The Pencil

(Or when the thing you’re upset about isn’t the thing you’re upset about.) Hutch is mad at Starsky and Starsky has no clue why.

First published 2023.

It all started over a pencil. A pencil of all things.

Next thing Starsky knew, his partner was giving him the silent treatment and he couldn’t work out why.

They’d arrived at the scene just minutes after the armed robbery had taken place. The body on the floor was the guy who had tried to rob the jewellery store. He looked like a junkie. Now a dead junkie.

The store manager was already on his way to the hospital – a life threatening injury meaning speed was of the essence.

A uniformed officer had pointed out a witness they might want to speak to and they had quickly headed over to the elderly lady sat on a stool in the corner of the room. Hutch had pulled his notebook from his pocket but hadn’t been able to find his pencil. Starsky had made a joke about his partner never having a pencil to write with and gone off to look for one. He’d come back a moment later and handed his partner the one that he’d borrowed from the owner of the clothes store next door.

Silently, Hutch had accepted the loan and carried on chatting to the witness, gently coaxing information out of the very shocked elderly lady.

“It all happened so f-f-fast. I just came in to get a n-necklace for my niece. She’s going to be twenty-one next weekend, you see. We’re going out for dinner. All the f-family.”

“Yes, ma’am, that sounds lovely. Can you tell me what happened next?”

“I-I asked the m-manager if I could look at some of those necklaces and then – oh dear, oh dear, that p-poor man.”

Hutch had handed the lady a handkerchief and waited patiently for her to continue.

“Then the d-door crashed open and h-he came in, shouting and waving his g-gun. He wanted the necklaces. He shoved me out of the way and put his gun in my face…then the m-manager suddenly had a gun in his hand. There was such a loud bang. Next thing I know, they’re both on the floor…oh dear, oh dear.”

Hutch had thanked Mrs Audley for her help and asked for the uniformed officer to take her safely home, then he’d handed the pencil back to Starsky and stomped off to his car.

Starsky hadn’t even realised anything was wrong until he climbed in the passenger side and was suddenly being grilled by one highly agitated partner.

“What was that all about? Why’d you tell Mrs Audley that I never have a pencil? Made me sound unprofessional. It’s not like you had a pencil to hand either!”

Starsky frowned. “What’s got you so testy this morning? It was a joke, Hutch.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny. Don’t say anything like that again.”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Oh, I’m ridiculous, am I? See how you like it if I show you up in front of a witness at the next crime scene we go to.”

Starsky was totally bemused. He really had no idea why Hutch was so upset.

Things didn’t improve when they got back to the office. Hutch set about typing up his notes with a ferocity that had other detectives looking at him with astonishment. Starsky called the hospital and found the manager had made it through his operation okay and that they could interview him tomorrow.

When it was time for lunch and Hutch stomped out for a sandwich, Jones asked Starsky, “What’s up with Hutch?”

“Damned if I know.” Mentally he added, “But I’m going to find out.”

That afternoon there was a call to another homicide. They began the task of questioning family, friends and neighbours and digging into the victim’s life to see if he had enemies. It was late by the time they decided they were at a point where they could pause the investigation.

Hutch’s mood hadn’t improved much during the day but even so Starsky offered to buy his partner a beer at Huggy’s. Other detectives might have given their partner a wide berth after a day listening to frosty silences mixed with angry outbursts but Starsky knew his partner well enough to know none of it was aimed at him: it was aimed at the horror and sadness of this broken world. He’d narrowed the trigger down to being either the junkie perp or the terrified victim.

When they arrived at Huggy’s, Hutch sagged into a booth and started disconsolately eating peanuts from a pot on the table while Starsky collected two beers from the bar. He placed the foaming glass in front of his partner and got a muted ‘thanks’ in return.

He waited.

After a few minutes, Hutch said, “She looked just like my Aunt Mary.”

So that was it. “Yeah, poor lady, helluva shock for her. Hope it doesn’t take her too long to recover.”

Hutch sighed and said, “Desperate people.” He shook his head sadly.

Starsky nodded in understanding.

“Drink up, partner, and I’ll play a round of pool with ya.”

Hutch’s expression lightened a little and he drank some more of his beer. They both knew they needed to get back in to work early tomorrow but there was always time for one game and one bet.

“What are the stakes,” Hutch asked.

Starsky scratched his chin and then suggested thoughtfully, “Loser buys a box of pencils?”

Hutch looked surprised for a second and then he burst out laughing. Starsky grinned as he picked up his beer and took it over to the pool table.