Hi All,

Here is chapter 8. Yes, no waiting for weeks this time. --GASP!-- I went on a typing frenzy yesterday -two handed, pain be damned! That's what pain meds are for, darn it!

Questions will finally be answered in this chapter.

Thanks to: 'E', 'Just E' or 'Just I' –VBG- and my psychic sis, Shawne. –G-

Special Thanks: to Kreek and Pony for their help. Thanks ladies!

Warning: Some lauguage.

Chapter 8

Hutch stared at the parallel rows of doorbell buttons for a long time; debating whether to push the one he was interested in or not. "What the hell are you doing here, Hutchinson?" He muttered. He shook his head and looked at the flowers in his hand, he didn't bother to sniff them, as he didn't want to set off his allergies.

He had done some thinking on as he drove away from work. And now he was thinking this was a bad idea. 'Then again, I'm all ready here,' Hutch closed his eyes and stabbed at the doorbell. The secured door buzzed and he entered, shaking his head. The reason for having the doorbells and secured door was filter the people who entered, to keep those who had no business in there - out. But then Peggy wasn't the brightest bulb in the fixture.

He boarded the elevator and got off on her floor. Then, gritting his teeth, Hutch knocked on her door.

"Just a minute!" Her muffled voice chimed from inside.

Seconds later, she opened the door. She blinked up at him, "Kenny… what a surprise! What are you doing here?"

Hutch was mentally asking himself the same thing. He cleared his throat, "I owe you an apology." He handed her the flowers. "I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday."

"What's my name?" She crossed her arms over her ample chest, the flowers rested in the crook of one elbow.

He gapped at her, "What?"

"I'll accept your apology - if you can tell me what my name is." She started tapping her foot on the floor. "I'm waiting Kenny."

He gave an exasperated sigh, "Look Penny-"

"Patty! My name is Patty! Pat-tee!" She threw the flowers at him and slammed the door shut.

Hutch rested his head on the closed door and wondered if it was worth trying again.

XXXX

It had taken a lot of doing, but Hutch had gotten the information he wanted from Patty. And it was a fact that he would never, ever forget her name again. Nor would he ever see her again and that was just fine with him.

The lanky blond knew now he was grasping at straws, tilting at any windmill in sight, but he had to. He would do anything to find his partner, even if it meant consulting a fortuneteller - though he would have rather have used Colandra, whose abilities were proven. But the man was dead; so the fortuneteller was it. He wondered whom he would consult next if this long shot didn't pan out.

He got back on the elevator and a nicely dressed couple boarded with him. The doors glided shut and the car began to move towards the ground level. Hutch could hear the pair sniff and exchange a few whispers, before the man hit a button, the elevator stopped at the next floor and they got off, giving him dirty looks as they left. After the doors closed, he took a sniff of one of his armpits and he's eyes watered at the intensity of the scent. Okay, maybe a quick shower and a change of clothes first.

Venice Place

Feeling a little revitalized after his shower, Hutch sat down on his couch to put on his shoes. A pain arched though his back muscles as he leaned forward to tie his shoes, so he leaned back on the couch to relieve the cramp. Rested his head on the back, he closed his eyes, willed the ache away.

After what seemed like a few moments, he cracked his eyes open and lifted his head, only to find that now he had a crick in his neck. "Oh damn!" Hutch rubbed at this new pain and looked around his apartment. Something wasn't right. He couldn't quite figure out what it was, so he put his shoes on and grabbed his car keys.

He stepped out into the street and looked up. The sun was overhead. Directly overhead. It had been early evening when he had gotten home; the only way the sun could be in this position was if he had fallen asleep for hours. "SHIT!"

He looked at his watch, it was 12:25, and it was Saturday. He had slept straight through the night and well into the next day. He had wasted far too much time sleeping. He ran to his car and burned rubber as he pulled away from the curb, heading for the address he had gotten from Patty.

XXXX

It was a long drive to fortuneteller Ruby Tuesday's home. The winding gravel road edged along a high cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. But Hutch did not take time to look at the sights; they held no interest for him.

He had contacted Metro on his way and found out that Simon Marcus was improving. He might even soon start showing signs of emerging from his coma. Hutch had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, he needed to talk to Marcus, on the other, he dreaded talking to him - dreaded what Marcus might say…or not say. He hated playing the word games Simon Marcus loved. But he would take anything to get the information he needed to find Starsky.

Hutch pulled into the yard. The house was small, with a white picket fence. A small garage was just visible in the back. He got out of his car and opened the gate, carefully closing it behind him. He knocked several times, but no one answered the door. He hoped he hadn't wasted the long trip out here. The fortuneteller might be back at the boardwalk, plying her trade.

Ruby Tuesday didn't have a phone. Hutch knew could have saved himself the trip if she had had one and hadn't answered a call. But the only way he'd find out was to make the trip. Now that he was here, he figured he had better have a good look around before he left.

The woman might be around back somewhere. He followed a little brick path to the backyard. When he got back there, he stopped to admire it. The place was a gardener's dream. The lawn was beautiful, immaculately manicured. The flowerbeds were blooming, and the variety of plants was astounding. The landscaping and layout were meant to be admired, if one had the time. Which he didn't.

"Hello? Anyone home?" He hollered it several times as he moved about the large yard. There was no answer. He shook his head sadly - just one more windmill uselessly tilted at, yet another wasted trip. He dropped his head and concentrated on breathing. He had to keep trying.

He lifted his head back up, and that's when he spotted a wishing well. It was out in the open, nothing around it but a wide expanse of grass. He hadn't seen in until before because a large dogwood bush had hidden it from his initial view.

He needed to leave, to find and follow other leads. He might look for the fortuneteller at the boardwalk where he and Starsky had met her last weekend. But he looked back at the well.

His grandparents had had one in their yard. This well reminded him of that one. He felt drawn to the well.

Telling himself it was pure nostalgia, he walked over to the well. The earth around it was freshly tilled, as though waiting for planting of seeds. The well was wooden and painted white. The little slanted roof that covered it had red shingles. Closer examination showed some wear and tear on the structure, but the paint job was fairly recent. Still, it looked like it had been there a long time. The finishing touch was a small wooden bucket handing on the rope, as though waiting to be reeled down into the depths of the well, to draw water from bellow.

The blond wondered if the well's reel mechanism was functional or if it was just for show. He turned to leave but then turned back and dug into his pockets until he found a coin. Starsky would've laughed at the thought of him making a wish at a wishing well. He prepared to flip the coin.

"I wouldn't waste my money, if I were you." A female voice called out.

Startled, Hutch whipped about to confront the speaker. "What?"

"I wouldn't waste my money on that well if I were you, " the fortuneteller repeated. "No wishes ever come true from that well. I don't know how many times I tried. And believe me when I say I did a lot of wishing. I wasted too much money in that well. I've come to the conclusion that it's dead. It's a dead wishing well, with nothing but a worm in the bottom of it. It's not worth wasting money on." The woman drew nearer "Now, who are you and what are you doing on my property?" She put her hands hips and fixed him with a hard look.

Hutch looked at her; she was attractive enough without all the heavy eye shadow and makeup. She didn't have her gaudy gypsy/fortuneteller garb and bangles on either. The red tresses must have been a wig, for her hair now was medium length, dishwater brown.

He pulled out his ID and showed her, "I'm Detective Ken Hutchinson, Bay City police."

"Oh yes, I remember you now, I wasn't doing anything illegal last weekend, I have a permit." She turned and walked away. "And I don't give refunds, so if that's what you want, you're wasting your time. And mine."

"Wait! Miss Tuesday, I'm not here for a refund," Hutch started after her, but then he remembered the well. He turned back and pulled his coin out again. Maybe it was a waste of money; yet he made his wish anyway: 'Please let me find Starsky.' He quickly tossed the coin into the well. He turned back around and trotted to catch up with the fortuneteller.

XXXX

A pinging sound made Starsky open his eyes. He was too weak to sit up now. The pinging sound continued until something small hit him in the chest. It took a lot out of him to pick up the object; his fingers and hand didn't want to cooperate with his wishes. They had started to swell some time ago. The same went for his feet. Since he still had his shoes on, the swelling bulged out the top of his Adidas and up his ankles a bit.

His hand trembled as he brought the item close to his face and squinted at it. It was a coin. Someone had just dropped a coin down the well. He looked up and tried to call. Only a quiet squeak came out. He tried again "H-help! Down here… h-help!" he rasped. His meager energy reserve depleted, Starsky slipped back into unconsciousness.

XXXX

"Would you like some tea, detective?" Miss Ruby Tuesday asked as she stood at the stove, removing the whistling teakettle.

Hutch shook his head, "No, I'll take some water though." He watched as she got a glass from the cupboard, filled it and handed it to him. "Thanks." The inside of the house was just as neat as the outside; the floors were wooden and the walls were white and austere. It was nothing like he had expected. A few photographs hung on the walls, but he was too far away to see the faces in them.

"So detective, if you don't want a refund, what are you doing all the way out here? I assure you my permit is valid." She went into the adjoining room and returned with a document. "See? All legal and proper." She thrust it at him.

Hutch held up a hand, "I'm sure it is. What I need is…" He coughed nervously, "It's about my friend. You remember him; he was with me and two ladies last weekend."

"I'm not giving him a refund either." The woman crossed her arms.

"No, it's nothing like that. What I-I need is a little help finding him, he's disappeared." Hutch stood up and looked out the kitchen window, staring in the direction of the well. Then, he turned back around to face the fortuneteller.

She smiled sadly at him, "I'm sorry; that's not what I do for my business. I read palms and use tarot cards to tell fortunes. Heck, I even read tea leaves sometimes. And before you ask, the crystal ball is just for show. People expect one to be on the table." She shrugged. "Who am I to mess with their preconceived notions?"

It was another dead end. The woman wasn't going to be any help, but then, Collandra hadn't wanted to help at first either. Hutch tried again, "You told the girl I was with that she would get that job she interviewed for."

The fortuneteller gave a light laugh. "I wouldn't get much repeat business if all the news I handed out was bad, now would I? Look detective, you came a long way for nothing. I'm sorry I can't help you."

Hutch expelled a long, hard sigh, "So am I lady, so am I."

She escorted him to the front door and let him out.

Out of habit, he reached out and shook her hand, "Thank you Miss Tuesday."

She tilted her head and looked at him with a confused look on her face, "Thank me? For what? I didn't tell you anything."

He released her hand, "For being honest with me. Someone else might have tried to lie, to make an easy buck, but not you. Thank you for that."

She unblinkingly stared up at him for a while, and then spoke, "You can thank me by never having a mustache. Trust me, it'll make you look like some seedy porn star."

Now it was Hutch's turn to stare; he then shook his head and walked towards his car 'Imagine me with a mustache… ridiculous!' he touched is upper lip. 'Then again –' Whap! Hutch fell down as his shin connected with a bicycle. He went to his knees before catching himself. As he started to get up, he found that his pant leg was wrapped around one of the bike's pedals. The pedal was missing part of its rubber tread. The exposed rounded metal must have snagged his pant leg. He cursed as he untangled himself, then cursed some more when he noticed the rip in his pants.

Hutch stood up and set the bike back up. It hadn't been there before. That explained how the woman had gotten home without him hearing her. He hadn't heard her pulling up because she had ridden a bike. He brushed the dust off of his knees and sheepishly looked back at the door to see if she had seen his klutziness. She had. He could feel the blush work its way up from his neck to his face. He waved at her to show he was okay; she waved back at him and then closed the door.

"Way to go Hutchinson. Why don't you watch where you're goin'?" He muttered as he got back into his car and backed up so he could turn around so he could head back down the gravel driveway to make the long journey home.

TBC

Author notes: Months ago Pony gave me the idea about 'Hutch's 70's porn star mustache' I had to use it, with her permission of course!