Chapter five
In the next moment he was grabbed from behind, and his arms were drawn painfully behind his back.
"What's…" Starsky knew it was useless to talk. He began to fight, kicking with his feet and pushing his head back. It was in vain. When he tried to turn around to see his attacker, a cloth was put over his eyes and tied securely behind his head. Then his hands were bound together behind his back.
"Good job, boy. Now let's get him… you know where..."
Starsky could hear an answering grunt from behind, and he knew that there had to be at least two men. What was going to happen to him? He was pushed forward roughly and stumbled over something. He fell in the mud, hitting the ground. Giving out a cry of pain, he received a round of hysterical laughter. His face hurt like hell and he could smell blood on his lips. Someone kicked him in the side and forced him to get up again. Catching his breath Starsky stumbled forward, not knowing where to go. He fell once more, feeling the pain of stones and branches digging into his legs. If he shouted maybe someone would hear him and call for help…
"No word or I shoot you right away!"
He was kicked again, and now he forgot to be cautious. "What's going on here?" he dared to ask, before something hard hit him and he lost consciousness.
He awoke to the sound of a driving car. He was still blindfolded, and he noticed that his hands and legs were tied too. He couldn't move. Obviously they had cooped him up in the trunk. The car wasn't driving fast; Starsky had the impression as if they drove through bumpy terrain. He tried to shout – and almost panicked when he felt his taped mouth. He forced himself to calm down and think of Hutch who was enjoying the paintings in the exhibition now. If he knew…
Starsky moaned and tried to shift a bit to lessen the pain of his bruised body. He had no idea why they had kidnapped him. There was no money behind his family. Perhaps it was a former criminal he'd arrested who sought revenge.
The car stopped. Starsky decided to fake unconsciousness. Maybe there was the chance they'd talk about the reason for his kidnapping.
The trunk was opened and after a pause he heard, "He's still out. You want me to make him speak?"
"That's my affair. Just get him inside. I'll take care of him later."
Starsky was lifted out of the car and carried over uneven ground. Then the man stopped with his burden for a moment before he went on walking. Starsky smelled a different kind of air. It reminded him at once of the inside of the winery they had visited that morning. It seemed to be long ago. He was thrown onto the ground, landing on something soft. It could be a mattress, Starsky assumed. Then he heard words that made him moan loudly in protest.
"Now you'll be left alone and YOU'll see what it's like! Have much fun!"
He heard the sound of a closing door; then silence flooded the place. Starsky fought the feeling of hopelessness, but couldn't avoid some tears of despair that wet the cloth over his eyes.
Hutch had walked around the exhibition cherishing the exquisite pieces of art. He remembered a time in his life when he had painted, just for fun. As a college student he had taken classes in art and had shown a certain talent. That had been a long time ago. He should fancy this hobby again. When they went back to Bay City, he would show Starsky his old paintings. He was sure his friend would support him to start painting again.
Hutch decided to leave the exhibition to see if Starsky had already returned. He saw a young woman standing, like a guard, in the doorframe that led to another room. Hutch looked at her and felt encouraged by her responding smile. He asked: "Something I've missed?"
"It depends. If you're interested in the works of Picasso, you may have a look at the original we have in our exhibition."
She pointed into a small room that was dark except for one light that illuminated a single picture. Hutch stepped inside and had to admit that it was an impressive painting, full of colors that expressed a joie de vivre.
"I like it," Hutch said, and the young woman, with the dark brown hair and sparkling green eyes, nodded.
"It's the same with me. Looking at this painting, I feel good. Everything that could possibly bother me just goes away when I see itMy father is very proud of it, and I'm helping him to take care of the guests who want to see it."
"Your father? Does that mean you are Miss DuPont, daughter of the owner of the winery?" Hutch looked astounded at the woman who smiled mischievously back.
"Hope you don't have any objections concerning that."
"Not at all!" Hutch suddenly felt as if he could embrace the entire world. The magic of the Picasso original obviously made an impact on him.
"Miss…?"
"Call me Marie," she said, leading him to a bench in the room. "Just wait a moment, okay? I'll be right back."
She left him and he sat there grinning like an idiot, but he felt happy and relaxed. She seemed to be very friendly and the way she had talked and smiled at him…
"I want to give you some information about our charity performance next Friday. Every year my father invites the most important people from California to raise money for our youth camp. We plan to extend our activities and build more of these camps to help people in need. Here's an invitation for you. Normally you wouldn't be allowed to attend the party, but in this case I would be happy to see you there."
He couldn't resist her smile but had to object: "You know, I'm not a millionaire in disguise. I'm a detective with the Bay City police force. But it could be useful to hear more about the project..."
She quirked an eyebrow. "I'm impressed, Detective…?"
"Hutchinson, but call me Ken," he said, shaking hands with her. Then he added, "oh, I almost forgot, do you have another invitation? I'm here with my partner and friend and maybe he would like to join us."
"No problem." There was that beautiful smile again.
They left with the promise to have lunch the next day. For a moment he felt guilty for having a date with a pretty woman. Starsky would feel left behind. On the other hand, Starsky had met a new acquaintance by himself, and it looked as if Terry would come over the next weekend. So everybody would be happy.
"Buddy, I can tell you, I've just…"
Hutch was sure to find Starsky in their suite when he opened the door and found the room dark. Assuming his friend was taking a nap Hutch teased; "Hey, sleeping beauty, didn't you get enough rest during the day?" He walked over to the large bed. It was unused and Hutch frowned. He checked their clothes and knew that Starsky hadn't come back in the meantime. Obviously he had extended his visit to the golf course. It was dark outside, but if there was a clubhouse, Starsky would have forgotten about the time and was entertaining himself listening to stories of the golf players.
Hutch decided to take a hot shower and get changed before their dinner. The warm water relaxed him, and he was sure that Starsky would appear any minute. When he heard a knock on the door, he quickly put a towel around his waist and hurried to welcome his friend back.
"Starsk, where… Oh, sorry."
In front of him was the hotel boy holding a card toward him.
"From Miss DuPont. Another invitation for Friday."
"Hm, thanks. Can't give you a tip right now. Later, okay?" Hutch smiled a little embarrassed and closed the door.
Suddenly he felt an alarming sensation of apprehension. Starsky still wasn't back and t was about 8 pm now. He had to look for him. Dressed in comfortable corduroys and a black turtleneck, Hutch was about to leave the room, when he remembered needing the key for the Torino. He found the spare key in Starsky's bag.
He couldn't get to the car fast enough and refused the valet's offer to retrieve it. He only stopped in the lobby to get a map of the surroundings from the desk clerk at the reception. He had no problems to find his way and soon the illuminated clubhouse came in sight. It was just around the corner of the hotel and Hutch thought that he could have walked he distance.
He entered the establishment and saw that it was still crowded. Almost every table was occupied. Hutch looked around and his heart skipped a beat when he saw a dark-haired man at the corner of the bar drinking his beer. Hutch approached the man – and knew it wasn't Starsky. Now he addressed to the barkeeper asking for a curly dark-haired man.
"Mister, I'm not sure. A short time ago there was a man that fit your description. He spent some time talking to another guest; then he left. Don't know if that's the man you're looking for, though."
Disappointed Hutch walked around asking some other guests if they had seen Starsky. He got some hints that there had been a man resembling Starsky, but they didn't remember, if he was in company or not, when he had left.
Hutch left the clubhouse and sat in the car for a while, thinking about what to do next. He came to the conclusion that he was panicking. What if Starsky had been invited to another bar or restaurant?
Hutch drove back to the hotel. There was a small hope left that Starsky had arrived in the meantime, but when Hutch sat down in the restaurant to have dinner, Starsky hadn't shown up. Hutch's appetite was gone. He only nibbled on his salad and the wine tasted sour.
He stepped outside the hotel afterwards, walking around, and every time a silhouette appeared he started to shout "Starsk..?" Strangers looked at him and he bent his head, embarrassed.
He went back to their suite, tried to calm down, and read his book. He realized that he was reading without catching the content. His thoughts were on his partner's whereabouts.
He got up again and paced the large room listening to every noise in the corridor. Several times he opened the door imagining he had heard footsteps. Nothing.
He ended up sitting on the balcony observing the hotel area, waiting for Starsky.
Starsky squirmed on the mattress trying to get rid of the ropes that tied up his arms and legs. It was as useless as trying to free himself from the cloth that still blinded him.
It must have been hours ago that they had carried him into this room. The smell made him sick and Starsky feared that he might suffocate if he had to vomit. He couldn't cry out because of his taped mouth and he hadn't heard any noise from outside.
His face was sweat-beaded and he didn't know how long he could withstand the need of his bladder to be relieved.
Soon he would have to piss his pants. What a mess! If nobody would take care of him…
Starsky held his breath. Had he heard footsteps or was he hallucinating already? A cold wind touched his face and he shivered. He heard a dull noise and someone approaching. Starsky moaned to express his bad condition.
The tape over his mouth was removed and he hissed out: "Need to pee!"
"Well, well, what's the hurry! You don't feel comfortable? I feel so SORRY for you!"
The sarcastic tone made Starsky call out: "Don't you hear? You want me to piss my pants? Then you can tidy up the mess!"
After a short pause the voice said: "Yeah, you're right. I hate taking care of other people's shit!"
Slowly his hands and feet were untied.
"No wrong movement, I warn you!" The voice was near his ear and Starsky drew back. He only wished to relieve himself and didn't object when he was pushed 'till the voice said: "Stop now. In front of you is an old two holer."
Starsky unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans with trembling fingers. A moan escaped his throat when he was finally able to pee. He didn't care if he was observed. Afterward he felt a little better and took a deep breath.
His arms were taken again and he felt the rope around his wrists. "Can't you leave me untied? I won't flee, I promise!" Starsky tried to make conversation, hoping to get more information about this absurd situation.
"You and promises? Don't make me laugh! Back to the bed!" Not too gently Starsky was guided to the mattress. He slumped down on it. Then he said, "I'm not sure what this is all about. At least you could take the cloth off my eyes. They're hurting already and besides I know where we are. It must be one of the arches of the winery. It smells like that."
He got no answer.
"Hey, I'm talking to you." Starsky repeated his request till he noticed that he was alone again.
"Come back, please! I need something to drink!" Starsky begged. His throat felt like a desert. It was sore and it sickened him. At least he wasn't gagged anymore and maybe if he cried, and called for help, someone might hear him.
Hutch… He longed for the presence of his partner, imagined Hutch's soothing hands on his back. He had always complained when Hutch had mother-henned him. Now he would have appreciated the way Hutch took care of him when he was hurt or felt upset.
It was different when he had arrived in LA as an adolescent. He had played the tough guy, maintaining the attitude he'd had in Vietnam. There was no other way to survive mentally. He remembered his first days at the police academy when he was partnered with a light blond guy from the Midwest. His dressed-up appearance had made Starsky laugh at that guy called Hutchinson. The name alone said it all. A boring type with a wealthy background – no one Starsky would mess around with.
They were assigned to share a room and Starsky hated the untidiness Hutchinson preferred to his own way to neaten his place.
Then there was the incident on the sports field. They had sprinted in fast mode and Starsky was faster than all the others. Shortly before the finish line he had twisted his ankle and had gone down. He lay on the ground his face wreathed in pain when a large hand settled over his ankle.
"You need to see the doctor to get your ankle stabilized."
Light blue eyes were looking at him full of concern. Hutchinson! Starsky swallowed a nasty remark. It was odd, but the warmth of the hand on his ankle felt good, it lessened the pain. He took the offered hand to get up from the ground and together they had walked over to the attending paramedic.
As if a spell was broken they had started talking in earnest to each other, had shared stories about their childhood and school times.
Hutchinson mentioned his grandfather who had been the caring member in the family. When he spoke about the death of his granddad, he looked so sad that Starsky had put his arm around Hutchinson's shoulder.
"Don't be sad… Hutch," Starsky had used the nick name for the first time. Since then, they called each other Starsky and Hutch.
"Hutch… please find me soon. I don't know what this creepy guy has in mind. Don't feel so good… Help."
Exhausted Starsky fell asleep, not noticing when someone entered the arch and looked down at him, an indefinable expression on his face.
TBC
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