Deadly Diversion - Part Two
by
Mani
Not long after the hotel operator called the police, the blare of sirens cut into the night. Hutch was ready on the alert, going to the window to see if he could see what was going on. The disturbance was enough for him to want to investigate. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to make out anything much from his vantagepoint.
"Hey, Starsk. Looks like something’s going on at the hotel across the street."
Starsky was sitting on the sofa, reading some kind of sports magazine. "Whaddya see?"
"Couple of black and whites pulling up across the street. Can’t see very much else from here."
Starsky looked over at Bruno who was snoring away on a chair nearby. He could see his partner was restless and was probably up for some action.
"You think it means anything?"
"I dunno, maybe."
Starsky dropped the magazine and stood up. "Well, there’s only one way to find out…let’s go."
Starsky prodded his partner to leave, but Hutch stopped him cold.
"We can’t both go, Starsky," He pulled out a quarter from his pocket. "Tell you what. Heads or tails?"
Starsky’s was used to this. "Tails."
Hutch threw the coin up in the air and palmed it, obscuring his partner’s view. "Sorry, Starsky, it’s heads, I’ll go." He knew full well it had landed tails.
"You know that is really gettin’ old."
"What? It worked, didn’t it?"
Hutch laughed and as he walked by Bruno, patting him on the head briefly as he unlocked and opened the front door.
"Hey, keep an eye on my partner for me, willya?"
The agent woke up with a start. "What? Oh, yeah, sure."
Hutch stepped outside the room and motioned to the agents outside the door. "I’m just going to check out a disturbance at the hotel across the street, I’ll be right back."
The agents gave him the thumbs up as he got in the elevator. He rode it down to the lobby and when he got outside, the police were already taking away some of the drunken men. He walked over to a police unit and sought out one of the arresting officers.
He flashed his badge. "Detective Hutchinson. What’s the problem?"
The officer acknowledged him. "Oh hi, nothing serious detective, just a little party that got outta hand. Buncha guys tried to gang up on the entertainment."
"Where is she?"
The officer pointed to the rear of a black and white unit. "Over there, trying to keep warm."
In Hutch’s line of work, it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter beautiful women on an almost daily basis. Of those he’d come to know intimately, only one or two had actually managed to capture his heart. So when he approached the black and white and leaned over to look inside, he wasn’t expecting much. In fact, he wasn’t expecting anything at all. Least of all encountering one of the most captivatingly gorgeous women he’d ever seen in his life. She was breathtaking, huddled beneath a wool blanket, holding a very hot coffee cup in her hands and shivering.
"Hi there, I’m Detective Hutchinson. You all right in there?"
She turned around in mid-sip and looked at him, somewhat startled.
"Oh, yeah, I’m okay, just cold." She smiled, and the power of it just about melted him.
"You do look awfully cold." He took off his jacket. "Here, maybe this will help." He handed it to her.
"Oh no, I couldn’t."
She saw the disappointment on his face and wondered if it was possible that she might be seeing things. Was he really digging on her? No, he couldn’t be. But she was willing to find out. She had some kind of gut feeling that he just might lead to something more important, so she took him up on his offer.
"Oh, why not?" She said, and then took the jacket from him. She pulled off the blanket and slipped it on. It was a size too big, but warm from his body heat. She draped the blanket over her knees.
"Hey, haven’t we met somewhere before?" he asked.
Cleo lowered her head, finished the last of the coffee. "I…I don’t think so. I think I would’ve remembered you."
Hutch smiled. "You got a way home?"
Normally after making sure the female victims of a crime were safe, Hutch and his partner would let the unit handling the call escort them home or down to the station. But there was something different about this one. It seemed like there was some kind of magnetic force that glued him to the spot he was standing in. Or maybe it was the fact that she looked so damned cold and he was a pushover for a pretty face.
Still shivering, she slid out of the back seat of the squad car and stood beside him, tossing the blanket aside. Hutch mentally noted certain things he already liked about her. In particular the fact that despite a three-inch difference in their heights, she had beautiful, long, lean legs that gave her the appearance of being much taller.
She sighed. "I’m upset. I let my ride leave. I guess I’ll need to call a cab."
"I can…oh, wait a minute, no I can’t, the only car I have belongs to my partner and he’d kill me if I took that."
"It’s okay. I probably live too far away. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to put you to all that trouble. I could use a dime to call a cab though."
Hutch put a protective hand on her shoulder. "I’ve got a better idea. I’m staying in the hotel across the street. Why don’t you use the phone and wait for the cab there? Besides, I can talk to you a little longer that way."
Bingo, I am in. She thought, and courtesy of the foxiest detective she’d seen in a long time. She nodded her head in agreement.
Hutch led her by her arm past the arresting officer he’d spoken to earlier. The officer was now handcuffing the last of the drunken partygoers. He waved to him to get his attention.
"Hey, I’m going to let her use the phone inside. I’ll take responsibility to see she gets home all right, okay?"
"Sure, detective, we got her statement, she’s free to go. Have a good evening." The officer waved, got into his unit and waited for the paddy wagon to pull off before he followed it out.
Hutch and the girl waved goodbye to the officer and he guided her into the warmth of the hotel lobby. They walked to the elevator and with a loud ‘ding’ the car settled to the lobby to let them on.
He leaned against the side of the elevator and watched her. This is really crazy. I must be outta my mind. Starsky’s really going to lay into me on this one. And here I’m the one who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on him. He thought. Then, as if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned around and smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling at him.
"I just realized something. Here you are being so thoughtful, and I haven’t even told you my name." She offered him her hand. "I’m Cleo Garvey."
He took it, holding on a bit too long before letting go. "Ken, Ken Hutchinson."
"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Hutchinson."
"Please, call me Ken."
"All right, Ken. It’s really very kind of you to let me do this. I mean, you don’t even know me."
"Well, my partner’s not going to like it, but it wouldn’t be the first time."
The elevator doors opened at the twenty-second floor, and of course the Federal agents, this time a different pair, one black, and the other white, become extremely alert. Hutch noticed the new faces right away and stood protectively close to Cleo as they approached them.
"What happened to the other two?" he asked them.
The black agent responded. "We’re C shift. Word is you guys are in for the evening, orders are to let no one in or out past eleven o’clock." He flashed his shield. "Who’s the female?"
"She’s a friend. Just needs to use the phone."
The agent looked over her attire and lasciviously smiled. "I should have friends like that..."
"With your personality, friend, I wouldn’t count on it."
The agent smirked and stood inside, elbowing his partner. Hutch knocked at the outer door of the suite, Bruno requested the password, and the blond successfully relayed it to gain them access.
When he and Cleo walked in, they found his partner, Starsky, sitting on the floor eating popcorn and watching a western on TV. He didn’t even look up when he spoke to them.
"What happened down there?"
"They were busting up a loud party at the hotel across the street."
Starsky finally looked up and noticed the girl. "I see you brought back company."
Hutch gulped slightly. "Oh, ah, Starsky, this is Cleo Garvey. Cleo, this is my partner, David Starsky."
Starsky sprung from his seat on the floor and wiped the butter from the popcorn on his hands onto the sides of his jeans. Hutch made a face. The dark haired man’s next observation concerned Cleo’s torn fishnet stockings and the scanty costume she was wearing. As he extended his hand to shake hers, he wondered just where his partner had picked up this lost soul.
"Ah, nice to meet you."
Upon his partner’s look of skepticism, Hutch’s body language changed from open and optimistic to defensive and protective. Starsky noticed the change immediately.
"You two guys know each other?"
Cleo searched Hutch’s face to see if she should reply. He smiled at her and laughed awkwardly. "As a matter of fact no, I sort of rescued her."
Cleo smiled as well, watching Hutch jam his hands into his pants pockets, fidgeting uncomfortably. He could never really lie to Starsky.
"Cleo’s a dancer at the hotel. The guys at the party got a little out of hand. She missed her ride, so I figured she could come up, use the phone and wait for a cab."
Starsky studied the two of them. He saw how his partner’s eyes admired the skin of the copper-hued beauty standing in front of them. Truth be told, Starsky would have no trouble getting lost in those warm hazel eyes of hers himself. She had a beautiful mane of hair, and a great figure any sane man would die for. But she certainly didn’t affect him like she was did his partner. What really struck him as odd was, as far he knew, Hutch had never dated anyone darker than a brunette or the occasional lady cabby. So where’d this Cleo come from? And why did he bring her here, when he knew it was against orders? What if something happened to her or she got in the way? Or worse yet, what if something happened to Carlisle? To him the repercussions were plain, but apparently they weren’t so clear to Hutch. He was going to have to call him on it.
"Hey, buddy, can I talk to you a minute?"
Hutch sighed, he knew what was coming. "Sure, buddy. Sure. He turned to Cleo. "The phone’s over there on the table. The cab number’s taped to the side. I won’t be a minute."
"Okay, Ken." She answered, overemphasizing his name.
Starsky frowned at her and then regarded Hutch. His disappointment was evident. Did she know him well enough to call him by his first name already? Hutch obediently followed his partner into a spare room and Starsky slammed the door behind them.
********
Cleo waited for the two men to disappear behind closed doors before she moved to the telephone. For the benefit of the agent guarding the door, she went to the phone and pressed her fingers down on the switch hook. She gave it a minute and then spoke.
"Hello, this is Cleo Garvey. I need a cab at…um, wait-a-minute..." She turned to the agent. "Say, what’s the address here?"
The agent looked up from his post. "2611 Ocean Bay Avenue." He answered.
"Thanks. Okay, I’m at 2611 Ocean Bay Avenue… I’ll come out when I hear the horn. All right, thank you…g’bye."
Cleo lifted her finger from the receiver and hung up the phone. She walked over to the Bruno, who was more than a little bored and looked like he needed someone to talk to.
********
Once in the privacy of the room, Starsky began to pace back and forth across it like a feral animal, uncharacteristically furious with Hutch.
"I don’t get it! What the hell’s the matter with you, Hutch? Don’t you realize that bringing her up here could jeopardize Carlisle’s safety?"
Hutch was at odds–-torn between being true to his partner and his job and doing what was in his heart. He thought before he spoke and measured his words.
"Starsky…she needed help. I’m helping her, that’s all."
"There’s more to it than that and you know it. I’ve been your partner for seven years; you can’t fool me. I saw the way you were lookin’ at her."
"Sure, I’m attracted to her, Starsk. Call me crazy, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of her waiting outside in the cold…at night…alone."
"Okay, I understand where you’re comin’ from. But this is not the time to play Boy Scout. The cops could’ve escorted her home. After all, it’s not just Carlisle’s neck you’re riskin’, you’re riskin’ our necks too, and that’s serious business!"
Starsky stopped, he wasn’t getting through to him this way. He took a deep breath, composed himself. He looked his partner in his face. By virtue of their proximity to one another, Hutch could look straight into his partner’s eyes, those windows into the soul, and he knew his friend was only trying to help. Starsky put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
"All I can say is, buddy, she’d better be worth it."
"I’ll handle it, okay, Starsk?"
Starsky nodded his head. "Sure, okay."
********
Cleo sidled up to the agent. "So, big guy, who are we guarding?"
Now a lot of things could be said about Agent Bruno Costagravas, but a mental or social giant he wasn’t. Consequently, he made up for in brawn what he lacked in brains. It was probably a plus in his line of work. That’s how it was he picked this moment to open up and start volunteering what he knew to a perfect stranger.
"We’re protecting an informant turning states’ evidence. Those two guys in there are supposed to make sure he gets to court."
"Really? Would I know this guy’s name if you were to mention it?"
"I don’t…" He was caught in mid sentence as the door to the spare room opened and both detectives came out. Cleo quickly shut off the tiny compact/tape recorder in her pocket.
Starsky’s eyes darted straight to Bruno and the girl. He walked over to them, while Hutch went back to retrieve their very quiet ward. Starsky took it upon himself to reprimand the addle-brained guard.
"Bruno, you know you’re not supposed to say anything…you didn’t tell her anything, didja?"
The ‘hands caught in the cookie jar’ look on Bruno’s face spoke volumes to the dark-haired detective.
"Haven’t you ever heard of the sayin ‘loose lips sink ships’, man? Get outta here, go watch TV or somethin’."
The big guy loped off towards the balcony, leaving Starsky and the girl alone. Cleo sidled up to him, hoping to possibly get on his good side. "It’s all right, Mr. Starsky, I was only trying to be friendly with the guy. He was just telling me about his job, that’s all."
Hutch then came back into the room with Carlisle beside him. "Would you believe he’s been in there meditating all this time?"
Carlisle caught sight of Cleo and he smiled at her. "I see we have an visitor. A policewoman perhaps?"
Starsky smirked. ‘Not likely.’
Hutch introduced her. "Mr. Carlisle, this is Cleo Garvey, she’s a dancer at the Miyako club across the street."
"Oh, really. Are you going to entertain us?" He moved to shake her hand. "How do you do? I’m John Carlisle."
As she stood there shaking his hand, an effortless smile grew upon her face. John Carlisle, wow! Here she was standing face to face with a man whom only few had seen, much less get to shake his hand and live to tell about it.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir."
"Same here. Would you like a drink?"
"Sure."
"I hope you don’t mind if I usurp your companion." He said to Hutch.
"Not at all."
Carlisle released her hand and she followed him over to the bar and he poured them both a drink.
Hutch sensed his partner’s unease and tried to diffuse it. He led him by his arm over to the balcony. Starsky face was set in a permanent scowl.
"I don’t like it, Hutch."
"C’mon, Starsk, would you lighten up? She’s harmless."
"You know that for a fact, huh?"
Hutch’s mouth hung open a second. "No, I don’t. But will you do me a favor?"
"What’s that?"
"Look over there." He pointed to Carlisle and the girl. "Does she look threatening to you?"
Starsky looked at the two of them standing over there laughing and enjoying their drinks. Yeah, she looked harmless enough, but where he was from, looks could be deceiving, and often were. Despite Hutch’s assurances to the contrary, he couldn’t quell the unease he felt. There was something about Cleo that wasn’t right, and since it was something he couldn’t put his finger on right now, he just as soon let it pass.
Bruno interrupted their discussion. "C’mon you guys, how ‘bout a game of cards or something?"
"Sure, why not? I’m battin’ a thousand tonight. What else could go wrong?" Starsky answered.
Cleo’s face brightened from across the room, she welcomed anything that might take Hutch’s partner’s mind off of her. Bruno brought over a deck of cards and they gathered at the dining room table to play.
********
While the others continued their card game in the dining room, Carlisle decided to retire early. After having his usual nightcap he said his goodnights and went to bed. Still ill at ease, Starsky kept looking at his watch during the whole game. Cleo wasn’t sure, but she suspected he was wondering where her cab might be. Finally, her suspicions were confirmed.
"That cab should’ve been here by now. Didja give him the right address?." he asked her.
Cleo cocked an eye at him. "How many times are you going to ask me that question, detective?"
"Until I get the right answer, sista."
Hutch replied in her defense. "Cut her some slack, Starsk, it’s not like it’s her fault. Maybe he got lost."
Indignant, Cleo jumped up. "Do you want me to call again? I can, you know! Look, I didn’t ask to be invited up here, Ken asked me if I needed to…." She stopped ranting in midstream and ran to the front door, but Bruno blocked her way.
"Sorry, I can’t let you out there, Miss."
She did her best to get past him, but it was like getting past a Mack truck. "Just let me wait outside for the cab, stupid!" She was on the verge of tears.
Hutch got up and shot Starsky the most contemptuous look he could muster, slapping the playing cards down on the table and joining Cleo at the front door. He took her hand and pulled her aside for a private talk.
"Look, you’re not going anywhere. I don’t care what my partner says. I’m not going to be responsible for you catching pneumonia or something happening to you out there. You’re staying here until morning, you got that?" He smiled at her. "What do you say?"
She wiped her face and nodded her approval. No matter how much she tried not to, she couldn’t help but feel guilty. Why does he have to be so goddamned decent and sincere?
Starsky got up from the table, the disgusted look still on his face. "I’m gonna go check on Carlisle, you remember him? He’s the body you’re supposed ta be guarding."
Hutch knew deep down that Starsky had a valid point, but right now his feelings for this woman were stronger than his need to follow protocol or conform to his partners’ wishes. She smiled at him sweetly and he put his arm around her.
"Care to take a stroll?" he asked.
"Stroll where? I thought we couldn’t leave?"
"We could go out on the balcony. I think there’s a full moon tonight."
"All right." she answered.
Hutch took her hand and led her through the glass doors and out to the balcony. Under the clear moonlit night, he pulled her close to him and held her. He gazed into her eyes so long he thought he might drown in them, and if that happened, no one, not even his best friend, would be able to save him. He directed her backwards against the cold concrete, until it pressed against her flesh. Then he braced his hands against the wall on either side of her and drew himself forward to kiss her. Afterwards, he drew back and waited for her response. Then she, tantalized by the brief sensation of his lips on hers, took his arms from their positions on the wall and seductively guided them down to her waist.
"Isn’t that better?" she asked.
He smiled to himself. The Hutchinson Charm at work. Once he felt confident they were on the same wavelength, he kissed her twice more, at first gently, and then when she didn’t protest, more firmly with the second. He drew back, almost as if he were waiting for a slap for his insolence. But instead of slapping him, she took him by his hand and led him out of the darkness of the balcony and into the brightness of the suite. Her boldness in leading him and his awkwardness at being led were obvious. They were headed for the same bedroom where he and Starsky had had their discussion earlier.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere more private."
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
She placed a finger to her lips. "Shhh. We’re just going to talk, get to know each other, that’s all." A mischievous smile crossed her lips.
Hutch helped her close the door behind them.
By the time Starsky came back from checking on Carlisle, Hutch and girl were gone. However, the room wasn’t completely empty, there was no way he could miss the huge mountain of man nodding off in the corner. His mass barely fit on the chair he was sitting in. His weapon hung loosely at his side. Starsky went over and removed the gun from his hand; he checked the safety and carefully put it back into the man’s shoulder holster. As he turned to go look for his partner, he heard it, the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter. It was coming from the direction of the spare bedroom. Starsky now knew the location of his partner and his lovely guest.
Starsky’s face registered resignation as he went around and turned out all but one of the lights in the room, then dropped onto the sofa. He picked up and tried to read the sports page of the evening newspaper, but fell asleep almost immediately.
********
When Friday morning arrived, Hutch woke up and found himself fully clothed and spooned next to Cleo in bed. They hadn’t done "it", but with all the hot and heavy kissing they were doing that night, it was hard to believe they hadn’t. He tried not to wake her as he rose up on one arm and watched her sleep. Then, as if she could feel him studying her, she woke up.
"Hmmm. Hello you." she whispered.
"Hello. Sleep well?"
"Hmm. Wonderfully." She sat up and stretched herself like a Persian cat.
Hutch leaned on one arm and touched her cheek. "Thought you and I could go down and get some breakfast."
"Sounds good. Hey, what time is it?"
Hutch looked at his watch. "Seven-thirty." He rolled off the bed. "You coming?’
"Sure." She got out of bed and noticed what she was wearing. "Whoops, I can’t go out like this. Mind if we go back to the club first? I can pick a change of clothes there."
"No problem. I’ll wash up."
"Okay."
While she lounged in bed a while longer, Hutch went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He dabbed on some deodorant and a little aftershave for good measure. He stepped out and offered up the facilities for her use.
"All yours."
Cleo stood and walked over to kiss him on his cheek as she went past, then closed the bathroom door.
"Don’t be too long!" he called.
"I won’t."
True to her word, she was out of the bathroom in less than five minutes. When she walked out, she saw Hutch sitting at a desk, writing something on a slip of paper. She walked over to him and hugged him.
"See, I told you I wouldn’t be long!"
He finished the note to Starsky. "So you did. I thought I’d leave my partner a note, just in case he misses us."
"That’s a good idea."
Hutch took the piece of paper with him and went to the door. He quietly turned the doorknob. With Cleo standing behind him, he peeked out. Great, Bruno was still sleeping, and Starsky was snoring on the couch with a newspaper over his face.
"The coast is clear. Let’s go." he whispered.
They tiptoed past the couch, and just as they got to the door, Starsky lifted the newspaper from his face.
"Hey, you two!"
His voice stopped them in dead in their tracks; they looked like two deer caught in highlights. The dark-haired man looked like he was taking great pleasure in watching the expressions on their faces.
"You two look like the cat that ate the canary."
"Hey, Starsk, morning. How’d you sleep?"
His partner sat up on the couch. "Fair to middlin’, but I’ll bet you two slept a whole lot better." he answered, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Where’re you off to?"
"I was just going to leave you a note. We have to pick up her stuff from the club, and then we’re going to get some breakfast. You want anything?"
"Nah, you two go ahead."
Hutch and Cleo turned to leave.
"Oh, Hutch..."
"Yeah, Starsk?"
"Don’t get lost, huh, buddy?"
"Not a chance."
Cleo stood behind the blond man; she liked watching the two of them converse. She could tell they really cared about each other a lot. When Hutch was ready, she followed him out the door. They weren’t able to go far before the two agents outside the door stopped them.
"Where you two off to now?" The short agent inquired.
"Breakfast. Oh, and guys…don’t wait up."
"Yeah, just make sure you’re back in time for the final briefing today."
"Count on it."
********
Vincent Bartok had invested a lot of time and money into creating this dynasty of his and he wasn’t about to let one man destroy it all. Though it had been slow and painstaking, his men had been gradually infiltrating the staff of the Imperial, even before they’d arrived in town. Grimes’s men now were in control of the hotel kitchen as well as the lobby and loading areas. They could hold off their advance that way, and then when the order to strike was given, the operation would proceed like a well-oiled machine. The element of surprise, as opposed to waging a full-scale attack, had always worked for them in the past. But no plan was foolproof.
Grimes leaned against a back wall of the kitchen, smoking and rehearsing the next move in his mind. As near as he could figure it, his men far outnumbered the Federal agents and getting rid of them was a matter of time and a little effort. Until then they could be content to wait, at least until the day before the noon trial.
********
Hutch and Cleo sat in the diner laughing and talking over a healthy breakfast of blueberry muffins, fruit and orange juice. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about a woman. So far she was the perfect companion, smart, funny and devastatingly gorgeous. He was in heaven, but somewhere in the back of his mind he kept thinking that something bad had to happen soon. Gillian Ingraham was still a strong memory for him. She’d been killed. Why? Because he was a cop. It seemed anytime he got close to finding a lasting relationship with a woman, she either ended up a casualty of his line of work, or she left him, so he’d pretty much settled in for a future of short-term romances. Maybe this time it would be different.
"So do you dance for a living?" he asked her.
"No. Just for kicks. It’s easy bread. Nothing serious."
"Why nothing serious? If you don’t mind me saying so, you’ve definitely got the legs for it."
"Thanks. I used to dream about becoming a professional dancer, way back when. But nothing ever came of it."
What she was telling him wasn’t entirely untrue, she had considered ballet or acting when she was in college, but somehow her physical attractiveness always seemed to get in the way of the folks in charge acknowledging her true talent. At auditions, if the producer or the director of the show didn’t try to hit on her, she was left with the understudy role, or told thanks, but no thanks. She knew she was better than that.
After a while, weary of fighting off the wolves, she was drawn to her second calling: writing. She fell into it easily enough. Going from being the college newspaper editor to writing the Op Ed pieces. It wasn’t long before her connections and contacts led her to the job at "Inside" magazine; from there that she began her career as a reporter. And that path had her sitting here with a rather handsome cop, having breakfast and contemplating romance. She was afraid of leading him on at first, but now that she was into it, she figured she might as well enjoy it. It was too late to turn chicken now.
"So you’re a cop?"
"A detective."
"How long have you been ‘a detective’?"
"A cop for two years, a detective, about six or seven."
"Sounds kind of dangerous to me."
"It is, but my partner looks out for me and I look out for him. We do okay."
"He seems to care about you a lot."
"Yeah, sometimes a little too much."
He finished the last piece of muffin from his plate and noticed that she’d finished, too.
"We should get back."
"Sure."
The blond got up and let her slide out. He stuck his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a couple of bills and set them on the table. She took his arm and they went up to the cashier to pay the bill. Both of them practically floated on air on their way back to the elevator.
Hutch’s usually keen eye, now preoccupied by the charms of his companion, failed to detect the new faces manning the hotel lobby desk. The outfit she was wearing didn’t help matters either. It seemed a halter-top with hip hugger bellbottom jeans and hoop earrings did everything to emphasize her shapely hips and nothing to keep his attention on the job. As they exited the elevator, Hutch stopped, grabbed her around her waist and held her.
"Tell me something. Am I dreaming you?" he asked.
She laughed. "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, am I going to wake up? Are you going on some trip you haven’t told me about yet? Or do you have to leave town to visit a sick relative? There’s got to be…"
Her exacting look stopped him. "Oh, baby, chill. I don’t go around planning my life. You shouldn’t either. I don’t know what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, or the next day. None of us does. I go with the flow."
Hutch dropped his head a little, as though he’d been looking for some reassurance from her that she’d stick around for a while. She lifted his chin with her hand.
"Look, I think it’s better if we just take things slow for now, you dig?"
"Sure, why not?"
They kissed once more and walked over to the "A" shift agents guarding the penthouse door. Since Hutch recognized these two men from before, he didn’t bother pulling his badge.
"Glad to see you guys are back on duty. Um, this is Cleo…"
"C shift told us she was a guest of yours. Just remember if anything happens to Carlisle or her while she’s here, it’s your ass on the line, not ours."
"I’ll remember that." Hutch followed proper procedure to get he and Cleo back into the penthouse.
********
Starsky was out on the balcony popping peanuts into his mouth, and Bruno was standing beside him watching the skyline through a pair of Carlisle’s high-powered binoculars when they came in. Carlisle was at the dining room table, reading the morning paper and drinking coffee.
Starsky turned around and looked through the pane of glass as they came in. "You guys have a nice breakfast?"
Bruno looked at them and he could see they were both practically glowing.
"Look at them, can’t you tell? It’s sickening, that’s what it is.
Cleo sat down at the dining room table with Carlisle and offered him a friendly smile when he looked up. Hutch joined Starsky out on the balcony.
"Hey buddy, I need to ask a favor."
Starsky was still popping peanuts into his mouth one after another.
"What?"
"I want to take her out to dinner."
"So?"
"So I don’t want to leave you here guarding Carlisle while I play Romeo. Unless you think you can handle this by yourself."
"I can handle it."
"Are you still ticked off at me because of Cleo?"
Starsky smiled and threw the empty peanut shells at him. "Who me?"
"Yes-s-s, you, you dummy." Hutch answered, dusting them off. "Whaddya say?"
"Like I said, buddy, I can handle it. If I need help, I can have the nearest Junior G man come up and take your place."
"Thanks, Starsk. You’re a pal."
"Don’t mention it. Just do me a favor."
"What’s that buddy?"
"Don’t get your heart broken into a jillion pieces this time."
"It’s nice to know you care."
"It ain’t that. I just don’t want to have to go to all the trouble of puttin’ Humpty Dumpty back together again when she’s done with ya."
"It’ll never happen."
The two men walked inside the room, patting each other on the back. Hutch separated from Starsky and went over to join Cleo. He looked a little perturbed as he walked over. Cleo again had to surreptitiously switched off her tape recorder as he walked up.
She looked up at him. "Oh, Ken, Mr. Carlisle was just telling me about when he lived in Japan for ten years. Isn’t that exciting?"
"Well, there’s something to be said for being well-traveled. Ah, could I see you a minute?" He motioned to Carlisle. "Excuse us."
Carlisle nodded absently.
"What’s wrong?" she asked him innocently.
Cleo got up and followed him out onto the balcony. The look on his face was clearly not a happy one.
"Cleo, I have to ask you not to get too friendly with Mr. Carlisle. Especially not about his time in Japan."
He watched her full mouth form an o-shape and her head drop down slightly. She seemed so genuinely and innocently taken aback that he felt kind of foolish for having made a big deal of it. What he’d seen was obviously a harmless conversation between the two of them. He was letting his partner’s suspicions of her become his own.
"I’m sorry Ken. I didn’t mean to pry." Her lower lip quivered just slightly.
He couldn’t help it, seeing her unhappy made him useless. He put his arms around her.
"No, I’m sorry. How ‘bout we have dinner tonight, to make up for it?"
She looked up into his eyes. "How could I say no with those pretty blue eyes staring back at me?"
He bent his forehead down to hers and they held each other, swaying in slow motion to music only they could seem to hear. Starsky watched the two of them through the glass doors from his seat on the couch. He smiled to himself. His look said, ‘Here we go again’. Starsky knew that as tough as Hutch was in the trenches, he was putty in the hands of a great looking lady. It usually fell to him to rescue his buddy from outside dangers when his insides had been turned to mush by love.
"Hey, you two, knock it off out there!" he yelled.
Hutch and Cleo, oblivious as whether they had an audience, turned toward him and started to laugh.
"Come on, buddy." Starsky got up. "We got a meeting with the Feds in a few minutes. Even if you’re not gonna be here, you at least oughta know what’s happening. Ya ready?"
"Be right there." Hutch turned to her. "I should be back in a couple of hours."
He took her by the hand and let it go slowly as he departed.
"I’ll be waiting for you," she answered.
Hutch, shored up by good feelings, joined his partner as they got ready to leave. Starsky left Bruno explicit instructions not to let their inquisitive guest get too friendly with Carlisle, then he and Hutch left.
********
It was mid-morning and several of the government agents were gathered in a small but well secured conference room on the tenth floor of the hotel. The agent in charge, Pete Drummond, stood up as Starsky and his partner entered.
"There they are. Gentlemen, finally. I’m Agent Drummond. Please have a seat."
The two men quietly found seats at the huge conference desk.
"I’m going to go over this Wednesday’s transport schedule with you, for the day Carlisle’s moved." He laid out a large blueprint onto the tabletop and with a long stick pointed out the entry and exit doors. "We’ve marked all the exits and entrances and have men posted at all of them. We’ve even got a few men posing as waiters and bellmen. We want to try and keep one step ahead of Bartok’s men if we can."
He pointed to the penthouse floor on the map. "This area is still secured as far as entry by elevator and we’ve had no breaches of security as far as my operatives on that floor have reported."
Starsky snuck a look at Hutch to see if his face betrayed the knowledge that the floor had already been breached, twice. It didn’t.
"The next step is for us to devise a method to use you two." He pointed to them. "As you know already, one of you will be used as a decoy, you’ll be riding in one of the two cars we’re using to transport Carlisle to the courthouse. The other man will be with Carlisle and my men in the real transport car."
The other agents seemed to be taking careful mental notes as agent Drummond spoke. Starsky raised his finger and Drummond acknowledged it.
"Have you decided which one of us that’s going to be?" Starsky asked.
"Well, Carlisle’s about your height and weight, dark haired, we figured you’d be the best one to pass for him."
"Terrific."
Hutch looked worried and raised his hand. "I have a question."
"Yes, Detective Hutchinson?"
"Why are Starsky and I the decoys? Why can’t one of your men take that position?"
The other agents regarded him with rather reserved shock. Hutch was just full of surprises on this assignment. A superior’s plans were rarely questioned in their organization, and when they were, the doubter had better have a damn good reason to do so.
"I went over all this with your Captain, Detective Hutchinson, but if you must know, I’ll tell you. Our organization has been after Bartok and his people for years now. His men and my men have crossed paths more times than I care to remember. I don’t want the reason for Carlisle’s death, or our missing a chance to bring him to trial to be that his men got a make on any of my men. So your captain and I came upon the bright idea of assigning you two fellows. We needed some bright shiny new faces and you two boys are it."
"I think we’ve just been complimented, Starsky." Hutch said.
"Hum. No kiddin."
********
Bartok was lying comfortably in a leather recliner, dozing off with a lit cigar clutched in his stubby fingers. The only thing that managed to disturb him was the offending sound of the telephone ring. He picked it up quickly.
"Hello. Bartok."
"It’s me, Grimes."
"Yes, Grimes, what is it that you had to wake me from a perfectly good dream?"
Grimes shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"I’m sorry sir, just wanted to know what our next move would be and when."
"It’s heartwarming to know how enthusiastic you can when you are trying to get into my good graces, Grimes. Where are your men now?"
"The lobby, kitchen and the loading dock so far."
"Just stay there for now. I’ll notify you when the time is right. Until then, you and your men behave yourselves…and sit tight."
"But sir…"
"Grimes, that is an order."
Grimes sighed and hung up the phone.
********
On noon of the same day, Bruno, Cleo and Carlisle were having lunch on the balcony of the suite when the phone rang. Bruno got up to answer it.
"Hello?" He paused a minute and then looked over at Cleo. "Hey, Ms. Garvey, it’s for you."
She looked at him, surprised. "For me?" She got up and put the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"
She was immediately serious when she recognized who it was.
She recognized Allan Piper’s voice. "How’d you get this number?"
"Oh, I have my ways. How’s the story going?"
She turned and whispered into the phone, watching to make sure Bruno returned to Carlisle’s side.
"I have notes and some little recorded bits. I’ll have time to flesh them out sometime today I think."
"Sounds like things are going well."
"Things are going fine. But look, this phone call is dangerous. I’ll be in touch with you later, all right?"
"No problem."
Cleo hung up the phone and walked over the glass doors. "Hey, Bruno?"
Bruno stopped what he was doing and walked back inside. "Yes, ma’am?"
She picked up her bag from the couch and slipped it onto her shoulder. "Bruno, that was my girlfriend Renee, I have to go back to my place and pick up some things from her. Can you tell Detective Hutchinson that I’ll be back in about an hour or so?
"Sure thing."
Cleo knocked on the front door as a signal that she was coming out. When she stepped out and the two agents smiled at her.
"Good morning, gentlemen."
"Morning, ma’am."
"I have to leave, I’ll be back later on. Can I count on you two to be here when I get back?" She asked them in a voice that was as sweet as it was enticing.
The shorter agent’s pasty face tinged a shade of red. "You know it!"
"We’ll be here." The black agent assured her.
"Good." Cleo turned on her comely heels and smiled on her way into the elevator. She knew their eyes would follow her up until the very minute she disappeared into the elevator.
Once in the lobby she thought she recognized the two men at the lobby desk as being from the group of men she’d seen sometime earlier. She briskly walked past them as she hurried out of the building. She walked the short distance to her apartment with determination and anticipation in her step. When she got inside she removed the tapes and notes from her bag and sat down at a desk to begin the work of transcribing them.
She looked at her watch. It was one fifty-five. almost finished; Ken should be getting back around now. She thought. I’d better get back before he misses me. She took the tapes and her written notes and tucked them inside the desk drawer, locking it with a key that she dropped into her bag. She checked herself in the mirror before she left.
It was two o’clock by the time she got back to the hotel. She got on the elevator and pressed the button for the twenty-second floor. She kept her eyes on the display as the floor numbers went past, and then bit her lip when it stopped at the tenth floor. The doors opened and it was Ken and Dave. Hutch looked up at her, both surprised and pleased, but Starsky just looked startled.
"Hey. Where’ve you been?" Hutch asked as he stepped inside.
"Oh, my girlfriend, Renee, called. I had to go take care of some things for her." Lies, building a bed of lies.
"How’d she know where to find you?" Starsky inquired suspiciously, following his partner in.
"I gave her the number," she answered hotly.
"Hey, don’t mind him. I’m glad to see you, even if he isn’t." Hutch said, trying to calm her down.
Hutch put his arms around her and noticed her shoulders were stiff with anger. He gave them a squeeze and she relaxed.
Starsky felt like a third wheel and was acting it. He turned away from them with his arms folded, and stayed that way until the elevator reached their floor.
When the three of them got off the elevator, the taller agent straightened up visibly.
"How was the briefing?" he asked Starsky.
"Informative, even entertainin’ ya might say."
"Don’t worry, they’ll be calling you two down for the p.m. session." Hutch advised them.
Starsky gave the password and Bruno let them in, this time immediately.
"Hey guys, you’re back. We missed ya."
"We missed you too, Bruno." Hutch said.
"How’s Carlisle doin?"
"Aw, he’s okay. Kinda bored though. I think he’ll be glad when the trial is over with."
"Him and me both." Starsky concurred.
"Admit it, Starsk, you’re just jealous cause I’m taking out a beautiful woman tonight and you’re not." Hutch said.
Starsky knotted his brow. "Look, it’s just your timin’ that’s an issue here. I don’t have a problem with it."
"Sometimes you just gotta do, Starsk, isn’t that what you’re always fond of saying?"
"This ain’t what I meant, Hutch, and you know it."
"Look, Starsk…"
Cleo sat and listened to this war of words with interest. She thought that Ken had a point, but so did David. This Carlisle was an important link to the Bartok case. His allowing her to stick around really might threaten Carlisle’s safety. But for her the outcome of the trial didn’t matter, because she was there to do one thing, to do her job as a reporter. She couldn’t tell Ken who she was, or why she was working the party that night. She was torn between lying to a man she was getting to know and enjoyed being with, in order to do a once in a lifetime story.
"Hey, sweetheart," Hutch called to her, managing to cut short her thoughts. "What’re you thinking about?"
She shook her head clear. "Oh, nothing, just curious about where we’re going for dinner tonight." Lie.
"Well, I was thinking about this nice little place in Venice, best Italian food this side of Italy."
"And a really nice greenhouse too I hear." Starsky chimed in.
The three of them laughed.
********
That Friday evening, Hutch opened the door to his apartment and swung it wide open and he put the door key back in its spot above the door frame. He carried a grocery bag in one arm and he put his car keys in his teeth as he let Cleo in.
"Here we are, the best Italian restaurant this side of Italy, Café Hutch."
Cleo smiled when she realized what he was going to do. Wow, she thought. This man is going to cook for me. I don’t believe it.
Hutch set the grocery bag down on the table and quietly pulled out three tomatoes, a clove of garlic, oregano, spaghetti, French bread and a bottle of wine from the bag. He saw her standing in the middle of the room watching him.
"Don’t just stand there. Make yourself comfortable."
"Okay."
Cleo eagerly took off her coat and draped it on the couch. As she sat down, she crossed her lithe, graceful legs in front of her. Hutch took down two glasses and carefully uncorked the bottle of wine and then poured them both a glass. He walked around to the couch and gave her one of them.
He toasted. "To good food, good wine and good relationships."
Cleo smiled up at him, clinking her glass with his. "To you and me."
They sipped the wine slowly with their eyes on each other and Hutch bent down to kiss her, and when their lips met, he didn’t know whether it was the alcohol that had him so intoxicated or the smell of her perfume. But he did know that if he didn’t get to the kitchen, neither of them would be eating. He pulled away from her.
"I’ll be back." He promised.
"Promises, promises."
Hutch willed himself into the kitchen and pulled down a pot, filled it with water and put it on the stove to boil. He then set about chopping vegetables and throwing them into another pot for the sauce. Hutch was definitely at home in the kitchen. Cleo occupied herself with a nearby magazine from his coffee table.
"So do you cook?" he asked.
She laughed. "I try not to, the last time I did I nearly killed somebody."
"Don’t tell me you don’t know how to cook." He asked incredulously, at last, a flaw.
"Why, do you want to teach me?" She turned around to see his response.
"Come on in here and get your first lesson."
Cleo dropped the magazine on the tabletop and got up. She walked over to him, hugging him from behind.
"So what’s my first lesson?"
"Let’s see, how about something easy. How about bread slicing?"
She moved around to the side of him. "Okay, sounds easy enough. Where do you keep your knives?"
He pointed south. "Right over there."
She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a serrated knife. "This okay?"
He looked at what she had in her hand. "That’ll do fine. Now cut the slices about two inches thick, pull out the butter and the garlic press and we’ll make some garlic bread."
"Cool."
Cleo took the baguette out of the clear wrapper and put the bread on cutting board and started to slice it. Hutch opened the tomato sauce and poured it into the vegetable pot. He stepped out of the kitchen and went over to his stereo.
"How about some music? You like jazz?
"Love it."
Hutch wiped his hands on his apron and turned on the record player. Soon there was soft, romantic music filling the air, creating just the proper ambience. He smiled to himself and thought, Starsky, you old worrywart, how could anything possibly go wrong?
********
Friday evening had come and gone, and now, dressed in a three-piece Armani, Starsky’s compact, muscular body nervously paced back and forth across the room, waiting for his partner to return. This was the last briefing before John Carlisle’s trial date and they both needed to be there ‘on time’.
John Carlisle slowly walked into the room dressed in an identical suit. He looked very much the part of a well to do criminal turned legit.
"Good morning, Detective Starsky."
Starsky looked up, his thoughts disrupted and temporarily removed from worry mode for the moment. "Oh, yeah. Good mornin’, Mr. Carlisle."
"You look preoccupied, Detective. Trouble?"
"Just running late for this morning’s briefing. No big deal. No sense sweatin’ it, I guess."
"Quite right, Detective Starsky. What’s on the agenda for today?"
They both took a seat at the kitchen table while Bruno looked on.
"This is supposed to be a dress rehearsal. Anybody who’s going to be a part of this thing is going to be meeting with Drummond today. Hutch and I were late for the first meeting. Looks like we’re gonna be late for the second. I’m a wreck."
That said, Hutch and Cleo chose that particular time to walk in the door. Hutch was dressed in a sweat suit, looking rushed and sweaty, Cleo just looked glowing and happy.
The look on Hutch’s face was hangdog. "Sorry, Starsk. Mr. Carlisle, good morning."
Starsky grunted something unintelligible under his breath.
"Hey, Bruno." A nervous smile broke over Hutch’s face as Bruno acknowledged his hello with a wave of his hand.
"Hey, Hutch, what time is it?" Starsky asked, ignoring the perfectly good watch on his own arm.
Knowing his partner was angry, he tried to deflect the situation with some humor. "I dunno, Starsk, daytime?"
"Funny. We’re late for the briefing. Are you gonna change clothes or what?"
"Sorry, Starsk, we went jogging this morning and I forgot the time. Let’s just go."
Starsky, Bruno and Carlisle got up and headed for the door. Starsky and Bruno checked their guns and adjusted their bulletproof vests. Hutch stopped and turned to Cleo. The other three men impatiently waited for him at the door.
"We’ll be at this most of the day today. What’re you gonna do?" He asked her.
"I dunno, go shopping maybe. Wash my hair. Don’t worry about me, do what you have to."
Hutch kissed her on the cheek. "You’re a doll, you know that?"
"No, I don’t. Keep telling me." She kissed him back. "I’ll meet you at your place tonight, okay?"
"It’s a date."
"Come on, Hutch, we don’t have all day." Starsky chided him.
They all headed out the door and took the elevator down to the conference room floor. Cleo waved to Hutch as the four men exited and she continued on her way out of the hotel. Several heavily armed Federal agents escorted the group to the conference room. Things were getting close to the wire.
********
Agent Drummond drummed his fingers on the desk as he and several other agents waited impatiently for BCPD’s finest to show up. ‘Late again, as usual. It’s a wonder they made it through police academy training at all’, he thought to himself.
A loud knock at the door signaled their arrival and one of the agents inside the room opened the door to let them in. Agent Drummond stood up and directed them to come in.
"Timeliness is a virtue, men. In this situation it could mean the difference between life and death. I ask that you try to be on time from now on. The next twenty-four hours are crucial."
"Sorry, my fault." Hutch said.
Drummond stepped forward and shook Carlisle’s offered hand.
"Mr. Carlisle, so nice to finally meet you."
"Likewise. I’d like to thank you for this opportunity."
"Nonsense. It’s just the government’s way of thanking you for assisting us in putting a stop to Bartok’s operation. Please have a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to go over."
********
On her way back to her apartment, Cleo had to walk past the Imperial hotel’s loading dock area. It was then that she saw some of Grimes’ men standing vigil on the platform. She stood there in the shadows wringing her hands and debating whether to go back up and tell the two detectives what she’d seen. After a minute she decided, with some misgivings, to return to her apartment to begin writing the article.
She pulled off the outfit she was wearing and took a shower; a shower always seemed to get the creative juices flowing for her. She toweled off and put on a robe. She unlocked the desk drawer and took out the tape she’d made of her short conversations with Carlisle. She slipped the cassette into a tape recorder on the counter and pressed play. She listened intently to the sound of Carlisle’s voice while she braided her curly hair into two braids.
He talked about his life as a young man living on the Upper East Side of Chicago and how he fell into the criminal lifestyle after his parents died and he passed in and out of juvenile homes. She fast-forwarded the tape to him talking about why he decided to reform and deciding to testify against Bartok and going to the trial.
"You’re a very interesting man, Mr. Carlisle. I just hope your story’s worth screwing up my love life for." She said aloud to herself.
She slipped on a pair of jeans and a top and then grabbed the two rolls of film from the drawer. With a journalist’s skill she took the rolls into a closet that had been transformed into a makeshift darkroom. Bathed in the warmth of the red light, ‘Cleo’ set about developing the film.
As she hung each wet photo from the tiny line strung across the room, she studied the images; the first ones were of Grime’s men. One as they entered the hotel, another shot of them getting into the elevator. Then there the more tricky shots of Carlisle, of him standing out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette, reading. She heaved a sigh as she put up the last two. They were both of a smiling Ken Hutchinson. What’s the matter with me? This is a job like everything else I’ve done. I can’t let what I feel for this guy stop me from doing this story. I’ve got to fight it. She blew out air from her cheeks and forced herself to get on with it. Locking the darkroom door, she went over to her typewriter, stuck a few sheets of paper into it and sat down. She hesitated a moment before beginning, but once she started, she didn’t stop until the first draft was finished.