The Swing of Things

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What ever happened to the guys after “Sweet Revenge”?

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THURSDAY

It was the insistent honking from under his bedroom window that finally prodded Kenneth Hutchinson out of his dazed state. He’d awoken some time ago, stretched out and as limp as a rag doll across the too-short bed. He usually was an early riser, but for the last half hour or so, just thinking about moving had sent slight waves of pain rolling across the back of his head. He’d just lain there, soaking up the little bit of warm, midday sun that slid through the grimy window and allowed himself to drift. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to face a new day, but the insistent blaring from the close-packed traffic forced him to face facts.

Hutch opened one eye, seeing only the blur of the off-white wall. He groaned, then paused, expecting the pounding in his head to worsen at the sound. When it didn’t, he smiled slightly to himself in relief. This may just be one of the more survivable hang-overs I’ve had in a while, he decided. Not that there had been many in the past year, but then again, he wasn’t getting any younger.

He lifted his head cautiously, moving very slowly so he wouldn’t aggravate the hangover. He rolled over on the bed and stretched. Yep, he thought ruefully, rubbing the crick in his neck. Head still attached.

He glanced around him, but there wasn’t much in the small, shabby room to wake up to. The furniture showed its age, having survived many occupants in the last few years. The dented, scratched headboard matched the beat up dresser and night stand. All the furniture in the apartment looked like Salvation Army specials, pitted, lopsided and just a bit warped. The off-white walls of Hutch’s room were unadorned. The small potted plant in the window sill and short stack of books on his dresser didn’t do much to help cheer up the place. Hutch didn’t even notice the room anymore, it was just someplace he slept.

And I thought life as a cop could really suck, he groaned. At least it kept your attention. Kept your mind working. Not like this garbage we’re doing now… The early morning party had been the first tie-on he and Dave Starsky had had in quite awhile. It hadn’t been anything special. They’d both just been totally, horribly, bored, but were too broke for dating and their evening-shift hours made meeting girls and planning dates just that much harder. Instead, they’d decided to just stay home, splurge on pizza and beer and stay up for the early morning monster movie ‘special’ that Starsky had gotten his heart set on. What a life we lead, Hutch grimaced. Too broke to even get drunk properly. And what’s worse, I’m even beginning to enjoy those stupid shows…

It had turned out to be just as well that they had planned to keep it quiet. His well-used LTD had developed another flat the day before and even the spare had been useless. Money was going to be a bit tight with a new retread on the car and their rent coming due. If they were careful with the groceries this time maybe, just maybe, they’d still have enough to last until payday tomorrow.

He carefully sat up in bed and tried to focus on the bedside clock. It was already 11:45 a.m. Damn, forgot to set the alarm! He didn’t have to wonder if Starsky was up, as he could hear ragged snoring from across the tiny hallway.

Hell. Gotta get Starsky up too.

He moved a little faster, now that the pain in his head promised to stay minimal, and stretched over to grab his faded orange robe off the floor. Not wanting to move too fast, he just sat quietly for a moment, giving his body a chance to get used to being upright. His mind wandered back to their early morning silliness.

They had gotten off work at midnight, come straight home and had proceeded to devour an extra-large pizza. Sprawled on the couch, eating pizza, unmindful of the crumbs, they had watched the monster movie ‘special’ that had run for hours. They both had been in good moods, making up alternative lines to the horribly campy shows. Starsky had even managed to get to Hutch once or twice, making him snicker after a few particularly witty ad-libs.

It had been around 5:00 a.m. when Hutch realized he and Starsky were nicely smashed. But having kept up beer for beer, Hutch had just gotten slower and sleepy and Starsky had grown even more animated. So Hutch had just sat quietly on the couch and watched as Starsky dug out boxes of frost covered ice-cream leftovers out of the fridge and mostly empty cookie and cereal boxes. By the time he got the blender out, Starsky had been belting out some show-tune that Hutch couldn’t even begin to identify.

Hutch must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew he was pulling his head up from the back of the couch and Starsky was trying to hand him a glass. It was full of some sort of cold, wet, disgusting looking mixture.

“Wh-wha’s this?” he had stammered, unable to focus his eyes very well.

“It’s d’sert.” Starsky had grinned down at him. A bit unsteady on his feet. “We forg’t d’sert. No party w’th out d’sert.”

“Wha’s ‘n it?”

“Ever’thin’.” Starsky smiled, taking a taste of his own glass. “M’ own spec’l mix.”

Hutch had tried to stare suspiciously at the drink for a moment, but had decided that he might as well try to get rid of it. He didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings. He took several big gulps of the mixture, not really tasting it.

After his hell-bent trip to the bathroom, Hutch had decided that Starsky had been right. It must have had everything in the kitchen in it. For the life of him, Hutch couldn’t figure out why anyone in his right mind would think of putting mayonnaise, ketchup, cookies, ice-cream and gods-knew what else in the same blender. He had called it a night for both of them and had made sure Starsky got to bed before drinking the rest of his ‘dessert’.

If I feel this ‘used and abused’ this morning, Starsky’s gotta feel like hell. Hutch grimaced to himself, just a tad glad that he had gotten rid of most of the beer. They still had to work today and he had just as soon go in feeling human. Starsky, having kept all of his beer, not to mention ‘dessert’, was going to have a long shift ahead of him. Well, it’s not going to get any easier, he sighed. Time to get up and get moving..

Hutch slipped his robe on and made his way out of the small, bleak room.

He stumbled into the tiny bathroom, tripping over the warped and mislaid tiles, grateful that his aim at the john last night had been good. Nothing like cleaning up that kind of mess with a hangover, even a mild one. He bleakly looked himself over in the small, cracked mirror over the sink. Blood-shot blue eyes looked back at him from under a messy cap of thinning, blond hair. Some days he barely recognized the man who looked back, but after the last several months Hutch could almost see someone he once knew.

Except for one thing, Hutch sighed and rubbed his naked upper lip. Damn it, I really liked that mustache! It, like a lot of things lately, had been a casualty of their current ‘situation’. One loss among many. One change for the good side had been his extra weight. He’d originally lost it through worry and stress, but had managed to keep it off. It had not been easy, considering that his goal for himself was to keep it off, while needing to put weight back on Starsky.

While staying with Starsky during his recovery, Hutch had gotten himself and his friend back to the healthier food they both needed. Starsky had bitched and complained, but Hutch had ignored him for as long as he could get away with it. When Starsky had been well enough to get out of his apartment and do his own shopping, Hutch had been pleased to see that he had taken his doctor’s, if not his own, lectures seriously. The Candy Bar King had come home with more fresh fruit than sugar and more basic foodstuffs than pre-made.

Hutch had even gotten back to jogging again with Starsky’s prodding, which Hutch suspected, was more to get his ‘mother-hen’ out of the apartment once in awhile than anything else. When the time came for Starsky to include jogging in his routine, Hutch had been back up to his old speed and distance. Hutch knew he was now more fit then he had been in a long time. It’s just my personal life that looks like hell, he mused.

After finishing up his morning shower and bathroom rituals, Hutch felt much better. While not quite up to ‘whistling a happy tune’ his headache, fairly mild to start with, had faded to a slight whisper. He still wasn’t going to chance breakfast this morning. No use tempting fate. After cleaning up Starsky’s mess, I know I won’t have an appetite.

He strode the few steps out of the steamy bathroom and down the hall to Starsky’s open bedroom door. He had left both doors open so he could hear if Starsky got sick. The man was now buried under mounds of covers with the pillows kicked to the floor.

“Rise and shine, Starsk!” Hutch yelled from the doorway. “It’s after noon already! We’ve got things to do!”

The only answer was a low, pitiful moan from Starsky, hiding somewhere under the covers.

Hutch walked over to the window, pulled the shade and opened it, letting the fresh air in. He dragged the covers off his friend as he passed by and dropped them on the floor, out of Starsky’s reach. His friend moaned and threw up an arm, trying to block out the grimy sunlight. Hutch leaned back against the door frame, giving Starsky another minute and surveyed his friend’s room.

It was exactly the same size as Hutch’s, with the same used furniture and dirty walls. But Starsky had taken great pains to decorate his. Centerfolds covered the room. A few were of shapely ladies, in various stages of undress, but the majority of the pictures were of sleek and expensive cars pulled from his favorite hot-rod magazines.

Every time Hutch saw the room he snickered. Whoever heard of a grown man suffering from car withdrawal? Hutch shook his head, grinning. This looks like a teenager’s room, like he’s not sure which he gets off on more, the cars or the girls.

Having to leave the much abused Torino behind and depend solely on Hutch’s car had been a low blow for his friend. Starsky had dealt with the fact bravely, knowing that they didn’t really have any choice in the matter. The monthly payment and insurance would have been too much on their limited budget. Just one more casualty to their changed lifestyle.

“Get up Starsk! You’ve got 30 seconds to sit up or I’m gonna get the ice cubes.” So far Hutch had never had to resort to Mrs. Starsky’s favorite method of getting her night-owl son out of bed for school. But it was a fun threat, Hutch having been granted permission by Mrs. Starsky herself to apply the ice as needed.

Starsky’s only reply was another moan, only louder.

“I’m going to the kitchen, Starsky,” The tall, blond threatened, not moving from his perch against the door frame. “I’m getting the ice tray…”

“Still got time to sleep….” Starsky mumbled, rubbing at the dark curls covering his head, “…have some respect for your better half.” Starsky tried a smile but moaned instead, holding his head still as he started to sit up. He was not quite successful at opening his own deep-blue eyes the first time, blinking in the midday light.

“At this point I have more respect for your paycheck. We gotta get up and earn our pay, Starsk.”

Hutch stood quietly, watching to make sure Starsky didn’t try to lie down again. Pale with sleep, headache and probably a nasty stomach, the scars across Starsky’s chest and abdomen stood out more starkly than they had for months. The sight never ceased to amaze Hutch. No one should have been able to live through that kind of damage. But Starsky had and not a day went by that Hutch wasn’t thankful for it.

They had talked about the scars only once, when a newly awakened Starsky had finally been allowed a glimpse of his reconfigured body. He had nearly panicked at the sight, sickened at the marred torso. But Hutch, who had seen the wounds in much worse shape, swollen, stitched and discolored, had been able to calmly steer his friend away from the horror and revulsion at the sight of the pink and drawn scars.

Over that long night’s conversation, Starsky had gradually and painfully come to accept certain new facts about himself. The scars meant that his life had been saved. Hutch had assured him that eventually they would fade to pale, thin lines, a fact that Starsky well knew, but was too shocked to remember.

Although still a little sensitive to them, Starsky had become more and more comfortable with them lately. Now and again someone would catch sight of him changing in the locker room and react with awe and a heavy dose of respect. He had even electrified some of the younger men with his ‘story’, which got more impressive with each telling. As for the ladies, Starsky hadn’t seemed to have any complaints so far. Not that either of us have had to worry about that lately, Hutch admitted to himself.

“Come on, Starsk,” Hutch sighed, “we’ve got to be at work by 3 p.m. and we have shopping, laundry and our uniforms to pick up at the cleaners. We’ve got a lot to do today!” Hutch yelled over his shoulder, walking into his own room to start dressing.

Hutch was dressed and halfway through the kitchen clean-up when a dressed, but still wet and bedraggled Starsky padded down the hallway and carefully lowered himself onto the hard, gray couch. It, an end table, a lamp, a coffee table, an old TV and TV stand were the only other things in the small living area.

“Damn, Hutch,” Starsky groaned, rubbing the back of his head with the damp towel. “What did you feed me last night? This hang-over tastes awful!”

“Hey! That was your concoction, not mine. You damn near poisoned me this morning,” Hutch retorted, having decided from the kitchen mess that it was a miracle they had both survived. He surveyed the small kitchenette again. It was amazing how messy four feet of kitchen space could get. “I should just leave this mess alone, it would kill the mice.”

“Anything left?”

“Some dry cereal, cookie crumbs, sour milk, margarine and a couple of slices of cheese.” Hutch grimaced, knowing what that meant.

“Great! Breakfast!” Starsky grinned a little lopsidedly, but carefully. He stood carefully and walked slowly to the kitchen trying not to move his head any more than possible.

“Seriously, Starsky, we’ve got errands this morning. Besides the fact that we’re out of food, we have to get some laundry done, you just used the last clean towel. And our spare uniforms should be ready at the cleaners. How much cash have you got?”

Starsky shrugged, munching on a cheese slice from one hand and a handful of cereal from the other. “Maybe five or six dollars. It’s on my dresser.”

Hutch left him to his breakfast and headed into Starsky’s room. He finally managed to dig a few bills out of Starsky’s junk-filled wallet and took an extra few minutes to track down the silver coins scattered around the mess on the dresser. He was hoping to find enough change to do all the laundry, so he headed for his own bedroom to dig through his change jar. He found little silver among the pennies. Starsky had apparently been raiding his jar again. He counted the fewer, but larger bills he found in his own wallet.

“Well,” Hutch began, walking back to the couch, “We’ll need to brown bag dinner again, but we’ve got enough left ’til tomorrow if we behave ourselves and watch what groceries we get. Then we’ll be ahead on food for a couple of days.”

“What’s first?” Starsky asked. Having finished his breakfast he had combed his hair and was now pulling on his sneakers.

Hutch shrugged. “We’d better split up if we don’t want to cut our timing too close. Your choice. You can either do the laundry or let me get the groceries.”

“Gee, thanks, Hutch.” Starsky smiled with a roll of his eyes. “You’re sooo good to me.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be a responsible adult and make sure we actually get real food this time. Your choices don’t usually leave us with much to work with in the kitchen, you know.” They both knew that Starsky was not a patient shopper, frequently giving in to impulse buying and Starsky rarely argued the point anymore.

“I’ll just take my beauty sleep between wash cycles and dream of pizzas.” Starsky grinned, stretching like a cat. “Unless, of course, Trudy shows up today.”

Trudy Coates was a ‘laundry friend’ of both of the guys. Tall, brunette and shockingly top-heavy for a woman her size, Trudy was a stripper at the club down the street. Everyone for blocks around knew her and would stop in to say hello. She had happily introduced Ken and Dave to most of their neighbors. She usually came in once a day around noon to do a small load of her few work clothes and would talk the time away with anyone around.

Hutch grinned at his friend. “Well, if she does show up, she’ll try to twist your arm into coming by and critiquing her act.” Everyone around knew who Trudy’s favorite was. Whenever Starsky was near, Trudy made sure he got an extra good view of her considerable assets. Starsky was constantly blushing, which always made her giggle.

“No thank you!” Starsky said meaningfully, “At this point, it’d feel like peeking on a sister. She’s nice, Hutch, but I really don’t want to get anything started. Laundry is about all I can handle with that girl.”

It only took them a few minutes to round up their laundry and pack. They locked up and made their way down the two flights of stairs to the street. Hutch gave his bag to Starsky, along with all the loose change he had collected and headed down the block to the LTD. He told Starsky he would be back in an hour and would meet him at home.

Hutch sighed as he started the LTD and checked the gas gauge, flicking the dial to see if it would move. Better put another dollar in. We’re almost down to fumes. Hutch patted the dashboard affectionately, knowing she was doing her best. The LTD still had a few more months in her, but even Hutch had come to realize that her days were numbered. He had to admit privately that she was looking pretty old and battered, even for his tastes. Even the police radio that had given her a useful appearance was missing, making her look just three steps close from collapse. Keep it up, old girl, Hutch pleaded. We need you for awhile longer yet.

He headed for his first stop, their uniform pickup. They were going to have to be careful with both sets of uniforms this week, so they didn’t have to get them dry cleaned so often. Their jobs at as security guards at Iverson’s called for the neat and pressed look even for those who just walked their halls at night. Iverson’s, the flashy store chain catering to the ‘very well-off Californian’ had their main store and headquarters not far from the apartment. Off the beaten track, as far as the fancier stores went, its massive size and unparalleled selections brought the public in to this unlikely area.

Hutch grimaced at the memory of his last uniform lecture. He certainly didn’t want another run-in with the supervisor of the Security Department as he and Starsky needed these jobs. They had been twenty minutes late for their shift a couple of weeks ago. His car had stalled and Ms. Marsha Quincy, supervisor and moral defender of Security’s virtue, had laid them low as soon as they had come in. It had taken every ounce of will Hutch had to just stand there and take the dressing down. Starsky had been able to just tuned it out and nodded his head at the proper times. After Quincy had gotten through with her tirade, she had taken another good look at them both. Their running late had cost him his mustache and them both a close haircut. Hutch was leery of catching her attention again. All he and Starsky wanted at this point was to be left alone to do their jobs, such as they were.

It took Hutch longer than he had planned to pick up their uniforms and sort through the groceries and produce. The blond had actually been able to buy quite a bit by being careful with the coupons he had badgered Starsky into cutting out. When he opened the apartment door, he found Starsky already home with the laundry, putting it away. He noticed right away that Starsky looked tired and his bouncy mood had vanished.

“What’s up, Starsk?”

Starsky just shrugged and came over to take one of the grocery bags and carry it to the kitchen counter.

“I’ll help you carry up the rest.” It was all the darker man would say.

After one last trip to retrieve the uniforms, Hutch confronted his friend.

“Okay, spill it.”

Starsky just looked a little sheepish. “It’s Trudy. Just when I thought there was a little good left in everybody, I get blown out of the water.” He smiled a bit embarassedly.

“What gives? You change your mind and decide to ask her out?”

“No.” Starsky dug through the bags, apparently looking for lunch. “She showed up soon after I got there and we got to talking about our favorite old movies. She kept acting funny, checking the crowd, like she was looking for something or someone. She finally came out and asked where you were. I told her you were getting groceries. She acted kinda relieved and I asked her why. Then she tells me she knew we were pretty short on cash and could help us out.” Starsky shrugged, giving up his digging and started putting the items away. “Trudy’s the main drug supplier for this area, Hutch. She offered to get me anything I wanted, on the cuff ’til payday.”

“Damn,” Hutch muttered, setting out sandwich items. Nothing he discovered about people really surprised him anymore, but Starsky always had such high hopes. “I can’t believe we didn’t notice her action. I just thought she was just popular, with her well ’rounded personality’ and all. I never saw her pass anything. How does it go down?”

“They slip her the money at the laundromat. Then they pick up the stuff from her later while she’s at the strip-club.” Starsky sighed. “I passed on her offer, but asked why she hadn’t said anything ’til now. She thought that you looked clean, but that I must be hurtin’ for somethin’.” Starsky grimaced. “She wanted to be sure about you, if you used too, before she offered. She hinted that she’s looking for someone to handle this area and we could earn some extra money by pushin’ on the side.”

Starsky made a couple of quick sandwiches, grabbed some juice and sat on the couch. Hutch followed him, juggling his own plate. They were both quiet until they got settled.

“What did you tell her, Starsk?”

“Told her we were both pretty clean, but we both liked a party now and then. I said we had enough to tide us over for a few days, but that we’d keep our options open for a little business on the side. I said we wanted to keep clean mostly for our security jobs, for now. Thought we’d wanna keep our options open at this point. ‘Course, I’m afraid to find out just where she stuffs the money,” Starsky replied in his best Groucho voice, trying to lighten his own mood.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Starsk,” Hutch said quietly, knowing what was really bothering his friend. “You still look a little thin for your frame, is all. Even though you got your muscle tone back, your clothes still look a little large on you. Plus, this morning’s binge didn’t do either of us any good. This summer you’ll spend more time out in the sun and you’ll look more your old self.”

Hutch was glad to see that Starsky finished his lunch as usual, but he still seemed pensive.

“I don’t know, Hutch,” Starsky said quietly, leaning back on the couch. His eyes roamed the small apartment, cataloging their meager belongings. “It just never seems to go away, or get back to normal. I work like hell to get better, get my heart set on getting back to the force so we can get in the action again and we end up here. All that work and now look where we are, living in this crummy apartment and working as lousy department store security guards. It’s not exactly what I had in mind when I went through all that therapy hell.” Starsky got up suddenly, took his plate back to the sink and paced slowly back and forth across the small room. “And it isn’t fair for you to have to take this kinda shit with me. I mean, is that why we’re here, ’cause I still look like death warmed over?” He stopped to stare out the window. “Or is this all I can do?”

Hutch eyed his partner, not answering for a moment. He wanted to see how deep this mood was going to go. Hutch hoped it was just Starsky’s slightly hurt ego talking, being reminded of Gunther’s hit after having felt that the recovery was finally behind him.

“Lighten up, Starsk.” Hutch tossed a couch pillow toward his partner, catching him in the small of the back. He watched his friend’s reaction and saw the small smile, even if Starsky didn’t turn around to retaliate. “It was our choice, no regrets, remember? That means the good jobs and the bad. I’m here because I want to be, because it’s a job that’s got to be done. It may not be glamorous, but once we get back into the swing of things it’ll get better.”

“Hutch,” Starsky replied with a sigh, “I’m not askin’ for glamorous, but if it doesn’t get better before much longer, they’re gonna find me fallin’ asleep at my post. I just don’t see anything commin’ out of this job. I feel like I’m wastin’ away here.”

“So, it’s easy duty.” Hutch got up to stand with his friend in the window, wanting to make sure he had the right perspective, “we aren’t the most interesting or most important characters in this operation, but you heard what Dobey said just as well as I did. They just needed some outside cops to come in and be their eyes and ears for a few months. It was just our luck we could cut out of Metro at a day’s notice like that and not have to worry about leaving family behind. We play poor, restless and cash hungry. If we hear anything, or get offered easy money, we report to Gainer.” Hutch nudged his partner. “This is the perfect case to get us back into more serious business. Then the Chief won’t have any reason to come down on Dobey for sending us into the heavy stuff again.” Hutch smiled. “By the time we get back, the Chief probably won’t even remember who we are.”

Hutch knew how hard Dobey had fought with the Police Chief to keep them together. After the Gunther case had started to die down in the papers and the first of the many side cases started its way through the court system, the Chief had demanded that they both be re-partnered and Starsky assigned a permanent desk job if he recovered enough to work.

Even though Starsky had been passed for active duty by the police doctors and psychiatrists, the Chief and Dobey had fought about keeping them together and on the streets. Everyone knew the Chief didn’t care for the two and their alternate style of police work, results or no results. He had pounced on the need for the detectives to be able to stay safe and be available to testify in the numerous upcoming court cases, including the case against James Marshall Gunther himself. Cases that could run on for years.

Dobey had stood firm and had come close to putting his own job on the line. He had demanded the right to run his department as he saw fit and nobody on the force was going to break up his teams without his approval. Only the pair’s striking conviction record and the real threat of losing all three from the force caused the Chief to finally back down. This small, boring, loaner assignment was meant to lay aside the Chief’s fears and keep them out of his sight for awhile

“I know,” Starsky answered sheepishly, “I just hate to be low rung on the ladder. Lonnie Gainer drives me bananas, Hutch.” He shrugged. “He’s such an asshole sometimes. I just hate to think of him as my superior in anything.” Starsky looked around their apartment once more and glanced at his partner, a glint in his eye. “And I also didn’t realize that it called for us living in constant poverty, on beginning salaries and having to leave the Torino at home. I’m just not suited to being this needy, ‘n that car of yours is enough to drive anyone into permanent depression.”

“Yeah?” Hutch shot back, glad that Starsky’s mood was passing, “Well, my old car’s doing a fine job in getting us where we need to go. It’s already gotten Trudy’s attention. And that over-grown paint job with wheels would have been real believable on our budget.” He grinned at the play of emotions on Starsky’s face. “Of course, you could have volunteered to have it repainted a nice, respectable color, like, say, dented gray or something. And speaking of depression,” Hutch added, glancing at his watch, “we’ve got to get a move on. Wouldn’t want to be late for work and get fired, would we? Gainer would love that. He hates us being in on this.”

“Don’t you mean Mr. Thomas Underwood, assistant secretary to Dennis Liston?” Starsky replied sarcastically, heading for the closet to retrieve the clean work uniforms while Hutch packed them both a brown-bag dinner. “Wouldn’t that be a big loss. At least then we could go home and our lifestyle would take a definite ‘n immediate step up.”

***

The locker rooms in the basement of Iverson’s were the cleanest set Hutch had ever seen. All the lockers were kept neat and freshly painted, the changing rooms kept swept and litter free while the scent of pine freshener flowed through the cool and filtered air. It and all the other employee rooms located in the first-floor rear were painted in light and cheerful colors and it annoyed Hutch to no end. Like working for Disney or something, Hutch thought. But I guess if you’re fond of your workplace, you’ll goof off and steal less.

Arriving with plenty of time to spare, the two detectives made their way over to their lockers and started to get changed for work. Hutch sighed as he pulled the plastic bag off of his fresh uniform. He hated the tight fit and suspected it clashed with his coloring. It made him feel like a bellhop. Hutch dressed in a few moments then checked his utility belt. That’s a joke, he thought. No gun, but a large leather belt with a set of keys, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie clip and a nightstick. None of them he was actually supposed to use, except for the walkie-talkie.

“Ready yet, Ken?” Starsky’s put-upon voice sounded behind him as he was fixing his hair.

“Whenever you are, Dave,” Hutch replied with a snicker. I may clash, but at least I don’t look like an overgrown leprechaun, Hutch thought with amusement.

Starsky glared back. Hutch knew that it drove Starsky crazy when he said ‘Dave’ that way. It felt strange to Hutch too, which is why Hutch liked to say it in the most irritating way he could.

Their cover names had been pretty generic and for a change both detectives had decided to use their own first names. They didn’t usually do that, but decided that since their private lives were to be used as part of their cover there would be less chance of a slip-up this way. Now that they were stuck with them, Starsky was not sure it had been a good idea after all. Calling Hutch ‘Joe’, ‘Harry’ or ‘George’ wouldn’t have seemed as strange as calling him ‘Ken’ all the time. And hearing Hutch call him ‘Dave’ in that tone was just out-right weird. Now they were stuck with ‘Kenneth Avery’ and ‘Dave Coleman’ for the duration.

Hutch finished his fussing and settled his hat carefully upon his head. Without a word he reached over and straightened Starsky’s too.

“Three minutes ’til show time, Dave. Let’s go.”

They made their way through the mill of employees to the time clock and found their cards. They both managed to punch in right before 3:00 p.m. and made their way to the large-windowed security office to pick up their assignments for the night.

“Kenny! Davey!” They were greeted just as soon as they entered the large room.

Arnold Ford stood leaning against the counter, smiling like his best friends had just entered the room. Arnold was an older man, close to retirement. His white hair, jaunty smile and unending cheerfulness made him one of the all time favorites of the employees at Iverson’s as well as it’s many regular clients.

“How’s it going Arnold?” Hutch asked, making it a point to come over and shake the man’s hand.

“Just swell, Kenny, just swell!” He grinned, shaking Starsky’s hand as well. “How’s it going with you two? Feel settled in yet?”

“You know it, Arnold.” Starsky smiled back. “Getting to feel like home.”

“Oh, that’s great guys.” Arnold beamed.

“Yeah, Arnold,” Hutch joined in, “we really appreciate all the help you gave us when we hit town. It would have taken us days to find anything we could have afforded this close to work. You really were a lifesaver.”

“Well,” Arnold replied in a whisper, glancing around to make sure they were the only ones within earshot, “When my old friend Tommy called and told me about you guys needing jobs, what can a guy do but help out?” He patted Starsky’s arm sympathetically. “When I found out about Davey’s accident, I knew I could get you both work here. Tommy sure gave you a both a glowing recommendation. Ms. Quincy wasn’t pleased, you know.” He glanced again towards the back office, lowering his voice. “But I have my own bit of power around here.” He grinned mischievously.

“No doubt about that Arnold, no doubt about that,” Hutch replied with a smile. He knew that Tommy had been a local cop and he and Arnold had been best friends forever. Retired now, Tommy had been persuaded by his old captain to call his friend with a cover story for the two detectives.

As far as Arnold knew, Dave Coleman had been in a near fatal car accident and had to have massive surgery. Dave had lost his job and his insurance had balked at some of the therapy bills. A longtime friend of his, Kenneth Avery, had suffered through a nasty divorce a few years back and had taken Dave in to help share expenses. After Dave’s bankruptcy, both had decided to call it quits with the area and try to start fresh somewhere else.

Arnold had taken the story to heart and had assured Tommy that if the two wanted a job at Iverson’s to come on down and he would get them one. True to his word, when Ken and Dave had arrived in town in a beat-up LTD with all their worldly possessions stuffed in the back seat and trunk, Arnold had not only ‘found’ them two starting positions in security, but had scouted out the nearest apartments. He had been apologetic at the beginning salaries and the fact they’d have to share an apartment because of it. Hutch had been overwhelmed with the man’s winning personality and his heart of gold. They had been able to talk with him over for a few dinners and had happily listened to the old man’s life stories.

The other night shift guards came trickling in and Arnold greeted every one of them. While he was on the day shift, there was an hour overlap and Arnold liked to hang around and meet the next shift as they came in. He liked to see everyone settled into their work before he left at 4 p.m.

Sarah Keats, secretary to Ms. Quincy, came into the office from the back room carrying the night’s schedule with her. She was a sunny blond with short hair, a bold smile and a very sexy figure. Hutch had made it clear from the first day on the job that he would love to get to know her better. But try as he might, he still couldn’t seem to get even the time of day from her. All he had managed so far was a shrug and an uninterested ‘maybe some other time’ in response to his most charming moves. All the more interesting for the challenge, Hutch thought with a sly smile, making an effort to stand a little straighter as the diminutive blond entered the room. Now if I can only get on days and catch her on a break…

“Hi, guys!” Sarah loudly greeted the group, flashing a bright but distracted smile. She set the schedule on the counter and started on her nightly litany. “Read it and weep, boys. Don’t forget to check your ‘talkie batteries. Today is Thursday, so closing time is 8 p.m. Keep an eye on the Lingerie and Costume Jewelry counters, we show a big loss there this week. Ms. Quincy asked me to remind you that whistling, humming or talking to the customers is prohibited, except for answering direct questions and giving directions.” She glanced at Starsky out of the corner of her eye, who grinned mischievously back. “Cash drawers will be empty by 8:30, so be at your stations before then. Check in every 30 minutes to the base by ‘talkie after lockup.” She looked around and shrugged, “Same as usual, guys, shift change in 45 minutes.” And with that she waved at the group and headed into the back office as the guards checked the sheet and headed out towards their posts. Hutch hadn’t even rated a glance.

“I think you’re wearin’ her down, Ken.” Starsky grinned, making his way over to the night’s schedule. “She almost looked at you that time. Oh, man,” Starsky moaned, checking the sheet for his name, “I got the Children’s floor tonight.”

“I thought you loved that floor,” Hutch said, throwing one last, longing look toward the back office and the absent Sarah. “What’s up?”

“I do, but not with Reynolds.” Starsky glanced around the room, making sure Reynolds was not close enough to overhear. “‘The Grinch that stole Christmas’. He scares the kids. Won’t even smile or anything. Plus, he gets pissed if I just happen to spend a few minutes in the toy section. Claims I’m goofing off,” Starsky added, steering Hutch in the direction of the employees elevators after his quick glance at the sheet.

“You’re not supposed to check out the toys,” Hutch reminded him with a grin and waited for the elevator door to open. They were lucky and got an empty one. “I got Wally Kraft on the Jewelry and Perfume floor. There goes my sinuses for the evening. At least Wally is easy to spend time with.”

While both men worked the night shift, Starsky and Hutch had yet to be paired off on a floor. This was not surprising. As thorough as Ms. Quincy was, she should know that it was only common sense to keep patrols changing and close friends separated. She was too sharp not to notice that the two men always arrived together and that their folders held the same home address and phone number. This gave the guys a good chance to get to know many of the guards on their shift and to cover as much ground as possible while apart. Some of the pairings were more enjoyable than others, however.

On his first night shift with Reynolds, Starsky had been disgusted to report that he had been lucky to get a grunt or two out of the man. Starsky had complained that despite his friendliest attempts at conversation, he had learned little about him, as Reynolds didn’t like guys who asked too many questions. Starsky had been forced to do little make his rounds quietly when paired with Reynolds.

Hutch had fared better for the evening, having always enjoyed working with Wally Kraft. Tall, built like a mountain, the painfully shy black man was in his early twenties. When finally coerced into conversation during one long night’s shift, Wally had shown himself to be exceptionally well-read. He was a daytime college student and had little time for socializing off the job. He was currently working through some of the ‘less loved’ plays of Shakespeare and had been overjoyed that Hutch was willing to discuss the bard endlessly.

This evening both detectives had drawn the first dinner shift and would see each other at break. Until then, Hutch had another evening of looking out for shoplifters, tag switches, reuniting lost children with their parents and steering people towards the rest rooms.

***

Hutch made it to dinner break first, carrying the two paper sacks of food. The employee grill was closed and the dining room was pretty much deserted this time of evening. Most of the employees who were still here at 7:00 p.m. were only on coffee breaks. They only had an hour or so of work left and looked forward to going home to family and dinner. The cleaning crew would not arrive until after closing, so the only ones actually eating a meal were the guards. Hutch found an empty table over in the far corner, away from the rows and rows of vending machines. He threw his hat at one end of the table and sat their dinner sacks at the other. This way the other employees would know the whole table was saved. The guards always tried to eat together and talk during the break, so it wouldn’t be such a lonely meal.

Hutch was choosing juice out of one of the machines when the others started trickling in. Iverson’s left one guard on duty on a floor at all times during business hours and two after closing, so there were usually around six people or so for each dinner break from the ‘floor walkers’. Starsky came in with Saputo and Ames, laughing at a joke one of them made. He waved toward Hutch and settled down with the other men. Starsky checked out both sacks before deciding on one.

“So, how’s business tonight, guys?” Hutch asked the group as he made his way back to the table.

“Aw, man, it’s slower than hell up there.” Saputo yawned, unpacking his own lunch. “Sometimes I wish something big would happen, just to liven up the evening.”

“Not me,” volunteered Jefferson, who had just joined the group. “I like my work nice and quiet. It’s during my off duty hours that I like to live in the fast lane.”

“You must live pretty fast then, Jefferson,” Starsky said, digging through the items in his dinner sack. He grinned wickedly. “How many kids you got now?”

The rest of the group broke out in laugher at the red faced but smiling Jefferson. Everyone well knew the man was getting close to adding another little one to his already substantial family.

Evening talk continued towards store gossip through the rest of the dinner break. Not having much contact with the other employees while on the evening shift, most of the guards knew each other’s life stories pretty well. They had all heard about Dave’s car accident and how he had nearly died and how he and Ken had made it out to this section of California. In return, the two new men had been treated to most everyone else’s life history.

It’s amazing how much you can pick up from bored employees in just over a month, Hutch thought. This place is almost as bad with gossip as Metro.

As usual, the talk turned serious for awhile. Speculations were made about the latest robberies to hit Iverson’s. Hutch knew that this branch of Iverson’s held the main headquarters and collection area for the other branches’ jewelry supply. Many of the gems, pearl necklaces and set stones were purchased from overseas in bulk by Dennis Liston, head of Iverson’s Jewelry department for the entire chain. The shipments arrived here and were sorted and stored in the vaults in the vast Jewelry lab, deep in the store’s basement. Once a month or so, the new arrivals were divided, packed and transported by armored cars and chartered planes to the different branches across the United States.

Once each month, for the past three months, one of the overland car shipments of jewelry to a Iverson’s branch had been waylaid and the jewelry disappeared. The shipment’s times and routes had always been kept secret, but the thieves had known exactly where they would be and at what time they were the most vulnerable. Almost half a million dollars in merchandise had been taken so far and to make matters worse, not one piece had shown up in any of the underground markets, even after three months.

No one had been seriously hurt in the first robbery, but in the second one a guard had been killed. While the transportation and security operations for the whole store chain was under the department of Royston Collins, Ms. Quincy’s boss, a step up the corporate ladder meant working under Collins. Over the past several weeks, Hutch had heard many of his fellow guards questioning whether the increased pay and training were actually worth the risk.

Detective Sergeant Lonnie Gainer of Robbery for this precinct had been one of the detectives working to solve these robberies. Most of the men working on the case had centered their investigations outside the chain store, in fences, possible overseas market connections and known jewelry thieves in the area. Gainer had convinced his captain that there was good reason to believe that the robberies were set up from inside the store, from someone higher up in the executive branch. With the knowledge and co-operation of Dennis Liston, he had been hired as Thomas Underwood. He was to be an assistant to Liston’s own secretary, Aaron Jameson, who had been kept unaware of Gainer’s real identity. After a month undercover with no results, his captain had been tempted to pull his man from this aspect of the case. Gainer had fought to stay inside, pointing out that all the other avenues had also proved fruitless.

Captain Anthony Pasquini had allowed his officer to stay, but had decided to put more men on the case to work at it from different angles. That was when Pasquini had talked to Dobey at Metro to see if he had any men he could spare for a few months in an undercover setup.

It had not been one of the more exciting assignments on the list, but Dobey had convinced Starsky and Hutchinson that it was a good way to get out of their Police Chief’s way for awhile. After accepting the temporary transfer and meeting Detective Gainer, they had both come away with the feeling that they had just put themselves into a dead-end situation.

Captain Pasquini had not seemed to have much confidence that there was actually any connection between the store employees or management and the robberies and had reported his doubts to Starsky and Hutch in their first briefing. As he had pointed out, any operation could conceivably overcome any secrets in merchandise handling by simply becoming familiar with the stores schedules. The thieves had been ham-handed and seemed amateurish in action and timing. Except for the amount of jewelry taken, they appeared to be small time thieves.

While not impressed with the character of the man, Hutch had been struck by Detective Gainer’s willingness to take a stand on this case, when there seemed to have been little to back him up. Gainer had kept to his guns throughout the many briefings, insisting that his informant was on to something and the robberies were coming from inside. Later, Starsky had admitted that he hadn’t thought much of Gainer. He had grumbled that he did not think that Gainer was taking a stand to save his case as much as he did not want to admit he was wrong.

Gainer had not been pleased with the addition of the other detectives on ‘his’ case and had not volunteered his informant’s identity. He had, in fact, not volunteered any information to the new detectives, leaving that job to his captain. Since Gainer had been given authority over the new ‘recruits’, Starsky and Hutch had to be content with reporting anything they discovered to Gainer and letting him handle the case as he saw fit.   So far, there had not been anything to find as far as the detectives could tell and if Gainer was onto something, he apparently was not inclined to share.

Dinner break for the guards ended quietly, each man apparently mulling over the robberies. Hutch made his way up to his assigned floor and reported in. With most of the other guards he teamed up with, he would have to chase them down in order to relieve them for break, but today Hutch knew right where Wally Kraft would be.

If Wally isn’t at the Jewelry counter, making eyes at April May Sims, then he’s gonna be pretty damn close to it, Hutch thought with a grin. He made his way over to the Jewelry section and smiled to himself as soon as he saw Kraft. While not actually setting foot in the Jewelry department, Kraft had found a place against one of the walls where he could keep an eye on the pretty young lady behind the counter, yet melt into the background as much as possible.

Hutch had had the pleasure of meeting April Sims during his first night shift and anything he had not learned from her had been supplied by Wally. April was a shapely, handsome black woman who knew her way well behind the Jewelry counter. She was quiet, sharp and seemed to be well liked by the customers. She had some college courses under her belt, but was mostly self-taught in the gem trade. She hoped to have her own jewelry line someday. Wally seemed to think that April was a genius. Hutch had been amused at Wally’s obvious pride in April’s accomplishments, since the man had yet to actually ask the young lady out.

Hutch had been glad to do his part to help matters along whenever he could, cruising the rest of the floor while allowing Wally to hover around the Jewelry counter. Wally usually returned the favor by letting Hutch steer clear of the perfume counters after closing.

Hutch saw Wally on his way to his dinner break and back before the closing announcements were made at 7:45. Iverson’s announced closing every five minutes and the guards and salespeople were kept busy with rounding up customers and politely heading them towards the door. As usual, it was around 8:15 when the final customer of the night was heralded over to the elevator and Hutch could radio down that their floor was closed.

By 8:30 the cash drawers were emptied and balanced and the money, check and charge receipts collected and locked up by the bookkeeping employees. The whole store quickly became like a tomb as the last of the day employees left, leaving the store to the night guards and the cleaning crew.

Hutch had always considered that two guards to a floor was overkill, even for a massive store of this size, but time did pass quicker with someone else around and it helped to keep the guards honest. But still, the next three and a half hours seemed like forever and Hutch was going to be more than ready to call it a day.

 

FRIDAY

At 12:01 am. both Hutch and Wally were relieved by the midnight shift. They headed down together with the other guards to check out and pick up their paychecks. Hutch had changed quickly and had already said good-bye to Wally when Reynolds came in to change. Hutch made small talk with the other departing guards, watching Reynolds out of the corner of his eye as the other man dressed and prepared to leave.

Not like Starsk to leave late, he thought, slightly concerned when Starsky was not quick to arrive after his shift-partner. Maybe he got sidetracked with the toys and is picking them up. His concern deepened when Reynolds was finished and ready to leave, yet Starsky still had not arrived.

“Hey, Reynolds, Coleman still stuck upstairs?” Hutch ventured, not expecting much response.

“Haven’t seen him for awhile,” Reynolds replied with disgust and a nasty look in Hutch’s direction. “Must have dozed off somewhere. It’s not my job to worry about him keeping his ass outta trouble.” Reynolds grabbed his belongings and strode out of the employee locker room, ending any further conversation.

Cheerful guy, Hutch thought in disgust, Starsky must have had a fun time tonight. Everyone else had changed and left and Starsky had still not come down. Hutch was two seconds from going back upstairs to look for him when Starsky came through the door, looking tired and white-faced.

Starsky headed straight for his locker around the corner and Hutch followed close behind. “Bad night?” Hutch asked quietly, watching his partner’s face.

“Nah.” Starsky shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Something sure didn’t agree with me though. After my last coffee break, I felt awful. Something kept running right through me and I had to spend a lotta time in the john. I’m sure Reynolds noticed that he spent a lotta time by his lonesome for awhile. I sure know how to impress ’em.” He glanced slyly at his partner, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “It must’a been dinner, pal. Remind me to pack my own meals from now on.”

“Hey!” Hutch said, waving his finger at his partner. “If you can eat three-day-old meatloaf sandwiches without getting the runs, then you can handle anything I can dish out. Besides, it’s probably that birthday mess you mixed up yesterday morning. You’re probably lucky you got through a whole shift with that stuff in your system.”

“Nah, it’s probably knowin’ today was payday,” Starsky replied with a heartfelt sigh. “Can you believe tryin’ to make a livin’ with that amount of chump change? The bank is gonna laugh at me again.” Finishing the last loop on his worn-out Adidas, Starsky waved his partner toward the door and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s get home, huh? My head’s starting to hurt again and I’m not sure how long I wanna be outta contact with a bathroom.”

They made their way through the corridors without seeing anyone and left by the employees’ rear entrance. It was dark and moonless. Hutch took in a lungful of the cool air, smelling the distant ocean and a hint of mist early morning mist.

The private employee lot was dimly lit and surrounded by a tall wooden fence. There were several cars belonging to the midnight shift parked close to the entrance door, commanding the few lit spaces under the single dim spotlight. The detectives walked past them into the chilled darkness of the night, turning the collars up on their jackets, eyes and ears scanning the area. Neither Starsky nor Hutch talked or looked at each other as they studied the dark lot toward Hutch’s car. Hutch fell into the old pattern without a thought, senses alert to the distance, pace and stance of his partner. It was like a second skin to him, moving as a team on the streets, prepared at any second to evade, capture or backup his partner at the slightest twitch of action.

Hutch held back a deep sigh as he surveyed the dark hulk of the LTD. By luck, fate or design, Hutch almost always ended up having to parking in the farthest, darkest corner of the lot. And at the end of almost every shift there were lose papers and garbage blown up and around his car by the evening breeze.

Starsky threw his partner a disgusted look as he made a show of kicking the garbage away from the passenger door. Hutch ignored him, quickly unlocked his door and settled himself, leaning over to unlock the passenger side. So help me, Hutch though with exasperation, recognizing the look in his partners eye, if he starts on my car tonight I’ll just leave him here. For some reason, Starsky had bent down and was ignoring the open door. “Come on, Starsk, let’s go.”

“Wait, Hutch, hold it,” Starsky replied, deadly serious. He was still squatting down out of Hutch’s sight. “You’d better come and get a look at this,”

Hutch quickly opened his own door instantly knowing that Starsky had gone into his ‘cop’ mode. He started around the back of the LTD, eyes scanning underneath. Hutch had just gotten to the trunk area when he froze. In the inky blackness of the midnight shadows Hutch could make the vague outline of what looked to be a shoe and ankle. He reached down and tentatively touched the shoe, verifying it’s shape in the dark. The rest of the body invisible under the car.

Starsky had gone back to the glove compartment to get the flashlight. He shone the light under the back wheel. “I saw a glint and bent down to check it out,” Starsky said quietly. “It’s a ring and it’s still on a hand. It must have caught the light from the security light

“Toss it here, Starsk,” Hutch asked, catching the flashlight.

Feeling a familiar tightness in his gut, Hutch squatted down and played the light over the wind-blown debris under his car. The lower half of the body seemed to be a man dressed in gray slacks and dark blue shirt, with a darker thin wind-breaker. Hutch had the chilling feeling that he might have seen this man before, but wasn’t sure. He a long arm under the car to brush aside some wind blown garbage and shone the light upon the area where man’s head should be. It took only a second for him to divert the light. “Oh man, Starsk,” Hutch breathed, fighting the sudden feeling of nausea.

Starsky, who had been pale before leaving the store for the night, now looked a bit steadier. He had come around to squat down by Hutch and without a word held his hand out for the flashlight.

You’d think that after all these years I’d be able to handle a body better, Hutch thought in self-disgust. In those few seconds he had seen no face under the mass of dried blood, tissue and white flecks of bone. Hutch had never been able to handle a fresh body very well, gratefully letting his partner examine those cases. He considered it one of his biggest weakness’. Starsky had never commented on it, always letting Hutch handle the reports while he handled the examination of those newly dead.

At least I can return the favor for him when the tables are turned, Hutch thought with some satisfaction, watching his partner calmly examine the body. Starsky tended to shy away from the decayed corpses, unnerved by the natural decomposition of the human body. Hutch could do those distasteful examinations without a qualm, knowing he was saving Starsky from having to deal with them. I guess the longer they’ve been gone, the less human I feel they are, Hutch sighed to himself. Wonder what that says about me?

“Well, buddy,” Starsky’s grim voice broke the silence, his glance at Hutch told him there could be no mistake. “I guess we have something to report to Detective Gainer now, don’t we? Think he’d be interested in a murder?”

***

The early morning hours of this particular Friday had been a classic case of ‘hurry up and wait’ for the both of the detectives. Hutch had left Starsky the unenviable position of guarding the crime scene for the few minutes it took to alert the night-shift supervisor.

In a hurried discussion they had decided to go the civilian route with this. Captain Pasquini might want their undercover roles uncompromised. Using the police radio in Hutch’s car, moved and hidden under the passenger seat, would have caused too many questions. They agreed to wait and inform the Homicide Detectives of their real identities and let them contact Captain Pasquini. He would make the decision on who had the need to know. No need to advertise.

After the first uniformed officers had checked dead body call, Starsky and Hutch had been taken aside while extra squad cars arrived to cordon off the area for the Homicide team. Their undercover ID’s had been taken and both had been shepherded back into the store, where they had been separated and told to wait for their statements to be taken.

Hutch had spent the time sitting at someone else’s desk, head on arms, replaying the scene over in his mind. He went over the way the evening shift had come and gone, trying to decide the best time the parking lot would have been deserted enough for murder. Any information he and Starsky could come up with might be helpful, if and when the time of death and identification of the body was made. I know I must have seen him before, if only for a few minutes, Hutch mused. But I just can’t place him.

After nearly two hours, a middle-aged, well-dressed black man opened the door and nodded at Hutch. He walked over and presented his hand.

“Hello, Mr. Avery, I’m Detective Greg Phillips from Homicide and I’ve come to take your statement about this tragic event. I’m sure we can get you squared away and home in no time.” The man smiled and talked quietly, giving the impression of a friend, someone you could trust.

Hutch was immediately struck by the man’s friendly and smooth demeanor at such an early hour. Obviously a seasoned professional, Hutch thought with a bit of relief. Maybe he’s someone we can actually work with for a change. A detective could elicit good information from a witness when putting them at ease and Phillips obviously was very calm and comfortable in this situation.

“Pleased to meet you, Detective Phillips,” Hutch stood and shook the detective’s hand, “but I’m not Kenneth Avery. My real name is Detective Kenneth Hutchinson, of Metro. I work under Captain Harold Dobey, but am on temporary assignment to Captain Anthony Pasquini. My partner is Detective Dave Starsky and he is undercover as Dave Coleman, the other man who discovered the body.” Hutch smiled at Phillip’s surprised look and handed the detective his ID and badge. “I think you’d better call Pasquini in on this. He may not want our covers compromised.”

“Hot damn!” Phillips cursed, a look of disgust crossing his face. He sat heavily in the chair opposite Hutch and stared at him for a moment. “Wouldn’t you know that my first hot lead would be a washout.” He sighed and picked up the phone. After a lengthy call to his station-house, Phillips read the extension off the office phone, hung up and waited quietly.

Hutch kept silent, knowing that Phillips was waiting for a call from Captain Pasquini. Phillips wouldn’t talk or continue the case until Pasquini could confirm or deny his cover operatives in this situation.

After five long minutes the phone rang and Phillips answered it. He relayed the information Hutch had given him over the phone and silently handed the receiver over to Hutch.

“Hutchinson, that you?” Captain Pasquini asked in a sleep dulled voice.

“Yes sir. Starsky and I were on our way home and found the body under my car out in the employee lot. As far as I know, Phillips is the only one who knows who we are.” He glanced at Phillips who nodded his head at the question. “What do you want Starsky and I to do?”

“Give Phillips your report and go home.” Captain Pasquini replied after a thoughtful moment. “Be at my office at 10:00 a.m. and I’ll pull Gainer in. We’ll see what we have then.” Hutch handed the phone back to Phillips and watched as Phillips took his orders.

Detective Phillips hung up silently and shook his head in disbelief. “Might was well get your partner in here and go over it all at once. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

As Starsky was brought in and introduced to the Homicide Detective. “Just as a matter of record, Detective Starsky, you didn’t happen to kill that poor man outside, did you?” Phillips flashed Starsky a crooked smile.

“No.” Starsky answered casually, casting an amused look at his partner. “Why, you takin’ volunteers?”

“Well, it would have made things a lot simpler on this case.” Phillips grinned back, shrugging. “When the cop on the scene described how calm and cool you two acted, I decided to put you two on ice ’til we could call in the rest of Iverson’s night shift. Most were still awake and came over pretty quickly. After taking preliminary statements it was found that one guard had disappeared on and off after closing hours. And he couldn’t be accounted for by his partner for as much as fifteen minutes at a time.” Phillips smiled questioningly at Starsky’s sheepish look. “Hutchinson here seems to have an alibi from his partner for his whole shift and he was seen on breaks by quite a few others. What about you Detective Starsky?”

“Stomach trouble. I was in the john,” Starsky replied shortly, shifting in his chair embarassedly. Hutch chuckled quietly and Starsky flashed him a dirty look.

Starsky and Hutch gave Phillips a complete rundown on their evening shifts. It was 5:00 a.m. by the time Phillips let them go. Both were hustled out quietly into the back of a black-and-white and dropped within a few blocks of their apartment. Hutch had lost possession of his car for the duration of the death scene investigation, but expected to have it back by tomorrow afternoon.

Neither one said much on the way. Hutch felt tired and depressed, knowing that the scant amount of information they had been able to supply Detective Phillips had not been of much help. Hutch was not surprised when a obviously subdued Starsky passed on an early morning snack, opting instead for bed.

***

The next morning found Starsky and Hutch seated together at a long table in the local precinct, waiting for the start of the 10:00 a.m. meeting. The room was crowded with detectives, few of them Hutch was familiar with. They were initially greeted by a tired and harassed-looking Detective Phillips and quickly introduced to his partner, Robert Sanders. Young, strawberry-blond and a face full of freckles, Sanders looked uncomfortable in an obviously new suit. Showing all the signs of a newly-made detective, he seemed overly impressed with the group, flashing an embarrassed smile, but saying nothing.

The only detective in the room who knew actually knew the Metro men was the one who continued to ignore their existence. Hutch watched Detective Lonnie Gainer out of the corner of his eye as the man stood in a corner of the room, sipping on a cup of coffee. Hutch noticed the man had arrived by himself and had not greeted or talked to any of the other officers. A smaller, dark-haired, dark-eyed man, Detective Gainer carried the look of haughty superiority about him. Always impeccable and stylishly dressed, he had a snobbish attitude, as if he found everyone around him slightly distasteful and corrupt.

Starsky, as usual, had commandeered a couple of donuts from somewhere and had offered one to Hutch, who had declined in favor of black coffee.

“Doesn’t look like Gainer is very popular with anyone,” Hutch whispered to Starsky, who threw a quick glance at the detective in question. “Guess we aren’t the only ones who don’t care for him.”

“I think it’s the other way ’round, Hutch,” Starsky replied distractedly around a bit of donut, reaching for Hutch’s coffee. “I think it’s the rest of us who don’t fit into his idea of proper police procedure.” Starsky made a face at the bitter, black coffee in Hutch’s cup. He ignored his partner’s snort of disgust as he swirled a large chunk of donut into the captive cup.”

“Oh, just keep it,” Hutch said with a repulsed look on his face, declining the cup Starsky offered to return. “Thanks for ruining my coffee pal.”

“It’s not ruined,” Starsky replied with a slight smile, “the sugar would be good for you, quick energy. And the crumbs are needed calories.”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted as Captains Pasquini and Lang entered the room. Captain Lang was of the Homicide division and oversaw the work done by Phillips and Sanders. He and Captain Pasquini had obviously decided this was a joint case for Robbery and Homicide.

Captain Lang took over the briefing, not wasting any time. “Gentlemen, we are all aware of the murder at Iverson’s last night. The reason Captain Pasquini and I are here is to let you know that there is an on-going undercover robbery investigation going on inside that store. The three men undercover are Detectives Starsky, Hutchinson and Gainer.” He motioned toward the three men. “Captain Pasquini and I, and the Chief, have decided that for now these officers will maintain their cover. As you will see, there is a good possibility that we are all working on the same case.”

“My men,” Captain Lang looked seriously around the room, “will treat this in the usual manner, starting with what we now know and working the usual angles. We are introducing you to Captain Pasquini’s men in order to avoid confusion. When it’s needed, Starsky, Hutchinson and Gainer will be treated and questioned in the same manner as other civilians in the case. If they discover anything that may help our case, or we theirs, then that information will be reported to Pasquini and I. You will be notified accordingly.” Captain Lang looked at Pasquini, who signaled for him to continue.

Captain Lang picked up his fact sheet and started to read off the current information. “The deceased’s name was Douglas Kirk, Head Jeweler of Iverson’s. He was in charge of quality, design and maintenance of the Jewelry lab located in the basement of the building. He hired gemologists and various tradesmen to work at the resizing, repair, engraving and the Original and Custom Design workshop for the main branch. He inspected, graded and sorted the overseas purchases for the entire corporation, including those branches on the East Coast.”

“The man was 65 years of age, divorced, with two children he was not close to. His ex-wife and children are located in Florida and are en-route here. They maintain by phone that they do not know anything of his current personal life or friends.”

“The Jewelry lab officially closes at 6:00 p.m., except for shipments coming in and out, but Kirk was known to keep unusual hours, working as he saw fit. We are still in the process of checking his whereabouts during the evening. We will be interviewing his personnel today.”

“Time of death is listed at or around 11:00 p.m., give or take an hour. Death at this point would seem to be from a blow to the front of the head and face, as there seems to be no fatal wounds to the other parts of the body. There may have been an attempt to conceal the identity of the victim, considering the amount of damage inflicted upon the face. While there does not seem to be evidence of any struggle, the lab will need a few more days for chemical tests and skull reconstruction.

The car belongs to Detective Hutchinson. Both he and Detective Starsky were the first to discover the body. A copy of their reports are included in your files. The car has been gone over and processed, with no new evidence found. As far as we can tell at this point, the car’s location was the only reason the body was hidden beneath it. And that, gentlemen,” Captain Lang looked around the room, “is all that we have at this point.” He nodded toward Captain Pasquini.

“Gentlemen,” Captain Pasquini nodded towards his three detectives, “come with me please.”

The four of them walked the short distance to Pasquini’s office and arranged themselves inside.

“We are, of course, co-operating fully with Homicide on this case.” Captain Pasquini began, settling at his desk. “You men will continue in your covers until further notice. Do you have anything you wish to add to your reports?”

“No sir.” Gainer answered, quickly.

Starsky glanced at Hutch and shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, Cap’n.”

Captain Pasquini sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “Gainer, I want you to go over the information you originally obtained, so that we can rethink our positions here.” The Captain leaned back, giving his detective a significant look and leaving Hutch to wonder what was not being said between the two.

Gainer frowned at his Captain and glared at the two Metro detectives. He obviously didn’t want to share his information.

Starsky left his perch on a chair arm and took a few steps toward the man, only to be met with a defiant look. “Listen, Gainer, we’re not rookies here. We’ve been through this stuff a few times ourselves.” Starsky’s voice rose, frustration showed on his face.

“We’re not after your thunder,” Hutch said quietly and firmly from his chair, aiming his voice at his partner. Keep it cool, Starsk, we don’t have a lot to say for ourselves at this point either. “We know it’s your informant and your show…”

“…but we don’t like to be kept guessing,” Starsky continued a bit calmer, flashing a frustrated glance at his partner, but talking to Gainer. “And we’ve been under for almost four weeks now. We’re at a dead-end and we’d like to hear what you’ve got so far.”

Gainer looked trapped. “After the first robbery, we worked with the Federal Marshals and the local police at the robbery sight.” Gainer began, obviously uncomfortable with retelling the story. “They seemed to feel that the robberies were staged locally, by two-bit hoods. Anyone could have timed the deliveries over a period of time and traced routes. After the second robbery, we started concentrating more in the local area. As far as I know, none of the stolen jewelry has ever been recovered.”

Gainer glanced at the other men again, his lips pursed in a thin line. “I had a salesperson from the jewelry area approach me here at the station with some suspicions. They had noticed some pieces that seemed out of place in the store rooms and had noticed that Douglas Kirk had been acting strangely since just before the first robbery. I’ve had some access to the physical records of the items listed as stolen and as far as I can tell, nothing looks out of place. I’ve been studying the Jewelry lab downstairs and haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary there either. As far as I could tell, whatever was bothering Kirk didn’t have anything to do with the robberies. He may have prepared and cataloged the items for shipment, but he had no control or information on their actual movements either before or after they left his vaults.”

“What did the salesperson find out of place?” Hutch asked quietly.

“Some of the set diamonds and un-set gems that were put aside for a certain store didn’t seem just right. My informant couldn’t be specific, as it was not an official appraisal. They reported to me that Kirk acted very nervous when he found this individual near the items, examining a few of them. He asked them to leave the area and had been acting strange and distant since then. They weren’t sure, but they think the ‘off’ merchandise was in the shipment that was taken during the second theft. They were afraid that something was wrong and that Kirk might have been mixed up in the robberies. They came in to Robbery wanting to know if we could get him out of any trouble before he got in too deep. They were hoping for some kind of amnesty deal for him, to give him a way out.”

Hutch looked over at Starsky, a question in his eyes. It’s not hard to guess, is it Starsk, Hutch thought to his partner. I think we both know who it is. Starsky nodded, letting Hutch know he was thinking the same thing.

“It was April May Sims who came to you,” Starsky said, with a slight grin, enjoying Gainer’s shocked look.

“Yeah,” Gainer admitted, suddenly red faced. “It was. How did you know?”

“She was the only salesperson on any shift that had personal access to the Jewelry labs,” Hutch replied quickly, frustrated by Gainers’ closed attitude. “And she knew Kirk well enough to have known if he were acting strange. She was his protégé.” Hutch rubbed his chin in thought. “Have you talked to her since the murder?”

“No,” Gainer answered, “I called her when we found out Kirk had been killed. She was upset, so I’ve told her to stay home until I can talk to her this morning. Nobody at the store will be surprised at her calling in sick.”

“Is your absence from the store covered?” Captain Pasquini asked Gainer.

“Yes, Sir. I’m running some personal errands for Mr. Liston.” Gainer made it sound as if it were an errand of some importance and Hutch held back a groan.

“Picking up his laundry, huh?” Starsky asked with a slight smirk at Gainer’s attitude, somehow picking up on his partner’s thoughts.

Hutch flashed Starsky a quick ‘hushing’ glance, fighting to hide his own budding snicker.

Starsky just shrugged back with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Cap’n, would it be possible for Hutch and I to question Miss Sims?” Starsky looked toward the captain hopefully. “We’d both like to get a first-hand description of the lab Kirk worked in, since we may not be able to get close with our covers. We may be able to pick up something from all the gossip we’ve been hearin’.”

“Maybe knowing we’re around may make her feel a little safer,” Hutch interjected. “If she knows Gainer is undercover and hasn’t told anyone of his presence, then she should be able to handle us being in on the case.” Hutch paused, trying to gauge the captain’s reaction. “We may be able to find out something she neglected to tell Gainer.” He received a dark look from the estranged detective.

“‘Sides, Gainer will need to get back soon and we don’t go on ’til 3:00 p.m.” Starsky added hopefully.

Captain Pasquini, sat quietly for a moment, studying the detectives. He nodded slowly in Starsky’s direction. “Let me check with Captain Lang first. His men may have already talked to her, or sent someone out.” Pasquini dialed his counter-part quickly and presented the issue. After some give and take on both sides in a short conversation, Pasquini nodded to Starsky and Hutch. “Captain Lang has agreed to let you meet with Miss Sims because of your years in Homicide. Afterwards, you will immediately file a report and have it on his desk before your next shift and they will forward me a copy. Homicide will follow up on anything you may find. Her address is on file in the employee records.”

Starsky jumped up quickly, grabbing a handful of Hutch’s jacket and pulling him to his feet . “Thanks, Cap’n!” Starsky threw behind him as he headed out the door, pushing Hutch in front of him and leaving a burning Gainer alone with his captain.

It only took them a few minutes to get April’s address and directions to the car impound. Hutch’s car was located a few blocks away from the station in auxiliary storage. Once outside, Starsky took off in a brisk walk that even Hutch’s long legs had trouble matching.

“Hey, slow down, Starsky,” Hutch called to his jubilant partner, a smile tugging at his mouth. “This isn’t a race to see who gets there first!” Hutch gave in to the grin, welcoming the obvious signs of a Starsky in hot pursuit.

“Finally, Hutch!” Starsky exclaimed gleefully. “Finally! Something we can actually do for a change. I know Gainer isn’t givin’ us anything that’s not pulled outta him first and I’m tired of playin’ beggar-boy to his prince. We’re gonna take this case and crack it wide open, Hutch, I can feel it.” His arms waved with enthusiasm, eyes alight with new energy.

“About time we did some real work on this case.” Hutch replied, giving his partner a slap on the back. “Time to show this division that the real talent works at Metro.” It felt good to hear Starsky’s laugh in reply. He felt the same way. It was past time to wind this show up and go home.

***

April Sims’ apartment was in the older, rundown part of town. There were barely any stores or business’ left open in the area and more houses were empty than were lived in. Even with a map the two detectives had trouble, as most street signs were missing and house numbers non-existent. They were finally able to find her apartment, a second story unit in an older house, with its own stairway at the side of the old and tired house.

Both detectives brought out their ID’s before knocking on the door.

It took a moment for April to come to the door. Behind the chain both detectives could see her look of shocked surprise as she recognized them.

“Sorry to bother you, Miss Sims.” Starsky held up his ID so she could see it through the door opening. “We’re Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson “Can we come in and talk to you for a moment?” He handed her his ID through the door so she could get a better look.

The door closed softly for a moment while April unlatched the chain. She held open the door and stood aside as the detectives entered the apartment.

It was one fairly small room. A delicate Japanese screen divided the back bed and bathroom area off from rest of the apartment. There was barely room for a sofa, bookcase and TV stand, but there was no crowded or cluttered look. A small, two-chair folding table was pushed up against one wall next to the small kitchenette. While the room could use an extra coat of paint, it was well kept and clean. Hutch noticed that the few pieces of furniture in the room showed an eye for design, color and practicality. On the blank wall above the small table were pinned sheets and sheets of paper, showing numerous drawings, all of them of various jewelry pieces. Hutch was impressed with the quality of the artwork. She does have an eye for detail and design, Hutch thought. Wally was right, she does have some natural talent.

April waved them over to the small couch, while she took one of the small kitchen chairs to sit in front of them. She had obviously been crying and looked tired and worn out.

“I know this is quite a shock for you Miss Sims,” Hutch began quietly. He caught Starsky’s nod to continue. “Detective Starsky and I have been working undercover at Iverson’s, as you may have guessed by now. I know that Detective Gainer informed you of the death of Mr. Kirk.” He waited while she nodded and wiped at her streaming eyes. “My partner, Detective Starsky and I thought it would be better if we came over and talked to you about your actions last night. Maybe you can help us find his killer.”

Hutch waited for April to nod her head in agreement before taking out pad and pen. He nodded to Starsky to take over the conversation,.

“Could you please tell us of your movements yesterday, Miss Sims?” Starsky smiled kindly at her as he caught her eye. “We would just like to start with your actions for yesterday, if you don’t mind

April nodded and took a ragged breath. “Yesterday I worked the 1:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. shift, like I usually do. I guess you know I work the Jewelry counter.” She tried to smile back, biting her lip as more tears came. “I had a morning and an afternoon break and ate lunch in the cafeteria.” She shrugged. “It was a normal day, as far as I could tell. It seemed a little slow, actually.”

“We know you were friends with Mr. Kirk. Were you able to see him at all yesterday?” Starsky prodded gently.

April shook her head. “No. But Mr. Kirk and I weren’t exactly friends. He was more my teacher than anything else. I met him a couple of years ago, when I was first hired at the store.”

“Isn’t it a bit unusual for the head of a department to take on a sales clerk as student?” Starsky asked.

April smiled a bit modestly at the pair. “I’ve always been interested in gems, jewelry and design. One day we had a custom ring order arrive for pickup at my counter. I had taken the original order for the piece and had one of Mr. Kirk’s staff come up for a design consultation with the customer. I watched as he drew the design and took an order for the type of gem they wanted set in the ring. When the finished piece arrived, I couldn’t help but check it and it was…” She hesitated, looking at the detectives, uncertain how to explain her reaction, “…it was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Starsky repeated, waiting for April to continue.

“Yes.” April nodded her head energetically. “I could tell it was ‘off’. The original design was smooth and flowing, but the finished piece was heavy and off-balanced. The stone setting was slightly off-center at one end and the stone was not the quality ordered.”

“You could tell all this just by looking at it?” Hutch asked in surprise.

“Well, no,” April answered a bit embarassedly. “I took it out of the box when I saw it didn’t look right. It didn’t feel right either. I was supposed to call the customer and leave a message that it was ready. I couldn’t, it wouldn’t have been right. I called the Jewelry lab and had the designer come up. He was very upset with me and refused to discuss it. Mr. Kirk was called in and he examined the ring. He took the ring back with him downstairs.” She sat for a minute and folded and unfolded her handkerchief for a moment. “I found out later the designer had been fired and Mr. Kirk personally reworked the ring from scratch. He came up a few days later and showed me the new ring for my ‘personal stamp of approval’ before we called the customer.” She smiled at the memory. “I usually took my early break downstairs in the Jewelry lab and Mr. Kirk would let me watch while he worked on a piece, or planned out a design. Sometimes I helped out with small jobs. I plan on getting GIA certified as soon as I can save the money for the school. Mr. Kirk said I had a job with his department as soon as I got certified.”

“GIA certified?” Starsky wondered aloud.

April nodded shyly. “It stands for the Gemological Institute of America. They have certain classes you must take to be certified. It’s very prestigious and it’s practically required for the better positions. I’ve been trying to save up enough to go. Once I get certified, I’ll be qualified to work in the labs at Iverson’s.”

“When did you notice the problems starting with Mr. Kirk?” Hutch questioned, keeping his voice low and level.

April leaned back in her chair and wiped at her eyes, trying to concentrate. “I’ve gone over this once already with Detective Gainer.” She whispered.

“I know, Ma’am,” Starsky smiled encouragingly, “but we would really like to hear it again, from you.”

“It was just before the first robbery,” April sighed. “Iverson’s had received some jewelry and loose gems in a shipment from Singapore. Mr. Kirk was spot checking gems and set stones for cut, color, clarity and carat weight. He also spot checked the quality of the metal used. You know, to make sure that the gold and silver were the same quality as the order specified. I always went to help him check the shipments during my break, along with the other lab workers. Later, after I got off of work I went back down to talk to Mr. Kirk, he was sorting the jewel drawers in the vault by branch destination. I was talking to him and walking around the vault when I spotted an item on a tray that looked strange. I had started to pick up a piece to examine when…” She sniffed, taking a second to compose herself, “…when Mr. Kirk jumped, like he’d been shocked and started yelling at me. He shooed me out and finished locking up the vault, even though he wasn’t through sorting. He apologized afterwards.” April broke in to fresh tears.

Hutch, touched by her mourning, leaned forward and patted her arm gently. “Lets just take a minute, April,” He gave her a kind smile. Starsky had gone to the kitchenette and returned with a glass of water. April took a big breath and sipped at the water, giving Starsky a teary, but grateful smile.

“Later,” she continued after a few moments, “we all heard about the robbery. I’m not sure, but I think the shipment that was stolen contained the set of trays that I was look at. After that, Mr. Kirk seemed more distant and nervous for weeks. Instead of working in the lab during my break, we started sitting in his office, having coffee and talking.” She sighed again, rubbing at her forehead. “After the second robbery, he told me that he’d really rather I didn’t come down anymore. He said that Ms. Quincy was throwing fits about my access to the labs. She didn’t want anyone in the secure area who didn’t actually work there. He met me upstairs for breaks for another week or so, then he quit coming altogether.”

Hutch cleared his throat. “Miss Sims, do you know what was wrong with that first shipment you saw?”

“No, I’d just gotten that impression when I reached for it. I never got a chance to see anything else.” She shrugged.

“Detective Gainer said that you came to the station to talk to him about Mr. Kirk.” Starsky added.

“I was scared for him,” she answered in a whisper. “I felt like he was in trouble and wanted to help. I told Detective Gainer about what had happened and that I felt that something horrible was going on. Mr. Kirk was such a nice person, so sweet and mild. I was afraid that he might have found something out about the robberies. I was hoping that if the police talked to him and offered to help protect him, then he would feel safe enough to tell what he knew. I got the impression that he was more and more frightened all the time.”

“Why was that?” Starsky wondered aloud.

“He was very jumpy and while I was still taking breaks in his office, sometimes I’d open the door when he was concentrating on something on his desk and he would jump, startled, until he realized who it was. One evening I had stayed very late to help with some inventory and saw him standing by the employees’ exit. Wally Kraft was coming out of the break room and Mr. Kirk talked to him for a moment and they both left. Later I asked Wally if Mr. Kirk was okay and he said that Kirk just wanted him to walk him to his car. Wally said he usually walked Mr. Kirk to his car before coming back from break and had been doing it for a few weeks. I’ve never known Mr. Kirk to be so skittish before.”

As April studied her handkerchief, Starsky caught Hutch’s eye and nodded slightly toward the door. Time to call it quits and let the poor girl rest, Hutch thought, agreeing with his partner’s intentions. She’s not going anywhere, at least not anytime soon. Hutch nodded to his partner.

“I think that’s all we need for right now, Miss Sims.” Starsky rose and took April’s hand. “We’ll contact you if we need to talk to you again. Please remember that if you see us at Iverson’s, we are still working undercover.” He gave her a kind smile.

“I don’t think I’ll be in for a few days,” April said, looking tired and worn. “I’m not sure I want to come back now.”

***

Starsky and Hutch had made the supreme sacrifice and had gone straight to the station-house to produce Captain Lang’s report. They were told that Homicide Detectives Phillips and Sanders were in charge of the murder investigation and they were to keep them fully informed. In the future they could report either in person to Homicide or through Captains Lang and Pasquini. This way they wouldn’t have to worry about catching each other at the station, or stumbling over each other at the store. But it also means we now have two captains to please, Hutch sighed. I feel like a ping-pong ball.

After the drudge work, they decided that they just had time to go by their bank and deposit their paychecks. While they usually worked only off the department’s money, it didn’t make any sense to alert the payroll department that someone wasn’t bothering to cash their checks. Not when it’s the whole store you’re trying to fool. They then stopped back by their apartment to eat and freshen up before their Friday night shift started. They had talked over April’s statement in the car and had not seen anything that had not been included in Gainer’s report.

“I can’t help it, Hutch,” Starsky said, eating his lunch at the kitchen sink. “I just got the feelin’ Gainer ain’t telling everythin’ he knows. Not to us, ‘n not to Pasquini.”

“He probably isn’t.” Hutch commented, still dressing after his shower. “But you couldn’t prove it by us. I wouldn’t get too excited, Starsk. We can’t do much while we’re stuck in those green suits. I’m pretty sure we’re not going to find out too much on this late shift either. Maybe we ought to get the Captain Pasquini to talk to Mr. Collins and get us on dayshift. Bypass Gainer and Ms. Quincy all together. That’ll take a few days, so we can finish up on nights. I just don’t think we’re going to find anyone here that knows anything.”

Starsky had agreed with his partner and they decided to push the conversation tonight, see if anyone knew anything they weren’t telling to local cops. They called Captain Pasquini and asked him about getting transferred to the dayshift. He agreed with their reasoning and decided to call Mr. Collins himself.

The mood at the lockers and time clock that evening was quiet and subdued. The local detectives had interviewed many employees and word had traveled that the police were looking inside the store for suspects. At first the other employees were guarded and silent around the undercover detectives, everyone knowing when and where the body had been found. But by the first dinner break curiosity managed to break through and Hutch found himself the center of attention.

Hutch fielded questions from the other guards about finding the body. He was convincingly vague, not wanting to give out any crime scene details they could use later. About all he could tell them was he and Dave had thought they saw something under the car and there it was. Hutch didn’t have to add any drama to the story to keep everyone’s open-mouthed attention.

Wally sat through the whole thing quietly, his arms folded, staring at the table. He didn’t seem too interested in his dinner. Hutch watched him surreptitiously. The other guards acted surprised and astonished at the murder, but no one seemed to have anything new to add besides wild conjecture and pointless gossip. Wally was definitely acting subdued. Looks like Wally needs to talk, Hutch sighed to himself. He’s always seemed like a good kid. I hope he’s not into anything deeper than he can handle.

Hutch had been paired with Saputo for the evening and Wally was paired with Jefferson, so Hutch would have to make contact with Wally in some less obvious way. On the way back to his floor, Hutch stopped by Starsky’s floor and quickly told him of Wally’s actions during break.

“I think he knows something, Starsk,” Hutch whispered. “We need to talk to him, but we need to keep it low-key. Maybe we can snag him after work,” Hutch wondered aloud. “But it’s going to be tough, Wally isn’t the gabby kind and he’s pretty much a homebody. We need something to convince him to indulge in some friendly conversation.”

“No problem,” Starsky answered, flashing him a mischievous smile. “I think I’ve got the answer to that.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do?” Hutch asked suspiciously. He knew better than to trust that smile any farther than he could throw his heavy partner.

“Just wait and follow my lead,” Starsky replied with a Cheshire-cat grin. “But you’d better get back to work before you’re missed. I’ll take care of Wally.” And with that Starsky waved him away, saying no more.

 

SATURDAY

The store’s closing went normally for a Friday evening and midnight shift arrived subdued, but on time. Both detectives made good time to the locker room and Starsky had just enough time to whisper to Hutch, ‘Follow my lead.’ before they were crowded by the evening shift. It seemed no one wanted to walk out by themselves and the entire shift managed to leave for the parking lot as a group.

It was another dark, cool night. The departing shift waved good-bye and talked loudly, obviously trying not to glance beyond the dark or think about the body from the night before. Starsky elbowed Hutch and nodded toward Wally. Hutch’s glance took in the young man, hands on hips, his big bulk radiating disbelief.

Starsky nodded a ‘come on’ to his partner and walked over to where Wally was standing.

“Got a problem, Wally?” Starsky asked cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Wally replied, running a large hand over his head. “I got one spare and two flats. What the hell happened?” Wally bent over to examine the tires, running his hands over the sides, looking for a hole or leak.

“Could be anything, Wally,” Starsky said, bending down beside Wally to take a look at a tire. “Maybe you just have a leaky valve. Don’t see any obvious holes anywhere, but it’s kinda dark to be sure. I think you just need some air. Need a lift?”

“Thanks, guys,” Wally paused a moment, then smiled at the two men apologetically, “but I live way out of on the other side of town, I know it’s gotta be way out of your way.” He glanced around the quickly emptying lot and shrugged helplessly.

“No problem, Wally. We’re in no hurry.” Hutch chimed in, with a knowing look at Starsky. I’d bet a month’s salary that my partner knows exactly what’s wrong with Wally’s tires, Hutch though, suppressing an amused smile.

Wally followed them to Hutch’s car and Starsky took a back seat, tossing over just enough of Hutch’s current junk collection to be able to sit with his feet on the floorboard.

“Be glad you’re in the front Wally,” Starsky murmured in disgust, surveying the clutter. “I think there’s spiders and rats back here.”

“Where to, Wally?” Hutch asked loudly, ignoring his partner’s remarks.

Wally gave an amused glance at Starsky and gave Hutch quick and concise directions.

“Hey, Wally,” Starsky said quietly after a few quiet moments. “I guess you must be really bummed about Kirk’s death.” In the rearview, Hutch saw his partner lean forward, propping his head and arms on the front seat. “I’d heard you knew the guy pretty well.”

Wally shrugged, moving sideways in the passenger seat, turning to face the other two men. Wally’s face, lit with the strobe-light effect of the passing street lights, took on a sad expression. “I knew him just enough to be respectful, since he was one of the big-shots. He sure was a strange old guy though. He seemed to be kinda a loner and usually didn’t give any of the employees the time of day, except for…” Wally trailed off, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Starsky grinned at the large youth. “Except pretty Miss Sims.”

Wally smiled bashfully. “Yeah, well…. Mr. Kirk seemed to be real nice to her for awhile. I guess they must have had an argument or somethin’, ’cause I know she wasn’t going down to the Jewelry lab anymore. I could tell she was real upset about that.”

“You talk to him very much?” Hutch asked, eyes on the unfamiliar traffic. “He must have been a hard person to get to know.”

“I’d never talk to the man, ’til a couple of weeks ago, but I knew who he was,” Wally answered. “Then when I was returning from break one evening, he suddenly came up to me and started making conversation. Acted like he was interested in me personally or something and wanted to talk on the way to his car. He did all the talking, goin’ a mile a minute. I got the feeling he was scared of somethin’ and just wanted someone to walk him outside.” Wally shrugged. “If he’d just wanted a bodyguard, it would’ve been no skin off my nose. Happy to do it. I just got the feeling he didn’t want to admit being scared. No shame in a guy his age bein’ scared of a dark lot.” Wally paused and a sad look played across his features. “Looks like he sure had something to be scared of, doesn’t it.”

“Did you walk him out after that first time?” Starsky asked quietly. “Sounds like he was pretty worried.”

“Yeah, anytime I had early break and a couple of times I had meals.” Wally responded. “I’d see him hanging round the back door like he was waitin’ for me and I’d go to say ‘hi’. I’d walk him to his car and see him off.”

“Ever see anyone hanging around outside when he left?” Hutch asked.

“Nah, the cops asked me that already and I can’t say that I did.” Wally flashed them an embarrassed smile. “At least, no strangers. Some of the top brass stay late once in awhile and I’ve seen them all come and go at one point or another. Anyway, I didn’t see Kirk at all last night, so I’m wasn’t much help to the police.” Wally sighed. “Can’t say as I’m sorry to have missed the action, but kinda feel like I let the old guy down, as if I should’a seen him or somethin’ last night.”

Conversation lagged for a few minutes and they all watched as the business districts slowly turned residential, each man quite with their own thoughts.

The robberies started three months ago, Hutch calculated, running the timeline through his mind. April saw Kirk acting strange after the second shipment, two months ago. Gainer joined the case not long after that, about six weeks. We’ve been here about a month and Kirk suddenly felt the need for a body guard two weeks ago and yesterday he was killed. A nice steady progression. Now if we could just figure out where the hell all this is going!

“Why would any of the big-shots stay late?” Hutch asked, fishing for more information. “I thought with jobs like theirs, they’d head on home pretty early.” Hutch flashed Wally a grin, as if just trying to make conversation. “I know I’d beat it outta there as early as possible if I were on salary.”

Wally grinned. “Well, I figure that some of them aren’t stayin’ for work.”

Hutch caught Starsky’s glance in the rearview mirror. Something new?

“Oh yeah?” Starsky grinned. “You mean there’s somethin’ goin’ on we haven’t heard about yet? Must be something really good if it hasn’t made the rounds yet.”

“Well, a guys sees things, here and there,” Wally replied with a shrug. “I once saw Ms. Quincy and Mr. Jameson sittin’ in the same car once. Kinda looked red-faced and jumpy, like they didn’t expect anyone to see them. I thought they’d been necking or something.”

“No foolin’?” Starsky asked, his eyes wide. “I’m surprised any guy would wanna cuddle up to her. I’d bet a week’s pay she bites.”

“Well, you never know.” Wally chuckled. “I didn’t actually see anything, but I remember it real well, ’cause I was walking Mr. Kirk out to his car and he was lookin’ around like he was checking the place out. He froze and looked shocked and when I looked I saw those two sittin’ in Mr. Jameson’s car, over in the dark part of the lot. Mr. Jameson never parks anywhere but his reserved space, except that once. I figured the two of them must of been wantin’ a little privacy.” Wally smiled again. “I guess Mr. Kirk musta got a good look at ’em doing somethin’ interestin’.”

“Do you think those two are hot’n’heavy for real?” Hutch glanced at Wally. “I can’t imagine the ‘Ice Queen’ being sweet on anyone.”

Wally shifted again on the lumpy seat. “I know I’ve seen Mr. Jameson out in the lot once or twice since I started walkin’ Mr. Kirk out, but he was by himself. I don’t know if Ms. Quincy is sweet on him or not, but he sure would be a rung up on her career ladder. Must be a big secret if the story hasn’t made the store rounds yet.”

“Here we are.” Hutch suddenly announced, pulling up in front of a very nice two-story house. Too bad he couldn’t have been another ten minutes away, Hutch thought. This was getting interesting.

“Thanks guys,” Wally said gratefully as he climbed out of the car. “It really would have been a hassle for my Dad to have come to get me this time of night. He’s too old for night drivin’ anymore, so I sure appreciate the ride.”

“Anytime, Wally, anytime.” Hutch smiled in reply.

Starsky started climbing out of the back seat. “Need any help with your tires tomorrow?” he asked the young guard. “We could pick you up tomorrow and help you get the tires checked out.”

“No, thanks,” Wally replied with a shrug. “My dad and I can run down and check them out before work tomorrow. I don’t have any classes, so there’s no hurry.”

“You sure?” Hutch asked, hoping the kids wasn’t just being nice.

“Nah, I’ve got it covered,” Wally smiled at the two and patted the passenger door as Starsky closed it. “See you guys later.” He waved and disappeared into the darkness toward home.

“You know, Starsky, he’d have been a lot less appreciative if he’d known who it was who drained his tires,” Hutch remarked after getting the LTD turned around. “If he had seen you out there, messing with his car after a parking lot murder, Wally would have turned you into pulp, partner.”

“It got us our interview didn’t it?” Starsky replied, a smug look on his face. “No one saw me and all he needs is a little air. Besides, I’ve got a partner who would have jumped in to save my ass, with all those fancy wrestling moves he keeps harping on.”

“Which would have been a little hard this time around, since I wouldn’t have known your ass was in trouble,” Hutch replied evenly. He knew Starsky wouldn’t have taken any more chances than he had to, but it didn’t hurt to remind him to be careful. “So, how come we haven’t heard more scuttle-butt about this Quincy-Jameson thing,” Hutch wondered. “I can’t imagine anyone getting on the good side of the Ice Queen and it not being hailed as a miracle,” Hutch muttered sarcastically, almost to himself. “And I don’t see what she thinks she can get out of Jameson.”

Starsky smiled at his partner. “Now, now Hutch. Don’t be mean. Just because she has an allergy to tall, introspective blondes with seedy mustaches, that doesn’t mean she’s not human. Just that she has discriminating tastes.”

“It was not ‘seedy’, Starsky,” Hutch replied more sharply than he had intended. “And just because you’d look like Groucho Marx with one doesn’t mean that everyone else does.”

“Hey, I’m a detective, I’m trained to notice those sorts of things.” Starsky flashed him a crooked grin. “You know, physical quirks and odd personality traits. Just ’cause the rest of us are too nice to say anything…” Starsky trailed off, turning serious for a moment. “So, who do you think Kirk was more afraid of, Quincy or Jameson?”

“If it was one of those two, it’s gotta be Jameson.” Hutch responded instantly. “He’s the secretary to Kirk’s boss. Jameson could make trouble for Kirk, dig into the employee files and even make changes if he wanted to. Quincy, on the other hand, doesn’t have anything to do with the jewelry transportation, just in-store security. I wouldn’t see her as being danger to Kirk, although she could have been a thorn in his side, if she could get April kicked out of the secure areas.”

“If Kirk was sellin’ out his employers, he might have been afraid that in-store security was hot on his trail.” Starsky pointed out. “Of course, it could have been the two of them as a team that Kirk was scared of.”

The two men sat in companionable silence, each working the new facts into their own perspective the case.

“I don’t think he was selling out.” Hutch began, a few minutes later. “If he was the source of the security leaks, why would he be so jumpy? There wouldn’t be any evidence lying around to implicate him if he was just passing along the information. Kirk was scared, I’m convinced of that. And Wally would have made a good body guard. Few people would want to start anything with him around. What happened two weeks ago that got Kirk frightened all of a sudden?”

“Well,” Starsky began. “We know that April saw something, or Kirk thought she saw something she shouldn’t have. Then she gets kicked out of the labs. She goes to Gainer for help, he gets undercover, then we get pulled in. After that, who knows? We sure don’t.” Starsky finished with a frustrated sigh. “Who the hell knows what Gainer has on this case.”

Hutch pulled the LTD up into a spot near their apartment. He turned the engine off and fought to catch a stray though.

Starsky sat still, watching his partner, waiting for him to make a move. After a moment, when Hutch showed no sign of stirring, Starsky settled back in his corner of the car, apparently willing to wait.

“You know, Starsk,” Hutch said, “It just doesn’t make sense. If we take it for granted that April did see something in that shipment and what she saw was in the shipment that got stolen, then what was there for April to see?”

“Expensive jewelry was bought, delivery accepted, then they were sorted and shipped,” Starsky replied, going over the process. “April sees something ‘strange’ with one of the pieces. They were later stolen. The store’s insurance wants an investigation and the police want the thieves and the security guard’s killer. There is a lot there we know for a fact, but we’re taking April’s word for what she saw and why she came into Robbery in the first place. She could be in on this Hutch, or she just could have been wrong about…”

“Wrong…” Hutch snapped his fingers, “…it was wrong, like that first piece she saw. April didn’t have the inventory with her, so she couldn’t spot a piece that was too good, she would just assume that they were all as ordered. And the same with a sub-standard piece. She would just assume that it was just one of the lower grades of merchandise that the store stocks. But if it was a fake it could have been like a spotlight to her, if she’s really is that good.”

“Fake?” Starsky looked startled. “But fakes wouldn’t get past the lab technicians, let alone…”

“…Kirk.” Hutch finished for him. “Kirk was in charge of the lab and in checking the incoming merchandise. He assigned the technicians who handled the incoming stuff and was even known to do a lot of the work himself. He was nervous and he knew how good April was. He was the one who kicked her out of the lab, after all those months of giving her access. He saw her spot the fakes and when he panicked it distracted her. She didn’t have enough time to realize what the problem was. Kirk tried to cover for her, keep her from getting too close to the next shipments. If the pieces really were fake it would explain why…”

“…we haven’t seen the hot stuff get fenced anywhere.” Starsky finished. “‘Cause they aren’t any good to start with.” Starsky took a big breath, shaking his head. “It doesn’t quite jell Hutch. Why would anyone go to all that trouble to steal worthless stuff? You know as well as I do that the merchandise could all be on its way overseas. And one big buyer could handle the lot ‘n sit on it forever if they needed to. We might not see any of the stuff show up for years.”

“But then, what would April have seen?” Hutch asked, frustrated.

“We’re taking it on faith that Kirk really did think April was that good and that there was something for her to notice,” Starsky replied reluctantly. “All we know for sure was that Kirk was actin’ strange enough that some of the other employees noticed it too, ‘n he was killed. We can’t afford to count anyone out at this point, Hutch,” Starsky said quietly.

I know, Starsk, I hear you, Hutch thought at the silent reminder in Starsky’s voice. April could be involved in this, deeper than we know. But I believe her, buddy. I really do.

The both went quiet again. Hutch felt tired, but couldn’t give it up quite yet. “If Kirk was involved, it could be for one of three reasons.” Hutch added thoughtfully. “Kirk could have been blackmailed to mess with the jewelry, paid to do it, or he just flat out ran into something he wasn’t supposed to find.” He sighed. “It still sounds to me like he was trying to get April away from the action. Keeping her out of it. You just don’t dump your protégé like that, for no reason.” Hutch didn’t realize that he had been drumming his fingers and staring at the near deserted street until Starsky cleared his throat noisily, making Hutch jump.

“Hutch,” Starsky began solemnly, leaning over and patting his partner’s knee affectionately. “There’s only one thing about this case that I’m absolutely, positively certain of right now.”

“Oh Yeah? What’s that?” Hutch asked curiously.

As if on cue, Starsky’s stomach rumbled loudly and he gave Hutch a serious look. “It’s time to eat.” And having gained the last word in the conversation, Starsky opened the car door, got out and waited for his partner to follow him home.

***

At 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning the detectives were back in Captain Pasquini’s office with Gainer. Homicide had little positive to share so far. The last time Douglas Kirk had been seen on Thursday night was at 6:30 p.m. when the last of the lab technicians had left for the day. He had not been seen in the break room and no one had noticed him leaving. Forensics reported that Kirk had been killed with a sharp blow to the forehead with a rock found pitched to the outer side of the fence. The first blow would have rendered the man unconscious, the second had been fatal. The other blow were literally ‘over kill’.

So far, there was nothing in Kirk’s history to indicate that he spent more than he earned. He lived simply, sending a modest amount to his ex-wife as alimony payments, his children being too old to require child support and had a simple savings plan that he seemed to keep religiously. Every penny of the man’s money seemed to be accounted for. Nothing in his apartment showed any signs of anything amiss. Which didn’t rule out blackmail, or that he might have been expecting his payoff at a later date.

And none of it points us in any direction at all, Hutch mused, glancing over the various reports. Unless you consider that the killer must have liked crushing in a guy’s face. And how many guys like that have Starsky and I run into our whole career? An easy hundred or so, at least.

The Metro detectives had reported their conversation with Wally Kraft and their suspicions that he had been fearful of Jameson and Quincy. Gainer had seemed to take the news in stride, acting as if he was not in the least interested.

“Did you know about this?” Starsky asked Gainer quietly. His eyes boring into the back of the man’s head. “Are they an item? Could they be working together? Have you found anything you think Hutch and I might need to know?”

Hutch watched closely as Starsky got up and walked past him to stand beside Gainer. Hutch could almost see Starsky’s frustration radiating off of him and he knew his friend was tired of being ignored.

Don’t blow your cool, Starsk, Hutch thought to him. I’ll bet you a month’s pay he won’t look you in the eye. He’s too remote to play that kind of game with us. You’re not going to get anything and it’ll just make Pasquini mad. Hutch consciously relaxed in his chair, knowing Starsky would read the signal.

“I had thought that something strange was going on with Quincy and Jameson.” Gainer responded vaguely, not looking at the dark-haired Metro detective. “But I’m still looking into the rumor. And so far, that’s all it is, a store rumor. Gossip.” Gainer said with distaste, clearing showing just what he thought of their source of information.

“Do you have anything hard on either one?” Captain Pasquini asked harshly. “Anything that Starsky and Hutchinson could look into?” He didn’t look pleased with his detectives obvious attitude.

“No, not yet.” Gainer answered reluctantly. He pointedly ignored Starsky, who had not backed off from his confrontational position. “I’ve been keeping an eye on Jameson and his files, but he’s pretty closed mouthed about the whole system. I guess he’s afraid I’m after his job and doesn’t want to let me in on the finer details. He’s not much of a team player.”

Hutch flashed a ‘Gee, who else do we know like that?’ look at his partner, trying to lighten the mood.

Gosh, I don’t know. Who? Starsky’s eyes flashed back, eyes wide with mock seriousness.

“Come on, Gainer, what makes you think Jameson is in on anything?” Hutch asked patiently, as if talking to a child. “What are you looking for in his files? You must have some reason to have singled him out in this case. Or are we all just wasting our time?”

“It’s just a feeling.” Gainer turned blank-faced, choosing to acknowledge Hutch’s presence rather than talk to the window again. “I don’t have anything substantial or concrete to report, as of yet. I need a better look at the company files and Jameson’s access to them,” he finished, turning back to the window, effectively shutting Hutch out again. Starsky hadn’t even rated a glance.

“Starsky, sit down,” Captain Pasquini ordered tiredly. He waited until Starsky had walked back to sit beside his partner, his eyes never leaving the Robbery Detective.

“I’ve talked to Royston Collins and he has agreed to make arrangements for at least one of you to be transferred to dayshift,” Captain Pasquini continued. “Mr. Collins is not sure he can get you both transferred without causing some major speculation within the store, but he’ll try. I don’t know which one it will be. Do you have any preference?”

Both detectives looked at each other and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to us, Captain,” Starsky answered.

“Then I’ll leave it up to their system,” Captain Pasquini decided. “You will probably find out about it on your next shift, unless they contact you earlier. While Gainer is working on the office details, I want you two to keep a close eye on Quincy and Jameson. See if they are an item, where they go and all that. If you see anything that warrants further investigation, I will see if we can assign permanent tails on them. But I’m very close to shutting down this operation, gentlemen.” Captain Pasquini gave them all a serious look. “We have not made any progress in this case so far and we cannot continue this indefinitely. Unless we make some headway, very soon, then I will turn all reports over to Homicide and let them decide how to proceed. We need a break in this case, people, but do not,” Captain Pasquini stated emphatically, jabbing his pencil at Starsky and Hutch in emphasis, “I repeat, do not put yourself in any dangerous situations or hesitate to call for back up.”

“Sure Cap’n,” Starsky replied with a smile, “we are very careful people.”

“Better be,” Captain Pasquini said gruffly, his lips twitching into a small smile, “I wouldn’t want to explain to Captain Dobey how I lost him two men. That man is mean when riled.” And with that he dismissed the three.

“Well, that was fun,” Hutch commented while unlocking the LTD. “Nothing like being reminded how useless you’ve been for a month. Where to now, Tonto?” Hutch asked Starsky as he unlocked the passenger door.

“I keep tellin’ ya, you’re Tonto,” Starsky replied. “And this car ain’t Silver. It wouldn’t even make a good broken-down wagon let alone a decent horse. What say we find out what Jameson and Quincy do on their weekends?”

“Which one first?”

“Neither one is working today,” Starsky replied thoughtfully. “Let’s go find Jameson first, he’s higher up on the rung.”

Hutch pulled out into the busy Saturday traffic while Starsky pinpointed the address on the city map. It was an expensive condo complex with an ocean view and large, manicured lawns. Jameson’s address was on the lower level in a corner building. His assigned car space was empty.

“Wait or move on?” Starsky asked, drumming his finger impatiently on the door handle.

Hutch frowned uncertainly. Jameson could be out anywhere and waiting all day could be a tremendous waste of time. “Let’s drive by Quincy’s place and get the layout. I’d hate to blow the whole day sitting here.” Even with the expensive ocean view.

They drove back into the center of town and found that Quincy’s address. It was located in a large, but less expensive apartment complex. Her apartment was on a high floor and her parking place was also empty.

“Not cheap,” Starsky remarked, looking over the area. “But you’ll notice she’s not quite up there with Jameson. Do we know what Jameson’s salary is? His condo’s more than a few steps above this and I wouldn’t think a secretary would make that much more than handling in-store security.”

“No idea,” Hutch replied, with a sigh. “Let’s put that as question one hundred and one for our grilling of Gainer during the next meeting.”

“Hey, let’s grab some lunch and head on back to the store,” Starsky said with sudden interest, eyeing the local taco chain sitting on the corner. “Maybe one of them is putting in some overtime.”

No way, Hutch thought, pretending he hadn’t seen his partner’s look of longing. There’s got to be something better than tacos around. Especially if I’m going to be stuck in this car all day. He was rewarded with a dark look and some mumbling about ‘who’d be the passenger when the Torino was back in action’.

It was not to be, however, as Hutch ended up staring at a greasy taco wrapper filled with a warm lump that was his dinner. They had found Jameson’s car in the store lot. Hutch had just had enough time to park out of view when Jameson’s entered his car and left the lot. Unfortunately, at one stop Jameson had been gone long enough for Starsky to dart out and grab a bag of Mexican food at a forlorn little taco shack. Hutch had wavered between giving up the greasy mess and passing it over to his partner, who was eyeing it hungrily, or eating it just to spite him. But he had waited too long and Starsky had grabbed the taco and eaten it anyway, to save him from ‘dumping the thing in your lap.’

The detectives spent the evening hours following Jameson from one expensive store to another. He returned from some empty-handed, but from the majority he left with merchandise, carefully stored in the trunk of his car. On his return to his condo, Hutch was lucky to find a spot in the shade of the opposite garage. The two watched Jameson unpack the car. The man never even glanced their way.

“Jameson sure knows how to spend a paycheck,” Hutch remarked, relaxing back into the seat. “You notice that while he works at one medium-to-high priced store, he himself shops at several very expensive specialty shops. Only the best in clothes, shoes and jewelry.”

“And he drives a car that is the top-of-the-line for that model.” Starsky remarked, obviously thinking the same thing his partner was. “The man likes to live high. Hutch, I don’t think a man in his position earns enough legit to sustain such an ‘altitude’. The man’s getting money from somewhere.”

“Maybe he’s got rich parents,” Hutch wondered aloud. “Or maybe a wealthy relative died. Do you think Gainer has noticed?”

Starsky frowned at his partner. “I’ll bet you my lousy pay he did. Probably why he’s sure Jameson’s got something to do with the robberies. Nice of him to tip us off on who to watch for.”

“Yeah, he’s such a sweetheart,” Hutch said sarcastically. “Bet he gets voted Cop-of-The-Year in his department.”

The partners settled down into the shadows. The evening came on slowly and Hutch found himself wishing he had eaten that taco. He made do with his sack of raisin, sunflower and unsalted peanut mix he kept stuffed in the glove compartment. It was one of the few snacks he could keep around safely, as Starsky wouldn’t touch it no matter how starved he was.

Twilight came and darkness fell. Several quiet hours had passed when a tall shadow appeared suddenly near the front of Jameson’s building. It was male shaped, dressed in torn jeans, sneakers and a stained sweat jacket with hood pulled up over his head. He’d been just visible in the glow of the building’s security lights as he had left the archway. The man made no move toward the cars parked in the area, but paced back and forth on the dark sidewalk

“Vagrant, maintenance or gardener?” Hutch wondered out loud. “He’s sure not dressed for this area at this time of day.”

“Hey, Hutch!” Starsky whispered excitedly, nodding toward the pacing man. “That’s him!”

“Aaron Jameson?” Hutch leaned forward over the steering wheel, trying to get a better look at the pacing man. “How can you tell?”

“It’s his build, his walk,” Starsky replied ecstatically, leaning into the windshield. “He doesn’t walk like someone in tennis shoes. He’s taking small steps and he’s too stiff when he moves, formal, like royalty or somethin’. I’ve been watchin’ him all afternoon, Hutch. I know it’s him!”

“Well,” Hutch grinned, starting the LTD, “looks like we’re slummin’ tonight, Starsky. No fancy clothes or car. Think we’re dressed for the occasion?”

Starsky glanced at their attire and grinned back. “If it’s down and dirty, we’ll fit in fine.”

It was only a few minutes later that a Yellow Cab pulled up and their man got in.

It was a long ride and must have cost Jameson quite a bit, Hutch thought, as their destination took them to the busy red-light district. It was a crowded Saturday night, the streets were packed with cars and jay-walkers and the sidewalks were jammed with people and vibrating with noise. The bright neon lights made this part of the city almost as bright as day. The cab drove down the main strip for awhile, seemingly in no hurry. Hutch was taken by surprise when the taxi double parked in front of one of the adult bookstores and Jameson slipped out and into the store.

Hutch was stuck three cars behind at a stop light. The second the cab door opened Starsky moved. The detective got out in traffic, leaving Hutch at the light. Starsky walked down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, towards the store that Jameson had entered.

After an endless trip around the block, Hutch was able to snag a spot by a hydrant about three car lengths beyond the store. Better make this quick, Starsk, he thought. All I need is a black-and-white to spot me here and write me up.

Hutch debated on leaving the engine running, but decided against it. He might need to take off on foot. He angled himself sideways in the front seat, keeping an eye on the busy sidewalk and the front of the adult novelty store. Midnight Sexpress huh? he thought with amusement. Well, that’s a bit more creative than most.

After ten minutes and three propositions from the local working girls, Hutch was about to abandon the car and stroll by the shop when his partner came jogging out of the store. It only took Starsky a second to scan the street and spot the LTD. Hutch started the car as soon as he saw his partner. Starsky’s ready to roll, he knew with a glance.

“Down the alley! Hurry!” Starsky threw at him before the detective was even halfway into the car.

Hutch gunned the motor and forced his way into traffic by sheer determination. By long experience he knew that no one would argue with a scraped and dented two-tone car for possession of the street. And that’s more than a certain Tomato’s paint-job can boast, he thought with a touch of smugness. Hutch pulled into the alley Starsky indicated, barely clearing trash-lined walls. He turned off the headlights and slowed the car down to a quiet crawl.

“It’s Jameson all right. He got a glimpse of me but didn’t know me.” Starsky leaned forward anxiously in the dark car, a bit breathless. “He hung around the toy department for awhile, but was trying to get the clerk’s attention. The clerk acted like he knew him, but wasn’t happy to see him.”

Hutch had come to the end of the alley and could see a parking lot open up behind the buildings. He stopped before the car reached the edge, keeping in the shadows and used his emergency break so the brake lights wouldn’t show.

“When the payin’ customers left ‘n all that was left was us browsers, the clerk went with him to the back rooms,” Starsky whispered hurriedly. “I ducked into the back ‘n listen at the door and they started arguin’. Jameson sounded scared and the clerk sounded pissed. Jameson apparently wanted an escort somewhere, had to see someone. The clerk finally told him to go out the back and wait for his ride. Then I split, almost had me.” Starsky’s eyes glowed with the close call.

“Better look and see if he’s still there,” Hutch replied softly. “We can’t afford to lose him now.”

Starsky was up and out of the car like a shadow, Hutch having long ago taken the bulb out of the dome light. Starsky moved so quietly and so swiftly that Hutch had trouble making out his partner’s outline. Starsky edged to the corner of the building, squatted and peeked around the edge below eye level. A minute passed, then he turned and carefully picked his way to the passenger door.

“He’s there,” Starsky whispered breathlessly, leaning bodily into the window. “There’s no light, but you can see him movin’ around. He’s pacin’, waitin’ for his ride. Man, we could be parked in the way here,” he added worriedly.

“No, I don’t think so, Starsk,” Hutch answered. “I’ve been around the block. I think this lot’s connected to a larger one around the side of that building, with better street access. I think they’ll come in that way.” Hutch shrugged helplessly. “I’ve got to park somewhere, Starsky.”

“‘Kay, I’ll keep an eye out.” And with that Starsky made his way back to the edge of the building.

They kept their silent positions for about ten minutes before Hutch saw his partner tense. Straining his ears over his own car’s idle and the background noise, Hutch could make out the sound of a car approaching.

Starsky held up a hand, warning him. Then suddenly the curly-haired detective was diving into the car. “Cream colored, Dodge.”

Hutch pulled the car into the small lot and around the building corner. He could just make out the tail-end of the Dodge heading up the street. Hutch again forced his way into the busy traffic a few car lengths down from their target and proceeded to follow the car.

“Did he say what he wanted this meet for?” Hutch asked, tearing his focus from the Dodge. Starsky was watching just as close. “Any idea what’s going on?”

“No, nothing specific.” Starsky answered. “Just that he had to see ‘Him’ again. Jameson really wanted to talk. The clerk didn’t think it was a good idea, but Jameson insisted. Gee, Hutch,” Starsky flashed a quick grin at his partner, “think we’ve got a live one here?”

“Could be, buddy, could be.” Hutch answered. He grinned, feeling alive with the thrill of the chase. We’re finally getting somewhere. Can’t lose him now!

They followed the cream colored Dodge out of the red-light district and toward the outskirts of town. It was a newer area, a higher-class bar, club and theater district. Hutch knew of it as a place for the youthful rich, where you could find the same cheap thrills and women that the red-light district boasted, but here they were dressed in fancier clothes, were more costly and of a better grade. The neon lights were a bit less gaudy, the streets crowded with expensive cars, but these sidewalks were mostly empty. The majority of the action took place within the various night clubs and discos in the area and few stooped to walking any distance.

The Dodge slowed noticeably in front of The Rocket, but bypassed the waiting doorman and parking lot attendants. The driver pulled around the back and Hutch was forced to pull around the corner so that he wouldn’t be seen. The blond found a spot where they could see the rear entrance. Starsky had not taken his eyes off the Dodge.

“They pulled up to the back door and two big guys dragged Jameson in,” Starsky said, filling him in. Hutch could see that the Dodge was still by the employee entrance.

“So, why the ratty get-up?” Hutch asked his partner, settling back into the driver’s seat. “Why couldn’t he just dress up and walk into the front door? He’s apparently got enough money to afford the membership.”

“I guess you don’t drop in on Mr. Big unless specifically invited and escorted.” Starsky answered. “Whoever he is, he must be a cautious man. Could be that Jameson has been ordered not to show his face around here, so he had to get special permission. Any idea on who Mr. Big might be?”

Hutch drummed his fingers on the car door, concentrating. “I’m not sure, Starsk. I think maybe I’ve heard something about The Rocket in passing, maybe on one of our other cases.” He sighed in frustration. “Besides the fact that we probably couldn’t afford the membership, I can’t think of anything else about the place.”

“Gee, Hutch, here we are, all these miles from our usual beat and you don’t have all the crime lords’ names and address’ memorized yet?” Starsky smiled to himself. “You are getting old.”

Hutch flashed him a teasing look. “Hey, last I looked you were still the eldest of this duo, pal. Better watch who you’re calling old around here, or on your next birthday I’ll be sure to buy enough candles to make my point. You wouldn’t want to burn Huggy’s place down, would you?”

Starsky stayed silent for a few minutes, eyes on the Dodge. He sighed, frowning to himself. “Sometimes it feels like I’m old, Hutch. A few years ago I’d be out there connin’ my way past the doorman and lookin’ to rattle the bear’s cage, just to see what the bear could do about it. Now I’m just content to sit in a parked car and watch to see what the bear does when someone else rattles the cage.” Starsky looked at Hutch and Hutch could see the doubt in his eyes. “It that gettin’ old?”

“Starsk,” Hutch answered quietly, “we’ve damn near lived in that stinking bear cage since the day we left the academy. We’ve both got the scars to prove it. I’d say it’s not getting old, it’s just remembering that we’re the zoo keepers and we know damn well what the bear’s going to do. So, we sit back, stay away from its paws and only go in when we have control and backup. Besides,” Hutch gave his partner a meaningful look, “we’re a little out of our league here, this isn’t even our zoo.”

Starsky opened his mouth to reply when the back door of The Rocket opened. The two burly men lead a shaky looking Jameson into the Dodge and the driver pulled away.

“Looks like Mr. Jameson may not have gotten what he wanted.” Hutch commented, pulling the car in line behind the Dodge. “Whatever he was after, looks like the answer was ‘no’.”

“Well, tomorrow we’ll corner Gainer and find out what he knows about The Rocket and Jameson’s spending habits.” Starsky replied with irritation. “Maybe it’s time the good detective learned to share the fun.”

Hutch followed the Dodge back to the red-light district, where Jameson was taken to the back parking lot of the adult store and roughly dumped. Jameson then caught a cab. The detectives followed the cab back to Jameson’s condo and they watched as the apartment lights, left on for the evening, blinked out.

“Well, I’d say we’ve got enough to interest Pasquini,” Starsky said after a few, quite minutes. “Think we ought to stay?”

“No,” Hutch said with a yawn. “I think this zoo’s closed for the night. Let’s go home.”

 

SUNDAY

Sunday morning saw the local precinct fully staffed and busy. One of the few people who would have, and had reason to expect, regular Sunday’s off sat stone-faced and tense at his desk.

Hutch, losing the coin toss, had called the Captain at home in the early morning hours to request the meeting. He and Starsky had reported their suspicions about Jameson to the Captain. Gainer, who had again claimed the office window, did not comment. He was remote and unconcerned.

Captain Anthony Pasquini had always seemed a mild, even-tempered and patient man to Hutch. The Detective had cataloged the Captain as the kind of person who rarely raised his voice, or needed to, but this morning he looked just one breath away from exploding. The Captain looked ashamed and embarrassed that one of his men had been less than open with information needed by his fellow officers and his captain. Hutch wondered just how long the man would go before blowing a fuse.

“Detective Gainer,” Captain Pasquini began quietly, heavily, “were you aware of Aaron Jameson’s spending habits? Did you have knowledge that he has been spending far more than his salary can explain? Did you have some suspicion that he may have been involved in any criminal element, possibly Daniel Wayne or his men?” Captain Pasquini watched Gainer closely, waiting for his response.

Gainer studied his nails, refusing to acknowledge the stares of the two detectives or the anger of his own Captain. “I have had some suspicions, yes, but nothing concrete as of yet. I have been studying the situation and have not found anything worth mentioning. If I had felt you two would have been of any use,” Gainer added smirking at the two Metro detectives. “I would have told you.”

Hutch’s felt his face flush suddenly hot with the implied insult. Just as he opened his mouth to reply in anger, he felt his partner move.

“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean!” Starsky exploded, suddenly at Gainer’s side, eyes rock hard.

Starsky had grabbed Gainer’s arm and jerked him around when Hutch suddenly found himself out of his chair, his own emotions clamped tight. Hutch turned his back to Gainer and put one hand on Starsky’s shoulder. His other hand was placed lightly on his friend’s middle, not restraining, but reminding. Not now, Starsk, he passed along the touch. You’re right, but not now, not yet. Save it for later. Let it go.

Starsky’s eyes never left Gainer, but Hutch could feel the shoulder muscles relax a bit, the intake of a calming breath. “You call an expensive car ‘n condo nothing?” Starsky asked Gainer in a calm but deadly voice. “Where did you think he got the money for them? Discover a money tree or somethin’? We were called to catch some jewelry thieves. What the hell have you been doin’?”

“This is my case, Sergeant Starsky,” Gainer replied quietly, obviously trying to pull his dignity around him like a cloak. He brushed his sleeve, as if he had been soiled by Starsky’s grip. “I’ll decided how it’s handled. You knew that coming in.”

“That’s enough gentlemen!” Captain Pasquini snapped, on his feet and red-faced. “Sit down Starsky, Hutchinson. We will have no more such outburst in my office.” The captain glared at all three of the men.

“We’ve been out of the loop on this from day one, Captain!” Hutch protested, fighting to keep control of his temper now that Starsky had calmed down. “Jameson should have been an obvious suspect from the start and Detective Gainer didn’t see fit to let us know. What the hell were we doing all this time? Someone should of been keeping an eye on his actions and checking out his spending habits and contacts. Just what the hell…”

“That’s enough, Hutchinson!” Captain Pasquini snapped, glaring at him. “Sit down!”

“Captain…!” Hutch threw back, determined to make their case. A rough jerk at his sleeve silenced him. Hutch threw a heated glare at his partner, but caught his breath at Starsky’s glance. Now I’m going to blow it, he thought with chagrin. We’re all on the edge here and I’m not helping.

A long moment passed as the four men let their tempers cool off and the Metro detectives resumed their seats.

“Now if we can all settle down,” Captain Pasquini said, glaring at the two angry men and his stone-faced detective. “Let’s get down to business. Daniel Wayne is the manager of The Rocket,” Captain Pasquini began, talking only to Starsky and Hutch. “It is one of the more popular night spots at this end of town. We’ve had some reports here and there that there is more than a ‘little’ action going on there, prostitution, drug shipments and gambling ,but we’ve never been able to get anyone inside. This seems to be the first tie-in I’m aware of between an Iverson’s employee and his group.” Pasquini paused for a moment, not looking at his own man. “How do you two want to handle it?”

“Hutch and I’d like to run this case a little longer, Captain,” Starsky replied, a determined look in his eyes. “Jameson will give us a new angle to work on. There’s bound to be something we can find out about him that Gainer wouldn’t be able to dig up from his position.” He flashed a challenge at Gainer, but the man was again shutting them out. “We’ve just gotten started in looking at Douglas Kirk.”

“We’ll need to know anything Homicide finds out about Kirk, anything at all,” Hutch added. “Whatever information we get, we could bounce around the store, see who reacts. Maybe there’s a connection between the two we’re missing and that might draw it out.”

“Has Homicide been able to talk to the family yet?” Starsky asked. “There must be something there we can use.”

“They talked to them yesterday.” Captain Pasquini answered. “They’re working on the reports now. Maybe you two ought to go down and see that my copy is on its way up.” Captain Pasquini dismissed them with a wave, his posture radiating anger.

Time to leave Gainer to his fate, Hutch thought with more than a touch of spite. It’s about damn time he got his butt chewed off. Just wish Starsk and I could be a fly on that wall!

“Can you believe that guy, Hutch?” Starsky fumed once they were out in the crowded hall. “He’d hold out milk money from his own kids! I can’t believe the sonofabitch! Man, no wonder that guy works alone, who’d want him? He acts like he’s royalty or somethin’ and we’re the dirty serfs. Like he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth!”

“More like a silver spoon up his ass,” Hutch replied in disgust, heartily agreeing with his friend’s frustrated rant. “I’ve met his kind before, Starsky, so take my word for it. They’ll just drive you nuts trying to deal with them. There’s no use waiting any longer for Gainer to decide to play nice with us. We are just going to have to do it all on our own.”

“Yeah? Like we haven’t so far?” Starsky muttered darkly.

They came upon the Homicide squad room, only mildly crowded and noisy. Neither man recognized anyone from the previous meeting. Hutch shrugged and walked up to the nearest desk to introduce himself. He told the detective what they were after and was informed that Captain Lang had the reports in his office at that moment. They would have to see him. A knock on his door got them invited in.

“Hello Gentlemen.” Captain Lang greeted the two, handing Starsky a file as they entered. “Captain Pasquini told me you’d be picking this up today.”

Hutch perched on the edge of Starsky’s chair and watched as his partner flipped through the file. Captain Lang sat quietly as they both scanned the various reports.

“According to this report, he was married 30 years ago, had two children and was divorced after 10 years,” Hutch read aloud over Starsky’s shoulder. “Wife got custody of the kids and was awarded alimony and child support until the last one turned eighteen. The wife and children lived in this area until five years ago when she and the kids moved down to Florida. No history of any trouble. No unaccounted for cash in the bank, deposit box or apartment.”

“Which accounts for his quiet life from age thirty-five until today.” Starsky muttered leafing through the report pages, “Why nothin’ before then?”

Captain Lang leaned forward on his desk, looking thoughtful. “We’ve called up all the appropriate federal agencies and they’re running a check. It may take a few days to hear back from them. The ex-wife says he had no family. He’d told her he was an only child with no relatives. Parents were dead and he never talked about his childhood.”

“Sounds like a ‘dead’ birth certificate to me.” Starsky muttered, speed reading through the reports. “I don’t see one listed among his important papers. Maybe he was just a sloppy record-keeper.”

“Yeah, we caught that.” Captain Lang nodded tiredly. “Man wants a new identity, he goes down to the nearest cemetery and gets the name of a kid who was born near his own birth date, but died early. Then he sends to the state for a copy of the birth certificate for two bucks and uses that to get all kinds of new ID. After establishing himself again, he gets rid of the certificate because it lists parents and birth location. New ‘legal’ identity, traceable only to a certain point.”

“Did Forensics run his prints?” Hutch asked, knowing the probable answer.

Captain Lang sighed and shook his head. “No, not since we had a positive body ID to start with. I’ve contacted Forensics and they’re doing it now. Maybe we can find out what name Kirk started life under and if we’re very lucky, what he was running from.” Captain Lang massaged the back of his neck and waved them toward the door. “Say ‘hello’ to Captain Pasquini for me when you take the file up.”

Both men were silent as they made their way back to Robbery with the file. They both knew that a prior history for Douglas Kirk could mean one of two things: one, that his past was shady and so was he, or two, that it was used against him as blackmail.

So far, the blackmail theory seems more likely, Hutch thought, smiling a bit as he recognized that his own bias was showing. Guess I’d just hate to disappoint April by having to tell her that her beloved teacher was on the take.

They dropped the report on Pasquini’s desk, the Captain and Detective Gainer gone from the office. Hutch was just as glad not to have to face either one of them, or walk into the middle of a dressing down. Neither he nor Starsky talked on the way down to Hutch’s car, but Hutch knew from vast experience that his partner was busy with an idea.

“Hutch,” Starsky said as soon as he was sprawled comfortably in the LTD’s passenger seat. “I think it’s time we branched out and got into something more lucrative than just guardin’ window dummies.” He gave Hutch a mischievous look.

Uh oh! “And you were thinking of…?” Hutch asked suspiciously, keys halted halfway to the ignition.

“What if we were to decide to open up our own little pharmaceutical business at work,” Starsky suggested. We might get a peek at Trudy’s supplier. That could lead right up to Daniel Wayne and The Rocket. Maybe even…”

“…a nibble at Jameson if he’s using.” Hutch finished. He started up the car and turned for home. “It’s a long-shot, Starsk. And the Captain isn’t going to like us going in first, on our own and then asking for his permission and backup.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure the Captain can adopt to our way of thinking,” Starsky remarked with a shrug. “‘Sides, we don’t even know if we can get in that way. If Trudy turns us down, we won’t need the money or the backup. We may need the connection later.” Starsky flashed a crooked grin at his partner, “And if we can start bringing in some extra bread, I know of this really hot candy-apple red Torino, with this sexy white stripe that would be perfect for our new image.”

Hutch gave his partner a dark look. “Not with my share of the loot, you don’t!”

***

The one good thing about this apartment is that you couldn’t ask for a better view of the street, Hutch thought, relaxing in the breeze from the open window. It was Sunday night and in this corner of the city the streets were packed. Traffic was thick, fast and loud with the heavy thrum of the local rock stations and the sidewalks were crowded people from all walks of life. Hutch was enjoying his birds-eye view.

He could see most of way down both sides of the block and that included the Play-Time strip-club and most of its small parking lot. Even on Sunday, Hutch could see that they were doing a good turn-around in customers. Hope Trudy’s working tonight, he mused, listening to the murmur of the evening. We’re going to have a hard time tracking her down at home. She’s always been secretive about where she lives. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want to talk business there anyway.

“See anything interesting?” Starsky asked from the hallway, not quite dressed.

“Just life passin’ us by, partner,” Hutch replied, his attention still on the scene outside. “What are we looking for tonight? Something heavy, or are we starting slow?”

“We’d better start slow, maybe some pot or hash,” Starsky said after a bit of thought. “We can always work ourselves up to the good stuff later. We just gotta make sure she understands we don’t want to do business here, in this area, unless you really want to start turning people away from our door.”

I don’t even want to think about getting into something like that, Hutch thought with a grimace.

“We packin’ tonight?” Starsky inquired, reaching for his jacket. “Or do we go in naked?”

Hutch thought for a moment. “Better go in naked,” he responded. He could feel a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “We’re not carrying any cash to speak of and Trudy might want to get friendly. A gun might put her off. If you’re really lucky, you might even get to find out where she lives. A personal tour.” Hutch teased, knowing full well that that was the last thing Starsky wanted at this point.

“Well, at least I have someone interested in me.” Starsky snickered, opening the front door. “Not like a certain blond secretary that comes to mind, one that seems to have a blind spot for a certain detective I know.”

“Hey, Sarah’s very interested,” Hutch retorted, grabbing his jacket and following his partner. “She’s just a cautious lady, that’s all.” Well, at least I hope that’s all, Hutch hoped. Somehow, some way I’m going to get Miss Sarah’s attention. He grinned to himself.

Hutch thought it was a great night for walking. The cool evening breeze had blown the smog away from the city and the moon was a bright, thin slash in the sky, barely seen over the street lights. Not quite time to howl, Hutch grinned at the thought. Working the evening shift had never failed to get his adrenaline flowing. He could feel the old rush working its way back into his system, like he was eighteen again.

Starsky had always said that a clear evening, a brisk breeze, a bright moon and fast music made him eighteen again. Hutch had thoroughly seconded the notion, knowing full well that his eighteen and Starsky’s eighteen had been worlds apart.

My eighteen was football, homecoming, drive-ins, band practice and girls, Hutch reflected. My biggest worry was keeping my grades up to Father’s standards and whether he would let me have the car on the weekend.

He knew that Starsky’s eighteen meant working with his uncle on weekends, struggling through a school that didn’t encourage his kind of brilliance, gang wars and protecting the weak from the streets and girls. Never one to back off, Starsky’s biggest worry had been surviving to nineteen as he fought the madness with the heart of Zorro, the Lone Ranger and a father long dead. Yet Hutch knew that Starsky’s memories of eighteen were as sweet and as magical as his own.

Hutch glanced at his partner and could even now see a bit of the eighteen-year-old in his friend’s body, his stride and the glint in his eyes. It’s been a long time getting back to life for you, Starsk, Hutch thought fondly, but more than worth the wait. For us both.

They got within half a block of the strip club before they could hear the blaring back-beat of the club’s sound system. It fairly vibrated the sidewalk, even from that far away. As Hutch got closer, he could see that the parking lot was not only full, but busy with couples and those just hanging around, intent on their own business. He and Starsky made their way through the crowd hanging around at the front and entered the building.

Like other strip clubs, it was dark, smoky and loud. A large stage took up one entire wall and the bar took up the other. There was a heavy crowd seated at the close-packed tables and Hutch scanned the room, noticing Starsky doing the same. It was full of the usual crowd; loners, couples and the club-owned working girls. They both ordered beer at the bar and carried it to a just emptied table near a half hidden door by the stage.

It was a show they had both seen many times before, in many different places. Tall or short, thin or heavy, the dancing and stripping girls all made the same body-jiggling bumps and grinds. The music was so loud that conversation was almost impossible, which left watching the girls and drinking the liquor as the only way to pass the time. It’s not exactly the opera, but at least it’s a diversion, Hutch though, settling down with his beer. Wonder if we should ask about Trudy now, or wait and see if she shows.

Suddenly the music stopped. The absence of sound was such a sudden shock that the audience froze, as if startled. Hutch noticed that even the waiters and waitresses stood still and near silence settled across the room.

What the hell? Hutch looked questioningly at Starsky, who only looked confused and shrugged back.

The lights dimmed to almost black and with a sudden crash of cymbals, the spotlight flashed upon the figure posed on center stage.

It’s Trudy! Hutch thought, startled at her sudden appearance. She was faced away from the audience, hands covered in satin-black opera gloves posed provocatively on shapely hips. Her long brunette hair hung lose and wavy down her back, covering the milky white skin revealed by the skintight black evening gown.

Trudy held the pose for a soundless beat of three and very slowly, with a slight wiggle, turned to the front of the stage. There she paused, hands still on hips, as the audience took in the sight of a silent screen beauty from the past. The music started again, consisting of a single, slow drum beat. And then leisurely, in the manner of her forbearers, Trudy Coates proceeded to strip sensuously down to her tassels and g-string, with style, grace and more than a touch of art.

Down to her tassels and g-string, Trudy held her final pose for a final count of three, then the drum beat stopped. She leaned gracefully in the detective’s direction, slowly bent over and picked up her discarded dress. Both men were gifted with an exceptional view of the total ‘assets’ of the big-breasted lady. Giving a wide-eyed Starsky a wink, she stood, draped the black dress across her shoulder and slowly sauntered off the other end of the stage to sudden, thunderous applause and catcalls.

A few seconds after her departure the loud blare of the music started again and the next dancer made her way out to the front. The club was once again loud, dark and smoky.

“Well,” Hutch said, with a catch in his voice. He caught himself and cleared his throat, staring into his beer to hide the flush of his face. “There is something to be said for doing some things the old-fashioned way.”

“If that was the old way, when did they change it?” Starsky asked, rough voiced and wide-eyed. “And why? I mean, hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. And that ain’t broke.” Starsky looked appreciatively toward the stage. “Do you think she’ll stop by, or will we hav’ta send a message back?”

“After the flash she gave us?” Hutch replied with amusement. “I don’t think she’ll forget we’re here, Dave, or that she plans to ignore us.”

They only had to wait about ten minutes before a fully dressed Trudy wiggled out the employees’ door and took a seat at their table. Starsky signaled for the waitress as Trudy made herself comfortable.

“Oh, man!” she squeaked, grinning from ear to ear. “What a blast to see you guys out here! Man, I’ve been trying for ages to get you guys to come and wouldn’t you know it, just when I was about to give up, here you are.” She paused just long enough to order her usual order and take another breath. “Well, what did you think, too slow or too quiet? You know, no one ever says anything ’til it’s over and I never know what they think the best part is and it’s very important for a true artist to get specific audience feedback on her performance and you know you just can’t trust the other girls to let you know ’cause they are very particular about sharing their secrets so what’d’ya think of the whole thing from a man’s perspective?” She finished breathlessly, beaming at Starsky.

Starsky gave Trudy his most charming smile, but his eyes looked to Hutch with a plea. He couldn’t follow her fast enough to catch the question, Hutch thought in amusement. He’s probably still thrown by her strip tease.

“It was fine Trudy, just fine.” Hutch smiled behind his beer, seeing his partner nod in relief and agreement. “You are a true artist.”

“Yeah, I know, they all say that but what did you like about it, ’cause I really need to know, ’cause I’m due to work up another routine real soon before they all get tired of the old one, but I don’t know what parts to save and what parts are totally boring when it comes to the male point of view, as I’m not a real good judge of what guys like so what?” Trudy rambled, flashing a grin at Hutch, but continuing to watch Starsky.

Thankfully the waitress arrived with their orders, giving Hutch a change to replay her sentence in his mind.

“Trudy, with a gorgeous woman like you, you can’t go wrong with keeping it slow and simple.” Starsky, replied, slipping his arm around the girl. “Have, you got time to visit for awhile, or are we bothering you?”

“Oh my, I don’t go on again for another twenty minutes so I’ve got time to shoot the breeze with you guys, did you come all the way down the street just to see me I hope?” Trudy ran on, barely drawing a breath. “And don’t say you didn’t ’cause then I’d really be disappointed when I’ve been nagging at you so long to come down and watch.”

As Trudy took a larger breath, Hutch cut in before she could get started again. “Dave tells me you’re into a little business in this area Trudy,” he asked as quietly as he could, considering the background noise. “Thinking of moving on?”

“Oh.” Trudy replied, taking her gaze from Starsky, she looked Hutch over quietly. “Well, if Dave trusts you, I guess I can too, yeah, I run some ‘goodies’ in the area and make a good profit at it too, but it’s cutting into my artistic career and I’m gettin’ a little tired of hanging around all the time ’cause a girl likes to get out and do some cultural things once in awhile too, you know?”

“Yeah, Trudy, I told Ken all about it,” Starsky added. “We’ve been thinkin’ ’bout your offer and we appreciate it ‘n all, but we’re wonderin’ if you were set up to get us connected for a different location.”

Trudy shot Starsky a sharp glance. “What do you need another connection for? Another location? I mean, I’m already set up, all the business you could want right here, I mean I don’t want to turn over my whole area or anything but you could start small and I could switch some of my regulars to you guys…”

Starsky gave Trudy’s shoulders a hug, immediately gaining her attention. “Nothin’ personal Hon, but we just don’t like messin’ in our own nest, if you know what I mean.”

Trudy studied him for a minute, then leaned back and sighed. “Yeah, I guess I do, ’cause I don’t deal ’round where I live either. Too bad you guys aren’t interested in local territory ’cause I really am gettin’ tired of the whole laundromat thing, like I got nothin’ better to do with my spare time then sittin’ an’ waitin’ for the cash to come in ‘n keep track of the orders.”

“Can you get us set up with your source?” Hutch asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing the issue too hard. But if he did, he knew Starsky was in a good position to keep it friendly. “All we can do is a beginner’s package at the moment, pot and hash for starters. Dave and I only have a couple’a bills to burn and we need to save up for the big stuff.” Hutch continued, seeing that although she looked tense, she didn’t act like she wanted to run. “Unless you want to carry us for awhile, until we can get the first shipment sold.” He added with what he hoped was a wistful tone of voice.

Trudy was quiet for a moment longer, a serious, stressed look on her face as she suddenly studied her nails. She glanced around the club, obviously checking out the clientele.

“You guys really got a market?” Trudy asked timidly. “I can’t afford to recommend you and have you guys get busted for pushin’ ’cause I don’t know who you’re dealin’ with and have you trip me up in any way, I’m not even sure I can do anything but supply you myself ’til you go big-time and I was lookin’ to get out of some of this, not add to my work load.”

Starsky glanced at Hutch. Better not push, Starsky’s eyes seemed to say. Starsky smiled at the girl. “Trudy, we’re not in a big hurry, a few days will do. We’ve got a couple’a good leads where we work. We’ll be satisfied to start small-time first, then work our way up if we have to. Ken and I would rather work with your supplier though, so we can make our own deals. We’re not against working through you, we just don’t want you to take our heat in case we hit a snag somewhere.”

“Yeah, well,” Trudy murmured with a sigh, suddenly looking older and worn down. “I gotta go now and get ready for my next set ‘n I gotta lotta people comin’ in for their stuff tonight. I’ll pass the word along. See what my people want to do. Let you know.” She was using shorter sentences and Hutch got the feeling that maybe he had pushed too hard. She cast a shy look in Starsky’s direction, leaning to pat his knee, leaning over to whisper in his ear

Starsky did not glance at his partner, but shrugged at the girl he half held. “Could use some bennies and a joint or two.” Starsky said to the girl, obviously replying to the whisper. “I’m gettin’ a bit low, but I’m on the flush side tonight, Doll.” Starsky gave her a shy grin.

“You just take this up to Jay-Jay, the bouncer,” She returned the grin and started to write on a napkin. “He’ll fix you up, Hon, ‘n I’ll even let you have it wholesale ‘n I’ll let you know later ’bout the other stuff.” She leaned over to Starsky, placed the folded the paper into his palm and kissed him on the cheek.

“Sure, Doll. You know where we live.” Starsky patted her arm. He quietly slipped a few bills out of his wallet and folded them into her palm in return.

Trudy tucked the bills into her cleavage, blew him a kiss and disappeared through the stage door.

“Well. I guess I don’t rate ‘First Class’ service around here.” Hutch said dryly, a bit put out that Trudy obviously didn’t trust him. It’s just her way to come on to Starsk, he thought. Either that, or I’ve got ‘Cop’ tattooed somewhere on my forehead.

“I keep tellin’ ya, Ken,” Starsky began, an amused twinkle in his eye, “some warmth and personality could take you a long way in this world. It’s just a good thing I’m on this case.” Starsky opened the napkin Trudy had given him and studied the cryptic writing. “The lovely lady offered to get me anything I need on the cuff, but rather than take advantage of her offer, this dealer-to-be decided to make a purchase instead. And speaking of such, I’ll go meet my new friend Jay-Jay.”

Hutch sat quietly and watched his partner make his way up to the bar. Starsky leaned over the bar and apparently asked the bartender a question. The bartender just pointed a bored shoulder toward a man standing in a dark corner. Starsky walked over to the man, who was obviously expecting him. The large, muscular man glanced at the paper and snapped a reply, then turned and walked through a storage room door by the bar. Starsky leaned back against the dirty, dark wall and waited. Hutch relaxed into his chair and sipped at his beer. He’d been afraid Starsky and the bouncer would have to take a walk to the stash and following a man who was only going to pick up some bennies and a few joints would have looked like over-kill if Hutch had been spotted.

It was only a moment before the bouncer returned and slipped Starsky something small and invisible in the dark. Starsky nodded at his partner and Hutch got up to follow. Without a word, both detectives headed for the door and home. Hutch really hadn’t wanted to stay and see Trudy’s next act if it wasn’t necessary, it was too much like peeking on a friend and he knew that Starsky probably felt the same way.

He would have been more comfortable not having to come here at all, Hutch mused. He’s fond of her and now he’s got to use her to get the job done. Hutch suddenly felt weary, knowing how it felt to betray a trust, even such a small one.

The streets were still busy as they made their way back to their apartment. It was dark and fairly quiet in the room. Hutch flicked on the shabby lamp by the couch and moved to close the window, cutting out the rest of the world while Starsky made his way to the kitchen.

“So, what did you get from Santa, Starsk?” Hutch asked, hoping to lighten the prevailing mood.

Starsky dug the package out of his jeans pocket and Hutch walked over for a look. It was a small popcorn bag, wadded up into a small package. Starsky held it open for his partner to see.

“Enough bennies to keep anyone hyper for a couple’a days and six, no, seven joints.” Starsky jiggled the bag for a better count. “All wholesale.” Starsky sighed, suddenly looking tired. He opened the refrigerator and stuffed the popcorn bag behind some leftovers. “You wanna beer while I’m in here?” he asked.

“Naw, just think I’ll head on into bed,” Hutch replied, catching the start of a yawn. “One of us could end up working dayshift tomorrow and if it’s me, I want a little shut-eye first.”

“‘Kay. Night,” Starsky said quietly, giving his friend a quick pat on the back as he made his way to the couch with his beer. He flipped the TV on, the light off and settled himself comfortably on the couch with the local channel guide.

“You know, Starsky, Trudy reminds me a lot of Sweet Alice,” Hutch said quietly from the hallway. “Both are sweet ladies who deserve better than what they’ve settled for. They’ve gotten their priorities messed up, though.” Hutch watched his friend settle into the comforting darkness, knowing he was listening. “Neither one of them is asking for a way out, Starsk, no matter how many openings we give them. They make their own decisions and have already chosen sides. We just do our jobs, best we can.”

“Yeah, I know,” Starsky answered softly in the TV flickered darkness. “It’s just such a waste of talent. You’d think she could’a been a movie star or a real dancer or somethin’. She really was good out there, Hutch. Graceful and everything.” Starsky was quiet for a moment, then shifted to a sprawl across the couch. He flashed an understanding smile at his friend. “And unless you wanna get drawn into a real good vampire movie that’s startin’ in a minute, you’d better hit the sack now.”

“Gosh, decisions, decisions,” Hutch replied with a chuckle. He turned for his room, knowing his cue to leave. Giving up on people. It never does get any easier, does it Starsk? I guess we should hope it never will.

 

MONDAY

Monday started as usual for Hutch. He awoke naturally at his usual time and had glanced down the hall to see the TV still flickering. A stockinged foot jutting out from the arm of the couch and the deadly quiet from Starsky’s room told Hutch that his partner had manage to fall asleep in front of the TV. Again. He’d been afraid of that.

He’s a big boy now, Hutch scolded himself. I’m not going to feel bad for not checking up on him and I’m not going to mother-hen him for the rest of our lives. Hutch fought the urge to tuck Starsky into bed for a few more hours. One of the hardest things he had ever done was to back off of Starsky’s care when his partner had become capable of doing things for himself. They had struggled to redefine a life for them both, one that allowed for the other’s close company while respecting each person’s individual space. Hutch knew now when he had to back off.

During the middle of his shower Hutch thought he heard the ring of the phone. Maybe it’s Pasquini, he thought, feeling a bit of hope. It’s too early for most anyone else. Maybe we’ve got a break in the case.

Hutch shaved quickly, listening for Starsky’s call in case they had to move fast. He finished up and came padding barefoot and robed into the front room, heading for the coffee maker. “Phone?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Came the sleepy reply, muffled under a couch pillow. “What time is it?”

“Just after 5:45,” Hutch replied, plugging in the pot and digging in the refrigerator for some yogurt. “Pasquini?” he prodded.

“Nope,” Starsky replied through a yawn. “It was Ms Quincy. She’s royally pissed and itchin’ for a fight. Her boss must’ve woken her up with the order to put you ‘n me on days. They want to keep an eye on us.”

“What did they use for an excuse?” Hutch asked. “What are we supposed to have done to deserve the step up?”

“Apparently we’re being hunted by the press and we’re to report in at 8:00 a.m. ‘n keep our mouths shut.” Starsky yawned again and sat up, rubbing at his unruly hair. “They don’t want the media catching us for interviews and this way they can keep us out of circulation during the day. We aren’t to talk to any press at all.”

“Oh, man, I hadn’t thought of that.” Hutch scowled, sitting on a couch arm with his breakfast. “Just what we need, tabloid press following us around, wanting graphic descriptions. We can’t afford to be interviewed. You know if we get our pictures in the paper, we might as well pack it up, we’re not that far from home.” Hutch ate, mulling over the case. “Trudy probably hasn’t connected us with discovering the body. Think she’ll run if our names are mentioned?”

“Naw.” Starsky shook his head. “It might scare her a little, but she feels like she knows us. If her supplier gets skittish, then we might hit a dead end. All we really did was ‘ta stumble on a body and somebody was gonna do it sooner or later. We’d a perfectly legit reason to be there and we’re not even suspects. As long as our store cover holds, we should be okay.”

***

Their arrival at the parking lot at Iverson’s at 7:30 a.m. held an chilling surprise. Along with the other arriving employees, Starsky and Hutch were waved away from the entrance of the employee lot by a uniformed officer. Hutch turned the car and parked in the customer lot and both detectives sat quietly as the coroner’s van was allowed through.

“You get the feelin’ we’re two steps behind ‘n facin’ the wrong direction?” Starsky asked with a sigh. “Guess we should’a been a little early this morning, huh?”

“Starsk, we better do something damn soon to earn our pay.” Hutch gave his partner a solemn look. “We’re gonna look like fools. Any bets on who just ‘retired’?”

“I figure it’s gotta be Jameson,” Starsky answered. “He wasn’t welcomed with open arms at The Rocket the other night. He could be a weak link in their set up.” Starsky paused for a moment. “The station didn’t call us in, so we’d better go in as usual.”

“Yeah. Lucky us, to be part of the ignorant masses.”

Both detectives dug out their undercover ID’s and prepared to walk around the store with the other confused and concerned employees. The uniformed officer gave them both a quick glance and waved them on. When asked if he knew what the excitement was about, the uniformed officer just shrugged his shoulders and ordered them to move on.

Starsky and Hutch re-identified themselves at the back entrance and were directed to the employee break room. It was almost full and they found a table in the back. They sat down next to Kathy Winters from the Toy department.

“Hey, Kathy.” Starsky smiled at her, “What’s up?”

Kathy smiled a little sickly at both men. “Oh, Dave. Ken. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve heard that one of the secretaries found a body just a little while ago.” She glanced nervously toward the front doors, where more employees were being shown in. “I guess it was on the top floor, in an executive office. I even heard…” She bit off, glancing around again nervously, “I even heard that Lois Jones was in hysterics, they’ve had to call a doctor in to calm her down.”

Hutch glanced meaningfully at his partner. “Lois is Royston Collins secretary, isn’t she?” he asked Kathy.

Kathy nodded her head. “I guess she must have found the body. Poor thing!”

“We may have lucked-out on this, Hutch,” Starsky whispered. “If Collins was murdered, then we may be able to place the time. Pasquini must have talked to Collins to get us transferred and he’s probably the one to arrange our transfer with Ms. Quincy. Homicide may be able to pinpoint a single suspect based on the time element alone.”

They were interrupted by Detective Greg Phillips, who signaled the large, full room for silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m Detective Greg Phillips from the Homicide department. I am saddened to inform you that we have had an unfortunate incident this morning and we will need your co-operation. I’m afraid there isn’t any information I can give you beyond that. We already have the names and address’ of those who arrived to work this morning before and around 7:00 a.m. I would ask that anyone who arrived after that time to come forward and give me your names and address’ where you can be reached during the day. We ask that you return home, stay there and we will contact you later.” Detective Phillips looked around at the shocked, astonished faces. “I’m sorry, but Iverson’s will not be opening for business today. Would the dayshift security guards come up first please, we’ll start with you.”

Starsky and Hutch stood with the others. They managed to walk unselfconsciously toward the forming line and both made sure they were last. By the time they got to Detective Phillips, the room had returned to the noisy buzz of speculation and rumor.

Phillips took their ID and pretended to copy the address down on his list. “You two book it on down to the station,” Phillips whispered seriously, not looking at them. “Captain Pasquini wants you to stay undercover for now, but it looks like he’s short one man.” He looked up at them both. “Fatally short.”

The meaning hit Hutch like a brick. Not Collins, Gainer! Wide-eyed, he glanced at Starsky. Obviously his partner was just as shocked as he was. They woodenly took their ID’s back and strode quickly and quietly to Hutch’s car. Neither of them needed to talk on the trip down to the station. Hutch knew they both had the same questions, but no answers. What the hell had Gainer gotten into? Had his cover been blown? And, how safe is ours?

***

Starsky and Hutch found Captain Pasquini standing at his window, looking down into the street. He looked sick and tense. The detectives closed the door quietly and sat down, waiting for the Captain to speak. What do you say to a captain who’s just lost a man? Hutch wondered. He didn’t think there was much that Pasquini really wanted to hear at this point.

“Gentlemen, I have lost a man.” Pasquini’s voice was a firm, quiet and tired. “I will not lose any more.” He turned to look at the men seated in his office. “We are going to close this case, tie up all the loose ends and we are going to get the bastard who killed one of my detective. We are going to do this right.” There was a quiet pause as the Captain sat down at his desk and composed himself for business. “The station desk got a call this morning from Iverson’s security that a body had been found in Royston Collins’ office. He’d been tentatively identified by office staff as Thomas Underwood, which is the undercover name Detective Gainer used. I was called in by Captain Lang to ID Detective Gainer at the scene. Coroner’s best guess at this time is death by repeated blows to the back of the head. He’d been dead some hours. Do either one of you…” Pasquini leaned forward, hands clasped, “…know anything about Gainer’s whereabouts since yesterday afternoon?”

“No, sir.” Hutch answered quietly. “Starsky and I hadn’t talked to him since the meeting yesterday. We didn’t even see him leave.”

Pasquini nodded his head, the news didn’t seem to surprise him. “Gentlemen, Gainer was a good man, but frustrating. He was a man who didn’t like to guess and was a man of habit. He wouldn’t turn in anything until the package was wrapped, bow tied and it was Christmas day. But I was unimpressed with the way he had been acting on this case. I don’t usually interfere with my men’s cases, as I believe that a lot of police work depends on the intuitions of my detectives. But yesterday I ordered him to turn in a report on everything he knew and suspected by this afternoon. Apparently he must have felt he had some lose ends to tie up at the store. You will back up homicide on this, go through Gainer’s desk and apartment. See what notes you can find. Afterwards, turn them over to Detective Phillips and his partner Detective Sanders. Give them all your help on this case, get them up to speed.”

“Did Gainer have any family?” Starsky wondered aloud. “It would help to know before we get started.”

“He was not married, but I don’t know if he was dating someone seriously. You could run into someone at his apartment. I’m sure you and Phillips will handle the situation with tact.” Captain Pasquini paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I want to know what Gainer was working on, what he thought he knew. He had a reason for being at Iverson’s and I want to know what he was looking for. You are to keep up the undercover assignment, on the off chance you may discover something later.”

Hutch caught Starsky’s eye. We’d better tell him about the drug lead. He doesn’t need us hiding anything right now.

Starsky nodded his face looking pained. Yeah, better now than later, but he ain’t gonna like it.

“Uh, Captain…” Hutch started, feeling a bit hesitant. “We had a local dealer contact us last week about setting up shop where we live. We thought it could be useful in the future, so we uh… we, met with the dealer last night… to test the waters. If this pans out, we could see if Wayne is rumored as backing the robberies. This would also be a way to get to Jameson, if he knew we were working with Wayne.” Hutch smiled weakly at the Captain. “Call it a hunch.”

“Oh, really?” Pasquini’s face darkened as he stared at the two men. He obviously didn’t appreciate the surprise information. “Put in an order, did you?”

“We asked for a starter package, Cap’n,” Starsky said. “They’ll let us know if they can deal or not, pretty soon. Look Cap’n, it was just a thought… a long shot. We don’t even know if Wayne is the main source for our area. We just poked around a little last night and we were gonna tell you today.”

Pasquini turned his chair and stared out the window for a moment. “We may need a way into Wayne’s playground after all. Our men were not able to get a tail on Jameson yesterday. He didn’t return to his apartment last night and he didn’t park at The Rocket or any of his other possible hang-outs. We’ll all be very interested to see where he says he was. Follow up on the drug angle, see if you can get to Jameson, but let Narco in on it.” Pasquini smiled tiredly. “Where are you supposed to be selling?”

“At the store.” Hutch answered.

Captain Pasquini was silent for a few more minutes. “How much play money do you need?”

“Couple’a hundred Cap’n,” Starsky replied. “Maybe more later.”

“Dobey told me you two like to play it fast sometimes, push the odds.” Captain Pasquini filled out a departmental voucher and handed it solemnly to Starsky, who was nearest. He gave them both a forceful stare. “Call in your positions, make your reports, ask for backup. Don’t be heroes gentlemen, we don’t need that here.”

Hutch glanced at Starsky and he could tell they were thinking the same thing. They both nodded to the Captain and left.

We don’t need to be heroes, Captain, both detectives had thought. We don’t want it either. But they wouldn’t shy away from giving what it took. They never had.

***

Starsky and Hutch made their first stop at Narco and filled one of the detectives in on Trudy’s setup. Hutch did the honors, knowing how Starsky felt about her. They weren’t surprised to find Trudy Coates was on the list of local dealers associated with Daniel Wayne and his organization. While reticent with their own information, both of the Metro detectives got the impression that she was on Narco’s possible ‘contact’ list. They were promised Narco’s full co-operation.

The next step was to cash in the departmental voucher for the $250 Pasquini had authorized them. Since Starsky was the sure connection to Trudy, Hutch hadn’t even pretended to jockey for the cash.

Which left the one job neither man had been anxious to start, the inventory of Detective Gainer’s desk. They both grabbed quick sandwiches and coffee before tackling the awkward job.

It had taken Starsky and Hutch only a few minutes to complete the painful business of collecting Gainer’s personal items. The Robbery squadroom had been still and silent during the procedure, paying quiet homage to the passing of a fellow detective. A man’s whole career and all it boils down to is one large, brown cardboard box, Hutch pondered. I almost with we could have known him better, even if we didn’t see eye-to-eye.

They had been assigned one of the smaller interrogation rooms to go through the items. They sorted the items between them and settled down to reading and scanning. Hutch was struck by Gainer’s neatness. A day-book, filled with small, almost typewriter-quality handwriting spoke of a man who had a passion for neatness and order. Instead of half sentences and odd words or phrases in the margins, Hutch found only full sentences and otherwise pristine paper.

Pages and pages of beautiful print, Hutch observed. Just like my handwriting used to be, a million years ago. He’d chided Starsky about his ‘inferior’ handwriting once, in their early days.

Both Cadets were putting the long night to good use, cramming for the upcoming Police Academy exams scheduled in the next couple of days. This could be a make or break proposition and both Kenneth Hutch and David Starsky had been determined to earn top score. It was a favorite, but serious, game which the third part of the famous ‘Corsican Brothers’ had refused to play. John Colby much preferred to spend his free time with the ladies, rather than worry about tests. To the rest of their class’ amusement, the two contenders for top honors always chose to study together. Whether it was simply to work together, be supportive, scope out the competition, or psyche each other out, no one could quite decide. It was certainly debatable if the two Cadets themselves knew or understood the reasons they chose to tackle their assignments together.

“Come on, Starsky!” Hutch grumbled tiredly, rubbing his eyes and trying to read Starsky’s notes. The blond cadet been having more trouble than usual in one of the more important fieldwork classes and hoped that borrowing Starsky’s notes might help to pull him through. Starsky’s notebook was packed with fast-paced and cramped handwriting. Short, cryptic remarks and sentences that ran down the side of the page and ended up here and there were typical. “How the hell can I read this stuff?” Hutch complained. “You know, Starsky, that neat and legible handwriting is the sign of an orderly and disciplined mind. ‘A necessity for police work’.” Hutch quoted his favorite professor. “This stuff is chicken scratch. Now, what does that say about the way your mind works?” Hutch tossed the notes down, feeling more than a bit superior, if frustrated.

Starsky shrugged, intent on his own book. His papers lay scattered around and across the table he shared with his fellow cadet. “Listen, Hutchinson, it’s a fact of life. If anyone’s got the time to organize, outline ‘n turn out notes like some damn printing press, then he’s not thinking.” Starsky grinned at the other cadet. “A cop has to be constantly moving ‘n studying what he’s hearing and seeing, tying it all together in his head. Clues don’t get strung about in a nice, orderly fashion you know. You’re going to be lucky if you trip over some of ’em. It takes inventiveness, instinct and gut feelings to go from one clue to the next. Those notes there,” Starsky tapped his notes with a pencil, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “reflect a mind grabbing information ‘n going places with what it’s got. Perfect for the action-packed life of a cop. Besides, if your ‘pretty’ notes are so much better than mine, then how come you’re not using ’em?”

Hutch realized, to his chagrin, that Starsky was right. His own notes might win a handwriting competition, but all they truly said was that he had understood very little of the instructor’s lesson. Hutch vowed to himself that he’d spend the rest of the night, if necessary, learning to read the results of Starsky’s break-neck thoughts and sudden inspirations.

By the early morning hours Hutch had grudgingly come away with a new admiration for the curly-haired cadet’s quick and thorough mind. But no way was he going to tell him that, Hutch decided, although he had a sneaky suspicion that his fellow cadet already knew.

 

In later years, Hutch had found himself leaving his own brand of cryptic, lopsided and haphazard notes. No time to be neat anymore, not when you’ve finally gotten hold of something and are close to pinning down the bad guys. He smiled to himself. Good thing Starsky and I can decipher each other’s cryptic notes. No one else would ever be able to figure it out. Of course, that didn’t stop him from taking a dig at Starsky’s writing once in awhile, for old time’s sake.

But all this precision just documents the obvious and boils down to nothing, Hutch sighed. Wanting to test his impression, Hutch slid the daybook over to Starsky, who had been studying a personnel file Gainer had apparently copied and taken to the station-house. “Tell me what you think, Starsky,” Hutch said.

Starsky put down his file and glanced through the last few months of the daybook. He shrugged and tossed it back. “Dates, places and times of fellow employees arrivals and departures. A basic list of their work habits. We could’a gotten that from scannin’ the time cards and talkin’ to their supervisors. Looks like he didn’t leave anything but ‘meat and potatoes’ detectin’ behind.” Starsky handed Hutch the file. “He’s got a copy of the employee files of all the Jewelry lab technicians and the cleaning schedules for that area, but he hasn’t put in any notes, or written anything down. It’s all just standard stuff as far as I can tell.” Starsky sighed.

“Six weeks and he’s got nothing here,” Hutch remarked, his frustration growing. “He’s got almost everyone listed, so we have no idea who he supposed to have been interested in. But you notice who’s missing in all this?”

“Aaron Jameson, the man we should’a been told about right off and April Sims, his store informant,” Starsky replied, looking as if he had tasted something sour. “If he didn’t mention them, there’s no telling what he had up his sleeve. Hutch, we’d better drop all this stuff off with Homicide. I have a feeling if we find anything, it’s gonna be at his place. He was too paranoid to leave anything around here. Let’s see if Phillips is free. Man,” Starsky bust out, “I hate not being in Homicide on this. This is now a double murder case, ‘n you know it’s gotta be tied into the jewel robbery, but we’re second fiddle now to Captain Lang’s men. We’ll be lucky if they let us have the time of day once they feel we’re steppin’ on their toes.”

“I don’t think so, Starsk,” Hutch replied honestly. He knew what his partner meant. No department likes to work with another anymore than necessary. It all boiled down to protocol, pride and whether the Captains got along. “I liked Greg Phillips. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders and he didn’t kick up a fuss about us visiting April Sims.”

“He also hasn’t seen us since then,” Starsky answered, gathering Gainer’s lose files. “For all we know, we’re both on his shit list.”

“Maybe not,” Hutch said, feeling Philips was worth the defense. “I was pretty impressed with what I saw. He didn’t seem like a glory-hog, just did his job and was pretty laid back. I haven’t talked to Sanders though. You know what the new guys can be like. Let’s go see if they want to ‘tag along’.”

Homicide Detectives Greg Phillips and Robert Sanders were at their desks. They appeared to be slogging through the familiar process of witness lists, crime scene notes and all the other ‘standard procedure’ routine work generated by any Homicide case. They both looked haggard and were working quietly, showing the seriousness of a Detective’s death.

Sanders, the younger partner, was obviously not pleased to see the two detectives from Metro. He flashed them and the cardboard box a dark look as they came in. Sanders sat stiffly at his typewriter at their approach, but he seemed to wait for Philips to take the lead.

His toes are being stepped on, Hutch noticed with slight amusement. New guys are always overly sensitive to cross-cases. He’s afraid we’ll end up taking credit for their work.

Phillips just glanced up at them tiredly and waved them over to the nearest chairs. “So, how’d it go guys?” he asked as if he knew the answer. “Find anything interesting?”

Starsky slid the box under the table and straddled a chair next to the friendlier detective. Hutch settled on the edge of the table, trying not let his amusement show. Sanders was trying to glare at Starsky. Thank God for one thing, Hutch smiled to himself, I never had to try to look ‘severe’ with freckles….

“Think we’d find anything?” Starsky asked, obviously curious as to the answer.

“Really? No,” Phillips replied a bit sadly. “Gainer had worked Homicide for awhile when he first started here. He was never known to be a team player.” Phillips sighed, obviously not liking to bad-mouth the dead. “He didn’t get along with anyone and went through a lot of partners. He never asked for help and was careful to keep his sources and notes hidden, even from his current partners. He always acted like the rest of us were out to steal his brownie-points. It got so bad that he was transferred to Robbery, where he could run solo without hurting anyone. It wasn’t a step up for him and he knew it. It just made him worse.” Phillips shook his head sadly.

“Well, we struck out with his notes, that’s for sure,” Hutch remarked. “They read like a set of fake books a person saves to show the IRS. Everything’s there, but what Gainer himself was following up. We’re thinking of heading on to his apartment. You guys want to tag along?”

It was, of course, a trip to be conducted under Homicide’s jurisdiction and Hutch asking them along was just another way of asking if they were ready to go yet. Hutch glanced at his partner and notice Starsky fight with a smile. Detective Sanders must have taken it as a claim on Homicide’s territory as he went red at the question. Sanders had glanced sharply over at Phillips, apparently expecting him to make some kind of grand-stand over procedure.

Not much of a ‘share the work’ type yourself yet, are you, Sanders? Hutch thought. The good ones usually drop that attitude quickly, if they have the right teacher. It’s a good thing he’s with Phillips. Phillips seems to be just the one to teach him the value of team-work, on all levels.

Phillips eyed the box of items from Gainer’s desk and looked over at his partner, eyeing the report-in-progress. “Yeah, I think we can handle that ’bout now. Sanders can take Gainer’s items down to storage-lockup and I’ll grab a few odds and ends here. We’ll meet you out back in the parking lot in, oh, say ten minutes. Your car or mine?”

“Yours!” Starsky interjected quickly and loudly, smiling at Phillips. “I wouldn’t put a serial killer ‘n the back of Hutch’s car. It would be cruel ‘n in-human.” He chuckled at Sanders’ shocked look. “Or maybe we should show Sanders your car, Hutch. Let ’em know what to drive when he goes undercover as a penniless derelict.”

“That’s ‘inhumane,’ Starsky,” Hutch huffed, passing the box over to Sanders. “And it’s better than being chauffeured in a moving embarrassment every day. At least I don’t have a fit every time someone gets their fingerprints all over it.”

Hutch tuned out Starsky’s automatic reply as they made their way through the department’s door. He flashed a glance at Sanders who was leaving with the box, looking perplexed. Don’t take this job too seriously, kid, Hutch thought to the younger man, or you’ll end up a tight-ass like Gainer. Make good use of the lighter moments, they get fewer and farther between.

Hutch knew that he and Starsky could look strangely at odds with each other to those who didn’t know them well. Most partners worked out a healthy working relationship without becoming real friends. With him and Starsky, their friendship and partnership were one and the same thing and it worked itself out in strange ways sometimes. It was the jokes, puns, tricks and personal humor that kept them sane and in tune to the other’s moods and thoughts. Plus, it tended to drive Dobey crazy, which was always bonus if you were quick to make yourself scarce afterwards.

True to his word Phillips met them in the lot after ten minutes, which gave Starsky and Hutch time to play ‘pick the car’. Phillips led the two detectives over to his car, missing Starsky’s aggrieved look as they both realized Hutch had won, having picked Phillips’ ‘probable’ car out of the lot. They piled in, Phillips called in his impending trip to Dispatch and Sanders arrived soon after.

It was a quiet journey. Hutch was trying to think of some small talk when Phillips broke the silence.

“Gainer never talked about his private life much,” Phillips said, “but I checked his files and found him listed as single. I know he dated for awhile there, but don’t know if he’s been seeing anyone seriously. We could run into someone in the apartment. If so, we’ll have to be careful in how we handle the situation. If we push it, we may end up doing more paperwork in order to get a search warrant, depending on who’s listed on the lease.”

“I did call the landlady,” Sanders chimed in with a touch of pride. They were the first words Hutch had heard from him that day. “Gainer was the only one listed on the lease and the landlady wasn’t aware of anyone else living with him.” Sanders leaned sideways in the seat to see the two in the back and smiled. “She seemed surprised that we would think she would ‘allow such a thing.’ But I was able to talk her into letting us in anytime we needed to look at the apartment.”

“Well,” Hutch responded with a grin, “sounds like we have a charmer here, guys.” He watched Sanders ears start to turn pink.

“Hey, Phillips,” Starsky said, getting into the teasing, “how did such an ugly guy like you get the department Romeo for a partner?”

Phillips smiled as he pulled up to an almost-overgrown apartment complex. “They had to balance us out somehow, guys. You can’t let a lady-killer like Sanders run loose without something to hold him back. And I’m just the guy to do it.”

The three men turned their chuckles in to straight faces, as they exited the car. It was a short walk to the building and they found it a quiet area. It was shaded from the streets by a jungle wall of shrubbery and trees, with dark stone paths running from one building to another. The ‘Manager’ sign led to a bright and cheerful office.

The landlady agreed to let Detective Sanders and ‘his men’ in without hesitation. It was always a solemn occasion, entering a dead person’s apartment, but entering the department of a dead detective was even more sobering.

Like your mother telling you to put on clean underwear, every time you go out, Hutch pondered, taking a first look around. You never know when someone’s gonna see the private side of you. The things that you really wanted to stay hidden. It struck Hutch as he looked around that he had never worried about what others were going to think about him when he was gone. Starsky wouldn’t let anything personal get out. By the time he got through with my belongings and my life, everybody would think I was clean-freak and a saint. Hutch hadn’t realized until now what a comfort that was.

Phillips cleared his throat uneasily. “Well, gentlemen, I suggest we split up. Starsky, Hutchinson, you two take his desk, since you’re the ones most familiar with his work notes. Sanders and I will run a rough inventory through the rest of the house, just in case. Let us know if you find anything.”

The Metro detectives found Gainer’s work desk situated in a corner of his bedroom. It, like the rest of the house seemed more like a hotel room rather than a place where someone had lived. Everything was neat and clean and it it’s place. Not a hair or sock out of alignment. Hutch sat in the desk chair and Starsky sat cross-legged on the carpet, pulling out the bottom drawer.

The desk was neat to a fault. A blotter, phone, address book, pencil, notepad and desk calendar were all neatly arranged on the top. Hutch lifted the blotter and checked out the underside. If Gainer was paranoid about his work notes, no telling where he could have written things down. Hutch replaced the blotter and started on the calendar. Where would one tight-assed, paranoid cop keep his secret work notes? And will we need a decoder ring?

Starsky had pulled out and was looking through what looked like current bills and phone records. “Nothing here,” Starsky said, tossing the paperwork back into the drawer. It wasn’t until he got to the third drawer that Hutch felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Hey, Hutch, look’t this! I’ve found his journal.” Starsky glanced through a plain colored, hard-bound book. Hutch could see what looked to be Gainers’ close-packed writing.

“No kidding?” Hutch replied, waiting for Starsky to finish scanning the pages. “What’s it say on the front, ‘Daily Journal’?” Hutch asked sarcastically.

“Yep,” Starsky answered, turning toward the last entry. “No foolin’. It’s all the stuff he should’a been keepin’ at the office. Who he saw, what he thought and a list of informants with address’ ‘n numbers in the back. Hey Phillips!” Starsky bellowed, getting up and headed for the front room with Hutch close behind.

“Yeah?” Phillips asked hopefully.

“We’ve got it!” Starsky replied, waving the journal. “Hutch ‘n I’ll need a copy of the past couple’a months, ‘n we can do that back at the department.”

“Good enough, guys,” Phillips smiled tiredly. “Let’s go. We can do the rest later. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The trip back was faster. The four of them managed to badger the main office staff into making four copies of the last three months of the journal. They picked up Gainer’s box from storage/lockup and took over one of the interrogation rooms.

The journal proved a day by day account of Gainer’s personal discoveries and theories. In it they found the names of April Sims, whom Gainer had listed as his informant at Iverson’s. Aaron Jameson consisted of several pages. Apparently the man had a rocky credit history, but he had built up an ever increasingly lavish lifestyle. His spending patterns had been erratic, but he seemed to have curtailed his bigger splurges after the robberies started. The biggest surprise was when they came upon an entry dated three weeks before the last robbery. Gainer had trailed Jameson to a strip-club called ‘The Play-Time, where Gainer had witnessed an apparent drug transaction that involved the club bouncer. Gainer had noted that money had not been exchanged at the time, so he couldn’t testify to anything in court.

“Damn!” Starsky exploded slamming his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “Look, Hutch! We were right there in the same neighborhood. All those weeks of nothing goin’ on and we could’a been playing that angle!”

“What angle?” Phillips asked, staring up from his copy. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Hutch told Phillips the whole story about Trudy Coates and her laundromat deals.

Phillips rubbed his face and shrugged. “Welcome to the world of Lonnie Gainer gentlemen. God’s gift to police work.” He paused a few moments. “Well, as far as I can tell, we don’t have much more than what we started with. We’re just playing catch-up. Gainer knew Jameson was into something dangerous and might be connected to Daniel Wayne and his organization. Someone or something was paying his expensive bills. Jameson either made his connections or drug purchases through Ms. Coates, who seems to be the largest local supplier in the store’s area. Could be Jameson made quick lunch trips to the laundromat or strip-club to make his connections, then was back at the store in time for his next meeting.”

“Jameson must have some kind of access to the security department, right?” Sanders asked, then looked sheepish, like he was afraid he had sounded stupid. “I mean he’s the head honcho’s secretary, right? Then wouldn’t he have a way to get to what the security department was doing?”

“And Gainer was also looking into the death of Douglas Kirk,” Hutch mused aloud. “I read the last few entries. He was sure Jameson must have been blackmailing Kirk to do something with the jewels and Kirk backed out. We know that Kirk had access to the jewelry coming in from overseas, but his information on the actual shipments was sketchy. He would spot-check the items and he and his technicians would sort them for shipment, but other than knowing what store was getting what, he didn’t have anything to do with the shipping arrangements or security procedures. He just locked the stuff up until he was told to get it ready to go.”

“It’s gotta be somethin’ April saw,” Starsky continued. He tossed his copy on the table and stretched. “She said he started yellin’ when she noticed somethin’ in the vault. What was Kirk like to the other employees? The technicians? Did he have screaming fits?”

Phillips nodded to Sanders, letting him take the lead.

“Well, uh,” Sanders began, obviously trying to remember the reports. “Kirk had about twenty employees working for him and we’ve just be able to talk to about 13 of them. The others are on vacation or off for the weekend. They don’t seem to know much, other than Kirk was tense and nervous the last few months and they all seemed shocked that he and April apparently had a ‘falling out’.” Sanders glanced at Phillips, as if wondering if he should continue. Phillips just nodded. “So far, no one noticed anything weird about the merchandise coming in. And some of them were kinda glad that April wasn’t hanging around anymore. They seemed to be kinda stuck up about their lab and a lot of them didn’t think she was qualified to be there.”

“Just jealousy as far as we can tell,” Phillips cut in. “They didn’t seem to have anything against her personally and it didn’t seem to have anything to do with her messing around with anything she shouldn’t have been into.”

“It must be Jameson.” Hutch added after a few minutes silence. “He’s got to be the connection. Jameson and Liston go overseas. They make all the big purchases. They come back, without the merchandise. When the stuff arrives, they don’t see it or handle it. It goes straight to Kirk’s department. If Jameson was doing something, he was doing it under his boss’ nose, without having touched the stuff and he needed Kirk to pick up the ball from there.”

“Liston and Collins both know we’re under,” Starsky interrupted. “Liston may have let us in, but that doesn’t mean he’s not the security leak, or that he and Jameson didn’t set all this stuff up together.”

“Could Liston be in on anything shady?” Phillips asked. “He could have some connections we don’t know about. What’s the word on him?”

The Metro detectives shrugged. “We haven’t seen anything so far and Gainer doesn’t seem to have anything on him,” Starsky replied. “If Liston was the source, or had some connections, he’s visible enough that we’d have been able to find some kinda of mark on him somewhere. But we can’t rule him out.”

“What I don’t understand,” Sanders sighed, tossing his pencil down on the table, “is why drag Kirk into anything anyway? If you have a source for the shipment information, why would they need Kirk? You just steal the stuff. What was so special about those items? What were they, priceless moon rocks or something?”

“Fakes,” Hutch answered. “I figure they must have been fake to have tipped April off. Something was wrong with a least one piece. But other than that…”

“Kickbacks!” Starsky exclaimed suddenly, startling the room by jumping to his feet. “Listen! If you steal jewelry, unless you can deal it yourself, you gotta have a fence. That fence isn’t gonna give you more than squat compared to the retail value of the item. Right? Then he passes it on and he gets his profit and so on. But the guy who originally stole it always gets the shaft. He can’t sell or pawn it legally, but he took the heat to get it. Same with the big guys, as they have to take a lower price than what the next guy can get. But to steal fake or sub-standard stuff would be real stupid. No money anywhere in that. So what if the shipments that were stolen weren’t taken for their value, but to hide the fact that they weren’t valuable at all?”

“I’m lost.” Sanders replied, looking confused and more than a little defensive. “None of that makes any sense.”

“No, no, look,” Starsky continued, pacing with excitement. “Jameson and Liston go overseas. They shop around and order massive quantities of the real good stuff. The store pays part now, part on delivery, when the items are inspected. But Jameson makes a deal, say, without Liston knowin’ ’bout it. He arranges for ’em to throw in fake or damaged stuff and he and the supplier split the difference between what the store paid for and the cost of the stuff they really sent. Big bucks with deals this big. More cash than you’d get from a fence for those same items. Kirk knows it’s comin’ in and’ll pass it along, making sure it all gets shipped to the same store. That store never gets the stuff, ’cause it gets robbed on the way in. Jameson gets a wad of cash and gets home before the stuff even arrives. The fake stuff has gotta be stolen, so no one finds out the store didn’t get what it paid for.”

“Which would explain why nothing’s been found.” Hutch smiled, picking up on his partner’s brain-storm. “If they’re fakes, there’s no use bothering with them. Just chuck them in a box or toss them in the ocean. We know Jameson spends more than he makes. He has a drug connection. He probably owes Daniel Wayne some big money. He comes back from overseas with the money to pay Wayne off, blackmails Kirk into playing along and somehow tips Wayne off to the shipments. Wayne has the connections and the manpower to pull the robberies off and gets to pocket Jameson’s kickback money, keeping Jameson in place to run the scam over and over again.”

“It might work for one or two robberies,” Phillips added, scratching his face thoughtfully. but you couldn’t keep it up very long. I don’t think they make the buying trips that often. And keeping track of the incoming and outgoing shipments would get to be a monster.”

“Well, Kirk’s death means that someone didn’t want him around anymore,” Starsky remarked. “Either he was backing out on his part, or his part was over. As nervous as he was toward the end, he must have known he was in danger. He may have been kicking about being blackmailed, wanted a bigger cut of the cash, or was afraid he’d be taken out.”

“Any idea on when we’ll have a reply on the fingerprint check for Kirk?” Hutch asked Phillips.

Phillips thought for a moment. “I know the prints were sent out first thing this morning. It takes awhile. If we’re lucky we might hear something by tomorrow afternoon.”

“What about Jameson? Where does he say he was last night?” Hutch questioned.

Phillips looked at his notebook. “Detective Sumners was to talk to him this afternoon, let me go and see where he is and what he’s got.”

Phillips left the room and the other three took advantage of the break to stretch and move about. It wasn’t long before the detective returned smiling.

“Gentlemen, I think we’ve found something,” Phillips announced, looking pleased. “According to Sumner’s report, he talked to Jameson first thing this morning, careful to not let him know he was one of the first on our list. It seems Jameson has been spending quite a lot of time in the company of Ms. Marcia Quincy.” Phillips nodded toward Starsky and Hutch. “That Wally friend of yours was right when he saw them in the car together. I guess they’ve been dating on the sly for some time and last night he apparently stayed the night. He stayed the entire evening and night it seems. He has an alibi for Sunday from about 3:00 p.m. ’til 6:30 a.m. this morning.”

“She’s Head of Security of the local Branch of Iverson’s,” Starsky told Sanders with a grin as he saw him check his notes. “Our beloved boss, ‘n one step down from Royston Collins. She only handles the in-store stuff, which doesn’t cover the jewelry transportation.”

“And if anyone could get the security information needed to rob a shipment, Quincy could,” Hutch added. “If she felt it was to her advantage. But I would have guessed that she wouldn’t have settled for Jameson. She’s more likely to cultivate someone with more clout. Like a board member. Jameson couldn’t do much for her at the store.”

“But she would make our connection,” Phillips remarked. “It’s a pretty convenient alibi for them both. But Sumners seemed to think Ms. Quincy was none too happy to have been used as an alibi for anyone. Seems she doesn’t like her playmates known around work and is afraid it’ll get around. It seems Mr. Jameson may be out one girl friend.”

“So, where do we go next?” Sanders questioned.

“It’s after 6:00 p.m. now.” Phillips sighed and stretched. “We’ll let the evening shift trace down all the other store employees and take their statements. Give them something to do. You and I’ll call it a night.” He stood and started to gather his things, nodding toward Starsky and Hutch. “You guys keep your ears open at the store tomorrow. I hear they’ll open as usual, so you’ll get to field all the gossip. Maybe we can put both ends together and get this done the easy way for once. Just watch your backs.”

They all parted company amicably after checking in all of Gainer’s belongings.

“Time for dinner!” Starsky announced to his partner as they made their way to the visitors lot. If anyone asked, they were just here paying off Ken’s parking tickets.

“You just ate, Starsk,” Hutch replied, checking his watch. “I saw those candy bars in the hallway, you know. If we wait for awhile, we could check around the Play-Time and have a late bite at home.”

“I said dinner,” Starsky replied with force, taking his place in the LTD. “Not a ‘snack’, not a ‘bite’, but a full-fledged, sit-down-’til-I’m-wedged-in-the-chair meal. I need something heavy, with lots of meat and calories. Besides, we shouldn’t be out and around tonight. Trudy will get nervous if we push.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Hutch sighed. “We’d better take a break if we’re going to be house-sitting for awhile. And early dinner and straight home then. And since it’s your night to cook, I vote it’s your treat.”

“Fine,” Starsky replied with a mischievous glance. “But don’t be surprised to find you’re on a new diet consisting of water, a small salad and a an orange slice for dessert.”

***

After a dutch dinner of steak, potato and salad, the detectives made their way back to their apartment for the evening. Starsky had relented and they came home with a box of donuts, his treat, for dessert. They had settled down to a quiet evening of TV and reading. Starsky had seemed thrilled with the evening’s TV lineup, claiming he had missed all the good stuff by working nights.

After finding a comfortable reading position while sharing the lumpy couch with his partner, Hutch ignored both him and the TV and blissfully escaped into the written word for the evening, munching contentedly on a whole-grain, low-sugar donut.

It was just after 10:00 p.m. when they both jumped at the timid knock at the door. Glancing around quickly, Starsky made sure everything was ready and took in Hutch’s nod. He opened the door to find Trudy standing shyly in the hallway.

“Hey, Doll!” Starsky gave her a brilliant smile. “Come on in.”

Hutch moved over to the windowsill when he saw it was Trudy. No use me getting close enough to make her nervous, Hutch thought. She’s definitely Starsky’s girl.

“Hey, Guys! Only got a few minutes.” Trudy gave them both a smile. As usual, her eyes were all for Starsky, who waved her toward the couch. She glanced around, obviously taking in the sad state of the apartment and their meager belongings. She nodded slightly to Hutch, then took a seat on the couch. She absolutely beamed when Starsky settled next to her. “I talked to my people and they are interested in some new areas,” she said. “They were real interested in seeing what you guys can do around the store.”

“That’s great, Trudy!” Starsky put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a half hug. “Ken and I really appreciate you goin’ to bat for us. What’s the set-up?”

“First thing, guys, is I’m out of it.” She glanced uneasily at Hutch, who flashed her a sweet smile back. “I don’t know you guys from Adam when it comes to buyin’ and sellin’ and you’ll make your pickups from Troy, he’s the night manager of one of the 24-hour porn shops down on the strip ‘n Troy is expecting you ’bout 1:00 a.m. to get you started so don’t be late ’cause it makes him real nervous so be real nice and don’t get smart with him.” She paused and drew a breath and both of the guys found themselves gasping with her. “It’s right down on the strip and it’s called the Midnight Sexpress down on Mitchell, it’s, you know, real easy to find, but don’t be obvious or try to talk to him while he’s busy, just tell him you’re Dave and Ken, Trudy’s friends and you wanna know if he’s got any of the really kinky magazines, then he’ll know who you are ‘n what you want.”

Starsky flashed Hutch a quick glance. They had both caught the name of the shop. It was the same porn shop Jameson had gone to Saturday night to make his connection to Daniel Wayne’s men. We just got a key to the treasure chest! Hutch grinned. Time to go for broke, Starsky.

“Listen Doll, we’ve got some definitely interested people and some nibbles at the store, but we don’t wanna step on any toes,” Starsky said to Trudy, keeping his tone light. “We think we’ve got a clear field, but there’s a guy at the store we saw…” He let the sentence go, gesturing toward Hutch to catch the other end.

“If we’ve got competition, Trudy, we’d like to know it now,” Hutch said quietly, looking seriously at the girl. “We wouldn’t appreciate having to share territory.”

Trudy suddenly stiffened. “I don’t know who you’re taking about, you two are the only ones I know who even come close to covering that…” She began, starting to wring her hands. She glanced pleadingly toward Starsky.

She knows something about someone at the store, Hutch thought. She’s scared to let us in. Or she’s been ordered to stay quiet.

Starsky, with an arm still around her shoulder, gave Trudy a pat on the back. “It’s a big-wig named Jameson, Aaron Jameson that we’re concerned about, Trudy.” Starsky shrugged, “If he’s in the big time, heavy stuff, we just want to know to stay out of his way, leave his customers alone. We wouldn’t want to piss him off by undercutting him.”

Trudy relaxed a bit, studying the floor. Obviously trying to decide what she could or should say. She sighed. “Listen guys, he’s heavy, but not with the drugs, as far as I know, you’ve got a clear field and you don’t have to worry about cutting in on him or anything like that, since he doesn’t sell, but….” She suddenly cut herself off and glanced at Starsky.

“You mean he works for the boss too?” Starsky asked casually. “All of us just Mr. Wayne’s employee, huh? One big, happy family.”

It was as if a balloon suddenly deflated and Trudy relaxed back into Starsky’s arm.

She’s off the hook now, Hutch mused, Starsky’s said the magic word. She knows that we know about Wayne.

“Yeah,” Trudy replied, looking totally relaxed. “He’s Wayne’s man too, but he’s into something big ’cause they’re treating him with kid gloves at The Rocket, but he was kicked out of there awhile ago and I was told he wasn’t to get any drugs through me anymore, even though the boss used to say let him ride as much as he wanted, I guess he’s been cut off ’cause the boss wants him clear ‘n clean for some reason.”

“He bought through you?” Hutch asked, giving her a small smile. “He liked your show too, huh?”

“Couldn’t tell by me,” Trudy said. She sat silent for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Actually, he used to come by at lunch to the laundromat to order from the menu and come in just long enough at the club to pickup from Jay-Jay at the door. He must have thrown some really wild parties now and then as he really racked up the tab there for awhile and now he’s suddenly something special. But anytime you guys wanna branch out around here, you all let me know, ’cause I’m still interested in cutting down and if Jameson gets put back on the ‘good-times’ list you can have him and good riddance.” She glanced at her watch. “Aw, man! Gotta go and get ready for the next show, but you all know where to find me, so come back down and see me dance again real soon, ’cause I gotta new act I’m workin’ on.” She patted Starsky’s knee and stood up.

Starsky got up with her and walked her to the door.

“Walk me down, Dave?” Trudy asked Starsky, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

“Sure, Doll,” Starsky answered, throwing a whadda’ya-gonna-do shrug at his partner, as he escorted Tracy out of the apartment door.

Hutch watched from the window as the two made their way down the street to the strip-club. They walked slowly and Hutch could tell they were talking by the way they moved. He left the window to wondered around the room, picking up their evening mess and placed Starsky’s left-over donuts on the counter for his breakfast. He surveyed the room, feeling a bit lonely.

I could make a comeback as ‘The Invisible Man, Hutch thought with a touch of self-pity. Either they totally ignore me, go out of their way to hassle me, or they can’t wait to get away from me. So far, this hasn’t been one of the more fun undercover assignments.

Unable to stand still, Hutch wondered over to the window. He could just make out the form of Starsky among the still crowded sidewalk, obviously on his way home. Hutch could see by the set of Starsky’s shoulders that the man was unhappy and feeling low.

Come on Hutchinson, can the self-pity crap, Hutch chastised himself, suddenly embarrassed by the direction of his earlier thoughts. This is hardest on Starsky, leading her on like this. She started out as his friend and now she has to be a case. He knows it isn’t going to get any easier, the farther in we go.

Hutch had just returned to the couch when he heard Starsky at the door. “So? How was the walk? Did she say anything more about Jameson?” Hutch asked casually.

Starsky gave him a half smile, as he settled on the arm of the couch. “Nah. Just walked her back to the Play-Time. She was wantin’ to know if I liked the stuff I took home the other night. In fact,” Starsky grinned wickedly, “she offered me a ‘sample’ of some of her other wares.”

“Oh, really?” Hutch yawned broadly, glancing at his watch. “And you’re back after what, 15 minutes? Well, I can see you’re back up to speed.” He yelped and ducked as a couch pillow barely missed his head.

 

TUESDAY

At 12:55 a.m. the red-light district was as busy and as brightly lit as it had been since early evening. Hutch had found a parking space across from the Midnight Sexpress and he and Starsky had been watching the porn shop for almost twenty minutes. Neither of them had recognized any of the customers and no one seemed to hang around for too long a time.

They had been lucky. Tracy had given them enough time to call Narco and to meet with the nightshift before the deal was scheduled to take place. They had met briefly with the men at the station before, but felt better being able to talk to them face to face before tonight’s show. Starsky and Hutch had filled the men on their conversation with Trudy and had not surprised anyone with the news that Jameson was definitely tied into the Wayne camp. They had worked out a plan for the early morning buy.

Both Metro detectives carried guns strapped in leg holsters. They had agreed that they didn’t want to spook the clerk by wearing shoulder harness’, but weren’t willing to walk into a possible trap without any protection. Narco had wanted them to go in wired so every step could be taped and transcribed for future court proceedings. Starsky and Hutch had drawn the line at wearing wires. If cornered, they could explain the guns as protection, like any good drug dealer. But being caught wired was a little harder to explain.

In the last twenty minutes they had spotted two of Narco’s men outside the shop, one in a car and one on foot, acting the derelict. The third was still to show up, but their time was getting short.

“There he is,” Starsky whispered a few minutes later, nudging Hutch. They both watched the shorter, balding man shuffle nervously into the shop. He was wearing a stereotypical trench coat and his flushed, round face made him look like the normal, skittish family man, afraid someone he knew was going to see him. The perfect cover, as the man didn’t rate a second glance and the trench coat hid his gun bulge.

“Time for the show to begin,” Hutch announced. He felt relieved that it was finally happening. Sitting and waiting had just made him skittish.

The pair left the car and dodged the busy traffic, joining the other jay-walkers. The front of Midnight Sexpress was covered with flashy posters and bright pink neon, promising every conceivable form of adult entertainment.

And if you couldn’t find it in there, these friendly ladies who hang around the front will be glad to supply whatever you can afford. It’s the same everywhere, Hutch mused, grinning at a few of the lovelies. While the bottom half of the wide windows were blacked out, the top portions were clear and the interior brightly lit. A quick glance showed him that the store was nearly empty. He placed the Narco man down the center book isle, facing the clerk and the cash register.

It was a fairly large store, with merchandise lining the far walls and several rows of chest-high bookshelves filling in the center floor. Starsky and Hutch split up, each heading for a different wall. The clerk, apparently Troy, sat in the far corner behind the counter and register. At the sound of the small bell above the door, he barely glanced at the new arrivals, his eyes focused on some late-night movie Hutch could hear playing on a TV behind the counter.

Pretending interest, Hutch browsed for a few minutes, picking up books and magazines, flipping through the pages. He slowly worked his way toward the cash register and Troy, but ignored the man.

“Hey, Ken!” Starsky announced in a stage whisper, coming up behind Hutch as he stood by the counter and the bored looking clerk. Hutch was elbowed in the ribs. “I think I saw somethin’ ya might like for your birthday in one of those really kinky magazines. It’s real sicko stuff. Ought’a be illegal.” Starsky grinned evilly at his partner.

“Oh, yeah?” Hutch replied, pretending sincere interest in his current selection. He leaned on the counter, including the clerk in their circle of conversation. “Does it have anything to do with mayonnaise, bacon bits, vinaigrette dressing and a naked girl who’s well-tanned?”

“Uh… no.” Starsky’s eyes widened, obviously stumped. “Why?”

Gotcha now, Starsk! “Then it’s too tame, Dave. You’re gonna have to come up with something better than that.” Hutch tossed the magazine down on the counter and looked toward the cashier. “Hey, you Troy?”

Troy looked up from a commercial and gave them both a bored look. He was a medium-height, big boned man with a craggy, pitted face and an once-broken nose. “Let me guess.” He boomed, his voice grating on the low notes. “The two smart-asses are Ken and Dave.”

“Hey, the man catches on quick,” Starsky said, leaning onto the counter, trying to keep his voice low. “We’re friends of Trudy. She highly recommends you, you lucky dog. You wouldn’t happen to have anything in the back that… well… truly mentally ill people like my friend Ken here could get off on, would you?”

Troy sighed, glanced at his watch, then got up with a longing look at his TV. He glanced at the few lifeless looking customers in the store and shrugged. “Come inta the back, I’ll see what I’ve got.” He came back from behind the counter and headed for the back wall.

Behind a dingy green curtain was a small hallway with shelves of stored merchandise and two doors near the back exit. One was apparently a tiny bathroom and the other a littered and cramped office. Troy led the way in and plopped down at the desk chair, leaving them to crowd in behind him and shut the door.

“Let’s get this all straight, right now.” Troy grunted, glaring at the two new men. “You’re here by referral. We don’t do that often ’cause we got enough of our own people to do the job. Trudy says you’re okay, but that doesn’t mean shit to me. But I got my orders and that’s to get you whatever you can pay for. We don’t carry nobody. Period. You got cash, you carry. You pay me here, but you don’t pick up here. If I like the green then I give you an address. You don’t like it, carry your ass on out ‘n disappear.”

Starsky glared back at the man, surprise and frustration in his voice. “You expect us to just hand over the cash and go on a goose chase for the prize? That’s crazy man! We don’t got all night to go chasing what we already paid for. You ain’t the only supplier in town, you know.” With a snort of disgust, Starsky swung open the door, ready to storm out when Hutch grabbed him by the collar and jerked him to a halt.

“Cool it man!” Hutch gave Starsky another shake for good measure. “We need this stuff. They’re not gonna stiff us and expect us to come back for more. Let’s see what happens before we jump ship. Okay?” Another shake. “Okay?!”

Starsky back-handed Hutch’s hand off his jacket and they both glared at each other for a full minute before Starsky grudgingly backed down. Starsky turned back to the room, kicked the door shut and leaned against it. “This better go down straight, man,” Starsky almost spat, glaring sullenly at Troy.

“Gee, tough guy.” Troy sneered, glaring back at Starsky.

Obviously the man was not impressed with the show, Hutch thought. Guess we ought to work on the act again.

Troy turned his attention toward Hutch, dismissing Starsky. “What’cha need?”

Hutch and Troy worked out the details. Having only a couple of hundred to deal with, Hutch did his best to bargain with Troy, while a sullen looking Starsky glared at them both. Hutch kept to marijuana and cocaine, easily and quickly sold, adding a few bennies on the side for ‘personal’ use. Troy made a phone call and passed the order along, keeping the call short and to the point. He was very careful and Hutch found he couldn’t see the numbers Troy dialed. A glance at Starsky’s face showed that he, too, was unable to catch them. Troy hung up the phone and turned to Hutch. “It’s waitin’ for ya. Cash time.”

Hutch snapped his fingers and held his hand out to Starsky, who gave him an evil look before grudgingly digging the bills out of an inner jacket pocket. Instead of handing them to his partner, Starsky tossed the wad of small bills on Troy’s desk.

Troy flashed Starsky another smirk and proceeded to count the money. “‘Kay, it’s all here. There’s a dumpster in the back of the Coffee Cake donut place, three blocks down, to the right. There’s only one dumpster there, so ya can’t miss it. Inside, in the left corner at the back, you’ll find the stuff in a grocery bag.” Troy chuckled, stuffing the money down a floor safe. “Don’t wait too long, or some hungry vagrant’s gonna beat ya to it. Now beat it.” And with that Troy hauled himself out of the desk chair and pushed past Starsky to return to the front of the store.

Starsky and Hutch walked quietly out of the porno shop, past the invitations from the ladies and dodged traffic back to the LTD. Hutch pulled the car a couple of blocks in the other direction and parked in front of a seedy hotel. A few minutes later, a decrepit looking man opened the LTD door and slid in beside Starsky.

“Good deal?” The older man asked, scratching his gray and scraggly beard.

“Smooth, Sam,” Starsky replied, talking quietly to the Narco detective. “Only problem is they don’t deliver. We gotta go pick up the stuff ourselves.”

“Yeah, that’s why they’re so hard to pin down,” Sam replied, keeping an eye on the passing foot traffic. “We can get the porno-guy, but he’s tough. We arrest him and he’s not gonna tell us nothin’. Wayne’s lawyer will have him out five minutes after he’s booked. They change the drop every time and we’ve never gotten a look at who stashes the stuff. It’s gonna be tough getting the connection pinned down without some info from inside.”

“Really,” Starsky replied. “You gonna come along for the unveiling?”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, I’ll go back and get with John and we’ll see if we can stake out the place first. Give us five minutes. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Give us a squawk when you get near home. Where’s the drop?”

Hutch repeated the location and with that, Sam left.

About seven minutes later. Hutch pulled the LTD up in the Coffee Cake donut lot. It was long closed, but a few lights shown through the front window from the back. Bakers, working all night to replenish the stock had conveniently left a back light on over the rear door. The dumpster was close by.

Hutch sat in the car, the engine running, while Starsky made the dumpster trip. A couple of minutes later, he was back in the car, carrying a tightly folded shopping bag.

“That it?” Hutch asked.

“Gee, I don’t know,” Starsky replied, talking slow and using his ‘idiot’ voice. “I didn’t think to check it first!”

Hutch just rolled his eyes.

“It’s here, all nice and neat.” Starsky glanced through the sack, counting and weighing. “Everything we paid for. Let’s move it on home and see if we’ve drawn some interest.”

Hutch turned the LTD toward to the apartment. About three miles from home, Starsky reached under his seat and flipped the radio toggle switch and grabbed the mike, swearing softly.

“Damn! Couldn’t they hide this thing someplace where a guy could reach it without getting a hernia?!” He clicked the buttons a couple of times, clearing the channel. “Zebra-Three, Zebra-Three, are you there Mongoose?”

A second of static and he got his reply. “Mongoose here, Zebra-Three. You had a tail ’til the half way mark, then he veered off. Doubt it was legit. Watch out for a pickup at your end. Good haul?”

“We had a couple follow us that far, Starsk.” Hutch interrupted. “Which one did they tag?”

“Mongoose, this is Zebra-Three,” Starsky responded. “Good haul. Did you spot the drop-off? And we need a description of the aborted tail.”

“Zebra-Three. Nah, didn’t spot the drop,” was the reply. “No one even close to the place. Your aborted tail was dark, two-tone blue sedan, license know to belong to a car used by Daniel Wayne’s men. You two head on home and we’ll circle the block awhile. See if you’re picked up from there. Give ya a call.”

“Ten-Four, Mongoose. Give us a ring.” Starsky toggled off the radio and rehid the mike.

“I think I caught the sedan, Starsk,” Hutch said. “They veered off a couple of miles back. Someone wanted to check us out. I’ll bet anything we have a tail just waiting for us when we get home.”

“Yeah, they just wanted to see if we were stupid enough to head straight for the station or somethin’.” Starsky tried to stifle a huge yawn, but failed. “Which reminds me, we’ve still got my goodies in the fridge to add to this package.” He yawned again. “Man, we still gotta work tomorrow… I mean today. What time is it?”

“Check your wrist, Gordo. I think it’s about 2:00 am.” Hutch waited for Starsky to check and nod at his guess. He scanned the street as they pulled up near their apartment. The streets were quiet, but not totally empty of life.

The two detectives made their way up to their dark apartment and made a show of turning on the lights for a few minutes, then shut them off again as if settling in for the night. They quietly edged up to the front windows, careful to keep out of sight.

“Starsk, I’ve been thinkin about this Jameson deal,” Hutch began quietly, waiting for the Narco car to appear. “Since we’re in the business now, we can put on a show for Jameson. We can let him know we’re tied into the system and we want to be friends. We might even be able to get him to vouch that we’re really in business.” Hutch smiled. “I doubt he’ll call the cops on us and maybe the man could use a few friends right now.”

“Yeah.” Starsky yawned once again and rubbed at his face. “Sounds good. But if he’s under the gun, we’ll have’ta walk on eggshells around him. We don’t want him to think we’re there to strong-arm him for Wayne. Gotta keep it nice and friendly.” Starsky’s eyes caught something and he nodded toward the street. Hutch saw the Narco car driving by the front. “How’d’ya want to do it?” Starsky asked.

Hutch shrugged in the dark. “Say a ‘Hi’ from Trudy? I can’t see that Jameson would be afraid of her. He obviously knows her enough to have bought from her. She should be safe to mention and she can back us up. Since it seems he’s been cut off, we can let him know we’ll take over as his supplier as soon as Wayne says it’s okay. Too bad we couldn’t give him a ‘goodie’ bag to tide him over.”

“Yeah.” Starsky grinned. “Only Wayne’d get pissed if he found out his new dealers were sellin’ to the wrong person and it’d sure look good in court. Cops givin’ freebies.” They waited in silence for a moment, watching for the Narco car to make its second round, but it failed to show.

“Uh, Hutch?” Starsky asked quietly.

Here it comes, Hutch thought, grinning in the darkness. He’d known Starsky couldn’t leave it hanging.

“What was that bit about the bacon bits ‘n naked girl?” Starsky elbowed his partner, mischief in his eyes. “Is this somethin’ new I oughta know about? Or can it be used against you in a court of law?”

“Probably.” Hutch chuckled. “Actually, it’s a salad dressing recipe from the “Happy Camper Nudist Colony’s Cookbook.”

“Oh yeah? How come I haven’t seen it?” Starsky asked, sound a little hurt.

“There’s no pictures.”

“Oh. And the well-tanned naked girl?”

“That’s what makes them ‘Happy Campers’, Gordo.” Hutch snickered, which earned him another elbow in the ribs and a long-suffering groan.

Five minutes after Narco disappeared their phone rang. The Narco officers had spotted another car known to be owned by Wayne’s men. After Starsky and Hutch had gone into the apartment, Wayne’s men had sat for another fifteen minutes before leaving. Narco had followed them back to The Rocket. As far as Wayne’s men could report, they were two new dealers who had made a small purchase and had headed home with the goods.

Starsky and Hutch stashed their new purchase in the fridge with the other sack and prepared to get some sleep. They’d have to stop by the station early and check in the new purchase and Starsky’s goodie bag. But as far as Daniel Wayne was concerned, tomorrow his two new dealers would open for business.

***

The morning had gone smoothly. Starsky and Hutch had made an early morning trip to the station, placed their drug purchases in Narco’s care and had even managed to dash off a quick report for Captains Pasquini and Lang, promising a full one later. They had succeed in keeping both happy for the moment and still had time to get to their ‘day’ job.

There was nothing like two murders within a week to promote business. Iverson’s was packed that Tuesday morning with customers coming to ogle and the media, who came to film the murder scenes. Both came in vain as an early morning security guard was placed to keep the public out.

Ms. Quincy gave them all a lengthy lecture on keeping to the ‘no comment’ policy of the store and gave them special instructions on keeping customers out of the employee elevators. Hutch had been assigned to the Children’s floor for the day and Starsky to the Jewelry department. The men they were assigned to work with were friendly and both detectives were able to gossip all morning.

Rumor was running rampant though the employee ranks. The forced closing of the store the day before had been unheard of, but what had really gotten to most of the employees was having to be interviewed by the police. Hutch knew that most people had little to do with real detectives in their normal lives and it had been something of a dark thrill for some of those who were questioned. They were more than willing to talk to anyone and everyone about the ‘experience’.

Hutch had only to vaguely refer to his own ‘questioning’ to receive, in full, the story of the other’s ordeals. Breaks and lunches were full of petty details, guesses, surmises and outright mis-truths that didn’t help either of the detectives. It didn’t take him long to realize that while some things made the rounds of the building like wild-fire, some items had yet to become a topic. The affair between Ms. Quincy and Aaron Jameson seems to still be a deep, dark secret.

Meeting briefly with Starsky at lunch, it was agreed that the two would use their afternoon break and make a trip upstairs to the main offices to confront Jameson. They would have about twenty minutes to play it by ear before they were missed.

The afternoon break came quickly, both men meeting by the main elevators. Starsky had managed to acquire a rather large, empty gift box with ‘Iverson’s Jewelry’ printed clearly on the side. He had decided they would attract less attention if they were just two security guards ‘escorting’ an obviously expensive delivery to Mr. Jameson himself.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator into the upper management level, Hutch was hit with the silence. This was the floor that Gainer’s body had been found just the morning before. It was as if everyone felt oppressed, afraid to talk in normal voices. Even the every-day sounds of normal business activities were muted. Hutch spared a quick glance at the closed door to Collins’ sealed office as they passed by.

It’s strange, Hutch mused as he followed Starsky down the hall. I always expect to see some kind of memorial, or marker, or something that says ‘A human being died here, here was lost their hopes and dreams’. When they say ‘life goes on’, they sure as hell aren’t kidding.

Down the hallway, where the offices got nicer, Hutch could see the open doorway to Dennis Liston’s office. Aaron Jameson was sitting at a large, impressive desk, guarding the closed door to Liston’s personal office. He seemed extremely busy, fielding calls and making appointments, although Hutch knew that Liston was home ‘sick’ today.

“Yes?” Jameson asked distractedly at their entrance. He seemed to be listening to someone talking on the phone at his ear. “Delivery?” he whispered to Starsky. “Well, let me sign for it and leave it here,” Jameson ordered distractedly to Starsky, waving the package over to his desk. “Yes, yes, I’ll get that report over to you just as soon as Mr. Liston has signed it. I’m sure. I’m very sure. Yes. Good-bye.” Jameson rambled, finishing his conversation.

Starsky placed the empty box on the corner of the desk and stood back while Hutch shut the door behind them.

“Well, what is it?” Jameson demanded, obviously distracted with his work. He grabbed the box impatiently and froze, appearing to notice for the first time that the box was empty and the door was being firmly guarded.

Starsky shrugged and gave the man a friendly smile. “It’s just a visit Mr. Jameson. We just wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Dave Coleman and this is Ken Avery. It seems we have a mutual friend and may eventually be business associates.”

The phone rang again and Jameson jumped, but ignored it. “I don’t know what you mean,” he replied stiffly, face white and fearful. He glanced at Hutch by the door and clenched his fists.

He’s gonna bolt, Hutch thought. Better get him calm… “We’re friends of Trudy. Trudy Coates. We’re in business now and are goin’ to be takin’ over from the lady.” Hutch smiled at him. “Anything you need, you let us know. As soon as Mr. Wayne…”

At the mention of Wayne’s name, Jameson bolted half out of his chair. “What?!” He hissed. “You tell Wayne that I’ll get him what he wants! It just takes time! I don’t need any strong-armed goons coming in here…”

“Now, now, Mr. Jameson,” Starsky interrupted, talking calmly and smoothly. “We’re not here for anything but dealing.” He glanced at Hutch. “Ken and I have the store concession, you might say and we’re takin’ over some of Trudy’s territory. We just wanted you to know that you’ll be dealing with us, just as soon as all this other business goes down and the man says you’re free to buy.”

Jameson sat down suddenly, the brief anger completely draining him. He looked defeated, as if knew he was the butt of some bad joke. “And what am I supposed to do for you?” he almost whimpered. “Cover for you? Set you up with the board members? What the hell do you want from me?” He looked at them pleadingly.

Starsky moved slowly over to Jameson and settled on a corner of the table. The man was white, shaking and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey, don’t get so uptight man,” Starsky began, keeping it calm. “Like I said, we’re just takin’ over Trudy’s space ‘n wanted to let you know we’re here. Kinda as backup, ya know. We know there’s some big moves goin’ on here. Wayne’s got you sweatin’ blood for him. We feel for ya, but we’re lookin’ for points on Wayne’s side too. So we just wanna let you know that we’re in the area, ‘n dealin’, but open for more action. You need some help…” Starsky nodded toward Hutch, “We got the uniforms, ‘n we wouldn’t kick if Wayne found out we were handy to have around. Ya know?” Starsky smiled at the man and got up toward the door. “We live close and anytime you need some backup…” And with that thought in the air, he and Hutch left quietly.

“Well,” Hutch whispered to his partner as he pulled the door firmly shut. “We sure handled that real well. I thought we were going to have to call an ambulance or something.”

“Guy’s a mental case,” Starsky replied, obviously not happy with the way the scene had played out. “He’s under some nasty pressure, that’s for sure. You notice that he’s still got some work to do somewhere? Sounds like he could use a little help with the next shipment due sometime soon. I’m not sure we oughta trust him though. I’ve got a bad feeling about him.”

“Oh?” Hutch said, with a small grin. “I thought you loved working with the mentally unhinged.”

“Nah,” Starsky muttered, glancing at his partner with some amusement. “I’m used to you by now, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

They were quiet for the rest of the trip to the elevators and were able to find an empty car going down.

“Think Gainer messed up his plans this weekend? Got in his way?” Hutch asked.

“Gainer could’a caught him messin’ around in Collins’ office, except he does have that alibi.” Starsky sighed. “We baited the hook. All we can do is wait and see what we catch.”

It didn’t take long. While on their way to the time clock to check out for the evening, Ms. Quincy’s secretary, Sarah Keats waved to Hutch, signaling him that she wanted to see him.

About time! I’ve about given up on the girl. Hutch threw his partner an ‘I told you so’ look before turning to enter the office. A second later he rubbed at his aching nose, feeling his face flush after running smack into the door glass. Damn doors! Hutch thought savagely. Always jamming on you at the wrong times… He squared his shoulders, ignoring Starsky’s muted snickers.

“Hi, Sarah,” Hutch said, putting on his most charming smile. He took off his hat and leaned over the counter toward the lovely lady. “What can I do for you? Dinner perhaps? A movie?” Say yes, Hutch pleaded silently. Say yes!

Sarah smiled at him and shook her head, a look of tolerant amusement on her face. “Sorry, Ken. Maybe some other time. Just thought you’d want to know that you two have drawn some attention lately.”

“Oh?” Hutch asked, hoping it was attention from her. “Why is that?”

“Well, I just got a call from upstairs,” Sarah whispered. “Mr. Jameson called and wanted both your’s and Coleman’s phone numbers and address’. Normally, we don’t worry about such things, after all, they are the top brass and top brass can pull up employee records at any time. But Mr. Jameson wanted this done on the sly.” Sarah said, sounding a bit disgusted with the request. “He didn’t want Ms. Quincy to know your files were being pulled for this. He also seemed interested in the fact that you and Coleman have the same address.” Sarah gave him a serious look, glancing towards Starsky, who was leaning against the wall out in the hallway. “You and your friend aren’t in any kind of trouble are you? I mean, I’m sorry if it was something personal for you, but I had to…”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” Hutch said with a shrug, grinning at her. “It’s just a possible transfer type of thing Dave and I are working on.” Hutch thought furiously. A transfer to Liston’s transportation guard would be a step up. “Guess he must be interested in placing us, if he didn’t want Quincy to know about it. Wouldn’t want her to worry she was losing two of her best,” Hutch laughed in a joking manner.

“Well,” Sarah said, “I won’t say anything to Quincy, but not because he asked me to. But let me give you a word of advice Ken. Jameson’s not one for doing anyone favors, unless they work out in his favor in the end. So you guys watch yourselves. And I have to get back to work.” And with that Hutch found himself alone in the security office.

“So, she finally noticed you, huh?” Starsky ask him as he entered the hall, a smug smile on his face. “It was an awful short conversation in there.”

“Well, you know,” Hutch replied grinned back, “when you’re good, you don’t need much time to impress. Actually, she wanted to let us know that Mr. Aaron Jameson managed to get a peek at our address and phone number. Sarah was afraid we were in some kind of trouble. She gave us a friendly warning not to trust him. Looks like we got a bite, Dave.”

The news put them both in a good mood. They talked it over quietly and decided to get their report to Captain Pasquini done, drop into Homicide, then head on home to wait to see who showed up.

It was on their way out to the parking lot when they almost, literally, ran into April Sims. She was standing outside the employee entrance, her face swollen from crying. Hutch had been saddened to hear from the grapevine that she had turned in her resignation yesterday morning, but he couldn’t really blame her.

“Hey, Hon,” Hutch said, moving over to take her arm. He gently moved her farther down the sidewalk, away from the door and other ears. “Dave and I sure were sorry to hear about your leaving the store. But I can’t say I blame you much.”

She gave them a sad smile. “Sorry guys, It was just too much. Not after…” She glanced around. “Well, you know. But I guess working here didn’t mean so much after Mr. Kirk…” She gasped and tried to cover a sob. Both men stood beside her while she gathered herself. “S-sorry. But, maybe it’s for the best…” She faltered again.

“April,” Starsky added, “you know we’re working real hard to find the killers and tie up this robbery.” He gave April a small smile. “You just hang in there, all right?”

“You okay, April?” A deeply concerned voice boomed behind them. Carrying bags of April’s personal items, Wally Kraft came out of the building and came up to the trio. “I’ve got your stuff April. Hey, guys,” he greeted the detectives.

Now there is something good coming from all this, Hutch thought happily. It finally kicked Wally into action. Those two belong together, but this was a hell of a way to do it.

“Now, Ms. Sims,” Starsky began, winking at her, “is this man bothering you?”

If it had been possible for April to blush, she would have. “Wally has been a great help these last few days. He’s helped me through a lot of it.” She flashed Wally a shy smile.

“April just needs someone to look after her for a spell.” Wally grinned back. He too would have blushed, Hutch decided. “We found her a real nice job downtown, closer to where she lives and it pays almost as well. I’ve got today off, so I told her I’d gather up her stuff from the Jewelry department. She doesn’t need to go in if she’s uncomfortable,” he added protectively.

“Well, you let us know how it goes,” Starsky told April. “Just pass it along this big lug.” Starsky nodded to a beaming Wally.

“Sure, guys,” April answered. She motioned Wally to the car. “I’ll be along in a minute Wally,” she said. He nodded and carried her belongings to his car.

“He doesn’t know about you guys,” April told them quickly. “I feel really bad that there are things I can’t tell him. But I promise I won’t until the department tells me I can.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” Hutch smiled in reassurance. “Just keep yourself safe. And don’t worry. We’ll have this case solved before you know it.”

“Yes, thanks.” She grabbed each of their arms and gave them a squeeze. “Good luck.” And with that she was gone.

“You know, Starsky,” Hutch began on the way to his car, “I didn’t think those two were ever gonna get past the goggle-eyed stage. I’m glad they finally got together. Those two are going to make one hell of a pair.”

“Speaking of being ‘goggle-eyed’,” Starsky said, eyeing his partner, grinning evilly. “I didn’t hear you mention a confirmed date with Ms. Keats. Strike out again did you?”

“Now, Starsk, we’re on a case here,” Hutch replied evenly, knowing if Starsky caught even a flicker of doubt in his voice, he had never hear the end of it. “I can’t be thinking about my private life at a time like this. You know better than that.”

“Yeah, just what I thought.” Starsky shook his head as he climbed into the passenger seat, smiling smugly “Struck out again.”

They made good time to the station, even with Hutch zigzagging to spot would-be tails. No one seemed to care where they were going. Even so, Hutch parked in the customer lot and they walked into the front lobby.

Hutch was glad to see Phillips and Sanders at their desks. Sanders waved them over, excitedly.

“Hey guys! We’ve got something for you.” Phillips smiled in greeting. “We got the print report back on Douglas Kirk, alias…” He searched a moment through his notes. “Alias James Leroy Connor, trained as a jeweler under his father in New York. His father left him the store at his death, but Connor was forced to sell half of the business to a local chain store when Connor made some bad stock investments. There were two suspicious robberies of the store in the next five years and Connor was later caught replacing valuable diamonds with lesser stones when working with ring sizing and cleaning. He was caught in a big police sting of the jewelry district and was sentenced to four years in prison for that and other offenses. After his release he disappeared, having lost the shop while he was in prison. And that…” Phillips handed Starsky the report, “tells us that it was likely that Kirk was being blackmailed or paid for his part of the current robberies.”

“Kirk could have offered to do the job outright,” Starsky answered. “It wouldn’t be too hard to hide an extra bank account somewhere. Just ’cause we haven’t found any money, doesn’t mean he didn’t have it and spend it. And Jameson has access to the employee records of the Jewelry department. Kirk’s employment history would only go back so far. Jameson could have done some digging on Kirk’s past and found that anything listed on his resume before the age of 35 was faked.” Starsky read the report over Hutch’s shoulder. “Or Jameson blackmailed him…”

“I don’t know, Starsk.” Hutch interrupted his partner. “I don’t think Jameson’s got the backbone for it. My guess was that Jameson supplied the information and Daniel Wayne supplied the push. I think it was Wayne’s men who iced Kirk because he was too dangerous or they didn’t need him anymore. I’m still voting for Jameson as the main suspect in Gainer’s death. He has access to the building and would know where everything was.”

Phillips nodded. “Blackmail sounds like Wayne’s style. He doesn’t just want to use people or employ them, he wants to own them. Blackmail’s his main tool.”

“How’s your end coming?” Sanders asked, obviously feeling more at home with the two Metro detectives.

“Fine,” Starsky shrugged. “We are now in the small-time drug business and we’ve got Jameson’s attention. We offered to be his backup.” He grinned. “Jameson scammed our address out of the security office this afternoon.”

“He could drop by tonight,” Hutch added. “He might check with Wayne about us, but he’s so scared of the guy that I don’t think Jameson would contact him until he had something good to report. Apparently Jameson is still after some information Wayne needs.”

“Like the transportation schedules?” Phillips asked.

“Yep,” Starsky answered, a hopeful smile on his face. “We just might be invited to a little breakin’ ‘n enterin’.”

“Boy,” Sanders remarked, shaking his head. “You guys are bouncin’ around these cases like a ping-pong ball. You’re into Narco, Homicide, Robbery… You guys sure are hard to keep track of.”

“Hutch n’ I always did have great timing, Kid,” Starsky replied. “We’re always in the right place at the right time.”

“Which reminds me,” Hutch interrupted. “We’ve got to report to Pasquini and we don’t want to miss him.”

They made their break and were able to catch Captain Pasquini in his office. He accepted their verbal report, with a promise of triplicates later.

They decided they should go straight home and wait to see if Jameson would contact them. They would have to play it cool and stick around the apartment the whole evening. No telling what kind of timetable Jameson was on, even if he did plan to contact them, or if he would even come in person.

It was Hutch’s night to cook, so they had his favorite chicken and dumpling recipe and vegetable mix. Afterwards they settled in for the evening. Hutch lounged on the lamp end of the couch and went to work on a book of crossword puzzles. Starsky, sitting next to him, had commandeered the coffee table for his house of cards. The TV flickered un-noticed.

Hutch chose one of the harder puzzles to work. He had been at it for half an hour before he was stumped.

Four letters, down, ‘A dipterous insect of Ethiopia, related to the tsetse fly’. Third letter is an ‘M’, fourth is a ‘B’. Hutch thought for a moment. Who the hell is gonna know that? He wondered, wishing he had brought his dictionary with him. He surreptitiously glanced at his busy partner. Starsky was on the second level of his house. Obviously he had big plans, as he had cleared the whole coffee table for his project. Nah, he wouldn’t, Hutch eyed his friend with suspicion, would he?

Hutch was continuously surprised at the things that his partner did and did not know. Hutch had always been good in school, in a general way and the college courses he had had just added to the variety of interests he had developed.

‘Jack of all trades, master of none,” his father had continuously scolded. “Pick something and stick with it Kenneth, don’t be so quick to drop a subject once you’ve scratched the surface.’ Everything had finally seemed to come together for him during his academy days, where the bits and pieces of his interests had started to jell into a purpose and goal

But Hutch knew that Starsky had grown up knowing what his purpose in life was. He had always known he wanted to be a detective like his father. It was that certainty that kept a teen-aged Starsky out of serious trouble and led to his tour as an Army M.P., earning the needed points toward the police academy admission that made up for his lack of college money.

Starsky’s knowledge of life on the edge of the streets and the workings of the criminal element was deep and impressive. Starsky’s gut instinct was worth more to Hutch than anything ever printed in a book or any kind of a weapon he could carry. But the man’s knowledge of trivia could be as unexpected as lightening, if more annoying. Hutch had never known when his street-wise partner would strike with some odd fact or two. Hutch used to call Starsky out when he started reciting his little tid-bits, daring him to prove it. But Hutch had given that up, when Starsky turned out right too many times.

Hutch worked around the word he needed for a few minutes longer, finally giving up and trying the next word, only to get hung up again. Well, he sighed, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Hey, Starsky.” Hutch asked, watching as his partner held his breath and placed yet another card upon his structure. “I got a crossword problem for you.”

“Shoot,” Starsky answered shortly, holding his breath as his balanced card stayed in place.

“Okay,” Hutch began. “It’s four letters down, ‘A dipterous insect of Ethiopia, related to the tsetse fly’. Third letter is an ‘M’, last letter is a ‘B’.”

Starsky frowned for a moment, studying his card structure. “Zimb.”

“What?”

“It’s zimb. Z-I-M-B. Zimb.” Starsky picked up another card.

“No way,” Hutch muttered under his breath. But it did fit, so he wrote it in, in pencil. “Okay, try this one.” Hutch picked out another word that connected to the first. “Four letters across, second letter ‘M’. ‘In Norse mythology, the giant from whose body the gods created the world.”

Starsky sat back and surveyed his building possibilities. “Let me think a second.”

Hutch sat quietly and watched his partner visibly work through the problem.

“Ymir. Y-M-I-R. Ymir.” He answered distractedly, bending forward to place another card.

“Starsk….” Hutch was astonished. “There is no way you could know those two words. You’re making them up,” he accused. “What’s dipterous mean?”

Starsky gave Hutch an amused but patient glance. “I am not and I don’t know. It fits doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that it’s right.”

“Well, quit accusin’ me and finish it. Then you’ll know.” Starsky gave him an indulgent shrug of his shoulder.

Hutch bit his lip and went back to the puzzle. He had enough letters now to finish that small corner and Starsky’s words had fit perfectly.

This is crazy, he thought in confusion, there is just no way he could be pulling these things out of thin air! “Okay,” Hutch sighed, tossing the book and pencil on the end table. “I know I’m probably going to regret this, but I have to ask.” He leaned back and waited until Starsky had placed another card. “How in the hell did you know those two words? You memorize a dictionary or something?”

“Yeah,” Starsky replied, intent upon the card house.

“Yeah? Yeah, what?”

“I memorized the dictionary,” Starsky answered, “or at least and old version of one.”

“Bull, Starsk,” Hutch answered with disgust. “No one memorizes the dictionary.”

“No, seriously.” Starsky paused to relax and grin at his partner. “It was Grandma Starsky’s fault.”

“The one who lived above that Italian restaurant?”

“Yeah.” Starsky stretched and settled back. “Grandma Starsky always believed in the power of words. She would read anything she could get her hands on, in two languages. We grandkids, nieces and nephews would drop by with our parents for visits and get into all sorts of trouble, so she decided to keep us busy whenever we came by. Grandma loved crossword puzzles and hated the TV set, so she figured one way to keep us out of trouble would be to make us finish up the puzzles she was stuck on. She had dictionaries and some old encyclopedias.” He smiled. “She was like a regular library. She would have the unfinished puzzles in a box and as soon as we arrived, we’d dig in and hit the books. We’d get a nickel for every answer we could find, but she’d have to confirm it before we were allowed to write it in. And she never left any easy ones, so we didn’t get rich or anything, but it was like a treasure hunt. One long evening I got on a roll and earned about 45 cents.”

“Okay.” Hutch admitted. “I can see where that would lead to a lot of trivia, but memorizing a dictionary?”

Starsky chuckled. “Well, you know how many cousins I have, so you can imagine what a bunch of rowdy, spoiled brats we all were, running around at family reunions. Later, as Grandma got older, she took to writing crossword puzzles and submitting them to the local papers to print. She had quite a few excepted and she framed everyone.” He smiled to himself at the memory. “Since she was one of the honored guests, she was exempt from kitchen duty, so she volunteered to keep all us kids busy. Those of us that were old enough were required to bring our own dictionaries. Grandma would sit at a table with her pens and paper and work on her puzzles, with two jars at her side, one of coins and one of hard candy. She always had a score of kids at her feet. Every once in awhile, she’d tell us she needed a word, between this many letters and that many letters and it had to have an ‘T’, blank, ‘R’, blank, ‘C’, or something like that. Then our job was to comb the dictionary until we found a word that would fit and we’d read it to her. If she used it, we got another nickel. If it started with an ‘X’, ‘Y’, or ‘Z’ we’d get a dime. Grandma loved words that started with ‘X’, ‘Y’ and ‘Z’. Everyone who tried got a piece of candy, so you always got something.”

“So you memorized the last three letters in the dictionary?” Hutch asked in disbelief.

“Yep.” Starsky beamed. “At least I memorized them as best as I could. Grandma always said I was the best. I had a ton of cousins I was competing with, plus, Pop promised that he’d double whatever money I made from Grandma, if I could remember what the words meant after we got home.”

“You ever make out big?” Hutch asked, curious.

“Once,” Starsky answered, looking a little wistful. “The year before Pop was killed. I earned almost a dollar and a half over a three-day reunion. It rained that year, so we were inside most of the time. I couldn’t remember all the definitions, but Pop gave me a whole two dollars anyway, ’cause I didn’t get into a fist-fight with my cousin Joey like I usually did. I don’t even remember what I spent it on.” Starsky sighed. “Pop didn’t make it to the next reunion and I didn’t want to go. Ma took Nicky, but I wasn’t feelin’ social ‘n Ma couldn’t make me go. While she was there my aunt and uncle talked her into sending me to California to stay with them when school started. Now I wish I’d gone.” Starsky grinned a little sadly and elbowed his friend. “If I’da known I was leaving for California so soon, I would’a pounded Joey real good, for old time’s sake.” Starsky leaned forward and picked up another card.

Hutch had heard about the move to California, little by little over the years. They all loved you, Starsk, Hutch held to himself, not wanting to stir up the painful memories. They just didn’t know what it would mean to a kid your age, to be sent away. I know you felt like you not only not only lost your father, but your mother and brother as well. And I know they’re proud of you, but it still hurts.

Hutch decided on anther track, wanting Starsky to concentrate on the good memories. “So what was it with you and Joey anyway? The family idiots bumping heads?” Hutch grinned at his friend, trying to picture him as a child.

“Pretty much,” Starsky admitted embarassedly, starting another level on his house. “We were both kinda in the middle of the group, age wise. The younger kids were too young for us to be seen with and the older kids just ignored us. Guess we just fought all the time for attention. At least, I don’t remember fighting over anything specific, other than the fact we were both breathin’ the same air.” Starsky chuckled at the memory.

Hutch smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got a few relatives like that. Only we didn’t usually fight. In our family we’d get even and get the other in trouble by putting food in each other’s pockets.”

Starsky froze, turning to give his partner an astonished look. “What? Food in your pockets? Man, you guys were weird.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“We were supposed to be young ladies and gentlemen at our reunions, Starsky,” Hutch replied in his haughty voice. “No rough-housing. No fights. And we had to wear shirts, ties and shined shoes. The whole bit. A couple of cousins and I didn’t get along and a fist fight would have caused a scandal and embarrassed both families. To get back after one nasty trick, one of us,” Hutch cleared his throat and tried to look innocent, “loaded the other guy’s pockets with Jell-O when he wasn’t looking. He got all the way home before it started to melt and he and his parents found out about it.” Hutch chuckled evilly. “He couldn’t explain what he was doing with a pocketful of orange Jell-O. He didn’t get into big trouble or anything, but it really grated on his nerves for the rest of the year. That food fight lasted for about four family reunions before it died out.”

“You ever get caught?” Starsky grinned, leaning back into the couch.

“Who? Me? I wouldn’t do anything like that,” Hutch answered, fighting for just the right ‘innocent’ look.

“So, you never got caught.”

“Nope,” Hutch replied. “But I sure came close to it a couple of times. None of us ever actually got caught at it, or punished for it. Just kind of humiliated the whole family I guess. We could honestly say we didn’t know who was doing it, although we were all warned before the gatherings to behave ourselves. The adults did not find it amusing, because a Hutchinson descendant wasn’t supposed to act like that. The adults got nervous about checking us too often once the get-togethers started though and pretty much left us alone. They never knew when one of us would start dripping uncontrollably.” He snickered at the memory.

“You ever get hit with a full pocket?” Starsky asked between chuckles.

“Once or twice,” Hutch admitted. “A bunch of us older kids were upstairs in my grandparent’s house. The floors were waxed really slick and whenever we could we’d ditch our shoes and ‘skate’ down the hallways. We weren’t supposed to do that because our mothers were convinced we were going to slide off the top of the steps and break our necks. As soon as we heard feet on the stair we had a frantic race back to our shoes. Once, when I put my left shoe on it was full of banana pudding. I didn’t see it until it was too late.” Hutch chuckled. “I still don’t know who did it or how, but I have my suspicions.”

“Gee,” Starsky uttered with a serious look, “remind me to dress casual if I ever get invited to one of your family reunions.”

“Sure and I’ll bring my crossword book to yours. I ought to get a lot of help there.” Hutch picked his book back up and started in on a new puzzle.

They passed the next few hours of the evening quietly, watching the news and waiting for something to happen. After three card disasters in a row, Starsky gave up and pulled out his car magazines. Hutch decided he had had enough of crosswords and took over the discarded card pile.

One of their favorite shows came on and then the news. Hutch had managed to play a few solitaire games, but was not having much luck. He had dealt out a couple more while Starsky watched the play.

“Hey, Hutch,” Starsky said, eyeing the layout. “Weren’t you missing the three of hearts the last couple of games?”

“Yeah. Why?” Hutch checked his layout for any openings. He sighed in frustration as he realized this game too, was finished. He hadn’t been able to clear the board all evening.

“Better count the cards,” Starsky warned.

Hutch restacked the cards and counted through them. “We’re missing three cards, Starsky,” he announced with a dark look at his partner. “Did you lose them?”

“If I knew I had lost them, I would have known about it and put them back,” Starsky replied with a snort. “Then they wouldn’t be lost, just temporarily misplaced.”

While Hutch tried to decide whether Starsky’s answer made any sense or not, they both checked under and over the couch, in the cushions, the shelves and the kitchenette drawers. The cards were nowhere to be found.

“They couldn’t have just walked out, Starsky,” Hutch exclaimed in frustration. “They have to be here somewhere. I’m not giving up ’til I find them.”

Hutch had just run out of places to look when Starsky cornered him and voted for bed. They both agreed that finding the lost cards and staying up to wait for a contact from Jameson were both lost causes for the evening.

“Hutch? Promise me something?” Starsky called from his bed to his partner. “When this case is over with and we get some leave time, promise that we’ll go someplace where we won’t have’ta be in our rooms except to sleep.”

“Camping!” Hutch replied around a mouthful of toothpaste. He knew just the place, a trail in the Sierra Mountains that the camping brochures raved about. “I know a great place…”

“No, no, no,” Starsky interrupted with disgust. “I mean someplace where we can get out and do things all day, not hang around…”

“Camping! It’s perfect Starsky! All that wonderful countryside to see, all that wide open space…”

“No!” Starsky interjected, sounding frustrated. “Someplace where we can eat all kinds of wonderful foods…”

“Natural food, Starsk.” Hutch turned off the bathroom light and walked down to Starsky’s dark room and peered at his barely visible friend. “It’s the best thing there is for you. I’ve got this natural food guide…”

“Fast driving,” Starsky challenged, sitting up.

“Horseback riding,” Hutch returned.

“Nightlife.”

“Owls, frogs and the changing constellations.”

“Soft beds.”

“New sleeping bags. State of the art.”

“Air-conditioning.”

“A cool lake.”

“Toilets.”

“A nice, deep hole.”

“Gambling,” Starsky threw in with an exasperated chuckle.

“Trying the unknown trails,” Hutch answered.

“Companionship,” Starsky replied, blue eyes shining evilly in the dark. He threw his last, jaw-breaker of a punch. “Women.”

Ouch! Hutch thought with amused frustration. How am I supposed to top that? “First point,” he finally replied with a snicker. Hutch headed to his room in defeat to check his alarm and turn out his light.

“Vegas! Reno!” Starsky yelled in triumph from across the dark hall.

Gloat away, son, Hutch thought with fondness. Next point is mine and I still plan on seeing the great outdoors, one way or another. He lay there quietly, knowing just what to do.

“G’Night, Hutch,” Starsky called quietly a moment later, gloating suspended temporarily.

“Good night, Starsk,” Hutch replied in his saddest ‘downhearted’ voice. Then, quietly, “Tahoe? It would cost us some of our gambling money, but we could ski…” Hutch let his voice trail off hopefully.

“Only if you’re good,” Starsky replied grudgingly, after a moment. “And you stay outta my way.”

Point two, Hutchinson.

 

WEDNESDAY

A 5:30 a.m. meeting between Robbery, Homicide and Narco had been called by Captain Pasquini and all involved had been rousted out of bed, including Starsky and Hutch.

Homicide reported the confirmed identity of Douglas Kirk as James Leroy Connor. His past criminal record was gone over and everyone filled in on the blackmail theory.

The lab report stated that Detective Lonnie Gainer had, indeed, died of repeated blows to the head. The murder weapon was a heavy, carved crystal paperweight belonging to Royston Collins and had last been seen on his desk that evening. The paperweight had been found wiped clean of prints and what little blood there was with Gainer’s own jacket. There were no fibers and hair embedded in the smashed crystal but Gainer’s own. He was struck from behind, the killer most probably standing behind him. Gainer probably never saw the blow coming.

Robbery reported that Jameson had gone to a bar straight after work and had drunk the night away in public. He had talked to no one and seemed deeply depressed. Staggering to a cab in the early evening hours he had gone home and hadn’t budged as of the last check-in by his early morning stake-out team.

Further questioning of Jameson’s alibi by Homicide showed that Ms. Quincy couldn’t actually vouch for his whereabouts the entire night. It seems that she was vague about the whole evening and had no memory after their nightcap. All she knew for sure was that she woke up with him in her bed. It had also been revealed that she kept extra keys to the executive offices and carried them with her at all times. Collins’ included.

Liston had been thunderstruck with the news that his personal secretary was being investigated for the robberies, his ties with Daniel Wayne and also with the death of Detective Gainer. He had opted to ‘stay home’ sick the rest of the week, rather than try to deal with the situation, worried that he could not deal so closely with the man, knowing what he knew about the police investigations.

After a lengthy discussion with Dennis Liston and Royston Collins that lasted well into the night, the captains of all three divisions had come up with a plan. Liston and Collins had agreed that it was time to push the timetable and bring the case to a close, one way or another. They had guaranteed their full co-operation.

Liston and Collins had agreed to a ‘decoy’ run, using a real shipment of jewelry slated to be delivered to a local branch. Collins would set up an early night delivery to the store on the upcoming Thursday evening. This branch was due a shipment and no one would question a change in delivery time. The other shipments would be held to the agreed-upon delivery dates, which were to be staggered through the middle of next week. Collins’ secretary would deliver a notice to Liston that one of the upcoming deliveries was to be changed due to the emergency conditions and the memo with the new time and route would be delivered to Liston, right through Jameson’s hot little hands.

Jameson’s tail would stick extra close to monitor his contacts off the store premises, so as not to Ms. any information exchange. If Jameson delivered the information in person, then they would find out who his contact was. If it was an in-store source, then they would probably Ms. it. There wasn’t much they could do about that, but it was agreed that a policewoman would replace Collins’ secretary as a temporary. Lois Jones, his long-time secretary, was still at home suffering from shock after finding Gainer’s body. Her replacement would go un-noticed and the policewoman would do what she could to keep Jameson in sight.

Liston would have his employees load up the armored car in the usual manner, with the usual crew of guards. They would leave the lot and a few blocks later a set of undercover officers would catch up, following far enough behind to see whether the car was being followed. Halfway to the site, the armored car would be diverted and a duplicate car would finish the run. Undercover as company security guards, police would ‘deliver’ empty jewel trays to the store. If all went as the other robberies, then the armored car and it’s escort would be hit before they would get to the unpacking part of the plan. The area would be so full of cops that the robbers wouldn’t be able to twitch a muscle once they had come out in the open. With luck, someone in the group would break and lead them not only to Wayne’s empire, but the killers of Kirk and Gainer.

They couldn’t be more prepared than that, as things now stood.

It had been decided that Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson were to keep to their schedules and wait for a possible contact by either Jameson or Wayne’s men. Although Pasquini had his doubts as to them being drawn into any action once Jameson had what he wanted, he was unwilling to pull them out in case their covers would still be needed. Unless they were called in, they were to be home Thursday night and wait for the outcome.

“Damn!” Starsky exploded, pounding his left fist into the LTD dashboard as they drove to the store for their dayshift. “Damn, damn, damn!”

Hutch barely spared him a look. “Gee, I got a couple of dents in the fender you might want to work on,” he said sarcastically. “Feel better?”

“Yes, actually I do,” Starsky replied with a sigh. “It just gets to me, bein’ outta the action like this. I feel like a fifth-wheel around here. We haven’t gotten a damn thing accomplished.”

“Look, Starsky, we’ve got almost two whole days to work around on this thing. Who knows what could happen in that time? So, we sit back and take it easy this time. We were pretty much a fifth-wheel team when we came in, so we go out that way. Don’t take it so personally.”

At the store, the usual shift announcements were made and much to Hutch’s chagrin he was back to being totally ignored by the blond-and-beautiful Sarah. The worse part was that he was slowly getting the feeling that she wasn’t ignoring him to play hard-to-get. He didn’t get the impression that he bothered her, just that he didn’t really exist. Invisible Man time again. He sighed. Guess I’d better think of moving on. Of course, there’s always the rest of the store to get to know.

Hutch had been assigned to the Sporting Goods floor and Starsky had gotten Lingerie and Cosmetics, which wasn’t too bad, Hutch reflected as they each could indulge a few fantasies during the slower moments. The crowd had died down drastically today and business went pretty much as usual.

First break came with no news. The detectives had pulled different lunches this time, Hutch getting his first. Retrieving his brown-bag lunch, Hutch found a free spot at a far table. He was happy to see Arnold Ford chatting away with Kathy Winters and some of the other women from the upper floors. They were listening with patience as the old security guard finished presenting them with another of his ‘war’ stories. Hutch wondered how often the ladies had heard this one. He thought he had heard it least twice so far.

“Mind if I sit here?” Hutch gestured to the seat by Arnold, getting smiles and nods.

“Kenny! Well, I saw where you and Dave had moved up in the world.” He beamed at Hutch. “Too bad it took such a mess to get you on days, though.” Arnold scratched his gray head and sighed. “You just don’t know what the world is comin’ to anymore. You just can’t be safe anywhere. But I’m glad you two are doin’ all right.” He patted Hutch’s back.

“So, guys.” Hutch glanced around at the table, smiling his most welcoming smile. “What’s the new word for today?”

Sandra from Cosmetics shook her head. “After all this nasty stuff last week, there doesn’t seem to be much going on today. The only thing I’ve heard are…” she paused ticking the items off on her fingers. “Wally and April finally got together now that she’s quit the store. Mrs. Jones may never come back after finding that body upstairs. Gary in bookkeeping finally picked a wedding date. Kim and Janet in Lingerie had a cat-fight over Kim’s boyfriend and a lot of us are talking about quitting.” She sighed. “At least I’ve gotten my boyfriend to pick me up in the afternoon. He’s not good for much, but at least he can stand there and look tough for me.”

Kathy Winters snorted into her coffee. “At least your boyfriend cares. My husband just tells me if I’d keep my nose out of everyone else’s business, I wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked. Fat lot he cares.” She stared morosely at the far wall, sipping at her coffee.

“Well, now,” Arnold replied kindly, “a little interest in your co-workers and friends is healthy. We all gotta take care of each other. We’re all family here ya know.”

Well, looks like the grape-vine is tapped dry, Hutch though. I heard this all this at morning break. Maybe… He cleared his throat. “You guys wouldn’t happen to know anything about Sarah Keats, would you?” It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it? “I mean, is she seeing anyone, or… um, anything?” He felt himself smile in embarrassment. It’s not like I need help or anything… but since Starsky isn’t here…

Sandra and Lisa exchanged amused looks and Kathy blushed and cleared her throat. “Really, Ken, I think she’s spoken for and, well…” Kathy was obviously trying to find the right words. “I just don’t think she’s your type.”

“Oh?” Hutch replied, confused. He was getting some kind of signal here and he knew it was going right over his head. He glanced at Arnold, who seemed about to have a laugh attack, but was trying to be polite. “I guess she’s pretty… serious about someone, then?” He searched his memory. I know I checked for a wedding ring and no engagement ring either. She never said she was going with anybody, never told me to ‘bug off’…

“Oh, I’d say she’s serious,” Lisa said, sneaking a glance at Sandra. “Sarah never flirts with anyone. It’d make her girlfriend Tammy mad.” Lisa and Sandra started to giggle, giving him a pitying glance.

Girlfriend? Hutch mused, puzzled. Why would she care?

“Now, you two.” Kathy admonished. “Don’t be gossiping. We don’t know anything for sure. You could get her into big trouble and you’re just embarrassing Ken.” Kathy picked up her lunch trash and waved at the other two younger women. “Time you two got back to work. Go on.” She waited for the other two to say quick and amused good-byes and the trio left together.

Still confused, Hutch threw a questioning glance at Arnold.

Arnold smiled strangely at him. “I hear her girlfriend gets vicious when she’s jealous.” He paused, waiting for Hutch to catch on.

Girlfriend? Jealous? Oh… OH! Hutch could feel himself turn red. Damn! No wonder I’ve been invisible all this time. I’ve been trying to court a lesbian?! Hutch knew he must be as red as a tomato. And they’ve all been watching me go after her, day after day. Damn! Man, I’m glad Starsky isn’t here! It was, in fact, the only saving grace he could find at the moment.

Arnold, seeing the play of emotions across Hutch’s face couldn’t hold it any longer and burst out laughing. “Hell’s bells son, I thought you knew! Davey said you were as stubborn as a mule, that you’d just take it as a challenge.” Arnold broke into a loud guffaw and slapped Hutch’s back.

If it was possible to turn any redder, Hutch was afraid to find out, he felt like he was burning up as it was. “Davey knew?” Hutch heard himself ask incredulously. “How long has Davey known about her being gay?” That sonofabitch!

Arnold grabbed a breath and gave Hutch a huge grin. “Hell, son. It must’a been the first week you guys came to work. We both noticed that you seemed taken with the gal, so I gave him a quick word to pass along to you.” Arnold lost himself and started laughing again. “I thought it was a bit peculiar, you being so gung-ho about courting the lady. But like I said, Davey told me you liked a challenge.” Arnold got up, still laughing and patted Hutch on the back. “Don’t be too hard on him son.” And with that he left for his rounds, still chuckling merrily.

He’s gonna get it! Hutch fumed, trying in vain to cool his blush. He felt certain that everyone was looking at him. He grabbed his leftovers and made for the trash can and door. Sonofabitch knew all this time and never said a word! I don’t know how and I don’t know where, but David Michael Starsky is going to regret this. The rest of the afternoon Hutch spent in evil contemplation.

Wednesday’s shift ended without event. Hutch had not learned anything new about the case, but his time spent in research had not been wasted. Hutch had spent a few extra minutes after his shift to take care of some business. He knew Starsky would be waiting for him, as usual, in the locker room. Now was the time to start his plan for revenge.

***

“Hey, Dave,” Hutch said, greeting Starsky with a cat-ate-canary smile. “How’d your shift go?”

“Fine,” Starsky replied, curiosity obviously aroused. “Good news?”

Hutch heard the real question and backed off his enthusiasm a little. “Oh, no. Nothing I’ve heard.” He started to change, humming to himself, still using that self-satisfied smile.

“So?!”

“So, what?”

“What’s with the grin?” Starsky asked suspiciously. “You look like you just won a million dollars.”

“Oh, that,” Hutch answered with a grin. “I took off a little early and was able to catch Sarah before she left. We had a wonderful conversation and I was able to charm the lady off her feet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Starsky replied, blank faced.

“Oh, yeah!” Hutch returned, pulling his shoes on. “You should have seen me. I was sooo smooth. You would have been proud. I went in there, gave her my best lines.” Hutch grinned, elbowing his partner in the ribs, “She gave in. We’ve got a date.”

“A date?” Starsky was obviously stunned. “You and Sarah? A date? For when?”

“No, no,” Hutch replied and nudged his partner. “We’ve got a date. For Friday. I figure we oughta be over this by then. If not, we could always cancel. She’s got a girlfriend named Amy and Sarah said she and Amy were pretty ‘inseparable’. Now I can understand that.” Hutch paused with an understanding shrug. “You know, some girls like to double the first date, to get to know the person and see if they really want to get involved or not. So I told her I completely understood’, that I knew where she was coming from. I told her you’n I were the same way. ‘Inseparable’.”

The blood seemed to drain from Starsky’s face. “You told her what?!” he squeaked.

“I told her we were like them. Inseparable. Companions.” Hutch ignored the stunned look on his partner’s face. “Well, I wanted to put her at ease. Not like I was trying to put a heavy move on her or anything. So she called Amy and they agreed to a double date on Friday. She said it would be great to get together and talk. ‘Compare notes’ she said.” Hutch gave Starsky a serious look. “You haven’t made any plans, have you?”

“What? Uh… no.” Starsky looked bewildered.

“So, you ready?” Hutch asked. Starsky still looked a bit confused. “Hey, you listening?” Hutch asked, serious.

“Huh?”

“I said I’m ready. Let’s go.” Hutch smiled as a suddenly quiet and preoccupied Starsky followed him out the door. Just wait ’til Friday, Pal. Just wait. Hutch could feel his smile turn smug.

The trip home was quiet. Hutch made a quick trip for groceries while Starsky stood guard over the phone. It wasn’t until Starsky was making their dinner that the phone rang. It was Pasquini.

Hutch took the call, which was short and sweet.

“Well, what’s the news?” Starsky asked, frying the hamburger for spaghetti sauce.

“Pasquini says the pass was good,” Hutch responded, feeling let down. “Jameson saw the altered transfer orders for tomorrow night and almost floated away with relief. At lunch he high-tailed it to Troy and they had a nice, little twenty minute conversation. Then he was back at work, nervous, but much relieved.”

“Sounds like tomorrow night is when the fireworks go off.” Starsky sighed, finishing up the spaghetti. “And we aren’t invited.”

“So far, Starsk, so far.”

They both sat down with their dinner of spaghetti, salad and garlic bread.

“So,” Starsky began, mopping the last of the sauce from his plate. “What do we do tonight? It’s was only 7:00 p.m.”

“Beats me.” Hutch took both their plates to the sink and set them to soak with the other dishes. “If we didn’t have to stay home, I’d go out for a run.” He gave a great stretch and a yawn. “Sweat some of this case out of my system.”

“So go. I’ll hold down the fort ’til you get back.”

“No way. I step foot out that door again and all hell will break loose. I can’t be ready at a moment’s notice if I’ve got to shower and change when I get back.” Hutch shrugged and headed for his room. “Besides,” Hutch yelled down the hall, “I might get mugged. Then I’d have to call the cops.”

Hutch could hear Starsky flipping through the TV channels. Must not be anything on tonight, Hutch realized, hearing Starsky work his way through the selections for the third time. And I’m running out of reading material. He took a moment, trying to decide which of his favorites would hold his interest tonight. He grabbed the one he wanted and plopped down on the lamp side of the couch.

“What about cards?” Starsky asked, sitting on the couch next to him.

Hutch tried to ignore him, searching for the chapter he wanted. “I’m not playing cards with you. Besides, I’m reading.”

Starsky reached for Hutch’s book, twisting it to give the spine a glance. “You’ve read that twice already and the others at least once. What about cards?”

Hutch gave him a frustrated glance over the top of the book. “Starsk, I am not playing cards with you with three cards missing out of the deck.”

“Why not? They’re not even the important ones. We can play around them.” Starsky insisted.

Hutch gave him a disgusted look. “Why not? I’ll tell you why. No matter what we play, I’m going to need those three cards. All three of them. Forget it. Besides, you’re already playing with less than a full deck.” He snickered to himself, as he turned back to his reading.

Hutch knew that Starsky had made a face at him when he thought Hutch wasn’t looking. I’m going to ignore you, Starsky. Watch TV. His partner settled back into the couch and sighed. Hutch had managed three paragraphs before Starsky sighed again. Not just any sigh, but his ‘I’m bored’ sigh. No, Starsky, I’m ignoring you, Hutch thought in response. He managed to read almost four paragraphs before Starsky yawned loudly and sighed once more. This time it was Starsky’s ‘lost little boy’ sigh. No way, forget it. Hutch was determined to read this chapter, hell or high water. But after a page and a half, Starsky’s next sigh was his ‘I’m all alone in the world’ cop-killer sigh.

“Will you knock it off?!” Hutch exclaimed angrily, giving his partner a scathing glare over the top of his book.

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Starsky replied in contrived confusion.

“You keep sighing. Over and over. Knock it off.” Hutch warned, trying to get back to his book.

“So I’m bored. So sue me,” Starsky replied with a slightly wounded look. He crossed his arms and tried to look a little lost.

“If you want to play cards so much, why don’t you go and play solitaire or something,” Hutch griped, trying to remember what he had been reading.

“With three missing cards?” Starsky asked incredulously. “Besides, it’s not my fault we gotta stick around here and be bored. I’m just trying to pass the time. But if you’re gonna gripe about the way I breath…”

“So, what else do you want to do?” Hutch asked in defeat. He could tell by now that Starsky was not going to let him read in peace. Doesn’t matter much anyway. I’ve read the same paragraphs over and over. I’m almost as bored as he is. He tossed his book on the end table.

“I don’t know. If I knew that I’d be doin’ it.” Starsky sighed, gaining another dark look from his partner.

Hutch sat back and crossed his arms and stared into space, trying to concentrate. He had an idea…

“What?” Starsky asked, after a few moments of careful staring. “Some kinda new yoga thing?”

“No, no,” Hutch replied, thinking hard and rubbing his chin. “I read about this ancient game in one of my library books awhile back. I’ve been looking for a playing board, but never could find one. Was trying to see if I can remember all the rules.”

“Game?” Starsky was suddenly interested. “What kinda game?”

“It’s a board game of sorts they used to play in ancient times. You play it with a board and stones. Or beans.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun.” Starsky snorted, losing interest. “How much fun can playing with stones be? Besides, we don’t have stones, beans or a board.”

“Look, you want to learn or not?” Hutch asked with irritation. “Go in and find me…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Get me 48 pennies.”

While Starsky was busy chasing down the coins, Hutch took a section of the paper and unfolded it. He took a jar lid and traced six circles in a line down the center of the paper and repeated the circles in another line right beside the first. He then took a saucer and traced one big circle on each end of the double row. He spread the paper on the coffee table and took over the couch side, facing one of the rows horizontal in front of him.

Starsky came in with a handful of coins. “So, now what?”

“You sit on the floor. Give me the pennies.”

Starsky settled himself on the floor, looking in curiosity at the circles on the newspaper. “What do we do first?”

Hutch gave him back half of the pennies. “It’s called Mancala. They used to play it in ancient times. These,” Hutch pointed to the row of small circles closest to him, “are my circles and this,” he tapped the large circle to his right, “is my mancala. My storage bin. Yours is on your right.”

“And this is my row.” Starsky gestured at the row closest to him. “Now what?”

“You put four pennies in each of the smaller circles. We’ll call them ‘bins’ and the pennies ‘stones’.”

He waited until they both placed all of the pennies. “Now, the object of this game is to empty your six small bins. When that happens the game is over and you get one point for each stone in your mancala.”

“How do we do that?” Starsky wondered out loud, not looking very impressed.

“I’ll go first.” Hutch picked up all the pennies out of one of his bins. “You chose a bin on your own side and take all the stones, then put one stone in each bin to your right, until you use them all. You circle the board.” Starsky watched as he did this. Hutch ended up by placing his last stone in his own mancala. “Mancala stones are ‘retired’, they stay there ’til the end of the game. Since I put my last stone in my own mancala, I get another turn. That’s the only time you get to go again.”

Starsky gave him a sharp look. “You sure you’re allowed to do that?”

Hutch just grinned. He took another pile of stones from his side. This move put another stone in his mancala and his last one in one of Starsky’s small bins. “You go around in a circle as far as you can. Now, my last stone ended up on your side and not in my mancala, so it’s your turn. One other thing, if I make it that far, I don’t put a stone in your mancala and you don’t put one in mine. We just skip each other’s mancalas as we circle around. And once you touch your stones, you have to play them. You’re not allowed to touch them to count them either.”

Starsky studied the board with suspicion. “Hutch, this will take forever! We’ll never get all these stones in the mancalas.”

“Ah, but there’s more.” Hutch pointed to the two now-empty bins on his side. “If I can get all the way around and put a stone in one of my empty bins, then I get to put that stone and all the stones in the bin directly across it from your side into my mancala. I’ve captured them. Then it’s your turn. At the end, I’ll show you how to count the points.”

“Okay!” Starsky said, seeing the pattern. “So as we get goin’ we get great piles of stones in our bins, but they can be captured from the other side.” He grinned. “You wanna keep score?”

“Starsk, we’re just starting this. You sure you want to embarrass yourself like that?” Hutch asked with a sly smile.

“Hey, it’s no game if you can’t keep score.” Starsky grabbed a pen and started a scoreboard on one side of the newspaper page.

The first thing Starsky did was to copy Hutch’s opening moves and end up with two stones in his mancala and two empty bins.

The game moved smoothly for awhile, each man emptying a bin, then moving their pieces around the board and slowly racking up points. But as the game progressed and the bins were filled to over-flowing with stones, they slowed their play. The moves became more critical. Hutch was the first to empty his six bins.

“Okay, game over, Starsk. Now, my bins are all empty, so I ‘won’, but you get to keep all the stones in your small bins and they count as points for your side. Sometimes it’s better not to be the one to go out if you’re going to leave the other player lots of stones.”

The first game went to Hutch, 25 to 23. Starsky dutifully wrote down the score.

“Now that we’ve practiced,” Starsky said, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, “let’s play for real.”

They played for several hours in near silence and to Hutch’s surprise they were stayed pretty evenly matched, steadily keeping within 40 points or so of each other. They played quietly, totally ignoring whatever was on the TV.

It wasn’t until Hutch realized that he had a king-sized kink in his back that he noticed the time. “C’mon, Starsky, better pack it up. It’s 11:00 p.m. Time to watch the news. I’ve got to finish the dishes.” Hutch yawned and stretched. “By the time we get around, it’ll be too late for visitors. I think we’ve been stood up again.”

But Starsky had taken to the game with a vengeance. “Aw, c’mon Hutch! Let’s play ’til one of us gets to 500 points.” Starsky was acting too enthused to want to quit. “‘Couple more games and we can quit. I promise.”

“Why?” Hutch got up from his cramped position on the couch. “What’s so special about 500 anyway? It’s just a number.” He stretched while on his way into the kitchen to drain the dishes and start the hot water. “Why shouldn’t I quit now?”

“‘Cause you’re winning, that’s why,” Starsky replied, stretching out on the floor. He, too, moved stiffly. “And it’s not fair for the person who is winning to just up and quit. It’s rude.”

“Rude?” Hutch asked incredulously, looking sharply at his partner. Starsky had joined him in the small kitchenette. “How in the world can you say that? What’s rude about walking away while you’re ahead?” He placed a few washed dishes in the drain. Starsky grabbed a towel and started the rinsing and drying.

“It’s just rude, that’s all,” Starsky replied sternly. “The winner shouldn’t be based on some arbitrary score. We should have some mutual goal in mind and work toward that. You got up and ended the game without my consent.” Starsky smiled mischievously. “You owe me another one.”

“Starsky, that’s ridiculous.” Hutch drained the water and rinsed out the sink, passing the last dish to Starsky. “If we were going to pick a goal, we should have done that when we started. As it was, each game was a goal unto itself. You’re the one who is picking 500 as an arbitrary objective. I didn’t agree to that.” Hutch smiled at his own point while taking the last beer from the fridge.

“Ah,” Starsky replied with a grin, placing the last, dry dish on the shelf, “but 500 is a nice, round number. A goal that’s possible with only a couple more games.” He suddenly reached out and snagged the unopened beer from his startled partner, quickly moving out of reach. “We could play for something real, like the last beer.”

“Starsky!” Hutch growled dangerously, reaching for the can.

“Hey!” Starsky scolded with a laugh, barely able to keep the beer out of Hutch’s long reach. He double-timed it back into the front room, keeping the can away from his stalking friend. “No one said you had rights to the last one. You want it? You play me for it!”

“You…! You…!” Hutch sputtered, unable to catch the elusive beer without starting a major wrestling match. He was not going to start acting like a child. “Okay, you’re on, Mr. Hotshot. You want to play to 500? Fine, but why make it just a beer? Why don’t we make it something more substantial?”

“Hey, fine with me! You name it.” Starsky challenged. He set the prized beer can on the coffee table, right where their scores were listed.

“Okay.” Hutch thought for a moment and suddenly smiled. “If I win, I get the beer and you get to change my spark plugs, clean out, wash and wax my car. By hand. Two coats.”

“Now that’s gross!” Starsky protested. “That’s not a car, that’s road kill! And your rusted spark plugs are the only thing that’s holdin’ the engine together.”

Hutch stood, arms crossed and smiled. “You’re always complaining about it. Now’s your chance to do something about it.”

“Okay, okay.” Starsky grinned evilly after a moments consideration. “Fine. But if I win, I get the beer and you get to repaint my bedroom and living room. To my satisfaction. At least two coats.”

“Paint your apartment?” Hutch asked, suddenly curious. “Why? Why not have me work on your car?”

Starsky smirked. “‘Cause I’ve seen your car, that’s why, ‘n the landlord said if I wanted to repaint, he’d take the cost of materials and labor off of my rent. It’s past due and I’m tired of dirty white.”

Hutch paused for a minute, thinking it over. “Painting, okay, but we both move the furniture,” Hutch insisted.

Starsky wasn’t quite ready to cave in. “Okay, we both move the furniture, but you gotta do the bathroom too. Trim and everything.”

Hutch almost balked, but decided that it didn’t matter that much. He wasn’t going to lose anyway, as he was still ahead by 30 points. Time to pull out all the stops! “Fine. Deal.” They shook on the matter and set up their make-shift board for two more rounds of play.

The first game went quickly until the last few rounds, when the game play slowed to a painful crawl. It was tricky to plan strategy when you couldn’t count the stones in the few large piles that were left. As it was, Hutch seriously misread the amount of stones in one pile and ended up placing the last few stones on his nearly empty side of the board, killing his chance to be the first one out. Starsky was able to clear his side in his next turn. They were both now within 20 stones of the magical goal of 500.

Neither one said a word when they set up the last round.

In this game, even the beginning moves took on supreme importance, every move was worked and reworked before play, causing more than one frustrated glare at a partner. The end-game seemed to go on forever, one capturing as many stones as the other. It was with a final flourish that Hutch placed his last stone in his mancala.

“Hah! Got you there, Starsk. Now we see who’s really won.”

“Don’t be so sure, Hutch. It ain’t over ’til the counting is done.” Starsky eyed the fairly even piles.

But after the count, the final score ended up being Starsky 497 and Hutch 511, much to Hutch’s glee.

“You know what your problem is Starsky?” Hutch gloated, picking up the now warm beer can. “You never quit before you get too far behind. You should have left well enough alone. My car thanks you.” He raised the can in a mock toast.

“Ah, man!” Starsky moaned. “I really, hate that car. Just being seen next to it tarnishes my reputation. Putting wax on it is a waste of good wax.” He sighed and watched as Hutch ceremoniously opened the beer and took the first swallow. “Okay, I’m not gonna bitch. I asked for it. When do you want your curse worked on?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Hutch took another swallow and relaxed into the back of the couch. Content in the glow of victory. Grinning the grin of a well-fed cat he drained the can half-way. “After we get this case over with, when we get back home.” Hutch sighed, stood and stretched, yawning loudly. “I figure you can work on it right after we get your bedroom and bathroom painted.” He shrugged and handed his partner the rest of the warm beer, knowing he would be up for awhile yet. “But not yellow. I’m not helping you paint anything in your apartment yellow. Everything you’ve got would clash worse than it does now.”

Starsky sprawled himself across the couch and grabbed the TV listings. “Blue, I was thinking of ‘egg-shell’ blue.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll talk about that later. I’m packing it in.” Hutch yawned and waved at his friend. “Good night, Starsky.”

“‘Night, Hutch,” Starsky replied to the retreating form.

Sweet dreams, kiddo.

 

THURSDAY’S COME AROUND AGAIN

Thursday started the same as the others, with the two getting up and ready for work, just like all the other shift-working stiffs in the world.

Isn’t this what we wanted, once upon a time, just to be part of the background? Hutch mused as he headed the LTD toward work. Both were quiet this morning, partly out of boredom and partly in frustrated hopefulness. Didn’t we say we wanted to take it easy? I guess it’s hard to play the extra, when you’ve felt like the star.

Hutch knew that Starsky was even more frustrated than he was. Even after the attempted hit by Gunther, Hutch could feel that Starsky’s first impulse was to be in the middle of the action, no matter how dangerous it was. It’s my ‘first impulse’ too, Hutch sighed. I guess I just didn’t know how strong it was. Time to find a new way to look at the game, if we’re going to plan on living through it.

“You know, Hutch,” Starsky broke into the middle of his thoughts, his voice heavy. “I’m really starting to feel sorry for the poor guys who work these jobs.” He stared out of the window, head in hand. “At least with police work, we’ve got something new to do each day. But man, this facin’ the same job everyday would drive me nuts. Even police paperwork is better than these jobs.”

“Yeah, I miss the rough and tumble too, Starsk,” Hutch replied. “But we’ve always had the choice, you know. To stay and take the garbage, along with the accomplishments, or leave.” He nodded toward the world they drove by. “I guess we always knew the easier life was out there, whenever we wanted it.”

“But we didn’t want it.” Starsky spoke firmly, sure of himself. “And it will still be there, I guess. But I’m not so sure that a desk job is the end of the world anymore, not if it means we could still be cops.” Starsky looked seriously over at his partner. “I don’t think I could have given up bein’ a cop, Hutch, even if Gunther had put me in a wheelchair. I guess in my mind I’ll always be a cop, one way or another.”

Hutch smiled. Time for the future? “If we’re going in for the long haul, Starsky, we’d better start making plans. When we get too old for the streets, we’re going to want our choice of desk jobs and not just let them stick us in any old empty desk.”

“And I think,” Starsky gave a mock-sigh, “that we both better think about college.” He grinned. “And if you’re nice, I’ll even let you scam my notes.”

Hutch grinned back as he turned into the employee parking lot. “Well, somebody’d better warn Dobey, one of us just might decide to go after his job.”

“I don’t know Hutch,” Starsky added, his grin returning. “Dobey’s an awfully big man, it just may take both of us to do it.”

***

First break came and went. Lunch shifts came and went. Time was getting short and Hutch felt the itch for action. Last break and shift end came and there was still no nibble at their bait. They had checked in with base and Captain Pasquini had not been surprised that they hadn’t been approached. He reaffirmed his orders to stay and sit it out. At 9:00 p.m. the fake shipment would be pick up from Iverson’s and by 10:30 p.m. it would be over, one way or another. All they need to do was stay home and baby-sit the phone.

Day’s end had been disappointing. After dinner and dishes, they had gotten more and more restless, unable to sit still. They had both had the same unspoken, indescribable feeling that they were still, somehow, in the game. It was nothing they could pin down, nothing they could talk about. They both tried to pass the evening quietly, trying to stay out of each other’s way.

Like waitin’ for the dam to break, or the thunder to strike, Hutch thought, feeling in the tension in the pit of his stomach. Starsky was like a ping-pong ball, unable to settle and bouncing from room to room. He feels it too, Hutch thought tiredly. He tried to focus on the TV and fought for the millionth time the urge to snap at his partner and make him sit down. At least he’s rearranging my room.

It stunned them both when it came. The hard, heavy knock froze them in place. It’s Jameson! Hutch glanced at his partner, feeling his stomach react. It was just after 8:15 p.m. Is it going to be too late? The timing was too close. He could see that Starsky felt it too. This is it! Ready?

At Starsky’s small nod, Hutch headed for the door just as the impatient knock sounded again. “Yeah, who is it?” he snapped.

“It’s Jameson. From the store.” Came the quiet, urgent response.

Hutch opened the door, not surprised to see that their visitor had arrived with company.

“Hey,” Hutch stood his ground in the doorway, “we weren’t expecting company.” He glanced from Jameson to the stranger.

Jameson glanced nervously at his companion. “This is Mr. Andrews. He wants to talk to you guys.”

Starsky came up behind Hutch. “Why should we talk to Mr. Andrews?”

Mr. Andrews, a big, burly blond gave them a small, grim smile. “You might say we all work for the same firm. We don’t have a lot of time, gentlemen.”

Starsky shrugged and turned away from the door. “So talk.” He walked over to switch off the TV.

Hutch backed off and let the two men into the room. Jameson looked sick and pale. He stayed by the door, quiet, like a whipped dog. The detectives watched as Andrews wondered around the room, eyeing the sparse furniture, cataloging the meager personal affects. Invading their space and confident in his ability to do so. The detectives gave him a minute before deciding he had had enough of a look-see.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” Hutch snapped, blocking his path. “Or would you like a tour of the house?” he added sarcastically.

“Now, now, Mr. Avery,” Andrews rumbled dangerously. “Be polite. I’m a representative of Mr. Wayne, who, as you may or may not know, happens to have supplied the little goodies you purchased from Troy. We don’t like smart-asses, Avery.” Andrews didn’t blink, staring Hutch intensely in the eye. Taking a step closer to facing him squarely, Andrews put himself into Hutch’s personal space, trying to force him to back down. Hutch stood his ground, denying the bigger man’s right to be there.

Don’t mess with me, Hutch thought at the man, not blinking, but returning the steady gaze. I’m not afraid of you, with or without backup on my side.

“We don’t like initiative, not from within our own organization,” Andrews said, braking his stare with a slightly amused look. “Mr. Wayne was very concerned that you actually contacted Mr. Jameson at the store.” He paused, amusement gone, giving them both a serious glance. “But he was intrigued by your offer of help. Obviously…” He smirked at the dingy apartment. “you both could use some redecorating money. Just how interested are you in breaking into Mr. Wayne’s circle?” Andrews asked Starsky, holding his aggressive stance with Hutch but now totally ignoring him.

Cool, very cool. Puts me in my place, Hutch thought, slightly impressed. Stand in my space, but refuse to see me. You’ve done this before. Hutch glanced over at Starsky. Don’t give in too fast, buddy. Only an idiot wants to dive into quicksand.

“Well, Mr. Andrews,” Starsky answered, pausing. “We are more than sick of the security guard garbage.” Starsky walked slowly and deliberately a quarter turn around the back of the man. Don’t mess with either of us, unless you’re serious, Starsky’s eyes flashed. We’re a team. Andrews was forced to back off from his aggressive stance with Hutch in order to watch both men. “We don’t like being at the bottom, which is why we were going to get a little side business going. Are you saying you’ve got something new to offer? We’re interested, but we don’t beat up ladies or old men and we don’t kill, so forget that stuff.”

Andrews smiled and glanced at his watch. “We could use a couple of extra hands, if you’re interested in a hundred, but it’s got to be yes or no. Now. And if it’s ‘no’ then you can deal elsewhere. Prove your worth and maybe we’ll set you up for some big action.”

Playin’ push and shove, Hutch mused. Time to get serious and make the deal.

“Man, that’s no money.” Starsky walked up to Andrews, invading his space. “Think more like two hundred. Each.”

Andrews gave him a surprised grin. “Four hundred? But you don’t even know what the job is.”

“We figure it’s important enough if Wayne is sending you to ‘ask’,” Hutch answered, taking a step forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with his partner. “And if he’s threatening to cut us off, then he’s playin’ hardball. We don’t like to be pushed and we don’t like playin’ ‘Blindman’s Bluff’. But we’ll play it, for the right money. We are interested in the money.”

“Play money,” Andrews said, after a moments consideration. “No problem, if you two are as good as you seem to think you are. Deal?”

Starsky looked at his partner. After a moment’s silence Hutch nodded.

“In advance,” Starsky demanded.

Andrews’ smile grew as he pulled out an obviously stuffed wallet from his inner jacket pocket. Neither of the detectives missed the fact that the man was walking armed. Casually he drew out four one-hundred-dollar bills. He handed the money to Starsky. “I assume you two can deal with the big bills.” He said, as if talking to children.

The man sure comes well prepared, Hutch though. He’s high enough up in the ranks to make his own deals for the boss. If this is a set-up, we’re in deep.

Starsky pocketed the money and nodded. “Okay, we’re paid for. What’s the job?”

Andrews walked to the door. “Come with me. Now.”

Both detectives had been afraid of this, but not surprised. Now that they were in on whatever was going down, they were going to be watched closely. No last minute phone calls. No backup. Unarmed. A test of their intentions.

“Don’t we need anything?” Hutch asked cautiously.

Andrews glanced at his watch again. “You’ve got uniforms at the store?” He watched for their nod. “Then we’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”

The four men went down to a nondescript sedan. A driver was waiting. Both detectives stayed silent as Jameson was pushed to the front seat and the others took over the back.

I hope Captain Lang still has a tail on Jameson. This may be their last chance to see us. Hutch glanced around, but didn’t recognize anyone he knew.

“We have a special shipment coming in from Iverson’s tonight, gentlemen.” Andrews studied their faces as he talked. “A jewelry shipment is leaving the store by special armored car. We are going to take over that shipment, you two will be extra inside men. All we need is for you two to guard the halls leading to the Jewelry vault. We don’t want anyone stumbling in on us when we hit. It’s not much, but I’m sure you can be useful.”

The words startled both detectives. Hutch gave his partner a surprised look. They’re not gonna take the delivery car, they’re gonna hit the car before it leaves with the store. Great! By the time the undercover cars catch on, it’ll be over.

“What’s the matter Coleman, Avery? Can’t handle that much action?”

Starsky put an unconcerned expression on his face. “No big deal, but how’re we gonna explain being in uniform while we’re off duty? And what about some guns? We can’t guard very well if we don’t have any firepower.”

Andrews shrugged, unconcerned. “No heat. You’d look out of place if you were packing. Only the transportation guard carry weapons. I’m sure you’ll come up with something to explain yourselves. You just get dressed and be in the first basement level, by the double doors into the warehouse in thirty minutes. You keep everyone out of the warehouse area, you walk home. You cover your own ass’. You do well and we’ll think about using you again.”

Damn. We gotta get some word out, Hutch thought, frowning. We can’t count on Jameson still having a tail. If they get to the car while it’s being loaded, they can clean out all the open vaults. Not to mention there’s gonna be shots fired. “What about the transportation guards? You’re not gonna get by them. They have high powered weapons.” Hutch asked.

Andrews just nodded to himself. “We’ve got our own men already in place. We’ve got some of our own guards in the transportation department and in other store positions. They’ll take care of the employees inside. We just want you to keep out the employees who might wander in from the sides.

The transport guards! Hutch silently fumed. Gainer could’a pulled strings to get us where we could’a done some good. Nightshift floor walkers, no damn good to anybody in this! He could tell by the way his partner was sitting that Starsky was thinking the same thing. Gainer didn’t want any help and he made sure we were placed out of the action. Damn!

 “Hey,” Starsky asked seriously. “How’re we supposed to know who our friends are? You know, in case something goes wrong.”

Andrews was silent for a moment. “Coleman, if anything goes wrong, you have no friends.”

They pulled up around the alley side of the vacant store. Andrews opened the car door. He stepped out into the dark evening and waited until the two men had exited the car.

“We’ll see you later, gentlemen. You’ve got a lot riding on this.” And with that he reentered the car and left, taking a pale and silent Jameson with him.

Both detectives got their bearings in the dark alley and started toward the employee entrance.

“We gotta problem,” Starsky whispered, checking his watch under a nearby street lamp.

“No foolin’,” Hutch replied checking the dark and deserted streets. “We can’t count on anyone tagging after Jameson. We’ve got to alert the troops, get dressed and get into place in twenty minutes. I don’t see anyone in place and I don’t know where they were gonna pick up the armored car. Any ideas?”

“Not right off.” Starsky grimaced. “Not a damn pay-phone in sight. Nothing open close enough. All the store phones go through the switchboard, right?”

The night switchboard was run through the security office during the evening hours and the phone access to the outside lines were restricted to ‘Emergency Need’ only.

“Yeah, at night they all go through the security board.” Hutch answered tersely, checking the parking lot as they walked swiftly toward the back of the large building. “It’s Beaman’s shift and he keeps a close eye on the out-calls. So how do we know if we can trust him at the switchboard?”

“We don’t. If he’s on Wayne’s payroll, he’ll be listening to all the calls. He might even disable the system during the heist. He could always claim it was an accident.” Starsky replied.

They were coming up quickly to the back of the building and the employee entrance.

“We don’t have the time, Starsk. We’ve got to get word out now. And we’ve got to get in place. Plans?”

“Nope. We’ll play it by ear.”

They entered the store and promptly ran into Saputo, their friend from night-shift. He had drawn door duty, a new position since the murders. “Hey guys!” He greeted them warmly. “What’s up? Slummin’?”

Starsky flashed Hutch a look. Trust him?

“Nah,” Hutch replied to both questions “Quincy’s going to pull us from days in the morning. Figured we’ve had it too easy this week. We’ve got to go by the office and see what we’re scheduled to do this weekend.” He smiled. “We did have big plans.”

“Too bad, guys.” Saputo grinned. “Can’t say as we’ve missed you around here. Let me know how it goes.” And he waved them on through the quiet corridors.

As soon as they were out of sight, they jogged down to the locker rooms and started dressing as quickly as possible. They were running out of time. “Starsky, we’ve got fifteen minutes. If we’ve got to go through the switchboard, we’d better keep Beaman busy. You decoy him, I’ll make the call from the break room. It’s the closest. But you’ve got to punch me open an outside line.”

Dressed in record time, they headed toward the security office. Hutch stayed back by the time clock, out of view from the security office windows, but close enough he could peek in. He pulled a few time cards, checking the time stamps and whispered a name to Starsky. Starsky headed into the office.

“Hey Mr. Beaman! Guess who’s back!” Starsky announced loudly as he entered the security office.

Hutch leaned close to the door listening to the conversation. He needed to know when Starsky had a clear field.

“Coleman? You’re not on duty. Why are you here?” Beaman’s voice boomed into the hall.

“Didn’t Wally tell you? He needed tonight off for one of his college exams and I told him I’d fill in for him. He didn’t need to leave ’til nine, so I said I’d just come by and cover the last half of his shift.” Hutch heard Starsky pause. “He said it was all fixed up. He’d got the forms approved ‘n everything.”

Hutch glanced through the door window. Beaman was looking through a clipboard. “I not only don’t see you here, I don’t remember a shift change being approved. I’m sure Ms. Quincy would have left me a note. Besides,” Beaman gave Starsky a beleaguered glare. “Wally Kraft isn’t even on-shift tonight.”

“No way,” Starsky said disbelievingly. “We had this all worked out. I know Wally was gonna be working tonight. I’m sure of it.”

“He’s not here Coleman, I’d know.”

“Oh.” Starsky faked confusion. “Look, Mr. Beaman, could’ya look up Wally’s schedule for me? I need to get this straightened out, ’cause I know this test was real important to him. It was gonna affect his grade-point-average or somethin’. Maybe I just got the dates wrong.”

Beaman gave him a frustrated glare. “Okay, Coleman, wait here and I’ll dig it out of his personnel file.” The man turned toward the back offices.

Hutch hadn’t needed Starsky’s signal to know the time to move. He headed for the break room phone as soon as Beaman turned around and quickly dialed for the outside line. He thanked providence that the room was empty, while waiting for Starsky to do his thing. Come on Starsky, hit the button! Hutch could hear the buzz of the line. Suddenly he got a dial tone and dialed the station’s number. He dialed straight for the switchboard, knowing that Pasquini was even now on the stakeout.

Hutch sweated for the few minutes it took to patch him through to the Captain. “Pasquini here.”

“Captain! It’s Hutch, the robbery is coming down at the store, when the car comes in to be loaded. I think Wayne’s men are already inside and it’s gonna go down fast! We could have hostages.”

“Shit!” Pasquini answered. “Are you there?”

“Yeah, Starsky and I are here in uniform, but I’ve got to drop the line.”

“Stay back.” Pasquini ordered. “We’re on our way. I’ll call in the SWAT team. Pasquini out.”

Hutch replaced the receiver, hopeful that their luck had held and Starsky had Beaman occupied. He moved quietly down the hall and peeked in the security window. Starsky was behind the counter, helping Beaman pick up a loosely scattered pile of paper. Hutch waved as Starsky’s head came up.

“Damn it, Coleman! I was trying to tell you that Kraft was never scheduled to work tonight. You’ve got your wires crossed somewhere because I don’t see any of the paperwork you’re talking about. Kraft’s in the book. You look him up and call him. From home!”

“Yes, Sir! Sorry!” Starsky waved Hutch by the large windows as he finished handing Beaman a sheaf of papers. Hutch moved quickly, pausing on the other side of the windows, just out of sight.

“See you tomorrow, Sir!” Starsky back out of the security door, watching Beaman. After a second Starsky sprinted passed the windows, obviously having waited until Beaman wasn’t looking.

Hutch grabbed him and they ran swiftly to the main basement elevators. “I got through,” Hutch whispered hurriedly, pushing the ‘down’ buttons for all the elevators. “Pasquini’s pulling everyone in. We’re supposed to stay back and wait.”

“Wait for what? ’til it’s all over? We gotta get in there Hutch! You know there’s gonna be hostages if their heist is blown,” Starsky replied in frustration.

Hutch pounded the nearest elevator door. “Get in there with what?! Starsk, we’re unarmed!”

Starsky gave his partner a hopeful grin and a pat on the arm as a pair of doors slid open. “Me and thee, partner. The right place ‘n the right time. We’ll find a way.”

One of the elevators ‘dinged’ and slid opened. The two hurriedly entered and pressed the ‘B1′ button to take them down to the general storage, loading ramp and lower access elevators.

Very few customers of Iverson’s knew about the extensive basement and vaults built underneath the main store. The Jewelry lab and vaults were in the second basement level, the lowest. The warehouse and special elevator from the lower vaults to the truck access area were located in the upper level. The armored car would be pulled up to one of the special truck ramps and when the access doors were unlocked, the car would be backed down the ramp to the first basement level. This is where it would be loaded and where outsiders could bypass the in-store security system and get the closest access to the vaults, only one level below.

To the two men in the elevator, the one-level trip took a lifetime.

They steeled themselves to be calm, cool and professional-looking before the doors slid open. The elevators took up one end of a long hallway, warehouse style offices lining both sides of the dim hall. At the other end were double doors that led to the large, underground warehouse storage area and across from them, on the other side of the building was the car ramp and lower elevator. These were the double doors they were supposed to guard, in case someone wandered down to the lower levels.

The offices’ were all dark and the hallway eerily quiet. Both men hurried down to the double doors and pushed them open easily, listening for sounds of voices. They heard nothing. Starsky checked his watch. “This is where we’re supposed to stand ‘guard’. The car is due in anytime now. How long is the loading supposed to take?”

Hutch shrugged. “They estimated forty-five minutes or so. But if these guys get in and start dumping the stuff in the back, they could be in and out in less than fifteen or twenty minutes, depending on how greedy they are and how much is in the vaults.”

“I vote greed. It usually wins,” Starsky mumbled. “Let’s go take a look.”

While the lights in the office hallway section were dim, the darkness beyond the double doors had settled like a heavy blanket over the entire area. While Iverson’s upper floors were restocked in the early evening and early morning hours, each floor had its own small storerooms, which were replenished during the day from the main warehouse level. There was no activity in this level at night. Except for a few dim bulbs along one wall to light the way to the other end, all other lights were turned off at night. The warehouse level took up the entire area of the building like an immense, dark cavern with heavy, massive shelves making a maze of the near invisible interior.

But toward the far end, the room was dim-lit. That’s where the car would be loaded.

Like a cave down here, Hutch thought. All that’s missing are Starsky’s bats and mummies. Hutch could feel Starsky tense. Not as much fun as a horror movie, huh, Starsky.

Hutch moved forward, into the darkness. He knew they’d have to come in on the dark side, or they wouldn’t have a change of getting close. Suddenly Hutch could hear the echo of voices. Hutch suddenly grabbed Starsky in the dark, feeling him freeze position. Hutch reached for the nape of Starsky’s neck and pulled him over to whisper in his ear. “The car is here and someone’s gonna miss us at our post anytime now. We’ve got to go farther in and find the next walk-way between the shelving. Come up behind them in the dark. They’ll be expecting someone to come in by the lights.”

Starsky just nodded, knowing Hutch could feel the movement.

In seconds, Hutch had started down into the invisible darkness toward the center of the building. Starsky followed. Hutch kept his left hand on the second shelf level as he moved, knowing that he would have to find the next walk-way by touch. When the shelves ran out, they’d have found a corner. Once in awhile, he could catch a shape by the dim light reflected off of a bit of shelving from the opposite wall. Starsky must be loving this, He thought in amusement, feeling his partner’s hand on his back . A chase in the dark was always his favorite part in those stupid horror movies… Suddenly Hutch’s hand lost contact with the shelving. End of the line. He reached back and found the corner of the massive shelves.

Making a left, he could see the dim-lit loading area ahead. The shelves, having a much shorter breath than width, passed faster. He counted seventeen rows over before they came upon the clear area at the far end of the building. They had come to the loading dock area, where the shelves ended and the forklifts were parked.

Hutch peeked around the corner. Under meager lights, the area couldn’t have been any clearer. The armored car had used the last docking area, the one closest to the loading elevator. He could see the back of the truck and he watched as the two store guards stood toward the rear. They were talking in quiet voices to the driver and his ‘shotgun’ companion. The car was still closed and they seemed to be waiting for someone.

Hutch backed off and let Starsky look for himself. He turned the corner and squatted below eye level, waiting for Starsky. His partner, a dark mass in the inky blackness seemed to zero in on him as soon as he came back around the corner. They huddled close, trying to keep their noise down to a minimum.

“Recognize any of them?” Hutch whispered.

“Naw. Not from here,” Starsky answered. “They didn’t mix with us in the store much. I think they take their breaks downstairs with the jewelry technicians. They’d know each other though.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Hutch said with a sigh. “Andrews said they had their own men in guard positions and in the store. Probably means some of the jewelry technicians are bad guys too. They all could be bad guys as far as we know. We can’t just walk up and act like we belong.”

“We may not have a choice,” Starsky replied grimly. “Hutch, we need to get downstairs! When Pasquini’s men come runnin’ in, we could have a hostage situation if they’ve got civilians downstairs and they think they’re trapped. We need to be there when the firing starts.” He thought frantically for a moment. “We’ve got to take these guys out to get to the elevator. Our uniforms are close enough in color and their hats have the transportation insignia on them. We get their guns and their hats and we could get downstairs and make our way in before anyone realizes who we are.”

Hutch nodded in the darkness. “We’ve got to get them quickly. Unless they split up, there’s still four of them.” He got up. “We got our belt cuffs, I saw some packing tape on one of the forklifts. Hold on.” Hutch made his way back to the tape and took a couple of rolls.

After handing one to Starsky, Hutch started cutting the tape into long strips with his penknife, Starsky doing the same. Both detectives could hear the four men talking amicably. The driver and his partner were listening to a story told by one of the other guards when suddenly they stopped.

Damn! Elevator coming up! Hutch squeezed Starsky’s arm, listening to the slight hum of the machinery. Now we’ve got to wait. Still too many people to handle.

They watched from the shadows as the elevator doors opened and a pretty red-haired woman rolled out a cart filled with trays. Quiet words were exchanged and the lady smiled as the two store guards walked over and helped her position the cart. The car driver and his partner used their keys to unlock the armored car doors. The driver walked over to sign the form completing the delivery. The young lady watched as the driver and his partner transferred the eight covered trays to the back of the specially built car. The young lady voiced her thanks and disappeared with the cart back into the elevator.

What happened next took only seconds. As the elevator closed and the driver and his partner had turned around to close and relock the car doors, the two store guards struck. In one split second both of the transportation guards were unconscious and down on the ground. It was well done and well planned, but the two men hadn’t planned on being victims of attack themselves.

As soon as the store guards moved to strike, Starsky and Hutch were out of the shadows. They were too slow to stop the attack, but they took the remaining two men by complete surprise. The fight took less than a minute and ended up with two bad guys on the floor. Each took a man and dragged him back into the darkness, leaving the first victims for a moment.

Using their handcuffs and the packing tape, they bound up the unconscious men. In a few quick moments they had taken the new hats and had replaced their ’empty’ utility belts for the gun and holster types the bad guys had worn. Both men checked out their new weapons and ammo. Starsky took the few extra seconds to rethread the leather holster for a left-handed draw. When finished, they dragged the men even farther into the darkness.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, they returned to the armored car and checked out the driver and his partner. Both were still unconscious, but would live. They were lucky they weren’t killed outright, Hutch thought. If this place didn’t echo like the Grand Canyon, they probably would have been shot. The detectives dragged them into the darkness too and hid their extra weapons behind boxes on the shelves. If things went down wrong and the two men woke up hearing shots, they’d be better off waiting it out in the dark then shooting at police by mistake.

Starsky and Hutch straightened themselves out and pressed the elevator buttons for the lower floor. It was time to go down and get in place.

“Hutch! What about the car?” Starsky asked, just realizing it was being left open. “Pasquini’s men should be outside by now. The bad guys could use it to escape, it’s bullet proof!”

“No problem,” Hutch replied smiling. He tossed Starsky the key ring he had taken from the driver. “Car keys. Those armored cars are a bitch to hot-wire.”

“No foolin’?” Starsky asked, looking suspiciously at his partner. “You can tell me about it later. What about the back doors being open?”

Hutch shrugged. “Too late now.” The elevator doors swung open and they entered.

The ‘B2’ button was pushed.

The door was going to open into unknown territory. Neither man had been down in this area and knew little other than what April had told them.

It took countless seconds to reach the bottom, but the door finally opened on bright lights, white tile and a huge work area. Small office doors and windows lined the right-hand wall. The area to the left was a large and open. The work area was filled with long stainless steel lab-like tables with built-in lower drawers, padded stools and various sizes of clamps. They could tell that various types of metal work was done in this area by the bits and pieces of rough and delicate tools lying about.

Both men took a second to take in the layout. Obviously a craftsman’s area. But empty. Hutch held the elevator doors open, Where are the night technicians? Where are the vaults? Where’s…

It was Starsky who heard the first faint noise. He grabbed Hutch’s arm and led him out of the elevator, skirting the edge of the office wall. It took only a second for them realize that the white wall of the office side of the room did not really connect to the equally white wall at the ‘corner’. Like an optical illusion, there was a niche around the corner that was all but invisible from the other end of the room. No kidding! Hutch was surprised. We would’ve walked right by it and not realized it was there until too late. It was the area containing the jewelry vaults. And there was definitely something going on.

A sudden crash, like a dozen dishes had been dropped, bounced and echoed around the room. A woman’s voice suddenly sounded in a sob and a plea. Mixed voices, other men and people moving around reached the two detectives.

Starsky tried the door to the last office in the row and found it open. He waved Hutch into the dark room and crept to the corner, taking a glance around. He was back in the office in a minute. Both crouched behind the door.

“Four vaults. Nearest one open,” Starsky whispered urgently. “Five technicians in white coats. They’re being held against the near wall with their hands up. Five guys in guard uniforms, two covering the hostages and the other three filling bags. I don’t think they’re gonna worry about the trays anymore.”

“Were there handles on the inside of the vaults?” Hutch asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. Why?” Starsky looked at his partner in confusion.

“If we can get the vault shut, then that just leaves the two outside the vault!”

“But those things gotta weigh a ton!” Starsky protested.

“Hang on, let me check.” Hutch made a trip to the corner and was back in a second. “There’s no handles on the inside, just emergency call buttons. They’re power assist doors, Starsk. Get them moving and they’ll shut on their own.”

“Really?” Starsky grinned. “Let’s do it! I have a feelin’ it’s not going to take them long to empty that thing.”

Both detectives crept to the corner, hatless, guns at the ready and glanced around the corner.

The white-coated technicians were still standing against the wall, hands up.

One of the two guards was yelling at the technicians. “I’m telling you right now that I want those other vaults open! Someone here has access to the combinations! Who’s in charge?” He screamed in frustration.

One of the technicians raised his hand slightly higher.

Hutch tapped Starsky’s shoulder and nodded to the closest work station. They could angle behind the gunmen by using the large tables as cover. Hutch crept over behind one table and was able to make his way to the other one, unseen. One more table and he would be behind the gunmen.

“They’ve changed them all! I swear!” One of the technicians was pleading as Hutch made his way to the last bit of cover. “We can’t get the others open. We were only authorized the one vault tonight. Honest!”

Hutch was able to catch the eye of the red-headed woman, who had moved slightly behind the open vault door in order to protect herself. She froze when she saw the detective, but didn’t otherwise move. With a motion of his hands, Hutch was able to pantomime her pushing the vault doors closed. Her eyes widened, but she barely nodded her head, bringing her hands down slightly.

“Another minute Frank, we’re about done!” The voice came from inside the vault. “If they can’t open the others, forget it, get rid of them.”

Before the last sentence finished drifting out of the vault, the detectives moved.

“HALT! Police!” Hutch boomed, taking a gun stance from behind the last table.

At that same second, the red-headed woman rushed at the vault door, giving it a tremendous push. Like a spring loaded trap, the door swung with unexpected swiftness, clanging shut, trapping the three startled men inside.

The other two men, startled into swiveling toward Hutch’s voice, froze when a gun disappeared out of one man’s hand with a sharp ‘crack!’. He stood staring, pale with shock at his bloody hand.

“DROP IT!” Starsky re-aimed at the second man. “Or I’ll take you both out!”

The second man stood frozen. The detectives were too far apart to even think about taking the chance of hitting them both. Disgusted, he carefully laid his gun down, his every move covered by two gun sights.

Hutch kept them both covered while Starsky frisked the new prisoners. Neither one relaxed until they had verified with the shaking but relieved technicians that they did indeed have all the bad guys accounted for.

After handcuffing the two men to a workstation and settling the technicians in an office, the detectives placed themselves near the elevator. They both knew there could still be bad guys who might try to force their way down. There was no telling what the fireworks were like upstairs and calling out on the phone line could cause problems if they ended up talking to the wrong people. Until Starsky and Hutch knew everything was under control upstairs, they’d keep the elevator covered and wait until they were contacted.

The ring of the office phone made them both jump. Hutch was closest to the office and picked it up. It was a short conversation. “Starsky, company’s coming,” Hutch answered his partner’s look with a smile. “That was Captain Pasquini. He wanted to know where the hell we were. Seems we were missed upstairs by more than one group. He says we missed all the big stuff. Bad guys, gunfire and everything. He wanted to know if our reports were ready yet.”

Starsky grimaced. “Once a captain, always a captain. They’re never happy.” He placed his gun on the table and started to unbuckle his heavily loaded belt.

“Yeah,” Hutch agreed with a heartfelt sigh. He placed his gun and belt beside Starsky’s and they both took ‘the position’ against the opposite wall. “Damn it, Starsk,” he mumbled in disgust. “We always miss the good stuff.”

A second later, the elevator exploded with the local SWAT team.

 

Epilogue

FRIDAY

David Michael Starsky lay in bed at 4:30 a.m. Friday morning and felt like he wanted to explode. It wasn’t going to be an angry explosion, or a frustrated one, but an it’s-my-birthday or an it’s-Christmas-morning-and-I-know-there’s-presents type of explosion where everyone broke out into song kinda thing. It was the kind of feeling that if he even so much as moved his little toe he was going to shoot out of bed and bounce around the room kind of thing. So he lay in bed at 4:30 a.m. with a stupid smile plastered across his face, trying to wait until a decent time to get up.

He wasn’t sure why he felt this way. He and Hutch had been up most of the evening filling out those reports the Captains always needed in the dead of the night. Actually, he and Hutch had been pretty lucky, as their part in the whole evening had been pretty ‘minor’ paperwork wise. They didn’t have to book or interrogate anyone, just sit down and type their own reports out after Pasquini dressed them down for going inside when he wanted them outside. ‘Course, Hutch had to nit-pick all over his report, but Starsky figured his partner had a point. Pasquini seemed to like his creative writing even less than Dobey did, so when Hutch had pointed out that some of his better phrases had actually gotten a little excessive, Starsky had toned them down without too much complaining.

They’d made it home just after midnight and hit the sack. Now, less than four hours later Starsky was wide awake and practically itching to start the day. Hutch’ll kill me, he thought, wondering if he could just get up to watch TV. But I’m gonna have to move soon, or I’ll go nuts! He knew Hutch was dead to the world by the way he was snoring. Mostly, Hutch didn’t snore, but when he did, it meant he was really zonked and you woke him up at your own peril. He didn’t usually get mean and moody, but if Hutch’s didn’t get enough sleep he got philosophical and tried to analyze the world and that was even worse to deal. And Starsky could never quite figure out why Hutch could putter around all he wanted when Starsky slept and it never kept him awake, but boy, if Starsky was up and around then Hutch had to get up too, ranting and raving about it. Starsky decided he had better wait.

It’s not like I do this very often, Starsky wondered, so why now? He was used to seeing the early morning hours from the other end, but waking up by himself this early was pretty unusual. Other than birthdays, Hanukkah, Christmas, or the first day of school vacation, it was pretty rare for him to wake up eager and ready. He could pretty much count those occasions he remembered on one hand; his first day reporting to the police academy had been one and his first day in uniform had been two, his first official day as a detective had been three, the first official day of his and Hutch’s partnership had been four and the day Hutch had taken him out of the hospital after Gunther’s attack had been five. And today’s number six, Starsky pondered. What is so special about today anyway? It’s gotta be something. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked around the room, eyeing his posters and general bedroom mess. I get to go home! Starsky suddenly realized, feeling the smile take over his face.

Now we can get back to our real jobs, Starsky thought. I’m really back in shape, not great shape, not pickin’ fights shape, but in good enough shape to get the job done. Now that’s something to celebrate!

He hadn’t realized until now that those countless hours with the police psychiatrist actually meant something. How do you feel about this and how do you feel about that? That kinda shit just drives me crazy, as if I could turn back the clock and undo the damage… He hadn’t wanted to think about it, he just wanted to get on his feet and get moving again. But he actually had been afraid and hadn’t realized it. After Gunther’s attack, of all the things that could have kept him from being a cop again, it had been Hutch that had truly scared David Michael Starsky. That was the bad part, Babe, Starsky thought toward his sleeping friend, that even if they stitched all my pieces back together, that maybe we wouldn’t be the same anymore. Guess I’ve been a little scared that you wouldn’t trust me in a pinch, afraid that I couldn’t cover your ass. Maybe ‘Me and Thee’ didn’t mean the same thing anymore and you’d feel like you’d have to carry my weight for the rest of your life.

Starsky thought back to the last few months of his recovery, when he and Hutch had gone through a bad spell, arguing and fighting over everything Starsky could and couldn’t do until he had almost screamed at Hutch to back off and leave him alone. I could see that it hurt you, yellin’ like that and it scared you too. I know you. You were afraid you couldn’t back off and treat me like an adult anymore. You thought of me as an invalid, even when I wasn’t. I’d become your dependent and you didn’t know how to let go and find the friend again. And without your friend, how’re you gonna do the job without it eatin’ a hole in your soul?

Maybe that’s what today is, Starsky mused, deciding he liked the feel of the thought. Maybe we are finally, truly, back into the swing of things. It was ‘Me and Thee’ again these past few weeks, like nothing’d ever changed. Starsky knew that if Hutch had ever faltered, had even for a second doubted his ability, then he would have known the second it happened. Hutch could never have hidden it from him. And last night, on the way home, it had seemed as if everything had finally been put back into place and they had what they needed again.. Now Hutch ‘n I can really go home, do what we’re supposed to be doing, even if it’s a hell of a lot less exciting than before. Grinning ear to ear, he decided that in order to start the day off right, he needed his car back, now.

Starsky bounced out of bed and hit the bathroom quietly, then decided while dressing to throw caution to the wind. What the hell, Starsky decided, grinning evilly. He’d be up pretty soon anyway, on a normal day. Hutch, who had practically hit the pillows asleep, was draped across the small bed with arms and legs hanging limply over the edges, snoring his snore of the dead.

“Rise and shine!” Starsky announced, flipping on the light in Hutch’s room. “Time to get up! We’ve got an appointment to keep.” He watched as Hutch twitched, but only slightly.

“Huuutch!” Starsky boomed, knowing it was mean to use his ‘I need you’ voice, but figuring there was no use in drawing this out.

Hutch, startled out of sleep sat up suddenly, blinking in the bright light. “Wha’? Wha’s it?” He mumbled almost incoherently, reaching for a gun he wasn’t wearing.

“Come on, ya big lug. Outta bed!” Starsky commanded. He turned to Hutch’s neat dresser and dug through the drawers, throwing clothes his partner’s way. He pocketed Hutch’s wallet and car keys. “We’re goin’ to get my car.”

“Your car?” Hutch repeated, blinking sleepily. “What the hell time is it?” He groped for his alarm clock and squinted as he tried to read the dial. “It’s 4:45a.m.!” Hutch groaned in dismay. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you nuts?” he asked in shock.

“Sure, but it’s nothin’ that gettin’ my car back won’t fix.” Starsky granted his outraged friend his most charming smile, knowing it wouldn’t do much good. “Come on! Get dressed. Let’s go.”

Hutch glared at him though sleepy eyes and enunciated slowly and carefully. “You. Can. Go. To. Hell.” He then grabbed his pillow and covered his face, pulling up the covers with a frustrated jerk.

Starsky was not deterred in the least. “Gee, it’s not like you don’t usually get up at this time anyway. Hutchinson the early bird, remember? And either you’re comin’ with me, or I’m gonna take the LTD and get the Torino myself,” he warned.

“Fine,” Hutch replied from under the pillow. “Knock yourself out.”

“Well,” Starsky drawled, leaning against the door frame and jingling Hutch’s keys. “You know I’m not much of a morning person. I may get lost. I may have to park the LTD somewhere and catch a cab to Merl’s house. ‘Course, if I did that, I might, accidentally forget where I parked your piece of junk.” He glanced up at Hutch, who was peeking from under the pillow with dawning alarm. “It might take me weeks to remember where it is. Who knows what, if anything, would be left of it by then.” Starsky shrugged with a slight smile. “Could happen.”

“You wouldn’t,” Hutch replied uncertainly, still hiding under the pillow.

“Hey, it’s been a busy week. Lots of things on my mind.” Starsky shrugged.

Hutch sat up and stared at his partner for a full minute before giving up. He flashed his partner a hateful glare and grabbed his clothes and headed for the bathroom. He didn’t say a word.

Merl had not been at all happy to see the two. He had cussed them out for awakening him at such an un-godly hour, but Starsky had persevered and played up to Merl’s ego, showering him with outrageous praise until Hutch announced he was going to be sick. Merl finally relented and on an early Friday morning, Starsky was reunited with his baby.

Merl had worked on the car diligently during Starsky’s convalescence, able to find the replacement parts needed to fix the massive damage inflicted during Gunther’s attack. Merl had lectured him, he had been damn lucky they hadn’t hit the fuel tank, or the motor, the bullets having been aimed at window level. Merl had been able to fix or replace the damage, but Starsky had better start taking better care of the poor thing, ’cause Merl was getting tired of working on it. He had agreed to store the car for Starsky while he was gone, start the car to charge the battery and such, all for a fee, of course.

Hutch had driven to Venice Place while Starsky and Merl had rescued his pride and joy from her clean tarp and Merl’s backroom. It’s been too long, pretty lady, Starsky patted the Torino lovingly. As long as he lived, this would always be his favorite car. But we’ve both been patched up just about as much as possible, time to back off and take care of ourselves for awhile. Starsky knew that with a quieter life, he and the Torino could eat up a few more miles before they’d have to part company, but he was going to enjoy her while he was able. One of these days he would have to find something a little quieter and little smoother and more gas efficient. But not quite yet.

Starsky gunned her motor in the early morning, thrilled at his pretty lady’s response. Time for one more go around, time to shake it loose. He revved her up and headed for Venice Place. A few minutes later Starsky spied his partner standing on the sidewalk in front of the building, talking in the early morning breeze.

Starsky pulled over and unlocked Hutch’s door. “Well, how does she look?”

“Starsky, it looks just the same as when you left it. What did you think was going to be different?” Hutch chided teasingly.

“I don’t know,” Starsky replied with a carefree shrug. “But she missed me, I can tell. You need to get anything outta the apartment?”

“No,” Hutch answered after a thoughtful pause. “Edith still has all my plants, so there’s nothing I need to check on. We’ll be home pretty soon anyway.” Hutch looked at his partner. “Nothing in there I can’t live without.”

“Really.” Starsky agreed with a smile. “Let’s go check this baby out.”

Hutch hadn’t objected when Starsky had taken the nearest freeway on-ramp and turned up the coast. Starsky was in the mood for the road and speed and they spent the next hour and a half following the coast, with the freeway nearly empty, the cool, salt-laden air blowing like a hurricane through the open windows and the radio playing their ‘compromise’ station full blast. Neither one saying a word while they watched the California coast wake up. They didn’t need to.

***

The morning’s meetings and verbal reports from the various divisions filled in a lot of what they hadn’t heard at the case ‘clean up’ the night before. It had been a late night for everyone as suspects were taken in and the murder investigations were able to get into full swing. But it was handled by the department’s regular men.

The robbery itself would command enough paperwork to fill a warehouse.

Captain Pasquini and the other captains that had co-operated in the decoy maneuver had been quick to pull in their men out of the positions and concentrate on the Iverson’s building after receiving Hutch’s frantic call. Since there had been two murder investigations at the store in one week, most of the officers assigned to the case had a good working knowledge of the building layout, which had given them some advantages. And there had been no debate about calling in the SWAT team. Too many civilians inside and the jewelry area was too inaccessible in a hostage situation.

There had been shots fired in the parking lot and several of Wayne’s backup cars had been taken out. The SWAT team had approached once the grounds were secure and entered the first basement level through the other loading docks, they had surprised two of Wayne’s men at the elevator and armored car. The two guards had put up a fight, made an abortive attempt to flee in the key-less vehicle and both had been wounded.

The identification of Arthur Reynolds, Starsky’s ‘Grinch’, as Wayne’s man had not been a big surprise to the two detectives, but the addition of Manny Saputo had been. It was a good thing they hadn’t trusted him at the back door. Manny had been expecting them and had been ordered to check on them during the heist. When he couldn’t find them at their post, he had alerted Reynolds and they had stormed the warehouse to warn the others and take off with the armored car. Instead, they had run smack into the SWAT team.

There had been four of Wayne’s men killed and three officers wounded. Uniformed Officer Adamson, Detectives Steven Gantry and Robert Sanders were counted among the wounded. Adamson was in critical condition, Gantry had been sent home and Sanders had been kept overnight for a leg wound and possible concussion.

Starsky and Hutch had both been worried at the news of Sanders being hurt, but had been assured by Captain Lang that his detective was not in danger and they would get to see him before they left.

The really big news of the evening was the arrest and interrogation of Aaron Jameson. There was nothing the man wouldn’t tell, no gift he wouldn’t give the police, even to the identity of the murderer of Detective Lonnie Gainer.

After the fight, Jameson had been found in the same sedan the two detectives had last seen him in. In a chase and shoot-out, the driver of Andrew’s car had missed a high speed turn and slid into the telephone pole, killing himself instantly and injuring Jameson. Andrews had returned police fire and had been killed at the scene. Jameson had been found injured and handcuffed in the front seat. He had been so relieved at the rescue that he had started talking at the scene, even before his Miranda rights had been read. He had continued talking throughout the night, despite the persistent advise of his frustrated lawyer.

With Jameson’s testimony, the police had been able to get a midnight warrant for the arrest of Daniel T. Wayne, owner of The Rocket and main drug-line for this section of the city on Murder, Grand Larceny and various other drug trafficking charges.

The bad news was that when the police had gone knocking on his door, the man had already disappeared. While it was a major disappointment, it was still early in the game and he was now officially ‘wanted’. He had limited opportunities in the States at the moment. The man would have to come to ground sometime and he would find all his known bank accounts frozen, his club and assets held for drug trafficking and a large number of his employees dispersed throughout the judicial system.

Starsky and Hutch had called Dobey and had found that he had already known about the bust and the completion of their case. He had been thrilled to hear of their impending return, letting them know that he had a list of cases just waiting on them. While grateful for the pleased tone in Dobey’s voice, Starsky had begged off a week’s vacation. Dobey had graciously given in with a warning that they had better be prepared for some ‘real’ work when they got back.

Of course, no one was thinking vacation today. The two Metro detectives had been able to stake out a typewriter all to themselves and had spent almost the entire day in meetings and in trying to finish their statements. There would be more meetings for the next few days and odds and ends to fix up, but they fully expected to pack up and go home on Sunday afternoon, right after the memorial service for Detective Gainer.

Starsky was tiredly tapping away at the unfamiliar typewriter, Hutch having to make a trip downstairs for more forms, when Detective Greg Phillips entered the room. Close behind was his partner Robert Sanders. The injured party had a large bandage on his forehead and was leaning heavily on a cane.

The kids looks good for a first injury, Starsky thought. Like he’s glad to be back in the office. Guess he finally feels like he’s ‘earned his badge under fire’. Starsky smiled at the men. “Hey, how’s the walking wounded?” Starsky greeted them, standing up to shake Sanders’ hand. “Prognosis must be bad,” Starsky said to Phillips, giving him a wink, “if they’re letting your partner out still looking like that.”

“No, no,” Phillips replied, grinning. “He’s always been that ugly. That’s normal.”

“Clowns. The world’s full of clowns,” Sanders muttered, flushing under his freckles. He took a seat in the chair Phillips had snagged for him and shifted a little more to his left side, careful to sit only on his left cheek. It was obvious to Starsky just which side the ‘leg wound’ was on and where it was.

“So, Detective Sanders, does it hurt to get shot?” Starsky asked innocently, eyes wide.

Sanders just gave a disgusted snort. “What a stupid question! And you’re not the first one to ask me either.” He just shook his head incredulously. “And they were serious, Starsky! I swear to God, they were serious!”

“But I’m confused,” Starsky said, winking at Phillips. “Now, Detective Phillips, just where is this leg wound your partner sustained?”

“Okay, okay!” Sanders flushed even redder and interrupted before his partner could answer. “I got shot in the ass! It’s not like the whole department’s not gonna know by morning anyway.” Sanders paused for moment, then smiled sheepishly. “At least they didn’t get my best side.”

All three men snickered at that.

“Hey!” Hutch entered the noisy room and smiled at the small group. “How’s the patient? Nurses throw you out already?” Hutch tossed the extra forms down on the table and reached to shake Sanders’ hand. “You on the way home?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to come by and hear the news,” Sanders admitted. “I didn’t get to hear much of it in the hospital last night. They not only act like you’re a wounded child, but like you’re stupid as well.”

“Hold on a sec,” Starsky interrupted and took a peek into Captain Pasquini’s office. “It’s empty, we can talk in here.” He motioned them on in, casting a furtive glance about the room as he closed the door.

“You first,” Hutch said pointing to Sanders. “How in the hell did you get ass shot?”

Starsky and Phillips broke out in laughter at the utterly defeated look on Sanders face.

“I suppose every detective in this building can tell,” Sanders replied with disgust. “It was a ricochet! A ricochet! When we were chasing down Andrew’s car, the driver couldn’t make the turn and slid into a telephone pole. Phillips got our car stopped and we used it for cover while returning fire.”

“There we are,” Phillips broke in with an amused smile, “returning fire. I’m squatting down, behind the cover of the car, reloading, when I see this guy,” Phillips motioned to his partner, “suddenly ram his own head straight into the side of the car and knock himself cold. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. I picked Andrews off after a couple more rounds. Checked to see if this guy was still breathing, then checked out the other car for survivors. I’m on my way back to my car, black-and-whites arriving from every direction and I’m yelling at them to call a couple’a ambulances and a meat-wagon. I get to my partner and he’s lying on the ground, hands on his tail end, mad as hell, screamin’ about someone kickin’ him in the ass.” Phillips started laughing. “Seems one of Andrew’s shots ricocheted off of the fire hydrant. Practically got him up the…”

“Greg!” Sanders pleaded. “Can’t I just draw them a picture instead!”

The other three detectives couldn’t contain themselves any longer and burst out in gales of laughter. Unable to keep his own face straight, Sanders soon joined in. It was quite a few minutes later before they could all settle down to talk without getting a serious case of the giggles.

“Fill us in guys,” Phillips asked, after the laughter had died down. “I made the meetings this morning, but was baby-sitting this guy all afternoon. Anything new?”

“Well, Daniel Wayne is still missing,” Starsky answered, pausing to remember what news had come in lately. “But his yacht left early this morning and the coast guard is tracking it. He’s a jump ahead though so it looks like he may make Mexico before they can stop him.”

“Aaron Jameson is more than ready to testify against Wayne,” Hutch added. “He’s already worked out a deal with the D.A. and has fingered Andrews as Douglas Kirk’s killer. He gave us Gainer’s killer early this morning.”

“Do we know what went down?” Sanders asked quietly.

“We were right about the jewelry scam Jameson had going,” Starsky said. “Jameson owed Wayne a huge amount of money. Wayne was pushing for the cash when Jameson got this scam idea. He and Liston would make their overseas trip and Jameson would make his own deal behind Liston’s back. He worked out a kickback deal with the merchants, where they would send over fakes. Jameson would get his split as a check made out to one of Wayne’s legitimate companies. As soon as Jameson got back, he would deposit the check into Wayne’s bank accounts. When the shipments arrived from overseas, Kirk would verify them as authentic, then set them aside and put them in one shipment. That shipment would be ‘robbed’, with a good number of authentic pieces taken, but a big part of it would be fakes.”

“How did Kirk get into this?” Phillips wondered.

“Well, you know about his alias, his secret life?” Starsky waited for the nods. “From what we can tell, Wayne had known about Kirk for a long time and had blackmailed him. He had Kirk falsify authenticity certificates for some various pieces of jewelry over the years. Insurance scams and such. Jameson didn’t even know about Kirk’s past until Wayne told him.”

“Kirk must of gotten spooked on this one,” Phillips remarked. “Did he put up some kind of fuss?”

“Yeah,” Hutch continued. “Kirk lost his nerve when April saw something ‘off’ about one of the phony shipments. Apparently she came close to spotting some of the fake stones set aside for the next robbery. Kirk panicked because he was real fond of April and considered her his protégé. He tried to keep April out of the area, but was scared she might be targeted as a danger to the set-up. Jameson found out she had been kicked out of the work areas and confronted Kirk, concerned about what the girl might know. Kirk and Jameson had it out and Kirk vowed that he was through with Wayne and the whole deal. He was ready to spill the beans on Wayne and everything he knew, in order to make sure April was safe.”

“Jameson ran to daddy,” Starsky continued. “He told Wayne everything. The last fake shipment had already gone through and Wayne was ready for one last, large hit for the real stuff. They didn’t need Kirk anymore, so his head-goon Andrews was sent to kill Kirk. They got him in the parking lot and stuffed him under Hutch’s car. It was a warning to Jameson that Wayne could get at him anywhere at any time, including the store.

“Did Wayne still need Jameson at that point?” Sanders asked. “Didn’t he already have his men planted inside?”

“Sure,” Hutch answered. “But what Wayne didn’t have was someone else who actually had access to the armored cars and the shipment schedules. Jameson had already cultivated Ms. Quincy as a bedmate and I guess she’s pretty loose with her information when she gets to trashing her boss. Quincy told, Jameson told Wayne and that started the whole ball rolling.

“What happened with Detective Gainer?” Sanders questioned.

“Quincy had been kept out of the loop on the next shipment, so Jameson had to get drastic and break in to get a look at the schedule,” Starsky answered. “That evening, Jameson drugged Quincy so he could have an alibi while was breaking into Collin’s office. When she woke up the next morning, she saw him in her bed and assumed he had been there all night. Detective Gainer had been combing the files at night, looking for some sort of paper-trail he could prove in court. He must have heard something and when Jameson was working on opening the safe, Gainer barged in. Before either one moved, Gainer was struck from behind by a crystal paperweight. Manny Saputo had been ordered to keep an eye on Jameson and when he saw that the guy was about to get caught, Saputo rushed in and killed Gainer, not knowing he was a cop.”

“But Saputo had an alibi all…” Phillips suddenly caught on, remembering part of Saputo’s statement. “Reynolds! They weren’t on the same floor, but they alibied each other during the break time. If I remember, Saputo got sick on break and Reynolds stayed with him until he felt better. The janitors could alibi their partners during that time, so on paper it looked like everyone was covered the entire night and early morning shift.”

“Yeah.” Starsky went on. “When Jameson saw Gainer killed, he lost it. Saputo wiped the crystal clean and left it, then grabbed Jameson and they left the office. They had to wait in the bathroom for him to pull himself together. Saputo didn’t realize that Jameson hadn’t had time to get the needed information. By the time did he realized it, they were downstairs and it was too late. Jameson then returned to Quincy’s apartment.”

“When we approached Jameson on Tuesday, the man was one step away from being a basket case.” Hutch shook his head in mock-pity. “His life was hanging by a thread and he knew it. Jameson didn’t dare use the same trick on Quincy again. And when the police found out about the affair, she cut him off cold. The man was out on a limb. When Collins called in sick and the decoy run was set up, Jameson was in heaven. Right in his hands was the information he needed for the next shipment. Jameson ran straight to Troy so he could pass it along to Wayne. Jameson thought he was done. Safe now. He even told Andrews about Starsky and I approaching him at the office.”

“Yeah,” Starsky muttered, “he put us right on Wayne’s hit-list. After we were dropped off, Jameson learned a few nasty things. One, that as soon as the heist was over, he was a dead man. That’s when Jameson got handcuffed. Two, that however we acted, we were gonna get blown away. If Hutch and I’d stayed and ‘guarded’ that hall for them, we would’ve been killed right there. Shot by Saputo and Reynolds who were to come down later. The plan was that we would have been found dead at the scene, Jameson would have been found dead, in our apartment and the cops would have tried to tie us into all the other robberies, but they wouldn’t find anything they could go on. Our tie with Wayne was minimal at that point.”

“Plus, Wayne would have been rid of us,” Hutch added. “Apparently he didn’t like our initiative in approaching Trudy or Jameson. Wayne picks his own men and then recruits them, after finding some way to blackmail them. He didn’t like us coming in out of the blue.”

“What about Trudy? Did she get pulled in?” Sanders asked.

“Yeah,” Hutch replied. “We could finger her, as she broke custom with us and took payment and supplied the goods all at the same time. They’ve pulled her in for dealing. She’s giving us Troy as her contact and Troy is being pulled in now. If we can get Troy to talk, then we’ve got another step in getting Wayne to court.”

“But will Troy talk?” Sanders wondered out loud. “Narco didn’t think they had much of a chance with him before. He’d be hard to scare.”

“Sure he’ll talk.” Starsky gave Sanders a small smile. “Wayne’s gone. Troy’s gotta watch his own ass now. Why would he want to take the heat for Wayne if he can pass it along and worry about it later?”

They were all silent for a moment, putting all the bits and pieces into place in their own minds. The case had been a long one and finishing it up would take longer still.

“You guys stayin’ ’til Sunday?” Phillips asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Starsky answered. “We’ll move on home after the service. We decided to hang around until then, ’cause there’s no use travelin’ back and forth for the paperwork when we’ve already got a place here. Although I’ll be glad to get home.” Starsky grinned with relief. “Our current dump isn’t the kinda place you wanna bring company to. Besides, my roommate is drivin’ me crazy.”

“Oh, Starsk!” Hutch jumped and snapped his fingers. “That reminds me, don’t forget that we’ve got to finish those forms and get out of here on time tonight.” He flashed Starsky a big grin. “We’ve got dates, remember?”

Starsky froze. DAMN! I forgot about Sarah and Amy… “Listen Hutch, I… uh… don’t really think this is a good idea,” He stammered, thinking furiously. “After all, we’re goin’ home this weekend and it wouldn’t be fair to the young ladies. I mean, them not knowin’ we’re police and all….” He faltered. Now what do I say?

“Oh, they already know, Starsk,” Hutch grinned back. “I just talked to Sarah downstairs. They had her in giving statements and Amy came in too. Amy was real interested to know we were police. She said she didn’t know the police force had ‘guys like us’.” Hutch winked at him and gave him a nudge.

I’ll bet… Starsky thought frantically. There’s got to be some way to get out of this! “Listen, Hutch, I just don’t think I’m really up to this tonight, with the case closin’ down and being up at all hours last night and this morning. Guess I’m just jet-lagged. I think we should pass on this one.” He gave his partner what he hoped was a sickly smile. This had better work, ’cause I’m losin’ it here.

“You sure?” Hutch gave him a concerned look. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to get out of this place and think of something besides police work for awhile. But if you’re sure you don’t feel like it…?”

“I don’t, Hutch. Really.” Starsky gave him a serious nod. “I think we should just take it easy this evening.”

“Well,” Hutch replied with a sigh, “It sounds like you need some down time then, partner. But I’ve got to get out of the apartment tonight.” Hutch looked concerned for a moment. Then he spied Sanders who had watch the conversation with a wistful expression on his face. “Hey Sanders! You feel up to a quiet double date?”

“Oh, w-well,” Sanders stuttered, taken by surprise. “I’m afraid I’m a little slow with the cane and all…”

“Hutch!” Starsky broke in, really disliking the direction this was going. “Look at him. The poor guys’ just outta the hospital! He’s not gonna want to drag himself around…”

“It’s just a dinner date, maybe a movie,” Hutch replied invitingly, ignoring Starsky. “We can call it an early evening if you get too tired. They’re gorgeous. And they really like cops. You could come up with a great story to impress the ladies, right? Be a hero?”

“Okay. I’d like that.” Sanders suddenly decided, looking pleased with the whole idea.

“But you’re sick!” Starsky protested. Damn, damn, damn! Now what am I supposed to do? Poor kid…

“Wait here a second,” Hutch told Sanders hurriedly. “I’ll see if they’re still in the building. I’ll bring them up and introduce them.” And with that he was out the door in a flash.

“What’s wrong Starsky? You look pale.” Phillips asked with a touch of suspicion.

“Oh, well,” Starsky fudged, trying to figure a way to talk the kid out of the whole thing. “I’m just concerned. I mean, what if you have a… a relapse or somethin’?” What do I say? I can’t tell them Hutch got us a ‘date’ with a couple’a lesbians… “You should be home. In bed. As soon as possible.”

“I’m fine, Starsky,” Sanders replied, studying Starsky for a moment. “Really. It’s not like something’s gonna fall off of me or anything. And Hutch said it’d be a quiet evening. If you want to change your mind and go instead…” Sanders offered.

“No. No. It’s just… uhmmm…” Starsky was faltering again as Hutch came through the door.

They weren’t quite what Starsky had expected, to say the least. Starsky vaguely felt his mouth drop open as Hutch held the door for two very lovely ladies. But the shock was that neither one of them was Sarah Keats. In fact, the first young lady was the red-headed woman from the jewelry vault. It was her closing the vault on the three men inside that had saved the detectives from being outnumbered. Starsky hadn’t know that Hutch had even talked to her afterwards, let alone knew her enough ask her out.

Before the heist! He had the dates before the heist! Starsky realized in shock.

Hutch maneuvered the two lovely women into the now cramped room and preceded to introduce them.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Sarah Covington, ” He said, starting with the red-headed woman. “And this is her friend, Amy Dillon. I’d like you to meet my partner, Dave Starsky, Detective Greg Phillips from Homicide and his partner Detective Robert Sanders. Sarah works as a Jewelry Technician at Iverson’s and Amy is new to the Sporting Goods department.”

They all nodded hello.

“Pleased to meet you,” Sarah replied. She settled her attention on Starsky. “I’m very glad to meet you, Detective Starsky.” She presented her hand to him. “I was so impressed with the way you two handled yourselves down in the vault area. I hadn’t even been scheduled to work last night. Joe got sick and I was called in. I was so sure I wasn’t going to make it out alive.” She shook his hand warmly. “You’ll never know how relieved I was to see you and Ken.”

“Detective Sanders will be joining us this evening,” Hutch added. “I’m he’s recovering from a few ‘war wounds’ from yesterday, but was willing to accompany us. I’m afraid Dave wasn’t feeling up to it tonight.”

“I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well, Detective Starsky.” Amy smiled at the detective. She was easily one of the most beautiful women Starsky had ever seen. Ivory skin, black curly hair, almond shaped brown eyes, full lips and an enchanting smile made David Michael Starsky feel faint. “I’d just started at Iverson’s,” Amy said. “I was kinda hoping I’d get to meet you. Guess we’re just star-crossed.” She gave Starsky a mind-blinding smile and turned her attention back to Sanders.

She’s Amy? Starsky thought in shock. She was my date? I turned her down? Starsky couldn’t believe it. He watched as Amy was introduced to Sanders, her date for the evening, not quite hearing the words. What the hell did I do? How the hell do I undo it? But Starsky knew the sinking feeling that meant he had blown it. Royally.

“Nice to meet you all,” Amy was saying, just as Starsky could hear again. They were leaving. Already.

“I’ll walk you girls down to your car,” Hutch told them as he held the door. “We can decide where to pick you up.”

Starsky stood there, feeling frozen to the floor. What the hell happened? Where did they come from? Starsky suddenly realized that he was alone with two puzzled detectives when he bolted past them and out the door. A second later he caught up with the trio down the hall.

“Don’t mind me ladies,” Starsky said, smiling at the surprised women. “I just have to confer with my partner for a moment.” He pulled Hutch to the side of the crowded hallway and watched with a smile as the women moved discreetly out of earshot. “I thought you got us dates with Sarah Keats and her girlfriend!” Starsky hissed, watching his partner suspiciously.

“Sarah Keats? Starsky are you out of your mind?” Hutch replied incredulously. He glanced around to see that they weren’t overheard. “Why would I get us dates with Keats and her girlfriend? Starsk,” Hutch eyed him with concern, “Sarah Keats is gay. Why would she and her girlfriend be interested in us?”

“Well… um… huh?” Starsky sputtered, feeling his face turning red.

“Look, Starsky,” Hutch whispered quietly, reaching for Starsky’s elbow and turning him back toward Pasquini’s office. “Go and finish your report so we can get out of here. I’ll take the ladies down to their car. Then we’ll finish up and I’ll get you back to the apartment and get you fed and tucked into bed. You need your rest.” He gave his partner a worried look, a pat on the back, then turned to the waiting women.

I’ve been had! Starsky stood alone in the hallway, oblivious to the passing crowd and noise. He watched Hutch walk away with two beautiful women. I know I’ve been had. Starsky pondered the problem. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but I know I’ve been had. I know his bull when I see it and as soon as I figure it out… Starsky pledged seriously, I’m gonna get him back. He turned and strode purposefully back into the squadroom and the pile of mostly-finished reports. Starsky was going to finish as much of his report as possible before Hutch’s return. Then we’ll see who scores the next few points. This isn’t over yet. Starsky grinned in evil anticipation.

As he entered the squadroom, Starsky was struck by the familiar looking elderly man sitting in a corner. Arnold Ford! Starsky was surprised. What’s he doing here? Hope nothin’s wrong. He hurried over to Arnold, catching his eye. “Arnold! What brings you here? Come on over and sit with me.” Starsky waved him toward his temporary desk.

Starsky waited until Arnold had settled. “How’s it goin’ at the store Arnold? I guess the grapevine must be running amuck about now.” He gave the older man a friendly smile.

Arnold, his old enthusiasm dimmed just a bit, gave a small smile in return. “You might say that, Davey. I mean…” He looked a little shy, “It is Davey, isn’t it?”

“‘Til the day I die.” Starsky smiled and stood up. He gave Arnold his hand. “Detective Sergeant Dave Michael Starsky. I’m pleased to meet you Mr. Ford. I’m usually assigned to Metro, but my partner and I are kinda loaners for this case.” He sat back down. “Sorry about all that undercover stuff.” Starsky offered kindly.

“Yeah, well, I was actually waiting for you guys.” Arnold began. “My friend Tommy… you know my friend from the force? Well, he came over to my place early this morning and gave me the scoop. Some of his old friends let him in on the news last night. He was real upset that he had to lied to me, askin’ me to get you guys in. I knew something’s been bothering him for awhile now, but he never said a word.”

“Sorry about that,” Starsky said solemnly. “But the department needed to get Hutch and I in there and we needed a quick history of poverty. It seemed like the best idea at the time.” Starsky reached over and laid a hand on the older man’s arm. “I was there when they talked Tommy into calling you. Everyone who knew Tommy knew you two were best friends. I know he was upset, but after that guard got killed on that last robbery, he knew how really important cracking this case was. I know it took a lot for him to agree, but he stuck up for you ’til the end.”

“Hutch is Kenny?” Arnold asked, he smiled at Starsky’s nod. “No, I understand. Tommy explained the whole thing to me. He was afraid I’d be upset that he didn’t tell me. But I finally got him convinced that I understood. Tommy has always been an honorable man. It was all for the best and I can’t fault him for doing his job in trying times.”

“I’m glad you don’t hold us against him.” Starsky gave Arnold’s arm a squeeze. “And I think you should know that Hutch and I always enjoyed your company, Arnold. And I’m not just saying that to be kind. You were a great help.” He gave Arnold a teasing grin. “After all, it’s not like you didn’t tell us everything you ever knew about your job. It would have taken us years to catch up otherwise.”

At that, Arnold broke into a chuckle. “You can say that again. I’ve been accused of worse.” He laughed at himself for a moment. “But I did come here looking for you two. I wanted to say good-bye while you were still around. I’ve given my two-week’s notice at the store.”

“Notice?” Starsky replied, worriedly. “Arnold are you sure? I thought that the store was your life. You love it down there.”

“I do, Davey. Or rather, I did. For years. But when Tommy came over this morning we had a good, long, talk.” Arnold gave him a crooked smile. “I’m gettin’ older son and I’m just not as flexible as I used to be. Oh, not just physically.” He replied, seeing that Starsky was going to object. “But mentally. I’ve been at that store for over forty years. And while I never had any family of my own, I had lots of friends and youngsters to worry over. But the best part of the job was seein’ Tommy every day. Day in and day out we’d sit and talk about things only the other one ever understood. Things his wife didn’t understand about Tommy and bein’ a cop. And I got to be ‘Uncle’ to his kids ‘n grandkids. Spoiled ’em rotten and drove his wife crazy. But then Tommy was gone and moved down the coast. I can’t make the trip down very often and I don’t get to see my adopted nieces and nephews hardly at all anymore. And at the store the youngsters come and go so fast now that I don’t really get the chance to know ’em. But I’ve stayed, too inflexible to see that my time had passed and I needed to move on.” He paused for a moment and Starsky stayed silent.

“You and Kenny were the first young ones in a long time to notice me,” Arnold continued. “And I know that it wasn’t because of the case. But I felt it was the first time in a long time someone’s really heard what I was saying. Really listened.”

“You’ve got some good stories, Arnold.” Starsky smiled. “Better than any TV or movie. You’ve done a lotta things in your life.”

“Well, this morning Tommy convinced me it’s time to leave,” Arnold announced. “His wife died over a year ago and he’s been nagging me to move in with him. Says his kids don’t come by often enough to worry about keeping that two-bedroom apartment just for himself. He’s been after me to retire and join him down there. Like I’ve said, I’ve just been too inflexible these past few years to look ahead and think about trying something new.” He smiled to himself, a look of contentment steeling across his features. “Tommy may have heard my stories a million times and I may have heard his, but we understand each other a million times better than anyone else ever will. Even if I told my stories over and over, no one else could really hear them like Tommy does.”

“Sounds like you’ve made the right decision.” Starsky smiled kindly.

Arnold stood up to leave. “Well, if you don’t see me in the next few weeks, then you can find me down the coast. I’ve decided to go home.” He paused for a moment and Starsky could see on his face that it was true. Tommy was his home, whether Arnold realized that or not. “After this last caper, I’ll have one last story to tell.” Arnold smiled. “But if you hear it for yourself, don’t be surprised to find you and Kenny’s parts embellished a bit.” He grinned and shook a finger at Starsky. “And don’t let it go to your heads, either.” He turned to start toward the door and Starsky followed him. Arnold stopped for a moment, as if he had just thought of something. “Davey?” he asked in a whisper. “I’ve seen the scars, son. Line of duty?”

Starsky shrugged a little self-consciously. “Yeah. I took a few bullets to the chest.”

“No kiddin’?” Arnold was impressed. “I bet Kenny was pissed. He ever forgive you for not duckin’?” Arnold smiled teasingly.

“Sometimes I wonder, Arnold. Sometimes I wonder,” Starsky replied with a grin. And that ain’t no lie.

“Well, sounds like a good story to me. You come down real soon and I’ll fix you up with a couple of Tommy’s granddaughters. They are single, smart and pretty and for some reason are fond’a cops. You can tell us all about it. And bring Kenny along. He’ll keep you at least halfway honest.” He grinned and headed for the door.

“We’ll be by sometime this week Arnold,” Starsky replied as he held the door open for the older man. “You have Tommy’s address ready and we’ll make it a date. Pick out the time and everythin’. You take care. Don’t let Tommy pick on you too much.” Throwing one last wave, Starsky watched Arnold disappear down the crowed corridor.

I wonder if Pop would’ve been like him, Starsky though fondly. Full’a stories and burstin’ to tell ’em. He smiled slightly to himself. Give or take another forty years or so, that’ll be Hutch ‘n me. Two old-timers, tellin’ each other the same stories over and over again ’cause the rest of our families know ’em by heart. Arguin’ over every little detail and Hutch gettin’ ’em all wrong. His grin broadened at the thought.

Starsky sat back down at his typewriter and was tiredly eyeing his still unfinished report when inspiration struck. I’m gonna fix that problem right now! Starting today, he thought with glee, I’m gonna use my leisure time to write a book on our lives ‘n cases and I won’t let Hutch read it ’til it’s published. His eyes took on an evil glint. Then he’ll just have to live with my version. The honest-to-god official police version. Then he can nit-pick it all he wants, but I’m still gonna have the last word. And since I’m obviously gonna be free this evening, I think I’ll start tonight.

Starsky hummed a favorite movie tune as he worked on finishing the last report of the day. Hutch would be back any minute now and he wanted this report finished and signed. He had a new priority. Of course, it isn’t much of a pay-back now, but when you’re planning for the long term, you can take the time to plan ahead and work out all the bugs, Starsky mused. And this, Starsky wanted to be perfect. In forty year’s time, Kenneth Hutchinson was gonna be real sorry he hadn’t been a lot nicer to David Michael Starsky.

Real sorry.