Chapter 15

Starsky woke covered in perspiration and breathing as if he'd just run a marathon. It was still dark in his room, so he glanced at his clock radio and watched the numbers flip to 6 a.m. Must be raining again, he thought with a sigh. A voice startled him out of his addled mental state.

"Are you alright, David?"

Blinking to clear his eyes, Starsky saw that Gail was lying next to him, buried in blankets. "Uh…did I…last night…did I say…"

Gail rolled next to her lover and ran her hand over his tan muscular chest. "Did you what?"

"Nothing… I guess I'm just a little groggy." She seemed oblivious to his mistaken name calling the night before, and he began to wonder if it was just another of his vivid dreams. Another very vivid dream. He shivered at the memory of the intense sex, and felt himself becoming aroused.

"Are you too groggy for this...?" She grasped his firm erection with a tight but gentle hold and began sliding her warm hand up and down his thick shaft. Starsky ran his fingers into her long, chestnut hair and pulled her into him for a hard, deep kiss. She felt so good, so right as he moaned into her mouth. Gail had an easy rhythm going and within moments he found release, throwing his head back into the pillow with a loud cry of pleasure.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" He spoke softly to her as the waves of pleasure slowly faded.

"You're not too bad either, officer," Gail said with a coquettish smile.

Starsky turned on his side and hit the alarm button before it could go off, then growled at the thought of getting out of the warm bed. A dirty thought struck him at that moment and he waggled his brows. "Hutch'll be here in an hour. Does that give us enough time to shower?"

"Us?"

"You wouldn't want to deprive me of soaping up that luscious body, would you?"

Gail giggled, hopping from beneath the covers in order to race David to the bathroom.

O0O

Hutch arrived right on time and the two overworked detectives set out to visit the Grippo residence. Starsky wrapped himself in his leather jacket and leaned tiredly against the car door.

"Long night?" Hutch could see that his partner was beat, but he also looked more relaxed than he'd seen him in a long time.

The brunette sighed deeply and a smile lit his face. "Gail stayed the night."

"You know, buddy, the two of you really look good together."

"Yeah? She feels right. Know what I mean?" Hutch knew the question was rhetorical, so he didn't answer. "But somethin really…weird… happened last night."

Hutch's stomach clenched as he unconsciously gripped the wheel with worry. "Weird, how?"

"It's kinda embarrassing."

"Did you have trouble getting…?" Hutch looked at Starsky with a raised eyebrow.

Red began to appear on the usually laid back man's cheeks. "Jeeze, Hutch, it's nothing like that. It's…well, it's…"

"Spit it out, Starsky."

"Fine. While I was having sex with Gail, I …saw Elizabeth."

Hutch quickly stole a glance in his partner's direction. "You mean she was in your bedroom?"

"She was in my bedroom, in my bed, having sex with me."

"She was what?" Hutch recovered from his initial shock before delving more deeply. "And?"

Starsky sheepishly scratched his head and looked abashed. "It was the best sex I think I've ever had, Hutch. But I don't know if it was a dream or real or who I made love to!"

Hutch immediately felt great sympathy for his friend, only Starsky could find this kind of trouble. "Did Gail say anything?"

"No. And when I tried to ask her about it, she looked at me like I was nuts."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but, you are nuts, buddy."

"Seriously, Hutch." Starsky had the look of a man about to get his last meal. "What's wrong with me? Why would I dream, if that's what it was, about sex with a woman who's been dead thirty years? Isn't that… like… necrophilia or something?"

Sometimes Hutch wished he'd paid more attention to his college Psychology classes, but when it came to Starsky and his mental health, he tried his hardest to put him at ease. "She wasn't real, so, no, it wasn't necrophilia. But, anyway, buddy, you've been under a lot of stress lately and you're tired. Under those circumstances, anyone would have weird dreams." He squeezed his partner's shoulder. "I think the dream you had was a very natural way to release the stress you're under. You just happened to dream about Elizabeth because she was a beautiful woman whom we spent last night talking about. It's that simple. You could have just as easily dreamt about Jaclyn Smith."

"Yeah? It just seemed so…real. I guess it kinda freaked me out a bit." Starsky paused for a brief moment. "But, man, the sex was good."

Hutch smiled at the huge grin on his friend's face. "I'll have to take your word on that."

O0O

The Gothic revival loomed ominously in front of the investigators, as they stood gawking at its enormity. At one time, long ago, it must have been a jewel to the small seaside town in which it stood. But, now, it was faded and old. A decaying wooden fence leaned awkwardly over the tall grass, shavings of white paint still visible on the spoiling timber. A hinged wooden gate no longer protected the path to the house, but, instead, hung on with its last grasp to a purpose it no longer served.

"Uh, doesn't look like anyone's home." Starsky observed while hopping over the falling gate.

Hutch walked back to his car, popped open his trunk and grabbed two flashlights. "Dobey said this was the last known address of the Grippo's." He caught up to his partner and put an arm on his shoulder, causing Starsky to stop. "Looks abandoned. Still wanna go in?"

"What, and give up a Halloween visit to a haunted house? Are you kidding?" the young brunette joked, but inside his stomach fluttered.

"Okay, then. Lead the way."

"As you weesh." Starsky used his most atrocious French accent and bowed mockingly with a sweep of his arm. He took the lead and began climbing the front steps overgrown with ball tall grass, mindful of the rotting wood. Hutch warily followed, grateful when they reached the door.

Starsky was stunned by the size and ornateness of the egress. To his eyes, it looked as if tiny fairies had been carved into the dark wood and were dancing around anxiously waiting to greet visitors.

"That's some door, huh, Starsk?"

"No kidding. Don't suppose it's unlocked, do you?" he asked, turning the knob. With just the tiny amount of pressure he placed on the salt fatigued iron, it broke off in his hand, leaving the house free to enter.

Hutch raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Well, that was easy. After you."

Starsky only hesitated a moment before stepping over the threshold into the residence, and was promptly over taken by a sickening odor. Covering his nose with his sleeve, he asked, "What the hell is that?" Though, he really didn't need to ask, he'd experienced that smell many times in his career. It was the smell of decay; an abhorrent perfume of putridness that came from rotting plant or animal matter. Starsky prayed it wasn't the later.

"We may have found more than we expected here," Hutch said, his eyes watering.

Both men moved further into the entryway in search of a light. Hutch fumbled in the dimness until he felt the switch plate, only to find what he expected in the first place; there was no electricity to power the house.

"Might as well split up. Why don't you take the upstairs? I'll look around down here. Yell, if you find something." Hutch nodded and switched on his personal light as he traveled carefully up the elaborate mahogany staircase, leaving Starsky alone to explore the lower floor.

Following the beam of his MagLight, Starsky stepped into a room with tall shelves on each wall, lined with books. The dim light shining through the windows cast a glow on the oriental rugs lining the floor, and little tiny specks of dust floated in the air as he walked. The walls were a rich burgundy color and, on them, hung expensive looking landscapes, and six silver framed pictures lined the fireplace mantel next to where he stood.

The first large photo, spotted and faded with age, showed several family members dressed in Victorian garb, looking very stoic, and not at all interested in what was taking place. After studying it briefly, he moved on to the next photo, seeing two very young children sitting side by side with matching lollipops. They looked identical with their brown hair and matching tiny suits. Picking it up, Starsky smiled when he realized it was an Easter picture. Moving his eyes to yet another photo, he saw the same boy, a few years older, standing next to a little girl. The boy looked proud of the bicycle he was posing next to, but the girl with long dark locks looked troubled as she clung to her doll. That must be Billy's sister, Starsky thought. The other pictures were more of the same, some with harsh looking parents, and some without. Starsky removed the picture of the parents with the boy and girl, placing it in his jacket pocket.

Beyond the library was the dining room with its grandiose table and an ornamented crystal chandelier that swayed to an invisible breeze, prickling the hair on Starsky's neck.

Moving back into the entryway, Starsky decided to explore the room to his right. Pushing open the door, he discovered the kitchen. The foul aroma was stronger in here as he moved toward the ice box. Taking a short step over to the ancient appliance, his foot squished against something soft causing him to swing his flashlight down toward the floor. Starsky almost retched when he realized he was standing on an expired cat's tail. Swallowing down the sour taste in his throat, he moved back to better view the source of the stench, while attempting to hold down his morning coffee. All that was left of the cat was bones covered in mangy fur and some sort of pustulant liquid that was pouring from its open, slack mouth. Maggots writhed around the open chest cavity and poured out the ears onto the floor, causing Starsky to work even harder at keeping his food down. Adjusting his light, Starsky spied a spilled box of rat poison leaving him to ponder the creature's last meal.

"What'd ya find?"

Starsky dropped his light as he jumped around, ready to fight. "Jesus H. Christ, Hutch. You trying ta give me a heart attack?" He grasp his heart in an over exaggerated manner and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves.

Hutch retrieved the Mag and handed it back to his jumpy partner. "Nothing upstairs but bedrooms. The beds are all still made but, from the collection of dust and cob webs, I don't think they've been slept in for quite some time. The twins each had their own room, though."

"Yeah?"

"There are 5 bedrooms altogether, two decorated for kids. It's a creepy mix of old sports paraphernalia and dolls. There aren't any clothes in the children's closets, but all the toys are still there. But, the master bedroom still has a full wardrobe. I'm guessing that the parents are dead or were moved into a nursing home and no one has bothered to remove their belongings."

Starsky looked around the stocked kitchen with his beam. "Nothing has been removed. It's like time stopped here when…huh, look at that."

"It's the cellar door, Starsk."

Starsky knew Hutch couldn't see his features, but rolled his eyes anyway. "I know what it is. I was merely pointing it out, smartass." He clapped a hand on the blond's back and nudged him toward the slightly ajar door.

Hutch pulled it open all the way and shone his light down into the darkness. The stairs were steep and twisting, and a thick musty smell wafted up on the damp air. "Once more into the breach," he said as he took the first creaking step down.

Starsky followed closely on his tail as they descended step by step into the black pit.

Once they reached bottom, Starsky realized it was filled with an odd cacophony of junk. And doors…lots of doors.

"It's a maze down here. What do you suppose all this was for?"

"Beats me, Starsk. But I'm sure gonna find out." Hutch moved to the nearest door and stepped through. "Huh, this looks like a Taphonomy room."

"Tough, what?" Starsky asked as he stared wide eyed at a room full of dried animal corpses in various stages of dissection.

"Taphonomy. It's the study of the various overlapping, consecutive processes which can affect organic remains prior to burial." He felt Starsky's glare. "My friend's dad was a mortician and into that kinda stuff. We got to assist on occasion."

"Sounds fun, in a kinky kinda way." Starsky teased, then added, with a shiver, "I feel like they're watching me."

"They're dead, Starsk."

"Don't mean their spirits aren't here watching us, waiting for a chance to get revenge against the bipedal monsters that did this to 'em. My Uncle Herb was a hunter, and one winter…" Starsky turned to face Hutch but he was gone. Quickly vacating the room, Starsky caught up with his partner in the next chamber.

"It's a bedroom. I wonder who lived down here?" Hutch wondered aloud, exploring the bare chamber. All that was in the small, windowless room was a single bed and nightstand, a small vanity and a brush and mirror. No lamp or other light source was visible.

Starsky broke off and continued on to the next room. "There's a lotta rooms down here. It'll take forever if we stay together."

"Yeah, okay," Hutch agreed. "I'll meet you back at the stairs when you're done."

Starsky hated being in dark closed-in places, they made him feel vulnerable and on edge. And, honestly, this place was damn creepy. He couldn't get over the feeling he'd gotten when they first entered the house, the feeling that they were being watched. He stopped to listen, but heard no noises other than his partner's footsteps shuffling on the dirt floor. He scanned the walls around him, but saw nothing to warrant the twitchy feeling he had in his gut. But he couldn't deny it, he felt…repelled.

Having looked through several rooms without much luck, Starsky headed toward the last one on his list. With a glance, he saw it was just a bathroom and turned to go, until the light from his Mag caught something white, piquing his curiosity.

"You almost done?" he heard Hutch say somewhere behind the noise of his thudding heart.

At first he hesitated to go all the way into the room. Part of it was the smell…like rotten fruit, only worse. Most of it was knowing that whatever had reflected the light was not going to be pleasant. Starsky stepped out into the open basement and snatched a lungful of slightly less pungent air, then entered the bathroom once more.

His light traveled slowly to the point where it had first captured the reflection, until it stopped to focus on the claw foot tub. Adjusting the beam a little higher, Starsky slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from retching. He closed his eyes against the buzzing he felt in his head and tried to calm his heart. Steadying himself against his shaking legs, he moved closer to the tub, feeling equally horrified and fascinated.

"Get in here, Hutch!" He wasn't sure he made more than a squeak, but his partner was instantly at his side. "I think we found who was living down here."

Starsky held his light over the mummified corpse in the bath, its hooked fingers still gripping the edge of the tub. The water had long ago evaporated, leaving yellowing skin covered in a shiny adipose coating. Long grey hairs circled the drain in a serpentine pattern, but small clumps still hung tenaciously onto the scalp, giving it the look of an ill treated doll. The eyes were jet black, vacuous holes and the nose had been nibbled away to the point that Starsky could see inside the facial structure.

Hutch's reaction wasn't unexpected, or unwarranted, as he panted and gagged, turning to the toilet. But, then he pulled back with a disgusted cry; a dry, black crust covered the seat and bowl and most of the floor around it, as if blood had exploded from within. The water inside was dense and foul smelling with a dead, bloated rat floating belly up, oblivious to its situation. Starsky heard Hutch swallow and take a shaky breath. "What the hell happened here?"

"I think we found Mrs. Grippo." Starsky was holding the picture he'd removed from its frame and was looking back and forth between the body and the photo. "She's wearing the same charm bracelet that's in this picture."

"We need to call this in."

Starsky looked back at the woman in the tub. "I think this is where it all started. I think Mrs. Grippo was the first human victim, Hutch. I think this psycho practiced on all those animals back in that room and then moved on to her. That fucker practiced, Hutch… practiced."

Starsky felt his friend lead him from the basement, out into the hall, and finally into the fall breeze before being taken to the car. Just as he rounded to his side of the vehicle, though, he doubled over and painfully retched into the gravel.

To Be Continued