Las Vegas Strangler

By Katherine

 

           

We stood on the observation deck at the Las Vegas airport, watching the Lear Jet disappear into the distance.  A warm wind tousled his hair, but he didn't notice.  He kept watching the spot where the plane disappeared for a long time after it was gone.  And I was watchin' him, waitin' for the storm.

 

He's been quiet for two days, cold and controlled, like he always is when he's really upset and doesn't want anybody to know.  Once we got the Las Vegas Strangler, he shut down.  He does that sometimes.  It drives me crazy.

 

Finally, he turned and asked quietly, "Ready?" 

 

I just nodded, and followed him into the airport.  I walked faster, until I caught up with him and we walked side by side through the doorway.  He didn't look around or say a word.  Like I say, it drives me crazy when he's like this.  What I mean is, it drives me crazy when he's like this with me.  When he won't talk to me, except in that coldly polite tone that can freeze me with just a few words.

 

I knew he was havin' a hard time.  It ain't easy to see one of your boyhood friends die.  Jack Mitchell was so young, just our age.  Killed by a brain tumor.  Of course it didn't help that he was suspected of murder, and that Hutch and me had been investigating him.  Talk about guilt trips.  My partner was on a big one.

 

Friendships are real important to Hutch.  I get the idea he didn't have a lot of friends when he was growin' up, although he hardly ever talks about his family or how things were when he was a kid.  And he doesn't have a whole lot of friends, real friends now.  It's hard to get close to people when you're a cop.  He really cares about the people he does call his friends.  Huggy and Dobey, and Luke, the police lieutenant who was his partner when Hutch was a rookie, are near the top of his list.  And me of course.  I'm usually right on the top of that list, although I'm not so sure about that right now.

 

We had just stepped outside into that Las Vegas heat when Lt. Cameron walked over to us.  Boy, has this guy got great timing or what?  I mean, he tricks us into coming to Las Vegas so he can use Hutch to get to Jack Mitchell.  Then he hounds us about Mitchell, accusin' him of bein' the Las Vegas Strangler, refusin' to listen to Hutch when he tries to tell him that Jack is innocent.  Then he all but calls us every name in the book when the killings keep happenin', like he thinks we're helpin' Mitchell murder showgirls or somethin'.  And now that it's over, here he is, remindin' Hutch that the friend he was investigatin' is dead.

Hutch is eatin' himself alive over this, and Cameron is standin' there, smilin' like there's nothin' wrong.

 

The guy must have the sensitivity of a telephone pole.  There he was, standin' in front of us, all smiles.  Hutch just stood there, but I'm not sure he was really seein' Cameron.

 

Cameron started talkin'.  I don't think he even realized that he wasn't getting through to Hutch.  He started babblin' about how he's heard that we're leavin' to go home, that he knows we stayed so Hutch could make arrangements for sending Jack's body home and pack up his stuff.  He starts in on what good work we did, how grateful the City of Las Vegas and the police department are, how he's gonna make sure Dobey gets a letter about what a good job we did.  (This part sounded like he was readin' from somethin', so I figured one of his superiors was makin' him say it.)

 

Through it all Hutch just stood there, not movin', not reactin' at all.  He does that when his emotions are about to overwhelm him, and he's tryin' desperately to keep control.  He just turns all cold and zones out.  Most of the time it's not me he's shuttin' out, though.  It's just the rest of the world he wants to keep at bay, so no one will see him lose control.

 

Even when I was poisoned, he was always gentle and caring with me, although I know now that while he was takin' care of me, he was nearly overwhelmed by his rage at the guy who poisoned me.  He told me later that he almost lost it when he went back to Vic Bellamy's apartment.  He was tearin' the place apart, desperate to find somethin', anything to link Bellamy with the guy who hired him to poison me.  He found him, too.  Saved my life.  Again.

 

Anyway, Cameron finally got the message and stopped talkin'.  He looked at me.  I just shrugged with a silly grin plastered on my face. 

Hutch shook himself a little, and seemed to come back to where we were from wherever he'd been.  He looked at Cameron, apparently seein' him for the first time.  His whole body tensed, his hands clenched into fists. 

 

The lieutenant stepped back.  I think he was thinkin' what I was thinkin', that Hutch was gonna hit him.  Cameron and I were both rememberin' the scene in the jail, when Cameron was tryin' to convince us that Jack was the Strangler.  Hutch said he ought to take Cameron's head off for trickin' us, and Cameron replied that if Hutch still felt that way when it was all over, he'd have his chance. 

 

Well, here we were.  It was all over.  And Hutch still felt that way.  And Cameron was standin' right in front of him.  For one awful moment, I thought my partner was gonna take his chance.  His fist came up, and his weight shifted.  Cameron thought so, too, 'cause he took another step back and got ready to defend himself. 

 

Hutch is a gentleman.  He can send a goon across the room with one punch, but he's not aggressive, unless I'm in trouble.  He'll go after anybody who says things about me or tries to hurt me, but otherwise he doesn't look for fights unless he's frustrated by the way a case is goin', or not goin'.  He knows he can take care of himself if he does get involved in a ruckus, but he doesn't usually invite them.  He'd rather try to talk it over.  So I wasn't surprised when his fist went back to his side and he drew a deep breath, trying to make himself relax.

 

Cameron said softly, "I really believed he was guilty."

 

"And , you were wrong, weren't you?"  Hutch's tone was so cold it would have frozen the Amazon rain forest, if you know what I mean.  "You had us hounding an innocent man, an innocent man who's only crime was having a brain tumor that was slowly killing him."

 

"I was wrong, I'm sorry."

 

I was really surprised Cameron would admit it, and I think Hutch was, too.  But it wasn't makin' my partner feel any better. 

 

If Cameron had stopped then, he'd a been way ahead of the game.  Hutch and me would have left, and the lieutenant would have gone on with his life, no harm done.

 

But, instead, he smiled and said, "I'd like to send flowers to his family.  Just give me the address."

 

From where I was standin' I could see Hutch's face freeze, and I knew his eyes had gone cold.  I've seen him turn that look on suspects.  It had the same effect on Cameron that it did on the perps.  The big man, Mr. Macho Cop actually looked afraid.

 

Without another word, my pal started walkin' away.  I left too, but I couldn't resist what happened next.  Cameron was startin' to follow Hutch, and I knew it was a poor idea.  Could I help it if my leg got in the lieutenant's way and he ended up sprawled on the sidewalk?  Hey, accidents happen, right?  I looked at down at him.  "Stay away from us, Cameron.  In particular stay away from my partner, or I'll tell anyone in your department who'll listen about how your insistence on Jack Mitchell's guilt kept you from finding the real killer until 6 girls were killed.  If hadn't been for Hutch and me, you'd still be trying to figure it out.  Hutch told you Jack was innocent.  But you wouldn't listen."

 

He just laid there.  I figure he knew that if he did get up, I'd just knock him down again.   I wasn't about to let him get near Hutch; my partner had suffered more than enough already.  No way was I gonna let Cameron make things worse for him. 

 

I sprinted to catch up with Hutch, and walked with him to the flashy red convertible we were driving home.  Hutch had been drivin' it mostly, but he went to the passenger side, and I got behind the wheel.  We didn't say anything as we put Vegas in our rear view mirror.  I had some things to say, but it wasn't time, yet.  Hutch would let me know when it was time.

 

As we drove, the words I said at the hospital after Vickie was attacked echoed in my head.  "That's another thing I'm sick of, this unquestioning loyalty to your friends."

 

Sure I was upset; Vickie's a sweet kid, and she was almost killed.  And I really thought Jack had done it.  But I shouldn't have taken it out on Hutch.  Even if it was true, it wasn't Hutch's fault.  I guess I thought that if Hutch hadn't fought so hard to prove his friend was innocent, Jack would have been behind bars instead of attackin' Vickie.  That's the only reason I can think of for sayin' somethin' like that to my best friend. 

 

And I kept hearin' what my best friend said in reply.  "Is present company included or excluded?" 

 

That's a good question.   How many times has he given that unquestioning loyalty to me?  How many times had Hutch been there for me?  I lost count.  Just last year he saw me through being poisoned and getting shot, not to mention how he stood by me when George Prudhomme was killin' cops to make me resign from the force.  That unquestioning loyalty had sure come in handy then.

 

It goes both ways.  Hutch knows I'll do anything for him.  When he was kidnapped and forcibly addicted to heroin, I took care of him, hid him away at Huggy's until he could get straight.  He still thanks me for that every once in a while, like it was somethin' special, like he has no right to expect me to take care of him when he's hurtin'.

 

Well he was hurtin', and it was partly my fault.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe I shouldn't wait for Hutch to let me know he was ready to talk.  Maybe…

 

"Did you mail it?"  he asked softly.

 

"Yeah, Vickie should get it in a couple of days."

 

He nodded.  "Good.  Maybe she can get help for her little girl."

 

I hoped so.  I really did.

 

"Let me know when you're ready for me to drive."

 

"Sure."  I didn't see that happenin' for awhile. He looked exhausted.  Not only had we boxed up Mitchell's stuff, but Hutch had had to call his family and make all the arrangements to have the body shipped.  And, he'd hardly had any sleep for the past few nights.  Even when we cleanin' up Jack's place, he stayed up long after I had called it a day.  

 

At least he was talkin' to me.  During the two days we spent packing up Jack's stuff, he'd hardly said a word.  Jack didn't have a whole lot.  I figured since he knew he was dyin', he hadn't accumulated a lot of things.  He knew he wouldn't need them long.  But it was still hard, real hard for Hutch.  Like I said, he cares about his friends; that unquestionin' loyalty calls for deep feelin's. 

 

"I didn't get to tell him I'm sorry."  Hutch's voice was so low I could barely hear it over the car's engine.   "He died thinking that I wasn't his friend.  He thought I was trying to kill him."

 

I didn't know what to say.  I wanted to make him feel better.  But there just wasn't any way to do that.  All I could do was offer him what comfort I could."  Hutch, it's not your fault.  Cameron used us and Jack.  He couldn't figure out who the killer was, so he molded the evidence to fit Jack and centered on that.  You did all you could.  You were the only one on Jack's side.  You protected him as well as you could.  You were as good a friend as you could be under the circumstances."

 

"Yeah, and he died thinking I wanted to kill him."

 

"That's not your fault, either, Blondie.  That was the tumor talkin'.  If Jack had been thinkin' straight, he'd a known how much you cared about him.  You did your best, Hutch.  That's all you can do."

 

He was quiet for a long time.  I saw him wipe at his face a couple of times.  He didn't want me to see him cryin'.  As far as I was concerned, it was the best thing he could do.  But I didn't let on that I noticed his tears.  That's the way he wanted it.  Fine with me.

 

"Thanks, Starsk,"  he finally said.  His voice sounded a little hoarse, but I pretended to ignore it. 

 

"Think nothin' of it, Blintz.  It's just my unquestionin' loyalty, comin' out."

 

He smiled.  "Unquestioning loyalty?  I thought you were sick of it," he commented.

 

"Naw.  I just forgot for a minute how important it is,"  I said.  I put my hand on his shoulder and drove one handed for several miles.  He put his hand over mine, and sat  watchin' the desert go by.

 

 

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