Sinjin

   Lt. Miller stormed into Dobey’s office red faced. He slammed the door and deliberately ignoring Hutch, directed his diatribe towards the Captain.

   "Dobey, I want an explanation!"

   "Settle down, Miller, and have a seat. I’ve got a few things to say myself," said the Captain, rising from his chair. "Next time you’re got a problem with my men, I’d appreciate it if you came to me directly. There’s no reason to go over my head."

   "Captain, my men and I had weeks invested in this operation!"

   "Hey, Miller," said Hutch. "I’m standing right here. If you’ve got something to say, I suggest you say it to my face."

   "Oh, I got plenty to say, all right. You and that cocky partner of yours are two royal screw-ups from the word go."

   "Where the hell do you get off —"

   "That’s enough outta both of you! You’re both way out of line!" boomed Dobey. He turned to face Hutch who was glaring at the Lieutenant. "Hutchinson, sit down!"

   Hutch took a seat but was still seething. "Captain, I’d like to tell you what went down out there."

   "We’re both waiting to hear, Detective," said Miller. Dobey raised a hand to silence the Lieutenant and turned to the blond. "Go ahead, Hutchinson."

   "Captain, the stake-out was undermanned from the beginning. Starsky and I couldn’t even properly secure the hotel we were watching. Miller didn’t want us interviewing the staff at the hotel to get any leads because he was afraid we’d jeopardize his operation. We weren’t even authorized to make any arrests if we did see anything, just take a bunch of notes!"

   Dobey turned to the Lieutenant. "I know you wanted to avoid premature arrests, but I don’t like this part about not sharing information."

   "Dobey, I do the best with the resources I’ve got. I’ve been getting some prime information independently from other two man teams. I didn’t realize I had a couple of prima donnas on my hand."

   "Miller —"

   "Quiet, Hutchinson," said Dobey. "Lieutenant, you know better than to put officers at risk and then tie an arm behind their backs."

   "Captain, you know as well as I do that if it isn’t airtight with the D.A. then it’s no dice. I wasn’t about to get this case thrown out because of these guys’ questionable tactics," Miller spit out, hoisting a thumb in Hutch’s direction."

   "Questionable tactics?" cried Hutch.

   "Yeah, and don’t play dumb with me, Hutchinson. You and your partner bend the rules so far, you’ve got ‘em twisted into a pretzel. Any information you got wouldn’t be worth a warm bucket of spit once they interrogated you in court."

   "Put a lid on it, Miller. Starsky and Hutchinson have damn fine records on that score and you know it!"

   "They scrape the bottom of the snitch barrel, Captain. I’ve got reliable informants. And if they’re such professionals, then tell me why Blondie here starts chasing some two-bit hood and the wisecracking southpaw starts roughing up the locals!"

   "The guy was attacking a woman. What were we supposed to do, ignore it? We’re cops, for Christ’s sake."

   "You mean a prostitute was giving a john some lip. Tell me this, Hutchinson, did you catch the guy?"

   "You already know the answer to that."

   "Did you interview the prostitute to get a lead on where he might have gone?"

   "No."

   "And I’ll tell you why, Captain. Because Curly starts in with some patrons and winds up breaking out the window of a local bar. No doubt he instigated it!"

   Dobey tried to speak but Hutch jumped up and cut him off. "Starsky was attacked by a couple of punk bikers. He damn near got his head cracked open."

   "And while you were busy playing nursemaid — the perp, the prostitute, they’re both long gone. Anderson and Donnelly are stuck cleaning up the mess and I’m saddled with some goon named Bubba who keeps threatening to sue the city for damages!"

   "You left the scene, Hutchinson?" asked Dobey.

   "Captain, I had to get Starsky to the hospital."

   "No, Hutchinson," interrupted Miller. "Procedure says you call an ambulance. You let qualified personnel deal with your partner and you stay on the scene to take statements!"

   "All right, I’ve heard enough," said Dobey. "Miller, I want to talk to Hutchinson alone."

   "I want some satisfaction, Dobey!"

   "That’s Captain Dobey to you, Miller. Right now, I want to talk to Hutchinson alone!"

   Miller glared at them both and stormed out of the office. Dobey sat down behind his desk.

   "Can you believe that guy, Captain?"

   "What I can’t understand is why you left the scene! Miller had you dead to right on that one. Why didn’t you call an ambulance?"

   "Captain, I didn’t know the extent of Starsky’s injuries. I didn’t want to waste any time."

   "Not knowing the extent of his injuries is reason enough to call an ambulance!"

   Both men fell silent.

   "Captain, the guy who I was chasing..."

   "The one hassling the prostitute?"

   "Yeah," said Hutch, rubbing his eyes. "I’m pretty sure he was one of two guys who appeared to be casing the hotel earlier."

   "If the guy was part of a gun running operation, what the hell would he be doing picking up a working girl?"

   "Captain, I don’t know."

   "And if he was involved, I don’t have to tell you he’ll be damned hard to track down now." Dobey let out a long sigh. "Hutchinson, I want you to get yourself into the squad room and write a detailed report of tonight’s events. And it had better be damn near perfect. Then I’m giving you time off to get some rest and see to your partner. I suggest you stay where I can reach you. I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of this."

   Hutch nodded wearily and headed for the door. All the fight seemed to have been drained out of him. Once in the squad room, he threaded a report form in the typewriter and rubbed his eyes again as he tried to organize his thoughts. As he sat bent over his desk he began to replay the dialogue in Dobey’s office. In truth, the more he recounted the events, the more he found fault with his own handling of the situation. But he deeply resented Miller questioning Starsky’s professionalism when his partner wasn’t even there to defend himself. What bothered him most was the realization that the guy he was chasing was probably one of the men spotted in the Buick Skylark. He hadn’t made the connection clearly until actually stating it in Dobey’s office. And it still left unanswered the question of why the guy would be soliciting a prostitute while setting up a buy, if that was indeed what he was doing. Hutch was willing to concede Miller’s point that he should have called an ambulance for Starsky and stayed on the scene. But he was not comfortable with second guessing his actions. And without his partner to bounce ideas off of, the interior monologue seemed a bit lopsided.

********

   Miller returned to his office and immediately reached for the phone. He dialed a number from memory.

   "Hello?" answered a groggy voice.

   "Meet me at the spot in thirty minutes." said Miller.

   "Wait a sec —"

   "Just be there!" Miller slammed the phone down and took a few moments to collect himself. His head snapped up when he saw Dobey at the door.

   "Listen, Captain, I know I owe you an apology. I had no right to call the Commissioner. But you have to understand how much time and effort I have invested in this operation."

   "Miller, I told my detectives myself that they weren’t supposed to be making arrests, just collecting profiles. I understand the pressure to make a clean bust, but what’s with keeping my men in the dark? We’re all supposed to be on the same team."

   "I know, Captain. But my informant is nervous. I believe him when he tells me that there is gun dealing going on at the Algonquin, but I’m not gonna push him to tell me more than he’s ready to part with."

   "And what if you’re forced to give up your informant’s name in court, Miller? Did you think that far ahead? Or are you too busy being secretive and putting my men at risk?" Dobey stopped and rubbed both his hands though his hair. "Miller, I’m tired and Edith is probably worried sick. In the morning I want all the reports on this case on my desk. We’ll continue the conversation then."

********

   Hutch completed what he hoped was an acceptable report and headed home. Later that morning he would pick up Starsky and see about reuniting him with that striped tomato of his, provided the doctor agreed that Gordo was cleared to drive. He wondered if Miller or Dobey would pull them from the case and how warranted that decision might be.

   Hutch’s mind continued to churn as he reached his apartment. One thing was for certain, though. Bed never looked so good. Hutch forced further speculation from his mind and was asleep nearly before his head hit the pillow.

********

   Tom and Joey nervously waited for Mr. Foley’s call. It would be more accurate to say that Tom was somewhat apprehensive. Joey’s behavior bordered on paranoia. He glared at the phone as if willing it to ring and spent most of his time pacing the length of the small hotel room. When the phone did ring, he jumped a foot.

   "Answer it! Answer it!" he cried to Tom.

   Tom slowly reached for the phone. He did very little talking during the conversation, except to offer a few assurances that all would be taken care of. By the time he replaced the handset, Joey could barely contain himself.

   "Well? Well! What did he say?"

   "He said that the car is registered to a Detective Sergeant Hutchinson."

   "Damn, I knew those guys were cops!"

   "The question is, can the other one ID you?"

   "I don’t think so, just the blond. But the two of them probably talked."

   "Doesn’t matter. That’s just hearsay. Mr. Foley’s only interested in who can give a firsthand ID."

   "Interested? Interested how? And what about those sketch artists, man? There could be a guy drawing my picture right now!"

   "Joey, you’ve been watching too may cop shows."

   "Yeah, well, I like to keep current. What about the two goombahs? Are we going to get another crack at them?"

   "Well, Mr. Foley has given us a rare opportunity to redeem ourselves. We’re going to get another chance at Yancey, provided we bring in the cop."

   "Bring in the cop? No way, man. I ain’t ‘bringing in’ no cop, whatever the hell that means."

   "Listen, Joey. We screwed up. Or should I say you screwed up. We’re lucky to still be in this racket. This is not the time to get choosy about assignments."

   "Well, what’s this ‘bring in’ crap? I’d feel a lot better if we just iced the dude and got the hell outta Dodge, ya know what I mean?"

********

   The "spot" was a deserted warehouse near the pier. Miller drove up in his sedan and cut the headlights, waiting impatiently for his contact. Soon he saw a small pick-up truck pull around the corner. The driver turned off his lights and coasted to a stop next to Miller’s vehicle. A young man got out and headed for the passenger’s side of the Lieutenant’s car.

   "What’s with calling me in the middle of the godforsaken night?"

   "If you would just give me some straight information, Delco, I wouldn’t have to keep interrupting your beauty sleep," snarled Miller. "We had a deal. You get me some information I can use to bust Foley, and I cut you some slack."

   "I told you about the gun dealing and where it was going down. I’m not Foley’s right-hand man. I don’t have all the details. I didn’t realize you needed a stinkin’ road map!"

   "Let’s not forget who gave you a walk, punk!"

   "Hey, Miller, you know I appreciate it. But I ain’t sticking my neck out to get chopped off. I told you about the Algonquin weeks ago. Don’t tell me you ain’t made a bust yet."

   "I was doing this one by the book. A couple of hot shot detectives on loan to me screwed things up. I’m afraid they may have scared off the players. I need names."

   "I told you, Miller, I don’t know their names. I only know they’re some guys from New York."

   "Then you’re going to get closer to Foley and find out."

   "And if I say no?"

   "Delco, how’s the old lady doing?"

   "You leave her out of this!"

   "Gladly. Just get me something I can use."

   Yancey and Eddie returned to the room at the Algonquin to collect the remaining weapons. Yancey wasn’t entirely convinced that the detectives were watching them, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. He decided to make a few phone calls from the room and then clear out. He noticed Eddie pull a flask from his jacket and take a swig.

   "Reminds me of the days back in the shanty," said Yancey. "Only this is L.A. and you ain’t trying to shake the cold."

   "If you got something to say, I’d wish you’d say it."

   "Eddie, not everyone is cut out for this type of work."

   "Bill, I ain’t going back to the powerhouses. I’m done being a union man."

   Yancey eyed Eddie carefully and then turned back to the phone. He put a cursing Trask in his place and then after a few minutes of deliberation, called Foley.

********

   Monty sat behind the front desk and tried to regain his composure. While he was figuring out how to make the most of the situation he was in, he noticed the switchboard light up. Perhaps here was an opportunity.

********

   The next morning, Hutch drove to the hospital to check on his partner. As he climbed into the LTD, he again saw Starsky’s blood on the passenger seat and winced. Involuntarily the blond replayed the vision of Starsky collapsing on the pavement and caught himself shivering at the memory. Hutch tried to push the image out of his mind, but it continued to haunt him on the drive to the hospital. He thought of Starsky waving him off and how he had stupidly taken that as assurance that the big lug was okay. While his partner was losing consciousness and who knew how much blood, he was going through the numbers on the radio. He suddenly couldn’t figure out if he were more angry with Starsky or himself about that. No, he was definitely more pissed at himself. He should have known better. Starsky only made a fuss over the minor mishaps.

   When Hutch arrived at the hospital, Starsky was already dressed and ready to go.

   "So they’ve decided to spring you, huh, buddy?" said Hutch, immeasurably relieved to see that his partner was in one piece.

   "Yeah, I’m a real quick healer," said the brunet as he paused to chew on some aspirin. "Now let’s can the small talk and blow this popsicle stand before the Doc changes his mind."

   "Not so fast, buddy," said Hutch with a grin, motioning towards the nurse who was approaching with a wheelchair.

   "Regulations, Sergeant," said the nurse, anticipating Starsky’s protest. Now be a good soldier and don’t get me into any hot water."

   "If you say so, swheetheart," said Starsky with his characteristic grin. He quickly surmised that any protest at this point was bound to be futile.

   At that moment the doctor approached the group. "Just so I get a straight story, Doc, I’d like to hear the verdict on my partner here from you personally," said Hutch.

   The doctor smiled. "As I told Detective Starsky, he’s cleared to drive. But I’d like him to restrict his police duties to desk work for a few days."

   "I think I’d be safer on the streets than under Dobey’s nose," said Starsky under his breath.

   "I’ll make sure he follows your instructions," said Hutch.

   The doctor nodded and headed off to complete his rounds. Hutch took control of the wheelchair, thanking the nurse, and wheeled his partner to the entrance of the hospital. Once there, Starsky leapt from the chair as if freed from a cage. He quickly glanced around the parking lot and spotting Hutch’s LTD made a beeline for it.

   "The first order of business is to pick up my baby at Merle’s. And on the way you can fill me in on all the grief I imagine you’ve been getting from Miller and Dobey."

   "Yeah," rejoined Hutch, "you missed quite a show."

   Driving to Merle’s, Hutch described the meeting with the Lieutenant and the Captain and shared his belief that the perp he had been chasing was one of the guys from the Skylark.

   "Sounds like we should track down those prostitutes and ask a few questions," said Starsky.

   "What makes you think we’re still on the case?"

   "Hey, on or off the case, we’re involved, right?"

   "You got a point there."

   The detectives rode on a few minutes in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Hutch looked over at his partner, noting both the bandage and the angry swelling that surrounded his left eye.

   "And do me a favor, will you?"

   "What’s that?" asked Starsky.

   "The next time you get your head smashed through a plate glass window —"

   "I’m not planning on making a habit of it, buddy," interrupted the brunet with a grin.

   "Dammit, Starsk, hear me out!" cried Hutch.

   Starsky turned to face his partner. "What’s going on with you?"

   Hutch took a deep breath. "I’m sorry. All I’m saying is that when you’re hurt I need to know."

   "Okay. I hear you."

   "What I don’t need is you making asinine comments like ‘I never felt better.’"

   "Hutch —"

   "No, I mean it, Starsky. When I saw the amount of blood that was coming out of that thick skull of yours I nearly lost my lunch. And there I was trying to get through to the dispatcher and make a formal report as if I had all the time in the word." Hutch had returned his eyes to the road and Starsky noticed that he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

   Starsky punched his partner lightly on the shoulder to lighten the mood. "Hey, Blondie, I’m okay. And I promise to let you know exactly what’s going on next time I get my head smashed through a plate glass window."

   Hutch looked over at his partner, half amused and half annoyed.

   Starsky’s expression became more serious. "Don’t worry, buddy. I get it."

********

   Hutch dropped Starsky off at Merle’s. Fearing the Earl would try to sell him on the idea of wrecking havoc with the LTD’s interior, Hutch beat a hasty retreat from the garage. He said something to Starsky about mitigating the fallout at Division and headed for the station.

   Merle was actually on the phone in a heated argument with a customer over a certain Camero. When he saw the detective, he waved him in the direction of his assistant, Cecil. Starsky recognized the young black man as the tow truck driver who had brought the Torino into the garage. He approached him eagerly.

   "So where is she, Cecil? How’s my beautiful hunk of chrome doing?"

   Cecil walked over to one of the bays and removed a tarp to reveal the striped tomato in all its glory. "Merle threw in a free car wash, but I drew the line at waxing the damn thing."

   "Well, please tell the Earl I appreciate it."

   "Whatever."

   "So what’s the damage?"

   Cecil grabbed a handful of work orders and flipped through until he found the right one. He handed the slip to the detective and added, "If you’re paying by check, I want to see some ID."

   "Is that Merle’s new policy? Don’t worry, there’s nothing wrong with my credit," said Starsky grinning.

   "I’d like to see it all the same," said Cecil, his voice severe and his eyes menacing.

   Starsky reached for his wallet without taking his eyes off the young man. "Hey, Cecil, is there a problem here?"

   "No problem."

   "It’s just that I get the feeling I’ve said something to offend you."

   "You ain’t done nothing to offend me, I’m just looking to get you and your car on your way."

   "I got ya," said Starsky, still watching the man intently.

   "And maybe in future, you should be more careful about what neighborhoods you and your partner choose to frequent."

   "All right, Cecil, spit it out. What’s bothering you?"

   "Fine. I’ll give it to you straight. I don’t appreciate how the po-lice think they got a right to shake down the locals for information."

   "And that’s what you think me and Hutch are doing?"

   "Hell, I know that’s what you two are doing. Huggy’s sure got some strange loyalties."

   "Cecil, we’re both on the same side here, aren’t we? The information that Huggy gives us helps to get some of the scum off the streets."

   "Yeah, and do you know how long it takes the po-lice to get down to that neighborhood when one of its people are in trouble? Do you?! Just long enough for some sorry son of a bitch to bleed to death. But let it come down to getting what you want and it’s "Okay, Huggy, and how about a free burger and a beer to wash it down."

   "Cecil, it ain’t like that. Huggy is a good friend of ours."

   "Yeah, the best snitch a couple of honky cops could ask for." He glanced towards the office and seeing that Merle was off the phone added, "Take your payment up with the boss; I’ve got work to do." Cecil then turned abruptly and headed to the back lot.

********

   The two men sat in the study of the Foley estate. Heavy brocade curtains prevented any light from spilling through the windows. Mr. Foley liked to keep the lighting dim so that his eyes wouldn’t be strained when he emerged from the projection room. His entourage had learned long ago that their boss’s taste in films and his penchant for dim lighting were just two of his many strange idiosyncrasies. At the moment, Mr. Foley held a brandy snifter and wore a contemplative expression. His companion looked at a loss for words.

   "Mr. Foley, I mean no disrespect, but don’t you think that whacking two sets of hit men is a little extreme?"

   "Men for hire are a dime a dozen, Max. Yancey and his sidekick, Eddie, were potential liabilities from the start. But I’ve got to say, this Tom and his numb-nuts partner... they’re an accident waiting to happen. I send them to do a straight-forward job and what happens? A. I get burned, and B. I get a cop invited to the party."

   "Yeah, but Mr. Foley, that’s just my point. Hiring each set to blow away the other. Just think of all the ways that could turn ugly. And I have to say I don’t understand the point of bringing that cop Hutchinson here at all." Max quickly added, "Understand, I mean no disrespect, Mr. Foley."

********

   Joey sat on the edge of the bed in his hotel room, munching on soggy fries and drinking a Coke. He was engrossed in a movie when Tom entered.

   "Hey, man, this is one cool movie. The Mechanic. Bronson and this Jan-Michael kid are some pretty heavy dudes."

   "Joey, turn off the TV."

   "No way, man. This is just getting good. I bet we could take some notes from this flick. Learn some real useful shit."

   "Joey, we’ve got a job to plan. Turn the damn TV off!"

   Joey sighed and switched off the set. "I don’t mind telling you, I got a bad feeling about nabbing this cop, man. And this head case, Foley? He’s about three bricks shy of a load."

********

   When Hutch got to the station, Dobey summoned him into the office.

   "How’s Starsky?"

   "He’s going to be okay, Captain. But the Doc says he should stick to his desk for a few days. He’s picking up his car; he’ll be here soon."

   "Desk work, huh?"

   Hutch grinned. "Now, Captain, go easy on him."

   "Sure. I’m just going to use the forced vacation to reacquaint him with some of the finer points of report writing."

   "Starsky and I agreed that the next step is to interview those prostitutes. But I’d like to head out now so he doesn’t get the bright idea to hit the streets with me."

   "Hutch, I got another call from the Commissioner this morning. The man is riding my butt about this whole mess with Miller. He wants it resolved now. I told Miller that my men were officially off the case."

   "You’re going to bow down to Miller?"

   "Listen, Hutchinson, I’m not bowing down to anyone! I’m acting in the best interests of the Department!" Dobey lowered his voice and continued. "Besides which, Detective, I don’t think you heard me correctly. I said you were ‘officially’ off the case."

   Hutch looked at the Captain knowingly.

   "What you happen to come across while attending to other police duties," he said waving his arm, "is another matter."

   "You think Miller is up to something?"

   Dobey raised his eyebrows and the gruffness returned to his voice. "I think Miller is an honest cop facing an ugly divorce, big alimony payments, and two kids heading for college. He’s got an eye towards promotion and a desire to make a name for himself but that’s hardly criminal behavior. I read the reports from his operation this morning. I didn’t find anything suspicious. If anything, he’s been overcautious. But I want this wrapped up, Hutch. I don’t want Miller getting his dander up and running over my head again."

   "Got it, Captain."

   "Good, now get out there and get me some answers."

   As Hutch left the office, Starsky entered the squad room. "Hey, where are you going?"

   "Dobey will fill you in. He’s got big plans for you."

   "You mean you’re really gonna leave me here?" said Starsky in mock indignation. "Some friend you are!"

   "Starsky!" bellowed Dobey. "Get your butt in here!"

   Starsky glared at his partner. "I’m gonna get you for this, Hutch."

   Hutch laughed and left the squad room. Before heading out to the police garage, he took a detour to the property room. Officer Lauren Delaney was cataloguing some evidence when he approached the desk.

   "Have I told you what an improvement you are over Bigelow?"

   Lauren kept her gaze on the spreadsheet before her. "Only about half a dozen times. But like I told you, Bigelow’s on temporary leave. He’ll be back soon." So if you’re going to make a move, I sure wish you’d do it now, she thought to herself.

   "I was wondering..." Hutch began.

   Lauren raised her eyes from the leger questioningly.

   "Would you like to have dinner?"

   "I thought you’d never ask."

   "Damn," laughed Hutch, a bit flustered. "Was I that obvious?"

   "I suppose some things are worth the wait."

   Before he had time to get more flustered, Hutch suggested an Italian restaurant in town. Lauren mentioned that it would be easiest for them to meet there and they agreed on eight o’clock.

********

   Cecil looked at his watch. Nearly time for lunch, and Merle had promised him his paycheck by noon. There would be a fair amount of overtime in it. He asked Merle if he could take an extra half hour for lunch and run a few errands.

   "Sure, Cecil, and I sure appreciate all the time you’ve been putting in." As Cecil reached for his jacket, Merle added, "Listen, son, you’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?"

   "What do you mean, Merle?"

   "It’s just... I don’t know. A single guy like yourself should be able to live on a song."

   "I borrowed some money from Huggy. No big deal. I don’t like owning people. I promised Hug I’d repay him. Wanna settle my debts, that’s all."

   "Okay, kid."

   Cecil quickly headed off to the bank to cash his check. His next stop was The Pits. Huggy accepted the money and Cecil thanked him. Neither man mentioned their last heated exchange until Cecil was about to leave.

   "Look, Hug. I ain’t gonna pretend I like the cats you hang out with, but you’ve always given me a hand when I needed it and I guess it ain’t none of my business... What I’m saying is, things are cool between us."

   After leaving The Pits, Cecil turned his attention to taking care of the one dilemma that had been hanging over his head for weeks. Though not a heavy gambler, he had placed a few bets that had grown into less than friendly propositions. Embarrassed over being suckered in, he hadn’t told a soul and made a deal with a local loan shark to get himself out of debt. To make the payments on time he had worked overtime, borrowed from friends, and finally in a desperate move, hocked some of his mother’s jewelry at a local pawn shop. The owner of the place had agreed to hold the pieces for a few weeks, provided he could make a profit on the transaction. Cecil had reluctantly agreed. Once he had made a deal with the devil, he felt at the mercy of several unscrupulous players. Never mind. Cecil had learned his lesson and soon all would be as it was. The young man drove determinedly to Trask’s Pawn Shop.

********

   Yancey and Eddie sat at a table in a diner not far from the Algonquin. They had checked into another dive on the strip. Yancey was enjoying a full breakfast with all the trimmings. Eddie was staring morosely into a cup of black coffee. His hands were shaking slightly.

   "Cheer up, Eddie, this is what we’ve been waiting for. By tomorrow night, we will have established a reputation in this town."

   "Popping a coupla guys down by the pier," said Eddie under his breath, "is a helluva way to earn a living, ain’t it."

   Yancey reached for the medallion around his neck. "I did my time with the regular working stiffs, Eddie. Watched my best friend get killed on the Verrazano job."

   "I know, Bill. You’ve told me."

   "Well, Eddie, if you didn’t hit the sauce so much, maybe you could have been an ironworker instead of a boilermaker. Nerves of steel. It ain’t no lie. That’s what it takes. Can’t say that I’m thoroughly convinced you can pull this off."

   "I signed up for the program, Yancey. I’m gonna see it through."

   "Fine. Now finish your coffee, so’s we can get over to Trask’s place."

********

   Hutch drove down to the Algonquin Hotel. He decided to start at the tavern where Starsky had run into the bikers. He noticed that the window had been boarded up and most of the glass cleared from the sidewalk. As Hutch entered the bar, he struggled to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Very few people were in the place, but he recognized the guy behind the bar as the irate bouncer. The bouncer recognized Hutch too.

   "I guess you’ve heard about the damn runaround I’m getting from the police department over that window!"

   "Can it, Bubba. I didn’t come down here to discuss your decorating woes."

   "Is that right? You’ve got one hell of a nerve coming in here and telling me that!"

   Hutch dove over the bar and grabbed Bubba’s vest with both hands. "Listen, scum, I’m sure I could find half a dozen violations in this dive to keep you downtown for the rest of the day! Not to mention the fact that you served a couple of drunk sleaze buckets who wound up assaulting a cop!"

   "All right, all right! Keep your shirt on!"

   Hutch held onto his vest a few more moments and stared at the bouncer with steely blue eyes. He finally released him and took a deep breath. "There were two prostitutes working the corner. I want to know their names and where I can find them."

   "Hey, man, there are a lot of girls down here trying to make a living."

   "And the pimps have made sure they know their territory. I want those names and I want them now!"

   Bubba was finding the detective’s scrutinizing look difficult to bear. He reached for a rag and started a cursory sweep of the bar. "I don’t know the older one’s name, but the younger one goes by ‘Lottie.’ Short for Loretta, I think. During the day she’s holed up in a room at the Algonquin. But you ain’t gonna get much information outta her until dark."

   "Why’s that?" asked Hutch.

   "She’s a serious pill-popper, man. Real spaced out during the day."

   "I’ll take my chances," said Hutch, leaving the tavern.

********

   "Do you understand the plan, Joey?"

   "Yeah, man, I got it the first time. What do you think I am, some kind of moron?"

   "I’m going to grab us some lunch; you stay here." Tom left the hotel room.

   Joey turned the television set back on and settled down to enjoy the rest of The Mechanic.

********

   Hutch entered the Algonquin Hotel and recognized Monty Voorhees behind the desk. As the detective surveyed the trail of peanut shells, he marveled at the strange constants in life.

   For his part, Monty was none too happy to see Hutch, though he had in fact anticipated a visit. It paid both literally and figuratively to be cooperative with the cops but not openly forthcoming. Monty did not consider himself a snitch, but he’d deal if there was something in it for him. Sometimes that meant simply placating a guy with a bad attitude and a healthy build. Like that Yancey character. He had turned pretty mean once his partner Eddie called him "Yancey" within Monty’s hearing. Monty had a register full of entries that read "Smith" and "Jones." He didn’t care. He wasn’t one to run background checks on the people this hotel catered to. But he’d gotten the impression that Yancey didn’t appreciate his partner’s carelessness and that put Monty in a vulnerable and yet potentially profitable situation.

   "I thought you were down at the Royale," said Hutch.

   "This is what you call a lateral career move," responded Monty, putting another peanut in his mouth. His eyes darted furtively from the detective to the pile of shells before him.

   "I heard through the grapevine that you’ve got a working girl by the name of Lottie staying here."

   "Yeah, so?"

   "I’d like to talk to her."

   Monty decided to make this one a gift. "Room 316."

   Hutch looked a bit surprised. "Thanks, Monty." Not trusting the elevators in these old hotels, he started up the stairs. "Oh, and Monty? Keep your mitts off the phone. I prefer an unannounced visit."

   No sooner was Hutch on the second landing, Monty turned to the switchboard. He called Lottie’s room, but there was no answer. The ringing had indeed roused her from a drug induced sleep, but before she could stumble to the phone, it had stopped. Then there was a knock at the door.

   "Just a minute," Lottie called. She threw a tattered robe on and reached for a cigarette. Once she had lit it and taken a deep inhalation, she answered the door.

   Hutch flashed his badge. "May I come in? I need to ask you some questions."

   "Sure, honey. Come have a seat." Lottie stumbled over to a couch and patted the spot next to her. Hutch sat beside the woman.

   "I want to ask you about the incident last night."

   "What incident was that, honey?" she said absentmindedly. Lottie seemed far more interested in the swirls of smoke drifting slowly upward than in the conversation.

   "A man grabbed you across the street and you screamed. Why did he grab you like that? What did he want?"

   Lottie looked confused. "What man?"

   "A tall guy, about six feet. Late twenties, brown hair."

   "Oh, I remember that guy. You know why? He had gapped-teeth."

   "Okay, good. Now, tell me. What did he want?"

   "You know why I remember that?" said Lottie, her eyes lolling about in her head as she took another long drag on the cigarette. "Because my mama told me when I was little that gap-toothed women were loose. Know what I mean? In fact, she used a specific word to describe them. What was that word..."

   "Okay, Lottie. Stay with me, okay? What did the guy want?"

   "I know," she said, brightening a bit through the haze of smoke and pills. "Lascivious. That was the word: la-sci-vi-ous." She said it a few more times, dragging out each syllable. "You know, that word makes my tongue feel funny." Lottie started to giggle. "I remember thinking... I wonder if guys could be la-sci-vi-ous too."

   "Lottie."

   "I wonder what ol’ mama would have to say on that subject."

   "Do you remember why the guy grabbed you?"

   "No, I don’t think so." Lottie looked out the window. Hutch couldn’t tell if she was thinking hard or just drifting off again. "Yes, I do remember. It had something to do with cigarettes."

   "Cigarettes?"

   "Yeah, that punk was trying to steal my cigarettes! No, no, that can’t be. Jerry doesn’t let us smoke while we’re working."

   "Jerry? That’s your pimp?"

   "Yeah, and he don’t like us smoking. Says it looks cheap. Don’t that beat all?" Lottie started giggling again. "I think it makes me look... what’s the word I want? Sophisticated. Yeah, that’s it."

   "So it wasn’t about stealing your cigarettes."

   "No, guess not. Maybe I was trying to steal his. Yeah, that was probably it."

   Hutch decided he wasn’t getting anywhere with this. He thanked Lottie for her time and returned downstairs.

   "Okay, Monty. Got a couple of questions for you."

   "Hey, man. I gave you her room number, now cut me a break."

   "Been reports of gun dealing going on at this fine establishment, Monty. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now would you?"

   "I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business."

   "Now, Monty. Do you really expect me to believe that? I bet you don’t miss a thing that goes on in this place."

   Monty’s eyes began to dart about again. Hutch reached into his wallet and put a ten on the counter. Monty’s eyes reacted to it, but he didn’t touch it. "I’ll tell you, Hutch. You know, ten dollars ain’t much. You don’t know what you’re asking. These are some mean fellas."

   "Names and a room number, Monty."

   "Come on, Hutch."

   "That’s all you’re getting. Now spill it."

   Monty snatched up the money. "Bill Yancey is the guy’s name. His buddy is called Eddie. Don’t know his last name."

   "What room?"

   "518."

   Hutch started up the stairs.

   "But you ain’t gonna find them there now. They left this morning."

   Hutch returned. "And I don’t suppose you know where they went."

   "Nope. And I didn’t ask neither."

   Much against his better judgement, Hutch put another ten on the desk. "Give me something I can use, Monty."

   Monty reached out to grab the bill, but Hutch grabbed his hand and held it fast. Monty yelped.

   "Information first."

   "Okay, okay," cried Monty. Hutch released his hand and Monty cupped it in his other, nursing a bruise. "They’re from New York, both of them. Got thick accents. And this Yancey wears this big medallion around his neck. I ain’t never seen him without it. It’s got an engraving of a bridge on it."

   "Anything else."

   "Yeah. I think they’re into more than just gun dealing."

   "Meaning?"

   "They placed a couple of calls from the hotel. And I just, you know, happened to overhear. One was to a guy named Harry. Yancey was giving him some grief about storage."

   "Harry got a last name?"

   "I didn’t hear it."

   "And the other call?"

   "That was the interesting one. Involved a contract hit. I’m sure of it. But I don’t know who or where or when. When the guy Yancey was talking to realized he was on the hotel phone, the conversation ended real quick."

   Hutch nodded, and as he turned to leave, Monty grabbed the ten dollar bill.

********

   After leaving the hotel, Hutch got on the radio and asked to be patched through to Detective Starsky.

   "Starsky here."

   "How’s the paperwork going?"

   "Don’t ask. Whatcha got?"

   "Well, talking to the prostitute that was grabbed by our guy was a bust. But I got some information from Monty Voorhees at some pretty inflated rates."

   "Monty Voorhees? Ain’t he the guy with the chicken heads in his act?"

   "That’s the one. He gave me the name of one of the gun dealers: Bill Yancey. Supposedly out of New York. And it seems this guy might be for hire as well. Put his name in the system and see if anything comes up."

   "You got it. Anything else?"

   "I’m gonna hang around and ask a few more people in the area for statements. Then I’ll head to Huggy’s and see if anything’s turned up over there."

   "Okay. How about grabbing some dinner tonight?"

   "Gotta take a rain check, buddy. I’ve got a date tonight."

   "You’re kidding? With Lauren?"

   "Yeah, and there’s no need to act so surprised."

   "I’m just glad you decided not to talk her to death."

   "Very funny, Starsk."

********

   When Tom returned with the food, he found Joey sitting on the bed with an extremely worried look on his face.

   "Eat up, Joey. This is the last food I’m feeding you for a while."

   "I ain’t hungry."

   "What’s the matter now, Joey?"

   "It’s that movie, man. I saw the rest of it after you left."

   "What movie?"

   "What’s up with you, man? Am I just flapping my gums when I talk to you? Don’t you hear a word I say? The Mechanic, man. The movie about the hit men."

   "Well, if those things upset you so, why don’t you stick to your marching bands and your boom-boom girls on the football games?"

   "You don’t understand! There’s Bronson and Vincent, see, the two hit men. And they both get contracts to kill someone. Only it turns out they’ve both been hired to kill the other guy!"

   "What’s your point, Joey?"

   "Do I gotta draw you a picture, boss man? What if these goombahs we’re supposed to whack turn out to have it in for us?"

   "Joey, I don’t want to hear any more of your nonsense. And besides, our first concern is the cop."

   "I don’t know, man. I got a bad feeling."

********

   Yancey and Eddie stood behind a small curtained area in the pawn shop, talking to Harry Trask. Yancey was becoming increasingly agitated.

   "What the hell am I paying you for, Harry? You got my merchandise stockpiled back here where any jerk snooping around can see it!"

   "Calm down, Yancey. I’ll move it upstairs."

   "See that you do. Jesus!"

   Cecil stood outside the pawn shop. He didn’t see anyone inside but the open sign was on, so he tried the door. As it opened, he heard angry voices in the background.

   "And another thing," said Yancey. "What do you know about a couple of detectives named Starsky and Hutchinson?"

   "Why do you ask?"

   "That freak Monty at the Algonquin mentioned that they’d been hanging around the neighborhood."

   Before Harry could answer, he caught a glimpse of Cecil through the curtain. "Damn," he hissed. "That buzzer on the front door must be busted again."

   Harry quickly left the back to greet Cecil. His manner was pure impatience. "What can I do for you?"

   Cecil reminded him of the jewelry and produced the amount of money they had agreed upon.

   "It’s in the back. Wait here."

   Cecil’s eyes followed Harry as he approached the curtained area. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of a man wearing a large medallion around his neck.

PART FOUR