Minnie K

   It had been a very hot summer and an equally warm fall, and people had not yet thought of the cold that had yet to arrive. Many in the path of the breeze shivered and shrugged it off. Unfortunately, not all those it touched could afford to ignore that chilling reminder of what was to come.

   Hidden from casual view, an elderly, filthy man lounged against an equally dirty dumpster. He shivered as a breeze found him. Curling upon himself, he mentally cataloged the current, having countless years of exposure to use as a measure. He decided it was time to start the layering on of discards that would insulate him for the winter. He would have to forage farther now, go to the areas where scraps of clothing and odd shoes could be found. He wouldn't roam too far, though. This was his area.

   It had been many years since Lijah had cared about the physical side of himself, and the filthy clothing he wore no longer bothered him. The lack of such care served him in its own way. People left him alone, although in his own reality Lijah hadn't really been a solitary figure for countless years now. He was not a lonely man.

   Bringing a dirty wine bottle to his lips, he sipped at the bitter dregs left inside. He really didn't care for the stuff, and it sometimes made his stomach ache, but it was an old habit, one too ancient to break.

   Lijah wiped at his stubble and mustache while keeping his eyes on the busy street. The view was limited from his current post, but he felt he wasn't missing much. Paying close attention, cataloging the passage of those he knew and those he didn't, he was actually waiting for a glimpse of the car. It wouldn't be too far away now and he didn't want to miss its arrival. The sight of that bold stripe always made him smile.

   At the corner of his eye, across the dim and garbage-filled alley, a form shifted and moved within the shadows. It quavered like vapor, a form with no substance. Lijah paid it no special mind, long used to its presence.

   "Any minute now," Lijah mumbled. "Just a second or two..."

   As if on cue, a flash of bright red and white filled the street. Lijah couldn't see the whole car through the sidewalk traffic, but he could never mistake that car even if he had not been expecting it. He smiled to himself and chuckled.

   "Now you can't tell me that that car doesn't represent fearlessness," he said out loud. "They're not afraid to be seen and counted." He smiled, knowing the coming response by heart. They had talked about the detectives many times now, couldn't help but speculate about their future even though it wasn't actually part of the job.

   {{Vanity, Lijah. It's all vanity.}}

   The form wavered and flowed, looking to Lijah as amused as it sounded.

   {{That red just screams for attention. And that white stripe...!}}

   "Bravery, Charles. The courage to stand up on the side of everything good and right. No hiding in the crowds for them," Lijah replied happily. He glanced at the dark and shimmering mass.

   {{Bravery? Courage? Confidence and self-assurance? Too much of any of those can get them killed, you know.}} Charles replied, sounding a bit sad.

   "Yeah, I know." Lijah sighed to himself. It really wasn't part of his job to worry about such things. He knew he shouldn't. "'To each his own destiny, to each his own fight.' You've told me that a million times, my friend."

   {{And a million times you've gotten your heart broken. You care too much.}}

   "If I didn't care, if we didn't care, we both would have been gone long ago." Lijah relaxed against the cold brick wall, waiting. "If you didn't care about things, you wouldn't be here, hanging around me. You could just pass on like you were supposed to. You don't have to stay and keep me company."

   {{It's allowed. It's my choice.}} The form in the darkness seemed to shrug.

   "You fought the good fight, my friend," Lijah whispered quietly. "You deserve the rest." He watched the image ripple and waver.

   {{We've got a few good years yet,}} Charles replied. {{I think we can both hang on for a bit longer.}}

   After a few minutes of companionable silence, Lijah saw his visitors arrive. The pair moved quickly once they had spotted him in the alley. Dressed casually in jeans, T-shirts and light jackets that almost hid the bulge of the gun holsters, the two moved with the confidence of those who were comfortable even in the dirtiest of alleyways.

   The man in the lead was very blond, tall and lean. Hutch had a runner's build, moving quickly and lightly, with an ease that belied his size and strength. Lijah watched as ocean-blue eyes that could warm you with concern or freeze you with contempt took in every detail of the alley and its contents. Those same eyes softened at Lijah's welcoming grin.

   The other half of the team didn't enter the alley completely. Just slightly shorter than the blond, Starsky was broader and more heavily muscled. Chocolate-colored curls framed a face dominated by quick, cornflower-blue eyes that were no less sharp than his partner's. Starsky leaned casually against the corner of the building, eyes on the street and the alleyway.

   "Hey, Lijah," Hutch said warmly, squatting close to him. He laid a large hand on Lijah's thin shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze of concern. "You're sure getting around these days. Starsky and I had a hard time finding you. You wouldn't be hiding from us, would you?"

   "Nah, you know me, Hutch." Lijah smiled broadly at the detective, revealing the few dirty teeth he had left. "I just like to change the scenery once in awhile. Got to get these old bones moving around a bit." He waved casually toward Starsky, who smiled and nodded back.

   "How're are your ears this week, my friend?"

   "They're worth a buck or two." Lijah winked slyly, holding out a grubby hand.

   "Sorry, buddy, you know the rules." Hutch raising a finger chidingly. "We need information first."

   "Whatcha wantin'?" Lijah asked cautiously. He was afraid he knew what the answer was going to be.

   "Anything you've got on the High School Shredder." Hutch winced slightly as he said the words. "You hang around the school down the street, bum from the kids. Hear anything that we ought to know? Any good rumors going around right now?"

   Lijah didn't answer immediately. He could feel the concern and tension emanating from the younger man and it pulled at him. He chewed on his tongue for a moment and snuck a peek at Charles, who was little more than a suggestion of motion in the shadows.

   {{Don't do it, Lijah. No cheating!}} Charles admonished. {{You know it would be against the rules.}}

   Lijah felt the old bitterness rise in his gut. Sometimes he knew more than he wanted to about what went on in this city. It was one of the unpleasant aspects of his job, to know and not be able to act upon the information. He gave Charles a frustrated glare before answering the detective.

   "Ah, sorry, Hutch. I can't tell you a thing. But if Charles and I do hear anything you can use...." Lijah shrugged helplessly, hating the disappointment shadowing Hutch's eyes. "If I'd heard anything I could tell you, I would. First thing."

   "I know you would." Hutch dug out his wallet and pulled out a ten, handing it over to the vagrant. "Here's something for you and Charles. You spend it on some warm clothes and some food, not that vinegar you call wine. Tell Charles to make sure he gets half of it." He gave the vagrant a pat on a dirty shoulder and rose.

   "Thanks," Lijah said warmly. He waved the bill over in his companion's direction. "Charles wants to thank you too, you know. He's real fond of you both."

   "Hey, Charles," Hutch waved vaguely in the direction of Lijah's gaze.

   Lijah watched as Charles rippled in reply and the blond's features froze. He watched Hutch closely as the suddenly confused-looking man backed away slightly.

   "Uhm, take it easy now. We'll catch you later." Looking uneasy, Hutch turned and strode swiftly back to his partner, nodding for the man to follow him down the street.

   {{Don't do that anymore!}} Charles admonished, sounding startled. {{I think he could almost-}}

   "No. It's too early for them. It was just a fluke," Lijah countered quickly, almost angrily. "They're too young."

   {{Everyone is, at one time or another. But if he could see me-}}

   "He didn't."

   {{Well, even if he did, it's not our problem. But the weather will be soon enough. You need to prepare. Time to go hunting.}}

~~~~~~~~

   Starsky strode quickly after his partner, working to catch up with the familiar, long-legged stride. He knew Hutch was tense, so was he, but something had spooked the tall blond over in the alley and he was moving as if to put distance between himself and the scene.

   What in the hell's going on now? Starsky wondered in surprise, reaching out to snag Hutch's arm. He's moving like he's seen a ghost. "Wait up. What's the hurry? Lijah give us something good?"

   Hutch stopped abruptly and turned to look back at the alley with a confused expression. "Did you see anything in there? Back in the alley with us?" He pulled the collar of his jacket up as if he'd had a chill.

   Starsky felt the smile at his lips and stifled it. He knew Hutch would see it anyway. "Why? You finally get introduced to Charles or somethin'?"

   "I'm not joking," Hutch snapped, then visibly caught himself and looked sheepish. "Sorry."

   "So?" Starsky asked quietly, "What did you see? You looked spooked."

   Hutch sighed and chuckled a bit. "Nothing really, I guess. I suddenly had a feeling that there were more than the three of us in that alley. Guess it's time for a day off, huh?"

   "Maybe." Starsky leaned back against a shop wall, looking a bit mischievous. "Or maybe you and Lijah have more in common than you think. I always thought you'd make a great vagrant."

   Hutch didn't respond to the dig. "How long has Lijah been here anyway?"

   Starsky shrugged. He thought for a minute, digging through years of stored information. "Iron Mike once said that when he was a rookie he used to get his best info from Lijah. That was years ago and Mike said he was as old as the hills even then." He shrugged. "I met him when I was a rookie too. Guess the old guy has been around forever."

   "Maybe Huggy knows for sure," Hutch said quietly, his eyes still on the alley.

   "Hutch," Starsky broke in with exasperation, "we've got enough on our plate with this Shredder thing. I think Lijah's life history can wait a bit."

   Hutch sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah. So, what do we do now? Its not like we've got any clues to go on."

   "Let's get somethin' to eat," Starsky suggested, suddenly aware of the time. He nodded to the fast food establishment across the street. "Maybe we'll get an idea." He headed over, knowing his partner would follow, hungry or not.

   Starsky ordered the basic hamburger with fries and Hutch stuck with black coffee. Finding seats opposite each other at a fairly clean bench, they settled in quietly.

   The murders had started a little over four months ago, landing in the laps of the detectives at Quincy Square. The horror of the deaths had spread across the entire city as the sordid details became the regular fare of the evening newspapers. It had all begun on a clear Sunday morning when what used to be an sixteen-year-old girl had been found in a heap of limbs, organs and torso on the outskirts of the city. Perfect news fodder for a city suffering from the building heat of summer.

   The next month, on another Sunday morning, a second girl had been found, cut to pieces and disemboweled, placed in a bloody pile to be discovered on an otherwise pristine and empty beach. She had been even younger. That murder had made it an official serial killing. So far, two other Sundays had been cursed with the discovery of a mutilated corpse. The pressure to solve the case was being felt by everyone in law enforcement, from the meter maids to the D.A. himself.

   Even though none of the detectives from Metro had been officially involved with the cases, all of them were keeping their ears and eyes open for anything that might help. Starsky and Hutch kept trying their own sources, checking out anything they could think of while they were working on their own cases. But so far they had found nothing that would help.

   Four months now, four dead girls. Starsky eyed his half-eaten meal with distaste. He pushed it away, having consumed just enough to keep his stomach from growling. There's got to be a break here somewhere. I'm not sure whether I'm glad or disappointed that we aren't personally on this one.

   "You know," Hutch began, leaning tiredly over his untouched coffee, "I'm not sure if I'm glad or not." A quick, cool breeze brushed over them and they both pulled their light jackets closer.

   "Thinkin' the same," Starsky admitted, knowing that the case was never far from either of their minds. We're crazy, both of us, he decided. If we'd gotten it, we would've felt responsible for every death that came along. And yet...

   "There's got to be something," Hutch muttered.

   "Again?" Starsky asked after a few moments' silence.

   Hutch swirled his coffee, nodding his head in agreement. A lot of the details of the murders were still under file and on a 'need to know' bases, but the basics were familiar. They would go over it again.

   "Okay." Starsky sipped his soda while deciding how to start. "All four girls were in high school, the youngest at 14 and the oldest at 16 years old. All came from different schools and were from lower to middle class families. Two had boyfriends, one had just broken up and the other wasn't dating at the time. All four were supposed to be out for the evening, but the boyfriends didn't seem to know anything about it. Both of the current boyfriends have alibis and the ex-boyfriend can't prove he was alone at home all evening."

   "The parents don't know anything," Hutch added, as if by rote. "They all were just 'out' with friends. Someone must have picked up all four girls as none of them took their family's cars or asked anyone for a ride. They all just walked out of their front doors on a Saturday afternoon and never came back."

   "None of the four knew each other. Not a hell of a lot to go on here."

   "Never is, unless you've got a crystal ball."

   They were both silent for a few minutes. "Rounds or paperwork?" Hutch asked tiredly, checking his pocket watch.

   "That's a choice?" Starsky stood and gathered up the rest of his uneaten meal, tossing it into the nearest garbage can. "Guess we'd better go and check in with Dobey, so he'll know we still work there."

   "Probably too late." Hutch winced. "If he's seen the backlog we've got on our desks, he's probably hired replacements already and has us labeled MIA."

   "Great," Starsky answered with a mischievous grin. "Then let's not go back until they get it done."

~~~~~~~~

   They'd spent the rest of the afternoon making the round of their beat. It seemed to be one of those days when nothing much seemed to be going on. All they really managed to do was to make themselves visible, which was important. It wasn't a good idea to be gone from the streets for too long, or the bad guys might think they could get away with all kinds of things.

   But today it just didn't seem like enough. Hutch shifted restlessly in the passenger seat of the Torino. He needed to do something. He wanted to catch a sick, murdering bastard, not sit on his ass at the station or in the Torino. Unfortunately he couldn't think of anything different to try, anyone new to ask. He could only wonder how frustrated the special task force handling the case must feel.

   "So what now?" Starsky asked tiredly as they sat at a red light. "We've been everywhere at least once today."

   "Hell if I know," Hutch snapped.

   "Gotta do somethin' if we're going to get our asses' chewed for playin' paperwork hooky again."

   "Haven't done anything so far this week. Why break a perfect record?"

   Starsky flashed him an irritated glare. "You're a hell of a lotta help here, you know." He snorted in disgust. "I think I'd be better off trading you in for Bigalow. He's got more character and I'd bet he's better company too."

   The outrageous thought of the Supply Sergeant sitting in Starsky's car made Hutch snicker in spite of his bad mood. "Sorry. Guess I just hate this sit and wait stuff. As of now, I'm all tapped out. You have any ideas?"

   Starsky continued driving, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "What about that new place, up by the high school? Isn't there a new store we haven't checked out yet? Might as well go and look around, see what's there."

   "The high school?" Hutch searched his inner map, trying to locate the new business. Both of them had their territory well memorized by now and it only took him a few seconds to remember the building Starsky was talking about. "What? Isn't that a knick-knack store or something? Hasn't been there long."

   "But it's near the school. Kids will talk a helluva lot more amongst themselves than they will to cops. Maybe the proprietor has heard something."

   Hutch shrugged, watching the milling sidewalk crowd as they passed building after building. "Worth a shot, I guess."

   The new shop was only a block from the high school. It had been a clothing store that had folded years ago and the building itself had been cut into smaller sections for lease. Its dirty exterior was riddled with patches of various colored brick, making it look like it was always in danger of falling in. One of the middle shops had been empty for months, but now its wide plate glass front was artistically arranged with nice pieces of used furniture and various lamps. Beyond the show window of 'Prior Mystique' Hutch could see rows and rows of shelving that filled the dim store.

   As soon as they entered he saw several people browsing. The clerk behind the counter, an elderly man, was talking quietly with a customer. He was well-dressed and portly, with gray hair and a pudgy face dominated by thick, black glasses. His tidiness was reflected in the refreshing neatness of the shop.

   Starsky continued casually to the back, browsing as he went while Hutch stopped for a moment to look around. There were shelves everywhere with various bric-a-brac and the walls were covered as well, but it didn't feel cluttered. None of the items were garage sale throw-outs. While the stock might not be 'antique', they had obviously been lovingly cared for.

   What's this? Hutch's eye was caught by a highly polished wooden box on one of the shelves. He picked it up, liking the weight of it in his hand. It was made for a man's dresser, to hold keys and cuff-links and the rest of the jewelry that had become popular men's wear. Good quality. Real wood and not veneer. Nice price. He replaced the box in its space after checking the tag, and looked at the tag of the small vase next to it. The owner can't be making too much money at those prices; can't see it going for much less than that at an auction. There are quite a few of the older, but well maintained, homes not too far away; he could do a pretty quick turn-over on this kind of merchandise.

   The customer who was with the clerk made his purchase and the older man approached the next customer in line. Hutch knew that Starsky was holding back until they could talk to the man privately, if possible. No use coming in and making more noise than they had to. Hutch joined his partner at a glass counter that seemed to have caught his interest.

   "Watches, Starsk?" Hutch eyed the display over his shoulder. "Don't you think you've got enough already?"

   "Hey, you can never have enough time." Starsky tapped carefully on the glass. "He's got some really nice pieces here. And you know, the prices aren't bad."

   Hutch glanced quickly through the offerings. He didn't see the attraction. Returning his attention to the clerk, Hutch nudged Starsky as the next customer left the store, leaving them alone with the older man.

   "Good afternoon, gentlemen." The man approached them with a polite smile. "May I help you with something?"

   "Hello," Hutch responded with matching courtesy, presenting his badge. "I'm Detective Ken Hutchinson and this is my partner, Detective David Starsky. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

   The man didn't flinch or look concerned, but held out his hand to shake theirs. "My name is Randolph Thomas. I own this place and put in a few hours myself every afternoon. Pleased to meet you both. What can I do for you?"

   "We do a lot of investigating in this area," Starsky began. "And we thought maybe you could help us out. Do you ever get any kids or teenagers in here?"

   "Here? Well, I've only been open just over a couple of months, just after school started. I see quite a few children outside in the mornings and after school, but only a few of them actually come in. As you can see, we don't offer many items that would appeal to them."

   Hutch nodded his understanding. "My partner and I are looking into the murder of four young girls. We were wondering if you might have heard anything the kids in the area might be discussing along those lines. And we also thought we'd take the time to come in and introduce ourselves."

   Mr. Thomas shook his head sadly. "I am aware of those grisly murders, but I can't help you much, officer. I truly wish I could."

   "What about the rest of the day, when you're not here?" Starsky waved a hand toward what looked to be an office door. "Do you have any help that might have heard something?"

   "Well, I do have a young man come in to help me and he stays the evening and closes up at night. His name is Jeffery Trent, but he won't be in until later this afternoon. I can ask him if you like."

   "Thanks." Starsky smiled. "We'd appreciate it if you would. And if you don't mind, I'd kinda like to look at some of those watches you have."

   "Certainly! Let me open the case for you."

   Hutch threw a mild glare at his partner and was thoroughly ignored. Might as well let him get it out of his system, he decided. It's not like we've got anything pressing at the moment.

   Hutch walked away from the two men, wandering down to eye the jewelry in the cases. Most of the displays contained costume pieces, nice but not worth much. He moved on down to the men's section, looking through the meager selection. Tie tacks, cufflinks and gaudy pinkie rings seemed to comprise the majority of the stock.

   Hey, that's nice! His attention was caught by a glint of silver on a lower shelf. There, almost hidden among the other pieces, was a man's bracelet. It was about an inch wide, silver, and etched with an intricate decoration that covered the entire surface. Hutch couldn't quite make out the design from outside the case, but he felt strangely drawn to it. It's not an Indian pattern, he decided, squatting closer to peer thought the thick glass. It doesn't look Mexican. I can't quite make out whether it is actually some kind of script, or maybe its just part of the design or-

   "Sir? May I help you?"

   Hutch started, realizing that Starsky had already finished his perusal. Two pairs of eyes were focused on him, one pair polite, the other amused. "Ah... yes. Could I see that men's bracelet?" he asked sheepishly.

   The proprietor removed the item from the case as Starsky sidled up next to Hutch, hovering over his shoulder.

   Taking the bracelet carefully, Hutch was surprised at its weight. This was no stamped-out piece of silver, but something solid and hand etched. It had no clasp, but it was "C" shaped with a narrow opening in back through which he could slip his wrist..

   A vast amount of work had gone into the design. Every bit of the outer surface area was covered with an almost three-dimensional relief. There seemed to be landscapes, forests and even city scenes in the mixture, as if someone had overlaid scene after scene upon its surface. It's almost as if you could look at it forever and still not see everything the artist included, he thought with awe.

   He was rudely startled out of his inspection by a painful jab in his ribs.

   "So? We gotta go," Starsky said with impatience.

   Hutch felt as if he had somehow drifted off and shook his head to clear it. "I'll take it," he announced after checking the attached tag. He knew Starsky was looking at him strangely, but he didn't care. It was his money and if he wanted to pay a bit more for something nice, why not?

   As they left the store he placed in on his right wrist, marveling at how comfortable and warm it felt. Like it was made for me, he decided happily.

   "So, are we pretty enough now? Think you can distract Dobey with that thing? Keep him from chewin' our asses off?"

   "Hey, don't take your disappointment out on me, just because I got a great deal," Hutch shot back. "You're just jealous." He smiled smugly at his partner as he opened the Torino's door.

   "Yeah, I'm real depressed 'cause I didn't get suckered into buying that hunk of junk," Starsky replied sarcastically. "Heck, give me a beat-up chrome bumper and a blow torch and I could make a livin' selling arm chokers just like that."

   "Sure." Hutch snorted, eyeing his new purchase happily. "Why don't you give your resignation to me and I'll just pass it right on to Dobey. That'll keep his mind off the paperwork for awhile."

   "Sorry, pal." Starsky flashed him one of his 100 watt smiles. "You ain't getting rid of me that easily. I'm your very own personal curse. And don't you forget it."

   Hutch only grunted in answer. Never could, never would, he thought affectionately. Who ever said all curses were bad for you?

~~~~~~~~

   Two days passed as uneventfully as any cop could wish for. There were no new killings, no big drug deals going down and just enough action to keep them working. Only it was the kind of 'keeping busy' Starsky hated: days filled with court dates, testifying and catching up on reams of paperwork. He really enjoyed the freedom of cruising the streets in the Torino. Sitting in courtrooms and at his desk just made his ass sore.

   He nibbled a chip as he re-read a file. Hutch, sitting across from him, had already done his homework. The court case this afternoon was a drug bust that had gone down months ago and both of them wanted to make sure they had every detail memorized for testimony.

   Slick Joe Tito. Starsky smirked at the mug shot at the top of the file. You're gonna go down long and hard for this one. You should'a rolled for us, kid.

   Joe had been caught with drugs one too many times to get leniency from any judge. Knowing that the man had some important connections, the assistant D.A. had offered him a better deal than he deserved, but Joe had refused to point out his suppliers.

   He thinks he's a tough guy, holding his boss outta the lime-light. He better hope this boss trusts him to keep his mouth shut once he's in prison, or he won't last long. Starsky shook his head at the thought. Don't they ever realize that keeping the faith with these drug lords is like making a pact with the devil? While you're kissing ass and useful you're safe, but once you get pulled outta the action, then they'll take your soul and to hell with their promises.

   "Hey," Hutch announced, startling him out of his thoughts. "It's a quarter to. We'd better go down and get changed." He got up, stretched and tossed another file into the out-box. "You know what Kropcheck says."

   "'You'd both better be on time, or Dobey'll hear about it!'" they chorused, both with high and squeaky voices.

   The impromptu floor show earned a couple of chuckles from their fellow detectives. Everyone in homicide had had to work with the troll-like assistant D.A. While he was supposed to be on the police's side, he acted like being in the same room with a cop was an irritation beyond endurance. The man fussed and squeaked like nails on a blackboard.

   "So you two have The Troll this afternoon?" Abe Vernson asked with a chuckle. The older detective shook his head with amusement. "Well, I could say that I feel for you two, but that would be a damned lie. Better the Terrier Twins suffer for the day than me. You two deserve him more than I do."

   "Aroooooooough!" Starsky howled just low enough to keep from catching Dobey's attention if he was in his office. "Watch what you wish on us, Abe. Terriers have teeth."

   "Yeah, you take care of that nasty attitude," Hutch warned Vernson over his shoulder as he and Starsky made their way through the doorway. "Or I'll set my partner on you and you know his breath is worse than his bite."

   The laughter from the squad room was abruptly cut off with the closing of the doors as they made their way down the busy hallway, heading for the basement.

   "That's my partner," Starsky declared in mock disgust. "Defend me to the death, but humiliate me in front of those who love and admire me." He swung a playful punch Hutch's shoulder and laughed as he dodged the blow, almost tripping himself to do it.

   The locker room was practically empty and they were able to shower and shave in record time. Starsky didn't know why, but it seemed that he and Hutch were cursed when it came to dressing for court. Somehow, someway, they never seemed to make it there without some stain, smear or snag to ruin their professional look. Although it was a hassle to carry the stuff in and store it, they were much safer changing into their suits as near to court time as possible.

   They were almost ready. Starsky, reaching down to tie a shoe, felt his gut clench painfully. He gasped as the world around him suddenly went dark and fluid, fear filling him as he felt himself teetering on the edge of nothingness.

   What...?! Hutch?!! He frantically reached out, searching for the familiar support. A second before his hand could find his partner, he drew it back with a gasp. He felt as if it had almost touched something... foul. Hutch?! The feeling passed in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped, leaving him dizzy, shaking and slightly nauseous.

   He stood carefully, not wanting the dizziness to get worse, feeling his hands shaking. He took a calming breath and closed his eyes, surprised at how quickly the feelings passed. "Man! I think I almost fainted."

   There was no answer. Turning toward his partner, he was surprised to see Hutch motionless, eyes fixed and staring at the open locker in front of him. Hutch must have felt it too! Starsky felt his hackles rise at the thought.

   It was only a second, maybe two, before he could reach out a hand to finish the gesture he had started. Hutch jolted slightly at the touch and went pale.

   "Hey, partner?" Starsky asked cautiously, still confused himself. "You okay?" 'Cause I'm not certain I am.

   Hutch flushed slightly. The look he gave Starsky was one of guilt and confusion. "Ah, yeah. Sure." The blond flashed him an unconvincing smile and turned away, hand rubbing at wrist. "Just drifted away there for a minute."

   Yeah, you and me both. Starsky stayed silent for a moment, watching as his partner resumed dressing as nothing had happened. "Did...did you feel anything just then?"

   Hutch paused for a second, then stood to finish straightening his jacket. "Nope. Why? You coming down with something?"

   "I don't know, but all of a sudden I felt...." He could feel his brows furrow as he tried to find the words. "It was nasty. Like something evil was standing behind me, breathing down my neck or somethin'. Didn't you...?"

   "No. I'm fine." The answer was quick and unconvincing. "Must have been that sandwich you had for lunch. All the fat and preservatives must have finally made it up to your brain." Hutch's smile was shallow, the eyes serious and evasive.

   "Must be," Starsky answered quietly, feeling confused. Okay, Detective, try explaining that one to a shrink. Whatever it was, he felt it too, but he doesn't want to admit it. Starsky finished tying his shoe, keeping his friend in the corner of his eye. What was that?

   Even now the memory was fading and he was tempted to just write the whole thing off. Maybe Hutch was right, he thought, studying himself in his locker mirror. But if it was just me, why is Hutch acting so strange? It can't just be because Kropcheck has us spooked.

   The thought of the small, annoying man spooking anyone brought a smile to his face and he chuckled at his own image in the mirror.

   "And the rest of us think you look funny too," Hutch threw in as he came up behind him, smiling a little uncertainly over Starsky's shoulder, eyes meeting eyes in the reflection.

   Starsky just straightened his tie and put on his most dignified face, glad the strange moment was over. "Well, this time we're not only going to be early and well prepared, but we're going to put Joe away for a long time. Kropcheck isn't going to have any reason to screech at us or Dobey."

   "Amen," Hutch replied wholeheartedly, looking perfectly normal now as he fussed with his hair in the mirror. "Come on, we'd better get a move on. I don't trust that tomato of yours with such an important meeting. I don't want to be late."

   At the locker room door, they were met by Minnie bearing a large manila envelope.

   "Hey you two, I'm not your personal secretary," she scolded loudly, thrusting a file into Hutch's hands while giving Starsky a blinding smile. "But for you sweetie, I'll make an exception. Just give me an excuse to go in there after you."

   "Doll, it'd be a severe disappointment," Starsky answered her teasing leer with mock sadness. "You're better off staying out here, where your fantasies are safe and sound."

   "Starsky, how little you know me," she sighed, pushing up thick glasses. "Safe fantasies aren't my style and at my place," she stage-whispered, "you can sound as loud as you want."

   "You'd better cool it, Minnie," Hutch interrupted with a hint of a smile, handing the folder over to Starsky. "The man doesn't have time for another cold shower. You know what you do to him."

   Starsky flipped through the file "What gives? The Governor finally pardon us?"

   "Not hardly. You're still doing life as a detective, poor thing." Minnie shrugged and grimaced, turning to leave. "It's a love letter from Kropcheck. He wants you to study it on the way to the courthouse. I just think he wanted to remind you two to show up."

   Starsky looked through the file again, which was just a copy of the one they had brought with them. Well, so much for government efficiency, he thought with growing annoyance. Man! For such a small guy, that Assistant D.A. can sure irritate a large number of people.

   It wasn't until he had taken a few steps toward the rear exit when he noticed he was alone. Hutch was still standing at the locker room door, staring past him in deep concentration. Turning to look, Starsky saw some of the uniformed officers make their way out the rear exit toward the parking lot, laughing and joking about an upcoming bachelor party.

   Oh, man! I forgot Rogers was getting married. Starsky remembered hearing it on the office grape vine. But what's got the Blintz's attention? He get invited or somethin'? He doesn't know the guy that well.

   "What?" Starsky asked quietly.

   He watched as the confused look returned to the fair face. Hutch looked back, as if he were uncertain of what to say. "I don't know. I think we'd better go back upstairs."

   "To Homicide? What for? Did we forget something?"

   "No." Hutch moved decisively, striding swiftly as if he had made up his mind.

   Feeling a chill, Starsky followed close behind as his partner threaded his way through the busy hall and practically commandeered an elevator.

   Whatever's going on in his head is serious, Starsky decided, moving quickly to keep up. He's moving like he's got a mission. Just wish he'd let this Private in on the orders.

   Hutch ran through the crowded hall, stopping suddenly at the Homicide doors. Before Starsky could ask his question, Hutch raised his hand sharply, signaling for his partner's silence. He moved to peek around the door and through the hall windows into the squad room.

   Going lower, Starsky peered into the room, keeping himself hidden as Hutch was, ignoring the strange stares they were drawing from the passing crowd. At Hutch's signal a couple of uniformed officers began halting the traffic on either end of the long hallway.

   This had better be good, Starsky mused as he checked out his view of the squad room. There were six detectives and nine civilians in the room. I hope Hutch figures out what pushed his buttons, or we're both going to look pretty foolish storming into Homicide in our dress clothes.

   "Vernson," Hutch hissed.

   The older detective was sitting at his desk, typing. A thin and dirty looking man was sitting quietly in the chair beside him. It looked as though Vernson were taking a statement.

   Caucasian male, early twenties, nervous looking and wearing a bulky jacket, Starsky cataloged automatically. Don't know him. The man shifted and glanced around while apparently answering Vernson's questions. That's an awful heavy jacket for such a warm fall.

   Starsky felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up into confident blue eyes. Time to go, they signaled.

   Taking a second to straighten themselves out, they walked quietly into the squad room.

   Few seemed to notice their entrance. Starsky nodded to a couple of the other detectives, letting them assume that he and his partner had just come back for something they had forgotten. Hutch continued past their desk and walked over to the cabinets behind Vernson. Starsky stopped and tossed the file down on his own desk, watching the scene from the corner of his eye.

   When it came, it happened almost too fast for him to react.

   At a sharp word from Vernson, Hutch pounced, getting the stranger in a head lock just as a gun appeared in his hand. Starsky was just drawing a bead on the suspect when Vernson moved into his way. He cursed silently, only able to watch as Vernson forced the stranger's gun up and away. The blast of the revolver rolled like thunder, plaster dust from the new hole in the ceiling falling on the struggling men below.

   "POLICE! FREEZE!" Starsky bellowed, targeting the stranger as best he could between his partner and Vernson. He could see from the corner of his eye that his wasn't the only gun out and trained. Come on, man! Don't be a complete idiot here.

   The stranger suddenly wilted, allowing Vernson to remove the gun from his hand and secure the weapon. One of the closer detectives rushed over with his own cuffs and the rest of the room relaxed their stance as soon as the suspect was restrained.

   Starsky replaced his gun and walked over as Hutch handed the man off to others for the trip to Booking. The rest of the room became noisy again as the hubbub of telephones, typewriters and hushed voices signaled that the excitement was over.

   Well, this ought to fuel the office gossip for a few minutes, Starsky mused. 'Specially if these two guys go out and about looking like that. He might have chuckled at the sight of the white-speckled duo in front of him if he hadn't known they were in no mood for levity. Yet. "How're you doin', Abe?" His eyes asked the same of his partner.

   Vernson sat down heavily in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief at the plaster and paper mess on his desk and surrounding floor. "I'm a hell of a lot better now than I would have been if you two hadn't happened along."

   "Who was he?" Hutch asked, still pale and serious. He had taken over the newly vacated chair, hand rubbing at his wrist, eyes on Vernson.

   "Just a guy who said he had information on the Murphy homicide." Vernson wiped at his face in surprise, just now seeming to realize he was covered in plaster dust himself. "That's the case I've got coming up this afternoon. An idiot named Trevor Juno tried to shake down a store clerk and before the poor guy could even get the safe open, Juno panicked and killed him. When I arrested Juno he was so nervous he spilled his guts before, during and after I read him Miranda. The guy's gonna go down heavy on this one."

   "So, this guy had more information?" Starsky asked, pretty sure he knew what was coming.

   "Yeah," Vernson replied with disgust, digging a handkerchief from a pocket and trying to clean himself up. "Came in saying he had vital information for the case and would only talk to the detective who made the arrest."

   "Must be a brother or a cousin," Hutch added quietly.

   "Dumb ass," Starsky said with disgust. "Killin' you wouldn't affect the case since they've got your signed statement. 'N how in the hell was he gonna get rid of you and get outta a room full of cops?"

   "Who knows?" The older detective said with a sigh. "But that seems to represent the I.Q. level of the entire family. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he's a younger brother. Guess I'm not awful bright myself. I should have sent him straight to the D.A.'s office and let them interview him, but no." Vernson waved a dismissive hand. "I had to see if I could earn some brownie points by bringing them a surprise gift just hours before trial."

   "Not dumb, Abe," Starsky chided. "We all know that witnesses and snitches can be pretty insistent on talkin' only to certain cops. You might have spooked the guy by sending him to the D.A." He waited a moment for his partner to continue the pep-talk, but Hutch stayed mute and distracted. He was staring off into the distance, leaving Starsky at a loss as to what to say next.

   "Maybe," Vernson answered doubtfully into the uncomfortable silence. "But who knows how Dobey will see it?"

   They were all three startled by the sudden, thundering voice from behind them.

   "What in the name of Sam Hill is going on here?!" Dobey bellowed, his large bulk effectively blocking the exit. "Somebody had better report, as in now!"

   Starsky cringed, suddenly glad that he and Hutch had someplace else to go. Vernson would make his report, Dobey would 'gruff and grumble' and give them all quadruple forms to complete in triplicate. His rumbling would hide the fact that he was relieved that no one was hurt, anxious that they never let their guard down and upset at the danger they faced in their own squad room. But right now, Starsky wasn't in the mood for it.

   Vernson rolled his eyes at them and stood, unintentionally shaking even more bits of plaster onto his desk. "That would be me, sir," he answered, walking to Dobey's office and receiving a set of raised eyebrows from the Captain for his trouble. Apparently Dobey hadn't picked out Vernson as the member of their group most likely to be at the center of the commotion.

   "Well? Aren't you two late for something?" he asked gruffly, eyes darting from Starsky to Hutch. "I seemed to remember a court case you two are scheduled to appear at."

   "Ah, yes Cap'n," Starsky replied swiftly, glad to get away. He grabbed the almost-forgotten file and his silent partner's arm and steered them both past the hulking man in the doorway, who made way for the slightly shedding blond. "On our way, sir."

   "And I want you both back here straight afterward for your reports!" Dobey threw after them as they moved swiftly down the hall. "And try to clean yourselves up!"

   It wasn't until they entered the empty stairwell that Starsky actually stopped dragging his partner. They both took a breath and he reached out and brushed out at dust-covered shoulders, chuckling a bit. "Hutch, you look like you've either been under the first bit of snowfall, or you've got one hell of a case of dandruff." He watched as Hutch suddenly seemed to notice what a mess he was.

   "Damn!" He took out a comb to try to remove the plaster from his hair. "Kropcheck is going to rake us down one side and another. Let's get going and I'll see if I can get cleaned up on the way."

   "Sure, just...." Starsky grimaced as he brushed at a dusty arm. "Before you get in the car, okay?"

   With a glare that would have killed a lesser man, Hutch proceeded quickly down the stairs, muttering nasty things under his breath about a certain Torino of his acquaintance.

   This sure has been a weird afternoon, Starsky thought as he followed his partner down the stairs. I would have sworn that guy wasn't anywhere in the squad room when we left to get ready for court. "What did the kid do to tip you off?" Starsky asked.

   "What are you talking about?"

   "The idiot upstairs. What tipped you off about him goin' after Vernson like that? I didn't even notice him when we left."

   Hutch stopped and turned a puzzled look up in his direction. "He wasn't there when we left, Starsk."

   "Oh. Then why did we go back upstairs?"

   Starsky watched as doubt, confusion, and a touch of panic played over the fair features, until they finally settled into blank indifference.

   "Forgot something."

   "Forgot what?" Starsky asked carefully, watching as the barest flicker of anger flashed and disappeared from his partner's eyes. What's with this? Holding something back? From me?

   "I don't remember." Hutch's reply was cold and clipped as he turned away. "Whatever it was, we're going to have to do without it. We're late," he snapped in something close to an accusation.

   Something weird is going on, all right. And he's part of it. Starsky pondered his friend's reactions. It may have ended well, but this isn't good. Not good at all.

~~~~~~~~

   The court case had been delayed, so they had been present and prepared by the time they were called to testify. Even so, Kropcheck had decided to take out his frustrations on them, and his nit-picking complaint about their tardiness had hit Dobey's office before them. The Captain didn't take Kropcheck too seriously, so Starsky and Hutch had easily placated him with finished reports before quitting for the day.

   A few days had passed since then, and with nothing more exciting happening than having to make their normal street rounds, Hutch felt more sensitive to the undercurrent of tension on the street and in his fellow officers. He sat quietly in the Torino as Starsky pumped gas, and found his mind wandering, rubbing at the silver bracelet, feeling the action make the silver grow warm and soft, almost like a living thing.

   Three more days and then we'll know. Hutch felt certain that another murder was going to happen. Serial killers just didn't stop on their own. But why Sunday? I don't think the deaths have any religious significance.

   One of the favorite theories making the rounds was that the killings had a Satanic connection. Hutch himself had thought it made as much sense as anything else, but lately he had completely given up on the notion. He felt it was a dead end. Why do I feel so sure? What have I seen or heard that would convince me it's the wrong way to go?

   He was shaken out of his thoughts when the driver's door opened and Starsky sat heavily, obviously tired and worn. "So, what's next on our busy schedule?"

   They had a few hours with nothing pressing. Hutch knew what case Starsky wanted to work on. But he, for one, was flat out of ideas. "Hell if I know. Where haven't we been lately?"

   Starsky pulled the Torino out into traffic. "Haven't made the school rounds yet. We could hit Junior's place. What do you think?"

   "I think we might as well, since you're already heading for it," Hutch replied with more annoyance than he actually felt.

   Starsky only frowned in response.

   It didn't take them long to get to the arcade. Located in the grungiest part of the inner city, it had once been a gas station with a large service area. Now, with several school busses loading and unloading nearby, it had become a favorite hang-out for the local kids who didn't seem to have any other place to go. Junior somehow made a living by turning the vacated station into a welcome place for the kids to come to spend their pocket money. The man was strict in keeping his place clear of the gangs and hoodlums that might have made his arcade a hotbed of trouble. Fortunately, few bothered with the 300 lb., 6 foot 4 inch, gray-bearded man. All the kids loved him and regularly filled him in on all the gossip that was making the school rounds.

   Junior had set up the arcade shortly after the detectives had come on the scene. He had been checked out as thoroughly as possible. Every rug the detectives had ever turned over in their investigation had been clean underneath. Despite himself, Hutch had come to see him as some kind of inner city Santa Claus.

   As usual, Junior was sitting over in his favorite corner of the arcade, talking with an older group of boys and drinking a pop. Hutch moved carefully around the crowded room, content to leave the questioning to Starsky.

   He marveled at the amount of kids and pinball machines Junior had been able to stuff into the area. There were all different ages milling about in a bee-hive of activity and noise. The only relatively still space was filled with children watching an old black-and-white TV. Here the smaller, more helpless ones felt safe from bullies, gangs and drug dealers.

   Hutch's eye was caught by a little black boy who looked to be about three years old. The boy was skinny, a bit scruffy and was begging chips from an older boy. The teen gave him a few chips along with a playful shove. The smaller boy went back to the TV set, already distracted by the show as he munched his meager snack. Something about the child nagged at him. He watched the child closely, as if he should know him, as if....

~~~~~~~~

   ...the entire world exploded with sound and motion, staggering in its power and pressure. As reality tilted crazily, Hutch caught a strobe-like flash of car interior. Movement that was at once blindingly fast and agonizingly slow blurred the edges of the forms surrounding him. His view twisted and rolled before he could grab for a flickering image to steady himself. Starsky's voice sang by him in a rapid-fire, unintelligible burst, coming from nowhere and everywhere. He tried to turn toward it, seeking out its center, but the world tilted again as his friend's soul-anguished cry tore through him...

PART TWO