THE MAN HE USED TO BE
A/N: Certain events in this chapter and the following chapter will vary from the original episode.
CHAPTER 11
Hutch paced nervously up and down the hallway outside of Starsky's room. Doctor Riley was examining him to determine if his condition was improving or not. To Hutch's untrained ears, it didn't sound like Starsky's breathing was getting any better. It seemed more labored than the night before. And his fever continued to fluctuate between 101 and 103.
"Ken, why don't you sit down?" Rachel suggested, glancing up from the afghan she was crocheting. "Pacing isn't going to make the doctor tell us anything any quicker." She patted the vacant chair beside her.
"I can't sit down," Hutch said as he continued his restless movement. "I'm too worried about Starsky."
He stopped in the middle of a step when Doctor Riley and a second doctor finally came out of the room.
"Ken, Rachel…" Doctor Riley said. "This is Doctor Carson. He's our pulmonary specialist."
"How is he?" Hutch demanded, barely acknowledging the introduction. He was edgy and short-tempered from the stress of the past two weeks. His only concern was his partner's health and bringing down the individual responsible for hurting him.
"Mr. Starsky's O2 stats aren't very good and his blood gases are still low," Dr. Carson informed him. "With his left lung injured as seriously as it is, we have no choice but to put him back on the ventilator. He has developed pneumonia which is very dangerous for him in his weakened condition." The doctors words were clipped and to the point. "Once we get the blood culture back in a day or two we may have a better idea on what organism he's colonized with. I may be able to fine tune the antibiotic to that specific bacteria."
"I want to see him before you put him back on the ventilator," Rachel said firmly.
Doctor Carson nodded after a quick glance at his colleague. "I have no objection…for a few minutes anyway," the pulmonolgist said.
Hutch and Rachel brushed past the two doctors and entered the room. Starsky seemed to be restless, the fingers on his right hand twitching and his eyes moving back and forth beneath his closed eyelids as if he were dreaming. Rachel immediately moved to his side and rubbed his right shoulder, speaking to him too softly for Hutch to make out what she said.
Hutch turned his head, ashamed at the twinge of jealousy he felt as he watched Rachel taking over what he considered his role as Starsky's primary comforter. He focused his attention on Carla, the respiratory therapist, who was pushing the ventilator into the room. His gaze followed her as she positioned it at the head of Starsky's bed. Abby came in behind her and began arranging the needed supplies to re-insert the tube for the ventilator on the over-bed table.
Unwilling to watch as the medical staff re-inserted the breathing tube for the ventilator, Rachel looked at Hutch. "Can you take me to David's apartment? I want to bring him some of his tapes to listen to." She frowned as she glanced around the sterile undecorated room. "And I'm going to find something to brighten up this room."
"Sure…" Hutch said wearily. "While you're doing that, I'll go to headquarters for a couple of hours." They stayed for a few more minutes, leaving when Doctor Carson reentered the room to intubate Starsky.
Hutch dropped Rachel off and then drove downtown. There were no spots on the street in front of the building so he parked two blocks away. He still refused to park in the employee lot where Starsky had almost died. With heavy steps, he trudged back to Metro and entered the building through one of the side entrances.
He climbed the steps to the third floor and pushed open the doors to the Detective squad room. Only one other pair of detectives was in the room, the other members of the team were gone. Carl Tanner looked up from the report he was trying to write and smiled at Hutch.
"Hey, Hutch," he said pleasantly. "How's Starsky doing?"
"About the same," Hutch said shortly.
"Everybody's pulling for him," his partner, Billy Granger, added as he scrawled his signature at the bottom of his own report.
Hutch nodded absently, knocking on the door to Captain Dobey's office. Without waiting for an answer, he went inside.
Dobey glanced up from behind his desk. "How's Starsky?" he asked gruffly, gesturing for Hutch to have a seat.
"They had to put him back on the ventilator," Hutch replied as he slumped down in one of the chairs facing his superior's desk. "He has pneumonia on top of everything else."
"What's the doctor have to say?"
"Same ole crap…wait and see," Hutch said in frustration. He felt a sudden irrational urge to break something.
"So, what are you doing here?"
"Rachel wanted to pick up some things from Starsky's place and I decided to come in and see how it was going here."
"How's the investigation into Gunther Enterprises going? Any new leads?"
"I'm still trying to tie all the loose ends together. Gunther's a slippery bastard. He always has somebody else do his dirty work for him."
"Have you been able to tie him in with the shooters or the woman who paid for the hit?"
"Not yet. Minnie's still following a paper trail. I'm hoping that turns up something."
"We identified the shooters. They were a couple of pros out of Vegas. Their names were Vincent Delgado and George Jacobson." Dobey consulted a file on his desk. "Totally independent. They hired out to the highest bidder."
"Well, we know the scumbag lawyer is tied into Gunther through this guy, Bates. And Jenny Brown is tied in to both the lawyer and the shooters."
"Any idea who this Bates is?"
"Yeah. He's Gunther's right hand man. He's probably the one who does all the dirty work for him." Hutch sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand over his face. It was hard to concentrate, his mind kept drifting back to his injured partner. "I'm going to check in with Minnie and see what she's turned up."
"I don't need to remind you that everyone from the Mayor to the Police Commissioner is breathing down my neck to find out who's responsible for this," Dobey grumbled.
"I'm doing the best I can, Captain!" Hutch snapped, losing his patience.
"I realize that, Hutchinson!" Dobey snapped back, voice rising to a bellow. "This whole situation has become a media nightmare! Every major newspaper in the state is picking up the story!" He glared at the blond detective. "Get out of here and see what else you can dig up on this scumbag!"
Hutch didn't need to be told twice. Shoving himself to his feet, he left the office, slamming the door behind him to convey his irritation. Tanner and Granger wisely kept their heads down as Hutch stormed through the bullpen.
Hutch found Minnie in the records room. When she saw Hutch, she immediately stopped what she was doing and walked around the desk to join him. "I was just going to call you," she told him.
"Did you find something?" Hutch asked hopefully.
"Maybe. Let me grab the stuff I printed out and I'll meet you in the cafeteria," she said. "You can spring for a cup of coffee."
Since it was still mid-morning, the cafeteria was empty except for a bored looking cashier. Hutch bought two cups of coffee and a bagel. He carried his order to a table at the far end of the room where he could talk to Minnie privately without worrying about their conversation being overheard. Just as he sat down, Minnie breezed through the door, a thick sheaf of computer printouts in her hands.
Sitting down across from the blond detective, she shoved the printouts over to him. "I made a few notes but it's going to be up to you to see if there's anything in there that's gonna help you."
"Thanks, Minnie. I really appreciate this. I'll take it back up to my desk and take a look at it," Hutch said. He was tempted to glance over the information she had gathered right then, but decided to wait until he got back to the squad room.
"How's your gorgeous partner?" Minnie asked as she took a sip of her coffee.
"He's still out of it," Hutch said with a dejected sigh. "It's still touch and go."
"You taking care of yourself too, Hon?" Minnie asked in a concerned voice. "Curly's gonna need you in good shape, not so worn out that you can't think straight."
"I'm okay, Minnie," Hutch reassured her. He neglected to tell her how close to the edge he really was. He knew she was worried about him but his own needs were secondary to Starsky's welfare.
"You'd better be or Starsky will kick your butt when he wakes up and I'll be right behind him," Minnie said sternly. She finished her coffee and stood up. "I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything else and I'll keep digging."
"Thanks, Minnie." His eyes followed the petite woman as she left the room. Finishing his coffee and gathering up the printouts, he threw his uneaten bagel in the trash on his way out the door.
Back upstairs, he sat in his usual seat, trying to ignore the empty chair across from him that Starsky usually occupied. Everything seemed to remind him of his partner. Even the smell of the fresh coat of paint on the walls was a constant reminder of the day that Starsky was shot.
Dragging himself away from his dark thoughts, Hutch spread the computer sheets out on the table in front of him and began pouring over them intently, making notes of his own now and then as he found items of interest.
After almost three hours of hard work, his heart began to beat with excitement as a pattern started to emerge. Circling several significant entries with a red marker, he continued his study of the printouts. Finally, with a satisfied grin, he gathered the papers together and marched into Captain Dobey's office without bothering to knock.
"Hutchinson!" Dobey growled. "The door is made for knocking!"
"I found it, Cap! I found the connection to Gunther," Hutch said excitedly, barely able to keep his relief and exhilaration under control. Talking rapidly so Dobey couldn't interrupt him, he fumbled through the printouts and pointed out the entries he had circled.
"Federal Judge McClellan…remember him? He's the judge that Lionel Rigger was going to testify against."
"What's that got to do with Gunther?"
"The honorable Judge McClellan served on the board of directors for four Gunther owned companies. Remember, the evidence we gathered indicated that McClellan was in somebody's pocket," Hutch explained. He pointed to another circled entry. "And here's the connection to Jenny Brown. She lived in a condominium that was owned by Gunther properties…and the lawyer? He represents six…count 'em…six of Gunther's businesses. He also represents some heavy hitters in the syndicate, both here and in San Francisco. And that's not all!" he shuffled through the papers, trying to decipher his own hurriedly scribbled notes. "Gunther Enterprises also sponsors a program that helps underprivileged students get through medical school. Hell, he's liable to have half the doctors at Memorial in his pocket…not to mention the whole damned city!" Hutch 's nostrils flared. He could feel a barely controlled rage boiling just below the surface. "We got the prick, Captain! We got him! And he's mine! All mine!"
"Calm down, Hutchinson." Dobey said reasonably. His mouth tightened grimly. "We want to make sure we have this bastard wrapped up tight. We need to make sure we cross every t and dot every i. We're also going to need to coordinate our investigation with the San Francisco P.D." Dobey paused to make sure Hutch was listening to him. "What about the shooters? Is there any connection to them besides the girl?"
"Gunther owns three businesses in Las Vegas and has known connections to the syndicate there. It wouldn't be hard for him to use those connections to find the shooters."
"Keep digging. I want all the dirt we can find on Mr. Gunther," Dobey ordered. "Before I take this to the D.A. to see if he thinks we have enough to get a warrant."