REPRESSED MEMORIES
While
investigating the brutal murder of a fellow police officer, Starsky begans having nightmares related to his own father's murder
that happened over twenty years ago.
Repressed
Memory: a significant memory loss usually related to a traumatic nature.
Repressed memories can sometimes be recovered years or decades after the event,
most often spontaneously, triggered by a particular smell, taste or other
trigger related to the lost memory.
CHAPTER 1
"Shots
fired. Officer down.
Detective
Kenneth Hutchinson reached for the hidden mike nestled beneath the dashboard
and pressed the transmit button. "This is Zebra three. We are in the area
and responding. ETA eight minutes." He said. Even
as he spoke, his partner, Detective David Starsky stomped on the accelerator
and flicked the switch to activate the siren, while Hutch slapped the red
bubble light on the roof of the car.
Within ten
minutes, they arrived at the scene. Two black and white units were already
there, the uniformed officers holding back the curious neighbors who had heard
the gunshots echoing through their normally peaceful neighborhood. Even if they
didn't know Starsky and Hutch personally, most of them recognized the
distinctive vehicle that Starsky drove. The Ford Grand Torino stood out with
its custom paint job, a bright Candy Apple red with a foot wide white stripe
that ran across the roof just in front of the rear window, down both sides and
then forward, tapering to sharp points at the front end of the car.
After Starsky braked to a halt, both men climbed out of the car
and hurried towards the scene of the shooting, a one-storey ranch house in a
quiet suburban neighborhood of
As they drew
closer to the scene, the two detectives could see the man lying face down on
the well-kept front yard of the modest home. A frantic young woman, obviously
the man's wife, stood nearby with her arms wrapped tightly around two young
boys. All three of them were crying, their ordinary
lives suddenly shattered beyond repair in a matter of minutes. Starsky and
Hutch turned their attention to the victim lying on the ground at their feet.
Neither one of them recgonized him but that didn't
mean that they didn't feel a natural kinship with the murdered officer. Every
man present at the scene knew that it could just as easily have been one of
them that had been gunned down. It was a fact of life that every man and woman
who pinned on the badge accepted as a natural hazard of their chosen
profession.
The man was
still dressed in his dark blue uniform, the back of the shirt soaked through
with blood from the exit wounds made by the bullets that had ripped through his
chest. A uniformed officer glanced at the two detectives and said in a quiet,
somber voice, "His name was Jim Tanner. He worked out of the twenty-second
precinct. He just got off duty and, according to his wife,
he was shot by someone in a dark blue sedan. She didn't get the license number and
she can't describe the shooter. It all happened too fast." He looked over
at the grieving family and added, "The two boys saw it happen. The oldest
boy was standing right beside him."
Hutch stole a
glance at his partner, seeing the tight set of Starsky's
mouth and the unnaturally pale cast to his skin. He knew that this was going to
be a difficult case for Starsky to remain objective. The brunet's own father
had been gunned down under similar circumstances when Starsky was only ten
years old. The emotional scars from that event ran deep in the brunet's psyche.
Hutch felt the instinctive need to reach out for his partner to offer whatever
support or comfort he could but he restrained himself from acting on that
impulse. This wasn't the time or the place. They had a job to do and that came
first.
The two
friends exchanged a simple glance and, without a word, they walked over to the
new widow and her two sons. Hutch spoke first, taking the lead in the
questioning so that Starsky wouldn't have to. "Mrs. Tanner, I'm Detective
Hutchinson and this is my partner, Detective Starsky. You have our deepest
sympathy for your loss." He kept his voice soft and gentle recognizing the
vulnerable, fragile look in the young woman's eyes. She was barely holding it
together. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?"
"Jim had
just got home from work." She said in a voice that was so soft Hutch could
barely hear the words. "The boys ran out the front door to meet him…just
like they always did." She choked back a sob and took a minute to compose
herself before continuing. "I saw the car coming down the street but I
didn't think anything about it. Then I saw the gun and heard the shots."
She paused again and closed her eyes for a moment, reliving the moment that was
forever branded in her mind. "Jim never made a sound, he just fell to the
ground and the car took off down the street." She opened her eyes and
looked at Hutch, her face so full of pain that it tugged at the sensitve blond's heart. "It
all happened so fast. I never saw the man's face…just a glimpse of the
gun."
"He shot
my daddy!" the oldest boy spoke up, his blue eyes flashing with grief and
anger. "Why did he shoot my daddy?" He appeared to be around twelve
years old and already grown up far beyond his years.
"I don't
know, son." Hutch said gently, reaching out to clasp the young boy's
shoulder in a comforting gesture. "But I'm going to do my best to find out
and make sure he pays for what he did."
"I want
my daddy!" the younger boy, who appeared to be around eight years old,
cried out. He began to cry harder, burying his face in his mother's skirts. The
older boy pulled away from Hutch, turning back to his mother and younger
brother, wrapping his arms around them both in a protective gesture. The two
detectives moved away, respecting the fact that grieving family needed to be
alone.
Hutch shot a
worried look at Starsky. He appeared to be visibly shaken by the outburst from
the two young boys. There was pinched look to his mouth and a suspicously bright cast to his eyes. His posture was rigid
and straight. Hutch knew the signs far too well, it
was taking every ounce of Starsky's will power to
keep his emotions tightly under control. Later, when they were alone, safe from
prying eyes, he would fall apart and Hutch would be there to pick up the pieces
as usual.
He reached out
and touched the smaller man's arm for a moment, not long enough to be noticable but long enough to attract his attention. Starsky
favored him with a faint smile, acknowledging the simple gesture of comfort and
support. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, and watched solemnly as the team
from the coroner's office gently lifted the fallen officer's body onto a
stretcher, covering him with a white sheet. Fastening the straps around the
body, they carried the stretcher to the coroner's wagon and loaded it inside
for transport to the morgue.
"One of
the rookies is questioning the neighbors." Starsky said quietly.
"But, so far, nobody saw anything." He sighed heavily and ran his
fingers through his dark culrs. "This really
sucks, Hutch."
"I know,
buddy. I know." Hutch knew that the brunet was talking about more than
just the murder of a fellow officer. They went about the immediate tasks at
hand distracting themselves with the familiar routines that accompanied the start
of any murder investigation. But for them, this investigation would take on a
more personal tone. It always did when it involved one of their own.
There was a
unique connection between every cop that pinned on a badge, a brotherhood that
could not be denied. Cops were bound together by blood, sweat and sometimes
tears. Officers knew that when their life was on the line, the only other
people they could truly depend on were their brothers in blue. Because of the
atrocities they saw in their everyday lives, cops usually developed a truly
'us' against 'them' mentality, setting themselves apart from the general public
that they policed. Alcholism, divorce, drugs, and
domestic violence was far more common among members of the police force than
most people realized. It was a stressful, often unrewarding job,
that changed a person in subtle ways. Wives and girlfriends were often
at a loss to truly understand the man they loved and shared their lives with.
The only other person a cop truly trusted was another cop and his partner above
all others.
Hutch and
Starsky were unique among their peers in the sense that they were closer than
most partners could ever hope to be. They had met at the Academy almost ten
years ago and had become best friends almost immediately. By the time they
graduated, they were virtually inseparable. They both spent two years in
uniform, walking a beat and working with different partners. Shortly after they
achieved their current rank of sergeant first class, they both took the test to
be promoted to detective. Starsky was actually promoted first, followed by
Hutch a couple of months later. They convinced their commanding officer to pair
them as a team, something relatively unheard of with two inexperienced
detectives. But, Captain Dobey had never had a reason
to regret that decision. Starsky and Hutch had become the most successful team
of detectives under his command and his own personal favorites. They had taken
on and solved some of the most high profile cases to come across the Captain's desk
and their partnership had become almost legendary within the department. No
other team could come close to matching their arrest record or their record of
successful convictions.
Wrapping up
their intial investigation at the crime scene, they
left, logging off duty for the day. They were both tired and looking forward to
a quiet evening so they could unwind from the stress of their day. Without any
discussion before hand, Starsky automatically drove to his apartment and the
two men went inside. While Hutch went into the kitchen to grab a couple of cold
beers, Starsky detoured to the phone to call for a pizza. They slumped down on
the sofa, side by side, and propped their feet up on the coffee table as they
took a long swallow of their beer.
"Those
kids today…" Starsky said, picking absentmindedly at the label on his
bottle. "They're about the same age that Nicky and I were when Pop was
shot."
"The
whole scene reminded you of your dad, didn't it?" Hutch asked gently, even
though he already knew the answer to his own question. Over the years, the two
friends had shared their innermost secrets with each other and Hutch knew how
traumatic Michael Starsky's murder had been to his
eldest son. Not only had Starsky seen his father gunned down right in front of
him but the man had actually died in his young son's arms. Severely traumatized
by the events of that day, Starsky had turned into a sullen, angry adolescent
rebelling against his mother and the rules that he had always followed at home.
He started running with the wrong crowd and getting into trouble. Concerned for
her son's future and his safety, Rachel Starsky had made the hardest choice any
mother could make. She had sent her oldest son almost three thousand miles away
from the only home he had ever known to live with an aunt and uncle he barely
knew. That decision had almost cost Rachel her relationship with her eldest
child. Starsky had felt rejected and abandoned by his mother, convinced that
she no longer loved him or wanted him around. It had taken several years to
mend the rift that had developed between mother and son. Now, they were closer
than ever. Starsky called her religiously every Friday night at eight and sent
her money every two weeks out of his paycheck to help pay her bills.
"Yeah…"
Starsky admitted with a solemn shake of his head. He turned his head to look
into his best friends eyes, his own gaze reflecting the deep sadness he felt
inside. "I still miss him, Hutch. Even after all these years…I still miss
him."
"I know,
buddy…I know." Hutch said, reaching out to put an
arm around Starsky's shoulders and pulling him close.
That was another unique aspect to their friendship, their open affection with
one another. From the beginning, touch had been an important part of their realtionship, another way of communicating that other
people often misinterpreted. Rumors had surrounded them since their days in the
Academy that they were more than just friends, even though their track record
with the ladies was well known throughout the department. It was hard to
maintain a steady realtionship with a woman. Their
crazy hours, broken dates at the last minute, and canceled plans didn't fare
well when it came to trying to keep a lady interested long enough to stick
around. Through the years, their motto had been "Me and Thee" and in
the end, that was all that really mattered to either one of them. As long as
they had each other, they could deal with whatever life threw at them. They
were bonded at a fundamental level, true soul mates in every sense of the word.
Their pizza
arrived and they ate while watching a movie on TV. Afterwards, Hutch walked
over to the closet and pulled out extra bedding, planning on spending the night
even without being asked simply because he knew that Starsky needed him there.
He made up a bed on the sofa while Starsky took a shower and then they both
turned in for the night. Sometime later, Hutch was startled awake by the sound
of sobs coming from Starsky's bedroom. He immediately
bounced to his feet and went to his partner's aide.
The burnet was
thrashing around on the bed, still asleep and obviously caught in the midst of
a nightmare. He was moaning and crying out in his sleep, tears streaking his
cheeks. Ever since Hutch had known him, Starksy had
been prone to nightmares, especially when he was sick or stressed out.
Instinctively, Hutch crawled into the big king sized bed beside his partner and
reached out to comfort him, gently running his fingers through the thick curls.
"Shhh…it's okay. Open your eyes, Starsk…it's
just a dream." Hutch murmured, keeping his voice gentle and low as he
coaxed the brunet awake. Starsky moaned and turned towards the sound of Hutch's
voice, sensing his presence even though he was still asleep. "Come on,
babe…" Hutch whispered "Open those eyes for me…"
Starsky's eyelids fluttered and the blond saw a sliver of blue.
"Hutch…" he muttered sleepily, not fully awake yet.
"Yeah,
it's me. I'm right here. You were having a bad dream. Wanna
talk about it?"
"It was Pop." Starsky admitted, curling up closer to his friend
and resting his head on the broad shoulder. "I was dreaming about
Pop."
"About
the day he was shot?"
Starsky nodded
without answering, a tear slipping down his cheek. With anyone else he would
have been embarrassed by his display of emotion but not with Hutch. Never with Hutch. With Hutch he could cry without feeling
ashamed or embarrassed because he knew that Hutch would understand. He sighed
in contentment as those long slender fingers continued combing through his
thick curls. Within minutes, he was sleeping peacefully, the bad dreams chased
away by his best friends loving care.
CHAPTER 2
The church was
filled with people, so crowded that some of the men and women who had come to
pay their last respects to their fallen comrade had to stand at the back of the
room. Starsky and Hutch, both wearing their dress uniforms, sat in a pew
halfway down the aisle. Virginia Tanner and her two children sat in the front
pew, directly in front of the silver casket that stood on the riser at the
front of the church. The mother and the youngest son were both crying softly,
wiping at their eyes frequently as they shared a concealed hanky. The oldest
son sat beside his mother, his head held high and his eyes dry, listening
closely to the words of the priest.
Starsky's gaze kept drifting towards the oldest son, remembering himself reacting in a similar fashion at his own father's
funeral so many years ago. Even at that young age, he had felt that the
responsibility of being 'the man of the family' had suddenly been thrust on his
shoulders, a burden he was totally unprepared to accept. And part of that
immense responsibility had been not shedding a tear, at least not in public
where everyone could witness his overwhelming grief.
Starsky turned
his attention back to the words of the Catholic Priest, unfamilar
words spoken in Latin that were meant to comfort the mourners. The only comfort
that Starsky needed was sitting at his side in the form of his big blond
partner. Hutch had always been there to comfort Starsky when he needed it the
most, soothing his pain and easing his heartache with just the touch of his
hand. There had been more times than Starsky cared to remember that he had
desperately needed that touch to stay grounded and focused, like now. The
funeral was stirring up memories and feelings that Starsky had thought he had
buried deep in his mind long ago. This whole case was making him uneasy.
The service
finally came to an end and the mourners slowly filed out of the church to
return to their cars for the short drive to the cemetary.
Starsky and Hutch climbed into Hutch's battered LTD with Starsky slumped in the
passenger's seat. Although the brunet usually did the driving when they were on
duty, he hadn't objected when Hutch had volunteered to drive that morning. Starsky
stared out of the side window as Hutch started the engine and carefully pulled
into line behind the other cars following the hearse to the fallen officer's
final resting place.
At the cemetary, Starsky and Hutch stood a short distance away
from the crowd of mourners, listening to the prayers and parting words. Seven
officers in full dress uniform stepped forward, each shouldering a rifle and
taking careful aim at the sky. In perfect unison, they shot the three shots a
piece that made up the traditional twenty-one gun salute to their fallen
companion. As soon as they finished, the honor guard stepped forward and
carefully folded the US Flag covering the casket. One of the men took the flag
and stepped forward, respectfully presenting the flag to the slain officers widow.
As soon as the
officers had raised their guns to fire the salute, Starsky had stood rigidly at
attention, one hand raised crisply to his forehead in a sharp salute. He held
the stance until after the widow was presented with the flag, and then he
shifted into a perfect parade rest position. Hutch smiled as he realized how Starsky's deeply ingrained military training surfaced at
times like this. He also knew that it was Starsky's
way of showing his highest respect and regard to the grieving family. The two
friends blended in with the other mourners as they began to drift back to their
own cars to either go to their own homes, to return to work, or to join the
family for a dinner at their home. Starsky and Hutch would be stopping at their
own apartments to change out of their dress uniforms before reporting to duty
for their afternoon shift.
Officer
Tanner's murder had all the earmarks of a professional hit, carried out by a
cold blooded assasin with no regard for the safety of
the man's children. The car that had been used had been found abandoned a short
distance away, wiped clean of prints. It had been reported stolen that morning
and the plates had also been stolen from a separate vehicle. The weapon used to
murder the young officer had been a high powered handgun and the marksman who
had used it had been deadly accurate. It was likely that there had been at
least two men involved with one doing the driving and the second man doing the
actual shooting. It was just as probable that the men were strangers to one
another who had just paired up together for this one job. The driver was more
than likely a drifter who had been offered a large sum of money by the shooter
to drive the car for him that day. More than likely, he had no idea that he was
going to become involved in the murder of a police officer.
With so little
to go on, the possiblity always remained that the
shooter would never be found and brought to justice despite Starsky and Hutch's
best efforts. That was what had happened in Michael Starsky's
case. His murderer had never been identified and his family had never been
given the chance to see justice served. Starsky and Hutch planned to spend most
of their shift going over the statements from the Tanner families
neighbors looking for anything they might have missed the first time. They
would also be checking for any similar crimes within a three state radius of
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Starsky tossed
the file to one side and stretched his arms over his head to work the kinks out
of his neck and shoulders. He glanced across the desk at Hutch who was still
bent over a file examining the contents intently. Needing a break, Starsky's stomach growled reminding him that he had eaten
since early that morning.
"Hey,
Hutch…let's knock off and go get soemthing to
eat." He suggested "My treat."
Hutch glanced
up at his partner, arching one eyebrow at the brunet. "Not one of your tomaine infested taco joints." He informed his friend
"I want some real food."
"Let's go
to Huggys. Maybe he's heard something on the streets
we can use."
Hutch nodded
agreeably and gracefully rose to his feet. Huggy Bear
Brown was a close personal friend and informant of the two detectives who owned
a popular bar and grill not far from Police headquarters. They often hung out
there after duty, drinking and shooting pool. The prices were fair and the food
was good. The menu included a variety that appealed to both Starsky's
junk food cravings and Hutch's healthier choices.
Originally,
the bar had been located in the basement until Huggy
had bought the building and expanded his business, moving the bar to the first
floor and adding a small furnished apartment on the second floor that was often
used by friends who needed a place to crash for a few days or who had had too
much to drink to drive home safely. Both Starsky and Hutch had taken advantage
of the apartment at one time or another over the years. Huggy
himself often used the apartment when he worked until the bar closed at three
am and then had to get up to open it again the next morning at eleven am.
Fortunately, his business was financially secure enabling him to be able to hire
enough help so that didn't happen too often.
Hutch pulled
into the alley behind the brick building with the sign out front that read THE
PITS. He parked between the back entrance and the dumpster in a spot
that was usually reserved for deliveries. The two men climbed out of the car
and walked in the back door that opened into the kitchen area of the bar.
Angie, the cook, and his two helpers, Paco and Eddie,
ignored the two men as they passed through on their way to the bar. They were
frequent visitors and the employees were accustomed to them entering the
establishment through the back entrance.
Since it was
only
Belinda, one
of Huggy's evening waitresses, immediately walked
over to their booth, smiling brightly. She enjoyed flirting with both of the
handsome detectives even though neither one of them had ever shown any interest
in asking her out. She wouldn't have accepted even if they had. She had a
jealous boyfriend with a mean streak so flirting with the two men was nothing
more than a little harmless fun to brighten up her day.
"Hey,
guys. What can I get ya?"
"What's
the special?" Starsky asked, giving her one of his trademark grins.
"Country
fried steak and gravy with a biscuit and mashed potatoes." She told him
"Sounds great. That's what I'll have and a large coke."
Belinda wrote
down his order and then looked at Hutch. The blond hesitated, considering his
choices, and then said,
"I'll
have the same thing but give me a salad too with ranch dressing on the side and
a glass of buttermilk."
"You got
it." Belinda said
"Is Huggy around?" Hutch asked politely before she could
walk away.
"He's in
the office. I'll tell him you're here."
"Thanks, schweetheart." Starsky said, favoring her with his
Bogart impersonation and receiving a blushing smile in return.
Within a few
minutes, a tall thin black man sauntered across the room towards their booth.
He was flamboyantly dressed in neon blue pants and a lemon yellow shirt with a
red vest.
"Damn,
Hug," Hutch said, blinking his eyes at the bar owner's outfit. "Do
you offer sunglasses with that get up?"
"Unlike
you, Blondie, the Bear has an image to uphold." Huggy
said smugly. "What can I do for you jive turkeys this fine day?"
"You
heard anything on the streets about the shooter that wasted Jim Tanner?"
Hutch asked
"That
cop?"
"Yeah." Starsky said. He exchanged a somber look with
the black man knowing that Huggy would understand.
They had met shortly after Starsky had moved to
"That
sucks." Huggy said. He leaned in closer and
lowered his voice. "Word has it that there was a heavy dude asking around
a couple of weeks ago for a driver. He was looking to pay five big ones for a
wheelman that could be guaranteed to keep their mouth shut afterwards. Rumor
has it that he had something planned that involved a cop."
"You got
a name?" Starsky asked "For the driver or the shooter?"
"Can't
help you on the shooter but I heard that little Mo Mo
brokered for the driver." Huggy told him.
"Little Mo Mo, huh?" Hutch said
thoughtfully. "Does he still hang out at that poolhall
over on
"Last I
heard and if he ain't there, then check with Orphan
Annie. She usually knows where he is."
Hutch nodded
and slid his hand across the top of the table to the barkeep. Huggy reached down and scooped up the twenty dollar bill
that Hutch slipped him. Starsky and Hutch were well known on the streets for
being fair with their snitches and informants, paying good money for righteous information.
Huggy pocketed the money and strutted away just as
Belinda returned with their drinks and food.
CHAPTER 3
The only
person in the poolhall was the bartender that served
watered down drinks and a drunk dozing in the corner, propped up against the
wall. The man tending the bar eyed the two detectives suspiciously as soon as
they walked in the door, immediately identifying them as cops. On parole, the
last thing he wanted or needed was trouble with a couple of hardnosed cops.
Starsky strutted
over to the bar and said,
"Little
Mo Mo been in here lately?"
The bartender
heaved a deep sigh of relief when he heard Little Mo Mo's
name, grateful that these two weren't looking for him. "Ain't seen him for over a week. Heard he made a big
score. Maybe he took off for greener pastures, ya
know?"
"And give
up all this?" Starsky said in a sarcastic voice, sweeping his arm to take
in the surrounding area. His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned in closer to
the nervous bartender, deliberating invading his personal space. "What
kind of score did Little Mo Mo make anyway?"
"Man, I
don't know." The man hedged anxiously, "He just came in here shooting
off his mouth about how he made himself a bundle of money just by finding
somebody to do a favor for somebody else. That's all I know. Honest, I'd tell
you if I knew more than that."
Starsky peered
at him for several long minutes as if he were considering the truthfulness of
his answer. Then he smiled thinly, the smile never quite making it to his eyes.
He reached out and patted the bartender's cheek, a little more roughly than
necessary, and said, "If I find out that you know more than you're telling
me, I'll be back. Understood?"
"Understood." The man answered in a shaky voice that barely
concealed his fear. Starsky and Hutch could both be as intimidating as hell
when they chose to be. They often switched off with one of them playing bad
cop, while the other way played good cop, depending on their moods. Today was Starsky's turn to be the bad guy while Hutch hung back and
watched. Hutch had to hide a smile. Nobody did bad
better than Starsky when he put his mind to it.
Spending the
first twelve years of his life on the mean streets of
His normally
warm, expressive eyes could turn cold and deadly in a heartbeat, his rich baratone voice becoming cold steel that could cut through
ice and leave the bad guys shaking in their boots. But Hutch knew the softer,
gentler side of his partner that lurked beneath the surface of the hardnosed,
streetwise, inner city cop.
"Have a
nice day." Hutch said amicably as the two men turned and left the poolhall.
"Looks like we need to find Orphan Annie." Starsky grumbled as he
slid beneath the wheel and turned on the ignition. The
Orphan Annie
was actually a hooker who went by the name of
She usually
could be found plying her trade in an old downtown hotel that was rundown and
badly in need of repair and rented rooms by the month, the week, the day or the
hour.
"Oh,
my…I'm afraid I don't do threesomes. Although in your case, I would be willing
to make an exception." She said demurely, in a whispery voice. In spite of
her innocent expression and childish sounding tone, under that head of ridiculous
hair was the smart brain of a true survivor.
"Sorry,
Orange." Hutch said with a gentle smile, willing to play the game to get
the information they needed. "We're not looking for a good time. Not
today. Just some information on Little Mo Mo.
Do you know where he is?"
"Mo Mo?"
"No
trouble. We'd just like to ask him a few questions. We're hoping he can help us
find somebody else we need to talk to." Hutch reached out and rubbed the
back of
"Oh,
yes….I remember now. He said he was going on a trip. Somewhere down South…
"When did
he leave?" Starsky interjected a question of his own.
"Two…maybe three days ago. He was awfully upset.
He said something happened that he didn't want any part of."
"I
bet." Starsky muttered under his breath in a disgusted tone. Without
Little Mo Mo, they might never find the driver and in
turn, may never find the lead they needed on the shooter. Knowing that they
would get no more useful information from
Since it was
late in the day and their shift was almost over, Hutch grabbed the radio and
logged them out. Without discussing it before hand, Starsky automatically headed
towards his own apartment. He was starngely quiet and
withdrawn, lost in his own thoughts. Hutch's natural concern for his partner
surfaced but he knew better than to push the brunet. He would talk about
whatever was troubling him when he was ready and not before. If Hutch pushed
him to talk now, Starsky would just withdrawn more.
When they
reached the brunet's apartment, the two men climbed the steps and went inside.
Starsky immediately headed towards the bedroom, while Hutch detoured into the
kitchen to raid the contents of the refrigerator and cupboards to find
something to fix them to eat. He found two containers of left over chinese food that appeared to
still be good so he poured it out into a pan to heat up. He knew that Starsky
generally threw left overs out within a couple of
days whereas Hutch was more apt to leave them in his refridgerator
until mold started to grow. It was simply another one of the sharp contrasts
between the two partners and their indivdual habits.
Most people assumed that Hutch was the neat freak and Starsky was the slob,
instead of the other way around. Hutch knew that Starsky's
mother, his Aunt Rose, and the military had all contributed to Starsky's rigid sense of order and preference for neatness
in his personal enviroment.
Hutch was just
taking their makeshift meal off the stove when Starsky came out of the bedroom,
still toweling dry his wet curls. He was casually dressed in a faded blue robe,
belted tightly at the waist and a pair of bedroom slippers. He looked relaxed and
refreshed, the earlier tension gone from his face.
He pulled a
root beer out of the refridgerator and sat down at
the table, inhaling deeply and smiling at the aroma. "Smells
great." He said "I forgot I still had that in there."
"Yeah, it
looked good to me too." Hutch said as he poured himself a glass of sweet
tea and joined his partner at the table. They ate in a comfortable silence for
several minutes and then Hutch said, "This case is getting to you, isn't
it?"
"I
guess…" Starsky said hesitantly. "It reminds me so much of when my
dad got shot."
"You've
never really said too much about that day." Hutch pointed out. "If
this case is stirring up all those old memories, maybe it would help to talk
about it."
"Yeah…maybe." Starsky said quietly, his voice unsure and
his tone suddenly sounding very young and insecure. "It's just…it's hard
to talk about that day. Even after all this time."
"I know
but I'm ready to listen if you're ready to talk."
"Yeah, I
know." Starsky said with a flash of a smile curling his mouth. He shoved
his half-eaten plate of food aside and looked at his partner, the profound
trust he felt for his blond friend showing clearly in his eyes. Finally, he
took a deep breath and began his story, "I was three days away from my
eleventh birthday the day that Pop got killed. He was going to take me to a
Dodgers game…he already had the tickets and everything." Starsky smiled
fondly at the fleeting memory. "Pop was working days that week and me and Nicky were watching for him to come home the way we always
did when he worked days. When he worked nights, we were always in bed when he
got home…but sometimes Ma would let me wait up for him on the weekends because
I was the oldest, ya know?" Hutch nodded, not
wanting to interrupt his partner's train of thought.
Starsky sighed
heavily. "Me and Pop were close, real close. He
always used to tell me that if anything ever happened to him…I had to be the
man of the house and take care of Ma and Nicky." Starsky choked back a sob
but quickly composed himself and continued. "Anyway…I saw Pop's car coming
down the street. Nicky had ran back into the house to
get a cookie and I ran outside to wait at the bottom of the steps for Pop. He
pulled into the driveway and got out of the car…he grinned at me and held out
his arms, the way he always did. I heard the other car coming down the street
and I saw Pop look up just as it drove by. I'll never forget the look on his
face. I think he knew he was about to get blown away." Starsky took a deep
shuddering breath as he faced his inner demons. "He yelled at me to stay
back and started to reach for his gun…I heard the gunshots and I saw Pop fall
to the ground. I didn't even stop to think about getting hurt myself, I just
ran to Pop and knelt down beside him."
Starsky paused
to recompose himself before going on with his story. Hutch felt a catch in his
own throat when he saw the glint of tears in the brunet's eyes. "I saw the
blood…I'd never seen so much blood. Pop caught three slugs in the chest. He was
still alive but I could hear the gurgling sound every time he tried to take a
breath. He just looked at me for a minute and then he was gone. I remember
screaming, begging him not to leave me, telling him he couldn't die…" The
tears that Starsky had been trying so hard to hold back began to fall freely
down his cheeks. "I heard Ma and Nicky come out of the house and they were
screaming and yelling too…then the neighbors started running into the yard and
one of them grabbed me to pull me away from Pop. I hit him. I told him to leave
me alone and that Pop needed me. I don't remember much after that until later
that night when I found myself in my room lying on the bed in the dark. I still
had on my clothes that were covered with Pop's blood. Ma told me later that I
fought everybody who tried to make me leave Pop's side until the ambulance
arrived and one of the paramedics gave me a shot to knock me out so they could
take Pop's body away."
Starsky let
out a pained gasp as the memories rushed over him, hurting as much as they had
that day so long ago. Hutch automatically reached out to clasp his shoulder to
keep him focused and steady. He knew that, in all likelyhood,
Starsky had never shared his memories from that day with anyone. Hutch felt
humbled that the brunet trusted him enough to share them now with him. He
squeezed Starsky's shoulder encouragingly, letting
him know that it was all right to continue when he was ready.
"I don't
remember much about the funeral or the week we sat Shiva." Starsky said
quietly, regaining control of his emotions. "All I remember thinking is…my
Pop was gone and I was never going to see him again. I know Ma was worried
about me but she was so wrapped up her own grief and pain that she couldn't be
there for me and Nicky too. I can remember lying in bed at night and listening
to her crying in another room. I wanted to go to her but I was hurting too much
myself to do it. I just wanted Pop back and that wasn't about to happen."
The brunet took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Ma was so sad after
that, sometimes she'd just shut herself in her bedroom and spend the whole day
crying. And I was so angry but I didn't have anybody to focus that anger on
except myself. I started running the streets and hanging out with a
neighborhood gang. They made me feel like I still had somewhere that I
belonged. I was supposed to be watching Nicky after school because Ma had to go
to work to make ends meet but most of the time, I just
left Nicky to fend for himself. God, Hutch…he was only seven years old and I
was leaving him alone for hours at time."
"It's not
your fault." Hutch said soothingly. "You were hurting…you all
were."
"I
started getting into trouble and skipping school. Ma didn't know what to do
with me. Talking to me didn't do any good…I'd just talk back to her and sneak
out if she tried to ground me." Starsky hung his head as if he were
ashamed to go on. Hutch hesitated, wondering if he should stop his partner from
continuing but Starsky apparently decided to tell Hutch the rest of the story.
"I got
picked up a couple of times for shop lifting and once with some other guys
riding around in a stolen car. Then one day, just after I turned twelve, I got
jumped by a bunch of boys from a rival gang from another neighborhood. They
beat me half to death with a baseball bat and threw me off a two storey
building. I woke up in the hospital with a busted up ankle, a couple of broken
ribs and a nasty concussion. I was surprised to still be alive." Hutch
already knew that part of the story. As a lingering consequence of that day,
Starsky had a severe fear of heights and a trick ankle that was always giving
him trouble.
"Ma
finally had as much as she could take of me and my shit, so she sent me out
here to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie." He looked at Hutch, the tears
still streaming down his face "And you know the rest of the story."
Without any
hesitation, Hutch reached out and pulled the smaller man close, wrapping his
arms around the unresisting body of his best friend and partner. Starsky gave a
broken cry and buried his face against Hutch's shoulder, finally giving in to
the pain and grief that crawled at his throat and twisted his stomach into
knots. Hutch held him close, rubbing gentle circles over his back as Starsky
cried bitter tears of regret and sorrow. Hutch hoped that finally sharing his
memories of that day with Hutch would help to ease some of Starsky's
repressed grief and pain.
CHAPTER 4
After his
emotional disclosure, Starsky seemed more relaxed but Hutch wasn't surprised
when the brunet's sleep that night was disturbed by nightmares that left him
screaming in the darkness. After calming him down, Hutch spent the night in Starsky's bed so that the brunet could get some sleep. The
two partners had spent the night in the same bed frequently throughout the
years, usually when one of them was sick or injured. The presense
of the other one always brought comfort and soothed the one who needed them the
most in their time of crisis. Neither of them thought anything about it, it was
just another way they expressed their caring and concern for their closest
friend. A physical expression of the love they shared, a love that went deeper
than friendship, deeper then family, binding them together, united as one
against the world.
Luckily, they
didn't have to be on duty the next day until in the late afternoon, so Hutch
let Starsky sleep in the following morning. He went out for his usual five mile
run and then returned to take a shower. After freshening up, he made himself a
light breakfast and did some minor chores around Starsky's
apartment until the brunet woke up around
Starsky opened
the door to grab the morning paper and discovered an envelope stuck in his
mailbox. There was not a postmark or return address, just Starsky's
name written across the front in black marker. He carried the paper and
envelope back into the apartment and sat down on the couch. He tossed the paper
on the coffeetable and tore open the envelope with a
puzzled frown. His frown deepened as he took out a single sheet of folded white
paper and read the few words written there. He held out the paper for Hutch to
take and read.
Hutch took the
paper and looked at it, startled at the cryptic message it contained.
One little piggy, two little piggy. Catch me if you can
before I make it three. The blond looked at his brunet counterpart and said,
"Damn! Do you think this means he killed another cop?"
"I don't
know. I hope the hell not." Starsky growled "But we better get this
note to Dobey and tell him to get out a warning to
the cops on the streets to be careful."
"How the
hell did he find out your name and where you lived?" Hutch mused. As
undercover detectives, their phone numbers were unlisted and their home
addresses were not common knowledge except to their closest friends and Captain
Dobey. Still, there were ways to find that
information out if someone knew the right steps to take. It was one more thing
to add to their list of things to investigate. If the killer was bold enough
and arrogant enough to start sending them messages, then maybe he was stupid
enough to make a mistake that would enable them to catch him. The two men left
the apartment, taking the envelope and letter with them, to turn it in to
Captain Dobey as evidence. The note was clearly a
threat but to whom? Did the killer plan on killing more cops, making a sick
game of it until he was caught? Or was he targeting someone specific as his
next victim?
"We need
to check out all the cases Jim Tanner was involved in for the past four years
since he's been on the force. Maybe we can find something that led to his
murder." Htuch suggested as Starsky expertly navigated
his way through the lunch hour traffic.
"I doubt
it." Starsky grumbled "He was just a lousy street cop. He shouldn't
have been involved in anything heavy enough to get himself wasted like
that."
"Your
father was just a street cop and look what happened to him." Hutch pointed
out solemnly.
"Yeah,
you're right." Starsky acknowledged, a flash of pain flickering through
his eyes as Hutch reminded him of the obvious comparison with their current
case. There were far too many similarities between this case and his father's
murder for Starsky's own peace of mind.
"Maybe
his murder wasn't even connected to his being a cop." Hutch mused "We
need to check into his personal life too. Maybe he had a girlfriend stashed
away somewhere that his wife didn't know about or maybe he was into the ponies
or something."
"You
could be right." Starsky agreed "But that still puts us back at
square one. If we find out why he was killed then maybe we'll find out who
wanted him dead bad enough to pay for a hit."
"Or maybe not. Maybe all we have is some psycho who hates
cops and is out there picking 'em off one by
one."
"God, I
hope not. If that's the case, every cop on the force could be a target."
"Well, if
that letter is supposed to be a threat, I guess we'll find out soon enough."
"Terrfic." Starsky muttered as he
pulled up to his favored parking spot directly in front of the headquarters.
The two men climbed from the car and strolled up the steps into the building.
They climbed the steps to the third floor and entered their squad room. They
bypassed their shared desk and went directly to Captain Dobey's
office.
The robust
Captain glanced up as the door to his office opened and looked at his favorite
team of detectives with a questioning expression on his face. "You two are
early." He growled "You're not due on duty for four more hours."
"Someone
decided to send Starsky a note with his newspaper this morning," Hutch
said, taking the envelope from his jacket pocket and dropping it on the desk in
front of his superior. Dobey picked up the envelope
and took out the slip of paper inside, scanning the contents quickly.
"Have
there been any reports of any other cops getting wasted in the past twenty-four
hours?" Starsky asked, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at
his Captain almost belligerently.
"Not that
I'm aware of." Dobey said, shaking his head
"But I'll check with the other precincts to see if they've had anything
usual happen with any of their officers."
"That
note makes it sound like he's already blown away another cop." Hutch
pointed out.
"I can
see that,
"We're
going to do some digging into Officer Tanner's private life." Hutch told
him "See if he was into anything that could have gotten him killed."
"Watch
yourselves out there." Dobey warned them
needlessly. "Since this scumbag sent his little message to Starsky, he
knows who you are and that could make you both one of his targets." He
raised his voice slightly and pointed a warning finger at both men. "NO
PRIVATE PARTIES!" he warned. "If you expect any kind of trouble, call
for backup!"
"Yes, sir." Starsky said with a sharp salute and a click
of his heels. Hutch smothered a laugh at his partner's antics, sobering quickly
at the glare he received in turn from Dobey. The two
detectives quickly left the office to avoid any further lecturing from their
Captain.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Reluctantly,
they both decided that their first contact needed to be with Virginia Tanner.
They had no desire to upset the new widow but if they were going to be
investigating her husband's private life, they wanted her to hear about it from
them and not from one of her neighbors or friends. They were both silent as
they drove to the Tanner home.
Hutch's knock
was answered almost immediately by Virginia Tanner. She looked at them
questioningly and said, "Yes, may I help you?"
"Yes, I'm
Detective Hutchinson and this is my partner, Detective Starsky. We're
investigating your husband's murder."
"Yes, I
know who you are. Have you found out something about what happened to
Jim?"
"No,
ma'am," Hutch told her "I’m afraid not yet but we are still working
on it. We'd like to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"
"Of course. Please, come in." she said, stepping
aside and gesturing them inside.
The small
modest home was tastefully furnished with inexpensive but well cared for
furniture. Pictures of their two children were proudly displayed on the walls
in the living room, as well as a large framed wedding picture and a prominately displayed photograph of Jim Tanner in his
police uniform. The perfect picture of marital bliss and a
happy family.
Starsky and
Hutch sat side by side on the comfortable sofa sitting in the middle of the
room. Smiling at them warmly, Mrs. Tanner said, "Could I get you something
to drink? Some coffee, a coke, a glass of tea?"
"No thank
you," Starsky told her, declining for both of them. He glanced at Hutch
for support, not in any hurry to start the questioning he had in mind. Hutch
gave him a faint smile and a nod. Reassured, Starsky said, "Mrs. Tanner,
we need to ask you some personal questions about your husband's private life.
We don't mean to intrude. It's all part of our investigation."
"I
understand. What do you want to know?" she asked, slumping down in an easy
chair facing the sofa. Although her voice was cordial, her expression was wary
and guarded.
"Did you
and your husband have any personal problems in your marriage?" Hutch
asked, relieving Starsky of the questioning since he seemed so uneasy.
"No. Jim
and I were very happy. Neither one of us was having an affair if that's what
you're asking. Jim worked an 8 hour shift and then came home to us every night.
He didn't even go out with his partner for a drink after work. And if he had to
work late, he called me every two hours to make sure me and the kids were
okay."
"What
about any other bad habits? Did your husband gamble,
play the ponies, anything that affected your finances?"
"No, of course not." She said defensively,
a hint of anger creeping into her voice. "Jim put every extra dime he
could in the bank. We were planning a vacation this summer. We were going to
take the boys to Disney World in
"Did your
husband mention anyone threatening him lately?"
"No. Jim
rarely discussed his job with me."
Starsky and
Hutch exchanged a meaningful glance. Most police officers shared little of
their day with their loved ones. How do you go home and tell your wife or
mother that some punk held a knife to your throat because you tried to arrest
him or talk about the murder scene where three little children were the victims
of their father's drunken rage? It was easier and less complicted
to keep those kind of details between yourself and
your partner.
"Have you
received any unsual phone calls…or maybe someone harassing
you in some way?" Starsky asked "Anyone you don't recogonize
hanging around the neighborhood lately?"
"No, nothing. This is a very quiet neighborhood and all the
neighbors look out for each other. If there had been any suspicious strangers
hanging around, someone would have reported it to the police."
"What
about your children?" Hutch asked "Have they mentioned trouble with
anyone at school or any strangers apporaching
them?"
"No, nothing." Virginia Tanner rose gracefully to her feet.
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't tell you anything else. Jim and I had a
good marriage and nothing unusual has happened lately that I would consider to be a threat. I'd like you to leave now. I have some phone
calls to return and some errands to run."
"Of course." Hutch said graciously. He pulled one of his
business cards from his wallet and handed it to her. "Please call us if
you think of anything that might help us find out who killed your husband. And
we apologise for intruding on your privacy."
"I
understand." She said as she showed the two men to the door. "I know
you're just doing your job but you won't find the answers that you're looking
for in Jim's private life."
As they walked
back to the
"So do I." Starsky said somberly "The perfect little
family…almost too good to be true."
"Do you
think we should talk to some of the neighbors?"
"Might as
well since we already here. Maybe we'll find out that Jim Tanner had a secret
that his wife didn't know about. I doubt it…but it's worth a shot."
CHAPTER 5
Talking to the
Tanner neighbors yeilded no
results except further reports that made them appear to be the pefect, loving family. No secret affairs, no loud arguments
in the middle of the night, no unusual activity that had attracted the
neighbor's attention. Likewise, nobody recalled any strangers hanging around
the area or reported any disturbances. It was pretty much what the two
detectives had expected to find so they weren't really surprised. The next
logical step was to talk to Jim Tanner's partner to find out what cases they
had been working on recently and and to find out if
there could be a connection between one of those cases and the young police
officers murder.
His partner,
Jeff Haley, readily agreed to meet with Starsky and Hutch after he got off
duty. He was familiar with The Pits so they made plans to meet there at
Haley knew
Starsky and Hutch by sight and by reputation. He knew that they were good at
their jobs and he hoped that they could help find his partner's murderer. He
had only worked with Jim Tanner for a short period of time but he had geniuely liked the younger man. After ordering something to
drink, the three men got down to buisness.
"How long
had you and Jim Tanner been partners?" Hutch started off, watching the
other man's body language carefully as he answered.
"Just
over six months. He was a good cop and a good man. He doted on his wife and
kids, talked about them all the time." Jeff replied. "I want to help
any way that I can to find the scum that gunned him down like that."
"So do we." Starsky assured him "Did he ever mention
anything in his private life that might have caused any problems? A girlfriend maybe that his wife didn't know about or maybe a
drinking problem?"
"Naw, nothing like that. Jim was as straight as
they come. He couldn't wait to get off duty and go home to spend time with his
wife and kids. Hell, he wouldn't even go out with the guys for a drink after
work, no matter how many times we asked him."
"Were you
and Jim working on any cases that might have pissed someone off enough to come
after him like that?" Hutch asked
"No, not that I know of. Just a couple of break-ins, a purse
snatching, a couple of traffic accidents…you know just
routine stuff for us. You undercover guys get all the dirty jobs that need more
investigating. Us ordinary stiffs just do the initial legwork and then turn in
our reports."
"Did
anything unusual happen on your beat in the last few weeks that stands out in
your mind? Maybe something you were aware of but not involved in."
"Not that
I can recall but you know how it is. There were a couple of incidents where
some bystanders called us names and got a little out of hand but nothing
big." He looked at the two detectives thoughtfully, pausing as the
waitress sat three beers down on the table in front of them. As she walked away
to wait on other customers, he said, "There is one thing I remember. Jim
had his log book come up missing."
"When?"
"A couple of weeks ago. He'd left it in the car while we were
talking to a shop keeper and arrested a girl he'd caught shoplifting. When we
got back to the station, Jim couldn't find his log book anywhere. We just
figured maybe some kid saw it lying in the car and swiped it. He made a report
on it and asked for new one."
"Did it
ever turn up?"
"No."
Starsky and
Hutch exchanged glances. A cop's logbook was where he wrote down every detail
of his day to be used later when he wrote up his reports. Losing it could
create problems because it usually contained information about different cases
a cop was involved in that could prove vital to an investigation. But a beat
cop's log book was ususually filled with dull,
routine information compared to the more intimate details that might be found
in a detective's logbook. The signifigance of the
missing logbook may or may not be a clue in the young officer's murder.
"Is there
anything else you can think of?" Starsky asked "Anything at
all?"
"No, I
wish there was." Jeff said regretfully. "You think somebody gunned
him down just because he was a cop?"
"It's
beginning to look that way." Hutch admitted "He was just in the wrong
place at the wrong time. We may never know why the killer targeted him except
for the uniform."
"You
think he's gonna kill more cops before you catch
him?"
The two
friends exchanged glances again, remembering the cryptic note Starsky had
received that morning. "It's hard to say." Hutch said evasively, not
wanting to share that piece of information with anyone except Captain Dobey just yet. "Just watch your back out there and be
careful."
"Always. I wanna be around
to collect my pension." Haley said. He finished off his beer and shoved
himself to his feet, "I have to get home. My wife will kill me if I'm too
late. Good luck. I really hope you nail this guy." He shook both their
hands and left the bar.
Starsky's shoulders sagged dejectedly as he finished his beer in
one long swallow. Slouching into the corner of the booth, he looked at Hutch
and said, "It's beginning to look more and more like Jim Tanner just
happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Yeah and
he was singled out just because he was a cop, that doesn't make our job any
easier."
"Especially
if there's a cop killer out there just hunting down cops to kill."
"You
think that's what we're dealing with?" Hutch asked "I mean the hit
had all the earmarks of a professional hit that was planned in advance, not
just a random shooting."
"Yeah, I
know. That's what keeps bugging me." Starsky admitted.
"Well, so
far there haven't been any more cops killed…let's hope it stays that way."
"That
note I got this morning made it sound like he's killed at least one other cop.
Maybe we just haven't found the body yet."
"Or maybe
he wasn't a cop from around here." Hutch suggested. "He could have
killed another cop someplace else before he came to
"Yeah,
and we don't have the time or resources to investigate every cop killing in
every major city outside of the state." Starsky said dryly
"True.
Plus, we have no idea when the other killing, if there was one, even occurred.
It could have been years ago for all we know." Hutch pointed out.
"Great…so
we're still at square one with nothing except a note from a nut with a grudge
against cops."
"Yeah, I
know." Hutch said in a tired voice. Cases like this one
with very little to go on were the bane of every cop's existance.
These were the types of cases that often went unsolved, shoved away in a drawer
with other unresolved cases and reviewed once a year for any new information.
Hutch reached
out and squeezed Starsky's shoulder comfortingly. He
knew that the circumstances of this case were eerily similar to Michael Starsky's murder back in
The rest of
their shift passed quietly with no new developments in any of their open cases.
They finally left headquarters shortly after
Starsky
stopped at a carryout near his apartment and grabbed a six pack of beer on his
way home. He planned on having a couple while watching the late night creature
feature before turning in. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed out of the
Fuck! Damn
fuses!
He thought to himself as he carefully felt his way through the dark towards the
kitchen where the fusebox was located. He sat the six
pack down on the table in passing and ran his hand
along the far wall until he found the fuse box. Opening it, he found the main
breaker by touch and flipped it back on, flooding the apartment with light. He
frowned slightly as he looked around the apartment. Although everything seemed
to be undisturbed and in it's usual place, he had the
eerie feeling that someone had been in the apartment in his abscense.
Drawing his
gun and flicking off the safety, he cautiously moved through the seemingly
empty apartment. He didn't find anything unusual until he opened his bedroom
door. A single white envelope with his name written across the front in black
marker lay on his pillow.
Breathing
heavily, he sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the envelope for
several minutes before picking up the bedside phone and dialing Hutch's number.
The blond answered on the first ring.
"It's
me." Starsky said quietly "I just got home and found another note
from our friend. This time he left it lying on my bed."
"Hang on.
I'll be right there." Hutch said, hanging up almost immediately. Starsky
replaced the phone in the cradle and picked up the envelope. He decided to wait
until Hutch arrived to see what it contained.
The big blond
barreled through the front door less than tweny
minutes later. Starsky was sitting on the sofa, the unopened envelope lying on
the coffee table, waiting for him. Hutch sat down beside him and picked up the
envelope. He tore it open and took out the single sheet of paper inside,
reading it silently, before passing it to Starsky.
"One
little Piggy, two little piggy," the note read "The game is
about to end the way it began. Catch me if you can or the third little piggy
will die."
"Game? What game? What the fuck is he talking about?"
Starsky raged, his infamous temper about to explode with frustration. The burnet
threw the paper down on the sofa and bounced to his feet, pacing the living
room in agitation.
"I don't
know, buddy." Hutch said calmly "But, he seems determined to make you
a part of it."
"Why me? Why not you?"
Starsky snapped
"Who knows. Maybe he likes you better." Hutch stood up and
reached out a hand to stop his partner's frantic pacing. "Maybe he's just
trying to get under your skin."
"Well,
it's working!" Starsky growled, calming down slightly at his friend's
soothing touch. He slumped down on the sofa. Hutch followed suit and waited for
the brunet to vent his anger. He didn't have to wait long. "He was in
here, Hutch…in my apartment! He turned off the breaker so the lights didn't
work when I came in."
"How did
he get in here?" Hutch asked in a startled voice. He knew that Starsky was
more safety conscious than he was. Hutch customarily left his key above his
doorway where anyone could find it.
"I don't
know. There's no sign of any forced entry and nothing seems to be
missing."
"Looks like he can add breaking and entering to his list of
crimes." Hutch said somberly. "Look, I'm gonna
crash here tonight. We need to call this in and report it, get a crime lab team
here. Maybe he screwed up and left some prints."
"Fat chance. He's too good for that." Starsky
grumbled as he reached for the phone to call it in.
The crime lab
crew arrived in short order but as Starsky had suspected, they didn't find any
unidentified fingerprints or any sign of forced entry. They bagged the note for
evidence and took it with them to turn in to Captain Dobey.
After they left, the two men turned in for the night
CHAPTER 6
The next few
days passed uneventfully. There were no more mysterious letters from the killer
and no new leads to his identify or his location. Starsky and Hutch had plenty
of other cases to keep them occupied but Jim Tanner's murder was never far from
their minds.
Cops are a
closed society, a brotherhood bound together by a common goal and purpose. A
cop killing always affected all the other men and women who wore the badge,
reinforcing the inherent danger of their chosen profession. And
when the killer apparently singled out his victim merely because he just
happened to be a cop, it left his fellow police officers wondering if one of
them could be the next random victim.
In between
doing their routine paperwork and questioning suspects or following leads in
their other cases, Starsky and Hutch reviewed the files of their past cases
trying to find any possible connection between Starsky and the killer. It was a
daunting task with no guarantee of success. Even the criminals who were in
prison couldn't be eliminated as suspects. They still had contacts on the
outside that could arrange things for them. Every cop makes enemies during the
course of their career and Starsky and Hutch had made more then their fair
share over the years. Any one of them could have decided that it was time for a
little payback.
Proceeding on
the theory that the killer had singled out Starsky for a personal vendetta
complicated things. Although his professional life would most likely hold the
key they needed to solve the case, his personal life had to be considered too.
The possibility that something in his past may be connected to the case could
not be ignored. All they needed was a solid lead to push them in the right
direction. They had worked on cases in the past where a series of murders
appeared to be unrelated until the case was solved. At that time, it was
discovered that the murders had been committed to conceal the death of a specific
victim.
"Damn,"
Starsky muttered as he shoved aside another stack of files. "At this rate,
we're gonna end up with more suspects than we can
handle."
"You wanna call it a day? Go back to my place and grab a pizza
or something?" Hutch suggested. The dark circles under Starsky's
eyes and the deep line etched around the corners of his mouth spoke volumes, mute evidence of his sleepless nights since this
case had began. He was still being plagued by nightmares of his father's murder
over twenty years ago. The apparent similarities between that cold case and
this one were uncanny. Hutch was convinced that's all they were, just weird coincedences that were triggering unpleasant memories in
the brunet half of the team.
It wasn't in Starsky's nature to dwell on the past but his father's
murder had been a traumatic turning point in his life that had left deep,
unhealed scars on his emotional development. He had pushed his memories of that
day so deep that some of the images were blurred while others stood out with crystal
clarity. Sharing his memories of that day with Hutch had helped to relieve some
of the brunet's tension but not all of it.
Starsky
grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and the two men left the squad
room. He had been quiet and subdued all day and Hutch hoped that a relaxing
evening at his apartment would help the troubled brunet sleep. As they walked
across the parking lot towards Starsky's car, the
brunet suddenly spoke up,
"You know
it was twenty-one years ago today that Pop was killed." He said quietly,
as he fumbled to pull his keys from his tight jeans. Although his voice was
calm, Hutch could hear the deep pain and hurt behind his words.
"I'm
sorry, buddy." Hutch said suddenly realizing the reason for Starsky's depressed mood that day. He reached out and
clasped the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. "I didn't know.
You should have told me sooner. We could have cut out early." Hutch's
velvety voice had the desired effect, calming and soothing the brunet as usual.
Starsky shrugged
his shoulders, feigning indifference, as he unlocked the car door and slid
underneath the wheel. He leaned over to unlock the other door for Hutch, who
slid into the passenger's seat and folded his long legs under the dashboard. He
reached out to turn off the police radio. They were signed out for the day and
he didn't want any unexpected calls interrupting their evening. Starsky needed
some downtime, especially today.
They made
casual conversation as Starsky manuevered through the
rush hour traffic to Hutch's
Starsky
grabbed two cold beers out of the refrigerator while Hutch used the phone to
order them something to eat. Deciding against pizza, he called a Chinese
carryout that delivered and ordered a variety of dishes so both men would have
an assortment to choose from. Hanging up the phone, he gratefully accepted the
beer from his partner.
"Food
should be here in about half an hour. I ordered Chinese from Ty Lings."
"Sounds good." Starsky said, slouching
down on the sofa and propping his feet up on the coffee table. He took a
deep swallow of his beer and then leaned his head back against the couch
cushions, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh as his exhaustion caught up with
him.
"Why
don't you crash here tonight?" Hutch suggested "You're too tired to
drive all the way back to your place."
"Yeah,
okay." Starsky mumbled in a contented voice. The two friends often stayed
over at one apartment or the other. Not only did it save time in the mornings
but it also kept them from being alone when one of them was dealing with an
emotional crisis. Starsky was stronger than Hutch was emotionally. He had to be
after all the traumas he had endured in his life. But, even he had his limits
and this case, combined with the memories and nightmares surrounding his
father's death had pushed him dangerously close to the edge. Raising his head,
Starsky opened his eyes and gazed at his friend fondly. "Ya know, sometimes I wonder what my life would have been
like if Pop hadn't been killed. I'd have never ended up in
"And we
would never have met." Hutch pointed out. "I can't imagine my life
without you in it, Gordo."
"Same here." Starsky admitted with a crooked smile.
"Even if I had stayed in
"I think
you would have been too." Hutch agreed "It's in your blood." He
sensed that Starsky needed to talk about his father and his childhood, a topic
that he generally avoided discussing. The big blond knew that the annversary of his father's murder was stirring up emotions
in Starsky that the brunet was not comfortable with. It was probably going to
be a long night with more bad dreams to disrupt his sleep.
"What
about you? What would you have done if you hadn't become a cop?" Starsky
asked thoughtfully, settling in comforably on the
couch and curling his legs up beneath him.
"I don't
know…probably finished med school and been miserable for the rest of my
life." Hutch said lightly with just a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"That was my father's dream…not mine." Hutch's relationship with his
family was strained. His parents had objected strongly when he decided to quit
school and go to the police academy. His wealthy father had literally disowned
the disobedient blond for choosing his own path in life instead of the one that
had been mapped out for him since birth. Their contact with their only child
had been reduced to a card and a check on his birthday and a
expensive gift that Hutch usually had no use for at Christmas time.
"You'd
have made a good doctor." Starsky said "You're real good at that kind
of stuff." He thought about all the times he had been hurt and relied on
the big blond's loving care to recover.
"That's
because I've had a lot of practice taking care of you." Hutch teased his
friend as if he had read his thoughts. Their almost psychic connection at times
was something that they both accepted without question. It had saved their
lives more than once out there on the streets. To an outsider who didn't know
them very well, their silent form of communication with one another could be
unnerving.
"You
remind me of Pop sometimes." Starsky said thoughtfully. "He cared
about people and he wasn't afraid to show it. And he was smart too, a lot smarter than most people gave him credit
for."
"Hmmmm…sounds a lot like his son." Hutch said with an
affectionate smile. Underneath the tough, street-wise cop exterior, Starsky was
the gentlest, most compassionate man that Hutch knew. He may not have a college
education or the advantages of Hutch's more privelged
upbringing, but he had a sharp, inquistive mind and
was constantly exploring new ideas. The biggest mistake that most people made
was underestimating Starsky because of his appearance or his background. He had
helped Hutch become the man he was today and for that, the big blond would
forever be grateful. He was the closest, most loyal friend that Hutch had ever
had and he valued that friendship more than he could ever express. Starsky was
the one person in his life who had accepted Hutch the way he was with all his
faults and insecurities, never expecting him to live up to any lofty expectations
but just to be himself.
"I miss
him so much." Starsky said in a quiet, subdued voice as he finished his
beer and shoved himself to his feet to get another one. "He was a great
dad, Hutch. The best."
Hutch nodded
somberly. He knew that Starsky idolized his father and held his memories of him
close to his heart. Hutch envied Starsky for the closeness that he shared with
his large extended family. Whatever he had lacked in material possessions while
he was growing up had been made up for with an abundance of love and
understanding. His childlike enthusiasm for simple things was all part of the
unique personality that made up the essence of David Michael Starsky. And Hutch
wouldn't have changed anything about the impetious,
unruly brunet for the world.
Their food
arrived and Hutch paid the delivery boy, adding a generous tip. He carried the
bags into the kitchen and sat them on the table. Starsky had fetched them both
a fresh drink and sat the table so that they could enjoy their meal. While
Hutch was more health conscious and his diet reflected that; with his cast iron
stomach, Starsky would eat almost anything. Chinese was a good choice for both
men and was one of the few ways that Starsky could be convinced to eat his
vegetables.
After eating,
Hutch put away the left overs while Starsky washed
the few dishes that they had used. Afterwards, they relaxed in front of the TV,
watching one of the old movies that Starsky enjoyed. After it ended, Hutch went
to bed in his room while Starsky made up the sofa to sleep on. As the darkness settled around them, both men slept.
"POP! NOOOO, POP. LOOK OUT…GET
DOWN!" Starsky's voice cried out in the
darkness, startling Hutch awake. The blond jumped out of bed and hurried to his
friends's side. He found Starsky lying on the living
room floor, tangled in the blanket he had been covered with. He was still
asleep and crying out plaintively, swinging hs hands
around frantically as if warding off an unseen enemy.
"Starsky!" Hutch said, kneeling beside him and reaching
out to gently caress a shoulder. "Come on, babe…wake up. It's just a
dream." He continued talking to the distraught brunet in a calm, soothing voice, gently easing him out of his
nightmare. Finally, Starsky's eyes opened and he
stared into his best friend's concerned face. His face crumbled and the tears
flooded his eyes as he reached for Hutch. Hutch pulled him into his arms and
held him close as the brunet burst into tears. He rocked gently back and forth,
comforting his friend as Starsky struggled to regain his composure. With anyone
else, Starsky would never have broken down and given in to his emotions. It was
a testiment to the level of trust he had in Hutch
that allowed him to vent his grief and pain in front of his friend.
CHAPTER 7
Starsky was
still sleeping soundly the next morning when Hutch went out for an early
morning run. As his long legs covered the miles on his chosen route, he let his
mind drift back over the current case. He often used his time running to think
through a particualarly difficult case in his mind.
Running helped him think things through more clearly,
ideas would come to mind that he would bounce off his partner later. The fact
that the shooter had singled Starsky out as a target for his lettering writing
campaign disturbed the big blond. He didn’t believe it was just a coincendence, he felt that there was something more
personal motivating the killer when it came to his particularly vulnerable
partner.
He would be r