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PART ONE
Safe in My Home - Part Two
By
Sue David and Valerie Wells
"Oh, my God! Hutch!" Starsky ran for the driver’s side of the car. He yanked his badge out of his pocket and showed it to the nearest uniformed officer, who didn't know him.
The officer glanced at it, but still put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Careful," he said. "We don't know how bad he's hurt."
Starsky nodded and swallowed hard at the sight of the blood trickling down Hutch's face. His partner's eyes were closed; he was out cold. The paramedics were examining him and preparing a backboard and cervical collar for him.
"Don't move him," one of them said to Starsky.
Starsky didn't move him, but he gently touched his shoulder and knelt next to the open car door. "Hutch? Can you hear me?"
There was no response, which scared Starsky. He shouldn't have been out this long. The paramedics shooed him away and fixed the collar to Hutch, easing him out of the car and onto the backboard. As they were strapping him down, his eyes finally opened, glazed and confused, but open. He reached up to pull at the cervical collar, but Starsky grabbed his hands.
"No, buddy. Don't fight. Let them take care of you. You were in a car wreck, remember?"
Hutch turned his eyes toward Starsky, still dazed, but he at least recognized him. "Starsk?"
"Yeah. Don't fight, huh? You hit your head. Remember?"
Hutch blinked once or twice and finally said, "The brakes. The brakes went out." Then he winced. "My head hurts."
"I'll bet it does," Starsky said gently, more alarmed than he wanted to let on at the amount of blood soaking into Hutch's hair.
"We have to go," the paramedic said. "Memorial."
Starsky nodded. "I'll be right behind you," he said to Hutch. "You're gonna be okay."
Vinnie had approached the scene and watched all this from a short distance away, keeping his face sober, but inside he was thinking it was too bad the blond had survived. He still had hopes that he'd been seriously hurt, though. The blood was an encouraging sign.
After the ambulance left, Starsky turned to head back to his car. He'd forgotten all about Vinnie until he caught sight of him.
"How's he doing?" Vinnie asked with feigned concern.
"I don't know," Starsky said. "I'm goin' to the hospital."
"Want me to come with you?" Vinnie asked, amazed at the sight of Starsky's pale face and haunted eyes. He must really care about the guy.
"Suit yourself," Starsky said, his mind clearly elsewhere. He broke into a run, too fast for Vinnie to keep up with him, and as soon as he got into the car, he had the motor running and was gone.
Vinnie shook his head. He'd just go home and get to bed. He'd find out tomorrow how badly the blond was damaged. In the meantime, he'd done enough for one day.
Starsky ran into the emergency room at full speed. He stopped at the desk. "I'm here for Ken Hutchinson," he said. "I'm his partner." He already had his badge in his hand.
"He's still being treated," the nurse said. "Have a seat, and we'll let you know."
"I wanna be with him," Starsky demanded.
"We'll come and get you when you can see him," she said. "Sit down now."
A few minutes later, the doctor came in. "I've sent him up to X-ray," he told Starsky. "But I don't think he's badly hurt. Just a bump on the head, maybe a concussion. He badly bruised his chest from hitting the steering wheel, and that will cause him some pain. I'll advise against any strenuous activity for at least a week."
"What about all that blood?"
"My guess is his head hit the windshield," the doctor said. "We're going to take some stitches, and he's going to have a hell of a headache, but he'll be all right. He was pretty stunned, though."
Starsky let out a long breath. "Thank God."
"I'd like to keep him overnight, but he won't hear of it," the doctor added with a slight grin. "I'll let him go home on one condition."
"What's that?"
"Somebody has to stay with him and wake him up every couple of hours," the doctor said.
"I can do that," Starsky said. "We usually take care of each other when one of us is hurt."
"And when you wake him up, ask him questions, to see if he's alert. What day is it, when's his birthday, does he remember what happened. Will you do that, too?"
"Yeah."
"If he acts confused or if he has trouble waking up, bring him back in immediately."
"I will."
The doctor nodded. "We'll be done with him in an hour or so."
Starsky went to the phone to call Dobey and explain what had happened. "Hutch ain't gonna be able to work tomorrow," he finished.
"And you want the day off, too, I suppose, so you can look after him."
"Can I?"
Dobey sighed. "All right. But you better be back the next day. I'll take Hutch off the roster for the week."
"Thanks, Cap'n."
A nurse finally came to get Starsky to tell him Hutch was ready to go. She led him back to the treatment area, where Hutch was sitting on a bed. One eye was already turning black, and a large white bandage sat at an angle across his head. He looked miserable.
The doctor was giving him instructions. "No aspirin," he said. "You could have bleeding inside the skull. If the headaches are too bad, we'll prescribe something else."
Hutch nodded and winced at the movement.
"Stay in bed tomorrow and sleep as much as you can," the doctor went on. "Drink as much liquid as you can stand to, because you lost some blood."
"Okay."
"You can wash your hair tomorrow if you're careful, but replace the bandage afterward and don't get the stitches wet again. We'll take them out in a week or ten days."
Hutch looked even more miserable at that. He hated having dirty hair.
"If you have double vision or throw up more than a couple of times, get your behind back in here immediately. Got all that?"
"I do," Starsky said.
The doctor patted Hutch's shoulder. "Go on. Get out of here."
Starsky put his arm around Hutch and helped him out to the car. He'd refused the wheelchair, but he was clearly dizzy and in a lot of pain and it took several minutes to get as far as the car, even though Starsky had left it as close to the door as he could. He got Hutch into the passenger seat, put his seat belt on him – concerned that Hutch didn't protest – and hurried around to his side. Hutch lay his head back against the headrest with a sigh. Starsky drove as carefully as he could, but he could see the turns and the movement weren't helping Hutch any. By the time they reached the apartment, Hutch's fair skin was almost green. Starsky got him up the stairs as quickly as possible and into the bathroom without even asking.
It was just in time. Hutch sank to his knees and threw up, moaning in between bouts because it made both his head and his chest hurt even more. Starsky wet a washcloth in cold water and mopped his partner's face, got him a glass of ice water, and helped him to bed once Hutch indicated he was over the nausea.
"God, I feel awful," Hutch said, wincing as he lay down.
"I know," Starsky said. He took the empty glass Hutch had drained back to the kitchen and refilled it. Hutch drank more slowly this time and lay back with a sigh. "Gonna sleep in your clothes, babe?" Starsky asked as he put the glass on the nightstand.
Hutch groaned. "I can't get back up."
"I'll do it," Starsky said. "Okay?"
Hutch started to nod, groaned, and settled for "uh-huh."
Starsky got Hutch's shoes and socks and jeans off and decided to leave his t-shirt. He straightened the covers and checked the bandage to make sure the gash in Hutch's head wasn't still bleeding. "I'll be right out there," he said, indicating the living area. "I'm gonna have to wake you up every couple of hours. Doctor's orders. But if you need anything, you holler. 'kay?"
"Yeah. Thanks, buddy."
Starsky took Hutch's little wind-up alarm clock out to the couch with him and set it for two hours. He was exhausted; both from the worry and stress he'd just been through and from spending so many hours with Vinnie. He still didn't think Hutch was looking at Vinnie with an open mind, but he saw more clearly now that he and Vinnie had nothing in common anymore but the fact that they'd grown up in the same neighborhood. Vinnie wasn't someone he wanted in his life any longer. He couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the way Vinnie's life had turned out, but he realized a lot of that was Vinnie's own fault.
He never noticed he'd fallen asleep until the alarm went off, making his heart leap in his chest. He almost fell off the couch in his haste to turn it off and he was confused for a moment as to where he was. He got up and tiptoed in to Hutch, who was out like a light. He hated to wake him, but he had to.
"Hutch?" He gently touched his partner's shoulder. "Come on, Hutch, wake up."
Hutch moaned and stirred but didn't awaken.
"Hutch, come on," Starsky said again, louder this time, and patted his cheek. "You gotta wake up."
Finally, Hutch's eyes opened. He was so groggy he could hardly focus. "Starsk? Whatcha want?"
"Remember? Doc said I gotta wake you up every coupla hours. What day is it?"
Hutch blinked and stared at him for a moment. "Wednesday. No, Thursday. Hell, I don't know. What time is it?"
"It's two in the morning."
"Then it's Thursday."
"You remember what happened?"
"Brakes went out on my car," Hutch said around a yawn. "Aw, hell. My car. Bet they towed it."
"They did. Worry about that later. Where are we?"
"I'm in bed," Hutch said, a little sharply. "And until a few minutes ago, I was asleep."
Starsky grinned. If Hutch was bitching, he was okay. "All right. Go back to sleep, Blintz. See ya in a coupla hours."
"I can't wait," Hutch grumbled.
Starsky set the alarm again but this time when it went off it rang a long time before he came out of it enough to turn it off. The reason he knew it had gone off a long time is that Hutch was already awake and very unhappy about it when he went in there.
"Thought you'd never turn that damned clock off," he groused.
"How ya feel?"
"Like hell," Hutch said. In the dim light that came from the bathroom, Starsky could see how dark the circles were under his eyes, and the left eye was swollen and bruised. There were lines of pain around his eyes and mouth, and Starsky gently pushed a lock of hair off his face. Hutch winced away from the touch.
"God, buddy, I'm sorry. Can I get you anything?"
"I'd kill for an aspirin," Hutch said.
Damn. The one thing he can't have. "Doc said no aspirin, babe," Starsky said gently. "Water? Juice? Somethin' to eat?"
"No," Hutch said, making a face. "I don't want anything to eat. Not unless you want to watch me puke again."
"Not really," Starsky said, his eyes twinkling a little. "How 'bout some ice? Might help your headache."
"Sure. And a glass of water. Please."
Starsky went to the kitchen and fixed an ice bag and a glass of ice water for Hutch, bringing them back and holding Hutch up with an arm around his back so he could drink. He could see that Hutch was trying to be Nordic and stoic about the pain, but he hadn't been the man's partner all these years without learning to see through that. He carefully laid the ice bag over the bump on Hutch's head. "Any better?"
"Yeah, thanks." Hutch shifted uncomfortably, but the pain in his chest was too much to allow him much freedom of movement.
Starsky had to swallow a lump in his throat at seeing Hutch in so much pain. "What coulda gone wrong with your brakes, buddy?"
"I don't know." Hutch reached up to steady the ice bag and tried to sit up a little. Starsky helped by stuffing an extra pillow behind him. "They just weren't there. Pedal went straight to the floor when I tried them."
"I'll have Merle have a look at 'em for you," Starsky said. "Seems odd."
"Reminded me of the time that goon cut your brake lines, remember that?"
Starsky did, and he stared at Hutch. "S'pose somebody cut yours?"
Hutch looked at him, a little color draining from his face. "If someone cut them, they did it here. The brakes were fine the rest of the day."
"So whoever did it knows where you live. Terrific."
Hutch was looking a little green again and his eyes were losing focus. Starsky noticed his change in expression. "Hey, Blintz. You okay?" he said as he reached over and lightly shook Hutch’s arm.
"Huh? Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired."
"That was a sudden shift, buddy. You’re not planning on dropping out on me are you?"
Hutch grunted. "Uh-uh. I just can’t keep my eyes open. Sorry."
Starsky smiled at him and helped Hutch to lie down again. He managed to position the ice just right so Hutch didn’t have to hold it and he watched for a few minutes as his friend slid into a deep sleep. Starsky thought it was at least a good sign that Hutch had woken up and had a coherent conversation with him, however brief.
The content of that conversation stayed with Starsky as he went back into the living room to set the alarm for six. He decided to call the crime lab team in the morning and ask them to bring Hutch’s car in for inspection. In addition to worrying about Hutch’s banged up cranium and sore chest, Starsky was now concerned that someone had messed with the car and was trying to kill his partner. Hutch would be down for a few days at least and Starsky planned to get to the bottom of what had happened to him that night as quickly as possible. He fell asleep with thoughts of what he would do if his suspicions proved true.
Hutch’s wake-up checks continued to be positive. He felt terrible, but he was lucid. Both detectives anxiously awaited the results of the tests on the car. Starsky managed to get some soup into his partner for lunch, though he had to bring it to him in bed. Hutch said his chest felt like an elephant was sitting on it, prompting an anxious call to the man’s doctor to be sure Hutch didn’t need to be seen.
"Thanks, Doc...No, he ate some soup...Yeah...." While Starsky spoke with the doctor, Hutch attempted to roll his eyes in exasperation. That was a mistake. The room started to spin and Hutch sank back on the bed, grateful his partner was distracted at the moment.
"I will. Thanks again." Starsky hung up the phone.
"Can I have some aspirin now, nurse?" Hutch asked sarcastically.
"Nope. You can have Tylenol, though. Doc’s gonna call you something stronger in tomorrow if you need it, as long as things keep going all right."
Starsky ran out for some Tylenol and more liquids for Hutch. When he got back to the apartment, Hutch was sitting up in the living room waiting for him. He was still in the same t-shirt from the previous night and it had a little dried blood on it. Hutch had also slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms and Starsky wondered how he bent down enough to retrieve them from his dresser. Lucky he didn’t pass out from that maneuver.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
"Crime lab called."
Starsky didn’t have to ask. "Car was tampered with then."
"Yep. Jenson said the lines weren’t cut, but the brake fluid had been drained."
Whistling softly between his teeth, Starsky said, "They must have done it right out here on the street. Maybe someone saw something."
"Probably not. I parked around the block, all the street parking was taken. We can ask around, but I wouldn’t count on it." Hutch paused a moment, then added, "Starsk, you still haven’t told me about your dinner with Vinnie last night."
"What?"
"Your dinner, how’d it go?"
"How did you get to my dinner from your brake lines?" Starsky was wondering if Hutch might be a little confused and it scared him. He was so focused on his friend’s physical status, he missed the obvious connection.
"Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but what if Vinnie had something to do with my car?"
Starsky was momentarily speechless. "Vinnie? Why?"
Hutch’s blush was visible even around his bandage and his black eye. "He knows I don’t trust him."
"How does he know that?" Starsky asked.
"I might have stopped over at Merle’s and told him so," Hutch said. Then he smiled that smile that made him resemble a small boy caught doing something forbidden.
Starsky knew how Hutch could be if he believed there was a remote chance his partner might be hurt. Figuring out what caused Hutch to go down and speak with Vinnie didn’t require much thought. Still, he wasn’t sure he liked it. Allowing his displeasure to show in his voice, he said, "You know, Hutchinson, I’m a big boy. I can handle the likes of Vinnie all by myself." With that, he stormed into the kitchen to put away the groceries.
Forgetting his current situation, Hutch tried to stand quickly and follow Starsky into the kitchen to explain himself. He only got half to his feet, when the pain in his chest made him see sparks. He gasped audibly and fell back onto the couch in a slump with one hand on his chest and the other clutching the furniture as he tried to get his breathing back under control.
Hearing the noise, Starsky spun around in time to see Hutch fall. He raced back to his side. "Hutch! You all right?" The sight of his partner holding his chest with his eyes shut in clear agony instantly undid Starsky’s brief anger with him.
At first, Hutch didn’t answer, he just wheezed. Finally, about the time Starsky was threatening an ambulance, he released his hold on the couch and put his hand on the frantic man’s shoulder. "No, I’m all right." He paused and breathed hard for a few moments while Starsky waited for him to speak again. "Just tried to stand up too fast. Gimme a minute."
Starsky rubbed his back and waited until Hutch seemed okay again. He sat back, looking up into pain-filled eyes. "You sure you’re okay? I don’t like this," he said.
"I swear. Just banged up, nothing permanent." Hutch smiled wanly, barely convincing.
Starsky said, "I’m sorry, buddy. I know you were just looking out for me, but I don’t understand why you think it might be him."
"Just adds up, in a weird way. Think about it. First, the guy shows up outta nowhere, just in time to fix YOUR brakes, I might add. Next, we start hearing about some new east coast players moving into the district. Then, you get invited to dinner with the guy."
Starsky interrupted by saying, "And he shows up late."
"He did?"
"Yeah. Almost twenty minutes. I was going to go ahead and order dinner and then split if he didn’t show by the time I was done. And he wouldn’t let me go, Hutch. I kept tryin’, but he kept talking and coming up with reasons for me to stay. You suppose he knew you’d come looking for me? He did know I was supposed to be home by nine."
"He picked that restaurant, too. I’m starting to wonder about him saying he’d been a mechanic for years since he got out of the joint. What if he didn’t mean an ‘auto’ mechanic?"
Starsky said, "A hit man?"
"Maybe. Could be not full time, but sometimes." This conversation was making Hutch worry even more about his partner. Furrowing his brow with the thought caused him to wince a little. He continued, "Starsk, I don’t want you spending any more time with this guy. I’ve got a bad feeling he just tried to kill me."
That wince reminded Starsky to get his partner some Tylenol. He stood, motioning for Hutch to stay put, and went into the kitchen for a glass of juice and the medication. He kept talking. "I’m not saying I totally buy into this, Blondie. If you’re right, though, we gotta find out why. That’s gonna mean I have to spend some time with him."
Hutch accepted the pills and the juice gratefully. "No way, not without me around to watch your back. I have a feeling I’m going to be laid up a few days here."
"Dobey said I’m back on the roster tomorrow. I’ll just do a little quiet poking around and see what I can find."
"But you’re not going anywhere alone with Vinnie." Hutch was determined to get agreement from his partner on this issue.
"All right, but I’m not real wild about leaving you here unprotected either."
"I’m fine. I’ve still got my gun."
Starsky laughed at him. "You can barely lift that glass. No way you’re gonna be able to handle that cannon for a few days. No, I’ll get a black-and-white to hang around when I’m at work." Hutch started to protest, but Starsky did his best imitation of the Hutchinson Finger intimidation maneuver and the blond swallowed his protest. "Just on the street, Blintz. You can stay up here alone and get your beauty sleep."
Hutch had to laugh at that. He changed the subject again. "Starsk, you know what I want more than anything right this minute?"
"Lemme guess... a loaf of bread, a bottle of wine, and Farrah Fawcett." Starsky chuckled at his own joke.
"Not even close. I want that bath the doc said I could have today. Can you help me up and get the tub full? Maybe a soak will help the pain in my chest and my back."
"You got it. I’ll start the water. Be right back for you." Starsky scooted into the bathroom and started filling the tub with warm water. He got everything down where Hutch could reach it and then he went back to retrieve the patient.
The battered detective took Starsky’s extended hand and slowly stood up from the couch. Starsky followed him into the steamy bathroom and Hutch said, "I think I’m okay from here."
"Nothin’ doing, buddy. You’re as wobbly as a newborn kitten. I’m not gonna leave you in here to fall and bust your head open again just to save your Viking dignity. Let me help you. Once you’re settled in the tub, I promise to leave you alone."
Hutch was secretly glad for the helping hand. He couldn’t have pulled off his t-shirt without Starsky’s help and getting the pajama bottoms off proved more difficult than pulling them on had been. Getting them out of his dresser had nearly caused him to pass out, and he was glad Starsky hadn’t asked him about how he’d done it.
"Good God, buddy!" Starsky exclaimed when he got the t-shirt off and saw the dinner-plate sized bruise spreading out over Hutch's chest.
Hutch glanced down at it. He hadn't seen it himself before now, though he'd known it hurt like the devil. "Must be where I hit the steering wheel," he said.
"Man, that must hurt," Starsky said sympathetically.
"Yeah," Hutch said, shrugging. "Not as bad as my head," he added with a slight grin. "You gonna help me get in the tub or not?"
While Hutch soaked in the almost-too-warm water, Starsky puttered around straightening and talking to him through the partially open door. Hutch knew he was just making sure he didn’t pass out and sink beneath the water and he chuckled to himself about his worrywart partner.
He called through the door, "You know I’m too tall to drown in here, don’t ya?"
"Really," came the exasperated reply. "Well, you won’t mind if I don’t want to test that theory, I’m sure."
"I swear, buddy. The worst thing that could happen is I’d turn into a prune."
Starsky decided to ignore that last remark. "You need me to water your jungle for ya?"
"Thanks. Not the greenhouse plants, though, and everybody on the inside but Moses. He got watered yesterday."
Hutch really was a terrible joke teller. Starsky had thrown a pillow at him when he announced that he had named his newest plant, a Wandering Jew, Moses. "Okay, no water for the Levite."
Even though it hurt like hell to do it, Hutch carefully washed his hair. "I’m rinsing my hair now, so if I don’t answer you, please don’t send in the Coast Guard, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah." Starsky proceeded through the apartment, watering all of the plants that weren’t official greenhouse residents.
Hutch had resurfaced. "Hey. You ever think about the fact that the instructions on a bottle of shampoo are like an infinite loop?"
Starsky poked his head in the door and said, "How do you figure?" When he didn’t get a protest, he proceeded into the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet lid. He noticed that the blood that had been matted in Hutch’s hair had tinted the bathwater red. He swallowed hard. That was a lot of blood.
Hutch saw him looking at the water and knew why his eyes had that pained expression, but he went on lightly, "They always say Shampoo, Rinse, Repeat."
Even Starsky had to admit the humor in that one. He laughed and said, "Yeah, kind of like what we do. Find a crime, solve the crime, repeat. At least when we’re lucky."
Hutch smiled at him, glad he’d managed to lighten the mood a little. "Sure feels good to get my hair clean."
"Hope you enjoyed it, because you’re not allowed again for a week to ten days."
"No way, buddy. I’m washing it every day."
"Doc said not to get the stitches wet."
"Starsky, you could maybe get away with that. Your hair is dark at least. Mine is practically transparent. I’ll look like a skeezeball inside of two days. Nope, I’ll just be careful."
Trying to reason with him, Starsky said, "You could get your wound infected."
"Then I’ll get a massive brain infection and I’ll die."
Starsky glared at him. "That’s not funny."
"At least I’ll die with clean hair. You can bury me in my dress blues and everyone will say, ‘It’s too bad he’s gone, but don’t his hair look shiny’?" Hutch quipped with a grin.
"That's even less funny."
Hutch sighed. Even in the worst of circumstances, they could usually joke around. This time it wasn't working. "Okay, I give up. Want to help me out of this nasty water?"
"Yeah." Starsky got him out, dried off, and helped him dress in clean pajamas. Hutch was certain he could dress himself, but he knew it did Starsky good to help him, so he let him. Once he was all settled on the couch, Starsky got him another glass of orange juice and started working on getting a meal together. Hutch tried to read the paper, but it made his head hurt. And he was already so sleepy he didn't know how he was going to stay awake long enough to eat the meal he could smell cooking. At least the smell of food didn't make him feel sick today.
Starsky brought him a tray and Hutch managed to get most of it down, but he was yawning openly by the time he was full.
"Tired, buddy?"
"Beat," Hutch said. "It's pretty early to go to bed, Starsk, but I think I'm gonna have to."
Starsky grinned at him, the gentle kind of smile he reserved for when they were alone. "Okay. I'll tuck you in." He helped Hutch get to bed, made a great show of tucking him in – which made them both laugh – and turned out the light. Hutch was sound asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.
The doctor had said it wasn't necessary to wake him up during the night if he'd seemed alert and coherent during the day, so Starsky made himself comfortable and went to sleep pretty early himself.
Hutch was still sleeping when Starsky got up to go to work the next morning, but his color was good, he didn't have a fever, and he'd curled up on his side as he normally slept, so Starsky let him be and sneaked out quietly. He had some snooping to do today, and he wanted to get started. He could always call later or drop by at lunchtime to make sure Hutch was okay and didn't need anything.
He waved at the black-and-white parked in the street and stopped to say good morning. "I don't want anybody going up there and buggin' him," he told them. "Nobody but me and maybe Huggy Bear. You guys know Huggy?"
One shook his head, but the other nodded. "I've eaten at The Pits a couple of times," he said.
"Huggy might bring him something to eat, so it's okay to let him in, but nobody else, okay?"
Both nodded.
Starsky spent his morning going through files, trying to figure out if any of their past busts made a specialty out of "fixing" brakes. He came up empty, as he was afraid he would, leaving Vinnie as the next most likely suspect. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and picked up the phone to call the NYPD.
"This is Detective David Starsky of the Bay City PD in California," he said to the person who answered. "Could I speak to someone in your records department, please?"
He had to wait a few minutes, and finally a harassed-sounding woman answered. He identified himself again. "I need whatever you've got on Vincent Martino, age 40 or thereabouts, black over brown."
"It'll take a while," the woman said, and she sounded so much like Collins in Bay City’s R&I that Starsky grinned to himself.
"I understand," he said. "We have reason to believe he attempted to murder one of our officers."
"I'll get it to you as quickly as possible," she said, sounding more awake. Starsky thought that would do it. Police officers always took it personally when someone tried to harm one of their own, even if they didn't know the officer in question.
"Thanks." He gave her the Bay City phone number and his extension, and settled in to wait.
Hutch slept soundly until after ten a.m. When he woke up, his head still hurt, but his chest felt better and he was able to get up and make his own coffee and some toast for breakfast. He was also able to read the paper without feeling like his brains were going to explode through his eyes.
He'd also waved at the officers guarding the place when he went out to get the paper. He felt silly having them there, but on the other hand, with no idea who might have tried to harm him, maybe it was a good idea. He didn't like Starsky being at work without him, but Starsky had said he was going to work at his desk today and wouldn't be in any danger.
Why does that sound like famous last words? Hutch thought, then wished he hadn't. He went back in and read the paper, and finally called Starsky.
"Starsky," his partner said, answering on the first ring.
"Me," Hutch said.
"Checkin' up on me, buddy?" There was a slight chuckle in Starsky's voice.
"Somebody's got to keep an eye on you."
"I'm not the one with a clonked noggin," Starsky said. "You bein' good?"
"Yes, Mom," Hutch said. "What are you finding out?"
"Nothin' yet," Starsky said. "I've put a call in to the NYPD to check on Vinnie's record."
Hutch drew a long sigh of relief. He knew Starsky wasn't convinced Vinnie was up to something, but the fact that he'd called New York meant he was at least willing to consider the possibility. That was progress. "Good. Let me know what you find out, huh?"
"Sure. And I'm gonna call Huggy to bring your lunch. I don't want to leave in case they call back," Starsky said.
"Will my babysitters let him in?" Hutch inquired.
Starsky laughed. "Yeah. I told 'em to."
"Oh, so you had this planned before you even left this morning?"
There was a brief silence, then an embarrassed, "Well, yeah."
"It's okay," Hutch said. "See you tonight, huh?"
"Yup," Starsky said.
Hutch hung up and found himself at loose ends. He didn't feel well enough to do anything, but he was tired of lying around doing nothing, too. He couldn't help Starsky – then he thought maybe he could. Discreetly, of course. If he was wrong, Starsky didn't need to know. He picked up the phone and made a call to New York of his own.
"Hello?"
"Rachel? It's Hutch."
"Is David all right?" Her voice was tight with tension.
"He's fine."
"Thank God," she said, but he could hear puzzlement in her voice. He knew she was wondering why he'd called.
"Rachel, I'd like to ask you some questions. If you don't want to answer them, I understand, but I want you to know I wouldn't ask them if I didn't think it was important."
She was silent for a few moments, then she said, "And I'll bet you don't want Davy to know you talked to me."
"Yeah."
Another silence. Finally, "What are your questions, dear?"
"Do you remember a boy called Vinnie Martino?"
She was silent even longer this time. At last, she said, "Yes. I wish I didn't."
"Why?"
She sighed. "Vinnie was the leader of a street gang. Davy spent too much time with them, in spite of everything Mike and I could do. After Mike died, I couldn't do anything with him. He finally got into a fight with another gang who hated Vinnie's gang and that's when I decided to send him to Rose and Al."
Hutch knew this much from what Starsky had told him. "Do you know anything else about Vinnie?"
"Why?" she asked.
"He's here," Hutch said. "In Bay City."
She gave a sharp gasp. "What's he doing out there?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out," Hutch said.
"Does Davy know?"
"Yeah. They had dinner together the other night, and Vinnie worked on David's car for him last week."
"Oh, God," she said. "I don't want Davy around that man. He's – he's not fit to be around Davy."
"I feel the same way," Hutch said. "I need to know anything you know about Vinnie, Rachel. Anything and everything."
"It's been a long time since I saw him," she said. "He grew up in the neighborhood and he was always kind of – oh, what's the word I want? – a bad boy. He got into trouble at school and he ran wild. His mother was alone, and she wasn't very interested in disciplining him."
"How about after he grew up? Who'd he hang around with?"
"He's a few years older than Davy," she said. "And he got into some very serious trouble after Davy left here, when Vinnie was old enough to be charged as an adult."
"What kind of trouble?" Hutch asked.
She sighed. "Don't tell Davy I told you this."
"I won't, if it won't put him in danger," Hutch said.
"Vinnie was mixed up with Joe Durniak," she said reluctantly. "I don't know how. I think maybe he was just doing their dirty work, running their errands. I tried not to know what was going on. I had Nicky to worry about."
"I understand," Hutch said gently.
"I saw them together a few times. Vinnie and Joey. Joey would sometimes pick Vinnie up in his car and bring him back a couple of hours later. Vinnie's mother only lived a couple doors down from me and he stayed there until – " She stopped.
"Until what?"
"Until he went to prison the first time," Rachel said, even more reluctantly. "He was charged with armed robbery. He shot – he shot a pregnant woman. She didn't die," she added hastily. "She didn't even lose her baby. But it was a close call, and Vinnie went to prison. That was about two years after Davy went to California."
"Rachel," Hutch said very slowly, "I've never asked you this, and I wouldn't now, but I have to know. David's safety may depend on it. Remember when Joe was out here, when he was going to testify before the grand jury?"
"Yes."
"He told David that he wasn't going to like some of the things he was going to tell that grand jury," Hutch said. "And David told me that Joe had paid for Mike's funeral. What exactly was his connection to your family?"
There was a long silence this time, and Hutch thought he heard a stifled sob. Finally, Rachel said, "Joey and Mike had been friends when they were kids. I think Joey was one of the first friends Mike made when he moved to America. It was hard for Mike, knowing what Joey had become. I don't know what he was going to tell the grand jury. But the reason Joey paid for the funeral was that he and Mike were old friends. In spite of the fact they were on opposite sides of the law all their adult lives, they were friends. Joey told me it was – " Her voice shook, and he definitely heard a sob this time. "He said it was the last thing he could do for Mike. He gave me some money for the boys, and he paid for Davy's ticket to California. He had a good heart, Ken, even if he was a criminal."
"I never doubted it," Hutch said. "Thanks, Rachel."
After Hutch hung up, Rachel sat next to the phone and thought about his questions. That Vinnie was not just in California, but in Bay City, concerned her. She reached for her address and phone list to call Hutch back, but changed her mind. The tone of his voice told her he was concerned. He didn’t need his partner’s mother nagging him to keep an eye out for her son. Don’t be a nudge, Rachel.
Rachel hoped Vinnie’s sudden appearance near her son didn’t signal a resumption of the search for something her husband was working on when he died. She knew Mike had some evidence on an important, local individual. However, even she didn’t know what that evidence was and she assumed that it died with him. She decided to make some tea to accompany her contemplation.
The day Mike Starsky died held some mysteries that still remained in her mind. Where was Davy when Mike swung by to meet him after practice? Every weekday, their habit was to walk home together after school or sports events. Mike and his partner had arranged their schedule to permit them to be in the right spot at the right time. They hadn’t missed a single day since the beginning of that school year. Rachel remembered that Davy was practicing for his Bar Mitzvah. Mike told her they talked a lot about that and about what it meant to become a man. Her oldest son had hung on his father’s every word, enjoying the companionship as much as the older man. Why wasn’t he where he was supposed to be? Although she had asked him about it, Davy never offered her an explanation. She decided not to borrow trouble and to be thankful he wasn’t there. He might have been killed, too.
The Starsky home was broken into four times in the first two years after her husband’s death. Once before Davy moved to California, once right after and two more times about six months apart. Each time the place was ransacked, but nothing was taken. She feared that whatever her husband was working on had been hidden in the house somewhere. A police investigation never yielded anything. Her own searching produced nothing out of the ordinary and when the break-ins stopped, she assumed the perpetrators had found what they wanted, or accepted that Mike Starsky took those secrets to his grave.
Davy was with his father when he died. He refused to talk about it, despite his mother’s best efforts. That pain was something he had locked in his heart, only allowing it out for the frequent nightmares he had of those terrible moments.
On a whim, Rachel picked up the phone and called Rose in California. They chitchatted about things like the weather for a few minutes when Rose said, "Rachel, what’s wrong? I’m glad you called, but you didn’t call to chat about the weather."
"You know me too well. Have you seen Davy recently?"
"Not in a couple of weeks, is something wrong?"
"No. It’s just, well, I was thinking about some things that happened around the time he moved out there with you... about Mike’s death, you know."
"What’s got you thinking about all of that?"
Rachel didn’t want to betray Hutch’s confidence. Rose might let it slip to Davy and she had promised Hutch. "After Mike died, Davy had this… nightmare a lot."
"I know, he had it here, too." Memories of Davy waking the household with his screams flooded her mind.
"Did he ever talk about it?"
"Not really. He would yell in his sleep, cry, mutter words about his dad and blood. We tried to get him to talk, but he would claim he couldn’t remember the dream."
"Do you think he still has that dream?" Rachel hoped her son had escaped that traumatic part of his past.
"I wouldn’t know, of course. We just don’t talk about Mike or that time. I can tell you he wasn’t having it anymore after he came back from Vietnam. He still had nightmares, but when I asked him once, he said they were different ones."
"Oh. I was just wondering."
"Did something happen? There must be a reason why this is coming up in your mind now."
Rachel took a deep breath and said, "Please don’t tell Davy I called about this. I just got to thinking about him, what he went through, the nightmares, the break-ins…."
That intrigued Rose. "Break-ins?"
"Yeah, the house was ransacked a few times after Mike died. I’m sure I told you."
Rose was silent for a moment, lost in her own contemplation. "Rachel, I never told you this, because I didn’t want you to worry, but we were broken into back then, too. Right after Davy moved here."
Rachel was stunned. "That’s odd. Just once?"
"No, several times. The police never could figure out what was happening. The funny thing is, they never stole anything."
"Thanks, Rose."
"But I didn’t really give you any answers. I’m sorry I couldn’t help."
"You did help. Listen, I have to go. Thanks for everything."
"You’re welcome. I love you."
"I love you and Al, too. Talk to you soon." Rachel hung up the phone and immediately called Hutch at home. She knew he was probably there if her son wasn’t with him in the middle of a workday.
"Hello?"
"Ken, it’s Rachel."
"Did you remember something?"
"Not exactly. I just thought you should know something. After Mike died, our home was broken into several times."
"Right after he died?" Hutch was already curious.
"Yes. Then again right after Davy moved out there. A couple of other times, too."
Four break-ins? "What did they take?"
She took a deep breath and answered, "That’s just it. They never took anything. I just spoke with Davy’s Aunt Rose a few minutes ago. Don’t worry, I didn’t let on that we talked."
"Thanks."
"You’re welcome, dear. Rose said their home was broken into also. Right after Davy moved in and a few other times, too. Isn’t that strange?"
"Very. Nothing taken?"
"No. I don’t know if it means anything. I assumed whoever did it here was looking for something Mike was working on and they either found it or gave up on it. He supposedly had some evidence on a local bigwig, but I don’t know anything else about that."
"Thanks a lot, Rachel. This might help."
"Ken... you don’t think Davy’s in any danger, do you?"
Hutch paused. He didn’t want to scare his best friend’s mother, but he was plenty worried about that. He decided to be evasive. "Try not to worry. You know he always says I hover too much."
"He also says you are usually right, although he might not admit that to you," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Hutch laughed softly. That sounded like Starsky. "Was it June of 1956 when you sent David out here?"
"That’s right. Be careful, Ken. I don’t trust that Vinnie."
"You know I’ll watch out for him. Thanks again, Rachel."
Knowing her son had a partner who would lay down his life for him was immeasurably comforting to Rachel. She worried about them both, though. Rachel knew that more would come of these developments. She said a prayer for both her own son and her honorary, blond son.
Hutch placed a call down to the station. He asked Minnie Kaplan to quietly see if she could dig up records on a series of break-ins at Starsky’s Aunt Rose’s home in the summer of 1956. Although he didn’t like the idea of keeping this impromptu investigation from Starsky, he also wanted to have something real to say to him about it before he mentioned anything. His head was pounding again and his pacing worry about his desk-bound partner had reactivated every hurt muscle in his body. Hutch decided to take a nap before Huggy arrived with his lunch.
Starsky sat reviewing his notes on Vinnie’s New York police record – armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, second degree manslaughter – not a pretty list. The information also stated he was a known mob associate. He had been under investigation for drug running a few times, but the NYPD had not made anything stick.
The last part of the report made Starsky turn white. Vinnie Martino was suspected in the mysterious deaths of one Brooklyn businessman, and a police officer. The NYPD thought he might be a hit man. The two men had both died in car crashes under suspicious circumstances. Each man’s brakes had failed. The businessman wound up in the water and drowned, while the cop had careened into a glass-fronted office building. Off duty, the man drove a convertible and he had been julienned by the breaking glass. He bled out before the paramedics arrived on the scene. Oh, my God. Hutch.
Starsky nervously dialed Hutch’s number after he looked at his watch. Only two o’clock. Maybe Huggy is there. The phone rang several times before Huggy answered.
"Blondie’s pad, what it is?"
Starsky sighed his relief. Huggy was with Hutch and he sounded upbeat.
"Hey, Hug. Where’s the man?"
"He’s having a little commune with nature out in the greenhouse."
"He okay?"
"Yeah. He overextended himself a bit. He tried to water some of those hanging plants and ‘bout killed his chest. He’s just restin’ now."
Starsky noticed a blinking phone line on his extension. One of the other officers waved at him to pick it up, so he put Huggy on hold.
"Starsky." He was dismayed to find out the caller was one of the uniforms sent to guard Venice Place.
"Sergeant Starsky, this is Tony Rand. I think we may have some trouble over here."
"What’s going on?"
"Maybe nothing, but there’s this dark blue sedan that’s cruised past here five or six times in the last hour. Your friend Huggy Bear’s been here about that long. Could be somebody followed him. Just thought it might be something."
"Thanks, Rand. I’ll be right there. Stay sharp."
"Roger."
Starsky pushed the other line button and said, "Listen up, Hug. This might not be anything, but the guys in the black-and-white spotted a car that looks like it might be casing Hutch’s place. I want you to get Hutch’s gun for him and stay inside until I get there, okay?"
"You got it." They hung up and Starsky rushed out of the station on his way to Venice Place. He prayed Rand was just being overly cautious and he promised himself to thank the younger officer for his diligence.
He used the light and siren until he was a couple of blocks away from Hutch's, then turned both off. He slowed down to normal cruising speed and picked up the radio microphone. "Zebra Three to Baker Nine."
"Baker Nine," Rand answered.
"Starsky. That car still around?"
"Yeah," Rand answered. "It's been by a couple more times since I talked to you. California plates, BYB 209."
"I'll be there in a minute," Starsky said. "I'm going to cruise a little, myself."
"Roger."
Starsky knew Rand would recognize his car. He passed the black-and-white without glancing at it except from the corner of his eye. Rand and his partner looked in his direction, but neither one waved or showed any recognition. Starsky drove just a little slower than the flow of traffic, keeping his eyes peeled for the sedan. It didn't take long to spot. He saw it just as he was coming around the block and turning down Ocean again. The sedan was moving slowly, and the driver – what he could make out of him through the tinted windows – was apparently studying the buildings on Hutch's side of the street very, very carefully. Starsky lifted the microphone. "This is Zebra Three to Baker Nine. Let's move."
Instantly the lights and siren on the black-and-white came on and the cruiser pulled out suddenly, blocking the sedan. Starsky hit the gas and skidded deliberately sideways to block the sedan's escape from behind. Rand and Donley were out of their car, guns drawn and pointed at the sedan, as Starsky flung himself out of the Torino and toward the driver's door, his own gun in hand. He yanked the door open. "Get out," he snapped.
The driver, pale and trembling, obeyed. But as soon as he was partway out of the car, Starsky had him by the jacket and jerked him toward the hood, slamming him facedown across it and kicking his feet wide apart. Knowing the uniforms had him covered, he put his own gun away and patted the guy down, finding a loaded .38 in his waistband. Pulling the guy's right arm up behind him hard enough to hurt, he leaned over and hissed in his ear, "Got a permit to carry, pal?"
"N-no," the guy said.
"Then what the hell are ya doin' packing heat?" Starsky demanded.
The guy didn't answer. He was trembling.
Rand, still covering the man with his gun, came forward and took the .38 from Starsky.
"Start talkin'," Starsky ordered, flipping the man over and slamming him against the car again.
"I-I don't know what you-you want," the man said.
"What the hell are you doin'?" Starsky shouted, his face only inches from the man's. "Why are you cruisin' this neighborhood, packing a goddamn gun?"
Donley shifted uneasily – he didn't know Starsky – but Rand shot him a look and he didn't say anything. He glanced upward and saw both Hutch and Huggy at the window, watching.
"Answer me!" Starsky demanded, both his hands tangled in the man's jacket front.
"I'm lookin' for somebody," the man said, his voice shaking so hard it was difficult to understand him.
"WHO?" Starsky bellowed.
"I don't know his name. Big blond guy. He's supposed to live around here but I can't remember the address," the man spat out, terrified. "I been there once and I thought I'd know it when I saw it but I didn't."
"Why are you looking for him?" Starsky bent even closer, so close to the man that he could see his eyes dilate.
The man tried to pull his head back, away from Starsky, but there was nowhere to go. Starsky had him bent backward over the hood of his car and had his whole weight leaning on the man.
"I don't hear you answering me," Starsky spat.
"I'm – supposed to – to – " The man was shaking so hard now his teeth were chattering.
"Supposed to WHAT?"
"Beat him up," the man finally said.
"Oh, really." Starsky slammed his hand against the hood so close to the man's ear that he recoiled. "Lemme tell you somethin', asshole. First, I don't think you're half the badass you think you are, and I doubt you could beat OFF, much less beat up somebody. But that big blond guy is my partner and my best friend and I got a news flash for you, you slimy shit." Starsky leaned even closer and growled, "NEVER mess with a man's partner!"
The man cringed away, but there was puzzlement in his eyes. "Your partner? But – ain't you a cop?"
"That's right," Starsky said. "Wanna see my badge? In a place where the sun don't shine?"
"But – " The man shook his head. "This guy – the one I'm lookin' for – he ain't a cop, mister."
Starsky froze. "Whattya talkin' about?"
"He ain't a cop. He's a numbers runner. He stole some money from Louie and Louie sent me to beat him up." The man was almost in tears. "You can ask Louie. You know Louie, doncha? I ain't lookin' to beat up no cop, honest to God I ain't."
Starsky stood up, dragging the man with him. He knew Louie. He and Hutch had busted Louie a dozen times, but somehow the slime ball kept getting away with his numbers racket. Part of the reason was, Louie wasn't a big-timer, just a street punk trying to make a name for himself. Another part of the reason was that Louie picked people like this loser to work for him and it was hardly worth the trouble busting the operation up. "I do know Louie," Starsky said in a deadly quiet voice. "I can call him and check."
"Go ahead," the man pleaded. "My name's Gus. Ask him where he sent Gus. Please."
Starsky motioned to Rand to hang onto Gus for him and went back to his car. Pulling his notebook out of his pocket, he paged through it for a moment before lifting the mike. "Control, patch me through to 555-8890."
"Roger." There was a brief silence, then the sound of ringing.
Finally a voice said, "Yeah?"
"This is Starsky. Gimme Louie."
"Starsky who?"
"He'll know."
A moment later, Louie came on. "What can I do for you, Sergeant?" Louie asked, sounding almost as scared as the punk Rand was still guarding.
"You know a guy named Gus?" Starsky said without preliminaries.
"Maybe," Louie said cautiously.
"No maybe about it. Yes or no?"
Louie sighed. "Yes."
"Where is he?"
Louie sighed again. "Working. I sent him on an ... errand."
"To do what, Louie? I ain't got time to play games and I ain't interested in messin' up your action. I just gotta know."
"He's supposed to be having a word with a client," Louie said, giving in. "A man named Tomlinson who isn't a very honest employee."
"Where's this dishonest employee live?" Starsky demanded.
"On Ocean. In an apartment over a Chinese take-out place."
Starsky glanced over at Gus, who looked like he might faint from relief. There was a Chinese take-out a block from Hutch's, on the same side of the street. "Okay, Louie. Thanks. And by the way, Gus ain't gonna complete his assignment."
"Somehow, I thought you'd say that," Louie said. He hung up.
Starsky replaced the mike and went back to Rand and Gus. "Book him," he said. "I'll take over guard duty till you get back."
"What's the charge?" Rand asked, barely suppressing a grin.
Starsky considered. "Illegal possession of a firearm," he said at last. "That oughta hold him tonight, anyway."
Rand gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir. Be back as soon as we can."
"Take your time," Starsky said. "I'll hold the fort." He moved his car, called for a tow for the sedan, then took the steps to Hutch's apartment two at a time. Hutch himself opened the door for him. "You okay?" Starsky asked.
"I'm fine," Hutch said, his eyes dancing. "But I should think your friend down there would need to change his armor."
Starsky was blank for a moment until he recognized the reference to "Monty Python and The Holy Grail." He laughed. "Bet he didn't want to go in the cart, either."
"I'm sure he didn't," Hutch said. "Feel like a beer?"
"Yeah, but I'm still on duty. Got a Dr. Pepper?"
"I'll get it." Huggy went to the kitchen and came back with a can of soda for Starsky.
Starsky sank down on a chair across from where Hutch had sat on the couch. "Damn," he said. "That scared me to death."
"Me, too," Hutch admitted. "We're getting paranoid."
"You oughta be," Huggy pointed out. "Coulda been whoever tried to get ya before, y'know. Don't go relaxin' yet."
Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance. "He's right," Starsky said. "In fact, you and me need to do some talkin', partner. I found out some stuff today about Vinnie."
"So did I," Hutch said, realizing as soon as he said it that he’d have to admit his phone calls to Rachel Starsky. He smiled sheepishly and added, "W-well...."
"I’m listening," Starsky said, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the guilty blond. Huggy chuckled softly and suddenly became interested in the condensation on the side of his soda can when Starsky glared at him.
"No, no, buddy. You go first." Hutch attempted deflection, knowing it wouldn’t work.
"Nice try. You were supposed to be resting. What’d you do?"
"I, um... I called your mom."
"My – you called Ma?"
"Yeah. I asked her not to tell you. I just wanted to know if she remembered Vinnie."
"Somehow, I knew you weren’t lookin’ for a recipe this time. What did she say?" Starsky’s curiosity quickly overrode his irritation. He and his mother rarely discussed the dark days in the months around his dad’s murder. Maybe Hutch had some new information for him.
Hutch began to recount what he had learned from Mrs. Starsky. "She remembered him. Didn’t trust him." Starsky listened intently, his focus occasionally wandering back to that time. His mother’s information was right in line with what he had learned of Vinnie’s official police record. She wouldn’t have known about the suspected hits, though, and he wasn’t surprised when Hutch’s description of the conversation didn’t include that.
"I can’t believe I couldn’t see what a slug Vinnie was back then. When I think about how much I wanted him to let me hang around and all.... " Starsky’s voice trailed off as he sank deeper into his guilty feelings.
Huggy spoke up, "You was just a pipsqueak, Starsk. Everybody wants to fit in when they’re kids."
Hutch added, "Huggy’s right, buddy. Now, you’re seeing all of this through a man’s eyes. Then, you were just a kid and you were hurting."
The phone rang and interrupted their conversation. Hutch sat forward on the couch to reach for it, and the sudden movement caused him to wince and freeze in mid-motion. Starsky shot him a concerned glance as he answered for him. He watched as Hutch slowly sat back, rubbing his chest and trying to catch his breath.
"Hello," Starsky said without identifying himself.
"That you, Starsky?" Minnie’s voice asked cheerfully.
"Yeah. Uh, Hutch’s busy wishing he hadn’t tried to sit up so fast. What can I do for ya?"
"Tell him I hope he feels better, huh?"
"I will."
"I’ve got some information for him. Just have him call me when he’s up to it, okay?" Poor Minnie wasn’t expecting Starsky to answer and she didn’t want to blow it when Hutch had asked her to do the checking quietly.
Starsky said, "Hang on a minute, Minnie." Hutch turned even whiter when he heard Minnie’s name. He hadn’t gotten to that part of the story yet. Starsky put his hand over the receiver and said, "Perhaps you left something out?"
"I just didn’t get to it yet. Gimme the phone, huh? I’ll tell you about it when I’m done."
Starsky handed over the phone and Hutch said, "Man, you’re fast, Minnie. You already have something?"
"Yeah, well you got lucky this time. We were just boxing some old records up to go to off site storage. I found your information in one of the boxes and made copies for you. Not much to go on, I’m afraid. Want to hear it?"
"Shoot," Hutch instructed as he settled down to listen.
"Well, there were a total of four reports spanning parts of 1956 and early 1957. The home was broken into and each time nothing was reported missing, but the house was ransacked. The last report says the folks had a teenager living with them, identified as David Michael Starsky. Says he had no record, but the investigating officer thought maybe it was some kind of vandalism directed at Curly. I found some hand scribbled notes in the margins and on the back of the report. Sort of looks like the officer was jotting down information while he talked on the phone."
Hutch looked at Starsky who was watching him with such intensity, he wondered what was going on inside the curly head. Huggy was quietly sipping his soda, also staring at Hutch. "What did the notes say?"
Minnie read the disjointed notes, "These might not all make sense, but here goes, school fights, angry, dad a cop – murdered last year, baseball bat. The last one is funny. Almost looks like he wrote it down and passed it to someone else to see. Maybe his partner? That one just says ‘Little League’ and has three question marks underneath it."
"Thanks, Minnie. Oh, the investigating officer, any chance he’s still around?" Hutch knew the man would have been a beat cop at the time and he might not be retired yet.
"I’m afraid not, Hutch. Um, the officer was John Blaine. His partner back then was Gary Dodson and he died about ten years ago. Heart attack." Minnie knew everyone who had ever been anyone at the Metro division of the Bay City PD. Her quick mind and eye for detail rarely missed anything and every piece of information she came across was filed in her memory for some future use.
"Oh, too bad. Okay. Thanks again. What you don’t know just ain’t worth knowing," he said with obvious admiration.
"Anytime, Hutch." Minnie blushed as she hung up the phone. Her favorite detective team always remembered to be appreciative and that made her feel valued.
After they hung up, Hutch sat still for a minute, contemplating how to explain all of this to his partner. Starsky wasn’t interested in waiting long enough for him to work out the details in his mind, though, and even Huggy was fidgeting within the first thirty seconds.
"Don’t think it to death, Blondie, let us in on it," Starsky ordered.
Hutch explained why he had called Minnie and told the other two men what she had said.
"Little League?" Huggy asked.
"Yeah," Starsky said. "See, my Uncle Al told Blaine about how I’d used a baseball bat to chase a guy off back before I moved out here. Then, I used one out here to threaten some kids who were thinking they’d beat up the new guy with the funny accent."
Huggy smiled at him. "You tellin’ me you were an angry kid? I don’t believe it."
Starsky looked pained. "Damn straight, I was angry," he snapped. "First, my dad bleeds to death in my arms, then I get into some trouble at home, and the next thing I know, they put me on a one-way trip to California."
Huggy looked a little stricken. "I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to.... "
Starsky’s expression changed to one of forgiveness and he said, "Sorry, Hug. All this stuff is just bringing back some painful memories."
Hutch reached over and patted Starsky on the arm as he continued. "I had forgotten about the house being broken into like that. John Blaine had moved right next door. After he came and took the report on the last break-in, he kinda took an interest in me. Put me in Pony League. I was fourteen by then and he and Uncle Al decided maybe I needed someplace to take my anger. Maybe playin’ a little ball might help me rediscover what a baseball bat was for. Worked, too."
"Starsk, your mom said her house was broken into also. What do you think someone was looking for?" Hutch asked.
"I don’t know, but I’m not liking the way all this is clicking together." Starsky explained all about the information he’d found on Vinnie. When he talked about the two deaths from cars with failed brakes, Huggy and Hutch both whistled softly through their teeth.
"Y’all better be careful’a this dude. I’m gonna head back down to my place... see if anyone’s heard anything about him." Huggy left just as Rand was about to knock on the door.
"We’re back, Sergeant," he said through the open door.
"Terrific. I’ve got some things to do. Keep an eye on him, will ya?"
"You bet." Rand turned and headed back down the stairs, barely hearing the protest going on in the apartment.
"No way, Starsk. I don’t want you out cruisin’ around without me watching your back."
"I’m not gonna cruise around. I’m gonna run home for a minute, then I’m going back down to Metro to pick up those reports. After that, I might go out to Rose and Al’s."
Hutch restated his earlier admonishment. "You’re not going anywhere near Vinnie without me." Hutch could be just as stubborn as Starsky.
"I can’t promise that, Hutch. I’ll do my best."
"That’s not good enough!" Hutch raised his voice and immediately wished he hadn’t. His head hurt worse and the intake of more air into his lungs made his chest pain flare again.
"I won’t go anywhere alone with him. I won’t leave my car anywhere he can get to it, and I’ll let you know every time I change locations. Okay?" Starsky knew that if Hutch didn’t like it, he’d follow him, even if he had to take a cab or rent a car. "You need some rest and I have to work another day this week. I’ll try to stay away from him until you go back on with me."
Hutch nodded. "I don’t like it. Stay away from Merle’s, okay?"
Starsky was already almost out the door. "Sleep and quit trying to play invalid detective. I’m on it."
********
Vinnie had heard through the grapevine that Hutch was recuperating at home. His informant explained that Starsky would most likely be sticking pretty close to Hutch while he was healing. That gave him the time he needed to get over to Starsky’s place and search. He called the boss in New York to tell him.
"Yeah, the guy survived it. Damn cop’s tough," Vinnie said with an evil chuckle.
"What’sa matter with you, Vinnie? Why don’t you just shoot ‘em. Lots less random, don’t you think?" The man admired Vinnie’s success rate, but would have preferred more direct methods.
"That lacks style. Besides, much easier to make things look like an accident this way. He coulda crashed anywhere, and probably woulda died if he didn’t have a guardian angel. Lucky bastard has nine lives, just like his partner. He’s outta commission for a few days, though. That oughta give me enough time to find it."
"You figure out exactly what it is yet?"
"Naw, but I will. Davy was the last one to talk to Mike Starsky alive. Even his partner didn’t get to say anything to him. I know... I was there."
After Vinnie and his pals sent Starsky off on his shoplifting errand, Vinnie had left and headed for the neighborhood. He wanted to be there when it happened – the hit he had helped to set up all those years ago. Vinnie Martino had sold Mike Starsky’s life for fifty dollars and no one had ever known. If Joe Durniak had ever figured it out, Vinnie knew he’d be encased in the concrete of a Brooklyn building, not running around still looking for the information for which Mike Starsky died. That information was still important to the man on the other end of the phone.
"Just see that you do." The man hung up abruptly.
Vinnie flipped the phone off as he hung up, then he left for Starsky’s place.
THE END