"Your first big break in the case, and this has to happen…"
Starsky looked up from the square of hospital flooring he'd been staring at, catching the unhappy look on Dobey's face before the man paced away. "How were we supposed to know they'd be running a deal right there in the garage?"
"Captain, we stumbled onto it. And compared to the reports from the library staff, a deal out in the open like that was-"
"It was a set up." Kline snapped from the opposite wall. "They were watching your obnoxious car, waiting to see what you would do and you fell for it…"
"Hook, line...boat." Granger blurted, gesturing toward the OR doors with the last word.
"You're so sure it was a set up, huh, Kline?" Starsky snapped.
"You're a real dummy, Starsky. I don't blame you for missing the signs."
"What signs?" Starsky asked already moving away from the wall and crossing the neutral territory that the hallway had become.
"You said yourself your girlfriend was startin' to get squirrelly. You think the average joe on the street knows what needle marks look like?"
"Where were you, huh? You were supposed to be watchin' those flop houses, one of ya, and the other one was supposed to be outside the library while it was open. Which one of you was sleepin' on the job?" Starsky accused angrily.
Hutch had stepped forward then, gently laying his hand on Starsky's shoulder and putting a little pressure there. Starsky stopped his advance and stood his ground.
Kline and Granger exchanged a long look before Granger said, "Neither one of us was on the library. We got some info about a second flop house with a lot of after school activity. We were watching it all day."
"Did you men know about that?" Dobey asked Starsky and Hutch, getting looks from his men that were verging on insubordinate. "This is supposed to be a joint task force. The four of you are supposed to be in regular communication so that the bust can happen at the same time...so that we can get all the bugs with one shoe."
"How were we supposed to know that Stanley here would scare away the rabbit the first time he saw it?" Kline snapped.
"Did you identify yourselves as police officers, at all?" Dobey asked his men, angrily ignoring the sarcasm of the two narco officers.
"Not before the car took off. There wasn't time." Starsky said. "He might've seen the Mars light and he definitely figured out there was a cruiser following him."
"That's good thinkin', Cap. We show up at the library tomorrow like everything's fine, we might be able to cover for this." Hutch said, optimistically.
"What about you two? That second flophouse. What did it turn up?"
"Nothin." Kline muttered grumpily, pushing away from the wall. He passed Starsky with only inches separating them, his glaring mug even closer. "I'm takin' a smoke break."
Granger watched his partner storm out and shook his head. He thought briefly about apologizing for the man, but he'd never once done it in their partnership, he didn't see the sense in starting now. "Flophouse turned out to be a bust. No high school kids there, just a bunch of twenty-something vagrants. We were considering shutting it down and giving a few bums a free night in jail when the call came over the radio. We jumped in the car, beat across town and found the mess on Mulberry and West High."
Dobey's face radiated displeasure, especially in the face of knowing that there was truly nothing he could do about the chain of events that cost an officer his life. Technically Granger and Kline hadn't broken any rules, just gotten sloppy with their communication. His men were simply at the wrong place at the right time, and the bad guys jumpier than usual. Hutch had made a good point, though.
If the bad guys couldn't connect the Torino with a police presence the undercover gig might still be worth pursuing. And there was no way to find out until they got back to work the next morning.
"When does the library open on Saturdays?" Dobey asked.
"9am, it closes at 5." Starsky said, morosely staring at a pastoral scene on a printed poster tacked to the wall. Kline's head had been obscuring the single structure in the otherwise nature-filled scene. It had turned out to be a tiny, disappointing shack instead of the barn Starsky had been envisioning. The metaphoric implications were endless.
"Alright. Granger, you and your partner keep up your usual, but one of you is to be next to a radio at all times."
"Tomorrow's our day off, Capt-"
"Not anymore, it's not." Dobey barked, glaring at Granger until the man put up his hands, pushed away from the wall and wandered down the hallway after his partner.
"One of you two will call in sick. Get a car from impound and find someplace to watch the library. I don't care how you do it, but I want two sets of eyes on the outside of that library, one set of eyes inside, and constant radio communication in case anything goes down. If we're blown we'll have Sunday to consider what we've collected so far before we get warrants. If we're not blown...you can join me for Sunday dinner."
A strange smile settled on Dobey's face and Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance.
"You're inviting us to Sunday dinner?" Hutch asked.
"Why not? My kids miss you guys." Dobey said, smirking inwardly at the smile that briefly lightened Starsky's face. "For now, go home. I'll call once I know about Kyle."
Both men started to protest but Dobey put up his hands. "It doesn't take three of us to wait, and I have the feeling tomorrow is going to be a long day." He paused for a moment his face growing deadly serious. "I don't want to have to write the words "error caused by extreme fatigue" on any reports after tomorrow. Get me?"
"Got ya." Hutch said, nodding.
"Go ahead and pick up that impound tonight." Dobey said, then watched his men as they wandered reluctantly out of the hospital.
It took a few more hours for the surgeon to appear in the pale yellow hallway making Dobey glad he'd sent his men home when he did. In that time Kyle's mother, sister and girlfriend had showed up and Dobey had spent the hours alternately comforting them, and listening to their tear-filled stories about the man they clearly loved a great deal.
He told them what he could about the reason Kyle was there, and emphasized that the collision had been an accident of fates, and that the other officers involved had acted 100% to the best of their ability.
He had noticed Officer Logan's family lingering in the hallway just before the surgeon came out, and made a mental note to check on the officer's body in the morgue. He'd been avoiding thinking about the long checklist he had to tackle, the string of horrible chores he had to do with one officer gone in the line of duty. He'd been praying he wouldn't have to do it all twice.
The surgeon took a moment to scan the worried faces in the hallway, already familiar with Dobey. He asked to speak to the immediate family and at Dobey's nod, took a deep breath before addressing all four. "He's still alive. There's a lot of damage, broken bones and contusions. We're watching some hemorrhaging in his frontal lobe and there may be some brain damage. But Officer Kyle was wearing a seatbelt when the accident happened, and that probably saved his life. Wish more of my patients would." The doctor abruptly cut off his PSA, and cleared his throat. "We're going to watch him very carefully over the next 48 hours. You can see him in a few minutes but we're going to keep him sedated. It's 'watch and see' until that two-day window has passed."
Dobey stayed with Kyle's family until all but Kyle's girlfriend had gone home. On his way out of the hospital he visited Logan's body in the morgue, standing in the cold, silent space staring at the glare off the deceased officer's naked chest. The damage the dash had done to his abdomen and head was stomach turning, but Dobey stared anyway. In a few hours he would be going through Logan's file, contacting family members he'd already talked to once that day and explaining to them why they weren't able to take their son, brother, father, uncle home right away. Why they would have to wait for an autopsy before they could even consider funeral arrangements.
Then he would be talking to the dump truck driver, pooling witness testimonies and sending it all to IA where the information would get buried under the mound of shooting incidents they tended to make a priority. As if guns were the only object in the world capable of being used for death. In the end the only people, other than Dobey and the officers involved, who would care about the minute details of how Officer Logan had ended up on the slab, was the insurance companies. They would want to know how much they had to shell out to make everybody happy and stay within the confines of the law.
Money...drugs….lust...all things that men would kill for.
Dobey said a prayer for Logan's family. A prayer for Kyle. A prayer for his men. He swept his hand over his forehead and chest, making the sacred sign he'd made since his catechism as a young boy before he finally left the dead to the dead and rejoined the land of the desperately living.
After getting the car, a '66 GTO convertible that was more rust and dents than muscle car, Starsky and Hutch had spent a scant 10 minutes discussing who would call off and who would remain in the library. By the time they arrived at Hutch's apartment both had agreed that it was more likely that Starsky's cover was in question now, as compared to Hutch. Both agreed that Hutch was more likely to be missed than Starsky.
"If she asks why we were the last two to leave the library?" Starsky asked, thinking of Clare, presuming she would show up the next day, if for no other reason than to confirm or deny suspicions.
Hutch considered for a moment, standing at his stove, the handle of a skillet in one hand, tongs in the other. "You'd offered me a ride." Hutch said, glancing over his shoulder to watch Starsky shrug.
They were silent for a few minutes the sizzle of the food on the stove taking over. Starsky studied the bubbles of carbonate rising to the top of his beer then said, "I think you should wear a wire."
Hutch immediately laughed and shook his head but Starsky interrupted the sound. "I'm serious, Hutch. Maybe it's Logan being killed, maybe it's just...maybe its just this job. But I got a feeling."
Hutch thought about it, chasing the frying vegetables around the pan until he'd flipped them all. "It's a little late to get a radio pack from the precinct tonight."
"We got those portable radios we used to carry. Probably need new batteries but we got 'em."
"How am I going to explain carrying that thing around all day?"
"Put it in your pants." Starsky mumbled into the neck of his beer bottle, then swallowed some beer and said, "Dorice will be so excited."
"Ha! You've got a dirty mind, Starsk."
"Minnie told me once that I was a trashy boy." Starsky said, almost sounding proud of the achievement.
Hutch thought about Minnie, the sister/mother she had become to he and his partner. He thought about the killer that had tried to hold her hostage to get at Hutch and Starsky*. That had been the same incident that had led to Kyle saving his life.
Kyle who was struggling to preserve his own life now.
He understood why Starsky said he had a feeling. A garbage truck randomly losing its brakes, rolling from where it had been parked on a hill and pinning a speeding cop car to a telephone pole had almost been too much to believe. Yet witnesses corroborated the city employee's story. Hutch had the feeling an investigation of the wear and tear on the brakes would confirm that the truck simply hadn't been properly maintained.
"I never thought I'd wish a terrible disease on a person." Starsky interrupted Hutch's meandering thoughts.
"Who are you plannin' on cursing there, Starsk?" Hutch asked, taking the pan from the burner and dumping the contents into a serving dish before he bent to check on the meat in the oven.
"I mean Clare. I want...I want her to have anything in the world wrong with her...as long as it means she's no hype."
Hutch brought the vegetables to the table, grabbed up the beer Starsky had opened for him and swallowed a good deal of it in one go. It'd been that kind of day. After the burn disappeared down his throat Hutch sighed and said, "Why are you so hung up on her? I know she's attractive but.."
Starsky winced a little and picked up his fork, stabbing one of the still steaming vegetables, blowing on it before he took a tentative bite. "You remember Sharman Crane?"
It took him a minute of searching back to place the familiar name with a face. When he finally had a mental image of the former model turned alcoholic that Starsky had nursed back to sobriety, Hutch nodded. Then he took in a breath and nodded again, realizing where his partner was going with the name.
"She's talented, she's going places you know...I can't...I can't understand throwin' all that away just to jab a needle up your arm."
Hutch pulled the rest of their meal out of the oven and watched it steam for moment. He not only remembered Sharman Crane but he remembered the mother-henning mess the woman had turned his partner into. He'd risked losing his badge, completely focused on redeeming a woman who had intentionally thrown or pushed away anything she had going for her.
Hutch brought the food to the table, noting that his partner had already eaten a quarter of the vegetables, one forkful at a time. He decided he would be there to yank Starsky back from the pit, if needs be, but he wasn't going to do it gently this time. Like Starsky's feeling about the work they would be doing the next day, Hutch had a feeling about Clare.
He saw her, more and more, like a black widow spider. A deadly pest that he wasn't going to mess around with if the crap hit the fan.
The following morning Hutch showed up for work at 8 am and walked with Yvonne, Dorice and some of the other ladies into the staff door as if nothing had happened the night before. Starsky watched his partner from the street across from the garage entrance, not too happy with how long he'd been sitting in the GTO.
Getting a spot on the street, so close to city hall, the courthouse and a hundred other main street attractions, was an iffy situation. He hadn't had a choice but to sleep most of the night in the car, moving from meter to meter every hour until the sun came up.
Hutch had offered to join him of course, but Starsky could see the desperate question in his eyes. He'd done the right thing, he told himself as he winced at a pulled muscle and squirmed in the lumpy seat. At least one of them looked rested.
Starsky had also brought his camera with him and snapped a few pictures of the sun rising through the buildings of downtown. The Saturday morning traffic was light, most of the citizens enjoying their first day off of the week and recovering from the hangovers that a Friday night blowout inevitably caused.
For the most part it was boring. Starsky was tired. He was also determined not to let a month of boring, tiring days go to waste and did everything in his power to stay alert.
For the first four hours the only interesting occurrence was a visit from a black and white. Starsky's head had jerked up and he'd almost toggled the radio, breaking the agreed upon radio silence, when the cruiser hit its siren. They'd been slowing to check out the car and driver that had been reported as lurking near the library most of the morning, but a call from dispatch must have dissuaded them.
They did a drive by, staring at Starsky curiously but not making anymore of an effort to stop.
Then…
Tedium
He left the car only long enough to pee and around lunch time Hutch came out of the library, scanned the street, then joined him in the GTO.
Over the sandwiches they'd packed they talked about the great, giant nothing that had happened so far.
"Clare show?"
"Sure. She's in there." Hutch said, around a mouthful of bean sprouts. " Typing away at the keys like nothing happened."
"She talk to ya?"
Hutch shrugged. "No more than usual."
Hutch watched his partner as he grew silent for a minute, desperately trying to control the 2-year-old like squirm, his sandwich forgotten in his hand. He smiled when Starsky tried to casually ask, "Did she say anything about me?"
The blonde shook his head. "Hate to say it, pal, but that's a good thing. The less she associates you with me, the more likely our cover is still intact."
Hutch was right, but it didn't make Starsky feel any better about being essentially forgotten.
"Any new thoughts on who Clare's chauffeur could'a been?" Hutch asked, finishing his food and eyeing the clock.
"Green sedan was stolen and none of the other cruisers caught sight of the car after the crash. We don't keep these covers we're gonna-hey!"
"Hey what?"
Starsky pointed at the intersection in front of them. "Cometh the thin man." He said, and Hutch zeroed in on the buyer he'd chased out of the garage the night before.
The long-haired blonde was twitching, walking with a rolling gate that was hampered by almost constant muscle spasms. It made him look like the scarecrow from the oz movie, only worse.
"Looks like we interrupted an important fix purchase last night."
"What do you think?" Starsky asked, letting Hutch figure out the unspoken aspects to the question.
They sat for a second watching the man roll toward the garage entrance, scan the street with an uneven sweep of his head, then disappear down the short ramp. Hutch glanced at the clock then gathered the trash from his lunch and said, "I'll play curious employee getting back from lunch and see how it goes."
"Still got your radio?"
"I left it in the typewriter room."
"I'm comin' with ya."
"Starsky it's gonna be-"
"Hutch...I got a feelin'." Starsky said, staring at the empty garage ramp. When he looked back at his flaxen haired, blue eyed partner the man pursed his lips and gave in.
They stepped out of the car together and Hutch casually crossed the street while Starsky ran up the block to the crosswalk and crossed there. They narrowed in on the ramp from opposite directions, Starsky's hands itching to pull his gun, but forcing himself to relax.
Hutch went into the garage first, Starsky standing just out of sight against the small bit of concrete wall between the entrance and a planter. He heard the faint echo of humming coming from somewhere in the mostly empty space, then the sound was interrupted and the Thin Man said, "Hey, hey man. I like your jacket."
"Thanks." Hutch said, playing the awkward encounter to a tee. Starsky leaned his head toward the door, catching a glimpse of the two standing a few feet from each other before he leaned back again. "Gotta go to work, man." Hutch said a minute later.
"Yeah, yeah...hey. Don't I know you from…"
"Been in the library?" Hutch asked, and Starsky could hear the polite smile in Hutch's voice.
"Oh you...yeah, you work there." Thin Man said. "You work there. Hey...uh...change? You got, you got spare change or something?"
Hutch was quiet for a moment then Starsky heard the faint shuffle of his sneakers on the garage floor. "I can give you something, but you should know this is state property...you can't panhandle here."
"Who's panning? I'm not panning...just...you know. Need a little bus fare. A little somethin' for a cup of coffee y'know."
It would be like Hutch to give the man a buck, Starsky knew, and he glanced around the corner again only to catch sight of dark green paneling rushing toward his left side. The sedan came at the ramp faster than it should have and Starsky had no direction to run in but at the approaching car.
He had managed to hit the hood running, climbing over the sedan before it hit the brakes. The sudden stop threw him off balance and his foot slipped. He tilted off the roof of the car and felt the impact of his head on the concrete before anything else.
His vision blurred and the world sounded like it was underwater. Starsky felt everything around him as if through several layers of blanket. Hands dragged him upright and into the garage.
Hutch tried to save him, striking out against the Thin Man with a hard right before he went for the guy on Starsky's left.
The woosy brunette tried to help, turning into the man on his right and driving him back and into a support column. He'd even landed a few blows into the guy's stomach before clenched fists came down on the back of his neck. Pain exploded, bursting into his head and racing down his spine and Starsky caught a right cross, full in the jaw that he hoped hurt the other guy as much as it hurt him.
He was on his elbows and his knees, scrabbling for his gun when Thin Man's reedy, trembling voice screeched into the garage. "I gotta knife man. I'm gonna cut him!"
Starsky couldn't figure out who was going to get cut and who was doing the cutting. He couldn't figure out who was supposed to be backing down and who the bad guys were. His whole world was a mess of colors and sounds that churned his stomach and made him gag on the sandwich he'd only barely finished.
An unexpected kick dug into his gut and he tasted partially digested peanut butter.
"Leave him alone!" Hutch shouted, the demand echoing menacingly through the empty garage.
Then they both heard the new voice. Clare's voice. She sounded cold and mean and nothing at all like the perky, cheery curly top she'd been in the stacks. "Stick him a little, Pete. Not too deep."
Hutch let out a muted gasp of pain and Starsky dragged in a desperate breath, sitting back on his knees and wrapping an arm around his stomach. He felt drunk, sick as a dog, and wasn't sure if breathing wasn't making things worse for him.
"Everybody calm, now?" Clare said with dulled sarcasm. "Willy...go move the car off the ramp."
"What are we gonna do with these guys?" Willy asked, his voice a deep basso that belonged to a boss's number one henchman. The odd thing was that the boss was a lady.
Clare didn't respond and Starsky, eyes watering, finally managed to lift his head and meet her eyes. She was staring down at him, her face a mask of cold, calculating, featureless business. He couldn't put the two girls together, the Clare that he met in the stacks, and the Clare that had just ordered a man to stab his partner.
Starsky worked his jaw, wincing at the swelling but fairly certain nothing was broken. His head on the other hand...he couldn't lift it any higher without the world doing the tilt-a-whirl again.
"Get up."
"Can't."
Clare shuffled closer and Hutch watched her draw a foot back again.
"Hey! If he can't get up, he can't. Kicking him won't make it happen faster." Hutch blurted as fast and as loud as he could. "Let me help him up."
Clare considered for a short moment then nodded and Hutch pulled away from "Pete". He took a second to swipe his hand back toward the subtle pain just below his bottom rib, came back with a little blood smeared on his fingers, then bent to his partner.
"Can't get up, Hutch. Can't." Starsky whispered, his fingers digging into the sleeves of Hutch's jacket once his arms were in reach.
"You gotta try, buddy."
"What the hell's goin' on?" Starsky whined, swallowing and panting as Hutch forced him to his feet.
Hutch was quiet at first, scanning the empty garage as Willy parked the sedan inches from Clare's wide spread legs and stepped out.
"There's a fan somewhere…" He muttered finally, almost completely supporting Starsky's weight. "Spreading manure all over the place."