Out of the Mists

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

Cal and Rosie had already left for school by the time Starsky and Hutch made their way downstairs.  Hutch looked better than he had in days, finally having had two full nights’ rest.  Starsky, on the other hand, walked stiffly, and the bags under his eyes showed no sign of leaving.   

 

Starsky groaned and stretched his back as he entered the kitchen. 

 

“What’s the matter, Starsk?  Didn’t sleep so good?”

 

“You try sleeping on that beanbag thing.  Probably why they call it that; I’m twisted up like a zucchini.”

 

“A zucchini isn’t twisted.  And it’s not a bean, Starsk, it’s a squash.”

 

“Yeah, well, I feel squashed.”

 

“Gripe, gripe, gripe.”

 

Dobey looked up from the papers strewn over the kitchen table.  “Well, it’s about time you two graced us with your presence.”

 

“’Morning, Captain.  ’Morning, Edith.”  Hutch kissed his hostess on the cheek as she handed him a cup of coffee. 

 

“Now, you boys sit down while I whip you up some breakfast.  You both look as though you could stand some fattening up.”

 

Starsky looked pointedly at his captain, but Dobey’s raised eyebrows stopped him from making any smart remarks.

 

Without thought, Hutch handed Starsky his coffee cup.  “Be sure to tell Rosie how much I appreciated her giving up her room last night, Cap’n.”

 

Dobey nodded.  “You know you two are welcome to stay here as long as necessary.” 

 

Starsky drained the cup and handed it back to Hutch.  “Thanks, Cap’n.  It depends on what we come up with today.”

 

“What’s your plan?”

 

Hutch returned to the coffeepot.  “Well, we’re not sure.  Starsky got the location of the warehouse that’s supposed to be used for the next shipment, but all we know is the drop is set for sometime—what?  This week?”

 

Starsky nodded.  “This weekend, most likely.”

 

Dobey looked to the darker detective.  “Who’s your source?  Huggy?” 

 

“Nope.  Would you believe it’s the slimy little creep who told Vic Monte that Hutch was a mole?” 

 

“And you trust him?”

 

Starsky grunted.  “Like I’d trust a rabid pit bull.  But I’m pretty sure the information’s accurate.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”  Hutch sat down, and Starsky took the coffee cup out of his hands. 

 

Starsky drained the cup before responding.  “Let’s just say lying wasn’t an option for him at the time he was giving up the information.”  He handed the cup back to Hutch.  “I thought you were getting more coffee.”

 

When Hutch gave his partner a dirty look, Edith swept by, laying two heaping plates of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of the houseguests.  With a pat on Hutch’s shoulder, she took his cup and returned with two full mugs. 

 

“Thanks, Edith.” 

 

Starsky paused from shoveling the food into his mouth.  “Edith, if you weren’t attached, I’d marry ya.” 

 

Edith smiled as she left the room.  “David, you say that every time I put food in front of you.”

 

“Actually, he says it to everybody who puts food in front of him,” Hutch quipped into his coffee cup.

 

“That’s not true!”

 

“Oh, really?  Name one.”

 

Starsky thought for a moment.  “Hairy Eddie down at the Hot Dog Pound.” 

 

“Only because Hairy Eddie’s girlfriend is the jealous type.  And bigger and hairier than he is.”

 

Before Starsky could respond, Dobey cut in.  “If you two would shut up long enough to eat my wife’s cooking, we could figure this thing out.”

 

Hutch smirked and peppered his eggs.  “It’s like we’ve got every piece of the puzzle but the last two or three, and we can’t figure out what the picture is until we do.”

 

“What have you got?”

 

Hutch chewed thoughtfully.  “With my testimony, the prosecution’s got enough evidence to put Vic Monte and the majority of his upper-level people away on a number of felonies—drugs, racketeering, money laundering, extortion.  If he’s found guilty on all counts, he’ll never see the outside of a jail cell again.  We know he’s connected to these new players out of Singapore because he put Starsky on their trail.” 

 

Dobey looked at Starsky skeptically.  “What’d you have to offer him, the moon?” 

 

“I told him I could get him into O’Sage.”

 

Dobey groaned.  “You can’t make those kinds of promises!”

 

Starsky smirked.  “Yeah, but Monte doesn’t know that.”

 

Dobey scrubbed his face with his hands.  “What else do you have?”  

 

“I’ll tell you what we need.”  Hutch set down his fork, having only been able to eat half of what Edith had given him.  “What we need is to know what the name of the ship is and exactly when that next heroin shipment is coming.  And who heads up the Singapore connection.” 

 

Dobey’s voice was sarcastic.  “Is that all?”

 

“I’ve got the names of two hit men that were ‘loaned’ to Monte as a sign of goodwill from his new Asian partners.  But so far, I got nothing to link them to,” Starsky added around a mouthful of bacon.  He swallowed and sought out his partner’s eyes.  “And I know who killed Tony DeFusto.”

 

Hutch met Starsky’s stare.  Dobey spoke up.  “Who’s DeFusto?”

 

Starsky broke the connection.  “Tony DeFusto was Theresa’s brother.  Remember Theresa from the restaurant where Monte was supposed to get hit?  DeFusto was family, and part of how the whole mess started.  It was my fink Mickey’s friend who killed him, guy by the name of Rupert Jones.  Rupert was contracted to take you out, too, Hutch, before the Feds made you disappear.  Rupert cued me to Monte’s accountant—he’s the one who makes all the payoffs.  We get to the accountant, we’ve got Monte dead on and probably the Singapore connection.” 

 

Dobey nodded his agreement, but Hutch’s face flushed with anger.  “That’s terrific,” Hutch spat.  “And I suppose you offered him immunity for this information?”

 

Starsky cocked his eyebrow at his friend’s resentment.  “I would’ve offered him my kidneys if that’s what it took to get the information I needed to find out who killed you.  I know you wanted to bring down Tony DeFusto’s killer, Hutch.  I know you wanted to thank Theresa that way.  So, no, I didn’t offer him immunity, just protection from Monte.  And I never said I wouldn’t bust him when this was all over.”

 

Hutch released the breath he’d been tensely holding and squeezed Starsky’s shoulder as a way of apologizing. 

 

Dobey began gathering up the reports he’d laid out and put them in his briefcase.  “Is that it for now?”

 

“No, wait.”  Starsky dug a crumpled note out of his pant’s pocket.  “Here’s the note you made in that book, Hutch.” 

 

“I’m not even sure if it’s anything.”  Hutch took the proffered paper.  “After I got bailed out of jail, I stopped by Monte’s.  Things were in an uproar at his office, so it was pretty easy to simply hang around without too much suspicion.  I overheard some of one of his phone conversations and he kept saying this.” 

 

Dobey took the note from Hutch and read it.  “Jaw June?  What the heck does that mean?” 

 

“I don’t know.  It’s not Spanish, and it didn’t sound Italian, which Monte speaks fluently.  I was checking it out with a few people before my big disappearing act.” 

 

“And I already had Minnie run it through R&I.  Nothing.  No names or businesses, no plates, no ships.”

 

“But, if Monte kept saying it, it must have meant something.”  Dobey looked the two men over.  “What else?”

 

Starsky reached over and took Hutch’s plate, placing it on top of his own, and began eating what his partner couldn’t finish.  “Do you remember anything about Vic Monte’s accountant, Hutch?  A name?  If the accountant’s able to dole out all the facts and figures about Monte, then he could be the last piece of the puzzle.” 

 

Hutch thought for a minute and set down his empty coffee cup before picking up Starsky’s.  “No.  Nobody ever said his name, they always just referred to him as The Accountant.”

 

“So, who would know who this person is?  Do you think Monte would talk?” Dobey asked.

 

Starsky shook his head as he emptied Hutch’s plate.  “I tried that.  He’s not gonna budge; he wouldn’t even tell me how to find...”

 

“Who, Starsk?” 

 

“Pierce.  Archibald Pierce.  Calls himself The Archer.  He’s the one who ratted you out, Hutch.  He unloaded on me, but I never asked him about the accountant.”

 

“How’s he fit in to all of this?” 

 

“He scammed about a thousand bucks out of a dry cleaners that was actually a front for one of Monte’s little side businesses.  Monte had an unofficial hit out on this Archer guy.”

 

“A thousand bucks is chump change to somebody like Monte.  Why would it make him mad enough to go after Pierce—officially or not?”

 

Dobey tapped a folder on the table as he thought.  “Make an example of him?”

 

Hutch shook his head.  “Possible, but not likely.  Monte’s already too big a fish to worry about somebody taking him for a grand.”

 

Starsky took his empty coffee cup back from Hutch.  “Maybe it’s not Pierce that’s the big deal.  Maybe it was the dry cleaners itself.”

 

“Right!  Maybe it was even more than a numbers’ drop.  So all we gotta do is talk to this Pierce.”

 

“You think he’ll lay it out for you two?”  Dobey leaned forward with interest.

 

Starsky looked from his captain to his partner with excitement.  “Oh, I think he’ll wet himself when he comes face to face with the cop he ratted out to Vic Monte.”

 

˜  ™

 

“I’ll tell you what, Starsk,” Hutch took the last wet plate out of the drainer and began drying it.  The quiet morning had been a balm to both partners.  “I’ll be glad when this whole thing is over.  I’ve about had it with Monte, the Feds, the DA, and the rest of the zoo crew.”

 

Starsky finished wiping the countertop before folding the wet dishcloth neatly and hanging it over the kitchen faucet.  “Yeah, I know.  But not until we get this wrapped up.  That’s the only thing that’ll make this all worth it.”

 

“Yeah.  That and another hour or so alone with the Feds,” Hutch replied bitterly.  He sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the now vacant kitchen table and ran a tired hand down his face.

 

Starsky watched his partner with concern and sympathy.  He took a seat opposite Hutch and tried to meet his eyes.  “Hey,” he said softly.

 

Hutch looked up expectantly and matched Starsky’s gaze.

 

“You’ve been through the mill, buddy, but you’re back.  And you’re safe.  I…I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I’m right here.  If you need to talk or vent or just need a cheering section, I’m here for you.  And if I can’t help you, I’ll find someone who can.  Just hang in there with me, okay?  Just a little while longer and all this’ll be behind us.  Got it?”

 

“Yeah, I got it.”  Hutch smiled softly, but it vanished as he continued.  “They took part of my life away, Starsk.  There’s nothing in the world that can ever bring that back.  And when I think of what it did to everyone I care about—you and Dobey, and all our friends and my family…my family!  Dammit, Starsk, I’ve been so busy trying to figure out how we’re going to bust these clowns, my family still thinks I’m dead.”  Hutch pushed his chair away from the table in one fierce movement.  “I have to call home.”

 

Starsky left his seat just as quickly and grabbed his partner by the upper arms, effectively stopping his progress toward the phone.  He was a little taken aback by how thin Hutch’s arms felt in his grasp and how easily he could physically restrain his partner.  “Hold up a minute, Hutch.  Yeah, you need to call home and talk to your folks, but don’t you think it would be better if someone else called them first and broke the news?  They pick up the phone and hear your voice on the other end, they’re liable to think they’ve cracked up.”  A huge, knowing smile lit up his face.  “Especially your dad.  I mean, from everything you’ve told me, he’s halfway there already, and this might just put him over the edge.”

 

Hutch chuckled softly, grateful for his partner’s insight.  “Do you have any suggestions as to who should make this call?”

 

“Well,” Starsky said, cocking his head to the side in feigned modesty.  “I do have a way with people…”

 

The two men were so engrossed in their conversation that neither one noticed Dobey had entered the room and picked up the extension phone on the wall.  With a whispered, “Just a moment, please,” he clamped his hand over the receiver and noisily cleared his throat.  “Excuse me.”

 

“Captain,” Starsky started, releasing Hutch’s shoulders and turning to face his superior.  “Hutch and I were just cleanin’ up a little.  Thought we’d surprise Edith.”

 

“And prove once and for all we’re not total slobs,” Hutch added.

 

Dobey cast a critical eye at the now spotless kitchen and grunted.  “Well, I’ll have to admit the kitchen’s clean, but that doesn’t prove anything to me.  Besides, Hutchinson, there’s someone on the phone here who wants to talk to you.”

 

Hutch cast a questioning glance at his partner who shrugged his shoulders.  No one besides the Dobeys, Huggy, the FBI agents, and his partner knew he was alive at that point.  “Must be my fan club.”  Trusting his captain, he cautiously took the proffered receiver.  “Hutchinson.”

 

There was a long silence while Starsky watched his partner’s face soften and a suspicious brightness touch his eyes.  He took a step in the blond’s direction, instinctively moving toward him, but Dobey interceded and steered him toward the door to the living room instead.  Starsky looked at him quizzically as the larger man placed one of the kitchen chairs directly behind Hutch.  As Dobey gently pushed him out of the room, Starsky understood when he heard Hutch’s response.

 

 “Mom?”  He slid down onto the chair, the phone clutched like a lifeline in his hand.

 

˜  ™

 

“I demand that you release me immediately!”  Archibald Pierce blustered pitifully, the bravado in his tone completely overshadowed by the fear in his eyes.  He reached for the car’s door handle, but Starsky’s grip on his lapel jerked him back into the seat.

 

“Oh, pipe down, will ya?” Starsky responded, pulling out of the parking lot to merge smoothly with the traffic.  “I thought you and me could go for a little ride, maybe head toward the beach.  What do you say to that?”

 

At Pierce’s silence, Starsky continued.  “Besides, there’s someone I want you to get to know.  I hope you don’t mind, but he’s been dyin’ to meet you, and since it’s such a nice day, I thought it would be a perfect time for me to make the introductions.  Hutch?”

 

On cue, Hutch threw aside the blanket he’d been hiding under in the back seat and leaned casually over the front.  “Yeah, like he said, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

 

Pierce leaned as far as he could toward the dashboard, scrunching himself into a small a bundle against the door.  “Wh-who are you?”

 

“Oh, you know me,” Hutch replied, a broad, mirthless grin spreading across his face.  “My name’s Hutchinson, Detective Hutchinson.  You remember?  The cop you squealed on to Vic Monte?  I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

 

“N-now, wait just a minute.”  Pierce held up his hands in what he hoped was a placating gesture.  “That was nothing personal.  It was strictly a business move on my part.”

 

“Nothing personal?”  Hutch’s voice had gone up several decibels, and Pierce winced at the onslaught.  “Well, it sure as hell felt personal.  And now I have a few personal things I’d like to do to you.  Are we there yet, Starsk?”

 

“At your request,” Starsky replied happily, steering the car behind what appeared to be a deserted warehouse.  The vehicle pulled to a smooth stop, and Starsky cut the engine.  He reached under his seat and brought out a magazine and a thermos, then opened the pages to read.  “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

 

“Good,” Hutch said, pulling his Magnum from its holster and pressing it against Pierce’s head.  “Get out of the car, scum.  We have some business to discuss.”

 

Pierce swallowed noisily and cast pleading eyes in Starsky’s direction.  “You…you’re not gonna let him take me in there by himself, are you?  You…you’re coming with us, right?”

 

Starsky set his magazine on the dashboard and unscrewed the cap from the thermos, a puzzled frown between his eyebrows.  “Me?  Nah.  I’m kinda tired, so I’ll just sit here and read ’til you’re done with your meeting.  Besides, Hutch is quite capable of handling things by himself.  Right, Hutch?”

 

“Right.  Now, get out of the car.  We have an appointment with destiny.”

 

“Please,” Pierce begged.  “Please, don’t make me go in there with him.  I’ll do anything—anything you want.  Hey, I cooperated last time, didn’t I?  Didn’t I?”

 

Starsky sipped his coffee and turned his attention to Hutch.  “He did cooperate, Hutch.  He has a point.”

 

“Well, so do I,” Hutch replied, pulling the hammer back on his gun with a resounding click.  “I just didn’t want to make my point out here in your car.  You’d probably make me clean it up.”

 

“Okay.”  Starsky sighed wearily, placing the cap back on the thermos and stuffing his magazine under the seat.  “I’ll go with you.  But only as long as you keep cooperating.  You start playing games with us, and I’m leaving you in there.  Alone.  With him.  Got it?”

 

 Pierce’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

 

“Good.”  Starsky climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to open the door.  “Let’s go.”

 

Very hesitantly, Pierce climbed out of the vehicle with Hutch not far behind.  The three men made their way across the lot and entered the warehouse, closing the door securely behind them.

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky watched silently as his still too-pale partner played briefly with a french fry before dropping it back onto his plate.  Shaking his head, he picked up Hutch’s half-eaten sandwich and began to munch on it thoughtfully.  “You need to eat more, Hutch.  You look terrible.”

 

“And you need to get some rest before you fall over,” Hutch answered back, draining the last of his iced tea from the glass.  “So what’s your point?”

 

“Nothin’,” Starsky replied, wiping his mouth with a napkin.  “What do we got?”

 

“Well, we have the name of the dry cleaners that Pierce scammed, the name of the manager—Pat Lee—and this ‘Jaw June’ thing, whatever that means.  Too bad Pierce didn’t know,” Hutch replied, scribbling the points down on a napkin in front of him.  He stared at them for a few minutes before he stretched out in the booth.  “How do you think he’s making out?”

 

“I’m sure he’s quite comfortable,” Starsky replied, a smile on his face.  “He’s so grateful to be alive right now, I doubt he even realizes he’s handcuffed to a post in the middle of an abandoned warehouse.”

 

Hutch smiled in return.  “Think we should cut him some slack and let the uniforms pick him up now?”

 

“Sure, why not?  We’ll let them keep him in the holding tank for a while ’til we decide how many charges we wanna file against him.  In the meantime, he’ll be where we can find him in case we need any more info.”

 

Hutch turned around in his seat and caught Huggy’s eye, signaling for him to come to the table.  Spotting Hutch’s empty glass, he grabbed a pitcher of tea before crossing the room to their table.

 

“Sorry, man,” Huggy apologized, moving Hutch’s scribbled-on napkin out of the way and filling his glass with a flourish.  “Let it never be said that The Bear let a customer run dry.”

 

“Forget it, Hug.  The reason I asked you over here was to see if you’d do us a small favor.”

 

“Well, I ain’t gonna do it,” Huggy replied, setting the pitcher back on the table with a loud thunk.  “You two already eat me out of house and establishment, and I ain’t gonna run and get you some Chinese food and pick up your dry cleaning in the middle of this crowd.  If you want it, you can get it yourselves.”  

 

Starsky looked at Hutch quizzically and, at his shrug switched his gaze back to Huggy.  “Dry cleaning?”

 

Hutch shook his head.  “Chinese food?”

 

“Chinese food.  Four blocks down.”

 

“Huggy.”  Hutch ran a hand down his face.  “What in the world are you talking about?”

 

“I ain’t blind, my friend, and I can see you already have your order written down there on that napkin.  Only you forgot the Gi.”

 

“The ‘G’?” Starsky asked, still in the dark.

 

“For chicken.”

 

“Chicken?”  Hutch sighed.  “Huggy, what chicken?”

 

“This napkin,” Huggy replied, reaching down to pluck the napkin off the table.  “Here it says ‘dry cleaners,’ ‘Pat Lee.’  So, I’m deductualizing that it’s a Chinese laundry, and then you got ‘Jaw June’—General Tsao.  And I just naturally assumed that you meant General Tsao chicken, knowing your partner’s propensity for the spicier things in life.  Only I don’t serve General Tsao chicken, so I figured you wanted me to procure you some from some digs in Chinatown, then pick up your dry cleaning while I was out and about.  Only I ain’t gonna do it.”  Seeing the two haggard detectives staring at him speechlessly, Huggy continued.  “Unless you really want me to, that is.”

 

When there was no response, Huggy finally sighed and began taking off his apron.  “Fine.  You want egg rolls with that?”

 

“Huggy.”  Starsky grabbed the napkin back.  “You mean to tell us that this ‘Jaw June’ is Chinese for General Tsao?”

 

“I thought you knew that.”

 

“We do now.  Damn!  Why didn’t I think to show this to you before?” Starsky replied as he and Hutch stood up.  “Thanks, Hug.  You’re beautiful.”

 

Hutch followed Starsky toward the exit when a new thought struck him and he placed a hand on his partner’s arm, stopping them both.  “Huggy, we didn’t know you spoke Chinese.”

 

“How long have you two known me, and you still haven’t realized that yours truly is a treasure trove of titillating tidbits?”  When his friends simply stared at him, unimpressed, Huggy shrugged.  “Okay, so I only speak enough Mandarin to order take out and get my face slapped.”

 

Hutch shook his head.  “Do us a favor—call Dobey and ask him to send a black-and-white unit to pick up a man in the warehouse on the northeast corner of Sycamore and Hastings Streets.  Tell him we’ll be in later to file charges.  We’d call ourselves, but he’s liable to start asking a few questions, and my partner and I are rather busy right now.”  He started after Starsky again, but stopped suddenly and snapped his fingers.  “Oh, and in case somebody asks, tell them he got those bruises when he tripped over something in the warehouse.  Somehow he landed on the floor and accidentally cuffed himself to the pole.  Strangest thing I ever saw...”

 

Huggy shook his head dramatically as he began to bus the now empty table.  “The things I do for those two.”

 

˜  ™