A DARK DAY IN MAY
CHAPTER 4
Hutch didn't object when I finally caught up with him in the parking garage and climbed into the car beside him. Hell, he didn't even talk to me. But that was okay. I knew he had other things on his mind. I knew he still felt bad about leaving Starsky, especially after what had just happened, so did I, but finding out who was behind this was still a top priority. They had to be stopped before they could try again.
The honorable Jonathan Wells had his offices in a fancy building in downtown Los Angeles. You know, one of those buildings that made you feel out of place the minute you walk in the door. Especially if you're like me and come from the wrong side of the tracks. But, Hutch, with his cultured, refined background, seemed to fit right in.
The lawyer's office was on the sixteenth floor. Hutch brushed past the stunned receptionist and barreled his way into the private domain of the good lawyer. I stayed in the waiting area, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably. The receptionist kept giving me dirty looks as if she thought I was going to make off with the paintings on the wall. I gave her one of my best Huggy Bear smiles which she pointedly ignored. I sighed and resigned myself to waiting on Hutch to finish his business with the lawyer.
When the receptionist stepped away from her desk momentarily, I saw my chance to help out and slipped over to the desk. I tore the last sheet out of the book lying open on her desk and slid it into my pocket. I hurried back to my spot beside the elevator doors and leaned against the wall nonchalantly.
It wasn't much longer before Hutch stormed out of the private office, his eyes smoldering with rage. Obviously his visit with the good Jonathan Wells had not gone well.
"What are you doing here?" he barked at me gruffly as I fell into step beside him.
"Trying to catch up with you." I said innocently, as we stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid silently shut, I lowered my voice and said, "Hutch, my man…you are inn luck. Huggy is about to make a very special delivery."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"The receptionist's call sheet." I said, as I discreetly slipped him the sheet of folded paper I had snitched from the desk. "A list of all the outgoing calls made by the honorable Jonathan Wells."
Hutch took the paper and tucked it into his jacket. We both fell silent until after we had exited the high-rise. As we started walking towards the car that we had parked down the block, Hutch muttered, "Every time I get a door open…it gets slammed right back in my face. I tell you, Huggy…whoever is behind this has all the power. All the damn control."
"Maybe. Maybe not." I answered with a shrug. "You keep pushing and somebody is bound to make a mistake."
Hutch paused to pull the sheet of paper out of his jacket. He skimmed rapidly over the list of names and phone numbers. "Bates? Bates?" he muttered under his breath. "San Francisco area code. Six…seven…eight calls." He frowned thoughtfully "Who the hell is this guy Bates?"
"There's a phone." I pointed out. "How about seeing what you can find out?"
"Give me some change, will ya?" Hutch asked as he walked towards the payphone in front of the building. "I'm all out." I dug through my pockets and handed him all the change I had on me. Hutch picked up the receiver, cradling it against his shoulder as he started depositing coins in the slot. "What's the number?"
"Uh…555…" I said, taking the piece of the paper from him so I could read the number. "6278."
Hutch dialed the number and waited impatiently for someone to pick up on the other end. I watched anxiously as the color drained from his face and he hung up without saying a word into the receiver.
"What?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me. "Who answered? Who's Bates?" I didn't like the expression on his face. Something about it made me nervous, very nervous.
"I….uh…I don't know." Hutch said with a slight stammer. A bad sign. Hutch only stammered when he was upset or under a lot of stress. "But, at least I know who this phone number belongs to."
"Who?" I demanded somewhat impatiently.
"The man turned down a chance at the presidency because it was a step down in power." Hutch said in a stunned tone. He looked at me somberly. "Hug, this number…it's Gunther Industries. It's the private line to James Gunther."
"Gunther?" I repeated in an equally stunned voice. I knew exactly who James Gunther was. Hell, everybody did. He was a powerful man with worldwide connections, both legitimate and some not so legitimate. He had been under suspicion for years for being the money man behind some real heavy duty illegal enterprises but nobody had ever been able to pin anything on him. He had enough money to buy his way out of any investigation that was thrown in his direction. "You think Gunther has something to do with what happened to Starsky?"
"I don't know but I'm sure as hell gonna find out," Hutch said with cold, determination. "If I can connect him to the contract on Starsky and me, he's gonna go down this time and the bastard won't be able to buy his way out of it."
"And how do you intend to do that?" I asked "Gunther has the connections to cover his ass so good he'll still come out smelling like a rose."
"Not this time." Hutch growled in a determined voice. "Not this time. Somewhere there is a tie to Gunther Industries, I'm sure of it. And I intend to find it if it's the last thing I do," Hutch said, his voice rising in frustration at his inability to find the link he needed. Still, his instincts told him that he was on the right track.
"And just where do you plan to start?" I asked in patient voice.
"Minnie Kaplan. She's the department's computer whiz. She can dig up a paper trail on Gunter if anyone can. If I can show a connection between Gunther Industries and any of the high profile cases Starsky and I have been involved in the past couple of years, it could tie him into what happened to Starsky."
It was a start. Not much to go on but it was a start. I was just along for the ride. We continued on to the car and Hutch drove to police headquarters, He parked in front of the main entrance, using the same spot that Starsky favored whenever he parked on the . street. As we entered the building and made our way towards the communications center in search of Minnie, several officers stopped us to inquire about Starsky's condition. Hutch was polite and cordial but I could see that the endless questions and well wishes were starting to wear on his already ragged nerves.
Minnie Kaplan was sitting at her desk in the communications center. She glanced up as we stepped into the room, instantly bouncing to her feet and rushing forward to give Hutch a heartfelt hug. "How's Curly?" she immediately asked. She was genuinely fond of the two men. She had been one of the first officers on the scene when the word spread through the building that Starsky had been shot.
"Holding his own." Hutch told her, giving her the same answer he had been giving everyone else who had asked. "Look, Minnie….I need a favor. It might have something to do with what happened."
"Name it."
"I need you to find out everything you can about James Gunther and Gunther Industries. And I need it as soon as possible."
"That's a tall order. It could take awhile." She said. "Where are you gonna be? At the hospital?"
"Of course." He told her with a tired smile.
"You take care of him, Huggy." Minnie said, glancing in my direction. "A Hutch without a Starsky just don't look right, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know." I replied with a return smile. "I'm gonna be Blondie's shadow for awhile…at least until Starsky is up to the job again."
Hutch left the building by the back stairs. I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach when I realized where we were headed. The parking garage. The place where Starsky had almost died. I choked back the bile that rose in my throat as a vivid image of the shooting surfaced in my mind in all its gory detail. As we stepped into the lot, my gaze was automatically drawn to a roped off area about a hundred yards away. The pavement still bore the red stains where Starsky's blood had soaked into the pavement before help arrived. I shivered involuntarily as the echo of gunfire echoed in my head.
Hutch turned and walked towards a fenced off section of the parking lot, the impound area. A flash of red caught my eye, gleaming underneath the glare of the mid-day sun. The Torino was sitting alongside the fence that surrounded the impound lot. I felt the nausea churning in my stomach as I viewed the damage to Starsky's pride and joy. The rear windshield and both windows on the driver's side of the car were shattered, along with the driver's side mirror. Bullet holes marred the surface of the vehicle, ugly jagged holes torn through the metal into the very heart of the car. Streaks of dried blood were smeared across the driver's side of the vehicle and rear wheel well. The Torino had been as badly wounded as its owner.
"Oh, man…" I whispered "It's a good thing Curly can't see his baby now."
"He's never going to see it like this." Hutch vowed firmly. "I don't care how much it costs…he'll never see his car looking like this." he smiled faintly. "I think he spends more money on that damn car then he does on food and you know how much he likes to eat."
I tried not to look too surprised when Hutch dug the keys out his pocket and tossed them to me. The big blond was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. He could at least rest while I drove back to the hospital. He crumpled into the passenger's side of the car and leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. I cast worried glances at him from time to time as I headed to the hospital. My own eyes burned from a lack of sleep and my stomach insisted on reminding me that I hadn't eaten in several hours.
Nothing had changed since we had been gone. Starsky was still in the same condition he had been in when we left. Still alive, but still in a deep coma, unresponsive to his surroundings. Mrs. Starsky had arrived in our absence and was sitting at her son's bedside. She noticed us at the window and gracefully rose to her feet, joining us in the hallway.
"How is he?" Hutch asked, trying desperately to keep the anxiety from showing in his voice.
"The same." Rachel Starsky said softly, patting Hutch on the arm comfortingly, much the way that Starsky himself would have done. The doctor said that his vital signs are more stable than they were earlier…but he keeps saying not to get our hopes up. He's still not out of danger." She looked at Hutch fondly. "Why don't you go in and sit with him for a while?" she directed a smile in my direction. "Mr. Brown here can buy me a cup of coffee."
"My pleasure, lovely lady." I said with a grin, offering her my arm like a true gentleman. Hutch slipped into Starsky's room as Mrs. Starsky and I strolled down the hallway to the elevator.
Instead of taking her to the hospital cafeteria, I escorted her to a small coffee shop across the street. After she'd ordered a cup of coffee and I had ordered coffee and a sandwich, she looked at me and said,
"You've been a good friend to David over the years, Jerome." I winced at her use of my given name. She was one of the few people who knew my real name and called me by it. Noticing my expression, she chuckled softly. "I'll try to remember to call you Huggy while I'm here so I don't embarrass you."
"You can call me whatever you want…within reason." I told her with a grin.
The
smile faded from her face. "My son is dying, Huggy…and I'm not
ready to lose him. Not yet. Not like this."
"Hey, Starsky's
a lot stronger than anybody thinks. He'll make it…you'll see."
"I wish I could believe that." Her eyes filled with sadness. "His father died before I got a chance to say goodbye to him…now it looks like the same thing may happen with David."
"You can't think that way." I heard myself saying. "As long as he's alive…there's still a chance. He should have died in that parking lot but he didn't. He should have died in surgery but he didn't. He should have died when he went into cardiac arrest but he didn't. He's still fighting…he's fighting to stay with everybody who loves him."
"Then he's in for the fight of his life." Rachel said with a heavy sigh. "And he may not be strong enough to survive it." Her face took on a serene look. "God's will be done…it's in his hands now."
"Amen to that." I said quietly.
