Common Ground

Chapter Two

 

 

 

The next morning, Starsky reported to Henderson High School at 7:00 a.m.  His first stop was Principal Richardson’s office.  After being introduced to the office staff as the temporary janitorial replacement, the principal introduced him to Tim Baker, the other janitor on duty.  Starsky followed the graying custodian to what Tim laughingly called the “dungeon.”  Located at the far end of one of the hallways, the room contained the furnace, as well as a small office and supply room.  Along one wall of the supply room were several lockers.

 

“You can put your stuff in this locker, if you want, David.”  

 

“Dave’s fine,” Starsky said as he hung his jacket in the locker.  “Rumor has it, the guy I’m replacing was murdered.  That right?”

 

Tim nodded.  “Yeah, pretty sad.  Mike was a nice guy and a hard worker.”

 

“You knew ’im then?”

 

“I guess you could say that.  We worked together, but this is a pretty big school and Mike was a quiet guy.  We worked together, but we didn’t really socialize, if you get my drift.”

 

Starsky nodded and looked around the room.  “This wouldn’t happen to be his locker would it?  I’d feel kind of creepy using a dead man’s locker.” 

 

“Nah, his locker is two down from yours.  A couple’a cops went through it right after his death and it’s been cleaned out.  Come to think of it, a couple’a days ago, I found a jacket that belonged to him in the gym locker room.  He must’ve left it there by mistake.”  Tim pointed to a green army jacket hanging on a hook next to the door.  “I keep meaning to call his family and let them know it’s here, just in case they want it back.”  He looked embarrassed for a moment and then added, “Sounds kinda dumb, doesn’t it?”  He shrugged.  “But you never know.”  Standing up, he headed to the door.  “Well, let’s get going.  I’ll give you a tour of the school and start you on the job.  Hope you’re a fast learner ’cause I won’t be able to stick by you all day.  There’s lots to be done around here.  These kids sure don’t pick up after themselves.  You’d think I was their mother.”  Tim walked out into the hallway, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

During the morning hours, Starsky followed Tim’s instructions as the two cleaned throughout the building.  Starsky had caught only a brief glimpse of Hutch, standing in the hallway outside one of the classrooms, talking with two teachers.  As he and Tim had passed by, Hutch shot him a quick glance, but made no acknowledgment.

 

About an hour later, Tim left Starsky on his own, giving him clear instructions on where to clean next, while he went to handle an emergency in one of the girls’ bathrooms.  Starsky stopped sweeping and poked his head inside several empty classrooms until he found the right one.  Hutch was seated at the desk in front, apparently mesmerized by what he was reading.  Starsky looked around to make sure the desks were empty.  “Whatcha doin’?”

 

Startled by the interruption, Hutch looked up.  “Boy, am I glad to see you.”  He dropped the papers.  “I’m never going to be able to do this.”

 

“Why not?  You’re the smartest guy I know.”

 

Hutch, expecting Starsky to tease him, was humbled by the honesty he saw reflected in his partner’s eyes instead.  “Starsk, I’m supposed to be teaching Physics all afternoon.  What do I know about any physics theories or calculus?”

 

Starsky shrugged.  “That should be easy.  Just tell ’em to read the chapter and outline it.  I remember doing a lot of that when we had substitute teachers in school.”

 

“And I always hated it.  No, I’m supposed to be the teacher; I’m supposed to teach them something.”

 

“Okay.”  Starsky looked skyward, searching for some distant memory.  “Then, tell ’em...uhmmm...how displacement is the integral of velocity, and velocity is the integral of acceleration, and acceleration is the derivative....”

 

Hutch’s mouth hung open.

 

Starsky paused.  “What’s wrong?  You never heard that before?”

 

Hutch shook his head in amazement, as Starsky winked.  “Like I said, let ’em outline the chapter.”

 

“Now I know I should be the one pushing the broom.”  Hutch sighed in resignation.  “So?  You find out anything yet?”

 

“Nope, the guy seems to have been well liked.  Doesn’t seem to have any enemies that I’ve come across.  What about you?”

 

“Same.”

 

“Tim said he found Sterling’s coat.  I’m hopin’ to get a chance to look through it later.  Maybe there’ll be something in the pockets.”

 

The bell signaling the change of classes sounded, and, as several students began to wander in, Starsky picked up the garbage can next to the desk and dumped the trash into his cart.  Setting the can back down, he leaned over and whispered, “Catch up with you later.  Huggy’s, about seven.”

 

Hutch tightened his tie and looked over his wire-rimmed glasses.  The knot was back in his stomach.  “That’s if I survive.”  Pushing back his chair and standing up, he cleared his throat several times before saying a little louder, “Come on in and take your seats.  I’m Mr. Hutchinson, your teacher this afternoon.”

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky pulled the Torino out of the school parking lot and headed west.  He’d gone only a couple of blocks when he recognized the apartment building where Paulie Lambert lived.  While Paulie hadn’t been too happy when they’d shown up at his apartment, Starsky still wanted to find out more about the teenager.  As close as the Lamberts lived to the school, it occurred to Starsky that he hadn’t seen the boy there.  Hell, that’s probably a good thing; Paulie’s the one person who could identify us.  Starsky made a mental note to check the school roster to see if Paulie was enrolled at the school.

 

He knocked several times on the apartment door before it opened.

 

Paulie stood in front of him, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap flipped backwards.  “Whadda you want?”

 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see how things were goin’.”

 

Paulie turned and walked to the couch were he sank down in front of the television, his eyes glued to the screen.  Since Paulie had left the door open, Starsky took it as an invitation and entered, shutting it behind him.  Paulie continued to ignore him.  “So what’s happening?”

 

“What’s it to you?”  Paulie took a sip of pop and set it down on the metal TV tray in front of him.  “Aren’t there any criminals out there that you have to catch?”

 

Starsky bit his lip, keeping his flip retort to himself.  He’d seen other kids like Paulie—too many, in fact.  Starsky studied the teenager, trying to figure out what was it about Paulie that drew him.  He was like so many others—a smart-alecky street kid who tried to hide his inner feelings, a kid on the verge of adulthood.  That was it!  Paulie reminded him of Nick at that age.  “I see you like baseball.”

 

Paulie reached up and pulled off his Oakland A’s cap, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. 

 

“That’s something else we have in common, but my favorite team’s the Yankees.  Do you play?” Starsky said as he took his stance and swung an imaginary bat in the air.  “What position?”

 

“Shortstop.”  The boy’s eyes remained bonded to the TV screen.

 

“Maybe we could go to the park and hit a few balls someday.”

 

No reply.

 

Starsky tried again.  “What about goin’ to a ball game together?”

 

Paulie stood up and flipped the TV channel.  “What didya mean earlier when you said ‘something else we have in common’?  We ain’t alike.”

 

Starsky straightened.  “Well, when we showed you the note the other day, you said something about ‘me and my dad,’ and I assumed you and your dad must’ve written the note together, like me and my pop did when I was a kid back east.”

 

“You put a message in a bottle like I did?”  Paulie’s curiosity got the better of him.

 

“Yeah, but we threw it into the Atlantic Ocean.  I never heard from anyone.  I guess that’s why I wanted to let you know we found your note.”  Starsky looked around.  “Where’s your dad now?”

 

“He left,” he replied bitterly, sinking back into his chair, his demeanor returning to his earlier sullen one.

 

Starsky studied the room, noticing some blocks, a coloring book, and crayons on the floor.  It was quiet beyond the noise of the TV.  “Where’s your mom and Sarah?”

 

Paulie finally looked at him.  “At the grocery store.  Are you done with the inquisition yet?”

 

“Yeah, but I’ll be back.”  Starsky returned his glare before turning to leave.  “That may be strike one, but I’m not out.”  Paulie blinked first.

 

˜  ™

 

“You’re late,” Hutch said, glancing at his watch.

 

Starsky slid into the booth.  “Only a few minutes.  What’s happening?”

 

Hutch leaned his arm against the back of the booth and took a sip of beer.  “Nothing.  I already ordered a Huggy Bear Special for both of us.”

 

“How’d the physics class go?”

 

Hutch grimaced.  “I’d rather be out on the streets tracking down a bunch of killers than in front of a group of high school students any day.  They all think they’re smarter than you.”

 

“Weren’t you smarter than your parents?”  

 

Hutch, leaning back in the booth, retorted, “When’d you get so smart?”

 

“Must be that subscription to Reader’s Digest you got me for Christmas.”

 

“Did you touch base with Gomez and Thompson?”

 

“Yeah, Gomez said Dobey called to say the report came back from Forensics.  Looks like the bullets matched in both the Sterling murder and the drug dealer’s.  Now, we just have to find out who pulled the trigger.  You get a chance to check out Sterling’s jacket?”

 

“Not much in the pockets, though interestingly, there was a page torn out of the newspaper.  It was dated a little over two months ago, and the article about the murder of Juan Montanez was circled.”

 

“The drug dealer.” 

 

Starsky nodded as Huggy set their meals on the table.  “Hey, Hug.  How’s it goin’?”

 

“Hanging in there, man, same as always.”

 

“You ever hear anything about a Juan Montanez?” Hutch asked, watching Starsky bury his fries in ketchup.

 

“You mean the drug dealer who had the most unfortunate of experiences a while back?”

 

“Yeah, you know anything about him?” asked Hutch.

 

“Or drugs bein’ sold ’round the high school?” Starsky added, his speech garbled by the large bite of hamburger he was chewing.

 

“Don’t know nothin’ about drugs at the school, and, if he was dealing there, he deserved what he got.  Word on the street was Montanez was new in town.  Least whys I’d never heard of him or run into him.”

 

“Can you dig a little deeper for us, Hug?” Hutch asked.  “We need to know more about him.  Oh, and while you’re at it, will you see if you can find out anything about Mike Sterling as well?  He’s the janitor at the high school that was killed recently.  Maybe he wasn’t as clean as people seem to think.”

 

Huggy nodded.  “I’ll see what I can do for ya.”  He watched Starsky finish his burger.  “You hungry?”

 

Starsky patted his stomach.  “Not anymore.”

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky pushed the broom down the hallway, a red and white bandana hanging out of his jeans back pocket.  He stopped to scrape gum stuck to the floor and watched Principal Richardson pass by, walking a very unhappy student down the hall toward his office.  Probably feels just like me when Dobey drags me into his.  The principal nodded good morning, but didn’t stop. 

 

Starsky continued sweeping down the hall, hoping to spot Hutch, since he was never sure which class he’d find his partner subbing in. 

 

Rounding the corner, he pulled up short.  The blond was coming toward him, engrossed in a book he held in one hand, while carrying a briefcase in the other.

 

“Got your nose in the books already, Teach?” Starsky whispered as Hutch passed by.

 

Hutch looked up and, noticing an open doorway, moved Starsky inside.  “Starsk, I don’t know how long I can do this.”  He nervously pulled on his tie.

 

“What are you talkin’ about?  You’re doin’ fine.  I hear the kids talking as they pass in the halls.  They like you, especially the girls.”  Starsky winked.

 

“I’ve got no classroom management skills.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

 Hutch glanced down the hallway, checking to see who was coming.  “Starsk, I’m assigned to one class for the entire week.”

 

Starsky was confused.  “Isn’t that a good thing?  That way, you can get to know the students and actually have them do some work.”

 

“It would be great if it was Literature or History, or something I had some background in, but it’s...”  Hutch again looked out into the hallway.

 

Starsky leaned on his broom and waited expectantly.  “It’s...?”

 

“It’s Home Ec.”

 

“So?”

 

“You ever take Home Ec.?”

 

Starsky considered his answer.  “I don’t think so.”

 

“That’s because it’s for girls.  I have to teach them things like cooking and sewing, how to take care of their homes....”

 

“So?  That should be easy; you have your own apartment and you take care of it.”  Starsky paused and then added, “Well, sort of.”

 

As the bell rang, Hutch moved toward the door.  “Quit grinning and tell me where Room 140 is.”

 

Starsky pointed down the corridor.  “It’s the third room on the left.”  As Hutch hurried away, Starsky continued down the hall, pushing the broom and whistling, convinced that he’d gotten the easier assignment.

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky picked up the remains of his sack lunch from the picnic table and headed inside.  He hoped this undercover assignment ended soon.  Brown bagging it was not his thing, but that’s what most of the janitorial staff did, so he followed suit.  Besides, he missed having lunch with Hutch.  He entered through the side door and started to drag a trashcan outside for the students headed out to lunch, when he heard voices coming from the room on his right.  Remembering it had been empty moments before when he’d checked the room and turned off its lights, he moved closer.  The voices were too soft for him to hear clearly, so he hung just outside the door.

 

“What do you think, Marty?”

 

“I think you need to keep your big mouth shut, Joe.  This isn’t info you need to be broadcasting all over the place.”

 

“You don’t have to worry.”  There was a pause and then Joe continued, a nervous hesitation added to his voice.  “When’s the...stuff...supposed to arrive?”

 

“Any day now, if my plans work out.  It’s...”  As the voices approached the door, Starsky grabbed the nearest trashcan and started hauling it out.  The two students were silent as they entered the hallway and spotted Starsky, moving quickly in the opposite direction.

 

Starsky watched them walk away, but both students had their backs to him with their heads down, and neither looked back.  Starsky made note of their clothing, but realized it wouldn’t do him much good.  They were dressed like every other student in the building—jeans and t-shirts.  The only thing that might help identify them was their hair.  The taller one had long black hair pulled back into a ponytail, while the skinny kid’s blond hair was permed.

 

˜  ™

 

“Marty, huh?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the name I overheard.”  Starsky and Hutch were seated on a park bench along the beach not far from Venice Place.  “That, and Joe.  One’s tall, maybe Hispanic, black hair pulled back into a ponytail.  The other’s thin, with blond permed hair.  Other than that, they’re dressed like every other male student.  Sometimes I wonder if any of them ever heard of individuality.”

 

Hutch shook his head.  “Um...I don’t place either one.  It doesn’t help that I’m in a class full of girls all week.”

 

“One of ’em could be the boyfriend of one of those girls.”

 

“I’ll hang out in the hallway more between classes to see if I can spot them.”

 

“How’s the class going, Betty Crocker?”

 

“I lucked out.  The lesson plans call for cooking all week, so I don’t have to worry about sewing.  I can fake my way around a kitchen but not a sewing machine.”

 

Starsky chuckled and then straightened.  He leaned in and, with all seriousness, added,  “And don’t get any ideas about teaching those girls how to cook with black strap molasses, desiccated liver, or any of that other healthy junk you try to get me to eat, partner.  I’d have to turn you into Mr. Richardson for endangerment.”

 

˜  ™

 

The next morning, Hutch made a point of standing in the hallway, watching the masses switch classrooms.  The first three periods were futile.  At fourth hour, he scanned the hallway, watching the kids at their lockers, switching books and chatting with each other.  He heard someone yell out, “Hey, Joe, hold up!” and searched the crowded hall for who would respond.  A thin blond with permed hair stopped and turned around.  A student he recognized from one of his physics classes approached Joe, and the two put their heads together, obviously conversing.  Joe nodded several times before they parted.

 

Once inside the classroom, Hutch took roll and then introduced the day’s lesson.  The plan had called for making a lemon meringue pie, but the notes from the teacher had said the sub could change the plans if they’d be more comfortable doing something else.  So he took her at her word and changed the plans. 

 

Hutch walked around the room observing his students’ progress.  Stopping at the teacher’s desk, he took a sip of coffee, and a bookshelf to his right drew his attention, giving him an idea.  He searched through it, pleased when he actually found what he’d been hoping for—a yearbook.  He thumbed through it, but didn’t spot anyone he recognized immediately.  Hutch tucked the book into his briefcase, intending to have a more leisurely look at it with Starsky over dinner.

 

Noticing smoke coming from one of the stoves, Hutch left the desk and hurried over.  “Sally, Sally, what do we have burning over here?”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hutchinson.  My mother always told me I shouldn’t cook.  The quiche tipped over when I put it in, and it spilled all over the bottom of the oven.”

 

“Not a problem, but we can’t have the smoke alarm go off, can we?”  Coughing and waving the smoke away, Hutch turned the stove off and opened the oven door.  Finding a set of potholders, he reached in and removed the quiche.  “Let’s put it in another oven.”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Hutchinson,” Sally continued.  “I’ll stay in at lunch and clean out the oven.  I’m so embarrassed.”

 

“Don’t be.  We can easily fix it.”  Hutch put his arm across Sally’s shoulder; she looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering.  “At least the fire department didn’t have to be called,” he added thankfully.  Starsky would never have let him live that down.

 

˜  ™

 

Seated at a picnic table outside Jose’s taco stand, Starsky flipped through the Henderson High School yearbook as he waited for Hutch to return from the health food store down the street.  He stopped at the name Lambert.  Paul Lambert.  Starsky’s eyes slid across the page to find the picture.

 

“Recognize someone?” Hutch asked, setting his salad down and sliding his long legs between the table and bench.

 

“It’s Paulie—Paul Lambert.  He’s in last year’s book as a junior.  That would make him a senior now.”

 

“Dropped out, huh?”

 

“Must’ve, too bad.  I guess it’s good for us since he could blow our cover, but I wonder why.  He only had a year before graduating.”

 

“Lots of kids drop out.  You know that.  Unfortunately, they don’t realize the impact of what they’re doing.”  Hutch squeezed on the dressing and mixed it into his salad.  “It’s not easy being that age, especially with all the drugs out on the street and the other trouble they can get into.”  He took a bite of salad and watched Starsky study a picture in the book, wondering why he was reminding his partner of something he already knew so well.  Starsky’s background was so different from his.  While he’d attended a private school in Duluth, Starsky had left his mom and brother in New York at a young age and had come out to Bay City to live with his aunt and uncle and attend public school.  He’d spent years learning the streets, and his life could have turned out very differently.  Hutch said a silent prayer of thanks for the man sitting by his side.  “You ever think of dropping out?”

 

Starsky flipped through a few more pages.  “I thought about it once or twice, but not seriously.  I knew I wanted to be a cop like my pop, and you have to have a diploma.  I couldn’t afford to pay for college, and my grades weren’t good enough for a scholarship, so I signed up for the Army.  Nick, on the other hand....”

 

Surprised, Hutch set his fork down.  “Nick, dropped out?  You never mentioned that before.”

 

“Well, when I found out about it, I borrowed money from my aunt and uncle and took a plane home.  It was just before I entered the Academy, before you and I met.  He wouldn’t listen to Ma, so I figured I had to go back and ‘discuss’ it with him.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Two sets of eyes met.  “I took him in the alley and beat the ever lovin’ shit out of ’im.  Then, I told him he was being not only disrespectful to Pop and the Starsky name, but hurting Ma, and I wasn’t gonna stand for it.  Besides, he had no business being on the streets; all he was gonna do was get in trouble.”

 

Starsky had often mentioned fighting with his brother, but Hutch had always imagined it to be normal brother-to-brother fights, nothing matching this caliber or importance.  “He go back?”

 

“He did and he graduated.  Six months later, he ended up on the street trying to hustle a quick buck.  A lot of good it did.”  Starsky shrugged and took a bite of his burrito before glancing back down at the pictures.  “Hey, this kid’s name is Joe, Joe Collins.”  He leaned in to look closer.  “It could be him.  His hair is blond and permed.  What do you think?”

 

“Joe Collins, huh?  That means he’s a senior now.  Looks like the kid I saw in the hallway.  Let’s run his name through Records tomorrow and see if they turn up anything.”

 

Pleased with their success, they doubled their efforts searching through the pictures but found no matches with the name of Marty or Martin.

 

˜  ™

 

“C’mon, Mr. Belcher, I can pull it off,” Marty whispered.  “Gimme a chance.”

 

Stan Belcher glanced at the people in the restaurant.  The two of them were seated in the corner, and no one was paying any attention to them.  “Your cousin, Juan, was stupid.  He comes into this town, thinking he’s gonna make a name for himself.  First, he spouts off at the mouth.  Then, he moves in on the wrong territory, courting the wrong people.  He was going to start a war.  Mr. Canfield was not happy.  I tried to warn your cousin, but he wouldn’t take the hint and got what he deserved.  Now you’re telling me you want to take over his action?  Do you honestly think Mr. Canfield’ll be willing to give you a chance?”

 

Marty leaned in. “Yeah, I know I can do it.  I’m not like my cousin.  When he told me what he was doing, I told him he was stupid.  My loyalty would be to Mr. Canfield; he’d never have to doubt that.  I know he’s interested in the high school.  I’m a student there.  I can peddle the stuff from inside the school and nobody’ll catch on.  I’m new, I get good grades, and I have the teachers snowed.  I haven’t done anything to attract attention and I’d keep it that way.  They’d have no reason to suspect me.  Trust me.” 

 

Belcher sliced off a piece of steak and raised the fork to his mouth.  “You’re just a kid.”

 

“So what?  I can handle it, and my word’s good.  Just before I moved here, I’d started working the streets for Mr. Wexford in San Francisco.”

 

“Wexford, huh?”  Belcher sat back.  He’d heard Mr. Canfield mention the name before.  “I’ll speak to Mr. Canfield, but I make no promises.”

 

Marty nodded.  “Good enough.  I’ll be back in touch.”

 

“No, I’ll be back in touch.”

 

˜  ™

 

Belcher pulled up in front of the wrought-iron gates and waited impatiently as they slowly opened.  He wasn’t sure he could fully trust Marty, but he also knew he couldn’t ignore him.  It might be worth giving him a chance, since establishing a base in the high school was a priority to Mr. Canfield.  They’d tried to get a foothold in the area with Juan, but then the janitor, Sterling, had to start nosing around.  They’d taken care of him when he started asking all the wrong¾or was it the right?¾questions.  Trying to play amateur detective was stupid.  Look what it got him—a pine box.

 

Belcher walked into the library where James Canfield, wearing a green and gold dressing gown, was pouring a glass of brandy.  “What’s so important, Belcher, that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

 

“You know that kid I was telling you about, Mr. Canfield?  The high school student, Marty?”

 

“Isn’t he related to that pusher Juan?”  Canfield sank down in his leather chair.  “The one Bryant removed for us when he decided to start working for himself on the side?”

 

“Yes, sir, that’s him.  Marty—full name is Martin Rodriguez—is Juan’s cousin.  He’s only been in town about six months, but he tells me Juan had promised to include him in his action.  Now Marty is offering to take over Juan’s territory for you.”

 

“Why should I trust him?”

 

“I think he’s sincere when he says he wants to work for you, Mr. Canfield.  Unlike Juan, Marty understands you’re the boss, and he claims he isn’t stupid like his cousin.  I made sure he understood what happened to Juan—and why it happened.  After meeting and talking to him several times, I think he might be right about the high school.”

 

Canfield frowned as he swirled the ice around in his glass.  “The high school might be too hot right now.”

 

“Marty seems like a smart kid, doesn’t do anything to attract attention to himself.  After all, it was him that gave us the information that alerted us to Sterling and his nosing around.  If we reward him with a little action, he’ll keep his eyes and ears open for us.”

 

“He isn’t stupid, I’ll grant you that.  He knew that information would get him noticed.”  Canfield set his glass down and walked over to the window.  “Okay, let’s give him a try.  Someone working in the inside can make things a lot easier for us.”

 

˜  ™

 

Starsky set his bag of groceries on the kitchen table and grabbed the ringing phone.  “Starsky, here.”

 

“Hey there, bro.”

 

“You find out something for us, Huggy?” Starsky asked, pulling the milk out of the bag and setting it in the refrigerator, the headset tucked between his ear and shoulder.

 

“Not much.  Word has it that Juan came from the San Francisco area and been here about eight, maybe nine months.  People on the street say he might’ve been working for Canfield.  Apparently, Juan liked to stir things up and made some enemies real quick.”

 

He and Hutch had crossed paths with Canfield on several occasions, but hadn’t been able to make anything stick long enough to get him behind bars, thanks to the bank load of lawyers he surrounded himself with.  “What about Sterling?”

 

“Only thing I could find out about Sterling was he spent several evenings a week working at a Boys Club not too far from the high school.  A lot of the kids hung out there, and he liked playing ball with them.  During the summer, he tried organizing a league to keep ’em off the street.”

 

“Thanks, Hug.”

 

“I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.”

 

“Okay, catch ya later.”  Starsky hung up the phone and leaned against the wall.  Damn!

 

He picked up the phone again and dialed.  When Hutch answered, he said, “I heard from Huggy.  Looks like Juan was working for your friend and mine, Canfield.  And it looks like Sterling was one of the good guys.  You find out anything about Collins?”

 

“Records only turned up two speeding tickets.  Where should we go from here?”

 

“How about having Garcia and Thompson check out the Boys Club tomorrow?  Maybe they’ll find someone who knows something.  I’ll call Garcia.  You wanna get together?”

 

Hutch considered it but then declined.  “I’ve got to go over my lesson plans for tomorrow; I think I’m going to change what the teacher left.”

 

Starsky grinned, glad his partner was on the other end of the phone and couldn’t see him.  Leave it to Hutch to be so conscientious.  “Okay, see you in the morning.  How about dinner tomorrow?”

 

“Sure.”

 

˜  ™

 

The next day after school, Marty walked out a side door and, lighting up a cigarette, acknowledged Joe waiting for him.

 

“Hey, Marty, tonight the night?”

 

Marty frowned, hid the cigarette behind his back, and scanned the area.  “Keep your voice down, idiot.  You want the entire school to know what’s going on?  We don’t need any teachers showing up.”

 

Joe leaned against the school wall and studied his shoes.  “I checked it out and didn’t see anybody.  There’s only a few cars left in the parking lot, and we’re near the back of the school.  Even if somebody was left hanging around they wouldn’t notice us.”

 

“You never know when someone could come out that door.”

 

“So tell me what’s happening.  You told me I could help.”  Joe shifted from one foot to the other.  He was having difficulty keeping his excitement in check.  Being the big man in school, money in his pocket, with a chick on each arm was his dream, and it felt so close he could taste it.  “Were you able to make the connection?”

 

“Yeah, I talked to Belcher last night.  Told ’em Juan was my cousin and that I was willing to take over for him, but I wasn’t stupid.  I told him up front I knew my cousin was cheating them and that I didn’t go that way.  A business deal is a business deal.”

 

“Whad’he say?”

 

“He didn’t promise anything.  Said he’d talk to the ‘top man’.”  Marty stopped as footsteps neared.  He puffed on his cigarette.

 

Joe looked up.  “Hey, that’s Paulie!”  He pushed away from the brick wall and hurried across the grass, slapping Paulie Lambert on the shoulder.  “Paulie!  How ya doin?  How come I don’t see you at school anymore?”

 

“Hey, man...I dropped out.  I don’t got any time for books.  I plan on working.” 

 

Joe noticed Marty still leaning against the school wall, watching them, and he nodded in his direction.  “Come here.  I want ya to meet somebody.”

 

Paulie’s eyes followed Joe’s toward the building where a fellow student, wearing a navy blue t-shirt with “The Rolling Stones” embossed on the front, stood smoking.

 

As they moved closer, Joe called out, “Marty, this is a buddy of mine, Paulie Lambert.”

 

Marty nodded his acknowledgement.

 

“Hey, good to meet you,” Paulie responded, never removing his hands from his jacket pockets.

 

“Marty’s new,” Joe was quick to add.

 

“How’s it goin’?” Paulie asked.

 

“Pretty good.  Meeting new people, getting a feel for the school.”  Marty glanced over Paulie’s shoulder, noticing one of the janitors crossing the parking lot and getting in his car.

 

Joe and Paulie both turned to see what had gotten his attention.

 

“What’s he doin’ here?” Paulie asked.

 

“What do you mean?” Joe asked.  “He’s the new janitor; he’s replacing Mr. Sterling.”

 

Paulie watched the fancy red-and-white car back out of its parking spot and head to the exit.  “He’s no janitor.  He’s a cop.”

 

Marty pulled away from the wall and grabbed Paulie’s shoulder, turning him toward him.  “Whaddya mean?  A cop?  You sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”  Paulie shrugged off Marty’s hand.  “Name’s Starsky.”

 

Marty turned and watched the car pull into traffic.  He smiled—his ticket to Mr. Canfield had fallen into his lap.

    

˜  ™