The investigation was going nowhere, and Starsky and I knew it. The body of a third teenager in three weeks had been found in another park nearby another high school. The blame for being assigned this case fell squarely on my shoulders and my partner wasn't going to let me forget it.
"Hutch, I told ya we shoulda logged out from the car," he said to me two days ago. But I needed to go in to our personnel department to discuss a pesky bill that the insurance company kept refusing to pay. I was adamant that it had to be handled that day, that Tuesday. Couldn't wait until Wednesday. Nope. Had to happen that day. I finished my business with Angie in personnel, and we were 'this' close to being out the door when Dobey spotted me.
"Hutchinson, where's your partner?" I heard a faint "unh" just around the corner, near the entry where Starsky was waiting for me. He was hiding out, and would have been successful, too. Had to be today. Couldn't have finished up one minute sooner.
"Uh, Captain, he's waiting for me, we're heading home. It's been a long day." I had hoped my acting job would work. I was presenting him with exhausted, overworked Hutch. He saw right through it.
"Go get your partner and be in my office in two minutes. Did you hear that, Starsky?" He raised his voice, knowing exactly where Starsky was. I walked to the end of the hall to meet Starsky's ire.
"Thanks, buddy. I hope you're happy. Now what're the chances of gettin' outta here in time to have any fun tonight?" We were going to try out Huggy's cousin's blues bar and we were supposed to pick Hug up in fifteen minutes.
"Yeah, um, sorry. You better call Huggy quick and tell him we're gonna be late." He gave me that sad little boy look, the one he gets when he's approaching full pout mode, which he had polished to a shiny art. "Hurry up, Dobey's expecting us."
Starsky made the call quickly and joined me in Captain Dobey's office just inside the two-minute limit.
"Yeah, Cap'n, whaddya need?" My partner started.
"I need you both to sit down." He was clearly not in a good mood, and whatever it was it couldn't be good. We sat down and our captain continued.
"You know about the killings of teenagers from the last few weeks. It's been all over the newspapers, and I'm sure you've heard at least some of the details. I need to reassign the case to you two."
My partner and I were feeling a little bewildered. We just finished up a huge case, spending much of that time undercover. We were pretty beat, but more than that, we had been out of touch for the duration of this case. We really didn't know much about the case in question, and Dobey should have known that.
"Um, Captain, we just came back in from three weeks undercover. We really don't know anything about this case. I think it would be better to keep with whoever's working it now." It wasn't anything specific about the case that I objected to. I just believed that for the sake of continuity of the investigation, it didn't make sense to make a switch now. Dobey would normally agree with me on this. There had to be something else going on here that we were not privy to. Yet.
"I understand that, Hutchinson, but I need you working this case." I didn't understand this. Weren't Roberts and Martinson handling this case? What was wrong with Roberts and Martinson?
"Cap, what's wrong with Roberts and Martinson keepin' the case?" Starsky asked the question before I had a chance.
"You boys have been undercover a while. Roberts and Martinson aren't making any progress, and I don't think they're working very cohesively on this case. And progress needs to be made on this case now!" Dobey was definitely agitated beyond what was normal for this situation.
"Okay. Can you give us some information on it before we go meet with Roberts and Martinson?" Dobey was pretty upset at this point. He eased back in his chair and took a deep breath.
"The victims were all found in parks either directly across from or very nearby city high schools. There have been three in the last three weeks. The bodies were found approximately one week apart. They were all knifed to death. Actually bled to death. There were multiple stab wounds on each body. At least one wound managed to hit a major artery, or in one case, a heart. The first two autopsies provided little additional information other than the time of death, which was about the same for all three victims, about midnight to one AM." He seemed finished, for now.
"Toxicology found no drugs?" I asked.
"No." He replied.
"What about race, age, sex?" Starsky asked.
"All were between fourteen and sixteen years old. All male. One white, one Oriental, one Hispanic." Okay, I think I now understood Dobey's anxiety regarding this case.
"Asian." Starsky said. I looked at my partner, and Dobey said, "What?"
"Asian, Cap'n. The preferred term today is Asian." I don't think Starsk had caught on yet to Dobey's urgency in getting this case assigned to us. And Dobey wasn't going to give me a chance to get to that point either, as he laid in to my partner, "Starsky! I don't have time for an ethnic terminology lesson today." I swear we both flinched from the anger in Dobey's voice. "Get your partner and go see Roberts and Martinson. They're waiting for you in the squad room." And with that he stormed out of his office.
Starsky looked to me, his expression confused and questioning. I was pretty sure what was going on here, but decided to wait until my partner and I were able to talk more privately. I walked towards him and said softly, "We'll talk later. Let's go see what Roberts and Martinson have for us."
Dan Roberts and Tom Martinson had been working at Metro for about three years. They were a pretty experienced team, and it was unlikely that they weren't doing their best to crack this case. Starsky and I have had our share of cases that perplexed us. You cannot solve every case. But I could certainly understand the urgency to get a lead on this one quickly; there was nothing like having the press stoke the fires of desperate, worried parents who were afraid their kid was next in line.
We found Roberts and Martinson huddled in a corner going over some files.
"Hey." Starsky said as we grabbed chairs to sit next to them. "Whaddya got for us?"
"Dobey told you, huh?" Roberts said, looking every bit like someone who had just lost his best friend. Believe me, I know the feeling and can recognize the look. I'm sure it was a bad feeling having a case taken from you without good cause. And I have the feeling that these guys weren't told the whole story about why this investigation was being reassigned.
"Yeah. Can we have the file and go over some of your notes on the pertinent facts of the case?" I could tell the file they had open was this case; it was typical of these guys to keep at it, even when they knew they would not be working the case anymore. They were good guys. They didn't deserve this.
"Sure. But look, Hutch, the fact is we don't have many leads on this one. I guess you could see why Dobey might think it wise to reassign it." Martinson said glumly.
"Hey, I'm sure it had nothin' to do with the quality of your work, Tom." Starsky said, grabbing hold of Martinson's shoulder. There is no doubt the comforting sound and clear deep feeling in Starsky's words made Tom feel better about the situation. He sat back in his seat and was visibly more relaxed than when we'd walked up.
"Thanks, Starsky. Okay, let's get crackin'." Tom said, as he and his partner gave us the full run-down on the investigation to date. The details took a while to go over, and we never made it to Huggy's cousin's place.
I drove Starsky home, and I gave him my perspective on Dobey's actions tonight. "So, you think he's afraid for Cal? You're probably right. He was just a little too insistent that this case switch over to us. You think he thinks we'll do better because it's personal now?" I did think that. We were definitely closer to Dobey's family than anyone else we knew in the department. If anyone was going to take it personally if Cal was in danger, it was us.
"Well, I know it's an extreme reaction when you consider how many potential victims there are out there. But it certainly is not far-fetched to think that the next victim could be black. Wouldn't you have the same fears?" And the pain our captain must be feeling right now, submitting to the same emotions that he himself has complained about people doing in the past, combined with the very real fear of losing his son in such a violent way, had to be having a devastating impact on him.
Although the question was rhetorical, Starsky nodded in agreement. It was about ten thirty when I rolled up in front of Starsky's place. "Let's get an early start tomorrow, huh?" My partner asked as he leaned through the window of the passenger side door.
"Yeah, sounds good. You're turn to drive, right?" I asked.
He looked over at me, his eyes clearly pained from the thoughts of Cal being the next victim. "Yeah, I'll pick you up at seven, okay?" My eyebrows raised in surprise at the stated time, and Starsky smiled back at me and said, "See ya at seven, partner." He tapped on the door twice, and I headed off, hoping that we could break this case quickly.
Starsky had gotten over his initial upset at being assigned this case, and he had, indeed begun to take this case personally. I had, too, but I think now, two days into our investigation, he was getting more and more short-tempered as we continued to find no leads on these killings.
Again, the pathology and toxicology reports on the third victim gave us nothing to go on. And although the killings had not been spaced apart evenly, it was fast approaching the end of another week. Even though we felt certain we had a serial killer on our hands, we also now had the potential for a copycat to wake up and take note, especially with the constant pressure from the newspapers, and now television and radio.
We took over a small conference room and tacked a map of the city on the wall. We had colored push-pins, one color to denote where all the high schools in the city were located, and another for the locations of where the bodies were found. And then a third for where the victims lived. We were going on six straight hours in that room when Minnie stuck her head in and said, "You guys gonna break for lunch? It's two o'clock."
"Thanks, Minnie. I don't know, Starsk, do you think if we took a break we might be able to come back at it with clearer heads?" Minnie walked over to the map as Starsky replied, "Nah, I think we should keep at it. Can we just order somethin'?"
I didn't agree that eating in was such a good idea, and decided to ignore my partner for a minute. Minnie was staring intently at the map. I walked to her side and said, "What are you thinking?"
"Oh, nothing." That was obviously not true. She had a look on her face that said, "I think I have something, but it's not my place to say it."
"Minnie, if you see something, tell me. I don't mind admitting that we're desperate here. What do you see?" Starsky had joined us at the map.
"Well, how were you guys in geometry? Because I'm looking at the positions of these different pins, and I think maybe there are geometric patterns here. Can I draw on this?" I looked at Starsky, and he went to the desk for a pencil.
The map was positioned a little high for Minnie to reach, so we placed a chair in front of it and she stepped up and proceeded to draw in various shapes, making assumptions where the next pushpin might be placed for each one. When she was done, we stepped back and looked at the unbelievable result. Starsky ripped the map off the wall, and we both ran for Dobey's office, stopping briefly for each of us to give Minnie a well-deserved hug.
Minnie had taken the locations of where the schools, bodies and homes were located and found that they formed a circle resting inside a square resting inside a circle inside another square. Then, she made large obvious marks to represent a school, body and home, so that they would stand out more to the inexperienced non-geometrical eye.
She also marked the shape into quadrants, so that it was even easier still to tell in which location of the city every pushpin rested. What stood out were three specific locations, or points on the intersections of the shapes, that were obviously lacking push-pins – except one of those locations that represented a school that had not been the school of any of the victims. We knew we were on to something.
We showed Dobey the marked-up map.
"I can see it makes sense for these three deaths – you can see that the park, home and school are generally within range of each other. What we have left here is a black neighborhood that's pretty far away from a school that you're assuming has a park nearby." Dobey didn't see it.
"Captain, it would make sense if someone was being bused in to this school. Or if some families had chosen to send their kids to a school outside of their regular school district. I think it would be pretty easy to find out how many black kids from this neighborhood were either being bused or their families had otherwise arranged to have them go to this school." Dobey was now solidly on board.
"Alright, get over to the school. I'm going to arrange for some community outreach officers to saturate that neighborhood heavily with warnings. I hope you're right." The relief in his demeanor was palpable; it wasn't his neighborhood. But you couldn't blame him for feeling relieved.
Starsky and I headed over to the school. We really were running out of time. Even if the list of students was small, it would remain virtually impossible to watch these potential victims all of the time. How were we going to trip this guy up?
I looked at my partner and could see that he had been deep in thought, too. "Any ideas?" I asked.
"I was thinkin' that maybe we should go undercover at the school. You know, janitor, security guard, gym teacher. Might be able to see somethin' or someone around the school that's suspicious. Dobey can arrange for extra foot patrols of the park." We had asked R&I to find out about the park. They had radioed to us that there was a small pedestrian park a few blocks from the school. "I think it might be our best chance to grab this guy. And if outreach does well, then hopefully parents and teachers will be more sensitive to their surroundings. That might keep this guy off balance enough that he makes a mistake."
"A lot of things have to fall in to place for that plan to work, Starsk." I didn't have any better ideas though.
"Yeah, I know." He pulled up well beyond the school and we walked the block and a half back to get a feel for the immediate area.
We walked along the sidewalk, noticing a fair number of buildings separated from the main school building. There were also a lot of trees and bushes. Too many places for someone to hide in the dark if need be.
We found our way to the main entrance and were greeted by someone we presumed to be a secretary. "Might I help you gentlemen?" She was friendly but formal, probably a good combination for a school secretary. She couldn't have been much more than five feet two or three, about forty years old; small but tough.
"We're here to see Principal Lawrence. Detectives Hutchinson and Starsky, Bay City PD. We called ahead. He's expecting us." I announced in reply.
"Okay." She looked us both in the eye and seemed suddenly amused by something. "Sure enough. Follow me." We followed along, eyeing the assorted bulletin boards with student artwork. I noticed, as Starsky's eyes met mine in agreement, that the student body seemed to have an unexpectedly even racial make-up. It seemed that there might be more busing going on here than we originally thought.
We were led in to an office with PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE in huge block letters on the door and "Dr. Pat Lawrence" on a plaque next to the door. The secretary followed us in to the office and closed the door.
"Please sit." She said. Then she walked around to the chair behind the large walnut desk and sat down. Starsky and I both realized our mistake at the same time.
"Ah, um, so, uh, so you're Principal Lawrence, right?" Starsky started.
"The one and only." She smiled, enjoying our embarrassment.
"Dr. Lawrence, sorry for the misunderstanding back there. We…" She was kind enough to let me off the hook. "Look, Detective…Hutchinson, right?" She looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. "I'm sure you meant no harm, and I suffered no offense at your lapse. So, let's get down to business."
"Yes, uh, Dr. Lawrence, as you know, we're here about the recent murders of teenagers in the city. We have reason to believe that the next murder is being targeted for someone going to this school." Starsky began the questioning. It was nice seeing Starsky take the lead here. He often deferred to me when we spoke with people who were more educated than he was. But Starsky had developed a confidence over the course of time, and he finally recognized that not everything in life was better learned in a classroom.
"I'm sure you'll provide me with some of the details about how you came to such a conclusion. There are over thirty public and private high schools in metropolitan Bay City."
"Yes, we are aware of that. But, we've come up with what we think is an intentional pattern that the murderer is working towards." Starsky started to explain as he unfolded the map. Dr. Lawrence looked carefully at the map without any explanation from either my partner or me. She looked up after about a minute and looked Starsky in the eye. "Yes, I see. I already had my secretary pull the list of all the students in the general area you requested who are students here at Coronado High. What else can I do?"
"Do any of the students who are being bused from that neighborhood stick out to you, in any way you can think of?" I thought maybe there might be a specific incident that may have occurred that could lead us to some information.
"No. It's a mix, as you might expect. Some of these students are happy to be here, some are angry and bitter about it. Some of each are good students, and others struggle. It's a typical mix. No one student comes to mind as standing out as a potential victim of something like this."
"Have you had any recent threats to teachers or students, or any behavior issues amongst the students that seemed excessive?" Starsky continued the questioning.
"No threats, that I am aware of. Discipline, believe it or not, is a subjective thing. For someone not used to a high school situation, some of the incidents we have here may seem excessive. We have occasion where we have to break up severe fights, or have to take a knife or gun away from a student. And discipline for these infractions is handed out accordingly. But I would say that we have not had anything recently that I would call excessive or out of the norm for a high school of this size. Anything else?" Dr. Lawrence appeared more than accommodating and pretty anxious to help out in any way, and we would be pressing that assumption with our next suggestion.
"We think this might be an opportunity here. Would we be able to obtain your permission to work this case undercover here at the school?" I asked as Dr. Lawrence raised her eyebrow.
"What do you anticipate would be the effect of this undercover work? How do you see this happening?"
Starsky provided the information she requested. "We expect a full blown effort from community outreach policing, the schools and teachers and parents to educate and spread the word to the students to be careful, go places in pairs at a minimum, try to have parents drive kids places rather than walk, reduce the number of nighttime events being held at the schools or through school-sponsored events away from the buildings. This should make it much harder for the killer to grab his next victim."
I picked up the explanation from there. "And as to the undercover aspect, we think that being around the school might give us a chance to see the killer make an appearance. If we're close to him, it will be a lot easier to grab him." I don't think it was going to take any more convincing to get Dr. Lawrence's approval for us to work the case from her school.
"Let me check what jobs we can slip you in to easily." She was giving us her approval by virtue of agreeing to check for jobs. She looked at us both, and asked seriously, "Do you have any motive? Why would some monster want to kill these boys?"
We did not have a motive. At least not one that we were ready to share. "We don't know that yet, Dr. Lawrence. We wish we did. Do you have that list?" I didn't want to be short with her, but the anxiety I was beginning to sense from my left made me want to get this list and get out of there. Starsky was definitely getting antsy, and I doubted that Principal Lawrence missed that.
"Sure." She stood and walked out to the actual secretary and brought back a list on green-bar paper. It appeared to have somewhere between seventy-five to one hundred names on it. The list included name of the student, address, phone number, grade level, current grade point average for the year and the guidance counselor assigned to the student. It was a start.
"I'll get back to you tomorrow morning about the openings." We left the school and headed straight for the Torino. Starsky still seemed anxious.
"Starsk, what's wrong?"
"I dunno. I'm feelin' like with the size of that list, and this bein' the end of the week, that even if we started now and didn't stop for anything we still couldn't crack this before this guy hits again." It wasn't like Starsky to be this down on an investigation. He didn't come out and say it, but he was scared that we were already too late. And he tended to have a sixth sense about these things. I hoped he was wrong.
We both got in the car. "Look, nothing's happened yet. There are extra patrols here and at the park, people are in a heightened state of awareness. I think the situation is stabilized enough already that this guy is going to feel hampered in his plans. Let's go back to the precinct and start going over this list. We'll see if R&I can do some magic with it, too." He gave me a slight shake of his head, and he started up the car and we headed back to Metro.
We spent the next few hours going through the list, trying to determine if there was anything specific that stood out about any of the names. R&I took the list to run the names and addresses against any possible links to known criminals or any reported crimes within the last few years. Even though they had been reassigned, Roberts and Martinson offered to stay late and help us go through the list, too.
Before they were reassigned, Martinson and Roberts had found that there did not appear to be anything in the victims' pasts that would link them in any way. They went to different schools, two were athletes, but not in the same sports; the other did not participate in sports. Two were dean's list at their respective schools; the third struggled with his grades. One of them had asthma, but was otherwise healthy, as were the other two. The Hispanic boy was being raised by a single mother, but the Asian and White victims lived with both of their parents. The Hispanic boy had an older brother, the Asian had a younger sister and the White victim was an only child. They never went to the same schools, never belonged to the same clubs, didn't go to the same doctors and their families did not know one another.
It was going on eight o'clock and Roberts and Martinson had left about thirty minutes before. Starsky was still at it, and he'd had his head in that list for what seemed like hours. He was going to have a sore neck if he didn't move soon. Just as I was about to go jostle my partner from his intense scrutiny of the list, Captain Dobey joined us in the squad room.
"What've you got?" He seemed less angry this evening than he had been in days. That was good, but what we had to tell him wasn't going to give him anything to feel any better about.
"We got nothin'." Starsky chimed in.
I looked at my partner and saw how dejected he was. "Captain, we have R&I running the names and addresses through. We've also gotten approval from the principal at Coronado High to go undercover there. She'll be calling first thing tomorrow to finalize those arrangements. Community outreach really came through and spread the word in the neighborhood. An all out effort is underway to make sure this guy doesn't have an opportunity to strike. We're doing what we can, but we're no closer to knowing who did the crime."
"Well, if R&I is working the list there's no point in you men staying here picking through it any longer. I know you two and Martinson and Roberts have been going through that list for hours. Go home and get some rest. I want to see you both after you talk with the principal in the morning. I'll see you then. Now get out." And he headed out himself.
Starsky hadn't moved, so I walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder. "Let's go, partner." He stood up, slowly and stiffly. He twisted around to grab his jacket and stopped sharply with a soft gasp. He occasionally had lingering aches and pains from the shooting, especially when he hadn't been able to work out regularly or had been forced to be immobile for long periods of time. Our recently finished three weeks undercover and the pace of this current case both had conspired against him in his fitness schedule.
He was leaning both arms on the desk, breathing through the ache in his back. I reached over and massaged briefly where he had grabbed at his back. "Look, let's get you home, you can take a nice, hot shower. It'll help loosen up those stiff muscles."
"Yeah." He put his jacket on and we walked in silence out to the car.
Starsky picked me up, again at seven AM sharp. He said nothing as I got in the car, and I could see his jaw tensed, the perpetual frown from the last days on his face already present this morning. I was worried about my partner. I thought once we cleared Cal as a potential victim that he would come out of this, this whatever it was. I'm not sure what it was. Melancholy. Dejection. Depression.
I stared at my partner, trying to figure out what I could do to help him. He finally sensed that he was being inspected. "Hutch, would ya stop it?"
"I will if you will." He looked over at me, acknowledging the meaning in the statement. But he stayed quiet, providing no evidence of agreement.
We made it to Metro, and we immediately phoned Principal Lawrence. "I know you said you'd call, but we'd like to get this assignment rolling today if possible." Starsky was tapping the eraser end of a pencil in a staccato rhythm, a rhythm that perfectly mirrored his current fractured emotional state. I wondered if Dr. Lawrence could sense that over the phone.
I watched him as he listened intently to whatever the principal was offering. He looked up at me and nodded, acknowledging that we were in. "Okay. That sounds fine. We'll arrange to come in this afternoon. Thank you, Dr. Lawrence." He paused another moment, then said, "Me too." He hung up the phone, keeping his head down quite a long time, but I was anxious to learn what our cover would be.
"So, what's the story?" I asked.
"She has us coming in as a custodian and security guard. The custodian job they've had open and had already taken the list of applicants down to three possibles. All three have to have security checks run on them still, so she thinks she can hold off on having to make that call." In the hopes that this case will be solved quickly, no doubt, I thought. "The security position is new for the duration of this crisis. She was able to get a quick verbal approval from the superintendent just a few minutes ago. She said she had to tell him what the game plan was to get the approval. Said they'll play it like it's a real, paying position, even though they know the city police department will be picking up the tab." He shook his head at the pettiness still evident even in the midst of a crisis.
"Bureaucracy." I said. Not that we didn't have the same problems in the department. Starsky gave me a short, "Hmph," of assent, and we both headed for Dobey's office.
"Cap, can we go over the plan for the school?" I asked after entering Dobey's office.
"Come in. What's the game plan?" He seemed back to the normal, gruff Dobey that we loved so well.
"The principal has agreed for us to come in as a custodian and a security guard. The security position is a made up one for the duration of the case. You may be hearing from the school board administration on some business issues about that." I waited for his reaction on that, but didn't receive one. Although the immediate danger to Cal was gone, this was still no doubt a serious case in the eyes of a father.
"Who's going in as what?" He looked at Starsky. Then Starsky looked at me and said, "Hey, I'll go as the custodian. Easier to hide and I might be able to get some dirt faster. Besides, I don't think you could pull off a custodian aura." I looked at him quizzically, chuckling.
"Custodians have an aura?" I asked.
"You know what I mean, you just don't give the impression that you'd have to take a job like that. I just think I'd fit in more." He was right. Somehow Starsky was better able to transform himself up or down for an assignment.
"Okay." Dobey chimed in. "Let's get in place as fast as possible. We're running close to our presumed deadline. Keep me posted on anything you find."
"Sure, Cap'n." Starsky bounded out of his seat. He was definitely ready to put the plan, such as it was, into action.
"You know, Starsk, you're not going to be able to drive around in the tomato and be convincing in your role." He was in a bad enough mood as it was and I'm sure he'd already come to this realization.
"Why's that? Who's to say I didn't already have the car paid for before I was forced to take this job?" I'm not sure why he was arguing this point. He wasn't going to be able to use the Torino undercover. He quickly changed his tune. "Alright."
"Look, I'll pick you up and drop you a few blocks away from the school, and you can walk in. You can tell anyone who asks that your buddy drops you off a few blocks away on his way to work." That would work, and it would give us a chance to discuss the case away from the scene. We were going to need that time to talk through issues; I was getting the feeling that we would be spending a lot of hours undercover for the next few days.
We changed in the locker room. I had arranged for a guard's uniform to be brought up from supply, and Starsky had some greenish gray overalls and a jacket brought up, too. After that, we headed to my place to drop off the Torino and pick up my LTD. We grabbed something quick to eat at a nasty taco dive that Starsky likes and headed over to the school.
It was quiet in the car and I decided to take this chance to talk to my partner. "Starsk, we haven't had a chance to talk much the last day or so. Are you okay? You've seemed kind of down lately." My partner was not going to come out and tell me what was wrong, so I figured with him trapped in my car I had a shot at getting him to talk.
"Mmm. I know. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I guess the victims this time, they had their whole lives ahead of 'em. It just sometimes seems the world has gone nuts, ya know?" He didn't need to tell me that. He and I both managed to get through what I now call my "period of disillusionment". I felt the same way for the longest time, but I let it go on so long that it threatened to destroy the most amazing relationship I've ever had. And to say that I would never have made it back without Starsky to help me back, to guide me back, is an understatement. And then the shooting happened, and I was sure the whole world had gone nuts. At least my world. Yeah, I knew just what he was feeling, and I was going be there to help him back, too.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." I started. "But remember Starsk, we have made and continue to make a difference. And you know that we have done everything in our power so far on this case. We are going to get this guy. You're a good cop, and we'll find a way to get this guy." I think he might really have only needed the pep talk, because his bearing seemed to lighten a little, and then he said, "Yeah, partner, you know, you're right. We are good cops and we are gonna get this guy." He looked me straight in the eyes when he said it. It was good we were stopped at a red light. Sometimes the intensity that Starsky has can be overwhelming, and at that moment I was never more proud of my friend and never more grateful that we were back as partners.
I dropped him a couple of blocks shy of the park, which gave him a chance to get a close-up feel for whether it was an area that would provide good cover for a killer. He would then be able to walk to the school and scan the adjoining properties to get a feel for those as well; we would return at a later time to get a clearer picture of the area surrounding the school.
I parked in the school parking lot and headed straight for the principal's office. Dr. Lawrence had told Starsky that we should both report to her and that she would direct us to our designated jobs. I was walking along the sidewalk in front of the school when I was stopped by two female students, both probably fifteen or sixteen.
"Is that a real gun?" the redhead asked, looking straight up into my eyes. It was disconcerting, to say the least, having these young girls gathering around me. I was old enough to be their father, barely, well okay, maybe not just barely. But it had been a long time since I felt that uncomfortable. I heard a chuckle, and I turned from the girls' piercing stares to see Starsky heading in the door ahead of me, a huge grin on his face.
"Um, yes, yes it's a real gun. Excuse me, ladies." And I quickly headed for the shelter of the principal's office.
Starsky was sitting out in the hallway. I ignored him and walked in to the outer office to the secretary. "Is Dr. Lawrence in? My name is Jeff Newton and I'm the new security guard." The secretary asked me to sit in one of the chairs out in the hall as well. There must have been some sort of emergency; I was pretty sure that Dr. Lawrence would not have made us wait if there hadn't been.
We both sat quietly; it seemed the best cover for the situation for us to act like total strangers and not even have a conversation, just in case there was any eavesdropping going on. I was sitting thinking about how glad I was that Starsky had agreed to talk over his problem on the ride over, when Dr. Lawrence stormed past us and slammed the door shut. I briefly glanced at my partner and found him to be as clearly disturbed by this as I was. I stood and headed to the secretary's desk when the principal's door opened and Dr. Lawrence greeted, "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Newton. Would you please come in for a moment?" I walked in and felt a tenseness coming from the principal that I didn't think possible from our earlier meeting with her.
"Something wrong, Dr. Lawrence?" I though maybe it would be best to just dive into the role. Plus, there might actually be something here that I needed to take care of anyway.
"You could say that, De…uh…Mr. Newton." She was about to call me detective, and that meant that whatever was wrong it had unsettled her greatly. I raised my eyebrows in encouragement for her to continue. "We've just been re-classified from a division three to a division four school." I didn't know what that meant, and she could tell from my expression that I didn't.
"Division four means we've been upgraded in size and expectations. And I don't mean expectations in a good way, either. Before, we were happy campers as division three, allowing academics to take precedence over athletics. Now, we'll basically be expected to be a feeder school for all of the damn football, basketball and baseball programs in colleges and universities in California."
I still wasn't completely convinced there was a huge problem, but I really didn't have the time to continue to listen to her explanations of why it was so bad. I was about ready to take the subject back to the truly critical situation at hand when she said, "Yes, I know, we have more important things to get to today. I agree. I'm just so damn mad!" She looked up at me and said, "Come with me. I'll show you where your office will be and where we expect you to patrol and when."
As she led me out of her office she asked her secretary, "Would you please call Mr. Thornton and ask him to come and pick up Mr. Isaac. Please tell him to show Mr. Isaac around the custodial supply room and get him started on understanding his responsibilities. Thanks Mary." Mary picked up the phone immediately and we heard her page Mr. Thornton to the principal's office.
We managed to make our way to the broom closet that I would be using as an office. It was a good thing that I would be patrolling most of the time.
"I spoke earlier today with a security expert who has specialized in securing schools and he suggested that I go over a schedule of his recommendation for patrolling locations and times." She seemed to be taking this cover seriously.
"Dr. Lawrence, I think that's fine, and I'll try to follow the schedule as best I can. But as you probably know, our best bet for capturing this killer is to have our eyes open to where the action is. And at any given time, that action might be in a place that is different from your schedule. So long as you can be flexible with your schedule, I will try to stick to it as much as possible.
"That's sounds like a deal, De…Mr. Newton. I'm really going to have to get over that, won't I?" She asked good-naturedly.
"I wish you would, Dr. Lawrence." I smiled back.
"Okay. I'll let you get started. You should, sometime before four PM, get over to the human resources office and fill out all of your paperwork."
"You bet." I replied. She seemed a little anxious about leaving me. "Is there something wrong?" I asked.
"Mr. Newton, is the gun really necessary?" I knew that was coming. I had traded in my Python for a smaller caliber weapon for this assignment, but the gun was going nowhere.
"Yes, it is regulation with my company." I know she knew what I meant, and she left it at that. We went over the areas she wanted patrolled and how often, and we discussed being available for an evening function tonight as well. Just what I figured.
"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you later." And she headed back down the hallway.
I patrolled the rest of the morning until early afternoon, spending about sixty percent of my time inside and the remainder outside patrolling the grounds. I noticed an occasional suspicious person hovering nearby just off school grounds or on the sidewalk in front of the school, but they all remained for very short periods and didn't make return appearances.
It was getting close to time for school to let out. Starsky and I had agreed that if our paths did not cross throughout the day that we would meet at about two fifteen near the far entrance to the school. That would be fifteen minutes before school officially let out. I saw him walking with what appeared to be a slight limp. That's just great.
"Hey." He said as he stood near me.
"What happened to you?" I asked. I was looking down toward his leg to see any evidence of injury.
"I was lifting this huge table with Billy and he lost his grip and dropped his end. Without the support, the table fell on my thigh, pretty near, uh, you know. Hurts like hell." You could tell he wanted to reach down and rub it, but he also knew what that would look like, so he refrained.
"Sorry to hear that, buddy. So, you ready to keep your eyes open while school lets out?"
"Yeah, I think this might be a good spot. I actually have to help set up for a dance tonight, but I'm on break until three o'clock. I'll probably be working tonight after the dance, too, to tear down everything." He looked tired and not at all thrilled with the prospect.
"Yeah, Dr. Lawrence asked me if I'd patrol the event tonight. I guess the event is the dance."
"Okay. I'm off at five and then don't have to come back 'til about ten. I'm gonna do some looking around the general area around the school and then I might just find myself a spot to watch the comings and goings during the dance." He didn't say it, but I hoped he would get a wink or two in sometime during that time, too.
"Good. Then I guess I'll see you later." I headed back for the main entrance. I decided outside at the front of the school would be where most of the students would exit. That would give me a chance to watch who might be watching the kids.
When the bell rang, I stepped to the side of the door, and the students actually did come pouring out of the main doors. I didn't remember ever storming out of school the way these kids were. I guess I always had some sort of extra-curricular activity that kept me late. And, indeed, my little school in Duluth was nothing like this for sheer volume of students.
I noticed that virtually no student was walking alone. This was a good sign that all of the warnings these students had been hearing from their teachers and parents, the press and the police, had actually sunk in. That should make it harder for the killer, but not necessarily easier for us to trap him. I looked to the far entrance and saw Starsky. He was staring intently across the street. My eyes followed his to a van. A blue and gray conversion van. A van that I had seen earlier in the day on one of my patrols outside. Starsk wasn't taking his eyes off of it. The majority of the students were now off the school grounds, and I decided to go see what Starsky had.
I started speaking to him before I reached his position so that it looked like I would just be walking past him without really talking to him. "What have you got?" Now that I was near him I realized that although Starsky could see to the van, the van could probably not see Starsky. There was a bush strategically placed, and seeing through to the van was certainly easier than seeing Starsky in his gray uniform up against the gray brick.
"I noticed the van earlier. It was here around lunchtime." Starsky still kept his eyes glued to the van.
"Yeah, and it was here around one thirty when I went out for one of my rounds. You think it could be our guy?" I asked.
"Don't know. It's real suspicious that it's been here so much, though." I was looking around the side of the building, checking for any students hanging around who shouldn't be, then ventured back toward Starsky and the main entrance. Just then, the van started and was driven off.
"Did you see anybody get in or out of it?" I asked my partner.
"Nope. Couldn't see the driver, either. Or license plate." We were pretty far away.
"Okay, let's keep our eyes open for it tonight. I gotta get back to the front." I headed back along the front of the school.
"See ya." My partner said as he headed back in the building.
It was seven PM and the kids were starting to arrive for the dance. I took a fairly inconspicuous spot, near the outside doors that led to the gym. This position gave me a good view of the gym doors and a clear picture of what was happening just outside and in the lobby. It also allowed for easy access out of the building, as I still planned to continue the outside patrols in hopes that the blue and gray van was our suspect.
I hadn't spoken to Starsky since school was let out at two thirty. But based on what I saw in the gym, he and Billy Thornton had been pretty busy. There were easily a couple of dozen tables set up for the teenaged guests, as well as tables for food and beverage, as well as a stage. There was also a dance floor layed down to protect the gym floor from unkind heeled shoes.
Starsky had said that he would be finding a spot to check out the comings and goings at the dance. I took my first walk of the night outside to see if I could find any evidence of him. He had taken my keys earlier in the day, so I assumed he parked my car somewhere nearby. I walked up and down the sidewalk, but saw no sign of my partner.
I returned to the lobby and watched as the couples entered. It was a colorful mix of dresses on the girls and a little distressing mix of colors on the guys. Many of the guys came in black, but there was a large number of white suits and many other suits ranging from blue to green to purple to fuchsia. There was a kid who showed up in a canary yellow suit. But that was okay, I guess, because his date had a white dress with canary yellow accents.
The two girls who had approached me earlier in the day decided to try again. They flitted over and blinked their eyelashes unashamedly. "So, you're here tonight, too?" The redhead's blonde friend asked.
"Yes." I really didn't have time for this. Maybe being short with them would do the trick.
"Oh, a man of few words. I like that." Said the redhead. Oh God. "I like a man who doesn't need to blab about himself or sports all the time. I like it when he can speak to me without actually saying anything." A teenaged flirt – that's just what I needed tonight."
"Girls," I started, "I am working tonight, and so I'm going to have to ask you to move on in to the dance." This did have an effect, even the planned effect, just not in the way I had originally intended.
"We are not girls!" The blonde stated emphatically. "We are women. And if you can't see that, then I guess we are wasting our time. Let's go, Robin." Then she grabbed the arm of her friend and off they went to the dance. Good. God!
I decided it was time to check outside again. I was hoping to run across my partner this time. As I walked down the sidewalk to the end of school property, I noticed, quite a bit farther down the street, what looked like the blue and gray van from earlier. I walked closer and realized it was indeed the same van. I wish I knew where Starsky was. I walked up and looked inside the driver's side window. Nothing. I then took a look in the side window. The curtains were not fully closed, and it was just past dusk so there was still barely enough light to see inside. I squinted and peered in the crack of the curtains.
My heart felt like it stopped. And I now knew where my partner was. I went to try all the doors and was having no luck. I tried to slam the glass in on window of the rear door with my gun, but I couldn't hit it hard enough. I looked around the area and found a heavy pipe on the ground. That did the trick, shattering the glass enough that I could push it in the rest of the way. I unlocked the door and dove inside to check on my partner.
He was moaning, which was good. He was bound and gagged. I removed the tape from his mouth and then started on the ropes tied around his wrists, which had been pulled back tight down his back, and then tied to his ankles.
"Starsky, Starsk, can ya hear me, partner? Are you hurt?" He moaned a little more, but seemed to be coming to.
"Starsky, did they hurt you?" I saw some blood near his right temple, and he had developed a fat lip, which was showing signs of bruising.
"Uh, Hutch." That's all he said at first, then he jumped up and yelled, "Hutch, he's gonna get the kid!" He was scrambling to get free of the rest of the ropes and was trying to get up when he tripped and practically fell, head first, onto the sidewalk. I caught him before he could hurt himself further.
"Hey, hey, easy. Come on, take a breath and tell me what's going on." My heart was pounding now, not only for my partner's welfare, but also for the fear that we were no longer in position to help our potential victim. "What did you find out?"
He took a breath, winced at the resulting pain he felt in his head, and then started, "I came back from gettin' something to eat and saw the van parked here. It was about six thirty. So I decided to check it out, and I guess I got a little too close because before I knew it, some huge guy comes chargin' outta the van and slams me one right in the mouth. I almost passed out, but instead I played 'possum to see what I could find out." Isn't that just like my partner.
"So he threw me in the back of the van and they started talkin' about what they were gonna do tonight." He was clearly agitated at how long it was taking him to get to the point. I could tell he just wanted to run to the school and take care of it, but he wasn't doing that for a reason. I waited to find out why.
"They're like a splinter group of the KKK. They're mad that so many foreigners and blacks and other non-whites are in the schools now, and they think that killin' these kids will help make a statement about their cause. There's two of 'em here and they said they were goin' after Jones. I think the kid's name is Jones. They said they had been real successful with keepin' the authorities off track by killin' the white kid. That they wouldn't think of their group first because they snuffed a white kid." They were right about that.
"Okay, so did you get a look at these guys?" Starsky was looking like he was ready to storm the place.
"Yeah, big and ugly, white, and tall reddish-brown, thin, white. They were carrying some boxes or crates and some kind of electrical equipment." Electrical equipment. Crates. The DJ!
"Starsk, they're the DJs. Let's go!" We ran for the school. We headed through the doors and barreled in to the gym. The two "DJs" spotted us and headed for the exit nearest them, which headed toward the bathrooms.
Starsky saw Dr. Lawrence with several teachers. I continued on to follow the suspects. I'm sure he was telling her to get all of the kids in the gym and to lock the doors and call the police. And that we were heading after the murder suspects.
I got to the hallway and directed the kids back in to the gym as quickly and quietly as possible. I noticed that a floor to ceiling gate was blocking any progress past the bathrooms. They had not headed out, so they had to be in one of the bathrooms. Just as I decided to go in to the boy's room, Starsky joined me. "Need some back-up, partner?" He asked.
"Well, we can't both go in, because if they're in the other bathroom, they could slip out. So, why don't you stay here and be ready for them if they come out of the girl's room and I'll go check out the boy's room first?" Starsky didn't like the idea, but knew that we had no option here.
I opened the door slowly, slamming it against the wall to make sure no one was behind it. I walked in, and just as the stalls and sinks came in to view, I felt a sharp jab in my upper hip. It turns out I was a little turned around and was looking at a mirrored wall and not the actual stalls. And one of the guys was able to get to me quickly. He had been aiming for my back, and I would be lucky for his mistake this day. I saw the other one coming straight at me with another knife. I still had my gun, so I blew him away with no serious concern for whether he lived or died.
The guy who knifed me pulled the knife out, which was excruciating, and then slammed it again into my shoulder at the exact moment that I heard Starsky's Beretta. Blood splattered against the mirror beside me, and the guy fell, knife still in hand and he dragged the knife down a little across my shoulder blade. I could sense that the pain from that should have been unbearable as well, but I think I was beginning to pass out when I felt the soothing hands of my partner carrying me out of the bathroom and easing me onto the floor in the hallway.
He was quickly pulling away my jacket, and then started to take off my shirt to check my wounds. I could tell that I wasn't in any great danger from these knife wounds, but Starsky didn't know that. There was a lot of blood, and I knew that Starsk would take care of the bleeding in plenty of time.
I could hear people, and Starsky yelled, "Everybody, back in the gym! Send Dr. Lawrence out." The yelling was hurting my head, and I think I winced, although I tried not to. My partner saw it, though. "Hutch, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt ya." He had finished with the back wound and was working on my shoulder.
"Hutch, how're ya doin'? Are ya with me, pal?" He seemed so worried. I wished I could put him at ease. It really wasn't that bad, but I know I was feeling a little shocky and having trouble getting my thoughts together.
"I'm okay. It's okay." I said. I was feeling pretty tired. I think I closed my eyes for a bit, and all that got me was a slight slap on the face.
"Hutch, hey, can ya stay with me a little while?" I opened my eyes. "Good boy." I heard him say. Then I heard him speaking with someone, a woman. I heard dead and ambulance. I wasn't dead, but I did need an ambulance. I felt Starsky's hand on my face and could feel the tremor in his hand. I tried to reach up to grab it, but he saw what I was doing and took hold of my hand and placed it back in a more comfortable position. I remember feeling that grip, such a different feel from the trembling touch he had on my face just moments before. I remember the firm but tender grip for the entire ride to the hospital.
It was a about a week and a half after we caught, or rather, killed the two suspects in the high school murders. Starsky and Roberts and Martinson went to the suspects' homes and found all the information necessary to assure us that we had the right guys. These guys were so confident that they weren't going to be found out that they made no effort to hide any evidence.
One of them had a girlfriend, who obviously held the same beliefs the killers did, who worked for the school administration offices and was able to provide all the information needed regarding the ultimate victims, including what extra-curricular activities they all participated in, who their family doctors were and many other pertinent pieces of information that would provide valuable knowledge of where these students would be, pretty much twenty four hours a day. It would probably have been pretty easy for the killers to find a time to snatch any kid they wanted. And with the two killers dead, she was the only one available to go to trial. She would be tried as an accomplice, and no doubt the courts would not be kind to her.
It appeared that these two guys were trying to recruit more members to their newly formed splinter group. It looked like, from the evidence gathered, that they had been preparing their own newsletter with their own logo: a circle, resting in a square, resting in a circle inside another square.
I had been released from the hospital about a week ago. I was healing nicely, although I was still pretty sore. I wasn't able to drive, but I was allowed to ride, and I was really starting to go stir-crazy in my place.
Starsky spent the first week after my release at my place, making sure I had everything I needed, doing my laundry, my dishes, my shopping, just about everything he could. We did this for each other whenever one of us was hurt. It's just how we are. I know that Starsky feels the same way about this, but there is no doubt in my mind that we heal better just by having each other near. We have a closeness that neither of us can explain, but one that we both know has a calming, healing effect. I know just thinking of my hand in his that night provides a warmth that would probably scare many men. We can't think of living our lives without it. Now that would be scary.
I was waiting for my partner and Huggy to pick me up. We were finally going to get over to that blues club. Between the start of this case and today, the club had received a rave review in the local paper. We were all pretty excited to be going, although I did admit to some lingering concern about being bumped into by the hoards of people who would be coming to see and hear the performers.
I mentioned my concern in the ride over. From the back seat, Huggy said, "Do not fear, my blonde brother, Huggy Bear has it covered. We're gonna sneak in the back, and my cousin has a table set up for us that will be totally out of the way of any people traffic." Huggy was a good friend, too.
I looked at my partner. He seemed like a different person. I was so glad this case was over. He saw me staring at him and he said, "Hey, what did I tell you about that?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Is there anything wrong with that?"
He looked over at me and said, "Nothing wrong with that, Blintz. I'm not feelin' blue, but I'm feelin' like the blues."
The End