The faint aroma of performing seals
A missing scene from "Hutchinson for Murder One".
Starsky put the glass down in front of me and poured a slug of whiskey.
"Drink it," he said in that flat way he has when he is trying to keep his emotions at bay. Or when he is about to get a suspect to confess.
I tried to figure out which it was. He has that way of being so quiet...the lull before the storm.
I took the glass and drank mechanically; not even noticing the burn of the alcohol on the back of my throat, just trapped in that steady blue gaze.
I knew he was waiting for me to start; to try to tell him how the hell my ex-wife had ended up lying dead on the floor of my apartment with my gun still warm beside her.
Trouble is, I was wondering the same thing.
I'm not like Starsky; he flares up and explodes and then it's over. I smolder for hours and sometimes the explosion backfires on me. Starsky would never lift a hand against a woman – unless she attacked him first; but he knows about the fights I had with Van. I've told him all about it.
Our marriage was like that old song: 'the lovely loving and the hateful hates; the conversations with the flying plates'*; yea, right through to ' the hurtful sigh' and 'the blackened eye'!
He knows how much I came to hate her – but that I was still in love with her too.
He just said something; better get my head together here.
"What happened?"
I saw the way he'd looked at her body when he lifted the sheet that I threw over her, noting that she is wearing one of my shirts and not much else.
"She stayed the night." I said. I was embarrassed; like a kid whose parents came home early and caught him with the wrong kind of company.
Starsky raised an eyebrow and poured a little more booze into my glass. I hadn't even noticed I'd emptied it.
"I met her last night; she was scared…"
"Scared?"
"Yes, she said she had to go to the hospital for some tests and she was scared. She asked if she could stay with me."
"What kind of tests?"
I stared at him.
"She doesn't look like she was sick."
I felt like pointing out that she looked like she was dead but I know Starsky too well for that. He was trying to figure out why it was important for her to stay with me last night and not in a hotel.
"She said she was scared. Starsk, she hates…hated…hospitals and doctors and all that kind of stuff. I felt sorry for her. I..uh…uh…"
"She pushed the button didn't she? There she was, beautiful and back in your life and you couldn't resist."
"I slept on the couch." If you are my friend you'll believe me.
He grinned and pretended to wipe his nose with his finger; "I know that. But not all investigating officers will believe it. Tell me the rest of the story."
"We didn't talk much when we got back here. We had an argument at The Pits; she scratched me." I held up my hand to show him where Van's talons had torn my skin.
He winced. He knew as well as I did that the lab would put two and two together with the scratch on my hand. She made me bleed, they'll soon match the blood types when they take samples from her nails. I swallowed some more whiskey.
"We had a couple more drinks and talked a little. She said she was going to get rich soon. She came onto me a little but I was tired and so was she so we went to bed; Van in my bed and me on the couch."
I stopped; something bugged me and Starsky saw it. He did that little flick of his eyes 'go on' they said and yet most people wouldn't even know he'd moved his face.
"I didn't sleep too well and I had the feeling she was lying about something. Maybe I'm imagining it."
"Maybe."
"I woke her up when I was making coffee and she asked for a cup. She recited my whole routine; how I always used to start the day when we were together, take a cup of strong coffee…"
I should have known that would amuse him; my idea of strong coffee is what Starsky calls gnat's pee. He grinned and didn't say anything.
"..take a cup of strong coffee and then go for a run."
"And that's what you did this morning?"
"Yes. That's what I did. That's exactly what I did."
Starsky smiled and patted my arm.
"Did you notice anything, anyone, something, that didn't seem in place?"
I gulped the whiskey and tried to focus my mind. At first all I could think of was that I had jogged my usual blocks and seen the same people. I had alibis… at least I think I did.
"I guess someone saw you," he laughed, "in that track suit it would be hard to miss you!"
He was always teasing me about this track suit; I don't know what he has against green and gold. But then Starsky wears a pair of frayed cut-offs and a T-shirt if and when he indulges in any fitness activity. I managed a laugh too.
"Ok, let me think. I said hi to Perry."
"Perry?"
"Yes, he walks his dog every morning at the same time; we see each other most mornings."
"Anyone else?"
"I don't remember Starsk. I just don't remember; it's a routine, you know? I run, I see the same people, the same cars…" That was it; the thing that didn't fit.
"There was a car, Starsk."
"No kidding; at six thirty in the morning there were cars in LA – a world scoop!"
"No I mean a car that shouldn't have been there."
He sat up straight and looked at me with that quizzical twinkle in his eye. I could tell he didn't know whether to tease me a bit more or take it seriously. He took it seriously.
"What do you mean 'shouldn't have been there'?"
"Unfamiliar. You know how it is Starsky, the cars that are always parked in the same place at the same time; if one of them doesn't fit you see it." I caught his eye. "Even I see it!"
"I'm impressed. Ok, what kind of car?"
Now that is a challenge in the state of mind I'm in. Even at the best of times I rely on my car-nut partner to identify make model and year; I swear he could tell you which month some of the cars rolled off the line in Detroit if he had to. I concentrated.
"It was sedan, big and black; recent model I guess. Yes, recent model, which is probably why I noticed it in this neighborhood."
My car doesn't look out of place here but Starsky's striped tomato turns heads even now.
"I don't suppose you can be any more specific, like the make?"
"I think it was a Cadillac, …shit! Starsky I don't know. It was big black and new…and expensive looking. A car that didn't belong here overnight."
"Well that's a lead." He was deadpan, even I couldn't tell if he was kidding me or trying to make me feel better or whether he really thought it was helpful.
"So then you got home."
"Yes. I came straight up."
"Was the big bad car still there?" He asked quietly; I allowed myself an internal sigh of relief – he did think it was a lead.
"I don't think so. No I'm pretty sure it wasn't. Yes, I'm sure it wasn't." I sounded like the kind of witness every cop dreads. Starsky once called them the Sylvesters, as in 'I thought I saw a pussy cat'.
"Ok so the car wasn't there; but that didn't mean anything to you, and why should it. Go on. Was your door open?"
I had to think again. In my mind I was sure I'd taken the key down from the ledge. I concentrated on that moment and all I could see was her lying there.
"Yes, the door was closed; but I don't remember if it was locked or not."
"So you came in, and you saw her there, and you covered her up…and then what?"
"I called you."
I called him and he said "I'm on my way." Nothing else; he didn't need to say anything else. I sat and waited. He was still watching me.
"I'm gonna ask you the obvious questions."
"I'll try to answer them."
Starsky sat back in his chair and looked at me again; his face hardened for a second and I could hear it coming. He was going to arrest me.
"Which hospital?"
"I don't know. She didn't tell me Starsk. She just said they were doing a biopsy to see if it was malignant."
"Were you going to take her there?"
"No she said she wanted to go alone." I heard it hang above the table…she said she was scared but she didn't want me to take her there.
"Anything else?"
"No. What are you going to do?"
"What am I going to do? Don't you mean 'we'?"
I raised the glass to him and drained it again.
Starsky sighed and walked over to the 'phone. He punched in the familiar numbers.
"It's Starsky. The ex-Mrs. Hutchinson is dead….sure he's upset….I'll tell him but Cap'n there's a problem; she died in his apartment…no I'm not kidding…"
He was trying to keep calm and he was in danger of losing the fight.
"She's dead, shot…yeah…and the real problem is that it was Hutch's gun…it stinks Cap'n, like someone is trying to set him up"
He listened to whatever Dobey was saying. "Sure, Ok give us about a half hour…
Yeah…yeah I guess that's the best way to do it."
He put the phone down and walked over to me again.
"Get dressed."
Four years, five months and twelve days….why did she suddenly come back into my life? Starsky was right, it stinks!
"When love congeals, it soon reveals the faint aroma of performing seals….."*
*I wish I was in love again. Words and music by Lorenz hart and Richard Rodgers.
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