Early next morning, Starsky was back at his partner's apartment, waiting outside for some sign of life. He'd tried the front door and had assumed that Hutch was out on one of his usual early morning mile runs, although usually by now the blond was back, showered and ready to roll. He tapped on the steering wheel, a staccato rhythm that echoed the tune going round and round in his head. He accompanied the drum beat with a tuneless whistle, then made his mind up, got out the car and trotted round to the rear of the apartment and peered in through the bedroom window.
To his surprise he saw a golden head still happily asleep on the pillow, then looked again more carefully and saw the almost empty bottle of bourbon nestling in the crook of Hutch's arm. Sighing, Starsky went back round to the front door and thudded on it. He paused, his ear cocked for any signs of life, then thudded again until he heard a bleary voice yelling.
A moment later, Hutch's face peered around the semi open door and the blond screwed up his eyes against the bright sunshine.
'What?' he grunted.
'Whadya mean "what"? It's 7:30. Time all good little detectives were up and ready. Whassup, are ya sick or sumthin?'
Hutch let the door go and shuffled back into the room as Starsky followed, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. Hutch flinched at the noise as though a cannon had discharged in his living room and went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He rested his back against the counter top and took a deep chug, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he finished, droplets of the spilt drink sparkling on his golden chest.
In the cold light of day, he looked in worse shape than the brunet had seen him for some time. With flaxen hair mussed and standing up in small clumps, his eyes red rimmed and barely open and with dark rings below them, Hutch looked as though he'd gone ten rounds with Mohammed Ali. He stared glumly at the empty glass.
'Van' he said, as though that one world explained everything.
The brunet nodded and sighed. 'Aww buddy. She's really got ya screwed up hasn't she?'
'She just won't let up. She hounds me constantly an' the money's never enough. It's not like I'm dirt rich or anythin' She just wants the…oh hell, I'm screwed no matter what. I just feel like giving her the lot an' movin' on. We used to be so much in love…..or at least I thought we were'. He looked up for some understanding from his partner.
'So ya thought that you an' ole Jim Beam would have a night in together huh?' Starsky asked.
Hutch chuckled, winced then nodded carefully. 'Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now?…..Well so long as someone tells the little guy with the hammer inside by skull to knock it off, I'll be good'.
'Go take a shower, an' I'll make us some coffee. D'ya want me to call you in sick?'
Hutch pushed himself off the countertop, ran a hand over his head and down so that the big strong fingers cradled and kneaded at the knot at the base of his skull. 'Gimme five. I'll be right out' he mumbled, tottering towards the bathroom as Starsky put the percolator on to brew.
Half an hour later, a sweeter smelling, better groomed Hutchinson followed his partner out of the apartment and to the big red car. They got in and no sooner had Starsky started the engine than the mic. sprang to life.
'Zebra three, zebra three, stand by for a patch through from Captain Dobey' the female voice sounded.
With a quiet muttered "shit!" Hutch reached for the handset. He cleared his throat. 'Go ahead, this is zebra three'.
There was a pause of no more than a second during which the blond's stomach churned noisily and attempted a triple somersault with pike before Dobey's gruff voice sounded over the phone.
'Is that Hutchinson or Starsky?'
'Hutchinson Cap'n'
'Is there any chance that the two of you might grace us with your presence any time today?'
'We're rolling now Cap'n and….'
Starsky reached over and took the mic. from his friend's hand. 'Sorry Cap'n, I got a puncture on the way. But it's fixed, we'll be right in. What's the rush?'
'Got a job for you two. So when you've finished tinkering with your car, d'ya think you could get your butts down here pronto?'
'We're right on it Cap'n' Starsky said and hung the mic back on its cradle.
'You didn't have to do that' Hutch said quietly, his head resting on his hand which was propped against the car door.
'Do what?'
'You know! Cover for me. I should never have gotten so drunk last night. I let ya down'.
'Didn't! Anyhow, think of it as "one in the bank". I'm pretty sure there'll be a time when ya have to return the favour buddy. Wonder what the job is'.
'Dunno. Something high profile and exciting? Major drugs bust. Or what about goin' undercover?'
'Yeah. Sounds good'.
Hutch closed his eyes. 'Uh huh, undercover in a strip joint. Now there's a thought'.
Starsky snorted. 'Knowing your luck with chicks you'd be undercover in a home for the elderly……as one of the residents'. He pulled the car into the police garage and they both got out. While the brunet trotted around to the stairs steps, Hutch gingerly got himself out of the car, groaned and then staggered to the side and deposited the water and the black coffee he'd drunk in an acrid puddle on the floor. He braced his arms against the rough wall, breathing deeply, the straightened and wiped his hand over his mouth, swallowing down the bitter taste and trying to ignore the close pile carpet covering his tongue. He grimaced as he saw the smirk on his partner's face. 'You mention "I told ya so" an' I'll…..'
'You'll what? Throw up on my shoes?' Starsky asked.
Hutch glared at him 'Don't tempt me' he grunted as he followed the curly haired man inside.
They plodded along the corridor and stopped outside their Captain's room, knocking once. Starsky hated knocking. It always made him feel like a second class citizen, but he was still a newbie so he swallowed down his pride and obeyed the rules…..for a while at least. They heard a curt "come in" and followed the command, entering Dobey's inner sanctum.
'Sit down' the black man said without looking up. It was the first time the two young detectives had been summoned together to the office and now they looked around for the chairs. There was only one - a brown leather bucket type chair with a narrow seat and leather bound arms. Hutch flopped thankfully down onto it, trying to keep his rebellious stomach under control. Starsky looked around for somewhere to park his butt and toyed with the idea of getting his chair from his office, but Dobey was now glaring at them expectantly, so the brunet perched casually on the chair arm and regarded his boss calmly.
'We got a big one' Dobey started. 'Eleni Flint, leader of the west side gang "The Diabolos", They've been connected with just about everything from arms trading to drugs heists to some pretty horrific murders. She's in protective custody at the moment. Seems her gang want their leader back – they don't trust her not to give away their secrets.
'And?' Hutch asked.
'She needs minding'.
Starsky stood up, thought better of it and sat down, then stood up again. 'That's a shit assignment Cap'n'.
'This is not a shit assignment' Dobey snapped back.
'Yes it is, an' you know it' the brunet growled. 'We didn't join the force to hold no girl's hand'.
'An' ya don't seem to have joined it to follow orders either Starsky' Dobey thundered at him. 'SIT DOWN'.
The curly haired cop stopped his pacing, but didn't sit down. 'Cap'n can't ya get someone else t'do this? Hutch 'n' me need to be out there. We need to be in the action, not sittin' nursemaidin' some chick'.
Dobey snorted. 'You might change your mind on that when ya see her. Eleni Flint is not your average chick'.
'Whatever, Cap'n. Starsky's right' Hutch joined in. 'Just how many of the others did you ask?'
The round black face split into a grin as he chuckled. 'All of 'em' he admitted. 'But this is still important. We keep her out of the way till the DA can charge her and The Diabolos' empire is up in smoke'.
The two detectives sighed in union, looking at the Captain in mute appeal. Dobey was reminded of a couple of terrier dogs looking at the master pleading for a walk, ears cocked and tails wagging and he stifled the chuckle, getting back to the business in hand.
Starsky started to open his mouth, but Dobey put up a silencing hand. 'This is no shit assignment, got it?'
Hutch took hold of his partner's arm, restraining and calming the hot tempered brunet at one and the same time. 'Leave it Starsk' he muttered under his breath as he felt the coiled spring of a body relax slightly against him.
For the next hour, they went over the details of the job, the hiding place being used, the men involved, the MO of the gang and the trial details. By the end of it, it was clear to both that this was indeed a shit assignment, but they kept their counsel.
They were to take twelve hour shifts each guarding Eleni Flint at the Ocean Motel where she'd been given a small suite. She was unable to leave it, being effectively under house arrest. They decided to do twelve midday to twelve midnight so that both would get some sleep and be able to function adequately and as they took final instructions from Dobey, they stood, preparing to go.
'Got it Cap'n. Go to the motel, hold her hand, yady yah'.
Dobey glared at the brunet. 'I had a partner once. Elmo got too cocky one night. Got gunned down in the middle of the street. Seem to recall he thought that one was a shit job too. For God sake keep your wits about you and watch your backs. Now get out'.
'Just one last thing Cap'n. When d'we start?'
Dobey looked at his watch. 'Around about now. I want you both to get over there and case the motel. Eleni Flint will be arriving at around midday'.
Amid general grumbling, the two walked out into the squad room. At that time of the morning it was reasonably full and several of the older cops looked down studiously at their paperwork as Starsky and his partner emerged from the inner office, trying to make out that they hadn't been earwigging at the door.
There was a muffled snicker from the corner of the room and Syd looked up, a sarcastic grin on his face. 'Ya finally got a job ya can handle kid?'
Starsky glared at him and was about to say something, but thought better of it. He began to walk to the door.
Seeing his morning's sport departing, Syd tried again. 'Got some asswipe of a partner to hold your hand so ya think you're a big guy now huh? How long before ya get him killed?'
In two strides, Starsky was across the office, hands planted firmly on the desk as he stared into Syd's face, inches from the older man's eyes.
'Don't you ever bad mouth my partner' he ground out, his face turkey cock red. 'He's earned my respect an' friendship long before you ever clapped eyes on me. He's more of a man than you'll ever be. An' as for getting' him killed – I'd sooner lose an eye than put him in any danger'. Starsky stood up, balling his hands into fists as he stared down at Syd. The older cop looked taken aback at the outburst and was wise enough to say nothing more as the brunet walked stiffly from the room.
As they walked down the corridor, Hutch grinned at his partner's back. He quickened to catch up with the fleeing back. 'Gee I didn't know you cared' he said lightly as he caught Starsky up.
The brunet stopped in his tracks and locked indigo blue eyes on Hutch's crystal ones. His face straight, he swallowed once. 'Yeah, I care. More'n' you'll ever know Blondie' he said softly, then turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Hutch feeling absurdly emotional and determined to find out what that was all about.