"Every morning he comes into the Ultra-Mart on 7th and Mateo. He buys a frozen TV dinner, Salisbury steak and potatoes. Two bananas, a half-pint of milk, two coca-colas and a candy bar. Every day between 10 am and 11 am, for every one of the 378 days that I've been working there." The red-head said, smacking her lips together, her teeth grinding a pea-sized lump of gum into submission.
Hutch stared blankly at the young woman, amazed at the mileage she was getting out of the rubber in her mouth, then jolted a little and said, "And how long has he been…"
"Missing? Four days. Since Dec. 20th. I remember because I wasn't supposed to work that day, but I did because Julie was out with the flu and Anita couldn't get outta the house cause o' her old man."
"How could you suspect him missing if he didn't show up on a day that you normally weren't there to see him anyway?" Hutch asked, and waited, watching the smack smack smack of her lips.
"Huh?" She asked finally.
Hutch opened his mouth, then closed it, shook his head and said, "Never mind." He turned back to the typewriter and considered the police report that had so far gone unblemished. He wasn't even sure where to start with this one.
"Miss-"
"Rutherford.." She said, smiling and showing him her nails. Fire engine red.
He shook her fingers, then pointed to the form. "Name?"
"Wally."
"Wally...Last name?"
She shrugged, staring at the single name now typed in the top most box of the report.
"Uh…" Hutch cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair scanning the nearly empty squad room. Most of the officers had the day off, home with family preparing for the holiday the next day. The only other body in the room should have been his partner Starsky, but Dave had left an hour before claiming the need to run errands.
Hutch hoped his errands had something to do with the paper bag full of mail sitting on Hutch's desk but Starsky had left it there.
That meant there was no one there to rescue him.
"Could you describe him?"
"Oh...little old guy. Gray hair. Sad, gray eyes. Square jaw. Stubble. Hunch on his back." Miss Rutherford said, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as if the tiles could help her remember. "Wears a wedding ring but I never seen him with no old lady."
Hutch filled in a few more boxes. "About how tall?"
Miss Rutherford thought for a moment then stood up from her seat and began to mime the operation of a cash register. She punched imaginary buttons, fished imaginary money out of an imaginary money drawer then handed the money to an imaginary, and missing, old man, and thrust her right hand out flat, 5 feet and two inches from the ground.
"That tall." She said, then sat down.
Hutch blinked, shrugged then typed the numbers in. He estimated a weight and put that in too, then scanned the other boxes.
"You wouldn't happen to know his address?"
"Sure!" She said, shrugging her shoulders casually.
Hutch eyed her then scratched the back of his head and said, "Miss Rutherford...if you know the man's address why didn't you just pay him a visit yourself?"
The gum went still in her mouth and her teeth appeared as the light dawned. "Hey!" She said with a grin, "Why didn't I think of that?"
Hutch gave her a patronizing smile that had little effect and pointed back toward the police report. "What was the address then?"
"7-"
"Uh-huh."
"8-"
Hutch hit the '8' key and waited, glancing up when she didn't continue. She was poised, mouth forming an 'oh'. "One?" Hutch guessed.
"Wow! How'd ya know?" Miss Rutherford beamed.
"Okay, 781."
"4."
"4. 7814."
"And a half."
"What's the street name?" Hutch asked, skipping to the end.
"Mateo." Miss Rutherford said, as if she'd already said it before.
"7814 ½ Mateo Stree-" Hutch stopped, cleared his throat and pulled his fingers from the keys before he said, "Miss Rutherford...7814 Mateo Street is the address of the UltraMart where you work."
"Yeah." She said. "Wally lives out back."
"Wal-" Hutch cleared his throat again and said, "If Wally lives out back...why did you take the bus all the way down to the police station to file a police report when all you had to do was walk out to the dumpsters and knock on his front door?"
"Well...it's his back door that's by the dumpsters."
Hutch sat back in his seat and stared at the woman, wondering how she had managed to cross town at all without becoming hopelessly lost. He wondered if there was a bus driver somewhere out there considering driving his bus off the road, rather than ever pick Miss Rutherford up again. If he put her in a taxi for her ride home, would he be investigating a murder-suicide the following morning?
"Look...Miss Rutherford...um...thank you for coming down today. I'll...make sure this police report is filed and we'll get Wally found just as soon as possible. I promise."
Miss Rutherford looked at his typewriter, the incomplete report, and then down to her hands, clutched around her purse. She seemed to deflate a little, and Hutch wondered what exactly she'd expected. A high speed pursuit maybe? Gun battle between the mysterious Wally and Bay City's finest. She unfolded out of her seat and slipped her purse over her shoulder, gave him a half-hearted wave, then smacked her gum all the way to the door before she turned and called, "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas to you, too, my beauty." He heard Starsky say, and watched his partner, arms full of shopping bags, navigate his way through the door, around Miss Rutherford and into the empty squad room without dropping so much as a receipt. "Pretty girl." Starsky added once the door had closed, setting his bags on his desk.
"She likes older men. And gum." Hutch said, staring blearily at the police report, not even certain he would finish it.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What is all this?"
"Christmas." Starsky said, "And lunch." He fished in one of the bags for the kelp and tuna salad Hutch had asked for, plunking the container down in front of his partner.
Starsky started to hum a carol and a burger, fries and soda appeared next, followed by a plate full of cookies wrapped in butcher paper. Two cartons of milk, a carton of eggnog and two ripe, round oranges soon littered the table before Starsky upended the rest of the bag and a cascade of letters sluiced across their joined desks.
Hutch groaned, rescuing his salad before it could be buried.
"You're a popular man, Hutch." Starsky said, grinning broadly before he lifted one of the envelopes, slit it open and read, "Dear Santa Claus, I have been very good this year and would like a pony for Christmas. But please make it a small pony, because my Daddy says I can't have a big one. Love, Angie."
Hutch stared stone faced at the pile. "This is...this is a breach of privacy. When I catch whoever did this Starsk, I'm going to book 'em on...on...endangerment of an officer, publication of private information, causing a nuisance and….and…"
"Felony waste of stamps?" Starsky asked, already in the process of opening another envelope.
"You think it's funny."
Starsky smirked. "No. It was funny the first day. It was funnier the second day. Now it's just cute." He plopped happily down into his chair and opened another envelope, shook what looked like the remains of a cookie out onto the desktop then read, "Dear Santa, we don't have a...kim-i-nee so I sent you a cookie in the mail. Please bring me a nerf ball and a stretch armstrong action figure. Thanks, George."
Staying as far from the letters as he could get Hutch opened his salad and shoved a forkful into his mouth, staring disdainfully at the crumbled, stale cookie. "Dear George, Santa's on a diet. And fresh out of nerf balls. What the hell is a nerf ball anyway?"
"It's a soft little ball, you can throw it as hard as you want at somebody and it doesn't hurt." Starsky took a bite of his burger and tried his W.C. Fields impression to say, "Won't hurt babies or old people." He opened another letter, read it quietly to himself then laughed. "This kid wants a nerfball, a stretch armstrong and a muzzle for his baby sister."
"That kid is getting coal." Hutch said, stabbing toward the letter with his fork. His kelp salad had seemed like a great idea until Starsky's burger smelled up the room. Hutch grumpily shoved another forkful into his mouth and eyed the pile of cookie crumbs, certain it had moved on its own.
"Dear Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus and all the elves and rudolph too…" Starsky began another letter, eyeing his partner over the top edge of the paper. "This kid is gonna grow up to be a politician someday. 'I would like to request that you send me a full set of encyclopedia Britannica for Christmas complete with color pictures and maps and gold leaf edges. Yours Truly, Kyle Trey III."
Hutch and Starsky exchanged amused glances and Hutch casually raised his pinky for the next forkful of salad, turning his nose up at the pile of letters. "Give that kid a lump of coal for Christmas, he'll expect to find a diamond in it."
"He'll probably know how to extract it himself, too." Starsky said, taking another satisfying bite of beef and lettuce and tomato and pickle.
Hutch forced green mush down his throat, then half-heartedly picked at a chunk of tuna, eyeing the plate of cookies.
"Dear Santa, I haven't been very good this year and my mom says that I don't deserve nothin'. So you can skip my house, and good riddance."
Hutch barked a laugh that he couldn't resist and stood, going to the coffee pot and grabbing two mugs that looked relatively clean. He opened the egg nog and poured a portion for each of them. "At least the kid's honest."
Starsky smirked then put up his index finger. "Dear Santa, I thought you lived at the north pole. Why is your address in Bay City?"
"That kid's either too smart or too old to believe in Santa, why's he writing him a letter?" Hutch countered, sipping from his cup and sighing at the rush of creamy, sweet goodness. He sat and reexamined his tuna salad with a little more courage.
Starsky had put his burger down, unfortunately out of Hutch's reach, and sipped some of the eggnog, quietly reading over a two page letter that had come in a purple envelope. "Hutch, listen to this. Dear Santa, my Mom and Dad aren't with me this year because the angels took them away. I have new parents and we live in a different house, but they say that you will still know where to find me. All I want for Christmas is a new puppy. Please bring a soft blanket and a teddy bear for my sister so that she won't cry so much at night. Love, William."
Hutch sat forward in his seat and reached for the letter. "Is there a return address on the envelope?"
Starsky glanced at it and shook his head.
"New parents...kid named William, in the foster care system with a little sister, and both parents gone. Couldn't be that hard to find." Hutch said.
"You said yesterday was the last one." Starsky teased, leaning back in his seat and smugly chewing on his burger.
Hutch paused, hunched over his phone trying to remember the number for children's services. Starsky was right. He'd gone on a ten minute rant before they'd played Santa the day before, answering three of the hundreds of letters that had been sent to his address in the past week. He'd assumed that once the day before Christmas rolled around there wouldn't be any more letters, but he'd been wrong.
"Kid wants a blanket and a teddy bear for his sister. We can do that much. Let the foster parents worry about the puppy."
"You old softy." Starsky said, grinning and reaching for another letter, half listening to his partner. He started to giggle a minute later and waited for a lull in the phone conversation before he read, "Dear Santa, Mom says I have to tell you about setting the house on fire before I ask you for presents. Jimmy says it was my fault, but it wasn't. I built the rocket, but Jimmy launched it."
Hutch stared at him stunned for a moment before the person on the other end of the line recaptured his attention and read him off a name and an address. It took Starsky a few minutes to breathe and recover from the silent laughter that attacked him. There were tears in his eyes when he set down the 'house fire' letter and picked up another envelope.
"That's great. Thanks, Sam. You're helping to make some kid's Christmas." Hutch said into the phone. He set the address next to his typewriter and forked the last of his salad into his mouth.
"Dear Mrs. Claus. I figure Santa gets most of the letters on Christmas so I'm writing you a letter. Thank you for taking care of Mr. Claus, and all the elves. I saw Santa at the park the other day and his coat looked real nice and clean. I bet you smell nice. Susie."
"Forward thinker." Hutch said, his eyes settling on the police report still jammed into his typewriter. He hadn't written anything in the box asking for a date. He wondered if he could forward date it. Pretend Miss Rutherford had come in the day after Christmas. Take the rest of the day off.
"Dear Santa, yesterday my Grandpa visited me and took me to see you at the park. There were so many kids there I didn't get to sit on your lap before you had to go home. Grandpa said you had to leave so that you could get back to the north pole, so I wasn't sad or didn't cry or anything. Grandpa said you had to take a bus because your reindeers are at the north pole. He said you had a hunch because of the heavy bag of presents you carry. Maybe next year I can visit you in person. Jonathan."
"Santa's meeting kids in parks now?" Hutch asked, his brow furrowing. He reached for his cup of eggnog and drained it, then grabbed one of the oranges.
"Yeah, there was a North Pole set up at municipal park for the past four days. Go meet Santa, get a picture, decorate a cookie."
Hutch's eyes narrowed. "You met Santa, Starsky?"
"Santa, nothing. I was meeting with one of his elves." Starsky said, bobbing his eyebrows.
"You're a sick man." Hutch said shaking his head. He broke open the orange, peeling away the perfect white pith in huge chunks and breaking the concealed fruit in half, letting a wedge melt on his tongue.
"Hey…" Starsky shrugged, reaching for another letter and shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. "You get outta Christmas what you put in."
Hutch eyed the pile of letters knowing neither of them could get through the whole thing before their shift ended. "You know I thought we'd taken care of all of those fliers yesterday."
Starsky shrugged. "Even if we did, these letters are postmarked two days ago. And all it takes is one enterprising parent with a notepad and a pencil, and an entire neighborhood has Santa's mailing address."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Hutch muttered, popping another wedge of orange into his mouth and plucking an envelope from the pile the same moment that Starsky's phone rang.
While his partner answered the call Hutch opened the envelope, raising his brows at the chicken scratch covering the page. He read it through once then paused, his eyes drifting over the mountain of letters before he shifted through and found the two letters that mentioned Santa in the park.
"Yeah...mmhmm..oh yes, I remember. Yup. Definitely. Of course..I will tell him. Yep. Merry Christmas." Starsky hung up the phone and shook his finger at Hutch. "You heartbreaker, you."
"Who was that?"
"Miss Rutherford. Calling to see what progress you've made on the case."
Hutch groaned and rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I swear that is the dimmest woman…"
"Find another one you like?"
"Hmm?"
"The letter…"
"Oh...no...this just mentioned Santa in the park again. An older man, a hunch, this one wants to know why Santa is so short. Sounds almost like this missing persons." Hutch said, tapping the typewriter.
"Yeah?"
"Here, check it out." Hutch said pulling the police report from the roller and handing the three letters and the missing persons form to his partner. He sat back with another envelope in hand and put the last of the orange in his mouth pulling a sheet of folded tissue paper out that had a single slice of pepperoni sandwiched in it.
Starsky had to agree, the descriptions in both the police report and the Santa letters were vague, but, so far, matched. He glanced up in time to watch the piece of pepperoni slide from the tissue paper and plop onto the desk. "Must be the kid of a delicatessen."
Hutch used the envelope to scoop the pepperoni into the trash can by his desk and wiped the trail of grease up with a napkin.
"You know Ellie may know Santa's real name. She seemed pretty comfortable with the old guy." Starsky said, picking up the receiver and thinking for a moment before he punched in a number.
"Ellie?"
"Santa's little helper." Starsky said, winking at his partner with a grin. While the phone rang he watched his partner eyeball the cookies for the fifth time and smirked to himself. "Hello, Miss Getzman, this is the handsome, blue-eyed stranger from the park."
Hutch heard a feminine giggle on the other end of the line and rolled his eyes, finally selecting a sugar cookie with blue tinted icing and a sugar crystal star. He bit into it and was delighted to find that it tasted as good as it looked.
"Hey listen, that old guy. The one playing Santa...how well do you know him?" Starsky listened for a moment then said, "He's a volunteer? Do you keep track of those guys? You know, write down their addresses, send them a fruit cake as a thank you."
"Fruit cake." Hutch muttered, fishing through the envelopes and finding another one. The handwriting on the front looked vaguely familiar and he opened it, lips pursing in a smile as he read.
"Hey...that's terrific! Yeah, give me a call. Police Headquarters, Metro Division." Starsky listened for a moment a somewhat lecherous smile broadening on his face before he glanced self-consciously at his partner and cleared his throat. "Not while I'm on duty, sweetheart." He murmured into the phone then set it down in the cradle.
Hutch gave Starsky a look, watching him squirm for another couple of seconds before he let him off the hook, "Listen to this. Dear Santa, this year I don't want anything for Christmas. Instead could you please bring loads of presents for two friends of mine. They're named Dave and Ken. They're police officers and they work very hard. I promise they've been good this year. Love...Lisa."
"Hey!" Starsky grinned reaching for the letter and reading it himself. "That's my girl." He said, his voice softening with the fondness that both men felt for the exceptional young lady they'd both come to love.
"So what'd she say?"
"None of your beeswax, is what she said." Starsky muttered hunting for another letter.
"About the old man…"
"Oh..she said his name was Mr. Walter Steiner, he had volunteered to be Santa at the municipal parks building and she would call the organizer for the event and get his volunteer application to us."
"That's great! Did she remember anything else about him?" Hutch asked, standing and leaning over the desk so that he could grab the police report. He slid it back into the typewriter, lined up the box that asked for a last name and typed "Steiner" into the field.
Starsky shrugged, reaching for the plate of cookies. His hand went to the gingerbread man first, then he changed his mind and grabbed a snickerdoodle. "She said she thinks he's a vet, and recently he's been a bit under the weather."
"A vet… The VA has to still be open." Hutch said then reached for his own phone again, digging through the middle drawer of his desk for a moment until he found a card with the right phone number. While he dialed, Starsky leaned back in his chair with a coffee cup full of eggnog in one hand, his cookie in the other, and propped his feet up.
He looked at the still substantial pile of Santa letters and quietly hummed a christmas song to himself, unable to fight the smile. This Christmas was fast becoming his absolute favorite and he had Ellie to thank for it. Better still she had agreed to join him, Hutch and Hutch's latest girl at Starsky's place for Christmas afternoon dinner and presents.
"Hello, my name is Detective Ken Hutchinson with metro police. I'm working on a missing person's report and I'm looking to track down a Walter Steiner, S-T-E-I-N-E-R. Could you check your records and tell me if you've treated, housed or provided any service for someone by that name in the last month? Yeah." With the phone hovering near his ear Hutch finally noticed that Starsky was humming an annoying Christmas song he hadn't heard since he was kid.
"Starsky, stop."
"I can see me there on Christmas morning-"
"Starsky.."
"Creeping down the stairs."
"Cut it out, Starsk."
"Oh what joy and what surprise, when I open up my eyes-"
"Starsky!"
"To see a hippo hero standing there. Bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bu-OW!" Starsky winced and rubbed his arm, glaring at the receiver of the phone that Hutch had just hit him with.
"I hate that song!"
"It's a great song." Starsky argued, then pushed himself out of range and continued to hum.
"Yeah, I'm still here. Uh huh. Ok." Hutch grabbed a pencil and started jotting down notes, muttering agreement every few minutes until he had to use the back of an envelope, then the back of another to get everything copied down. His pencil stopped a moment later and Starsky glanced up to see his partner pale a little.
"Oh...yeah, yeah I guess...that would make sense. No, I suppose he wouldn't want that. Right." Hutch glanced up and met Starsky's confused glance, nodded slowly and hung up the phone.
Starsky watched his blonde partner blow air out of his cheeks, then sit back in his chair, staring at two envelopes filled with hastily taken notes.
"Who is Walter Steiner?" Starsky asked.
"Walter Steiner was a pilot in WWII, but according to the VA he's been claiming to have served as a double agent during the war since he started receiving benefits from their office two years ago."
"The old man in the park didn't seem like a crazy ex-spy to me." Starsky said.
"Walter Steiner is also a sick man. Physically sick. His file says he's dying, liver failure."
"And he's out in the park playing Santa?"
"He was anyway… We get out to that park maybe we can pick up a trail."
"There's not going to be anything out there," Starsky said. "Ellie said they bussed everybody back to the municipal building, including Steiner."
"Somebody had to have seen him leave the bus then." Hutch said.
"Good point, partner. Your car or mine?"
"Mine...please. Let's not give him a heart attack. He's got enough problems."
Driving his two-tone squash across town, the blonde cop couldn't fight the need to watch the sidewalks. A part of him hoped that he would, by happenstance, spot the old vet out for a stroll and solve the mystery without spending the whole day at it. Or having to track down a dead body in a back alley somewhere. He was also making certain every one of the flyers listing his address as Santa's had truly been removed and destroyed.
Starsky didn't seem as preoccupied, humming away in the seat beside him, flipping through the stack of envelopes he'd insisted on bringing with them. While Hutch drove, Starsky's humming would pause every few minutes and he'd read aloud a portion of a letter that was entertaining or strange. Hutch felt himself growing more and more irritated by the invasion into his thoughts and finally jerked the car to the left and pulled into the busy, crowded parking lot of a strip mall.
"You see somethin'?" Starsky asked, instantly alert.
"Do you think you could...maybe go into one of these stores and grab that blanket and the teddy bear?" Hutch asked, his hands tight around the steering wheel.
"Sure." Starsky said, reaching for the handle but staying in his seat.
Hutch took a deep breath and glanced to his partner then sighed softly. "I'm sorry. It just bothers me. I mean a...a WWII vet...a pilot. Maybe even a double agent, or at least one in his mind. It's the day before Christmas and the only person in the world that notices he's missing is a lady working at a cheap grocery store. It's guys like that...guys like Sonny, they get swept under the rug like so much dirt."
"This isn't gonna cheer you up much, buddy, but the same thing is gonna happen to us someday."
Hutch pursed his lips, but he knew his partner was right. "Bothers me. What's worse is...as much as I'd like to be the better person and save the world one old vet at a time…" Hutch shook his head, thinking but not saying that he was just as likely as the rest of the world to want to ignore the need around him because he didn't have the time or the energy to fix it all.
"You're doin' your part." Starsky said, waving the pile of letters. "Some nut job puts your mailing address up all over town and instead of dumping all these letters in the trash, you've read 'em. You've answered some of them!"
"Yeah…"
"Look...I'll go in there, pick up presents for little William and his sister, and we'll get something for the old guy too. You check out the municipal building and then meet me back here. We'll play Santa for William, and close up this case. Remember, tomorrow's Christmas." Starsky stepped out of the car, keeping the letter that William had written and leaving the rest on the seat. "Most blessed day of the year." He said, before he closed the door and trotted across the parking lot.
Hutch watched his partner gallantly hold the door for three women loaded with bags, then disappear into the building. He and Starsky had gone around and around before about the commercialization of the so called "blessed" day and how little he cared for it. Being pegged as Santa that year had only added to Hutch's irritation concerning the topic.
Yet the letters had revealed another side to Christmas. The side where people wished for things for their siblings, their parents, total strangers, instead of for themselves. It reminded him of the Christmases he'd had as a kid and revived some of the dying spirit he'd let slip away as an adult. Hutch sat in his car for a few minutes more then pulled the Ford into a parking space and got out, tucking his keys into a pocket and heading for the store that his partner had ducked into.
At the checkout counter he asked to be directed to the toys section. The harried girl there blew hair out of her face and said, "Look for the place that looks like a war zone."
Hutch gave her a sympathetic smile and dodged mothers, children, grandfathers and uncles, all looking harassed and rushed, eventually spotting Starsky loitering in what remained of an aisle once full of stuffed animals.
"Looks like the place was hit by a hurricane." Hutch said, drawing Starsky's attention. His partner smirked, kicked a broken toy out of the way and stooped to pick up a stuffed dog that was missing an eye.
"Christmas is the same day every year, you gotta wonder how it manages to sneak up on people." Starsk said, then gently set the abused mutt on the shelves in front of him. There were a dozen stuffed animals to choose from. Most of them had tears, holes, limbs missing or eyes ripped off. The least objectionable of the creatures was a stuffed, black cat. One of the ears had been torn away but Hutch took one look at the animal and decided he could fix that problem. For the young boy they grabbed a set of plastic police "toys", a billy club, a badge, a little plastic gun with a roll of caps.
"This thing should come with a typewriter." Starsky said.
"Very unrealistic," Hutch agreed.
They wove through the crowd looking for bedding and finally finding a quieter corner of the store, filled with giggling couples and a few single women with diamonds the size of sleds on their fingers.
Starsky glanced around at the difference in clientele, gave Hutch a meaningful look, then sniggered to himself. Hutch just shrugged. Knowing it couldn't be helped.
They found two blankets that looked sufficiently warm and soft, and on their way to the checkout picked up a small container of band aids.
As Starsky paid for their purchases Hutch glanced out across the parking lot at a group of parents and children gathering near a rustic stage. "What should we get for the old man? Assuming we find him?"
"A hot meal? Barbershop shave? A night with a beautiful lady in a hot tub?"
"I didn't ask what we should get you, Starsky." Hutch snarked, watching the stage as a man dressed in stage manager black placed a chair on the bare boards, then covered it with a red blanket. A backdrop was secured to the stage next, artificial lighting going up like weeds after a rain storm.
The pop-up "picture with Santa" studio was finished with the addition of the man himself, and Hutch smirked watching as the mass of eager children and parents formed itself into a line.
"We should drop the rest of the letters there." Hutch said, pointing the hubbub out to his partner.
Starsky watched the scene as they left the store, smirking at the kids that were plopped in the old man's lap and instantly began to scream. "We wouldn't get within fifteen feet. Not without a kid."
"Huh." Hutch said, squinting at the pleasant, if diminutive Santa. "Starsk...about how tall would you say that man is?"
"Oh...I dunno. Five three, five four.." Starsky said.
"How about five two. With a hump. Square jaw and sad gray eyes."
Starsky stood by the passenger door of Hutch's wreck, his gaze bouncing between his partner and the old man welcoming kids onto his lap.
"Really!?"
Hutch nodded. "I'll bet the old man's dinner, that's our Santa." Without waiting for a response he started toward the crowd of parents and kids.
"No bet." Starsky said, willing to believe that Hutch was right.
Both men casually approached the crowd weaving their way through squealing toddlers, whining ten-year-olds and bored teenagers, attached to weary adults ready to pitch it in.
The closer Hutch got, the more he believed he was right. The old man qualified as "little" compared to the average. He had a gold band on his left hand, and a bit of hunch hidden by the thickness of the Santa coat. There was no way to know if there was stubble under the thick, fake beard, but the old man's eyes were a color of gray that he'd only seen in one other face.
The face of his grandfather, a year before he died.
"That's gotta be him." Hutch said.
"What do you want to do? Get in line? We go up there right now, even with good intentions, some kid sees our badges come out and thinks Santa's being arrested. The poor guy'll never get another Santa gig."
"To hear the VA, this may be the guy's last Christmas." Hutch said, then took a step forward. Starsky stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait a minute. Think about this, Hutch. It's a missing person's right? The lady is concerned that her favorite regular hasn't been through her check out line in four days. Well..if this is the guy, then we've found him. He's been busy, that's all, maybe eating off the VA or the parks system. We don't have to bust up his day just so that we can clock out."
Hutch still looked like he was ready to charge into the crowd but he settled back.
"Besides, the sign says Santa's gonna be here another four hours. We can bring our presents to William and his sister and get back here with plenty of time to catch him."
Starsky watched his partner deliberate, absorbing the excitement of the crowd, the trust the parents had in the man their children had been pestering to see all year round. It would ruin more than Walter Steiner's day if they bowled into an otherwise magical moment and started asking the man in the red suit intrusive questions.
Hutch sighed and slapped his stomach with a hand, adjusting his waistband, a move that Starsky had long become accustomed to reading. Hutch was giving in.
"Come on. Let's go spread some Christmas cheer, eh?" Starsky said, drawing in a breath to start a Christmas carol.
"Don't." Hutch said, grumpily, then grabbed for the bag of presents and lead the way to his car.
Starsky smirked, pressing his lips closed and putting his hands in the air. He stayed quiet until they had stepped back into Hutch's car and the radio said, "Zebra 3, Zebra 3. Robbery in progress, on Fifteenth and Broad. Suspects are armed and dangerous. Please respond."
The partners exchanged a glance before Starsky responded to the call, popping the bubble onto the roof. The Ford took off, disappearing into the city.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon the pair worked in unison and stopped the robbery, apprehended one suspect, then chased down the other on foot.
The robbery and foot chase had also caused a traffic collision involving three cars full of the morbidly curious, and a city bus. The officers stayed on the scene, offering first aid and calling the emergency vehicles needed.
They went through the rigmarole of the arrest and booking, waking a sleeping sergeant who had expected an easy night before Christmas and wasn't happy to have two new guests. Guests that wouldn't be processed until the day after Christmas with half the justice department on Christmas break.
By the time they got back to the office Miss Rutherford had called and left messages three times. Each one as benign as the last. Had Hutch solved the case? Was he going to tell her where Walter Steiner was? If the old man was dead she wanted to know where they were going to take the body.
"Jesus Christ!" Hutch exclaimed at the final message, crumbling it into a ball and tossing it at the trash can.
"Speaking of Christmas spirit…" Starsky said, holding up the now tattered bag containing four wrapped presents.
Hutch glanced at the clock then checked it against his pocket watch. Their four hours were nearly up, and there was little chance they would get to Walter Steiner before he boarded a bus and disappeared again. Still, he had to try.
"Right. Let's run by that strip mall first."
Except that the strip mall parking lot was full of cars. Late night shoppers taking advantage of the money-driven extended hours. The rope barrier, the stage, and Santa were long gone.
Dejected, Hutch turned the Ford back onto the street, following his partner's directions to the address that children's services had given them.
The lights in the houses on the street in the small neighborhood were bright against the gathering gloom. A Christmas tree had been mounted on a stand in the picture window of William's house, facing the street and the enterprising foster parents had let their new charges place a thin layer of soap shavings on the sill of the window to represent snow.
Hutch made sure his badge was ready, the presents for the little girl held behind his back, and knocked on the door, watching his partner make the same preparations.
Behind them, across the street, a taxi pulled up, probably dropping visiting family at the house across the way. More family than these kids would see, Hutch thought, trying to make himself feel better.
He knocked again, heard the sound of a mother trying to coax excited children into their PJs, then smiled as a middle-aged matronly type answered the door.
"Can I help you?"
"Mrs. Johnson?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Detective Ken Hutchinson, this is Detective David Starsky. We uh…do you remember William writing a letter to Santa this year?"
A smile quirked the corner of Mrs. Johnson's mouth and she nodded. "He saw one of the signs and asked me if he could write to that address. It's been so hard on him I…I didn't see the harm."
"There was no harm done, Ma'am." Starsky reassured her quickly. "We just…happen to be Santa." He said, then pulled his two presents out into the open.
Mrs. Johnson drew in a breath, staring at the gifts that Starsky, then Hutch produced. "That's…very sweet and generous of you both but…" She shook her head. "I'm not sure I can accept these."
"Why not?" Hutch asked.
"They aren't for me, are they? They're for William and Hannah. As nice as it is to still believe in magic and Santa Claus…I think it would be better for them to know that the gifts came from you two. From two police officers who spent Christmas eve reading letters from kids like them, and bringing presents in response to those letters."
Starsky wasn't sure how to respond and Hutch tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.
Mrs. Johnson began to blush a little and laughed nervously. "I'm sorry. I was a teacher for many years and a school counselor after that. Not much about me is frivolous. Please…I would like the children to have flesh and blood heroes, not imaginary ones. Please…come in."
Hutch cleared his throat then stepped over the threshold and captured Mrs. Johnson's hand before she could get too far away. "Could we…maybe, pretend that we're Santa's helpers? Just this once." Hutch asked, ducking his head so that he could look the woman in the eye.
She blushed again and nodded. "Just this once." She gestured again for the men to come into the home, shutting the door behind them and offering them a seat on the couch.
"I've cookies in the oven. I'm sure they wouldn't mind sharing them with Santa's helpers."
Starsky was the first to say Thank you and glanced around the living room grinning at the stockings hanging on either side of the living room window, the small train chugging around the tree and the fake chimney, drawn on a cardboard box that sat against the wall.
Hutch watched his partner, following his gaze around the room, pleased that a good-hearted kid, like William had seemed, ended up in a home like this one.
The knock at the door was a surprise and both officers reached towards their holsters in the same moment before Hutch frowned at himself and walked to the door.
"Mrs. Johnson?" Starsky called toward the kitchen.
"Yes?"
"Are you expecting anyone this evening?"
"No? Have we another visitor?"
"Starsky…" Hutch said, dropping his voice, pulling away from peep hole in the door. "You're not going to believe this."
"Mrs. Johnson, do you mind if we find out who it is?" Starsky asked, his hand still tucked inside his coat.
"No.." Mrs. Johnson called cautiously from the kitchen.
Starsky gave his partner a nod, and Hutch opened the door and stepped back allowing a short, gray haired old man into the room. Dressed in faded brown tweed, a cabby cap on his head, the old man walked into the foyer carrying a cloth stocking filled to the brim with oranges, apples, candy and small tinker toys.
Mrs. Johnson came into the room with a plate of cookies and a coffee serving set on a tray, caught sight of the old man and smiled broadly. "Walter." She said, clearly delighted. "You made it."
From behind her came the gasp of two small voices, then a combined screech of "Grampa!"
A nine-year-old and a five-year-old tore around Mrs. Johnson, arms outstretched, rushing into the embrace of the bent old man, the stocking full of presents completely ignored.
The old man's face wrinkled with joy, the same joy that Starsky remembered seeing in the park. The same joy that Hutch had seen in the parking lot. Each of the children received shaking kisses on their foreheads and crowded around the old man as he sat in the easy chair by the window, jabbering at once.
"Forgive their excitement, gentlemen. Would you care to sit? Coffee?"
"That's darling!" Ellie squealed over the curve of two perfectly formed knees, curled on the couch and leaning against Starsky's chest. "I didn't know he had grandchildren! And how lucky they are! That man was a wonder with kids."
Starsky smirked softly. "Mrs. Johnson told us Walter had spent all of his savings trying to fix up his little shack, get it in good enough shape so that the judge would award him custody of his grand kids. But it wasn't enough. He felt so guilty about not having the money to get them Christmas presents, that he took on twice as many Santa jobs as the year before."
"Of course none of the jobs would pay, but they always provided food or candy or trinkets for their volunteers. He was as proud of that stocking full of stuff as I was of that silly, stuffed cat with a band-aid on its head." Hutch explained, his arms wrapped around the dark haired coroner he'd been seeing for nine months.
Luyu sighed happily, tucked against Hutch's chest, and said, "Obviously the kids didn't care at all for the presents. They just needed their grandfather there to love them."
"Didn't you say Walter was sick?" Ellie asked.
Both men nodded solemnly.
"Those poor kids. They lost their parents, and now they may lose their grandfather too."
"Until that happens Mrs. Johnson and her husband have agreed to house Walter with the kids. Keep the family together as long as possible." Hutch said.
"Yeah, that's why Miss Rutherford hadn't seen him. He'd moved out and hadn't thought to tell her." Starsky explained.
"That's wonderful." Luyu said.
"You know the VA doctor said there's an experimental way of giving a person a new liver. The blood types have to match but there's special incentive for vets if they volunteer for it." Hutch said.
"I heard about that. Dr…..Starzl..out of Denver. A patient lived a year beyond what they thought possible after the surgery." Luyu said thoughtfully.
Ellie jabbed a finger into Starsky's side and asked, "So what did you get the old man for Christmas?"
"We're taking him and his grand kids out for dinner some time next week. They're going to tour the police station and go for a ride in the Torino. Lights blazing." Starsky said turning a mega-watt grin on Ellie.
"It was my idea." Hutch said.
"Ha!"
"Speaking of my ideas." The blonde continued, "Weren't we going to eat food today?"
"The turkey needs another hour, blondie." Starsky said. "Time for one of my ideas." Rising from the couch Starsky padded to the small tree he'd managed to find at the bottom of a reject pile in a tree lot and pulled a rectangular present from underneath. A blue envelope had been taped to the top of the package, the word Santa scrawled in crayon.
"Funny, Starsky. Hilarious." Hutch said, reluctantly taking the present. He yanked the envelope free of the package then opened it, sending annoyed looks at his beaming partner.
"Dear Santa," Hutch read aloud. "This year I've been very good. I had my best idea yet and went out to a little print shop on 14th and Madison and had one hundred signs made. Then I, and a lovely lady named Ellie, posted them all over town to bring joy and Christmas spirit to hundreds of little children, and to one grumpy old cuss named-"
Blue eyes met blue and Hutch put the card down, not bothering to read the rest. He opened the package on his lap, pushed tissue paper out of the way and stared at a wooden plaque, coated in silver and etched professionally by an engraver. He studied the plaque, his face a mask of nothing, that started Starsky into thinking he'd overlooked a spelling mistake on the name.
Hutch swallowed, showed Luyu the plaque then picked up the card once more.
"A grumpy old cuss named Hutch. You see every year our city gives out a special plaque called the Unsung Hero award. The candidates have to be nominated, and voted on by various officials in the city. This year the entire department voted unanimously for Hutch. He's certainly earned it." Hutch's voice had dropped in volume as he read and his gaze drifted toward the the plaque as he finished the card, stunned.
"You nominated me?"
"Dobey and I. The more guys that heard about it, the more they wrote in to the mayor. He knew you well enough he wrote a letter to the council, even to the founder that started the award 15 years ago. Everybody was on board long before Ellie suggested making somebody a surprise Santa this year."
"And you of course thought of me." Hutch said.
"Well...come on, think of the beauty of the irony." Starsky said grinning. "The best part is, you'd earned that award long before you ever heard of Walter Steiner, William Steiner or Hannah Steiner."
Hutch cleared his throat, swallowed and tried to say, "This is um…"
Starsky couldn't wipe the smile from his face, watching his partner and brother squirm. "I figured...even if the world tries to forget the Walter Steiner's of the world, they'll have a hard time forgetting Ken Hutchinson with his name engraved on a plaque."
"Starsky...I don't..I don't deserve this. I'm no better than the rest of the guys in the department."
"You're probably right." Starsky said, earning a surprised look from his partner that had both girls giggling. Starsky grinned again. "But at least a hundred city officials and big wigs would disagree with you, so shut up and accept the honor. I had to pull a lotta strings to get you out of the awards banquet you never would have gone to."
"He's got a point." Luyu said.
Hutch held the plaque in his hands, shaking his head, overwhelmed. He felt foolish with his name etched in silver. Like a pauper in a crown.
"Listen," Luyu said, her voice quiet as Starsky distracted himself with getting more presents. "It's like Mrs. Johnson said. It's better to have real life heroes, than imaginary ones. Especially this time of year."
Hutch watched his partner, snagging a gift wrapped in green paper from under the tree and presenting it to Ellie with a flourish. Heroes came in all shapes and sizes, he thought. Some had blue eyes and brown curly hair, some had become crippled with age, some were only 9-years-old but they were all heroes just the same. They all deserved recognition, he decided, and looked down at the plaque once more before he put it back in the box.
"Hey...Starsky." Hutch said, drawing his partner's attention from the gift he was watching Ellie unwrap. "Thanks buddy."
Starsky grinned. "Merry Christmas, Hutch." he said softly.
Hutch grinned back, taking a deep breath. "Merry Christmas."