Okay, so maybe that's not how I intended to make my point. And now I have one pissed off partner on my hands. The lessons learned from that frightening day when he almost died, well did die technically, were many, but one that I didn't learn from that day was how to keep my partner from getting mad when I challenged his judgment. Sometimes I question whether I really could be the brains of any outfit.
Starsky's a good cop and his instincts are amazing. He's the reason I'm alive today and I trust him more than anyone. He always has my welfare at the top of his priority list. I am so grateful that he is my friend, my partner. He is the best person I know and I cannot imagine life without him. So the choice he made on this encounter today was perplexing. And the case wasn't even started yet. His reaction was inappropriate in my book, not smart; I sometimes have to learn the hard way just how smart my partner really is.
We had been asked by Captain Dobey to take over an investigation that had been started by some detectives over in Vice. A sting they had been working for months went bad and started a cascade of events that ultimately resulted in some dead bodies stumbled upon by some vagrants in an unused warehouse down by the old docks off Pacifica Boulevard. These docks were no longer used by any shipping fleets, the more modern facilities up the coast having taken all the business away from the area. Many of the warehouses were totally abandoned. Some still had legitimate storage operations going on. But most were housing some sort of illegal activity, be it storage of drugs, arms or other illicit goods. There was also a fair amount of homeless people making use of these buildings. Finding two dead bodies amongst the clusters of warehouses down there was not surprising.
"You say that both these guys were expected to show the night you planned your big bust?" Starsky asked Detective Donohue, the lead investigator from Vice on the Kohlman investigation. "You're sure these are the guys?"
Donohue looked with disdain at my partner. "Starsky, I've been at this a little longer than you have. I think I can recognize two players in an operation I've been working for seven months." The venom coming from Donohue's entire demeanor was hard for anyone to miss.
"Hey, look, I just wanna make sure we got the right understanding here. We're gonna be taking over this as a homicide, Donohue. We gotta make sure we're gettin' all the info we can from you. Cross-departmental courtesy, you know what I mean?" Starsky was trying his best to remain calm and professional, which only served to further agitate the already steaming vice detective.
"Right, Starsky, whatever you say. Look, here's the background. Mitchell, that's Joseph Mitchell, the tall, thin rail over there, was a long time runner for Kohlman's operations. He would take stuff in assorted pleasure craft back and forth from Mexico and make drop offs all up the southern California coast. The other one, the big black one, was muscle for the organization, Arthur Morton. They were rarely seen together throughout the course of our surveillance. It's a little disconcerting and confusing how they both ended up here dead. Can't give you anything on that." Donohue stopped, looking at Starsky and me like he was waiting for questions. I didn't think he had provided quite enough information to be finished even a passing briefing on these two.
"Is that all you got?" Starsky asked, incredulous. Uh oh, I thought. That's a tactical error if ever there was one. Starsky was already rubbing this guy the wrong way. He must have sensed that. I decided to jump in.
"Why don't we stop by the precinct and pick up the file on these guys later?" I asked, taking Donohue's attention away from my partner. "After we go through the file, if we have any questions, we'll get back to you."
Donohue was happy to accept the offer. Vice never liked it when they had to turn anything over to another department. They seemed to think that we would not be able to maintain the proper level of covertness to keep their investigation under wraps. Starsky and I could never figure out what it was about these guys. Did they really think that we would do anything purposefully that might jeopardize a case or a fellow officer?
We finished our work at the site and left the crime scene folks to do their thing. Starsky and I headed for the car. "Why'd you let Donohue off the hook?" Starsky asked, his expression quizzical and his attitude nothing short of angry.
"Starsk, we can't afford to have Donohue or anyone else from Vice ticked off at us right now. They have information we need. We don't wanna be starting from scratch here and it's in our best interest to stay on good terms with these guys." I didn't know where he was coming from with this attitude.
"What're you saying? Do you think I said something to piss him off?"
"Well, pal, how about 'Is that all you got?' Not exactly Dale Carnegie, my friend." Starsky looked at me like I just grew two heads.
"You're nuts! I wasn't sayin' anything you weren't thinkin'." My partner responded pointedly.
"Yeah, but I WAS thinking, so I didn't say it." Well, there it was. Was I thinking just then? Not really. I just had to push it. Couldn't just let it go. All we had to do was get in the car and drive back to headquarters and pick up the files. We'd get our information without having to spend more time with that bonehead Donohue and we could have finished work and headed over to Huggy's for some dinner and pool and some cold, frosty ones. Now, I was lucky if I got a ride home from my partner.
Starsky looked like he wanted to say something to me. He was shaking his head, but just barely, and he looked like he was having a conversation in his head about what to do, or say next. But I could tell he was holding back. Starsk is not the least bit mean-spirited, and saying ugly things is not in his nature. I was expecting a tongue lashing anyway, but all I got was, "You ready to call it a day?"
I have to admit that I didn't like this one bit. Now I was going to have to deal not only with a pissed off partner, but with one who was going to let this stew for a while. I would rather just get this argument over with and move on. Our relationship went through such a difficult time before Starsky was shot, during the whole Kira fiasco, that we found out the hard way that the best thing for our relationship was to be honest with each other. I know Starsky had something to say, but he seemed more inclined to keep it to himself for now. I didn't want to push him, so I decided to see where he wanted to take this moment.
"Sure, shall we head over to Huggy's?" I asked. I think I seemed calm, although my stomach was doing flips.
"Yeah, just for a brew or two. I'm a little tired, and we got a lot of work tomorrow if we want to make headway on these murders."
That was probably better than I could have hoped for. Starsky was not so mad at me that he didn't want to spend time with me. "Good, let's head over."
The silence in the car was overwhelming. I had to get my friend to talk about this. I did not want to go back to the way it was between us before. We had come too far in our relationship for that.
"Starsk, I wanted to say something about my comment earlier today." Starsky was driving and looking straight ahead, but I could see his jaw tighten.
"Which comment was that, Hutch?" There was little doubt that the earlier encounter had been weighing on Starsky, based on his cold response. It was a calculated response and it definitely put me off a bit.
"Well, I think you know." I didn't want to postpone discussing this and clearly Starsky had been steaming about this all afternoon. I think maybe I wanted Starsky to start the discussion so that I wouldn't have to say the words again.
"I think you'll have to refresh my memory. I've had a busy day, ya know. Had a lot of conversations, heard a lot of comments." Now he was just toying with me, which I took as a good sign.
"Fine. You're gonna make me say it, aren't you? You know, when I told you that you weren't thinking. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."
"Okay. Exactly what did you mean by it then?" Starsky didn't seem mad at this point; he just seemed to be looking for some understanding of where the comment came from.
"Sometimes you speak before you think. We all do it occasionally, and that's all that I meant by it. I don't want you to think that I think you're not thinking. That's not how I feel." I had a hunch this wasn't turning out so well. And the smirk on Starsky's face just reinforced my hunch.
"That's gotta be one of the dumbest explanations I've heard from you Hutch. I think I know why you said it. And you know, partner, we should be honest with each other. It's always worked out best for us to just say what we feel." Like I said before, Starsky has great instincts, so I decided to let him go ahead and explain why he thinks I said it.
"At some level, you really do feel that I don't think. You believe everything I do is from my gut. That I feel more than I think. And you trust my feelings more that you trust my thoughts." David Starsky, with his PhD in street smarts, just got to the crux of the issue, and sounded like his PhD was more likely in psychology. He was right, even though I hated to admit it. And I knew if I admitted to that right then that I would be hurting the feelings of the one person whose opinion means more to me than anyone else's. The one person whose feelings I never wanted to hurt ever again. I was beginning to feel a little panicked. How was I going to respond to this?
Starsky pulled up to park just down from the entrance to Huggy's. I think I bought myself some time, as Starsky grabbed his keys and said, "Let's go in and finish this over a beer." He seemed in better spirits, just being able to get his feelings out, and I had a few more minutes to think about how I would respond to his insight.
We went to the bar and ordered our beers, and said hello to Huggy and we gabbed for a while, but I couldn't tell you now what we spoke about. I was so focused on what I was going to say to Starsky, I don't even remember the beginning of our pool game. Apparently we also decided to order food, even though Starsky had said earlier that he just wanted to go in for a drink. I felt numb all over with worry about not hurting my partner. Leave it to my partner to let me off the hook.
"Earth to Hutch, Earth to Hutch, come in Hutch." Starsky said in his best static muffled voice. The technique was something we'd honed over the years whenever we needed to slip out of a conversation with HQ. I came to, and started to explain myself, even though I still didn't know what I was going to say.
"Hutch, I know what you're doin'. And you can quit it." Starsky was smiling that great Starsky smile that melted women's hearts and warmed mine. There was nothing better than being on the receiving end of that look.
"What I'm doing, Starsk, is having a beer and playing a game of pool. What's it look like I'm doing?"
"That may be what you're doing physically, but mentally you're beating yourself up about what you said earlier. You really need to stop doing that. I got over it a while ago. You don't think I'd let something like that ruin a perfectly good night out, do ya?" My partner. I think I'll keep him.
"Oh, by the way Hutch, you did know that Donohue and I went to high school together, right. Played sports, dated the same girls, had a lot of laughs. Thought that might help you understand where I was comin' from today." He had that look on his face that screamed "Gotcha!" He'll pay for that. But probably not tonight. It looked like we were back on track and I wanted to enjoy the evening. He was right when he said earlier that we were going to be working hard tomorrow to get a jump-start on cracking this case. We'll just call this the 'last hurrah', the last time we'd have a chance to relax until we solved the mystery of those two dead bodies.
"Hutch, what're ya doin' here? I'm drivin'. I'm not riding around in that heap today. It's gonna be the hottest day of the year and you think your car's gonna make it through the day? I'm not gonna be stuck in the heat waitin' for a tow because of this piece of…."
"Uh, Starsk, did you forget that you're following me to my new mechanic and we're dropping my car off for service?" Starsky must have lost some brain cells from drinking last night. His one or two beers turned into quite the series of drinks, especially after we met up with some lovely ladies to extend our night out into the wee hours of the morning.
"Oh," he said, the light bulb above his head finally coming on . Yeah, I guess I forgot. Let's get goin' then." He practically bounced to the Torino. How can someone who drank so much be in such a good mood?
"Starsk, are you on something? You seem a little too chipper this morning after the night you had."
"Hutch, I think you're thinkin' of someone else. It was a tall blonde detective that was drinking like a fish last night." Well, I wasn't trying to say that I didn't imbibe myself, but I swore Starsky kept up with me. Maybe I was more out of it than I thought. I'm certainly not feeling like bouncing around like Tigger over there.
"Hutch, let's get rollin'." Ugh, it was going to be a helluva day.
We dropped my car at the mechanic, not without a concerted effort on Starsky's part to talk me out of this place and to take the car to Merl's. His argument would never sway me in my determination to keep all fake or real fur out of my car. And although Starsky swears by him as a mechanic and wouldn't let anyone else touch his car, I wouldn't allow the man to touch my car again if you paid me. I was in the passenger seat of the tomato before Starsky could finish his argument.
"Fine. Just don't come cryin' to me when you can't get that two ton pile of metal to start." Starsky was nothing if not persistent.
"Okay. Can we get a move on to the precinct, please? We need to start going through the files vice gave us. There must be something there that can get us started." I was not feeling very good about this case and wanted to move on any leads the files might provide.
"Yeah, we should also have the preliminary autopsy reports available sometime this morning. Hopefully we can get something from that, too." I knew Starsky would offer to head down to the coroner's office. He was trying to get the new assistant down there to go out with him.
"I really think that you're not Jenny's type, Starsk." It's always fun to get my partner started, and I still owed him for the Donohue thing.
"Her name is Janey, and I don't know what you mean. She's 'this close' to goin' out with me." Starsky placed his thumb and pointer finger together to emphasize his point.
"I don't know Starsk, it seems to me that it's taking her a while to get the Starsky Charm."
"I'm an acquired taste." I chuckled. My partner was something else.
We dove into the files. We found one thing in the file that was curious: two current addresses for Morton. The information about the addresses was disbursed throughout the file, but both appeared to be fairly current. It seemed that the vice guys either didn't pick up on that or didn't find this to be important to their investigation. Although the two dead guys were expected at the failed bust, they were not big potatoes by any stretch. We went to check out both listed addresses for Morton and also paid a visit to Mitchell's house.
The visit to the first Morton house proved futile. And after seeing the second Morton house, Starsky and I figured we understood some of what was going on.
"So this guy is playing both sides of somethin'." Starsky said as we got back in the car. "Something has to be funding that house, and I don't think it's his regular job as Kohlman's muscle."
"Yeah, but there's still nothing in there that points at all to any obvious illegal activity and certainly nothing to answer why these guys were murdered." We had one more visit to make, Mitchell's house, and then we were going to head to check out their employers of record. They both had, according to the files from vice, 'legitimate' jobs they used as a cover for their work as runner and muscle for Kohlman.
We arrived at Mitchell's house and were disturbed to see the front door wide open. We approached the front of the house, and made our regular entrance into the building, Starsky going low, me high. We found nothing in the living room and proceeded to check out the rest of the house. Starsky checked out the back rooms downstairs and the kitchen, while I headed upstairs.
My checks of the first two bedrooms were uneventful and I headed into the third bedroom. I was coming up on the closet and just as I reached for the doorknob, the door crashed open, knocking my gun from my hand and knocking my head. Hard. I'm pretty sure someone flew past me at that point, but my vision was definitely not good for a moment, and I was seeing stars. I shook my head to try to clear it, which provided mixed results. I could see better, but now I felt like the room was spinning. I had to get a grip, because I didn't want whomever it was to surprise my partner. I was unfortunately too late, because I heard what sounded like a couple of bodies tumbling down the stairs. I yelled for my partner, grabbed my gun and ran to see what happened.
I gripped hard on the railing as I made my way down the stairs. There was a bundle of arms and legs at the bottom of the stairs fighting to separate. The person who was almost successful in knocking me out was now fighting a losing battle with my partner to get away. Starsky is fast and slippery in a fight and his opponent here was pretty quickly subdued, and ending up with Starsky's knee jammed into his back while my partner was efficiently getting the handcuffs on. I reached the last step and noticed that Starsky was favoring his right hand.
"Hey, you caught the guy." Starsky, panting, looked up at me and immediately jumped up and eased me down on the step.
"Hey, you're not lookin' so good there, partner." He was obviously hurting, but immediately put his own injury on hold to look after me. "He got ya' good, didn't he?"
"Yeah, using a closet door as a weapon." I was feeling better already. It felt good to know that this wasn't something I had to worry my partner about. I was more concerned with they way he was holding his hand.
"What's wrong with your hand?" I asked.
"Ah, the creep fell on it after he charged into me on the stairs. We both took a header and my hand was in the wrong place. It hurts like hell, might be broken. Shit." Starsky was really looking like he was going to pass out. It was obviously hurting badly.
"Okay, partner. Stay with this guy and I'm going to call for backup. I exchanged places with Starsky, making sure he was sitting before I left and called in for backup.
I went back in and turned the guy that Starsky had cuffed face up. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" I demanded, anger from my partner's injury mixing with the natural high of a potential dangerous situation avoided. "What's your name and what's your business here?"
"Bite me!" This was not going to be easy. My prediction about a helluva a day was coming true.
The guy seemed no more than seventeen or eighteen years old. He was certainly old enough to be tried as an adult should it come to that. At minimum, some of the charges would include breaking and entering and resisting arrest, both of which could get him jail time.
"Look, kid. We just want to know what you're doing here. I'm Detective Hutchinson and the guy you knocked down the stairs is Detective Starsky. We're out of Metro Division. Now, you do have options, here. Your best bet is to simply tell us who you are and why you're here. At worst, we take you in and book you on breaking and entering and resisting arrest. What's it gonna be?"
"I…I wasn't breaking in. M…Mr. Mitchell was lettin' me stay here in one of the rooms upstairs." The kid seemed real scared. Smart kid.
"What can you tell us about Mr. Mitchell?" Starsky asked, a little subdued. We needed to wrap this up for now so we could get Starsky's hand looked at.
"He w…was a s…security guard over at Lincoln Industrial Supply. He worked the n…night shift. I hardly ever saw him."
"How did you know Mr. Mitchell?" I asked. This ping-pong technique that we used often distracted the perps into telling us more than they would have without the back and forth. It sort of knocked the equilibrium right out from under them.
"I work part time at Lincoln delivering mail, sometimes I drive packages across town to their warehouse." This was getting interesting.
"Where is this warehouse?" Starsky asked, still holding his right hand in his left, both resting in his lap.
"Warehouse 19, off Pacifica." Starsky and I looked at each other.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Wes Andrews," he replied.
"Do you have any ID on you?" I asked.
"Yeah, in my wallet in my back pocket." I took the wallet out of his pocket and checked it out. According to the license, he had just turned 19. The address didn't match Mitchell's though.
"What's this address?" I asked, wondering what this kid's story was.
"My parents. I haven't lived with them for over a year. What's goin' on? Are you gonna arrest me?" The kid seemed scared, not because he'd done anything wrong, but because he thought he was going to jail. It's an important distinction when dealing with suspects. If they've got something to hide, or are feeling guilty about something, they tend to act more nervous than scared.
"Why did you tear outta here like you did?" Starsky asked.
"I thought you guys were here to rob Mr. Mitchell. I wanted to get out 'cause I didn't know what else you might do." This seemed plausible, but I got the feeling there was something else he wanted to tell us.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. Mitchell?" Starsky asked the kid. He also sensed that there was something not being said.
"Um, uh, no." Okay, we weren't finished here, but the uniforms had arrived and we decided that we would finish this interrogation down at headquarters, and after I took Starsky to the emergency room.
We walked to the car and I opened the passenger-side door for my partner. He looked at me and asked, "Are you okay to drive? We can probably call in and get someone to come pick us up and drive my car back to the precinct."
I grabbed Starsky's left arm and squeezed him affectionately. "I'm fine. Get in, I'll close the door behind you." He carefully got in the car and we were soon off to the ER.
We were practically escorted through the ER to an examining room. Starsky was in the hospital for so long after the Gunther shooting that he became a minor celebrity, especially once it was certain that he would recover well enough to at least be able to live a fairly normal life. There were still no guarantees at that point that he would make it back to the force, but the hospital personnel had adopted Starsky as one of their great miracle recoveries. Everyone always made a special effort now whenever we came in for even the most minor cuts and scrapes.
"David, Ken, nice to see you. I'd rather see you in the mall or someplace other than here." Evelyn Cooper was one of the trauma nurses who worked on Starsky that day. "What have you done there, David."
"Some guy knocked him down some stairs and then had the nerve to fall on his hand," I answered for my partner.
Starsky looked at Evelyn and then rolled his eyes. She laughed and took Starsky's hand, gently feeling it for breaks. She said, "I don't think anything's broken, but we'll have the doctor take a look and he'll probably want to take some x-rays. Just lay back here and the doctor will see you in just a few minutes." Starsky laid back and shut his eyes. He looked tired.
The doctor came in about ten minutes later. He asked me to wait outside, but Starsky asked if it would be okay if I stayed. This was a fairly new ER doctor who had not been subjected to our unique ways. He looked over to Evelyn, who appeared to nod slightly her assent, which the good doc followed. He was fine with it so long as I stayed out of the way.
Even though we told him that the injury was to Starsky's hand, the doc insisted on doing a full check on my partner. He had Starsky undress while he went to check on test results that had just come back for another patient. As I helped Starsky out of his clothes and into the gown, I noticed a bruise on his lower chest.
"Hey, Starsk, are you feeling sore around your chest? You have a bruise."
"Where?" He seemed genuinely surprised, so I thought he must not be in pain.
"Right here." I reached out and touched the bruised area, and Starsky winced and pulled back a little.
"I guess it does hurt, at least when you touch it like that. I haven't been feeling too good since I got crushed in the fall, but I thought it was just the pain in my hand and just getting tired from our late night last night." He wiggled his eyes like Groucho Marx. It was good that he was still feeling up to joking.
The doctor came back and gave Starsky a thorough once-over. He ordered x-rays for his chest and hand and left again to work on other patients. I left Starsky to rest while I called in to Dobey.
"Hutchinson, how's Starsky? Norman and Johnson said he hurt his hand when you were trying to subdue a perp. And when will you be back here to finish up with Andrews?"
"We're going to be a little while longer here, Cap. Starsky may also have cracked or at least bruised a rib or two in the fall. We're waiting on x-rays. Shouldn't be too much longer. I think we'll probably be back within the next two hours." Close enough to the end of the day to head out, but knowing my partner, he would want to finish up with the kid and make a decision about keeping him just today rather than take advantage of our right to hold him twenty four hours without charging him. He wouldn't want to keep the kid in lock-up if he shouldn't be there.
"Okay. See you in a while. Tell Starsky I hope he's feeling better."
"Thanks, Cap."
The doc came back with mixed news. Starsky had suffered some severely bruised ribs and would ache from that for a few days at least. His hand sustained two injuries. His thumb had been dislocated and the wrist badly sprained. The doctor said Starsky was very lucky that the suspect landed at the angle he did. Just a few degrees to the left and Starsky's wrist would have snapped. Just the description seemed to leave Starsky a little queasy. It didn't do much for me, either.
The doc came over and explained that he would have to reset Starsky's thumb. Apparently it was the dislocated thumb that was causing most of the pain. Unfortunately, the doc was going to have to cause some more pain, however momentary it might be. He explained that it would feel similar to the way it feels when someone resets your shoulder when it becomes dislocated. We had both been through that before. Then the doctor said it would be a little more painful because it would feel like his nerve endings were shooting sharp pains up his arm. It would be painful, but just briefly.
The doctor asked Starsky if he was ready. I sat down next to my partner and said, "Grab my arm." He grabbed my left forearm tightly with his left hand, and I pressed my right hand on his shoulder. "Ready?" I asked, looking him in the eye.
"Yeah, let's get it over with. We got work to do."
The doctor reset the thumb, and Starsky grabbed tighter to my arm. Starsky's an amazingly strong guy and my arm was starting to feel the pain.
"Okay, all done. Feel any better?" The doctor asked.
"Yeah, a little." Starsky was sweating now, but seemed to be relieved that this part was over.
"It'll feel even better in a few minutes. We're going to give you a brace to wear on your wrist. You should keep it on for the next week, except when you're showering, but especially when you're working or sleeping. It's easier to remember to just keep it on unless you're bathing. I'm also going to give you a prescription for pain, actually two, since I now have some background on you guys. One prescription is for at night, which has a slight sedative effect as well. The other one is just a higher dosage of ibuprofen. It'll help with swelling and pain and it won't make you drowsy. Please take them. They will make you feel better."
"Thanks, doc. When can I take my partner out of here?" I knew Starsky was getting antsy and I wanted to get him out of there are soon as possible.
"We're waiting for the brace to come up from supply. I'll get started on the discharge paperwork. By the time the brace gets here, you'll be free to go." The doctor reached out to Starsky to shake his hand. He took Starsky's hand gingerly, but affectionately. "It was good to meet you, Detective."
"Thanks. Nice to meet you. And thanks for this." He raised his right hand to the doc.
We headed back to Metro. We needed to finish up with Andrews, and then we could call it a day. I was definitely feeling ready for some sleep; I'm sure Starsky was right behind me.
We had Andrews brought in to an interrogation room.
"Am I under arrest?" It seemed a few hours in a holding cell really spooked the kid. "'Cause I didn't do anything. I mean, I seen some stuff, but I never did nothin'."
"What do you mean you saw stuff? What did you see?" Starsky asked quietly. He softened his voice to try to calm the kid down.
"The other night, uh night before last, I was down at the warehouse…."
"The Lincoln warehouse, warehouse 19?" I interrupted.
"No, Lincoln's warehouse is 17. I heard Mr. Mitchell talking to some other guys. He was getting real, um, angry-like, and he started threatening one of the guys. A big black guy. I think his name was Morty."
"Would you be able to recognize this guy in a line-up or in a picture?" The kid didn't know the guy he was describing was dead and it seemed to be working better not to tell him yet.
"Uh, yeah, probably. Anyway, Mr. Mitchell was yelling at this Morty guy and then some other guys started in the argument, too. One of 'em was the boss."
"The boss?" asked Starsky.
"Yeah, Mr. Kohlman. He started sayin' that he knew Mr. Mitchell had been stealin' from him and that Morty was helping him sell the stuff."
"What stuff, Wes?" I asked, trying to stay calm and keep his confidence.
"Well, they said coke and horse, but I didn't think he would get much money selling soda, but I guess he could do better sellin' horses." I looked at Starsky. Is this kid that naïve, or is he just slow. Or is he pulling one on us. I didn't think it was the last. He still seemed too genuinely scared to be pulling a fast one on us.
"What else did you see?" It was like we were being fed our case on a silver platter. All we would have to do is put a pretty bow on it and hand it over to the D.A. Of course, there was the necessity now to try to protect this kid so that he would still be available to testify.
"That was all I saw at first. But I heard Mr. Kohlman say, gimme that. I wanna do this myself. Then Mr. Kohlman walked over to Mr. Mitchell and shot him. Then he turned and shot Morty." The kid started to cry. "Mr. Mitchell was always so nice to me. Do you think I'll be able to stay in Mr. Mitchell's house now?"
"We'll make sure you have a place to stay, kid." Starsky said, rubbing the kid's hair.
I arranged for protective custody for the kid and we called it a day. We would need to go over his statement again in the morning, arrange to talk with Donohue in vice and the D.A. and arrange for a psychiatrist to make an evaluation of this kid. But that could all wait until tomorrow.
We finished briefing Dobey. Starsky was just about falling asleep in the chair in Dobey's office.
"Hutchinson, get your partner the hell out of here." I jumped up and tapped Starsky on the shoulder. He woke up and promptly knocked his right hand against the desk as he got up.
"Ah, fu…shit!" Starsky was awake enough now to realize where he was. But slamming his hand on the desk had to start his hand throbbing.
"Let's go, klutz," I said to my best friend.
"You got nerve," he quickly replied.
We walked out to the car and Starsky headed for the passenger side again. I followed him, knowing that he was unable to pull the car door shut with his injured hand, especially after the whack he just took in Dobey's office.
"You wanna go to your place or mine?" I asked.
"I think mine. I'm gonna need a big bed so I don't slam my hand again. You know, you're right, I am a dummy." Starsky smiled at me.
"No you're not. You weren't awake. It could happen to anyone. You know, you could have my bed, and my sofa's a lot more comfortable than yours."
"You don't have to stay with me. I don't need a babysitter, Hutch. It's just a sprained hand."
"Well, it's not just a sprained hand. It's also bruised ribs, and you know you have to be careful with them, too." I was seeing the beginnings of that resigned look that I knew so well, starting to form on my partners face.
"Hutch, if it'll make ya feel better, then I'll stay at your place tonight. Satisfied?" Starsky was really getting good at condescending, friendly though it was.
We arrived at Venice Place and walked tiredly into my house. Starsky practically fell down on the sofa, he was so exhausted. I was only degrees behind him in the exhaustion department. I heaved him up, pulling on his left arm and told him, "To bed, young man."
"You're a goof," Starsky replied, heading to the bathroom. I made up the sofa while Starsky finished up in the john, and then I took my turn. By the time I finished up, I came out and found Starsky in bed.
I felt in his jacket pocket for the "night-time" pills, and took two of them with a glass of water to my partner. I knew he was too tired to remember to take them. I sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey, Starsk, wake up a minute." He groaned, and peeked out his very droopy eyelids. "Come on, take these, they'll help you sleep and take some of the edge off.
He took them then lay back down and said, "Thanks. Goodnight, Hutch." He was asleep almost before he finished saying my name.
It was good to have him near. This wasn't a big scare, when it's measured against some of the other life or death situations we've faced. But it was a stressful day, and I was glad to be able to finish it up with my partner. And we'd start it up again tomorrow to try to tie up the loose ends on this case.