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 something under his foot.  Looking down, he found it was a small picture frame and a candy wrapper.  The picture was of two young boys and he presumed they were the victim’s grandchildren.  He knelt down, looking at the picture closer.  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.”