Our guys are trouble magnets or at least it’s been said by a few close to them (Dobey and Huggy). Trouble is a strange thing. It seems to find some like the pull of a magnet to metal. A routine call becomes anything but normal for Starsky and Hutch. Will their partnership come to an end due to the ensuing events?
Author’s Notes: Thank you to Lapfordlass for being my beta for this story. I would like to thank Caroline for the use of the beloved Mrs. Wilson character, who she has brought into the guys life so easily.
Warning for medical details. Story contains some vulgar language, but it is used appropriately and is what often happens with head trauma.
He was working the evening shift in the hot Federal Ammunition’s Building. He had been employed there for about seven months, and Stanley could hardly contain himself any longer. He let out a quiet, evil, dark, bone-chilling laugh and shook his head in awe at how easy it was to get a job here. His patience was wearing thin though. He could hardly stand the tedious work anymore. So he decided that tonight he would set his plan in motion and capture his revenge. Stanley was determined to make them pay and pay with their lives. It didn’t really matter to him which cops died in the process, just that some paid the toll for his family’s death and the horrific life he had endured since they were gunned down by the police.
Stanley wasn’t always known as Stanley Porter; he was born Brandon Lake, the cherished son of Del and Nancy Lake. Then everything changed when they were killed by some poor performing cops, six of them in all. The officers got off scott-free, while both of his parents died, and he ended up becoming a ward of the state, after which his life became a living hell. His grandparents were too ill and poor to care for a nine-year-old boy. They had died from physical ailments just six months after his parents’ death. He mourned the loss of his old life. His parents loved him, of that he was certain. He had always felt loved and safe with them. He knew they would do anything for him. Brandon struggled with the ‘Why.’ He could never understand how they could have been taken from him. Brandon bounced from foster home to foster home until he was adopted by the Porters.
Everyday since his parents’ death, his life was a living hell. The physical abuses he suffered along with the humiliation he endured at both home and school wreaked havoc on his spirit and his sense of right or wrong. The only tangible solution he could come up with was revenge, so that became his goal. He learned enough in school, focusing on math and science, which was a real asset in acquiring his current job.
He had decided six was the number of lives he would take, all in the name of retribution. He planned to take the lives of six police officers for those he held accountable for his parents’ death.
Stanley had made a total of 6 tainted bullets for approximately four different weapons and slipped them in after the final inspection was completed. The boxes were then sealed and shelved for distribution at a later date.
Stanley left the building for the last time snickering and mumbling to himself (or so he thought) something about ‘people will pay’ for the injustices he had endured. Hank, the morning janitor, had overheard his ramblings, but with no real context, he let it go. As Stanley was getting in his Jeep, he wondered how long it would be before his version of justice began.
******
Three months later in Alabama, a sheriff was in the middle of a robbery and discharged his weapon while standing next to a fuel pump. The gun exploded and killed the officer. Of course, a story like this made its way across the news wire and across the desk of police officials. Later it was best determined that the gas fumes were to blame for the explosion and the close proximity of the Glock 17, which, when fired, sparked the explosion. No one had given it much more thought than caring for the fallen officer’s family. In the end, although barely reviewed, it was deemed a terrible act of fate.
Somewhere in Minnesota, a man smiled after reading the article. He knew what the actual cause of the explosion was. He thought to himself: “One down five to go, then maybe justice will be served.”
******
Four weeks later, a Utah State Patrol officer lost his life when his Smith and Wesson 27 exploded as he fired his weapon at the firing range. A tragic accident or so it was deemed.
Of course, the news of this traveled through the police departments’ gossip line in many states across the US. The memo had reached Dobey’s desk. Something about the two incidents in such a short period of time didn’t sit well with the captain so he decided this Monday morning he would address the officers under him. Dobey walked into the bullpen and requested a moment to brief his detectives on the situation that had left him uncomfortable. He recounted the two incidences in detail and urged the men and women under him to be careful, but to get the job done.
A few days later, Starsky and Hutch found themselves racing down an alley after some 2-11 suspects, who had just fired at the patrol officers, who had initially responded to the call. In foot pursuit, Starsky and Hutch rounded a corner and rolled over the hood of a car that was parked unusually in the alley, both seeking cover. Starsky told the suspects to halt. But instead of heeding his warning, both perpetrators turned and started firing at the detectives. Naturally the detectives fired in response. Starsky winged a man in the right arm. Hutch’s bullet never left the chamber but instead, his gun exploded in his outstretched hand and gun parts imbedded themselves into his right side. He stood momentarily in shock looking at his destroyed hand, when barely an instant later a bullet found his right temple. He crumbled to the pavement.
Starsky screamed, “HUUTCHH!” as he shot the suspect who had fired at his partner, catching him in the abdomen. The impact pushed him into a pile of stacked crates, which fell on him rendering the man unconscious. The winged perpetrator recovered and took off down the alleyway.
Starsky ran to the unconscious man, took his weapon, tucked it into his waistband and rolled him over abruptly and cuffed him.
The next instant he was at Hutch’s side and dropped to his knees. Sirens could be heard in the distance and were getting louder. Starsky took in Hutch’s injuries and leaned to the side and lost his breakfast, without much warning. Recovering quickly, he removed his windbreaker and wrapped Hutch’s hand gently, trying not to disturb the bones that were sticking out in multiple places; mixed with charred and smoking flesh, it made for a gruesome sight. He then placed his hand on the large wound on his buddy’s right chest, while reaching up a stroking a few bloody strands of hair from his partner’s face. He was afraid to pull him into his lap due to the bullet in his partner’s head.
Leaning over his partner, Starsky just kept repeating to Hutch, “Don’t leave me buddy. Heck of a place for a nap, wake up buddy, talk to me please. Come on stay with me, buddy.” Starsky was on his knees. His legs were soon covered in blood, too much blood. Before he knew it, Starsky was being wrenched from his partner.
“No Hutch, don’t you leave me please, buddy,” he said pleadingly, as Starsky looked at his pale still, too still partner. The pain and fear that oozed from Starsky was palpable in the air.
“Come on, Starsky, move out of the way,” Dobey said because he was blocking the medics full access to his partner. When Starsky didn’t move, Dobey urged him more forcibly saying, “Come on, son. Let them in so they can help Hutch.” He and patrolman Nelson pulled the wayward detective back and upwards.
“Live dammit! Hutch please,” Starsky croaked out, with tears leaking out and cascading down his cheeks as Dobey and Nelson got him to his feet.
The medics were able to put pressure dressings over Hutch’s abdomen, head, and hand. They started intravenous fluids and intubated him to assist with breathing as it appeared he had a collapsed lung. Through all this he still hadn’t regained consciousness, and this bothered Starsky more than nearly anything else. The medics secured him in a cervical collar and placed him on a back board then loaded him in the ambulance. There was no room for Starsky, as the two medics worked rapidly trying to stabilize their charge.
“Come on Dave, we’ll meet them at the hospital,” said Dobey as he guided a shellshocked detective by the arm to his car. Dobey had requested Nelson to drive Starsky’s car over to Memorial.
******
Huggy showed up four hours later to find the captain and Starsky slouched in hard plastic chairs.
“Hey Curly, Captain. Any word on Captain America yet?” asked Huggy.
Both Dobey and Starsky shook their head no in response.
Huggy handed them each a coffee and said that he had some sandwiches and things packed for them. He suggested, “Why don’t you both eat something cuz you look like hell!” Then he said, “But first Starsky, my man, you gotta get cleaned up as your looks gotta be scaring lots of people!” He thrust a gym bag at Starsky.
It was at this point Starsky looked down and saw his blood-covered hands, arms, abdomen and thighs. His partner’s blood clung to him.
******
A short time later a doctor finally asked, “Family for Detective Hutchinson?”
Starsky was on his feet before the doctor had finished scanning the waiting room and nearly plowed the physician over, saying, “I’m his partner, doc. Did he make it through the surgery? How is he? Is he gonna be alright?”
“Starsky, slow down and give the man a chance to give us an update,” said Captain Dobey.
Dobey introduced himself and said that Detective Hutchinson and his partner Detective Starsky were under his command.
The doctor glanced around, “Does he have family here?”
When Starsky responded, “I’m the closest thing Hutch has to family. We also have each other’s medical power of attorney. Hell, he’s even closer to me than my biological brother. Please tell me, is Hutch going to be alright?”
“Well, that is good enough for me. I’m Dr. Perkins. I’m the orthopedic surgeon that pieced back together Kenneth’s, I mean Hutch’s, right hand. It was a challenging task primarily due to the number fractures that hand sustained. As well as the burn trauma, Hutch had fractures in 17 of the 27 bones that make up the wrist and hand. The repairs were extensive and quite complicated between pins, wires, and gluing. The arm has been placed in traction with external fixation. Essentially there is a cage like structure around his hand and arm with wires and pins holding it in anatomical position. It is highly probable to say that before this is all over, he will most likely loose his thumb and index finger at a minimum. We will do our best to preserve them. I’m really sorry, but time will tell us. The gun fragments and broken ribs punctured his lung; therefore, he has two chest tubes to help it re-inflate.”
At hearing this Starsky paled and looked at Dobey, with panic in his eyes. Huggy squeezed his arm, letting him know they would be supported.
The doctor paused, allowing the information to sink in.
Starsky missed the approach of the second doctor. When he turned back to the orthopedic surgeon, he saw her; Dr. Quo, the neurosurgeon who had treated Terry. Who couldn’t save Terry. Oh God, not again, he thought, while shrinking away from the doctor and nearly collapsing.
Huggy caught him and guided him down to a chair.
“David, it’s been a couple of years. I thought I recognized Detective Hutchinson,” Dr. Quo said.
Starsky gulped and asked, “Is he alive?”
“Yes, David, he is alive. I was able to remove the bullet.”
“Good, then he’ll be okay then, right?”
“He may live, but we won’t know the extent of brain damage he might be left with. The bullet entered his right frontal lobe and lodged itself in his parietal lobe. Those parts of the brain handle executive functions. They control spatial awareness; for example, he may not be able to recognize the left side of his body or feel pain. He may also have temperature control issues. Hutch’s behavior and impulse control could be an issue as well. We won’t know extent of his injuries or challenges he may have until he comes out of the coma.”
“Coma?”
“Yes, currently he’s in a coma. He also has intracranial pressure monitors inserted into his brain to monitor the swelling, so we can better avoid instances of seizure activity. We have him in a medically induced coma for the next 72 hours to allow the lung to heal. However, he was already in a comatose state upon arrival to the hospital. There are just too many variables at this point, we will have wait and see, once he wakes up, and that is if he wakes up. I suggest relatives be notified as well as his outlook is bleak.”
“C-Can I see him?” asked Starsky.
“When he gets out of recovery, I will let the charge nurse know that you will be with him most of the time. I suggest you take this time and get something to eat and drink.”
“Thanks Doc.”
The physicians both went on their way, but not before saying how they could be reached.
“Dave, Hutch is tough, he’ll get through this. We will be here for the both of you, you know that, right?”
“Curly, the El-Cap-e-tan is right, my man. Hutch is one tough dude; he’ll make his way through this. He may just need a little help and we will all be here to help.”
******
An hour later Starsky came out of Hutch’s ICU room. He hurled in the first trash can he could find. Dobey and Huggy were at his side nearly instantaneously. Starsky’s paleness and trembling hands didn’t go unnoticed by his two friends.
Starsky said, “Oh God, he looks worse than Frankenstein. His face is nearly unrecognizable, there’s so much bruising and swelling. There are too many bandages, then there’s the stuff coming out of his brain. His hand is in the worst kind of torture device that I’ve ever seen. Worse than anything I ever saw in Nam. I don’t understand how it’s going to help him.”
Dobey squeezed his shoulder and said, “I’m sure it will help. The doctors know what they are doing.”
“Captain, why don’t you go in and see Hutch, while I get some food and drink into Starsky,” Huggy suggested.
Dobey nodded in affirmative. He knew his men well. Starsky needed to let out some of his fear and grief. Despite the fact Dobey thought of both detectives as sons and they, him as a father figure. Dobey had never served like Elmo and Starsky did, but he could recall how private Elmo was about his time in the service.
Dobey entered the ICU cubicle, quietly closing the glass slider and turned, taking in the sight of one half of his favorite detective team and a man he thought of as a son.
His heart shattered as he looked at his good-hearted son; a son who was barely recognizable with his battered, swollen head that had been shaved and covered with swaths of white bandages. Dobey could see in multiple places horrendous, swelling, gaping sutures and Marx cables coming out. Tubes poked out of his chest bandages around the surgical chest sites. The arm, or what he thought was left of it, looked horrendous and he shuddered at the hideous fixation device, despite the fact he knew it was supposed to help the young detective.
Standing there, Dobey sent up a prayer that Hutch would live and pull through for both Hutch and Starsky’s benefit. Yes, he truly believed that if he lost one detective, that he would lose them both.
After he finished his prayer, Dobey moved in close to Hutch and said, “Ken, son, you have to pull through. Yuh, you’re strong and tough, don’t give up now. Your partner will be with you every step of the way and you know he’ll be your biggest cheerleader. Edith and I will be there to help the both of you anyway we can. Edith and I love you both like family, but if you tell anybody, you know I’ll deny it.”
******
A week later Dobey and Huggy entered Hutch’s hospital room with an order and a plan, mutually nodding to one another after taking in the sight of Starsky. It had been a week since the accident. Neither of them believed that Starsky had left the hospital for more than an hour or two in the entire week. Hutch remained comatose. Despite the fact the medication had long since stopped. The chest tubes had been removed four days prior. Starsky sat slumped in a chair, pale with facial overgrowth, and clothes that were rumpled and were hanging off of him.
“Starsky my man, any change?” asked Huggy.
Starsky sat up quickly glancing first at Hutch then towards his visitors as his face fell with the fact that his best friend still was unresponsive and unmoving.
Starsky dejectedly replied, “About the same, I guess.” He reached out with a shaky hand while he spoke to place his hand on Hutch’s shoulder.
“Alright son, here’s the plan. You will come with me to the house, you will shower and sleep for four hours then you will have a home cooked meal that Edith will have prepared for us, and you will eat. Then I’ll bring you back to the hospital,” said Dobey, in his captain’s authoritative voice.
As expected, Starsky began to protest. “That’s nice, Cap, but I can’t leave Hutch. What if he wakes up? What if he’s confused or in pain? I gotta be here for him.”
“That’s just it, Dave. If you don’t take care of yourself, how will you be able to help him when he does wake up?” Getting firm again, Dobey said, “You will comply and that is an order, detective.”
“I’ll stay with our blond brother and if an eye flutters or a toe wiggles, I’ll be on the horn to ya and you know it,” Huggy said as he slapped a bag of personal needs and clothes into Starsky’s mid section.
******
He awakened confused and disoriented. He opened his eyes and was further disturbed, not recognizing his surroundings but it only took a minute for him to readjust as his nose was assaulted with the most delicious smells he had ever smelled—Dobeys. Starsky glanced at the clock and realized he had slept for six hours. He looked around and saw his captain watching him. “As promised, I’ll return you to the hospital after a shower and you’ve eaten.”
A while later Starsky said, “Thanks Cap, I really needed that. I almost feel human.”
Dobey harrumphed, glancing at an exhausted looking detective seated next to him and said, “Well you still look like hell but at least I know you’ve got some sustenance in you.”
******
“Captain Dobey to control-Captain Dobey to control, please come in.”
Starsky grabbed the mic and said, “This is Starsky, I’m with the captain, go ahead Mildred.”
“I have a message for you both. Huggy Brown called and said Hutch was surfacing and wanted you to know.”
“Thanks, we’re about 10 out,” Starsky responded.
“Give Hutch my love,” she said breaking protocol. “Control out.”
Dobey began to chuckle and shake his head while driving his charge back to the hospital. Then he said, “What is it with the two of you? Do you have someone in all the departments enamored with the two of you? You got Mildred in dispatch, Kaplan in records, Smith in the lab, Davis in motor pool, Peterson in child services, Mathews in the DA’s office, and the entire cafeteria staff.”
Starsky looked at his captain sheepishly and said, “Well, not everyone, Cap. We’re still working on Bigelow in Supplies and the guys in IA.”
At this both men laughed.
Then Starsky inhaled and said, “I almost forgot what it felt like to laugh.”
Dobey reached over and squeezed his detective’s shoulder in support.
******
Once back in Hutch’s room, Huggy was explaining the early movements noted and the fact that the Hutchinsons would be arriving tomorrow to add to the stress. While they were standing at the foot of the bed, there came a weak: “St-Starsk.”
“Hey buddy, I’m here,” Starsky said as he advanced to Hutch’s left side and squeezed his hand.
A panicky question followed, “Starsk, where are you?”
Starsky glanced up at the other two with fear in his eyes, but quickly said, “Hey pal, let me come around and get a good look at ya, huh?”
By the time Starsky was at Hutch’s right side, pain was being detected with the return of consciousness, and his hand was letting him know the extent of his injuries as the pain he was beginning to register was excruciating. Hutch went to move his right hand up to his forehead to soothe the pain registering but couldn’t as he was too weak and disoriented. His arm felt funny and hurt like hell. “What happened, Starsk?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” asked Starsky.
“I-I-I remember running after some robbery suspects. We chased them down an alley. You hollered for them to stop. They turned and fired at us…Oh God, my gun blew up in my hand,” exclaimed a panicky Hutch, as he attempted to move his hand to his face, wincing in pain. He paled visibly and the horror that flashed across his face as he took in the horrific sight of his arm was intense.
Starsky clasped onto his shoulder offering reassurance and support to his partner. “Hey buddy, we’ll get through this, okay?”
Hutch grimaced as not only the pain in his hand began to register. There was also a full-on marching band playing in his head that was fighting to be acknowledged as well. After a few seconds with his eyes screwed shut, he asked, “Why does my head hurt so bad?”
“Well ya big lummox, that head of yours caught a bullet. What have I told ya about ducking, huh?”
“I don’t remember that part,” said Hutch.
“Well, don’t push it, Detective,” said Dr. Quo, who had entered the room unbeknownst to its occupants. “Ken, do you remember me? I’m the neurologist that treated David’s girl a couple years ago.”
“Where are you?”
Dr. Quo shifted about three feet to the right before speaking again. The others grimaced at the realization that the bullet had caused issues to Hutch’s left side of his body. “Ken, can you see me now?”
Her patient nodded.
“Alright then, you were doing a fine job of recalling the events leading up to your hospitalization. I would like to do a few exams, then we’ll talk.” As she looked around the room, the three visitors made to leave to let the doctor do her exam.
“Starsk?”
“Hey buddy, I’ll just be outside in the hall.”
“S-St-Stay,” came Hutch’s fearful plea.
Dr Quo nodded her head in agreement.
About fifteen minutes later, Dr. Quo began to tell Hutch that as a result of the gunshot wound to the right side of his head, he was suffering from total left sided neglect. However, she was confident that with intensive rehabilitation he would most likely regain most of the left sided functions of his body, but how much she could not speculate.
******
Hutch had been moody and irritable all afternoon. Starsky knew he needed a break and decided a trip to the cafeteria was in order to soothe his own fears and process how he could best help his partner. Upon returning, he picked up his pace as he heard his partner in the throws of a tantrum.
“Get the hell out of here with that thing! I’m not a baby. Do you fucking understand? Just get me to the bathroom,” he stammered.
“Hey buddy, what’s going on, huh?”
Hutch’s eyes locked on to Starsky’s as he approached the bed. “I gotta go and they want me to use that damn thing like I’m some baby.”
“Awe come on, Blondie, think about it. Neither of your arms are functioning too well at the moment and we don’t know how well your leg will work either, so it makes sense. Look it, I’ll help ya if you would rather.”
Hutch hated needing help, let alone strangers helping him. It was so degrading.
Starsky could easily read his thought and said, “Remember a couple years ago after Gunther, you had to help me with everything for quite a while. Buddy, let me help you now, okay?”
“K. I’m s-sorry.”
******
The Hutchinsons arrived at the hospital nearly 10 days after the incident. They had been in Europe attending a medical conference. Dr. Hutchinson had stopped on the way to his son’s room to speak with Kenneth’s treating physician. Marion Hutchinson continued on to her son’s room and as she neared, she was taken aback by the atrocious slurs that were coming from her son’s mouth. As she stepped into the room, Hutch, who was undergoing wound debridement, let go a string of superlatives and vulgar speech that would make a hooker blush.
Automatically she said in her sternest mother’s voice, “Kenneth Richard Hutchinson, that is enough.”
“Fuck you,” came the response.
Starsky had entered right behind her and said, “Hutch that’s your mother, buddy. Don’t speak to her like that, alright.” Starsky was once again able to ground Hutch and rein in his out of control emotions.
Meekly, Hutch said, “Yeah. Sorry.”
The wound care and orthopedic physicians and techs finished their wound debridement and other care then quietly left the room.
******
A few days later, Starsky was sitting with Hutch trying to calm his partner down, as he was railing on about having to go to Minnesota for rehab at the Polonsky Center.
“I don’t wanna go home. My home is here in Bay City.”
“Awe, come on Hutch, it won’t be that bad. Besides you’ll be at the Center, not at home. I’ll even ask Mrs. Wilson to watch over your jungle while you’re gone. So you don’t have to worry about your babies.”
A heavy sigh came from the blond. “I said there’s nothing in Dulu—” Hutch stopped mid-sentence and swallowed hard and looked at Starsky with recognition in his eyes.
“What Blondie? I can smell the grease burning on those wheels in your head, so enlighten me, huh.”
“Federal Ammunitions Center. There’s one in Duluth.”
“You think someone who has a grudge against you slipped bad bullets in the ammo?”
“Dunno. Yeah maybe.”
“Ya know, it is worth looking into. I’ll do some legwork to see where your ammo came from and we’ll go from there. Maybe a trip to Duluth IS in order.”
“Hey Starsk, just for giggles see where the munitions came from from the other two cases Dobey was telling us about in the bullpen.”
“Good idea, Ollie.”
******
Four weeks later, after multiple surgeries on Hutch’s hand and sufficient cranial healing, he was deemed stable enough for intensive rehabilitation at the Polonsky Center to further treat and retrain his brain to acknowledge the left side of his body. His right arm still remained in a cage with a series of pins and wires, but it looked like he wouldn’t loose his thumb or index finger. Functionality was still a big unknown though. His vision was still an issue, but the therapy had been working to retrain his brain. Hutch had to still consciously think about using his left eye, but he could see out of it.
In the ensuing weeks, Starsky had been doing a lot of leg work and tracked down the information from the three departments and the ammunitions purchases. After scouring over all the files, invoices, and pulling the necessary information from them, he was able to compile tracking batch and lot numbers. Starsky was able to determine the ammunition in Hutch’s gun came from the federal ammunitions facility in Minnesota, near Duluth. The Utah case involving the Smith and Wesson also came from the same facility. Starsky was still sifting through the invoices for the third. However, it did not slip by him the fact that ammo for both his and Hutch’s guns had tainted ammo. He was just lucky that he hadn’t loaded the tainted bullet before it was discovered.
******
Hutch was flown to the Polonsky Center via the Hutchinson jet that his father had arranged.
Starsky sat in the plush chair next to his partner and, looking about the lavishly decorated plane that spoke volumes of extreme wealth, said, “Hey Blondie, I could almost enjoy airtime if all my flights were like this, minus the fact your hurt.”
Hutch gave a soft snort in response.
As Dr. Quo had predicted, the flight would likely cause undue physical effects on Hutch and likely lead to behavioral outbursts. For which she was definitely not wrong. The in-flight nurse, Monica, was the first victim of Hutch’s vile outburst. Not only was he rude but downright vulgar.
Upon returning from the head, Starsky cut in, “Hey buddy, that’s enough!” Then looking at Monica and holding his hand out for the urinal, Starsky said, “I’ll help him.”
Monica acquiesced.
Once they landed in Minnesota, the medics that boarded the plane got a raw dose of the Hutchinson temper and endless string of obscenities.
Starsky once again was able to ground his friend enough so the medics could complete the transfer and get him to The Polonsky Center, while mumbling about rich spoiled rich kids.
******
Later that day, Dr. Hutchinson arrived to make sure his son had arrived and was being settled in. He also handed Starsky a set of keys to Hutch’s car and said, “It’s a blue car, 3rd row, 3rd car in. The chauffeur has left directions to the hotel on the seat, and your luggage is in the room.”
Starsky nodded his thanks, but before he could verbalize his thanks, Hutch’s dad dismissed him and was gone, not inquiring as to his son’s condition or their flight out. It was like he did the minimal amount required of him as if he was embarrassed by his son.
“Sheesh,” said Starsky. “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough, Blintz.”
“I’m used to it, Starsk.”
“Well, it’s wrong, ya know.”
“Might be, but I’m used to it.”
“You shou—”
The door opened and a team of professionals descended on the duo. “Ken.”
“Mark, you stuck with it, huh? How’s your sister?”
“Yeah, I did. Not that it helped her any, she passed two years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Mark.”
After the team meeting and the coordination of Hutch’s therapy times and which ones David should attend was worked out, dinner had arrived and Starsky helped his friend eat.
“Hey Gordo, you should get out of here and find your way to the hotel before it gets dark. It’s not the crazy city drivers you have to worry about as much as the wildlife around here. “
“Yeah?”
“Go on get outta here, pal.”
Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Starsky said, “All right, all right, I’ll go.”
******
Upon reaching the parking lot, Starsky came up short, because sitting before him in the third row, 3rd car in, was the most beautiful car he had ever seen. It outdid even his beloved Torino.
It was a lapis blue Corvette, the exact color of his partner’s eyes when he was happy and full of mischief. He stood there unbelieving, taking in the beaming car as the sun sent sparkling beams off the immaculately polished chrome.
“Oh partner, you got some explaining to do.” Then with slightly shaky hands, Starsky slid the key into the lock and was still startled that it opened. The smell of the leather assaulted his nostrils and a big grin appeared on his face. Then gently he slid behind the wheel and a moan escaped as his body felt the exquisite soft leather encompass him.
Oh buddy, we’re gonna talk, he thought to himself. Starsky almost felt giddy as he started navigating down the road. The car was like driving a piece of perfection. Within about 10 minutes he locates the hotel but just decided he needed to eat dinner and there was no way he was bringing takeout in this beauty of a car. So, he headed back out and a couple miles down the road there was a diner that he pulled into.
As he was exiting the car he heard someone say, “Look who it is, pretty boy Hutchinson!” The snarl came from a couple of guys that appeared to be around the same age. Then they saw Starsky exit the vehicle and one of them couldn’t resist saying, “Who the hell are you and why are you driving Ken doll’s car?”
Starsky said, “I’m Dave Starsky and I am his partner. We are detectives in Bay City.”
“Oh,” came the response and they shuffled off.
As Starsky was making his way inside, another man caught up to him and said, “Hey, don’t worry about James and Lionel; they are harmless. I’m Frank Mathews by the way. My brother Peter married Christina Hutchinson.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” Starsky replied.
“How is Ken doing by the way?”
“Hutch is recovering although slower than he likes, but he is doing alright.”
“That’s good to hear. Hey, I won’t keep ya any longer as I’m sure you came for food not endless questions.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Starsky said to the retreating man. While waiting on his food he perused the place. It was filled with sports memorabilia and pictures of young high school kids and their achievements. It did not take him long to find four or five pictures of Hutch’s state honors for track, basketball, hockey, and wrestling.
“Blondie, this is a little too surreal,” Starsky muttered to himself.
******
At 8 am, Starsky was sitting in the waiting room of the Federal Ammunition’s Facility, waiting on Bo Bridges (no relation, of course, to the famous actor) to arrive. Soon after, Starsky found himself sitting in his office, laying out the cases with ties to his facility and requesting his assistance and cooperation question. The retired colonel readily complied and gave complete cooperation and allowed Starsky access to any files or information he thought he could use to benefit the case and find out if there is a person responsible or any other issues that could have occurred to cause near fatal and fatal injuries to three persons thus far. An hour later Starsky was loaded down with information about the company’s current employees to begin trying to figure this out.
Starsky decided that he would take the information and have his partner sort through it for any links or grudges. Despite the fact that Hutch was in rehab and his limbs weren’t working too well at the moment, he could still be of assistance as his mind was still intact and thinking through things was his specialty. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be too much for him.
After the therapy sessions were completed and Hutch had rested, they would pore through the files looking for clues or suspects and so it went for the next couple of weeks. After that time, they were no closer to a suspect or a reason. The next step would be interviewing the workers at the plant. Also, Starsky brought up the two guys he had run into that first night at the restaurant, and their obvious dislike of this partner.
Hutch harrumphed and said, “Those two idiots wouldn’t have the brains to pull something like that off. Although our mutual dislike for one another, well it might be worth looking into.”
“What went down between ya as they seemed to have a strong dislike and wide streak of jealousy?” asked Starsky. “They thought I was you initially when I got out of your car… Oh and yeah, we are gonna have a conversation about your California hunk of junk vs your Minnesota beauty, but that’s another discussion!”
Hutch snorted.
“So tell me about these whippos,” implored Starsky.
Hutch sighed. “They bullied me all through school, or at least our younger years, until I had the physical ability to stand up to them. Then it turned to jealousy, everything from school, sports to girls, well especially girls.”
“Do tell.”
Hutch recounted some of the elementary bullying incidents and then got to where he had made his stand, in front of an entire gymnasium full of students.
“The wrestling club was demonstrating some techniques for self defense to the student body because there had been a string of personal attacks by some crazy person running loose in the territory,” Hutch said. “James asked into the microphone in front of the whole school why he had drawn the weakest man. This infuriated me, so I made hasty work of James, then Lionel jumped into the fray and within a few seconds I had Lionel pinned in such a way that he was trapping his own brother. The brothers became a laughingstock of the school and Melissa Gains started pursuing me (she had been Lionel’s girl). So, in retaliation they tried to spread it around that I was gay, or at least less of a man, because I never took her to bed. Not that I didn’t want to; oh she was so beautiful and her mind was just as beautiful. But there was no real chemistry outside our mutual love of books and knowledge, so it lasted less than a month.”
Starsky grinned. “Well Blondie, I see you’ve always been a heartbreaker.”
******
In the following days, Hutch had made significant progress, almost bewilderingly so. He was now able to use his left arm and leg although both were still weak and uncoordinated.
While walking the hall one evening, Starsky was reviewing his findings about the staff interviews. And the fact he came across a possible link from the janitor (Hank), who had recalled something said by a young man named Stanley Porter a few months ago, but thought nothing of it at the time. He said that Porter had made some comment about people paying for his crappy life. The janitor was beside himself with guilt for not acting on what he heard a few months ago. He felt responsible now for those injured officers.
Starsky laid out his plan to Hutch and added, “It’s too late in the day to get anything from HR so I’ll go after your procedure tomorrow.”
Hutch was being transferred to the hospital to have the fixator, pins and a couple of wires removed from his hand. Normally this wouldn’t be such an intense process, but Hutch’s hand injury had been severe.
“Be careful, Gordo. I won’t be there to back you up.”
“Hutch, I’m just getting the guys last known address, but yes, mom, I’ll be careful.”
******
Hutch was settled back in the Polonsky Center by 11:30 the following morning and Starsky headed over to speak with Mr. Bridges and the personnel department.
Starsky felt like he was having a Eureka moment. Stanley Porter had not quit and disappeared into the wind. He had taken a six-month medical leave and was having his disability check sent on a weekly basis to an address here in Duluth. He was still technically an employee, so his locker was maintained. Starsky requested and received permission to search it for any clues that may be helpful in solving this case.
The locker seemed to be a treasure trove of items: pictures of a happy boy. On the top shelf there was a family photo album lying on top of a very small baseball glove. Starsky picked up the glove and a picture fell out. It was of two small boys, arms slung over shoulders, dirty baseball uniforms and huge smiles. The one had sandy blond hair with a small birthmark on his right cheek. The other had corn silk, golden blond hair, the same as his partner, which made sense as he was looking at a little Hutch.
Just maybe things were falling into place.
******
Later that evening, Starsky was filling Hutch in on his findings. Hutch couldn’t recall a Stanley Porter. Then Starsky showed him the picture.
Hutch gasped, “Brandon, but he died! I thought along with his parents or at least that is what I remember, I think. My mom might know.”
Later, Hutch called home. “Hello Martha, this is Ken. Is my mother around?”
“Master Kenneth. It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Yes, it’s good to hear your voice as well. Please, just call me Ken or Hutch. Yes, I’m doing better and making good progress.”
“Mas—, I mean Ken, please hold on a minute while I get your mother.”
“Kenneth, are you all right? Is there something you need? Are they treating you well there?”
“Hello mother, yes, I am alright and yes, they are treating me well. You would know if you visited,” the comment slipped out before he could stop it. Starsky cringed.
Marion sighed, like it was too difficult to speak with her son, then she hastily said, “Well, you know I’m busy with organizing the Summer Fiesta and Garden Breakfast this time of year.”
“Yes mother, please excuse me for interrupting your plans. I won’t keep you long, but I do have a question for you.” He proceeded without letting his mother argue or make another infuriating remark. “Do you remember when I was first playing baseball? I had a good friend. Do you remember his name?”
“Yes, I remember him. The little boy with the birthmark on his cheek. He had brown-blond hair and some freckles, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah,” came the response. “That’s him. Do you know when they moved?”
“Kenneth, they didn’t move. They died in some horrific incident that was mismanaged by the police, and the little boy was sent to live with relatives, I think. It was a terrible incident.”
“Okay, thanks mom. Oh, do you remember their last name?”
“Hmm, it was…Lake or Leeks, I’m not really sure. We didn’t travel in the same circles.”
Sarcastically, Hutch said, “Yeah they weren’t worthy of the Hutchinson Time.”
******
Five days later, Starsky brought Stanley Porter (AKA Brandon Lake) in for questioning with one of the local deputies. Although Brandon came to the station willingly, that’s where his cooperation ended. That is, until the interrogation room door opened and Hutch shuffled in.
Starsky said, “That’s my partner. Your sick little game almost cost him his life.” He hiked his thumb toward Hutch.
It was then that Stanley (Brandon) looked up.
His gasp was audible, as he took in the sight of the battered but recovering cop. It was followed by a weak, “Kenny?”
“Yeah, Brandon. Why?”
“Nobody’s called me that in so long. Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He crumbled and told the whole story beginning to end. Within two hours they had the whole confession, and the lot numbers of the tainted ammo boxes were identified. Ironically, two of the remaining three bullets were the type of guns that Starsky and Hutch used and the other was for a Smith and Wesson 10.
There would be no trial as later that night, while in his cell, Brandon strangled himself with his own shirt.
******
Afterwards wide public and federal notices were sent out with explicit warnings and instructions for turning in the affected lot of ammunition for a full refund and replacement. Every officer then had to verify their ammunition supply and sign waivers that they didn’t have the affected lot. Every gun store and gun range made people sign for ammo. It took only six days to recover the rest of the tainted bullets that Brandon had created. Thankfully without further incident.
******
Meanwhile Starsky and Hutch returned to Bay City. Hutch continued his therapy on an outpatient basis and made slow, steady progress over the next three and a half months. One day shortly after their return, Hutch had Starsky stop at the nursery on the way home from therapy where he picked up a new Auricula plant variety that Mrs. Wilson had been talking about along with a book about its proper care.
******
A few days later, Hutch sauntered into the bull pen, then in an irritated voice said, “Hey Starsk, how much longer can you handle desk work, huh?”
Starsky eyes flew to his partner, all ready to offer support, when he took in Hutch’s eyes and smiled.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Not a minute longer, why?”
“Good, how about we hit the streets Monday, but until then Huggy’s?”
Hutch looked around the squad room. “I’m buying.” There was a collective clap and words of congratulations. Hutch rapped on the captain’s door and upon entering handed him his clearance slip and invited him to join them.
Dobey said that he’d be along shortly after he notified Edith.
Later at Huggy’s, as things were wrapping up from the celebration, Hutch said he would pick his partner up Monday.
Starsky about choked on his beer and said, “In that hunk of battered junk you call a car? No way, Blondie.”
“Starsk.”
“Don’t Starsk me! After the car I drove in Duluth, I know you can make good choices. Your mother told me you picked that car and every detail about it.”
Hutch blushed but tried to hide it as Huggy approached them and said, “Do tell, my man Starsky.”
Out came the Hutchinson warning finger, pointed directly at Starsky.
Later as they were stumbling out to the taxi Huggy had called for them, Hutch stopped abruptly and with tears filling his eyes, said, “Starsk, thanks for everything.”
Starsky threw his arm over Hutch’s shoulder and said, “Anytime partner, remember it’s Me and Thee, buddy.”
“Always,” Hutch replied.
End
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