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 seeing 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.