After lunch, the search resumed. Coming up against a brick wall, both detectives were beginning to accept they would have to go through with the drop. Starsky wasn’t happy that Hutch would be the one coming face to face with Bowman, but he wouldn’t complain anymore. Hutch had gone along with his brilliant idea of drawing straws, and it had backfired. Now he’d have to see it through.
The sun was low in the sky now. The long day had yielded nothing for the many hours they’d spent driving up and down the streets. All their regular sources had turned up dry. Their many calls to Dobey revealed no further contact had been made between the kidnapper and Jenny’s father. The last two hours, they had spent driving in an ever widening loop around the perimeter of Reynolds estate. Sam had already finished devouring his rawhide chew bone, and had even given up his backseat vigil; now he lay sprawled out across the seat sleeping peacefully. Boredom had lulled the trio into complacency.
“Zebra Three, Zebra Three. Please respond.”
Hutch, startled by the sudden intrusion of the dispatcher voice, snatched the mic from its cradle. “This is Zebra Three. Go ahead, Control.”
“See the man called Huggy. He said you know the place.”
“Got it, Control. Zebra Three out.” Hutch’s brows shot upward as he looked at his partner hopefully.
“Maybe we’re finally gettin’ somewhere,” Starsky said, optimistically. He swung the Torino into a U-turn and sped toward The Pits. Sam instantly detected the change and came to attention in the backseat. He didn’t know what was happening, but generally when the guys acted this way, something exciting was underway.
When the car screeched to a halt in front of The Pits, Sam bailed out after Starsky and Hutch, and trotted along beside them into the club. He’d long since become a regular, and no one batted an eye when he showed up with the two cops. Huggy was standing behind the bar, impatiently watching for their arrival.
“Took you two long enough to get here,” he quipped. “I must have called a full five minutes ago.”
“What’ve you got for us?” Aware of how little time they had left to locate Jenny, Hutch to got straight to the point.
“Well, I don’t know how much help this is, but I may have a lead on your kidnapper. This—ahem—customer, who wishes to remain anonymous due to the sensitive nature of his business—was in here a little while ago telling me a story I think you’ll find interesting.”
“So where is this up-standing citizen? How do we talk to him?” Starsky prompted, as impatient as Hutch had been.
“He’s not going to talk with you guys. Associating with cops wouldn’t be good for business, if you know what I mean. But, he gave me the whole story. Seems like about four o’clock this morning, this business man—who shall remain nameless—was waiting for a call at the pay phone on Brockett and 22nd Street, when this dude arrives on the scene dragging some chick, attached to him by handcuffs. Now the businessman doesn’t usually interfere in other people’s personal lives, but when the dude decides to use the phone booth where his call is supposed to come in, the nameless businessman felt compelled to step in. Only problem is, the dude with the chick went ballistic. Pulled a gun and threatened to blow him away.”
“Oh yeah? So what happened then?”
“Well, what do you think happened, Starsky? What would you have done if some freak shoved a Smith & Wesson under your chin and told you to take a hike?”
“Did your businessman get a good look at the girl?” Hutch asked, wanting it to be Jenny. They didn’t have time to indulge in wild goose chases right now.
“Yeah. I asked him that. Said she was real pretty. Early teens, blonde hair, face bruised up real bad.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Said it looked like a uniform of some type. At first he thought she was a hooker, but close up he could see she wasn’t the type; didn’t want to be there. She was scared—crying. My friend may be into an occasional shady deal, but when it comes to kids, he doesn’t want any part doing anything to hurt a kid.”
Starsky reached over the bar and patted Huggy on the shoulder. “Thanks, Hug. We owe you one.”
“One? Are you kidding, Starsky? You guys owe me about a million.”
It was fully dark by the time the two detectives and Sam reached the area where the phone booth encounter had occurred. It wasn’t much, but it was a starting point. Starsky killed the headlights and moved slowly down the deserted block; the lighted phone booth, like a beacon, stood out grotesquely in the darkness. Starsky slowed almost to a stop, then rolled on by, turning into the first alley on the right. He shifted into park and left the engine idling.
“Now what?”
Hutch looked over at his partner. “I don’t know; maybe we should try and comb the area first. If nothing turns up, we can stake out the phone booth. He may come back here to call Reynolds. Or maybe we should go ahead and call Dobey.”
“Aw come on, Hutch. You know if we call the Cap’n this place will be crawlin’ with black and whites in fifteen minutes. They’d probably come screamin’ in here with the lights flashing and the sirens blasting.”
“So what do think? God, Starsk, there’re a lot of deserted buildings here for two men to cover. I agree that the element of surprise would give us a powerful edge, but do we have time?”
“Too bad Big Dog hasn’t finished his search and rescue training, huh?” Starsky grinned at Sam, as the dog’s massive head appeared over his right shoulder seeking a little affection. Not disappointing the dog, he reached up and absently scratched him beneath the chin.
“Right. But unfortunately, we’re almost out of time, and I don’t think Rin Tin Tin here is going to be able to graduate in the next thirty minutes or so. So I guess that just leaves you and me.”
Sam turned to Hutch and slurped him across the face, as though trying to convince the detective that he was up to the job. “Knock it off, boy,” Hutch said good-naturedly, wiping a slobbery cheek against his shirt sleeve.
“I’m ready when you are,” Starsky said. “Usual routine?”
Hutch nodded, pulled his magnum from the holster, and got out of the car. At first Sam tried to follow, but a sharp, “Sam, stay,” from Starsky brought him up short. Instead, he hopped into the passenger seat and watched, interestedly, as Hutch walked a little ahead of the slow-moving car, quietly scanning both sides of the alley for sounds and movement.
Aside from the low rumble from the Torino engine, the night was deadly quiet. Sam moved to the car window and hung his paws out, watching Hutch intently. When the alley dead-ended, Hutch shooed Sam our of his seat and climbed back into the car.
At the next alley, they repeated the pattern. After four unsuccessful runs, Hutch sat back in his seat and shook his head resignedly. “This isn’t working, Starsk. We can’t cover the whole area like this. We need to split up.”
Starsky was quiet for a moment. This just didn’t feel right. His gut instincts told him they should stick together; but Hutch had made a valid point. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just that this guy’s a nut, and I don’t like the idea of either one of us meeting up with him alone.”
“One of us could take Sam,” Hutch suggested.
“Naw, he might give us away; he’s not trained to track yet. I can see it now. First kidnapper in history to be licked to death by a big dog.”
Both men smiled at the visual image of such a thing happening. Sam, relegated to the back seat once again, wagged his tail, thumping it loudly against the vinyl upholstery.
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. Park the car about half-way down; We’ll leave Sam there and split up. You take the east side and I’ll take the west. We’ll start at each end and work our way back up the car.”
“And what’s the plan if we find ‘em, Sherlock?” Starsky asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe, we shouldn’t move in alone. Come back to the car and honk the horn.”
“Oh yeah, right, Hutch. Why don’cha just call ahead and let him know we’re here?”
“Okay, wise guy, how about flashing the headlights once?”
“Not great—but better. If we’re lucky, he won’t see it. Then again, maybe we won’t either.”
“Well then, what brilliant idea do you have?”
Starsky shrugged. “Like I said—great plan, Hutch.”
Starsky guided the Torino down the main street of the district to a point he considered as a half-way mark of the area they planned to search. He turned off the engine and both detectives automatically pulled out their weapons and checked them. As they stepped out of the car, Starsky rolled down his window far enough for Sam to poke his head out and get a whiff of the cool, evening air, but not far enough to jump out and follow them. Hutch did the same.
“Okay, Big Dog, I want ya to be quiet. No barking. No whining, and absolutely—no eating the upholstery. Understand?”
Sam stuck his head out the window, and lifted it for Starsky to pet, all the while his big paws doing a seat dance. “I don’t think he’ll act up,” Hutch said optimistically, but added as an afterthought, “I guess we could have left him with Huggy.”
“He’s okay, Hutch. He’s really a pretty good mutt, you know?”
After one final pat on the head for Sam, Starsky came around the front of the car and joined his partner.
“Okay, now don’t forget. If we spot him, or even anything that looks remotely close to his hideout, we come back here and signal. Got it?” Hutch warned, “No heroics.”
“Got it.” Starsky peeled off to the left, then stopped. “Hutch?”
“Yeah?”
“You know....”
Hutch nodded. “You too, buddy.”