Chapter Nine

 

 “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Starsky said once they were in the car.  Hutch couldn’t mistake the anger that suffused Starsky’s face, and he knew they were on the same wavelength.

 

“Simonetti had the key all along.  Let us go off on a wild goose chase, while he knew there was a connection between Kramer and Fontella.  He deliberately kept it to himself,” Hutch said.

 

“Bastard!” Starsky roared, slamming his fist against the steering wheel.

 

“Take it easy, Starsk.  We’ll handle Simonetti later,” Hutch said, laying a calming hand on Starsky’s shoulder.  “Let’s not lose sight of what’s most important here.  We still don’t know for sure why Kramer jumped in front of your gun.  But we’re on track now.  We’re close—I can feel it.  I think we should pay Kramer's boss a visit.”

 

Starsky took a deep breath, trying to shake off the anger.  “Okay.  But only if you promise I get the next swing at Simonetti.”

 

˜  ™

 

George Gunderson was an average-looking fifty-six-year-old man¾the guy with the disturbingly familiar face; the guy you could swear you’d met somewhere, sometime, but could never quite place.  He had the unconscious habit of scratching his balding head with his left hand when he was thinking.  George did this so often during their short interview, that Starsky wondered if the craggy-faced man had a perpetual red spot in the center of his scalp.

 

“Damnedest thing,” Gunderson said.  “Kramer was one of our best agents for the first three years he was here.  Then about a year ago, I noticed a drop in the number of new accounts he was bringing in.  He seemed kind of distracted, but never really talked about any problems.”

 

“Could he have had financial troubles?” Hutch asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Gunderson replied.  He paused, scratched his head again, then added, “You know, he was getting a lot of personal calls—usually seemed pretty upset when he’d hang up.  Could’ve been collection agencies,” the man speculated.

 

“Or loan sharks,” Starsky mumbled.

 

“What’s that?” Gunderson said, sure he’d misunderstood.

 

“Did you know Kramer had a gambling problem?” Starsky asked.

 

“No...no, I didn’t.  Jim didn’t seem the type.  Are you sure about that?”

 

“Positive,” Starsky answered.

 

“He was a family man.  Always worrying about his family’s well-being,” Gunderson pondered.  “I mean, he was crazy about that little girl of his.  Said he was going to make sure she got a college education.  Talked about being able to give her a big wedding some day.  I can’t imagine him gambling, going in debt.  Jim had a great 401k here, and the maximum life insurance we offer our employees.”

 

Hutch cut his eyes toward Starsky.  The silent communication passed between them like an electric current.

 

“What happens to the 401k and the insurance now?” Hutch asked.

 

“Laura Kramer is his beneficiary.  The 401k is hers.  And since Jim’s death was an...an...accident,” Gunderson said, glancing self-consciously at Starsky, “she’ll also collect the $200,000 life insurance disbursement.”

 

The two detectives stood up, abruptly ending the interview.  “Thanks, Mr. Gunderson.  You’ve been very helpful,” Hutch said.

 

Surprised, George quickly rose to his feet, too.  “I don’t know how I helped, but I’m glad I could be of assistance.  Damn shame about Jim.”  Again, he blushed and looked up at Starsky uncomfortably.

 

“Thanks for seeing us,” Starsky said, reaching out and shaking the older man’s hand.  “If you think of anything else, please get in touch with us.”

 

Starsky and Hutch went down the short flight of stairs to the office building’s parking lot and got into the car.  For a few seconds, they sat there considering what they’d just learned.  Hutch was the first to speak.  “It all fits, Starsk.”

 

“Yeah,” Starsky agreed.  “But can anyone really prove it?”

 

“All the pieces fit,” Hutch repeated.  “And the Board will put it together when the evidence is presented.”

 

“So Kramer got in so deep, the only way he saw out was suicide.”  Starsky had put into words what they were both thinking.  He shook his head in disbelief.  “He used me, Hutch.  Why didn’t he just take a freakin’ gun and pull the trigger himself?”

 

“Because he knew suicide would void the insurance policy,” Hutch began.

 

“And he wanted to make sure his wife and kid would get the insurance money.  He figured if he wasn’t around, Frankie and the gambling debts would disappear from the scene, his family would draw the insurance and the retirement, and Kramer wouldn’t have to face them with the truth,” Starsky finished.

 

“I’m sure he thought he’d found the perfect way out,” Hutch said.  “It probably never occurred to him that Fontella might go after Laura.”

 

Starsky sighed heavily.  “So what do we do now?”

 

“For starters, we tell Dobey,” Hutch answered without hesitation.

 

“But if we do that, Laura and Angie Kramer lose the insurance money.  They’re probably counting on that money to live on,” Starsky pointed out.  “Kramer wanted his daughter to go to college.”

 

“Starsky, you can’t be serious,” Hutch said incredulously.  “I mean, I don’t want to see them lose the insurance money either, but you can’t take the fall for Kramer’s screw-ups.  You heard Gunderson.  Laura Kramer will still receive his retirement benefits.  Besides, insurance fraud is a crime, regardless of the motives.”

 

Starsky didn’t answer.

 

“If you think I’m going to sit by and watch you throw your future away because this guy decided to take the easy way out, you’re way off base,” Hutch told him.

 

“It’s not just the money,” Starsky said.  “When we go public with what we found out, Mrs. Kramer and Angie are gonna know the truth—about the gambling debts, the lies, the suicide.  Don’t you think they’ve suffered enough?”

 

“Of course I do,” Hutch said, his voice filled with compassion.  “But so have you.  Starsk, you didn’t ask for any of this.  We were just doing our jobs.  We were at the right place at the right time.  Kramer saw an opportunity and he took it.  It was a cowardly thing to do, but he did it and you’re the one who’s been having to live with the consequences.”

 

Starsky reached up and rubbed his eyes, willing away the tension headache he felt blossoming.  “You’re right.  I know you’re right.  But that doesn’t make it easy.  I just feel like the Kramers have lost so much—I don’t want to take anything else from them.”

 

Hutch reached over and cuffed him on the back of the head affectionately.  Only Starsky would be weighing the pros of turning over evidence that could clear his name against the cons of hurting someone else.  “Come on, partner.  It’s time to see Dobey.  You know we have no choice but to tell the truth.”

 

Wordlessly, Starsky nodded, conceding the point, then cranked the engine and reluctantly drove toward the station house.

 

˜  ™

 

 “Come in,” came the gruff reply to a rap on the well-worn wooden door.

 

Simonetti strode into Captain Dobey’s office, his stiff carriage a visual portrayal of his irritation.  “What’s important enough to have me called out of an interrogation, Dobey?”

 

“Have a seat, Investigator Simonetti,” Police Commissioner Kelly said from the corner.

 

Simonetti’s eyes flitted first to the commissioner’s face, then took in the solemn expressions of both Dobey and Hutchinson, before coming to rest on Starsky.  The four men were seated in a semi-circle around the office.

 

“What’s this all about?  And what’s he doing here?”  Simonetti didn’t like the looks of this.

 

Kelly peered over his heavy wire-rimmed glasses at Simonetti, then back down at the papers in front of him.  “Have a seat,” he repeated.

 

Simonetti sat down in the chair nearest him, affecting a more self-assured demeanor than he felt.

 

“Detective Starsky is being reinstated, effective immediately,” Kelly said without preamble. 

 

“What?”  Simonetti sprang to his feet.  “You can’t be serious!  The Board just suspended him three days ago!”

“I don’t need you to tell me what the Board did,” Kelly snapped indignantly.  “I am the chairman!” he reminded Simonetti.  “We have reason to believe that James Kramer committed suicide by stepping in front of the perpetrator just as Detective Starsky fired.”

 

“That’s absurd,” Simonetti sneered.  “Why would he do something like that?  Kramer had no way of knowing Starsky and Hutchinson were going to interrupt that robbery.  This is some crazy story they’ve fabricated to justify Starsky’s ineptitude.”

 

Starsky glowered at Simonetti, but held his tongue.  Dobey had warned the two detectives to let the commissioner handle this.  Hutch stole a glance at his partner and saw the muscle in Starsky’s right cheek twitch, a telltale sign of what his silence was costing him.

 

“Well, I disagree and so does the Board.  I’m confident when this investigation is complete, we’ll find enough evidence to substantiate this theory,” Kelly said.

 

Starsky watched Simonetti’s hands tighten into tense fists at his sides.  The man was more rattled than he wanted anyone to know.

 

Kelly cleared his throat before continuing.  “Investigator Simonetti, I’d like an explanation as to why you withheld information from the Board at the time of the hearing.  It’s come to my attention that while conducting your investigation, you learned of Mr. Kramer’s gambling debts, his involvement with at least two notorious loan sharks, and the fact that he had a large life insurance policy naming his wife as beneficiary.”

 

For the first time, Simonetti squirmed in his seat and seemed at a loss for words.  “I...I didn’t see the relevance...”

 

“You didn’t see how a desperate man having a motive to stage his own death was relevant?” the commissioner asked incredulously.

 

“This is all speculation,” Simonetti sputtered.

 

“On the contrary.  It indicates to me your inability see a clue when one spits in your eye!”  Kelly’s angry face reddened a half shade as he frowned over his glasses at Simonetti.  “Of course, the other explanation is that you deliberately concealed this evidence for your own personal reasons.” 

 

Kelly paused, giving Simonetti an opportunity to respond.  When he said nothing, the commissioner continued.

 

“Captain Dobey has filed a complaint alleging you’ve been harassing Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson for more than two years now, bringing unsubstantiated charges against one or both of them on three separate occasions—none of which were ever proven—consequently interfering with their investigations.”

 

Simonetti shot an angry glare at Dobey.  The big man, his face grim and unmoved, glared back, daring Simonetti to deny the allegations. 

 

Seeing the heated exchange, Kelly hastened to finish.  “Investigator Simonetti, as Police Commissioner, I am suspending you one week without pay for withholding information regarding an ongoing investigation, and one week without pay for conduct unbecoming an officer of the law.  This reprimand will be noted in your personnel record.  I trust we won’t have this conversation again and that there will be no further incidences of this nature brought to my attention.  Oh, yes,” he added, “And your charges against Detective Hutchinson for assault are being dismissed.”

 

When Simonetti tried to protest, Kelly held up a hand, staying him.  “Do yourself a favor.  Don’t say anything that’s going to get you in any deeper than you already are.”  

 

The older man studied Simonetti from beneath bushy gray brows before continuing, “If you give a damn about your career in law enforcement, I suggest you get over this ridiculous vendetta of yours against these men.  They’re good detectives, doing a difficult job.  I know their methods are sometimes a little unconventional, but their success rate is the best in the Department.  Your job is to root out dirty cops—not get in the way of the good ones who get results!”

 

Furious, Simonetti stood up.  His movements marionette-jerky, he gritted out between clenched teeth, “Will that be all?” 

 

“Yes.  You’re dismissed,” Kelly said, meeting Simonetti’s eyes defiantly.  The younger man stormed from the office, slamming the door after him.  Starsky and Hutch exchanged glances and started for the door, too.

 

“Starsky!” Dobey said.

 

“Yeah, Cap’n?” Starsky said, looking back over his shoulder.

 

“Let it go,” the captain warned.

 

Starsky nodded, then opened the door.  Both detectives strode from the room without another word.

 

˜  ™

 

In the police parking garage, an angry Simonetti slammed the car door shut and shoved the key into the ignition.  Just as he started to turn the ignition, he heard a familiar voice.

 

“Simonetti.”

 

He looked up and found himself staring directly into the stormy blue eyes of his nemesis.  Never before in his career had he been reprimanded for doing what he considered his duty as an Internal Affairs Officer.  Not until Starsky had gone crying to Dobey.  The hatred boiled up in him like lava in an erupting volcano.  He glared back at the detective, not bothering to hide his disdain.  “What’s it feel like to have Dobey fight your battles for you, Starsky?” he drawled.

 

Starsky leaned toward the open window, his face inches from Simonetti’s.  “Now you listen to me, you turkey,” he hissed, his voice deadly calm.  “I don’t give a damn about what the commissioner or Dobey just said.  This is my personal warning to you.”  Raising his index finger, pointing it at Simonetti’s nose, he continued, “It’s time to back off.  It’s over.  Hutch and I have had it with your interference and your dirty underhanded attempts to get us fired.  From this minute on, the gloves are off.”  Starsky’s jaw tightened as he added, “Do we understand one another?  Hmmm?”

 

Simonetti’s lip curled in a sardonic sneer, “Oh, yeah.  We understand each other.  You think you’ve won, don’t you?” 

 

Despite the man’s bold response, Starsky sensed he was more shaken than he appeared. 

 

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” Simonetti added as a parting shot.  He nervously turned the key, anxious to leave.  “There’s always tomorrow.” 

 

Starsky stood up and stepped back, as Simonetti thrust the automobile into reverse and careened out of the parking spot.

 

As the squeal of the screeching tires died away, Hutch stepped up beside Starsky.  “At least he didn’t win this round.  And now that he’s been exposed, Kelly will be keeping tabs on him.”

 

Starsky sighed, and turned to face Hutch, his face still a mask of seething fury.  “I wanted to pound him right into the concrete.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Hutch said, then grinned broadly.  “But why play into his hand?  It’s better this way.  You got your job back, and, with the commissioner’s letter in Simonetti’s file, maybe he’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like this again.”

 

The anger began to drain from Starsky as he considered the logic in Hutch’s words.  “I guess you’re right.”

 

“You know I am,” Hutch told him.  “Now, let’s go have a beer and some dinner.”

 

The two of them crossed the threshold of the garage entrance shoulder to shoulder, out into the cool dark night that now blanketed the brightly lit city that never slept.  

 

˜  ™