Street Talk

605

Joey and Tom keep narrowly crossing paths with Starsky and Hutch. They are hitmen hired to kill hitmen. And the man orchestrating the hit has an even deadlier agenda for Hutch.

---

Part One

Harry stared out through the grill that separated the register area from the rest of his pawn shop. He was a man in his late fifties with a sizable paunch and a receding hairline. What hair he had retained was rather long and disheveled. He absentmindedly stroked the head of a stuffed owl that was a holdover from his youthful attempts at a career in taxidermy. After taking a quick inventory of the shop from where he stood, Harry concluded that business was unusually slow. He had always credited himself with having the gift of the gab when it came to making sales, and even more so when it came to haggling some desperate junkie down a few extra bucks. After all, Harry reasoned, if he was willing to unload hot merchandise, he’d be a fool to pay top dollar. Over the years he had almost managed to convince himself that he was providing a valuable service to the people of the community. Somebody had to serve the needs of the underclass. Well, no, upon further reflection, Harry admitted to himself that he was no better than the next greedy bastard. But he knew what he was and didn’t make excuses for himself. And he was good at what he did. Only if he was so good, why was business so bad lately?

Before he had time to pursue the thought, the door opened and two kids about sixteen entered the shop carrying four toasters between them. Harry sighed and shook his head.

“How many times do I have to tell you two gentlemen to come around the back?”

“Gee, hear that, Zach? We’re gentlemen,” said one of the boys.

“I use the term in its loosest possible sense.”

“Come on, Harry. What’s the use of all the cloak and dagger crap? You getting paranoid in your old age?”

“The name’s Mr. Trask and I’ve stayed in business all these years by following a few points of protocol.”

“Whatever, Harry. How much’ll you take for this stuff? It’s straight from the ‘burbs.” The boys approached the counter and dumped their booty onto it.

Harry looked angrily at the two and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want your stinkin’ crap. I ask you to follow a few rules and you don’t even have the decency to do that. Now pick up that shit and get the hell out!”

“Harry, come on. We had an agreement.”

“I said get the hell out!”

The boys exchanged glances and decided not to press their luck. They reluctantly scooped up the toasters and headed for the door, muttering to each other under their breath.

“Rotten punks,” spit out Harry as they left. “Someone ought to run their asses back to juvey.” Realizing it was nearly five o’clock, he decided to call it a day and lock up. After turning out the lights, he retired to a small apartment upstairs.

********

Joey Martin paced the floor of his hotel room, growing ever more restless. He was a tall man in his late twenties with a mop of brown hair. He had a gap-toothed grin that could readily transform itself into a deadly sneer. He flipped through the television channels, but couldn’t find a decent sports game. God, how he hated to wait. Although he was new to the business, he felt he worked best alone. He was less than pleased about the prospect of working with a partner. But his latest employer had insisted. And since work had been inconsistent at best lately, Joey couldn’t afford to be too picky about the conditions. His cut of the take would be fifteen hundred bucks and that would be more than enough to buy himself some much deserved company from down in the District. He had talked to his would-be partner only once on the phone. He had what appeared to be a Cuban accent and that made Joey nervous. He had no desire to be working with Ricky Ricardo. He decided he needed a beer to calm himself down and reached into a brown paper sack containing a six-pack of Coors he’d had the good sense to bring. A little Colorado Kool-Aid would put him in the right frame of mind.

Joey was sitting on the bed and had downed two of the cans when the phone rang. He reached for it hurriedly.

“Yeah?”

“Joey, this is Tom. I want you to meet me at D’Angelo’s Diner on Washington in twenty minutes. I’ll be sitting at a table in the back and reading a copy of The New York Times.”

Joey tried to respond, but all he got was a dial tone. Damn, he hated that. He liked to have the last word in a conversation. It was bad luck not to. He grabbed his jacket and quickly headed to his dark green Buick Skylark parked behind the hotel. As he cruised down the street, Joey turned on the radio and hummed along to the music to make the time go faster. As traffic slowed in the midst of the rush hour, he became visibly impatient. When an elderly lady in a refurbished Studebaker prevented him from making a light, he could barely contain himself.

“Come on, you old broad! Move that heap, will ya!” He leaned on the horn, even though he realized that it was impossible for her to make a move now that the crosstown traffic was steadily drifting through the intersection. But he raised his hands in disgust hoping she would catch a glimpse of him in her rearview mirror.

“Damn old people. Someone oughta keep ’em off the road,” he muttered.

When the light changed, Joey surged ahead, swerving around the Studebaker and skidding back into the right lane, barely missing the open door of a parked car. He traveled on to the diner without further incident.

Joey entered D’Angelo’s and after a cursory glance about the place, he spotted a well-dressed man in the back, reading a newspaper. He approached the table, remaining at a respectable distance. A few moments passed and then the man spoke quietly without raising his eyes from the paper.

“Take a seat, Joey.”

Joey sat down, casting a furtive look towards the door of the diner to see if anyone was watching him. But the place was nearly empty and the few patrons present hardly appeared interested in anything but the food in front of them.

“How long were ya gonna keep me standing there, huh?”

“Take it easy, Joey. No need to be so uptight.”

Joey hunched slightly over the table and spoke in more hushed tones. “Look, I just want you to understand from the get-go that I usually work alone and I like it that way.”

“I understand your preference, Joey. But this job requires two people and the sooner you accept that, the smoother this operation is going to be.”

“Fine. Just don’t go breaking into any choruses of ‘Babaloo.'”

Tom returned a puzzled look and then laughed. “Joey, I’m from Buenos Aires.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. Just remember what we’re here for. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Of course, Joey. I can tell I’m working with a true professional.”

********

In the squad room at Metropolitan Division, Starsky and Hutch were wading through a seemingly endless barrage of paperwork. Hutch was fully engrossed by the report in front of him, but his partner began to squirm in his seat, anxiously checking his watch every few minutes.

“Do you think we can get out of here soon, Hutch?”

“Not until we finish these reports. Dobey’s about ready to have a fit as it is.”

Starsky sighed and opened the drawer to his desk, dumping an odd array of paperclips, scraps of paper, and candy wrappers on top. He finally sighed with satisfaction as he unearthed a half eaten tuna fish sandwich from the inner recesses of the drawer. Hutch caught his partner eyeing the sandwich and shot him a look of disgust.

“Don’t you think you ought to eighty-six that thing, Starsk? It’s probably taken on a life of its own by now.”

Starsky brought the sandwich closer and took a sniff. Concluding that it was rather ripe, he tossed it into the trash. “Man, am I starved. I gotta get somethin’ to eat.”

Hutch returned to the report in front of him. “If you’d quit doodling over there, you could make some headway.”

“I ain’t doodling. I’m just bored and hungry.” When there was no response from his partner, Starsky reluctantly picked up the next report and tried to ignore his growling stomach.

********

“Is that supposed to be some sort of crack?”

“What do you mean, Joey?”

“Me being a ‘true professional.'”

“I meant that with all sincerity, Joey,” replied Tom, with just a hint of a smile escaping his lips.

Joey eyed the man suspiciously. “I don’t like people bullshittin’ me, that’s all.”

“Why don’t we order something to eat?”

“Yeah, I could go for some food.” Joey thought that what he could really go for was a couple more beers, but he didn’t want to lose his edge. Not until he’d had time to size up his “partner.”

Tom motioned to the waitress. A young woman approached the table with a disinterested air. She whipped out an order pad from her apron and took a pencil from behind her ear. “Whaddaya guys want?”

“What would you recommend?” asked Tom.

The woman popped her gum. “It’s all about the same, mister. Unless you’re up for a real challenge. Then I’d say the meatloaf.”

Joey laughed and glanced at the woman’s name tag. “Hey, Rhonda, I’ll take the meatloaf, but I don’t think my friend here is up for that type of challenge.”

The waitress gave Joey a bored look and then turned again to Tom. “So that’s a meatloaf and…?”

“I’ll just take the soup of the day.”

The woman scribbled on her pad and turned away wordlessly.

“Now there’s a class act,” said Joey. “I can tell she’s a real ball-buster.”

Tom picked up a napkin and began cleaning his spoon with noticeable distaste. “Let’s get down to business, shall we, Joey.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tom removed an envelope from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He took out two photos and passed them to Joey.

“Look like some real goombahs. What’s their angle?”

“They’re a couple of hotshots from Brooklyn, trying to make a name for themselves on the West Coast. Competition, you could say.”

“What do you mean, competition?”

“In a similar line of work.”

“You mean similar to us?”

“Precisely.”

Joey looked momentarily distracted and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I don’t know about this, man.”

“What’s the matter?”

Joey lowered his voice. “Whacking these guys. It don’t seem right somehow.”

“What is it, Joey? Is this some sort of honor among thieves philosophy?”

“I just don’t like it.”

“Mr. Foley said to thin the herd. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

********

Huggy regarded the young black man who sat at the bar with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “Look, Cecil, you’re already into me for fifty bucks. Where’s it all going?”

“I told you, man. I’ve got some stuff to take care of. Some debts to settle up.” Noticing Huggy’s worried face, Cecil hurriedly continued. “Look, everything’s cool. I ain’t in any trouble. Just settling accounts. Huggy, you know I’m good for it.”

“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Huggy called for one of his waitresses to cover the bar and then disappeared upstairs for a few minutes. He returned with five bills and reaching for Cecil’s hand, he stuffed them into the man’s palm. Huggy did not immediately release Cecil’s fist. “This is all she wrote, man. You got that?”

“Yeah.”

Huggy looked up as the door to his place opened and Starsky and Hutch walked in. Cecil followed his glance and scowled at the two detectives who had stopped to talk to a couple of women at one of the tables.

“You still doing business with those two?”

“What you talking about, doing business?”

“Damn, Hug, those two come in your place and shake you down. What type of shit is that?”

“It ain’t like that, Cecil.”

“The hell it ain’t.”

“Man, I give you money and you’re giving me grief?”

“It just ain’t cool to drop a dime on people, Hug. ‘Specially when it comes to messin’ with a couple of candy-assed white boys who couldn’t give a damn about you.” With that, Cecil got up and left, nearly bumping into Starsky on the way out.

The detectives took seats at the bar.

“Hey, what it is, fellas.”

“Hey yourself, Hug. Give us a coupla beers, will ya.”

“You got it, Starsk.” You sure look like you need a brew. Tough day in the trenches?”

“Being in the trenches would have been an improvement. We were stuck behind a desk all day.”

“Aw, come on, Starsk,” said Hutch, eagerly reaching for the beer that Huggy had put before him. “It wasn’t that bad. Dobey only had you rewrite two reports.”

“It just so happens that those reports were fine the way they were.”

“Wait a minute,” said Hutch, reaching for something in his jacket. “I even wrote down one of my favorites.” He unraveled a scrap of paper and read: “The perp was nabbed with a suitcase full of dead presidents.”

Huggy began snickering.

“What’s wrong with that?” Starsky said defensively to Huggy. He turned to the blond. “So it’s a little bit colorful. I get to the point, don’t I? The junk you write puts people to sleep.”

“The ‘junk’ I write passes inspection the first time around.”

“Yeah, well, that’s ’cause people ain’t got an appreciation for telling it like it is.”

“It’s all about kicking ass and taking names, huh, Starsk?”

Starsky looked up at Huggy. He couldn’t quite decipher the tone of the remark.

“Hey, Hug,” called out a slightly inebriated man. “You got anything special goin’ on in the kitchen tonight?”

“Hey, is the Pope Catholic?” Huggy moved down the bar. “I’ve got some fine burgers sizzling on the grill as we speak.”

Starsky looked at Hutch to see if he had detected an edge to Huggy’s voice, but his partner seemed preoccupied with draining his glass, so he let it go.

When Huggy was again within earshot, Starsky ordered a couple of burgers.

“Sounds good,” said Hutch.

“Yeah, well, Blondie, if it sounds good, you better order your own. Those two are for me.”

Ten minutes later, Huggy returned with the orders.

“Hey, Hug. Wanna ask you something.”

“Starsky, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a bit of a crowd here.”

Damn, there was that edge again, Starsky thought.

The Pits was filling up quickly and once the detectives had finished their food, they left without talking again to Huggy. Hutch watched his partner as they headed down the alley to their respective cars.

“Well…”

“Huh? What?” said the brunet.

“I can hear the wheels turning from here. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

“Humor me.”

Starsky sighed. “It’s Huggy. It’s like he wasn’t real up for talking to us tonight.”

“It was getting pretty busy, Starsk.”

“Yeah, I know. But, I just got this feelin’. Like he was uncomfortable about us being there — Damn!”

Hutch didn’t have to ask. As the detectives rounded the corner of the alley, they both saw the two flat tires on the Torino. A closer inspection revealed that they had been slashed.

********

Starsky began a detailed inspection of the Torino to see if any other damage had been done, but he could detect no other injuries to his prized possession.

“I can see they didn’t touch your clunker.”

“You almost sound disappointed,” said Hutch.

“It’s just… I don’t understand people who see a thing of beauty and then gotta go destroy it. What’s wrong with the world?”

“Probably just a couple of bored kids,” shrugged his partner. “Listen, why don’t you call it in so the Department can file a report. Then I’ll give you a lift home.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m not leaving my baby on the streets to get hit again. I’m going back to The Pits to call Merle.”

“It’s nearly seven, Starsky. You think he’s still there?”

“Merle practically lives at his shop. You stay here and keep an eye on things.”

Hutch nodded and reached for the radio. Starsky jogged back to the bar. He made a bee-line for the pay phone and impatiently scanned the ratty directory. He dialed the number and suffered through six rings. He was just about to give up when someone answered.

“The Earl speaking.”

“Am I glad to hear your voice. The Torino’s got two flat tires and I need it towed to the garage for safekeeping.”

“Starsky, is that you? Are you jiving me, man? You think I can just drop everything and send over a truck? I’m up to my elbows in custom interior work and I’ve only got one other guy pulling overtime.”

“Please, Merle. This is the Torino we’re talking about.”

There was a thoughtful silence on the other end. After what seemed to be an intolerable wait to the detective, Merle came back on the line. “Okay, okay. I’ll send my guy over. Just remember you owe me. I’ll put two Mags on order in the morning.”

“Thanks a million.”

As Starsky hung up the phone he thought of mentioning the incident to Huggy, but decided against it. When he returned to the street, Hutch was sitting on the hood of the LTD, gazing at the sky.

“Hey, nature boy, you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on things, not staring at the moon.”

“Whoever did this is probably long gone. Did you reach Merle?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t too happy about it, but he’s sending out a truck.”

Hutch pushed himself off the hood and patted his partner’s shoulder. “Sorry about this, Starsk.”

Starsky sighed. “Is that offer of a ride still good?”

“‘Course.”

********

Harry stood at the stove in his barren apartment and began to heat up some soup. He didn’t have to live quite so frugally, but he believed in reinvesting his profits. He began thinking of the punks who had come in earlier with the toasters. Probably shouldn’t have been so hard on ’em, he thought. Over the years, Harry had spent a fair amount of time watching tearful old ladies part with trinkets to bail some good for nothing relative out of trouble. He never did understand people’s attachments to things. He didn’t care to keep anything in his sparsely furnished apartment. Maybe that was the reason he had adopted fencing as part of the bargain. Petty and not so petty thieves he could work with. Little old ladies left him with heartburn. And here he was sending the reliable people away. Harry laughed to himself. Well, if not reliable, at least regular.

Just then the phone rang. Harry turned down the flame and reached for the handset. “Trask here.”

“Harry, it’s been a long time.”

********

The tow truck arrived fairly quickly. The young man who climbed out seemed none too happy to be there, so Starsky made a point of tipping him well. He seemed familiar, but the brunet couldn’t quite make the connection. The man assured the detective that he would secure the vehicle at Merle’s. Starsky glanced at the embroidered name patch on the man’s coveralls.

“Thanks again, Cecil.”

********

“It sure has been a long time,” replied Harry into the phone. “This just a social call, or you wanting something in particular.”

“Fine, Harry, we’ll keep it strictly business. You want that I should start calling you Mr. Trask?”

“Get to the point, Yancey.”

“I’m not a real fan of Ma Bell, Harry. How ’bout I come by the shop?”

“Fine, drop by tomorrow a little after five.”

********

Hutch picked his partner up in the morning to head for work. The day was fairly uneventful and unfortunately for Starsky involved another round of paperwork. Just when their shift was about to end, the detectives were summoned to Captain Dobey’s office.

Without waiting to be addressed, Starsky started in. “Cap’n, there can’t be anything wrong with the reports. You couldn’t even have had time to read ’em yet.”

“Starsky, quit complaining and sit down. This isn’t about the reports.” Dobey looked over to the blond. “You too. Take a seat.”

“Of course, Captain.”

“I’ve gotta pull two of Lt. Miller’s men off a stakeout so they can make a court date tomorrow and have their wits about them. I hate to ask you two to pull a double shift, but we’re short-handed and there isn’t any way around it.”

“What’s the situation?” asked Hutch.

“There have been several reports of suspicious activity at the Algonquin Hotel.”

“Gee, no kidding, Cap’n. It’s a pretty well recognized flop house.”

“Starsky, don’t talk to me like I’m some damn nitwit. I know what kind of place it is.”

“Sorry, Cap’n.”

“We’re no longer talking about working girls servicing their johns. Seems like some small time arms dealers have moved in as well. I don’t want you busting anyone. I just want you to document what you see. People coming in and going out. Miller’s trying to compile a preliminary profile to take to the D.A. The objective is to make sure there is enough evidence to nail these bastards, whoever they are, before going to court. Got it?

“Got it, Cap’n.”

********

Back at the hotel, Joey was getting restless. Tom said the plan was to lay low for a couple of days. More waiting. Definitely the downside of what was otherwise a promising profession, Joey thought. He tried distracting himself with TV, but the reception was worse than usual. After cursing and pounding the set a few times, Joey decided to go find some company. He drove downtown and decided to avail himself of the services of a local message parlor.

********

Hutch pulled his battered LTD to the curb opposite the Algonquin and put it in park. He sighed as he took in the sights of the street. When he complained to Starsky about working in a toilet this was the scene he usually conjured up. Liquor stores and sex shops and urban decay. He looked over to see what Starsky was thinking, but his partner was busy trying to reach into the back from the passenger seat. After a few moments, Hutch had to ask.

“Starsk, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find the binoculars.” He groaned and leaned further into the back seat. “I’m more likely to find a lost civilization. Don’t you think it’s about time you cleaned this damn rat-trap.”

“Show a little respect for my wheels, will you? You’re just cranky because you didn’t get to bring the tomato.”

“You just had to mention ‘wheels,’ didn’t you.”

“Hey, either way it makes more sense to take my car. The whole point of a successful stakeout is to blend in with one’s surroundings, to be a nondescript entity in a clearly delineated setting.”

Starsky had finally located the binoculars and fell back into his seat, sighing deeply. He looked at his partner. “Do you ever stop and listen to yourself?”

“Fine, let’s just drop it.”

“No, I’m serious. Do you ever? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting it sounds like a whole lot of nonsense. The whole point of a stake-out is to catch the bad guys. Who — if God forbid they decide to make a break for it — will be long gone before we can catch ’em in this heap.”

“Hey, we’re just a pair of eyes, remember? There aren’t going to be any high speed chases tonight.”

********

“What did you say your name was, honey?”

“Joey. Hey, can you put out the cigarette? You’re making me nauseous with that thing.”

“Sure, honey.”

“That’s better. Joey looked around the room. “Damn. Sure is a cramped room they got you working in.”

“So you noticed it ain’t The Ritz.”

“Don’t go getting an attitude on me. It’s just an observation.”

“Well, I’d like to observe a little money changing hands.”

Joey sighed and put his money on the table. “Sure is a helluva way to make a living.” He tried to get a better look at the woman, but the light was too dim to make out her face.

“I have always relied on the kindness of strangers,” she purred, putting on her best Blanche Dubois and stuffing the money into her purse.

“What’s with the mouth full of South?” Ain’t you from Los Angeles?”

“Yeah, honey. Just lost my head for a minute.”

What a weird broad, Joey thought. Probably a real double-bagger. That’s why the light’s so dim.

“What you looking at, honey?”

“Nothing.”

The hours passed slowly. The detectives kept notes on the people going in and out of the hotel, but it didn’t add up to anything that would be useful for the profile Dobey was talking about. After a lull in conversation, Starsky was first to break the silence.

“I’m thinking of a number.”

“Starsky, I’m not playing this game.”

“All right, all right. How about famous lines from movies? Or at least lines from famous movies.”

“Oh, God. You’re just determined to make this night drag on forever, aren’t you?”

“Just the opposite. Now, think of a line.”

Hutch sighed deeply and resigned himself to the guessing game. “You first. I’m so tired, my mind is mush.”

“Okay, gimme a minute.”

Hutch rolled his eyes and then looked through the binoculars.

After a few moments Starsky jumped up. “I got one!”

Hutch flinched and nearly dropped the binoculars. “Just hand me that thermos, will you!”

“Geez, don’t ya think you’ve had enough caffeine for one night, Blondie? You’re mighty jumpy already.”

“Just give me the damn thermos.”

Starsky shrugged and handed the thermos to his partner. “See, I’m with a guy who don’t know where Wyoming is. You think you got problems?”

“What?”

“That’s the line. Name the movie. See, I’m with a guy — ”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. What kind of line is that? I thought you said famous lines.”

“No, lines from famous movies. Well?”

“I haven’t the vaguest idea.”

“Can’t you guess?”

“I just told you I don’t know.”

“Sonny says it about Sal in Dog Day Afternoon. You know, with Al Pacino. The one about the bank heist in Brooklyn. Didn’t ya see it?”

“No, Starsk, I didn’t see it. When I go to the movies I’m trying to escape reality, not get an extra helping.”

“Okay, fine. Your turn.”

“All right, I’ve got one. ‘I’d almost marry you if you’d leave me.'”

“Sounds like a real winner.”

“Well, any guesses?”

“Gimme a minute to think.”

“Tell you what. I’ll say another line, just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you saying I need a handicap?”

“Fine, go on what I gave you.”

Starsky took the binoculars and scanned the street.

“Okay,” he said still surveying the block.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, give me another line,” said Starsky somewhat impatiently.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you gonna give me the line or what?”

“This was your idea, you know. Do you want to stop playing?”

“Is there any reason you are dragging this out?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That’s the line. ‘Do you always answer a question with a question?'”

“Oh.” Starsky was silent for a moment. “It doesn’t really make much sense, Hutch.”

“It makes just as much sense as your Wyoming line.”

“Yeah, but that line is pivotal.”

“I fail to see what’s pivotal about not knowing where Wyoming is? It sounds pretty damn stupid to me!”

“Well, for your information that’s just the point. Ya see these two guys are pulling this bank job and they ain’t even thinkin’ ahead about where they’re gonna go or what they’re gonna do. Not like ‘I’d marry you if you’d leave me.’ That’s just silly.”

“I think it speaks volumes about relationships.”

“How much longer we got on this shift?”

“You give up?”

“Yeah, I give up.”

“Carnal Knowledge.”

“Carnal Knowledge? You’re supposed to pick a legitimate movie, not some skin flick!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Starsky. It’s not a skin flick. It had Jack Nicholson in it. And Ann-Margaret. It dealt with fears of intimacy.”

“Certainly doesn’t sound like anything I’d want to sit through.”

“Come to think of it, there weren’t any car chases.”

“Yeah, well, I’d take The French Connection any day over that one.”

“Actually, there’s a Gene Hackman movie I really do like that’s more down your alley.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s called The Conversation.”

“I know that one. The surveillance guy, right?”

“Yep.”

The two were quiet for a while, watching a street that held little activity. Starsky looked at his watch and realized they had two more hours to go. He was beginning to think he’d never stay awake.

“I’m not afraid of death. I am afraid of murder,” said the blond quietly.

“WHAT?”

“Just a line from the movie.”

********

The detectives were relieved by the next shift at two in the morning. They returned to Metropolitan Division to make a formal report of what they had seen, which was precious little. Since Dobey had assigned them the same shift the following evening, both men were anxious to head home and get some shut-eye. Hutch dropped his partner off and then headed for his own place. Starsky raided the refrigerator and after making a snack of some left-over pizza, he headed for the sack.

********

Joey returned to his hotel room a little after 2:30 AM. He cursed as he fiddled with the lock and finally pushed the door open with an angry shove. As he did so, someone inside switched the light on. Joey immediately drew his gun and aimed it at a figure sitting in a chair across the room. Seeing it was Tom, he quickly lowered the gun and shut the door.

“What’s the matter with you, man? You trying to get yourself killed?” he cried, running a hand through his hair.

“I was getting worried, Joey. I called several times and you weren’t here. I finally decided to come check out the situation for myself.”

“Hey, man. You said nothing was gonna go down for a few days. You expect me to hang around in this dump?”

“Yes, Joey, I do. Where were you?”

Joey pointed his finger at Tom. “That’s none of your business!”

Tom’s voice remained calm, but his eyes were daggers. “It damn well is my business, Joey. And if you put your finger in my face again, I’ll break it off.” He paused and added: “No doubt you were entertaining a lady friend.”

“Yeah, and what if I was?” said Joey, but the anger was gone; he appeared defeated and sat down on the bed.

Tom rose from the chair and headed towards the door.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time, but right now you’re on a job. You’ve got a reputation as a real loose cannon, Joey. But you are going to work out just fine, regardless. If that means you’ve got to be holed up here for three days then that’s what you’ll do. I can’t be wondering where you are when we need to move. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah, I understand you, boss man.” He added under his breath: “A man’s got needs, ya know.”

“Keep it in your pants, Joey,” said Tom as he left the hotel room.

********

Starsky stirred and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 4 AM. He wondered what had woken him. He padded to the bathroom and reached for the door; it was locked. Terrific, he thought. Must have pressed the stupid button on the knob by accident. He moved on to the kitchen. Not wanting to face the harsh fluorescent light, he remained purposely in the dark and rummaged around in the drawer. As he tried to clear his foggy head, he began to wonder what exactly it was he was looking for. He quickly became aware of a new thought. A realization that he was not alone. He swung around and was facing the profile of a figure that appeared to be, well there was no other way to put it, shrouded. Starsky wanted to confront this thing in front of him, but he was unable to utter a word. Suddenly the figure turned towards him and spoke. It was more as if the words were emanating from some inner recess. “I’m not afraid of death. I am afraid of murder.”

********

Starsky awoke with a start. Taking a few moments to convince himself that he was still in bed, that he indeed had never left, he took a couple of deep breaths. Wait ’till I see Hutch. I’m gonna kill him! He got up and tried the bathroom door; it opened easily at his touch.

********

Merle was back at the garage early to open up. Cecil arrived a few minutes later, rubbing his eyes and sipping a cup of coffee from the local Donut King.

“Damn, son, you’re looking mighty rough this morning. Looks like someone done ate your lunch and breakfast ain’t even over yet!”

“Jesus, Merle, get off my case, will ya,” said Cecil. He tried to appear annoyed, but he couldn’t help smiling. It was hard to get mad at the ol’ Earl. “So what assortment of fender-benders do we got today?”

“Much against my better judgment I decided to work on Mason’s Camero.”

“Why do you bother with that filthbag? You don’t need the money that bad.”

“Tell me about it. The man’s always bringing that muscle car in here with a headlight missing, a bumper pushed in, and all kinds of trouble. And when I ask him about it, he never can keep his stories straight.”

“They’ve taken to calling that cat ‘Alibi Ike’ on the street. He don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

Merle laughed heartily. “That sounds about right.”

“Then tell me why you put up with the grief.”

“Ah, well. Mason may be a bit of a doofus, but he’s a colorful doofus, and his money’s good. Though by the looks of his short this morning, it seems like he got himself in some deep doo-doo this time around.”

Cecil downed the rest of his coffee and tossed the cup in the trash. He headed for the Camaro parked in the back. Merle called out to him. “Hey Cecil, keep an eye out for the delivery truck. I’ve got a pair of Mag wheels on special order.”

********

Mid-morning Starsky called his partner.

“Hey, Gordo, what are you up to?”

“I could kill you.”

“Well, and top o’ the morning to you too, Detective Sergeant Starsky.”

“What was with that ‘I’m afraid of murder’ crap you laid on me last night?”

It took a minute for the phrase to register. “Are you talking about that stupid game? If I recall, you started it.”

“Well, I just wanted you to know that I had a nightmare about that damn line!”

“Okay, level with me, partner. And I want the truth. Did you eat pizza before going to bed?”

“That’s got nothing to do with it!” cried Starsky. But much to his chagrin, Hutch erupted in laughter.

It took a few moments for Hutch to regain his composure. “I’ll pick you up at five.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Starsky.

********

“Sophie, would you get that, please,” shouted an irritated Huggy as the phone reached its fifth ring. He was busy handing around lunch specials during the height of the noontime rush.

“It’s for you, Hug.”

Huggy finished distributing his fare and headed for the bar. He absentmindedly threw a dishtowel over his shoulder and reached for the receiver.

“Yeah?”

“Gee, Hug, that’s a real nice greeting ya got there. Must do wonders for business.”

Huggy softened his voice a bit. “Sorry, Starsky, but you caught me at a pretty busy time.”

“Glad to hear trade is so good.”

“Well, I serve a mean chicken casserole on Thursdays.”

“Just like Ma used to make, huh?”

“Hey, Ma ain’t never made no casserole like this here. Shoot, they come from miles around. But you didn’t call to discuss my plate lunches. What gives?”

“Listen, Hug, two days ago when Hutch and I were at your place…”

“Yeah?”

“When we left, two of the tires on the Torino had been slashed. Just wanted to know if you had any ideas about who might think that was a funny joke.”

“Damn, Starsk, I was up to my ears in orders that night!”

“Hey, Hug, it’s just a question.”

Huggy sighed. “Look man, I’m sorry about your car, but I ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout no one trying to slash tires or piss off cops.”

“All right, thanks.” Starsky hung up the phone and wondered if Huggy was being on the level with him. The next minute he chastised himself for the thought.

As soon as Huggy got off the phone he called Merle’s.

“Hey, Huggy, my man, I was just thinking about you and that chicken casserole of yours.”

“Say, Merle, how ’bout you send Cecil over to pick up a couple of orders.”

“You got it, Hug.”

********

Fifteen minutes later Cecil arrived at The Pits.

“I need to talk to you, man,” said Huggy as the young man approached the bar.

“I’ll have your money in a few days, Hug. Merle’s been pretty cool with the overtime. I’m starting to get my head above water.”

“This ain’t about the money.” Huggy paused and licked his lips. “I’m only gonna ask you this once and I want a straight answer.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” asked Cecil, growing wary.

“Do you know anything about a certain detective’s car getting vandalized?”

“Huh?… Oh, you mean that eyesore of a Torino? Yeah, I know all about it. I’m the sucker who had to tow that damn candy apple back to the garage. You shoulda heard the dude carrying on like it was his firstborn.”

“But you didn’t have nothing to do with it getting that way, right?”

“Shit, Huggy. Those two really have you jumping through hoops for them. What, you’re gonna drop a dime on me now?”

“You were pretty uptight that night.”

“Damn,” said Cecil, his voice rising. I’m surprised you haven’t called the fuzz already to come bust my ass!” A few of the patrons turned around and eyed the two men curiously.

“Take it easy, Cecil.”

“Take it easy? Man, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of this! What the hell’s the matter with you? You know when Butch and Sundance have gotten all they need from you, they’re gonna move on. But the people from the neighborhood will still be here. The same people who drink your beer and eat your food. The people who support this place.”

“All right, Cecil. I hear you. Let me pack up some lunches.”

“Screw you, man,” said Cecil as he left the bar.

“Damn,” said Huggy under his breath.

Hutch swung by Starsky’s place in the late afternoon and beeped the horn. A few minutes later the brunet emerged from his apartment and headed for the LTD. The first thing that Starsky noticed was the unmistakable smirk on his partner’s face.

“So, feeling rested?”

“I swear to God, you can ride a joke longer than anyone I know.”

“Ah, cheer up, Starsk. I thought of a whole bunch of material for the stakeout tonight.”

“Forget it, hot shot. I don’t need another meeting with the Grim Reaper.”

“I don’t know, Starsk, somebody could be trying to tell you something.” Hutch tried to keep a straight face but was unsuccessful. He started up the car as he continued to snicker.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

********

Shortly after five in the evening, Yancey arrived at Trask’s pawnshop. Harry let him in and secured the door.

“Well, Harry, you haven’t changed much. And I must say that this dusty excuse of a shop hasn’t changed much either. How is the five-finger discount trade?”

“Spare me the pleasantries, Yancey. What are you doing out here from New York?”

“Got myself a new partnership. Me and Eddie. You remember Eddie, huh? We go way back to my boilermaker days. New York’s a little slow lately. We thought we’d make a go of it out here.”

“A go of what?”

“Oh, this and that. Whatever the market will bear… or hire.”

“Forget I asked. What do you want?”

“I’d like to know I’ve got a friendly depository for some goods in the next few days. Just storage. That’s all I’m asking. What do you say, Harry? Do you think we might could do some business?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Two hundred for a couple days’ storage time and promise of more work in the future.”

“Very well.”

********

Bill Yancey entered the lobby of the Algonquin Hotel, casting a glance at the elderly man behind the desk. Some manager, thought Yancey, looking at the pile of peanut shells that surrounded the desk. He’d heard a few people refer to the old man as a circus geek. Yancey didn’t know what that meant and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d have to give this slumming scene the belt soon. It was definitely cramping his style.

Yancey climbed the stairs to the fifth floor and headed for a room at the end of the hall. He was relieved to be moving his cache to Trask’s place. He knew Eddie liked his juice and he was beginning to think his buddy had started dropping a few too many hints to the locals. Yancey wanted to establish a reputation, but there was no sense in going gangbusters too soon. He pulled a few suitcases out from under the bed and viewed the high-powered weapons with satisfaction.

 

Part Two

When the detectives arrived at the station, Starsky headed for the coffee machine and started to fill a thermos with the contents of two pots.

“Hey, Starsky, you gonna leave any for the rest of us poor slobs working the night shift?”

“By the looks of this thirty weight oil, I’m doing you a favor.”

Just then Dobey burst out of his office. “Starsky! Get in here!” Hutch tried to bury himself in non-existent paperwork. “And you too, Hutchinson!”

“Okay,” said Hutchinson under his breath, as if mentally steeling himself for the tirade to come.

As soon as the door closed behind the detectives, the Captain started in. “Starsky, I thought we’d been through this,” he said, picking up a file from a rather large stack on his desk.

“Cap’n, Hutch and I were dead tired last night.”

“Then why is it that Hutchinson’s report followed regulations and yours ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on?” said Dobey, his voice rising.

“Cap’n — ”

Dobey raised his hand to silence the detective and began to read: “11 PM: Still waiting for the sleazeballs that ain’t showing… 12 AM: Gypsy cab driver mouthing off to fare; the passenger’s got nothing less than a ten spot… 12:30 AM: Blondie’s droning on again with some psychobabble — ”

“Cap’n, that’s not my report!” Starsky protested.

“You turned it in as one! I’d like an explanation.”

“Yeah, me too,” interjected Hutch. “Didn’t know I was ‘droning on’ and boring you to death.”

Dobey turned to Hutch. “You keep out of this.”

When Dobey looked back at Starsky he had a rather sheepish look, as if an idea were just now dawning on him.

“Well?”

“Cap’n, those are my notes. I musta turned ’em in by accident.”

“Well, you’ve got fifteen minutes before your meeting with Lt. Miller. I suggest you get out of here and get busy.”

The detectives returned to the squad room. Starsky threaded a form into the typewriter and tried to get his creative juices flowing. “Listen, while I’m working on this masterpiece, could you give Merle a call? I ain’t heard from him, and the Torino should be ready by now.”

“If you’re sure I won’t start droning on needlessly.”

“Aw, cut me a break, Hutch. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. It was late; I was tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s the number?”

********

“What the hell kind of pimpmobile is this?”

“Joey, just shut up and get in!”

The younger man slid into the passenger side of the Cadillac. “Whaddaya trying to do, ruin my reputation? Where are we going anyway?”

“Mr. Foley wants to meet with us,” answered Tom.

“Oh, the big man himself. Does that mean we are finally gonna see some action?”

“I have every reason to believe we’ll be seeing some action very soon, Joey.”

The two men rode a few minutes in silence.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t take my Buick.”

“Joey, your car will be fine for when we’re working, but it’s not quite up to par for deal making.”

“Well, la dee da! I didn’t realize we was going to some fancy-schmancy joint.”

“We are meeting Mr. Foley at his estate… And Joey… I think it would be better for all concerned if you let me do the talking.”

“Yeah, sure, smart man. I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the boss.” He sat back in his seat, silently stewing.

********

Hutch looked at his watch. “Looks like we’ve got a few minutes. You got a handle on that thing, don’t you?”

“Piece a cake,” said Starsky bent over the typewriter.

“Good. Well, I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Give my regards to the Property Room,” said Starsky without looking up, but with a smile spreading across his face. “And to Officer Delaney.”

“Yeah,” said Hutch quickly as he headed for the door of the squad room.

“Ah, infatuation, a beautiful thing,” said Starsky to no one in particular. He laughed to think that Hutch was trying to be so discreet about his interest in a certain brunette who had been recently transferred to Division, but that he was fooling no one.

********

When Joey and Tom arrived at the Foley mansion, they were frisked by security and told to wait in the lobby.

“Nice set of rent-a-cops,” whispered Joey.

“Shhhh,” said Tom.

A minute later a well-dressed man appeared in the lobby. “Mr. Foley is in the viewing room. He’d like you both to join him there.” With that he led the men to a small projection room. Joey and Tom struggled to adjust their eyes to the darkness and find their way to seats near Mr. Foley. During the conversation that ensued Foley’s eyes never left the screen.

“Hello, gentlemen. Thank you for coming.”

“Yes, Mr. Foley. We are very anxious to carry out this matter.”

“Tonight would be as good a time as any. Yancey and his sidekick have been moving some weapons for me. They have based their operations at the Algonquin Hotel at my request.”

For a few moments only the sound of the film filled the air. Joey turned to it wide-eyed as he realized what was taking place on the screen.

“Is there a problem, Tom?”

“No, Mr. Foley. I just didn’t realize that you were…” He paused for a moment, at a loss for words.

“You didn’t realize that I had dealings with these men. Tom, let me give you some advice. It’s always good practice to know your enemies. Hell, schmooz ’em a little if you can. They had the contacts to move some hardware, so why not take advantage?” Foley began to chuckle. “In fact, if you’re a man who appreciates irony, you’ll like the fact that you’ll be using one of Yancey’s hand delivered silencers to do the job.”

A few more details were discussed, most of which were lost on Joey. He was engrossed in the movie. It wasn’t until they were back in Tom’s Cadillac that he ventured to speak.

“Did you see what that was, man?”

“Yes, Joey. It’s called a snuff film.”

“You mean they got a name for that shit?”

“All people have… interests, Joey.” Tom tried to sound nonchalant but even he knew he had stumbled on the word.

“Interests? That dude is sick, man. He’s a stinking looney!”

“It has nothing to do with our deal.”

“I ain’t working for no sicko, man. I got ethics, ya know.”

“Joey, it’s a little late to back out now. Just do what you’re told and you’ll get your money.”

********

When Starsky and Hutch walked into Miller’s office, they found the Lieutenant embroiled in a heated conversation on the phone. They waited patiently for the diatribe to end. When it did, Lt. Miller quickly regained his composure and an almost cheerful air. The transformation was a bit disquieting for both detectives.

“Glad to see you’re both game for another night.”

“Could you give us some idea of what we’re looking for?” asked Starsky.

“Like I told you last night, we’ve got some new dealers in town. Semi-automatic weapons for certain. Maybe heavier artillery.”

“Who’s been supplying you with this information?”

“Detective Starsky, you know how this game is played. You protect your informants; I protect mine.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t think — ”

“Lieutenant, what my partner is trying to say,” ventured Hutch, “is that we would feel more equipped to be effective if we were all on the same page as far as information is concerned.”

“Detective Hutchinson, I understand your concern. But as I was trying to explain to your partner here, I have to protect my sources. You know that I would never put men on the street without feeling confident that I was acting on reliable data.”

Once they were outside Miller’s office, Hutch turned to his partner. “Do you have an uneasy feeling about this?”

“I get the feeling there’s more to the story. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s me and thee time again.”

********

As the detectives made their way to the Algonquin Hotel, Hutch was trying to put his finger on exactly what part of this operation did not sit well with him. Starsky’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“Merle said tomorrow for sure, right?”

“Yeah, Starsk. He expected the tires today, but he said that they’d definitely be on the truck by noon tomorrow.”

“Thank God.”

“Well, I could let you out to walk the rest of the — ”

“Hey, Hutch, you’re passing it!”

“We’re not at the hotel yet.”

“Not the hotel, my favorite burrito stand!”

“Good Lord.”

“Come on, Hutch. I need my strength.”

Hutch reluctantly pulled the car over and watched his partner’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.

“Want anything?”

“What do you think?”

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

In a few moments Starsky returned with his booty — three burritos with the works.

“You had to get them with extra onions, didn’t you?” said Hutch as he maneuvered the LTD back into traffic.

“That’s the only way to eat them,” replied Starsky, after which he took a big bite as if to prove the point. “So when are you gonna ask her out?”

“Starsky, don’t talk with your mouth full,” moaned Hutch “Ask who out?”

Starsky took a few moments to chew. “Officer Lauren Delaney.”

“When the time is right.”

“So when’s that gonna be?”

Hutch sighed. “There’s a way to do it properly, Starsk. You don’t just rush in. You talk to a woman first. You find out what she likes, what she doesn’t like. You size up the situation; find the right time to make your move.”

“Ya lookin’ to ask her out or ambush her?”

“It’s called finesse, Starsky, finesse. And if you’d ever give it a try, you’d know what I mean.”

“Sheesh. Sounds like a lotta shoulda coulda woulda to me. I think I’ll stick to my own methods.”

Hutch pulled the car up to the curb at a respectable distance from the hotel. Starsky was quiet for a moment. “Did you figure out what’s not right about this?”

Hutch turned to his partner whose face had turned very serious. “Not exactly. Just something about Miller doesn’t add up. He’s too… slick. He’ll be boiling mad one minute and then do a total one-eighty the next. It’s not natural.”

“Well, I know exactly what’s bothering me. We’re parked out here like a couple of sitting ducks. All we can do is jot down what we see. We’re not even authorized to make any arrests. If something does go down, I want to be able to make a move. Miller wants us to believe that his informant gave him information about gun-running but no names of the players?”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t want us to see the reports from the other detectives assigned to this stakeout.”

“Exactly. I mean, what’s with that?”

“Miller said he wanted objective reports to make a stronger case for the DA,” ventured Hutch.

“Well, I ain’t buying that. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

“I’ll tell you one thing. We ain’t just gonna sit here if we should see something.”

“Dobey’ll have a fit.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

********

Around 9 PM Tom and Joey were headed to the Algonquin Hotel. They were now in Joey’s Buick Skylark.

“Pull over here, Joey.”

“We’re nearly two blocks away.”

“You can see the place from here. Pull over.”

Joey sighed but did as he was told. “I hope you ain’t planning for us to hump it two blocks once we take these goombahs out. I want this car close to the exit.”

“We’ll move in closer later, Joey. I want to watch the place from a safe distance first. Get a feel for it.”

“I’ll tell you, man, this Mr. Foley ain’t wrapped too tight. I’m surprised he didn’t give us a movie camera and ask us to film it all. Why did he make a point of showing us that shit, huh? You ever think about that?”

“Mr. Foley is a client, Joey, with a good reputation for delivering on the terms of an agreement.”

“Yeah? Well I say he probably ain’t above playing dirty pool. I mean, he’s setting up these two goombahs, Yancey and what’s his name. We could be next. You ever think of that?”

“Hold it a minute, Joey.”

“You ain’t listening to a word I’m saying.”

“I heard you, Joey. Shut up a minute.”

Tom continued to scan the street.

“See anything interesting?”

“Ask me again in a half hour.”

Waiting again, thought Joey. This was a bad sign.

“What time are we supposed to meet these guys?”

“Ten o’clock. I set the meeting up with Yancey earlier today. Said we were interested in some snub noses.”

“Thought this was supposed to be a first rate operation. Why would they bother with some Saturday night special crap a schmo could get on the street?”

“I know what I’m doing, Joey. It’s enough to get our foot in the door; that’s all we need.”

********

A half hour passed. “Shit,” said Tom under his breath.

“What’s the matter?”

“I think we have some company.”

“What? Where?”

“Relax. That LTD down there. Those two guys were sitting there thirty minutes ago.”

“You think they’re cops, man?”

“I don’t know, Joey, but you’re going to find out.”

“Oh, that’s a good one, smart man. Whaddaya want me to do, walk up and ask ’em?”

“I want you to take a casual walk around the block and get the license plate. I’d go myself, but you seem more of a natural for the neighborhood.”

“Are you crazy, man? What if they’re watching us?”

“Do it, Joey. I’ll move the car and meet you on Bleeker Street.”

********

“One of them is making a move,” said Hutch. “But he isn’t going into the hotel.”

“False alarm?”

“I guess so.”

They both watched as the Skylark backed up into an alley and headed in the opposite direction.

********

Bill Yancey and Eddie stood in Trask’s apartment above the shop.

“This is a rather impressive array of hardware,” said Harry.

“I can see you’ve got a fine eye,” replied Yancey as he leaned over to stroke one of the barrels. As he did so, the medallion he always wore around his neck swung from his open shirt.

“And I see you’re still wearing your trophy.”

“Yep, the Mayor of New York himself presented me with that in ’64.” Yancey looked lost in thought. “We lost quite a few men on that bridge, I can tell you. I had my full book by then from Local 40. Foreman of my own raising gang on that job.”

“And you’d be doing it still if your knees hadn’t given out, huh, Bill?” said Eddie.

“Well, my years of connecting did take its toll. But I do miss the iron.”

“And what about you, Eddie, your knees go too?” asked Harry.

“Hell, I stayed a boilermaker. But I had no love for working in power houses. And ’75 was a helluva slow year to boot.”

“Well,” said Harry, looking at the weapons again. “I guess a mid-career change can be good.”

“And profitable,” added Yancey, offering Harry an envelope. “Two hundred as agreed.”

Harry took the envelope and smiled. “Always a pleasure, gentlemen.”

“And now if you’ll excuse us, Harry. We’ve got an appointment in half an hour.”

********

Joey heard Tom starting up the Skylark as he rounded the block and prepared to double back. Once behind the hotel he jogged a few blocks, crossed the street, and started making his way back to the car in question. When the LTD was in sight, he slowed his walk, shoved his hands in his pockets, and tried to disappear into the growing evening crowd. He stopped a few times to look in store fronts and appear nonchalant but inside his heart was pounding.

********

“I see business is picking up on the block,” said Hutch with an edge in his voice. There were several young women cruising the streets and what appeared to be some frat boys becoming increasingly drunk and summoning courage to approach one of them.

“Really,” replied his partner. “I can see half a dozen potential arrests from this seat alone. In fact, catch that guy on the corner, the way he’s looking around. Yep, he’s seen something. There he goes… there’s his mark… and bingo!” It was subtle enough, too subtle for the untrained eye, but two individuals had definitely made an exchange.

“This is ridiculous!” said Hutch.

“You’re telling me. There should be another squad watching the back entrance of the hotel. The area ain’t even secure.”

“I’m not talking about the stakeout, I’m talking about this.” Hutch made a sweeping gesture with his hand to encompass the street. “What are we doing here?”

“Hey, our job tonight is not to run in the hookers and the two-bit drug dealers,” said Starsky. “Supposedly we’ve got bigger fish to fry,” he added with a sarcastic laugh. He glanced at his partner and saw the look that indicated Blondie was silently stewing. “Hey, Hutch,” said the brunet softening his tone, “you know as well as I do they’d all be out in the morning even if we did run ’em in.”

“Don’t I damn well know it!”

“Hey, don’t get on my case. I didn’t make the rules.”

“I know, Starsk,” said Hutch rubbing his forehead. “It’s just… nothing ever changes. It doesn’t make a difference what we do.”

“That ain’t true and you know it. We do make a difference. We just can’t change the world. You can’t take it all to heart, Hutch; it’ll just tear you up. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Hutch sighed.

Starsky patted his partner on the shoulder. Affecting his best Dirty Harry voice he added, “A man’s got to know his limitations.”

Hutch rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “Hey, if we start playing that game again, I don’t want to hear any complaints about nightmares.”

********

Joey was just about to move closer to the car when an old drunk brushed passed him and headed straight for the LTD. Joey backed into a doorway to await another opportunity. He padded his jacket until he found a packet of cigarettes. He lit one up and attempted his best disinterested look.

********

Hutch noticed the old man out of the corner of his eye. When he looked over to the driver’s side window, the man was right beside it, weaving back and forth. He soon produced a ragged piece of newspaper and started to wipe the windshield with it. Hutch rolled down the window. “No thanks, buddy. Do me a favor and get away from the car, okay?”

But the man paid no heed and continued to drag the newspaper back and forth.

“Come on, man, I said get away from the car!”

“I don’t think he’s paying attention, Hutch.”

“No shit.”

Hutch leaned out of the car again to speak. Starsky grabbed his arm and pulled him back in. “Let me handle this, will ya?” Joey was just about to take advantage of the diversion when he saw the curly-headed man in the passenger seat get out. He ducked back into the doorway. “Hey, old man. Do me a favor, huh? My friend here is sort of particular about his wheels. You’re making him nervous.”

“Ise don’t mean no disssrespect, Mister,” the man slurred. “But I don’ believe thisss here car could be particular to nobody.”

“Yeah, I’ve been telling him that for years, but he just won’t listen,” said Starsky with a grin, gently taking the old man’s arm and leading him to the sidewalk.

“Ise juss tryin’ to help,” said the man, starting to cry.

“I know,” said Starsky. “You got a place to stay?”

“Yeah, I was headin’ to the mission. But when I see somethin’ so dirty, I juss gotta clean it up, ya know?”

“Yeah, I understand. But you let me take care of it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Starsky stuck a bill in the man’s pocket. The old man gave a tearful wave of acknowledgment and headed down the street.

When Starsky got back in the car, Hutch was smiling at him.

“Sometimes it’s in the small gestures, Hutch. And it does make a difference.”

********

Joey checked his watch. 9:45. Damn, he had to do this soon. Between where he was standing in the doorway and the LTD there were two prostitutes. He tried to get their attention. The older woman saw him but did not respond. She did pat the younger one on the shoulder and nodded in Joey’s direction. Well, that’s just great, thought Joey. Coupla bitches, who do they think they are?

The younger one approached Joey. “Something on your mind tonight, honey?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“I don’t do nothing kinky, Mister.”

“It ain’t kinky. Come here.”

The woman slowly moved closer and peered at Joey suspiciously. One of her false eyelashes was beginning to come loose.

“I want you to walk over to that car there and tell me the license plate number.”

“That brown one?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Think you can handle that?”

“What do I get?”

“I’ll give you ten bucks, but you gotta hurry up!”

“Hey, nobody rushes me!”

“For God’s sake, keep your voice down,” hissed Joey. “Why do you broads gotta complicate everything?”

“Make it fifteen and we got a deal.”

“Fine. Go.”

The woman walked back to her friend and chatted for a moment. Then she returned to Joey.

“Well?”

“The money first, baby.”

Joey fumbled with his wallet and fished out fifteen bucks. He found a pen and gave the girl the package of cigarettes to write on. What he didn’t realize until this moment was that the older woman was trying to solicit the men in the LTD. He began to panic.

“Come on, come on, write it down already!”

“I’ll have to go back; I can’t remember if it ended in a three or an eight.”

She turned to go and Joey lunged after her. “NO!”

“Let go of me, you pervert!”

The other woman started to scream fearing her friend was in trouble. The detectives jumped out of the Torino when they heard the commotion. Hutch turned in time to see Joey seize the girl’s arm.

Joey grabbed the cigarette package and took off at a dead run. Starsky and Hutch were right behind him. Joey began knocking people to the ground and hurling trash cans in his wake. More people began to scream and run in all directions. The detectives had a difficult time avoiding all the obstacles and keeping the running man in sight. Hutch took the lead, hearing his partner’s footsteps right behind him. Joey and Hutch had just cleared the entrance to a tavern when two drunken bikers stepped out. Starsky had the unfortunate luck to plow right into them both.

Somehow the two burly men remained standing. “Hey, man, you got a problem?” one of them said to Starsky.

“No problem,” said Starsky, watching Hutch’s figure run farther down the block.

“I don’t like your attitude,” said the other one and without warning punched Starsky full in the face. The man was already unsteady on his feet and the momentum of his own blow caused him to fall on top of the detective.

Starsky was stunned for a moment, but he managed to extricate himself from the weight on top of him. He grabbed his ID. “Look you two bozos, I’m a — ” But before he could get the words out, the other one grabbed the detective and shoved him against the tavern. Starsky’s head hit the window which shattered in an explosion of glass. Starsky reeled a few steps and brought his hand up to the gash on his head. He tried to get his bearings as he watched the bikers stumbling over to their motorcycles, but everything was spinning so crazily he could hardly keep upright.

********

Hutch realized that Starsky was no longer behind him. He turned to see the bikers ganging up on his partner and made a split second decision to let the man he was chasing go. If it were one on one, he would probably have let Starsky handle it, but it hardly seemed as if these odds were fair. Hutch reached the tavern just as the men were climbing onto their bikes. “HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, TURKEYS!” he yelled, drawing his magnum. The men looked at each other. “POLICE! GET OFF THE BIKES, NOW!” The men did as they were told and Hutch quickly cuffed them. He turned to find his partner.

“Starsky? Are you okay?”

“Never better,” answered Starsky, trying to steady himself against the wall.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Guess that means our cover is all shot to shit,” mumbled Starsky. That damn spinning was making him nauseous.

Hutch ran to the car to call for backup. As he turned from the car to head back to his partner, he watched with alarm as Starsky’s knees buckled and he fell into a heap on the sidewalk.

********

Joey was completely out of breath when he reached the Buick. Sirens were audible in the background.

“What the hell happened?” demanded Tom.

“Never mind that. Let’s just get the hell out of here!”

“Did you get the number, Joey?”

“Yes, I got the damn number! NOW LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

Tom pressed on the accelerator, barely missing a black and white that was racing to the scene.

********

Hutch ran to his partner’s side. Taking Starsky by the shoulders, the blond lifted the slumped form and cradled him in his arms. It was then that he saw the sizable gash on Starsky’s head and the beginnings of a swollen eye. “Damn!” said Hutch. He looked behind him and saw a couple of uniformed officers hustling the bikers to a squad car. Just then a large man came out of the tavern. He was wearing torn jeans and a Harley Davidson t-shirt that showed off his imposing muscles and tattoos.

“Hey,” he called to Hutch. “Somebody’s gotta pay for this window!”

Hutch looked up and all he noticed was what the man was wearing around his neck. “Give me that bandana!”

The man hesitated.

“I said give me that bandana, turkey! Don’t make me ask again!”

The man removed it and gave it to the blond. Hutch pressed it to the side of Starsky’s head. As he did so the brunet flinched.

“Starsky? Hey, buddy, can you hear me?”

Starsky slowly opened his eyes, but they remained unfocused. Hutch looked at his partner worriedly. “Hey, babe, come on, look at me.”

Very slowly Starsky became aware of his surroundings. He looked at his partner. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Hey, yourself. What the hell happened?”

Starsky looked over to where the bikers were being loaded into the squad car. “I coulda taken them both, just a little off on my timing… Oh, my head.”

“For heaven’s sake, Starsky.”

“It’s okay, Blondie, I’m gonna live.”

“Well, I’m taking you to the hospital. This is going to take some stitches for sure.”

“Oh, God, do we havta go there?”

“Hey, if you don’t cooperate, I’ll call an ambulance and make a real fuss.”

“Okay, okay.”

“You think you can stand?”

“Sure.”

Hutch helped his partner to his feet. He brought Starsky’s hand up to the gash. “Keep pressure on that.” Seeing the brunet was still unsteady on his feet, Hutch put his arm around his partner for support. “Think you can make it to the car?”

“No problem.”

“Damn, Starsky, I wish you’d stop saying that.”

As they turned to head towards the LTD, the man who had lost his bandana stepped up to the detectives. “Somebody’s gotta pay for this window!”

“Anderson! Hutch called to one of the uniformed officers. “Take this gentleman’s statement, please.”

“The man immediately started complaining to Officer Anderson. “Hey, man, I’m watching the place for the owner while he’s away. How am I supposed to explain this?”

“Let’s start with your name.”

“Bubba O’Reilly. I’m the bouncer here.”

“Bubba, huh?”

“That’s right.”

That figures, thought Anderson.

Hutch helped Starsky into the passenger’s side of the LTD and then dashed around to the driver’s side. He put the gumball on the roof to disperse the crowd that had been steadily building in the wake of all the excitement and roared down the street.

“Jesus, Hutch, do ya gotta make all that noise? My head is killin’ me.”

“I’d just like to cut down on the commuting time.”

“I didn’t know the old rat-trap could even go this fast,” mumbled Starsky. The dizziness was returning so he closed his eyes to make it stop.

“Hey, just think, the old striped tomato is gonna be ready tomorrow. That should cheer you up, huh?”

There was no response from Starsky. “Hey, Starsk?” Hutch looked over to his partner and saw that his head was slumped again the seat. Hutch kept one hand on the wheel as he shook Starsky’s shoulder with the other one. “Come on, Starsky, don’t go to sleep on me now. Wake up!” Hutch saw that they were only a few blocks from the hospital.

“Starsky!”

“Hutch, would you quit shaking me! I’m gonna be sick!”

“Just keep talking to me, partner.”

Hutch pulled up to the entrance and ran around to the passenger’s side. He eased Starsky out of the car and helped him through the doors of the hospital. “I need some help here!” he cried.

“Jesus, Hutch, I wish you’d stop yelling.”

********

Joey paced the floor of his hotel room while Tom finished placing a call from the room’s courtesy phone. He heard Tom reading the plate number before he hung up.

“Don’t even tell me what he said, man. I don’t wanna know.”

“Mr. Foley is understandably upset, Joey. Now that we’ve missed one meeting with Yancey and his partner, we’ll never be able to schedule another.”

“Hey, maybe we should forget this whole thing. I’ve been looking for an excuse to get out of L.A. for a while.”

“No way, Joey. We are going to finish what we’ve started here.”

“But what about those guys in the LTD? The way they took off running after me, they’ve gotta be cops, man! And that blond one… I’m sure he saw my face.”

“Just remember, Joey, Mr. Foley has seen your face too.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” said Joey running a hand through his hair. “He’s probably casting me for a part in his next film. I think it’s safer just to get outta town. We can’t go back to the Algonquin.”

“Wouldn’t do to go back there, anyway. They probably left for good when they saw all the commotion.”

“Well, I say we should split too.”

“Mr. Foley’s going to call back in half an hour. If he’s got a way to salvage the situation, we’re damn well going to take advantage of it, Joey.”

********

Yancey and Eddie had been driving past the hotel just as the prostitutes had started screaming. Taking it as a bad omen, Yancey kept driving. Eddie worried about the missed contact, but Yancey had convinced him that the guys were no more than small time hustlers based on the guns they were interested in and told him not to sweat it.

They returned to the hotel after midnight. The “circus geek” known as Monty was still behind the desk. His eyes darted over to the door as the men entered. Yancey approached him directly.

“Hey, Monty, heard there was a bit of excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah, you shoulda been here.”

“Well since we wasn’t, hows about you telling us all about it.”

“Looked like some two-bit biker hoods getting busted for hassling a couple of working girls.”

Yancey turned to head upstairs.

Monty wrestled with some inner turmoil momentarily. “There’s more to the story,” he ventured nervously.

Yancey returned. “Yeah?”

“I… I sure could use a few bucks. Business ain’t been so good lately. And I’ve had to pay off a few inspectors.”

Yancey grabbed Monty by the collar. “Look, you creep, don’t you screw with me. If you’ve got information, you’d better spill it!”

“Okay, okay,” yelped Monty. Yancey released his hold and waited impatiently. “Well, there were some cops that were called to the scene. But there were already a couple of detectives here when it all started. I hadn’t noticed till they got out of the car. But when they started chasing some dude, I recognized them.”

“Detectives?”

“Yeah. And from where they were parked, I get the feeling they might have been watching the hotel.”

“You know these guys?”

“Sure. I’ve been on the receiving end of some of their interrogation tactics before.”

“Well?”

Monty chewed his lip a moment, hoping there was a way he could finagle a few bucks out of this. Deciding that angering Yancey further was not worth the risk, he got to the point. “Their names are Starsky and Hutchinson.”

********

Hutch paced nervously in the waiting room, downing yet another cup of stale black coffee. He was finally approached by an intern.

“How is he?”

“Your partner is going to be fine. But since he has a mild concussion, we’d like to keep him overnight just for observation.”

Hutch breathed a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”

“Well, he’s sleeping right now. Your best bet would be to return in the morning.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

********

Hutch returned to the LTD a little after midnight and figured he’d better head for the station to answer for what had gone down that evening. As he climbed into the car, he shuddered a little at the blood on the passenger’s seat but reminded himself that Starsky was fine and in good hands.

As Hutch entered the squad room, Dobey came bursting out of his office.

“Captain, what are you doing here at this hour?”

“As if you didn’t know. I just got a call from the Commissioner himself who told me to get down here. Apparently Lt. Miller complained to him directly that two of my finest totally screwed up his investigation!”

“Is that what he’s saying?” yelled Hutch. “Captain, let me give you our side.”

“Hold on,” said Dobey reaching for the phone. “I’m going to get Lt. Miller in here first. I want everything above board and straightened out. Where’s Starsky?”

“He’s in the hospital.”

Dobey raised his eyebrows. “Is he all right?”

“He’s gonna be fine, Captain. They’re keeping him overnight for observation.”

“What happened?”

Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but Dobey raised his hand to stop him. “No, on second thought, let me get Miller.”

 

Part Three

Lt. Miller stormed into Dobey’s office red faced. He slammed the door and deliberately ignoring Hutch, directed his diatribe towards the Captain.

“Dobey, I want an explanation!”

“Settle down, Miller, and have a seat. I’ve got a few things to say myself,” said the Captain, rising from his chair. “Next time you’re got a problem with my men, I’d appreciate it if you came to me directly. There’s no reason to go over my head.”

“Captain, my men and I had weeks invested in this operation!”

“Hey, Miller,” said Hutch. “I’m standing right here. If you’ve got something to say, I suggest you say it to my face.”

“Oh, I got plenty to say, all right. You and that cocky partner of yours are two royal screw-ups from the word go.”

“Where the hell do you get off — ”

“That’s enough outta both of you! You’re both way out of line!” boomed Dobey. He turned to face Hutch who was glaring at the Lieutenant. “Hutchinson, sit down!”

Hutch took a seat but was still seething. “Captain, I’d like to tell you what went down out there.”

“We’re both waiting to hear, Detective,” said Miller. Dobey raised a hand to silence the Lieutenant and turned to the blond. “Go ahead, Hutchinson.”

“Captain, the stake-out was undermanned from the beginning. Starsky and I couldn’t even properly secure the hotel we were watching. Miller didn’t want us interviewing the staff at the hotel to get any leads because he was afraid we’d jeopardize his operation. We weren’t even authorized to make any arrests if we did see anything, just take a bunch of notes!”

Dobey turned to the Lieutenant. “I know you wanted to avoid premature arrests, but I don’t like this part about not sharing information.”

“Dobey, I do the best with the resources I’ve got. I’ve been getting some prime information independently from other two man teams. I didn’t realize I had a couple of prima donnas on my hand.”

“Miller — ”

“Quiet, Hutchinson,” said Dobey. “Lieutenant, you know better than to put officers at risk and then tie an arm behind their backs.”

“Captain, you know as well as I do that if it isn’t airtight with the D.A. then it’s no dice. I wasn’t about to get this case thrown out because of these guys’ questionable tactics,” Miller spit out, hoisting a thumb in Hutch’s direction.”

“Questionable tactics?” cried Hutch.

“Yeah, and don’t play dumb with me, Hutchinson. You and your partner bend the rules so far, you’ve got ’em twisted into a pretzel. Any information you got wouldn’t be worth a warm bucket of spit once they interrogated you in court.”

“Put a lid on it, Miller. Starsky and Hutchinson have damn fine records on that score and you know it!”

“They scrape the bottom of the snitch barrel, Captain. I’ve got reliable informants. And if they’re such professionals, then tell me why Blondie here starts chasing some two-bit hood and the wisecracking southpaw starts roughing up the locals!”

“The guy was attacking a woman. What were we supposed to do, ignore it? We’re cops, for Christ’s sake.”

“You mean a prostitute was giving a john some lip. Tell me this, Hutchinson, did you catch the guy?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Did you interview the prostitute to get a lead on where he might have gone?”

“No.”

“And I’ll tell you why, Captain. Because Curly starts in with some patrons and winds up breaking out the window of a local bar. No doubt he instigated it!”

Dobey tried to speak but Hutch jumped up and cut him off. “Starsky was attacked by a couple of punk bikers. He damn near got his head cracked open.”

“And while you were busy playing nursemaid — the perp, the prostitute, they’re both long gone. Anderson and Donnelly are stuck cleaning up the mess and I’m saddled with some goon named Bubba who keeps threatening to sue the city for damages!”

“You left the scene, Hutchinson?” asked Dobey.

“Captain, I had to get Starsky to the hospital.”

“No, Hutchinson,” interrupted Miller. “Procedure says you call an ambulance. You let qualified personnel deal with your partner and you stay on the scene to take statements!”

“All right, I’ve heard enough,” said Dobey. “Miller, I want to talk to Hutchinson alone.”

“I want some satisfaction, Dobey!”

“That’s Captain Dobey to you, Miller. Right now, I want to talk to Hutchinson alone!”

Miller glared at them both and stormed out of the office. Dobey sat down behind his desk.

“Can you believe that guy, Captain?”

“What I can’t understand is why you left the scene! Miller had you dead to right on that one. Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

“Captain, I didn’t know the extent of Starsky’s injuries. I didn’t want to waste any time.”

“Not knowing the extent of his injuries is reason enough to call an ambulance!”

Both men fell silent.

“Captain, the guy who I was chasing…”

“The one hassling the prostitute?”

“Yeah,” said Hutch, rubbing his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was one of two guys who appeared to be casing the hotel earlier.”

“If the guy was part of a gun running operation, what the hell would he be doing picking up a working girl?”

“Captain, I don’t know.”

“And if he was involved, I don’t have to tell you he’ll be damned hard to track down now.” Dobey let out a long sigh. “Hutchinson, I want you to get yourself into the squad room and write a detailed report of tonight’s events. And it had better be damn near perfect. Then I’m giving you time off to get some rest and see to your partner. I suggest you stay where I can reach you. I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of this.”

Hutch nodded wearily and headed for the door. All the fight seemed to have been drained out of him. Once in the squad room, he threaded a report form in the typewriter and rubbed his eyes again as he tried to organize his thoughts. As he sat bent over his desk he began to replay the dialogue in Dobey’s office. In truth, the more he recounted the events, the more he found fault with his own handling of the situation. But he deeply resented Miller questioning Starsky’s professionalism when his partner wasn’t even there to defend himself. What bothered him most was the realization that the guy he was chasing was probably one of the men spotted in the Buick Skylark. He hadn’t made the connection clearly until actually stating it in Dobey’s office. And it still left unanswered the question of why the guy would be soliciting a prostitute while setting up a buy, if that was indeed what he was doing. Hutch was willing to concede Miller’s point that he should have called an ambulance for Starsky and stayed on the scene. But he was not comfortable with second guessing his actions. And without his partner to bounce ideas off of, the interior monologue seemed a bit lopsided.

********

Miller returned to his office and immediately reached for the phone. He dialed a number from memory.

“Hello?” answered a groggy voice.

“Meet me at the spot in thirty minutes.” said Miller.

“Wait a sec — ”

“Just be there!” Miller slammed the phone down and took a few moments to collect himself. His head snapped up when he saw Dobey at the door.

“Listen, Captain, I know I owe you an apology. I had no right to call the Commissioner. But you have to understand how much time and effort I have invested in this operation.”

“Miller, I told my detectives myself that they weren’t supposed to be making arrests, just collecting profiles. I understand the pressure to make a clean bust, but what’s with keeping my men in the dark? We’re all supposed to be on the same team.”

“I know, Captain. But my informant is nervous. I believe him when he tells me that there is gun dealing going on at the Algonquin, but I’m not gonna push him to tell me more than he’s ready to part with.”

“And what if you’re forced to give up your informant’s name in court, Miller? Did you think that far ahead? Or are you too busy being secretive and putting my men at risk?” Dobey stopped and rubbed both his hands though his hair. “Miller, I’m tired and Edith is probably worried sick. In the morning I want all the reports on this case on my desk. We’ll continue the conversation then.”

********

Hutch completed what he hoped was an acceptable report and headed home. Later that morning he would pick up Starsky and see about reuniting him with that striped tomato of his, provided the doctor agreed that Gordo was cleared to drive. He wondered if Miller or Dobey would pull them from the case and how warranted that decision might be.

Hutch’s mind continued to churn as he reached his apartment. One thing was for certain, though. Bed never looked so good. Hutch forced further speculation from his mind and was asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow.

********

Tom and Joey nervously waited for Mr. Foley’s call. It would be more accurate to say that Tom was somewhat apprehensive. Joey’s behavior bordered on paranoia. He glared at the phone as if willing it to ring and spent most of his time pacing the length of the small hotel room. When the phone did ring, he jumped a foot.

“Answer it! Answer it!” he cried to Tom.

Tom slowly reached for the phone. He did very little talking during the conversation, except to offer a few assurances that all would be taken care of. By the time he replaced the handset, Joey could barely contain himself.

“Well? Well! What did he say?”

“He said that the car is registered to a Detective Sergeant Hutchinson.”

“Damn, I knew those guys were cops!”

“The question is, can the other one ID you?”

“I don’t think so, just the blond. But the two of them probably talked.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s just hearsay. Mr. Foley’s only interested in who can give a firsthand ID.”

“Interested? Interested how? And what about those sketch artists, man? There could be a guy drawing my picture right now!”

“Joey, you’ve been watching too may cop shows.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep current. What about the two goombahs? Are we going to get another crack at them?”

“Well, Mr. Foley has given us a rare opportunity to redeem ourselves. We’re going to get another chance at Yancey, provided we bring in the cop.”

“Bring in the cop? No way, man. I ain’t ‘bringing in’ no cop, whatever the hell that means.”

“Listen, Joey. We screwed up. Or should I say you screwed up. We’re lucky to still be in this racket. This is not the time to get choosy about assignments.”

“Well, what’s this ‘bring in’ crap? I’d feel a lot better if we just iced the dude and got the hell outta Dodge, ya know what I mean?”

********

The “spot” was a deserted warehouse near the pier. Miller drove up in his sedan and cut the headlights, waiting impatiently for his contact. Soon he saw a small pick-up truck pull around the corner. The driver turned off his lights and coasted to a stop next to Miller’s vehicle. A young man got out and headed for the passenger’s side of the Lieutenant’s car.

“What’s with calling me in the middle of the godforsaken night?”

“If you would just give me some straight information, Delco, I wouldn’t have to keep interrupting your beauty sleep,” snarled Miller. “We had a deal. You get me some information I can use to bust Foley, and I cut you some slack.”

“I told you about the gun dealing and where it was going down. I’m not Foley’s right-hand man. I don’t have all the details. I didn’t realize you needed a stinkin’ road map!”

“Let’s not forget who gave you a walk, punk!”

“Hey, Miller, you know I appreciate it. But I ain’t sticking my neck out to get chopped off. I told you about the Algonquin weeks ago. Don’t tell me you ain’t made a bust yet.”

“I was doing this one by the book. A couple of hot shot detectives on loan to me screwed things up. I’m afraid they may have scared off the players. I need names.”

“I told you, Miller, I don’t know their names. I only know they’re some guys from New York.”

“Then you’re going to get closer to Foley and find out.”

“And if I say no?”

“Delco, how’s the old lady doing?”

“You leave her out of this!”

“Gladly. Just get me something I can use.”

Yancey and Eddie returned to the room at the Algonquin to collect the remaining weapons. Yancey wasn’t entirely convinced that the detectives were watching them, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He decided to make a few phone calls from the room and then clear out. He noticed Eddie pull a flask from his jacket and take a swig.

“Reminds me of the days back in the shanty,” said Yancey. “Only this is L.A. and you ain’t trying to shake the cold.”

“If you got something to say, I’d wish you’d say it.”

“Eddie, not everyone is cut out for this type of work.”

“Bill, I ain’t going back to the powerhouses. I’m done being a union man.”

Yancey eyed Eddie carefully and then turned back to the phone. He put a cursing Trask in his place and then after a few minutes of deliberation, called Foley.

********

Monty sat behind the front desk and tried to regain his composure. While he was figuring out how to make the most of the situation he was in, he noticed the switchboard light up. Perhaps here was an opportunity.

********

The next morning, Hutch drove to the hospital to check on his partner. As he climbed into the LTD, he again saw Starsky’s blood on the passenger seat and winced. Involuntarily the blond replayed the vision of Starsky collapsing on the pavement and caught himself shivering at the memory. Hutch tried to push the image out of his mind, but it continued to haunt him on the drive to the hospital. He thought of Starsky waving him off and how he had stupidly taken that as assurance that the big lug was okay. While his partner was losing consciousness and who knew how much blood, he was going through the numbers on the radio. He suddenly couldn’t figure out if he were more angry with Starsky or himself about that. No, he was definitely more pissed at himself. He should have known better. Starsky only made a fuss over the minor mishaps.

When Hutch arrived at the hospital, Starsky was already dressed and ready to go.

“So they’ve decided to spring you, huh, buddy?” said Hutch, immeasurably relieved to see that his partner was in one piece.

“Yeah, I’m a real quick healer,” said the brunet as he paused to chew on some aspirin. “Now let’s can the small talk and blow this popsicle stand before the Doc changes his mind.”

“Not so fast, buddy,” said Hutch with a grin, motioning towards the nurse who was approaching with a wheelchair.

“Regulations, Sergeant,” said the nurse, anticipating Starsky’s protest. Now be a good soldier and don’t get me into any hot water.”

“If you say so, swheetheart,” said Starsky with his characteristic grin. He quickly surmised that any protest at this point was bound to be futile.

At that moment the doctor approached the group. “Just so I get a straight story, Doc, I’d like to hear the verdict on my partner here from you personally,” said Hutch.

The doctor smiled. “As I told Detective Starsky, he’s cleared to drive. But I’d like him to restrict his police duties to desk work for a few days.”

“I think I’d be safer on the streets than under Dobey’s nose,” said Starsky under his breath.

“I’ll make sure he follows your instructions,” said Hutch.

The doctor nodded and headed off to complete his rounds. Hutch took control of the wheelchair, thanking the nurse, and wheeled his partner to the entrance of the hospital. Once there, Starsky leapt from the chair as if freed from a cage. He quickly glanced around the parking lot and spotting Hutch’s LTD made a beeline for it.

“The first order of business is to pick up my baby at Merle’s. And on the way you can fill me in on all the grief I imagine you’ve been getting from Miller and Dobey.”

“Yeah,” rejoined Hutch, “you missed quite a show.”

Driving to Merle’s, Hutch described the meeting with the Lieutenant and the Captain and shared his belief that the perp he had been chasing was one of the guys from the Skylark.

“Sounds like we should track down those prostitutes and ask a few questions,” said Starsky.

“What makes you think we’re still on the case?”

“Hey, on or off the case, we’re involved, right?”

“You got a point there.”

The detectives rode on a few minutes in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Hutch looked over at his partner, noting both the bandage and the angry swelling that surrounded his left eye.

“And do me a favor, will you?”

“What’s that?” asked Starsky.

“The next time you get your head smashed through a plate glass window — ”

“I’m not planning on making a habit of it, buddy,” interrupted the brunet with a grin.

“Dammit, Starsk, hear me out!” cried Hutch.

Starsky turned to face his partner. “What’s going on with you?”

Hutch took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. All I’m saying is that when you’re hurt I need to know.”

“Okay. I hear you.”

“What I don’t need is you making asinine comments like ‘I never felt better.'”

“Hutch — ”

“No, I mean it, Starsky. When I saw the amount of blood that was coming out of that thick skull of yours I nearly lost my lunch. And there I was trying to get through to the dispatcher and make a formal report as if I had all the time in the word.” Hutch had returned his eyes to the road and Starsky noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

Starsky punched his partner lightly on the shoulder to lighten the mood. “Hey, Blondie, I’m okay. And I promise to let you know exactly what’s going on next time I get my head smashed through a plate glass window.”

Hutch looked over at his partner, half amused and half annoyed.

Starsky’s expression became more serious. “Don’t worry, buddy. I get it.”

********

Hutch dropped Starsky off at Merle’s. Fearing the Earl would try to sell him on the idea of wrecking havoc with the LTD’s interior, Hutch beat a hasty retreat from the garage. He said something to Starsky about mitigating the fallout at Division and headed for the station.

Merle was actually on the phone in a heated argument with a customer over a certain Camaro. When he saw the detective, he waved him in the direction of his assistant, Cecil. Starsky recognized the young black man as the tow truck driver who had brought the Torino into the garage. He approached him eagerly.

“So where is she, Cecil? How’s my beautiful hunk of chrome doing?”

Cecil walked over to one of the bays and removed a tarp to reveal the striped tomato in all its glory. “Merle threw in a free car wash, but I drew the line at waxing the damn thing.”

“Well, please tell the Earl I appreciate it.”

“Whatever.”

“So what’s the damage?”

Cecil grabbed a handful of work orders and flipped through until he found the right one. He handed the slip to the detective and added, “If you’re paying by check, I want to see some ID.”

“Is that Merle’s new policy? Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with my credit,” said Starsky grinning.

“I’d like to see it all the same,” said Cecil, his voice severe and his eyes menacing.

Starsky reached for his wallet without taking his eyes off the young man. “Hey, Cecil, is there a problem here?”

“No problem.”

“It’s just that I get the feeling I’ve said something to offend you.”

“You ain’t done nothing to offend me, I’m just looking to get you and your car on your way.”

“I got ya,” said Starsky, still watching the man intently.

“And maybe in future, you should be more careful about what neighborhoods you and your partner choose to frequent.”

“All right, Cecil, spit it out. What’s bothering you?”

“Fine. I’ll give it to you straight. I don’t appreciate how the po-lice think they got a right to shake down the locals for information.”

“And that’s what you think me and Hutch are doing?”

“Hell, I know that’s what you two are doing. Huggy’s sure got some strange loyalties.”

“Cecil, we’re both on the same side here, aren’t we? The information that Huggy gives us helps to get some of the scum off the streets.”

“Yeah, and do you know how long it takes the po-lice to get down to that neighborhood when one of its people are in trouble? Do you?! Just long enough for some sorry son of a bitch to bleed to death. But let it come down to getting what you want and it’s “Okay, Huggy, and how about a free burger and a beer to wash it down.”

“Cecil, it ain’t like that. Huggy is a good friend of ours.”

“Yeah, the best snitch a couple of honky cops could ask for.” He glanced towards the office and seeing that Merle was off the phone added, “Take your payment up with the boss; I’ve got work to do.” Cecil then turned abruptly and headed to the back lot.

********

The two men sat in the study of the Foley estate. Heavy brocade curtains prevented any light from spilling through the windows. Mr. Foley liked to keep the lighting dim so that his eyes wouldn’t be strained when he emerged from the projection room. His entourage had learned long ago that their boss’s taste in films and his penchant for dim lighting were just two of his many strange idiosyncrasies. At the moment, Mr. Foley held a brandy snifter and wore a contemplative expression. His companion looked at a loss for words.

“Mr. Foley, I mean no disrespect, but don’t you think that whacking two sets of hit men is a little extreme?”

“Men for hire are a dime a dozen, Max. Yancey and his sidekick, Eddie, were potential liabilities from the start. But I’ve got to say, this Tom and his numb-nuts partner… they’re an accident waiting to happen. I send them to do a straight-forward job and what happens? A. I get burned, and B. I get a cop invited to the party.”

“Yeah, but Mr. Foley, that’s just my point. Hiring each set to blow away the other. Just think of all the ways that could turn ugly. And I have to say I don’t understand the point of bringing that cop Hutchinson here at all.” Max quickly added, “Understand, I mean no disrespect, Mr. Foley.”

********

Joey sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, munching on soggy fries and drinking a Coke. He was engrossed in a movie when Tom entered.

“Hey, man, this is one cool movie. The Mechanic. Bronson and this Jan-Michael kid are some pretty heavy dudes.”

“Joey, turn off the TV.”

“No way, man. This is just getting good. I bet we could take some notes from this flick. Learn some real useful shit.”

“Joey, we’ve got a job to plan. Turn the damn TV off!”

Joey sighed and switched off the set. “I don’t mind telling you, I got a bad feeling about nabbing this cop, man. And this head case, Foley? He’s about three bricks shy of a load.”

********

When Hutch got to the station, Dobey summoned him into the office.

“How’s Starsky?”

“He’s going to be okay, Captain. But the Doc says he should stick to his desk for a few days. He’s picking up his car; he’ll be here soon.”

“Desk work, huh?”

Hutch grinned. “Now, Captain, go easy on him.”

“Sure. I’m just going to use the forced vacation to reacquaint him with some of the finer points of report writing.”

“Starsky and I agreed that the next step is to interview those prostitutes. But I’d like to head out now so he doesn’t get the bright idea to hit the streets with me.”

“Hutch, I got another call from the Commissioner this morning. The man is riding my butt about this whole mess with Miller. He wants it resolved now. I told Miller that my men were officially off the case.”

“You’re going to bow down to Miller?”

“Listen, Hutchinson, I’m not bowing down to anyone! I’m acting in the best interests of the Department!” Dobey lowered his voice and continued. “Besides which, Detective, I don’t think you heard me correctly. I said you were ‘officially’ off the case.”

Hutch looked at the Captain knowingly.

“What you happen to come across while attending to other police duties,” he said waving his arm, “is another matter.”

“You think Miller is up to something?”

Dobey raised his eyebrows and the gruffness returned to his voice. “I think Miller is an honest cop facing an ugly divorce, big alimony payments, and two kids heading for college. He’s got an eye towards promotion and a desire to make a name for himself but that’s hardly criminal behavior. I read the reports from his operation this morning. I didn’t find anything suspicious. If anything, he’s been overcautious. But I want this wrapped up, Hutch. I don’t want Miller getting his dander up and running over my head again.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“Good, now get out there and get me some answers.”

As Hutch left the office, Starsky entered the squad room. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Dobey will fill you in. He’s got big plans for you.”

“You mean you’re really gonna leave me here?” said Starsky in mock indignation. “Some friend you are!”

“Starsky!” bellowed Dobey. “Get your butt in here!”

Starsky glared at his partner. “I’m gonna get you for this, Hutch.”

Hutch laughed and left the squad room. Before heading out to the police garage, he took a detour to the property room. Officer Lauren Delaney was cataloguing some evidence when he approached the desk.

“Have I told you what an improvement you are over Bigelow?”

Lauren kept her gaze on the spreadsheet before her. “Only about half a dozen times. But like I told you, Bigelow’s on temporary leave. He’ll be back soon.” So if you’re going to make a move, I sure wish you’d do it now, she thought to herself.

“I was wondering…” Hutch began.

Lauren raised her eyes from the leger questioningly.

“Would you like to have dinner?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Damn,” laughed Hutch, a bit flustered. “Was I that obvious?”

“I suppose some things are worth the wait.”

Before he had time to get more flustered, Hutch suggested an Italian restaurant in town. Lauren mentioned that it would be easiest for them to meet there and they agreed on eight o’clock.

********

Cecil looked at his watch. Nearly time for lunch, and Merle had promised him his paycheck by noon. There would be a fair amount of overtime in it. He asked Merle if he could take an extra half hour for lunch and run a few errands.

“Sure, Cecil, and I sure appreciate all the time you’ve been putting in.” As Cecil reached for his jacket, Merle added, “Listen, son, you’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?”

“What do you mean, Merle?”

“It’s just… I don’t know. A single guy like yourself should be able to live on a song.”

“I borrowed some money from Huggy. No big deal. I don’t like owning people. I promised Hug I’d repay him. Wanna settle my debts, that’s all.”

“Okay, kid.”

Cecil quickly headed off to the bank to cash his check. His next stop was The Pits. Huggy accepted the money and Cecil thanked him. Neither man mentioned their last heated exchange until Cecil was about to leave.

“Look, Hug. I ain’t gonna pretend I like the cats you hang out with, but you’ve always given me a hand when I needed it and I guess it ain’t none of my business… What I’m saying is, things are cool between us.”

After leaving The Pits, Cecil turned his attention to taking care of the one dilemma that had been hanging over his head for weeks. Though not a heavy gambler, he had placed a few bets that had grown into less than friendly propositions. Embarrassed over being suckered in, he hadn’t told a soul and made a deal with a local loan shark to get himself out of debt. To make the payments on time he had worked overtime, borrowed from friends, and finally in a desperate move, hocked some of his mother’s jewelry at a local pawn shop. The owner of the place had agreed to hold the pieces for a few weeks, provided he could make a profit on the transaction. Cecil had reluctantly agreed. Once he had made a deal with the devil, he felt at the mercy of several unscrupulous players. Never mind. Cecil had learned his lesson and soon all would be as it was. The young man drove determinedly to Trask’s Pawn Shop.

********

Yancey and Eddie sat at a table in a diner not far from the Algonquin. They had checked into another dive on the strip. Yancey was enjoying a full breakfast with all the trimmings. Eddie was staring morosely into a cup of black coffee. His hands were shaking slightly.

“Cheer up, Eddie, this is what we’ve been waiting for. By tomorrow night, we will have established a reputation in this town.”

“Popping a coupla guys down by the pier,” said Eddie under his breath, “is a helluva way to earn a living, ain’t it.”

Yancey reached for the medallion around his neck. “I did my time with the regular working stiffs, Eddie. Watched my best friend get killed on the Verrazano job.”

“I know, Bill. You’ve told me.”

“Well, Eddie, if you didn’t hit the sauce so much, maybe you could have been an ironworker instead of a boilermaker. Nerves of steel. It ain’t no lie. That’s what it takes. Can’t say that I’m thoroughly convinced you can pull this off.”

“I signed up for the program, Yancey. I’m gonna see it through.”

“Fine. Now finish your coffee, so’s we can get over to Trask’s place.”

********

Hutch drove down to the Algonquin Hotel. He decided to start at the tavern where Starsky had run into the bikers. He noticed that the window had been boarded up and most of the glass cleared from the sidewalk. As Hutch entered the bar, he struggled to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Very few people were in the place, but he recognized the guy behind the bar as the irate bouncer. The bouncer recognized Hutch too.

“I guess you’ve heard about the damn runaround I’m getting from the police department over that window!”

“Can it, Bubba. I didn’t come down here to discuss your decorating woes.”

“Is that right? You’ve got one hell of a nerve coming in here and telling me that!”

Hutch dove over the bar and grabbed Bubba’s vest with both hands. “Listen, scum, I’m sure I could find half a dozen violations in this dive to keep you downtown for the rest of the day! Not to mention the fact that you served a couple of drunk sleaze buckets who wound up assaulting a cop!”

“All right, all right! Keep your shirt on!”

Hutch held onto his vest a few more moments and stared at the bouncer with steely blue eyes. He finally released him and took a deep breath. “There were two prostitutes working the corner. I want to know their names and where I can find them.”

“Hey, man, there are a lot of girls down here trying to make a living.”

“And the pimps have made sure they know their territory. I want those names and I want them now!”

Bubba was finding the detective’s scrutinizing look difficult to bear. He reached for a rag and started a cursory sweep of the bar. “I don’t know the older one’s name, but the younger one goes by ‘Lottie.’ Short for Loretta, I think. During the day she’s holed up in a room at the Algonquin. But you ain’t gonna get much information outta her until dark.”

“Why’s that?” asked Hutch.

“She’s a serious pill-popper, man. Real spaced out during the day.”

“I’ll take my chances,” said Hutch, leaving the tavern.

********

“Do you understand the plan, Joey?”

“Yeah, man, I got it the first time. What do you think I am, some kind of moron?”

“I’m going to grab us some lunch; you stay here.” Tom left the hotel room.

Joey turned the television set back on and settled down to enjoy the rest of The Mechanic.

********

Hutch entered the Algonquin Hotel and recognized Monty Voorhees behind the desk. As the detective surveyed the trail of peanut shells, he marveled at the strange constants in life.

For his part, Monty was none too happy to see Hutch, though he had in fact anticipated a visit. It paid both literally and figuratively to be cooperative with the cops but not openly forthcoming. Monty did not consider himself a snitch, but he’d deal if there was something in it for him. Sometimes that meant simply placating a guy with a bad attitude and a healthy build. Like that Yancey character. He had turned pretty mean once his partner Eddie called him “Yancey” within Monty’s hearing. Monty had a register full of entries that read “Smith” and “Jones.” He didn’t care. He wasn’t one to run background checks on the people this hotel catered to. But he’d gotten the impression that Yancey didn’t appreciate his partner’s carelessness and that put Monty in a vulnerable and yet potentially profitable situation.

“I thought you were down at the Royale,” said Hutch.

“This is what you call a lateral career move,” responded Monty, putting another peanut in his mouth. His eyes darted furtively from the detective to the pile of shells before him.

“I heard through the grapevine that you’ve got a working girl by the name of Lottie staying here.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I’d like to talk to her.”

Monty decided to make this one a gift. “Room 316.”

Hutch looked a bit surprised. “Thanks, Monty.” Not trusting the elevators in these old hotels, he started up the stairs. “Oh, and Monty? Keep your mitts off the phone. I prefer an unannounced visit.”

No sooner was Hutch on the second landing, Monty turned to the switchboard. He called Lottie’s room, but there was no answer. The ringing had indeed roused her from a drug induced sleep, but before she could stumble to the phone, it had stopped. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Just a minute,” Lottie called. She threw a tattered robe on and reached for a cigarette. Once she had lit it and taken a deep inhalation, she answered the door.

Hutch flashed his badge. “May I come in? I need to ask you some questions.”

“Sure, honey. Come have a seat.” Lottie stumbled over to a couch and patted the spot next to her. Hutch sat beside the woman.

“I want to ask you about the incident last night.”

“What incident was that, honey?” she said absentmindedly. Lottie seemed far more interested in the swirls of smoke drifting slowly upward than in the conversation.

“A man grabbed you across the street and you screamed. Why did he grab you like that? What did he want?”

Lottie looked confused. “What man?”

“A tall guy, about six feet. Late twenties, brown hair.”

“Oh, I remember that guy. You know why? He had gapped-teeth.”

“Okay, good. Now, tell me. What did he want?”

“You know why I remember that?” said Lottie, her eyes lolling about in her head as she took another long drag on the cigarette. “Because my mama told me when I was little that gap-toothed women were loose. Know what I mean? In fact, she used a specific word to describe them. What was that word…”

“Okay, Lottie. Stay with me, okay? What did the guy want?”

“I know,” she said, brightening a bit through the haze of smoke and pills. “Lascivious. That was the word: la-sci-vi-ous.” She said it a few more times, dragging out each syllable. “You know, that word makes my tongue feel funny.” Lottie started to giggle. “I remember thinking… I wonder if guys could be la-sci-vi-ous too.”

“Lottie.”

“I wonder what ol’ mama would have to say on that subject.”

“Do you remember why the guy grabbed you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lottie looked out the window. Hutch couldn’t tell if she was thinking hard or just drifting off again. “Yes, I do remember. It had something to do with cigarettes.”

“Cigarettes?”

“Yeah, that punk was trying to steal my cigarettes! No, no, that can’t be. Jerry doesn’t let us smoke while we’re working.”

“Jerry? That’s your pimp?”

“Yeah, and he don’t like us smoking. Says it looks cheap. Don’t that beat all?” Lottie started giggling again. “I think it makes me look… what’s the word I want? Sophisticated. Yeah, that’s it.”

“So it wasn’t about stealing your cigarettes.”

“No, guess not. Maybe I was trying to steal his. Yeah, that was probably it.”

Hutch decided he wasn’t getting anywhere with this. He thanked Lottie for her time and returned downstairs.

“Okay, Monty. Got a couple of questions for you.”

“Hey, man. I gave you her room number, now cut me a break.”

“Been reports of gun dealing going on at this fine establishment, Monty. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?”

“I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business.”

“Now, Monty. Do you really expect me to believe that? I bet you don’t miss a thing that goes on in this place.”

Monty’s eyes began to dart about again. Hutch reached into his wallet and put a ten on the counter. Monty’s eyes reacted to it, but he didn’t touch it. “I’ll tell you, Hutch. You know, ten dollars ain’t much. You don’t know what you’re asking. These are some mean fellas.”

“Names and a room number, Monty.”

“Come on, Hutch.”

“That’s all you’re getting. Now spill it.”

Monty snatched up the money. “Bill Yancey is the guy’s name. His buddy is called Eddie. Don’t know his last name.”

“What room?”

“518.”

Hutch started up the stairs.

“But you ain’t gonna find them there now. They left this morning.”

Hutch returned. “And I don’t suppose you know where they went.”

“Nope. And I didn’t ask neither.”

Much against his better judgement, Hutch put another ten on the desk. “Give me something I can use, Monty.”

Monty reached out to grab the bill, but Hutch grabbed his hand and held it fast. Monty yelped.

“Information first.”

“Okay, okay,” cried Monty. Hutch released his hand and Monty cupped it in his other, nursing a bruise. “They’re from New York, both of them. Got thick accents. And this Yancey wears this big medallion around his neck. I ain’t never seen him without it. It’s got an engraving of a bridge on it.”

“Anything else.”

“Yeah. I think they’re into more than just gun dealing.”

“Meaning?”

“They placed a couple of calls from the hotel. And I just, you know, happened to overhear. One was to a guy named Harry. Yancey was giving him some grief about storage.”

“Harry got a last name?”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“And the other call?”

“That was the interesting one. Involved a contract hit. I’m sure of it. But I don’t know who or where or when. When the guy Yancey was talking to realized he was on the hotel phone, the conversation ended real quick.”

Hutch nodded, and as he turned to leave, Monty grabbed the ten dollar bill.

********

After leaving the hotel, Hutch got on the radio and asked to be patched through to Detective Starsky.

“Starsky here.”

“How’s the paperwork going?”

“Don’t ask. Whatcha got?”

“Well, talking to the prostitute that was grabbed by our guy was a bust. But I got some information from Monty Voorhees at some pretty inflated rates.”

“Monty Voorhees? Ain’t he the guy with the chicken heads in his act?”

“That’s the one. He gave me the name of one of the gun dealers: Bill Yancey. Supposedly out of New York. And it seems this guy might be for hire as well. Put his name in the system and see if anything comes up.”

“You got it. Anything else?”

“I’m gonna hang around and ask a few more people in the area for statements. Then I’ll head to Huggy’s and see if anything’s turned up over there.”

“Okay. How about grabbing some dinner tonight?”

“Gotta take a rain check, buddy. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“You’re kidding? With Lauren?”

“Yeah, and there’s no need to act so surprised.”

“I’m just glad you decided not to talk her to death.”

“Very funny, Starsk.”

********

When Tom returned with the food, he found Joey sitting on the bed with an extremely worried look on his face.

“Eat up, Joey. This is the last food I’m feeding you for a while.”

“I ain’t hungry.”

“What’s the matter now, Joey?”

“It’s that movie, man. I saw the rest of it after you left.”

“What movie?”

“What’s up with you, man? Am I just flapping my gums when I talk to you? Don’t you hear a word I say? The Mechanic, man. The movie about the hit men.”

“Well, if those things upset you so, why don’t you stick to your marching bands and your boom-boom girls on the football games?”

“You don’t understand! There’s Bronson and Vincent, see, the two hit men. And they both get contracts to kill someone. Only it turns out they’ve both been hired to kill the other guy!”

“What’s your point, Joey?”

“Do I gotta draw you a picture, boss man? What if these goombahs we’re supposed to whack turn out to have it in for us?”

“Joey, I don’t want to hear any more of your nonsense. And besides, our first concern is the cop.”

“I don’t know, man. I got a bad feeling.”

********

Yancey and Eddie stood behind a small curtained area in the pawn shop, talking to Harry Trask. Yancey was becoming increasingly agitated.

“What the hell am I paying you for, Harry? You got my merchandise stockpiled back here where any jerk snooping around can see it!”

“Calm down, Yancey. I’ll move it upstairs.”

“See that you do. Jesus!”

Cecil stood outside the pawn shop. He didn’t see anyone inside but the open sign was on, so he tried the door. As it opened, he heard angry voices in the background.

“And another thing,” said Yancey. “What do you know about a couple of detectives named Starsky and Hutchinson?”

“Why do you ask?”

“That freak Monty at the Algonquin mentioned that they’d been hanging around the neighborhood.”

Before Harry could answer, he caught a glimpse of Cecil through the curtain. “Damn,” he hissed. “That buzzer on the front door must be busted again.”

Harry quickly left the back to greet Cecil. His manner was pure impatience. “What can I do for you?”

Cecil reminded him of the jewelry and produced the amount of money they had agreed upon.

“It’s in the back. Wait here.”

Cecil’s eyes followed Harry as he approached the curtained area. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of a man wearing a large medallion around his neck.

 

Part Four

Hutch spent the rest of the afternoon talking to the locals, but he didn’t get any more information. And he saw far more of the seedy living on the Strip than he cared to. Some of the people he approached tried to keep the detective talking out of sheer loneliness. When Starsky was with him, he helped to keep it all in perspective. When Hutch questioned people alone, he found it pretty depressing.

Hutch arrived at The Pits to find Huggy in high spirits, but the partners’ most trusted informant hadn’t heard anything new. After leaving there, Hutch returned to the station.

Starsky hadn’t been able to turn up anything on Bill Yancey. But he was happy to have avoided Dobey’s wrath for the better part of the day. He was anxious to get back on the streets but knew his partner and his Captain would be adamant about him following the doctor’s orders.

The detectives met with Dobey briefly when Hutch returned but neither felt they had any strong leads.

“Are you going to share the information we do manage to get with Miller, Captain?” asked Hutch.

“Hey, I’m not looking to keep any secrets from the Lieutenant. But I don’t want him blowing his stack by finding out you were behind anything either, Hutchinson. If you do get something concrete, you let me handle it.”

“Okay, Cap’n,” answered Starsky for his partner, rising from his chair.

“You seem rather impatient.”

“Well, Cap’n. I do admit being cooped up in here all day can make a person pretty stir crazy. Besides, Hutch here has got a big date tonight.”

Hutch glared at his partner.

Dobey just grumbled. “Well, unless you two have got something else, you’re free to go.”

“Nice going, Starsk,” said Hutch once they had left the office.

“Sorry, Blondie. I didn’t know it was a big secret.”

“It’s not a secret. It’s just, oh, never mind.”

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you blush?”

“I’m warning you, Starsky!”

Starsky just chuckled. “Oh, take it easy. Hey, you better hurry home and get ready.”

Hutch glanced at his watch. “Yeah, got just enough time for a quick shower. I’m meeting Lauren at Mario’s at eight.”

“Pretty fancy. I ain’t been to that joint in ages. Did I ever tell you that place reminds me of of the place my grand — ”

“Yeah, you did. I’ll see you tomorrow, Starsk.”

“Sheesh,” said Starsky to no one in particular after Hutch had left the squad room.

********

Joey and Tom drove to Venice Place in Tom’s Cadillac at about six in the evening.

“He ain’t seen this car, man. Make sure you park right in front.”

“Don’t worry, Joey.”

“Well, it’s bad enough we’ve gotta carry this joker down a flight of stairs. I don’t want to have to take any unnecessary steps.”

Tom parked the car near the entrance to the apartment and both men went inside. Tom had brought equipment to pick the lock, but out of habit and a bit of wishful thinking he did a cursory check for a doormat or a flowerpot. Then he ran his fingers along the top of the doorframe. He lowered his hand and showed what he had retrieved to Joey.

“I don’t believe this,” said Joey, flashing a big gap-toothed grin. “Looks like our luck is finally changing.”

Tom unlocked the door and replaced the key. “Now Joey, you stay in the bathroom. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“Hutchinson may not be home for hours.”

“So, we wait.”

Joey headed straight for the refrigerator.

“Joey, what the hell are you doing?”

“Just ’cause we’ve gotta wait don’t mean I’ve got to starve to death.”

“You should have eaten when you had the chance, instead of worrying about that stupid movie.”

Joey opened the door of the refrigerator and grimaced at what he saw. He grabbed a bottle and waved it in Tom’s direction. “Look at this, man! This dude actually has wheat germ.” He scanned the shelves of the icebox. “And by the looks of it, not one damn decent thing to eat.” Joey looked back at the container in his hand. “What does this joker think, that he’s gonna live forever?” Joey paused a minute and began laughing. “That’s pretty funny, man. Him thinking he’s going to live forever.”

“Yeah, Joey, the irony speaks volumes. Now put that thing back and get in the bathroom.”

Joey sighed and did as he was told. More waiting. He hated that.

********

Hutch arrived home a little after seven. He entered the apartment, flipped on the light, and shut the door behind him. He took off his jacket and holster and tossed them onto the couch. As he turned to the bedroom, he sensed movement behind him. The door to the bathroom swung open and Joey flew out, driven more by adrenaline than by any specific plan of attack. He took a swing at Hutch, but the detective was able to dodge the blow and responded by catching Joey on the jaw. The young man flew backwards, taking a few plants with him on the descent to the floor. Wasting no time, Tom emerged from the bedroom and charged Hutch from behind. The last thing Hutch felt was a blow to the back of the head.

“Well, you sure took your own sweet time,” said Joey. He was still sitting on the floor amid the debris of wicker and potting soil and holding his chin in both hands. “That dude packs a helluva punch. Nearly broke my damn jaw.”

“Get up, Joey!”

“All right, man. Give me a minute.” Joey got himself to his feet and both men approached the detective. Tom reached down and rolled Hutch onto his back. He then picked him up under the arms and motioned for Joey to grab his legs. Tom managed to get the door closed to the apartment and together he and Joey carried Hutch down the stairs. Satisfied that no one was on the street, they hustled the detective out to the car and put him in the back seat.

“Joey, you ride in back with him.” Tom quickly got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. Reaching over to the glove compartment, he retrieved some rope and tossed it to Joey. “Tie him up good. I don’t want any unexpected incidents on the way to Foley’s.”

********

After leaving Trask’s Pawn Shop, Cecil returned to Merle’s and put in a few more hours’ work before heading home for the day. He was happy to have “put things right” as he termed it, and he padded his pocket several times throughout the day, reminding himself of the reclaimed jewelry. But his relief was somewhat marred by a disquieting feeling that he had stumbled across something at Trask’s place that was best left alone. He thought of mentioning what he had seen and heard to Merle but decided against it. In fact, he thought to himself, what actually had he seen and heard? Maybe it was something shady. Not hard to imagine in a pawn shop on that side of town. But Cecil realized the only thing that had really engaged his attention was the mention of the names Starsky and Hutchinson, the detectives that Huggy made a habit of keeping supplied in beer and pretzels. Well, he thought, the po-lice can take care of their own.

********

Tim Delco picked up the phone and put it down several times. Finally he picked up the handset with resolve and dialed Lt. Miller’s number. He hoped to handle this on the phone, but Miller insisted on going to “the spot” to talk.

Delco approached the Lieutenant quickly when his car arrived at the pier. He got right to the point. “I ain’t doing it, Miller. I ain’t taking a chance on getting mixed up with Foley again just to get you information.”

“Delco, I thought we understood each other.”

“I gave you a fair deal, Miller. And I held up my end. Linda’s cleaned up her act and it’s gonna be damn hard for you to stick anything on her. I’m calling an end to this arrangement right now.” Delco returned to his vehicle without waiting for a response.

********

At about 8:45 PM the phone in Starsky’s apartment rang. He was just getting out of the shower and was about to let it go but at the last moment he threw a towel on and grabbed the receiver by his bedside. “Starsky,” he said, still in a work mode from a day spent at his desk.

“Dave?” said a voice with some uncertainty at the other end.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“It’s Lauren Delaney. I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I was wondering if you knew where Ken was.”

“I thought he had a date with you tonight at Mario’s.”

“That was the plan. Only I’ve been here for nearly forty-five minutes and he hasn’t shown. I thought maybe he got held up. It was a more appealing idea than believing I’d been stood up. I tried calling his apartment a couple of times but there was no answer.”

“I’m going to head over to his apartment right now,” said Starsky, his voice full of worry.

His tone was not lost on Lauren. “Do you think something is wrong?”

“Well, it ain’t like Hutch to stand up a pretty lady he’s been trying so damn hard to impress.” Starsky took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “Look, can you get home all right?”

“Sure. What do you think happened, Dave?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out.”

Starsky quickly got dressed and flew down the steps of his apartment. Dismissing the possibility that he was overreacting, he threw the gumball on top of the Torino and traveled at breakneck speed to Hutch’s pad. He noticed the LTD was parked outside. He took the steps at Venice Place two at a time and drew his weapon while outside the door, noticing that it was slightly ajar. Taking a moment to mentally prepare himself for whatever might be on the other side, he opened the door and surveyed the room. He noted the smashed plants and Hutch’s weapon on the couch in a single sweep of the living room. Starsky quickly checked out the rest of the apartment and concluded it was empty. Fighting a sense of rising panic, he grabbed the phone and called in Hutch’s disappearance to the Department. Then he called Captain Dobey at home. Cal answered the phone and Starsky tried his best to keep his voice calm as he asked the boy to put his father on the phone.

“Dobey here.”

“Cap’n. Someone’s got Hutch.”

“Starsky? What are you talking about?”

“He didn’t show up for his date, so I went to his apartment. By the looks of things here, he was taken by force.”

“Okay, son, calm down. Meet me at the station.”

Dobey gave Edith a look which conveyed that he would explain things later. He gave her a quick kiss and headed out the door. On the way to the station, he radioed ahead and asked to be patched through to Miller’s home.

When Dobey reached the station, Starsky was already pacing nervously in his office.

“Okay, what are you thinking on this one?”

“Well, ruling out any number of scumbags that have a score to settle with me or Hutch, I can think of a few scenarios involving Miller’s cast of characters.”

“Like who?”

“Monty Voorhees gave Hutch information about a gun dealer from New York who might be on the lookout for bigger and better things.”

“Is this from the Algonquin?”

“Yeah, Cap’n.”

“Then why in the hell am I just hearing about this for the first time?”

“I ran his name through the system, Cap’n. A Bill Yancey. Didn’t come up with a thing. But that’s not who I think is behind this.”

“Well?”

“I think it’s got something to do with that guy from the Buick that Hutch was chasing last night.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Well, think about it, Cap’n. This guy spends half an hour at the Algonquin like he’s casing the joint and then he takes a detour to pick up a prostitute, leaving his partner behind? It doesn’t make sense. Unless it had nothing to do with the prostitute. Maybe he was just trying to get a closer look at us… or the car we were driving.”

At that moment, Miller entered Dobey’s office. Anticipating a dispute, Miller put forth a less than convincing show of bravado. “What’s going on, Captain?”

“I’m hoping you can help us out with that one.”

“You told me you were taking your men off the Algonquin case. What’s Starsky doing here?”

Starsky was in Miller’s face without missing a beat. “Your case may just be responsible for getting my partner kidnapped, so how’s about you drop the goddamn attitude and start cooperating!”

“Call your detective off of me, Captain. I said CALL HIM OFF!”

“STARSKY!” yelled Dobey.

Starsky backed off, but slowly. And his smoldering midnight eyes never left the Lieutenant’s face.

“Now, both of you, sit down!” barked Dobey. “It’s time to put everything on the table.”

********

Miller glared at Starsky. He had never particularly liked the detective. The Lieutenant considered him a cowboy of sorts who like to flout the system and he didn’t care for the sarcastic streak he had detected in the man’s partner. He’d never understand what Dobey saw in them and it was clear enough that in spite of all his professed gruffness, the Captain favored these two.

The Lieutenant made a decision then and there not to reveal any more information than was necessary. He’d be cooperative to a point, but he wasn’t about to reveal that his ultimate mark was Foley. If there was still a chance of nailing a main player, he wasn’t about to tip his hand. It was going to be his bust, his way. He couldn’t imagine that Foley had anything to do with Hutchinson’s disappearance. God knows, he thought to himself, with the reputations they’ve developed on the streets, there’s probably a line of perps holding a grudge.

Miller wasn’t prepared for the fact that one of the men that Delco had been unable or unwilling to name was called Bill Yancey and that Starsky had already put the man’s name in the computer to check for priors. He also wasn’t prepared for the fact that Monty Voorhees had given this information to Hutchinson when the weasel could only confirm to him that the men had used aliases. If Starsky got to this Yancey and his partner, he’d figure out the connection to Foley. And since the two men Starsky was convinced were involved with Hutchinson’s disappearance were last seen supposedly trying to make contact with them, there didn’t seem to be much chance of suggesting another scenario. But Miller was still unconvinced that Starsky was going to find his partner this way. He was convinced that his operation and hopes for promotion were in jeopardy.

********

Hutch slowly became aware of a throbbing sensation in his head and the movement of a car. He tried to move but discovered that his hands were bound behind his back and that his legs were bound and twisted at an awkward angle. Hutch finally managed to open his eyes and looked up at Joey who was sitting in the back seat with him.

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, pig. Now shut up!”

“Are you sure he’s secure, Joey?” asked Tom from the front.

“He ain’t going nowhere.”

“I don’t know what all this is about, but — ” began Hutch.

“Joey, why do you always leave a job half done?” said Tom, with rising impatience. “There are some rags behind the front seat. Silence and blindfold him, will you please.”

Hutch tried to keep his voice calm and reason with Joey, but Joey only did as he was told with the rags and did so roughly. Hutch nearly gagged on the rag forced into his mouth and he concentrated on getting his breathing under control and fighting a wave of nausea. He wondered how long it would take for Starsky to figure out he was missing. Had Lauren contacted anyone or just figured that her date was a jerk? No, she would have called Starsky if only to tell him that his partner was a jerk. Wouldn’t she? What if these turkeys had plans to grab Starsky too? What if they already had? God, he felt so helpless.

********

Cecil cursed out loud and decided to head for The Pits. He couldn’t imagine why the incident at Trask’s was bothering him so. He’d be damned if he cared about a couple of leeching cops.

“Let me get this straight, Cecil,” said Huggy when he had heard the story.

“Look, man. That’s all I know. And I don’t even know what it means.”

“But you’re sure these dudes mentioned Starsky and Hutch by name?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. And you do what you want with the information, but you leave my name out of it, you hear?”

“Yeah, man. I don’t reveal my sources.” Huggy looked closely at Cecil and smiled.

“And don’t get any ideas, neither. I ain’t planning on becoming no snitch for the po-lice. I only did this so’s I can get a decent night’s sleep tonight.”

“Say no more, my man.”

As soon as Cecil left, Huggy tried calling Starsky’s apartment and then Hutch’s. When there was no answer at either place, he deliberated about calling the station. Figuring that leaving the information to a chance encounter with the detectives may not be the best idea, he contacted the Department. The call was patched through to Dobey’s office. After a brief exchange, Starsky hung up the phone and was on his feet.

“Huggy may have some information about Hutch. I’m heading over there now.”

“Okay, Starsky. Make sure you keep me informed.”

“Right, Cap’n,” said Starsky. Miller had risen to go as well and the detective nearly knocked him over in his hurry to leave the office.

********

The ride seemed to drag on interminably. Hutch tried to listen for traffic patterns or any other sounds that would allow him to get a fix on the car’s location, but it was impossible. The driver had turned on the radio and had effectively drowned out any activity beyond the confines of the vehicle. It did seem as though the longer they traveled the fewer times the car slowed. But were they leaving the city? Perhaps they were on some secondary road beyond the metropolitan area. The car never seemed to have gathered enough momentum to be on the freeway. Hutch thought the joker on top of him must have been convinced he would try to escape. In spite of being tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, this Joey seemed intent on keeping him pinned to the back of the seat. The few times Hutch attempted to move just to prevent his limbs from falling asleep, Joey had leaned on him hard and shoved him back into his former position.

Finally the car came to a complete halt. The driver switched off he radio and rolled down the window.

“We’re expected,” he said.

The car began to move again slowly. Hutch detected a South American accent in the driver but did not recognize the voice. He hadn’t had the opportunity to get a good look at his face. He was struck by the growing suspicion, however, that his captors were simply delivery men.

When the car next came to a full stop, Hutch sensed a flutter of movement around him. He felt Joey’s hands and then several other pairs pulling him from the back seat of the car.

“You! Untie his legs!” came a command from an unfamiliar voice.

“Okay, man, take it easy,” said Joey as he undid the rope from around Hutch’s ankles.

“We’ll take it from here. Max will show you two inside.”

Hutch next felt himself being half dragged and half carried. He tried to walk on his own, but his legs were so cramped they would barely support him. His escorts were silent but impatient. Suddenly Hutch felt himself being forced down a flight of stairs and perceived a cold, clammy sensation, as if he were in a damp basement. He was soon pushed into a chair and tied securely to it. The gag from his mouth was removed but not the blindfold. Hutch tried to communicate with the men, but they said nothing. He heard their retreating footsteps go up the stairs and he heard a door slam. He shivered involuntarily and wondered whether it was from the chill in the room or his own mounting fear.

********

Starsky was the target of several cursing motorists as he gingerly navigated traffic to get to The Pits. Finding no time for legal parking, he left the Torino double parked and ran inside the bar.

“Say, man,” said Huggy. “Any reason you hung up on me? And where’s Blondie?”

“Look, Huggy. Hutch is missing. Now I want to hear what you know and don’t leave anything out!”

“Hutch is missing?! Are you kidding me?”

“No, Huggy. I ain’t kidding you. Now what do you know?” Starsky was nearly yelling. He had gotten the attention of at least half the people in the place.

Huggy reached out and grabbed Starsky’s shoulder. “Get a hold of yourself, Starsky!” he said, his eyes full of concern.

“Huggy, I’m sorry. I’m just wired.”

“It’s okay, man. Dig. I got word that there are two heavy hitters in town and they’ve been talking to old man Trask down at his pawn shop. Seems you and Hutch came up in the conversation. One of these cats goes by the name of Bill Yancey. Word on the street is that he and his partner are a couple of ironworkers from Brooklyn looking to get into a new line of work, if you know what I mean.”

“Gun dealing?”

“For starters, but the way I hear it, they’re looking for bigger action.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, Yancey’s partner is a worn out looking dude by the name of Eddie. He’s been in here a few times. That cat is one serious drinker. Lately he’s been asking a lot of questions, like he’s trying to get a handle on the neighborhood’s current events. I even told him to leave once. My customers don’t need the third degree.”

“He ever mention any names?”

“Not that I recall. And I wouldn’t have put much stock in it at all until my friend, who shall remain nameless, gave me a description of these two guys at Trask’s place. Nailed this Eddie dude to a tee.”

“Guess you got no idea where they’d be now.”

“Nope, but I’d be willing to bet old Trask has got something to say.”

“Thanks, Hug,” said Starsky. He squeezed Huggy’s arm and headed for the exit.

“Hey, man. Keep me posted!” yelled Huggy.

********

Starsky ran to the Torino and after gunning the motor, roared back into traffic, heading for Trask’s place. He and Hutch had had some dealings with the pawnshop owner before. Starsky recalled that although Trask could not be called voluntarily cooperative in former encounters, he did get decidedly nervous when words like “accessory” entered the dialogue. Trask might have managed to stay in business for so many years because he knew when to keep his mouth shut, but Starsky reasoned that he’d also developed a survivor’s sense of when to “spill it.” Remembering the small apartment above the shop, Starsky pulled up in the back and used a rear set of stairs. He pounded on the apartment door and identified himself as a police officer.

“Just a minute,” came a voice from the other side and Starsky listened as heavy footsteps padded across the room.

Trask opened the door tentatively and peered out. Starsky shoved against the door with all his might, sending the pawnshop owner reeling backwards.

Regaining his balance, Trask began to bluster. “Just hold on a minute! You’ve got no cause to start in with the strong arm tactics.”

“Harry, as far as you’re concerned, this is my friendly demeanor. If you’d rather I got pissed off, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

“Detective Starsky, isn’t it?”

“You remembered, Harry. I’m flattered. But then I don’t imagine that steel-minded little trap of yours forgets much.”

“What do you want?”

“The word is, Harry, that you’ve been cozy with a couple of ironworkers from Brooklyn that are trying to make a name for themselves in our fair city.”

“Whoever gave you that idea is a lying son of a — ”

Starsky’s response was swift and unforgiving. With one hand he pinned Trask against the wall, knocking the wind out of the man mid-sentence. “I’ve got no time and even less patience. If I were to go downstairs right now and have a look around, I bet I could find enough stolen merchandise to have you doing a nickel in the joint.”

“All right. All right. Just so they never find out it was me that told you.”

“That ain’t how I operate and you know it. Start talking.”

“The main guy — Bill Yancey — asked me if I’d provide some… storage space for him.”

“For what?”

“For some weapons.”

“Nice squeaky-clean operation you’ve got going here.”

“Hey, this Yancey is a real piece of work. Rumored to have ties to the bent-nose battalion back in Brooklyn. I wasn’t about to turn him down.”

“There’s no record on him in New York.”

“That just means they never proved anything. I heard he killed a guy back in ’64 while working on the Verrazano Bridge. Shoved some poor bastard into the concrete as they were pouring a column. A favor for a union boss. He still wears the medallion he got for working on that job like a goddamned medal of honor.”

“So why’d he come out here?”

“Knees went bad, apparently. Couldn’t climb the iron anymore. And I think there were a few people back East that were getting a little nervous with him hanging around, so he decided to freelance out here,” Trask snickered. “He came out here with a pal of his named Eddie. Don’t know about him, though. Yancey never let him talk much.”

“I’d like to know when me and my partner came up in the conversation.”

“Yancey and Eddie got nervous that they were being watched at the Algonquin. The circus geek that manages the place put the make on you two. They came over here to give me grief about the way I was storing their merchandise… And they said something about being for hire.”

“Who’s supposed to take the fall?”

“You gotta be kidding?” said Trask, rubbing the stubble of his beard. “They didn’t offer and I didn’t ask.”

“But you know where they’re staying?”

Trask hesitated just long enough for Starsky to realize that the answer was yes.

“Now’s not the time to shoot yourself in the foot, Harry.”

Trask sighed deeply. “As far as I know, the Fairfax on Tremont.”

“Much obliged, Harry.”

********

Hutch didn’t know how much time had passed, but it seemed to be several hours. At last he heard the door open and a number of footsteps descending the staircase. The detective was still blindfolded and bound tightly to the chair. “What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep any trace of fear out of his voice.

But no one answered him. Hutch heard scraping sounds as if some sort of equipment were being set up, but he couldn’t figure out what was happening. Next he heard clicking noises that sounded like switches and felt the heat of bright lights on his face.

“Talk to me! What the hell do you want?”

“Shut up, pig!” said a gruff voice. The utterance was followed by a punch to Hutch’s jaw which sent the blond’s head snapping back.

“Hey, Manny, don’t waste any moves! We’re not even rolling yet.”

“I don’t mind telling you this turns my stomach,” came the gruff voice again. “I don’t mind wasting some deadbeat cop, but I sure as hell ain’t putting myself on camera doing it.”

“Don’t worry. Foley wants to star in his own show.”

********

Tom and Joey sat in D’Angelo’s Diner. Joey was fidgeting in his seat and quickly emptying his third beer.

“Slow it down, Joey. If there’s anything I won’t tolerate, it’s a person who can’t hold his liquor.”

“I can hold my liquor just fine. But is there any reason we keep coming back to this dump? The food stinks and the waitresses are all ball-busters.”

“If you’d stop trying to chat them up, we’d get better service.”

“Very funny, smart man.”

“Finish your beer. We’ve got work to do.”

********

Once Starsky had left, Trask briefly considered calling the Fairfax to warn Bill and Eddie. The idea was fleeting. The two obviously didn’t have much of a future on the West Coast and so Trask figured it was best to cut his losses.

********

Joey and Tom left D’Angelo’s Diner at about 10 PM. Tom slipped in behind the wheel of the Cadillac and pulled slowly into traffic.

“Okay, so it’s going down at 12:30. I figure it shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes, Joey.”

“And how do we handle the payment?”

“Foley’s man, Max, is going to meet us at that bar downtown, The Blue Note.”

“I wonder why he picked that place. It’s a real dive, featuring some nasty gutbucket jazz.”

“Didn’t know you were a music connoisseur, Joey.”

“There’s a whole helluva lot about me you don’t know, smart man.”

********

Max and Mr. Foley sat in the study at the mansion. Although Max was apprehensive about orchestrating a double hit involving four hired guns, he was even more jumpy about the situation in the basement. He had tried every conceivable way to talk his boss out of both arrangements, but to no avail. It was a delicate balance between pressing home his points and avoiding raising Mr. Foley’s ire. What Max really wanted to do was tell his boss that these mechanics were simply amateurs that posed no threat to Foley’s operations. And that sending a message through them was a wasteful gesture. About the snuff films… well, Max just found that whole business distasteful — no — disgusting. But how could he tell his employer the man’s extra-curricular behavior made his skin crawl? Mr. Foley interrupted Max’s thoughts.

“If you have nothing further, Max, I have some business to attend to downstairs.”

“No, Mr. Foley. I have nothing further.”

Foley stopped by the wet bar to fix himself a stiff martini. No one on his staff mixed them properly and he wanted everything to go smoothly this evening. He took a sip and judging the cocktail to be satisfactory, he left the study and proceeded to the basement.

********

Hutch heard yet another set of footsteps making their way down the stairs. The chill he had felt for the past hour was replaced with sweat under the intensity of the bright lights. The detective was still blindfolded, but he could piece together the strange scenario he was in by the talk of the men in the room. And the news that a gangland boss like Foley was involved did little to calm his nerves. That line from The Conversation came back to him. “I’m not afraid of death, but I am afraid of murder.” Hell, he wasn’t too keen on either one. Hutch tried to weigh his options. They certainly weren’t coming out in his favor no matter how he stacked the deck. Assuming Starsky had figured out he was in trouble from having missed his date with Lauren, his partner would be looking for him. But would he even know where to start? And what did Foley have to do with the two-bit hoods that had nabbed him at the apartment? His more immediate concern was surviving what threatened to be a show of violence captured on film. Although he didn’t want to consciously embrace the idea of what he figured was about to unfold in this basement, Hutch knew all too well what was in store for him. His mind became a jumble of seemingly disconnected thoughts. God, don’t let Starsky be the one to find me if I don’t make it. It’ll kill him. Followed by… If I’ve got to go let me not give this sick bastard any satisfaction by seeing me suffer. Give me the strength to curse him out until the end. Followed by… a flash of things and places he’d always wanted to see. Hell, he thought, what I wouldn’t give for one more ride in that damned striped tomato.

“Everything up to speed, boys?”

“Yes, Mr. Foley,” answered an anonymous voice.

“Remember, this ain’t about reviewing the dailies. We get this one on the first take.”

Foley walked behind Hutch and removed his blindfold. More than one man in the room flinched. Knowing full well the subject of these films never survived didn’t seem to make the unveiling any easier for Foley’s cohorts. The fact that this was a cop — and not just some homeless guy off the streets — just increased the collective tension.

With the blindfold gone, Hutch struggled to adjust his eyes to the harsh lighting and survey the room. Seven henchmen plus Foley. Damn. He was at a loss for words.

“Detective Hutchinson,” began Foley. “Let’s not have dead air.” Foley laughed a deep, throaty laugh at his own comment. It was not echoed by the others in the room. He turned to them rather disapprovingly.

“Gentlemen, let this not be a mirthless set.” With that he came around Hutch and hit him in the face. Hutch spit out some blood in the wake of the blow and turned to Foley with mocking eyes.

“Is that the best you can do? Taking a swing at a man tied to a chair. I’ll tell you, Foley, that ain’t gonna make very good copy.”

Foley laughed heartily again. “Don’t worry, my friend. I always make cinematic wonders. They never disappoint.”

********

Starsky parked the Torino outside of the Fairfax and approached the night manager. As the detective peered into the face of the toupee-wearing, bad-breathed, shifty-eyed character across the desk, he noted that this city seemed to suffer no shortage of flea bag hotels or frightening looking staff. He flashed his badge.

“Bill Yancey. The dude who wears the medallion. What room?”

The manager offered no resistance. He seemed almost eager. “Room 208. But they ain’t been here since this morning.” He was quick to add, “But they usually check in for phone messages around midnight.”

Starsky made no bones about giving this man a good look up and down. “You certainly are a pleasure to talk to, Mr…”

“The name’s Roscoe. And yeah, I don’t mind telling you, I got no love for those two, man.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“They treat me like dirt, that’s why. The two of them. Got this swagger about them, ya know. Typical New Yorkers. And I don’t mind telling you — I don’t care for the breed.”

Had Starsky not been worried about his partner, he might have smiled at the comment. As it was he thanked Roscoe for the information and returned to the Torino to wait. He radioed Headquarters and told Dobey of his plans. Starsky insisted on no backup. The detective didn’t want to take the chance on spooking these two before he got his hands on them. He hoped they would be true to their habit and return to check messages at midnight. Starsky tried to be patient as he sat in his car scanning the streets. But he couldn’t help but feel that he was losing valuable time.

********

Foley took another sip of his martini and studied the detective who was bound to the chair before him. The cop was going to be a challenge. Fair enough. They had time. All the time in the world.

Hutch watched Foley in return. The first thing that he noticed was that the man’s eyes were cold and dead. It was unnerving. Perhaps it was naïve to believe one could judge a person by his eyes. Maybe that window to the soul stuff just sounded good when set to music. But the sight of those eyes was enough to convince Hutch that talking Foley out of his plan was probably futile.

Hutch thought about the other times when he had been held against his will. With Forrest and his goons it had been an uphill battle. But he had held onto to the hope that he was protecting Jeannie. He’d had information that they wanted. And he knew well enough that they wouldn’t kill him while he still held onto it. He thought about being trapped in his car in the canyon. He had clung to the belief that the old Colonel would come around and take his ID to Starsky at Headquarters. But in this situation there was nothing to bargain for or with. Foley didn’t want anything from him. It wasn’t about revenge. And aside from some ill feelings the man felt about cops in general, it wasn’t even personal.

Foley took another sip of his martini and walked slowly around the detective. It was almost as if he were exploring the best camera angles. Hutch thought idly that Foley might fix himself a few martinis, get drunk, and lose interest in the plot. But that seemed unlikely. If anything, Foley’s movements seemed quicker and sharper as a result of the drink. Terrific, thought the blond. The expression reminded him of his partner. Oh God, Starsk. How do I play this one?

********

Starsky looked at his watch. It was nearly 11 PM. He began to drum on the steering wheel out of impatience and frustration. He played back the events of the day, searching for something he’d missed. After a few minutes he grabbed the radio.

“This is Zebra Three. Patch me through to Captain Dobey.”

After a brief pause, a gruff voice came over the airwaves. “Dobey.”

“Cap’n. Where’s Miller?”

“He left about an hour ago. Why?”

“What do you know about the case he’s building for the D.A.?”

“Only that he wants to go into court with rock solid evidence.”

“Yeah, but who are the real players in the game? Why is he so concerned about this case?”

“Miller’s that way with every case. He’s a stickler for details and I can’t say it’s a bad way to be.”

There was a pause and then Starsky continued. “I ain’t buying it, Cap’n.”

“What do you mean you ‘ain’t buying it?'”

“Miller wouldn’t be this apprehensive about a coupla guys from Brooklyn with no histories unless…”

“Unless what?”

Just then Starsky caught sight of two men heading towards the Fairfax. “Hold on a minute, Cap’n.”

“Starsky?”

As the men passed under a streetlight, something around the neck of one of them glistened. Starsky squinted to get a better look. Convinced it was the medallion he opened the door to the Torino quietly, but quickly.

“Starsky! What’s going on?” came Dobey’s irate voice over the radio. But Starsky was already gone.

********

Foley drained the martini and set the empty glass down. Then he walked very deliberately back to where Hutch was sitting and putting his hands on his chest, gave him a violent shove, sending the detective flying backwards. There was nothing Hutch could do to cushion the fall, but he managed to keep his head from hitting the concrete. He felt lucky not to have broken his back, though it took the blond a good half minute to get his wind back. Hutch caught sight of Foley motioning to one of the men behind the camera. He then turned back to the detective who lay on the floor and began to kick him mercilessly.

Hutch was sure that at least a few ribs were being cracked if not broken. The pain was intense, but he was determined not to cry out. He just gritted his teeth and tried to force his mind to dwell on other things: the ocean, his guitar, joking around with Starsky. Yet the throbbing in his chest would not let Hutch escape from the present situation. Suddenly Foley stopped and backed up a few feet. Hutch looked up at the man, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Foley turned to one of the men behind him. “Manny, untie him.”

Hutch wasn’t sure what had prompted this decision. Was Foley going to make this a fair fight? At the thought, Hutch laughed bitterly to himself. Yeah, locked in a basement with eight bad guys. Fair wasn’t part of the rule book.

Manny untied the detective and pulled the chair away from him, shoving him back to the floor.

“Get up!” yelled Foley.

Hutch painfully raised himself to a sitting position.

“I said GET UP!”

Damn, thought Hutch. I’ve got one good punch for this turkey and I’m sure as hell gonna lay it on him while I’ve still got the strength. He slowly got to a standing position, driven forward by a single sense of purpose. Hutch’s plan was to lure Foley forward by beginning to reel on his feet. To his dismay, it was hardly an act. He summoned all his might and willed himself to remain standing. Foley did indeed approach the detective, not realizing the fury that was about to be unleashed upon him. As soon as Foley was in range, Hutch lunged forward with a lightening punch to the jaw. As the man reeled from the blow, the blond delivered a quick combination to his mid-section. Foley went down in a heap.

But retribution was swift. As Manny leapt to the side of his boss to revive him, three other men moved towards Hutch. The first one to reach the detective threw him against the wall and the other two began to pummel him. Hutch was able to get in a few punches, but he was quickly overwhelmed by the bitterly sustained attack of the henchmen. He soon lost consciousness and the men stood back allowing him to slide to the floor.

About this time, Manny had managed to sufficiently revive his boss for the man to realize what had transpired. Foley angrily wrenched himself free from Manny’s grip and began to yell. “YOU IDIOTS! You’re not supposed to kill him all at once!”

“Take it easy, Mr. Foley!”

“Take it easy, hell!” He looked wildly around the room. “You,” he said, pointing to one of the men. “Go tell Max to fix me a drink.” The man quickly ran up the stairs. Foley looked over to the fallen detective and then back to Manny. “And you! When I get back down here I want him back among the living. We aren’t done here yet!” Foley turned towards the stairs and stumbled. Manny rushed to his boss’s side, but Foley waved him away. “I’ll be fine. Just do as I say!” With that Foley staggered up the stairs and slammed the door behind him.

As Manny walked towards the detective, he heard rumblings of dissent from the men behind him. He wheeled around to nip it in the bud. “Johnson,” he called to one of them, “you got something to say?”

“Listen, Manny, how about we put away the cameras and just finish the poor bastard off. Just tell Mr. Foley he died. He’ll never know.”

“You listen to me, Johnson. And that goes for the rest of you! We’re all into this up to our necks. If Mr. Foley doesn’t get the film he wants, we all stand to get burned one way or another. So I suggest the lot of you keep your mouths shut and play the game. Mr. Foley’s a generous man. He’ll pay you amply for your cooperation.”

Manny approached the detective. Finding a pulse, he reached into his pocket for some smelling salts. One of the men swore under his breath and Manny glared at him. He turned back to Hutch and tried to revive him. It took a minute, but Hutch finally began to cough and to come around. He didn’t see Foley and wondered if he’d inflected enough damage to end the film project, but the blond quickly surmised that he was simply being brought to for another round. As Hutch became fully conscious, he bit back a groan and then wondered just who he was trying to impress. Manny grabbed Hutch’s shoulders roughly and sat him up against the wall. Seizing the opportunity to talk without Foley in the room, Hutch turned to Manny.

“Right now it’s only assaulting an officer.” More like attempted murder, thought Hutch.

“It doesn’t have to go any further. I know this is all Foley’s idea.”

“Shut up, pig! I don’t like being lectured to by dead men!”

The detective turned towards the others. “You’re all willing to go down for this?”

“Hey, cop!” yelled Manny. “You hard of hearing? I’m gonna do a number on you myself if you don’t shut up!”

Hutch pressed on figuring there was nothing to lose and maybe the promise of some dissension in the ranks. It hurt like hell to breathe, but he tried to keep his voice steady and hopefully convincing. “Whatever Foley’s paying you for this, it ain’t worth it.”

“That’s it!” yelled Manny. He grabbed the rag that was discarded earlier and gagged the detective. Hutch struggled to catch his breath and squeezed his eyes tight to get a handle on the pain. When he opened them, he caught sight of a slightly shaky Foley making his way down the stairs.

 

Part Five

Starsky watched the two men as they walked towards the entrance of the Fairfax. He was afraid to get any closer to them without announcing his presence. He planned to wait until they had entered the hotel and then sprint across the street and catch up to them in the lobby. Starsky wasn’t worried about Roscoe, the manager, tipping them off and he figured they’d have few places to flee in a relatively small entranceway.

The man with the medallion opened the door, but was stopped by the other one who grabbed his arm. There seemed to be a minor altercation developing between the two.

“Get inside! Get the hell inside!” Starsky said under his breath as another excruciating minute passed. But they didn’t get inside. Instead the men headed a few more feet down the boulevard and climbed into a brown Chrysler. Starsky dashed back to the Torino to follow them at a discreet distance. Dobey was still yelling on the radio.

“Starsky! What the HELL is going on over there?”

“Cap’n, I’m following Yancey and his partner.”

“Can you make out the license plate?”

“Yep.”

“Well, stop playing games and give it to me and your location while you’re at it!”

“No way, Cap’n. This is mine.”

“Starsky, this is no time for going off half-cocked. I’m gonna run that plate through the system and send some uniforms to back you up.”

“Cap’n, you don’t need to run the plates. I already know who I’m chasing. And I don’t need backup.”

Sensing he was dealing with an officer on the edge of rashness, Dobey changed tactics. “Dave, we have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest. Let’s bring ’em in and question them properly.”

“And the first thing they’ll do is get themselves some wet behind the ears public defender who won’t let us talk to them. We ain’t got time for that, Cap’n,” said Starsky, his voice rising.

“And if I’m lucky these goons just might lead me to Hutch.”

Dobey was yelling again and Starsky caught the word “insubordination” as he struggled to stay close enough to the Chrysler without being detected and far enough without getting separated at a light.

Starsky grabbed the mike again. “Hey, Cap’n. You’re breaking up. I can’t hear you.”

“Starsky! Goddammit!”

********

Across town Tom and Joey were heading for Joey’s Skylark. Tom reached for the passenger side door, but Joey stopped him. “Wait a minute, man.”

Joey went around to the driver’s side and popped the hood. He then peered inside, running his fingers along the hoses.

“This is not the time for a last minute tune-up, Joey. We’ve got places to be.”

“Man, you didn’t see the last scene of that movie.”

“What movie, Joey?” asked Tom, his impatience turning to anger.

“The Mechanic, man. With Bronson and that Vincent kid. You know, the hit men that do each other in. Well, the kid gets blown sky high in his car. Bronson plants this bomb in Vincent’s wheels. Gets revenge even though the kid poisons him.”

“Joey, I don’t want to hear another word about that damn movie. Get in the car and start driving.”

Joey sighed and closed the hood. “I’m telling ya, man. I don’t like this.”

“Foley told these guys we were looking to score some munitions. They don’t suspect a thing. We’ll take care of them, pick up our payment at The Blue Note, and go our separate ways.”

“Nothing is ever that easy, man.”

********

“Why is he gagged?” yelled Foley as he reached the bottom step.

“He was mouthing off, Mr. Foley,” answered Manny.

“Well, how is he gonna beg for his life with that thing in his trap?”

Hutch’s eyes turned smoldering. His thoughts became focused on one thing. And that was not to give this bastard the satisfaction. He wouldn’t beg; he wouldn’t cry out. He’d found one thing on which to concentrate, one thing to strive for. Hutch would take what was coming without a sound. If he could control nothing else, he could control how he’d leave this world. He’d do it with dignity. Foley and his henchmen couldn’t force him to give that up. If he held onto that, maybe he could go through this. Starsk, he thought, I want you to know that they never broke me. These bastards never broke me. You can be proud of your partner, buddy.

Hutch soon lost all track of time. Life became a series of painful blows followed by short-lived periods of blackout. Whenever he lost consciousness, one of Foley’s men would dump a bucket of water on him or press a rag doused in ammonia to his face. And still the cameras rolled.

Hutch was determined not to fold. He had no energy to return the fight and he was losing the ability to defend himself, but he would not fold. When he felt the urge to cry out in pain, he merely cursed Foley instead.

But it could not last. Hutch was swirling in a sea of pain and he didn’t know whether to pray for a miracle or simply for death. In spite of all his resolve, he’d reached his breaking point and he longed for it all to stop.

Starsk, Hutch thought, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t hold on, buddy. I tried to be strong, buddy. I just couldn’t… At some point, Hutch’s words left his thoughts and escaped from his lips.

“Starsk, Starsk….” he whispered.

“What are you saying, pig?” hissed Foley, breathing raggedly.

Apparently Hutch had managed at some point to land a few more blows because Foley was standing before him bloodied and disheveled.

“Damn you,” croaked Hutch. “You son of a bitch.” The room began to swim before him and the blond was gasping for breath. He couldn’t seem to get any. Oh God, let this end, he thought.

“Enough, enough…”

“What? I can’t hear you, pig!”

Forgive me, Starsk. I love you, he thought. Then Hutch tried to focus his eyes on one of the four images of Foley that danced before him.

“Kill me… please.”

********

Starsky followed the Chrysler to a seemingly abandoned building in the warehouse district near the pier. He kept the Torino at a safe distance and cut the lights. Then the detective quickly crept up behind the Chrysler, ducking behind stacks of boxes and crates as he made his way forward.

The men sat in the car for a few minutes and then Yancey opened the driver’s side door. Starsky dashed up to the car as he saw the door opening. Before Yancey could grab his gun, Starsky had sprinted behind him, grabbed the man and forcibly pulled him from his seat, his gun drawn and pointed at Yancey’s temple.

“What the…” sputtered Yancey.

“YOU!” the detective yelled to Eddie. “Throw down your weapon and get away from the car… MOVE!!!”

Eddie did as he was told. Fearing that Starsky was a mite trigger happy, he went one step further. He got in a prone position on the ground and put his hands behind his head.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Eddie,” said Yancey when he saw what his partner was doing.

Meanwhile, Starsky grabbed Yancey’s gun from his holster. “Detective Hutchinson. Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Listen, you scum. You were overheard discussing Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson. Hutchinson’s missing and I’m Starsky. You got the picture?”

“Hey, man!”

Starsky pressed his gun harder against Yancey’s temple. “Don’t ‘hey man’ me. Word on the street is that you and your buddy over there are trying to be a coupla heavy hitters in this town. Now if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna blow you away and take my chances with your more cooperative friend over there!”

Just then a green Skylark pulled into the lot, dimming its lights. It screeched to a halt as its occupants sized up the scene in front of them.

“You see that!” yelled Joey excitedly. “What did I tell you, man! I knew this was gonna go down bad!”

“Joey, calm down and get us the hell out of here.”

Suddenly pressing down on the accelerator, Joey spun the car around and squealed back in the direction from which they had come.

Starsky immediately recognized the Skylark. He didn’t know exactly how all this fit together, but he was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was a ring leader involved who held all the cards. He slammed Yancey hard against the car and screamed at him. “WHO HIRED YOU?”

If Yancey didn’t need his mouth to give an answer, Starsky would have shoved the gun barrel down his throat. As it was, he was half tempted to shove his weapon right through the man’s skull.

Yancey mumbled something unintelligible.

“WHAT?”

“Richard Foley.”

Starsky took a moment to digest the information. Talk about a major player. Foley was a syndicate boss that the Department had been trying to take down for years. He quickly cuffed Yancey and Eddie to their respective door handles of the Chrysler and radioed Dobey. He gave the Captain the location in the warehouse district where Yancey and his partner could be found. He then told him to send every available unit to the Foley Estate.

“You have any information about Hutch?”

“I think I’m about to find out, Cap’n.”

“Well, for heaven’s sake, Starsky, don’t go charging in there alone! Wait for backup.”

Right,” said Starsky, and with the singular vision with which he approached most moments of crisis, he floored the Torino, throwing on the gumball as an afterthought.

Dobey quickly organized a task force to head to the Foley Estate. He followed in his own car and radioed Miller at his home.

“Get your ass over to Foley’s place!” was all he said to the man.

********

Starsky pulled up to the gates of the Foley Estate just as several black and whites arrived. Seeing the amount of firepower at his doorstep, the guard let them through without protest. He radioed ahead to the main house, but it was hardly necessary with the screaming sirens.

Starsky was about to bust down the front door when Max appeared at the threshold. Before anyone could stop him, the detective had the man by the throat.

“Detective Kenneth Hutchinson. Where is he?”

“Basement…” Max managed to croak out as the fingers tightened around his neck.

“Take me there!” screamed Starsky, releasing the man.

Max quickly led Starsky and the legion of officers behind him to the basement. The detective was the first to fly down the stairs.

“Everyone on the floor! NOW!”

In seconds the basement was overrun with police officers. They swarmed over the room, knocking over camera equipment and pinning assailants to the floor. It all happened so quickly, not a single shot was fired.

Starsky grabbed a staggering Foley and shoved him into the arms of an officer standing by with cuffs. It was then that he spotted his partner.

“Oh my God! Huuuutch!”

As the officers were shuffling the cuffed men up the stairs, Starsky screamed at one of them to call an ambulance. He dove beside his partner, fearing that he may be too late. A small groan escaped Hutch’s lips and Starsky carefully scooped up the broken and bloodied body into his arms.

“Everything’s okay, Hutch. I’m right here, babe.” Starsky began to rock his partner slowly, the tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh God, Hutch. Just hold on, babe. Stay with me.” Starsky cradled his partner’s head. “Don’t you leave me, Hutch. You hear me, huh? Please stay with me. The ambulance is on its way.”

Slowly Hutch began to stir.

“Come on, buddy,” said the brunet, rubbing his partner’s cheek. “Open you eyes. Let me know you hear me.”

Hutch did open his eyes, but he was completely disoriented. When he was able to focus enough to see the basement, all he could think about was the further pain that would be inflicted. With his voice barely a gasp he whispered “No more, please… kill me … I’ve… I’ve had… all I can take… please.”

Starsky’s heart was ready to break as he heard his friend’s words.

“Hutch, it’s me, Starsky. It’s okay, babe. You’re safe now.”

But Starsky’s presence hadn’t yet registered. With the last of his strength, Hutch tried to break free of Starsky’s grasp.

“You win,” Hutch gasped. “Please…”

The tears were streaming down Starsky’s face. How could he make Hutch understand? All he could do was hold Hutch tightly as his own body became wracked with sobs for his injured friend.

Slowly Hutch became aware of the fact that he was being held and not grabbed. He blinked his eyes to focus them and it was then that he saw Starsky for the first time. Almost in disbelief, he cried out, “Starsk?”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me.”

“Oh, Starsk,” cried Hutch. And suddenly all the strain of trying to withstand the pain and the indignity came crashing upon him and he completely broke down. Hutch could see that Starsky was scared out of his wits, but the more he tried to get a hold of himself, the more he felt himself losing all control. Finally he gave up and completely collapsed in his partner’s arms. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of relief even though he continued to gasp for breath. Hutch felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, but he knew it was going to be okay. Starsky was here. Nothing bad could happen now. Feeling absolutely safe, he let himself fall into the blackness.

********

Starsky continued to rock Hutch gently and speak words of encouragement, not knowing whether his partner could hear him. The brunet was oblivious to the commotion around him until Dobey was by his side. The Captain began barking orders to the men. “Anderson! Donnelley! I want all this equipment bagged as evidence. The rest of you — get the last of these jokers out of here!”

Starsky felt the Captain’s hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see the man’s pained expression. “How’s he doing, son?”

“I don’t know, Cap’n. They worked him over pretty bad. I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch, Foley!”

“All right, just take it easy. First things first.”

The paramedics were soon on the scene and it was all Dobey could do to pry Starsky away from his partner. When the ambulance team took a hold of the blond to move him to the stretcher, Starsky was beside himself.

“For God’s sake, be careful! He’s already been through hell!” He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t care who saw.

One of the paramedics recognized the brunet. “Listen, Detective, take it easy. I know he’s your partner. Me and my buddy are gonna take good care of him. Just relax.”

“Come on, Starsky, let them work!” said Dobey, pulling the detective back rather forcefully by the arms. “You ride with me; we’ll follow the ambulance.”

As the paramedics were getting ready to carry the stretcher up the stairs, Lt. Miller came running down them.

“Get out of the way, Miller!” yelled Starsky, shoving the Lieutenant aside. Miller was unprepared for the push and stumbled down the last two steps.”

“WHY YOU…!”

“Not now,” barked Dobey. “Can’t you see we’ve got an injured officer here!” He cleared the way for the paramedics and Starsky ran up the steps, following his partner.

Miller grabbed Dobey’s arm. “I’m warning you, Captain, I’ll have that man’s badge before I’m done!”

“Back off, Miller! You see to it that all the evidence in this hell hole makes its way back to Headquarters and then seal off the area. I want you waiting for me at Division!” With that, Dobey hurried up the stairs.

Anderson and Donnelley had paused momentarily to listen to the argument between the Captain and the Lieutenant.

“What the hell are you two staring at!” Miller bellowed. “You heard the Captain! Get busy!”

********

Starsky was out of the car at the hospital before Dobey could even come to a complete stop. The rush was useless, though. Starsky couldn’t seem to get any information from anyone. The detective paced the floor outside the nurse’s station for the better part of several hours, threatening to wear a hole in the linoleum.

“Starsky, sit down!” said Dobey when he could stand it no longer. “You’re driving me crazy!”

“I can’t help it, Cap’n. Why won’t they tell us anything?”

The detective had already tried unsuccessfully to get information from the night nurse. But he had sized her up early as a real ‘Nurse Ratchet’ type who was tight-lipped and bad-tempered.

“I already told you, Mr. Starky. There is no word on Mr. Hutchinson yet.”

“It’s ‘Starsky.’ With an ‘s,'” growled the brunet.

“Whatever.”

“Starsky, for God’s sake, sit down,” said Dobey. “If you use any more of your charm on that woman, you’re gonna get yourself thrown out of here!”

Starsky sighed and relented by taking a seat. He didn’t stay in it for more than a few seconds, though. Not once he caught sight of the doctor heading down the hall. He jumped up and met the man halfway.

“How is he, Doc?” he asked anxiously.

“Very lucky, I’d say.” He came in with several cracked ribs and a punctured lung. We’ve repaired the damage. It’s a good thing you got him here when you did.”

“Can I see him?”

“He’ll be out for the next twelve hours at least.”

“I just want to see him.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

“I’m heading back to the station, Starsky,” said the Captain. “After you see Hutch, I want you to get some sleep. I’ll send an officer to take you home.”

Starsky entered the recovery room quietly. Hutch lie very still, surrounded by a barrage of tubes and IVs. But he was breathing on his own. Thank God, thought Starsky. He gently lifted up one of Hutch’s hands and held it between his own. “We made it, partner,” he whispered. He sat watching his partner’s rhythmic breathing until the doctor forced him to leave. The doctor reassured the detective that his partner was in good hands and led him back into the waiting area. Anderson and Donnelley were standing there.

“How’s he doing, Starsky?” asked Anderson.

“He’s gonna be okay.” Feeling incredibly weary all of a sudden, Starsky rubbed his eyes and seemed to sag.

Donnelley moved forward and took the detective by the arm. “We brought the Torino over. How about we follow you home in the squad car and make sure you get there in one piece? You look mighty beat.”

“I appreciate it, guys. But I’m gonna follow you back to the station.”

“Look, Starsky, I know what you’re thinking. If someone messed with Anderson, here, I’d damn well want his head on a platter too. But Foley’s been booked. He’s not going anywhere.”

“It ain’t Foley I’m worried about,” said Starsky heading for the elevator.

Anderson and Donnelley exchanged confused glances and quickly followed the detective.

********

When Starsky reached the station, it was nearly 4:30 in the morning. He made a beeline for Dobey’s office. The Captain was on the phone. He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the detective in the doorway and covered the mouthpiece with his hand.

“Starsky, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to go home.”

“Well, I’m here, Cap’n. I want to know what’s happening.”

Dobey put his hand up and returned to the person on the line. “Fine. I’ll be right down.”

The Captain hung up the phone. “Starsky, have a seat.”

“Why, where are you going?”

“Dave, I’m only gonna say this once. You are no longer involved in this case.”

“Not involved! My partner spends hours suffering… God only knows what at the hands of a damn sadistic psychopath…” Starsky was nearly sputtering.

“That’s exactly my point,” said Dobey, his own voice rising. “You’re too emotionally wrapped up in all of this. I don’t need you losing your cool and doing something stupid! You want to help Hutch? Go home and get some rest.”

“Don’t do this, Captain. Please. I’ll behave. I promise.”

Dobey rubbed his hands through his hair and groaned.

“Come on, Cap’n.”

“All right, Starsky, all right,” he said, not at all convinced it was a good decision. “But don’t you make me regret this!”

The two men reported to the property room. There were several technicians on hand working with some equipment in the corner and a couple of other detectives who had been called in to work the case. The detectives discreetly asked Dobey how Hutchinson was, not wanting to upset his partner, who was visibly agitated. When Starsky saw he wasn’t being included in the conversation, he stepped forward. “Hey fellas, we ain’t keeping any secret here. Whatcha got?”

Detective Jameson stepped forward. “We’ve got Foley and his men separated so they can’t swap stories. Two of them are fighting for the right to spill his guts first. Believe me, Starsky, we’ve got more than enough to put Foley away for years. The bastard should have done some closer background checks on his employees. They ain’t gonna win any awards for loyalty. What with their testimony and what must be on that film Anderson and Donnelley recovered…” Dobey shot the detective a dagger look and Jameson fell silent.

Starsky’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. One of the technicians approached Dobey and said a few words quietly to him. Dobey nodded and headed for a small room off the main evidence storage area. Detectives Jameson and Washington followed. Washington gave his partner a nudge. Jameson just shrugged. He could have kicked himself, but there was no taking the words back. As Starsky followed the men, Donnelley, who had caught the tail-end of the conversation, stopped him.

“Come on, man. You don’t want to see that.”

“Hutch lived it, Donnelley,” said Starsky as he brushed past the officer.

“Let him go,” said Anderson. “You’re not going to stop him.”

********

Dobey shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the film rolled. He had one eye on the screen and one eye on Starsky. He could have insisted that Starsky leave the room and perhaps he should have. But it was almost as if the detective were struggling to come to terms with what had happened to his partner. As if he needed to understand fully what Hutch had faced so that he could take on some of the burden for the nightmares that were sure to visit his partner long after the physical scars had healed. And so with his insides churning, Dobey nodded to one of the technicians who started the projector.

Starsky visibly stiffened when the film began. He could feel the bile rising in his throat as he watched the images of his partner being brutalized by Foley and his men. He winced as he heard Hutch taunt Foley with barbs that would surely only bring on further abuse. But then Hutch must have known that whatever he did, the goal was for him to die, slowly and horribly. My God, thought Starsky. What could that have felt like? What must have been going through his mind?

As the brunet watched events unfold on the screen he became aware of another form out of the corner of his eye. Through a small window in the projection area that looked out onto the entranceway to the property room, Starsky saw Lt. Miller looking over some files and speaking with the personnel pulling the graveyard shift in the evidence stacks. He watched the man talking cavalierly to a uniformed officer behind the counter, as if he were conducting a routine check on a batch of overdue parking tickets. And as Starsky continued to watch Miller, he knew. He knew as surely as he knew his own name that the Lieutenant had been looking to frame Foley from the beginning. He could care less about two would-be gun dealers from Brooklyn. He was only interested in the bigger catch the small timers could bait. Miller knew. All the time that was slipping away while Starsky was waiting for Yancey to return to the Fairfax. All the time that Hutch was being slowly beaten and tortured. All that time, Miller knew about Foley. And he hadn’t told a soul. Not Starsky, not Dobey, no one. And here he was shooting the shit as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Starsky began to seethe and he forgot any promise he may have made to Dobey. Rising so suddenly that his seat tipped backwards, Starsky ran from the room, straight for Miller. Before anyone could stop him he had the Lieutenant on the floor with his hands around his neck.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Miller was wide-eyed with fear. He grabbed wildly at the hands at his throat, but Starsky had him in a death grip. Donnelley got to Starsky first, but it took three men to pull the detective off of Miller.

“Come on, man,” said Donnelley. “It ain’t worth throwing your career away. Get a hold of yourself!”

“I’m all right. I’m all right,” said Starsky.

But Donnelley wouldn’t let him go. He could feel the man shaking with rage.

“Bring him to my office,” bellowed Dobey to the officer. “NOW!”

Miller began to rant and rave, but Dobey simply turned to him and said, “And YOU! You wait for me in your office!”

Several of the men took the liberty of escorting Starsky upstairs to Dobey’s office. He repeatedly tried to wrench himself free of their grips and to convince them that he was calm, but no one was willing to take any chances. None of them knew exactly what had set Starsky off, but something in their guts told them it was probably at least partially justified. They were less interested in protecting Miller than in safeguarding Starsky from possible suspension.

Dobey closed the door to his office and ordered Starsky to sit down. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Starsky opened his mouth to speak, but Dobey was just getting started. “I’ll tell you what the problem is, you weren’t thinking at all! What did you hope to accomplish by attacking Miller? He’s not the enemy!”

“Cap’n — ”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you anywhere near this case. I guess I have myself to blame. We’ve got a major investigation on our hands, Starsky! We don’t need any sideshows. When news of this spreads through the Department, assuming Miller doesn’t file formal charges, we’ll have Internal Affairs to contend with!” Dobey was yelling by this time. Realizing that the men in the adjoining squad room could no doubt hear every word, he lowered his voice. “Overtired, emotionally involved… it’s never a good combination. Maybe Miller will understand and cut you some slack.”

“Cut ME some slack!” yelled Starsky

“Now, listen — ”

“NO, Cap’n! Hear me out! I’m sorry about putting you in an awkward position. But I ain’t sorry for nailing that son of a bitch Miller! Don’t you get it? Foley was his mark from the beginning. That’s why he was being so closed-mouthed about the whole operation. He wanted to bring Foley down all by himself. You said yourself the man was hungry for a promotion. And even when he knew a cop’s life might be on the line, he never said a word!”

“Starsky, Miller had no way of knowing that Foley was responsible for Hutch’s disappearance.”

“Maybe not. But he wasn’t square with us. And that man’s ego trip nearly cost me a partner!”

Dobey took a moment to let the detective’s words sink in. Starsky, growing impatient, started to push his case further, but the Captain interrupted him.

“Okay, Starsky, I’ve heard enough. You let me take it from here. Now go home and get some sleep. NO arguments!”

Starsky nodded and left the office.

Dobey sighed deeply. He wasn’t looking forward to confronting Miller, but it was something he couldn’t put off.

********

Miller sat in his office trying to regain his composure and devise his next move. He knew what had triggered Starsky’s anger. On some level he even believed he’d had it coming. But he’d be damned if some renegade detective was going to get away with attacking him. In front of nearly a dozen witnesses, no less. At the very least Starsky should be put on report and docked a few days’ pay, he thought. He’d had no reason to believe Foley was looking to cast a cop in a damn snuff film, for crying out loud. Was he supposed to jeopardize months of work on the remote chance that Foley was involved?

There was a knock at the door. Figuring it was Dobey, Miller made a mental note to take a firm stand on this one. But it wasn’t Dobey. Detective Washington stood in the doorway. He was a tall black man in his mid-thirties. The detective was a quiet man, known for his grace under pressure. Washington had gotten his rather quick-tempered partner out of more than a few scrapes with his judicious intervention and quick wit. It was an example of an unlikely pairing that seemed to work.

“What can I do for you, Washington?”

“I wanted to see if you were all right.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But that damn hot-head Starsky’s got a screw loose. He stepped way over the line this time!”

“You could say he was pretty upset.”

“Pretty upset? The man’s a loaded gun waiting to go off!”

“Yeah, I know. Tell me, Lieutenant, have you seen the film they recovered from the Foley Estate?”

“I know about it.”

“I didn’t ask you if you knew about it; I asked you if you’d seen it,” said Washington quietly.

Miller looked up and the men locked eyes. “I don’t think I like your tone, Washington.”

“All I’m suggesting is that if you took the time to watch it, you might understand the man’s rage.”

“Detective — ”

“Lieutenant, I’m not saying Starsky was justified. Maybe he was way off base. All I’m saying is, can you really expect a man to watch his partner go through that and not lash out?”

Miller fell silent. Washington may have offered that Starsky was “off base,” but that’s not what his eyes were saying. They communicated that Starsky had been right on target.

There was another knock at the door. This time it was Captain Dobey. Detective Washington excused himself and left the office. Any bravado Miller may have been harboring left with him.

********

Starsky headed home and tried to grab a few hours of sleep. But he got very little. He couldn’t tune out the array of disturbing images that swirled through his head. He was up by nine and headed for the hospital.

Hutch had been moved to a private room on the fifth floor. Starsky entered quietly so as not to awaken his partner. The shades were down, but enough sunlight filtered through to reveal the extent of the damage inflicted. Starsky’s insides constricted as he saw the mass of bruises and abrasions that covered Hutch’s face, arms, and upper torso.

“Damn,” he said aloud.

Taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, Starsky just watched Hutch sleeping. As he did so, the tears began to well up in his eyes and travel down his cheeks.

Catching his breath sharply, he wiped the tears clumsily away and straightened up in the chair. Good Lord, Starsky, pull yourself together, he thought. Lucky for you Hutch is asleep and can’t see you blubbering like a fool. As he continued to watch Hutch’s steady breathing he began to relax and fairly soon was asleep himself.

A few hours later Hutch began to stir. As he struggled to open his eyes he was hit with a wave of pain and bit back a groan. The first thing he saw was Starsky slumped at an awkward angle in the chair. He smiled. “Hey Starsk…” he said weakly. There was no response.

Hutch tried to sit up, but the movement caused him to cry out. At the sound Starsky was immediately awake. He jumped from the chair, filled with concern. “Hutch? Hey, buddy. What can I do for you?”

Hutch sank back into the pillows. “It’s okay…” he gasped a bit, trying to get his breathing under control. “Think I’ll just stay in this position for a while.” He closed his eyes, taking a few more deep breaths and then looked back into the worried face of his partner.

“So, tell me. Did you round up Foley and his merry band of thieves?”

A wave of anguish traveled through the brunet at the mention of the name, but he tried to smile. “You better believe it. Brought in Yancey and his sidekick too. Seems like they were trying to weasel their way into Foley’s operation.”

“Ah, the plot thickens.”

“But Hutch, who grabbed you? The Yancey character seemed like a real snake, and he admitted to a bunch of shit, but he swore up and down he had nothing to do with you.”

“Well, he’s telling the truth there. I got a visit at home from our buddies in the Buick Skylark.”

“Shit!”

“What?”

“Well, they showed up when I was arresting Yancey and his partner. They took off in that car like a bat out of hell when they saw what was going down. Damn!”

“Take it easy, Starsky — ” said Hutch, but was cut off as another wave of pain hit him.

Starsky’s eyes widened and he instinctively reached out to comfort his partner. “Should I call the doctor?”

“No, no, it’s okay. Listen to me. Those guys that grabbed me… not sure what their angle was, but they struck me as a couple of errand boys.”

“Don’t worry, Hutch, I’m gonna nail ’em!”

“Hey, I’m all for bringing them in. I just don’t want you killing yourself worrying about it. More than likely they’ll trip themselves up if given enough rope.” He smiled weakly at Starsky, trying to allay his fears. But his partner did not look convinced. Hutch tried to think of something to say to put him at ease, but if truth be told, he was fighting to stay awake and sleep promised to take away some of the throbbing pain. He look closely at Starsky and saw the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, buddy. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you look terrible!”

Starsky laughed.

Hutch reached out for Starsky’s hand and his face turned serious. “Listen, Starsk, everything’s gonna be okay.”

“Hey, isn’t that my line?”

“I want you to quit worrying,” said Hutch quietly.

“The sooner you get yourself well, the sooner I’ll quit worrying.” Seeing how pale and drawn his partner looked, he urged Hutch to go back to sleep.

Hutch settled back on the pillow and began to drift off.

“Starsk?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can you hang out here for a while?”

“I ain’t going nowhere.”

********

Captain Dobey and Lt. Miller talked for half an hour. Miller was completely forthcoming with all the information and leads he had collected over the past few months. And he agreed to cooperate in all future aspects of the Foley case. Miller informed Dobey that he had no intention of pursuing the incident with Starsky. For his part, Dobey announced that he was compelled to put Miller on report for hampering an investigation, but assured the man that his job was not on the line.

********

Over the next ten days, Hutch steadily improved. Starsky came to see him every day and kept him updated on the case. With the exception of the men in the Buick Skylark, all the players appeared to have been rounded up. As Jameson had revealed earlier, the members of Foley’s entourage were only too happy to turn on each other and their boss for the prospect of easier time. No one was getting off without quite a stint in the joint, however.

One evening after work when Starsky arrived at the hospital, Hutch was sitting up, picking over a rather bland dinner.

“If you’re real good, Blondie, I may just sneak in a burrito next time.”

“For you or for me?” laughed Hutch. Then he was quiet for a minute. “Starsk?”

“Yeah?”

“Lauren came by today.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad you’ve got a little more incentive to get out of this place besides the lousy food.”

Hutch blushed a bit. “You’re not far off. I definitely want to get to know a particular officer from the property room a whole lot better.” He paused. “She told me what went down between you and Miller.”

“Delaney wasn’t even there that night.”

“Starsky, it’s all over the Department! What did you go and do that for? I’d like to think I still have a partner on the force. You seem intent on getting yourself thrown off!”

Starsky couldn’t look at his partner. He sat staring down at his own hands. They had never discussed the film. Each had avoided the subject for fear of upsetting the other. Hutch sat wondering what Starsky must have gone through watching it. Starsky sat thinking about the fact that he’d hardly viewed the worst of it.

Hutch broke the silence. “Talk to me, buddy.”

“Aw, Hutch,” said Starsky, looking up. “I was probably out of line with Miller. But when I saw what Foley and his goons were doing… I just felt so… helpless. And you, cracking jokes about what a crappy film he was gonna make! Oh God, Hutch…” Starsky stopped, not trusting himself to continue without breaking down. Hutch had lived the nightmare and here he was falling apart.

Hutch had tears in his eyes too. “All the time I was in that basement, I kept thinking: What would Starsky do? Then it came to me. He’d be a wiseass, I thought. No doubt about it.”

“You picked a hell of an example to follow.”

“Hey, I could take it then… and when I couldn’t take it any longer, you were there.”

Hutch reached out his hand and Starsky grasped it. No more words were spoken. None needed to be.

********

In a seedy motel not far from the freeway, Tom read aloud to Joey the news of Foley’s arrest.

“You see, man. We never should have gotten involved with that cat! Bad scene from the beginning.”

“For that reason I think it best if we go our separate ways for a while, Joey.”

“Yeah? Where you going?”

“Probably out of the country for a bit until things here blow over. I suggest you do the same.”

“That’s easy for you to say, smart man. I don’t remember getting paid lately. I’m a little short on traveling funds.”

“I’ll tell you what, Joey. If you haven’t gotten yourself killed or arrested in the next few months, I’ll look you up. Maybe we can do business again.”

“Your confidence in me is real touching. I can do all right for myself.”

“I’m sure you can, Joey. I’m sure you can.”

********

Hutch sat in his apartment tossing a deck of cards one by one into a bowl across the room. He was itching to get back to work, but the doctor had ordered another week of recuperation at home. Hutch was wondering whether to read a book or strum on his guitar when there was a knock at the door. Rising a bit stiffly from the couch he walked across the room.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Open up.”

Hutch reached for the knob.

“I hope you’ve got plenty of room in the fridge,” said Starsky as he came through the door, juggling several six-packs.

“Starsky, what are you doing?” asked Hutch as he closed the door, nearly knocking over Huggy Bear, who had just appeared at it. “I thought you had a date.”

“Not tonight, buddy boy,” called out the brunet.

“Hey, my man! A dude could get the feeling he wasn’t welcome here.” Huggy brushed by with several sacks of food.

“Sorry, Hug. But what are you doing here? And who’s minding the store?”

“I’ll have you know my girls are highly trained and masters of the game. They can handle the bar for one night.” He began looking around the apartment. “Where should I put the goodies?”

“Just throw ’em on the table here, Hug,” answered Starsky before Hutch had a chance.

“Wait till you see the spread I brought! I got some chicken wings and some barbeque sauce and some hot tamales, oh, and Blondie, I didn’t forget you, my man,” Huggy said, removing a tray from one of the bags. “For you, fresh vegetables and California dip, fruit of the gods!”

“Listen, guys, I appreciate all this, but I’m fine, really. I know that you both have better things to do on a Saturday night than babysit me.”

“Babysit you?” said Starsky with mock indignation. “The only reason we’re here is because your set gets the best reception. And there’s a helluva movie line-up tonight on Channel 57.”

“Aw, Starsk. You know I love ya, but our taste in movies doesn’t exactly match, you know.”

“Yeah. Mine’s better. Yes sir! Tonight it’s Pacino doing what he does best. And the first attraction is Dog Day Afternoon — one of my personal favorites.”

“Not that one where the guy doesn’t know where the state of Wyoming is,” said Hutch, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the one, buddy boy. I’m telling ya, you’re gonna love it, Hutch. Ya see, it’s all about this guy that plans a bank heist in Brooklyn…”

Hutch tried to keep a pained expression on his face, but he was soon laughing at Starsky and his boyish level of enthusiasm.

“All right, all right. If you’re gonna make me sit through it, don’t tell me the whole plot.”

Huggy was trying in vain to set out plates, but Starsky was too busy sampling items and licking his fingers to bother with that.

“Oh, but Hutch, let me just tell you one other thing — ”

And as if they had rehearsed it, Huggy handed Hutch a tamale which the blond promptly deposited in Starsky’s mouth. Hutch started giggling again as he reached for a beer.

Only momentarily taken aback, Starsky began to munch happily. “Like I was saying,” came a muffled voice.

“For heaven’s sake, Starsky, don’t talk with your mouth full!”

THE END