I'm listening.
No answer.
He went on reciting slowy, breathing deeply, relaxing, tentatively.
I'm sorry.
There she was… Okay, let's do this.
What are you sorry for?
For scaring you.
You didn't scare me.
But you thought you were going crazy?
Yes... But not anymore.
Why not?
I don't know.
I mean no harm.
You said that already.
I need you.
Who are you?
I'm...I need your help.
Who are you?
I'm a girl.
I figured that already, thanks.
I know you, Hutch.
Oh yeah? Are you one of the dead girls?
No.
A dead member of my family then?
No.
How do you know me then?
I know you... very well...
Explain.
I'm a part of you...in a way...
Part of me? I don't understand.
I can't' tell you... not now...
When?
Soon...
Hutch tried to remain connected, but she was gone, leaving him in a perplexed state of mind. He just realized that he had talked to the voice much longer than before. He actually had a full dialogue with her! He suddenly became aware that he had finally accepted that voice in his head. The female voice. She knew him. She was part of him. Yet, he had no clue as to how to put everything together. But right now, he didn't care as he felt more relaxed than he had ever been in a long time.
He closed his eyes, knowing that the voice wouldn't speak to him again tonight. Within a few minutes, he was peacefully snoring.
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When he woke up, Hutch felt like something weird had occurred during the night... or was it in the evening?
When he headed for the bathroom, he first started to relieve himself, then washed his hands and stared at his face in the mirror.
Hutch, why were you talking to a girl... a woman? This can't be. You've been hearing that voice in your head for a little while now. Why do you think it happened all of a sudden? If you're not becoming schizo and she isn't one of your ancestors, who do you think she was?
He closed his eyes, suddenly panicked by the idea that had just popped in his head.
What if I'm becoming... oh no... I don't think so. I don't wanna go there! I would've known for long. It's just not conceivable. Forget it, Hutch. You've always been normal. But what is "normal" anyway? Have I had this in me for years and I didn't know, or it wasn't ready to come out? How comes it doesn't sound right when I try to imagine this could be the explanation? No! No way! I'm not... gay!
Still, I've been talking to a female voice inside my head. What if, in a man's life, something triggers the impulse to let the other half of the soul express itself? I've heard that we are all a combination of male and female profile. In most cases, the male is dominant in a male body and so on... What if, for whatever reason, my female part decided to show up and take advantage? Oh boy! Should I go back to Doctor Braun and explain this to him?
I feel like... I don't even know how I feel anymore. I have to meet with Starsky in about an hour. What if I called and said I'm sick? I don't wanna face him. What if this is really it? And I start being... attracted to him?
Forget it, Hutch! You've been working with him for so long that the bond between you is special, that much is certain. But would it sound absurd to say that you might have developed some romantic feeling for him… like lovers do? Of course, some people at Metro have been talking about the two of you for quite a while. About the way you care for each other. And the way you act with each other.
But this doesn't necessarily imply that you love the man. Okay, you love him, but not like that. Oh shit! Where am I going? Please, don't say this could be true.
And if it is, what am I gonna tell Starsky?
Suddenly, an even stranger idea popped into his head.
What if he feels the same way and he never said anything? What if something in his attitude triggered all this in me in the first place?
Huuuutch, stooooooooop!
He squeezed his eyes so hard as to prevent more delirium from making him scream.
He rushed to the shower cabin and set the water temperature at the coldest and remained there, freezing, shivering, until he couldn't stand the biting cold any longer.
He dressed up and poured himself a large mug of black coffee. This morning, he felt like drinking something different and coffee wasn't on his diet list, most of the time. He almost drank the content in one gulp. He was pouring himself a second one when someone knocked at the door. Hutch hesitated long enough to let Starsky know it was OK to come in without getting an answer, as usual.
"Hi there!" his friend happily claimed. "Where is my favorite Sleeping Beauty? Prince Charming has arrived!"
Hutch almost choked on his coffee and even spat some out while trying to catch his breath.
"What's the matter, Blondie?" Starsky said, gently tapping Hutch's back.
"Huh... Nothing... it's the coffee. It's too strong." Hutch avoided to look in his friend's eyes.
"Since when do you drink coffee in the morning? What about your awful blender mixture?"
"Er...I needed something stronger to wake me up." Hutch replied shyly.
"Can I have some?"
"Sure. Help yourself."
Starsky took a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a large dose of the hot black liquid. He took a sip and made a face.
"You're right... can I have some sugar?"
Hutch took a small bowl with sugar lumps and handed it to Starsky which took two lumps and put them in his coffee.
"How can you drink that?" Hutch asked, with a disgusting grin.
"Hey, I like all the good things in life."
"I see."
"You should try them from time to time. Just for the taste of it. Life is short and there are so many wonders yet to discover and sensations to explore. I want to feel all the possible thrills there are to feel, taste every new flavor, bite into every new fruit, swallow..."
"Starskiiii, pleeeeeease!"
"What's the matter?" Starsky looked worried, as Hutch's face had suddenly turned very pale. "You're OK?"
"Yeah. I just need... I'm sorry, Starsk, I'm tired."
"As soon as you have some decent nights sleep again, you'll be as good as new. I promise."
"Perhaps." Hutch replied in a distant tone.
"Honey!"
Hutch startled when he heard the word.
"What?"
"Honey? I bet you hardly eat honey. I never found one jar in your kitchen. It's a hundred percent natural though, produced by lovely charming bees..."
"Starsky!" Hutch was starting to feel nauseous again.
"What?" Starsky felt his partner was really too preoccupied, or was it just because he had another bad night?
Anyway, he didn't insist and Hutch felt relieved that the conversation ended before he felt the need to shout or run like hell out of the house and as far away as he could from his partner in panic.
"Let's go. We need to meet with Abbott and Costello again this morning."
Hutch let out a long sigh which Starsky mistook for a complaint about having to work again with Callaghan and Engels.
"I know, but the sooner we get to the bottom of this, the better. I'll tell you frankly, I don't feel too good about this... I mean the case... I don't know. Something's wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"Something's missing. There is no apparent motive. The girls have been drugged. Killed. Scarred. And there is that note in Spanish. I just hope it's not one of these voodoo wackos. What if some disciple of Papa Theodore decided to perpetuate his master's tradition in here?"
"Starsky, that is a complete nonsense."
"I know, but... still..."
"Forget it. It's probably... well I don't know. But you're right. Let's hit the road."
Hutch snatched his jacket and headed for the door. Suddenly standing too close of his friend in the same room made him feel breathless. And the idea of being stuck with him in the Torino for the duration of their trip to Metro made him feel even worse.
Gee, how am I going to handle this? Please, I hope I'm wrong.
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They had found nothing new to dig. And Dobey was beginning to sound more irritated than ever.
Nevertheless, Hutch had an idea which could help them get a more precise profile of the killer, or at least of the author of the note.
Carl Esteban, the language expert the detectives called, had already collaborated with them two years before to translate the statement of a young murderer who only spoke Spanish. Esteban was a short man wearing oversized glasses which made him look more like an actor in comical TV show than a recognized expert in linguistics. Hutch was trying to convince himself that a single look at the note could enable Esteban to give them more elements than any other source.
When Esteban read the words, he frowned and at first he didn't utter a word. Starsky was already fidgeting on his chair. Esteban raised his eyes and closed them for a brief moment, as if he tried to find the right words that the detectives opposite were avid to hear.
Hutch hesitated then spoke first.
"Well? What do you think, Professor Esteban?" He asked, calling him by his title, hoping to stimulate a faster reply.
Esteban didn't seem to be reactive at all. On the contrary, he opened his eyes, slowly, took a deep breath and read the note again.
Then he started to talk. His voice was incredibly low for a man of his size. One would have expected a high pitch tone, to match his short and funny appearance.
"The fact that the note is in Spanish doesn't necessarily mean the author is Spanish-speaking, yet the words he or she chose make me think that's the case. Considering the words chosen, I would say the author had access to higher education. "Desemboscará impostores y liberará los ángeles". Besides, there is no spelling mistake. This could be a detail, but it could also mean that the author is methodical. The word "desemboscar" sounds a little literary for someone of modest origin. Now the meaning eludes me, of course, because this is obviously a metaphor, but there is definitely a feeling of anger, hate, and a search for revenge."
The two detectives were listening attentively. Hutch was writing in the margin of the chart they had drawn earlier. Esteban paused for a moment.
"The reference to angels could mean the author believes in their superiority over the imposters, but nothing indicates who he or she qualifies as such. This could mean he has been betrayed in the past. The angels are usually supreme and perfect beings: using that word could refer to one or several persons he treats with high consideration. Actually the note is too short to draw more precise conclusions on his feelings. But I can tell you there is revenge at stake; I would bet my life on it."
A heavy silence filled the air between them with even more tension.
"In other words, we aren't any further on than where we were. This guy could even have written this note to guide us in the wrong direction." Hutch sounded disappointed as he had expected the linguist to give them a real clue. "Well, anyway, thanks for your help."
Esteban looked at them and handed the note to the taller officer. "Good luck, detective."
"Thanks. Seems like we're gonna need some to unmask this weirdo."
Starsky sighed impatiently. "Do you think he or she could be crazy... and this note is nothing more than wild imaginings?"
"I can't tell for sure." Esteban frowned again. "Have you tried to go through the files of people you have arrested recently? Perhaps the revenge is aimed at you."
Starsky started. "Why is he killing those girls if he is after us? We didn't even know them!"
Esteban shrugged. "I'm sorry I can't help you any more than this."
"It might not be such a bad idea to go through the files of some clients we have sent to Cabrillo. What do we have to lose, huh?" Hutch suggested, staring at his partner.
"If that's all, I'll head back to my office, gentlemen." Esteban stood up and extended a hand to both detectives before he left, leaving the detectives more puzzled than before.
"Okay" Starsky resumed. "Let's go through the files of Cabrillo patients who've been recently released. Maybe one of them wasn't ready to be set free."
"Yeah. Or maybe one of them has escaped and we weren't informed about it. After all, we aren't the only ones who fed that place with lunatics." Hutch seemed very calm on the outside, even if his heart was shivering now that Cabrillo was the next place to investigate. Their last mission had almost turned into a tragedy and their lives had been in danger, all because of a crooked doctor who wasn't crazy. So what if a real certified lunatic was "at large"?
They spent hours searching for names in their files. None of those they had arrested was reported missing or released. That empty lead left them discouraged one more time.
They were very tired. However, in the evening, Hutch reluctantly accepted his partner invitation to join him at the Pits. He simply couldn't refuse this time because they both had been invited to celebrate Huggy's birthday. And besides, Hutch thought it was the perfect opportunity to take his mind off his usual tormented evenings and agitated nights. A drink or two would certainly make him feel better.
Starsky was a bit exuberant, as always, when he felt totally relaxed among friends. After the third beer, he was telling one joke after another and Hutch forced himself to laugh along with the others, though he had some doubt about his best friend's sense of humor.
They played a few games of pool, and Starsky put his hand on Hutch's shoulder now and then to congratulate him on a good maneuver or gently tapped his belly to encourage him when he was losing.
Each time Starsky did that, Hutch felt a sudden wave of shame, fear and most of all a genuine impulse to run out of the place. However, he took it upon himself not to let his distress show and went on playing and drinking until Huggy called it a night and sent everyone home at half past one in the morning.
Starsky drove his partner home and when they had almost reached Venice Place, he briefly turned to Hutch and talked softly.
"You know somethin', Hutch?"
Hutch shivered. The way Starsky looked at him suddenly made him feel very uncomfortable. He turned his head the other way and saw his own reflection in the passenger window. The faint light from the lampposts along the streets gave a shimmering glow to his blond hair and made him look almost like an angel.
Starsky didn't seem to have noticed his partner's confusion.
"Huggy is really some guy, huh? He never seems to age a day, and we've known him for... what...more than ten years?"
"I don't know Starsky. Er...maybe we could discuss this in the morning. I'm exhausted right now."
"But..." Starsky looked at his watch. "It IS morning. Good morning, Babe!"
Hutch felt a wave of sickness climb inside his throat. Of course, they used to call each other with affectionate names and Starsky often called him Babe or Baby, Blue eyes, Nature Lover, Golden Boy, and even You Smooth Talking Devil You, but the most usual was Pal, Partner or Buddy.
Tonight, to hear the word escaping from Starsky's lips had taken a whole new dimension and made Hutch want to jump out of the car before the engine was even turned off.
Starsky didn't say anything more until he pulled over in front of Venice Place.
"Good night, Blondie."
"Night, Starsk. See you tomorrow."
"Yep. Hey... It was good to have you around tonight. It's been a long time. Does this mean you are feeling better?"
"Yeah... much better. Thanks, Starsk. Good night."
Hutch turned on his toes and almost ran to his apartment before he felt the need to confess what was troubling him right now, even more than the voice he had been hearing.
He didn't have the strength to take a shower. All his energy had vanished and he literally fell on the bedroom floor and fell asleep almost in a second.
Until tomorrow.
He did not react.
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When he woke up a couple of hours later, Hutch felt like his hangover was the punishment for having drunk too much in a sordid attempt to forget all the questions to which he couldn't find answers.
Before he went for a shower, he called Starsky and told him he would drive today. He thought that driving his own car - which was a bit more spacious than the Torino - would make him feel more secure.
All day long, there wasn't a moment Hutch didn't feel embarrassed when Starsky got too close to him, touching him - as they used to touch, in a casual manner - looking at him with that smile which could mean something more, just because Hutch was feeling uncomfortable, thinking that Starsky might feel the same way. When they were both reaching for the phone when it rang, Hutch quickly withdrew his hand, afraid their skins would touch, afraid of the chills it could have generated in him.
At the end of a day of inner turmoil, Hutch decided that he couldn't take it anymore.
"Starsk, why don't you come over this evening? My treat."
Starsky was so surprised that he gazed intensely in his partner's eyes. For a moment, it destabilized Hutch and made him almost regret to have uttered the invitation.
"Sure!" Starsky replied with delight. "I was wondering what got into ya! I'd love to. I'll bring a six-pack."
"Bring two!" Hutch replied.
"Wow! Party again! I like the sound of that."
Hutch smiled a shy smile and drove Starsky back to his place before hitting the pedal and rushing to Venice.
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(to be continued)