(4)

Hutch was in love … and it didn't sit well with Starsky. The fact that he hadn't laid eyes on the girl made him suspicious. They shared everything, nothing was off limits between the two and this, not introducing his lady to his best friend, was something that didn't escape Starsky's mind. Sure, Hutch was secretive and more reserve of the two but when it came to his love interests, especially someone he really clicked with (someone other than Starsky, of course), Starsky was the first to meet the lovely lady. It was their thing, flaunting their dates to one another. But Gillian was different. She made Hutch act different and Starsky didn't like it.

He was sitting behind his desk, one eye on a paper splayed out between his hands and the other on his partner who sat on a desk as far away as he could from Starsky. Hutch was whispering into the phone, his goofy smile firmly planted on his face. He would turn to look at Starsky as he talked every few moments, making sure his conversation wasn't being heard. It was all one sided anyway, nothing from Gillian and so all Starsky was able to hear were the sweet nothings that Hutch was telling her. That and the soothing tone he used when he wanted to calm someone down and the way he clutched to the phone, his knuckles white. Starsky knew him too well. Hutch was stressed and was playing it off, like he always did.

When his partner stood up, Starsky put down his unread newspaper and sighed. Captain Dobey walked into the squad room, his eyes on the two detectives. He walked up to Starsky and motioned to his partner who was putting on his jacket in a hurry and trying to find his keys on his cluttered desk.

"What's wrong with him?" Dobey inquired.

"It's called love, Cap," Starsky replied. "My partner dearest has found himself a good old fashion girl who will tend to his good old fashion boring needs."

"What's boring to some, is fun to others," Hutch interjected, taking his keys off Starsky's desk - how they'd gotten there was a wonder to him – and made his way to the door. He turned before exiting. "Um, I have to go, cap-"

" – I'm sure I can handle it," Starsky interrupted. "Hutch can go, right, captain?" Captain Dobey nodded. "See! Now go on and see your special lady friend." Starsky took a few moments, watching Hutch go, before turning to Dobey. "I'm going to look her up."

"What? What for?"

"There is something going on here, Cap!" Starsky exclaimed. "I haven't met her! I always meet Hutch's girl, always."

"Well, maybe he wants her all to himself," Dobey said leaving a manila envelope and his desk and walking away.

(5)

Starsky walked into The Pits later than day, immediately catching Huggy's eye. The tall man followed him to one of the tables on the far end corner of the club. The place wasn't crowded but it was full enough that Starsky didn't want anyone listening in on this conversation, especially one that revolved around his partner. He'd phone Huggy earlier, asking for a meet but hadn't told him for what.

"Hey, Hug, I need a favour." Huggy made a go ahead gesture with his hands and waited. Starsky looked around, making sure no one heard. "It's about Hutch."

"Hutch?" Huggy asked taken aback. "What's wrong with Blondie? Did something happen?"

"You can't tell him," Starsky told him. "I need you to look into his girl. Ask around w-with whomever you can and a-ask…" he paused. Was he really about to do this? Yes, he told himself, for Hutch's sake. "Ask around for information on Gillian Ingram."

(6)

A few days later, Starsky went down to a local massage parlour. He kept his badge in his pocket and made his way inside the alcohol-on-top-of-vanilla smelling place. He had received a message from Huggy about Gillian and had, after leaving Hutch will all the paperwork for the week. He walked into parlour and looked around. There was girl by a desk who stood when he came in, a smile on her pretty face.

"Hello," she purred out, running her hand through her red hair. "How can I help you, sir?"

"I'm… I'm looking for s-someone," he told the girl looking around.

"Oh, really?" the girl sat back down with the pace of a turtle, making sure her shirt stretched over her chest as she leaned on the desk and asked, "who are you looking for?"

"Her name is Gillian," Starsky said, leaning down on the desk opposite of the girl. "You're not Gillian by any chance?"

The girl shook her head. "But I could be, if you wanted me to be."

"No… see it has to be Gillian, i-its important I find her," Starsky told her with a smile. The girl's smile faltered but she pointed to the back, behind a curtain, with her manicured red nails.

"Gillian is through those curtain, baby, but she's busy. I don't think you'll want to disturb her at this time."

Starsky leaned down and placed a kiss on the girl's cheek. He went to the curtain, pulling it back slightly. He expected to see Gillian giving some old guy a massage, perhaps as background for her novel (Hutch had said she was a writer) anything but the worst. He pulled back the curtain, took a peek and sighed. Nope, Gillian was one bad cookie and Hutch had to know. Starsky left determined to tell Hutch what he'd found.

(7)

Starsky goes home, not having the energy to do anything especially not to speak to Hutch. And yet the moment he is relaxed, picking up a newspaper and reading it over, he picked up his phone and dialled Hutch's number. By the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to hang up.

"Yeah, make it fast," Hutch answered roughly.

Not having anything to say, Starsky just said, "hey."

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"Nothing," Starsky said in all honesty, putting the newspaper down and rubbing the back of his neck. He could tell Hutch right now and get it over with. But first, "How are you doing?"

"I'm going out, that's what's doing."

"Mm. Oh yeah," Starsky replied. Yup not the time to tell him the truth about his girl. "With Gillian?"

"No," Hutch said, "the Boston Strangler." He snorted. "Of course with Gillian, who else?"

A pause. Starsky had to stop himself from saying anything stupid like 'someone who isn't lying to you'. It wasn't the time and judging by the sarcastic voice Hutch was using, he was in a hurry anyway and wouldn't listen.

"Well, have a good time."

"Yeah, thanks, mom. Oh, I'll be in early," Hutch said a second before he hung up.

Starsky held the phone by his ear, thinking. Hutch was in love, or at least he sure seemed that way. At the very least he was smitten. A smitten Hutch was a dangerous Hutch, Starsky had learnt that a while back. It wasn't the time to tell him.

"When is the right time?" Starsky asked himself out loud, hanging up the phone. "When is it ever the right time to hear that your girl is also a hands on masseuse?"