9
When Starsky knocked on Hutch's door at Venice Place – just for the principle of it – the rain had stopped rinsing the town and the curly haired detective did not have his hair so curly and messy as usual.
He entered when he heard a loud "C'mon in" from inside.
"Hi there!" Starsky called when he saw Hutch in the kitchen, preparing his usual morning concoction of vitamins.
"Hi yourself." Hutch replied. "Want some?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"Not really. I've always hoped someday you'll take care of that body of yours."
"I'm in great shape. And as promised, I brought breakfast," he went on putting his precious brown bag on the counter. "Do you mind if I get a coffee? You prepared some... right?"
"Of course. Just for you."
"Thanks. You're a real pal."
Starsky took a mug from the shelf and poured himself a large dose of coffee. He opened the cupboard where he knew he would find sugar and took two lumps which he dropped in his mug.
Hutch was watching him intermittently, making his way around, and smiled. To most of their colleagues, the blonde haired detective and the curly haired one were more than friends, more than brothers. Something so special had been born the first day they met and had grown stronger ever since. Everyone knew that one would cross fire and hell to save the other. Whenever a bad guy was trying to hurt or threaten one of them, the other one would make sure he would regret it for the rest of his miserable existence. To hit one of these two was like signing one's own death warrant or preparing the coffin.
To outsiders, they may have looked like, well, "partners" in the matrimonial sense of the word. A well-informed person would often see the hand of one touch the shoulder or the back of the hand of the other with concern or even tenderness. The thought that these two were sharing more than working hours would necessarily pop up in anybody's mind, anybody who would not know that soul mates are sometimes mistaken for what they are not. The detectives did not care or – as they would say themselves – they did not give a damn.
The place where this special friendship was the most obvious and where no one would be surprised at either one's reaction was the hospital. When Hutch was dying of the plague, when Starsky was shot with a deadly poison, when he almost died at the hands of Gunther's hit men, and on many more occasions, the hospital staff had witnessed a particular determination from each one to stay by the other's side and – even against hospital regulations – they had allowed for the friend to remain by the injured one's side, for hours, even at night.
Hutch smiled and poured himself a large glass of a clear and thick cream colored drink. He looked at his friend and the image of both of them on a photograph, about twenty years from now popped into his mind. We are like an old couple, he silently thought to himself. And he suddenly felt so good about the image of that that a long and profound sigh emanated from his chest.
"Are you all right?" Starsky asked.
"Oh yeah! Let's try your croissants. You did bring some, didn't you?"
"Yeah. But I never thought you'd touch them. Here... help yourself, Buddy, I bought enough for ten," he said, opening the bag and presenting it to Hutch.
Hutch grabbed a croissant and took a hungry bite into it.
"Attaboy!" Starsky said, raising his mug to celebrate this special diet infringement.
They both ate in silence for a moment. When they swallowed the last bite of their croissants, their hands both reached the brown bag at the same time.
"After you." Starsky said, too happy to see his blonde partner unable to resist the warm and wonderful freshly baked pastry flavor that was now invading the whole apartment.
"Hey... have you noticed..." mumbled Hutch between two bites, "it stopped raining."
"Yeah, it's a great day today!"
After they were both done with the feast Starsky had brought, they put their mug and glass in the sink, washed their hands and headed for the couch.
Starsky had put the file on the table before joining his partner in the kitchen and now, he sat in front of it and opened the document.
"I went through this again. I still don't get it."
"Get what?" replied Hutch who joined him and sat next to him.
"Why this guy left Miami. I know the Vice guys down there are pretty tough, but anyway, Fuentes would have had more lucrative possibilities to develop a business there than here. Why did he come here? Why Bay City?"
"You ask me? How should I know?" Hutch asked.
"It was just a question to myself. Now... how do we plan to get close and get involved with this guy?"
"We are gonna propose him a deal. According to what Dobey told us and what we read, we shouldn't push it too far. Seems he is not after big records. So we'll introduce ourselves as Mike Burnett and Bob Collins, pretend we wanna find a regular supplier who has not yet been too much involved with the local police and so on and so forth."
"Bob Collins?" Starsky finally reacted. "Where did you get that from?"
"You like it?" Hutch asked.
Starsky closed his eyes a bit and slightly raised the corners of his lips.
"Yeah... Bob Collins..." he repeated for himself. "Bob Collins and Mike Burnett. Hey... Sounds perfect."
"Okay, settled then." Hutch said.
Starsky looked at the open file in front of him and frowned.
"You know, this Ricardo guy..." he started.
"What about him?"
"I don't know. Gut feeling. Don't ask me why. It says he has a violent temper but has never been seen brutalizing anyone in public and those who he harassed never testified."
"You know, Starsk, if we play our cards well there is a good chance we get him when we nail Fuentes."
"I hope you're right. What about the body guards?" He leaned over the papers in search for the names. "Sebastian Garcia and ... Matt Perkins."
Hutch stood up and paced in the living room, as if he were searching for something.
"I've asked Minnie to keep talking to the computer; maybe she can come up with some more details on these two. We will have to watch our backs. Have you seen their pics?" Starsky asked.
"Yeah, I've seen. What about them?" the blonde said. He obviously did not look at ease, mentioning the two who were watching over Fuentes security.
"Well, they look rather big to me, as in "don't-try-to-push-me-or-else-I'll-smash-your-face!" type, if you catch my drift. Remember the guys you once referred to as "statues collecting pigeons". That Perkins one seems nasty enough."
"Maybe he is on the..." Hutch started to reply but he did not have the time to finish his sentence.
"Big "D". Oh c'mon Hutch. Not all the body guards are necessarily addicted to it. Last time, you told me about agility and endurance, but it was me who proved that muscles aren't everything."
Hutch did remember that day when they noticed the tail behind their car after having tried to discourage Malinda from harassing Huggy. They had been engaged in a fight with two big tough guys but while Starsky had scandalously managed to easily deal with one of them, he had secured his blonde partner's pride and had let him use almost his last breath and energy in an irregular fight with the other. Which had made him quite angry in the end. Starsky could sometimes play the innocent one and then let his partner deal with somewhat unpleasant situations - implying no danger whatsoever of course - and hide a mischievous smile afterward.
When he turned to Starsky, he saw his partner was reading the file again.
"I have filed a request for money Monday first time." Hutch asked. "How much do you think we can get?"
"I hope enough to sound credible. Otherwise, it's bye-bye mission and ..."
He suddenly stopped, his eyes still focused on the file.
"And what?"
"Don't you think we should listen to the Captain and not go in there without proper back up?" Starsky said, sounding a bit worried. "Fuentes, Ricardo, two body guards ... and who knows who else we don't know of..."
"Why not come in uniforms, while you're at it? Starsk... this is supposed to be an undercover mission, remember? Don't worry, as soon as we got the guy hooked up, we'll call for back-up."
"I was just kiddin..." the vague answer came, for the brunette was still focusing on the file.
"Starsk? Have you listened to me?"
"Yes, Sir!" Starsky announced with a fake ceremonial salutation. But he had been distracted for a moment by the name in the file without a picture. Teresa Harriman. There was practically nothing on her. All they knew was that she was singing at The Rose and was probably Fuentes protégée.
"Okay... want some more coffee?"
"Yep."
And saying so, they both headed for the kitchen and, while Hutch got himself an extra dose of his morning beverage, Starsky filled his mug with a large dose of coffee and put in two lumps of sugar, under the disgusted look of his silent partner.
S*H ~ S*H ~ S*H ~ S*H ~ S*H ~ S*H ~ S*H ~