Out of the Mists

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Hutch had forgotten that none of his colleagues had seen him since his miraculous “resurrection.”  Captain Dobey had made the announcement earlier in the morning to a resounding ovation and more than a few tears from Minnie.  The other officers were full of questions, but Dobey had sternly explained that he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the particulars at that point, and explanations would have to wait until after the Monte trial. 

 

As the pair walked down the hallway toward R&I, they were bombarded by coworkers excited to see them, and by more than a few questions, which they politely skirted.  When they finally shook themselves free of the crowd, Hutch glanced over at his partner with a self-satisfied grin, overwhelmed by the response.  “Boy, I’ll have to die more often!” 

 

Starsky’s expression soured, and after a heartbeat, he cuffed his partner on the back of his head.

 

Hutch merely continued grinning and rubbed the offended spot as they entered Minnie’s office.  The small woman’s squeals were heard throughout the first floor of the station, and enough to draw more than a few officers to the large picture window to see what crime was being committed within.  What they found instead was Minnie clinging so tightly to Hutch that it would have taken a crowbar to separate them.

 

˜  ™

 

“Captain, we’ve got—”  Starsky’s buoyant entrance to his superior’s office was stilled when he realized they weren’t alone.  Hutch came to a grinding halt after him, his smile quickly erased.

 

McMillian glared at the two detectives through his blackened eye.  “What do you two have?”

 

Starsky’s flippant response held an overtone of malice.  “Rhythm.”

 

“Who could ask for anything more?” Hutch quipped, smirking at the sight of tape holding Endicott’s broken nose in place. 

 

“What happened to you two, anyway?” Starsky asked innocently, one finger extended as if to touch the bandages.  “Lover’s spat?  You never could hold your liquor.”

 

“Maybe they were attacked by killer salads!”  Hutch grinned.  “I hear a lot of that’s going around.”

 

Endicott knocked Starsky’s unresisting hand away.  “If you two think you’re going to get away with—”

 

“With what, Endicott?” Hutch growled pointedly.  “I think your mussed up face is the least of your worries right now.”

 

“Enough, already!”  Dobey looked pointedly at the two FBI agents.  “You were just leaving.”

 

“Captain…”  McMillian drew himself up.  “The Bureau is still of the mindset that Sergeant Hutchinson is at risk and should voluntarily place himself in federal custody until he has testified before the grand jury.”

 

Starsky’s hands flashed, gathering up McMillian’s lapels and drawing him close.  “And I’m of the mindset that if you so much as get within a foot of my partner again, I’ll—”

 

“Starsky!  Stand down!” Dobey roared.  For a tense second, Starsky’s eyes burned into McMillian before he pushed him stumbling away.

 

McMillian straightened his suit coat.  “If they have information about this case—”

 

“Then I’ll call you,” Dobey snapped.  The two agents glared at the officers for a moment, then snatched up their briefcases.  After they stomped out of the office, Dobey turned his attention on the detectives.  The reprimand creasing his face wasn’t wasted on the partners, but there was no missing the satisfied grin that threatened to break free as well.  “What are you two up to besides harassing federal employees?”

 

Starsky pulled the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket.  “Cap’n, we found another piece of the puzzle.  It turns out that ‘Jaw June’ is Mandarin, not Italian.” 

 

“What Hutch overheard Monte saying?”

 

Hutch nodded.  “It’s a name—General Tsao.”

 

“Chicken?”

 

“Yeah, but it’s also the name of a ship.  Minnie ran it through R&I and didn’t come up with anything, so we checked back again with the Port Authority.  It turns out the freighter General Tsao is scheduled to dock here tomorrow morning out of Singapore.  Shipping manifests say it’s carrying mostly dry goods and textiles.”

 

Starsky’s eyes narrowed.  “And we’ll bet there’s a few more goodies along for the ride.”

 

Dobey nodded with anticipation.  “I’ll get a warrant issued for both the ship and the warehouse.”

 

“Captain.”  Hutch’s brow creased in thought.  “We also need a warrant for a dry cleaners over in Chinatown.  We found Monte’s accountant, Pat Lee.  Minnie ran a check and came up empty.  No priors and nothing registered in California or the US, for that matter.  He’s probably an illegal alien.  She’s been checking with immigration, but hasn’t come up with anything yet.”

 

Starsky shook his head.  “And the Chinese authorities aren’t going to waste their time trying to help us track him down.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Dobey said, shuffling through the case files on his desk.  “Lee…I just saw…here!  A Daniel Lee, seventeen.  Will probably be tried as an adult.  He was busted right along side you, Hutch.”

 

Hutch cursed under his breath and took the proffered file.  “I’d never seen him before that night and didn’t even consider his name might be Lee.”

 

Starsky’s brows furrowed when he looked up from where he’d been reading over Hutch’s shoulder.  “I went over those case files a dozen times—why didn’t I ever see it?”

 

“Because when he got busted, his ID listed him as Daniel Leeson, not Lee,” Dobey said.  “Apparently, he tried to Americanize his name.  I just got this update a minute ago from your buddies at the Bureau—awful nice of them to start cooperating with us now.  Lee’s here in the States illegally, which is why we couldn’t get any information on him or out of him—no citizenship papers, green card, or birth certificate.  Nothing from the DMV or the state.  But, when we ran his prints, it turns out he has a juvenile record.”

 

Hutch’s eyebrow hiked up.  “So, if he’s not a citizen, how come he wasn’t deported when he got picked up as a juvenile?  Didn’t immigration get involved?”

 

“They did, but claim that Lee ‘fell through the cracks’.”  Dobey looked from one detective to the other, then punched a phone line and began dialing.  “All right, you two run upstairs to the DA’s office.  I’ll have a warrant for the dry cleaners waiting for you.  The other two for the ship and the warehouse, I’ll hand deliver myself.  I want you to call me before this goes down.  In the meantime, you two be—” 

 

When Dobey glanced up to give his two detectives a stern look, he was looking at an empty office.

 

˜  ™

 

Chinatown lay tucked away in the city, between the predominantly Caucasian lower socio-economic group, and what was affectionately called “Spanish Harlem,” home to “Los Angelinos.”  The appearance of Starsky’s vibrant Torino earned more than a few stares as he slid to a halt in front of the dry cleaners.  Lining the streets on either side of the small building were other Asian-owned-and-operated businesses, many retaining the style and services of their heritage.

 

A bell rang as Starsky and Hutch entered the dry cleaners.  The store was small and nondescript, the signs outlining their services written in an odd combination of English, Spanish, and Chinese.  They stepped aside as a Puerto Rican woman turned away from the counter, her dry cleaned items slung over her shoulder.  Starsky’s hand snaked out and relieved one of the garments of its red claim tag. 

 

They approached the counter with a smile, and Starsky waved his newly acquired ticket at the young Chinese girl behind the counter.  “Hi, there.  I was in earlier in the week to get my dry cleaning, and it turns out that there was a scorch mark on one of my dress shirts.”

 

“Oh, I am so sorry, sir!”  The girl’s voice held a faint accent, though her English was perfect. 

 

“No problem.  I was told to stop in and ask for Pat Lee.”

 

“Of course.  Just a moment.”  The girl nodded as if it was a natural request, and left through curtains hung over a doorway that led to the cleaning and press rooms.  The partners could hear her calling out in Mandarin and a faint response coming from deeper within the building.

 

They were taken off-guard when a tiny Chinese woman about sixty stepped back through the curtains and spoke, her accent thick.  “Yes, gentlemen, how can I help you?”

 

Starsky looked at her quizzically.  “Pat Lee?”

 

“Yes, I am Pat Lee.  How—?”  The woman stopped speaking when her gaze swung from Starsky to Hutch.  Her polite countenance quickly changed to fear, then disheartened acceptance.  “Yes.  Please, follow me.”

 

˜  ™

 

The small office beyond the press room was barely large enough for a desk, file cabinet and second chair.  The desk was encompassed by a huge ledger with several others stacked neatly beside it, and an adding machine, its paper tape flowing over the side to the floor. 

 

Pat Lee slowly made her way into the room, arthritis making her movements laborious, then offered the detectives the two chairs.  Hutch gestured for her to take her place at the desk, then nodded for Starsky to take the other.  Starsky looked pointedly at his partner, then the chair.  With a roll of his eyes, Hutch sat as well.  Starsky crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door, looking about the Spartan room.  The only decorations were the paper lantern hung over the single-bulb ceiling fixture, a calendar written in Chinese, and faded portraits of JFK and Martin Luther King gracing one wall. 

 

Mrs. Lee followed the their gazes.  “Great men, they were.  They spoke of freedom for all people.”

 

Hutch leaned forward.  “Mrs. Lee, you know who I am.”

 

The dark eyes that turned back toward him were sorrowful.  “You are Detective Hutchinson.” 

 

“Yes,” Hutch’s response was gentle, even in the midst of his urgency.  “And this is my partner, Detective Starsky.  How do you know me, Mrs. Lee?”

 

“You were arrested with my grandson, only you were not a criminal.”

 

Starsky’s voice was also low.  “Your grandson is Daniel Lee?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hutch shifted in his chair.  “Mrs. Lee, we have evidence that says you’re Vic Monte’s accountant.”

 

“That is true.”

 

Slightly perplexed at her immediate admission, Hutch glanced at Starsky before continuing.  “And this store is also a numbers’ drop for his operations.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hutch looked at his partner again, throwing him the ball.  The frail old woman did not fit with their expectations of the accountant for one of the biggest players in town.  Still, they had been surprised by people before. 

 

Starsky thought for a moment before speaking.  “Mrs. Lee, why are you here?”

 

The older woman straightened slightly as she looked at Starsky, and opened her mouth to respond.  After a few seconds, she simply dropped her head, staring at the ledger before her. 

 

Starsky’s voice remained soft.  “Mrs. Lee, why are you here?  Why are you working for Vic Monte?”

 

When the woman finally looked up, a single tear spilled over, following the crevices around her eyes.  “I love this country.”

 

Hutch wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.  “How’s that?” 

 

“I love this country.”  Mrs. Lee drew herself up, unashamed of her display of emotion.  “America.  Sixteen years ago, we live in China.  My husband.  Our son, his wife.  Their baby.  Life is hard there, but I am happy.  My son, though, he is not happy.  He wants to make life better for China.  Others, too.  They meet in secret places.  Talk.  But one day, soldiers come to our house.  There...there is fighting.  My son won’t tell them where the others who meet in secret are.  The soldiers...” 

 

When her voice broke, Mrs. Lee wiped at her eyes, composing herself.  “My family is gone.  Only the baby and I escape.  I take all our money and find men who will bring me here to America.” 

 

Hutch broke in when she paused again.  “That’s why immigration has no record of you.”

 

“If I went to Chinese government, I would have been arrested or killed like my family, so I have to find another way.  I had Daniel to protect.”  There was fire in her eyes when she looked from one detective to the other.  “We go on a ship with others.  Many die.  They throw their bodies over the side of the boat.  There was no one to miss them.  But Daniel and I, we make it.  We come to America.  When I get here, I sign papers to stay, to be American.  I tell them I don’t want handout.  I want to work.  Make a home for Daniel.  But is too much…too much…”

 

“Red tape?” Starsky offered.

 

“Yes.  They say no papers from China, they cannot give me American papers.  They send a man to ask me questions, maybe send me back.”  Mrs. Lee’s eyes softened, realizing the very thing she feared the most was becoming a reality.  “I would not go back there.  The government would arrest me as a traitor.  I would die.  They would kill Daniel or make him a ‘state baby’ and go to People’s Army when he is a man.  I could not let this happen.  So I hid.”

 

Hutch shook his head.  “That must have been very frightening for you.” 

 

“I could not get work and take care of Daniel.  I find some work, but not enough to pay for rent and food.  Then I come here.”

 

“To this dry cleaners?” Starsky asked.

 

“Yes.  I come here and beg for work.  I tell them I will do anything.”

 

“And that’s when you met Vic Monte,” Hutch interjected. 

 

“Yes.  Mr. Monte, he ask me what I can do.  I tell him I clean and cook.  I can learn to press clothes.  And I am smart with numbers.”

 

Starsky nodded.  “Which is how you got the job keeping Monte’s books.”

 

Mrs. Lee’s eyes darted to the ledgers.  “Yes.  When I start, I do not know what his business means.  The money.  I think he is a wealthy man.  But later, I learn.  I want to leave.”

 

Hutch shook his head in anger.  “But you couldn’t.” 

 

“I tried.  I quit and find job at restaurant.  But police come in and arrest all with no American papers.  They take Daniel from me.  I had no one to help me.”

 

“But Vic Monte,” Starsky finished.

 

“Yes.”  There was shame in the woman’s eyes as she continued.  “He uses ‘favors’ to get me released.  Get Daniel back to me.  Hides us.  Mr. Monte says I owe him and must work for him to pay for his kindness.  That was many years ago.  After a while, I give up and stay for Mr. Monte.”

 

Hutch’s eyes looked past her for a moment.  “And then Daniel got tied up with Monte’s other business.” 

 

“Mr. Monte has papers made for Daniel so he can go to public school.  Daniel thinks Mr. Monte is a big man.  When he is old enough, he works for Mr. Monte.  I did not want this, but Daniel is…how do you say…thick head?  He does what he wants.  When he is still a boy, he helps Mr. Monte by speaking for him with Chinese.”

 

“The drug shipments out of Singapore?”  Starsky shifted from his spot against the wall and moved behind Hutch’s chair.

 

Mrs. Lee looked mildly surprised that they were aware of Monte’s latest supplier.  “Yes.  I tell him this is no good.  But Daniel will not listen.  He is a man now.  I could not change him.”

 

Hutch looked pointedly at his partner.  “So, Daniel knows the Singapore dealers as well.”

 

A plan began to form in Starsky’s mind.  “Mrs. Lee, do you know the names of the Singapore dealers?”

 

A fire kindled in the old woman’s eyes.  “They are dogs.  They poison our children.”

 

“Mrs. Lee,” Hutch’s voice was full of passion.  “We want to stop them before any more of their poison hits the streets.”

 

Mrs. Lee’s anger outweighed her fear.  “Chen, and the other is Wong.  They are the men who poison my grandson’s mind.”  Her voice became quiet.  “You will arrest me now.  You will send me back to China.”

 

The partners looked at each other knowingly.  Starsky looked away first, expectation dancing in his eyes.  “Mrs. Lee, is there a phone I can use?” 

 

She nodded, expecting the worst.  “There is one in the press room, by dryers.” 

 

After Starsky left the room, Hutch stood.  “Mrs. Lee, will you show me Vic Monte’s books?” 

 

The woman’s eyes grew large, having lived under the threat of secrecy for so many years.  Knowing that it no longer mattered, she reached for a ledger from the stack to her left and thumbed through it.  Hutch maneuvered around the desk and leaned forward to get a better look at the neatly drafted numbers.  “What are these columns?  Here—‘alterations’…fifteen-hundred dollars, twenty-two-hundred dollars…” 

 

Mrs. Lee pointed to sporadic dates.  “‘Alterations’—that is Mr. Monte’s word.  Those money are from gambling that the runners bring to me.  This ‘starch’—it is his word for money from drug dealers.”

 

Hutch whistled.  “Fifty, seventy-five grand.  What’s this big one for a hundred thousand—‘pressing’?”

 

Mrs. Lee shook her head bitterly.  “That means someone is dead.”

 

˜  ™

 

By the time Starsky re-entered the room, Hutch had pulled his chair around to the opposite side of the desk and was hunched over several ledgers.  Starsky leaned one hip on the edge of the desk and folded his arms.  “Mrs. Lee, have you ever heard of the Witness Protection Program?”

 

The woman looked confused.  “That is where the government hides people?”

 

Starsky nodded and threw a knowing and bitter glance at his partner.  “Somethin’ like that.”

 

Hutch nodded slightly, then turned intently toward the accountant.  “You’ve helped us make our case against Vic Monte even stronger.”

 

“And,” Starsky continued, “if you would be willing to testify in court what you’ve documented here, and tell them everything you know about Vic Monte, the government will relocate you—give you a whole new identity.  A new name, a new job, a new life.”

 

“A new life?”

 

Starsky’s smile was genuine.  “As a United States’ citizen.” 

 

Mrs. Lee’s hand came up to cover her mouth, tentative hope filling her eyes.  “They will do this thing?  They will do this to protect me?  But I have broken many laws.”

 

Hutch’s hand gently covered hers.  “Yes, but there are certain circumstances that might be overlooked.”  He glanced at his partner.  “We’ve done it before for others with a lot less good reason to.” 

 

The partners watched as she thought rapidly, hope warring with fear.  A realization struck her, and she looked to them with pleading eyes.  “Daniel…?”

 

Hutch’s gaze swung to his partner.  Starsky nodded.  “We’ve got the district attorney to agree to try him as a juvenile.  If you can convince Daniel to testify against Vic Monte and work with us to arrest the players out of Singapore, then he’ll receive a reduced sentence—probably time served—and also be placed in the Witness Protection Program with you and relocated.”

 

Overwhelmed, Mrs. Lee shook her head.  “I’m sorry, I do not know what this means…”

 

Hutch smiled and squeezed her hand.  “It means if Daniel will also tell us what he knows about Vic Monte, then he will go with you to start over.”

 

Tears brimmed in Mrs. Lee’s eyes.  “We will be free?”

 

Starsky smiled as he nodded.  “You will be Americans.”

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky and Hutch waited until the patrolmen arrived to gather up the evidence within the dry cleaners.  An undercover policewoman would be filling in for the young woman who worked the counter, so additional arrests could be made as runners dropped off their marks. 

 

The partners were glad to see Detective Linda Patrillo show up with an interpreter from the DA’s office to take Mrs. Lee into protective custody.  The interpreter was a young Chinese man who spoke fluent Mandarin and Cantonese and quickly put the older woman at ease.  While Patrillo was a bit rough around the edges, she surprised Starsky and Hutch by taking an instant liking to the Mrs. Lee and stood by her protectively while the interpreter explained the upcoming events to her. 

 

It was growing dark by the time they left the dry cleaners, and Starsky and Hutch said their good-byes with a promise to check in on Mrs. Lee before the trial.  Starsky gunned the Torino’s engine before pulling away from the curb, reveling in the hunt, and knowing their prey was in sight.

 

˜  ™