THE THIRD VICTIM

Starsky and Hutch weren’t the only victims in the parking garage the day Starsky was gunned down.

Beta read by ProvencePuss

Merle the Earl was busy working on a 1975 Gold Cadillac when he saw the tow truck pulling into the lot in front of his body shop. Straightening up, he watched as the car being towed behind the truck came into view. He had been expecting this arrival all morning. He caught his breath sharply when he saw the damage done to the vehicle. It was worse than he had imagined. But by some, Merle was considered a mechanical genius when it came to cars. That was why his business was so lucrative. The owner of the Candy Apple Red Torino had been one of his best customers for years.

Merle’s eyes darkened with sadness as he thought about that man now, lying in the hospital fighting for his life. He’d been gunned down in the downtown parking garage of the Bay City Police Department, the one place where he should have been the safest. Five bullets, fired at almost point blank range, to his torso had torn into his flesh and rearranged his insides. Now he was lying in critical condition, still alive but holding on by a thread, guarded over by his blond counterpart and half of the Bay City police force. The last report Merle had heard from a mutual friend was that the doctors still didn’t hold out much hope for the dark haired man with the mischievous sapphire eyes. He had suffered massive damage. It was only a matter of time before that big heart of his finally gave up the fight to keep him alive.

There was nothing Merle could do about that. But there was one thing Merle could do for his old friend. He could restore the Torino to its former glory. It was the least he could do. That way if God in his infinite wisdom decided to grant Detective Sergeant David Michael Starsky a second change at life, then his precious ‘baby’ would be waiting for him to climb behind the wheel just like old times.

Merle wiped his hands on a greasy rag and walked over to the spot where the tow truck driver had left the Torino. He couldn’t start the repairs on the vehicle until the police officially released it as ‘evidence’ but he could at least appraise the damage. He began a slow walk around the car, examining it with a practiced eye. The rear windshield and both side windows on the driver’s side was shattered and would have to be replaced. The side view mirror on that side of the vehicle was also shattered. He counted over eighteen separate bullet holes in the car’s body, running all the way from the rear taillight along the side of the car up to the front fender. Each bullet had torn into the metal body of the Torino just like five of those same bullets had ripped into the body of the vehicle’s owner. Streaks of dried blood were smeared along the side of the car, marking the path as Starsky fell against the car after being hit. More blood, a lot more, was dried on the rear tire of the vehicle.

Inside the car, the front seat and dashboard was littered with shards of broken glass that had cut tiny slices in the black leather interior. Merle made a mental note to replace the entire front seat and dashboard. He sighed heavily, awed by the damage to the vehicle. It was going to need major body work and replacement parts, along with a brand new paint job. He ran his fingertips over the undamaged side of the vehicle, envisioning Starsky’s blond partner protected from harm by the car that he pretended to hate and a smile tugged at his lips. The order to fix the car, no matter how much it cost, had come directly from Hutchinson himself. Merle had given his word that Starsky would never see his car in this condition. He had his work cut out for him and it would take some time but Merle was just the man to take on the challenge. They didn’t call him Merle the Earl for nothing. More than his reputation was on the line. This was a job that came straight from the heart. One old friend looking out for another old friend.