Chapter Eleven
The morning stretched into the afternoon with still not a word or lead.
Hutch was exhausted and becoming increasingly snappish.
The phone rang again and as he reached over to grab it, in his haste, he banged his sore knee against the desk then spent the next several minutes angrily chewing out the party on the other end. When he hung up he knocked the mug of cold coffee over, the contents splattering all over the files on his desk.
He cursed loudly. Another detective came over and tried to help him mop up the mess but Hutch reeled on him too.
Dobey, who must have heard the commotion, emerged from him office. "That's it. Hutchinson, you're going home!"
"I'm fine," Hutch snapped back, then tried to get control of his temper under Dobey's scowl.
"Yeah, I can see just how fine you are. For Starsky's sake and the rest of us, go home and get a few hours rest so you can think rationally. You're starting to loose it."
"But Cap…" he started to argue back.
"That's an order, Hutchinson!"
Simmering, Hutch left and drove back to Venice Place.
Once back in his apartment he rooted around for some more aspirin then made an ice pack for his sore knee. On the counter he found Fifi's note saying no one had called, but to please call her back if he heard anything about David.
Grabbing the extension phone, he set in on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch. He didn't feel like going to bed and knew he was not actually going to sleep despite his exhaustion. The image of Starsky, hurt and frightened and running away kept replaying in his mind. He would just close his eyes, just for a while.
The phone ringing startled him awake two hours later.
~S/H~
Hutch pulled the Tornio up in front of a taco stand on Verdugo. The call had been from Huggy asking him to meet him. The black man greeted him through the open passenger window.
"What have you got, Huggy?"
"I got a Latin brother who may have seen Starsky with a chick."
"Who?"
Huggy nodded his head over to a skinny short man sitting on one of the concrete tables off to the side. "His name's T-Bone. But he's a little skittish, especially around cops."
"Will he talk to me?"
"I told him you're cool. Just don't make any fast moves."
Hutch nodded and climbed out of the car.
Huggy approached the Latino and straddled the bench next to him, then indicated for Hutch to sit across on the other side of the table. "T-Bone. This is my friend I was telling you about. His name is Hutch."
The man looked up his eyes wary as he assessed the blond. "You don't look like no cop. I don't like cops very much."
"Not all of us are bad, you know."
The man snorted. "So Huggy tells me. Haven't met a nice one yet."
"There's always a first time for everything."
The man smiled cynically.
"Huggy tells me you might have seen my partner, Detective Starsky?"
The man fiddled with a plastic straw he held in his hand. "Maybe. I'm not sure." He cocked his head. "What about the deal first?"
"The deal?" Hutch swiveled his head to look at Huggy, his eyes narrowing.
Huggy jumped into to explain. "You see, T-Bone here has got a bit of a problem, Hutch. He's on parole and got picked up on a possession charge."
"It wasn't my fault, I swear!" T-bone interjected. "I didn't know the chick was carrying, man. I only met her at a bar."
"I see. What do you think I can do for you?"
"Just square it with my parole officer. Explain it to him. I can't afford to go down on a third count for a crummy possession charge. I've really been trying to go straight, I swear. Look." From his pocket he pulled out a metal disk and slid it across the table. Hutch recognized it as one from an Addicts Anonymous Group. "See. I've been clean for three months. Three months of sweat and blood, man." The man's fingers trembled but his eyes were clear, focused. "Hardest thing I've ever had to do. Damn parole officer won't believe me though. Huggy says you're cool, though. Says you'd understand."
Hutch looked at Huggy who remained silent.
"What's your parole officer's name?"
"Keets. He's a real hard ass though."
"I promise I'll do my best, but I can't make any guarantees."
The man chuckled without humor. "Yeah. Huggy said you'd say that too. But he also says you keep your word, you shoot a straight deal."
"I try."
The man looked down at his hands. "Guess that's all I can ask."
"What about my partner?"
"I think I saw him, but if you have a picture I could be sure."
Hutch produced a photo of Starsky he kept in his wallet.
The man nodded. "Yeah, that's him."
"Where did you see him?"
"He was with a chick. Her name's Tracee."
"This Tracee. You know where she lives?"
He shook his head. "But I see her around the liquor store off of Vermont a lot. Sometimes she works the corner. You know, when she's really hurting. Other times, she just comes in for some booze."
"And you saw Detective Starsky with her?"
He nodded. "By the pay phone next to the liquor store. I mean I think it was him. He looked kinda bad."
"Thanks, T-Bone."
"You won't forget to talk to my parole officer?"
"No. I won't forget." Hutch slid the disk back over to Latino. "Here. You don't want to loose this. It means a lot."
T-Bone took it back and gripped it in his hand. "Yeah. Probably cost only a nickel to make, but its worth more than gold. Know what I mean?"
Hutch nodded. "Yeah. I do."
Less than ten minutes later they were talking to the owner of the liquor store.
Yeah, the owner knew of the girl Tracee, but had no idea where she lived, he told Hutch. She came in at least twice a week for booze. She was a quiet, kinda of skittish girl with short dirty blond hair, about five foot three, but he hadn't seen her today. When Hutch showed him a picture of Starsky, the owner shook his head. He hadn't seen him either. But then again, he'd been inside the store most of the day.
Hutch thanked him and left.
"What now?" Huggy asked.
Hutch thought. "We must have passed a half dozen liqueur stores on our way over here. That means if she's a regular, most likely she lives in the neighborhood, probably within a few blocks walking distance. Let's see what we can find out."
~S/H~
Crissy spoke into the payphone glancing nervously about to see if anyone was watching.
"There's a guy staying with her. She says his name's Rudy, but I think he's cop."
"A cop? What gives you that idea?"
"I recognized him."
"You sure?"
"Pretty sure. He and his partner busted my cousin last year for dealing. I'm sure it was him."
"What's his name?"
"Starsky."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Where?"
She gave him the address.
"You won't forget our deal, right? A hundred off?"
"A hundred."
~S/H~
The booky hung up the phone. A moment later he placed another call. "Yeah. It's me, Vinny. You still looking for Maas' partner? Well, I think I've got something for you, but you're not going to like it. He's a cop."
~S/H~
Marcello was just setting the phone back in its cradle as Johansson returned to the squad room.
"Ready to go?" the young detective asked.
"Huh?"
"Downstairs to grab a bite to eat."
Marcello shook his head. "You go ahead," he grunted. "I'm not that hungry."
"Sure?"
"I said I wasn't hungry," Marcello snapped.
Johansen looked at him oddly. "Something the matter?"
"Leave it, Johansen, got it?" he replied in an authoritative tone, making the younger man's eyes widen.
"Sure, okay. Guess I'll meet you back here later?"
He gave a grunt for a reply and his partner left, a frown creasing his face.
Once alone in the empty squad room Marcello sank back in his chair, suddenly feeling a hundred years old. The call only seemed to confirm what he'd suspected all along.
With a deep sigh he opened the draw to his desk and rifled through the contents before extracting a picture tucked in the back. The colors of the picture where faded, its edges worn from the many times he'd held it. He studied one of the two faces in the photo.
Though laughing, the eyes now seemed to stare back, almost accusingly. Don't do this. You don't have to do this.
He held the edges of the photo, memories of times happily shared had long since been tainted by what he'd been forced to accept in loss and absence. Since that day he'd lost was had once driven him, what had once been so important and clear cut.
His sigh was deep and long now as he forced his mind to accept what could no longer be denied.
Yeah, I do. I'm sorry…I don't have choice, not anymore...
He set the picture back in his desk drawer before reaching for the phone.
"Where is he?" he asked the recipient on the other end, his tone becoming clipped, impatient. "It's important. Tell him it's Marcello," he said curtly. "Tell him I need to see him right away. No. He'll know what it's all about."
Marcello then donned his jacket and left, his strides purposeful.
Johansen returned to the squad room a short while later. He'd brought an extra sandwich in an attempted peace offering but found his partner no where about.
The phone rang on Marcello's desk. He answered it. The caller was looking for a case number on a report they had completed a couple of days ago. Johansen remembered seeing it somewhere, and then remembered his partner had had it last. He looked through the stack of files on top of Marcello's desk before opening the drawer pushing some loose items aside before spotting the file in question. He gave the caller the required information.
It was as he was putting the file back that Johansen noticed the picture lying on top. Two smiling faces looked up into the camera, side by side in the middle of some kind of social celebration. He barely recognized his partner. He'd never really seen Marcello smile like that in the eight months they'd been partnered. He looked happy, energetic, full of life.
The young detective looked at the digital date printed in the corner showing the picture to have been taken almost eight years ago.
Another detective came in, and feeling like he was snooping, he quickly replaced the photo in the drawer.
"Hey, have you seen Marcello around?" he asked.
"What's the matter, Johansen, piss him off already?" the other man joked.
"No. I mean, uh…what do you mean?"
"Marcello took off ten minutes ago."
"Where'd he go?"
"How the hell should I know? He's your partner!" The other detective left the room.
"Yeah, I was hoping so too," Johansen replied. Feeling once again like he'd been shelved, he sat irritably down behind his desk and went back to reading the case reports on Maas. A few seconds later his eyes widened as something clicked in his brain.
"Shit!"
The young detective grabbed his jacket and quickly headed out the door, more determined than ever to find his partner.
~S/H~
Between the relentless throbbing beats in his head and the ache of bruised ribs that burned with each intake of air, Starsky was completely and utterly miserable. On top of all that his body didn't seem to know which direction it wanted to go anymore because one minute he felt hot, and the next cold, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his chest. He felt nauseous with a sick metallic aftertaste to the back of throat while his gut kept doing funny little flip flops
Tracee knelt down in front, her eyes expressing her increasing worry. "You're lookin' pretty bad, Rudy. Maybe you should go the hospital?"
He shook his head. "No…can't…won't go back…"
"Go back where?"
He refused to answer.
"Are you in some kind of trouble? With the cops, I mean? Is that it?"
He eyes dropped, became hooded. "Don't mean to cause ya any trouble."
"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"
"'M'sorry. I'll go…" he went to get up.
"Don't! It's okay. I mean, I've been down that road a couple times myself." She hesitated. "Look, I-I know someone. He's a doctor. Well, kind of a doctor, except he said he couldn't practice here in this country 'cause he didn't have the right papers."
He shook his head.
"He won't tell anyone, Rudy. Just let him check you out, okay? I'm worried about you. Your color doesn't look very good and I think you're startin' to run a fever."
Starsky hesitated, but the truth be told, he felt like crap.
Reluctantly he tipped his head in a nod.
The girl sighed in relief. "He's not far. About six blocks away. Think you can make it?"
He nodded again.
She helped him to his feet.
They hadn't gotten far, maybe a few blocks when out of nowhere two men suddenly appeared before them. They were both dressed similarly in denim jackets and white t-shirts.
Tracee's eyes widened in recognition.
The brown haired man drew closer.
"Hello, Tracee."
"Trey…."
"Why so jumpy?"
The girl laughed nervously. "Y-You scared me, that's all."
"Where you been?" The other asked. "We haven't seen you around lately. Been lookin' for you."
She tugged on her short hair with the tips of her fingers, shrugging. "Nowhere, you know, just around."
The first man she had addressed as Trey swiveled his attention towards Starsky. "So who's you're friend here?"
"This is Rudy," Tracee answered hesitantly.
"Rudy, huh?"
The man cocked his head to the side causing Starsky's own expression to become suddenly guarded. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he deliberately dropped his hands to his side and tried to straighten his body to his full height. He dropped the lids halfway over his eyes concealing his expression.
The two men continued to assess him for several long seconds until Trey turned his head back to the girl. "What's Tommy been up to, Tracee?"
Tracee eyes widened. "Tommy? I have no idea…I haven't seen him in weeks. Not since he beat me up, threw me out. Why do you want to know?"
"We want to know who he's been hanging around with lately, talking to, making deals with."
Again, the man's eyes settled on Starsky.
"S-so why don't you just go ask him. Why bother me?" Tracee replied.
The man stepped a little closer to the girl. "That's a little difficult right now, considering he's dead."
Her eyes become saucers. "Dead..."
"That's right. And you were his old lady, Tracee."
"N-not anymore. I told you!"
"That's not what we heard from your little bitch friend at the Stardust."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Then I'll spell it out for you. Tommy pulled a job with us for lot of money, get it. But before he made the split, he decided to get funny on us and doubled crossed us with someone."
"I don't know anything about any money! I swear!"
Her wrist was suddenly grabbed and twisted backward. Tracee let out a painful gasp.
"Don't lie to us, Tracee," the man sneered. "We know Tommy was sniffing around you a couple of days ago. Your little hooker friend told us."
"She's lying!"
Hearing the girl's escalating fear, Starsky took a step forward, but his advance was blocked by the second man who stepped between them and before he could react, a fist landed into his stomach.
Starsky doubled over in immediate pain, sinking to his knees, unable to stop the deep groan from escaping his lips as the wind was knocked out of him.
"What you have to do that for?" Tracee cried. "He didn't do anything!"
"Shut up, bitch!"
At Trey's bidding, the second man drew a gun out from behind his back and leveled it at Starsky who was now sagging against the wall, one knee on the ground, the other leg bent up to his chest, with his arm wrapped around his waist as he tried to catch his breath. Spots swam in his eyes.
"Thought we wouldn't figure it out, find you?" Trey sneered down at him.
Starsky's eyes widened.
"No please," Tracee protested. "Leave him alone! He doesn't know anything!"
The man shook her. "Shut up, bitch. You think we're that stupid! Tommy was setting us up, wasn't he?"
"I don't know what you mean?"
"I think you do and now you're both coming with us."
"No!" Tracee panicked and started to struggle.
In the brief scuffle, the man holding the gun turned his attention for a second away from Starsky. It was all the distraction the injured man needed as instinct kicked in and he flung his entire body at the man, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking him off balance. Caught off guard, the gun slipped from his hand as he stumbled sideways, tripped and went head first into a grate.
The momentum sent Starsky crashing to the ground as well.
Trey still struggling with Tracee, saw what was happening and pushed the girl forcefully away. Tracee hit the brick wall and slid dazed to the ground.
From his back pocket, Trey pulled a switchblade. His eyes glittered as he started towards Starsky still sprawled out on the ground. "I going to enjoy slicing the information out of you, pig."
Lying half on his side, Starsky felt the hard metal barrel of the gun under his right hip. He grabbed for it with his left hand as he rolled onto his back. His attacker froze when he saw the gun now aimed at his chest.
"Stay back!"
Starsky scooted painfully backwards until he was up against the wall and then leveraged himself up into a standing position. He then looked over at the girl who lay motionless.
The man took a step towards him again, but Starsky tightened his grip and squeezed off a warning round. It whizzed passed him and struck the wall behind him.
The man froze, his eyes glittering in fury.
He kept the gun leveled as he maintained a shaky stance. His vision started to blur and he had to blink several times to clear it. Then over his assailant's shoulder he saw a third man enter the alley, and started running towards them.
Starsky backed away, panic driving him. He took off down the alley, stumbling as he went.
Behind him he heard one of them shout. "Get him. Don't let him get away!"
A few seconds later gunfire erupted. The first bullet whizzed harmlessly past. The second hit the ground only inches from his stumbling feet. Then Starsky felt a burning sear of pain cutting through his left bicep as the third found its mark.
~S/H~
Trey hauled Miguel angrily to his feet. He was slightly dazed with a small gash on his forehead from hitting the crates. Luciana joined them, his gun still smoking.
The three men took off down the alley after the fleeing man.
"There he is!" Trey shouted as he saw the injured man disappear into a brick building.
~S/H~
Hutch and Huggy followed the directions given to them by a homeless man digging through a trash can collecting glass bottles who said he'd seen the girl around and thought she lived in a little hole in the wall a few blocks down.
They had just rounded the corner when they heard shots. Hutch started running with Huggy close behind him. As they reached the end of the next block, Hutch skidded to a stop and withdrew his magnum, motioning Huggy to stay back while he peered around the corner.
On the ground a short distance away, a woman was lying.
Surveying the surroundings and staying low, he quickly crossed the distance and went to her aid. He crouched down on one knee, trying to assess her injuries, but didn't see any blood or indications she'd been wounded.
As soon as Hutch touched her, the girl started to stir. Her eyes opened and filled with fright as she saw him leaning over her with the magnum gripped tightly in his hand.
"It's okay, miss. I'm a cop," he assured. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
The girl struggled to sit up, holding the back of her head, as a small crowd of curious onlookers started to gather. "I'm okay."
"What's your name?"
"Tracee," she replied hesitantly.
Hutch's head snapped up.
"Tracee, my name's Detective Hutchinson. Can you tell me what happened here? I heard shots."
"I'm not sure…" she began, then her thoughts seemed to clear and she looked frantically around. "Where's Rudy?"
"Rudy?"
"The man who was with me."
Hutch quickly dragged his wallet out and showed her the picture of Starsky. "This man?"
She looked at it, recognizing the familiar features in the smiling man, leaning shoulder to shoulder with the blond towering over her. "Yes, that's Rudy."
"This is Detective David Starsky. He's my partner. I've been looking for him."
Her eyes suddenly widened and she grabbed Hutch by the sleeve. "Please, you've got to help him. They're after him."
"Who?"
"Trey and Miguel. I think they're gonna kill him."
Hutch grabbed her by the shoulders. "Which way did they go?"
"I don't know." Tears sprung in her eyes.
Hutch cursed.
"Mister, I know which way they went."
Hutch turned to see a black youth, about ten, on a bike.
"Where?"
"Down the end of the alley. There were three of them and they chased the another man into the building at the end."
"Thanks, kid."
Hutch looked up at Huggy.
"Call in for help and get an ambulance for the girl. I'm going after them."
"Hutch, you can't go in there alone without backup. It's three against one!"
"I've got to!"
Without giving Huggy a chance to respond, Hutch took off.
Huggy called after him. "Hutch!"
But Hutch was already half way down the alley. Huggy cursed, and then took off for the nearest pay phone.
Damn blond was going to get himself and Curly killed!
TBC...