Who Should Have Died

It had been a quiet night which would hopefully be followed by a quiet morning.

Nurse Maria Clement had just an hour left on her 12 hour shift and then it was home for a hot breakfast and a few hours of sleep. She just had to do a quick room check. It was 5 in the morning, so in theory all the patients should still be asleep, but sleeping patterns didn’t always work correctly in hospitals.

The first room she checked was Dave Starsky’s, the detective who had somehow survived multiple gunshot wounds to the back and chest. She’d read his chart over several times and still couldn’t believe he was actually still alive. He’d been on her floor for six weeks and in that time he’d had to go back to surgery once and battle a nasty case of pneumonia which nearly put him back upstairs in the ICU. But again and again, he pulled through and was now starting to make real progress.

Nurse Clement peered into the room, quietly, and noted that the man in question was sleeping peacefully. With any luck he would stay that way for the next hour. She was also glad to see he was alone. It wasn’t as often she found Detective Hutchinson asleep on the visitors chair these days, but there were still the odd occasion. She closed the door and moved on to the next room.

It took her half an hour to do the checks and was thankful the only thing she had to do was get Mr Baker a glass of water. With her rounds done, she took a seat at the nurses station next to Nurse Gray, who’d just come on duty.

“Good morning,” Nurse Gray greeted cheerfully while checking her uniform was straight. “Anyone have a bad night?”

“Thankfully no, apart from Mr. Anderson.” Nurse Clement checked the man’s chart. “He’s still convinced he’s coming down with a fever, but his temperature’s normal.”

“Oh yeah, the other night he thought he had pneumonia because he had a slight cough.”

“I’m starting to think he doesn’t want to go home.”

“With 6 young kids at home, I’m not sure I blame him. He probably thinks of this as a holiday.”

“Yeah, this place is a regular palm beach.” Nurse Clement scoffed.

“It beats working in the ER, trust me.” Nurse Gray looked off down the corridor. “I’m going to get some things from the storage room. I’ll be right back.”

Nurse Clement rolled her eyes. She knew what she was really going in there for. “Just be back before my shift ends.”

Nurse Gray winked before leaving.

Satisfied there was nothing for her to do for the next 20 minutes Nurse Clement took a magazine out from under the desk and settled down in her chair.

Her quiet time was cut short by a loud explosion from the storage room.

The thunderous sound jolted Starsky out of his sleep and nearly out of bed. He sat up, wildly looking around for the source of the noise, then slumped back when his body reminded him that it didn’t like sudden movements. Or any movement in fact.

The next sound he heard was the fire alarm, followed by voices in the hall. A lady screamed. Another shouted out orders to get to the stairs. Starsky wondered how he was going to follow those orders. He’d managed to walk down the corridor yesterday, but that had been with the help of a nurse, an orderly and a walker.

Would anyone hear him if he called for help? Could he crawl the door?

Fortunately he wasn’t left to wonder for long as Nurse Clement and Brian the orderly entered.

“The ward is on fire!” Nurse Clement stated desperately. “We need to leave.”

“I won’t argue, sweetheart,” Starsky said throwing the covers off. Together, Nurse Clement and Brian helped him out of bed, but it took a moment for him to get his legs to take his weight. Brian wrapped Starsky’s left arm around his shoulder, a movement that forced muscles to stretch further than they comfortable with while Nurse Clement took his elbow and together they staggered to the door.

It was raining in the corridor. It took Starsky a moment to realise it was actually the sprinklers. While they were working hard to put out the blaze, the extinguishing flames created a lot of smoke, which blocked the trios view of the corridor. Fortunately, Starsky’s room was only two doors down from the elevator and stairway. They still had to cross through a wall of smoke, as well as avoid the other patients and staff desperately making it to the exit. One patient was hoisted over an orderly’s shoulder, while a nurse was helping a man with two broken legs.

The trio of Brian, Nurse Clement and Starsky tried not to let the mass exodus of people and smoke slow them down, but it stung their eyes and made them cough. It was worse for Starsky who already had a damaged lung. The coughing hurt his chest, making it even harder to move forwards. By the time they reached the door to the stairs the nurse and orderly were almost fully dragging Starsky along.

Making it through the door, they were faced with their next obstacle. They were four floors up and the smoke had followed them through the door. Starsky was already exhausted and the thought of climbing down even one flight of stairs made him want to pass out.

With the flames no longer licking at their heels, Nurse Clement and Brian slowed down a little as they helped Starsky down the stairs. They had to be careful. If they pushed him too fast, he could stumble and fall. However, the longer they took the more time they were exposed to the smoke. It thinned as they went down, but enough of it had gotten into Starsky’s lungs, making each breath and step agony.

Two flights down, Starsky sagged completely against Brian. Whatever adrenaline that had helped him get this far had worn off and the pain was so great he was about to pass out.

“Not much further,” Brian gasped out around a hacking cough.

He hitched Starsky up so he was barely touching the ground and managed to get him down another flight of stairs, but Starsky’s nearly unresponsive body started to drag them both down. Brian stumbled and would have fallen if it wasn’t for Nurse Clement’s getting in front of them.

Brian made a rash decision, one he hoped he didn’t regret.

“Sorry about this, Dave.” He crouched down a little and hoisted Starsky over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He was mindful of placing Starsky’s hips against his shoulder so his chest was flat against Brian’s back. He ignored the agonised gasp from Starsky and continued down the stairs at a faster pace.

The smoke had cleared by the time they reached the ground floor, but all three were still coughing as they emerged through the fire exit. Brian took a deep gulp of the fresh air, but the early morning crispness made him cough again.

The outside of the building was in chaos. The fire department had arrived and were aiming their water hoses at the inflamed building, while one fireman was helping a man trapped in his room out of the window, down the ladder. An area had been set up behind the fire trucks where all the patients, nurses and other staff who’d been evacuated from the hospital were gathered. The ER had emptied out its supply of gurney’s and wheelchairs. Paramedics were moving from person to person with supplies of oxygen and first aid kits.

Brian found an unoccupied gurney and with Nurse Clement’s help, gently lowered Starsky onto it. Starsky immediately turned on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest which continued to take a beating as his hacking cough got worse.

Nurse Clement collapsed into a wheelchair nearby, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving her shaking. She was also still half deaf from the explosion.

Brian snagged a paramedic to check on both Starsky and Nurse Clement, who immediately placed an oxygen mask over Starsky’s nose and mouth and crouched down beside Nurse Clement to check for signs of shock. A blanket was put around her shoulders.

Before anyone could offer Brian any help he was off into the crowd of people to see if anyone else needed help.

Nurse Clement remained by her patient and watched the fireman’s efforts. “What a way to end a shift,” she croaked.

*

It was 6am and Hutch wished it wasn’t. Once upon a time, he’d be up and out the door for a run at this hour, but he’d let that routine slide the last year or so. However, some part of his brain still stuck to the old routine and so he awoke at the ungodly hour, unable to fall back to sleep. That meant he had a whole hour of lying in bed thinking and as always his thoughts were on the Gunther trial that took up much of his waking hours. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake or else that son of a bitch might get off with a lighter sentence. The idea of that man seeing the light of day again gave Hutch too many sleepless nights.

On this particular morning he was disturbed from his thoughts by the phone. He hesitated a moment before answering, knowing that no one rang this early in the morning with good news.

“Hutchinson,” he greeted, sitting up in bed.

“Hi Hutch, it’s Minnie.” Hutch relaxed slightly. He’d been expecting the hospital. “I’m sorry for the early morning wake up call, but there was a 911 call about a half hour ago for the fire department and police. There was an explosion at Memorial Hospital, fourth floor.”

Hutch sat bolt up in bed. “That’s Starsky’s floor.”

“I’m afraid so. It caused a fire that…” The rest of her words went unheard, Hutch had already hung up and was looking for his clothes. He was dressed and out the door in less than 10 minutes.

While it was Starsky who had the reputation for driving fast, Hutch gave him a run for his money on his journey across the city. With it being so early he didn’t hit any traffic, but he did have to be careful in a few places or he’d risk being pulled over for speeding.

He saw the smoke before he saw the building. By the time he pulled up as close as he could get, the fire was nearly out and the fireman were checking for anyone still trapped inside. The building was cordoned off with police tape and a couple of uniforms stood around reminding people to stay back. Hutch vaguely recognised one of them and approached him with his badge out.

“I’m Detective Hutchinson. What happened?”

The uniformed policeman had expected a Detective to show up, but he was surprised to see him so soon. “An explosion in the storage room. Don’t know what caused it. The firemen are checking now for anyone still trapped.”

“Where are the people who were evacuated?” Hutch asked, desperately looking around.

“Over there, behind the fire trucks. Once the fire’s out they’ll be going to the ER to be checked out properly.”

Hutch caught the tail end of the officer’s words as he moved away towards the fire trucks. In the hazy morning light he could make out patients and nurses he’d seen around on his visits, but struggled to find his partner. His anxiety grew as he moved through the hacking, coughing mass of people.

“Ken!” Someone called from his left. He looked over to see Nurse Maria Clement waving at him. He headed towards her and as he got closer he saw she was stood beside a gurney with just the person he was looking for lying on it.

“Thank God,” he whispered as he stopped next to his partner. He was relieved to see that apart from the oxygen mask and the clear look of pain on Starsky’s face, he hadn’t picked up any new injuries. No burn marks, only a couple of patches of soot on his face and hands. “He okay?” Hutch asked the nurse, not taking his eyes off his partner.

“He should be,” Nurse Clement said, sitting back down in the wheelchair. “One of the paramedic’s looked him over and the only concern is the smoke inhalation. A doctor will need to check him out to be sure, though.”

Hutch perched a little on the gurney, keeping one foot on the ground and his right hand on the railing for balance. The other hand rested on Starsky’s arm. “Can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

“Hutsh?” The muffled word was spoken so quietly Hutch only just caught it.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He bent down a little so he could hear better.

“Everyone…get out…okay?”

“I don’t know yet, buddy, I just got here. How are you doing?”

Starsky didn’t want to answer that honestly. He didn’t have enough breath to describe every ache and pain.

“Still…alive.” He coughed into the mask, which set his chest on fire. “Just.”

Hutch wished Starsky wouldn’t joke about that, they’d had enough scares over the past month and a half.

“You stay that way.”

Hutch knew he should probably start investigating. Talking to witness, finding out what happened, but that could wait. Starsky needed him and he needed a few more minutes of physical contact with his lover for reassurance.

He looked over at Nurse Clement, who was staring at the smoke pouring from building. “Are you okay, Maria?”

“Who would do this?” She asked, looking over at Hutch. “Who would be sick enough?”

Hutch shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I promise.”

*

The first half of Hutch’s morning was spent in the ER with Starsky, making sure he was okay and then the second half checking out the burnt out fourth floor. The place was full of fireman, forensic and lab personnel and a couple of uniformed policeman. Two dead bodies had been found so far, an unnamed Orderly and Nurse Gray, who’d both been in the store room when it exploded.

Hutch made it clear to Dobey that this was his case and the Captain didn’t argue.

Starsky’s morning was spent being subjected to one test after the other until the ER doctor was satisfied he hadn’t suffered any further damage besides the smoke inhalation and some major strain on his recovering incisions. He ordered Starsky to remain on oxygen for the rest of the day and was then taken to a new room on the second floor. After receiving an extra high dosage of his usual pain meds, Starsky slept the afternoon away. He woke in the early evening to find Hutch sat in a chair by his bed, eating a bunch of grapes.

“Can I have some of those?” he croaked, scratching at the nasal cannula. It was already irritating him.

“Good evening.” He tore a few grapes off the vine and handed them to his partner. “How are you doing?”

Shifting in the bed, Starsky winced. Every movement hurt more than usual, curtsy of all the exercise he’d gotten earlier in the day. Even lifting his arm to pop a grape in his mouth hurt.

“I’ve had better days,” he said casually before breaking into a coughing fit. Hutch poured a cup of water from the tumbler and handed it to Starsky who took a sip once his coughing was under control. “What have you found out about my wake up call this morning?”

“Not a lot,” Hutch sighed. “The lab boys are still trying to find the cause of the explosion. They don’t think it was an accident since according to inventory, there was nothing in the store room that was combustible. Mainly bedding and bandages.”

“So why would anyone want to blow it up?” Starsky asked.

“That’s the big question.”

“Was anyone killed?”

Hutch sighed. “Yeah, an orderly named Edward Friar.”

Starsky had to think. “Bald guy with an earring?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Damn shame, he was nice guy. Used to talk about Baseball.”

Hutch gave his friend’s hand a sympathetic pat. “And Nurse Gray.”

“Anna? Oh man, she was only 26.”

“Yeah, no age at all.”

“Do you think they were the targets?” Starsky asked, eating another grape.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll contact R and I to see if they have a file on either of them. I think they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Hutch hesitated. “But I do have a theory on who the intended victim was.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Starsky froze, with a grape half way to his mouth. “Me? Why’d you think that?”

“Well think about it, Starsk, it’s a rather big coincidence that it happened on your floor, just a few doors down from your room. Happening just over a month after you survived an assassination attempt.”

“Okay, hold on.” Starsky tried to sit up, but every muscle protested the movement. Hutch helped him. “I think that’s a stretch, Hutch. Why would they wait over a month to try to kill me? And why would they bother, Gunther’s behind bars, awaiting trial. What would be the benefit?” He had to pause a moment to take a few breaths.

“Revenge?” Hutch suggested. “Wasn’t that what it was all about before?”

“Okay, but you were the one who arrested him and will testify against him. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go after you?”

Hutch couldn’t instantly deny that.

“Plus, why not just blow up my room. A lot easier.”

“Maybe they were trying to hide the fact they were after you,” Hutch suggested, though the more he thought about it, the more Starsky had a point.

“It’s a possible, but I don’t think that’s it.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I’m not going to dismiss it outright. I’ve arranged for Carla to be your main nurse. Just to be safe.”

Carla Reed was an ex-police officer, who’d gotten sick of seeing people get hurt and decided she wanted to help them get better instead. She’d worked at the hospital for five years and knew Starsky and Hutch from both careers.

“She still single?” Starsky asked. There was a time when he would have been genuinely interested. Now he was just curious.

“Not unless her engagement ring is fake.”

“Good for her.” Starsky coughed, a deep hacking cough that brought up mucus. Hutch offered him a tissue to spit it in to. Once his lungs were clear, he had to take a moment to draw in a few deep breaths.

“So, what next?” Starsky asked horsely.

“Well, going on the assumption that this was a targeted attack, I’ll need to question the staff and patients, see if anyone saw anything or knows anything.”

“I can help with that,” Starsky said, eagerly.

“Uh..I don’t think so…”

“I can talk to the patients and you can talk to the staff.” Starsky gave his partner his best pleading look. “Come on, Hutch, this happened on my floor and I want to be involved.”

“Starsk, I just had to help you sit up in bed and you’re coughing up mucus…”

“So I’m not feeling so great right now, but after a good nights sleep…”

“Which you rarely get.”

Starsky had to take a moment to get his breathing under control, the excitement of potentially working a case was making him short of breath.

“Look, all I’ll be doing is sitting by someone’s bed side talking to them. No running down allies, no gun fights. Just talking. I walked down the corridor the other day, I think I can sit for 10 mins.”

“Before this morning I might have let you, but the fire’s set you back a bit…”

Hutch was interrupted by the arrival of Carla. The small brunet entered carrying a small tray with an arrangement of bottles and an inhaler. She wore her hair in a bun, hidden under her nurse’s cap and a pair of narrow rimmed glasses that accentuated her hazel eyes. She also had a scar on her neck, a souvenir from her law enforcement days.

“Good evening, boys,” Carla greeted as she made her way around to Starsky side. “Medication time.”

“Oh joy.” Starsky wasn’t ready to be doped up for the night just yet. “Carla, can you help me out here?” Starsky smiled sweetly at the nurse. “I want to help Hutch out with the investigation by interviewing the patients, but Hutch doesn’t think I can handle it. What do you think? I’ll just be sitting by their bedsides, talking to them.”

Carla opened the first bottle and took out the correct dosage, using the time to think. “It’s not a good idea to do that now…”

“No, tomorrow.”

“Oh well, that depends on how you’re feeling tomorrow. Open up.”

“Wait, in a sec, if I’m feeling up to it tomorrow, then can I?”

“Starsk, I’ll keep you in the loop every step of the way, I promise,” Hutch insisted, but Starsky wasn’t listening. He was looking at Carla who had put down the tray on the roll away table and was looking at Starsky’s chart.

“Just talking?” Carla confirmed.

“Promise.”

She looked back at the chart. “Okay, but under a few conditions.” She put the chart down and went back to the tray. “If your vitals look okay in the morning and the smoke inhalation doesn’t cause any further complications. You have to stay in a wheelchair the whole time and wear the nasal cannula. And when I say it’s time to go, there’s no arguing.”

“You’re an angel, Carla. Deal”

“Don’t praise me yet. I also have to run it by Doctor Harper. Now open up.” Starsky dutifully took his pills and used the inhaler without protest. All the while Hutch paced around the room.

“All right, if you get permission from the doctor, you can interview the patients,” Hutch conceded, “but just be careful and do what Carla says.”

“I always do.” Starsky winked at the nurse who rolled her eyes and shoved another couple of pills in his mouth.

*

Starsky woke the next morning feeling like a kid at Christmas. A sick kid, who spent the first 10 minutes of the morning coughing up mucus, but the feeling was the same. He’d managed to have a relatively quiet night, only waking up twice to hack into a tissue, which led to nearly an hour of waiting around for the pain of the movement to dissipate before going back to sleep. Fortunately, the nurses didn’t witness these waking moments on their visits. When Carla came in with the morning meds she found him trying to sit up ready with a hopeful smile on his face.

Carla performed the usual vital checks, keeping her face neutral the whole time. She didn’t read the results out aloud, so he had no idea with they were good or bad. He took his meds with out protest, showing he could be a good boy and suppressed a cough after using the inhaler.

Doctor Harper entered just as she was finishing. He’d been asked by Carla if he could make Starsky his first stop on the doctor’s rounds and he was happy to oblige. She’d filled him in on the deal she’d made with Starsky the night before.

Doctor Harper had a reputation as being the most talkative doctor in the hospital, but not in a boring way. He had a knack for finding the right topic to talk about with every patient. With Starsky they talked about cars. Doctor Harper was a mustang man. Today however, Starsky was too inpatient to have a proper conversation with the Doctor and did his best to not engage without being rude. Thankfully Doctor Harper took the hint and stuck to his exam,

“Well?” Starsky asked eagerly once the Doctor was done.

“I don’t like that cough you’re trying to hide,” he said, taking off his glasses to read the chart, “but if you abide by the rules Nurse Reed set down yesterday then I see no reason you can’t get out of this room for a bit. I’d be climbing the walls too. Oh, did I tell you my wife wants to replace the mustang with a Dodge Charger. The woman has no taste.”

“Well, actually I quite like…” Starsky bit his lip. “So, when can I go?”

“Easy Tiger,” Carla said. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Yes, give it about an hour.” Doctor Harper made a note on the chart and popped it back at the foot of the bed. “I’m off to finish my rounds. Good luck with your interviews.”

Carla smiled as she followed the doctor out.

It took an hour before breakfast was served and Starsky wasn’t in the mood for the gooey mess that they called scrambled eggs, but he ate about half of it. He was afraid if he didn’t he might not be allowed out. It was another half an hour before Carla came back. In that time Starsky had a coughing fit, fell asleep and rode out a couple of waves of pain, but none of it dampened his spirit. He was going to get out there and do some good old fashion police work.

Carla returned with a wheelchair and an orderly and together they helped Starsky into the wheelchair. To keep him warm, Carla dressed him in his old beige cardigan, placed a blanket over his legs and a pillow on his lap that he was to use whenever he had a coughing fit to support his damaged ribcage. Lastly she fixed the oxygen tank on the back of the chair and they were ready to go.

“Think we can paint this thing red?” Starsky asked, examining the sides of the wheelchair. “It would look better.”

“Considering your injuries, just be thankful you’re not stuck in it for life.”

“Okay, so who are we talking to first?” Starsky asked as he was wheeled out of his room.

“Roy Banks, an ex-fireman. He was your neighbour. He had his gall bladder removed a week before the explosion. He suffered some burst stitches, but nothing else. He should be a good one to start with.”

“A fireman? Perfect”

Roy was only a couple of doors down. On their way through Carla grabbed a notepad and pen from the nurse’s desk. “Can’t be a detective without these.”

“Thanks, now I just need my badge.”

“I could draw you one?” Carla offered.

Starsky chuckled.

Carla knocked on Roy’s door and let herself in. Roy was lying semi-reclined in bed, eating a banana. He was around 50, but looked younger with so much of his natural brown hair still showing.

“Hi again, are you feeling up to having a visitor?” Carla asked.

“A bit early isn’t it?” Roy looked at the clock. It was 9am.

“It’s one of the other patients, he just wants a quick word with you if that’s okay?”

Roy shrugged. “Sure, let him in.”

Carla retrieved Starsky from the hallway and wheeled him up to Roy’s bedside.

“Hi, Roy, I’m Detective Dave Starsky.”

“Hi Dave, nice to meet you. Sorry for not getting up.

Starsky smiled. “Likewise.”

Carla fixed the brakes on the wheelchair. “I’ll be back in 15 mins.” She gave Starsky a stern look that said she wasn’t exaggerating and left.

“So a cop, eh?” Roy enquired, examining Starsky “Are you here on official business or just bored.”

“A bit of both.”

“Is this about the fire?”

“Straight to the point, I like that.”

“Well, you’ve only got 15 mins, not really enough time to hear about my wife and kids.”

“Depends on how many you got.”

Roy smiled. “One wife named Marie and I have a son called Jeremy whose at collage. You?”

“No wife or kids,” Starsky admitted. “Things just keep getting in the way”

“Should try being a fireman. That’s how I met my wife. I saved her from a burning building. She was so grateful she took me out to dinner.”

“That’s real sweet.” Starsky noticed the clock on the wall. “So speaking of fires. Did you see or hear anything the other morning?”

“Shockingly, I was asleep at the time. In fact, that was the best night sleep I’d had in this place until the explosion. From the store room right?” Starsky nodded. “Well, I was up walking the halls the previous day, but didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Starsky made a note “How long were you a fireman?”

“Twenty years. Retired last year.”

“Do you know of any arsonists who might have done this?”

“I mainly put the fires out. It’s usually the police’s work to investigate who started them, but saying that, I have seen a lot of fires and noticed some patterns. Before I came to California I worked out in Utah. There was a guy out there who liked to bomb hospital wards. He found it ironic. People getting injured in hospital. Went by the name…Roland…Roland Barnet I think. I don’t know what happened to him.”

Starsky wrote down the name. “Anything else that might be useful. Have you ever pissed off an arsonist or crazy bombers?”

“I hope not. But I’ve had a long career. I’ll have to think it over.”

“If anything comes to mind, let me know. I’m just down the hall…” Starsky was cut off by a fierce coughing fit. He used the pillow to splint his ribs, but it still hurt like hell.

“You all right? Shall I call the nurse?”

Starsky waved off the offer as the coughing subsided. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound good, should you be out of bed?” Roy asked, concerned.

“Depends who you ask,” Starsky croaked. He coughed again, but was satisfied nothing came up.

“Any other questions?” Roy asked

“None about the fire, but I’ve got 5 mins left. Got anything else you want to talk about?”

“Did you see the game last night?”

“Caught the beginning, slept through the rest.”

“You didn’t miss much. Ended in a draw.”

“Terrific. Maybe I’ll stay awake for the rematch.” Starsky had to take a moment to catch his breath.

“So, you probably know I had my gall bladder removed. I’m going go out on a limb and guess you got shot?”

“That’s a good guess.”

“An educated one. First time?”

“Not even the second.”

“Shit, that’s one hell of an occupational hazard.”

“It’s never dull”

They were interrupted by Carla returning. “Time’s up.”

“It’s been good talking to you, Roy, take care.” Starsky gave the fireman a little wave.

“Same to you, Dave.” Roy waved back.

Carla wheeled Starsky out of the room. “How are you holding up?”

“Just fine, sweetheart,” Starsky said while suppressing a cough. “Who’s next.”

“Charlie Anderson. An insurance salesman and I have to warn you, he’s bit of an hypochondriac. He had his appendix removed last week and should have been sent home, but he keeps coming down with every disease known to man or so he thinks. Since the fire he’s been convinced he has lung disease.”

“Is that possible?” Starsky asked, curiously.

“Doubtful, he was the first one down the stairs after the explosion.”

“This should be fun.”

It wasn’t. Carla hadn’t been exaggerating about Mr Anderson. The first 5 minutes of Starsky’s precious time was spent listening to the man cough so weakly it was obvious his lungs were fine and talking about how the doctor’s were heartless for claiming there was nothing wrong with him.

“My ears are still ringing too,” Mr Anderson claimed. “I’ll probably have permanent hearing lose on top of everything else. And my nerves! Oh lord, I woke up in a cold sweat last night, thinking what if it happened again. Would I be as lucky to get out this time. I could have died…”

“Uh, Mr Anderson, sorry to interrupt, but can I just ask you a quick question?” Starsky asked, actually eager to get this interview over in less that 15 mins.

“You said you were a cop? I hope you’re not charging me with the bombing, because I was in my room all night…”

“No, I just wanted to ask if you saw anything suspicious the day before? Anyone hanging around who looked out of place?”

“I only leave my room when they force me too,” Mr Anderson admitted. “There’s no telling what you can catch out there…” He suddenly looked at Starsky suspiciously. “You’re not contagious, are you?”

“No, bullet wounds aren’t contagious.”

“Oh, good.” Mr Anderson relaxed a little. “If you want my advice, you need a far less hazardous job.”

Starsky had no desire to talk about his future prospects with this bundle of nerves so he just nodded and moved on.

“So, you didn’t see anyone, but do you know anyone who might want to…”

“Kill me?! You think someone wanted to kill me? Is it possible?”

“I don’t know. Is it?”

“No…I mean, I never thought so. I just sell insurance.” He began to cough a little. “Oh dear, this excitement is aggravating my lungs.”

Starsky was tempted so show this idiot what a real hacking cough was like, but he didn’t want to put himself through the misery.

“I’m sorry. I should let you rest, but if you do think of anything, can you let me know?”

Mr Anderson sank in his bed, looking miserable. “If I’m still around.”

Starsky was about to ask Mr Anderson to push the call button for him, when Carla entered the room.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

“Floor it, Sister,” he whispered over his shoulder.

Carla giggled and revered out of the room. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to spend 15 mins alone with Mr Anderson.”

“You got great instincts. Please tell me the next one isn’t that bad.”

“No, next we have Mr Alex Cohan. He owns a convenience store and here’s a shock, he was robbed. Guy shot him in the gut.”

“Huh, that’s one place I’ve never been shot.”

“Don’t tempt fate. Anyway, go careful with Mr Cohan. He was one of those that got trapped in his room and had to be rescued by a firefighter. He’s a bit shaken up.”

“I’ll go easy.”

Despite the trauma he’d suffered Mr Cohan, 48 with a bad comb over, was in a chatty mood and more than happy to list many people he’d met over the years who would want to see him dead. He’d had been robbed over 10 times in his life and every time he fought back, even chasing the young punks off occasionally. He’d only been shot twice, his current wound being the worst.

“But I can’t see any of those guys bombing a hospital ward just to get back at me.”

“You’re absolutely sure about that?” Starsky asked.

“They’re all punks, kids a lot of the time. If any of them wanted to get back at me personally, they’d be more direct.”

Starsky made a note of Mr Cohan’s words, but his hand was beginning to shake. His handwritten notes were looking less and less readable. He had one last question to ask the man, but his body was reminding him in the most painful way that he’d been sat up too long and needed a lie down. He took a few deep, wheezing breathes but that just set off his hacking cough.

“Hey, you don’t look good,” Mr Cohan asked. “Want me to call the nurse?”

“No…I’m…” He caught his breath and sagged in the wheelchair. “…fine. Just one last question. Did you notice anything suspicious in the days leading up to the fire?”

Mr Cohan shook his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t. That climb out of the window was the first time I’d left my room since I got here.”

“Thank you Mr Cohan.” Starsky held the pillow against his chest and tried to ride out the waves of pain assaulting his chest. Mr Cohan pressed the call button.

Carla entered, immediately clocking Starsky’s strained features. “Right, time to head back.”

Starsky made no protest. “Just need a quick rest, then we can start again.”

“Sorry, but you need more than a quick nap, plus you have the respiratory therapist visiting in an hour, followed by the physical therapist and that’ll wear you out…”

“I get the point,” Starsky grumbled. He’d only been active for less than 45 minutes and all he had was the name of a potential bomber from Utah. Hardly anything useful, but it was still early in the day. There was every chance he’d be allowed out again later on. He just had to play the good patient and pray his stubborn body didn’t cause him any more trouble.

*

Carla had been right, Starsky was worn out by the time all the therapists had left. He slept for a couple hours, waking up in time to take a couple of spoonfuls of what the hospital laughably called soup. After that he tried convincing Carla to let him back out again, but she insisted he rest up a bit longer. He asked again later in the afternoon, but by then Doctor Harper was doing his afternoon rounds and ordered him to stay in bed the rest of the day. “Maybe tomorrow. Oh and what do you think of the latest Pontiac?”

Starsky was frustrated, he needed to get back out there before Hutch arrived that evening. They’d agreed to share information and so far Starsky had nothing.

“Those are the Doctor’s orders and I’m not going to argue with them,” Carla said as she handed him a glass of water for him to take his pain meds, ready to have his bandages changed.

“Just one more?” Starsky pleaded, before swallowing the pills. “Just need 10 mins.”

“No, besides we’ve already spoken to the all the people on this floor. We’d need to go up to floor five.”

“I wasn’t planning on climbing the stairs,” Starsky grumbled.

Carla sighed. Being an ex-cop herself, she understood Starsky’s need to pursue the case and to finish what he started, but being a nurse she knew the limitations of the human body.

It was as she was unpacking the rolls of gauze that she had an idea.

“Okay, I think I have a solution. I’m going to get Bonnie to do your dressing change while I go sort something out.”

“Better be a second opinion,” Starsky called after her as she left.

When Carla returned, Bonnie and Brian the orderly were just finishing up. Starsky hated having his bandages changed, it was one of the most painful procedures he had to endure on a daily basis. The original bullet wounds and surgical repair were healing nicely, however the more recent surgical incisions were still very tender and needed the most care. By the time they were done, Starsky was left exhausted and bathed in sweat, but eager to hear what Carla was up to.

“All right, I’ve brought you a visitor,” Carla announced, dabbing the sweat from his brow.

“Oh?” Starsky hadn’t expected that.

“Mr Andrew Bale. He was mugged coming back from the university and took a knife to the shoulder when he fought back. Luckily, he’s far more mobile than you and when I told him you were a cop he was quite eager to talk to you.”

“That’s promising. Send him in.” Starsky tried to sit up, but didn’t have the strength. Carla elevated the head of the bed and helped lift Starsky up a bit so he was practically sitting up straight.

Carla went to bring in Andrew Bale in, who was the youngest person he’d spoken to so far. He was nearly as skinny as Huggy with long brown hair and a poor excuse for a moustache. His shoulder was heavily bandaged and in a sling. He took a seat in the visitor’s chair.

“Hi Andrew, thanks for coming down here.”

“No sweat man, anything to get out of that room.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He shifted a little. “Nurse Carla said you were eager to talk to me. Is this about the fire?”

“Yeah, so she wanted me to tell you if I saw anything that night or before hand that might have looked suspicious. Well, I’ve had some time to think and there was this dude, uh, his room was the one on the very end. Had a shoulder injury like mine?”

“Mr Benny Harris,” Carla said, “Took a knife to the side.”

“Yeah, that guy. Anyway, I hate being cooped up in my room, makes me claustrophobic so I spend a lot of time walking the halls, chatting to some of the nurses.” He winked at Carla, who just ignored him. “And I like to people watch, I’m a sociology student. I noticed Mr Harris would sit in the same spot every day in front of the nurses desk, just watching people go by, so I figured he was like me. I tried talking to him, but he wasn’t very chatty. He got angry, like I was disturbing something important. He seemed edgy.”

“I guess that’s a little suspicious,” Starsky said. “Did you see anything else? Did he talk to anyone?”

“I saw this guy in a suit enter his room once during visiting hours. Really short blond hair, glasses, a little over weight.”

Starsky wrote down the description on his notepad. “That’s very helpful. Thanks, Andrew.”

“Andy, and not a problem, Mr. Starsky.”

“Dave.”

Andrew stood up, intending to leave, but paused a moment. “So you’re a policemen, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Let me guess, you got shot?”

“Actually I was poisoned by a mad professor.”

Andy laughed. “Yeah, sure. See ya Dave.” And he left.

“No one ever believes that actually happened,” Starsky muttered.

“Well, looks like we have a suspect,” Carla said excitedly.

Starsky looked skeptical. “Maybe, definitely worth having a chat with this Mr Harris. Fancy taking me?”

Carla swatted him lightly on the arm. “No, I’ll go ask Mr Harris if he’ll come to you.”

Starsky knew it was pointless to argue with her. “All right, but don’t tell him I’m a cop. It might put him off.”

“Okay, I won’t be long.”

While she was gone Starsky had to fight to stay awake. Having his bandages changed always left him desperate to sleep, but he fought it, just in case Carla came back with Mr Harris.

When she did arrive back, Starsky was disappointed to see she was alone.

“I didn’t say you were a cop, just said you wanted to speak to him and he flat out said no. I did ask if he’d be happier for you to come to him, but he was still adamant. He doesn’t want visitors.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“There’s clearly something bothering him.” Carla sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s pretty edgy, as Andy said. Whether that means he’s our guy, I can’t say.”

“It’s something. I’ll have Hutch see what he can find out about him.”

“We’ve got some time before he turns up. Feel like freshening up?”

“Only if we can go dancing later.” He gave her a sly wink.

“Oh, I think we know who you want to go dancing with.” And with that cryptic message she went into the bathroom to collect the supplies.

*

Hutch was early. He’d spent a lot of the day talking to staff who were recovering from the explosion and after he’d spoken to those recovering at home, he spoke to those who had been admitted to the hospital. The last person he’d interviewed had been Brian the orderly, who despite being told to take some time off, insisted on going back to work. He told Hutch he was worried it would happen again and might be needed. Hutch admired him for that. Instead of going back to the prescient to write up the reports, he chose to speak to Starsky first, hoping his partner had found something interesting.

Expecting to find his partner asleep, like most days, he was pleasantly surprised to see him wake and watching some game show on TV. He’d feared Starsky would be complete wiped out from his active day, but instead he looked excited.

Upon seeing his partner Starsky eagerly told him all he’d learned that day. It didn’t take long, since he didn’t have much to share, but he embellished a little.

“Had to lean on the guy a bit, but Mr Anderson was a tough cookie.”

“As long as you didn’t physically lean on him.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t twitch unless I’m given permission by the Doctor.”

“Good, keep it that way,” Hutch said playfully, though a part of him meant it. “So, in summary, your only suspect is this Benny Harris guy who spent time watching the halls, but wasn’t actually seen doing anything, like planting a bomb.”

“That’s correct.” Starsky took a couple of measured breaths. All the excitement was making him breathless. “But I’m going to have a chat with him tomorrow.”

“Only if you’re up to it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Carla with me. So. what did you find out?”

“Well, the orderly who was killed, Edward Friar, has a Juvenal record. Mainly stupid kids stuff; joy riding, shop lifting. After that there’s nothing, not even a parking ticket. His wife said he was a regular guy, spent a lot of his free time at home or in his workshop. I can’t see him being the target.”

“Maybe he pissed someone off without realising,” Starsky suggested.

“It’s possible. I checked Nurse Gray too. She’s got no record and according to her mother had no obvious enemies, except the cat.”

“What about the bomb?”

“From what the lab boys found in the wreckage, it wasn’t anything professional. An incendiary device, home made from what they could gather.”

“So an amateur.”

“Yeah.” Hutch let out a sigh. “It seems the only lead we have is yours.”

“Even laid up I get more results than you, blondie.”

Hutch had to laugh. “Luck, will only beat skill for so long.”

Hutch had missed this kind of banter. Over the last month or so any police talk had been one sided with Hutch describing the cases he was working on and Starsky trying to stay awake long enough to hear the conclusion. Or they’d talked about inane things like which Flintstones character was hotter or who knew the most about Baseball. Anything to distract Starsky from the physical and mental pain.

But this was proper partner banter, and while he knew it couldn’t last, Hutch relished it.

“It felt good, Hutch,” Starsky said. “Doing police work again. Even for a short time.”

“Case isn’t over yet.” Hutch sat himself down on the edge of the bed. “Can you scoot over a little?” With a little help from Hutch, Starsky was able to shuffle to the edge of the bed, making enough room for Hutch to lie down. His leg had to dangle off the side, but he didn’t mind. He rested his head next to Starsky’s.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” Hutch sighed.

“Wanna sleep over?” Starsky asked, taking Hutch’s hand. “We could bribe the nurses.”

“I’d love to, but you’ve got Rosa tonight and she could throw us both out without breaking a sweat.”

“We’ll just have to make the most of the time we have.” The snuggled up a little closer. With Starsky in the condition he was in, they weren’t able to do much, but just lying so close together was enough to make them both happy for the time being. They’d only admitted their love for each other recently, after the Kira disaster. In fact, the meal Hutch still owned Starsky was meant to be their first proper date. Hutch had plans to make it an extra special one once Starsky was released.

Predictably, Starsky drifted off in Hutch’s arms, and while Hutch would have gladly stayed where he was all night, he knew Rosa would be round soon with the evening meds. He gave Starsky a kiss on the forehead and then a light one of the lips, before shuffling off the bed to leave.

*

Hutch was in work early the next day. He was eager to find this bombing maniac before he blew up anything else. Then again, they had no proof that he was a serial arsonist. Maybe he had one goal in mind and was now just hiding. Maybe it was this Benny Harris guy, but Hutch had his doubts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Starsky was still involved somehow. He accepted all of Starsky’s reasoning against, but that didn’t make Hutch’s hunch go away. He still pulled up Benny’s police record, which unfortunately was thinner than a napkin. He’d been arrested once for procession of narcotics back when he was a student. They had no current address on him or occupation. It was up to Starsky to get any useful information.

As Hutch was getting up to pour himself a cup of coffee, his second already in the last hour, Dobey called him into his office.

“What’s up, Captain?” Hutch asked.

“I’m not sure if this is connected to your current case, but it’s certainly a coincidence.” Dobey took a seat behind his desk. “We just got a call from Memorial Hospital. A Doctor Matthew Royce was found dead in his office this morning. He was a young fella, only 28.”

“Did this Doctor have some connection to the 4th floor.”

“Not that I’ve been told. He worked in the ER. Like I said, it’s probably a coincidence, but it’s worth knowing for sure.”

“I’ll get right on it.” Hutch made to leave.

“Oh and Hutch?” Dobey leaned back in his chair. “I hear Starsky’s helping you with the investigation.”

“He’s been speaking to some of the patients.” Hutch leaned against the door frame. “I’ve not seen him this excited about a case in a while.”

“He’s probably just happy to be doing anything besides sleeping. It’s not just his body that needs to heal, but his mind.”

“I know, I just wish I could shake this feeling that Starsky’s involved somehow. I don’t think he was the main target, but…”

“Coincidence,” Dobey said, nodding. “A lot of that going around.”

“Yeah.” Hutch stood up. “Speaking of such things. I better see if a dead doctor fits in anywhere.”

Hutch left Dobey’s office. Whether it was connected or not, it gave him an excuse to pay Starsky a quick visit.

*

When Hutch arrived the photographer was just finishing up, but the coroner was still examining the body. He was lying by the door, his body contorted like a wrestler overselling a move; on his side with his back bowed. There was a uniformed policeman at the door, making sure no one came in and a crime lab crew dusting for prints. The doctor’s office was small and basic, his desk displayed few personal effects apart from some paper and a knocked over cup of coffee. The lab team were taking samples of the liquid.

“What are we looking at, Ginny?” Hutch asked the medical examiner

“I think he was poisoned,” she said, “There are no physical marks and it looks like he was caught in a brutal seizure when he died.”

Hutch looked around the office. “The coffee?”

“Could be. We’re getting it analysed.”

“Let me know what you find.”

Sat in the corner of the room, trying to look as small as possible was a young dark haired nurse. She was staring at the body with tears in her eyes and a tissue scrunched in her hands.

“Excuse me, Miss. I’m Detective Hutchinson. I believe you’re the one who found the body?” He crouched down in front of her, but it took a minute for her to acknowledge him.

“Molly and y…yes I was. He was late for his shift, I was just checking…” She trailed off, her gaze never wavering from her dead colleague. “Who would want to kill him?” She finally looked at Hutch.

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” he said softly. “How well did you know him?”

“We’d…we’d worked together for nearly 4 years, but we really only knew each other professionally. He did flirt with him when I first started. He, uh, has a reputation of being a bit of a player. Always brings a different woman to social events. But he had a strict rule about dating colleagues.”

“Were there any incidents in the last week or so, say an arguments with patients or other doctors?”

“No, he was pretty well liked. He works in the ER so he sees a lot of angry patients, but I don’t remember hearing anyone threaten him.”

“Thank you, Molly.” Hutch handed her a card. “If you do think of anything else, let me know.”

Molly took the card and slipped into in her pocket.

Hutch stood up and took another look around the room. He couldn’t see how the poisoning of Doctor Royce was related to the bombing. Then again, using two different methods of killing was a good way to throw them off. It reminded Hutch of Alex, the government guy who used poison and car bombs. In theory he was still locked up, but it was worth checking. The only way Hutch could think of connecting the two killings was if the doctor had some involvement with the nurse and orderly who were killed. It was possible. He needed to speak to more of the staff. Maybe check if Nurse Gray had worked in the ER.

Satisfied that he’d got all he needed from the crime scene, Hutch made his way up to Starsky’s room. It wasn’t visiting hours yet, but Hutch met Carla at the nurse’s desk and claimed he was there on police business, which was technically true.

“He’s awake and currently debating if he wants to eat breakfast,” Carla informed.

“Did he have a good night?” Hutch asked.

“According to Rosa’s notes, it was fairly uneventful. Though when she checked on him around midnight he was awake and insisted on talking to her about the case he was working on. She was tempted to sedate him.”

That made Hutch chuckle. “I wouldn’t have blamed her.”

Carla smiled, but got serious pretty quick. “It’s sad to hear about Doctor Royce.”

“Did you know him?” Hutch asked.

“Not really, I knew his reputation with the ladies, but never known anyone to have an issue with him.”

“The nurse who found him said the same. I’m not sure how it links with the bombing, but if there is one we’ll find it.”

“I hope you do.” Carla nodded at Starsky’s room. “Now get in there and conduct your police business.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hutch did as he was ordered. He knocked lightly on the door before entering. Starsky was sat up in bed, poking his breakfast with a spoon. It looked like porridge.

“You’re meant to eat it,” Hutch said, standing at the end of the bed.

“I would, but I don’t think it wants to be eaten,” Starsky said, putting down the spoon. “You’re here early”

Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed. He was happy to see the nasal cannula was gone, though he could see the oxygen tank was still nearby.

“I’m here on official business.”

“Oh?” Starsky frowned.

“An ER Doctor was killed last night. Doctor Matthew Royce. Potentially poisoned.”

“You think it’s connected?” Starsky asked.

“Well, it’s a funny coincidence, but it could just be that. I’m going to interview some of the nurses and staff who worked with all three victims. See if I can find anything they have in common.”

“You do that, while I go have a talk with Mr Harris.”

Hutch didn’t want to argue, but he couldn’t help pointing out. “If he’s our only suspect, wouldn’t it make sense if I spoke to him. If he is our guy, he’s killed 3 people already.”

“He’s only a possible suspect and if it helps, I’ll make sure Carla stays in the room with me.” Starsky gave his partner a pleading look. “This was my lead, I want to follow it up.”

And feel useful again. That was the part Starsky didn’t say, but Hutch heard it loud and clear. With two cases now in his lap, plus the work he still needed to do for the Gunther trail, he could use the help.

“All right, but only if you feel up to it,” Hutch added

“Trust me, I am.”

*

Despite his eagerness to get started with his interrogation of Benny Harris, Carla made him wait until after he’d been poked and prodded by Doctor Harper and the latest medical student he was mentoring. They were both mustang men. Fortunately, he was all for Starsky getting out and about again in the wheelchair, as long as he wasn’t out too long and had a nurse with him. “And you give me your honest opinion on the latest Plymouth.”

When the time finally came, Carla pushed Starsky out of his room and up in the elevator to the third floor. Benny Harris was in the room three doors down. Carla knocked and poked her head round.

“Hello Mr Harris. I have a visitor for you?”

“It’s too early.”

“This is a police officer. He wants to ask you some questions about the bombing the other morning.”

“Oh…I uh, okay, show him in.” Starsky noted the nervousness in his voice. It was encouraging.

Carla wheeled Starsky in. Benny Harris was sat up in bed. He was around Starsky’s age, skinny with dark hair in a similar style to Hutch’s. When he saw Starsky, he looked away. There had been a momentary look of surprise, that Starsky caught and to his own surprise, anger.

“I thought you said it was a police officer.”

“Despite the appearance, I am a detective,” Starsky said, wishing he wasn’t wearing his pyjamas to this interview. “Just not on active duty.” He also wished he had a badge to flash. “I was on the same floor as you when the bomb went off.”

“Yes, I remember seeing you around.”

“From what I hear you saw a lot of what went on. You spent a lot of time in the hallway.”

“Well…yes, I did. I don’t like being cooped up.”

Starsky made a note that Benny refused to look at him. He kept his eyes on his blanket while his right hand griped the blanket tightly.

“Did you happen to see anything while you were sat out there? Anyone suspicious go into the store room.”

“No, only the staff. Maybe one of them did it.”

“My partner has been talking to the staff.” Starsky coughed, “We’re also looking into the death of a Doctor Matthew Royce. Did you know him?”

At the mention of the name Benny’s eye twitched. It was a tiny involuntary movement, but it was worth making a note of.

“I might have heard his name when I was brought in,” Benny said, his voice betraying nothing. “I don’t really remember, I was only barely conscious.”

“That’s understandable.”

“You think he’s linked to the bombing?”

“We’re investigating that possibility.”

“Am I a suspect?” Benny asked bluntly. His head turned a little toward Starsky, but he still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Starsky chose his response carefully. “Not officially.”

“That’s means I am…” Benny took a deep breath. “That’s fine, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you say that?” Starsky asked, curiously.

Benny just shook his head. “I’m tired and I don’t have anything else to add. I didn’t see anything and I don’t know who could have killed them.” He turned his gaze to the window.

Starsky watched Benny careful for a few minutes, looking for anything that gave him a clue to this man’s attitude. This man was hiding something, he knew more than he was letting on, but that didn’t automatically mean he was the bomber.

“Okay, thank you.” He nodded at Carla who wheeled him out.

“That guy knows more than he’s letting on,” Starsky informed Carla as they headed for the elevator.

“That’s clear, but is he our man?”

“I’m more convinced than I was, but still not sure.”

“Maybe Hutch will have more luck with his interviews.”

“Oh, yeah, hey, uh…maybe we could help with that. Are there any nurses on this floor who might know all the victims?”

“People move a round. I don’t always know where they’ve all been.”

Starsky sighed. He wasn’t ready to go back to his room quite yet, he needed to find someone else to talk to. “Are there any more patients we can talk to?”

“There’s one guy on this floor we could talk to. He was another one who was trapped his room and had to be rescued. Uh…Roberts, Jeff Roberts I think.”

“Let’s go talk to him,” Starsky said eagerly.

“Okay, but you have an appointment with the physical therapist in an hour and the dietician after that.”

“Oh, does that mean I can finally eat real food again?” Starsky said hopefully.

Carla smiled. “Porridge is real food.”

“Tell that to the gruel factory the hospital buys it from.”

Carla swatted him lightly around the head.

*

The interview had been a bust. Jeff Roberts was recovering from spinal surgery and hadn’t left his room before the fire. The journey down the ladder had caused him some complications and he was still feeling the after effects of the smoke inhalation. He wasn’t a good witness, or a suspect.

Carla took Starsky back to his room and he spent the rest of the day in-between appointments thinking about Benny Harris. It was that look of surprise and anger that weighed on his mind. The surprise he could understand. He’d expected to be interviewed by a proper cop, not a patient. The anger though he couldn’t rationalise. Maybe he didn’t like cops. Or maybe he knew Starsky from some other encounter. Starsky didn’t recognise him though. And he’d never looked him in the eyes. Instantly suspicious, but not enough to convict him of murder and arson.

His pondering kept him awake and distracted through all his appointments, but it took it’s toll in the afternoon and he fell asleep before dinner and woke up to find it cold and unappealing. It was also visiting time and Hutch was there by his bed.

“How long have you been here?” Starsky asked, sitting up a little. Hutch offered to help, but got shooed away.

“Not long. Been tempted to nick your dinner.”

“You’re welcome to it.”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

“Yeah, the diet lady said they can add flavour to my food.” Those weren’t her exact words, but something to that effect.

“Good, well, let’s see if they have.” Hutch took a bite of stew.

“It’s got potential,” Hutch said diplomatically, but his face told the truth.

“That bad?” Starsky risked a spoonful himself, but refused to eat any more. “Someone should be locked up for that.” He pushed the tray away. “Hey, what have you found out about the Doctor’s murder?”

“He was poisoned. Rat poison in the coffee.”

Starsky winced. “Horrible way to go.”

Hutch nodded. “He has no criminal record. He has an ex-wife. They split after she caught him cheating on her with a nurse. Apparently that’s why he doesn’t date them any more.”

“Could she have done it? Out of revenge?”

Hutch shook his head. “This happened 5 years ago. And she’s remarried.”

“If he’s a bit of a player, maybe he slept with a married woman without knowing it. Angry husband goes too far.”

“There’s no evidence to support that.”

“Just speculating.” Starsky shuffled a little in bed, trying to get comfortable. The ever present pain was getting a little worse, reminding him he’d had a busy day, but still had an hour before pain meds were due.

“I did find out that Nurse Gray and Edward Friar were having an affair,” Hutch said. “It was a badly hidden secret.”

“But Edward was married,” Starsky pointed out. “Could it have been his wife?”

Hutch shook his head. “If she knew about it, she hid it well. Besides, she has an alibi for that morning. She works nights at a garment factory. She has a dozen witnesses.”

“Did Nurse Gray have a fella?” Starsky asked

“No, she was single.”

Starsky sighed. “Another dead end.”

“As for a connection between Nurse Gray and Doctor Royce,” Hutch continued. “Up until a couple of weeks ago, Nurse Gray worked in the ER. According to colleagues they flirted a little, but nothing more.”

“A weak connection.”

“All I could find.” Hutch moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. “I also looked up your guy Benny Harris. He’s a widower, his wife died recently and he owns a hardware store. No children. He was busted once for drug procession while at collage, but nothing else.”

“A recent widower?” Starsky enquired. “Maybe that’s why he’s seeing a psychiatrist.”

“Did you get that out of him?”

“No, Carla did. That’s the guy in the suit who visits him. What did the wife die of?”

“Brain aneurysm.”

“Tough break, but that might explain his behaviour.”

Starsky went on to explain his meeting with Benny and his suspicious manner. Hutch agreed that it could be linked to his wife’s death.

“So where do we go from here?” Starsky asked, wincing as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Still 40 minutes to go.

“We don’t go anywhere. I think you’re part of the investigation is over.”

“No it’s not,” Starsky protested louder than intended. “I can still help.”

“You’ve talked to all the patients that are currently in a position to give answers. And I’ve already spoken to the staff. I appreciate the help, but…”

“But I’m back to being useless.”

“Okay, look if you want to help so desperately, I could bring in some files for you to look over. We’re looking into the backgrounds of everyone who works in the hospital. That’s a lot of files, so if you really want to help…”

“Giving me a desk job already.” Starsky couldn’t help commenting, but he gave a half smile to show he wasn’t 100% serious. “All right, bring them in.”

“Thank you.” Hutch picked up his bag and took out a chess board. “Enough shop talk. Let’s see if we can finish a game this time.”

“I thought I won last time.”

“You fell a sleep and knocked over my king. That doesn’t count.”

While the two of them had attempted to play a couple of games of chess in the past, Hutch had brought it out specifically as a way to distract Starsky from the pain while he waited for his meds. He found chess worked well because it required strategy, a good way to focus the mind.

They very nearly managed to finish the game this time. Starsky had been in check twice, but predictably, once he’d taken his meds he got too drowsy and just as his knight had Hutch’s king in check, he fell asleep.

“Let’s say that was check mate, buddy,” Hutch said generously as he tucked the blankets around his sleeping partner, kissed him good night and settled down in the bedside chair. He still had 10 minutes left.

*

When Starsky woke, he knew someone was in his room. The room was completely silent and he had his eyes closed, but he knew. Even the fogginess of sleep and pain meds couldn’t mask his sixth sense. Initially he thought it was Hutch, but he dismissed it quickly. This prescience didn’t feel warm and friendly. It could be a nurse, but as much as they tried they were never this quiet.

Whoever was in his room was not meant to be there.

As he became more awake he could hear breathing. Quick nervous little pants. Then he felt the prescience get closer. He was certain it was right by his bed. Starsky opened his eyes, but the darkness of the room and his fuzzy vision, made it hard to make out the figure looming over him. Slowly, hoping the dark hid the motion, he lifted his arm and turned on the light above his bed.

Stood next to his bed holding a scalpel was Benny Harris. He looked startled.

“You’re not meant to be awake,” he said his voice shaking.

Starsky had to clear his throat before he could speak. “What are you doing here?”

“Deciding,” he said simply.

“On whether you’re going to kill me?” Starsky asked.

“You should be dead,” he whispered harshly. “And she should be alive.”

“Who?” Starsky asked, though the answer came to him. “Your wife?”

“They killed her.” His voice was so quiet Starsky barely caught the words. “They could have saved her but…” He held the scalpel out in front of him, staring at Starsky.

“Look, you’re not making any sense.” Starsky tried to sit up a little, he felt so vulnerable flat on his back. He thought about pressing the call button, but he didn’t want an unsuspecting nurse to come in and make Benny overreact.“I didn’t kill your wife.”

Benny didn’t answer. He started pacing the room. Starsky watched him and noticed for the first time the visitor’s chair was jammed underneath the door handle, barricading the door. With Benny distracted, Starsky reached down for the call button. While he didn’t intend to call anyone, it felt good to hold something heavy in his hand, just in case.

“Benny, tell me why I should be dead?” Starsky asked, trying to play for time while he thought of a way to get free. “Please. I think I deserve to know.”

Benny continued his pacing as if he hadn’t heard. Then he stopped.

“It was only a headache.” Benny finally said quietly. “Just a really bad headache. And she was light headed. She thought it was a migraine. I insisted she go to the emergency room. She humoured me. She always did.” He smiled fondly at the memory of his wife.

“And so we sat and we waited. I know what emergency room’s are like, I know how busy they can be. I was patient at first. But she started to get tired and confused. It scared me. But we were kept waiting. A nurse finally came to take us to a room. She told us she was going to get a doctor. We waited over 20 minutes and one didn’t arrive. I went out to look for the nurse and I caught her coming out of a store room with an orderly. It was obvious what they’d been doing.”

Benny gripped the scalpel tighter and looked like he wanted to stab something with it.

“Nurse Gray and Edward Friar,” Starsky confirmed.

“If that bitch had just done her job…” His voice was raising. He’d been trying to keep his voice down until now. “That’s when I flagged down a doctor myself. Doctor Royce, who said he’d just finished with his last patient and was now free. Imagine my relief. Finally my wife was going to be seen.” He clenched his jaw. “Then you came in. The officer shot multiple times in the police garage.”

Starsky swallowed. He had a feeling he knew where this story was going.

“I saw you come in. You looked dead already. There was so much blood. You couldn’t even breathe on your own. Suddenly Doctor Royce had no time for my wife. He had to go save you.” He took a step closer to the bed. “I went back to my wife just in time to catch her as she had a seizure. I screamed for a doctor. The nurse came back first with the orderly. It was still another five minutes before a doctor turned up. By the time they’d run their tests it was too late. She lingered in a coma for two days before she died.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry Benny…”

“Sorry?!” He screamed, leaning over the bed, the scalpel inches from Starsky’s face. “She was all I had! She was the only good thing in my life! We were going to start a family and she died, while you lived. You should be dead!”

Starsky kept his eyes on the scalpel, his breath coming in short, painful pants. “If you really believed that…you would have killed me already.”

“You should be dead,” Benny whispered. “But it’s not your fault.” He calmed down a little. “The nurse should have gotten a doctor when she promised. If the Doctor had helped my wife when he said he would she might have lived. I want to blame you for taking the doctor away. You were practically dead.”

“You can blame me if you want, but it won’t change anything that happened. It won’t bring your wife back.”

“No.” Benny was eerily calm now. “But maybe it’ll bring me peace. You should have died instead of her.”

It was clear from Benny’s toneless voice that he was about to strike. Starsky only had a few seconds to prepare for what happened next. He griped the call button tightly. He summoned all the strength he had, plus some adrenaline and swung the bulky device at Benny’s head at the exact moment the mad man lunched towards him, leaning all his weight into the strike, knocking Benny to the floor. The movement sent pain ripping through his healing wounds, and sapped him of his strength. He lay panting on his side, arms wrapped around his chest. The pain consumed his attention for a moment, but through it he could just hear Benny moan. He’d only been dazed. When Benny came to his senses, Starsky would have no way to fend off the man again.

He’d let go of the call button, it was lying on the edge of the bed. He tried to reach the call button with a shaking hand, but any movement sent more mind numbing pain through his chest. Even if he could reach it, he had no energy left to swing it again. He heard Benny get to his feet. He stumbled. Starsky closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

There was a thud at the door. The chair wedging it shut moved. Another thud and it nearly broke. The third time, the door burst open, sending Hutch and Brian the orderly stumbling into the room. By then Benny was firmly on his feet, but before he could lunge at Starsky again Hutch tackled him to the floor. They struggled, but Hutch had the advantage of weight, experience and a healthy body and managed to force Benny to drop the scalpel, forcing him on to his stomach. Brian helped hold him down while Hutch got the cuffs on. Now restrained, Benny broke down in tears.

A couple of security guards entered the room and Hutch let them hold the man down while he went to check on Starsky.

The pain had lessened enough for him to be aware of Hutch’s prescience on the bed beside him. He felt one hand run through his curls and another take his hand.

“It’s okay now,” Hutch said softly. “We got him.”

Starsky didn’t reply, just lay there breathing fast and squeezing Hutch’s hand with what strength he had left.

“Brian, can you go get a nurse please?”

The orderly nodded and left.

“How’d…you get here…?” Starsky swallowed. “So fast.”

“I never left,” Hutch said simply. “Doctor Royce was killed during the night. The explosion was early morning. Rule of three. I was in the canteen getting a late night snack when Nurse Rosa heard raised voice’s and someone threaten to kill you.”

“Benny?” Starsky gasped.

“Security are taking him out.” Hutch rubbed Starsky’s back.

“Did you hurt you?” Hutch asked, while examining Starsky’s clothes for blood stains.

Starsky shook his head a little. “I…hit him.”

Hutch was relieved to hear that. “Gave him a mean left hook, eh?”

“Yeah.” Starsky had no desire to talk any more and just focused on Hutch’s gentle hand’s on his body. It wasn’t just the pain he wanted to block out, but the sound of Benny crying as he was being hauled away.

“You should have died, not her,” he kept saying through his sobs.

*

It took most of the night to sort everything out. First the Doctor examined Starsky to be sure he hadn’t done any further damage to himself, which apart from a couple of split stitches, he was fine. However, he was given a strong dose of painkillers that put him out before he could give a statement.

Hutch stayed to get statements from the staff on duty, while trying to work out how Benny had gotten off his floor and to Starsky’s room without anyone noticing. He then tried to speak to Benny himself, but all he got was a lot of sobbing and the same sentence over and over.

The following day Starsky spent most of the time sleeping, but when he was awake he didn’t say much. He gave his statement to Hutch, explaining everything Benny had told him and then went back to sleep. After hearing the reason behind Benny’s actions, Hutch couldn’t blame is partner for being a little quiet.

On the second day, Starsky slept less, but was still quiet. Hutch spent most of the day writing up reports, making sure nothing was missed so he could get the case closed. He’d learned a few more details while investigating Benny Harris, including that Benny’s knife wound had been self inflicted, so to get admitted to the hospital and after a search of his house, they found all the components that went into the bomb. They were all things he sold in his hardware store. They weren’t able to get information out of Benny as to how he smuggled it into the store room without anyone seeing, but they accepted that it would remain a mystery. Benny’s lawyer was trying to cop a plea of insanity, which judging by his clients inability to do anything besides rock back and forth and cry, he’d probably get. If Benny had been successful in his attempt to kill his partner, Hutch would have fought hard against it, but after visiting the poor wreck of a man and reading Starsky’s statement, he believed it was the right plea.

On the third day, Hutch had had enough of Starsky’s moping and arranged a treat that he was sure would cheer him up. He entered Starsky’s room at the start of visiting hours pushing a wheelchair.

“Who wants to go on a trip outside?” Hutch asked in his jolliest tone.

Starsky had been in the middle of watching the highlights of last nights football game, the one he’d fallen asleep at the beginning off.

“What?” he said, confused.

“I know you’re hearing works,” Hutch said, bring the wheelchair up to the bed. “I asked if you want to go outside.”

“Outside where?” Starsky sounded skeptical, expecting to be whisked off to an exam room.

“Outside the building, dummy. They have a lovely garden here.”

“Wait a minute. I’m allowed to go outside?” Starsky looked over at the window as if for emphasis.

“I spoke with Doctor Harper and he’s allowed it. Said it would do you some good, providing you abide by some rules and convince his wife the Dodge Charger is a terrible car.” Hutch shrugged at the last part.

“What are the rules?” Starsky said, not really caring what they were. After so long being hidden away from the world he was finally getting out. “And the Dodge Charger is a good car.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “You’re only allowed out for an hour, you stay in the wheelchair the whole time and you have to take the oxygen tank. City air is not good for you…or anyone.”

Starsky waved the rules away with his hand while pulling back the covers. Hutch rushed to his side and helped him out of bed and into the wheelchair. Hutch had added a few caveats of his own, which included wearing a cardigan, a blanket and a bottle of water. Starsky wondered when the woolly hat was coming, but he accepted both the Doctor’s and Hutch’s rules and they were off out the door.

As they entered the garden, Starsky expected his first lungful of outside air to smell the sweetest, but the city smog combined with smoke from a burning cigarette made him almost choke on it. Hutch nearly got the oxygen tank out, but Starsky shook his head and as they got further into the garden the air got cleaner and he was able to breath better. He focused his attention instead on the sunshine, and while he had to shield his eyes, the feel of it on his skin made him feel like a battery recharging.

Hutch pushed him over to a large tree not far away. There was a bench he could sit on and no one nearby to see them.

“Not a bad day,” Hutch commented, taking a seat on the bench.

“It’s beautiful.” Starsky smiled, closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight.

“I’m glad it’s cheered you up.” Hutch was smiling too.

Starsky’s smile waned a little. “Yeah, thanks.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both enjoying the sunshine.

“What’s going to happen to Benny?” Starsky asked out of the blue.

“Plead insanity probably,” Hutch said. “He killed 3 people and attempted to kill you, either way he’s unlikely to see the light of day in his lifetime.”

“I can’t help but feel sorry for him,” Starsky admitted. “He lost his wife and I keep thinking…what if…”

“Come on, Starsk, you and I both know not to dwell on what if.”

“Yeah yeah, I know…but the more I think about it, they more I keep coming back to one thing…what if I’d gotten down.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I got shot. If I’d ducked like I was supposed to, I wouldn’t have got shot, Doctor Royce would have treated Benny’s wife, she’d be alive and so would those three people.”

“You’re trying to blame yourself for this?” Hutch said, incredulously.

“No, it just keeps going round in my head…”

“Well, here’s something you should know then. I spoke to the doctor who treated Benny’s wife. I asked if she’d gotten treated even 5 minutes earlier, would it have made a difference. He didn’t think it would have. The complications she suffered would still have set in. So whether you were shot or not would have made no difference to her.”

“Oh,” was all Starsky could say. “I wish that made me feel better.” He sighed. “It’s still a messed up situation.”

“It sure is,” Hutch agreed. “But I have something else that might cheer you up.” He took a couple of files out of a bag hanging off the back of the wheelchair and dumped them on Starsky’s lap.

“What’s this?”

“Well, since you helped me with the case it was only fair you do your share of the paperwork.”

“You’re kidding?”

Hutch shook his head. “Dobey needs it on his desk by morning.”

Starsky coughed. “I don’t have a type writer and my handwritings not so good these days.”

“No change there.”

Starsky gave Hutch an unimpressed look, but as he looked at the files he noticed they weren’t anything to do with the case they’d just closed.

“Wait, this isn’t our case?”

“No, that’s our next case.”

Starsky frowned. “Next case?”

“I’m back to desk duty, but I’ve been given some cold cases to look over. I thought since you enjoyed investigating the last case, despite the outcome, I thought you’d like to help out. Keep you busy.”

It was a nice gesture, it actually invoked a proper big Starsky smile, the kind Hutch hadn’t seen in ages. He beaconed Hutch closer so he could give him a deep thankful kiss, that left him a little breathless.

“Thanks Hutch…this means a lot.”

“It’s no running down alleys or busting down doors, but it’s a start.”

Starsky chuckled, which turned into a cough he fought off quickly.

“But you still need to do that paperwork.”

Starsky lightly smacked him with the file.