Drawin’ Conclusions

 

Linda Barl

 

June 2000

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Hutch pushed open the squadroom door and strolled in, pausing a second, his hand still resting on the door.  His eyes narrowed as he studied his partner perched on the back of his chair, leaning forward, intently reading the newspaper.  Hutch walked past Starsky and, momentarily placing a hand on his back, asked, “What’s got your attention, Starsk?”

 

 

Even in that brief touch, Hutch could feel the tension in his friend’s body.

 

 

“Nothin’,” Starsky mumbled.

 

 

“It’s got to be something.  You’ve only eaten half your donut,” Hutch teased, trying to get Starsky’s attention.

 

 

Receiving no response, Hutch reached over and picked up Starsky’s coffee cup.  Studying his partner, Hutch refilled the cup and set it back down in front of Starsky.  “Here.  Your coffee’s getting cold.”

 

 

Starsky glanced up.  “Thanks,” he said absentmindedly, finally acknowledging Hutch’s presence, but his eyes instantly returned to the paper.

 

 

Hutch pulled out his chair and sat down, quietly studying Starsky.  A few minutes later, Starsky folded up the section, stood up, and grabbed his coffee cup, yelping as hot coffee spilled onto his hand and the newspaper.

 

 

Hutch was instantly at his partner’s side, grabbing napkins and handing them to Starsky.  “I refilled it for you.  Remember, Gordo?”

 

 

Starsky gratefully took the napkins and quickly wiped his left hand before mopping up what was left of the spill, as the coffee soaked into the newspaper.

 

 

He grinned sheepishly.  “I knew that.”

 

 

“Here, let me look at your hand.”

 

 

“Don’t be such a mother hen, Hutch.”  Starsky smiled, taking the sting out of his words.  “It’ll be fine in a minute.”  Refilling his cup and turning his chair around, Starsky straddled it, his attention now on his partner.  “So tell me, how’d it go at the eye doctor?”

 

 

“Fine.”

 

 

“Fine?  He certainly hasn’t seen you at target practice lately, has he?  Did you tell him you haven’t beaten my score yet?”  Starsky couldn’t resist teasing Hutch about the fact that the two currently held the two highest practice scores, and they were separated by only one point.  Observing a subtle change cross Hutch’s face, he leaned forward.  “You’d tell me if there was anything wrong wouldn’t you?” 

 

 

Hutch, noticing the concern on Starsky’s face, smiled reassuringly.  “Of course.  Nothing’s wrong, but he did say that I should consider some reading glasses.”

 

 

“What!  You’ve gotta be kidding!”

 

 

“Starsky, keep it down.”  Hutch scanned the squadroom, suddenly embarrassed.  “Well, I may be good at a distance, but I’ve got to admit that sometimes at night when I’m reading, and the lighting isn’t very bright, my eyes begin to feel a little strained.”

 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

 

“Starsk, it’s really nothing to worry about.  My mother and father both wear reading glasses.  Don’t worry, your time will come.”

 

 

Obviously relieved, Starsky leaned back and, taking a bite of his donut, commented, “Not if I quit reading.”

 

 

Hutch chuckled.  “Oh, I didn’t know that’s what you called it.”

 

 

As Starsky sent him a withering glance, Hutch decided it was time to find out what in the paper had intrigued his partner.  “Okay, it’s your turn.”

 

 

“My turn?” Starsky asked confused.

 

 

“Yeah, I told you about the glasses.  Now, you tell me what has your interest in that paper.”

 

 

Starsky glanced down at the coffee-soaked paper.  Sighing, he asked, “Why do you think people are so cruel to each other, Hutch?”

 

 

Wondering what had brought this on, Hutch studied his partner for a moment longer.  “That’s an age old question, Starsk.  Man’s inhumanity to man.  No one has ever been able to answer it.  I certainly can’t.”  He paused.  “Cops deal with it every day.  That’s part of our job.”  At his partner’s continued silence, he prodded.  “What’s so special in today’s paper?”

 

 

Starsky looked up, his eyes suddenly filled with anger.  “I was just reading about an assault—and it’s the fourth elderly lady to be assaulted and beaten this month.  Somebody broke into her house and pistol whipped her, stole some money and valuables.  People aren’t even safe in their own homes!”

 

 

“That’s nothing new, Starsk.  What’s with these attacks that bothers you so much?”  Hutch, already sensing the answer, waited for Starsky’s response.

 

 

“I wanna know why Robbery hasn’t solved these cases.” 

 

 

“Starsk, quit avoiding the question.”

 

 

Looking a little sheepish, Starsky decided Hutch wasn’t going to drop the subject until he answered, but he just wasn’t sure he could make Hutch understand; after all, both of Hutch’s parents were alive, living together in a nice safe neighborhood.  They could look out for each other.  “It makes me think about Ma, Hutch.  I worry about her.  She’s gettin’ older.  Why, she’s the same age as the latest victim and she lives alone, now that Nick’s moved out.  She lives in an old neighborhood, just like…”

 

 

Hutch reached across and touched his partner’s arm.  “Starsk…she lives in New York, not here, and Nick checks on her.  You said so yourself.”

 

 

“Nick.”  Starsky snorted disgustedly.  “You can’t count on him.”

 

 

“He may be a bum and may not know what to do with his life but one thing’s for sure—he loves your mother just like you do, and he’ll look after her.”

 

 

Starsky sighed.  “Yeah, I guess.”

 

 

“Besides, half of New York’s finest stop by your mom’s for coffee and goodies, don’t they?”

 

 

Starsky chuckled in acknowledgement.  “Yeah, she makes the best cookies and cakes in town.”

 

 

“No one would dare hurt her, Starsk.  Too many people are looking out for her.”

 

 

Starsky, nodding in agreement, smiled wistfully at Hutch.  “I know, but sometimes it’s hard being so far away.”

 

 

“I know, buddy.”

 

 

As Starsky sat there apparently lost in thought, Hutch reached for the case file lying on the desk,   “And how far did you get in typing up this report Captain Dobey’s waiting for?”

 

 

Starsky grinned sheepishly, as he tried unsuccessfully to grab the case file first.  “Uhhh, I’m sorry, Hutch, I had to handle a couple phone calls, and then I took a break and…”

 

 

Hutch set the file on the desk next to the typewriter and, thrusting a blank report form into the typewriter, turned the knob disgustedly.  “I’ll do it, Starsk.” 

 

 

He wasn’t really angry; in fact, Hutch was pleased to see that the distraction seemed to pull Starsky out of his melancholy mood.  Besides, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to make his partner feel guilty.  “Don’t worry, Starsk, I’ll do it—bad eyes and all.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The following morning, Captain Dobey hurriedly entered the squadroom through the hall door.  Spotting his two detectives busily talking to each other and, presumably, ignoring the work that needed to be done, Dobey ordered, “Starsky!  Hutchinson!  My office—now!”

 

Glancing up as their captain walked past them and into his office, Starsky shrugged at Hutch.  The two stood up and followed as ordered.  Once inside, they each sat down in the chairs across from Dobey’s desk and waited, as Dobey took off his coat, pulled loose his necktie, and unbuttoned his shirt collar.  “Hot in here already,” he mumbled as he sat down heavily in the chair.

 

Hutch threw Starsky a glance, but remained silent.

 

“Either of you read the paper lately?” Dobey asked.  As the two detectives nodded their heads, Dobey continued,  “You read about the recent assaults on four elderly women?”

 

Hutch shifted in his seat.  “Sure, Cap’n.  It’s all over the news.  But what’s that got to do with us?”

 

“I just came from the commissioner’s office.  There was another assault last night.  Only this victim died.  And I want you two to find who’s doing this, before someone else gets hurt or murdered.”

 

Hutch stole a glance at Starsky, unsure how he’d react to the assignment, remembering yesterday’s discussion.  “Captain, we’re already working on three other murders and two drug busts—”

 

“I don’t want to hear it, Hutch.  This case gets top priority.  That understood?”

 

Hutch acknowledged the question with a nod, aware that Starsky remained silent.

 

“Okay.  Then, you two get out of here and on the streets.  Here’s the victim’s address.  Find the person or persons who are doing this.  Stevens and Hawkins in Robbery have the details on all the previous assaults.  You can meet them at the scene.”  Suddenly aware of Starsky’s uncharacteristic silence, Dobey glanced at the dark-haired detective.  “Something wrong, Starsky?”

 

Starsky shook his head.  “Nope, Captain.  Not anymore.”  He stood to leave and Hutch followed suit.  As they got to the door, Starsky turned back, blue eyes connecting with his superior’s.  “Don’t worry, Captain.  We’ll get the bastards.”

 

Dobey instantly rose from his chair.  “STARSKY!”  But he was too late, the door was already closed and his two detectives gone.

 

š  ›

+++++++++++

 

Within minutes, the Torino was racing down the LA streets, its two occupants lost in thought.

 

Hutch turned slightly, taking in the tension-filled body of his partner.  Starsky, deep in thought, hadn’t spoken a word since leaving their captain’s office.  The tightly clenched jaw, white knuckles gripping the wheel, every movement filled with determination and anger, caused Hutch concern.  Hutch grabbed for the dash as Starsky suddenly turned to the left, the blaring siren opening a path in the sea of cars filling the street ahead of them.  “Take it easy, will ya, Starsk?”

 

“I am takin’ it easy,” was the tight-lipped response.

 

“She’s already dead, Starsk.  We can’t save this one,” Hutch pointed out softly, as he gripped the dash tighter.

 

 

As the car pulled up in front of the small bungalow, Hutch hit the switch turning off the siren.  When Starsky paused before opening the door, Hutch asked gently, “Are you gonna be okay with this?  ’Cause if you’re not…”

 

Starsky glanced at his partner and then surveyed the house surrounded by black-and-whites, the coroner’s wagon, and the media.  His right hand, holding the keys, dropped into his lap.  “Don’t worry about me, Hutch.  I’ll be fine.  I won’t over react.  I just wanna find who’s doin’ this.  They don’t belong on the streets.” 

 

Hutch touched Starsky’s shoulder briefly.  “Okay, then…let’s get to it.”

 

Simultaneously, the two detectives opened their doors and hurried inside the small, black and white house, successfully avoiding the reporters and cameras already staked out on the tiny green lawn.

 

 

“Well, what have you found, Hawkins?” Hutch asked, spotting Hawkins and Stevens conferring in the corner of the tiny bedroom.

 

 Looking up, Hawkins approached Hutch.  “’Mornin’, Hutch.  Captain Dobey radioed ahead to say you and Starsky were joining the investigation…looks like the same MO as the rest.  The screen on the back bedroom window was slit open.  Must have come in through there during the night while the victim was sleeping…”

 

Half listening, Hutch watched his partner out of the corner of his eye, as Starsky walked over to examine the victim still lying on the bed.  Hesitating a second before bending over, Starsky carefully pulled back the sheet covering the elderly woman.  He held the cover up only briefly but, even from a distance, the look of pain that flashed across Starsky’s face was evident to Hutch.  The moment passed almost instantly, and Starsky’s face once again became that of a trained cop, obscuring the thoughts of a son.  Starsky turned abruptly and began talking to the coroner.

 

“Hutch, you listening?” Hawkins inquired.

 

Assured that Starsky was handling everything okay, Hutch turned back to face Hawkins.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m listening.  Go on.”

 

 

Finished with the coroner, Starsky turned to investigate the window where the perpetrator apparently had entered.  Moving the curtain to check the slit screen, Starsky felt his foot bump sometfelt somethhing on the floorunder his foot.  GlanciLooking down, he realized found it was a small picture frame and a candy wrapper.  ,The  holding a picture was of two young boys .and   Hhe presumed they were the victim’s grandchildren.  He kBendnelingt down, he picked up thelooking at the  picture framecloser and the candy wrapper lying next to it on the floor.  Tossing the wrapper in the trash, he carefully returned the picture to the nightstand next to the bed..  He sensed Hutch’s presence even before his touch.

 

“How you doin’, buddy?”

 

Sighing, Starsky glanced at his partner.  “Coroner says she took several blows to the head, probably suffered a skull fracture, but they won’t know the immediate cause of death until the autopsy.  Apparently, the old lady put up a struggle, ’cause there are defense bruises on her arms and hands.  Coroner said she must've been tryin’ to protect her face and head, but she wasn’t strong enough…”

 

As Starsky’s voice trailed off, Hutch asked, “What were you looking at?”

 

Starsky shrugged.  “I found a picture frame on the floor.  Must've fallen during the struggle, I guess.”

 

Glancing around the room, Hutch offered, “It’s getting a little crowded in here.  Why don’t we leave and let them finish taking pictures of the crime scene and move the body out of here?”

 

At Starsky’s nod, they both moved toward the door.  “At least there’s one good thing,” Starsky commented dryly.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“She wasn’t raped.”

 

š  ›

++++++++++

 

A couple of hours later, Starsky, Hutch, Stevens, and Hawkins had reviewed and discussed the case files of each of the victims.  All had been woman in their seventies or eighties.  All lived alone.  All had been attacked and beaten in their homes at night.  All had money and other valuables stolen from them.  All lived in a thirty-block radius of each other.  And all said there had been only one assailant.

 

“Well, it’s obvious that it’s someone in the neighborhood,” Starsky commented.  “Probably someone who doesn’t have wheels, since he operates in the same immediate area.  All were probably within walking distance or accessible on a bus line.”

 

“So far, none of the surviving victims have been able to recognize him,” Stevens noted.

 

“They’re elderly, Stevens, none of them have good eyesight, and besides, all the incidents occurred at night, in the dark,” Hutch responded, throwing his pencil on the table.  “All of them admitted that they stay pretty close to home.  They shop, go to church, go to doctors in their neighborhood.  They easily could have been followed any day of the week and never realized it.  Up until now that’s been a pretty quiet neighborhood, hasn’t it?”

 

“Robbery-wise, yeah,” Hawkins acknowledged.  “Every year, there’s a few calls for police assistance.  Some petty theft at the local stores, but it’s usually kids.”

 

“I think this victim—” Stevens started.

 

“She has a name, Stevens,” Starsky interjected, from his perch on the windowsill.  “Her name was Rose.  Rose Williams.”

 

“Okay.”  Stevens shrugged.  “I think…Rose…just put up more of a fight than was expected.  And it cost her life.”

 

“Maybe she recognized him,” Hutch suggested, disliking the tone in Steven’s response.

 

“Of course, that’s always a possibility,” Stevens conceded,  “but why would Rose have known him and not the others.”

 

Starsky shrugged, ignoring the added emphasis on the word Rose.  Standing up, he headed for the door, with Hutch moving to join him.  “I don’t know, Stevens, but that’s what we’re going to find out.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Tired and hungry, Hutch suggested they head over to Huggy’s for dinner.  Neither felt like cooking, and the thought of re-heating the cold pizza sitting in Starsky’s fridge didn’t hold much appeal either.  Besides, Hutch felt he needed some conversation other than the current case.  Starsky was still too glum to suit him, and he hoped a game of pool or darts might just do the trick. 

 

As they entered, Huggy looked up and grinned, slinging the towel in his hand over his shoulder.  “Well, look what the cat…or should I say tomato…dragged in.  If it isn’t the dynamic duo.”

 

“Cut it out, Hug,” Starsky warned, as he sat down on one of barstools.

 

Glancing at Hutch, who shrugged in return, Huggy apologized, “Sorry, Starsk, what’s got you so uptight?  Don’t like me callin’ that thing you drive a tomato?”

  

StarskyStarsky turned on the barstool and, leaning back against the bar, studied the people.  “Just a case, Hug.”

 

“Is that all?  That ain’t nothin’ new.  You guys always get too involved—”

 

“Too involved!”  Starsky turned back, eyes flashing angrily.  Hutch reached out a hand and rested it on Starsky’s arm.

 

“Whoa, man.”  Huggy quickly set two beers on the bar and raised his hands in protest.  “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.  You guys are always way too involved.  Ya care too much, and that’s why bad things are always happenin’ to ya.  Hell, that’s what makes you two so good.”  Seeing Starsky relax a little, Huggy added,  “Heck, that’s what you two are about.  Wouldn’t have it any other way, bro.”

 

Starsky nodded slightly.  “Sorry, Hug.  I’m just a little tense tonight.”

 

Hutch reached for his beer and, taking a sip, asked, “Any word on the street about assaults on the elderly, Hug?”

 

“You mean those four woman that’ve been beat up and robbed in their homes?”

 

“Make it five and one dead,” Starsky responded soberly.

 

Huggy whistled.  “Dead?  Ain’t heard about that.”  He shook his head sadly.  “Nah, I haven’t picked up anything, but if you dudes want, I’ll start asking some questions.  Creeps like that don’t deserve to be walkin’ around.”

 

“My thoughts exactly,” Starsky commented as he reached for his beer.

 

“Thanks, Hug.”  Hutch set his glass down.  “Why don’t you fix us up a couple of burgers, while I beat Starsky at a game of pool?  Okay, Starsk?”

 

Starsky shrugged, and mumbled under his breath, “Don’t you wish.”  But he left his stool and followed Hutch to the table.

 

A few hours later, stomachs full and spirits improved, thanks to several beers and some light-hearted laughter, they headed home.

 

š  ›

++++++++++

 

Hearing his partner take the steps to his apartment two at a time, Hutch rinsed out his glass and set it in the sink.  Opening the door, he was surprised to be greeted by a smiling Starsky. 

 

“’Morning.”

 

“’Mornin’, Hutch.”  Starsky whistled as he walked in and headed for the refrigerator.

 

“What’s got you in such a good mood today?”

 

“Nothin’ special.  The sun’s shining, the birds are singing.”  Inspecting the contents of the refrigerator, Starsky continued, “Don’t you ever have any decent food in here?”

 

“Nope, and the birds are always singing, and it’s going to be a scorcher today.  You must’ve gotten up on the right side of the bed for once.  That, or something else happened.”  Hutch waited, knowing his partner would tell him in his own time.

 

Starsky shut the refrigerator door and turned toward Hutch.  “Oh, nothing much, ’cept when I got home yesterday there was a letter from Ma telling me she was goin’ on a little vacation with Madge.  You remember Madge, don’t you, Hutch?  She lives across the street from Ma.  They’re gonna drive up to New England.  Letter said they’ll be leavin’ this weekend and will be gone for two weeks.”

 

“Well, that’s great, Starsk.  She can certainly use the break.”  Hutch knew having his mom out of town, and not home alone, would certainly let Starsky rest easier, but he couldn’t help praying, Let’s just hope we solve this case before she returns.

 

š  ›

++++++++++

 

Pulling up in front of the small tan and brown house, Hutch was pleased that his partner’s good mood continued.  He hoped nothing would happen to squelch it.  It could be a long day, since they planned on spending it interviewing the previous victims. 

 

Met at the door by a tiny, gray-haired, spectacled woman hesitantly peering around the front door, Hutch flashed his credentials and badge.  “’Morning, ma’am, I’m Detective Hutchinson, and this is my partner, Detective Starsky.  We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

After carefully studying the two men standing in front of her, Lucy Ferguson opened the screen door.  “Come on in, Officers.  How can I help you?”

 

Starsky and Hutch entered the house, carefully noting their surroundings.  Hutch responded,  “We need some information on the assault.”

 

“Well, I answered lots of questions after it happened.  Two nice officers, just like yourselves—”

 

“We know, ma’am,” Starsky said politely, noting the remnants of the bruises still present on her right cheekbone and above her eye.  “But you may remember something now that you didn’t remember at the time of the incident.”

 

“Well, well, don’t just stand there.  Come in and have a seat; my legs aren’t as strong as they used to be.”  As Hutch, hand on Lucy’s left elbow, guided her to the sofa, Starsky wandered the perimeter of the small living room, glancing into the open doorways of the kitchen and bedroom.  As he completed the circle, Starsky settled on the arm of the sofa next to Lucy, while Hutch sat on the edge of the armchair across from her.  Hutch, knowing Starsky’s ability to charm the ladies, young and old, waited for him to begin.

 

“We’re sorry to bother you, but we’re new on the case and we’d like to ask you just a few questions.”  He smiled encouragingly.  At her nod, Starsky continued, “Mrs. Ferguson—”

 

“Lucy.  Just call me Lucy.”

 

Starsky’s grin widened.  “Okay, Lucy…do you have any idea who assaulted you?”

 

“No, I’m sorry, but I can’t say that I do.”

 

“Was there anything?  His voice?  His mannerisms?  Anything you can remember?  Think carefully now.”

 

Several minutes later, Lucy finally replied, “No, I don’t remember anything.  It was dark and I was asleep.  I think he had something covering his face.”

 

Starsky nodded in encouragement.  “Go on.”

 

“I heard a noise and started to get up to investigate.  Suddenly, I was being pushed back down on the bed.  Next thing I knew, he hit me.”

 

“What did he hit you with?”

 

“I don’t really know.  It could have been his hand, but then again he might have had something in it.  I don’t remember much.  I think I was knocked out for a little while, but when I came to I laid there for a really long time.  I was afraid he was still there.”  Her voice began to quiver, and Starsky put his arm around her in comfort.

 

Hutch stole a glance at Starsky, noticing that his eyes never left the woman in front of them.  Hutch could make out a vague resemblance to Starsky’s mom, and he knew the comparison wouldn’t be lost on his partner.  The two ladies were about the same height and weight, had a similar hairstyle and hair coloring.  Hutch wondered what was going through his partner’s mind.  Some of the morning’s exuberance was already disappearing from his face.

 

“Then, I called the police.”

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t someone you know from church?  The neighborhood?” 

 

“No, I don’t know for sure.  I guess it could be.”  Lucy shrugged.  “I don’t go too many places.  I can’t get around as well as I used to, you know.”  Suddenly flustered, Lucy said, “I don’t know where my manners are.  Can I get you some lemonade?  Ice water?”

 

Starsky patted Lucy on the right arm reassuringly.  “That’s okay.  We don’t have time.  Do you mind if I look in your bedroom?”

 

“Oh, of course not.”  As she started to rise, Starsky pointed in the direction of the bedroom door and nodded.  Lucy nodded back and gratefully sank back into the sofa.

 

As Starsky left to view the bedroom, Hutch asked, “I understand from your previous statement that the assailant entered through the back window, is that correct?”

 

“Yes, it was a hot night and I left it open.  I don’t have air-conditioning and I couldn’t fall asleep.  I guess it’s my fault.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Starsky said sternly, as he reentered the living room.

 

Hutch stood and, joining Starsky as he walked toward the front door, added, “My partner’s right, Lucy.  It wasn’t your fault.  Do you mind telling us what was stolen?”

 

“Well, he went through my purse and my dresser, but he couldn’t get very much.  I’m on a small pension, you know.  He took about a hundred dollars.  I’d just been to the bank that day.  And he stole a necklace.  I described it for the other officers.  It’s a gold necklace—with a gold heart and a tiny diamond.  I was planning on giving it to my granddaughter.  It’s the last thing my husband gave me before he died.  Gave it to me for my birthday,” Lucy said wistfully, eyes beginning to tear.

 

Starsky took her hands into his and squeezed them in comfort.  “Don’t worry, Lucy.  We’ll find it for you.”

 

Lucy studied his deep blue eyes hopefully.  “I believe you, Detective Starsky.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Three victims and numerous neighbors later, they were still no further ahead and Hutch felt discouraged.  It had been a wasted day.  Interview after interview and they’d gotten nothing new to go on.  If he was discouraged, he hated to think how Starsky felt.  Starsky had become quieter and more morose as the day went on, his good mood having long disappeared.  They still planned on talking to some of Rose Ferguson’s neighbors before calling it a night.

 

Walking up to the first neighbor’s porch, Hutch hoped someone here would give them a possible lead.  He put his arm across Starsky’s shoulder.  “Come on, Starsk.  We’re almost done and we can call it a night soon.  I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to a few cold beers.”

 

Reaching for the doorbell, Starsky grinned weakly, but it didn’t extend to his tired eyes.  A moment later, a brown-haired lady in her mid-fifties pulled open the door.  “Well, hi, there.  What can I help you two good-lookin’ guys with?”

 

“I’m Detective Hutchinson and this is Detective Starsky.” 

 

“I’m Dorothy.  Dorothy Franklin.”  Dorothy extended her hand first to Hutch and then to Starsky, eyes taking them both in approvingly.  She smiled invitingly.

 

“We’d like to ask you a few questions about Mrs. Ferguson.”

 

“Oh, I was really sorry to hear about old Mrs. Ferguson.  It’s terrible what happened to her.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Hutch agreed, and then continued, “can you tell us something about her?  Who her friends might be?  Any clubs she might belong to?”

 

“Well, I’ve only lived here a few months, but she’d told me that she has a daughter who lives back East.  New York, I think.  She was pretty active in her church.  She and Mrs. Grayson, who lives across the street seemed to be pretty good friends.”  Dorothy pointed to the house directly across the street, as she chewed her gum and flirted with Hutch.  “But don’t plan on talking to her anytime soon.  She’s in the hospital.  Just had gall bladder surgery.”

 

“Did you hear anything, see anybody in the neighborhood two nights ago?”

 

“No, I was out on the town with my boyfriend, Ray.  Raymond White.  Everything was quiet when we got home.”

 

Feeling it was a lost cause, Hutch ended the conversation.  “ Thanks for the info, ma’am.  If you think of anything else, here’s my card.  You can contact either myself or Detective Starsky at that number.”

 

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep this here card handy, Detective.”  Taking the card, Dorothy ran her fingers down the back of Hutch’s hand, winking at him.

 

Starsky turned on his heel and, rolling his eyes at his partner, stepped off the porch and headed to the Torino; Hutch followed close on his heels.  They were halfway to the car when Dorothy yelled out, “Oh, I forgot to mention—Mrs. Ferguson used to volunteer at the library a couple times a week.  It’s the one only a couple of blocks from here.  She used to walk there all the time.”

 

As they climbed into the car, Hutch returned her wave goodbye.  “Let’s go buy some beer.  I’m ready for it.”

 

Starsky turned right at the intersection and then again two blocks later.  Hutch looked confused.  “Where are we going?”

 

“Thought we’d stop at the library first.  It’s just a couple blocks from Rose’s home.  Maybe someone she worked with can help us.”

 

“Haven’t you had enough for today, Starsk?  It’s hot and I’m tired.”

 

“One last stop, Hutch.  It’s on the way.”

 

š  ›

 

 

 

The checkout counter was centered in the middle of the library.  The two large rooms on either side of the desk were lined with books, and more shelving units extended to the center of each room.  Several people were seated in the chairs and at the tables, reading and working quietly.  An old marble staircase led to the second floor.  Seeing no one except the person working the desk, Hutch joined the line waiting at the checkout. 

 

“Where is everybody, Hutch?  They all gone to lunch?” Starsky whispered.

 

“No, Starsk.  Dinner.”

 

Starsky, increasingly impatient at the slow-moving line, wandered off, leaving his partner to stand in the line alone.  Hutch watched Starsky wander into the wing with a “NONFICTION” sign overhead.  What are you going to look at now, buddy? Hutch wondered  Books on photography or Mexican art?

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Hutch turned back toward the counter and smiled at the lovely auburn-haired, brown-eyed lady in front of him.  Glancing at her nametag, Hutch said, “Well, yes, Tanya.  I need to talk to the librarian.”

 

“I’m the head librarian.  What can I do for you?”

 

Displaying his credentials, Hutch said, “I’m looking for some information.  I understand Rose Ferguson volunteered here.”

 

“I heard what happened to her.  It’s horrible!  Simply horrible that someone can’t be safe in their own home.”

 

“My partner and I can use your help in finding the individual who’s responsible.  Is there anything you can tell me about Rose?”

 

“I’d be happy to tell you whatever I can.  She volunteered here two afternoons—Tuesday and Thursdays.  Volunteered the same afternoons for years.  She was a real fixture around here.  A lovely lady.  She’d shelf books, catalog, and work at the information desk.  She’d pitch in and help any way she could.”

 

“Do you know of anyone she might have had an argument with?”

 

“No,” Tanya replied, after careful consideration.  “As far as I know, everyone loved her.  But she did come in contact with a lot of people over the years.”

 

“Well, here’s my card.  I’d appreciate a call if you think of anything.”

 

Tanya smiled warmly at the tall, blond officer standing in front of her, as she reached for the offered card.  “If I think of anything, I’ll be sure to call.”

 

Returning the smile, Hutch set off in search of his partner, heading into the non-fiction room he’d previously seen Starsky enter.  After circling the room and walking between the shelves several times, Hutch didn’t find Starsky.  He walked across the center hall and into the fiction section.  Again, circling the shelves, his search proved fruitless.  Okay, Starsk, where’d you go off to now? Hutch muttered to himself.

 

Spying the staircase, Hutch climbed the steps and entered the section marked “CHILDREN.”  Spying Starsky sitting on the floor searching through a row of books, he asked, “What are you doing up here, Gordo?”

 

“Lookin’ for a book.”

 

“Well, that’s pretty obvious, but in the children’s section?  Isn’t it about time you upgraded your reading?”

 

Starsky mumbled something under his breath as Hutch chuckled.  “Well, what’s the name of it?”

 

“Can’t remember.”

 

Exasperated, Hutch threw up his hands and sat down on the miniature table behind him, his knees almost reaching his chin.  “Well, how do you expect to find it?  There are tons of books in this library.”

 

“Well, I’ll just keep looking, then.”

 

“Starsk, that could take all night!”

 

Starsky glanced at his watch.  “Library doesn’t close ’til nine.”

 

Seeing the determined look on Starsky’s face, and hearing his own stomach growling, Hutch knelt down next to him.  “Here, let me help you.  What is it about?”

 

“A purple crayon.”

 

“A purple crayon!  Starsk, have you gone mad?”

 

Starsky looked at Hutch, his eyes sincere.  “Yeah, a purple crayon but I can’t remember the title.  I remember reading it over and over as a kid.”  He began flicking threw the books again.

 

“I hate to tell you this, but this could take forever.”

 

Looking at the books filling the room, Starsky suddenly jumped to his feet.  “You keep lookin’, Hutch.  I’m gonna go ask someone.”

 

As Starsky strolled away in search of assistance, Hutch shook his head, unsure whether his street savvy partner would ever grow up.

 

A few minutes later, Starsky returned, a grin spreading across his face.  “I just asked this lovely auburn-haired lady downstairs, named Tanya, and she remembered the book, too.  She looked it up in the card file.  The author’s name is Johnson, and the title is ‘Harold and the Purple Crayon’.”  He announced triumphantly.

 

Heading to the ‘J’ section of the authors, Starsky knelt down as he rifled excitedly through the books.  “Here it is, Hutch!”  Holding up the book for his partner to see, Starsky’s grin lit up his face.

 

Hutch couldn’t help responding to Starsky’s excitement with a grin of his own.  “You happy now?  What brought that book to mind?”

 

Starsky shrugged, “I don’t know.  For some reason, I thought of it and wondered if it was still around.”

 

“Well, now that you found it.  It’s time to go.  I’m starving.”

 

Starsky stood and headed down the steps, book still in hand.

 

“Starsk, you need to leave that here,” Hutch said, following his partner down the stairs.

 

“Why?” Starsky asked confused.

 

“It’s a children’s book.”

 

“So-o-o?”

 

“It needs to stay in the children’s section.”

 

“But I’m gonna check it out.”

 

Utterly amazed, Hutch stopped at the last step, watching as Starsky reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a library card.

 

“Hi, Tanya.  I found it.”  Starsky, flashing a dazzling smile at the librarian, held up the tiny book.

 

“Great!”  Tanya smiled back, taking the book and card from him, date stamp in hand.

 

Spying a bowl of candy sitting on the counter, Starsky reached over and helped himself to a couple.  Unwrapping one and tossing it in his mouth, he slipped the rest in his coat pocket.

 

“Hey,” said Tanya, playfully slapping his hand.  “Leave a few for the rest of us.”

 

Starsky grinned as he took the book from her.  “Okay, schweetheart.”

 

Walking past Hutch still standing at the bottom of the steps, mouth open in wonder, Starsky, eyes twinkling, said, “Better close that mouth, Hutch.  You’re catching flies.”

 

Shaking his head in amazement, Hutch followed Starsky out the door.

 

š  ›

 

++++++++++

 

Dusk had fallen, dinner eaten, and the dishes washed and put away.  Hutch was tired of picking at Starsky’s guitar and watching his partner wander around the apartment aimlessly.  “Hey, why don’t you relax and find something to do?”

 

Starsky shrugged, and then spying the library book on the coffee table, picked it up and sat down on the sofa.  It took him only a few minutes to read it and then he started over.

 

“What is it about that book that you like so much, Starsk?”

 

Starsky looked up at his friend and partner, smiling weakly.  “I don’t know.  I read it a lot when I was little.” 

 

“There has to be more to it than that.”

 

Shrugging, Starsky continued, “I always liked the story because the boy drew his own world.  He drew anything he needed or anyplace he wanted to go.”  Pausing, he added,  “It was a world where he could draw himself out of any problem and still return home safe and sound.”

 

“Every kid would love a world like that, Starsk.”

 

“Yeah, it’s too bad we can’t do it as adults.”  Restless, Starsky stood up and started pacing the room again, the book still in his hand.  Hutch waited, sensing there was more to come. 

 

Eventually, Starsky leaned against the back of the couch, his back to Hutch.  Opening the book to the last few pages, he stared at them for a while.  Finally, he continued, “After my dad died, I used to spend a lot of time alone.  Sometimes I’d draw.  One night, I drew a picture of the moon with my dad coming home by its light.  I drew it with a purple crayon and hung it next to my bed.”

 

Closing the book, Starsky stared out the window at the moon now visible in the night sky.  “It hung there a long time, Hutch, but it didn’t help.  He never came home.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

“Starsky!  Hutch!”  Hawkins stuck his head in the squadroom.  “We just got a call that Vice picked up some guy last night by the name of Benny Kline, and he had a couple of bracelets belonging to one of the assault victims on him.”

 

Starsky and Hutch instantly shot out of their chairs and headed to the door.  Starsky, holding the door open for his partner to exit first, commented hopefully,  “It’s about time we had a break.”

 

“Well, don’t be too happy.  His lawyer sprung ’im about an hour ago and we’ve got to go find him.”

 

Hawkins handed Hutch a piece of paper as they ran down the stairs to the police garage.  “Here’s the address for his business—a small repair shop on Main, about four blocks from Mrs. Williams’ home.  You head there, and Stevens and I will try his house.”

 

Pulling up in front of the repair shop, the two detectives immediately noted the closed sign hanging on the door.  Exiting the car, Starsky looked up and, reading the sign on the store front, commented, “Original, ain’t he?”

 

“Yeah, welcome to ‘Benny’s Fix It Shop’,” said Hutch dryly.  Trying the knob and finding it locked, Hutch asked, “What do you want to do now?  Think Stevens and Hawkins found him at home?”

 

Starsky, peering through the windowpane, searched the inside.  “Doesn’t look like Benny’s here.  Maybe Stevens and Hawkins are having better luck.”  He straightened up and started to back away from the building, when a movement inside caught his eye.  Returning instantly, he first peered through the window and then the door. 

 

“What is it, Starsk?”

 

“Doors don’t move by themselves.”  Starsky stood up and glanced down the street.  Spying an alley, two storefronts down, he signaled Hutch and started moving down the sidewalk.  Hutch, nodding in silent agreement, reached into his holster.  He started counting, allowing Starsky enough time to make it down the alley and around back.  Gun poised and ready, Hutch yelled, “Benny!  Police!”

 

Receiving no response, Hutch kicked in the door and rushed between the counters toward the back room.  Hearing a door slam in the back, he headed to the back door and out into the back alley.  Arriving just in time to see Starsky tackling a man halfway down the alley, he rushed to his partner’s side.  Seeing that Starsky had the man successfully subdued, Hutch cuffed him.  Glancing at his partner, he asked, “You okay?”

 

Breathing heavily, Starsky nodded as he brushed the dirt off his jeans and jacket. 

 

Yanking the man to his feet, Hutch noted, “You must be Benny.”

 

At his nod, Hutch asked, “Why were you running from us?”

 

“I thought you were my wife.”

 

“Your wife?”  Starsky stared at the small, balding man in front of him.

 

“Yeah, she’s gonna kill me when she finds out I got picked up with a prostitute last night.  I wasn’t expecting any cops; my lawyer bailed me out a couple hours ago.  Whatcha after me for?”

 

“We just wanna talk to you, Benny,” said Starsky, as he led Benny back through the store and toward the Torino parked in front.  “We wanna know what you know about some bracelets.”

 

“Bracelets?”  Benny looked confused, then breathing a sigh of relief continued,  “Oh, yeah, the bracelets…”

 

“Yeah, the bracelets,” Hutch prodded.

 

“I bought them yesterday at the pawn shop.  Wanted to bring the wife a little present.  You fellows understand…”

 

Hutch looked across at Starsky.  “You got proof?”

 

“Sure, sure.  In my pants pocket.”

 

Starsky, reaching into Benny’s pockets came up with an open pack of Juicyfruit gum, keys, and a wallet.  “Benny, you’re lyin’ to us.  I don’t find any tickets.”

 

“Not there.  My pair from yesterday.”

 

“Well, why didn’t you say that?”  Exasperated, Starsky grabbed Benny’s elbow.  “Come on, let’s go.”

 

“But, Officers...I’ll prove it to you.  I just can’t get to them right now.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“My wife took ’em to the cleaners this morning.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Starsky opened the back door of the Torino and, pushing Benny’s head down, helped him into the back seat.  “Well, we’ll just take you down to the station and have your wife go get your pants and bring them to us.”

 

As Starsky walked around and opened the driver’s side door, Hutch leaned down and asked, “By the way, Benny, do you know a Rose Williams?”

 

“Sure, she brought me in a toaster to fix a couple of days ago.”

 

Hutch flashed Starsky a knowing look across the roof of the Torino before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

 

++++++++++

 

Three hours later, Starsky and Hutch watched Benny walk out the door with his wife.  LeeAnn stood a head taller than her husband and was twice as wide.  They walked out hand in hand with Benny’s pants draped over her left arm.

 

“Better luck next time,” Captain Dobey, carrying a lunch tray in his hand, said as he passed Starsky and Hutch staring at the pair as they walked down the hallway.

 

Following Dobey into his office, Hutch said, “I don’t know Cap’n.  Benny looked like a possible suspect.  He had the bracelets and he knew Rose Williams.”

 

“Yeah…he might live in Mrs. Williams’ neighborhood, but he came up with proof from the pawn shop. We’ve got nothin’ to keep him here.”  Dobey set his tray on his desk and walked over to the water cooler.

 

“Looks like his wife forgave him for the arrest last night,” Starsky observed, grabbing a french fry and sticking it in his mouth.

 

“Leave my food alone, Starsky!  Go buy your own lunch.”  Dobey sat down in his chair and reached for his burger.  “This ‘gentleman’ didn’t pan out, maybe the next lead will.  Now get out of here.”

 

“Thanks, Cap’n.”  Starsky leaned over and grabbed another fry before heading for the door.   “But they could use a little ketchup.”

 

š  ›

+++++++++++

 

Later that evening, Hutch pulled up at Starsky’s apartment.  Pulling the grocery bag out of the back seat, he walked up the stairs.  Knocking lightly on the door, but receiving no answer, Hutch shifted the bag and, finding the door unlocked, walked in.  He could hear Starsky’s voice, but it wasn’t directed at him.

 

“Yeah, Ma.  I gotta go.  Hutch is here with the steaks.  You sure you’re okay?”  Motioning for his partner to enter, Starsky stood near the wall, ready to hang up the receiver.  “Yeah, Ma, I know.  I’ll take care of myself.  You do the same.”

 

“Bye, Ma.  Call you on Friday like usual.”

 

“Yeah, we’ll talk more then.”

 

“Yes, I’ll be sure to give Hutch your love.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

Watching Starsky hang up the phone, Hutch set the grocery bag on the table and pulled out two steaks.  “It’s only Thursday.  How come you’re talking to your mom now?”

 

Starsky shrugged, a little embarrassed.  “I don’t know.  I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

 

“And is she?”

 

“Sure.  She was a little surprised I called, and she thought there was something wrong with me…or with you.  But I told her everything was okay.”

 

Hutch watched his partner as he walked over to the refrigerator to put the milk away.  Starsky still never ceased to amaze him.  With all the hurt and pain he’d experienced—his dad’s death, Terry’s death, Bellamy’s poisoning, Marcus’ goons—Starsky always managed to bounce back.  And, still, he was always more concerned about his family and friends than himself.  Even though his mom lived in New York, the fact that they hadn’t caught the assailant ate away at Starsky, and he had to reassure himself that everything was okay.

 

“C’mon, Starsk.  Did you get that grill started yet?”

 

“Nah, I was just waiting for you to get here.”  Starsky grinned.

 

Grinning back, Hutch grabbed the kitchen towel from the counter and started rolling it up.  Snapping it several times threateningly, he started after his partner.  “Well, you better get it going buddy, I’m starving.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6

 

The next day didn’t bring them any closer to solving the case.  They spent most of the day in court, waiting to testify in an old rape case.  They’d spent the morning waiting for the judge to appear, and then the case ended up being the last one on the docket.  In the end, it was time wasted; the defendant pleaded guilty at the last minute, hoping for a reduced sentence.

 

“I hate it, Hutch,” Starsky said, loosening his tie, as they walked down the courthouse steps.  “Why can’t these jerks plead guilty before makin’ us waste an entire day?”

 

“I know.  It’s frustrating, but at least he’ll be put away for a while.”

 

“Not long enough,” Starsky muttered as he climbed into the driver’s seat.  “Where to now?”

 

“Well, I have to go by the eye doctor’s to pick up my glasses,” Hutch reminded Starsky, a slight blush rising up his cheeks as he waited for the anticipated teasing to begin. 

 

“Oh, that’s right.”  Starsky hid his smile, as he turned to check out traffic through his side window and mirror, resisting the urge to rub in his partner’s “aging” signs until later.  “How about I drop you off at your car?  I’ve got to make a stop at the library.  We can meet up at Huggy’s later about five.”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me.  I want to get out of this suit and tie, anyway.  What are you going to the library for?”

 

“Just droppin’ off a book.  It shouldn’t take me long.” 

 

Hutch remembering their last visit to the children’s section teased, “What are you going to get now? ‘The Cat in the Hat’?”

 

Starsky glared at his partner.  “What, you don’t like Dr. Seuss either?”

 

 

After dropping Hutch off at his car, Starsky drove to the library.  What he told Hutch was correct, he did have to return the book, but something had been nagging him and he thought he’d take the opportunity to check it out.  Taking the steps two at a time, he pushed open the door and started looking for Tanya.  He found her assisting a well-dressed, gray-haired gentleman with a cane, search for a book. 

 

Waiting impatiently, he stuck his hands in his pockets and was pleased when he found the two pieces of candy he’d stuck in there the other day.  Unwrapping the butterscotch, he tossed it in his mouth and smiled as Tanya walked toward him.

 

Tanya, unable to resist the smile, greeted him.  “Well, hello, there.  It’s Mr. Starsky, isn’t it?”

 

“Detective Starsky.”  His grin widened farther.  “I wanted to check something with you.”

 

Tanya walked around the end of the counter.  “Well, of course, Detective.  What can I help you with?”

 

“Well, I know that Rose worked here.  Did any of the other victims work here?”

 

Tanya shook her head.

 

“Well, did any or all of them come to the library?  I have a list of the victims’ names.  Could you check for me whether they checked books out regularly?”  Starsky, handing the list over to Tanya, waited as she checked the records.

 

“Well, it looks like all of them have a library card, but this is a neighborhood library and that wouldn’t be so unusual, Detective Starsky.”

 

“I know, but if I show you some photos would you recognize if they’ve come in recently?”

 

“I’ll certainly try.”

 

After looking over the four photos, Tanya admitted that it was possible that all were probably regular customers, having recognized two of the victims—Lucy Ferguson and Lorraine Phelps.

 

Starsky thanked her and started to leave.  Remembering the candy wrapper in his hand, he held it out.  “Would you have a trash back there?”

 

Reaching for the wrapper, Tanya said, “Oh, you like butterscotch.  That was Rose’s favorite, too.”

 

As he turned away, Starsky stopped suddenly.  He turned back, studying Tanya thoughtfully.  “Butterscotch was Rose’s favorite?”

 

“Yes.  It was her favorite.  She was such a sweetheart; she always used to fill the candy jar with the employees’ favorites.  Butterscotch was hers.”

 

“Where’s the candy jar?”

 

Confused, Tanya asked, “What?”

 

“The candy jar,” Starsky requested insistently.  “Get me the candy jar.”

 

Returning quickly with the jar, Tanya held it out to him.  “But there’s some candy left in the dish on the counter, if you want some more—”

 

Starsky studied the jar’s contents, shaking it slightly.  “Who likes the peppermints?”

“

‘Well, I’m not sure…”

 

“Think Tanya, think.”

 

“Well, Sally likes them and Mable…”

 

“And?”

 

“Well, I think Marty likes them.”

 

“Marty?  Male or female?  Age?” 

 

“Marty is a male, about 36.  Why?”

 

“How long has he worked here?”

 

“About six weeks, I believe.”

 

Excited, Starsky asked, “Did Rose like peppermints?”

 

“No.  I remember her telling me once that she didn’t like them.  Why?”

 

“What’s Marty’s full name?”

 

“Marty Skidmore.”

 

“Thank you, Tanya.”  Starsky kissed her lightly on the cheek and ran out the door to the car.  Sliding into the seat, he grabbed the radio.  “Zebra Three to Control.  Control, come in.”

 

“Control here.  What do you want, Starsky?”

 

“Patch me through to R & I.  I need an address.”

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

Hutch took a sip from his beer and checked his watch again—5:30.  Leave it to Starsky to be late again.  Hutch was already tired of waiting.  He’d gone home and changed into jeans and a more comfortable shirt, and drove over to Dr. Johnson’s office.  He waited less than fifteen minutes to be fitted with his glasses and then he headed directly to Huggy’s.  That was an hour ago.

 

“Hey, man!”

 

At the sound of Huggy’s voice, Hutch looked up.  Turning slightly, he swung his leg up comfortably on the bench next to him.  “Hi, Hug.  Where you been?”

 

“Walkin’ to the bank.  Not safe to leave much in the register, ya dig?  What you doin’ sitting here lookin’ so forlorn?”

 

“Waiting for Starsky, like usual.”

 

“Didn’t Diane give you the message?”

 

“What message?”

 

“Well, Starsky called just after four o’clock and said he was headed to Marty’s apartment to check something out.”

 

“Who’s Marty?”

 

Huggy shrugged  “Don’t you know?  Maybe one of his snitches?”

 

Hutch shook his head.  He knew all of Starsky’s snitches, and Marty wasn’t one of them.  Concern growing, he quickly scooted out of the booth.  “Thanks, Huggy.”

 

Watching him leave, Huggy shook his head, “Anytime, pal.  Anytime.”

 

š  ›

+++++++++++

 

Starsky pulled up in front of Park View Apartments, wondering where the park was.  There was nothing but buildings and cement in sight.  He studied the apartment building a moment and the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should have waited for Hutch.  He debated whether he should call in some back-up, but his back-up was Hutch and he wasn’t available.  Besides, this was only a hunch.  Marty liked peppermint candies, so what?  Millions of people probably liked peppermint candies.   

 

Taking the steps to the third floor, Starsky turned to the left, looking for Apartment 305.  Realizing he’d made a mistake, Starsky turned around and headed in the opposite direction.  Reaching Apartment 305, he listened at the door for any sounds.  Hearing a TV on, he knocked on the door and pulled out his badge.

 

The door opened only as far as the chain would allow.  A burly man, about Starsky’s height, peered through the crack.  “Whatcha’ want?”

 

“I’m Detective Starsky and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

“Questions about what?  I ain’t done nothin’.”

 

“Nobody said you did.  You work at the library and it’s possible you might have known Rose Williams.”  Receiving no response, Starsky tried again, ready to push the door open if needed.  “Can I come in?”

 

The door closed slightly as the chain was removed.  Marty, slowly opening it, stood to the side, and allowed Starsky to enter.  Glancing around the cheap apartment, Starsky walked near the window and, moving the curtain, looked down the fire escape.  Turning back toward Marty, he observed him nervously walking toward the kitchen area and taking a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator.

 

“”I understand you work at the library.”

 

“Yeah, part-time.  It’s a nice place.  Why?”

 

“Well, I wondered if you knew Rose Williams.”

 

“Yeah, nice lady.”  Marty took a swig of beer and wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve.  “Too bad she died.”

 

“I’m trying to get some background info.  Find out what her friends can tell me about her.”  At the word “friends,” Marty’s face clouded over, and Starsky was beginning to suspect his hunch might be right.

 

Turning toward the bed and nightstand, Starsky noticed a bowl of candy sitting on it.  Nonchalantly walking over to get a better look at its contents, Starsky sensed rather than saw Marty moving toward him.  Reaching for his gun, he turned as Marty brought the beer bottle down on his head.  Starsky was out before he hit the floor.

 

š  ›

++++++++++

 

Hutch pulled up in front of the library and ran up the walk and steps.  Searching frantically, he saw Tanya on the phone in her office.  Rushing up to her, he interrupted her conversation.  “Has Detective Starsky been here tonight?”

 

“Well, yes,” she answered startled, her hand covering the mouthpiece.  “He was in a little while ago.”

 

“Did he say where he was going?”

 

“No, but he seemed really excited about the candy and an employee—Marty Skidmore.”

 

Not caring about the candy, but recognizing the name, Hutch asked, “Do you know where Marty lives?”

 

Tanya reached for her employee card file and searched through it.  “Of course, Detective Starsky ran out of here so quickly that I didn’t get a chance to give it to him.”  As she pulled the index card, Hutch grabbed it from her hand and, yelling, “Thanks,” was back out the door.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

Spotting the Torino parked in front of the apartment building, Hutch ran inside and up the first two flights of stairs.  As he neared the third floor, he slowed, listening carefully.  Reaching the top of the stairs, he pulled his Magnum and turned to the right, spotting the apartment almost immediately.  Silently approaching the door, he flattened himself against the hallway wall and listened.

 

Hearing a drawer shoved shut, Hutch knew someone was inside.  The question was where was Starsky.  Using the Magnum, Hutch knocked on the door twice and pulled back tightly against the wall.  All noise stopped from inside the apartment.

 

“Marty.  It’s Detective Hutchinson, let me in.”  Hutch, hearing a noise down the hall turned to see two elderly women poking their head out the door.  Motioning frantically for them to get back inside their apartments, Hutch knocked again.  The silence was deafening.  Hutch turned toward the door and kicked it in, arms straight ahead, Magnum aimed.

 

“Shoot and I’ll kill ’im.”

 

Hutch froze, taking in the two men in front of him.  Starsky, tied securely to a kitchen chair, appeared unconscious, his head hanging forward, his own tie used as a gag.  Several rivulets of blood ran down the left side of his face.  Marty stood behind him, Starsky’s gun in his hand and aimed at his partner’s head.

 

Grabbing Starsky’s hair and pulling up his head, Marty threatened again, “I mean it.”

 

As a moan escaped from Starsky, Hutch scanned the room.  A half-empty suitcase sat on the bed, clothes strewn about, drawers open or dumped on the floor.  “Going somewhere, Marty?”

 

Marty’s eyes frantically searched the room for any means of escape.

 

Raising the Magnum slowly, Hutch straightened up and soothingly said, “You don’t want to do that Marty.  Just move away from him.”  Watching Marty’s movements carefully, Hutch stepped forward an inch at a time.

 

Marty started moving backwards toward the window, awkwardly dragging Starsky and the chair with him.  Effectively maintaining a barrier between himself and Hutch, Marty moved closer and closer to the window.

 

“Leave him alone, Marty.  Killing a police officer isn’t going to help you.”

 

“I already hurt ’im…”

 

Starsky chose that moment to moan again, consciousness beginning to return.  Hutch, hearing the sound, moved a little closer.  “See, he’s coming around.  He isn’t hurt bad.  Just leave him alone.”

 

Hutch’s eyes shifted rapidly between Marty and Starsky, noting their contrasting expressions.  Marty, looking more and more unstable, again grabbed Starsky’s hair, yanking his head upward;, while Starsky’s eyes seemed to clear further at the sudden, jarring pain.

 

Marty jerked the pistol in his hand, again aiming it at Starsky’s right temple.  “Don’t come any closer.”

 

Hutch stopped and looked down at his partner’s face, pleased to see deep blue eyes looking back at him in return, praying that Starsky wouldn’t make any sudden moves.

 

“Marty, let him go.”  The hand holding the pistol started trembling, and Hutch knew he had to make a move soon.  “Come on, Marty, give me the gun.”  Hutch slowly extended his left hand. 

 

Weighing his options, Marty moved the gun away from Starsky’s temple and relaxed slightly.  Pulling his hand back toward himself, he suddenly pushed the chair and Starsky forward, toward Hutch.

 

Hutch, grabbing at his partner, fell on his right knee, as the momentum of the chair and Starsky’s weight pulled him down.  Hutch watched Marty scramble out the window and down the fire escape.  “Starsk?”

 

“Don’t…let ’em…get away,” Starsky urged.  His whispered words hampered by the gag.  “He killed…Rose.”

 

Raising the chair upright and patting Starsky reassuringly on the left shoulder, Hutch rushed through the window and onto the fire escape.  Marty was just hitting the final rung, which hung about six feet above the cement.  Shooting wildly, Marty jumped down.  Returning the shots, Hutch watched Marty fall forward and catch himself with his hands, the pistol flying across the alley.  Marty took off down the alley, limping.  Scrambling down the rest of the fire escape, Hutch lithely jumped down to the cement and sped after Marty, quickly closing the distance between them.  When he was within a few feet, he threw himself at Marty and tackled him to the ground.  Slapping the handcuffs on him, Hutch pulled the man to his feet and dragged him the remainder of the way to the front of the apartment building.  Handcuffing Marty to the LTD, Hutch hurriedly called in for back-up.  Throwing the radio on the seat, he raced into the building, taking the steps two at a time to the third floor.

 

Bursting through the open door of Apartment 305, Hutch quickly loosened the tie and pulled out the gag.  “Starsk, are you okay?” Hutch gasped, concern filling his voice at the sight of his partner’s closed eyes.

 

“I’m okay.  Just untie me and let me out of this chair,” Starsky responded awkwardly.

 

Untying Starsky’s hands and feet, Hutch pulled him onto the bed next to him.  Keeping his arm around Starsky’s shoulder, he pulled him close.  “You sure you’re okay, Starsk?  Let me look at that hard head of yours.”  Wincing, as pain crossed Starsky’s face, Hutch gently turned his head toward him.  “I’ll call an ambulance.”

 

“No, Hutch.  I don’t need one.”

 

“Your bleeding, Starsk.  You might need a few stitches,” Hutch urged his stubborn partner, knowing full well he’d do whatever Starsky wanted, especially since Starsky hated hospitals so much. 

 

“Head wounds always bleed a lot.  You know that.”

 

Leaving Starsky resting on the bed, Hutch hurried to the kitchen for a wet towel.  “This is gonna’ hurt, Starsk, but I’ve got to apply some pressure to stop the bleeding.  Then, I can get a better look at it.  What did he hit you with, anyway?”

 

“A beer bottle.  I should have seen it coming.”  Starsky winced in anticipation as Hutch brought the wet towel closer.

 

“You should have called me!  What’s the idea coming here alone?”

 

“Don’t yell at me, Hutch.  I have a headache,” Starsky whined, hoping to put off any discussion until later.

 

Hutch, applying pressure, was pleased to see that the wound wasn’t as large or as deep as it first appeared. 

 

Hearing his partner yell, “Ouch!” Hutch grimaced.  “You’re gonna have one hell of a headache tomorrow, buddy.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

Late the next morning, Hutch, humming as he made a second pot of coffee, was surprised to see Starsky emerge from the bedroom.  “Whatcha’ doin’ up, Starsk?  Dobey gave us the day off.”

 

“My head hurts and I can’t sleep.  Not when you keep wakin’ me up every few hours.  You’d think I was in the hospital,” Starsky grumbled, running his fingers through his hair, wincing as it pulled near the bandage Hutch had applied the night before.

 

Hutch held out a cup of coffee and, pulling out a kitchen chair, patted the seat.  “Here, sit down.  I’ll get you some aspirin.”

 

Starsky, still grumbling, reached for the cup of coffee.  He thankfully sank into the chair.  “So tell me.  Was Marty our man?”

 

“Yep, he confessed last night to Hawkins and Stevens,” Hutch replied, as he returned aspirin in hand.  “He came in from Cincinnati about two months ago and started working at the library.  Apparently, he would find out the ladies’ addresses from the library records and follow them home.  He needed cash because he’d racked up some big gambling debts as soon as he hit town.  The part-time salary at the library wasn’t enough.  Ironic, don’t you think?  Tanya was going to offer him a full-time position.”

 

“If he was into gambling, it wouldn’t have been enough.  What about Rose?”

 

“Well, it’s like we thought.  She recognized him and threatened to call the authorities.”

 

Starsky started to shake his head at the irony of it all, but then quickly regretted it.

 

“How’d you figure out it was Marty?” Hutch asked.  “We didn’t have him as any kind of suspect.”

 

Starsky took a sip of coffee.  “Well, when I stopped to talk to Tanya, she said something about butterscotch being Rose’s favorite candy and that she loved to supply the candy for all the employees.  That clicked ’cause I remembered seeingpicking up a peppermint wrapper in Rose’s bedroom that night, but Rose didn’t like peppermint, but…”

 

“But, Marty did,” Hutch said, finishing Starsky’s sentence.  Starsky nodded, gently, in agreement.

 

“Well, nice job, partner, but you should’ve waited for me.”

 

“I know.  I know.”

 

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation, and Starsky was thankful.  He wasn’t ready to get balled out by Hutch, even though Starsky knew he deserved it, and would have lit into Hutch if the situation had been reversed.

 

Captain Dobey walked in as Hutch opened the door.

 

“How are you feeling, Starsky?” Dobey asked brusquely, but both heard the concern in his voice.

 

“I’ll live, Cap’n.”

 

“Have some coffee, Captain,” Hutch offered holding out a cup.

 

“No.  No.  I just wanted to stop by and see how Starsky was doing and to tell the both of you, nice job.”

 

Starsky, raising his left eyebrow in surprise at his partner, said, “Thanks, Captain.”  Dobey didn’t give out praise easily, and it was obvious he was feeling a little uncomfortable and embarrassed.

 

Clearing his throat, Dobey continued, “You’ll be happy to know that all the missing jewelry was recovered.  Marty spent the money, but had only pawned a few of the items.  The pawn tickets were found under the mattress and the jewelry recovered.”

 

“That’s great, Cap’n,” Hutch acknowledged.

 

“Well, I better get out of here and let Starsky rest.  I have an appointment with the commissioner.  I expect to see you two tomorrow morning.”

 

“Again, thanks for stoppin’ by, Cap’n,” Starsky said, as Hutch walked Dobey to the door. 

 

At Hutch’s return, Starsky looked at him, confusion clearly on his face.  “Hutch, what day is it?”

 

“Saturday.”

 

“Oh, no…”  Starsky started to rise out of the chair, but Hutch laid his hand on Starsky’s shoulder, stopping him.

 

“It’s okay, Starsk.  I called your mom last night and told her you were ‘tied up’ and that you’d call her tonight.”

 

Starsky looked at his friend, gratitude clearly on his face, but he couldn’t help chuckling at Hutch’s choice of words.  “Thanks, Hutch.  She really would’ve worried, and besides I want to talk to her before she leaves on vacation.”

 

Hutch grinned. “Not a problem, buddy.  You would’ve done the same.”

š  ›

 

++++++++++

 

Sunday afternoon, Starsky was definitely feeling better, though he was still nursing a headache.  Hutch suggested they drive to Lucy Ferguson’s house.  Knocking on the door, they were greeted by a happy smile.  “Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky, come in.  I just made some tea.  Would you like some?”

 

“No, ma’am, but thank you,” Starsky replied.  “We can’t stay long, but we wanted to return something to you.”  Reaching into his coat pocket, Starsky took out the gold necklace and placed it in Lucy’s hands, cupped between his.  “You said you wanted this for your granddaughter.”

 

“Oh, yes…oh, my.”  Lucy excitedly squeezed Starsky’s hands, her eyes filling with tears.  “It’s my granddaughter’s thirteenth birthday next week, and now I can give it to her.  How can I thank you?”  She reached out and grabbed Hutch’s right hand in hers.

 

“No, thanks necessary,” Hutch said, returning her squeeze. 

 

As they turned to leave, Lucy detained them.  “Please don’t go yet.  I have some cookies baking.  I just took a batch out of the oven.”

 

Hutch, pulling on Starsky’s coat sleeve, said, “We really have to go now.”

 

“How about a couple for the road?  You boys look like you could use some weight.”

 

As eager as a puppy, Starsky agreed  “Sounds good to me.”

 

As Lucy scurried off to the kitchen, Starsky looked at Hutch and grinned.  “What could it hurt?  We’ll make an old lady happy.”

 

“That’s not all that we’ll make happy,” Hutch mumbled as Lucy returned, a paper sack in her hand.

 

“Thank you,” Starsky said enthusiastically.  As they headed down the sidewalk to the car, Starsky was already opening the bag to sniff.  “Um-m-m, smells like chocolate chip.”

 

“You’re embarrassing, Starsk.”

 

“Why?  Don’t you like cookies?” he replied, taking a bite and looking at Hutch.

 

“Of course, I like cookies.”

 

“Then, here…eat one,” said, Starsky, shoving a cookie into Hutch’s mouth as Hutch opened the car door.

 

Taking a bite and then removing the cookie from his mouth, Hutch slid into the passenger’s seat, watching as Starsky reached into the bag again.  “Hey, don’t eat them all, Starsk.  Lucy gave them to both of us.  Save a few for me.”

 

As Hutch pulled to a stop in front of Starsky’s apartment, he paused to watch his partner reach into the paper sack for another cookie, happy to have his friend at his side.  “Starsky…at Marty’s apartment…”

 

Starsky counting the number of cookies left in the bag, responded, “Yeah, what about Marty’s apartment?”

 

When Hutch didn’t answer immediately, Starsky looked up, concerned.  “Something wrong?”

 

“No, Starsk.  Nothing is wrong.  Never mind, it will sound silly.”  Hutch stopped embarrassed.

 

“No, go on.  What could be that silly?”

 

Hutch looked at Starsky’s concerned face and continued, “When I entered the room, and Marty had you tied up in the chair with your own gun to your head, a purple crayon flashed through my head.”

 

“A purple crayon?”  Starsky looked at Hutch amazed.

 

“Yeah, the one you said Harold used to draw himself out of his problems.  I wanted you out of there safe, and I was afraid that anything I said or did was going to cause Marty to shoot.”  Hutch shrugged.  “Who knows, maybe, I was imagining I was drawing you out of there, safe and sound.”

 

Starsky studied his partner a minute.  “Well, Hutch, I hate to tell you this, but problems always seem to crop up in our line of work or in our lives.”  He sighed.  “I gave up on the purple crayon a long time ago.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.  So on the way over to your place this morning I stopped at the store, but all I could find were two boxes.”

 

“Two boxes?” Starsky asked confused.

 

“As hard as it sometimes seems, Starsk, I believe we do make a little difference in the world.  Look at Lucy.  We were able to give her back the necklace for her granddaughter.  Sometimes we get to ‘draw’ life a little more like it oughtta be.” 

 

Starsky stared as Hutch reached into his shirt pocket and dropped two purple crayons into Starsky’s hands.  “Happy drawing, partner.”

 

Starsky swallowed hard.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

 

Starsky studied the crayons for a few minutes longer and then, reaching out and squeezing Hutch’s neck gently, said softly, “You’d certainly be in every picture I’d draw.”

 

Hutch smiled affectionately.  “Same here, buddy.”

 

Starsky, rolling the crayons around in his hands, asked, “Wanna share?”

 

At Hutch’s nod, Starsky dropped a purple crayon into his best friend’s hand. 

 

 

 

The End