Chapter Two

 

Starsky slouched in the chair facing Dobey’s desk, staring intently at the ballpoint pen tightly gripped in his left hand.  Hutch sat beside him, waiting for the storm to break.  Despite Hutch’s efforts to draw him out, Starsky hadn’t said a dozen words since leaving the scene of the holdup.  Now they were going to meet with IA to tell Starsky’s side of the story, and Hutch was worried.  Knowing his partner’s state of mind, there was no way of guessing what he might say.  Hutch only hoped Starsky wouldn’t incriminate himself out of some misplaced sense of guilt. 

 

Hutch had seen the devastation Starsky had endured the last time he’d been involved in an accidental injury to a bystander.  As it turned out, Emily Harrison had actually been in league with the thieves he and Starsky were trying to stop.  But that hadn’t prevented the detective from blaming himself when Emily was temporarily blinded by a bullet from his gun.

 

Hutch glanced to his right and watched Starsky’s downcast eyes studying the pen with the same interest one might afford a priceless relic.  He was shutting Hutch out, and right now what he really needed was an ally.  “Starsk, I wish you’d tell me what’s running through that thick head of yours.  You know, deep down inside, this isn’t your fault—”

 

Before Hutch could finish his sentence, the door flew open and Dobey hurried in, puffing for breath and wiping his face with a handkerchief.  For once, he didn’t open the conversation gruffly demanding an explanation for some mess they’d created for him.  Hutch could see the worry lines creasing the older man’s face.

 

“Okay, you two.  Simonetti’s right on my tail, and to make things worse, the mayor’s goon, Silverstone, is with him.  So we’ve only got a couple of minutes.  Want to tell me what happened?”

 

Never taking his eyes off the pen, Starsky mumbled, “I killed an innocent bystander, Cap’n.  First he wasn’t there—then he was.  I can’t explain it.”

 

Hutch closed his eyes in dismay.  Terrific.  If Starsky tells that to Simonetti, they’ll have his badge in two seconds flat.

 

“Hutchinson?”  Dobey turned to Hutch impatiently. 

 

“Captain, Starsky didn’t have a choice.  The guy shot first.  I don’t know what made that man jump in front of the shooter, but that’s exactly what it looked like to me.” 

 

Dobey’s brow crinkled uneasily as he considered Hutch’s words.  “Could he have been in on it?  You know, like that woman—what was her name?”

 

“Emily Harrison,” Starsky chimed in, without breaking his concentration on the ballpoint pen.  “Her name is Emily Harrison.”

 

“I don’t know,” Hutch replied honestly.  “But it sure warrants looking into.  Come on, Starsk, it’s a starting point.”  Hutch bolted from his chair and headed for the door.

 

“Hey,” Starsky said, finally looking up.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

 

“What?”

 

“Simonetti.  He’s gonna want to hear your version of what went down.”

 

Hutch stopped, running a frustrated hand over his face.  “Right.  Right, I almost forgot about the inquisition.”

 

In spite of himself, Starsky smiled at Hutch’s description of the impending interview.

 

Dobey’s anger flared.  “Dammit, Starsky, you don’t seem to understand the seriousness of this situation!  The mayor won that election last month with promises to—in his words—‘clean up the corrupt police department of Bay City.’  Much to his disappointment, he hasn’t uncovered a single incident of corruption.  Silverstone’s not going to give a damn about whether this was an unavoidable accident.  He’ll use you to give the mayor an opportunity to flex his political muscle.”  Dobey swung his eyes toward Hutch, then back at Starsky.  Pointing a finger at them he warned, “So both of you—keep your heads and let me handle this!”

 

Before either cop could argue, there was a sharp rap on the door.  Simonetti and Silverstone entered Dobey’s office without waiting for a response.  Starsky and Hutch both turned a cold stare on the IA investigator, a natural response considering their past dealings with him.

 

“Well, here we are again,” Simonetti smirked.  “Looks like you two are never going to learn.”

 

Ignoring Dobey’s lecture, Starsky shot back, “Come on, Simonetti, you know it’s your magnetic personality that keeps bringin’ us back.”

 

“Besides, without us, you wouldn’t have any innocent cops to harass,” Hutch added.

 

Seeing the IA investigator was about to rise to the bait, Dobey came around the desk and stepped between Hutch and Simonetti.  So much for his warning.  Someday, those two were going give him a heart attack.  If they weren’t his two best detectives, he’d be tempted to throw them to the wolves and see how they dealt with Simonetti and Silverstone on their own.  But Dobey had seen Silverstone in action before, and knew he was even more of a threat to his boys than Internal Affairs.

 

“Simonetti, if you can’t conduct this investigation without bias, I suggest you step down and let someone else handle it,” Dobey said, his eyes challenging Simonetti to deny his personal dislike for Starsky and Hutch.

 

With a condescending smile, Silverstone intervened.  “Now, now, gentlemen, no need for harsh words.  I’m here to assure that justice is served and that the mayor acts in the best interest of his constituency.”

 

“Like hell you are!” Hutch spat.  “You’re here to offer my partner up as a sacrificial lamb for the mayor’s political career.  Why don’t we all cut the crap and get to the heart of the situation?”

 

Silverstone pulled back momentarily, a little surprised at the vehemence in Hutchinson’s voice.  One would think he was the one in the hot seat right now, rather than Detective Starsky.  “I admit that I’m aware of your partner’s reputation as a ‘cowboy’—yours too—if that’s what you mean.  The mayor has made a promise to the citizens of this city to put an end to the police taking matters into their own hands.”

 

“Everyone knows you two are hotheads, and it was only a matter of time before something like this happened,” Simonetti interrupted.  “You went too far this time, Starsky.  I’ve finally got enough on you to see that you never wear a badge again.”

 

“Terrific.”  Starsky looked at him from under hooded eyes.  “You haven’t even taken my statement, and already I’m judged and sentenced.  The mark of a truly professional police officer, Simonetti.  Screw the truth—just further the mayor’s career.”

 

This was going exactly as Dobey had feared it would.  He had to salvage the situation quickly, or Starsky wouldn’t only be suspended, he’d be permanently off the force.  “I think we need to sit down and follow proper procedure here,” he suggested.  “This is getting us nowhere fast.  If you don’t think you can do that, Simonetti, I’ll contact IA and have them send someone else.”

 

Simonetti, his eyes locked with Starsky’s in a duel of wills, broke contact first.  Knowing Dobey was within his rights to demand another investigator, he quickly swallowed back the anger rather than risk losing the opportunity to get these two once and for all.

 

“By all means, Captain.  Let’s do it by the book.”  Simonetti reached up and straightened his tie, buying a few seconds more to rein in his own temper.  This was going to be good.  He relished the thought of finally having the goods on Starsky.  Knowing how these two operated, Hutchinson would hang himself, trying to prove Starsky’s innocence.

 

Hutch returned to his chair next to Starsky, and once they were all seated, Simonetti flipped open his notebook and began the interrogation.  Hutch covertly watched Silverstone.  The man’s eyes narrowed every time Starsky answered a question, scrutinizing each response.  Occasionally he’d interrupt and ask a question of his own.

 

“Isn’t it true you were involved in a similar incident a few years back—shooting an innocent bystander?” Silverstone asked Starsky.  The slight upward curl of his lips made it obvious he already knew about the Harrison case and was hoping Starsky would say something to incriminate himself.

 

“She was part of the gang robbing the jewelry store,” Hutch answered for Starsky.  “I’d hardly call her an innocent bystander—she was their lookout.”

 

“Yes, but she was unarmed, correct?”

 

“Yes,” Starsky gritted out between clenched teeth.  “She was unarmed.  If you know that much, you also know she survived and recovered completely.”

 

Disregarding that bit of information, Silverstone pressed on.  “Detective Starsky, you do seem to have a history of shooting first and asking questions later.  What about young Lonnie Craig?”

 

“The inquest proved Starsky wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing,” Dobey snapped before Starsky could answer.

 

“Then there was another case when you blew up a car containing the only two suspects who knew where a young kidnap victim was being held,” Silverstone continued, ignoring Dobey’s response.

 

“I...I thought they’d killed Hutch.  They were fleeing the scene,” Starsky tried to explain.

 

Hutch bolted from his chair.  “Why the hell are you bringing that up?” he demanded.  “It has nothing to do with this incident!”

 

“Simply establishing a pattern, Hutchinson,” Silverstone answered smoothly.  Turning to Simonetti, “I’m surprised your department has allowed an officer with such lack of constraint to stay on the police force, Officer Simonetti.  I’m sure after this is resolved, the mayor will be interested in reviewing the files of all Bay City’s finest.”

 

Recognizing a slam when he heard one, Simonetti again straightened his tie unnecessarily.  “That won’t be necessary, Silverstone.  Our department is on top of it.”

 

Turning to Starsky he said, “Detective Starsky, you’re relieved of duty, pending a Board of Inquiry hearing of this incident.  Turn over your badge and gun to me immediately.”

 

Starsky’s eyes hardened, and the muscles in his jaw tightened as his steely gaze met Simonetti’s head-on.

 

“If Starsky’s going to surrender his badge to anyone, it’ll be me!” Dobey barked.  “He’s under my command.  Starsky.”  When he didn’t respond, Dobey repeated, “Starsky!”

 

Slowly, Starsky shifted his eyes from Simonetti to Dobey, then abruptly yanked the shield from his wallet and the gun from its holster.  He popped the clip from the Smith & Wesson and slammed the items down onto Dobey’s desk.

 

Looking past the anger, Dobey saw the hurt in the younger man’s face, knowing what giving up his badge had cost him.  “You’ll be on leave with pay until the hearing,” Dobey told him quietly.

 

“Now, just one minute, Captain,” Silverstone objected.  “Why should the city pay a cold-blooded killer—?”

 

The protest died on his lips as Hutch’s face suddenly loomed only scant inches from his own.  “Why you sanctimonious, slimy, little—”

 

“Hutch!”  Hutch felt Starsky’s hand on his shoulder.  “It’s okay.  Time to go.”

 

Hutch didn’t step back immediately, enjoying the fear in Silverstone’s bulging, frightened eyes.  The man’s breath lodged in his throat as he cringed against the wall, withering under Hutch’s deadly stare.

 

“That’s all for now Hutchinson.  Your shift is over.  Go home, get some rest,” Dobey ordered.  “I expect you back here at 0800.  Understood?”

 

Still, Hutch didn’t back away.

 

“Understood, Cap’n,” Starsky answered for him.

 

Gripping the sleeve of Hutch’s jacket, Starsky dragged the angry man out of Dobey’s office. 

 

Not ready to leave, Hutch shouted as Starsky hauled him from the office, “And you couldn’t solve a case if the clues were pasted on your forehead, Simonetti, so don’t think I’m going to stand by and watch you crucify my partner with your ineptitude!”  An indignant, accusatory finger jabbed the air to punctuate every word.

 

“Enough, Hutch,” Starsky muttered, giving one last determined yank.  As soon as Hutch cleared the door, Starsky slammed it shut. 

 

Infuriated, Hutch turned on him.  “Why’d you do that?  I wasn’t finished!”

 

“Yeah, you were,” Starsky answered with a wry grin.  “And in about ten more seconds, we’d both have been finished.  You said you’d help me get to the bottom of this.  He’s already taken my badge and gun.  You won’t be much help if you’re on suspension, too, now will ya?”

 

Beginning to calm down, Hutch nodded, relieved to see that Silverstone had accomplished something he couldn’t.  He’d managed to ignite Starsky’s instinct for self-preservation.

 

“You’re right,” Hutch acknowledged, jerking his jacket sleeve free of Starsky’s iron grip.

 

Unaware he was still hanging on, Starsky looked down surprised, then straightened the rumpled sleeve.  “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

“I’ve got to talk to all the witnesses and see what we’ve missed here,” Hutch said.  “Find out how and why that guy ended up between you and the shooter.  Who’s to know if you go along for the ride?”

 

“Kramer.”

                                       

“What?” Hutch asked, confused by Starsky’s reply.

 

“His name was James Kramer.  Thirty-nine years old, an insurance salesman.  Wife and a kid,” Starsky answered morosely.  When he looked up at Hutch, his eyes were dark pools of grief.  “Just a regular guy, Hutch.  Tryin’ to make a living, takin’ care of his family.  He was somebody’s husband—somebody’s dad.”

 

Touched by the anguish in Starsky’s voice, Hutch swallowed hard.  “Right…” He reached out again, driven by the need to touch Starsky, reassure him that it would be okay.  Hutch realized nothing he said or did could change what had happened—make it easier to accept.  But he was determined to do what he could to stop Starsky from blaming himself.  “It’s hard, I know.  But it wasn’t your fault.  Anyone in your shoes would’ve taken that shot.  And if you allow your guilt to get the better of you, Simonetti will win.  Starsk, you’ve got to listen to me.  I’m right about this.”

 

“Maybe I should just go ahead and resign.  Maybe I shouldn’t be carrying a gun, Hutch.”

 

“That’s just about the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Hutch answered.  “Starsky, you’re the best cop I’ve ever known.”  His voice softened as he added, “Now, let’s get out there and find out what really happened.”

 

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