CHAPTER 28

Finally, the end of his shift. The garbage collector yawned and stretched his arms above his head. He looked around the abandoned alley, seeing if he'd missed anything else that might be of use to one of his homeless friends. The blue running shoe would make somebody awfully happy.

The alley and dumpster were the last run for Larry. He opened the truck door, tossed the shoe into the box along with the cigarette butts. He started the truck again and maneuvered closer to the dumpster. He set the controls and as the claws came up to grab the container, the brakes bucked and the engine wheezed and stopped.

"Shit, not now!" Larry grabbed his hat and tossed it with frustration to the floor of the truck. He set the brake again and got out. He fiddled with a few things on the front of the truck, kicked a tire and banged on the driver's door. This always seemed to work whenever the truck acted up. He knew that all it really did was just gave him a chance to vent his frustration.

He cocked his head toward the dumpster. He could have sworn he heard something.

"Probably a damn cat, stuck in there." He wasn't in the mood to investigate so he just made his way over to the dumpster and banged on the side.

"Get outta there! Go on home!" Expecting to see a frightened animal leap out over the top, he stood, waiting. But nothing happened. No more noise. The alley was quiet, just a few newspapers flying around in the wind that had picked up. Figuring that's what he'd heard, Larry got back into the truck, preparing to pick the dumpster up, empty into the truck and get his day over. As the claws connected to the container, the machine rattled and coughed and leaving the container in mid air, the truck stopped again.

"Damn it, I just wanna go home." Tempted to get the truck untangled and forget it, Larry leaned back against the seat and sighed.

But something caught his attention. As he'd been sitting there, staring at the dumpster in front of him, he narrowed his eyes, squinting at the opening of the container. He sat forward, putting his hands on the dashboard to get a better look.

"What the fuck?" In front of him was a hand resting on the lip of the dumpster. He even thought he saw it move. He gulped once. He gulped a second time as he set the truck in motion to lower the container back on the ground and release it from the claws.

Slowly, he got out and walked toward the dumpster. Now that the dumpster had jostled back to the ground, the hand was no longer there.

As he stood, wondering what to do, a noise came from the refuse container that left no doubt as to what was in there. Larry was positive that no animal could make that kind of plea.

He peered over the edge, gagging at what he found; a man's body, spread out, arms flung to the sides, the legs abnormally positioned. He didn't have a shirt on and only one leg of the pants remained. So much blood. The garbage the man was slumped on top of was stained dark brown, red. Larry wasn't sure if it was the garbage that stank or if the putrid smell came from the man. Further inspection showed the mate to the shoe Larry had picked up earlier.

"Sweet Jesus!" Larry crossed himself in a hurry as he breathed out the words.

"Mister, can you hear me? Mister?" Larry was afraid to even touch him so he waited for a response.

"ush…" A few sounds escaped the swollen, battered mouth.

"Ummm, don't move buddy. I.. I… I gotta go for help! There's a phone just down on the corner. I'll be back as soon as I can"

**************SHSHSHSH*******************

Dobey picked up the phone on the first ring. Out of habit, he awakened quickly not wanting to disturb his family. It had been a long day and the night too short. His concern for Starsky was only slightly less than his anxiety over Hutch.

Now, he pushed himself up in bed, instantly awake. He looked over at his sleeping wife and tried to keep his voice low.

"Dobey here." He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair.

"Captain, it's Charles Philbert. I'm on the night desk."

Rolling his eyes, wondering why in the world the precinct would be calling him, unless…

He looked over again to find Edith sitting up, listening to his conversation. Her intuition told her that her husband would have another long day at work. She got up and slipped into her robe.

Whispering to her husband, she told him she understood.

"Harold, I'll go make coffee." She was used to late night and early morning phone calls. That was part of being the wife of a police captain who took his job to heart.

Harold Dobey smiled gratefully at his amazing wife; spoke into the phone as she headed downstairs.

"Okay, why are you calling me at…" He glanced at the clock by the bed "…this time of the morning?" Although he felt he already knew the answer, he wanted to be sure.

"Sorry, sir. We had a phone call about half an hour ago from a garbage man who said he found a man in a dumpster. Not much of a description but knowing that you've got a missing detective…" He didn't need to finish his sentence for Dobey to pick up on the possible identification.

Heaving a tired sigh, the captain closed his eyes briefly. A few more questions to the other officer revealed the answers that Dobey had feared all along. The garbage man knew only that it was a man who'd been badly beaten and was bleeding.

Dobey hung up and made a few calls of his own. An hour later, he was certain that Starsky had been found. He dreaded the next few hours but he had to be the one to tell Hutchinson.