As a serial killer murders brutally, and the pressure builds for the police department to make it stop, the latest victim turns the case into something very personal for Starsky and Hutch.
Artwork by Shrift.
The pictures were grisly things; Hutch closed off his throat to stop the gag as he passed the photos over to share with his partner. Starsky looked at them with much the same expression as Hutch guessed he himself had worn. He moved to stand behind Starsky as they continued shuffling the photos, looking for an answer. What they saw, was just the question. Who and why? The what…they knew. What…had once been a young and attractive woman, who was now dead, and from the look of the pictures, died horribly. Both arms were cut in numerous places–defensive cuts as she had tried to protect herself. Ultimately, she lost the battle as one of the knife slashes had entered her throat. She would have bled to death rather quickly after that. Hope that was one of the early cuts, so she was too unconscious to feel the other stabs, Hutch thought.
“I don’t have to tell you with this being the second prostitute killed like this in the past three weeks the press is going to have a field day, do I?” Dobey asked as he wiped his handkerchief over his sweaty face in frustration.
“They all ready to coin phrases like ‘Jack the Ripper’?” Starsky asked.
“You got it. The chief wants a lid put on this, and I mean right now. No leaks to the press and absolutely no comments about this case that don’t come from the PR department.”
“Suits me,” Hutch remarked, glad of any excuse to side-step the vultures that typically congregated outside the precinct house and the courtrooms.
“You can get any other information you need from Forensics by this afternoon on this latest victim; the case files on the first victim are already on your desk. If you need to pull in some more help with this, let me know and I’ll see who I can cut loose,” Dobey said.
“Why has the first case been sitting for so long with nothing much done on it?” Hutch asked. “Who caught the call and started it?”
“Abernathy,” Dobey replied sadly.
Hutch looked away and said nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Starsky nod and heard a softly whispered, “Oh.”
Hutch glanced at the piece of black tape that ran across the bottom of the badge that was visible hanging from Dobey’s belt. He shuddered as he remembered he and Starsky marking their own badges in a similar manner. Jerry Abernathy had been a good cop. A good cop that was dead. He hadn’t gone out in a hail of bullets, or the victim of a high speed chase gone wrong. he’d died in his sleep. The victim of carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty space heater he’d borrowed from his partner to heat the new house he and his bride were moving into. The couple went to sleep in their new house one night and never woke up.
When Jerry hadn’t shown up for work, and his partner, Jack, hadn’t been able to reach him by phone, he’d driven over to the house and found the grisly scene. Jack had refused to stop CPR on his partner even after the paramedics recognized the signs of rigor mortis and had instructions from the base station to pronounce Jerry and his wife dead at the scene and call for the coroner. Jack McCoy had been inconsolable, at the scene and since. One week later, Jack still hadn’t shown up for work nor answered the phone. Starsky and Hutch had offered to go by his place, since they planned to be in the area taking a statement that morning, anyway. Finding Jack’s car but getting no answer to the knocking, Hutch had kicked in the door of Jack’s apartment. They found that Jack McCoy had eaten his gun.
“You aren’t thinking about putting a police woman under, are you?” Hutch asked, casting an uneasy glance at Starsky.
“Not yet. That may be the way to go, but not until we have a hell of a lot more information. So get out there and see what you can find out.”
“Yes, sir,” both men answered, as they straightened the pictures each still held and left the office.
Starsky reached for the files as he sat, passing his coffee cup to Hutch after seeing him detour toward the pot. “Thinking about anyone in particular you don’t want to go under when you brought that up to Dobey?” Starsky asked when Hutch returned with two cups.
“Yeah, Lizzie.” Hutch sat down with a sad shake of his head.
“Three on a match?” Starsky asked.
“Yeah. I’m not superstitious about a lot, but that’s one thing I take seriously. It comes in threes. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had all the color guard funeral duty and motorcades I can handle for a while.”
“I’m with you there. Here, you take the old one; I’ll take the new one. We’ll trade, then compare notes over lunch.”
Hutch opened the file Starsky pushed in his direction, noting the full color photos of the crime scene. “I may not want any,” Hutch muttered as he leafed past the photos to the coroner’s written report.
Hutch looked up to give his neck and eyes a rest and felt his lips curl in a soft smile. Starsky sat hunched over his files scribbling cryptic notes on a yellow pad. Shoving the pencil he held between his teeth, he used both hands to shuffle things around and look briefly at another photo before beginning to write again. Almost as if he felt the gaze he was under, his hands stilled and he looked up to meet Hutch’s eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing special, just enjoying the view,” Hutch’s answer was softly spoken.
Starsky smiled and his cheeks colored as he closed the file and leaned back. “You ready to break for lunch?”
“Where do you want to go?” Hutch asked, closing his file also but picking up the pad he’d been writing on.
“Farmer’s Market, it’s Tuesday. Chili for me, corn chowder for you?” Starsky asked giving a short enthusiastic nod of his head in Hutch’s direction.
“Deal, and let’s get a couple of those big torpedo rolls. We can make hot roast beef sandwiches for dinner out of the leftovers at home.”
“Deal,” Starsky replied with a grin, as he snagged his yellow pad off the desk and followed Hutch out of the squadroom, giving Hutch’s backside a playful swat with the pad as they passed through the doors.
The mid-day traffic was flowing exceptionally well and they made good time getting downtown. Maybe the guy who designed all this really wasn’t nuts after all. If there aren’t any accidents to snarl things up, you really can get from point A to point B. Just doesn’t happen that way often enough, Hutch mused. Sitting at one of the outside tables, they ate in silence. Each man absorbed in his own thoughts. When Hutch was almost finished, Starsky broached the case.
“What did you see in your file? Anything stand out? Anything ring any bells?” Starsky asked.
“I didn’t see much that they had in common, other than both being hookers and both being dead. What about you?”
“Me, either. Are you going to finish your pie?” Starsky looked hopeful.
“No, here.” Hutch pushed his plate across. “They didn’t work the same area of town, didn’t have the same pimp. We can interview the same girls Abernathy and McCoy did and see if we come up with anything different,” Hutch finished with a shrug.
“Maybe we should take the pictures and see if Huggy knows either of them. Maybe they aren’t in the same stable now, but they may have been at one time,” Starsky offered around the last mouthful of Hutch’s pie.
Hutch glanced at his own notes. “Cheryl was twenty-three, only in town for eight months according to her family. Multiple odd jobs, three different apartments during that time….”
“And a family that had no clue what she was really doing here in the big city. It had to be as big a blow to them finding that out, as hearing she was dead.” Starsky licked at the bit of blueberry on his bottom lip and Hutch fought the urge to help.
“Tamika, real name Eleanor Williams, was forty-one and had been at it a long time. She’s the puzzle to me, Starsk. I mean, she’d been around the block. Cheryl was new here, new at turning tricks. She’d be easy to take advantage of…to get lured or duped into a dangerous situation. But Tamika would know better. How would somebody get her so unaware? Doesn’t make sense,” Hutch pondered.
“Both of them were drugged.” Starsky looked at his notes. “Seconal, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, prescription sleeping pill, but that won’t help us much. There are thousands of prescriptions for that. It’s pretty common. They use it in the hospital every day.”
Starsky looked at Hutch with his eyes wide and getting wider. “You know, Hutch, they speculated that Jack the Ripper was a doctor…you don’t think…?”
“That it’s Jack the Ripper or a doctor?”
Starsky rolled his eyes. “A doctor, you idiot.”
Hutch shrugged. “Let’s cruise the neighborhood and see if anybody looks like they want to talk to us, then head over to see what Huggy knows,” Starsky said.
“Deal,” Hutch answered with a smile, reaching out to wipe the remaining blueberry pie from Starsky’s lips and putting his finger in his own mouth to clean it off. He watched the expression on Starsky’s face as he slowly slid his finger out of his mouth. Then turning with a smug smile, he sauntered toward the car.
“I’ll get you for that…” he heard Starsky mutter behind him.
I’m counting on it, Hutch thought and smiled.
They drove the area, not really seeing much action on the streets. Too early for the girls to be out, Hutch mused. Pulling up in front of The Pits, he hoped for better luck here.
“Hey, hey, how’s it hanging?” Huggy asked as he looked up from the bar.
“Great, Hug, how goes it with you?” Starsky answered as he slid into a stool at the bar.
“Can’t complain, business has been good. What’ll it be? I’ve got a new item on the menu. I should call it the ‘Starsky special’ but I didn’t want to scare the customers.”
“Yeah?” Starsky asked looking pleased and interested. “What is it?”
“Chili over french fries with cheese on top,” Huggy replied proudly. “My cousin owns a bar in Atlanta and says it’s a big seller there.”
“Hey, that sounds great. Doesn’t that sound great, Hutch?” Starsky turned to ask. “Let me try some.”
Hutch made a face. “None for me, I’ll have a beer and some bicarb to go, for him later. Then if you’ve got some time we’d like to talk.”
“Sure. Greta, one chili-cheese-fries, please.” Huggy called the order back to the cook and drew two beers from the tap. He carried the beers over to one of the tables toward the back of the bar, as Starsky and Hutch followed.
“What can I do for you?” Huggy asked when they were all seated.
“We’re working on a case where one of the working girls was murdered, a couple of weeks ago. Her name was Tam…”
“Tamika,” Huggy interrupted. “What took you guys so long?” Huggy asked with a tinge of irritation to his voice.
“We just got the case!” Starsky answered.
“I thought nothing was being done because of who she was, you know? I mean who gives a damn about an old, black hooker?”
“You know better than that, Hug,” Hutch answered.
“With you guys, yeah, but the rest of the detectives that work stuff around here, I’m not so sure.”
“The case was originally assigned to a team that….” Hutch hesitated.
“One of the detectives on it died. He and his wife both–a faulty space heater. remember reading about it?” Starsky asked, as he reached under the table to rest a hand on Hutch’s leg in comfort.
“Oh, yeah, I do remember. He borrowed it from his partner and then the partner….” Huggy stopped looking at the two men he sat across from.
“His partner put a bullet in his brain a week later,” Hutch finished flatly. “Sorry if that slowed things up a little.” Hutch sounded bitter to even his own ears and he felt Starsky’s fingers tighten on his leg again.
“It was never about her not being important enough to do our job, Hug.” Starsky leaned forward. “So you knew her then?”
“Yeah, I knew her. She’d been around a long time.”
“Did she ever mention anything to you about having any problems with anyone, her pimp, or any john that was threatening her? Anybody ever want it rough or kinky that she might have pissed off or been afraid of?”
“No, not that I ever heard her say. I do know she was worried about business, though. Said her tricks were getting fewer except for her regulars. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. Think she might have been worried that her working days were numbered, know what I mean?” Huggy said.
“Yeah, if business was slow, she might have been more willing to go with someone she felt uneasy about quicker than if she didn’t have to worry about the take for the night.” Hutch reached in his pocket and took out a photograph. “Ever see this girl around? Her name is Cheryl, only been in town a little while.”
“No, she doesn’t look familiar at all. Why? Is she dead, too?” Huggy asked.
“Yeah, looks like it might be the same guy,” Hutch offered.
“Too bad. She was pretty.”
“Yeah, she was,” Starsky said sadly.
Greta placed a heaping platter of chili covered french fries in the center of the table with a stack of plates and paper napkins.
Huggy reached over to help himself to a few. “I’ll check things out, and if I see or hear anything, I’ll let you know.” Huggy looked from one man to the other. “I’m sorry about the cops. I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was no biggie, you hear what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, Hug.” Starsky looked briefly at Hutch. “We know you didn’t. My partner here is still a little sensitive about partners burying partners.”
“I can dig it, I was there, too, remember? I was the one Dobey told to follow this fool. We’ll have to talk over a couple of long cold ones someday.”
Hutch frowned and kicked a skinny leg under the table. “I don’t see letting that happen. Come on, Gordo. I’ve got an idea for another stop.”
Starsky took another big bite off the goopy plate as he was pulled out of the booth. “These are great, Hug. The chili could be a little hotter, though. maybe some sliced jalepenos on top of the cheese?”
Huggy’s face lit up at the suggestion, and Hutch shook his head making a gagging motion with his fingers and gave Starsky another playful shove toward the front door.
Starsky wiped his hands on his jeans before starting the car. “Where to?” he asked.
“My place?”
“Huh?”
“My…place,” Hutch repeated slower. “Then later this evening when the girls are more likely to be awake, getting ready for work, we’ll cruise again. I want to go by and talk to Sweet Alice.”
“Okay….” Starsky drawled slowly.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing…you just don’t usually put us out of service like that. are you okay?”
Hutch hesitated, not sure what to answer.
“What’s bothering you more…Abernathy and his wife, or McCoy?” Starsky asked, guessing.
“McCoy,” Hutch replied quietly, head down.
“Because of what he did, or because you’re afraid of what I might do, if something happened to you?”
“Because I thought about it,” Hutch snapped with agitation. “I think Dobey thought so, too. That’s why he told Huggy to stay with me. What the hell was that about?” Hutch turned to face Starsky, his voice rising. “Huggy wasn’t a cop, should have had no business riding anywhere, especially then, with me. I might as well have had a bull’s-eye painted on my back. But that was when everybody thought you weren’t going to make it. I guess Dobey just didn’t want me to be alone when the call came.” An involuntary shudder passed through Hutch with the memory.
Starsky rested one hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “Let’s go home for a while. I’ll see what I can think of to put your mind on other things.”
Hutch smiled and relaxed slightly, his mind conjuring up all sorts of images for that very thing, and every one of them were sending their messages straight to his cock.
The two men were barely inside the door with it shut behind them, when Starsky turned and took Hutch’s mouth in a demanding kiss. Hutch kissed back with equal fervor, each busily divesting the other of their clothes as rapidly as possible. Starsky took Hutch’s hand and pulled him toward the sleeping alcove. Once there, he faced Hutch, looking into his eyes, and he whispered, “Make love to me.”
Hutch groaned deep in his throat as he kissed Starsky again and pressed them both down on the bed. He stretched one arm over to the nightstand and picked up the lube resting there. When he started to turn Starsky over on his stomach, his lover resisted. “No, I want to see you. I want to watch your face when you slide into me. I want to watch you when you come.”
Hutch nodded, becoming impossibly harder, and positioned himself between Starsky’s legs as he planted kisses over his chest and belly. He grasped Starsky’s hard shaft and guided it into his mouth with one hand, while the other thumbed the top off the K-Y and squirted out a small amount. One long finger slowly entered his lover, pulling out and pushing back in, over and over. then he added a second to scissor and stretch the tight ring. Starsky moaned his pleasure and pressed himself further onto Hutch’s fingers, then rising to push deeper into Hutch’s mouth. When Hutch felt the level of resistance lessen, he eased his fingers out and with one long, slow suck, he slid his mouth off Starsky and positioned the head of his cock at the slippery opening and gently pressed forward, allowing Starsky time to accommodate. Each partial thrust in was halted until Starsky himself initiated a deeper penetration. Finally, completely sheathed, he rested his head against Starsky’s chest savoring the joining. Then he began to move, and Starsky with him. Supporting his weight on his arms, he looked down into the face of his lover, watching as Starsky thrashed his head back and forth, face flushed with passion.
Starsky opened his eyes. “Oh, yes…just like that…so good, so damn good. Oh, God, Hutch, I love you.”
Hutch pressed the lower part of his body down trapping Starsky’s cock between them to give some increased friction, but Starsky pulled back a bit.
“No, too close…not yet. I don’t want it to end yet. Make it last, I don’t want to give you up yet.”
“You’re not giving up anything. I’m here for always. For as long as you want me.”
“I’m gonna love growing old with you.” Starsky took Hutch’s face between his hands and raised forward enough to kiss him. They stayed like that for a moment, joined in body and soul, until passion took over again, leading them to an explosive climax.
Hutch pulled gently out of Starsky’s body to fall boneless next to him on the bed.
“Aren’t you glad I thought of this?” Starsky asked panting.
“You thought…?” Hutch did a double take at the sated smile on his lover’s face and kissed his cheek before both of them fell into a light doze.
Hutch sat at the kitchen table speaking softly into the phone, when he heard the stirrings of Starsky waking up. “Right, I thought that’s what you were working on. Just let me know if you spot anything tonight since you’re in the area. Sure, I’ll do the same. Always, you, too.” Hutch hung up and looked at Starsky with a smile that faltered, noting the storm cloud expression Starsky wore.
“Who were you talking to?” Starsky asked without preamble.
“Arturo. He and Lizzie have a stake-out tonight down by Pico and Magnolia. Since that’s in the neighborhood, I told him what we were working on and to keep a look out, and let me know if he saw anyone making more than one trip around the block. Why?”
“‘Sure, I’ll do the same? Always, you, too?’ Sounds like you guys were….”
“Knock it off!” Hutch interrupted. “This jealous shit of yours is getting real old. He told me who they were looking for and for me to keep an eye out, too. I said, ‘sure.’ He ended the call by saying ‘stay safe.’ Now, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothin’…I’m sorry. Hutch, I swear, I don’t know why I keep feeling this way. I never minded you being with ladies before….”
“That’s why you tried to buy Gillian out of town with your life savings?” Hutch asked, his stance relaxed, and his face held the hint of a smile when he looked up.
“That was different, she…I didn’t think…I mean….” Starsky foundered, unsure.
“You’re lucky she didn’t take you up on it.” Hutch sighed. “I just don’t know what it’s going to take. What do I have to do?” Hutch asked again feeling his jaw lift in defiance
“It isn’t you, Hutch, you haveta believe that. It’s me. It’s my insecurity…I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall. I never had someone I loved stay with me. My dad died; it wasn’t his fault, but I blamed him for it. My mother sent me away but kept my little brother. Terry died, Rosey left with her dad. I guess I’m waiting for you to hit the bricks, too.” Starsky walked slowly to where Hutch was still seated. He took Hutch’s face between his hands and forced their eyes to meet. “I think it feels too good to be real. I haven’t gotten used to it yet, but I will. I swear. Hutch, I love you so much sometimes I feel like it’s going to kill me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I’ve had enough people who felt they needed to describe in great detail what you were like when I was shot, so I know you feel the same. I don’t know where this is coming from, babe. I’ve never been the jealous type before…maybe I’ve never loved this much before, huh?” Starsky rubbed the pads of his thumbs across Hutch’s bottom lip then kissed that same path gently. The kiss tentative as if asking for forgiveness.
Hutch wrapped his arms around Starsky and drew him close, deepening the kiss. moving his mouth off Starsky’s, he kissed down the sleep-warm neck to the soft skin just above his collarbone. He kissed and nipped, then began to suck hard, making a mark. Starsky leaned into him at first, then when Hutch guessed the action was starting to sting, Starsky tried pulling away, but Hutch held him tightly. When Hutch broke the suction, a vivid mark stood out plainly. “Next time you’re feeling insecure, go look in the mirror, okay? If it happens again, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Hutch’s voice was playful, as he reached to give the firm globes in question a squeeze.
“Yeah, and I suppose you’ll bring Flores to help you,” Starsky teased back, looking relieved at being forgiven.
“No, Lizzie, she’s meaner,” Hutch joked. “Go grab a shower; I already did. We need to get to work.”
Freshly showered, Starsky came from the sleeping alcove tucking a shirt into his jeans, when Hutch looked up. “Hey, isn’t that mine?” Hutch asked.
“Yep, one of my favorites. Glad I can finally fill it out again.” Starsky shrugged into his holster and threw his jacket over his arm. “Come on, we need to get going.”
Hutch shook his head with a laugh and followed his lover out the door.
The two men got in the car and headed toward the seedier part of town, driving slowly. The streets were still filled with some of the legitimate business travel and other people just now returning home from work, but there were some of the working girls out, even though the evening was hardly started. These girls were the more desperate ones, feeding their arm through the use of their body, and trying to score a john on the way home from work so they themselves could score later. Hutch watched, noting clothing and hair color to keep tabs on who was still standing the next trip around. With a wave at the bar on the right side of the street, Starsky pulled to the curb to park and both detectives went in to meet with Sweet Alice.
Once inside, they easily spotted the small woman with the shiny blonde hair and bright smile. Sliding into the booth where she was waiting, Hutch leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. Starsky slid into the booth across from them with a wink and nodded to one of the waitresses his willingness to order.
“A pitcher of Coors and a Southern Comfort for the lady,” Starsky ordered.
“You remembered, you sweet thing. How are you feeling? I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age. I heard you got hurt real bad, I sure was sorry to hear that. Everything all well now?” Alice asked in her thick southern accent.
“Yeah, thanks, I’m fine now. You’re looking good, business okay?” Starsky asked getting right to the point.
“You know how it goes, good nights and bad nights. The end of summer’s coming up so we’ll lose a lot of the vacation crowd…why? You didn’t come all the way down here to see how business was. What do y’all really want to know?”
Hutch leaned over and passed the photos of the dead girls closer to Alice at the table. “Did you know either of these girls, Alice?”
Alice looked closely at the pictures for a few moments before replying, “This one I knew, I mean, not well, but I’d seen her around over the years. She was working on the south end, sometimes down by the docks. She hasn’t worked anything in this area for a long time. Now the other one, she was here. New girl, hadn’t been here long at all. Really sweet, young and dumb. She got taken advantage of a lot. Fell for every line in the book about why she couldn’t get paid up front. She’d let them feed her a line like ‘I’ll get my wallet out of the car and be right back.’ Of course, they never did and she wound up way short by the end of the night.”
“Did her pimp take it badly?” Hutch asked.
“Well, honey, that sort of thing cuts into his pocket, too. So I’m sure he wasn’t happy about it. But did he rough her up over it? No, that’s not Chad’s style. He’s too smart to damage the goods. He would have just cut her loose if she kept on hurtin’ his pocketbook,” Alice answered softly.
Hutch and Starsky exchanged looks briefly and Alice noticed, then leaned in. “Chad’s good to us, Hutch. I know you probably don’t believe that. But he doesn’t hit any of us, and he doesn’t let anyone else, neither.” Alice turned to Starsky before continuing, “If a john ever gets rough, he gets kicked out and we don’t have to ever give him a chance to do it again. Everyone isn’t like that. Some bosses let their girls get hurt over and over before they do something about it. Some just don’t care at all. Chad isn’t like that.”
“Okay.” Hutch reached to rub Alice’s back through the thin shirt she wore. “I’ll believe you, if you tell me he treats you well. If that ever changes, you’d come tell me, right?” Hutch waited for an answer.
“I know I can come to you, if I ever need to…oh, yes, I know,” Alice smiled sweetly.
“When’s the last time you saw Cheryl? Can you remember if she was alone, or with someone?” Starsky asked.
“I think she was alone, working in front of some of the old movie houses, you know the ones I mean?”
Starsky nodded. “Did she act normal, everything seemed okay? She didn’t act like she was worried about anything or afraid of someone?” When Alice shook her head, Starsky continued, “She never mentioned to you being afraid of anyone, did she? Never said anything about anyone threatening her?”
“No, not to me. But she was pretty quiet, didn’t really say much of anything to anybody,” Alice answered.
“Will you do us a favor?” Hutch asked. “Ask around with some of the other girls, would you? See if any of them have heard anything, then let us know. Okay?”
“Sure, I can do that, honey,” Alice purred.
“You be careful now, hear?” Hutch cautioned as he tenderly cupped her face and lowered his face to kiss her forehead.
“Oh, I will, and if I hear anything, I’ll call you in the morning after I’m off. Is that soon enough?”
“You bet,” Starsky answered, dropping a ten-dollar bill on the bar as they prepared to leave.
They drove around the porn district slowly once more, taking note of who was still on the corner and who had scored and gone off to take care of business. Some of the girls and boys standing on the street corner looked so young it tugged at Hutch’s heart.
“Some of those should be home playing with dolls not out here playing with….”
Hutch shook his head sadly and sighed.
“Is there any other common thread we’re missing here?” Starsky asked as he drove. “What was the day of the week or the calendar’s date? Were they wearing the same color? What the hell made those two get picked of all the ones out here?”
Hutch rifled through pages in Starsky’s legal pad with the help of the light from the open glove box. “The one last month was killed on the fourteenth, a Tuesday, the other on the ninth of this month, and that was a Friday. They were both naked when their bodies were found.” Hutch slammed the glove box soundly and tossed the yellow pad aside. “Man, we’re grasping at straws here.”
“Let’s go back to the station and look at the Forensics reports again, see if they have a better grip on the straws than we do.” Starsky swung the Torino around to speed toward the freeway on-ramp.
Hutch brought over the pot of fresh coffee he’d made and poured two cups. “Okay…what we’ve got so far is…the killer is probably right-handed, and short. Not much taller than the victims, if taller at all. Access to sleeping pills. Do we have any of the computer possibles in the sex-offender files that have a medical background? Doctors or nurses?” Hutch asked as he returned the pot to the warmer.
“A few, but they have either moved out of the state, are doing time, or have had their licenses revoked. That wouldn’t make them any more able to get sleeping pills than Joe Blow on the street.” Starsky ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Hutch moved to stand behind him, resting his hands on Starsky’s shoulders, his fingers kneading the knots out of the tense muscles
“Maybe that’s where the killer got them, anyway, on the street?” Hutch thought out loud as he worked.
“Maybe….” Starsky said, glad they were alone in the squadroom as he relaxed into the magic hands. “But Seconal isn’t the downer of choice in the back-alley trade. They usually go for the reds to come off speed with rather than the yellow jackets, at least around here. I could be way off base, but I think it’s someone who has access to a legitimate prescription for them.”
“Lot of good that will do even if you’re right. Do you know how many prescriptions are filled for that in any given month?” Hutch asked.
Starsky nodded with a groan, the prospect of doing the legwork on that particular item, grim. “Why don’t we start at the top?” Starsky said. “Contact the manufacturer of the drug and find out the pharmacy not connected with a hospital that they ship their largest amount to, and see if there’s any one person that’s an unusually heavy hitter. How’s that sound?”
“Better than taking it one prescription at a time,” Hutch agreed. Hutch let his hands fall away from his lover’s shoulders and glanced at the wall clock. “It’s almost two, let’s bag it for tonight.”
Starsky stood up with a yawn and a stretch and led the way to the car. “Okay, I’ll drop you off. Want to drive in the morning? Merle’s going to give the Torino a tune-up. I’ll meet you there about ten?”
“Sure. Call back into dispatch and log off when you get home, it’ll be thirty minutes later than when you drop me. It’ll make it look better when Dobey gets the message we’ll be in late.” Hutch smiled over the roof of the Torino as they got to the car. “Unless you want to stay the night at my place and we call in after….” Hutch let the sentence trail as he slid into the car and shut the door.
Starsky chuckled as he turned the key. “That’s tempting, but I don’t have any more clean clothes at your place, and the mail probably won’t fit in the box anymore. It’s been days since I was home.” Starsky gave a jaw-cracking yawn again. “Meet me in the morning. I’ll throw a coupla things in a bag to keep at your place, and why don’t we plan on you spending tomorrow, I mean tonight with me? I love how you look on those dark blue sheets when I light some candles. I don’t know what picks up the lights more…the brass bed or your hair.”
“Do much to expound on that mental picture and I’ll follow you home right now.”
Hutch adjusted his jeans to accommodate the sudden swell there and smiled at the smug look of satisfaction his comment had brought to Starsky. Look at that face. one simple compliment and you’d have thought he just opened a Rolex. Maybe if I were a little more generous with those, he wouldn’t be struggling with his feelings of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Just hold that thought until tonight,” Starsky said with a smile and another yawn, as he eased the car over to the curb in front of Venice Place.
“You’ll be okay to drive home?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, I’ll open the window and turn the radio up. Go on, get out. See you in the morning at Merle’s. Ten o’clock.”
“Call when you get home so I’ll know…”
“Yes, Mother.” Starsky’s grin took the sting out of the words before Hutch got out of the car and shut the door.
He trudged up the stairs, grabbing his own mail out of the overly full and neglected box on his way in. Separating the mass of papers into trash and bills, he quickly stripped and jumped in the shower to wash away the smell of stale cigarettes from the bar. He’d just finished brushing his teeth when the phone rang.
He answered it to hear Starsky’s voice, “I’m home, good night,” followed by a click and a dial tone.
Hutch smiled and lowered the phone. He’d taken only a step or two from the phone when it rang again.
“Hello,” Hutch began.
“I love you,” Starsky’s voice sounded sleepy.
“I love you, too,” Hutch answered.
“Now we can both go to sleep,” Starsky ended the call again.
The next morning had all the earmarks of being closer to the normal hot and humid days of late August, as Hutch drove into Merle’s lot to pick up his partner. Starsky slid in the front seat, and Hutch sighed as the smell of Starsky’s shampoo and aftershave seemed to fill the car.
“Sleep good?” Hutch asked, giving the damp curls at the back of Starsky’s neck a ruffle.
“Like a rock. You?”
“Great. But I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to the wake-up tomorrow morning already.”
Starsky beamed and rolled down his window. “The June-gloom that revisited didn’t last long, did it?”
“Nope, I guess we were lucky to have a few cool days at all. Supposed to be 105 today. Let’s see if there’s a place in the shade to park at the station. I brought you a bagel.” Hutch indicated the bag on the seat.
Starsky reached for it eagerly. “Blueberry! hey, thanks.” The smile he gave Hutch lit up the car, and Hutch drove away glad that he’d stopped and affirming to himself to do more of those little things now that they were lovers. The simple thoughtful things one did in the courtship ritual. Just because they’d been partners all these years, this was different, and Starsky deserved every bit of all the bells and whistles he’d been willing to do for ladies in the past. Deserves that and a hell of a lot more, he thought.
They arrived at the station and began the normal business of the day, checking messages and the calendar for up-coming court dates. Dobey came out of his office wiping the sweat on his forehead. “Starsky, Hutch, one of you pick up line four. Looks like we have another body,” Dobey said, his expression one of tight-lipped frustration.
Starsky grabbed hurriedly for the phone at the desk, punching the blinking line and reaching for his yellow pad. “This is Detective Starsky, whatcha got?” Hutch stood watching Starsky hurriedly jot down a time and address. “Right, leave everything where it is, in case the coroner’s wagon beats us out there. We’re on our way. Oh, twenty minutes, give or take. Right, thanks. What was your name again? Quiroz, right, thanks.”
“Let’s go. the maid at the motel came to clean the room after check-out time had passed. The Do Not Disturb sign kept her out before 11:00 a.m. She’s the one who found the body and called it in. Fountainhead Motel on Thirty-first Street in Porno Row.” Starsky read off the directions as they hastily made their way back to Hutch’s car.
Making it across town with the aid of lights and siren, they pulled up behind one of the black-and-white squad cars in front of the Fountainhead lobby. They followed the trail of officers and Forensics technicians to room 114, the last room on the back row of rooms. They saw an officer speaking to an older woman, both speaking in Spanish. As they got closer, Hutch could read the officer’s nametag as Michael Quiroz.
“You see what they’ve got since you ‘habla’ better than I do, and I’ll check out inside,” Starsky suggested.
Hutch nodded and peeled off in the direction of the officer and the older woman, while Starsky went into room 114.
The room was crowded with the coroner’s team there, photographers and lab technicians stepping around the body on the bed, as if performing a macabre dance. The stretcher that sat waiting to load up the victim took up most of the available floor space. Starsky shouldered his way closer, flashing his badge. As one of the photographers snapped a picture, he moved to let Starsky through, giving him his first clear view of the murdered woman.
She lay naked on the bed, several defensive cuts on her arms and hands as the others had, the killing blow the same strike to the throat. Her light blonde hair had partially covered her face, which was turned away from where Starsky was standing. “You done with the pictures?” he asked the photographer.
“Of the body here? Yeah. I’ll take more pictures before and after we do the autopsy. Still need to get the room and splatter patterns, though,” he replied.
Starsky nodded and reached over to move the victim’s hair off her face to get a better view. As he did, his stomach dropped to his Adidas. He looked up quickly to see that Hutch still stood outside the door speaking with the maid and the original officer.
“Oh, my God.” Starsky fought the violent roll of his stomach and the burn of tears in his eyes. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry, this is going to break Hutch’s heart.”
The photographer standing close by asked, “You know her?”
“Yeah, we know her….” Starsky whispered, wiping the wetness off his face. Oh, God, Hutch, how am I gonna tell you? He knelt down by the bed, fighting to gain control before Hutch came in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the corduroy pants with the slightly frayed bottoms over brown boots take a few steps into the room, then stop for several seconds before taking another hesitant step toward the bed. Starsky stood, pushing up on the bed for help to stand before turning and seeing the look of horror on Hutch’s face. Not knowing what he could say that would help, he said nothing, simply touching Hutch’s forearm. He watched as Hutch’s eyes widened, then filled with tears. Hutch’s face paled as he stared, slowly shaking his head while his lips trembled and moved silently to form the word “no,” over and over.
Hutch moved slowly closer to take one of the sheet corners and draw it up over Alice’s body to cover her nakedness. His hand started to reach out and touch her hair but he drew it back, shaking as he curled it into a fist.
Hutch looked over at Starsky, his face an anguished mask. “I…I…can’t believe….” Hutch broke off with a sob, lowering his head and turning his face away. Starsky stepped closer, and taking Hutch by the arm, pulled him away and out of the crowded room.
Hutch leaned against the wall for a moment then pitched forward resting his hands on his knees. Starsky stood at his side drawing slow circles over his back. “Quit,” Hutch jerked out from under the touch. “You’re making me look like some rookie at his first homicide. I’m okay. Let’s go act like cops.” Stumbling slightly, Hutch moved toward the motel’s office.
“Want to go to the car? I can talk to the desk clerk,” Starsky offered.
Hutch shook his head. “I’m okay, I can do it.”
They walked into the motel’s lobby and showed ID to the shaken looking man standing there.
“I’m Detective Starsky, this is Detective Hutchinson. We’d like to ask you a few questions, please.”
“Sure, okay. I don’t know what I can tell you, I only came on at 7:00 a.m. I didn’t know there was anybody dead in that room,” the desk clerk said.
“Everything was just like normal when you took over?” Hutch asked, his voice sounding almost steady. “Nobody you didn’t recognize hanging around? No complaints about a room with a lot of noise, nothing out of the ordinary?”
“No, nothing. I mean if there were any complaints from earlier, you’d have to ask Ron, he’s the night guy I relieved. He didn’t report any problems to me when he left. And I didn’t hear anything since I’ve been here. Frankly, as far away as that unit is, somebody could be screaming bloody murder and I’d never hear anything.”
“Somebody probably was,” Hutch replied softly and turned away. With a shake of his head, he motioned to Starsky he would wait in the car and hurriedly left the motel’s office.
“Do you have an address and phone number for Ron? We’d like to talk to him, too. When does he work next?” Starsky asked, glancing at his partner walking down the covered breezeway toward the car.
“He works tonight, comes in at eleven. Here’s his home number and address. I don’t think he’d answer the phone if you called. He’s in school during the daytime, gets a few hours sleep before he comes in to do the night shift.”
“How long has he worked here?” Starsky asked.
“Oh, since before I came, and I’ve been here almost a year. Ron’s going to UCLA, going to be a doctor,” the desk clerk reported proudly.
Wasn’t that what they thought about Jack the Ripper? Starsky shuddered at the thought. “We’ll be back tonight if we can’t catch him at home before then. Thanks for your help.” Starsky started to turn to go but hesitated slightly. “Oh, could I see your ledger? Who’s name was the room registered in?”
“Alice S. Walker, just like it is most Friday nights. She pays cash every Saturday morning if she does well. if not, she’ll ask for the room on Saturday night as well, and leaves first thing Sunday morning.” The desk clerk looked down at the signature in the ledger book then up at Starsky. “She was a sweet lady. I hate that this happened to her. She never caused any trouble.”
“Yeah, this time the trouble came to her,” Starsky answered sadly. “Thanks for your help. If you hear anything or any other guest or employee says anything you think we need to know about, here’s my card.” Starsky held his hand out with the card. “Give us a call.”
“Right, I will.”
Starsky left the office. giving Hutch’s car a glance to be sure his partner was still there and appeared okay, he walked back to the crime scene at the rear. Approaching one of the uniformed officers, he passed off another card. “Are there any other customers still here that haven’t been questioned?”
“There isn’t a high number of people who stay here legitimately and actually stay the whole night…I’ve talked to the two who did. They left to catch a plane. They were tourists that were running low on money, they didn’t know anything. I’ve got their names and out-of-state addresses.” The officer held out a slip of paper. “I’ve got the names and addresses of others who used the rooms for a period of time during the night. I’d guess more than half of those are bogus, but hell, we’ll check ’em out, right?”
“Yeah, let me know what you find out. If you want my partner and me to take some of the load off you, just send me the list of the ones you want to punt to us. We’ll get on it,” Starsky said, as he pocketed the slip of paper from the officer.
“Okay, I’ll weed out the bogus names and addresses and we’ll split the difference. If I hear of anything else you need to know, I’ll be in touch.” The officer looked down and started to turn away, “I’m sorry this one was a friend. It looks like your partner’s taking it pretty hard. I’ve got a couple of working girls that snitch for me, so I know how I’d feel. Tell him I’m sorry, huh?”
“Yeah, thanks. I will. They go back a lot of years. Keep in touch.”
“You bet.”
Starsky walked slowly down the breezeway to the parking lot and headed toward Hutch’s car. He saw his lover’s bent blond head easily as he approached. The coroner’s wagon had just been loaded, the slam of the back doors a hollow sound before the engine roared to life and the vehicle drove away. Starsky saw Hutch’s gaze locked on the rearview mirror, watching it go before starting his own vehicle.
“We need to go to Alice’s place. I need to find her address book to notify her family.” Hutch’s eyes were shadowed and his voice was tight.
“You want me to make the call?” Starsky offered, his hand resting on Hutch’s shoulder kneading the tense muscle he felt there.
“No, I’ll call.” Hutch turned to look fully into Starsky’s face when they stopped at a red light. “It’s the least I can do. I’m the one who got her involved….”
“Hutch, don’t do this to yourself. You asked her some questions, asked if she’d heard anything and to keep her eyes and ears open. We’ve asked her that a coupla dozen times over the years. You are not responsible for what happened to her.”
“No? It sure feels that way.” Hutch jumped at the honk from the car behind him as he pulled out into traffic. “I should have warned her to run like hell if she had anyone approach her that was the least bit weird. Not ask her to get information for me and give me a call….” Hutch’s voice broke.
“Babe, she wasn’t new at this. If there was anything weird, she’d have run. Just like you said about that first one, Tamika, she was seasoned. She got caught unaware, too. This wasn’t your fault.” Starsky kept the warmth of his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “We’ll get him, I swear it.”
“Yeah, we’re so much better off than we were before. You got a pocket full of leads there, buddy?” Hutch asked.
“We can go back and talk to the desk clerk that registered them; that may give us a description. It could be the break we’re looking for.”
“I hope it is. Alice shouldn’t have had to die for nothing.”
Hutch brought the car to a halt in the parking area of a string of apartments. Both men looked around carefully as they got out of the car and walked to the building where Alice rented a unit. Going to the office, they presented themselves and their ID to the on-site manager who grimly accompanied them to Alice’s apartment. The small-framed man with horn-rimmed glasses was obviously nervous.
“Is there a problem, officers? Alice isn’t in any trouble is she?”
“Mr. Grimes, is it?” Starsky asked.
The older man nodded so vigorously his glasses bobbled on his nose.
“Alice Walker was found dead this morning. That’s why we need to take a look at her apartment,” Starsky continued.
Grimes steps faltered and he stared open mouthed his hand poised with the key aimed at the lock on the door. “Oh…” was all he said. He turned back to the door and opened it, stepping aside to let both detectives enter.
“I’m really sorry to hear about Sweet Alice. She was a good tenant here, had been for years, never a bother, not one time. She was never late on her rent, never a complaint about noise. I sure am sorry to hear about her death.”
“So are we,” Hutch replied, as he stepped into the unit as it was unlocked. “We’ll finish here and lock up. There won’t be anything taken that we don’t leave a receipt for. How long do we have before rent is due again? I’ll need to apprise her family of when they need to get things cleared out.”
“She’s paid up ’til the first of the month. I’ve got some storage space if the family can’t get here right away. I don’t think they live local. Tell them I don’t mind storing some things if it will help.”
“I’ll tell them. Thanks, I’m sure that will be appreciated.” Starsky shook hands with the resident manager, who had never entered the room, and quietly shut the door. When he turned, he saw Hutch standing in the middle of the living room, his face a mask of sorrow.
The general appearance of the apartment was as neat and tidy as any other time they had been there to ask questions. There didn’t appear to be anything out of place. Certainly no evidence that anyone had been in the apartment going through things and no signs of forced entry. Why would there be? If the guy wanted to come back and rob her, all he’d had to do was bring her keys. He walked over to his partner and rested a hand on his arm. “How do you want to do it? Want me to call the local PD where her parents live and they can go tell them in person, with a minister or something?” Starsky asked.
“She has an address book here someplace. We need to find that first…. I’ll call.” Hutch opened the drawer to the small phone table and moved papers around, then pulled out a well-used, red address book. He turned to the pages near the back of the book. “I’ve got the address, lets get the PD or number for the Sheriff’s office from information.” Hutch sat down on the chair nearby and began dialing, while Starsky continued looking around.
He went into the bedroom where everything was much the same. Neat and clean. He glanced through the closet and drawers, not finding anything out of the ordinary among the clothes and cosmetics until he came to the nightstand’s top drawer. There he found a diary. He glanced briefly toward Hutch’s direction in the other room, then opened it. The first entry was dated almost ten years ago, and, as Starsky read the first few entries, he envisioned a young and naive girl who’d come to Los Angeles to be a movie star all those years ago. and like so many others, found out the hard way that the rainbow didn’t end on Hollywood Boulevard. Or maybe it did, and there just wasn’t any gold there.
He sat down on the bed as he continued scanning, getting a feel for the history of the woman who was in some way special to his partner. He came to the entry he’d been expecting.
I met my prince charming tonight. I’ve never seen anybody so handsome up that close before. He should be a movie star, but he isn’t. When I told him that, he just laughed a little and said he was happy being a policeman. What a nice laugh, and such a beautiful smile. It was like he could light up a whole room with it. I was really upset at that driver bumping into me until he came. Now I think it was my luckiest day.
Starsky flipped through several more pages as he took note of the time period they covered.
I saw my prince again, but I tried not to. He thinks I’m a secretary, I didn’t want him to know any different. But there he sat at the end of the bar all alone and he looked so sad. I couldn’t just sneak away and leave him like that. So I walked up and sat down next to him. I think he’d had too much to drink. he looked at me for a minute, then smiled. It didn’t last long, but it still lit up the room. I brought him home. He surely has a kiss that would wake a princess. I only wish I could be her. I don’t think I’d ever really made love before
Starsky stopped reading and closed the book. I don’t know if I want to read about you making love to someone else, even if it was before we were partners. We were still friends, and you never mentioned it. Starsky gave a soft laugh as he remembered the shy friend he’d made at the academy. Afterward, he and Hutch would get together at every opportunity and talk to each other about what they were doing, both beat cops at the time. Starsky knew the dated entry he had just read was written during the time just before Vanessa and Hutch had separated for good. No, that man wouldn’t kiss and tell.
“And I don’t need to read it, babe. You shared what you were going through with me when Van left you for good. I was the one you came to, not Sweet Alice,” Starsky whispered and turned to the most recent entries.
Handsome Hutch came by today, asking questions about a case he and Starsky were working. I’ll see if I can help somehow. I know it won’t make any difference, I’d given up that thought a long time ago, but it’ll give me a chance to get warm again. Nothing warms me like his smile, even after all these years.
Starsky closed the diary and set it back in the drawer. There’s no reason to point it out to Hutch unless I have to. It’ll only make him feel worse. She loved you, babe. What is it with you and hookers?
Hutch entered the bedroom, wiping his hand over a tired looking face. “I spoke with a Sheriff Tolsen. He has known the family for years, went to school with Alice’s father. He’s going to drive out to the house to tell them. They’ll call here from there. Work out the arrangements to have the body released to a funeral home locally when the coroner gives the okay.” Hutch turned to sit on the edge of the bed next to Starsky. “I met her folks once, did I ever tell you?” Hutch asked.
Starsky shook his head silently.
“They were here for the holidays one year. It was right after you’d been sick after Bellamy’s hit, and I was working some stuff before you were ready to come back. I had some robberies in the porno district that resulted in one of the cashier’s having a heart attack during the commission of the crime. So it became a homicide. I came by to pick up a list Alice had for me. She’d fixed Thanksgiving dinner the day before and was warming up leftovers. Man, the apartment smelled great. Turkey and all the trimmings. She invited me to eat with them. The whole time she looked a little nervous, then her Mom asked if I worked at Universal Studios with Alice. I got the hint then they had no clue what she was doing for a living,” Hutch recounted slowly.
“Did you play along with it?” Starsky asked.
“Sure. Only explained I was a Bay City cop and how we’d met when Alice was rear-ended in a fender bender. It was easy, all that was the truth. She relaxed a little after that. It was a nice evening. Her mom and dad are great. Just plain folks. Her brother is kind of a jerk; I didn’t like him any more than I did Nick.” Hutch sighed. “Anything in here give us anything?” he asked, giving the bedroom a visual once-over.
Starsky hesitated, thinking of the diary, then replied, “No, I don’t think so. Just some personal notes and stuff, nothing that would have any bearing on our case. No evidence of anybody bothering her.” Starsky stood up and took a step toward the nightstand. “You want to see?” he asked.
Any answer was forestalled by the ringing of the phone. Hutch looked briefly at Starsky–his eyes wide and filled with dread. Pulling his mouth into a tight line, Hutch picked up the bedside phone.
“Detective Hutchinson.”
Starsky watched his partner and lover, as his grip on the phone’s receiver tightened to a white-knuckled one. Hutch closed his eyes as he listened to the conversation coming from the other end of the phone.
“Yes, Mr. Walker. No, I don’t think there’s any reason for you to rent a hotel room, sir. Alice’s apartment is available for you. It was in no way involved in the crime, and you’ll need to pack up her things. I spoke to the resident manager and he knows to be expecting someone from the family. Simply identify yourselves and he’ll let you in. The keys will be on the kitchen table along with my card and a number where you can reach me at home as well as at the station. Her car is at the police impound garage right now, it may be several days before the crime lab is finished with it so it can be released. so yes, sir, I’d say rent a car.” Hutch rubbed across his forehead as he listened again, shaking his head sadly. “There are some of the details of the case that I’m not at liberty to discuss, sir. I’m sorry. Yes, sir, I realize that. Mr. Walker, it only happened last night, or early this morning. I haven’t gotten the exact time from the coroner’s office yet. Yes, sir. I’m sure I’ll know by the time you get here.”
Hutch sighed loudly and rubbed at the back of his neck. “No, sir, I haven’t seen the autopsy report yet…yes, I saw Alice.” Hutch’s jaw tightened, “In my opinion, her death was caused by multiple stab wounds, but the official report will have to come from the medical examiner,” Hutch’s voice was becoming tighter, his tension escalating. “Yes, sir, it is a tragedy, and I’m grieving with you. Believe me, when I give you my word, that my partner and I will do everything we can to find the person responsible.” Hutch lowered his head and bit his lower lip, trying to still its quivering.
Starsky stood and wrapped his arms around Hutch from behind. “Yes, sir. I’ll be available to meet with you tomorrow morning. When you get in, give me a call. If there is any new information in the case that I can discuss with you, I will. Otherwise, we’ll touch bases and I’ll make myself available to you in the morning.” Hutch wiped a shaky hand across his face. “Yes, sir, I…I’m so very sorry. Yes…me, too. Good-bye.”
Hutch slowly lowered the phone to the cradle and leaned back against Starsky’s body. Starsky tightened his grip for a quick hug, then realizing his lover needed more, he turned Hutch to face him and enveloped him tightly.
“How am I going to explain anything without them knowing what Alice was?” Hutch choked back a sob. “If they pick up a newspaper when they get here, or turn on the news, they’ll know. Alice doesn’t deserve to have them find out that way.”
“Hutch, you can’t keep them from knowing. Will it really be any easier coming from you, than reading it in the papers? It’s going to be as big a shock as hearing about her death, and there ain’t no getting around that,” Starsky said as he held Hutch tightly. The irony of the position, reminding him of being the bearer of similar news to Hutch when Starsky had discovered Gillian’s dead body years ago.
“We’ll do it together, as easy as we can. I’ll be right there with you.” Starsky rubbed large circles across Hutch’s back as he continued to hold on. “Let’s go home and take a break. We need to talk to the desk clerk when he comes on at eleven tonight. Sound like a plan?” Starsky asked leaning back slightly to look at Hutch, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Yeah, let’s go. We’ve got to pick up Alice’s keys from property and drop them back off here on our way to the motel.” Hutch dropped his card on the kitchen table and quickly scribbled his home number on the back. With a final look around, both men left the apartment, closing and locking the door.
Once inside the apartment in Venice Place, Hutch paced around restlessly. Starsky fixed two sandwiches in the vain hope that Hutch would join him in eating one.
“Soup’s on, partner. Come and eat.” Starsky set the plates on the table and popped the top off two beers.
Hutch looked at the food on the table as if he expected it to explode. “I…I can’t eat right now…. I…I need to get out of here. I’m going to go for a run. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please, just let me go alone. wait here, okay?” Hutch took a halting step forward, his expression pleading for understanding his need for space.
“Sure, I’ll keep it for ya. You can eat it after you get home and take a shower. Be careful, huh?”
“Yeah, thanks, babe.” Hutch started to turn to the door, then retreated back to the table where Starsky sat and kissed him softly. “Thanks…I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Starsky put everything he felt into his look, as his lover walked out the door.
Starsky ate without relish and spent the majority of the next forty-five minutes looking at his watch until distracted by the ringing of the phone.
“Hello,” Starsky said.
“Hey, man, glad I found you. I called your place, this was my next try,” Huggy offered.
“Well, you got me, what’s up?”
“I had one of my girls come to me with an interesting tidbit. She works here full time but augments her meager income on occasions, if you get my drift. She saw Tamika one night on the strip, didn’t think anything about it until after she heard Tamika was dead.”
“Didn’t think anything about what, Hug?”
“Who she saw her with. She saw her with a woman. They were sitting at a table eating. the woman with Tamika was holding a cloth on her eye, and Tamika was taking care of her. She just thought it was a fellow lady that had a john get a little rough. Didn’t think anything else.”
“Yeah, so what made her think about it now?” Starsky asked.
“She saw the same woman with Sweet Alice, last night. At the time, she just thought the poor lady had real bad luck, then she saw the news this afternoon and gave me a call.”
“Where is this waitress now?” Starsky asked stretching for a piece of paper and a pen.
“She’s here, and she’s willing to wait until you guys can get here.”
“Great, make sure she does. We’ll be there in about an hour. I’ve got to go find my partner.”
“He taking this pretty hard?” Huggy asked.
“What do you think?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of when I heard. We’ll stay until you get here.”
“Thanks, Hug.”
Starsky paced around looking frequently out the greenhouse windows to see if Hutch was returning. Finally, seeing the white blond hair bobbing in the late afternoon sunlight, he let out a breath. Going into the bedroom, he grabbed fresh clothes and was waiting at the front door when it opened and a sweaty, flushed-faced Hutch entered.
“Jump in the shower. I’ll wrap the sandwich for you to take in the car. We’ve got a lead. Huggy called while you were gone.”
“What did he say?” Hutch asked stopping his step toward the bathroom.
“I’ll tell you all about it on the way over. Hurry, get in there.” Starsky gave Hutch a push and a swat on the butt.
“A woman?” Hutch asked incredulously, doing a double-take as Starsky related Huggy’s conversation while he dressed.
“That’s what she said. She saw a woman sporting a shiner talking to Tamika; the next morning Tamika was discovered dead. She didn’t connect it as important until she saw the same woman with Alice last night. She was crying and holding a towel with ice in it on her face, she said. Alice was fussing over her. she just thought the chick had bad taste in who she let pick her up, then she saw the news this afternoon and gave Huggy a call.”
“Okay, we’ll hit Huggy’s first and talk to her, see when she can come downtown and look at pictures, or work with one of the artists. Once we check with the ME for cause and time of death, we can get the keys to Alice’s car. Then we can talk with the desk clerk at the motel; maybe the description we get from Huggy’s waitress will match with the desk clerk’s. After that, we’ll drop off Alice’s keys for her folks.” Hutch listed off the agenda with increasing excitement. “Son-of-a-bitch…a woman!”
The early dinner crowd was straggling in when Starsky and Hutch entered The Pits. Huggy acknowledged their presence with a lift of his chin. Starsky pointed to a booth at the back and nudged Hutch in that direction. In a moment, a waitress approached to take their order. She was a tall, slender black woman who nervously played with her pen, clicking the ball point end in and out as she waited for the men to place their orders.
“I’ll have the special, extra hot sauce for the tacos.” Starsky jumped slightly as he felt a kick under the table. “On the side,” he amended with a frown.
“I’ll have the sliced turkey with avocado and spouts on wheat, fruit instead of fries,” Hutch ordered.
“Add an extra order of fries to mine, please,” Starsky said, smiling artificially at Hutch. You order your healthy shit, then eat half of mine. well, this time I’m ready for ya.
The waitress returned shortly with their food and hesitated after placing it in front of them.
“Huggy said I should talk to you,” she whispered.
“It would be really helpful if you could give us a description of the person you saw with Tamika and Alice,” Starsky offered gently.
“We want to stop the sicko that’s doing this before anyone else gets hurt,” Hutch added.
“I feel really bad about Sweet Alice. I knew her a long time. I…ah…I wish I had said something sooner, maybe….” Tears welled up in her large brown eyes.
Hutch quickly reached out a hand and drew her to the booth seat next to him. “I know how you feel. I’d do anything to go back in time and somehow keep Alice alive, but we can’t. All we can do is get the person who did it and put them away for the rest of their life so they can never hurt anyone else. We need your help to do that.”
“I’ll try. What do you want to know?”
“Your name, first of all,” Starsky asked, getting out a small notepad to write in.
“Cynthia Jackson, I live at 41044 Compton Boulevard. Apartment 112.”
“Okay, and where were you when you saw Tamika?” Hutch asked, looking to be sure that Starsky was finished writing down the address.
“I was at Denny’s on Garfield and Olympic.”
“What time was it?” Starsky asked.
“A little after midnight.”
“What were they doing?”
“Just sitting there, I think they had eaten. There were set-ups on the table, you know, like pancake syrup and stuff. But they were just drinking coffee.”
“Then what did you see?” Hutch asked.
“The lady was crying every so often, and Tamika was pattin’ her arm. She was holding a napkin up to her eye; it was swollen and black like somebody hit her. She was real white so it showed up good. I saw it from across the room. Nobody could’a missed it.”
“So this was a white woman, about how old, do you think?” Starsky asked.
“Oh, I guess about the same age as Tamika, in her late thirties, early forties. She had frosted hair, so if there was any gray in it I couldn’t tell.”
“What about her build?” Hutch asked.
“She was normal looking, not as thin or as tall as Tamika, but not fat. She wasn’t what I’d have called a looker. She didn’t have a lot of make-up on, no fancy wig or sexy clothes. She looked like maybe she’d been working and gone home to take a shower and change clothes, then came out to get something to eat. She was just wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”
“What kind of t-shirt? Did it have a logo on it, like a school or anything?” Hutch asked.
“No, it was just plain black.”
Starsky turned back several pages in his notepad and jotted down some things on his napkin before speaking, “So, she was white, 30 to 40 years old, frosted hair, slightly less than 5’9″ and weighing more than 140 pounds. That sound right?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you notice the color of her eyes, or if she had any other scars or marks, a tattoo or anything?” Hutch asked.
“I didn’t see her close enough to tell the color of her eyes, but I’d guess they were blue, I think, as light as she was if they’d been brown they’d have stuck out and I’d have noticed. I’m working to save up and go to beauty school. I’d have noticed,” Cynthia said with conviction.
“Would you be willing to come down to the station and look through some pictures and see if you can find her, or give your description to a police artist and see if we can get a drawing to pass around?” Starsky leaned forward as he asked.
“I think it might go a long way in assuring the safety of any other girls out there if we had a picture to pass around so they’d know who to stay away from. Call the police if they spotted her, get me?” Hutch added.
“Yeah, I can do that, tomorrow? I really need to work the dinner crowd tonight, I need the money.”
“First thing in the morning would be great. Around eight-thirty?”
“Okay.”
“One more thing,” Hutch said. “Where were you when you saw her with Sweet Alice?”
“At another Denny’s. This one was on Melrose, the one closest to Fairfax.”
“What time?” Starsky asked, writing again.
“About the same time, maybe closer to 1:00 a.m.”
“What was she wearing this time?” Hutch asked.
“Jeans and a t-shirt, with a jacket over it. It was cooler last night.”
“What did the jacket look like?” Starsky prompted.
“Nothing special, black windbreaker over a red t-shirt…wait, there was something on the t-shirt. A logo on the front, one of those health insurance things you see all the time. There’re billboards advertising it, its hands holding stick figure people, you know the one? I can’t think of the name of it.”
“Kaiser?” Hutch asked.
“Yeah, that’s it!” Cynthia answered, shaking her head enthusiastically.
“Thanks, Cynthia…you’re beautiful!” Hutch leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“You’ve helped a hell of a lot,” Starsky said. “We’ll be waiting for you in the morning. Here’s my card. If you have trouble getting down there…need a ride or anything, give us a call at that number and we’ll come pick you up.”
“Okay.” Cynthia took the card and put it in her pocket. She smiled shyly, and looking around, saw another table had just been seated. “I’ve got to go, enjoy your dinner.” She slid out of the booth and went to the waitress station to get water glasses to serve the new table.
Hutch ate his sandwich with more gusto than Starsky had seen him display all day. He didn’t even mind the hand that occasionally reached over and snagged most of his spare order of fries.
When they had finished, they left a generous tip. with a wave of thanks to Huggy, who was busy bar-tending, they headed out to drop by the station and see if the medical examiner’s report was ready for them.
“Why don’t you go pull some possibles that match the description of what Cynthia gave us for her to start with tomorrow, and I’ll check the in-file for the ME’s report?” Starsky offered casually.
Hutch stopped his steps and gave Starsky a soft smile, his eyes shining thanks at Starsky’s offer. Okay, so you saw right though that, I don’t give a damn. If I can spare you the details about Sweet Alice, that’s just one less thing to keep you awake at night.
Starsky gave Hutch’s shoulder a playful punch as they went in different directions once inside the squadroom.
Starsky stopped in front of the in-file and saw the memo from the medical examiner he’d been expecting. With grim determination, he got out his notepad and went on to read the report, obtaining an all too graphic picture of a friend’s last moments of life. She died as the others had, with Seconal in her blood as well as a small amount of alcohol, which probably potentiated the barbiturate. Death coming from a mortal wound which transected her trachea and the major blood vessels that ran alongside. Asphyxia and blood loss was given as the cause of death.
Alice, we’ll get whoever did this, I promise. Hutch will make it as easy for your family as he can. “And I’ll try to hold him together while he does,” Starsky whispered.
Hutch returned, carrying several large books of mug shots and set them on their desk. With a hesitant look, he glanced at the papers between Starsky’s hands. “The ME report came in?”
“Yeah, no surprises. It pretty much matches the others,” Starsky answered as he closed the file in question.
“Pretty much?” Hutch questioned. “Was there something…?”
“It was exactly like the others, Hutch. There isn’t anything new there. You don’t need to read the report. Leave it alone, okay, babe?”
“I…I just want t-t-to be able to answer any questions her family might ask,” Hutch answered, hanging his head and lowering his body heavily into the chair.
“You can use the information you have from the other files. The exact time of death is between 2:00 and 5:00 a.m. I’ll be there if there’s anything else. I’ll front it for you, okay?”
“Okay…thanks. I really…d-didn’t want to read it or see the pictures.” Hutch ran his hands over his face. “I really didn’t want to see the pictures…” he repeated, as his voice trailed away and his breath hitched. He gave a short cough to cover it up. “Let’s go get Alice’s keys from property and head over to the motel. Hopefully, we can talk to the desk clerk, maybe have him come down in the morning and go through things, too? I’d give anything to get home and get a little sleep before having to deal with the Walkers.”
Starsky arranged the things on their desks in a neat pile and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair as the two walked slowly out to the car.
Arriving at the motel just before eleven, the two men walked up to the registration desk and approached a young man seated there answering the phone.
“Be with you in a sec,” he said, as he connected a call through the switchboard and hung up. “Good evening, how can I help you guys? Looking for a room?”
“No,” Starsky answered showing his badge. “We’d like to see Ron. He was the desk clerk on duty last night, right?”
The young man blanched. “That’s me. Yeah, I was working. Look, if it’s about that girl that they found dead…man, I don’t know anything about that.”
“Did you know Alice Walker?” Hutch asked leaning forward ominously.
“Well, yeah, I mean…no, not really. I mean, I saw her here when I was working. She’d come in sometimes and get a room for the night and… Look, I just rent the room. What she did in it was up to her; I don’t get involved in any of that.”
“We’re not here about anything beyond the fact that a young woman rented a room from you last night and was killed in that room. What I want from you, is for you to look at the register and let me know what time she signed for the room and to describe to me who she was with.” Hutch leaned even closer. “Then, I want you to think really hard about whether or not you have ever seen that person before, and especially if you saw her leave last night, and a description of the vehicle she left in would be just peachy.”
“She?” Ron looked blankly from one detective to the other. “She? She was turning tricks with other women?”
“Did you see anyone with Alice when she signed for the room?” Starsky asked.
“No, I never do. She comes in alone and does the paperwork. I give her a key and I don’t see her again at all, unless she leaves really early before I get off at seven in the morning, and usually that’s not the case.”
“Did you see Alice’s car? Was there anyone in it?” Starsky asked.
“I didn’t notice. Look, I’m sorry.”
“Have you seen any woman around, between the ages of 30 and 40, about 5’9″, 140 pounds, frosted hair, wears casual clothes, jeans and t-shirts–one with possibly a Kaiser Healthcare logo? And she might have been sporting a black eye or some other evidence of having been physically abused,” Hutch fired.
Ron leaned back in response to the assault of questions. “I don’t know, maybe. that description fits a lot of people. All I know is, last night I didn’t see anyone with Sweet Alice. She came in and booked the room alone, like she always does.” Ron looked earnestly from one detective to the other. “I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but that’s all I’ve got for ya. I’m sorry.”
Hutch let his head fall and pushed himself back from the desk with both hands. He turned away and walked toward the parking lot, shoving both hands deeply in his pockets. Starsky stepped forward and handed Ron a card. “Were you here all night?” Starsky asked.
“Yes, I come in at eleven and get off at seven the next morning.”
“Were you alone here all night?” Starsky asked again, leaning casually on the desk.
“Yeah, for the most part. My girlfriend came by about twelve-thirty and brought me something to eat. We studied together for a little while and she left.”
“What time was that?”
“About ten after one, I guess. Something like that. She called me about 2:00 a.m. to let me know she got back to the dorm okay and to say goodnight.”
“Can you give me her name in case we need to ask her if she saw anything as she was leaving?” Starsky handed over his notebook and pen.
“Sure,” Ron answered as he wrote the name and dorm address in Starsky’s book. “I doubt she saw anything. I walked her to her car and I didn’t see anything.”
“Okay. Keep your eyes open for us, please.” Ron nodded. “Thanks. If you do see anyone who fits that description, or if any of the regular girls come in with someone like that, give us a call, okay? Doesn’t matter what time, got it?” Starsky extended his hand to shake and with a small smile, left the office to follow after Hutch who was already waiting in the car.
Starsky slid into the car and reached to rub at his lover’s tense shoulders. Hutch wiped over his face with both hands and let out a shaky breath. “I was so sure he’d have what we needed. I was really counting on it….” Hutch sniffed loudly and let out a long sigh.
“Let’s go to your place and get some sleep. things will look better in the morning when Cynthia comes down. Maybe she’ll make somebody from the pictures in the mug books, or we can put together a composite. Once we get a drawing, we can pass it out, cover the streets with it. Until we catch her, that’s the best thing we got going to keep her from getting close enough to another girl to do it again,” Starsky said.
“Yeah, okay.” Hutch started the car and drove home in silence.
Once there, Starsky followed behind the tired and trudging steps of his lover up the stairs to Hutch’s apartment. The last of the late-night diners were finishing up at Chez Helene’s on the ground floor. The sounds of the kitchen clean-up wafted up from the garden at the back of the restaurant.
“You hungry?” Starsky asked as he stood looking in Hutch’s refrigerator.
“No, I just want a shower and bed,” Hutch replied as he plodded naked from the sleeping alcove, where he had left his clothes, to the bathroom.
Starsky watched his naked lover–every movement reflecting a bone-deep weariness. He gave an acknowledging nod as the bathroom door closed all but the last crack. Reaching into the fridge, he got out a pizza box from a couple of days ago and, looking at it closely, decided it was probably still okay. He grabbed a beer to wash it down with and went to sit on the couch and wait.
As Starsky was finishing the last of his beer, the bathroom door opened and he saw the steam drift past his line of vision. Listening to the soft wet footfalls, he followed Hutch’s movement all the way to the bed before he took the empty pizza box and beer bottle to the trash and shrugged out of his clothes to take a quick shower himself.
As he towel-dried his curly hair one last time, he slipped quietly into the bed, moving close but not touching his lover. With a loud sigh he settled in to try and sleep, when he felt the warm hand that drifted up his arm, then down again to lace long fingers in between Starsky’s own.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” Starsky replied softly.
“I thought so, too, but no luck. I can’t seem to turn off my head,” Hutch lamented.
“Come here, babe.” Starsky opened his arms and engulfed Hutch, drawing him tightly against his damp body. Hutch turned eagerly toward him, hanging on like a drowning man. “It’s going to be okay. I really have a feeling that Cynthia will come through for us. It’s going to be all right.” Starsky encouraged, as he drew large circles over Hutch’s bare back. Starsky kissed against the side of Hutch’s head and nudged it upward so he could nuzzle the side of Hutch’s face, and eventually mapped his way to press his lips against Hutch’s. Their tongues dueled with increasing enthusiasm until both men were caressing and kissing aggressively, all thoughts of the fatigue that had seemed so oppressive earlier, apparently gone.
Starsky rolled Hutch further on top of him, locking his legs around Hutch’s waist to press them close together. Hands and mouths caressed and inflamed, leaving both men panting. “Love me, Hutch. Make me feel you this time tomorrow. I want you so bad.”
Hutch groaned his appreciation of Starsky’s words, answering by reaching to the bedside table for the tube of K-Y resting there. Hutch squirted some out and tossed the tube out of the way. He quickly slid a wet finger inside Starsky’s body, joining it with a second, probing and gently stretching and preparing.
“I’m ready, babe. Come on do it, do it now. God, I need you so much.” Starsky arched up to press his rock hard erection against Hutch’s body, then pressed down to further impale himself on Hutch’s long fingers. Hutch’s gentle insistence caused a level of frustration that made Starsky thrash about wildly, trying to get purchase on Hutch’s body to line him up for the penetration Starsky so desperately wanted. “Please, babe. Let me feel you inside. I want you.”
Hutch slicked his cock, then positioned it at Starsky’s entrance, sliding slowly forward. They locked eyes as Hutch entered him, as they often did. Hutch acutely aware and vigilant for any discomfort; Starsky lost in the intense feeling of being loved and taken.
“Thank you,” Hutch whispered, “for everything you give me.”
“There is nothing in my body or my soul that isn’t yours already. Let me feel you, let go. Give me everything you’ve got.” Starsky tightened his muscles around the full length of Hutch as he was fully sheathed. Hutch moaned and shuddered at the sensation and began picking up his force and speed, each stroke taking Starsky harder; each withdrawal dragging the head of Hutch’s cock over Starsky’s sensitive prostate. Starsky fought to ward off his climax wanting to make it last–not only for himself, but to keep the world at bay for his precious lover a bit longer as well. But he couldn’t hold back, and his own cock spurted his completion between their bodies, and he howled Hutch’s name. Feeling Starsky’s rectal muscles milking his cock during his orgasm was evidently too much for Hutch to withstand, and Starsky soon felt the hot wash of Hutch’s ejaculate shoot forcefully inside him. Both men collapsed in a limp heap of arms and legs entwined together, falling asleep almost immediately.
Starsky awakened a few hours later when his bladder needed to get rid of the rest of the beer he had drunk before bed. He eased quietly off the bed to pee, bringing back a warm wash cloth to wipe the dried semen off Hutch’s belly and covered them both with the blankets. Hutch barely moved as the cover was lifted, snuggling close to Starsky with a snort and not much else.
Starsky looked at Hutch in the dim light coming in from the restaurant garden below. The pale blond hair seeming to glow like silver. I love you, and I know you’re hurting. Please believe me when I try to make you see this wasn’t your fault. You can’t save the world, babe. You aren’t strong enough, even though you think you ought to be. You can’t keep everyone you love safe. That’s really what this is all about, isn’t it? Starsky kissed his lover’s lips softly and went back to sleep.
The next morning when the alarm woke them, both men reluctantly eased out of each other’s arms to get ready to face a tough day.
They were working on the second pot of coffee in the squadroom when Cynthia arrived. Hutch breathed a sigh of relief and jumped up out of his chair to make a place for her to sit. “Here, I’ve got these mug books all ready for you. I’ve pulled some extra pictures that sort of fit the description you gave. We’ll just let you look through things. I’ll get you some coffee. Would you like that? How do you take it?” Hutch asked, standing and moving toward the pot.
“Black. Thank you,” Cynthia replied, sitting down in the chair offered.
“Here you go. Take your time, and if you need anything, Starsky or I will be right over there.” Hutch indicated the direction of their desks.
Several hours and two more cups of coffee later, Cynthia shut the cover on the last book saying the person she saw with both Tamika and Sweet Alice wasn’t there. With grim resignation, Hutch moved the books out of her way. “That’s okay, let me call the police sketch artist and see if we can get a picture that way. Do you need a break to go to…you know…?” Hutch started.
Cynthia smiled at his embarrassment and nodded. “A bathroom would be great about now after all the coffee.” She followed his pointing finger to the hallway.
Starsky was already reaching for the phone when Hutch turned back. “Alison? Hi, Dave Starsky here. we’ll need your help after all. Yeah, no luck with the mug shots, so bring your sketch pad and those magic fingers. Thanks, sweetheart,” Starsky gave his bad Bogart imitation as he hung up.
Hutch jumped visibly when the phone at their desk rang. Starsky picked it up with a wave of his hand, halting Hutch.
“Detective Starsky.” Starsky listened a moment then looked up at his partner. “Yes, just a minute, please.” Starsky handed the phone to Hutch. “It’s Mr. Walker,” he whispered.
“Mr. Walker, this is Detective Hutchinson. Did you get settled in all right?” Hutch sat on the edge of the desk, his back as tense and straight as if there were a steel rod fastened to him. “Yes, sir, we have gotten the report from the medical examiner. I have the name of the person in the coroner’s office that you will need to contact when it comes time for them to release the…to let you take Alice home or make arrangements for her to be buried here. Whatever the family decides. We want to help in whatever way we can,” Hutch offered, and Starsky cringed at the opening his partner had given a victim’s family to fire off an angry shot back.
Hutch’s jaw tightened and his shoulders seemed to sag. “Yes, sir, finding the person who did it is our number one priority right now. We have a possible witness, and she’s meeting with the police sketch artist right now, in fact,” Hutch offered.
Starsky watched his partner offer the only positive he had, while Hutch looked like his heart was breaking at how inadequate it was.
“Yes, sir, I know where that is. Certainly, we can meet you there. What time?” Hutch asked, looking at the clock on the wall. “Yes, two o’clock would be fine. Yes, sir.” Hutch took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly as he lowered the receiver.
“He’s going to make the funeral arrangements today, so there will be a place for the body to be released to when the coroner’s office is finished.” Hutch looked solemnly at Starsky. “He didn’t sound like he planned to stick around or come back for the funeral. You think he’s seen the news or a paper?”
“Could be. We’ll find out at two o’clock,” Starsky said.
Hutch closed his eyes with a sad shake of his head. “Oh, God, Alice, I’m so sorry.”
Cynthia had returned from the bathroom and was sitting at her original desk working with Alison. The sketch of the possible killer was rapidly taking shape. When Alison was finished, she tore off the page and handed it to Starsky, who took it to the copy machine to make enough copies to canvass the area. I’ll put one in every Denny’s in the city if I have to.
Starsky returned with his pile of pages and handed Cynthia a stack. “Pass these out. Give every girl you can one, and post it up in The Pits. Anyone who’s seen her should give us a call. No one needs to try and be a hero, here. Call us and let us do our job.” Starsky raised his eyebrows to Cynthia, waiting for her to acknowledge his statement.
“Okay, I can do that,” Cynthia answered and clutched the stack to her chest as she left the squadroom.
Starsky laid the rest of his pile down on the desk and turned all of his attention to his partner. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. I wish I had a little more to offer Alice’s family when we meet this afternoon, but it doesn’t look like that will happen.” Hutch sighed and picked up a few of the pages. “Let me get these to some of the other guys; they can make more copies and circulate them in their districts. She’s got to turn up. You think maybe we should contact the hospitals and pharmacies in the area and give them the pictures, too?”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We’ll get on it after we meet with the Walkers,” Starsky agreed.
Hutch moved to share the pictures when Starsky reached over his shoulder to get the master sketch. “I’ll make some more copies for the hospitals and pharmacies,” Starsky said with a wink.
Starsky stopped Hutch’s exit from the car with a hand, as he reached over and squeezed Hutch’s thigh. “I’ve got ya, just remember that.”
Hutch smiled as well as he could to show his appreciation of the support, then with a quick nod he covered Starsky’s hand and squeezed back before he opened the door and got out of the car.
The two men walked slowly up the winding driveway of the funeral home and in through the main entrance. Starsky looked around, appearing uneasy as he always did whenever they had occasion to be in a place like this. Hutch knocked softly at the office door.
“Excuse me,” he said softly to the gentleman who opened the door. “I’m Detective Hutchinson; this is my partner, Detective Starsky. We’re both with the Bay City PD,” Hutch continued as he fished for his badge to show ID. “We’re supposed to be meeting the Walker family. They were coming to make arrangements for their daughter, Alice Walker.”
“Yes, officer, they arrived a few moments ago. They are waiting for you in the Magnolia room. It’s down the hall, the second door to the right.”
“Thank you,” Hutch said. He turned and walked slowly in the direction indicated. Starsky stepped in line next to him, their shoulders and arms brushing at intervals as they walked closely together.
Hutch hesitated at the open door to take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Starsky’s hand on the small of his back under his jacket. He glanced up, letting his eyes speak their appreciation for the support as he stepped into the room.
Hutch let his gaze sweep the room, seeing a tall man with thinning grey hair standing to look out the window on the garden view. A younger man with a thick mane of blond hair sat close to a small woman seated on the couch dabbing at her eyes. The young man sat with his arm across the back of the couch, and he idly let his fingers touch the shoulder of the older woman in a caress of comfort. As Hutch approached, the older man turned, but didn’t move from the window. The younger man straightened, his mouth a hard line. The woman looked directly at Hutch’s face, her eyes red and tearing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker, I’m Ken Hutchinson; this is my partner, David Starsky. We’re the detectives assigned to your daughter’s case,” Hutch said as he approached.
“Aren’t you the police officer we met at Alice’s when we were visiting for the holidays a few years ago?” Mrs. Walker asked.
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“You knew Alice personally and you’re still the officer investigating the case?” Mr. Walker spoke without turning from the window. “Isn’t that unusual?”
“Alice was a friend. There was never anything more than that to our relationship,” Hutch defended.
“You mean you weren’t one of her customers?” the young man asked with vehemence.
“Daniel,” Mrs. Walker spoke sharply and silenced the young man with a look, then burst into tears.
“What exactly was your relationship with our daughter, detective?” Mr. Walker turned from the window.
“Mr. Walker,” Starsky interrupted, “a homicide detective has a network of persons that they work with. That network grows over the years. There are advantages in working that way. people in certain areas of the community and in certain work places are in a position to hear and see things that can often be very helpful in police investigations. Alice was one of those people who was helpful on occasion.”
The young man rose angrily and took a step toward Hutch. “My God, she was a stool pigeon. It wasn’t bad enough for us to find out she was a hooker, you have to tell us she was that, too?” Daniel’s face was contorted with disgust. “And how did you pay her for her information? Did you look the other way while she was picking up men? Did you guys take it out in trade?”
Hutch took a step backward and hung his head. it was all the outward sign of weakness the young man needed to see. Daniel took another step closer to Hutch, jutting his chin out in defiance. “So…Detective…how was my sister, huh?”
Hutch’s head snapped up, and, in a totally reflexive action, his open hand shot out and slapped Daniel’s face. The next thing that registered through the red haze of rage and guilt was Starsky’s vice-tight grip on his upper arms as he was being pushed away from an equally enraged Daniel.
“Hutch, cool it! This ain’t the time or place,” Starsky’s voice sounded against his ear briefly before he released Hutch.
Hutch took in a shaky breath and straightened his jacket. “Like I said, Alice was a friend; we’d known each other for years. Yes, I knew what she did for a living. Not when we first met, but soon after. Yeah, we looked the other way and when we knew there was going to be a Vice raid, we warned her so she wouldn’t get arrested. She’d feed us information sometimes, and we paid her money and turned in a reimbursement sheet for it, just like any other person paid as a police informant. Her helping us gave her a little extra money, but I don’t think that’s why she did it. She did it because she believed in what we do for a living. She felt good about any part she could play in getting some scumbag off the street. A lot of times she wouldn’t take any money at all. Because she was a good person. Mr. and Mrs. Walker, believe me, you don’t have any reason to be ashamed of Alice. She was a precious and gentle gift to the people who knew her.”
“The way you knew her?” Mrs. Walker’s question was softly offered, but the content of it hit Hutch’s gut like a sledgehammer. “I found my daughter’s diary, Detective. I know how she felt about you. She loved you.”
“I loved her, too. But as a friend…Alice and I….”
“She was in love with you, Detective Hutchinson. Oh, she didn’t have any expectations that you’d return her feelings. She didn’t believe that was possible. She called you her ‘white knight’.” Mrs. Walker dabbed at her eyes. “She mentioned the case you’re working on now, where other women were killed. She was hopeful that she could find out something to help you. Not entirely for the global good, but to gain your favor as well.”
“Did the information you asked her to get for you put her at risk, Detective?” Mr. Walker cut off his wife.
“No!” Starsky fired his answer before Hutch could form a sound. “We’d never do anything to put Alice in danger. The death of the other two girls would be the topic of conversation anyway; she was just being made aware that we had the case. That way, if she heard anything she’d give us a call or encourage any potential witness to call us. She wasn’t set up as a decoy or anything if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“We’d have never done anything to endanger Alice. I’d give anything if we’d have caught this person and kept her safe. Believe me, there isn’t anything right now that I want more than to make an arrest. But no one will ever need to remind me that even if I do, that won’t bring Alice back.” Hutch’s voice cracked slightly as he stopped speaking.
“When was the last time you spoke to Alice?” Starsky asked, bringing the focus of the conversation back to the case.
“Last Sunday,” her mother answered. “Alice called every Sunday in the early afternoon. The phone would ring about the time we were getting home from church.”
“Did she mention anything unusual? Act any different? Maybe mention being bothered by someone?” Starsky continued.
“No. Nothing out of the ordinary. She seemed fine. She didn’t mention anything that was worrying her. She sounded happy…I can’t believe that was the last time I’ll ever talk to her. I wish I had said more….” Mrs. Walker sobbed softly, tears streaming down her face. Her son came to sit next to her and wrapped his arms around her, steering her head to his chest.
Hutch swallowed the lump in his throat, as he watched the open grief of this mother and the genuine caring of her son. He took in a deep breath, shuddering as he let it escape. “I think that’s all we need to ask right now. If we have anything further, we’ll be in touch. How long will you be staying?” Hutch asked.
“Just long enough to clear out her apartment. We’ll fly home in a few days; Daniel will drive the car back home,” Mr. Walker answered. “The funeral arrangements are all taken care of, whenever the…when Alice is finally able to be released to them. He’ll take care of flying her back…home.” The older man’s voice wavered and he turned away briefly, clearing his throat.
“If there’s anything else, we’ll get in touch by calling you at Alice’s number,” Starsky said. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Mrs. Walker, Mr. Walker, Daniel.” Starsky shook hands with the Walker family and turned to encourage Hutch to follow his lead.
Hutch looked at Alice’s parents, then turned to her brother. “I’m sorry…about before…I….”
“Forget it. This has been a series of one bad news blow after another. I was out of line. I loved my big sister, Detective. I have a sense that you did, too, even if it wasn’t the way she’d have wanted you to.” The younger man held out his hand, and he and Hutch shook hands solemnly.
The two detectives walked out of the room without looking back.
Once they started driving, Starsky turned to Hutch. “I’m sorry that didn’t go better. I never thought they’d read her diary. I….”
“What?” Hutch slammed on the brakes and ignored the honking of the horns behind them. “You knew about her diary? How?”
“I saw it when we were at her place. It didn’t have anything in it that reflected on the case. There weren’t any notations about her being followed or afraid of anyone. I didn’t see any reason to let you see it when it would only make you feel worse than you already felt.” Starsky faced Hutch squarely with his admission.
“You could have warned me. I wouldn’t have been so taken off-guard by her folks. That they knew and I didn’t, made me look like a fool,” Hutch said angrily.
Starsky looked away for a second before answering. “Yeah, I can see where you’d feel embarrassed about it, but I weighed that against how I knew you’d feel right then, in her apartment, after we’d just seen her dead body, and I took the gamble you’d never know. I didn’t want you to know…I didn’t want you to hurt anymore.”
Hutch wanted to hold on to his anger, and as he looked into the eyes of his lover, he tried. But there was such love and concern there, he couldn’t do it. It was too easy for him to see the reason written all over Starsky’s face. “Don’t keep information like that to yourself. Even if it’s tough for me to hear. This was work, babe. Personal feelings shouldn’t have entered into it. Regardless of how things are between us now, we’ve still got to have a professional life that’s separate. We need to work like we always have, or it’s going to show and they’ll separate us. I know neither of us wants that,” Hutch’s voice had lost its angry pitch.
“No argument,” Starsky answered softly.
“What?” Hutch asked, not sure he had heard correctly.
“I said, no argument. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done it. I think I knew it at the time, too. I just was listening to my heart instead of my head. I’m sorry. I’ll work on not doing that again.”
Hutch looked hard at his partner, judging to see if he was being sincere or sarcastic. Deciding it was the former, he smiled and relaxed a bit. “What do you say we hit some Denny’s and see if we can’t get this crazy bitch before she does anything else?”
“You got it!”
They spent the better part of the day canvassing Denny’s restaurants in their beat area, speaking with each manager and explaining how they could help. Each manager was very co-operative, especially when they had mentioned that the biggest lead they had in the case had placed the victims and the potential suspect at a Denny’s right before the victim was discovered dead. Hutch chuckled to himself remembering the expression on the face of the last manager they had spoken with.
“What’s so funny?” Starsky asked.
“Just remembering the look on that last guy’s face when I pushed him a little to let us put up the sketch in the employee lounge,” Hutch replied.
“Pushed him a little? You mean when you said that part about leaking to the news media how every one of the girls was killed after eating at a Denny’s, and how did he think the corporate office would like this monster being named ‘Denny the Ripper’?”
Starsky laughed, too. “No pressure from you, babe. You’re smooth as silk, and I was biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, while that guy looked like he was about to shit his pants.”
“Whatever it takes,” Hutch answered. Anything further was aborted by the static crackle of the radio.
“Zebra Three, this is dispatch. Please landline Huggy at The Pits. Repeat, landline The Pits. Do you copy?”
“Yes, we copy. Huggy said to call–specifically that–not come by?” Starsky asked in clarification.
“Ten-four. He said call and repeated it.”
“Ten-four. We got it, thanks. Zebra Three out.”
Hutch craned his neck then nodded. “Up on the right in the next block is a phone booth.”
Starsky jumped out and walked toward the phone, fighting to get his hand into the front pocket of his tight jeans. Hutch got out of the driver’s side and jogged to meet him, wiggling a dime between his fingers. Starsky sighed and, with a roll of his eyes, extracted his hand from the pocket he had never made it into and took the dime.
They stood side by side, both men’s ears sharing the phone’s receiver as they waited for Huggy to answer.
“The Pits, this is the propitiatory bear speaking.”
“Hey, Hug, it’s us, what’s going down?”
“Hey, man, glad you called back so quick. Cynthia came in to work this afternoon and brought the sketch of that chick she saw with the ladies. Well, the lady herself walked in here about twenty minutes ago. Cynthia served her and she’s sure,” Huggy spoke softly.
“What is she doing now?” Starsky asked.
“She’s eating. Cynthia has been going back to talk to her every now and then. the lady seems upset, and Cynthia’s acting like she’s sympathetic and wants to help.”
“Tell Cynthia, whatever she does, not to eat or drink anything while that lady’s in the place. Got it?” Hutch added. “We’re on our way, coming in the back. Once we’re there, get Cynthia in the kitchen.”
“You got it. get here quick, man,” Huggy said.
Starsky and Hutch ran to the car and jumped in, the beat-up car moving even before both doors were shut.
“What the hell is she doing at Huggy’s? She’s always gotten her picks at Denny’s in the middle of the night. What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” Hutch answered.
“You don’t think somehow she knew Cynthia had seen her do you?”
“I hope not. Maybe it’s just coincidence.”
“Maybe….”
“Maybe it’s just somebody giving us a fucking break,” Hutch offered bitterly.
Hutch turned into the side street that opened into the alley behind The Pits and parked the car. Glancing around as they got out, they noticed another car parked at the further end of the alley, nose pointed toward the other street access. Starsky motioned with his head for Hutch to go into The Pits while he checked out the car. Hutch hesitated for a split second, feeling the tiny hairs on the back of his neck raise. We’ve got to go back to working the way we always worked, he thought. If you’re going to talk the talk, walk the walk. Steeling himself, he nodded his agreement and silently entered the restaurant. Motioning Marvelle, the cook, to silence, Hutch tiptoed to the wall where the order window was and peeked out. Cynthia was standing with her back to him, delivering food to a table. Hutch watched as she moved away and stopped at another table where Hutch could crane his neck and get just a glimpse of a woman’s head in profile. Anita came up to the window and, seeing Hutch, let out a huge sigh of relief. He quickly put his finger to his lips to silence her as well. “Go get Huggy,” he whispered. Anita put her order up on the spinning rack and nodded. She moved unhurriedly to the bar and spoke conversationally to Huggy as she drew a draft beer.
Starsky entered the kitchen, quietly coming to stand behind Hutch. “That her?” he asked, pressing his body against Hutch’s to look out the order window also.
“I can’t see her whole face from here, but it sure could be,” Hutch whispered.
“That car in the alley?” Starsky offered. “It’s got a Kaiser Hospital employee parking sticker on it.”
Hutch turned to look at his partner, feeling his pulse quicken. “Go radio for back-up, front and back to seal off this place. Ask dispatch to send some experience that’ll cut their siren early enough for no one to hear it.”
Starsky grinned and moved quickly away to use the car’s radio.
Huggy entered the kitchen with bluster. “What the hell is taking you so long with the orders this evening, Marvelle?” The cook looked up in confusion, then watched Huggy all but ignore him further to pull Hutch away from the order window to talk.
“Is that her?” Huggy asked wide-eyed.
“We think so. Did you warn Cynthia not to eat or drink anything?” Hutch asked.
“Hell, YES, I warned all the girls.”
“Good. Get Cynthia back here but be cool about it.” Hutch gave the thin shoulder a squeeze.
“You got it.” Huggy squared his shoulders and walked back into the main area of the bar.
“Cynthia,” Huggy called to her. “Give Marvelle a hand with some of the salads; he’s getting backed up in there.”
Cynthia looked up from where she had been talking to the woman and nodded. She said something and touched the woman’s arm with a smile, then walked quickly toward the kitchen.
“Man, I am glad you guys got here. That’s her! That’s her! What’s she doing in here?” Cynthia was shaking and frightened.
“I don’t know. But there’s no way she could know you talked to us. We’re here and you’re safe. I promise you, nothing’s going to happen to you. Has she offered to buy you a drink or anything?” Hutch asked, resting a large, comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Yes, she offered to buy me a cup of coffee or a coke. She seems lonely, like she wants someone to talk to.”
“Yeah, that’s how she got to Tamika and Sweet Alice– she was sporting a shiner and crying. maybe she’s changed her MO a little. Look, you don’t have to do this. I can call and get a police woman here to try and get close to her….”
“No, she’s already been talking to me. I think if we waited to get someone else down here, she’d just leave. What should I do?”
“Just what you’ve been doing. Talk to her. Tell her you’ve got a break coming and sit down, smoke a cigarette. If she orders you a drink, let her, then get up and go to the bathroom. When you come back, don’t drink any of it. I’ll have Anita distract her and you can pour some of it out on the floor. Whatever you do, leave the rest and don’t touch the glass again. We want to take it and test it for drugs and fingerprints. Can you do that?”
“Yeah, after I pour some out…then what?” Cynthia asked still looking frightened but shaking less.
“Tell her your break’s over and come back to the kitchen. Let her know you’ll be getting off work in a little while; yawn every once in a while when you go back to work. Mention to her how tired you are and how glad you’ll be to get off your feet, stuff like that. Pass her and talk to her often enough to keep her interested, but don’t neglect the other customers or she’ll wonder why. Okay?”
“Yeah. You guys are going to stay here, right? You won’t get called away to a bank robbery or something, right?” She looked from Hutch to Starsky who had just reentered.
“There’s nothing that could make us leave here. I give you my word,” Hutch said solemnly, and Starsky nodded in agreement.
“Okay.”
The two men watched as Cynthia walked over to the bar and drew a beer, then went to a table where the potential serial killer sat. She sat down with a look of fatigue and began talking as she lit a cigarette.
“How we gonna play it?” Starsky waited for Hutch to bring him up to date.
“She’s telling her she’s on a break, then she’s going to go to the bathroom, leaving her drink exposed and available. We’ll see if she takes the bait.”
Starsky and Hutch watched–all their attention riveted on the two women seated together. After Cynthia snubbed out her cigarette, she stretched and stood, pointing to the restroom before walking calmly toward it. Once she was through the door and out of sight, the woman at the table looked down as if reaching for her purse. Hutch gritted his teeth in frustration at not being able to better see what she was doing with it. But he did have a clear and unobstructed view of the hand that reached and pulled Cynthia’s beer mug to her side of the table. They could both clearly see her tap the contents of something in it before pushing it back where it was, and wiping away the condensation trail on the table with a napkin.
Anita came to the order window with another order and hissed, “What are you waiting for? You going to let her sit down again with that woman?”
“We’re waiting to get enough evidence to arrest her, so when we get her we can make it stick. It isn’t like we have a murder weapon to match her prints to,” Hutch answered defensively.
“When Cynthia comes back and sits down, walk by and drop something. Give her enough of a diversion to pour out some of her beer to make it look like she’s drinking it. Will you do that?” Starsky asked, his voice a soothing contrast to Hutch’s stressed one.
“Yeah, I can do that.” Anita picked up her order and stopped at the bar to draw a beer and put it on another smaller tray to carry past the table. Just past it, she let the smaller tray falter, the beer tipping and falling to hit the floor with a crash as the glass mug broke.
“Shit,” Anita exclaimed. “Can’t you see that there’s no ice under the glasses when you hand me one, so I’ve got some hope of actually getting it to my customer?” Anita shouted in the direction of Huggy at the bar. “If you’d dry the damn mugs before you put them in to frost up, this wouldn’t happen,” Anita continued to complain as she placed the food down on the customer’s table, then stooped down to pick up the broken mug.
Cynthia did as instructed and poured almost half the beer on the floor while the woman was looking at Anita. She lit another cigarette and sat listening to the woman, nodding in apparent sympathy as the other talked. With a yawn and a glance at her watch, she stood and went back to work, taking orders from a group who had just entered.
“We need to get inside and get a better view of her face. You scoot over to the men’s room and go out and get a table. When you’re set and can see her, I’ll do the same,” Starsky suggested.
Hutch waited until Huggy was standing on his side of the bar, so that he partially blocked the path Hutch had to cross to go to the men’s bathroom. Once in the door, he turned immediately and came out, sitting at a booth that presented him a view of the table and a good full frontal view of the suspect as he slid into it. That’s her, he thought as he registered recognition from the sketch.
Cynthia came over to the table, looking slightly nervous. “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, not at all; you’re doing great. We just wanted to get a better view. Next time you get a chance…go by the table and get your beer mug. Take it in the kitchen and put it in a plastic bag. Beer and all, got it? Then go out the back door–there’s a black-and-white unit parked there. give it to one of the cops in it and tell them Detective Hutchinson said to have another unit swing by to pick it up and take it to the lab. Tell them I need to have it drug tested right away and call the results by landline to The Pits. Okay?” Hutch smiled as he spoke, pointing at the menu as if ordering.
“Okay, I can do that.”
“You’re doing great, sweetheart,” Hutch encouraged with a smile.
Cynthia passed the table, getting her beer on her way to the kitchen, as Starsky slipped out, ducked into the john, then walked casually to the booth to join Hutch.
“She’s getting the beer and the mug to the unit in the alley so it can go to the lab. If it comes back positive, we’ll grab her right here.” Hutch offered the information with a smile as if talking about anything but the apprehension of a cold-blooded killer.
Starsky nodded and smiled, too.
“Let’s hope they’re quick and that whacko is patient enough to sit here and wait.” Starsky leaned his back against the side wall of the booth putting his feet up on the bench seat.
Cynthia returned with two beers and placed them on the table. “I got it to them; there was a motorcycle cop there, too. he said he’d take it personally.”
“Terrific,” Starsky said reaching for the beer. “You’re doing great.”
“She wants me to go somewhere with her,” Cynthia’s voice shook a little as she spoke.
Starsky immediately straightened up from his slouch. “Did she say why?”
“She said she wanted me to teach her some things so she’d do better turning tricks and stay out of the trouble she keeps getting into with her pimp.
Starsky turned to look at Hutch. “Listen, that’s okay. Tell her you don’t have a place right now, that you’ve been staying in Huggy’s room upstairs until you can make enough to save up for first and last on a place of your own. Suggest she wait until you get off in a hour and you’ll take her up there.”
Cynthia nodded. “Okay,” she said a little reluctantly. “Where are you guys going to be?”
“We’ll leave in about thirty minutes and get up there through the window off the fire escape. We’ll hide in the bathroom. Tell her the bathroom up in the room doesn’t work, tell her to use the one here before you go up, then she’d have no reason to go in there,” Starsky outlined.
“Don’t forget to yawn, okay?” Hutch added.
“Right.” Cynthia nodded and moved away, walking past the table again as she went back to taking other orders, covering her mouth as she yawned loudly.
as he drained his beer glass, Hutch glanced at the wall clock over the bar. “It’s time, let’s go,” he said getting slowly out of the booth, peeling a few bills out of his pocket to toss on the table. With a nod, Starsky gracefully followed.
The two men walked in no hurry out the door, and once out of sight from the entry windows, jogged around to the alley. Starsky went straight to the black-and-white to brief them on the plan and to be sure everything was ready and both the front and back exits of the bar would be carefully covered. Starsky pulled one of the police sketches out of his jacket pocket and passed it to a patrolman, to be sure it was circulated and all were apprised of whom they were looking to apprehend. Hutch hurried over to give a jump from where he stood under the fire escape, bringing down the old and rusty ladder, wincing at the noise the movement made.
“I hope this holds us and we don’t get halfway up and it falls apart,” Hutch said as he gingerly began climbing.
“Is that why you’re going first?” Starsky asked teasing. “So I can break your fall?”
“I can’t think of a better ass to land on,” Hutch whispered, looking down to give Starsky a quick wink.
“Move it, blondie, before the view from here gives me any ideas,” Starsky whispered in return.
The rusty ladder held, as did the fire escape, and the two men moved to the window to the room above the bar. Hutch gave a grunt as he tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried again, wiping at the top of the grimy window to try to get a view of the lock. “It doesn’t look like it’s locked….” Hutch grunted again as he tried once more.
“Probably painted shut about a hundred times. It didn’t open years ago, I remember, I tried it.”
“What?” Hutch asked, stopping to take a breather.
“When we stayed here that time. I tried the window to see if it opened and you could get out that way if I fell too soundly asleep. It didn’t open then, either.”
Hutch looked at his partner feeling a flood of love and gratitude for what Starsky had helped him through in that very room. “Turn your face away,” Hutch ordered as he struck sharply at the window with his elbow breaking the glass. “The department owes Huggy a new window.” Hutch brushed the broken glass shards out of the way and jumped through the open window. Once inside, the two men hastily picked up the broken glass and threw it in the trash out of sight, then pulled the curtains closed to hide the absent window pane.
They took off their jackets and checked their guns as they assumed the established hiding place in the small bathroom, easing the door, almost but not quite, shut.
In a few moments, the door opened and Cynthia and the other woman entered. Cynthia’s eyes shot to the bathroom then skittered away. She laid down her purse and yawned again, sitting in the straight-backed chair by the bed. “I am so tired all of a sudden,” Cynthia said after the yawn.
“You work hard, honey. We all do. Hard and long hours. And for what? To keep our men happy so they don’t smack us around.”
“I’ve got a good guy; he doesn’t hit me. you need to get out of where you are, girl, and get away from him if he’s bad to you,” Cynthia cautioned.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But it isn’t his fault. He just gets a little mean when he drinks too much. He drinks sometimes because he’s sad…he drinks to forget we don’t have any kids….”
“What?” Cynthia asked, looking confused at the turn of the conversation.
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other with equal confusion from their vantage point in the bathroom.
“My old man, he always wanted kids, but we can’t have any. He used to pick up hookers sometimes when he was in the navy. They all do, you know? He was stationed in Long Beach when I met him, right after I got out of nursing school.” She sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her large purse close at her side. “He’d go to the bars downtown here with the guys, you know? well, one night, he got something and didn’t do anything about it, and we went out and he gave it to me.” She looked off to stare blankly at the wall. “I was right out of school, just starting a new job, busy and stressed, no medical insurance until after I’d been there for thirty days. I let it go too long myself. I got really sick, wound up being hospitalized even. PID, they said. You know what that is?” She went on without waiting for an answer, “I had such a bad infection in all my female organs, it ruined everything. I could never have a baby. We tried everything. I even had surgery a couple of times. Nothing worked. He gets sad about it sometimes and drinks, then he gets mean. He thinks I’m the hooker that gave it to him and he starts slapping me around.” The woman looked at Cynthia now, an intense expression on her face. “That hooker had no right to ruin our life.”
Cynthia stood up and moved away from the bed, easing toward the door. “I thought you were turning tricks, too, that’s why you wanted me to help you. To show you some stuff to make you better at it.”
Don’t panic, Cynthia. don’t blow it now, we’re so close, Hutch thought desperately as he crouched behind the door.
The woman seemed to shake herself, her expression changing back to that of a victim. “That’s right, I do. I need you to show me…I’ve got some customers who like to see me get off by myself. You do that sometimes?”
Cynthia nodded and stopped her movement toward the door. “Sometimes, yeah …that turns them on. I like it,” she answered. “It keeps me from having their sweaty ass all over me.”
“Show me. Show me what you do, so I can make them happy.” The woman moved off the bed, keeping her purse with her as she turned down the worn bedspread. “Here, take your clothes off like you would for one of those customers and show me what you do to get off for them.”
Cynthia moved hesitantly toward the bed, speaking as she went, “It’s easy, you take your clothes off real slow, they like it that way. If they don’t, they’ll tell you to hurry up. It helps if you have some equipment. Do you have a dildo? They usually like that. Some guys like to watch it with vegetables, too….” Cynthia went to her purse. “I’ve got a dildo with me; I was going to work a little after I got off tonight. It’s a big black one. Want to watch me with that?”
The woman nodded, watching Cynthia with an almost hungry look in her eyes.
“That’s how she does it,” Hutch whispered against a curly hair-covered ear near him. She gets them busy, and waits for them to be focused on that when she attacks them.”
“That would explain how she gets so close before they put up any fight, not to mention being a little fuzzy from the drugs.”
“I don’t want to wait for Cynthia to have to start the show. We can’t get the word from Huggy if the lab comes back positive from here anyway. What do you say we pop her now? the way she’s hanging on to that purse, I’ll bet you a month’s pay there’s a big knife in it,” Hutch whispered.
“I never bet on a sure thing,” Starsky answered. “Let’s go, babe.”
Starsky and Hutch stood with silent stealth behind the bathroom door before bursting into the room. The woman turned with a startled yell and began to frantically reach into her purse, pulling out a long bladed hunting knife. Hutch threw a hand out to chop at the wrist of the arm holding the knife, while Starsky grabbed Cynthia and shoved her out of the way and toward the door. “Go get the cops downstairs,” Starsky shouted as he turned back to help Hutch subdue the suspect.
She was screaming at the top of her lungs and Hutch was struggling to hold on to her. Starsky pulled handcuffs from his belt loop and snapped them on one wrist, severely limiting her movement. Hutch turned her and held on to the other arm until Starsky could secure it as well.
“Let go of me, you don’t understand,” she screamed. “I’m helping! If I kill them all, then no one else will get sick. No one else will have to suffer the way I’ve suffered.” She stopped struggling and began crying, her sobs wracking her body as she stood with her head down.
Starsky picked up her purse and reached inside for the wallet he found there. “Marion Hamilton, you are under arrest for the murder of Alice S. Walker and possibly others. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and most assuredly will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you so desire an attorney and cannot afford one, the court will appoint one to you before questioning. Do you understand your rights?” Starsky intoned.
Marion looked up, tears running down her face smudging her make-up. “I was helping, you don’t understand. We couldn’t have kids…we wanted to have a family….” She turned an agonized gaze from Starsky, who stared at her harshly, to Hutch. “You don’t know what that’s like….”
“I know, lady. sometimes things happen for a reason. The thought of you having kids scares the shit out of me,” Hutch spat as he turned her none too gently around and moved her toward the patrol officer who had just entered. “Take her downtown, please. We’ll be there shortly,” Hutch said. Looking at his partner, he continued, “We’ve got one stop to make first.”
Starsky followed Hutch to the car in silence, knowing where Hutch wanted to go.
Hutch pulled the car into the parking garage at Sweet Alice’s apartment. They walked slowly up to the familiar door, and Hutch knocked softly. “I can’t believe it won’t be her opening the door,” Hutch remarked sadly.
Starsky raised his chin in silent acknowledgment. He smiled softly, his hand reaching out to rub against Hutch’s back. “Wearing something floaty and pink. I can see it, too.”
The door opened, revealing not Sweet Alice or anyone else wearing pink. In front of them stood the stalwart form of Mr. Walker, senior. “Yes, what do you want?” the older man asked, looking tired and every year his age.
“I just wanted to let you know that we apprehended the person we believe was responsible for Alice’s death. I know that doesn’t bring her back, or ease your pain at losing her, but it was all we could do,” Hutch said.
Mr. Walker hesitated, swallowing several times before he’d trust himself to speak. “Thank you for coming by to tell us that personally. You didn’t have to; you could have had someone call. I appreciate it. I surely do. Thank you.” Mr. Walker acted like he might have had something else to say, then shook his head and slowly closed the door.
Hutch stood for a moment looking at the closed door, before he felt Starsky’s hand on his arm. “Let’s go, babe. We’ve got a mountain of paperwork and probably some ass-licking to do to pacify Captain Dobey as to why all this went down without telling him first.”
“Hey, count me out. The only ass I lick these days is yours,” Hutch shot back with the first genuine smile he felt in days.
Next week on Starsky & Hutch:
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