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?”

 

Starsky 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.”