5

'Hey my man. What they hell you got there?'

The small black man cleaned the oil and grease from his hands onto a rag he took from his pocket and walked over to the low loader truck which had just drawn into the garage forecourt. He watched as two black youths in their very early twenties jumped down from the cab and met him, hands outstretched. The garage owner grasped their hands, slipping his fingers to the end of theirs, then clinching them in a grasp, finishing with his hand wrapped around theirs.

Pleasantries over, Merle tried to keep the amazement off of his face as he looked at the candy apple red Torino with the broad white stripe that was sitting on the back of the tow truck. Sensibly he said nothing and let the youths do the talking, but his mind was working overtime and his heart was in his mouth.

'I hear you're the best damned fixer upper in town' youth #1 said, a broad white smile on his boyish features. He looked back at the red car in appreciation.

'Yeah? An' whose askin'?' Merle said cautiously

'Your customers is who's askin'. Now are ya Merle the Earle or aint'cha?'

'Yeah, I'm the Earle and ma minds in a whirl. Where'd'ya get that heap o' shit?' he asked, nodding his head at the car as though he was disgusted to have it in his garage.

Youth #2 grinned. 'We found it an' claimed salvage' he proclaimed proudly.

'Found? You sure it was lost boy? An' I thought salvage was in the sea. Ain't no ocean that I can see around here'

The grin faded. 'Well ain't nobody been back to it in two weeks. If'n they ain't claimin', then it's down to us, as two solid citizens of this 'ere town to tidy the place up!'

Merle shrugged. He couldn't fault the logic, but he knew the rightful owner of the car and there were cold shivers going down his spine as he talked to the two boys. They seemed genuine. They didn't seem to be hiding anything. If anything they were over the moon at having found what they thought was a derelict, and as he watched, youth #1 took a wad of bills from his back pocket and proceeded to peel off a goodly number, waving them at the mechanic.

'How much to fix her up?' he asked.

Merle walked as casually as he could over to the damaged and familiar car and started to asses the damage, careful not to touch the metalwork. If his suspicions were right, BCPD were going to want to dust this baby real quick. He gritted his teeth as he surveyed the damage. The hood was crumpled and refused to lie flat on its catches and the windshield was cracked as though something had been hit against it. Standing on tiptoe, he looked inside quickly at the agonisingly familiar black leather upholstery. There were no signs of a fight or a struggle and there was definitely no blood that he could see. So where the hell was Starsky and how come these two boys had gotten hold of the brunette's pride and joy? Something had gone down and Merle knew he needed to get rid of the prospective owners as soon as he could so that he could call up the right people and get to the bottom of this mystery.

He stepped back from the truck and wiped his hands again, pretending to consider the damage.

'Whoever had this monster first sure did a number on her. She's gonna need the Earl's magic to bring her back to her former glory. Can I interest you in any…erm…refinements? A Merle's special fur interior maybe?'

The boys looked at each other, considering the tempting offer, but they were obviously purists. 'Just iron her out an' tune her up' Youth #2 said grinning. 'When will she be ready?'

Merle made a show of looking at his watch. 'Can't do nothin' before Tuesday week' he said, trying to sound apologetic.

'Oh man! We were hopin' ta go cruisin' this weekend. Maybe we should try elsewhere'.

Merle put his hand up, desperate to stop them taking the motor away. 'For a brother in need, I'll turn up the speed. How's about Friday?'

The youth nodded and shook the mechanic's hand to seal the deal. He jogged over to the truck and within minutes had backed the Torino off of the tailgate and left it, glancing backwards until they were out of view. Quick as a flash, Merle ducked inside the garage and dialled the telephone.

'Yeah, get me Bay City police, Captain Dobey please' he asked the operator and stood tapping his toe while he was connected. A minute later the familiar gruff voice came onto the line.

'Dobey'.

Merle cleared his throat. 'Captain Dobey, this is Merle the Earl. I got somethin' I think you're gonna want to see'.

'Merle, I got a car I like! You're vehicles aren't exactly my style ya know and I haven't time for this. I'm up to my neck in missing detect…'

'I got Starsky's car' Merle interrupted.

The line went silent for a moment and then Dobey's questions started to flow.

'When did you get it? Is it at the garage? Who brought it in? Is it damaged? How bad is it? Are there any clues at to where they are?'

When Dobey stopped for breath, Merle answered.

'In order there Captain, five minutes ago; yes; two young guys; yes; badly and no'.

'Ok, don't touch it. I'm sending Samuels and Taylor down now with forensics….and Merle? Thanks, you did good'.

Merle put the phone down and stood looking at the car he'd cared for for the past few years. It was Starsky's baby. He cared almost as much for that car as he did for that blond friend with the crap taste in automobiles. Merle couldn't think of any way that the curly haired cop would abandon his prize possession unless he was hurt…or worse.

And how many times had he heard about the two detectives getting themselves into one kind of scrape or another. He shook his head. Lucky was not their middle name! He sighed as he thought of the time the blond one had been coerced into bringing his car in for a tune up. And more importantly the gaunt, haunted look in the brunette's indigo eyes, when, a few days later, they come back to pick it up. He never did find out what had happened to Starsky, but the false cheerfulness of the curly haired detective couldn't disguise the raw red skin he'd spotted on the olive toned wrists or the painfully obvious burn under the right eye. No. Whatever the two detectives got up to, it was never what he would call a safe job. He rested his head back against his wall and waited, haring the wail of sirens indicating that his garage was about to be overrun with cops. Not cool! And certainly not good for business. He only hoped the car would yield some clue as to the duo's whereabouts. He had a soft spot for the dark haired guy and his blond friend.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

'There was nothing Cap. No blood; no clue as to what had gone on inside the car. Merle said that from the damage to the car it looked like it had hit something fairly hard, like a tree, at a reasonable speed. The windshield was cracked, but there was no blood on it. Forensic are dusting it now, but they're not hopeful. The two guys who found it have been all over it, so any prints there might have been have been smudged away by now.

Dobey ran his hands through his rapidly greying hair. 'Two weeks! Two weeks and nothin'. Where the hell have they got to? Two grown men can't just disappear from the face of the earth. Someone's gotta know somethin'. His voice got louder as his anxiety rose.

He'd known nothing about the detective's disappearance until he'd had a call patched through to his office two weeks ago. The trembling voice put him on high alert immediately.

'Is that Captain Dobey?' the female voice sounded close to tears and he softened his voice.

'Yes'.

'Um…you don't know me. My name is Helen. Helen Browning and I'm Dave Starsky's girlfriend. Um…I don't know….erm…he's missing' she blurted out.

'What do you mean, missing?' Dobey had questioned gently.

The girl took a deep breath. 'We were due to spend the weekend together. He was supposed to pick me up on Saturday morning. I waited in all day for him and I kept ringing his apartment, but there was no answer. At first I thought he was avoiding me maybe, so I rang Hutch, and he wasn't there either. So I went around to his apartment and asked the neighbours. No-one has seen Dave or Ken since Friday lunchtime. They've gone'.

'Slow down love' Dobey said, a cold fear gripping his heart. He knew both Hutch and his partner were due to go to their friend Lisa's birthday party on the Saturday and neither of them would have missed the blond haired girl's celebration for anything. She meant a lot to them and they'd become increasingly close to the challenged teenager.

'Just when did you last see Star…Dave?'

'Friday morning. I..erm… slept over at his house and then he went to call around for Ken for work. I was supposed to meet him on Saturday. Today's Monday and I haven't heard from him all weekend. I'm really worried'.

Dobey was too, but he'd told the girl thank you and he'd keep her informed. Putting the phone down, his head had gone into overdrive, running scenarios of what could have happened. He'd tried to keep his cool police captain's front, directing operations and co-ordinating the search, but deep down he was panicking. Too many times in the past one or other of the partners had gotten themselves into some life threatening situation or another. And too many times he'd found himself, flowers and candies in hand, as he visited one or both in the hospital.

That was 13 days ago and during that time, he'd put out APBs on both officers and had had R&I run searches on as many of the duo's previous jobs as they could muster. They'd been checking the whereabouts of the various flakes, goons and whippos that Starsky and Hutch had put away. But still there were no clues, and the trail had looked to be going exceedingly cold as Dobey took to staying overnight at the office. Edith, once again, was bringing food in for her husband, understanding as she did the fondness the gruff black man had for the two detectives. But he was getting progressively more despondent as the days wore on without a clue as to where the men were.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A world away, Blue awoke on some kind of operating table just in time to see a doctor, or maybe he was an orderly in a white coat taping up the cuts that had appeared on his knuckles.

Blue tried to sit up, but as seemed to be usual now, his movements were restricted by the thick leather restraints that bound him to the cold metal. He closed his eyes again and sighed. His head hurt, his back felt as though he'd been used as a pile driver and his chest hurt each time he breathed. He had no recollection of how his knuckles had been hurt and as he tried to think back, another lightening pain lanced through his head, making him wince and duck sideways to try to escape the pain. He was tired again. One of those tired times that meant he wanted to curl up and die, but he couldn't remember why.

Sinking down into the blackness, he thought he had a recollection of shouting. Yes, there were bright lights and a circular room. Was it a room? He had an impression it was more like an arena. And he was in the centre of it, looking up at faces. So many faces now and they were all looking at him and shouting. And another man in the arena with him. Someone he'd never seen before. A complete stranger. And then the voices had got louder and louder, but he couldn't remember why!

Silently he shivered, scared by the partial memory and what it could mean. He opened his eyes again as a second orderly unfastened his right arm and made adjustments to the bright silver metal bracelet surrounding his wrist. In passing he saw the inscription had been amended. Now it read

Blue 1

Wins – 5

He whimpered to himself and allowed sleep to claim him again.