Lost and Found

It took only an impressive two seconds for Huggy to catch him and corral him against the telephone. “Where are you going, brother?”

Part 2

Most updated version here: http://community.livejournal.com/starskyhutch911/109395.html

Companion piece to “The Fix (the “candy will kill you” remix)”

Starsky waited for exactly four minutes and twelve seconds after Hutch left him alone in Huggy’s apartment, before he decided that promises were made to be broken. It took another two minutes to drag himself upright, and another thirty seconds to labor his way down the stairs.

It took only an impressive two seconds for Huggy to catch him and corral him against the telephone. “Where are you going, brother?”

“Hutch needs backup.”

“Maybe he does, but not from you. You look like a good sneeze could knock you over. And let me warn you, my fries are heavy on the pepper.”

Starsky was too exhausted to work out the logic of that. He stayed determinedly on course instead. “I need money for a cab, Huggy. Lend me a ten?”

“I’m doing no such thing! What do you think that partner of yours is go’n do to me if I let you wander about?” He waved his thin, spidery fingers around as he talked. It was distracting, and Starsky had to shut his eyes. Every inch of him ached, down to the space between his toes.

But Hutch needed backup. And Starsky wasn’t about to sit here on his ass.

“Those guys are bad news. Hutch needs me.”

“Hutch needs you to stay here and out of trouble. C’mon, Starsky, let’s get you back upstairs. You’re taking me away from my business here.”

Starsky looked around at the sparse afternoon crowd. The one bartender, a woman wearing a gold sleeveless top and cutoffs, was reading a magazine.

“How about I just sit down here, then?” he suggested.

Huggy shook a finger in his face. “How long have I known you, Starsky? You think I’d fall for something infantile like that? No, you’re going straight back, you hear?”

Starsky scowled. “All right, how much did Hutch give ya to keep me penned up like this?”

Huggy clenched one fist and held it over his heart. “You wound me!”

Starsky would have felt bad if he didn’t know Huggy kept his money in his inside breast pocket. “I’ll pay you double. Just get me out of here.”

Now two hands held him against the wall. Brown eyes were soft but unyielding. “Ain’t enough green in the world for me to send you out there like this, Starsky. Hutch can handle his own self.”

“He shouldn’t have to. I’m just going to check things out, okay? If things get hairy–“

“If things get hairy, you’d jump right in the thick of it. Don’t I know it?”

Starsky had to sheepishly refrain from denying it. But he wasn’t about to give up so easily. “You know you can’t stop me. Not unless you’re going to sit here and watch me every second.”

Huggy sighed theatrically. “You two… I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“Aw, you know you love us, Hug.”

Huggy rolled his eyes, the whites startling in his dark face. “Love is a very strong word, my man.” He heaved a sigh. “I s’pose I’d better let you go keep that partner of yours out of trouble, before you fall all over yourself trying to sneak.” He dug in his breast pocket and pulled out a twenty. “You ‘member to tell Hutch that I tried.”

“Thanks, Hug. You’re the best.”

“And don’t be forgetting that you owe me a new waitress!”

Starsky ignored the further grumbling. He was bent on hitting the streets again.

***

The cab dropped him in front of Mickey’s usual bar. His Torino shone like a lovely beacon in a space out front. Hutch had remembered to lock the doors, for once, but that was no problem. Starsky had long ago worked out a trick for avoiding calls to the locksmith.

It was more work for him today. He felt like his bones were half-melted and his skin was as sensitive as a baby’s. Starsky grimaced as he got down on the ground and turned onto his back. He closed his eyes for just a moment there, then quickly opened them wide when he realized how good it felt. He could pass out like this for a week, felt like.

Gathering himself, he wriggled backwards under his car. He was panting by the time he was far enough in to reach the block where he’d taped his spare key. It didn’t help when another car slid to a stop in front of the Torino, kicking dust and exhaust in Starsky’s face. He laboriously worked the key loose, then took a few breaths, preparatory to the task of getting himself back out.

It was sheer luck that he was looking at the doorway of the bar when the man in the car that’d just parked walked briskly towards it. The man — Caucasian, brown hair, late thirties, about five-eight, medium build — turned once to look up and down the street before entering the bar. Starsky sucked in a breath in shock.

A vague image emerged from his drug-hazed memory. The same man. Barking orders. Adjusting his tie. Handing a leather pouch to another guy. Starsky remembered with the sharpest clarity his frantic yearning for the contents of that pouch. He started shaking and had to suck in gulps of polluted air.

He’d been there. That man had been there.

Oh god, oh god. That meant someone out to kill him was now inside the bar with Hutch.

A surge of strength rolled through him, and he scrambled out from under the car. Hands shaking, he nevertheless had the door open within a few seconds. Now, if only Hutch stuck true to procedure… Yes! Starsky could almost cry when he opened the glove compartment and saw his gun wrapped and locked inside.

He grabbed his weapon and hurried into the bar, stumbling only once. He knew the adrenaline rush wouldn’t last for long. He’d have to act quickly. There was no doubt in his mind that his partner was in trouble, probably unknowingly. It was a setup. Mickey, the rat, had set them up!

It turned out, Starsky got there just in the nick of time. Hutch had downed one of the guys, but Monk had him dead to rights. Starsky just about blew Monk’s head off on principle. But he wasn’t that far gone. And Hutch was right there, keeping him safe and narrow.

He was at the last of his strength by the time Hutch had Monk cuffed.

Starsky stared at the man who had engineered his current misery. He thought about that leather pouch, and he wanted to die inside.

***

It turned out that the real mastermind was Ben Forest, medium size drug hustler, jumbo size creep. There was nothing like getting out of the Torino and seeing that look of surprise and apprehension on Forest’s face. Nothing like watching his partner cuff him good and read him his rights.

Jeanie watched the whole thing with an almost fearful expression. Starsky couldn’t stand it. He went to her and put both hands on her face. He ran his fingers through the bright tendrils of her Hollywood star hair.

She was beautiful and sweet, and she’d come along just when Starsky had needed exactly that. But it was ruined now. All of it. He’d never be able to see her again without what had happened to him, what he’d done, tainting it. The look in her eyes said it was the same for her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He pulled her in and kissed her forehead. There was a moment, when she started to cry, that Starsky wondered if maybe they couldn’t get past this after all… But when he wiped her cheeks, he noticed how his hands were trembling again, and the wave of loathing that rose in him washed away any hope he’d had.

“I won’t see you again, will I?” she said, trying but failing to sound brave.

Starsky had to agree, “No.”

So they left her alone and they drove away with a criminal in the back seat, and Starsky looked out the window of his car, on the passenger side, all the way to the station.

END