Withdrawal

by Linda B.

Chapter 1

           

            “C’mon, Starsky,” Hutch complained impatiently.  “Just tell Huggy no, and let’s get out of here.”  Hutch glanced out the passenger side window of the red Torino, resting his right elbow on the open window frame.  “We’ve got to get moving.  Lunch is over and Dobey expects us back at the station.”

            Huggy leaned on the driver’s side window, maintaining direct eye contact with Starsky and ignoring Hutch.  “Look...it’s a good deal.  Just a little bit’a money down and you’ll be makin’ big bucks.”

            “Oh, c’mon, Huggy, you can’t make money that fast—not unless it’s illegal,” Hutch exclaimed exasperated.

            “Hutch, of course, you can,” said Starsky enthusiastically.  “If we just take a little bit from savings and let Huggy invest it for us—”

            “Do you know what you’re saying?” said Hutch disgustedly, once again amazed at how gullible his partner was.  “Give it up and let’s get going.”

            Starsky slowly turned to look at his partner.  “If you want to be that way ‘bout it, and don’t want to use our money—”

            “Our money?!”

            “Yes, our money.”  Starsky raised his hands in disgust.  “Okay, be that way.  I’ll just invest a little of my own.  When you see I’m rolling in dough, we’ll just see how sorry you’ll be.”

            Startled at seeing his partner suddenly exit the car, Hutch asked, “Where are you going now?”

Starsky bent down and looked at Hutch through the open door.  He pointed to the red brick building on the corner.  “I’m going to the bank.  I’ll be back in just a minute.”

            Sighing, Hutch slid down into the seat of the car, crossed his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes.

            Huggy Bear slid his tall, slender frame into the now unoccupied driver’s seat of the red Torino.  “Well, my man, I’ll just occupy this here seat while Starsk is gone.”

            “Help yourself.  He just better not be long!”

 

˜ ™

 

            On the opposite corner of Woodward Street, a blue van slowly pulled to the curb.  Inside sat three men.  Tony, a dark-haired man about fifty and clearly the leader, watched the people moving along the sidewalk and entering the bank.  The tall, thin twenty-three-year-old driver of the van, Billy, shifted into park. 

            “Are you sure this is a good location?” he asked Tony.

            “Of course, I’ve been watching it for days.  Traffic is light.  It’ll be a breeze.  We go in quick...and come out the same way.”

            “And come out a hell of a lot richer.”  The third occupant of the van grinned.  Ricky, a curly-haired blond of twenty-eight, rested his right arm on the back of the passenger seat in front of him, and, positioning his gun across his right arm, aimed at the bank.  “Bang!” he said, laughing.

 

˜ ™

 

            Starsky hurriedly crossed the intersection and reached the door of the Hamilton Bank at the same time an elderly gray-haired man did.

            “Let me,” offered Starsky, graciously bowing and letting the gentleman enter before him.  Looking at Hutch slumped in the car seat, he grinned and waved.  Even though his partner ignored him and didn’t wave back, Starsky decided he wasn’t going to let Hutch’s foul mood bother him.

            Once inside, Starsky instinctively checked the interior of the bank.  There were three bank tellers at the windows helping the five customers either being serviced or waiting in line.  Glancing around, Starsky looked for the shortest lane.  His eyes followed the elderly man, as he slowly and cautiously walked toward the pretty brunette teller at the far counter.  Her nametag read “Katie,” and Starsky recognized her from previous visits.  For an old guy, he’s got good taste in women.  I think I’ll follow ‘im and say hello to Katie myself.  Hutch can just wait another minute.  Winking and wiggling the fingers of his left hand at Katie across the lobby, a grin spread across his face when she smiled back in recognition.

            Starsky turned toward the counter in the middle of the lobby, grabbing a pen and a withdrawal slip.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the security guard slowly walking across the lobby toward a man dressed in a navy blue suit, standing off to the right of an office at the back of the lobby.  Must be the manager, thought Starsky.

            Busily filling in the withdrawal slip, Starsky never noticed the three men enter the front door and separate in the lobby.  Crossing the “t” in Starsky with a flourish, he reached over to place the pen back in its holder and turned in time to see the manager being grabbed around the neck by a tall, thin man.  The man began waving a gun in the air, and Starsky instinctively reached for his.  The security guard responded immediately, drawing his gun and aiming at the tall man holding the manager.  Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind the guard, and the guard slumped to the floor, a bullet in the back. 

Spinning to the right and shooting in response, Starsky gasped in pain as a bullet entered his left shoulder.  No longer able to hang onto the gun, it slipped from his hand as he fell toward the floor.  As the room started to spin, he saw the bank robber he’d hit also fall, blood spreading across his shirt.  The last two things he was conscious of were a feeling of satisfaction that his bullet had found its target, and wondering what was taking Hutch so long.

 

˜ ™

 

At the sound of gunshots, Hutch shot up in the seat, turning toward the direction of the bank.  In one motion, he pushed open the passenger door of the Torino, crossed the street, and ran to the buildings on the same side of the bank but across the intersection.  Drawing his gun, he motioned for Huggy to stay down in the car.  Pressed as close to the building as possible, he cautiously moved toward the bank, gun ready.  The front of the bank was clearly visible, but there was no easy way to get closer.  The intersection was only about one-hundred feet, but it may as well have been a million.

            Unexpectedly, an elderly lady exited the bakery to his right and started walking toward the street.  Grabbing her arm, he ordered, “I’m a police officer.  A shot was just heard coming from the direction of the bank.  Go back inside and keep everyone there!”  With an astonished look on her face, she quickly obeyed.

            Trying to move as close to the bank as possible, Hutch ducked behind the bushes at the corner of the block.  Eyes never leaving the glass door of the bank, he searched for a way to get across the street unexposed.  “C’mon, Starsk, come out of the building, or signal that everything is okay,” he prayed under his breath.  Suddenly, inside the bank he spotted a man dressed in black pants and a shirt walking toward the door.  Hutch watched as the man quickly glanced at the sidewalk and down the street.  Then he shut the door, hung a “closed” sign, and pulled down the shade.

            Holding his breath, Hutch retreated back to the Torino.  He slid into the seat and reached for the car radio.  “What’s goin’ on?” asked Huggy, still ducking down behind the steering wheel.

            “Looks like a bank robbery’s goin’ down,” he responded.  Speaking briskly into the mic, he requested back-up and added, “Officer may be down.”

            “Hey, man, where’s Starsky?  He still inside?” Huggy asked worriedly.

            “It looks that way.  Hopefully, that was his gun we heard.”

            “I sure hope that wasn’t him gettin’ shot,” Huggy whispered, putting Hutch’s unspoken fears into words.  Hutch said nothing, but his worried eyes were transfixed on the bank building across the street.