The two detectives surveyed the scene in front of them, now understanding why Alex wanted their help.
'Has anyone seen the body other than us?' asked Hutch, searching the deck in the immediate vicinity. There was no blood spread around there, which lead the blond to think that the gory slashes had been inflicted after the unfortunate man had died.
'No, I don't think so. The Medical Officer has been. He gave time of death at around 03.30. One of my security officers was doing a routine sweep of the decks when he came across the body. He immediately cordoned off the area and informed me. Then I came to get you two. I'm way out of my depth here. I'm more your bust up in the casino type'.
'Starsky, do you think we can get the body bagged and removed?' Hutch asked his partner. Starsky had remained squatted by the side of the body and at first Hutch had thought he was examining some piece of evidence he had found there. There was no movement from the brunette and Hutch tried again.
'Earth to Starsky, are you receiving?' Nothing. Putting on his best patrol voice he tried 'Zebra 3, respond please'. Starsky looked up, his face pale.
'Hey, you OK Gordo?'
'Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit sea sick, I suppose'. He rose from the deck. 'What were you saying?'
'Do you think we can move the body now?'
'Oh, yeah, don't see why not. I can't see any blood anywhere else than on the body, there's no footprints near and I can't find any trace of a knife, or blade'. He looked over to Alex. 'Did the M.O. say what sort of instrument he thought had been used to do the cuts?'
Alex shook his head. 'This is a cruise ship. We're all 'jack of all trades and master of none.' He's used to dealing with heart attacks and seasickness, not acting as a coroner. Looking at these cuts now, my best guess would be a small knife like a pen knife – flat blade not serrated coz the edges of the wound are too clean. But I'm no expert. You've probably seen more of these than I ever want to'.
The three men moved away as the hospital orderlies came to put the body on a trolley and take it down to the ship's morgue. Once gone, the deck was opened up again, just in time for the early morning runners to start their circuits of the ship.
'We have no jurisdiction here, you know. We can give you tips on how to do the investigation, but we have no authority outside Bay City' explained Hutch, glancing sideways at his partner, who was holding on to the ships rail and staring out to sea.
'Any advice will be gratefully received' Alex smiled. 'Is Mr Starsky OK. He seemed a little pale back there' he asked.
'Oh he'll be fine, once he's got his sea legs' Hutch replied, as dismissively as he could. He walked over to his partner and gently touched him on the arm.
'Hey, Starsk, lets go get some food before we help Alex out any more'
Starsky turned to Hutch, his face blank for a moment before smiling and following the blond inside. They made their way up to deck eleven, to the buffet restaurant, and after picking pancakes and syrup, they headed over to a table. Hutch watched as his dark haired partner pushed the food around the plate, until finally he pushed it away, the food uneaten.
'OK Starsk. Spill it. What's on your mind?'
Starsky lifted pained eyes to his partner. 'Alex said the time of death was 03.30. What time was I sleep walking?'
The question took Hutch off balance. 'Hey, slow down there. What are you asking?'
Starsky sighed heavily. 'Its just I had weird dreams again last night. There was the usual nightmare with you strung up and me……….' His voice tailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Bracing himself, he continued 'But there was another dream. I was back with Sharpe. I'd been in that room with the electrics' he rubbed unconsciously at the two fading burn marks on either side of his spine. 'He was tellin' me to do things. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop myself'.
'And you think you had something to do with this, buddy?' Hutch asked softly.
'I don't know. My heads still screwed up. I don't sleep, I can't think straight. There's only you to talk to about it all, an' you're not exactly A1 yourself'. There was a defeated tone to Starsky's voice. His eyes were downcast, unable to meet the ice blue of his partner's. 'You tell me. Is Sharpe still playing with me, even though he's dead?'
Hutch rubbed the tense muscles in his neck. He knew how much it had cost his partner to tell him what was worrying him, and at the back of his mind there was a small niggling doubt. The treatment the brunette had endured at the hands of Sharpe would have broken any man. That Starsky had been able to endure five days of the treatment and still be able to now function on any reasonable level was a miracle. But the doctors had warned them both that there might be deeper problems, which would surface as time went on.
Pushing the dark thoughts to the back of his mind, he smiled reassuringly at his partner. 'No Starsk', he replied firmly. 'It's done and finished with. We both survived and now it's time to move on. We've got this fantastic opportunity to relax. This murder is nothing to do with us. We can help Alex a little, but we don't get involved, OK?'
'OK' the brunette answered unconvincingly. 'we'll go see Alex, then the day is ours. How long before we get to Barbados?'
'Three whole days at sea, buddy, to rest, relax and soak up the sun'.
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The two detectives met with the Bosun, going over the usual steps they would take at the start of a murder investigation – the background of the deceased, any motives for his death, list of passengers etc. Finally having given him as much information as they could, and promising to keep in touch, they left Alex's small airless office and made their way back up to the deck. For the rest of they day, they lazed on the sunbeds, the sun being hot, but with a cool breeze from the sea. They read books and dozed. Starsky looked over to his sleeping partner at one point and thought for perhaps the hundredth time how boy-like he was.
There was something about the blond hair, cut a little longer of late, and the wide expressive blue eyes that had women melting in their boots. In sleep, the face, which had recently looked older with worry lines, relaxed and Hutch was once more the picture of the 'boy next door'. He lay on his back, face upturned to the sun, his naturally pale skin taking on a rosy hue, hiding the remaining darker burn scars on his chest, back and sides.
Starsky dozed himself, but did not allow himself to fall into a deep sleep for fear of the returning nightmares.
As the sun started to dip below the horizon, the two men went in to shower and change for dinner, which was, as usual, wonderful. After taking in the show and a final round of drinks at the bar, they went back to the cabin. Once again their beds had been turned down and their cabin tidied by their cabin boy.
Undressing and moving to the wardrobe to hang up his dinner suit, Hutch dropped the hanger on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he noticed the safety deposit box door was ajar.
'Hey, Starsk. Did you get somethin' out of the safe?' he asked.
'Nah, there's nothing in there except the travel stuff an' our shields, cuffs and guns, why?'
'The doors open. S'OK, I'll make sure its shut'.
Hutch made his way back into the main part of the cabin.
'You gonna be OK tonight, Gordo? No more wandering the decks?'
Starsky stretched back on his bunk. 'Well, I'm dog tired from doin' nothin' so hopefully I won't need any midnight exercise' he smiled, turning onto his front and pulling the sheet over his back, which was taking on a deep olive tone from the sun.
'Night Blondie' he murmured, already drifting towards sleep.
Hutch waited till he heard his partner's breathing even out, then padded into the bathroom, took two headaches pills and laid down on his own bunk, staring into the darkness as the lazy motion of the ship rocked him off to sleep.
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Hutch didn't know how long he'd been asleep, or what time it was. He was woken by the door of the cabin opening, letting in the light from the corridor outside. He saw his partner's slim figure walking back into the room, where he lay back down on his bunk and resumed his sleep.
Where've ya been this time, buddy? And how long have ya been gone?
Hutch got off his bunk and quietly looked down at his sleeping partner. In the moonlight from the cabin window, he could see the outline of the handsome face against the pillow, the chocolate curls framing it against the white pillow. Hutch gently put his hand against the dark curls on the brunette's chest. The skin was cold, and although the air conditioning in the cabin was turned on, he knew the cold must have been from outside.
Checking once again that everything was OK with his partner, Hutch didn't notice the door of his cabin push open a crack, then close again just as quietly. He went back to his bunk, laid down, and closed his eyes.
How long he had been asleep he wasn't sure, but the cabin telephone jangled him awake, and Starsky reached for the receiver. Hearing muffled with sleep he heard Alex's insistent tone at the other end of the line. 'Dave, is that you. Oh thank God. There's been another murder, same deck. Can you come?'
Starsky put down the receiver as he saw his blond partner looking over at him. 'It's happened again' he said simply, before rushing to the bathroom and depositing last night's dinner.
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