Hi all,
So sorry for the long wait… I need to have a sign made for me that says 'Caution – Slow muse at work' (G)
Special thanks to Kreek, Eli, Pony and Shawne… Thank you so much for your support, because sometimes RL sucks through a very thin straw.
Chapter 5
Hutch trotted through the halls of Metro to get to the interrogation room where the suspect was being held. He had left the LTD double parked in front of the building and threw his keys to the first uniformed officer he had seen. The guy could either park the car properly, or ticket him, or have the LTD towed. At this moment, he didn't give a damn what happened to it.
Dobey was waiting outside of interrogation room number three and he grabbed Hutch's arm by the elbow and gently swung him around before the blond could enter the room.
Hutch stared longingly back at the door as Dobey led him to the adjoining room. "Come with me first." They entered the viewing room. Through the one-way glass, the suspect could be seen, sitting at the table, sipping from a foam cup. He set it down and then started rocking back and forth, his lips were moving. Aside from the creaking of the chair as the man rocked, the microphone in the room didn't pick up any thing the man might be saying.
Dobey simply stared through the glass at the cult member for a long minute before speaking, "He came to Metro and said he wanted to talk to you Hutch, says he's knows where Starsky is. He asked for a glass of water and has refused to say anything else."
The blond peered through the glass and studied the young man's face for a few minutes, taking in the follower's features; the straight, greasy dark brown hair, the hawk nose, the dark, unfocused eyes. The line between the detective's brows furrowed deeply as he spoke, "He looks familiar."
Dobey placed a hand on the frame of the one-way glass and leaned forward as he looked at the unknowing suspect, then shifting his dark eyes to his detective, "He should. He's one of Simon Markus's followers."
"WHAT!" Hutch stared for a spilt second, dumbstruck at his captain's words. He then whirled on his heel and made for the integration room door.
Dobey quickly reached out and grabbed Hutch's elbow, spinning him around to face him, "His name is Dick Clemens. He's probably our only lead to Starsky." The big man locked eyes with his detective. "Be careful."
"Be careful?" Propane blue eyes flashed hotly at his superior, "I won't hurt him. Much." The lanky detective yanked the door open and stalked out of the viewing room to the interrogation room; he grabbed the knob and gave it a twist. He stopped himself short and took in a fortifying breath. Dobey was right. He needed his wits about him before he went in all half-cocked, possibly screwing up any chance of getting pertinent information from Simon's follower.
He inhaled again, slowly letting the air fill his lungs, then exhaling just as slowly. He then entered the room, stopping just inside to door to look at the young man. Hutch remembered this kid was the one he had grabbed and yanked to his feet in the back of that dingy, deserted shop in the frantic hours shortly after Starsky had been kidnapped. The place where Simon had told him to 'start at where it stopped.'
The kid still had the same glazed, over eyes, bad body odor and greasy hair. The only difference was he wasn't wearing his black robe this time. But a grubby 'Kiss' t-shirt –that had once black, but now gray and worn and dirty old blue jeans, with holes worn through both knees. He feet were dirty and bare.
The cult follower stopped his rocking at the detective's entrance into the room. A serene smile appeared as the young man recognized him, "I knew you'd come. You thought you could change things, prevent what Si-mon dreamed. You can't do that. What Si-mon dreams comes true, always true… He dreamed a wonderful dream for your partner. You thought you had kept it from coming true, but all you did was delay the inevitable."
The young man nodded blissfully. "Simon may be in prison, but yet he is free! His reach is far, far beyond such mortal things as mere concrete walls and bars." He closed his eyes and went back to rocking in the chair, fingers templed, and lips moving, silently repeating something over and over.
Hutch reined in his temper and dragged a chair from around the side of the table, bringing it close to the kid, deliberately moving into his personal space, crowding the young cult follower. He simply stared at the cultist, keeping his breathing regular and slow. He now understood that the kid was mouthing the word 'Simon, Simon'. He gave an involuntary shudder, dear God; Starsky was in the hands of those madmen – again. He could taste the vomit gathering in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard to rid himself of the sour tang.
The kid's eyes opened and slid to the clock on the wall.
"Worried about something?" The blond spoke quietly, using his voice in soft, soothing manner… when what he really wanted to do was to slam him against the wall and shake the kid until the answers fell out.
"It's nearly time." The kid's eyes darted from the clock, to the detective and back again. He swayed a unsteadily as he sat in the chair; his eyes looked a little more glassy, his face still had the blissful, yet creepy expression that many cult followers had.
"Time for what?" A shiver started at the base of the detective's spine and began crawling slowly upwards, knotting his stomach on its way up. The sour taste was back, but at double the strength.
"I must wait for the right time to tell you." The young follower's slightly unfocused eyes darted nervously to the clock, to the detective and back again.
"And when is that?"
"It's nearly time now." A brief look of pain crossed the young man's face; he crossed his arms over his belly, hugging it. "Oh… Si-mon…" it was said reverently, then after a visible twinge of pain said, "I think it's time n-now."
"Time for what?" Hutch leaned in closer to the young man.
"Time to tell you… You'll never find Detective Starsky. He is lost to you, now and forever. I'm the only one who knows where he is. Si-mon's dream will finally come true. Si-mon's will -will be done!" The kid's eyes rolled back into his head and a shudder racked his entire body as he fought to continue to speak; "You'll never find… him…" the young man flopped off the chair and began convulsing on the floor. A wad of foam boiled out of his mouth as if he had just washed it out with cup full of hydrogen peroxide.
Shocked by the abruptness of the fit, Hutch stood up and stared down at the young man in amazement. He then jerked his eyes to the one-way glass, not to look at himself in the mirrored side, but looking beyond the reflective surface, knowing Dobey was on the other side watching and listening. "Get an ambulance!" He shouted as he kneeled beside the fallen cultist, thinking at the cultist was either pretending or having an epileptic fit.
The young man stopped moving and lay still, his arms and legs went ridged, locked into painful-looking positions.
Hutch placed his fingers to the carotid artery on the cultist's neck and felt a fading pulse. As he held them there, he could feel the beat falter beneath his fingertips and finally stop. The limbs of the young man were slowly released from their awkward ridged posture. Urine slowly soaked the young man's blue jeans as death released his control on his bladder. Hutch knew the young man was clinically dead. He knew that there still might be a way to save the kid, the blond needed answers and did what he had to do.
The blond quickly repositioned the young man on his back and he leaned down to begin CPR. But he stopped when he picked up a faint burnt almond scent issuing from the young man's mouth. The smell was likely from cyanide, Hutch sat up straight, aware he could be poisoned too if he were to put his lips on the victim's to do rescue breathing.
Dobey burst through the door and rushed to stand over the prone body. "What the hell happened?"
"He's dead Cap'n." the lanky detective slowly rose to his feet and looked at the cup on the table. "He must have swallowed a poison pill or something… that's probably why he wanted the water… how long ago did he ask for it?"
"The water? Twenty minutes or so," The big man grunted "Why?"
"I think he may have poisoned himself. It can take that long for most poisons to kick in, when taken orally. He stalled just long enough for me to get here… he kept looking at the clock, so he must've had some idea how long he had left to give me his message about Starsky before he died..." Hutch slowly shook his head, "It's crazy… it's just crazy."
Dobey grunted in response "And you were expecting something sane to come from one of Markus's followers?"
Long fingers furrowed through fine blond locks, leaving a visible path in their wake. "Guess that leave's me with one alternative."
"What's that?"
"I need to go speak to Simon Markus," a harsh breath hissed from between clenched teeth. Hutch tilted his head back and then rolled his head is a slow circle, stretching out his neck muscles in an attempt to ease the knot of pain located between his shoulder blades. He rubbed his neck. "Got any aspirin?"
"My office, top right drawer of my desk."
"Thanks… you want anything?"
The big man bobbed his head twice, "Answers, but we're not gonna get any out of him." He jerked his chin in the dead cultist's direction.
Brown eyes met light blue; both knowing things were not going in their favor. Time was a commodity they didn't have much of and it was slipping ever more quickly through their collective fingers. Hutch nodded, then exited the room to get some aspirin, suspecting he was going to have to buy himself a whole new bottle both for him and for Dobey, at the rate he was swallowing them.
He was nearly to his captain's office when someone tugged at his sleeve. He stopped and a woman threw herself into his arm and clung to him. He blinked rapidly at her, trying to figure out who she was. It dawned on him who she was just before the she spoke.
"Oh Kenny-wenny! I've been trying to reach you for days…" The strawberry blonde tightened her grip around his waist and snuggled as close as she could, then she hooked a long leg around one of his. Holding him in place.
Hutch returned the hug and then attempted to step back a step, the abrupt change in emotional gears blindsided him, it threw him for a second and he struggled to remember her name, "Hello… ummm… Carly."
"Patty," she corrected "You poor thing! What you must be going through hell right now… I can't imagine… you poor, poor dear" the woman clung tighter even and began to rub up and down a little with her whole body.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work right now?" He was still a little confused by her presence.
"It's after six, silly… I got off of work over an hour ago." She rubbed his back with both hands, making slow circles along his spine.
Hutch tightened his embrace for a second, needing the comforting contact, then he moved to step back slightly, but she leaned forwards and rubbed against him once more. Some how her tube top stayed in position over her large breasts, but not before exposing a generous portion of her breasts. For just a second, Hutch's eyes fell into the crevasse created between her size double D bosoms. He quickly yanked himself back out just as quickly, this was defiantly not the time for that. "Look Gwen…" He gently began to untangle himself from her arms.
"Patty… aw Kenny-wenny, you poor man…" she pouted her lips and ran a hand through his hair, "At first I was all mad that you didn't call me after the fun time we had last Saturday night, but now I understand why you haven't." She twined herself back around him like a pea vine, tucking her head under his chin. "Poor wavey-Davey… it's all over the news about him going missing."
"Sally look, I gotta get back to work now, okay? I really appreciate that you understand about my not calling you." He kissed her on the forehead as he worked at loosening her hold around his waist. "I'm working on a new lead right now." He tugged her arms away from his sides. He finally managed to free himself.
"Patty… that's why I'm here. I know how you can find Davey."
The got Hutch's full and undivided attention, "WHAT? How?" he grabbed her upper arms and unconsciously squeezed them.
"Ouch Kenny, that's quite a grip you got there." The strawberry blonde whimpered.
"Sorry," he moved his hands to her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes and all but begged, "Please tell me Patty." He held his breath, awaiting her answer.
"Patty…" she automatically corrected, then looked confused for a moment as she realized what she had done.
He caressed her bare shoulders to return her wondering attention to her information on how to find his partner, "Patty… how can I find Starsky?"
Earnest green eyes met his, "How what? Oh right… how to find Davey. You remember that fortuneteller from Saturday night? You can ask her, she was right about me getting my new job and-"
Hutch gaped at her for a second in incredulous disbelief at her words before groaning and rolling his eyes. He rudely interrupted her, "Oh for Christ's sake Patty, I know you're trying to help, but that's the dumbest damn thing I've ever heard. Look, I've got a lead to follow. I'll call you sometime, okay?" They both knew he was lying. So he dropped his hands from her now slumping shoulders, turned on his heel and entered Dobey's office, slamming the door behind him as he went.
After washing down about six aspirin, he sat in his captain's chair. He leaned back as far as the chair would go and stared up at the ceiling tiles. He made a mental note to send Patty some flowers as an apology for his rudeness. She had only been trying to help; he couldn't hold that against her.
Hutch then turned his thoughts on what he would say to Simon Markus when he got to Bay City Maximum security prison. Markus was a cunning man who got his kicks from manipulating people. The blond got up and looked for a tape recorder to take with him, fearing he was going to need it to figure out the jumbled crap that mad man spewed. He was heading out the door when something occurred to him. He snapped his fingers and went back to Dobey's desk and grabbed the bottle of aspirin, he shoved it into his pocket, knowing that he would likely need every single pill in there to get through that interrogation.
XXXX
A distant whinny buzz woke Starsky from his slumber. There wasn't much to do at the bottom of a well. Sleep was an escape and a way to conserve energy He blinked stupidly for a long moment before remembering where he was. He slowly sat up and the well wall swirled erratically before his eyes before slowly coming into focus. A pair of beady black eyes stared back at him. He startled for a second before remembering "Hi Mickey, ya scared me for a second there." He was amazed to find that he could still get his tongue off the roof of his mouth to talk, it was that dry.
At the sound of the raspy voice, the rat huddled against the wall, to panicked to move. And staring, ever staring at the human.
"Guess you're more scared of me then I am of you. Don't worry… I'm a lot more thirsty than hungry right now. I don't think I'd get a lot of juice out of you if I squeezed you." His parched tongue peeked out and touched his cracked and bleeding lips at the thought of anything liquid right now. Starsky shook his head at the ridiculous notion.
But then again, maybe rat juice tasted good and if it did, perhaps he could sell it. He gave a dry chuckle as he imagined himself hawking the stuff on some street corner "Rat juice… get your fresh squeezed rat juice here! Starsky's own recipe…just step right up and have a cup!"
His chuckles turned to parched wheezes as the rat scrambled up the wall at the sound. It fell with a soft thump. It tried again and again. Finally stopping and turning its little head to the wall as if not wanting to see the attack it feared coming. It sat there, quivering. Waiting.
Starsky felt a small lump rise in his throat. "I'm sorry Mickey… I won't turn you into rat juice, okay? I promise."
The rat peeked back at him and shivered.
"Stop worrying, okay? I don't eat things with names… you're name is Mickey, so you're safe with me." He then crossed his heart. "Is it a deal?" He stuck out his hand in the rat's direction.
Mickey turned his face back to the wall and started to dig.
"Just give it some thought, okay? I'm not such a bad guy, you'll see. You just gotta...
get…used… to" the buzzing noise grew louder "…me."
He looked up and cocked his head to the side trying to catch the sound a little better. He knew that sound. He held his breath, listening intently to the sound. A sound that at any other time would have been annoying… but now it was as beautiful to him as any aria he had ever heard. It was the sweet sound of a lawnmower.
He got to his feet. The sound drew ever nearer. He looked at the rat, which had stopped digging at his sudden move, "Mickey! We're saved! Hey! Helloooo up there!" He listened, the mower got closer.
"HELP! DOWN HERE! WE'RE DOWN HERE! HEEELLLLP!" He forced himself to yell as loud as he could. He was so thirsty it was difficult to do, but he kept it up as the sound drew closer. "HEY! HEEELLP! Help us! Please!" The sound of the mower abruptly cut out, heartened Starsky yelled as loud as he could, "HELP! WE'RE DOWN HERE! IN THE WELL! HELP!"
Some loose dirt sprinkled down on him from above, further encouraged by this, Starsky renewed he cries for help. "HELP! DOWN HERE! HEEELLP!"
A backlit head appeared in the circle of light above him, the brunet couldn't make out the person's face, but it didn't matter one single bit what the guy looked like... All that mattered was that he had been found, relief flooded Starsky, "Oh thank GOD! Please get us out of here! I was beginning to think no one was ever gonna find me… " The head disappeared from the circle high above him. "HEY! Wait! Come back!"
Puzzled, Starsky waited a few seconds to see if the guy came back. His mind raced over where the person could have gone off to. 'He had to have heard my yells…he's probably making the call right now. I wonder if I could get him to throw a bottle of water down while we're waiting for the fire department? Where is he? He heard me, right? I mean, why else would he shut off his mower and look down here'
Another thought occurred to him. 'Then again, it had to be pretty startling to hear someone shouting for help at the bottom of a well. If that was a kid, well, he might run home and tell someone, too startled or too afraid to respond to a scary voice from a well… the once he gets into the house… there has to be a house nearby, why else would he be mowing? He'll be back.'
So Starsky waited, it was all he could do. "He'll be back." He was confident.
And waited. "He'll be back."
The lawnmower started up.
As the sound of the mower began a repeating cycle of drawing near and then far…near then far…. Starsky continued to stare up at the circle of light, so high above him and the truth slowly sunk in deeper into his brain with each repeating cycle. Tears stung the backs of his eyes… but they were too dry to fall.
Help wasn't coming.
TBC
Notes: Cyanide does smell like burned almonds – but only a very few people can detect it. The stuff about the foam coming out of the cult follower, is simply a dramatic touch on my part.