Chapter Ten
The mysterious note that Hutch had found under his door yielded a partial print. The print boys were running it, but weren't very optimistic about finding a match since it was so small. Still, it was the first tangible clue they had found in the case, and Hutch was hopeful.
Hutch was in the squad room pouring over the thick file on the case once more, hoping to find something, no matter how insignificant that might have been missed. He glanced up as an attractive brunette named Tanya Tayler sat down across from him. The attractive brunette was an undercover officer with the vice squad that Hutch had been introduced to during his initial tour of the department. Rumors around the squad claimed that she had been in an off again, on again relationship with Starsky for years.
"I hope you find Davy. He's important to a lot of people," She said offhandedly.
"Including you?" Hutch asked casually.
"Not so much me as his mother and his brother…his friends. He's not as bad as some of the jerks around try to make it sound. He's had a hard life; he's learned to keep his distance from people and not let anyone get too close."
"He sure as hell does a good job of that," Hutch said dryly.
"He can be a stubborn, hard-nosed son of a bitch, but on the other hand, he can also be the kindest, gentlest man I've ever known. He had to grow up fast. Be the man of the house at ten after his dad was killed. Then he spent four years in Viet Nam, years that took their toll and changed who he was. He came back a bitter, disillusioned man who didn't trust anybody except himself. And he still doesn't."
"From what I've seen, his own squad thinks he's either psychotic or suicidal."
"Is that what you think?" she countered with a thin smile.
"As long as he doesn't get me killed, I don't really care."
"I don't believe that. I think you and David are more alike than you realize."
"Yeah," Hutch agreed with a smile. "We've both stubborn, hard-nosed sons of bitches who prefer to work alone and don't trust anyone but ourselves."
"Sometimes David pushes things too far, but he gets the job down. I suspect that you do, too. The two of you would be good together if you'd each just open up a little and stop butting heads every time you turn around."
"You sound like the department shrink," Hutch told her with a chuckle.
"Don't let the packaging fool you," Tanya said with a grin as she swept her hand from her head to her waist indicating her current outfit, a short tight leather mini shirt, black fishnet hose, and a clingy, cream-colored blouse that showed off two of her best assets. Creamy, unblemished skin, long dark hair, and delicate features with big, blue eyes and a lush mouth designed for kissing, made her a very beautiful woman. "I have a dual master's degree in psychology and social work."
Hutch looked at her with a newfound respect and admiration. It was hard to be a woman in a male-dominated world like the police department, and it was even harder to be an intelligent, educated woman in that world. Hutch had encountered his own brand of reverse discrimination over the years because of his own college degree, a combination of pre-med and criminal justice.
"Rumor around here is that you and Starsky are some kind of item."
Tanya's laugh filled the air causing officers at near-by desks to glance in their direction before turning their attention back to their own work.
"David and I are friends, good friends, but that's as far as things go with us. We started out as an item but decided we were better off the way things are now. If you listen to all the rumors that float around this place, I'm a man-hating lesbian with three kids, and David is a pariah who gets anyone who works with him killed."
"I don't know about the lesbian part," Hutch told her with a grin, "But, I've been told my life expectancy may be cut drastically short by working with Starsky."
"David would give his own life to protect someone else…it's true his last three partners have ended up dead but what happened to them wasn't David's fault."
"What did happen to them?"
"Billy Raymes got caught in the cross fire when a bust went bad, and Tommy Willis ate his gun after his wife left him and took their four kids along with all the money in their bank account. His first partner, Randy Hughes, had cancer, but he didn't want anyone in the department to know. It was an inoperable brain tumor, so there wasn't that much of a change in his appearance, even at the end."
"That sucks."
"Yeah, it does, but David dealt with it and all the rumors that went along with it."
Tanya rose gracefully to her feet and left the squad room, leaving Hutch with new facets of his temporary partner to analyze and process.
Hutch finished skimming through the file, finally closing it with a heavy sigh when it failed to yield any new information that he could find. It had been three days. As far as anyone knew, the slasher had never kept a victim alive longer then four days before he murdered them and dumped the body. Starsky didn't have much time left.
As he grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it, preparing to return to his hotel room for the evening, a young rookie with fresh-scrubbed looks and a neatly pressed uniform came over to him.
"Detective Hutchinson?" he asked nervously
"That's me."
The younger man handed him a slim file folder and said, "This is for you."
As the youngster scurried away, Hutch opened the file. It was the report on the partial print that had been on the message left under Hutch's door. His heart began to pound as his eyes scanned the results. A match had been found. Finally, a clue that could help solve the case!
The partial print found on the note shoved under Hutch's door belonged to a drifter named Andy Porter. He had a record in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles for minor offenses: loitering, public intoxication, shop lifting, and petty theft. But there was nothing violent that would implicate him in the string of murders on both coasts.
As a transient, he had no permanent address, drifting from one place to another, staying in flop houses, shelters and sleeping in abandoned buildings. The only other link that could connect him to the murders was the fact that he was the registered owner of a twenty-year-old, battered, light-colored van.
The problem would be finding him to question him about the murders. An old mug shot showed an average-looking man with neatly cut brown hair, blue eyes and average features. No scars or other deformities to set him apart. Everything about the man was average, which made him even harder to pick out of a lineup.
Hutch put out an A.P.B. on his suspect before leaving the station for the evening.
He was stopped in front of his hotel by a local hooker who went by the name of Sissy. She was young, probably younger then the nineteen her ID said she was. She was pretty in her own way, with a freshly scrubbed face, no make-up other than some clear lip gloss, and short blonde hair cut in the latest style. She wore a pair of short shorts that barely covered her ample butt cheeks, and a low cut tee shirt that gave a clear view of her nipples when she leaned forward.
"Hey, sugar…how about some loving?"
"Sorry, honey," Hutch told her with a tender smile to take the sting out of his rejection. "Not tonight." He took a ten dollar bill out of his pocket and folded it in half, slipping it between the mounds of her breasts. "Go buy yourself something pretty. Okay?"
"Hey, baby…I can make it real good…ya know? Anything you want. Anal, oral, golden shower, S and M…whatever turns you on…" she coaxed as she ran long fingers down the inside of his arm.
"I said not tonight." Hutch told her a bit more firmly.
Sissy leaned in forward as if she were going to kiss him and hissed, "Look, I really need to talk to you. Word on the street is you can be trusted…It's about the slasher…"
Hutch's expression remained the same as he took her by the arm and led her into the hotel. He ignored the disapproving look of the desk clerk as he led Sissy down the hall to his room. Once they were inside with the door securely closed and locked, he looked at her sternly. "Okay, what do you have to tell me?"
"Word is that he has Starsky, and that Curly is going to be his next victim."
"Tell me something I don't know already."
"I might know where they are…" Sissy said after a slight hesitation.
"Where?"
"If I tell you than you have to help me, man. I want off the streets…"
"I'm sure we can work something out."
"And I want out of this town. I wanna live somewhere down south…like Florida…where it's warm all the time."
"Done. Tell me what you know?"
"How do I know I can trust you? I want it in writing and signed by the big shots before I tell you anything."
Hutch grabbed her arm, squeezing just tight enough to make her wince, but not tight enough to hurt her. "How about I bust you right now for solicitation and attempting to bribe an officer of the law?"
"Okay, okay…" Sissy hissed as she pulled away from his grasp. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."
"Where are they?"
"In an abandoned house over on Lexington Avenue…39077 Lexington. He's got Curly in the basement."
"How do you know that?"
"Cause this guy has needs just like everybody else and he likes to talk…" Sissy said with a smirk. "He don't look dangerous but he still scared the hell out of me. He was drinking and snorting pills and I think he told me a little bit more than he meant to. I got out of there before he sobered up and remembered about running his mouth so much."
"Okay, let's go." Hutch said, grabbing her arm again.
"Go? Go where?" Sissy demanded. "I told you what I know…you got no reason to bust me!"
"I'm not busting you," Hutch told her. "I'm putting you in protective custody to get you off the streets until we catch this guy. But, for your own safety, it's better if we make it look like a legitimate bust."
"Okay, I guess…" Sissy said in a doubtful tone. "As long as you're not really busting me."
"I'm not." Hutch escorted her back out of his room and down the hall to a payphone where he made sure to talk loud for the desk clerk to hear him calling headquarters and requesting the closest black and white to pick up a female charged with solicitation for transport to headquarters. He also requisitioned an additional unit to check out the address Sissy had given him.
Forty-five minutes later, he arrived at the address on Lexington Avenue. The abandoned property was run down with a tiny yard full of weeds and a broken sidewalk leading to a sagging porch. The windows had been broken and then boarded over, and the exterior of the house had been covered with gang-related graffiti. There was a deserted, almost ominous feel, to the property that made the hair on the back of Hutch's neck rise.
"Keep an eye on the front," Hutch told the uniformed officer accompanying him. "I'm going in. Give me twenty minutes and if I'm not back, then call for back up."
"You got it, Sergeant," the uniformed officer said placidly.
Hutch ignored him as he drew his weapon and began walking towards the front door. He hoped that the uniformed officer was a better cop than his burned-out attitude suggested.