Disclaimer: This was written for entertainment purposes only and is not meant to infringe
in any way upon the rights of the legal owners of Starsky and Hutch
Authors Note: While "Borders" may be read on it’s own, "Debaran
Revisited" serves as a sort of prologue to it, introducing both the main plot and the
characters.
Comments about this story can be sent to: eire@tenforward.com
Borders - Part One
By
Ellis Murdock
JANUARY 29, 1980
"Something’s come up. I need to talk with you."
"What’s wrong?"
Long pause. "I don’t know."
Starsky looked at his watch once again, wondering for the umpteenth time what could possibly be keeping his partner. While the more rational part of his brain reminded him that it was little more than half an hour past the time Hutch could reasonably be expected home, his impatience couldn’t have cared less. Always eager for Hutch’s return, the anticipation was even keener today in light of the maddeningly cryptic telephone conversation that kept re-playing itself, unbidden, in his mind. From whatever angle you looked, it made no more sense than the jigsaw puzzle laid out in splendid disarray before him on the coffee table.
Growing bored with stacking the pieces into precariously balanced towers and unable to sit still any longer, he got up and paced. We said no overtime, remember? Scanning the funkier of the wall clocks as he walked - a largely unconscious action - he willed the hands to move just a little faster. The first time in weeks that I actually have something to tell you and…
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening hesitantly, as if the person on the other side was unsure of his reception.
"Hutch? Glad you came back - beginnin’ to think that you’d gone to Brazil without me."
In his eagerness to reach the door, Starsky nearly collided with his obviously startled partner and launched into his narration before the other had a chance to say a word. "Hey, we got a weird call while you were out earning a living, all the way from New York. Not Ma or Mac this time, either…" He stopped for a breath and grinned at Hutch’s expression of blank surprise. "Hi", he offered, relieving Hutch of the white paper bags he was juggling without giving them a thought.
The indulgent grin that crept onto Hutch’s face aptly reflected the transition from surprise to bewildered amusement. "I don’t know who are you or what you’ve done with my partner, but stick around awhile. You’re a lot easier to live with."
"Oh, shut up and sit down. You’re going to want to hear this."
"On the other hand..."
Starsky ignored the barb and followed closely behind Hutch as he made his way to the closet to hang up his holster.
"Detective Sergeant Tressa Ross of the NYPD is paying us a visit on Thursday. She wouldn’t tell me what it was about over the phone, but I’m thinkin’ that it has to be connected with the case. I mean, why else would she…" He paused again, finally staring down at the all-but-forgotten bags in his hands. The seductive combination of aromas issuing from them was impossible to ignore any longer and the reason for his partner’s delay suddenly became obvious. "What’s this?" Starsky asked the question very quietly, as guilt slowly began to insinuate itself into his consciousness.
"Food. There’s this rumor out there that the body functions better with than without it. Of course, they probably weren’t referring specifically to Bert’s Taco Palace, but the theory’s still sound."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Peace offering?"
Hutch’s initial unease finally registered. Starsky didn’t have to question it’s cause, felt the corresponding regret and responsibility converge in a stab of almost physical pain. Can’t really blame you for being wary, babe. Especially after this morning. Except that it wasn’t just this morning: his moods had been unusually volatile lately and Hutch always seemed to get the worst of it. It has to stop, he thought gravely. Knowing that you’ll take it doesn’t give me the right to blast away at you at will. And after all that you end up going to my favorite restaurant and pick up dinner? Aw, Hutch…
"Dummy." Despite the gentle reproof, he hoped that at least some of the warmth he was feeling had worked it’s way to the surface. "You’ve got it backside forward. The injured party’s supposed to be on the receiving end, remember? What’s the matter with you?"
"I lose track", Hutch replied equably, relaxing further. "Your turn next time, okay? Well, don’t leave me hanging. What’s going on with Ross?"
"Nope." Starsky set about arranging things on the table. "You first. How was your day?" It was time to take a break and listen to his partner for awhile. Though he knew it was neither expected or necessary, he silently vowed to reciprocate tonight’s gesture in the near future. Make a salad, maybe even go after sushi…
"Slowly, as usual. I spent most of it pulling files down in R&I and the rest explaining to one of our city’s finer citizens the potential legal drawbacks of shooting pigeons downtown."
"That sounds a lot like last week. They stickin’ you with all the loonies now?"
"Probably figure all the years with you qualifies me as an expert", Hutch replied dryly, affectionately ruffling his partner’s dark curls as he made his way into the kitchen to wash up. "Your day sounds a lot more exciting than mine, so let’s hear it, huh?"
Hutch listened carefully as Starsky relayed the conversation as close to verbatim as he could remember, interrupting only when clarification was needed. The call had been notably brief, lacking in any definitive information, but hinted at just enough mystery to make conjecture thoroughly irresistible.
"And she said she was coming alone? Without Mac?"
"Yep." That in itself was significantly odd, Starsky recognized. It had been her partner, Det. Rob McMahon who had all but adopted them, taking Hutch’s parting request to keep them apprised of happenings in the case very much to heart. Since he and Ross had returned to New York, he had called like clockwork at least once a week, sharing office gossip and family news along with the few case-related tidbits he was allowed to divulge. Granted, Ross had been undercover for most of the intervening time, but seemed well content to leave the phone calls to her partner.
"It must have something to do with the Debaran case", he continued. "What else could involve us? It’s all they’ve been working for the past five months, but still…" He let the sentence trail off, glanced down at his plate, and looked up with a smile. "This is terrific." The fact that he was actively attacking the pile of food with an enthusiasm rarely seen anymore probably made the statement redundant.
Hutch returned the smile but made no comment, his mind now fully engaged in the subject under discussion. "According to Mac, their undercover investigation went off without a hitch." Unlike ours, was the unspoken-but-clear implication. "I was under the impression it was all over but the paperwork as of three weeks ago. Hard to imagine what could’ve gone wrong at this point." He paused for a moment, staring at the fork resting in his hand as if just realizing it was there. "Still, you never know. Remember what a tangled web Debaran wove here in LA? Not an easy organization to crack."
"Yeah, but they did. Debaran’s dead, his organization’s in ruins, they caught the rest of the bad guys and put ‘em in jail. It was supposed to be an unparalleled success - gold stars all around."
"Well, maybe some of the documents they seized gave them a new line of inquiry, something with an LA connection."
"That doesn’t make any sense, either", Starsky threw in quickly, shaking his head. "If it were that, don’tcha think she’d have gone through channels, instead of calling us?"
Hutch made a face. "Okay Sherlock, you’ve had more time to analyze all the facts than I have. What do you think?"
"I think I need more hot sauce", he dodged, reaching over and helping himself to a few of Hutch’s condiment packs. "What’s she like anyway?"
"Who?"
"Ross. Who d’ya think?"
Hutch looked up, obviously surprised by the question. "I only saw her the one time they came out here to confer with us, same as you." When there was no acknowledgment forthcoming from Starsky, he added pointedly, "You were there, remember?"
"Are you kiddin’, Hutch? I barely even remember we had company. Probably wouldn’t remember August at all if you hadn’t told me about it." It was an exaggeration, of course, but only a slight one. Ross and McMahon’s visit had come just three months after the shooting, only a couple of weeks after his release from the hospital. Starsky had been downing so many painkillers at that time that the few memories he did manage to hang onto were hazy, at best.
Hutch smiled. "I’d almost forgotten how out of it you really were." He paused, considering. "Well, let’s see. She struck me as a dedicated cop - professional, competent, focused on the job at hand. Nice in a cool, reserved kind of way. Ambitious. Why?"
"Old habits, I guess." In response to Hutch’s questioning look, he explained, "Thinking like a cop. Just want to get a feel for who she is before she walks in the door."
"Now’s a good time to get back into the habit", Hutch agreed softly. "Or would be, if you’d of ever actually stopped."
Starsky felt a smile pull at the corners of his mouth. Yeah, and I can also leap tall buildings and hit a pea at fifty yards with my beretta . Hutch’s unwavering belief in him was enormously gratifying, but he judged himself to be a lot rustier than his partner’s assessment would seem to indicate. It was past time to reacquaint himself with the mindset that had been, up until eight months ago, second nature to him. He would need it and much more if he were to have any hope of being re-certified for the force.
Toby Debaran, his organization, and the twin investigations it had spawned continued to be the central theme of the night. They played "what if" throughout the washing up and were still discussing the phone call’s various interpretations as they made their way into the living room with coffee. It was there that Hutch caught his first sight of the puzzle-piece acropolis Starsky had constructed in his absence and laughed out loud.
"I like your approach, but I don’t think jigsaw puzzles work too well vertically. Or did we lose too many pieces to do anything else?"
"Guess we’ll find out as we get further along," Starsky replied with a sheepish grin, wincing inwardly at both the jab and the memory of the puzzle’s earlier unscheduled flight across the room. Still, if you have to take out your frustrations on something, there are worse things than the annual Christmas present from Ma. Not yet ready to discuss the morning, he was about to change the subject when his mind finally caught up with what his eyes had been seeing. Hutch had positioned himself on the floor and begun the daunting task of counting pieces. He sighed. Unbelievable.
Satisfied that they still possessed all 1500 of the little cardboard cutouts, the two men settled into a contented evening that combined a little jigsaw puzzle work with a lot of supposition. It was Hutch who, glancing at his watch, finally cut the conversation short.
"It’s getting late. You about ready?"
"No." Starsky crossed his arms in pretended defiance.
"Okay, let me put it another way. Get in there --" Hutch nodded toward the bedroom " --and get out of your clothes."
Starsky feigned dismay. "What, no flowers? No wine? Ma warned me about guys like you." He rose from the couch with an exaggerated sigh, adding plaintively, "I mean, that’s gotta be worth at least a box of candy."
"I brought dinner, remember? You’re providing all of the whine and if you really need a flower, I think the oxalis is still in bloom. Feel free to pick one." When Starsky still showed no immediate signs of moving, Hutch added a cheerful-but-firm, "Walk or be carried. Your choice."
"And they say romance is dead", Starsky mumbled, slowly making his way into the bedroom.
The banter had long ago become nightly variations on a common theme, but neither seemed to tire of it, except on the worst of days. It wasn’t until Hutch had nearly completed the deep therapeutic massage of Starsky’s back and was set to start on his chest and abdomen that Starsky spoke again.
"Hutch?"
"Hmm?"
"About this morning…"
Hutch leaned down so that he was mere inches from Starsky’s ear, his warm breath brushing lightly against cheek and curls. "Will you forget about this morning?" he asked gently. "I told you, it’s fine. Now turn over."
Starsky smiled to himself, secure in the knowledge that with Hutch it really was. This was gnawing at him, though, and he wanted it said. "I know, but… Do you know why I do it?" Compliantly, he eased onto his back. "Why I take it out on you?"
"Payback?" Hutch suggested lightly.
"Nah. It’s ‘cause you’re here and you’ll take it. Everybody else I’ve ever known would walk right out that door and never come back. Talk about unfair, huh?" It seemed spectacularly so to him.
"Well, if you’re keeping score, you’ve taken more than your share from me over the years. Besides, it’s a small price to pay if it helps." Hutch was quiet for a moment, then added, "It’s been hard lately, I know. We’ve been so focused on getting your body healed, most of the psychological issues just got pushed to the side."
It was true. With few exceptions - one particularly bad flashback in the hospital, an occasional panic attack, the sometimes overwhelming separation anxiety early-on whenever Hutch was out of his line of vision - it hadn’t been until recently that his psyche had decided to demand it’s due. Making up for lost time now, he thought ruefully.
Hutch worked over a particularly sensitive area just to the right of one of the entrance wound scars, stretching the damaged muscles beneath with practiced efficiency before continuing.
"We both knew they’d surface sooner or later and I guess it’s time to deal. We’ll manage."
"’Course we will", Starsky almost whispered, averting his eyes momentarily as a wave of feeling swept over him. The line that marked their separateness had so long ago blurred that the use of "we" had become as natural as breathing. Somehow though, Starsky still found the term - and the reality it reflected - profoundly touching.
"Y’know, you actually seem more ‘up’ tonight than I’ve seen you in awhile", Hutch declared, jabbing him teasingly. "Are you sure you didn’t do something else today that I don’t know about?"
"You mean like visit my secret lover?" Starsky chuckled, but found the question worth considering. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but his mood did seem to have unaccountably brightened.
"Something along those lines."
"Nah, who else would play Monopoly with me at three o’clock in the morning?"
"We’re few and far between."
Try one of a kind. Turning serious, "I dunno. Maybe it’s just having something else to think about besides me and what my body is or isn’t going to do." He found himself hoping that the business with the Debaran case would somehow require their attentive and direct involvement.
JANUARY 31, 1980
Starsky stared darkly once again at the box lid: "Metamorphose II" by one M.C. Escher. Well, if his mother thought that he was capable of reassembling the pieces to that, she had a very inflated opinion of him, indeed. It looked about as perplexing intact as it did scattered in so many pieces on the coffee table.
"You’re supposed to work the borders first", said a voice from behind him.
"What?"
"Borders." Hutch made the shape of a rough rectangle with his hands. "You’re supposed to start with the corners, then work the border. Remember? That way you’re starting with what you know and the rest fits into place."
"Just like that, huh?" He was starting to remember why he had never enjoyed this particular form of diversion. "What did you do, go out and get a rule book? You just worry about your half."
"Well if you want to do it the hard way..."
Starsky peered across the coffee table. "I don’t know how to tell ya this, but your side don’t look all that much better than mine."
"That’s because we don’t have the border done yet", Hutch countered easily.
"Y’ know something, --" Starsky’s usual rejoinder to such comments was cut short by the sound of a car door slamming, presumably heralding the arrival of their guest. He looked out the window expecting to see Ross and did a double take.
"Hutch? Hey, come ‘ere." He motioned his partner over. "Looks like we got two for the price of one," he said with a grin, "and at least one of ‘em has good taste."
Rob McMahon was reverently circling the Torino, stroking it gently as he walked - the very essence of a man in the throes of infatuation - while his partner did her best to break the spell. Notably unsuccessful at first, Ross did eventually manage to broker a temporary separation of man and machine and directed a reluctant McMahon up toward the apartment. At the sight of the two LA detectives, his enthusiasm immediately locked onto a new target and he bounded up the steps with alacrity, greeting both men like a puppy catching sight of it’s master after a long period of separation.
"Hello, Mac", Hutch greeted, extending his hand. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but we weren’t expecting you."
"Yeah", Starsky added, following suit. "Your partner didn’t mention you were making the trip, too."
McMahon opened his mouth to say something, but was preempted by Ross. "That’s because his partner didn’t know he would be."
McMahon looked momentarily uneasy. "It was kind of a last minute thing", he offered, casting a brief glance at a less-than-happy-looking Ross.
So you’re not supposed to be here, Starsky realized. The plot thickens. One look at Hutch told him that his partner had arrived at the same conclusion.
Changing the subject with dizzying speed, McMahon gestured toward the Torino. "Your car?"
Hutch pointed to Starsky, who proudly replied, "Yep, Mac. My car. She’s a beaut, ain’t she?"
"Oh, man!" McMahon almost drooled. "She’s perfect. Must handle like a dream, huh?"
"The Striped Tomato?" Hutch scoffed, paying no attention to the evil eye his partner was giving him. "It’s too loud, too fast, too red. An abomination on wheels."
"Ignore him", Starsky said with mock disdain. "He knows not of what he speaks."
"V-8 460 with a four-barrel carburetor?", Ross asked quietly from behind her partner. "Automatic tranny, definitely. A classic in the making." A quick smile was her only response to the two men facing her, jaws dropped.
"Oh brother", Hutch moaned, mournfully dropping his head onto Starsky’s shoulder. "Not three against one. I refuse to believe this is happening."
"Detective Ross, are you spoken for?" Starsky’s face had been transformed by a broad grin. "Because I think I’m in love."
"Better stick with what you’ve got", she teased, moving past him into the apartment. "I’m unusually high maintenance."
As soon as the door had been closed and the expected salutations completed, McMahon drew back to get a better view of Starsky, his expression one of unabashed amazement.
"You are the same guy we met five months ago, right?"
"More or less", Starsky replied with a laugh.
"More. Definitely more", Hutch corrected.
"Turn around", McMahon ordered, making a circular motion with his finger.
Unsure of the purpose behind the request and getting no help at all from his partner, who merely mimicked McMahon’s finger motion with a barely suppressed grin, Starsky warily did as asked.
"You look great", the young detective concluded, awed. He turned to Ross. "Doesn’t he look great? I wouldn’ta recognized you from last time. Ya looked mostly dead back then."
Starsky decided to accept the comment in the spirit in which it was intended. On a daily basis the changes hadn’t seemed that dramatic, but to people who had only seen him for a few hours shortly after his release from the hospital, he knew that he must appear to be a different person entirely. In truth, he felt much the same way about the two detectives from New York. Last seen through a drug-induced haze, he wasn’t sure he would have recognized them, either.
It wasn’t until all four were settled in the living room - each with coffee in hand - and a half an hour’s worth of small talk concluded, that Ross introduced the more serious topic that had brought the pair all the way from the other coast.
"I have to be up front with you, this is entirely unofficial. If you’re uncomfortable with that, I’ll understand. I’m just not sure where else to turn." She looked from Hutch to Starsky and back again, as if trying to gauge their reactions thus far.
"You know that if we can, we’ll help", Hutch said gently. "What’s going on?"
"That’s a good question", she said with a tight smile. "Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer. I’m trying --"
"We", McMahon interjected.
She looked startled, as if she had momentarily forgotten that her partner was there. "-- we are trying to find someone. She’s been seen here in LA and I was hoping that you might have a contact I - we - could make use of. Lorna Jensen. I’m sure you remember her."
It’s more than just McMahon not being expected, Starsky realized, Ross didn’t really want you here at all. No wonder there’s a bit of tension in the air. "Yeah", he answered quickly. "I never actually met ‘er, but Hutch did. We pegged her as well-placed with Debaran; had a habit of appearing at the site of drug or arms deals a day or two in advance but never there when the transaction actually took place. Never did figure out exactly how she fit in and," he looked over at Hutch and added innocently, "didn’t she give you the slip once?" It hadn’t really been his partner’s fault, he knew, but he couldn’t resist needling him about it whenever the opportunity presented itself.
"You’re never gonna let it go, are you?" Hutch sighed, sounding much more aggrieved than he really felt.
McMahon spoke up. "Don’t feel too bad. She slipped through our net, too."
"She, Martin Banks, and a handful of others," Ross clarified, "but Lorna’s the only one we have a lead on."
"Okay", Starsky began, "but why? I mean, isn’t the case closed? I thought it was all gift-wrapped and delivered to your DA a little over three weeks ago."
"It was. However, there are some inconsistencies and", Ross exchanged looks with her partner, "Owen Hill was just arrested for Debaran’s murder."
Hutch straightened, obviously surprised. "Your confidential informant?"
She nodded. "He didn’t do it. Someone went through a lot of trouble to make it look like he did and I’d be very interested in knowing why."
"How do you know that he didn’t?" Since the notion didn’t seem completely out of the realm of possibility, Starsky presumed they were basing their assumptions on something. "I mean, I don’t doubt you, but…"
"For one thing, he had no motive", Ross replied quickly. "Oh, they said that he made a private deal and Debaran was backing out, but it doesn’t make sense. A man with no history of violence doesn’t usually make a start by blowing off someone’s face with a sawed-off. Besides, he wouldn’t jeopardize the total walk he was getting courtesy of the DA for helping us. He didn’t do it - I’m sure of it."
Starsky looked at Hutch and saw the same question reflected in his eyes. There was no easy way to ask it and he didn’t really want to, anyway. Go for it, babe, he communicated non-verbally to his partner. It’s your turn. He knew that if he didn’t ask, sooner or later Hutch would.
"Hill, uh…", Hutch shifted slightly in his chair, his voice reflecting the discomfort behind the words, "as part of your cover, you two were supposed to be in love, right?"
"It was just a cover!" McMahon protested, but Ross motioned him to be still.
She took a deep breath before responding and spoke very slowly when she did. "Pretending to be in love with Owen required acting abilities I didn’t know I had. He is not a particularly appealing specimen of humanity. He’s probably done a number of things that would warrant his incarceration for a long time, and I’m sure that same logic has crossed the minds of a few of my superiors. The fact remains, though, that he did risk his life during the investigation. He held up his end of the bargain and when it came down to it, he protected my cover. He deserves better than what he’s getting now."
"And you think Lorna knows something about Debaran’s murder?" Starsky had the nagging feeling that they were only hearing a small portion of a much larger story.
"I don’t know. I think that Lorna knows something about something and I’m hoping she can at least fill in a few blanks."
"But we have to find her first", McMahon added, ever the one to cheerfully state the obvious.
Starsky glanced at Hutch. "Huggy?" It seemed like a reasonable place to start. His partner nodded. "I’ll go give ‘im a call." Even such a simple task as calling to ask for a contact felt good now; it seemed to belong to another life, another time, and he was looking forward to reclaiming it.
"An informant of ours", Hutch explained, as Starsky excused himself. "Even if he doesn’t know where she is, he’ll probably be able to find out who does. You said there were "inconsistencies - what exactly did you mean?"
The call to Huggy didn’t take long and Starsky returned to the group within minutes.
"He’ll give us a call when he hears anything and we’ll call you. So what did I miss?"
"Ross was just going over some of the inconsistencies in the case", Hutch said smoothly.
Considering how uncomfortable Ross was beginning to look, Starsky gathered that she wasn’t doing so with unmitigated joy.
"I’m not sure precisely what I mean by ‘inconsistencies’. There are a lot of things that individually don’t sound like much, but taken as a whole… It’s more of a feeling, really."
"Give us a try", Starsky prompted, trying to turn up the charm a notch. The conversation was going to stretch into next week if Ross didn’t open up a little.
She shrugged. "I don’t know. About halfway through the undercover job, things changed. I know it sounds odd, but it felt like I had been in control up until then. Do you know what I mean?" The question must have been rhetorical, because she continued without pause. "Then it suddenly felt like someone else was pulling the strings. I can’t point to anything specific, nothing went wrong. Everything went almost too right - exactly the way we discussed it in the planning sessions. It just felt…different." She sighed. "I’ve been doing this for a long time, gentlemen. I was played. I missed something and I think it’s too important to drop."
"What did your Captain and the DA say when you brought this up?" Hutch asked.
She smiled wryly. "They patted me on the head, gave me a commendation, and told me to take a few weeks vacation courtesy of the Department. When I kept digging, they sent me to the police psychologist who made the vacation official. Apparently I’m stressed from being under so long."
"Which doesn’t make it not true", McMahon added loyally.
"You read it the same way?" Hutch cast his gaze directly on McMahon. It was a fair question.
McMahon took his turn at looking uncomfortable and glanced briefly over at Ross before replying. "I was only under one day every week or so as a driver, so I didn’t see the day-to-day like she did. I stand by my partner, though. If she says this is wrong, it is."
Good boy. "Are you suggesting some kind of cover-up in the Department?" It wasn’t something they had never encountered before, but in Starsky’s experience it was, at least, unusual.
"I’m not suggesting anything", she replied, turning the now empty coffee mug in never ending circles on her knee. "Actually, I’m more inclined to think they’re worried I’m going to somehow unravel their little triumph. The case played quite well in the local media; very politically useful."
"You didn’t get anything of consequence from anyone you busted?" Hutch asked. "You’d think someone would want a deal in exchange for information."
She shook her head. "That’s another thing that’s strange. It was almost a conspiracy of silence. Oh, they gave us little things, but nothing of any substance. We’ve been trying to decide if they’re scared or just don’t know anything."
"Considering that Debaran’s taking the Big Dirt Nap, we’re thinking it’s probably door number two", McMahon added.
"What about your cover, the family you were with - the Peele’s, right?" Although Starsky addressed his question to Ross, he was simultaneously trying to distract his partner from the coffee mug dance taking place on the woman’s lap. Hutch looked to be edging ever closer to confiscating the cup outright.
"You were under a long time", he continued. "Anything there to go on?" Sometimes things said over the family dinner were of a lot more relevance than those said in a business meeting, and she had, after all been placed in as Mrs. Peele’s long-lost daughter. Instant intimacy.
The fleeting look of pain that crossed Ross’s face was so transitory that Starsky doubted he would have even noticed it if it hadn’t been for her partner’s reaction.
McMahon stiffened instantly and blurted out, "We brought some files with us. Maybe we should go get them and come back later, huh?" He was already up out of his chair before his partner stopped him.
"It’s all right, Mac. We’re asking them to help us. They have a right to know everything."
"It doesn’t have anything to do…", he started to protest, but her commanding stare seemed enough to cut his sentence off at the knees.
"What did I say?" Starsky looked from Ross to McMahon, thoroughly confused now.
"Matthew Peele would rather face execution than do anything he thought might help me, even inadvertently. You see, he blames me for his wife’s death. She committed suicide shortly after we wrapped up the investigation." Ross paused for a moment, studying the faces of the two LA detectives. "It’s not so surprising, really", she added. "The daughter she’d finally found after searching for the better part of thirty seven years turned out not only to not be her daughter, but the cop ultimately responsible for putting her husband away for a very long time. She didn’t have a lot left when I got done using her."
Damn, Starsky thought, remembering the times in his own career when innocents had been hurt through his actions. The guilt had been all-consuming and none of them, so far as he knew, had actually killed themselves. No wonder they sent you on vacation.
"We’re sorry", Hutch said softly, speaking for both of them.
"Me, too. However, it isn’t relevant to the business at hand. I regret what happened to Barbara, I wish she would have made another choice, but I did what was required to get the job done. One has nothing to do with the other."
Wanna bet? Starsky thought. Both he and Hutch had been through enough similar situations to know better. When you can’t reverse the major damage, you try to make amends by fixing all of the little things you can find, but perhaps that was best left for another time.
Hutch spoke up. "You say that you brought some files with you? Why don’t you go back to your hotel and rest up for awhile, huh? My schedule’s flexible these days. I’m only working Tuesday through Thursday in the mornings, usually just four or five hours at that. We can meet later this evening and decide where to go from here."
Starsky noted that Hutch didn’t bother to add that ‘work’ currently consisted of being bored out of his mind on glorified desk duty, doing the jobs no one else wanted. Nor did he deem it necessary to share with them the reasons why: that he had only returned to duty because he was threatened with termination if he didn’t; that his refusal to accept even a temporary partner only lent more weight to a growing reputation for being stubborn and intractable. Starsky judged himself to be one of the few who saw the situation for what it really was - quite simply, the price of love. A matched set in all things, their top priority now was to get Starsky back in fighting trim. Everything else in life - including work - placed distant second to that.
Ross frowned, obviously unconvinced. "No offense, but I’d rather you two stayed out of this as much as possible. I’d only intended to borrow a snitch or two, not embroil you in what has the potential to be a career-threatening unofficial investigation. This is my crusade and I’ve caused enough…" She stopped mid-sentence, seemed to decide to rephrase. "…there have been enough people hurt in this as it is."
So that’s why you wanted to leave your partner at home. "Well it can’t hurt to look things over", Starsky said reasonably. "After all, four heads are better than two and we won’t get in trouble just for talking." The way Hutch was rolling his eyes, Starsky realized that he already knew his partner was ready to jump in with both feet. In truth, Starsky was ecstatic: the game was finally afoot.
FEBRUARY 2, 1980
"Hutch’s House of Health", Starsky quipped into the phone.
A familiar voice chuckled. "What’s the matter, m’man? The big blond cookin’ for you again?"
"Hey, Huggy. No, his cookin’ I can take. Right now he’s doing something disturbing with raw stuff. Ow!" he yelped, as Hutch volleyed a green projectile in his direction. "I’m being assaulted with a lettuce", he complained to the caller.
"Now there are some things about your relationship I don’t ask and I don’t want to be told. That probably qualifies as one of ’em, dig?"
Starsky laughed. "What have you got for us?"
"Call up your brethren from the Big Apple and come on down. The Bear has found you a contact."
Starsky and Hutch arrived at The Pits within minutes of Ross and McMahon and, as soon as the introductions were completed, the conference was underway.
"Well, I found someone who’ll talk to ya. Friend of a friend who, I might add, is expecting compensation for his troubles." He held out his hand expectantly. Ross opened her purse, but Huggy stopped her. "Not you, beautiful. This was a favor for these two," he nodded toward Starsky and Hutch, "let them pay the tab."
"Who is it, Hug?" Hutch asked, placing a generous finder’s fee in the outstretched hand.
"The friend is someone reliable who don’t like the police and who wishes to remain anonymous. The contact is a lady goes by the name Mercury Walker. Workin’ girl. Claims she was befriended by a dude called Banks, a full-fledged member of the little club you’re so interested in. Seems he found a new friend and now she wants to spill."
All eyes turned to Ross, who shook her head. "I don’t believe we’ve met, but it’s quite plausible. I didn’t meet many of Banks’ diversions."
"May not be the most reliable snitch, if she’s ticked at being put over for a new model", McMahon offered.
"Don’t necessarily mean she’ll lie, though. She may just be mad enough to tell the truth", Starsky said.
"Hell hath no fury", Hutch added with a grin. Traditionally, some of their best informants had been ‘women scorned’.
"Where and when is the meet?" Ross asked.
Huggy inhaled deeply and bit his lower lip, momentarily avoiding eye contact with anyone as his fingers nervously tapped the table. "She set one condition", he said finally. "Non-negotiable." He looked up at Hutch. "She’ll only meet with Starsky, and only if he comes alone."
All eyes shifted immediately to Starsky, who straightened abruptly, his face reflecting complete surprise. He suspected that he was the only one who noticed the simultaneous stiffening of Hutch’s posture, but chose to ignore it, for the moment at least. When he found his voice again , he asked, "Why me? Did she say? Does she know me?"
"You know what I know", Huggy replied with a shrug.
Ross asked quietly, "Where does she want to meet?"
"Emerson Park, 12:30 tomorrow afternoon."
She made a face and exchanged glances with her partner. "Public place, daytime on a Sunday…could be on the level." To Starsky, "Especially if she remembers you from your investigation."
"Name doesn’t ring any bells, but maybe…", he shrugged, still trying to remember.
"How do you feel about this?" she asked somberly. "You’re obviously not obligated. As I said, I didn’t intend for anyone else to become involved."
"I don’t see why --" the rest of the sentence was aborted as Hutch tugged lightly on his arm.
"Will you excuse us for a moment?" Hutch asked the others. He politely waited until Starsky had risen from the booth before pitching him forward, albeit with as much discretion as the movement would allow. He didn’t let go until they were in a comparatively quiet corner of The Pits.
"Hey! What’re you --", Starsky started to protest. He could handle the periodic mother-henning when they were at home - in truth, it served them both well - but it was decidedly against the rules in public.
"I don’t like it", Hutch announced, shredding the napkin that was still in his hands.
No fooling. "What’s the problem?" Starsky asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"It doesn’t make sense. Why you alone?"
"I’m sure that word on the street has it I’m an invalid. She probably figures I’m the least threatening choice."
"It could also be a set-up. Did you ever think of that?"
"No. Why would she set me up, Hutch? In the middle of a park? At 12:30 in the afternoon?" Starsky tried to keep his voice even, but was very quickly losing what little patience he had left. "Are you hearing yourself?"
Hutch sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. "You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s not…", he stopped mid-sentence, apparently sensing that the argument was lost before it had ever begun. Sinking down a little lower, he rubbed his face wearily. "Will you at least wear a vest?" he asked finally, sounding resigned.
"A ve--? Hutch, listen to me. This is ridiculous. What’s she gonna do? Even if by some weird chance she did try something, y’ know you’re just going to be 30 feet away, hiding under a bush."
"Yeah", he spat angrily, "well I was closer than that when you…" He let the sentence trail off, looking somewhat startled that the words had left his mouth at all, and made a detailed study of his shoes.
"When I got shot", Starsky finished, moving nearer. "Look at me, Hutch." Laying a hand on his shoulder, he urged his partner to lift his head, waited until he was reluctantly obeyed before continuing. Speaking very slowly, Starsky tried to combat fear with reason. "It’s not the same situation. You know that."
Blue eyes met blue eyes for a long moment; it was Hutch who finally broke the contact. Staring down again, he mumbled an almost inaudible "Yeah". Reason, it seemed, was again the victor.
Starsky impulsively gave Hutch’s shoulders a squeeze, then patted a cheek lightly with his palm. "Yeah", he mimicked with a grin. He knew how much the concession had cost. "You’re frettin’ like a little old lady, Hutch. Willya stop it? Let’s go back and sit down. We’ve got some planning to do."
FEBRUARY 3, 1980
Starsky knew it was Mercury before she ever approached. Clad in a tight leather mini-skirt, expensively casual halter, sunglasses, and sporting shoulder length fire-engine-red hair, she too much resembled her name to be anyone else. His cop’s training kicked in as he looked her over: five foot two, small build, older than I’d of thought. Then he remembered one of Ross’s off-hand comments that Banks didn’t like to play with children. Fits Banks profile to a T. Expensive tastes, a lady of class, despite her career choice. Handbag too small to conceal a gun. You notice that, too, Hutch? Her commanding presence was palpable even in the way she sat down on the bench beside him. If Banks double-crossed you, he’s a lousy judge of character.
"Hello again", she said amiably.
"Again?" he asked, surprised. "I know I would’ve remembered if we’d met before."
She smiled, licking her lips seductively as she studied him. "Oh, you’d of remembered all right", she purred. "I saw you once at a party. You didn’t see me. Marty’s funny that way: he doesn’t like to share. Didn’t find out who you were until after your little undercover job went all wonky and now I hear you’re asking questions almost two years after the fact. How come?"
"Loose ends", Starsky replied casually, keeping his answers as non-committal as possible. "Why are you so anxious to talk?"
She sat back, an amused smile on her face. "Heard you might be after Marty Banks. He’s a snake. Anything I can give you that will make his miserable existence a little more so, I’m happy to oblige. You are looking for Marty, right?"
"Among others. He here in LA?"
"Oh yeah."
Yes! Starsky felt his pulse begin to quicken. Provided that Mercury had at least some of the information they were after and he could convince her that giving it over would inflict unbearable pain on her one-time boyfriend, this could actually work.
"You know Lorna Jensen?"
"Lorna?" She looked startled, as if it were the last question she’d expected. "I’ve seen her a few times, but…well, she didn’t seem important. Marty never paid any attention to her at all. What do you want with her?"
"Do you know where she is now?"
She shrugged. "I have people I can ask, I guess. If you think it’s important." Her dismissive tone strongly suggested that she didn’t share the view.
"It can’t hurt", he replied, trying to match her demeanor. "How many of the old gang are back in LA, anyway?"
She reverted back to seductive mode, running a toe up and down his shin a few times. "I don’t know. As I said, Marty’s here. I’ve seen Ray - that’s Ray Abolese - and Mickey Pringle. I’ve heard that Lee Raulson’s here, too, but I haven’t seen him personally. There are probably others. Since Marty and Tia have found true love, I’m not as connected as I once was." She made a face.
Scratch Tia and Marty off the Christmas card list, Starsky thought. "What are they doing here?"
"I was under the impression that they were all recently unemployed. You do know that Debaran snuffed it, right?" she asked with exaggerated innocence, pushing her sunglasses down her nose a bit. "I imagine they’re here looking for work."
"All in the same place? Sounds like maybe they already found it." Don’t play games with me, sweetheart.
"Maybe", she allowed. "I wouldn’t know about that."
"Okay. Maybe I can ask them myself. Know where they hang out?"
"What’s it worth to you?" she asked sweetly.
"Hey, I thought you were in this to get back at Banks", Starsky replied, feigning surprise.
"I am." Leaning closer, she whispered, "But I never give it away for free."
He reluctantly provided her with twenty five dollars from his wallet and grinned at her obvious disgust. "Sorry, my paycheck isn’t what it useta be. You probably make more than I do at the moment"
"Oh, somehow I expect I always did", she said with a satisfied smile. "Ray and Mickey frequent ‘Nell’s Club’ on 8th. Know it?"
He nodded.
"If you get lucky, you’ll find Marty there, too, but don’t count on it. He and ‘Thumper’ don’t leave wherever they’re holed up for long enough to be seen in public. It’ll end within a week or two", she added with a sigh. "He runs out of energy disappointingly fast. I’ll ask about the others, if you like. Some people still owe me a few favors." Almost as an afterthought as she stood and prepared to leave, she added, "I’ll let you know if I hear anything."
"Wait a second!" Starsky protested. "How can I get a hold of you if I need to?"
"Just tell your friend at the bar. He’ll make contact with my friend, who’ll make contact with me."
"Hope I’m not in a hurry", he said sarcastically.
She smiled beatifically. "Well if it’s anything that big, I’ll know about it long before you do anyway." She started to walk away, stopped suddenly and backtracked. "Oh, and one more thing", she added conspiratorially, removing her sunglasses as she turned around. "Tell your partner that he’s fine where he is. He comes any closer next time and I’m outta here. This is just between you and me. Got it?" She wrinkled her nose at him and winked before replacing the shades and slinking off down the park path.
Starsky just sat for awhile, mouth agape, watching her walk away. At this point, he wasn’t sure what to think.
~~~~~~~~~~
"I remember Raulson", Starsky announced, leafing through one of the files brought by Ross and McMahon from New York. The four detectives had met back at the apartment to compare notes and discuss what had transpired earlier in the day with Mercury. "He kept some of the ledgers, supposed to be a financial whiz or something. Ray Abolese is professional muscle, but I never encountered Mickey Pringle."
"Are you sure that she made me?" Hutch asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I couldn’t have been all that obvious."
"Look," Starsky said gently. "I’m just tellin’ you what she told me. I don’t know whether she saw you or just figured you had to be there. You blended in fine, but she’s a sharp lady who probably doesn’t let much get past her. Now can we please move on? Everyone else is on another page already."
Ignoring Hutch entirely for the moment, Ross said, "Pringle’s into finances, too, and if he’s here you can bet James Lord is lurking about somewhere close. The two seem to work as a team, at least I never saw one without the other."
McMahon looked puzzled. "But why? Getting the financial core gathered together suggests a re-grouping of some kind, but the organization’s dead. Who’s left to rebuild?"
"Well, we never were able to find even a quarter of Debaran’s assets", Ross reminded him, moving out to the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee. "Maybe one of the lieutenants has decided to become an entrepreneur, see if he can make a go of it here. If someone had access to even a small portion of that money, they could make a decent start at picking up where Debaran left off." It was an intriguing hypothesis.
Hutch straightened in his chair, stretching his back and wincing at the effort. "Who has that kind of connection? Surely Debaran didn’t share his financial information with too many of his people. Unless he became a whole lot friendlier when he moved to New York, I don’t see him actually trusting anyone."
"That was what made him so difficult to get to", Ross agreed. "He was remarkably well-insulated, kept almost entirely to himself. Krueger was closer to him than anyone, but he’s all tucked away in prison awaiting trial."
"Could he be playing king-maker from the inside?" To Starsky, it seemed a plausible enough scenario.
"It’s worth a look", Ross replied with a frown. To Mac she asked, "You still have that friend at Riker’s? It would help to know who he’s been talking to, both inside and out. Can you get us a visitor’s list?"
"Yeah, no problem." He looked at his watch, seemed to try to calculate the time difference between LA and New York. "Guess I’ll have to ring Jerry in the morning, he’ll be off-shift by now. What about the people Mercury mentioned here? Abolese and Banks at least have warrants out. Y’ wanna bring ‘em in or what?" His face took on an embarrassed expression as he quickly added, "Not that we have jurisdiction anyway, I just wondered."
Starsky and Hutch shared a long look before Hutch shrugged, asking simply, "Y’ think?"
"Yeah, better."
"Up to it?"
"Oh come on, I coulda done that right outta the hospital", Starsky replied, sounding offended.
"You two want to share your plans with those of us not equipped with decoder rings?" Ross asked with a smile.
Both men looked at her in surprise, neither immediately understanding the question. It was Hutch who caught on first, and flashed an apologetic smile. "Sorry. We’re thinking that it might be better to try old-fashioned surveillance first and see who all we’re dealing with before tipping our hand and bringing anyone in."
"We could cover the club in shifts for a few evenings, keep track of everyone’s comings and goings", Starsky suggested. "Then we could decide where to go from there."
Ross and McMahon shared a brief glance before McMahon replied, "Works for us. Who wants to go first?"
"Maybe we should switch partners for this." Hutch made the suggestion with little enthusiasm. "Starsky and I could easily recognize people from the LA investigation you’d have had no contact with and vice versa. What do you think?" He looked from person to person, almost as though he wished someone would contradict him. No one did.
"Makes sense", Starsky said, his voice much brighter than his partner’s. As much as he enjoyed Hutch’s company, it had been just the two of them for so long now that the thought of having a conversation with someone else held an undeniable allure. "You don’t have to go back to work until the day after tomorrow", he continued, addressing Hutch. "Why don’t you take tonight and I’ll do tomorrow?"
"How about it? McMahon asked his partner.
"If you’ve no objection, Mac, you do it this evening. I’ve been formulating a list of questions to spring on Mercury and it would give us a chance to go over them."
All in agreement, Ross and McMahon headed back to their hotel to await the evening’s agenda, leaving Starsky and a still-perturbed-looking Hutch in their wake.
"What?" Starsky asked finally, unable to stand it any longer.
"I still don’t see how she caught onto me", Hutch grumbled. "What set me apart from anyone else?"
With great difficulty, Starsky swallowed the smile that was threatening the corners of his mouth. "Will you forget about that? You were brilliant. Don’t know what else to tell ya, it was just one of those things." Hope Mac enjoys post-game analysis, he thought wryly, because I can guess the topic of choice for tonight’s stake-out. Head on hand, he met his partner’s severe glare with one of amused affection.