a breath and stepped into view. “Dianne what’s going on?” He hoped he sounded like he didn’t know about the firepower.  The man holding Dianne grabbed her tighter to his body and held a knife to her throat. Huggy raised his hands and stepped closer. The man was wearing a carnival mask – a rubber caricature of Bogart. Huggy noted that he was also in the presence of Edward G. Robinson who was holding one of the new foreign lightweight machine guns.

He turned to ‘Bogey’. “It’s early; I went to the bank this morning, there might be a hundred in the till but that’s all.”

Bogey tightened his grip on Dianne. “We’re not looking for money, Huggy.

We came to visit your houseguest.”

Dianne struggled and succeeded in stamping on her captor’s foot; she was rewarded with a vicious shove that sent her flying across the room. One of the terrified clients caught her and helped her to a chair.

“You’re welcome to go upstairs,” Huggy said with a big grin. “But I guess Elena got her information wrong.”

That got the reaction he expected.  ‘Bogey’ hesitated before running up the stairs. A minute later he was back.

“All of you, get out, now!” Bogart addressed the clients; the bar cleared faster than Huggy had ever seen before. ‘Edward G’ turned his gun on Dianne “and you stay right where you are.”

Bogart grabbed Huggy and pushed him with his back against the bar. The counter got Huggy in the small of the back and the other man leaned in against him dangerously.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Huggy swallowed and forced his voice to stay steady. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angel crawl out of the back door. Bogey shoved him harder and Huggy could feel the strain on his spine. He didn’t want to end up crippled but it would be better than dead. He had to play for time and give Angel the chance to get to a ‘phone.

“You know who we want Huggy. Where is he?” He turned to his partner. “Do her!”

 

Eddie started to unzip his pants. Huggy didn’t want to see what was coming next – he didn’t want Dianne to suffer the humiliation of an audience.  He closed his eyes.

 

Dianne was laughing; it wasn’t hysterics it was true mirth. She was laughing her head off. Huggy opened his eyes and stared past Bogey who was turning to see what was so funny.

Dianne was on her knees; her attacker had his hand in his pants but Huggy couldn’t see anything…and he understood.

Dianne drew breath. “You have got to be kidding; you think I’m scared of that?  I’ve seen more meat on a cocktail stick!”

Huggy caught the chance; his assailant was too busy looking at his partner’s inadequate firepower to hear Huggy grab a bottle from the bar.  The sound of breaking glass punctuated Dianne’s giggles. She took advantage of the situation to grab what she could; the man in the Edward G mask screamed in pain as she twisted his balls in her hand. Huggy picked up the gun that was lying on the floor and aimed it at Bogey. “Take the mask off. I’d hate to hurt a star.”

The man peeled of his false face and Huggy found himself staring at Jerry Mulligan; a part-time bouncer.

Huggy held the gun on him and walked over to help Dianne to her feet. She had hiccups from laughing so much.  I’ll give you the pleasure,” Huggy gestured with his head at the mask.  Dianne snatched it off and laughed again as the mask pulled a toupee off with it.  Huggy didn’t recognize him; he turned to Jerry with a bemused stare. “I don’t know him, Huggy, honest I don’t. Elena told me to bring him along – she said he was a specialist for dealing with women.” His laughter was more a harsh cackle. “Can’t think where she got that idea from.”

 

Adrenaline kept Angel going despite the pain in his thigh.  He felt the blood trickling down inside his pants but he ran to the phone booth across the street from The Pits; he dialed emergency and reported a shooting at the bar.

 

 

Dobey arrived in the wake of the cruisers that were converging on the bar in response to his code three call. An ambulance pulled up just as he was lumbering down the stairs with his gun ready for action. He stopped and took in the sight of Huggy and Dianne holding their captives corralled in a side booth.

Huggy intercepted Dobey and led him to the bar. “Dumb asses trying to hold up a bar this early in the evening” he said loud enough for everyone to hear and think that was what they were talking about. He lowered his voice. “They work for Elena; they came looking for Starsky. It’s OK, Harvey got him out of here.” He raised his voice to normal volume again for the benefit of the others; “no, never seen them before Captain. Like I said, coupla dumb asses!”

He walked over to Dianne. “Go home and take the rest of the night off. I’m going to close up and we’ll deal with the mess tomorrow, OK?”

“Yea, sure,” she giggled again “did he really think he was going to rape me…with that?”

 

***********************************************

 

Harvey drove steadily; he didn’t want to attract any attention to the car by burning a stop or a light and getting a black and white on his tail.  He kept off the main streets and used the back runs and side roads until he hit the canyon. He passed the turn and took the third on the left after it then took another left and two rights. If anyone was following him he’d notice it; there were no other cars in sight.  He cruised down the hill and pulled up under the tree.  Starsky was half asleep again, as if the effort of cleaning his teeth and eating a sandwich had been enough for him without the added energy needed to escape from Huggy’s apartment. Harvey ran around to the passenger door and opened it. Starsky stood up and looked up at the house. His voice was faint as he said “I never thought I’d see this place again” before collapsing out of the car.

Harvey had to carry him up the stairs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Four

 

Dobey carried out the interrogation himself. He was sitting across the table from Mulligan who was spilling the lot in return for a plea bargain.

According to Mulligan, Elena had been trying to take over her father’s operation for about a year. She’d promised the new outfit a full hand in the numbers operations as long as she could run the rest of the business.  And then her father had announced that he was going to try to hand over the reins and “that’s when the shit hit the fan; Captain. She was as mad as a tic. And she was panicked because the old man didn’t know about a lot of stuff that she was running in his name.  And if he was going to hand over the operation the new guys would find out and tell him and Elena would be in big trouble.”

To make it worse she found who her father had in mind for his succession.

“Did you ever hear about a couple of guys known as the Persuaders?” he leaned across the table and asked Dobey in a conspiratorial whisper. Dobey didn’t show anything on his face.  “Why don’t you tell me what you know about them?”

“They were before my time; I mean I only came out here about five years ago and these guys were already retired – or dead.” Dobey didn’t move a facial muscle.

“So what I heard is that the old man was kind of close to them – they were nephews of his or something like that. Anyway; like I said no-one’s seen or heard of them for years and suddenly Elena’s yelling and screaming about that motherfucker Harvey and his god-dam cousin and how she isn’t going to let those two get nix from her father’s empire.  Plus it seems that one of them might be trouble if he knew what she had gotten the old man’s name attached to behind his back. She got together with some guy from Vegas and lured this Harvey character out of town and he was going to be used to get rid of some old hooker that Elena wanted out of the way too. I guess she hoped that he’d take the rap for that and be out of the way.  The other guy was more complicated. She really hated him. She set him up and gave him to Walters to get rid of. I wouldn’t like to think how he finished up.”

Mulligan looked sick and reached for the cigarettes on the table. “That Walters is more than just bad news.”

Dobey picked up a mixture of distaste and fear in Mulligan’s voice.

“Tell me more about this man Walters.”

Mulligan looked wary. “Look I didn’t have anything to do with that, OK. I mean it. I’m just a hired hand. But Walters…I’m not going down for being a party to anything he did.”

“Don’t worry,” Dobey smiled, “we made a deal you’re in here for attempted armed robbery. We aren’t even going to link you to your partner’s failed rape attempt.” Mulligan sniggered and Dobey had to struggle to keep it serious. “The DA promised you a deal and we’ll hold to it. Tell me about Walters.”

 

Mulligan stood up and walked around the room. “He’s mad. I worked with him at a club for a while; the man’s built like a Sherman tank; he didn’t need to do anything more than walk towards trouble and it ran away. He drove me home from the club one morning and he had this tape in the deck. I thought it was the radio – you know when those people call in and tell everyone what they think and get hysterical about how Martians killed Kennedy and planted the Watergate tapes.” Dobey nodded.

“So anyway he turned up the sound and I could hear this woman sobbing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Like she was pleading and screaming and Walters is sitting there driving with that look on his face like he’d getting off on this stuff. I asked him if this was some porno thing and you know what he says?”

Dobey shook his head although he had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be.

“He says ‘no I made it myself’ and then he tells me how he’s got plenty more because when he’s had his fun he likes to hear it again. He said he kept them out in a place he knew out in the desert; he said they were ‘real safe’ and that made him laugh.

I figured maybe I should humor him a little so I asked if the lady was still available and he didn’t even blink when he said she was dead.  You know Captain, I don’t think she was the only one. That’s why I said I don’t wanna think of what happened to the guy Elena wanted out of the way.”

 

“Let’s come back to him.  What do you know about him?”

“Elena said she’d given him to Walters but the big slob fouled up and the guy got away; then she heard that there was hobo hanging around the beach and it sounded like him. She figured he might try to get to Huggy – something about them being old friends. She checked it out and then she sent me and that idiot to get him.

I just came to get the hobo.”

He lit another cigarette and looked at Dobey through the smoke. “I guess this guy is important to you cops.”

Dobey nodded.

“Important enough for knowing where Walters hung out to get me a sweeter deal?”

“Perhaps.” Dobey had no intention of letting Mulligan walk away but he needed the information. He wanted to know where Starsky had been and this man might have the answers.

Mulligan finished his cigarette; smoking it carefully as if every draw on the filter helped him to remember a detail. Finally he squashed the butt in the ash tray and said “I need a map.”

Dobey left him to stew for a while.

 

“Jackson, get hold of the DA’s office and get all the warrants you need to search Elena Goldberg’s property; house; office and car. Pollack, get onto Vegas and Chicago and check out these names.” He handed Pollack a sheet of paper with the names Mulligan had given him earlier. He went into his office and closed the door before calling his opposite number in a precinct on the other side of the city. “It’s Dobey. I need to call in a favor for the time I lent you two of my men….I need someone to keep an eye on a bar. This is what I need….”

 

An hour later two men walked into The Pits and settled into a booth. Huggy ambled over to them and took their orders; the older man moved his jacket and Huggy glimpsed the badge. “Welcome to The Pits where the beer is clear and this Bear ain’t square.”

 

******************************************

 

Madison knocked on the door and walked straight in. She was holding the copies of the autopsy reports. “Three men and a woman, Captain. All tortured. The ME found signs of burns and beating on all of them.”

Dobey took the file and started to read.  It doesn’t matter how long a man has worked in Homicide the images of a dead body are never easy. Although three of the corpses had been buried for a while the hot desert soil had worked to preserve them; they were almost mummified and their wounds were visible. He read the reports, noting the evidence of burns ‘probably caused by electric shocks’; beatings ‘with a heavy but flexible instrument’ and rape. He put the page down. Walters was a monster who had performed his fantasies on all of his victims.  And he kept tapes of his activities.  Mulligan had said something about ‘safe’; Walter emphasized it. Dobey grabbed the ‘phone.

The Deputy Sheriff in Needles knew exactly where to look. “It’s a real ghost town but some of the buildings are still in pretty good shape.  It died after they changed the Interstate routes. I’ll go out there right now.”

“No, wait, I’d like to send one of my men out there to help you.”

“Sure. That place isn’t going anywhere.”

Dobey made the necessary arrangements with the Sheriff’s office and replaced the ‘phone. He walked into the squad room and looked around.  He needed Jackson and Pollack here to deal with Elena. He knew who he wanted in Needles. But would he agree?

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Four

 

Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home

 

Starsky wandered round the room fingering random objects and stopping to look at something carefully. He was like a man in a museum, on unfamiliar territory; investigating the artifacts of a past everyone else in the place seemed to understand. Harvey watched him and said nothing. This was the pattern.  Starsky would sleep a little then start his wandering around.  It reminded Harvey of something else too. Back before his cousin had been sent to safety in the West, Harvey had a dog. The puppy had turned up on his father’s lot and his parents agreed to let the eight year old adopt it.  Rosa was reluctant to let it into the house at first but her heart melted when the little dog trotted round the room sniffing at the furniture before settling in the middle of the rug and wagging its tail as if to say ‘wow, I’ve come home!’. Harvey looked after the dog faithfully but it got sick and died and he swore he never wanted another pet.

Now he was looking after his cousin.

Starsky sniffed and put down the framed picture of his mother taken the day he graduated from the Academy. Almost out of frame at the back you could see a tall blond man in a rookie’s uniform. They’d come a long way since then.

Starsky sat in the peacock chair and drew his legs up under him. He was painfully thin and now that he had shaved off his beard his face was a comical two-tone of brown and white punctuated by the dark shadows under his eyes and where his cheeks were sunken. He sighed deeply and leaned forward to pick up a piece of driftwood on the table. “I know how this thing feels; I feel like I’m adrift” he said quietly.

 

************************************************

 

The truck garden idea was a good one. Hutch sat in his farm house and looked at the objects around him.  There were things that reminded him of his grandfather and he had added a few touches of his own. He’d even made a quick raid on the family house and taken some souvenirs of his not so happy childhood out of his room. He walked over to the stereo and set it to play a tape; folk songs compiled under FDR’s initiatives. He hummed to himself and decided to find a new guitar next time he went into town; he wasn’t ready to contact his landlord and arrange to have his stuff shipped out. Something held him back but if he’d been put in a room with a spotlight in his eyes he wouldn’t have been able to say what it was. He smiled at the idea that maybe he just wanted to hold onto a vacation home on the West Coast.

Things seemed to be working out for him here, why go back?

 

Hutch had come to an arrangement with a small wholefood restaurant in Duluth; it was run by a woman who had tried to escape Minnesota and failed. She took whatever produce Hutch brought in, agreed a price and added the cost of his gas. He spent the night with her and returned to the farm the next day. Hutch had the feeling that the relationship could go further; further than it would have gone if he was still a cop.

Rula was happy with the arrangement. She’d left behind a bad relationship in New York and didn’t want to ‘commit’; regular companionable sex was just about what she wanted and Hutch was happy to go along with that. He had just started to deliver twice a week. And so had she. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever had in his life; certainly not like Van and her constant demands for more and more of the material trappings she had grown up to expect a man to provide for her. Rula was stable (not like the air-hostesses who treated men like the turn around stops in their schedules) and she was sure of herself. Her restaurant ran on the basic and sound principles of using good organically produced food – no fads, no ‘butterfly wings’ or strange demands to fast and live on spinach water for a week. Rula was the kind of happy down to earth woman Hutch had once dreamed of marrying. Maybe this time he wouldn’t run away again. Maybe this time he had really come home

He looked out of the window at the apple tree he helped his grandfather plant, Hutch must have been about eight years old, and said quietly “I know how that thing feels; rooted, in place.”

 

*********************************************

 

 

Starsky was getting a little stronger every day. He was eating better and drinking less and he was no longer chain smoking. It was going to take a while before he was back to his old level of fitness but he was doing a few sit ups on the deck every day. For the moment he was concentrating on getting his memory straightened out. The two cousins were sitting facing one another across the low table now. “You go first” Starsky said quietly.

Harvey spoke carefully. He told Starsky about how Elena had sent him to Vegas and how he’d been kidnapped and held prisoner. “I was so sure it was you they were beating on, Dave. It sounded like you.”

Starsky interrupted him, “what do you mean?”

“I heard you cry when you came back from Hawaii Dave; I’ll never forget that; you were in pain and scared and angry and you were crying in the night. It made me think of when you first came to live with us; you were so raw, like someone had scraped off a layer of skin and you had no defense.  That’s what it sounded like; like someone was tearing you apart.”

Starsky stared up at the ceiling and swore under his breath. He reached for the cigarette pack on the table and shrugged his eyes at Harvey as he lit his first one of the day. “Go on.”

“They told me I could stop it happening.  They said that if I did what they wanted they’d let you go.”

“They said it was me?”

“No…but Dave I’m telling you I knew it was you. I knew.”

“Harvey; I don’t remember all the details but I do know one thing; I was not in a motel.

Oh shit!”

“What?”

“If I wasn’t in the motel then who was it that I could hear being tortured?”

He finished his cigarette and sat in silence again.

Someone knocked on the door. Starsky slipped into the bedroom and Harvey peered through the little window in the door.

“Hi Huggy.”

Starsky came back to the peacock chair. “See you later Harvey. Hey, it’s OK, whatever you did, it’s gonna be OK.”

“You don’t know what I did yet, Dave.”

Huggy shooed Harvey out of the house. “Go to work.”

“Harvey?” Starsky stopped him. “Do they know…Uncle Al and Aunt Rosa, do they know I’m OK?”

“Not yet; Dobey wants to get Elena first.”

Starsky grinned; “I guess my stomach is safe then.”

 

**********************************************

 

 

 

Hutch was loading the pickup with today’s crops. Two big boxes of tomatoes; onions aplenty and spinach completed the load.  He wondered what Rula would dream up to make with all this. The ‘phone was ringing. He hesitated; he didn’t want the stuff to wilt in the sun but he was hoping to hear from a man who could supply him with ten-day-old chicks so that he could raise them and offer eggs and meat as well as vegetables. He drew the line at having to milk a cow!

 

He answered the call; “Hutchinson.” He regretted it the moment he heard the familiar growl at the other end of the line.

“Captain?”

“Starsky’s back and he’s innocent.”

Hutch felt like someone had kicked his legs out from under him. He leaned against the kitchen counter and stared out of the window. The sky had started to cloud over and a scurry of wind was causing a mini tornado in the dirt around his truck. He watched the dirt and leaves swirling around the tires. His memory found Starsky’s voice teasing him; “OK Toto time to go home.” If only he could just click his heels and make everything right again.

“Hutch?” Dobey sounded worried.

“Yes; I’m here Captain.”

“I need you back here, Hutch.”

Hutch hesitated before he gave Dobey his answer.

 

Hutch drove into town to make the delivery.  Rula was waiting for him; she checked the delivery as he sat in the kitchen drinking her good coffee. Rula decided her menus according to what she had fresh in each day.  Soon she had Hutch chopping onions and preparing a few other basics while she worked her magic. He stepped up behind her as she was stirring something aromatic at the stove. “You are a witch,” he said into her hair. She laughed and turned to brandish her wooden spoon like a wand.

“As long as I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West.”

He licked the spoon and kissed her. He took her hand but she pushed him away gently.  “I’m cooking.”

“So am I….”

 

Later they lay in her bed and he told her about the phone call. “I have to go back; if Starsky is innocent he needs me. Then I’ll come back, I promise.”

“We’ll see.”  She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair and down the inside of his thigh. He rolled her over and made love to her again.

 

 

 

The next morning Hutch left quietly before Rula was awake; he didn’t want to say goodbye in case it was for ever. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he could put Bay City behind him; the truth was that his life was out there now, and working with Dave Starsky was a big part of that.  If Starsky ever quit he would too, but only if he had to; and deep down he knew that it was far more likely that death would bring their partnership to an end.

He and Rula had spoken about arranging for the rest of the crops to be gathered and delivered; and she promised to keep an eye on the house for him. He was going to leave the truck in the restaurant’s parking lot so that whoever dealt with the deliveries could use it. He packed his bag and looked around the room once more before driving into town and getting a cab to the airport.

 

 

*****************************************

 

Things were happening quickly.  Dobey got in touch with the San Francisco PD and confirmed that Elena was back in her home there. He was put into direct contact with the Sheriff’s office that covered her neighborhood and learned a few new things about the lady and the company she kept.

“Are you sure of that address, Captain Dobey?” the other man asked. Dobey thought he heard a tone of reluctance.

Dobey sat back in his chair. “I take it you know the owner of that address.” He said carefully.

“Yes Captain; that’s why I’m a little cautious of keeping the house under surveillance; unless you are telling me that one of the family is in some kind of danger.  You need to understand that these are very powerful people.” There was a hint of warning in the way the man said ‘very’.  Dobey had to think quickly. He had the feeling that not only was this family powerful but that anything the Sheriff did was with the knowledge of some member of it. He let the information hang for a while.

“Captain?”

“I’m here. I was given this address in connection with a murder here; it is possible that someone living in that house was a witness to the event and therefore may be in danger herself.”

“I see. I’ll have someone posted to keep an eye on the house.”

“Thank you. Oh and Sheriff; please keep this discreet; I don’t want to frighten anyone.”

“I understand.”

Somehow Dobey wasn’t convinced. He wanted his own men there and as soon as possible.”

“Captain?”

“I’m still here.”

“I was just wondering Captain, of you do know who lives in that house.”  Dobey could feel his hackles rising; either this man was being deliberately difficult or he was giving a veiled warning. He decided to play the fish on the end of the line.

“What I know, Sheriff, is that there is a woman living in that house who may or may not be the witness to a murder; I’m not sure of her relationship with the owner of that house but I do want two of my men to keep an eye on her. They will be in San Francisco tomorrow.” The other man said nothing but Dobey was pretty sure he heard the click of a second line being picked up. “Sheriff?”

“Sorry Captain; I had an incoming call to deal with.  You’d better give me her name or a description.”

Dobey described Elena Goldberg without giving her name. The Sheriff’s next remark took him by surprise; if he was to be believed Elena was living with one of the most powerful men in the state – and he was not a politician or a gangster.

“You’ll be sure to keep an eye on her then?” Dobey said as calmly as he could.

“Definitely Captain and I look forward to meeting with your men when they arrive.”

Dobey let him cut the connection first and he heard the double click. Someone else had heard their conversation and Dobey was sure that it was someone in San Francisco; he hadn’t heard another phone ringing.

His next call was to the DA’s office and within an hour he had the paperwork he needed.  He called Jackson and Pollack into his office and gave them their instructions.  “Let the Sheriff think you are there to protect her and as soon as she is away from home and alone, use this.” Jackson glanced at the document Dobey handed him and whistled. He was holding a Federal arrest warrant.

The two detectives were on a north bound flight that evening; as their plane taxied to the runway it passed the incoming flight from Minnesota.

 

 

 

***********************************************

Hutch found the Bug where he had left it.  The fact that it hadn’t been stolen was probably more of a reflection of its scruffy looks than of the safety of the parking lot. He flung his bag onto the passenger seat and turned the key. The car started with the familiar high pitched rattle and he drove into the city.

The streets hadn’t changed much. Hutch laughed at himself for thinking they would. He had only been away for a couple of months after all. He drove past The Pits and considered stopping to see Huggy, but changed his mind. He drove on to Venice Place.

“Captain Dobey, please.” He listened while the extension rang too many times. The officer on the switchboard must have been new; he didn’t recognize Hutch’s voice. “I’m sorry sir; he doesn’t seem to be in the building.”

“I have his home number, I’ll call him there.” The other man didn’t question that, and Hutch made a note to talk to him sometime about privacy and protection. He dialed the number and Dobey answered after the third ring. “I’m home, Captain; I’ll be in your office first thing tomorrow.” He wanted to ask about Starsky; but he knew instinctively that Dobey wasn’t going to say much if Edith and the children were within earshot.

Home, huh. I guess it’s automatic.

 

 

Chapter twenty five

 

Jackson stayed in the Sheriff’s office while Pollack went to find a phone he could trust.

“What do you mean she isn’t in the house? We asked you to keep her under surveillance.” The Sheriff was impassive in the face of Jackson’s anger. “There was no reason why they shouldn’t leave, after all. And they left before we got there. That’s it. What did your Captain expect; that I call ahead and say ‘oh by the way ma’am please don’t leave the house until my men are set up to watch you without you knowing it’? Jackson didn’t answer; he could see the man’s point but it stank.  Elena and the man she lived with just happened to go away after Dobey had requested that she be kept under surveillance; the coincidence was too good to be true.

Pollack was in a call box in the entrance to a hotel down the street from the Sheriff’s office. “She isn’t there Captain. The Sheriff claims that they had already left when his men arrived but there’s something about the man I don’t trust.”

“Find out what you can and then get back here. I’ll talk to the FBI. That’s a very influential family; it’s possible that the local Sheriff is in their pockets. You and Jackson take your time and get whatever it takes.”

 

Dobey put down the phone and opened the drawer of his desk. He handed Hutch his gun and badge and the letter of resignation. “I guess if you decide to go ahead and quit you’ll need to re-write that anyway.” Hutch tore it up in silence.

“Where is he Captain?”

“He’s safe.  He’s recovering but he needs time; he still can’t fill in all the gaps.”

“So how can you be sure he’s innocent?” Hutch said quietly.

“The gun.”

“But Captain we both saw the gun beside the body. It was Starsky’s.”

“That’s what we all thought until Huggy went to get Starsky’s clothes.”  Hutch was confused. “What do you …Huggy went to Starsky’s house…I don’t understand.”

Dobey explained how Huggy found the gun and holster on the coat stand where Starsky had left it before going to bed.

Hutch dry washed his face and then stared up at the ceiling before tapping a finger to his brow; “how come I didn’t see it?”

“Because you didn’t expect to; you were so sure that he hadn’t been home. It’s understandable, Hutch, don’t beat yourself about it. When Huggy told me about it Harvey told me where that gun came from.  Bennie gave it to Starsky as a gift when he was called up; and he gave its twin to his daughter, Elena.”

“Why would she kill her father?”

“Because he wanted to retire and she didn’t want his successor to see what she had been running behind his back.”

Hutch nodded. It was an old story in the underworld; power hungry son (or in this case daughter) starts to hijack the old man’s operation and then has to cover his tracks. He and Starsky had seen it so many times.  In many cases the overambitious kid ended up dead at the hands of whoever took over the operation and wanted all of the spoils without sharing. So far so good, but…. “but why did she want to set Starsky up for the murder?”

“Let him explain that to you Hutch, if and when he feels ready. Right now I need you to go to Needles and look at what they’ve found out there.” He took the next thirty minutes to fill Hutch in about Walters and the ghost town in the desert. Get yourself to the airfield; the helicopter is waiting.” Hutch nodded and left the room.

 

The clatter of the helicopter’s rotors made all attempts at conversation impossible without a head set. Hutch removed his to indicate that he didn’t want small talk and the pilot nodded and set his course. In a matter of minutes the city took on the appearance of a giant Monopoly game and Hutch amused himself by trying to identify familiar landmarks as they flashed beneath him at an impossible angle. Soon they were flying over the suburbs and into the wide open scrubland that marked the beginning of the semi-desert. After about forty minutes the scrubland gave way to real desert. The heat was shimmering above the roads and the pilot tapped Hutch on the shoulder to indicate that he should put on his headset. The chopper swooped lower and circled before regaining height and as it descended the pilot pointed to something on the horizon. “That’s where you’re going,” he said, “it’s been deserted for years. Anyone who escaped from there without a vehicle would have to be one hell of a survivor.”  Hutch nodded. What is it Dobey still hasn’t told me? What does this place have to do with Starsky?

 

The helicopter landed at the local airport and Hutch was escorted to the Sheriff’s car.  As they drove out of the town he learned about how Walters had been found and what the FBI had dug up. “It also looks like he kept his victims prisoner. He used the old jailhouse.  We found evidence that he was living in the saloon too. There’s a whole lot of other stuff but the Feds will explain it to you when you get there.” Hutch nodded and stared at the passing nothingness.

 

There were five graves and but they had only dug up four bodies. The agent pointed to the fifth grave; “we think he did bury someone in that one but…” he stopped when he realized that Hutch had seen the marker. The photo!

“Are you telling me that he tried to make it look like he’d killed Starsky?”

“It’s worse than that, Detective Hutchinson. The forensic team is pretty sure that he thought he had killed him. The bullet in Walters matched the one that killed Goldberg and,” the man paused to give the full effect to what he was going to say. This cop had been Starsky’s partner after all. “And the team says that someone dug their way out of that grave…he was buried alive and he killed Walters. We’d put it down to self-defense except the bullet entered Walters from behind.”

Hutch realized that this man didn’t know about the second gun – and he didn’t know that Starsky was safely back in Bay City.  He decided to play along; Dobey had sent him out to find out everything he could after all.

“I have new information” he said. He turned to the Sheriff. “Can we go find that safe now?”

The FBI agent followed them to the parked cars and a small convoy drove from the cemetery to the ghost town’s main street.  Hutch wanted to see the jail house but he needed to get to the tapes before the FBI did. The Sheriff walked into the old bank and led them to the back room. “The safe is in here Detective Hutchinson.” Hutch turned and smiled at the FBI agent. “This one is mine.” He produced a search warrant citing the possible existence of tapes that could bring new light to a BCPD murder investigation. The Fed raised his hands in mock-surrender and stepped back.

The safe didn’t have a combination; it had an old-fashioned spin-operated dead lock.

 

We could always go to South America and rob banks

 

In the absence of a stick of dynamite the Sheriff shot the lock.  The door swung open easily and Hutch removed a box containing a series of audio cassette tapes; one of the new home video cameras and two Betamax tapes. He put them back in the box.

“Now show me the jail house.”

They crossed the dusty street and stepped up onto the remains of the sidewalk and the entrance to the jail.  The cell had obviously been used to keep someone prisoner for a long time. It stank of human excrement and sweat; and fear.  Again Hutch felt cold fingers on his heart. Had Starsky been held prisoner here? The hose was attached to the faucet on the wall and the FBI agent pointed out to Hutch that it was an industrial high pressure nozzle. “Even without good water pressure this thing has force.  I guess he was going to clean the place up when he got his last shot.” In the other room they observed apparatus that might have been used to apply electricity to a human body.

“I’ve seen enough,” Hutch said gruffly, he turned to the Sheriff, “get me back to the airport; I need to get these tapes to my Captain.”

The FBI agent said nothing but his silence spoke volumes. Hutch allowed him a half smile; “you’ll get our copies if and when we think they are of use in the Goldberg case.”

 

The flight back took an hour and Hutch fingered the box nervously. Whatever was on those tapes he wanted to be the first to hear them.

 

 

*******************************************

 

 

The gentle ‘plock’ of a ball hitting leather was beginning to drive Huggy nuts.

About an hour ago Dobey had rung The Pits and asked Huggy to take over from Harvey. “I need him here.” Was the only explanation Huggy was given. He didn’t mind.

Starsky was out on the deck sitting staring out over the canyon; he was wearing his old mitt and the only sign that he was awake was the rhythmic plock, plock, plock of the baseball as he passed it from right to left.  Huggy walked onto the deck and lit a cigarette. “I’d offer you a penny for them but I suspect a million bucks wouldn’t be enough.” Starsky turned to look at him, smiled and went back to his personal baseball game.  Huggy went back inside. He switched on the TV and settled to spend a mindless afternoon watching whatever there was. He had a weakness for old cartoons. He didn’t hear Starsky come into the room.

 

********************************************************

 

 

 

Dobey locked the door so that they wouldn’t be disturbed in the conference room that was equipped with an audio cassette player and video player. Hutch pressed the button and the first audio tape started playing. The three men listened in silence to the sounds of man being brutalized; he was pleading for his life and the buzz that preceded some of his screams indicated that he was being electrocuted. Harvey was pale. He shook his head. “That’s not what I heard; I heard them beating him.”

Hutch placed the next cassette into the machine. This time it was a woman who was pleading. Hutch switched it off as her cry left their imaginations raw.  The third tape was the one. Harvey sat forward and listened carefully. “Yes, that’s what I heard.” They played the full tape. Someone was being methodically and regularly beaten.  His moans and cries were filling the room. Harvey had tears in his eyes.  Hutch and Dobey leaned forward to listen closely. Dobey pushed the ‘Stop’ button and looked at Starsky’s cousin. “Are you sure?” Harvey wiped his eyes and hesitated. Hutch spoke first “that wasn’t Starsky; I don’t know who it was but it wasn’t Starsky.”

Dobey turned to Harvey again, the question in his eyes. Harvey nodded. “He’s right, that’s not Dave.  But I really thought it was Captain; on my mother’s life I swear I believed they were killing my cousin.”

None of them felt ready to watch the video quite yet. Dobey sent Hutch to get coffee and “something to eat – anything.”  As soon as the door was closed he sat down next to Harvey. “If that wasn’t Dave…who was it? Captain, if I didn’t save Dave’s life I don’t have a defense, do I?”

“You have a perfect defense Harvey; they were torturing you.”

 

Hutch reappeared with coffee and a selection of candy bars and a few sandwiches. They ate in silence and fortified themselves with coffee before Hutch placed the bigger tape into the video machine. The screen flickered and the show began.

 

*************************************

 

 

 

Popeye was swallowing his can of spinach and Olive Oyl was squealing for help. Huggy grinned like a kids knowing that the big showdown was coming between Popeye and his perpetual foe….

 

“Bluto – he looked like Bluto.”

 

 

**************************************************

 

 

Starsky looked as if he had been starved for more than a week. His body was covered in sores and filth and he was tethered like an animal to the rail.  The camera must have been mounted on a tripod because the angle didn’t change. The jet of water came from nowhere; knocking Starsky off balance. He couldn’t defend himself and the force of the water was blasting the filth off him.  The water stopped and at the edge of the screen Walters’ hulking shadow moved across the ground. The camera lingered on Starsky as he stood naked and dripping in the blazing sun. The screen went to snow and flickered. Once again they watched as Starsky was brought out to the hitching rail and hosed down before being left to dry.  His skin was blistered from the sun and the water ripped the fine layer off the blisters to leave sore patches that would dry and crack as the sun reached them. Hutch paused the film. “Look at the shadows Captain; he left Starsky out there for hours.”

The next sequence showed Starsky chained in his cell; the camera lingered on him sitting hunched and apparently defeated.  It moved away and showed a big heavy duty car battery positioned behind the kind of wooden chair that every Sheriff in a cowboy movie used in his office.

“I don’t want to see any more of this,” Hutch said as he killed the tape. He ejected it from the machine and handed it to Dobey. “I guess someone needs to watch it to the end to see what else that bastard did to him before he buried him alive.”

Dobey placed the tape on the table with the others.

 

 

The three of them were sitting in Dobey’s office. Harvey had to make a detour to the men’s room where he was violently sick.  They sat in silence for a while; each man trying to make sense of what they had seen and heard.

The phone broke the silence. Dobey punched the button indicating that the call was coming from an outside line without passing through the switchboard.

He listened for a while and said “stay with him; Harvey’s on his way back.”

Hutch stood up and fished for his car key but Dobey told him to sit down. “I need you here.” He called down for a patrol car to take Harvey ‘home’.

Hutch scowled at Dobey; “why won’t you let me go to him?”

“Because he asked for Harvey; and right now that’s how it has to be.”

 

 

*************************************************

 

 

The first thing Harvey heard was the gentle ‘plock, plock, plock’ that had been driving Huggy nuts earlier. He raised an eyebrow, a gesture that must have come through the maternal line. Huggy pointed to the deck. “He’s been doing that all morning. I was watching the TV, any old crap just to drown out the sound, and Popeye came on. Next think I know is Starsky standing there saying that the guy looked like Bluto. Then he went back out there and started up again.”

“Walters made tapes.” Harvey said, “we were watching them. He filmed what he did to Dave.” He went out onto the deck and put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

Plock….plock….plock…..then Huggy heard the ball fall and roll across the deck. He saw Harvey sit down beside his cousin and say something in a low voice; words that only the two of them would understand perhaps. Starsky put his head on Harvey’s shoulder and from behind you’d have been forgiven for thinking that they were brothers – maybe even twins.

 

Harvey and Huggy ran in the same pack at Junior High, and when Harvey’s cousin had arrived from New York, strangely exotic with a pall of mystery around his shoulders and the unspoken knowledge that he was there to be safe, Huggy had been drawn into the small and intensely private circle of people that Dave Starsky would trust. Huggy learned from Harvey about the tragedy that the boy had left behind in New York and watched in awe as the cousins forged a relationship which would carry Dave across the shoals of his fear. Harvey had been the one who finally got him to talk about what he’d seen; the other kids stood around him in silence hardy daring to imagine the idea of a father shot down in front of his son.  It was something that happened in the movies, the local industry, as banal as a tire or a fender in Detroit; but this kid had seen it for real. He was tough and he fought his corner. He learned to fight properly under the watchful eye of John Blaine the cop who lived a couple of blocks from the Kauffman house in the tracts of post-war neat one family houses that made up the city’s suburbia. He was a football star and his teachers despaired of his refusal to consider taking up a sport scholarship and maybe using his natural ability for math to get him further in the world. Harvey and Dave worked for Bennie and then Dave was called up. And then he became a cop.

 

Huggy watched them talking quietly. Harvey had his hand on the back of Starsky’s neck in the age old gesture of protection.  He’d seen that before; in a booth in his new bar. Dave was hunched and drunk in a booth, his walking cane hanging from the edge of the table as a flag of warning ‘do not approach’, and Huggy called Harvey to come and take him home. Harvey sat in the booth and listened to his cousin talk about the terrors of the jungle and the greater fear that he’d felt in the hospital as he fought to regain the full use of his shattered leg. They were still talking when Harvey took him home

 

Huggy went to see check what he could use in the kitchen to make lunch. He picked up his keys and called out “I’m going down to the grocery store”. If the cousins heard him they didn’t acknowledge it

 

Starsky felt Harvey settle beside him. He leaned his head on Harvey’s shoulder and felt safe. Harvey spoke quietly. “I’ve seen what he did to you Dave. You’re going to be OK; you’ve come through worse than that.”

They talked for what seemed like hours. Starsky told Harvey of all the fears that he had battled during those days in captivity. “I don’t know how long I was there Harvey, it seemed like forever. I know some people believe in eternal hell. Shit I thought I was there; my own personal hell and I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve the punishment. I was scared.  You know how I can be scared of the dark.”

Harvey knew.  His thirteen year old cousin had refused to sleep without some kind of nightlight. When Harvey had called him a baby it earned him a spanking. His mother applied her wooden spoon to the backs of his legs telling him that if he called his cousin a baby he’d be punished like a baby. “Dave can have a nightlight for as long as it takes.” She said as she pushed him into his bedroom until he was ready to apologize.

“You got over it Dave. You’ll get over it again.”

“Yeah.”

 

When Huggy returned with two sacks filled with a selection of goodies to tempt Starsky’s palate the two of them were still out on the deck; smoking and drinking beer and watching the trees sway in the breeze. He prepared steaks and a potato salad and set the meal out on the table inside.  For the first time since his return Starsky managed to eat a full meal without losing it later. He lit a cigarette. “The worst thing was being buried alive,” he said as he walked out onto the deck again. Huggy dropped the plate he was clearing from the table. Harvey shrugged.  “He’d just got to that part when you called us to eat.”

Huggy brought three mugs of coffee and sat opposite Starsky and Harvey.

“I woke up and I realized that he’d buried me. I guess he thought he’d killed me. I figured it wasn’t too deep,” he grinned, “that’s what being a cop in Homicide teaches you; killers don’t always bother to dig six feet down.  I was lucky it was lightweight soil, mostly sand. I got out.” He inhaled the smoke and a lopsided smile lit his face “I guess that was stating the obvious, right?”

 

 

Chapter twenty six

 

Their flight arrived on time and the two Bay City detectives hired a car to drive to the San Mateo County Sheriff’s office. They were welcomed by a deputy who explained that the Sheriff had been called away “and when the Mayor calls, he jumps,” the man said sourly. “Our boss has political aspirations and to be honest gentlemen your investigation is not going to help him on his way.”

 

They pulled up outside a house set back off the street. The walkway up to the front door was lined with low growing bushes that gave off the sweet smell of rosemary entwined with lavender as they walked past.  The Deputy pressed a button and somewhere in the depths of the house a discreet chime signaled their presence.  It was a full two minutes before a middle-aged woman dressed in a black dress and white apron opened it. When she saw the Deputy she stood to one side and ushered them into the house.

“Are you looking for someone gentleman?” Jackson looked up to the top of the stair that swept down one side of the vestibule. A distinguished man with white-gray hair was walking down the stairs. Pollack nudged his partner and said quietly; “wow!”

The Deputy spoke first, his tone was deferential and the man on the stairs smiled as if this was what he expected.

“Sir, this is Detective Jackson and Detective Pollack from Bay City PD; they uh…uh…”

“We are looking for Elena Goldberg.”

The man smiled but made no effort to come down to join them. It seemed that he preferred to preserve his physical superiority. “I’m afraid you have wasted a journey. My son and his wife left for their honeymoon this morning.” He looked at his watch, “They should be arriving at our house in Bermuda in an hour or so. Is there a message I can give them when they call?”

“No,” Pollack said curtly. “Thank you sir; I guess we’ll just have to wait for them to return.”  He hoped he sounded convincing when he said, “I apologize for the intrusion, Sir, but we did have reason to believe that she was in danger. I guess we were wrongly informed.”

“Yes,” their host said with a distant chill in his voice, “I think perhaps you were.”

 

Driving back to the airport Jackson whistled. “Elena has done well for herself. Isn’t that the guy who said that being President would mean a cut in salary?”

“I guess that’s why the Sheriff wasn’t happy to help us.”

 

*******************************************

 

 

“She’s married to who?” Hutch spluttered his coffee down the front of his shirt.  repeated the information. “I guess that makes her untouchable now.” He added. “The old man will see to that.”

Hutch wasn’t so eager to give up but Dobey reasoned with him. “Hutch, the man is more powerful than the Governor in this state; unless we have a really solid case against Elena there’s no way we can take him on.”

“I’ll get it.” Hutch said grimly. “I don’t know how; but I’ll get it.”

 

Hutch’s first stop was The Pits. Huggy was behind the bar checking the stock.

“Hutch, hey, welcome home!”

There it is again ‘home!

He settled on a stool. “You got any fresh coffee Huggy?”

Huggy poured two cups and raised his in a mock toast; “to the dynamic duo…I hope.”

Hutch stared into the cup. “You’ve seen him again?”

Huggy didn’t need to answer. Hutch gulped coffee; it was hot and burned his tongue. “How is he?”

“He’s been through a lot of bad stuff, Hutch.  He’s been through worse in the past; much worse, believe me. But he’s hurting and he’s confused. He still needs to get his head together and he’s with the right person for that.”

Hutch looked hurt. “We’ve been through a lot together too.” He said quietly.

“Yes, I know but this time he needs someone who knows more about him than you do. And hard as that might be for you to believe there are a couple of people here in Bay City who fit that category.”

“I guess you are one of them.”

Huggy nodded. “I’ll ask him if he wants to see you. But Hutch,” he put down his cup and leaned forward to look Hutch in the eye, “don’t count on it. Like I said he was in a bad way when I found him but he’d seen what you said to that journalist.”

Hutch shook his head sadly and finished his coffee. “See what you can do, Huggy.”

He drove back to his apartment. He called Rula and they talked for a while about the restaurant and the farm; “are you coming back here?” she asked. He held the handset to his forehead and closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said softly.

“I guess I’ll have to wait a little longer then,” she said as she broke the connection.

 

 

************************************************

 

Starsky was beginning to give more details of his ordeal. He described how he had managed to escape from Elena and his trek across the desert. He was also gaining weight and had managed to reduce his intake of cigarettes. But there were still days when he sat in silence staring out over the canyon; smoking and drinking too much.

Today was one of those days. He was sitting out on the deck dressed in an old BCPD Academy T-shirt and cutoffs. Harvey was reading a magazine; flipping the pages pretending to be interested in the model ships that fascinated his cousin.

 

Starsky had been such an intense teenager. He did everything with a fierce concentration; determined to be the best. Harvey looked up at the four-master in pride of place on one of the shelves that lined the wall separating the bedroom from the main room of the house. He could hear fifteen year-old Dave’s cry of rage when he found that the thread he was using on a sloop was too thick to thread through the tiny eyelets on the scaled-down sail. 

He didn’t hear Starsky pad into the room on bare feet. “Harvey?” Harvey startled and turned to look at his cousin’s stricken face. “Why did Elena want to kill me?”

Harvey didn’t know what to say.

Starsky stood behind the couch; he looked like a child unsure of what it was he had done to incur a parent’s wrath.  Harvey felt helpless in the face of such despair.

“Why don’t I call out for a pizza, Dave and we’ll talk, OK?”

“’K.” he wandered back to the deck and a few seconds later he started bouncing a tennis ball of the end wall. Steady, concentrated, unhappiness filled the atmosphere.

 

Dobey delivered the pizza. Starsky shrugged as if this wasn’t to be questioned.

 

Starsky licked melted cheese off his fingers.  “She came out there to kill me. She had a gun. My gun. No it wasn’t my gun was it? It was her gun, the one Bennie gave her. The same as mine. Is that why she wanted to kill me? Did she think I’d killed Bennie?”

Dobey helped himself to another slice of pizza. “She told Hutch that she was sure you had killed him. It seems like she was trying to make sure you could never tell your story.”

 

Starsky dropped his slice of pizza. He stood staring at the wall for a moment; he seemed calm, too calm. Harvey knew that the storm was coming. Starsky stepped over to the shelves and started to fling the contents across the room. Dobey stood up but Harvey held him back; “Let me handle it,” he said quietly.  Starsky had run out of books to throw and had started on his collection of pottery from South America. The terracotta smashed against the front door and he roared “Elena’. The frenzy of destruction took a lamp and a couple of vases in its wake when just as suddenly as he had flown into his rage Starsky began to slow down. He looked around helplessly as if trying to find something else to destroy. Harvey stood in front of him and Starsky raised an arm but his cousin blocked him and pulled him forward. Starsky fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut and Harvey enveloped him in his arms. The two men stood swaying together and Dobey could hear Starsky’s strangled sobs ‘Elena… Elena….” He allowed Harvey to lead him back to the couch. Harvey lit a cigarette and Starsky took it mechanically. “Why? Why does she hate me so much?”

Starsky smoked in silence for a while before he answered his own question.

“Bennie wanted me to take over. You and me, Harvey. But he wanted me to clean up the loose ends and then close down his operations. He had an idea that someone was doing things behind his back – but I really don’t think he knew who. He called me over because he wanted me to deal with it as a cop first. He wanted me to investigate a drug deal that he believed was going down in one of his warehouses.”

Starsky turned to Dobey. “He really hated drugs, Captain. He had his reasons.”

Dobey nodded. “Stella.”

“You know about Stella. She’s a wonderful lady when she’s not strung out.”

“Was,” Harvey said quietly.

“Was? What was it, an overdose or a bad trick?”

Harvey cleared his throat and his cousin sensed his guilt. “Harvey,” he turned his deep blue stare on his cousin. The Persuader, now I know how they felt.

“What is it you haven’t told me, Harvey?”

He held Harvey in his gaze while he listened to the story of Stella’s death. When Harvey finished speaking Starsky reached out and touched his face. “It’s OK; I’d have done the same for you.” He shook his head; “there was time out there when I thought maybe I did.”

The pizza was cold but Starsky started picking at the pepperoni nestled in the congealing cheese.

“Where was I? Oh yes. Bennie hated drugs but I guess you know why by now Captain.” Dobey nodded. “So he wanted me to find out who was pulling a fast one on him and arrest them and make sure their operation wasn’t linked to him.” He chuckled, “he wanted us to have a clean operation to wind down.  So I told him I’d have to think about it.  The drug bust didn’t bother me; that would be doing my job, but taking over the operation would have meant quitting the force and I had to think about it. I said I’d let him know the next day.  We had dinner, Elena was there but she left while Bennie and I were on the coffee. At least, I thought she left. I guess she didn’t.”

 

Dobey waited for Starsky to go on. But Starsky started to pick up the mess he had made earlier. “This place is a tip.” He muttered as he gathered the shattered remains

of a pot.

 

**************************************************

 

 

Hutch was at his desk. He was shuffling papers from the in tray to the out tray without really taking any notice of what was written on them. He opened a file and found himself looking at an enlargement of the burned out car.  He read the lab report.

Where was Starsky’s car? He picked up the phone.

“This is Hutchinson. What? Yes I’m back! Did they ever find Starsky’s car? Repeat that...you’re kidding…you have got to be kidding!” He sat back in his chair and laughed out loud.

He picked up the phone again and punched in a different extension number.

“This is Hutchinson, “once again he had to confirm the obvious that he was back. “I want an APB on a Ford Gran Torino; license 537 ONN; red…yes that’s right…that’s the one.”

The other cops in the room all recognized the description. Hutch turned and grinned. “They put out an APB for Starsky but not for his car! No-one has ever looked for his car! Can you believe that?”

 

The Torino was parked in the driveway of a deserted house out in the 70s beyond the Pasadena freeway. It was draped in a tarpaulin car cover; it would probably have rotted there if a patrol car hadn’t followed a couple of kids to see where they had found such fancy hub caps in this downtrodden part of town.

Hutch was in the garage when the tow-truck arrived with the Torino on board. He had a pang of déjà vu, remembering the day when he and Starsky had stood in the same place and stared at twin Torino with a shattered windshield and blood all over the front seats. Apart from the two missing hub caps and a few scratches on the paintwork, the Torino was dirty but in one piece.  Hutch resolved to get it cleaned up as soon as the lab had finished with it.

 

 

 

 

Chapter twenty seven

 

“You know what really hurt?” Starsky and Harvey were jogging in the canyon; part of Starsky’s new regime to get his body back into shape. In Harvey’s case it was more a case of getting his body there for the first time. He panted and struggled to keep up with his cousin.

“No,” he managed to get a word out at least.

“Finding the car.”

 

Harvey stopped and clutched his aching side. Starsky trotted on a few yards and then turned to run on the spot alongside him. “Hey, are you going to make it; I’m not sure I’m up to carrying you home.” Harvey caught his breath. “I’ll…be…ok….in….a…..min….ute” he gasped; Starsky grinned and stopped jogging up and down. “OK, let’s sit here and get your breath back.” He plunked down on a log and patted it. Harvey sat beside him panting and wheezing. “There’s no justice, Dave. You’re the one who walked across the desert and has been smoking like a chimney and I’m the one coughing his lungs out.” Starsky tilted his head on one side. I guess it’s because I ran a few miles every day before I…before I went away.” A broad grin lit up his face. “Don’t you ever tell Hutch that; you hear? Let him live with the fantasy that I’m a bundle of energy fueled by junk food.”

“You could tell him yourself.”

Starsky stood up and started jogging on the spot. “I could, but I guess I’m not ready for that.” He started to run back towards his house and Harvey followed.

 

Harvey had his shower while Starsky did fifty crunches and fifty push-ups. He went to set the coffee-maker and put breakfast in the toaster.  Starsky came out of the bathroom toweling his curls. He took a slice of toast spread it with butter; he dropped a spoon of jelly on the corner and bit. “I found the car in the desert.” He said quietly before dropping another dollop of bright red jelly on his toast and staring at it for a moment as if the color reminded him of his beloved Torino.

“I saw a car up in the distance and I thought…I hoped…but when I got there I found it was just a burned out wreck.  Then I looked at it and I saw what it was…had been. I cried Harvey. I couldn’t believe that anyone could be so cruel. I didn’t understand and I still don’t.  OK she wanted me dead; but why did she have to burn the car?”

 

The front door opened and Dobey answered the question.

“We were sent a series of pictures, Starsky.”

“I want to see them. I want to understand what it was Hutch saw.”

Dobey and Harvey exchanged puzzled look. There were moments when Starsky still seemed to go off into a different tangent; and this was one of them. Harvey handed a mug of coffee to the Captain; Starsky refilled his own and the three of them sat down.

“I saw an old magazine or newspaper. There was a picture of Hutch and it quoted him; something about not being able to prove I was innocent. That’s when I understood that I had to find someone I could trust – but not him.  I got across the desert because I believed that Hutch would be there to help me get through this.  And I saw that.” He suddenly seemed fascinated by the contents of his mug. He reached for the pack of cigarette and then sat back without taking one. He grinned at Harvey; “tomorrow I’ll be even faster if I don’t, right?” Dobey left understanding that to the cousins!

“I’ll bring the photos tomorrow. I want you to stay here for a while longer. We have an international warrant out for Elena but until she is in custody I don’t want anyone to know you are back.”

“Suits me.” Starsky said with a shrug.

 

************************************************

 

Hutch was at the airport to meet the flight.  Elena was escorted down the steps by two men. She had a jacket draped over her hands and only someone who got close would have seen the cuffs. She saw Hutch and her warm honey smile froze to something cold and bitter.

“I thought I’d destroyed you too.” She said.

Hutch looked her in the eye and she turned away form the icy glare of his pale blue eyes. “It takes more than framing my partner to destroy me, lady.” He said in low voice with a tinge of menace. He reached for her arm as he spoke to the two security agents; “I’ll take her from here.” One of them handed him the paperwork of the arrest and the key to the cuffs; “you’re welcome to her,” he said. “This one’s a real hell cat.”

Hutch led Elena to the waiting cruiser. He put his hand on top of her head as she lowered herself onto the back seat next to the officer waiting there. He climbed in beside the driver and they set off for Parker Center and formal charges of murder, attempted murder of a police officer, conspiracy to kidnapping a police officer and anything else the DA might like to add later.

Elena listened to the list and smiled. “My father in law is a powerful man. He’ll have me out of here and you will be back walking the beat, Hutchinson.”

“I doubt that.” he said as he left her in the care of the fingerprint officer.

He was going to take pleasure in telling her about her father-in-law and his influence, but right now she could stew in the indignity of being booked and held in the cells.

 

****************************************************

 

“Now can I see Starsky?” Hutch sat in front of Dobey’s desk.  Elena had been transferred to the women’s section of the county prison and the DA was already putting together the case against her.  Dobey shuffled the file he had been reading when Hutch walked in and seemed slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know Hutch; he doesn’t even know you are here. I was going to tell him yesterday but he was talking to Harvey about seeing you in the paper and he seemed confused.  We still have to go easy with him, Hutch.”

“I know; one step at a time, that’s what he said when I asked him how he’d handled what happened to his leg. He’s stubborn and infuriating and,” he paused, “and oh shit! Starsky is the most together person I know if he goes to pieces what I am going to hang onto?”

The outburst took Dobey by surprise.  From most people’s point of view Starsky was the volatile one and Hutch was the cool calm steadying influence on him.

“I’m going to see him again today Hutch. You get to work with the DA on the case against Elena and I’ll talk to Starsky about it.”

Hutch had to accept it. “Just one thing Captain; don’t tell him we found the car, OK? I want to do that.”

 

 

He went home and called Rula. “This thing is going to take longer than I thought.” He apologized. Was this going to be the theme of their relationship, he wondered. He could sense her disappointment behind the jaunty “don’t worry Ken; I’m not going anywhere.” They talked for while; Rula described some of the new dishes she was trying out and updated him on the progress of his truck garden.  Her nephew was tending it every day after school. “He’s thirteen and he’s glad to earn a few extra dollars to put with his allowance. He can walk there easily enough; they live along the road from your place.” Hutch frowned and brought to mind a family that had stepped straight out of a schoolbook about Minnesota farmers.  “That’s good; I’ll settle up with you when I come back.” She missed a beat. “No; it’s my restaurant remember; I’m getting the benefit of his work too.” She left unspoken her doubts that she’d see him again. Hutch swallowed hard. “I am coming back Rula; I promise.”

“Sure.” She sent a kiss long distance and put down the phone before he could say anything else.

 

 

The next day Hutch was in the DA’s office at nine sharp. He had been assigned to work as a special investigator to tie up the loose ends of the case against Elena. The loose ends were more like a Gordian knot. The Assistant DA threw him a file. “Take a look; I need you to look at this ‘import-export’ set up over in Redondo. We’ve spoken to someone who worked for Goldberg and he didn’t know it existed.” Hutch looked up. The Assistant was a young man fresh out of law school, Hutch knew the score; bright enough to be recruited to the DA’s office but not good enough to be recruited by one of the big firms (probably his first choice). With luck and hard work, Stewart Highsmith would probably win a few high profile cases in his field (tax evasion) and attract the attention of one of those same firms that turned him down when he graduated. From tax evasion to dealing with an underworld murder wasn’t such a big leap.  That’s how they got Al Capone, after all. But Stewart seemed naïf to believe one of Bennie’s men on this. Hutch cleared his throat. He had to be tactful when embarking on what Starsky called ‘explaining the facts of the low life to the high life’.

“Uh, how can you be sure you can trust this source?” Highsmith hesitated. “He’s made a deal with us. He testifies and we don’t pursue him for another matter.”

Hutch raised an eyebrow; “must have been something worth dealing over.”

“It was, he was arrested for murder, but there is strong evidence that he killed the lady under duress; we think he was drugged or something.” Hutch put two and two together. Since he had been back he had seen nothing about Harvey…and he had identified him as the man who pushed Stella onto the tracks. “Kauffman?”

Highsmith put down the paper he was holding. “How do you know?”

“I’m a cop, it’s my job.  Where is Harvey?”

“He’s safe. He’s in a safe house with another protected witness in the case.”

Hutch didn’t need to ask who the other witness was. He was relieved to know that Starsky was with someone he was comfortable with.

Hutch took note of the address in Redondo. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

 

What he found was a fully operative distribution center for heroin and the other drugs that were flooding the local market. He organized a stakeout and over the next few days twenty small-time hustlers found their way to jail without collecting a hundred bucks. And Hutch discovered that it wasn’t Bennie Goldberg that they were working for.

 

Highsmith and Hutch were sitting across the table from Elena. She didn’t look so impressive in the prison jumpsuit. Her lawyer was sitting beside her shaking his head as he read the accusations that she was up against. He wasn’t a high price lawyer, wearing a Brioni suit and Gucci hand made loafers, from one of the three big firms that her father-in-law employed for his business activities. He wasn’t Manny Rosen; Bennie’s old friend and faithful attorney for the past thirty five who always wore a dark gray silk vest to show off his gold watch chain and who had known Elena all her life.  He was a tired looking public defender wearing the only suit he possessed; the suit his mother bought him the day he graduated his law class in night school two years earlier.  Hutch watched her as she tried to hold her head high while she answered the questions.

The harder they fall.

 

************************************************

 

 

Starsky read the report again; “traces of residual paint indicate that the car was green,” he looked up and smiled wanly.

“We have a witness; a man walking his dog…”

“Ginger,” Starsky interrupted with a grin. Dobey continued “he saw you drive home around ten thirty that night but he heard your car drive away again around three in the morning.”

“More like three thirty.”

Starsky sat back in his chair; he was seemed to be remembering something. “I came home, I undressed; I remember throwing most of my stuff in the laundry.  I heard something on the deck and I remember the clock said three fifteen; and then…nothing. Next thing I knew I was trussed up with my face in a tin dish of grits.”

Dobey gathered the file back together. “Elena has given a full confession. Killing her father would give her total control over the operations.”

“And framing me made sure I wouldn’t find out about what she was doing behind his back.”

“Exactly.”

“Has anyone told Hutch?”

“He arrested her.”

Starsky grinned. “Where is he?”

Dobey looked at his watch; “most nights he’s at The Pits by now.”

“Captain, let me buy you a drink.”

 

***********************************************************

 

 

Elena didn’t come to trial.  She was found dead in her cell two days before the Grand Jury convened.  Earlier that day she had received a visit from a man claiming to be her brother in law; he was allowed to give her a box of candy.  The lab found enough poison to kill most of the women in the block. Powerful men manage to spread their influence far and wide and they go to great lengths to protect their name and interests.

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

Harvey was driving. Starsky sat in the front seat like an excited child on the way to the circus.  Hutch sat quietly in the back and smiled; it was his treat after all.

Harvey drove on to Merle’s lot and stopped the car.  The Torino was parked in pride of place; the red paintwork gleamed; the white blaze stood out like a flash of lightning. Starsky walked over to it and ran his finger along the clean white stripe that tapered to a point alongside the headlamps. He caressed the car with his fingertips and for a moment Hutch expected him to kiss it.

Starsky opened the door and looked inside. Everything was perfect. He slid in behind the wheel and turned the key.  The V8 engine growled contentedly like a lioness that had found her mate. A huge grin spread over Starsky’s face. He stepped out of the car and looked around. “Hey Hutch, I thought you said your car was here too.”

“It is,” Hutch was standing alongside him. “I decided to change my car; Starsk. Your uncle Al lent me something to give us a reason to meet and I got used to it.”

Starsky had heard about his uncle’s role in trying to get Hutch in touch with Stella. He looked at his friend carefully, his head to one side. “Even Al doesn’t sell cars as bad as you like them Hutch.”

A car started up behind them. “I figured that as Merle was cleaning up the Torino, I’d let him clean up the rust.”

Starsky turned to look at the newly repainted Bug that Merle was driving towards them.

“Well look at that; The Striped Tomato and The Flying Banana!”  

 

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