Papa Noir

Rain beat in huge drops against the windshield of the car, the wipers finding it almost impossible to cope with the volume of water. The road, which had been a perfectly reasonable two lane highway before the rain had started had disappeared beneath an ocean of red mud so that the tires lost traction and the driver had to concentrate hard to pick out what was blacktop and what was forest. Wind struck at the side of the car and above the crackling of the raindrops on the roof and the dismal howl of the wind outside, the driver and passenger inside the car could hear the weather forecast on the radio.

'This is WJBO radio on 1150fm bringing you the weather for the Baton Rouge area. Heavy rain right now with gusting gale force winds. This is the tail end of hurricane Alfonse and I need you all to batten down those hatches and stay home for a while until the storm passes. State Troopers are advising that only essential travel should be undertaken with a danger of falling trees and power lines across roads. Emergencies should ring the emergency operator but be warned that emergency services are stretched due to flooding in all areas. My advice to you is pack up and head for the hills, it's gonna be a rough night. In other news today...'

'We can drive back. It'll be a great road trip. Two weeks vacation before we go back to work. Did that include the hurricane of the century?' Hutch peered out of the window at the lowering skies and the dense, black cloud overhead.

'It's a glitch.'

'It's a hurricane.'

Starsky shook his head. 'This little breeze? It's just a shower. It'll pass over soon.'

'Starsk have you been on the magic mushrooms again. The man on the radio just told us to stop driving, get out of the car, bend over and kiss our asses goodbye.'

The brunet skidded around a sizable tree branch that had appeared as though from nowhere on the road. The Buick hire car was doing its best to deal with the mud-slick road but the wheels skidded against the cloying mud and even Starsky was beginning to sweat as he nursed the car through the storm. A deafening peel of thunder followed the blinding flash of lightening that lit up the road like a spot light.

'Where are we?'

Hutch squinted at the map. The light was almost gone, even though it was only 4.30 in the afternoon and he had difficulty making out the tiny lettering on the AAA map. 'I guess we're about 350 miles from Baton Rouge. I saw a sign a while back to Zachary but if some fool hadn't decided to take the so called scenic route, we'd be safe in a nice warm motel by now.'

'What's the point of taking the Interstate and hammerin' along at 60 when we can take the pretty side roads and see sumthin of the countryside along the way? You don't understand the finer points of road trips, so ya?'

'I understand warmth and being dry and having supper placed in front of me by a cute little waitress. Driving through the next ice age with a gale force wind tryin' to knock us off the side of this road into the mud is not my idea of a great road trip.'

'I thought you were the big outdoorsman. You're the one who's always talkin' about when you and Granddaddy Warner...'

'Wilbur'

'Fine, Wilber. You're the one who talks about how you and Wilbur stalked a bear for days or fought off a cougar with nothin' but a toothpick and a tube of toothpaste. I thought you'd appreciate the...'

'Tree Starsk...ahead...tree!'

The brunet swiftly hauled the huge car to the right, skidding almost off the road as a small fir tree gave up the unequal fight against gravity and fell across a half of the road. Starsky wrestled with the car for a moment as the vicious under-steer kicked the back end around, threading the wheel expertly through his hands until the Buick came to a halt six inches from the offending tree trunk, the headlights highlighting the startled chipmunk caught in the glare. For a second there was silence in the car, broken only by the sounds of laboured breathing.

'Missed it!' Starsky reported shakily.

'Can I open my eyes yet?'

'Uh huh. All clear.'

Hutch reached out and cuffed Starsky across the back of the head.

'Heyyyy!'

'Watch my lips Gordo. The next time we transport a prisoner to Florida, we get the nice aeroplane back. We sit in economy and we eat our nice pre-packed lunch and then we doze in comfortable, if cramped seats until it's time to land, which in my estimation is about six hours and not the six fuckin' weeks its gonna take us to get back to California in a hire car!'

Starsky turned slowly in the seat. 'Do I detect a hint of sarcasm Mr Hutchinson?'

'Sarcasm? No. Anger, yes. Relief at being alive, certainly. But sarcasm, never. I mean it. The next time you want to take a road trip, you're on your own buddy.'

'But...we're partners. Best friends. This is what best friends do.'

'No, no, no. Best friends look after each other. They say "Let's get the plane back so that we can spend two weeks on the beach with Delia and Maureen. They tell their best friend they'll buy them an ice cold beer at the Pits. They do not expect their best friend to sit shivering his butt off in some crazy hire car in the middle of a hurricane.'

'In that case, I'll find us somewhere cozy and warm for the night. There's got to be some town around here and where there's a town there's gonna be a motel. I'll get ya a nice warm bed, hot supper, tv and a hot bath.'

'This is Louisiana. That equates to a roof, four walls and an alligator to share the room with.'

'Hutch, it's Baton Rouge, not Baton Stoneage. They have electricity and motels and... Look, there's a sign over there. Whats' it say?' Starsky squinted through the windshield at the signpost.

'Lapetite.'

'See? That sounds cute.'

'It sounds small Starsk. It's probably two wooden shacks and a tradin' post.'

The brunet sighed. 'You'll see. A luxury motel awaits ya. Think steak, fries, soft beds...chicks.'

'Gee, I wish I had your imagination. Just drive huh? Even a roof and four walls is better'n this storm in a car with you.'

Starsky snorted. 'You say the nicest things Hutchinson. Ok. Lapetite here we come.'

The two men turned off the road and headed cautiously up the side road indicated by the signpost. The smaller road lead in a crooked way further into the wild countryside becoming narrower as they negotiated bends and waterlogged drainage channels. The sides of the road were crowded with tall, gnarled trees which sheltered the car from some of the gale but did nothing to stop the rain from lashing the car. The wipers fought on but it took all Starsky's concentration to keep the four wheels on the road and by the time they'd driven another ten miles or so, and the lights of the small town were coming into view, Starsky's head was beginning to ache from the tension and even Hutch had grown quiet, preferring to let his buddy concentrate on the road rather than sniping at him constantly.

The road flattened out as the car drove onto what passed for the main street of the one horse town. To say Lapetite was small was being kind. The main street consisted of a general store, a barbers shop, a couple of run down store fronts that had been boarded up and a small collection of houses. Close to the end of the street, a small neon sign proclaimed that Lapetite also had a motel. The sign flashed intermittently and drew the two cops to it reluctantly. As they pulled into the parking lot, Hutch took a look around at the horseshoe arrangement of small rooms, all with peeling paint on the doors and grimy curtains at the windows.

'My God! It's the land that time forgot.'

Starsky shook his head. 'You know what they say. Any port in a storm and right now I think I'd prefer to be inside a second rate motel room rather than in a tin box on wheels that might just get struck by lightening.'

'When you put it that way...' Hutch got out of the car, pulled his jacket over his head and ran for the shelter of the down-at-heel reception cabin. Starsky followed close by, trying to ignore the smell of wet, warm vegetation that left his nose wrinkling. Coming from the hot, crisp air of California, and before that the colder air of New York, this damp, fetid climate made Starsky feel vaguely uneasy. The place smelled of swamp and even though the temperature had dropped maybe ten degrees since they'd set off that morning, it still felt hot and somehow greasy against his skin.

The inside of the reception cabin did nothing to take that feeling away. Paint peeled off the walls and as they walked into the small cabin-like structure a cockroach scuttered away behind the chipped desk. Hutch slammed his hand against the bell and shouted "anyone home?"

A moment later a woman in a full skirt and paisley print blouse came through the curtain from a back room. She looked suspiciously at the two men but said nothing. Unphased, Hutch gave her his best smile.

'Bad weather out there. Could we check in for the night?'

The woman's face didn't change expression. 'No room' she muttered.

Starsky looked at the row of door keys hanging up on a pin board behind the desk. They appeared all present and correct and he looked out of the door at the empty parking lot and closed cabins. 'Seems like you aren't exactly crowded out.'

'There's no room.'

'Not even a small one? We have the money. What about the end cabin over there. Away from everything. You won't even know we're there' the brunet weedled.

'$20 deposit' the woman said reluctantly. 'No booze in the rooms, no fightin', no spittin' and no women after 10.30.'

Hutch smiled again. 'Yes ma'am. Absolutely no women in the room after 10.30. We promise.' The flaxen haired cop took the proffered key and handed over a $20 bill.'

'Is um...there anywhere to get sumthin to eat?' Starsky asked, looking around.

'Eat?'

'Yeah. Nothin' fancy, just some good ol' down home cookin'. Hog jowls...grits...'

The joke was lost on the receptionist who stared blankly at the brunet. 'Hanks Bar. Down the road. Be careful. He don't take non too kindly to strangers.'

'No. Right. Well um...we'll just be takin' our stuff to the cabin then' Hutch said, backing out of the reception hut. He grabbed Starsky on his way past and hauled his buddy outside into the howling wind and driving rain. Starsky ran for the car, slammed the door and started the engine to drive the Buick over to the end cabin.

'Shit, it's like the forgotten country' he muttered as he peered through the waterlogged windshield.

'I guess they don't get a lot of out of towners' Hutch agreed.

'Out of towners? She wouldn't have turned a hair if we'd said we were Martians come to perform experiments on the townsfolk. This place gives me the creeps.'

'It's a small town. Everyone probably knows everyone else and they...'

'They all marry their sisters or cousins and have babies with three heads. I've seen the films. There was this one I saw with Bela Lugosi. He had...'

'Shudup Starsk. It's a small town and we're gonna be here one night. Park up, let's dry off and go find Hanks Bar. If nothin' else, I need a beer.'

The cabin looked as unprepossessing on the inside as it did on the outside. There were two beds covered in slightly greyed sheets, a threadbare blue carpet, a lamp with no bulb and a small cane chair. The bathroom yielded a tub with a shower above but no shower curtain, a toilet and a wash hand basin. One small towel hung on the towel rail. All the fixtures were cracked porcelain and in need of a pint of bleach. Starsky dropped his overnight bag onto he chair and looked around.

'Could be worse.'

'Yeah? How? This place is filthy. Even the 'roaches are washin' their hands' Hutch grunted.

'You said it's only for one night. Where's your sense of adventure?'

'Gone. It took off when it saw the bride of Frankenstein at reception.'

Starsky sighed. 'Wanna eat?'

'If it puts off the evil moment when I have to get between those sheets, yeah.'

'Great. C'mon, the delights of Hank's Bar await.'

The walk down the main street reminded Starsky of "Gunfight at the OK Corral" where the good guys walked down the street to meet he bad guys. Apart from the weather being atrocious and the two cops having to fight against the howling wind and driving rain, the main street was empty, although Hutch felt as though curtains were twitching and their passing by was being noted by unseen eyes. It was like a ghost town. No people, no cars and not even a dog to show that anyone lived there. By the time they came to the door with the cracked sign above it proclaiming "Hanks Place" both men were weirded out and in need of a good stiff drink.

Inside the bar was much the same as inside any bar they'd been in. The warm, fuggy smell of beer hit them as Starsky and Hutch walked into the large room but as they made their way to the bar, the conversation from the twenty or so men gathered around drinking stopped and all eyes followed the strangers. Ignoring the feeling that they were most definitely the outsiders, Starsky leaned against the bar and smiled at the waitress.

'Two beers and the menu?'

The girl behind the bar smiled at the handsome cops and seemed to be reaching under the bar for something when a large man with buck teeth and a comb over pushed her out of the way.

'No food tonight. Cooks sick.' He intoned.

Hutch looked around at the tables closer to the bar. A couple of the occupants had plates of food in front of them. 'We'll have what they're having' the blond said easily.

'None left.'

'You got anything?' Starsky asked. His stomach had been rumbling for the past hour and it took a brave man to come between a hungry Starsky and a plate of food.

'Pretzels.'

The cops looked at the dish of salty bites on the bar. They were the sort of free nibbles that most bars had. Salty enough to encourage an extra pint out of the customers, but cheap enough that the bartender could afford to refill the dish countless times. Starsky reached for the dish and was about to take a pretzel.

'$3.50 for the dish' the bartender said tonelessly.

'Huh?'

'$3.50 for the dish.'

'For these? There's no more'n ten in the dish.'

'$3.50' the bartender repeated, his eyes challenging the brunet to say anything else. Starsky opened his mouth but was cut off by his partner.

'Give the man the $3.50 Starsk.'

The angry brunet turned. 'But he's...'

'Just give the man the... Here' Hutch fished in his pocket and brought out a $5 bill. He put it on the bar top and the bartender took it and put it in the cash drawer. He didn't proffer any change and once again Starsky started to say something. Hutch elbowed hs partner in the ribs, grabbed the dish of costly pretzels and hauled Starsky over to a vacant table.

'Enjoy' the blond grunted, placing the bowl in front of his buddy. 'And eat 'em slow. At that prize they've gotta be the best damned pretzels in the country.'