To all my friends out there - a very Merry Christmas and a happy, healthy and prosperous New Year. May I take this opportunity to thank you all for your support, reviews and continued reading over the past 12 months. I love to write, but the feedback is what keeps me going!
A special note to Nelleke, Angie and especially my biggest critic and friend Brook You three have been with me right from the start and I value your friendship so much.
Ok, as Starsky would say, enough of the schmalz! You know the drill. I don't own 'em, damned if I don't make any money from 'em, but they are so cool to play with!
Chapter 1
'How long was Durniak with them?'
'Maybe 24 or 48 hours.'
'Enough time then. Why didn't you carry out my orders?'
'I'm sorry Mr Da Luca Sir. I thought we had it covered. We took out Durniak.'
'Not soon enough.'
'It always takes a while Sir. We had to pick a place.'
'And when is Joseph's funeral?'
'Tomorrow. A lot of the Dons will be there, and a lot of the cops too. They're expecting trouble.'
'They always expect trouble, but we won't give them any. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow we bury one of our own; one of our family. I want this to be civilised, do you understand?'
'Of course, Mr Da Luca, but won't the cops be sniffing around some?'
'Let them. They're idiots. They have no more than one brain cell between the whole police department. I want us to show them just how pleasant we can be. We give a show of solidarity Mr Lake. We show them how we are grieving for one of our fallen dead. We attend the funeral and we stand at the graveside and we look solemn, as Joseph Durniak would have wanted. Never forget Mr Lake, that he was a powerful man with a big territory – one that is now mine for the taking.'
'I won't forget that Mr Da Luca. Who um…..who will be running Brooklyn for you, after this has all dies down?'
'Are you looking for another job Mr Lake?'
'Well I….'
'Let me see how well you handle this and then we may talk again. Do well Mr Lake. Be thorough, but that doesn't stop you being, shall we say, inventive. If all goes well we will talk again afterwards and maybe pick you out a nice big house overlooking the ocean and the bridge.'
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'Why black? I mean it's so damned depressing.' Starsky sighed deeply at his reflection in the mirror as he wrestled with the black tie adorning his neck.
'I didn't think funerals were meant to be fun occasions. Is this one different? C'm'ere, let me see that.' Hutch tutted as the brunet fiddled with the tie. He slapped Starsky's hands down and competently tied the knot, straightening and centring it before tidying the collar of the white shirt.
'Should've been done earlier for a start. He should've been buried as quick as possible. K'vod hamet….. Fuck I'm getting' to sound like Rabbi Greenberg from back home. Basically to honour the dead they should be buried as soon as possible after death, and no, it aint any different. There's no prescription for livin' as a Jew and there's nothing cast iron about dyin' as one. It's just…..'
Hutch saw a flicker of pain cross his partner's face and looked away, giving the smaller man a little privacy. 'I know' he said softly.
'He was close to the family. Closer than I would've liked. Hell, after Dad died he almost felt like family. Too close to my Mom after Dad was killed. It's like losing an uncle. Don't get me wrong. I hate everything he stood for and yet he was still a likeable guy.'
'You said he paid for your Dad's funeral.'
Starsky snickered. 'Yeah. How about that? And the bastards that took him out are still roamin' the streets.'
'Terry took him out Starsk.'
'You know what I mean. Sure, Terry pulled the trigger, but that wasn't him, was it? The flakes who brainwashed Terry are the ones who're to blame and they're still out there. It's like I said, they've got off scoti free. What gives 'em the right to fuck up innocent peoples lives huh?
Hutch shook his head. 'We've been over this Starsk. Some we win and some we lose. We chalk this one up to experience and move on.'
Starsky scowled and his eyes pierced Hutch's almost painfully. 'You really believe that crap?'
The blond shouldered into his black jacket. 'No, but it sounded good an' it's better than tilting at windmills.'
'Huh?'
'Don Quixote…..tilting at….. Starsk didn't you ever read a book in your life?'
'Yeah, Mrs Otter in first grade read Red Reader One with me. Crap story but her legs…..!'
'Philistine. C'mon, we'll be late.'
Starsky too pulled on the black jacket to his one and only suit. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, not only because of the clothes and his face fell as he followed Hutch out of the door and down the steps to his car. Somehow it seemed sacrilege to turn up to Joe's funeral in the bright red striped tomato, but the only other choice was Hutch's battered, rusted LTD, and that was even worse.
The two men sat quietly as Starsky pulled out and drove along the road, hanging a right at the end of the street so that he could follow the road out to the ramp for the freeway. The cemetery chosen for Durniak's funeral was on the south side of town. The body could have been flown back to New York, but Durniak's family had decided to have the head of the family buried in Bay City to save any further delays after the Coroner had done his thing. The fact that the Coroner was involved beggared belief. He had a whole in his chest for god's sake. He was shot and killed. A six year old could have worked that one out! And yet procedure had to be followed and Durniak's body had been cold for a week now.
The funeral was going to be a big affair and half the uniforms from the 12th precinct had been drafted in as crowd control. Where the important gangs of the country were concerned, tensions ran high, even at a funeral. With Durniak's territory up for grabs, it would be the perfect time for one of the other Dons to make a move.
Starsky stared morosely out of the wind shield. His feelings about the funeral were mixed. Durniak had been an ever present figure in the brunet's younger life. Starsky senior seemed to have had a love hate relationship with the gangland boss, but that relationship had been founded on mutual respect. What rankled more than anything was that after his Dad's death, Durniak sniffed around Rachel Starsky like a dog sniffs around a butchers shop. Was Starsky supposed to be sad at the older man's death? Should he grieve as a man should grieve for a family member, or should he, as a cop, celebrate the fact that there was one less gangster on the streets of his town? Too many thoughts; too much confusion.
'You're quiet.' Hutch's voice burst the silence and Starsky jumped.
'Thinkin'.'
'Don't bust a blood vessel partner.'
'I was just thinkin' about my Dad……and my Mom.'
'You don't think your Mom and Durniak……you know, after your Dad died?'
The brunet shrugged. 'Who knows? He was there for us. He paid for the funeral and he paid for the rent on the house for months afterwards. Why would he do that? I never wanted to ask Mom, but now, I dunno.'
'Better not to open old wounds. Let it be Starsk. Every family has skeletons in the cupboard.'
'Well that's just gross. Why would anyone want a skeleton in the cupboard?'
'It's a figure of speech buddy, like….'
'Will you look at that ass?' Starsky interrupted and whistled.
'Not exactly, but. Oh, that ass!' Hutch followed his partner's eyes and up ahead, on the side of the road, a tall leggy blond was bending over the hood of her car, staring at the engine. Her legs disappeared into the shortest and tightest hot pants imaginable and her feet were encased in espadrilles heightening the effect of limbs that seemed endless. As the Torino drove towards her, she looked up, shrugged her shoulders and put out her hand. Starsky slowed his car.
'What're ya doin' buddy? We'll be late for the funeral. Remember what happened last time we helped a damsel in distress? We got portions of our anatomy severely singed' Hutch muttered.
'With the looks of those legs and that body, somehow I think Uncle Joey would approve if we were just a little late. We can have her car back on the road, and her phone number in my pocket quick as a flash and we'll still make the cemetery. Starsky's car pulled to a stop at the side of the road by the girl. She smiled at them and mouthed "thank you" as they both got out of the Torino. Starsky scampered around the hood and almost elbowed Hutch out of the way as he held out his hand to be shaken.
'Hi, can we do anything for you?' he asked breathlessly.
The woman looked him up and down and then examined Hutch in the same way.
'I should say so' she simpered.
'I mean the car. Can we help you with the car? Are you broken down?'
The blond woman seemed to snap herself away from her lustful thoughts. 'Oh! The car. Yeah. It just kinda died. I only just managed to steer over to the side of the road. I hurt my hand on the hood catch…..and I broke a nail' She showed the cops the offending digit and sucked seductively on her fingers to clear them of the few bloody drips.
Hutch tore his eyes away from the display and nodded. 'Died huh? We can fix that can't we Starsk? Have a look under the hood while I help Miss?....'
'Martin. Debbie Martin. But my Momma always told me to stay clear of strange men.'
'They don't come much stranger than him. But you're safe enough with me.'
'Uh huh. We're cops. Here, let me give you my card. It's got my number and um…..that's my home number on the back, just in case….' Starsky handed the business card to the woman whilst Hutch pushed him out of the way.
'Starsky will fix your car won't you Starsk? While I help Miss Martin get over her shock' Hutch finished, putting a proprietary arm around the woman and slipping his own card into her hand. Debbie took it, sighed at the smudge of blood she'd put on the cards from her finger and stowed them into her pocket. Starsky scowled and took off his jacket, handing it, or rather throwing it at Hutch.
'Fine' he muttered and buried himself amongst the hunk of metal. There was a general sound of fiddling and banging, one or two curses and then a yip of achievement. The brunet appeared from behind the hood with a smear of oil across his nose and a smile on his face.
'Trust the maestro' he crowed. 'Try it now.'
The woman detached herself from Hutch's protective arms and slid into the car behind the wheel, flashing considerable hectares of flesh. She turned the ignition key and smiled as the engine roared into life. 'You're so clever! How did you do that? I mean, I'd have been stuck out here for hours if you two wonderful men hadn't come along.'
'Yeah buddy, just how did you do that?' Hutch asked suspiciously.
'There was a loose connection. I fixed it so you should be fine now. I was just wondering Debbie…' Starsky rolled down his sleeves and walked around to the side of the car. '….if you um.'
Debbie smiled up at the handsome men, slammed the door closed and edged the car forwards. 'I'm sorry guy, I need to fly. Nice meeting ya'll, especially you, cutie pie.' The woman put her foot to the floor and the car moved away quickly, spraying the duo in a fine hail of gravel and dust.
Starsky snickered. 'C'mon Cutie Pie. We got a funeral to go to.'
'But we didn't even get her number' Hutch mumbled as they walked over to the Torino. Both men paused. Starsky put his hand on the roof of his car and a look crossed his face. 'I'm just gonna check' he said quietly.
Hutch nodded and both men squatted down so that they could check beneath the car. There was nothing obvious. No bombs, nothing ticking and with a self conscious snort Starsky got in and switched on the engine, albeit cautiously. Hutch followed and as the big car pulled out onto the road again, the cops let out a sigh of relief.
'See? She was just a girl with a nice ass and legs that went all the way up' the brunet grinned as he came off the freeway and joined the smaller road without having to pause for traffic. They motored on for a while in silence.
Finally Hutch snorted. 'This job is doin' nothing for my nerves. She was just a woman for god's sake. Just a woman in a broken down car and we treated her like some kind of criminal.'
'I never saw you drape your arm around Freddy the Nose's shoulders like that.'
'You know what I mean Starsk. We start to see the worst in everyone, even beautiful girls at the side of the road. The blond sighed. 'It's not healthy.'
'The girl or the side of the road?'
The blond sighed. 'You know what I mean. Have we time for a quick coffee? I need caffeine to get my head straight.'
Starsky flicked a look at his watch. 'Sure. We've even time for pie.'
'Starsky how can you eat at a time like this? I thought you were….. here buddy. The diner is there. I thought you were gonna pull over?'
'I'm tryin'.'
'What do you mean, your trying? Starsk?'
The brunet was frantically pumping the brake pedal and yet the big car was not slowing. In fact it was picking up speed down the hill as the diner flashed by on the left hand side.
'Starsky?'
'Brakes…..I don't have any' the brunet mumbled through gritted teeth.
'Mind the bend Starsk.'
'I've seen it.'
'Side road?'
'Taking it.'
'Are we slowing?'
'Uh uh.'
'Shit.'
Starsky did not reply. He was too busy wrestling with the Torino as is careered on down the hill. Houses flashed by and twice the brunet swerved to avoid parked cars. The road, mercifully, was quiet and sparsely residential. Down at the bottom of the hill there was a stand of trees and as the last of the houses whizzed past, Starsky realised that he had no other way to stop than to aim for something solid.
'Hutch, when I tell ya, I want you to jump, ok?' he shouted over the whine of the engine
'Not ok buddy. What're you gonna do?'
'Crash?'
'Over my dead body.'
'It's gonna be over both our dead bodies of you don't' jump Blondie. Go, now!'
'I'm not leaving…..Starsky….tree. STARSKYYYYYYY.'
The huge tree loomed into view. There was no escaping it; no way around it. Starsky continued pumping the brake pedal uselessly right up to the second when the Torino hit the tree. There was the sound of bark ripping from the trunk, the agonised squeal of metal against some thing almost as hard and then the engine died and there was silence,
In the quiet that followed the screaming of metal and wood, the wheels continued to turn on the upended car as though it were still on its way to Durniak's funeral.
