Chapter Five
"What the hell is this? Look at the damn time will you!" Hutch jabbed at his watch and threw the irritated question into the already thick air of Dobey's office.
Starsky could see that his Captain already looked stressed, the ubiquitous oversized handkerchief suddenly reappearing in his hand. "I can read the time as well as you can Hutchinson."
"He's making Starsky wait. I just know it."
"Who?" Dobey swiped at his damp face with the cloth.
"Carlson of course!" Hutch yelled and Starsky winced, knowing how much the effort must have sent shockwaves through his partner's sore head.
"IA can't do anything until the union rep shows up anyway and he's still not here." Dobey said.
"Damn it, Carlson's probably getting a kick out of letting him stew." Hutch insisted, as though he hadn't even heard his Captain's response. His blue eyes, shot with blood and bleary in the bright morning light of the office still managed to transmit anger even though Starsky knew it wasn't their Captain that Hutch wanted to rip apart.
"It's okay Hutch. I'm not stewin'." Starsky attempted to placate him, even just a little. One look at his haggard, red –eyed partner gave him little hope of accomplishing his task. Hutch was out for blood and to make matters worse he was functioning on limited physical reserves, the signs of his late night drinking session clearly evident in his face and movements.
"Well I sure as hell am!" He shouted it so loudly that Starsky thought the whole floor of the precinct would know for certain how Hutch was feeling at that very moment.
Hutch looked livid. Livid, but peaky at the same time Starsky thought. Livid, peaky and generally pretty awful. As Starsky had anticipated, Hutch was worse for wear, fighting back what was obviously a blinding headache and a roiling stomach. The two of them made a great team, he with his bruised and swollen temple and Hutch with his noticeable mother of hangovers.
They'd got no real sleep to speak of, stumbling around each other in the mid morning hours to shower and swallow coffee before heading into their own precinct to meet with the Homicide team from the Santa Monica Department. It had been arranged that the interviews would take place in the LA precinct as Starsky needed to also be questioned by IA and formalize his suspension for the duration of the investigation.
"Calm down Hutchinson. Going on the attack is not advisable. Starsky's in an invidious position and you blowing up is not going to help him."
"I just want Carlson out of the picture. He shouldn't be on the case and you know it Cap'n. Now he's getting a second go at you. Your lawyer should have made sure he was already taken off the investigation."
"Look, if I was to consider all the personal issues and all the history that fellow cops might or could have between each other in this precinct or the department as a whole, I would be hard pushed to find any of my men to take on an investigation involving a fellow cop. Everyone's got personal intersections with everyone else when you all work under the same roof and in a job as tough as this one. Starsky and Carlson are no different if they are from different departments."
"With all respect Cap'n that's bullshit! This is more than just a 'personal intersection'. "
"Hutch –" Starsky began to break in.
"No Starsky," Hutch brushed his warning off, "you know how it is between the two of you and the Captain needs to know that too. As soon as Carlson shows his face this morning, I'll be making the point very clear. "
"It is not up to you to set the rules here Hutchinson. Those issues are not in your control. You should know that you won't be privy to the interview anyway. Just the Union Rep and myself." Dobey reminded Hutch and then frowned at the filthy look he got in response. It was clear, Starsky thought, that their captain could read Hutch's barely contained aggression. "Besides, you should be at home sleeping it off – you look rough. I don't know out of the two of you who looks worse."
The captain surveyed them both with a heavy critical eye as he swivelled on his chair, his bulky mass wedged firmly between the armrests like it might require an engineering feat to extract him from its confines.
"He's right Hutch." Starsky offered, attempting to mollify his bad tempered partner and his offended Captain at the same time.
"And I might have gotten some sleep too if we weren't dragged in here for this meeting. We get here at record time and find that we are sitting on our exhausted asses waiting for the bastard to show!" Hutch jabbed his finger in Dobey's direction.
Starsky put out his hand to stop Hutch in whatever else he was about to come back with to Dobey. Hutch's mood was simmering to the boil and if he weren't diffused by diversion he would explode.
Dobey leaned forward to check his desk phone message screen and made a sound of dissatisfaction. "I'm going upstairs to see what's holding Carlson and Simonetti up. Wait here and don't leave. Hutchinson, it's your job to make sure your partner with the bottomless stomach doesn't decide to make any trips to the cafeteria. I want you ready and waiting when I get back, you hear me? I don't want IA to have anything else on you to bitch about."
Starsky wanted to tell the Captain not to worry. The prospect of what lay ahead with Carlson and IA removed all traces of any appetite he might normally have.
As Dobey closed the door behind him, Hutch rubbed at his brow and scowled at Starsky.
"You may as well cut your little side show act – he's gone."
"What act?"
"I mean the act Starsky, where you try to pull me back with your lame attempts to lighten the situation. Like you think I'm about to lose it because I'm in some fragile sort of mood."
"Well you were givin' Dobey a hard time. He didn't put me here ya know?" The caliber of Starsky's voice changed to a more serious note, now that his attempts to divert Hutch had fallen flat.
"I'm just generally pissed at the way this whole thing has been handled so far…with Carlson and all. As if Simonetti wasn't bad enough." Hutch rubbed at his chest like he always did when his nerves were getting to him. "And here you are acting as though you're not sitting here waiting for a freaking inquisition. Like you're not worried about what Carlson might be setting you up for?"
"Because you Blondie are worried and angry enough for the two of us. Ain't gonna do me much good if you slam your fist into Carlson when he walks through that door. I'm trying, if you hadn't noticed to bring the furnace in you down a notch."
"I noticed." Hutch said looking a little paler with every moment, a grimace of discomfort on his face. "Anyway, the furnace is soon going to burn lower on its own accord. God I feel like death."
Seeing Hutch's contorted face Starsky stepped closer.
"Maybe I'd better hit the cafeteria after all – for you not me. You need something in your stomach Hutch." He really did look green around the gills, Starsky noted.
"Why did you let me do it - drink so much huh? You're supposed to be my back up. You knew I had to be here with you for these meetings. " Hutch groaned heavily and slid down so low in his chair that his butt was barely on the seat.
Starsky shrugged. "Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Anyway ya' seem to need it. It was one hell of a night to have to get through."
"Yeah well I sure don't need what it's left me with this morning. Damn…"
"Headache bad huh?"
"I've had worse I guess – just can't remember when at the moment."
"I told you to stay at home and get some more sleep. You wouldn't have got any hanging half off that crappy couch. You need a better couch Hutch."
"My bed is good quality. Paid more than two grand for that mattress for my back. Didn't do me much good last night though." Even though Hutch had his fingers laced over his eyes Starsky could see quite clearly that he was looking straight at him when he said it.
"Now wait a minute – wait one freakin' minute here. You were the one who went all gallant on me and insisted I take the bed because of my sore head."
And the banter was on – their own style of remedial therapy doing its job to soften the harsh reality of the situation at hand.
"And see – now we've both got sore heads." Hutch groaned.
"Yeah but your sore head is self inflicted. I got smacked with a hunk of gunmetal. Besides we both know the couch has nothing to do with it. Even if you'd found a fluffy white cloud to pass out on last night, you'd still look the way you look now."
"What does that mean? How do I look for God's sake?" Hutch summoned up the energy for an affronted look.
Starsky looked down at his feet. Hutch had asked him a question, but the answer was painfully raw for him to say out loud.
"Well? Come on?" Hutch demanded, holding on to his forehead like it was about to crack right open.
Starsky still didn't answer. The cut and thrust of their little battle had ceased as quickly as it had started. This time the banter routine wasn't going to be enough to pull them through the treachery of the moment.
Starsky suddenly stood up and walked to the window, his face averted from Hutch.
Hutch was up and next to him, concern taking the place of discomfort on his brow. "What is it? Hey…I can't look that bad can I?" His attempt to go back to their bantering fell flat.
"You look like someone who's found out his best buddy is the number one suspect in his ex-wife's murder." Starsky heard the rush of his admission, his voice flat and sad. "That's enough to make anyone look the way you do. Hutch, ya' haven't even – you didn't even – not once yet –" he battled with the words. "act like you're pissed with me about that. You let Dobey have it and yet ya' haven't said one word to me about how you must be feelin'…..toward me, about - "
"About what Starsky?"
"About me! About me being with Vanessa and Vanessa being murdered in front of me – and some goons rippin' my place apart for drugs. You should be damn well angry about that don't ya' think?" Starsky's voice had risen to a yell.
"Starsky." Hutch looked freshly appalled. "Is that what you think? That I'm holding in the anger, holding back my resentment at you? Why the hell should I be angry with you? "
Starsky saw the shocked emotion on his partner's face. "We went through this last night didn't we?" Hutch continued. "If I had any fears about what had gone on with you and Vanessa, they were over as soon as you told me what happened."
Starsky stayed silent, his posture stooped. Hutch looked more worried as the silence stretched out.
"Starsk? What is this about?"
"I'm thinking that whatever happens with Carlson, the IA or the Homicide team – none of it will matter to me as much as you being sure in yourself that everything I've told you about what happened last night – is the truth. I had nothin' to do with Vanessa's death Hutch and I had nothin' to do with why she came to LA – even if she came here to try and get me to help her. I can cope with the IA and I can even cope with a full on investigation by homicide, but – but what I can't cope with is you not believing me."
The hands that took Starsky's shoulders were almost painful in their insistent grip.
"I don't know where I must have gone wrong last night that I've left you in any doubt as to how I feel about all of this. All I can think is that I was so fucked up in the head at the news and the fear that you were seriously hurt, that I somehow failed to communicate clearly. Not for one moment after I saw your face in that hospital room, did I think that this was anything but a terrible nightmare that you were dragged unwillingly into." Hutch told him in soft but firm tones.
Starsky tried a smile. "You did communicate that Hutch – ya' did. It's just I feel so damn responsible somehow because it was me and it was in my apartment, and I kept our meeting from you."
"And I kept things from you too." Hutch admitted. "I've been thinking back to things Vanessa said to me, asked me, about you – it all makes sense now. If I hadn't been so damned closed off to seeing the truth about her yet again, I might have figured out she was sniffing around you for all the wrong reasons." It was Hutch's turn to look defeated by himself. "So – you see, you've got as much reason to be pissed off with me for that as I might have for you arranging to meet with Van in private. I damn well should have known, like you told me, that she was here, back in my life for all of the wrong reasons."
"Alright. Enough with each of us whipping ourselves over what is done. We can't change any of that now." Starsky said. "Still, you should've just stayed home. All that crap about them needin' to question you further…."
"You think I would let you deal with whatever Carlson has lined up for you this morning? No way."
"Like Dobey said Hutch, they ain't gonna let you be part of the interviews anyway. They play this by the rulebook all the way."
"Doesn't matter. I need to be here. There are some things I can start looking into myself. With the Santa Monica team covering the homicide there's nothing to stop me doing some groundwork of my own. I can start trying to get a grip on Van's life back east and this dead boyfriend of hers."
"Hutch," Starsky sighed softly, "the woman you were once married to has been murdered for Christ's Sake. You need some breathing space."
"Maybe I do, but that is why I'm standing right here." Hutch said, his voice falling to a softer pitch, all the angry tones replaced by gentler, more needy ones, which Starsky couldn't help but hear in the somber voice. "I do my best breathing when I'm around you." So redolent with emotion were the words that Starsky felt the soft caress of them against his neck as Hutch leaned in close, his partner's lips all but brushing his flesh as he spoke each word carefully and slowly. "Surely you know that by now Starsk?"
And there it was again for Starsky. That same overwhelming heat he felt when Hutch had touched his fingers to his lip last night. Now he felt the trail of those same long fingers across the nape of his neck, the touch feather light and evocative on his bare skin. He felt his skin burn with the tactile contact that conveyed so much more than reassurance and support. Any response Starsky might have made remained locked in his throat, and even his breathing felt constricted as he let the poignancy of the moment settle all around him.
"Starsk?"
Hutch pulled his hand back a little, enough for Starsky to know that his reticence had left his partner a little unsure. What did Hutch want him to say or do? He didn't have Hutch's smooth timbered way with words to reciprocate the intent and even though he knew that wasn't important to Hutch, he had no real idea of what he really wanted to say or do. All he knew was that Hutch was doing and saying things to him lately that left him wanting more of whatever it was that he was damn well saying, or not saying. The intensity of just how much he wanted more of whatever it was they were both hovering closer and closer to frightened and exhilarated him at the same time.
All at once Hutch reverted the caliber of his voice and put a little more distance between the two of them, providing Starsky with the time to recover from the escalated intimacy of the moment.
"Then you think we can take this on – whatever walks through that door? Two sore headed guys?" Hutch asked him, breaking the silence of the moment and restoring them both to safer ground.
"Depends on how much I let Simonetti get to me. You know he ain't my favorite IA pin up boy. And Carlson, well I can't promise anything there." Starsky answered, already missing Hutch's closeness but knowing the timing of it was all wrong for both of them.
"Simonetti you might just need to live with I'm afraid. Carlson? Well let's hope he's out of the picture before too long."
The sound of several male voices just on the other side of Dobey's door heralded their arrival.
Starsky turned back to face his partner.
"Let's see what they want to make of this. Then I've got to get through the interview with the Homicide team. Either way, I'm counting on walking out of here when it's finished. I don't fancy the thought of spending tonight in a holding cell."
Hutch flinched at the half joke.
"Starsky – don't. Don't even joke about it like that. There is no way in hell that –"
The door opened and whatever else they might have shared about their unrest about the forthcoming meeting remained unsaid.
Dobey walked in with Carlson and Simonetti behind him.
Simonetti, Starsky knew all too well. Better than he knew Carlson as Simonetti had been kicking around IA for a few years now. He and Starsky had clashed on more than one occasion and Starsky thought it unbelievable bad luck that he should pull not only his ex-lover's current bed partner but also the rigid Simonetti as the second IA officer on his case.
It couldn't have been worse for Starsky if it had been conspired that way.
Still Hutch had said that Simonetti had been remarkably civil to him the previous evening. Was that to redress the imbalance of his superior, Lieutenant Carlson being one of Starsky's all time least favorite people?
Starsky gave them both a considered look as he himself was treated to the same before he turned back to Hutch.
Their silent communication to each other was rich in mutual understanding.
He shrugged his shoulders lightly at Hutch and his mouth carried the ghost of a smile.
It gave him a little pleasure to know that both Carlson and Simonetti saw it pass between them and that their silent but meaningful form of private communication frustrated and disadvantaged both IA men – as it did so many others.
As each of them broke their gaze on the other, Starsky and Hutch both turned to face the music.
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Dobey's unease had long surpassed its zenith by the time he re- entered his office, Carlson and Simonetti trailing in his wake. Feeling apprehensive about the forthcoming session between the IA and Starsky he was not at all surprised to find Hutchinson not only still in the room, but tightly flanking Starsky. It was more then apparent to him that Hutchinson was in full fledged protect mode, hovering close to Starsky and stepping forward quickly to put himself between the two IA men and his partner.
Carlson wasted no time in highlighting Hutchinson's presence to the Captain as he stood at the entrance of the doorway.
"Captain Dobey, I understood that this was to be a private interview with Sergeant Starsky. I'm afraid that Sergeant Hutchinson will need to leave the room before we might proceed."
Before Dobey had a chance to respond Hutch spoke up, his expression only just short of hostile.
"The interview can't start without the Rep being here. I'm just waiting with Starsky till he does."
"Of course." Carlson replied. "The union representative is on his way downstairs now. As the interview is about to commence I will have to ask that you leave the room Detective Hutchinson." Carlson looked at Dobey. "I am surprised that this has not already happened."
Again Hutch got in before Dobey had a chance to answer him.
"The same could be equally said of you Lieutenant." Hutch interjected. "I'm surprised that you have even been permitted to get to this point of the proceedings with this case considering your own personal history with Starsky." Hutch then turned to Dobey in exasperation and he began to feel like the meat in the proverbial sandwich. "Surely the scheduling of this morning's interview should have been vetoed out of principle of Lieutenant Carlson's relationship with Starsky?"
"This is just a standard procedural interview by IA, its not part of the formal homicide investigation - you know that Hutchinson." Dobey answered, feeling the tension in the air between the men mounting.
"Then let someone else do the administrative legwork – Officer Simonetti can handle the interview I am sure – or call in another senior to take Lieutenant Carlson's place." Hutch was stony faced as he stood impassive just in front of Starsky.
It was then that Simonetti spoke up, holding up his hand against whatever it was that Carlson was about to say. "I suggest we all settle down and take a moment," he said in a level voice, looking first at Carlson and then at Hutch and finally looking at Dobey. "Detective Hutchinson – in the interests of your partner I think it best that you leave the room. We will not start the interview until the union Rep is here."
Starsky touched Hutch lightly on the arm and the two turned to each other. Dobey watched as they gave shared a private non-verbal exchange.
"Give us a minute here will you please?" Starsky gently pulled Hutch to the corner of the room and Dobey made a show of coughing to clear his throat as the two of them spoke in quiet tones.
All though all the men could hear what Starsky was saying it was obvious that both Detective were shutting out the others.
Even at such a close distance it was difficult to discern the content of what was said between them but in a moment Hutch broke away and faced Dobey.
"Captain, I'd like you to do whatever is necessary to ensure this is the last time Lieutenant Carlson interviews Starsky in relation to my ex-wife's murder." Hutch looked directly at Carlson as he said it.
Dobey could see that Hutchinson's cool manner, one that was ostensibly polite and respectful was doing more to ruffle Carlson than if he had been out rightly hostile and inappropriate.
Dobey nodded and looked at the two IA men.
"This matter will need to be brought to the attention of the legal representative and our own Department heads. For now let's just get on with this. The Santa Monica team and Starsky's lawyer are already waiting."
With a lingering pat to Starsky's shoulder he prepared to leave the room. His next words were to Dobey.
"Cap'n can you make sure they call a halt to the interviews if his head starts to bother him? Its still not even twelve hours since he was concussed. Not that he's likely to tell you or anyone else."
Starsky shot him a withering look and looking a little mortified waved his hand in the direction of the door.
"I'm fine. Go on will ya' and get outta here?"
Dobey felt the reflexive pull of a smile at his two detective's customary antics, but he just as quickly quelled it when he met the serious faces of Carlson and Simonetti. He straightened up and offered everyone a seat. Good to his word, he mentally prepared himself for his role as Starsky's union representative finally entered the room as IA prepared to question him.
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After leaving Starsky, Hutch spent the first half hour after leaving Starsky at his desk pushing around files and skimming through his snitch list on his computer. His mind was only half on the task, less than even that, as he watched the clock and worried about how his partner might be faring with Carlson and Simonetti.
Eventually his now dull headache demanded a reprieve and against his better judgment he left to make a quick visit to the departmental cafeteria to collect fresh coffee and a sandwich.
Even though he was only gone ten minutes or so when he returned he realized that Dobey's office had been vacated and there was no sign of the IA officers, Dobey or Starsky.
He presumed then that the Homicide team was now having their first real serious interrogation interview with Starsky and his lawyer.
Shoving aside his paperwork he took his coffee in hand and picked up his desk phone with one hand and his hard copy rolodex with the other. There were at least five good snitches and street connections he could rely on for any real leads on what might have happened to fresh large parcels of meth being brought into the city in the past week. If he was lucky he might even manage to dig something up on the two heavies that had stormed into Starsky's apartment.
The other link he needed to follow up he was more tentative about. Tony Durniak was not so easy to get a handle on and with his main empire situated on the East Coast, local information on him and his ring was going to be harder to come by.
Still, he had the time now while Starsky was being questioned – the time and the incentive to uncover something, anything, that would mean his partner's name could be cleared of any charges that might arise from Vanessa's death or stolen drugs. The Santa Monica team would have already started chasing down the same avenues.
Dobey would not be happy if he found out his detective was rattling cages in the investigation, but Hutch had a vested interest in this case with his ex-wife dead and his partner and best friend sitting in the hot seat as the chief suspect.
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A couple of hours later he had come up with little of anything except to know for sure that Durniak had enough power and clout by means of fear mongering to keep him well buried in anonymity.
Calls he had made to the few outstanding acquaintances of Vanessa's that he still could track down also had nothing of note to tell him about her recent lifestyle and relationship with the now dead Marco. The homicide cops of course would get further as they would have seized her cell phone and handbag and would have access to all of her phone contacts and her recent calls.
His nerves were stretched, his head still heavy and his patience growing thinner by the minute when Dobey's office remained empty and his brief forays down the corridor to the interrogation rooms yielded no sign of either the captain or Starsky.
What the hell could they be doing with Starsky for this long for God's sake? Surely his lawyer would have put a stop to the interviews by now in light of Starsky only being discharged from medical care the night before.
Hutch was exiting the squad room to take another walk down to the interview rooms when Dobey rounded the corner of the corridor and headed toward the vending machine against the wall.
For the captain to hit up the junk machine so unguardedly in front of the eyes of other officers was a bad sign. Even when Hutch approached him Dobey didn't seemed perturbed that he had been caught in the act of roughly jamming in coins to secure his fix.
"That bad huh?" Hutch asked him, no lightness at in his inflection. If the interviews had left Dobey tense than how must it have been for Starsky?
Dobey only grunted as he bent down to pull out his second candy bar. " It's never an easy thing for me to see one of my men on the other side of the interview table. Particularly one of my best men," he said. "Any warm coffee left in the squad room to wash these down?"
"Well warm enough. Go into your office Cap'n and I'll bring you some in."
Shutting the door behind him Hutch found his captain staring out the window, one chubby hand rubbing at his lower back while he chewed furiously on the chocolate bar. Hutch handed over the tepid coffee and waited for Dobey to swallow some down, fighting hard to stop himself from demanding to know immediately what the score was with the homicide guys.
"Where is he?" he asked quietly trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. The urgency of needing to know everything all at once.
"He's finishing up with his lawyer."
"How is he?"
"Okay. He's doing okay. They gave him a break for about twenty minutes – for coffee and downtime."
"The interview – was it – tough on him?"
"You know your partner. He copes."
"Did he need to cope? Was it – did they give him a hard time?" Hutch was already feeling animosity against the two Detectives for the fact that they had strung out the interview for so long.
"No. No – I would say they were on the whole level and fair. Handled it well enough. Still – still they put him through his paces. Posed some pretty challenging questions. He managed well though – even without his lawyer's guidance. Never once did he let his mouth run off on him. You'd have been impressed." Dobey threw his candy wrapper into the wastebasket and gave Hutch the smallest grin. "I was worried he would. Starsky being Starsky."
Hutch had to allow his own small smile at that.
"Yep. Still Starsk knows this is no time for game playing. He's in up to his neck until we can get some scope on the men that killed Vanessa."
Dobey nodded as he settled into his chair behind the desk. "That's the truth Hutch. There's a lot of evidence already that there were intruders who ransacked the apartment and were involved in your ex-wife's murder – but on the other hand there is nothing so far to say that Starsky wasn't involved with them, Vanessa's death or this whole drug haul story. It's early days yet until they start to pull some other leads. Right now your partner is the prime focus as suspect."
"I've already started digging around," Hutch said. "You might as well hear it from me because the Santa Monica team will no doubt tell you when they get to look under some rocks I've already turned over this morning."
Dobey merely fixed him with a beady eye and a raised eyebrow.
"Can't say I'm surprised that you'd be already fleshing out leads. Still it won't go down well with Santa Monica, so be discreet."
"Surely I have a right to look into my ex-wife's affairs," he said, but Dobey looked unimpressed with his line.
"The two detectives mentioned that they may be requesting a second interview with you."
"I see." Hutch sighed.
"That's understandable Hutch. Normal under the circumstances." Dobey put in, as though Hutch had found exception with what he'd said.
"I didn't say it wasn't," and the shortness in his tone was quick and hard. The fact that he might be questioned again was hardly the issue.
"So Carlson is out? Can I count on you to make that happen?" Hutch said.
"Already done. Brass in IA already had wind of it and Starsky's lawyer followed it up with a phone call this morning."
Hutch cursed. "Then he shouldn't have been at the interview this morning!"
"Hutch, forget it. Carlson barely got to say much at all. After you left Simonetti took the floor, Carlson only got to make side commentary." Dobey said. "I can tell you though, even though I don't know the man all that well myself I've got the feeling he isn't too happy about being stonewalled out of the case so effectively. He couldn't see that there was a much of an issue of conflict of interest. I think that he has taken personal affront that you made such a issue out of it."
"That I made an issue? He slept with Starsky's current girlfriend for God's sake. Carlson knew Starsky was still very much in the picture when he took up with Clare and both of them knew how damn wounded and cut up Starsky was over it. He knew full well that Starsky hated him for what he did and I'm sure the feeling was mutual. " Hutch said. "Hardly makes for impartiality."
"Yeah well, now he's off the case – or knocked off the case, just be a little wary of him will you. Starsky doesn't need any more problems. Carlson has pull and cred around the Department. You and Starsky don't need him getting all vindictive on the two of you."
"I can handle Carlson." Hutch said simply, his mind already elsewhere. "You think I can head down to the rooms now and see if Starsky's ready to head home? Neither of us got any sleep last night – I'd like to make sure he gets out of here and gets some rest. I can get him home and come back in for a few more hours later on…."
Dobey gave a low grunt. "You need to ask me that? You lost your ex-wife last night in the worst set of circumstances. Now go home and get some time to yourself and look after that partner of yours in the process. He's on suspension for the foreseeable future and you can take a bit of time if you want too." Dobey jabbed toward the door as he spoke. "Besides – it'll put a stop to you doing your own detective work, treading all over the homicide team's turf. Now go – but stay contactable, that's an order. You know the drill."
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"Quit your bitching will you? It's not going to kill you to ride in my car for a change." Hutch scowled as he directed Starsky bodily toward the parking bay where he'd left his car.
"I'm not bitchin' – well I am." Starsky corrected. "I just want her back. They got no right to hold my Mustang, as though she's some dirty piece of evidence. Jeez, Vanessa never went near my car or Ducati."
"Well not that we know of anyway." Hutch said thoughtfully.
Starsky continued to whine. "Putting their dirty finger marks and dusting powder all over her, scratching up the leather interior with their scrapers and brushes."
"Starsky – your Mustang is an inert object, stop personifying it will you."
"Person – a what? Jeez whatever that means I know it's an insult. Next you'll be sayin' the same about my Ducati. Where do they get off impounding my two vehicles?"
"You talk like you don't know how a typical crime scene is worked. I know it hurts when it becomes personal – but truly, Starsky, your car and motorcycle will be fine. And until the crime lab releases them you're stuck with driving with me."
"As if I haven't had a bad enough morning as it is –" he eyed off Hutch's decrepit car in the near distance. "now I have to be rattled to death by your crate of metal and springs."
"Oh for Christ Sake Starsky…if you don't stop complaining, I might just leave you here to find your own way home. " Hutch fumed. And with that Starsky knew that he might have pushed Hutch a little too hard with the dramatics about his car.
His tactics had been working fine to that point, effectively derailing Hutch's hovering over him about any possible fallout he might be feeling from the homicide interviews. Ever since Hutch had seized him by the arm outside of the interview room when he had parted ways with his lawyer, his partner had been almost overbearing with his need to make sure Starsky was in one piece mentally and physically following the three hour questioning session.
Hutch had not even waited to ask how it had all gone but instead, nodded brusquely to Starsky's lawyer while he dragged him bodily down the corridor and toward the lifts before anyone could interrupt them and hold up their departure. "Come on. I'm getting you out of here before someone else decides to question you. You look like shit and we're heading home. Dobey's given me the rest of the day off." Hutch spoke in a rush as he pulled them both toward the exit, fixing anyone who looked like they were going to speak to them with a look that stopped them in their tracks.
His partner was like this when he was hell bent on something. Nothing and no one would dare to stand in his way. All light blue glacial eyes and rock rigid jaw. No one would mess with him; even Starsky was intimidated in the earlier days with Hutch's silent menace.
Starsky decided it was best to back off with giving Hutch a hard time about his car. "You're right. It's not your car I'm pissed off with, it's just my way of venting, ya know that don't ya? As long as your car gets us outta here, that's all that matters. I don't want to have to even think let alone answer one more question. This whole thing this morning – it was almost surreal Hutch."
In an instant the frustration Hutch had shown about Starsky's attitude to his car was gone, his caring persona back in place as he slung his arm tightly around Starsky's shoulders. "I know babe. I know." Hutch soothed and he pulled him snug against his side as they continued toward the car.
The solidarity of their relationship, the singular strength and enduring support of Hutch was like a balm to the morning's grueling test and Starsky felt himself beginning to relax for the first time in hours. He was looking forward to crashing on the couch in Venice Place with Hutch and sharing some quiet time away from the reality of this whole nightmare. His incredible friendship with Hutch was always a haven from what the world wanted to throw at him and he felt sorry for others, so many others, who would never know the quality of such a kinship.
However like most things in life though as Starsky had learned, there was always something waiting in the wings to louse up good feelings.
When he caught sight of Carlson and Clare walking straight for them from the opposite side of the car park, Starsky almost laughed at the rotten bad timing of it all. Still he was determined not to let this little scenario take away his emerging feel good mood.
However as he felt Hutch stiffen into a slab of steel beside him, Starsky was not so sure Hutch was going to manage to be quite so philosophical.
"Can you fucking believe this?" Hutch growled beneath his breath as Clare and Carlson saw them too. The other couple faltered momentarily, passing a few words between them but then kept walking toward the doorway from where Starsky and Hutch had just emerged.
"Yep, I can," Starsky murmured back. "Someone up there has got it in for me." Almost eighteen months Carlson had been at the precinct and Starsky could not once recall laying eyes on him here in the garage. Now today, of all days, he materialized in front of him, with Clare at his side. Double whammy.
The universe was really heaping the shit on him today.
Maybe he and Hutch might have made it into the car without further incident. Starsky would never be sure whether Hutch might have been prepared to do that – he never got the chance to find out because Carlson chose to walk right up alongside of them both, Clare trailing a little behind.
"Leaving Starsky?" Carlson asked.
"Cops don't usually hang around precincts when they're on suspension Carlson." Starsky replied drily.
"I trust that you understand the importance of remaining in immediate contact and insuring you do not leave the city for any reason during your suspension?" Starsky could sense the change in the IA Lieutenant's attitude as soon as he addressed him. Gone was the smooth professional demeanor that he had shown to Starsky at the crime scene the previous night.
"Starsky's status is not your concern Carlson." Hutch narrowed his eyes at Carlson and turned to Starsky. "Sorry Starsky, I haven't had a chance to tell you the news. Lieutenant Carlson here is no longer assigned to the investigation are you Carlson?"
"It would appear you took care of arranging that Hutchinson didn't you?" Carlson parried.
Hutch shrugged. "It was obvious to everyone that you should never have been involved in the first place."
"No, only when you made your Captain paint an exaggerated picture about my personal connection to Starsky." Carlson said.
Starsky could see Clare tensing and she caught Carlson by the wrist. "Let's just go Matthew," she said, using his Christian name, "don't waste your time on trying to talk to them."
"I'd listen to your girlfriend Carlson. Best not to waste your time on us. After all we were just heading home. We're both off duty." Hutch told him.
Carlson shook off Clare's hand hand and turned back toward Hutch.
"Whether I am on the investigation or not, I will be kept abreast of the developments of the case. I am simply offering him the advice as a senior officer of Internal Affairs and you he would be wise to heed my warnings. Both of you will be required for further questioning and your movements and actions will be scrutinized."
"Wow!" Starsky gave a low whistle as though impressed. "You sure do take your job seriously Lieutenant. Taking your private time here in the garage to give us your professional advice. It's pretty neat of ya' to take the time to do that for us. Don't ya' agree Hutch?" Starsky turned and swept his arm from Hutch to Carlson. "Ain't it pretty neat of the good Lieutenant to explain the rules to us? And him being a Senior Officer and all?" The smirk he leveled at Carlson found its way to Clare as well when he caught the open scowl on her face, clearly displaying her distaste at his behavior.
"Yeah. Really gracious of him Starsk. Not like we two Homicide dumb schmucks would know how a murder investigation works anyway." Hutch picked up Starsky's lead. "Tell you what Carlson. Since you've been so generous with your advice, here's some from me to you." He stepped nearer the IA Lieutenant. "Keep out of our faces and we'll keep out of yours." As he said it Hutch also looked at Clare. "Like I told your girlfriend here the other day, it's simple advice. Just stay clear of us – particularly Starsky."
"Why don't you save it, the two of you?" Clare retorted. "You think you can intimidate others with your tough united front. God! Why don't you both get over yourselves?" She told them. "Approaching Matthew like you just have and speaking to him like that!" Her voice shook with indignation.
"The way I remember it, the good Lieutenant here approached us." Starsky gave back to her.
"And like he said – he's just doing his job," she argued. "You might do well to listen to him David. You're going to need all the help you can get to walk away from this mess."
"Sounds to me like your boyfriend has been divulging case details in his private time. Not so professional after all are you Carlson?" Hutch said, the challenge rising in his words.
"Oh come on! You don't think the whole precinct knows what's gone on?" Clare's laugh was brittle. She looked at Starsky. "Getting involved with your own partner's ex wife for God's sake!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Starsky's shocked face. "The whole time we were together I felt there was something that was not right. Well now I know why. I always felt there was someone else, something else you wanted, for I knew it sure as hell wasn't me! So now I know the truth. God, am I lucky to have finished with you before I let you ruin my life as well as your own."
"Clare…." Starsky choked out, the single utterance of her name raw in his tight throat. More than the lashing bite of her false assumptions about Vanessa, it was her perception that he had never really wanted her – but had actually wanted something else, that hit him hard. The clarity of it, thrust in his face under the guise of her mistaken belief he was involved with Van, shocked him to the core. All that wasted anger on Clare, all that emotion – when even she knew the truth that he denied. It was true. He hadn't wanted her, but he hadn't had the courage to get what he really wanted either. When Clare had turned to Carlson it was convenient for him to hide his real feelings beneath anger and grief. It was just another way of keeping himself from admitting what he really longed to have.
Slowly now he turned his eyes to Hutch, mesmerized in the moment of dazzling self awareness, looking at his partner like he had never seen him before.
Taking in Starsky's shocked expression Hutch cursed savagely and Starsky knew that Hutch had misinterpreted his stark reaction to what Clare had said to him.
"Shut up now Clare. Just shut up." He warned in a low snarl before stealing another worried look at Starsky.
"Hard for you to hear the truth Hutchinson?" Carlson asked, making no move to restrain Clare at all. "Now I'm not saying whether or not you knew about your loyal friend's relationship with your ex. Hell, maybe you did. Maybe you were happy to share her with him. Given what we've all heard about the two of you over the years with your cavalier attitude to women, I suppose it's highly possible that- "
"You fuckin' asshole, Carlson!" Hutch started to lunge, but before he could, Starsky blocked him forcibly. "Is this what you wanted, Carlson! What you intended by approaching us?" Hutch ground out while Starsky never lessened his fierce hold on his partner, restraining him. "You wanted me to go for you, didn't you?" Starsky pushed Hutch back further as they both stared at Carlson's angry features.
Carlson squirmed. "Put it this way – it's what I expected. And you talk about me having a personal involvement in this investigation! Seems to me that you're the one with the personal involvement, Hutchinson. Covering for your partner every step of the way!"
"Hutch," Starsky said quietly as he held Hutch back. "You're playing into his hands. We've got enough to contend with here without rising to his cheap shots."
Starsky waited a moment and when Hutch finally relaxed, Starsky pulled his friend farther away with a measured calm that belied the urge to violence quivering in his own body. It was an effort to keep his own impulses to lash out at Carlson in check, but knew he had to diffuse Hutch quickly and effectively.
Hutch was breathing rapidly as he fought to gain control over his temper, and Starsky knew the had to leave the scene before any further fireworks erupted.
"Hutch, keys."
Hutch eventually stopped eyeballing Carlson and used the keys to unlock his car doors. He climbed into the driver's side. Starsky waited until his partner was inside the car, still tense and on edge. Starsky opened the passenger door, but walked back toward Carlson now that Hutch was inside the car.
Clare had moved over to Carlson, offering him her attention, but Carlson pushed her hands away, shaking, Starsky thought, with his own suppressed aggression and rattled pride.
"Next time you provoke my partner, I might not be there to stop him," Starsky said quietly. "Like you said – we cover for one another every step of the way, you'd do well to remember that."
Not bothering to see Carlson's reaction, Starsky slid into the passenger seat, barely managing to slam his door shut before Hutch gunned the car and screeched toward the garage exit.
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