Disclaimer: This story was written purely for entertainment and is not for profit. It is not meant to trespass in any way on the holders to the rights of Starsky and Hutch.

Mahalo to all of the wonderful people in my life, who continue to encourage, support, and inspire me in my endeavor to write

A special mahalo to my big sis Strut, and Brook for the input and suggestions to better the telling of this tale . . .

Warning: "Episodes" might be considered a dark tale and contains some graphic scenes and foul language that may be offensive to some readers. This story also revolves around a paranormal/metaphysical genre; if this is not your cup of tea, then please refrain from sipping. I would hate to spoil someone's fun.

--oo Episodes oo-

By: Shawne 'til dawn

. . . CHAPTER 3 . . .

The flashing lights from the police cars lit up the quiet night, eerily illuminating the small group of silent onlookers who stood at the mouth of the alley. Starsky looked back from where he stood by the dumpster, the strange sensation of being watched, once again flooding his being.

He silently scanned the expressionless faces of the street bums and hookers who quietly stared, as one of 'their own' was put into the coroner's wagon and taken away. To the detective, their silence seemed almost apathetic; a tragic ending that to them, seemed almost commonplace and everyday. The brunet heaved a heavy sigh, turning his attention back to the forensic team packing up to leave, as Hutch came to stand beside him.

"Huggy just left . . . said this was gonna be bad for business . . . hey . . . you okay?" Hutch asked, laying his warm hand on the brunet's shoulder, reading the weariness in his partner's eyes.

"Yeah . . ." Starsky sighed softly, staring at the spot where the blonde was murdered, "You ever get tired of this job Hutch?"

Hutch glanced at his partner, concern etching his features, "Hey buddy . . . that's not like you . . . you're beginning to sound like me . . . what happened to the bottle being half full?"

The brunet shrugged then snorted softly, "Okay . . ." he sighed once more, "Okay . . . let's call it a night huh?"

"Yeah . . . we'll file a report in the morning." Hutch replied, gently squeezing the brunet's shoulder before he let it go, turning to walk out towards the street.

"So much for having the day off tomorrow." Starsky grumbled, under his breath, following the blond out of the roped off alleyway.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Wanna talk about it?" Hutch finally asked the next morning, eyeing his silent, brooding partner, as they drove along the main boulevard. Hutch had picked up the brunet a little later than usual, hoping the extra hour would give Starsky the time needed to recuperate from the night before, but the blond could sense his friend's moodiness the minute he sat down in the car.

Hutch kept his eyes on the road as he thought about his partner. After they'd left the crime scene late last night, Starsky had barely spoken two words the whole way home. He seemed lost in thought and when he dropped Hutch off, the brunet barely showed any sign of acknowledgment when he heard his partner reminding him that he would pick him up in the morning. Hutch glanced over at quiet brunet, hopefully the little surprise he bought, would cheer up his despondent partner.

"Brought you some doughnuts . . ." the blond said, holding up the small, white bakery package that sat on the seat between them; almost lost in the clutter and paper that was strewn all over the battered interior of the LTD.

Starsky absently turned from the window and looked to the bag, "Huh?"

"I said I brought you some doughnuts." Hutch grinned, shaking the bag enticingly, smiling when he saw the happy, excited expression that came over his friend's face, as he turned his eyes back to the road.

"Hey . . . for me?" Starsky grinned, reaching out with eager fingers for the bag.

"No . . . for your mother. Of course for you dummy, but you gotta promise first." Hutch said, holding the bag just out of reach.

"Wha'? Hey . . . that's bribery . . ." Starsky grumbled, his face immediately falling into a petulant pout.

Hutch grinned, then lowered his voice temptingly, "There's a sugared one and a chocolate sprinkled one and the white powdery one that you love so much Gordo . . . right there in that bag . . . all you gotta do is promise me that we'll talk, then you can eat okay? Don't shut me out buddy." Hutch finished softly, sky-blue eyes looking over to connect with his partner's dark, sapphire ones.

The pout faded, replaced by a look of concern, "Aww Hutch, I wasn't tryin' to shut you out . . . just been thinkin' s'all," the brunet said, as the dented, brown car came to stop at the red light; Hutch looked over at his introspective partner.

"Yeah? Well, try thinking louder," Hutch grinned, "What's been on your mind? What made you double back last night? Just how did you know that hooker was in the alley?"

Starsky sighed, raising his dark brows and shrugging, "That's what I've been thinkin' about all this time. I saw her blonde hair shining under the streetlight as she walked away from us, and it somehow made me think of what that girl at Huggy's said."

Hutch frowned, "You mean the one who ran out?"

"Yeah . . ." Starsky replied, his forehead creasing in a frown, "Hutch, you know how I feel about all of this psychic mumbo-jumbo. I mean for the most part, I think a lot of it is hogwash."

"I know . . . I was there on that Haymes case when we used Collandra's help remember?" Hutch said, "You sure gave that poor guy a hard time."

Starsky snorted, "Yeah? Well, he gave me the creeps!"

The blond laughed, but soon quieted as the brunet continued, " I don' know Hutch, last night, after that girl left Huggy's; I didn't even give her words a second thought, but watching that hooker walk away from us, seeing her hair shining under the light like that, made me remember what she said . . . I mean I could almost hear her soft voice whispering in my head. That's what made me go back." The brunet thought silently for a few seconds, and the blond quietly watched the emotions that flitted across his friend's face.

"I mean," Starsky continued softly, "She saw all of this happenin' before it happened. She said, that I was being watched and that I would go back in the alley and find the blonde dead . . . and last night in the alley, I swear Hutch, there were times that I really felt eyes watchin' me in the dark." The brunet shivered suddenly, remembering the eerie feeling of being watched when no one was there. "And yet, when I looked around, there was nobody there . . . I don't know . . . maybe I was so spooked, I was just imaginin' things in my head."

"Or maybe it was a voodoo priest or a vampire stalking you . . ." Hutch grinned sarcastically, knowing how his partner feared those silly things that he watched on those awful B movies he loved so much.

"Funny Hutchinson," Starsky sulked, "Still playin' the part of the comedian from last night huh? Ya mind tellin' me when you're done with the jokes?" The brunet grouched, slouching back into the uncomfortable seat of the LTD, although his dark, blue eyes twinkled with amusement.

Hutch snorted softly, "Starsk . . . it's just that you're so quick to be skeptical when it comes to psychics, but just mention a vampire and you're the first one buying garlic and crucifixes. Why is it so hard to believe that there are some people out there with more developed senses? I mean, we're cops and we follow our "hunches" all the time out there on the streets, many times that's what saves our necks. Look at you . . . what made you go back and check on that streetwalker last night . . . you had a 'hunch' right? And you followed your instincts. Believe it or not buddy, on a very simple level, that's what psychics do."

Hutch looked back to the road, letting his partner stew on what he had just said. Thinking quietly, Hutch gently stepped on the accelerator when the light turned green, "Okay let me ask you this . . . do you think this girl had anything to do with the hooker's murder?"

"No," Starsky said softly, his eyes once again scanning the streets through his side window.

"See?"

Starsky turned to look at his partner who had his pale, blue eyes fixed on the road, "What? See what?"

"You answered without really thinking about it . . . you said that this girl wasn't involved with the murder because you 'intuitively' sensed that. Logically, we would assume she had something to do with the murder because she knew about it before it happened right?"

"Yeah, but Hutch . . ."

"No, hear me out Starsk . . . you answered as quickly as you did, because you "know" she has nothing to do with that hooker's death, with the exception of maybe "seeing" it in her head before it happened. I 'know' she's not involved in this murder either, because my gut tells me so, and I didn't even meet this woman. Hutch glanced over at his quiet partner with a grin on his face, "Do you know that what you just did . . . following your intuition, making snap judgments and reactions on gut instinct . . . that can all be labeled as "psychic."

"Her hands weren't big enough," the dark haired detective mumbled.

Hutch turned to look at the brunet who continued to stare out the window. "What?"

Starsky turned to grin at his perplexed partner, "Her hands weren't big enough to wrap around the hooker's neck and she definitely wouldn't have had the strength to strangle the blonde. That girl at Huggy's was too small; logically there was no way that she could have done it. I don't need to be 'psychic' to know that!" The brunet chuckled when he heard his partner snort.

"You could've just told me to shut up," Hutch smirked.

"What? And miss out on all of that mumbo-jumbo spiel from the college graduate?" Starsky joked, "Anyway, maybe she knows more than what she saw at Huggy's."

"Well . . . we could look for her? What did she look like?"

"Small, Asian, long dark hair, dark brown almond-shaped eyes . . . her name was Mari, I think." Starsky said, "She could be anyone or anywhere . . ." Starsky sighed heavily, his blue eyes roaming the streets through the side window, though he was not really registering anything he saw.

"How was she dressed?" Hutch asked, eyeing the people walking along the sidewalk through the dirty front windshield of his LTD.

"Hmmm?" Starsky looked from his window to his partner, "Dressed . . . um . . . brown tee-shirt, white sweater, jeans, a backpack . . ."

"A backpack?" Hutch reiterated, looking to his partner, "Maybe she's a college student, or maybe she's on the run . . . we could check some of the cheap motels around here . . ."

"Yeah . . . hey . . . that's a good idea . . . anyone ever tell you that you should be a detective? Or better yet . . . a psychic?" Starsky grinned and held out his hand.

Hutch snorted softly, handing the package over to his partner, who peeked with quiet anticipation over the lip of the bag, his eyes widening with wonder.

"Hey . . . you even got jellied ones Hutch!" Starsky said, his eyes shining with happiness.

Hutch chuckled, enjoying the look on his partner's face. 'Like a little boy,' the blond thought fondly, unable to resist reaching over to ruffle his partner's curls, "Just for you buddy."

"Hey . . ." Starsky said, reaching in for a powdered doughnut, "This one's for you . . ." he said, leaning over, as he offered it to his friend.

"No thanks Gordo . . . already had my shake this morning," Hutch laughed, "Those are just for you, but you better hurry before we get to the station or you'll have to share 'em with Dobey."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Well I can see you had breakfast." Dobey grumbled, the minute the detectives walked into his office, "I ah . . . don't suppose you brought any for me?"

"What?" Starsky said, eyes twinkling as he feigned innocence, "Don't know what you're talkin' about Cap." The brunet looked over to his partner, who tapped the side of his own mouth. Starsky rubbed the corner of his mouth and saw the tell tale white powder on his fingertip.

He grinned stupidly at his frowning Captain, "Oh . . . that breakfast . . . ah …nope . . . Hutch ate 'em all . . . just had one for myself . . . a white powdered one." The brunet held out his finger to show the white smear to the dark man.

"Starsky . . . shut up and sit down." Dobey growled. The large man shuffled papers on his desk then looked up at both his men. "What happened last night? When I came in this morning and heard that a woman was found slain I was worried that the Interstate killer had arrived in Bay City, but the M.O. is all wrong."

"Yeah . . . she was strangled." Hutch said, "He did it with his hands from the marks on her neck."

Dobey looked at the report from the lab, "And from the size of those marks on her neck, we can assume he was a big man. He must've been wearing gloves . . . no prints." Dobey put down the papers and glared at his men. "Anyway, it's a relief to know that it's not the Interstate Killer . . . that sick bastard uses a knife in the murdering of all of his victims. And it's usually girls who come from good homes . . . no streetwalkers in his M.O."

"What makes you think that psycho is coming here?" Starsky asked, carefully placing his feet on the edge of Dobey's desk.

The large, black man glared at the brunet, but said nothing, "From the reports that they've sent down, it seems he's travels the 1-5. The killings started in Canada bordering Washington State. They found more murdered girls fitting the M.O in Washington and Oregon and in northern parts of California . . . Bay City is right along the killer's path . . . we'd be more than lucky if he chooses to pass us by."

"So any of you care to tell me about what happened last night . . . how you two came across the body?" Dobey continued gruffly, staring at his men from across his desk.

"We were at Huggy's last night, having a few beers, since we didn't have to report in today." Hutch replied.

"And?" Dobey said, his blood-shot eyes shifting to the brunet, "Starsky get your damn feet off my desk!" The Captain growled, turning his attention back to the blond when he spoke.

"And . . . when we were leaving, some hookers approached us and tried to solicit themselves for a last go around before they ended their work day. We sent them on their way and went to the car to go home."

"And?" Dobey said, when the blond paused, "You still didn't tell me how you found the body." The perceptive black man turned his gaze on the silent brunet who sighed and raised dark, blue eyes to his Captain's face.

"I found the body, Cap." Starsky said softly, "When we got to the car, I tossed Hutch the key and told him to start the heater, then I doubled-back and found her in the alley next to the dumpster. The rest is history."

"Yeah, the rest is history, but it still doesn't explain why you doubled back? What made you go back to that alley . . . how did you know that hooker was in trouble? Did she scream, or did you hear her struggling?" Dobey pressed.

Starsky sighed and leaned his head back on the top of the backrest of the chair, he closed his eyes wearily, "Long story short Cap, there was this girl at Huggy's. A small, Asian woman, long, black hair, answers to the name of Mari . . . she's uh . . . barely over five feet, not more than a hundred pounds or so. When Huggy introduced us, I grabbed her hand, intending to shake it and all of sudden she starts wiggin' out on me . . . tellin' me that this blond girl was going to be dragged into a dark alley by someone who was watchin' us. She ran out after that. Later on, when we left Huggy's and Hutch n'me sent the blonde prostitute on her way, it dawned on me that it was the exact same scenario that Mari described. I went back to check on the hooker, and found her dead in that alley."

"You telling me, this girl . . . this Mari, is a psychic?" Dobey raised one brow doubtfully.

"I'm telling you how it went down last night," Starsky said irritably, "Whatever happened at Huggy's with Mari, it was damn freaky. It scared the shit outta Huggy."

"We want to find this girl, Captain," Hutch said, resting his hand soothingly on his partner's shoulder, "We want to put out an APB and bring her in for questioning. After we write up the report, we want your permission to go out looking for her."

"She was at Huggy's last night . . . does he know her? Why don't you just ask him?" Dobey said, standing up to shove the blue Adidas off the edge of the desk where they were perched, one on top of the other.

Starsky feet landed with a soft thud and the brunet sat up quickly in the chair with a hurt look on his face, "You could'a just asked me to put my feet down Cap." The large black man rolled his eyes.

"In answer to your question Captain, I think she was just someone who came in from the cold," Hutch answered, "Huggy didn't know her from Adam."

Dobey took a deep breath in, and leaned his chin against a hand propped up on his desk thinking, after a few seconds he said, "Alright, you finish up that report and I'll put out an all points bulletin on that Asian woman. Once you're done, you both can hit the streets and find this Mari . . . who knows," the large man said, shrugging, "If she's psychic, maybe she can even tell us something about the Interstate Killer."

To be continued . . .