Once again, thanks to the people who have taken time to comment. It's really the icing on the cake to an author after countless hours of compiling a story. Here is Chapter 3, and I hope you are enjoying the story.
Chapter 3
"Bring on the wonder, bring on the song,
I've pushed you down deep in my soul for too long" Susan Enan
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When Hutch arrived at Starsky's, he knocked on the front door, expecting an immediate answer. When none came, he knocked a little harder, but still got no response. Trying the doorknob, he found it unlocked. Keeping his other hand on the Colt revolver underneath his jacket, he quietly rotated the handle and pushed the door open.
Scanning the living room, he noticed the television was on, but there were no other signs of activity. Taking a few exploratory steps into the apartment, Hutch noticed two figures lying on the couch—sound asleep. Bree was on her back, stretched out along the full length of the mattress, her slumbering head propped up and tucked into one cushioned corner. Starsky was lying halfway on top of her, concealing what the afghan couldn't of her upper body. His back lay against her front, the head of soft curls resting on her chest. Her upper arms cradled his neck and her forearms rested underneath his with both hands clasped together on top of his stomach.
Deciding against waking either up while he was standing over them, Hutch walked back to the entrance and stepped outside, partially closing the door behind him. Knocking louder this time and announcing himself, he reentered the living room—and watched the sleepy twosome shake the cobwebs out of their heads.
"Oh shit, what time is it?" Starsky asked, trying to rise up off the couch without jabbing Bree in the process.
"It's only six-thirty. You guys look real cute together," Hutch said, choking back a giggle.
"Did I fall asleep?" Bree realized her brother had been lying on top of her and wondered what Hutch might have thought about their compromising position.
"Yeah, we both did." Starsky buttoned up the rest of shirt and tucked it back inside of his pants. Turning to Hutch, he asked, "Wanna beer before we go?"
"Sure. You go ahead and finish getting…dressed. I can help myself."
Starsky bristled at Hutch's inference, responding with a dirty stare. Bree took the chance to excuse herself and headed to the bathroom, worried how her appearance was going to look in the mirror.
After retrieving a beer from the refrigerator, Hutch came back into the living room and watched his partner strapping his holster on. "You decide where we're going to eat?"
"Yeah. Bree said she'd like some Italian; that sound okay?" Slipping into his jacket, Starsky avoided eye contact.
Hutch noticed his partner's unease and didn't want it continuing through dinner. With Bree still out of earshot, he moved closer to Starsky and waited until his partner's eyes met his. "Hey, I was just joking. If I said something wrong, I didn't mean it."
"She's my sister, Hutch." Starsky's voice was quiet, but the hurt showed. "Maybe I knew you were just kiddin', but what about how she probably took it? Huh? Did ya think about that?"
"Okay, okay…point taken. I'm sorry. I promise to be a good boy for the rest of the evening." The softer look emanating from Starsky's eyes told Hutch he was sliding back into his partner's good graces. "I'll even throw in dessert. Am I forgiven?"
"Hardly." Starsky flashed a quick grin. "But it's a start."
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After enjoying piles of linguini and fettuccine alfredo at a neighboring restaurant, the trio headed out to 'Fever,' a local discotheque. As she strolled into the club, flanked by two handsome men, Bree felt in girl heaven—the envious stares from other female patrons were hard to miss. Hearing the pulsating music, she immediately fell into the party atmosphere, and asked her brother for the first dance.
Bree was impressed by his dancing ability, but remembering Hutch's earlier comment, she felt awkward paired up with him. When Hutch asked her to dance on the next song, Bree gladly accepted. They stayed partners for the rest of the evening. It proved favorable as Starsky's attention was soon captured by a lively brunette wearing red hot pants and a revealing spaghetti strap top. And while Hutch's dancing skills lagged behind his partner's, Bree found him to be a quick learner. She soon had him performing The Bump and The Electric Slide flawlessly.
She added this to the list of things she admired about Hutch, along with his good looks and charm. But above all, she loved the idea of him being her brother's protector—someone who would risk his life to save Starsky's. She had to adore a man willing to do that.
Hutch had similarly been drawn to Bree. From the moment he saw her at the precinct, instinct told him she possessed more than pretty features and a sweet sensuality. Now having felt her smooth curves on the dance floor, he was beginning to crave a more intimate setting where he could be alone with her. Hutch wondered if she held the same desire.
After a few hours spent at the club, all three were looking for quieter options. When Bree excused herself to visit the ladies' room, Hutch pulled his partner over.
"Hey, Starsk, you think I could get in some time alone with Bree before calling it a night? I promise, no pawing." Hutch was longing for a chance just to get to know Bree better, but he needed Starsky's blessing. While thoughts of more personal contact than dancing played in his mind, he had no intention of getting too fresh; the payback from big brother would be hell.
"Hutch, who do you think you're talkin' to? She's my sister…I've gotta protect her from potential gropers." Starsky knew Hutch would never take advantage of any woman. Still, while his resolve about certain things could be swayed after a few drinks, this wasn't going to be one of them.
"Hey! I'm not asking to sleep with her, just spend some time. C'mon partner. Don't you trust me?"
"Sure I trust you. With me, not her." Starsky examined the pleading look in Hutch's face. He had watched the pair all evening, especially since they'd been at the club, and could see Bree was attracted to his partner. "Okay I give—but—she gives you any sign she's not comfortable, you'd better notice it, and fast!" He pointed a finger at Hutch's face, then jabbed it lightly into his chest.
"Sure, buddy." Hutch grabbed Starsky's arm and gave it a quick squeeze.
When Bree returned, the two partners strolled up to her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Starsky asked, "Hey sis, you got anymore energy left in ya?"
"Sure! What ya got in mind?" she said eagerly. So far she was having fun and was prepared to go as long as the guys wanted to.
"Well, I've got stuff to do before goin' back to work tomorrow. Boring stuff." He paused, noting the disappointment on her face. "But the ocean's nice to see at night, especially when the moon's out, and I bet Hutch here would love to show ya…that is, if you want to go." Starsky emphasized the last few words. Bree needed to know she could decline if she wanted to.
Bree saw right away it was a charade, but she wasn't going to let on. "Sure, that'd be great! I've never seen the Pacific Ocean before." It sounded like the perfect way to end the night, and she hoped she knew which one had come up with the idea.
"Well, I guess that's that." When Hutch flashed a satisfied grin over at Starsky, Bree had her answer.
"Okay, we'll stop at the apartment so Hutch can drop me off and then take you down to the beach." Looking sternly at the blond, Starsky asked, "Just how long do you think you'll be gone?"
"Oh, about an hour?" An hour Starsky, c'mon! I promise it won't be longer.
"Okay." Turning back to Bree, Starsky added, "I don't trust 'im with my car for that long."
"Starsky, I don't even like your car!" griped Hutch.
"That's what I'm talkin' about! You'd probably strip it for parts and leave it abandoned in some junkyard."
"Well, it should fit right in…"
"Oh, knock it off! You two ready to blow this joint?" huffed Starsky.
Slipping in between the two men, Bree linked her arms with theirs. Steering them towards the front door, she said, "C'mon, boys. This gal wants to hit the beach."
The trio piled into the Torino and headed to Starsky's apartment. Once there, he relinquished the driver's seat to Hutch, giving him one last 'you'd better keep your hands where they belong' look. Hutch returned the glare with a coy smile, and backed the Torino out of the driveway. Starsky wasn't sure if he had seen Bree sliding closer towards Hutch on the seat or not, but decided to let it go. Standing in the driveway for a few moments, he watched the Torino until it drove down the hill and was out of sight, then climbed the stairs to his apartment
A few houses away, the green Oldsmobile sat parked in the shadows with two figures sitting inside. Waiting.
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"Oh, this is just too perfect," Suko said, from his spot behind the driver's wheel. "Where the hell is Vinetti? He was supposed to be here an hour ago!" Suko strongly believed in the power of numbers, and three was always better than two when their victims were capable of putting up a decent fight.
"I dunno, but this would be an easy snatch right now." Lapentz was getting itchy, also wondering about their third cohort. "Vinetti's never been late before…maybe something's happened."
"If he ain't here in fifteen minutes, we're going in." Suko said, tersely. "I'm not lettin' this opportunity go by."
At that moment, another sedan appeared on the road, driving slowly. It passed them, pulled over to the curb and parked. A lone figure got out and quickly walked back to the Oldsmobile.
Suko recognized Lou Vinetti immediately, mainly from his enormous barrel-shaped frame and the fact the man had no neck. As soon as the other man was within earshot, Suko growled, "Where the hell you been!? You should've had your butt down here an hour ago!"
"Oh kiss my ass, Suko." Vinetti snarled, unfazed by the reception. He had worked with the driver for a long time, and knew Suko got anxious on jobs like this—his craving for hurting people was like an addiction, and clearly he hadn't had a fix in a long time. "Been a change in plans," he added, his voice tinged with reluctance.
"What the fuck?! We're all set here! That son of a bitch is up in his apartment right now, and all by himself! This better be good, Vinetti, damn good!"
"Well, if you'd shut that mouth of yours, I'd tell ya. That greasy snitch slipped outta Tony's hands and now they can't find 'im."
"Oh, you've gotta be shittin' me! What's up with that jamoke brother of yours? He can't seem to do anything fuckin' right!" Suko detested Vinetti's younger sibling—the kid was lazy and had been snorting way too much coke lately, making his job performance grow progressively worse.
"Tony's my problem, okay? I'll have a talk with him later…get his ass straightened out."
"You'd better have more than a 'talk'; no way Rothman's gonna let him off this time."
"Rothman don't have to know shit. That's why I'm here." Quietly, Vinetti added, "I need your help to go grab the snitch."
"Are you serious? What kind of dumb fuck you think I am? My job's sittin' up there in his apartment right now, probably wonderin' why I ain't up there grabbin' him. You're a real piece of shit, Vinetti!"
"Look! Just come help me find this turkey so's we can be done with him. Then I promise, we'll come back here and grab this asshole, too."
Suko took a deep breath, then said, "I tell you what, Lou. I'm gonna do you this one favor. But you know what, you motherfucker? I'm gonna be taking it out on your brother! His ass is mine tonight!"
"Yeah, yeah sure. Kid probably needs a good beatin'. C'mon, follow me down to 5th and Harding. We think he's just hidin' in one of the abandoned buildings down there." With that, Vinetti walked back to his car and got in.
Suko turned to Lapentz, making no attempt to hide the look of anger on his face.
"Tony sure knows how to fuck things up," Lapentz grumbled.
"Yeah, well I look at it this way. Beatin' up that son of a bitch tonight is gonna feel real good." Suko took one more look at the lighted windows of the cop's apartment. "Guess we'll have to come back tomorrow and hit this again. Shit! Never seems to fail—perfect time and place, all for nothin'!"
"We ain't comin' back tonight?" Lapentz asked.
"No. By the time we find that snitch and get rid of him, I'm sure this asshole's company will be back. Besides, I don't want to feel rushed once I get my hands on Tony."
"Yeah, I might want to take out a few frustrations on him too."
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Hutch pulled the Torino into the empty parking lot and selected a spot that faced out to the ocean. The nearly full moon was high in the sky, reflecting a glimmering white line that stretched out to the horizon, slightly broken by the cresting waves. The lapping of seawater curling onto the beach could be heard off in the distance. Bree thought it was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen.
"Care to take a walk?" Hutch softly asked. His right arm reached around her shoulders and cradled her body up against his. She folded her arms, cuddling her stomach. Nudging her head in towards his neck, she used his shoulder as a pillow. Hutch breathed in her sweet smell. He folded his arm and began to delicately comb his fingers through her hair, gently placing it behind her ear while stroking her head with each pass. He then leaned forward, turning his head towards hers. Bree returned his gaze, her eyes glistening in the available light. Her arms climbed slowly upwards until they found and encircled his neck.
Pausing for a second, Hutch brought his hand up to the side of her face, then slid it gently towards the back of her neck. Bree signaled her permission by slowly shutting her eyes. Closing his, he moved slowly towards her and parted his lips. The warmth of her soft mouth melding together with his was tantalizing. Her response felt tender, imploring a delicate touch. After a few moments, Hutch brought his hand down towards her breast, delicately brushing his palm over her nipple. Bree's back arched slightly and her arms began to slowly travel from his shoulders downward along his chest.
"Bree." Hutch pulled back from her and sat back against the driver's seat. The blood pounding through his head, and other parts of his anatomy, needed a few seconds to expend its force. He wanted to explore her more, but thoughts of a certain curly brunet's warning streaked through his mind. While not saying anything, Bree seemed to understand as she placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed. Had they gone further, Hutch could have never gotten back inside the Torino with Starsky again.
"Are you okay?" Bree asked. She hadn't intended for their passion to explode so quickly, but there was no doubt the attraction was mutual.
Taking a deep breath, Hutch said, "Yeah, I'm fine. Bree, I'm sorry. It's not you, you're amazing, but—"
"I know. David's my brother, and you're his partner. Maybe this isn't the right time and place." Unsure of her own sincerity, Bree glanced out through the windshield; the moonlight was still dancing tantalizingly on the ocean waves. "Didn't you say something about talking a walk?"
Hutch gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then stepped out of the car, holding the door open until she scooted out. They walked slowly along the beach, holding each other's hands. Bree stopped and slipped her shoes off—she liked the way the soft sand grains tickled her feet. Hutch asked about her childhood, curious to know how she had ended up adopted by Starsky's parents.
"Well, I didn't have what you could call a 'functional' family. I never knew my Dad—I mean, I kinda remember him, but he left when I was nine. My Mom, she didn't have any job skills. The only thing she could do was…well, entertain men."
Bree didn't want to elaborate—her childhood memories were always painful. Being adopted by Rachel had eased the hurt, but she was forever tied to her early years. Glancing at Hutch, she was relieved to see him give her an understanding smile.
"Anyway, wasn't too long before she started drinking and taking any drug she could find. Most nights, she never made it home, and I'd just sit there waiting—and hungry. I went to school, only so I could get something to eat." She paused, allowing more pleasant memories to come back. "David and I were in the same class. He was the only one that would even talk to me. The other kids made fun, mostly of my clothes. I only had just a couple of things to wear. Then one day, he brought me to his house…" Bree laughed a little "…kinda like a found puppy. Rachel took one look at me and threw me in the bathtub. She scrubbed me so hard, trying to get all the dirt off. I remember when Pop came home that night, Rachel told him there was no way in hell she was gonna let me go back home. Guess they didn't have a hard time convincing the court I was better off with them. Anyway, that's about it."
"So what made you leave home, when you got older? I know Rachel sent Starsky out here when he was fourteen. He told me today that you left when you were about the same age."
"Stupidity. After Pop got shot, it just seemed like everything went to hell. I'd already had my share of that, so I went lookin' for something better. Turned out, what I found was even worse, but by then it just didn't matter. Took a long time before I figured things out. That's why I'm here. I had to see David—tell him what a jerk I've been."
Hutch walked on, stunned by Bree's revelation. He knew Starsky's life story, and had never understood how someone dealt with a life devoid of security—how a kid handled being made to move cross country to live with relatives, when his own family was still mostly intact. Hearing Bree's story really made his head spin.
Bree was surprised at his demeanor. Surely he'd heard similar tales while working as a cop. She wondered how much of her brother's story Hutch really knew. From his reaction so far, Bree didn't think he knew all the family secrets. Either David hadn't told him, or figured Hutch didn't need to know. Either way, it was understandable. Until recently, Bree hadn't dwelt much on the past, except for one particular memory.
With their hour ending, the two walked back to the Torino. Hutch was the first to notice the police car speeding into the parking lot. Bree clamped hard onto his hand, feeling a rush of panic. As the vehicle braked hard and stopped beside the Ford, an officer got out and trotted over to the couple. Bree's throat tightened as she feared this intrusion meant something terrible had occurred to David.
"Sergeant Hutchinson?" the officer asked.
"Yeah, what's going on?" Hutch's voice was tight.
"Sergeant Starsky asked us to try and locate you about half an hour ago. Sorry it took us so long, but he needs you to come back to his apartment immediately. There's been a call concerning…" the officer stopped, looking at Bree, and noticeably changed his delivery, "…police business."
Hutch instantly knew his night was far from being over. "Okay, let him know I'm on my way."
Bree eased her grip on Hutch, relieved the news didn't involve David, but couldn't understand why someone already on duty couldn't handle the call. Once in the car, Hutch offered a sketchy explanation.
"Unfortunately, this is our job. Whatever happened had to be important; there's no way Starsky would agree to come back on duty otherwise."
That eased Bree's mind a little—she had been thinking the two detectives were on twenty-four hour call. "Guess the phrase 'fulltime job' has to take on a new meaning with you," she said. Hutch smiled contritely at her and, with that, Bree settled her head on his shoulder as he drove back to the apartment.
When they arrived, Starsky filled his partner in on the call he had received from the precinct. "Doesn't sound good, Hutch. Someone called in about hearing gunshots over by the warehouses on Harding. They found Ronny Malcolm dead. Shot once in the back, three times in the head."
"Who's Ronny Malcolm?" Bree asked.
"He was our snitch on the drug bust earlier today." Looking at Hutch, Starsky added, "Sounds like he was executed by professionals. I told the Lieutenant we'd go over to the scene as soon as I could round you up. Sorry, Bree, but we're going to have to go. Think you'll be okay here?"
Sure, Davey. Me and the ghosts, we'll have a great time. "Yeah, don't worry about me. I'll be fine—you go and do your thing."
Turning to Hutch, Starsky asked if he was ready. Hutch nodded and started towards the door. Looking at Bree, Starsky said, "Hey, make sure you lock this door when we leave, okay? And don't answer it for anyone except me."
Her brother's intense tone made Bree feel a little apprehensive, but she said firmly, "Hey, I might be your sister, but I'm not an idiot." She got a weak smile out of him, just before the two partners headed out the door. Well, bro', what are you not telling me? And is it going to come knocking at the door when you're not here?
The apartment grew very quiet. Bree turned on the television, the only thing at hand to chase the silence away. She walked over to the bookcase, and glanced at the girl's picture again. She picked it up off the shelf and held it to her chest. Trying to free her mind, yet concentrate at the same time, Bree begged for anything to come to her. She walked to the couch and sat down, gently rocking back and forth. C'mon, I know you know something. Tell me! He's my brother; I need to know. Please, he can't hear you, but I can. I can't help unless you tell me!
Tuning out the television, Bree let her mind empty. This was always the hardest part. Knowing something could come at any time, but trying to convince her psyche it wasn't going to. Her thoughts finally stilled, floating in mental silence. 'He's going to need you. Like he did before.'
Bree shot up off the couch, dropping the picture on the floor, breaking the glass. She quickly glanced all around the living room, convinced someone had to be standing right there. She should have been thinking how she was going to explain the broken picture to David. What terrified her, though, was how the voice had known about her past.
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Starsky and Hutch walked wearily into the squad room. It was almost one o'clock and both had been out at the murder scene for almost an hour. The night Lieutenant noticed them come in and walked out of his office to join them.
"Well, boys, what's the verdict?" Lieutenant Greer was used to seeing tired officers on the night shift, but these two looked as if they had been up for days.
"Definitely a professional hit. Someone must've figured Malcolm tipped us off about the shipment. What we can't figure out is who and how—puts a gigantic kink in our case against Rothman," Starsky said, exhaustion etched deeply in his face. "Without Malcolm's testimony, we're completely dead in the water." Starsky looked up at the clock; in just four short hours, he and Hutch would have been up for twenty-four hours straight.
His action didn't escape Greer. "Look, you two have been working on this damn case since yesterday morning. Go home. I'll fill Dobey in when he comes on duty. I'm also going to tell him I told you guys not to be back here until ten o'clock. So get your asses out of here. That's an order!"
"Thanks, Lieutenant," they answered almost simultaneously.
"Well, he's right. Not much more we can do tonight anyway." Hutch looked over at his partner, not sure whether he heard him or not. "Starsk? You ready?"
"Huh? Yeah, I'm comin'."
Starsky drove them to his apartment, neither saying very much, each thinking about the case. After the Torino came to a stop in the driveway, Hutch got in his car and took off for home, barely saying goodnight.
Starsky climbed the stairs and unlocked the front door, announcing himself as he entered. Bree was still awake on the couch, watching an old black and white movie, but she glanced over at him. Seeing him so tired worried her.
"Hey, sorry it took me so long to get back home. Were you okay here by yourself?" he asked.
"Yeah, everything's been fine." Bree decided the news about the picture could wait until tomorrow. "David, you look like hell. There's no way I'm letting you sleep on the couch." He seemed about to object, but Bree cut him off before the first word left his mouth. "No, don't even think about it. I'm not the one who's been up for twenty-four hours. You're sleeping in your own bed tonight and that's that. If you don't, I'm calling a cab and going back to the motel. Capisce? "
Starsky was too tired to argue with her. He walked over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Thanks, I think. You can change your mind at any time."
"Forget it! Go to bed, and good night." After turning the television volume down, Bree settled back on the couch, pulling the afghan over her and fluffing the one pillow she had grabbed from David's bed. Snuggling under the covers, she watched the love scene playing out on the screen. She thought back to what had occurred earlier that night in the Torino, smiling at the warm memories.
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Bree woke up at eight o'clock. Not sure what time David planned to go back to work, she nonetheless set about quietly fixing breakfast. If she knew her brother, the smell of cooking would have him in the kitchen long before anything she fixed had turned cold.
By eight-thirty, the aroma of frying bacon and coffee brewing had seeped into the bedroom, attacking Starsky's senses and waking up his stomach.
Bree couldn't help but giggle at his appearance when he emerged from the bedroom like a bear coming out of hibernation. She could only hope he had gotten some quality sleep.
"Boy, whatever you're cookin' up there, sis, sure smells good," Starsky said, running both hands over his face and through the tangled mess of curls on top of his head.
"Hey, good mornin', sunshine." Bree was already pouring him a cup of coffee. "Did you get some sleep?"
"Yeah, I was out as soon as my head touched the pillow." Starsky tried to pick up a piece of bacon still sizzling in the frying pan, but Bree whacked his hand before he could grab it.
"Hey, hand's off! It's not done yet. You still look exhausted—I hope I didn't wake you up too soon."
"No, this is fine" he said, taking a sip of coffee. "I'm glad you did get up. Gives me enough time to eat and get dressed without having to run around like crazy."
"That's good." Bree took the frying pan off the stove and slid the bacon and fried eggs into a serving plate. Bringing it to the table, she casually asked, "I was wondering, you think you might be able to come home for lunch?"
"Yeah, probably. Wouldn't you rather go out with Hutch and me?"
"Sure, but there's something I'd like to talk to you about…something I'd rather not say in front of Hutch."
The last sentence got Starsky's attention. "Something happen last night between you two?"
"Huh? No! Nothing happened last night." Bree sensed the protective brother attitude kicking in. Seeing a doubtful look on his face, she reiterated, "I'm serious. Hutch was a perfect gentleman." Well, not exactly, but you won't hear me complaining. "No, this is something that needs to stay between us."
Starsky set the coffee mug down and stood directly in front of Bree. "Sounds like you need to tell me now. What's going on?"
"No, it's…it can wait David, really. I didn't mean to sound all dramatic. If you can't make it for lunch, it'll wait 'til this evening."
"I'll be here. What time?"
"Why don't you just give me a call when you'll have some time to grab a bite? I've got no plans." Yeah, me and the ghosts still have plenty of unfinished business.
"Okay, it's a date."
Before leaving the apartment, Starsky called Hutch and let him know he was on his way to pick him up. Driving to the station, they ran through various scenarios of how one of their best informants had ended up with three bullets in his brain. Nothing was making sense. They had gone to extreme measures in meeting with him so that no one would know he'd been the one feeding information to them. A side trip over to Huggy's also failed to produce any new leads. Huggy had mentioned the word on the street was unusually hush-hush, and no one was saying anything—they didn't need to read the morning newspaper to tell them what was going on in the neighborhood—an execution-style killing had everyone scared.
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When Rothman came into the office, Jenkins stood ready with the morning's copy of the Bay City Chronicle. The story had made the front page, something Rothman took as being quite amusing considering the snitch had never achieved anything worthwhile during his short time on earth. The only reason he made headlines was the way he was killed.
"Well, seems like Suko has earned a bonus this time. Did he bring the cop in, too?" Rothman sipped at the hot Earl Grey tea Jenkins had prepared for him.
"No, they had a hard enough time taking care of this snitch. By the time they were done and got to the cop's apartment, he had company. Suko decided it was best to wait, so they're going back tonight." Jenkins steadied himself for any reaction, good or bad, from his boss.
"Oh, is that right?" Rothman took another sip from the tea cup, keeping his eyes locked on Jenkins. After a very long pause, he said, "Jenkins, I trust there will be a certain detective from the Bay City Police Department at my disposal by tomorrow morning. If not, I hope that your affairs are in order. Is there anything about what I've just said that you don't understand?"
"No, sir. It was very clear."
Rothman set the tea cup down on its saucer, and folded the newspaper so only the headline showed. Looking back at Jenkins, he said, "I need to speak to Suko, right away."
"Yes, sir." Following the order, Jenkins walked out of the office and into the lobby. Picking up the phone on his desk, he called a private number. "Yeah, this is Jenkins. Tell Suko Rothman wants to see him right away…I don't have a fuckin' clue, just tell him to get his ass in here now." Hanging up the phone, Jenkins had a bad feeling Rothman already knew what really happened last night.
Twenty minutes later, Suko knocked on the office door, making sure Rothman acknowledged him before stepping inside. Normally he never made it a habit to speak directly to his boss; communication was handled through Jenkins. He wondered if Rothman had changed his mind about grabbing the cop.
"Good morning, Suko. Have a seat." Rothman was standing behind his desk, glancing out the window. "Would you care for some coffee, or a croissant perhaps?"
"No, sir. I had my breakfast." Suko sat down in one of the leather upholstered chairs in front of the desk.
Turning away from the window, Rothman took a long drag from the cigarette he was holding. Looking at Suko, he said, "Tell me about last night. What happened with that snitch?"
Suko's heart skipped a beat and he took a hard swallow. He hated being the one required to explain things when they didn't go according to plan. He'd told Jenkins about Tony's screw up, but doubted the subordinate had mentioned anything about it to Rothman. Suko knew his boss was asking for a reason, and he valued his life too much not to tell him the truth.
"Tony got sloppy. He had the guy, but let him get away before he plugged 'im. Me and Eddie were sitting on the cop, waitin' for Lou to get there. When he did show, he said he needed us to help him grab the snitch. Being's that you wanted the SOB dead by mornin', I pulled off the cop and went with Lou. But I assure you, Mr. Rothman, I beat the crap out of Tony once we finished the job." Suko leaned back in his chair, waiting for his boss to respond.
Rothman sat down and took another drag from his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, he asked, "If you hadn't been interrupted, would that cop be here now?"
"No doubt in my mind, he'd be here."
Putting the cigarette out, Rothman opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a checkbook ledger. He wrote out a check and, after signing it, handed it to Suko. "This is for making the front page in this morning's paper. I trust you will find that an adequate bonus."
Suko looked at the check. He was surprised to see the five thousand dollar amount, but before he could offer thanks, Rothman continued.
"There is another job I want you to do, before finishing the one from last night—I need to be assured Tony doesn't ever cause a problem like this again." Suko gazed at Rothman with a look of disbelief. "If you think Vinetti will get in your way, I'll be happy to explain things to him."
Suko stared at the check again. He understood now why the amount was so high. "No. He won't be a problem." Although Suko didn't care much for Tony, he did respect Lou. They had worked together for over ten years. He didn't like the idea of having to kill Vinetti's brother, but he couldn't disobey an order from Rothman. Folding the check and putting it in his pocket, Suko got up from the chair. "Are we done here?" he asked.
"Yes. That's all."
With that, Suko walked out of the office, stopping when he encountered Jenkins in the lobby.
"You tell Rothman about what happened last night?" Suko wanted to hit someone, and he was hoping it could be Jenkins.
"No! I swear! When he came in this morning, the only thing he asked me was if you'd brought the cop in. I told him you had some problems taking care of the snitch and once you got back to the apartment, things were too hot, so you decided to go back tonight."
"Jenkins! You're the dumbest asshole I know. At least Tony can blame his stupidity on drugs. If I had my choice, I'd rather be taking your sorry ass out today instead of his."
Stunned, Jenkins gaped at Suko. "That's what he wants you to do?"
"Yeah, that a big surprise to you? Next time, keep your damn mouth shut! Now call Lou, I've gotta talk to him." Suko watched as Jenkins dialed the number. He needed to get this over with, but he owed it to Vinetti to let him know what Rothman wanted done.
.
.
After hitting the street and checking with a few more snitches, Starsky and Hutch had come up with nothing new. Everyone was very quiet, just like Huggy had said. Obviously, no one felt their lives were worth exchanging a few bits of information for. The mood inside the Torino was even quieter. Both detectives knew what this would do to the case. As if to confirm their fears, a call came over the Motorola.
"Control to Zebra 3, come in please."
"Zebra 3, go ahead." Hutch glanced over at his partner.
Starsky didn't have to say a word. Yeah, I know. The ball's about to drop.
"Zebra 3, Captain Dobey requests you meet him in his office immediately."
"We copy, Control." Hutch hung the mike up. "Well, any guesses as to what that's going to be about?"
"Nope. Question is, what're we gonna do about it?"
"I don't know. Maybe this is one we're gonna have to let go."
"Hutch, I can't believe you just said that. You want Malcolm's death to be for nothin'?" Starsky said hotly.
"No, that's not what I want. But I don't see any other way. Face it, Starsk—sometimes the bad guys win."
"Yeah…doesn't mean we roll over and play dead."
"We're not playing dead. Just sayin' they've won this round, but the fight isn't over yet."
"I dunno know about that, buddy." Starsky glanced over at Hutch. "Seems like Rothman just scored a knockout."
Back at the precinct, both men stepped into Dobey's office. The look on the captain's face seemed to confirm their suspicions.
"Just thought you should know, the DA's office called a little while ago. They're quashing the warrant for Rothman and his crew. Those three dock workers you grabbed in the bust have all pleaded not guilty. Considering that Malcolm's statement was the main reason the search warrant was issued in the first place, the DA isn't sure they want to pursue felony charges. They're afraid their attorneys will challenge the search."
"Well, that's just beautiful, Cap!" Starsky couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What does the DA want to do next, give Rothman back his cocaine?"
"Cool it, Starsky! If I'd wanted your opinion I would've asked for it! I'm just as mad as you are, but we don't have a case anymore. We needed Malcolm's testimony, but unless you've figured out how to get a dead guy to talk, there's not anything more we can do about it!"
"Captain, what if we could tie those three back to Rothman? They were working for him, not that shipping company," Hutch said, thinking it an angle worth trying.
"At this point, I don't know if that'll do any good. The DA seems pretty determined to have this bust go away."
"The DA can go fuck himself!"
Leaning forward in his seat, Dobey said, "Alright, Starsky, that's enough! So we don't bust Rothman this time. We've still got a couple hundred thousand dollars of his product that won't be going out on the street! The problem with you is it's all or nothing. At least this time we got something. If you can't accept that, that's your problem!" Dobey leaned back in his chair, with a defeated frown and driving out a hard breath through his nostrils. "Some days you just have to be glad you lost the battle, and not the war."
Starsky glanced at his partner. "Well, there's some words of wisdom. Thanks for that pep talk, Cap."
Before Dobey had a chance to get out of his chair, Hutch grabbed his partner and shoved him out of the office, closing the door behind them. He hoped Dobey would cool off and not come barging through it, bent on assigning Starsky to traffic control. He didn't let go of his partner until they were halfway down the hall, then gave in to his fury. "Just what were you trying to accomplish in there? An early retirement?"
"You heard 'im. All that work we put in on this case and it don't mean shit!"
"No, I don't think you heard him. Starsky, he's right. We got the drugs. So we didn't get to bust him this time. He's not going to quit, and neither are we. We'll get another shot at him."
"Yeah, that's terrific." Starsky looked at his watch. "Look, Bree wanted me to come by the apartment for lunch, kind of a brother an' sister thing. She wanted to make sure you wouldn't take it personal and feel left out."
"No, that's fine. What reason would I have to feel left out?"
"None that I can think of. Need a lift anywhere or are you stayin' here?"
"Thanks, I'll just stay here. I thought maybe I'd look back over those employment records. Maybe we missed something."
"Sure, sounds like a good idea. I'll catch up with you after I get back."
"Later."
Starsky headed out to the parking lot. He had a bad feeling that whatever Bree had to tell him was only going to make the day worse.